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hellodropbear · 1 day

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17520 hours.

mapi leon x ingrid engen x daughter (ish)

angst. part of the 'it's time.' series

mapi struggles on the two year anniversary of her best friend's death. Ingrid is right there to help her but she doesn't know how to let her in.

this is a lot more angst than i'm used to posting but i hope you like it.

it was hard to write and partially based on personal experiences so i apologise if it's not very good.

also decided to put it all in one part because i couldn't find a good place to split it!

i hope you enjoy :)

~~~~~~

Two years is a long time.

Two years is 104 weeks, two years is 730 days. Two birthdays, two christmases, two easters. Two summers and two winters, two new years and two anniversaries.

Two years is a long time to miss someone. It should be enough time to have moved on.

But when their daughter is in your care, that seems almost impossible.

It was everyday that Mapi thought about her best friend, sometimes looking at her daughter and only seeing his eyes staring right back at her.

The day was one that the Spaniard dreaded, the days becoming quicker and quicker in the lead up, the night before slowing right down as she crawled into bed, tossing and turning as she tried to sleep.

Isabel was almost two. Still too young to understand that there was anything out of the ordinary in her life, anything that raised any questions. Even if Mapi tried explaining, she was sure that her daughter wouldn’t have the first idea what anything meant.

She wouldn’t understand that Mapi wasn’t supposed to have her even though she gave birth. She wouldn’t understand that her parents had died because her Mami was right there in front of her.

It was just a part of parenthood that Mapi had no idea how to conquer. She knew everything else, having spent hours and hours with her head buried in countless baby books, countless books that discussed grief and sadness in children.

But Isabel wasn’t sad, she wasn’t grieving because she never knew Luis or Isabel.

There were no books about how to tell a kid about her dead parents. It was a taboo topic, of sorts, one that many stand-in parents were reluctant to discuss with their child, hoping that they would just believe that they were their real parents. It was a bridge most people decided to cross when they had to, not at any point earlier than completely necessary.

Mapi didn’t want that, she wanted her daughter to know who Luis was, who Isabel was.

She just didn’t know when or how she should introduce the idea of them.

But the second anniversary of their death left Mapi in a numb state, entirely torn up on the inside as she tried to decide whether she would take her daughter with her on her annual graveyard visit. It was Mapi’s time to chat to Luis alone, no interruptions, no distractions.

Because while Isabel lost her parents, Mapi lost her lifelong best friend.

She lost Luis, who meant everything and more to her. Luis who had moved to Barcelona a few months after her, Luis who watched every single one of her games, the first person to text her after a hard loss or an impressive win.

She still hadn’t got out of the habit of checking her phone after a match, pain settling deep in her chest as her screen remained bare, his notification forever absent.

It wasn’t a question of where she would be on the second anniversary. She knew exactly where she would be sat and exactly how she would feel as she stared at that obnoxiously large gravestone, big bold carvings of his name, his date of birth and date of death.

‘Loving husband, son and friend.’ it read. Not father. ‘A man who lit up the lives of everyone he met.’ It was an understatement, Mapi had thought.

She had spent hours there when Isabel was a newborn, cradling her tiny body in her arms as she sat and silently stared at those few words. Loneliness ate her up, wishing for nothing other than her best friend.

But her daughter had lit up her world as everything else was crumbling down, single handedly keeping the two of them afloat as Mapi grew tired, the sheer weight of her emotions almost drowning them.

Isabel was an infant, too young to know anything was different. She was completely enraptured by her mother, smiling and laughing everyday they spent together in their small and stuffy apartment, completely unaware of the anguish that her mother was going through.

It seemed fitting on the second anniversary of their death, only a couple months before her second birthday that Isabel would finally visit their gravestones.

Even the thought of the graveyard made her feel uncomfortable, Mapi’s skin crawling at the thought of her best friend beneath her, cold and still. Someone she loved, such a warm and constant presence in her life, lying right there in the ground.

It made her feel sick. Sick with anger because he was gone too soon. With grief because she never got to say goodbye. With guilt because she got to have the one thing he had always wanted. But mostly sick with the heartbreaking realisation that he was down there, in the flesh.

Luis was dead.

~~~~~~

It wasn’t a cold day, but she shivered as she stepped out of the car, the cool breeze prickling her skin as she unclipped a groggy Isabel from the back seat.

“Where are we, Mami?”

She looked around at her unfamiliar surroundings in confusion, probably expecting to have woken up in her bed.

Mapi just hugged her, not trusting her voice to not break if she tried to respond.

Despite only visiting twice before, the graveyard was familiar, she knew exactly how to get to Luis’ plot. She walked with purpose, not looking at the grave as she laid down the rug, only facing her best friend’s name once she was sat down.

“This is your Papi, Is.”

Saying it out loud, her daughter in her arms. His daughter in her arms. It felt unusual, it felt uncomfortable. She could feel Isabel looking up at her, the confusion that radiated from the toddler’s body.

She loosened her arms as Isabel wriggled herself free, waddling towards the stone and placing her hand on it.

“Papi?”

She looked back at Mapi, a question in her eyes. She was met with tears slipping down her Mami’s face.

“Mami.”

In an instant, she was back in Mapi’s arms, reaching up and wiping away the tears.

“No sad, Mami. Brave like lion.”

Mapi nodded, a watery chuckle falling from her mouth.

“I’m going to talk to your Papi, Is. Is that ok?”

Isabel nodded, settling herself on the rug with her lion toy as Mapi stood up, walking closer to the stone and placing her hand on his name, crouching down so it was at eye level.

“Meet your daughter, Lu. She has your eyes, you know. She’s funny and smart and entirely the light of my life. I love her so much. More than I ever loved you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone, really. I promise. I promise I’ve tried my best and I hope you’re proud of her. I hope you’re proud of me.”

She bit her lip, unsuccessfully biting back her own tears.

“It’s been two years, Lu. I don’t know how I have made it through two whole years without you, really. It’s been so… hard. I still expect to see you, to hear from you. Sometimes I think I do, only to realise that it’s not possible. Because you’re dead. You weren’t supposed to die, not so soon. You were supposed to watch your daughter grow, I was supposed to be her really cool aunt that she would go to when you argued, to give her that tattoo when you said no. ”

She let out a strangled chuckle, trying to alleviate some of the pain she felt. They had discussed Mapi’s relationship with the child at length, knowing that the centre back would love the child as her own because she was always with Luis, she would always be around the couple as they raised their child. That wouldn’t have changed if she wasn’t biologically Mapi’s.

Back then, Mapi had thought she would have been fine with the situation. She knew the baby wasn’t really hers, she knew that she would still be able to watch the baby grow up, that she would still be able to love her.

It wasn’t a problem that had actually materialised, but they hadn’t expected both Isabel and Luis to die right before she was born.

“Now I have to discipline her, Luis, which is the one thing I didn’t want to have to do. But she’s such a good girl, she is so intelligent. Like you, really. She knows how I feel all the time, she definitely inherited your emotional intelligence. She loves everyone too, just like you. I was never supposed to be a mother, was I? You were always the paternal one out of the two of us, you were the one who deserved a child. But I am the one that got her.”

She swallows roughly, biting her lip.

“Oh Luis, you would have loved her so much.”

Very quickly, she is overcome by her tears, collapsing down into herself in sobs.

It’s all too much, it’s all too hard.

It’s unfair that her best friend left her, that she was left alone to grow up. Growing up was something they had discussed at length when they were younger. Obviously they were never going to be married, they’d never live together.

They had dreamt of adjoining houses, doors that connected their backyards. They were going to grow up together, the two of them. Luis would have his wife and a gaggle of kids, Mapi would have her wife and a pack of cats. They’d have their own families but their lives would be so closely connected because they loved each other in the purest way possible.

A childhood connection, one that grew and grew into adulthood.

One that was supposed to last a lifetime.

It did last a lifetime, it lasted Luis’ lifetime. Just not Mapi’s.

She calmed herself down after a couple minutes, Isabel unsurprisingly noticing her mother’s sadness and crawling into her arms as a source of comfort.

They sat there for hours, an easy silence settling upon the pair. Mapi was deep in thought, Isabel knew it wasn’t the time for play, it wasn’t the time for her mindless babbling.

It had been a couple hours when she heard the footsteps, people approaching silently.

She hadn’t expected to see anyone there, but upon reflection she realised she had been naive - it was the anniversary after all.

“Maria?”

She hadn’t heard Ane’s voice in two years. The last conversation they had was full of empty promises, of visits to Zaragoza that Mapi knew she would not go on. Promises that they would get to know the child that was growing in Mapi’s stomach, promises that they wouldn’t lose touch.

They had lost touch, Mapi unable to visit Luis’ home whenever she returned to her parents. Ane and Mikel were in too much pain to see the child, not sure how they could face it.

“Ane.” She stood up, facing the older woman and allowing herself to be enveloped in her arms.

“It’s so good to see you, Maria.”

Mapi could only nod, her eyes still watery and her face still red. It had been a long morning.

She turned to face Mikel, who was staring straight forward, his eyes only softening as Mapi grabbed his hand and kissed it.

“I have missed you both.” She smiled softly. It was a sad smile, but a real one.

They were Luis’ parents, of course, but they were her pseudo parents whenever she needed them. They were so close, especially when Mapi and Luis were in their teenage years.

“Is this… is that her?”

Ane looked down at the curly headed girl, her eyes softening as she watched her play with her toys.

“Isabel Luisa.” Mapi nodded. “I thought today would be a good day for her to come visit.”

The older woman looked down at the child adoringly, smiling as she looked up at the unfamiliar adults.

It was a bit awkward for a few moments, as Mapi, Mikel and Ane sat in an uncomfortable silence.

Mapi excused herself, moving away to the bathrooms but leaving her belongings by the grave. She knew she wanted to talk to them, that they wanted to talk to her.

She also knew they needed some time alone before they would be able to.

But she did return, sitting down on her rug right beside the older couple.

And Ane spoke, her voice soft, her voice sad.

She told Mapi how grateful she is, how glad she is that she took Isabel in, that she didn’t even question it. How grateful she is that Mapi did everything to make her son happy all throughout his life, from buying him an extra chocolate bar when they were children to carrying his baby for him when he and his wife were unable to do it.

Ane told her that she had given him his one dream, fatherhood. It was just unlucky that he wasn’t alive to live it.

There were tears in her eyes as she told her how grateful Luis would be. How much he loved her. How happy he would be that his daughter ended up with the Spaniard, the person he probably trusted the most in the world.

Mapi nodded her appreciation, sitting with the two adults for a while longer before Isabel grew tired, the sun falling down, the afternoon turning into evening.

She said a tearful goodbye, collecting her things and standing, Mikel standing up as well and walking her to her car.

“She looks just like him.” His words were soft, softer than Mapi had ever heard him. “I have thought about you every day, Maria. You and her. I am so relieved to see you here because I worried so much about you. I worried that you wouldn’t be ok, that you’d not be able to raise her. Not because I doubted you, but because I know how hard it is to lose people.”

Mapi nodded softly, looking up at the man.

“I don’t doubt that you have had a hard time, but I also don’t doubt that you’re a good Mami. A great Mami to this little girl.”

“Thanks, Mikel.”

He nodded, that was all he needed to say.

It was all he needed to say for Mapi to tear up again, picking Isabel up and holding her in his space. He looked at the Spaniard, who nodded, before placing a soft kiss on her head.

“Come visit, Maria. When you come home. Bring the little one too.”

Mapi nodded, a smile on her face.

This time, it wasn’t an empty promise.

~~~~~~

She got home to an empty apartment. Quiet, dark. She could have texted Ingrid, the Norwegian likely would have come over in an instant, her warm arms right there for endless comfort.

But she couldn’t bring herself to open her phone, couldn’t bring herself to stand up and walk over to the kitchen table where it was sitting. Instead, she stayed seated, relaxed back on the sofa with tears tracking down her face as she stared blankly at the wall.

It wasn’t often that she was left alone with her thoughts. Not when she had a chatty toddler to look after, a loving girlfriend who spent every day trying to make Mapi happy. It worked, because Ingrid did make her happy, happier than she’d ever been.

And Isabel also made her happy, she was the best thing in the Spaniard’s life.

So why did she feel so sad? Why was Luis’ death still so hard for her to process?

Two years felt like too long to still be so upset about it all. She wondered when it would go away. If it would ever go away.

His death was something that Mapi didn’t think she would ever be able to comprehend. She was able to live her life as normal again, plastering a smile to cover up the mess that she was on the inside. But it had taken such a long time to even get to that point, despite her daughter’s positive presence.

Everyone knew how long it had taken. Mapi didn’t think anyone really knew how broken up she still felt about it. A part of her was embarrassed, embarrassed that she still hadn’t gotten over it. Was still yet to move on.

Even as she thought it over, progress seemed so impossible. The thought of moving on like so many people had told her to do made her feel sick, because how was she supposed to move on when he was everything to her?

She didn’t sleep that night, barely able to smile as she fed Isabel and put her to bed. The toddler knew something was wrong, of course, a frown on her face as Mapi put her down for the evening.

Isabel had seen Mapi sad before. Lots of times, really, but her mother usually tried her best to hide it from her. She would push the emotions down and far away as she interacted with her kid but Isabel was so perceptive, so in tune with Mapi’s emotions.

She knew whenever Mapi was sad. It made her feel sad too.

But Isabel never would have known that her mother was sitting in the same spot on the sofa all night, her mind a rollercoaster of thoughts and emotions, resisting any rest that tried to fall upon her.

She wasn’t sure if she regretted telling Ingrid that she wanted to be alone for the day, that her girlfriend shouldn’t come over like she usually did. The Spaniard just didn’t know if it would make it better or worse. She didn’t know how to alleviate herself from some of the pain she felt.

She realised she didn’t know much at all.

Mapi watched as the sun rose outside, the night becoming morning. The new day arriving along with the sounds of birds chirping, the city happily waking up as the clouds had gone away and the sun had finally come out.

Two years and one day.

Her daughter’s whining was audible from her spot in the main room as she woke up. Her daughter’s whining was probably the only thing that would have successfully moved her from her seat.

“Mami!” Isabel frowned at the sight of her mother as her door opened, dark bags beneath her red and puffy eyes.

“Good morning, my girl.”

She smiled weakly, kneeling beside her toddler and raking her hand through her hair as Isabel became more aware of her surroundings.

It was a slow morning; a slow rise from bed and a slow breakfast. The toddler was still in her pyjamas by 10, her hair and teeth remained unbrushed.

It was no surprise that Ingrid was on the other side of the door at 11, Isabel opening the door when she heard the knocks. The Norwegian had a bright smile on her face as she scooped Isabel up into her arms and planted a soft kiss on her cheek.

“Mami, Ingrid.” She pointed over at where Mapi was standing, and it was one glance at the Spaniard that told Ingrid that despite her promise that she’d be alright, her girlfriend was definitely not ok. Her smile faded and she frowned slightly, concern etched deep into her features,

Her steps towards Mapi were tentative, unsure how to approach the situation.

It wasn’t that she didn’t know Mapi, of course she knew her. She just didn’t know about Mapi’s grief. She had heard from teammates that she hadn’t dealt with the death well, that she had locked herself up in her house for months, over a year. But it was one topic that the Spaniard avoided at all costs, a master of changing the subject whenever it would come up.

Ingrid never felt like it was her place to pry.

But now, seeing her girlfriend so… broken, so depleted, it made her regret not being more insistent in those times. Because maybe if they spoke about it then, she would know how to help.

But in that moment, she had no idea what to do.

“Maria…” Her voice was quiet. “I’ve missed you.”

Mapi didn’t reply, but she could feel Ingrid’s free arm wrapping around her and she immediately clung onto her girlfriend. She was desperate and Ingrid was a lifeline.

“Alright. Isabel, do you want to go play with Bagheera for a minute?”

The child nodded as she was placed back on the floor, walking out of the kitchen and into the lounge where the cat was likely waking up from her nap.

Mapi, still clinging onto the Norwegian’s arm, frowned slightly, still not willing herself to make eye contact with Ingrid.

“You’re not ok, Mapi, are you?”

She didn’t nod, she didn’t shake her head. Her mouth remained completely sealed.

But Ingrid knew her well enough to recognise the tears that filled up her eyes, the way her hand trembled against the Norwegian’s skin.

The brunette softened, her worries confirmed; leaving Mapi alone for the entire previous day was probably one of the worst promises she had ever made. She shouldn’t have agreed to it, not when she knew that Mapi would need her.

“Ok. It’s ok. You’ll be ok, Maria. I just want you to sit down for me.”

She led her around to the other side of the kitchen bench, sitting down in a seat right beside her and wrapping her arm around the Spaniard’s shoulders.

The Norwegian could feel herself becoming more and more anxious at Mapi’s almost catatonic state, entirely unequipped and unsure how to deal with it.

It took half an hour of speaking to Mapi with no response for Ingrid to realise that she couldn’t do anything. A heartbreaking realisation of sorts, but one that she needed to have in order to help her.

She knew she should be able to do this herself, she wished that it didn’t have to be so hard. But Alexia had been there before Ingrid, Alexia had been there for Mapi during Isabel’s infancy, right after she lost Luis.

So she sent the Spanish midfielder a quick text, alerting her of the centre back’s state.

She felt guilty as the relief surged through her, Alexia assuring her that she would be there soon.

However, neither the Spaniard nor the Norwegian could see the toddler’s tears, her quiet whimpers of anxiety and upset.

Isabel didn’t like seeing Mapi upset, not at all. She was a happy person, usually, a permanent smile on her face, energetic as she played with the toddler.

But she sat and stroked Bagheera, silent tears streaming down her little face with one thought on her mind. Why was Mami so sad all of a sudden? And why did it make her feel so miserable too?

Alexia arrived in a flurry, her heart dropping at the sight of her friend as she rushed towards her, immediately pulling her into a suffocating hug.

“Maria, Maria. Come on, please. Say something.” Her voice sounded urgent and Ingrid could only watch, worry and confusion clear on her face.

With no response, Alexia leaned back, staring straight into Mapi’s eyes. She could read the centre back like a book and her eyes told her everything she needed to know.

“Ale.”

She frowned, tilting her head at the blonde in front of her.

“Mapi, breathe. Take a deep breath in.”

Ingrid slipped out of the room as Mapi followed Alexia, breathing in and out slowly until she collapsed into Alexia’s arms, the tears spilling from her eyes easily as she reconnected with reality.

It was her reaction to sadness, Mapi had realised a few months ago. Disconnecting from the world around her, unable to move, speak. She could barely hear anything, see anything until it was right in front of her face.

She couldn’t feel anything either, but that was a more common response, something that she couldn’t be pulled out of so easily.

She hated it, more than anything. Because when she was pulled from her state of disconnect, she felt nothing but terror, an overwhelming sadness that came rushing back as soon as that trap door opened.

It was like her body was trying to protect her from feeling, the emotions just too much. It would just shut down until she was numb, not really registering that at some point she just had to feel it because there was no way of getting away from those emotions.

Alexia had seen it all before and she was usually the one to grab Mapi, to shake her out of her headspace and bring her back to reality.

It was terrifying for her too, especially the first time she witnessed it.

“Ale.”

Mapi’s sobs had been reduced to quiet whimpers into Alexia’s shoulder after a while, her mind throwing itself through all her thoughts, all her emotions. Luis was gone, Luis had been gone for two years. She has his daughter, her Isabel who she loves so much. Ingrid was here but now she is not, where has Ingrid gone? Alexia, right in front of her, fear visible in the midfielder’s eyes no matter how hard she tried to hide it.

Luis was gone, Isabel was hers. Ingrid was gone, Alexia was here.

Luis, Isabel, Ingrid, Alexia.

Her four people.

She felt her breath hitch, Alexia’s arms tightening around her.

She felt the tears dripping down from her eyes, saturating the fabric of Alexia’s shirt, the wet fabric now uncomfortable to rest her face on.

She could hear Alexia’s breathing, the sound of her heart racing.

Feel Alexia’s arms around her, the floor beneath her feet and the chair that she was sitting on.

Taste the salty tears. Tears of grief, fear, confusion.

Luis, Isabel, Ingrid, Alexia.

“Ale, where is Isabel?”

~~~~~~

Ingrid slipped out of the room easily, not needed as Alexia dealt with Mapi’s overwhelming emotions.

Mapi’s cries were audible from the main room she found herself in, wincing as she walked towards Isabel who was still stroking Bagheera, her movements fluid and repetitive, a consistent cycle that easily could have rubbed a groove into the cat’s black fur.

The Norwegian couldn’t see the tears that had stained the little girl's face, still spilling from her eyes no matter how hard she tried to blink them away.

But her shoulders shook unnaturally, a shuddering inhale that had Ingrid picking up her pace and sitting down right beside Isabel and pulling her into her arms as soon as she noticed how upset she was.

Silently, she placed a thoughtful kiss on the crown of her head, her heart breaking at the silent tears, at Isabel's defeated demeanour.

No toddler should know how to cry silently.

"What's wrong, Is?"

At her words, Isabel promptly spun around in Ingrid's arms, collapsing into her and crying audibly, her entire body weight relying on the Norwegian to be held.

"Mami sad, Ingrid. I'm sad too!"

Her voice was broken and Ingrid’s heart dropped at the sound of it.

It wasn’t hard to leave, understanding that Isabel needed to get out of the apartment, that she needed to be away from the inconsolable Mapi who could still be heard crying in the kitchen.

So she left, slipping out the front door and carrying Isabel down to the street, holding her tight as she cried, walking over to the park.

By the time they reached their familiar bench, her cries had weakened, only releasing quiet puffs of air every few moments as she relished in the comfort of Ingrid’s arms.

The Norwegian sat down, loosening her grip on the toddler and manoeuvring her so that they were looking right at each other. Ingrid’s frown was light and her hands were soft as she reached out and wiped the tears away from Isabel’s wet cheeks, cupping her face when she was done.

Words failed the defender as she looked at the toddler, her uncanny resemblance to Mapi heightened in her upset state.

She matched her mother perfectly, Ingrid thought, trying to avoid that voice in the back of her head that she would never be enough. Their smiles were identical and their laughs sounded the same. They both carried the same exasperated sigh, the confused frown and those doe eyes that were impossible to say no to. But they carried the same tears, the same cries.

Mapi’s emotions were often reflected in her daughter, whether it was happiness, excitement, fear, sadness. Isabel was smart - emotionally intelligent. It was like she always knew exactly how her Mami was feeling, even if she wasn’t old enough to understand why, to understand what those feelings were.

This was one of those times when she had no idea what this sadness meant. She could clearly feel the sadness, feel her mother was sad. But she wasn’t even two yet, how could she possibly be expected to process those emotions like someone years older?

Ingrid wasn’t bad with kids either. There were heaps of children in her family; cousins, nieces, nephews. She’d been there throughout all of their childhoods, able to comfort them and soothe them enough until their parents came back.

But Isabel’s sadness was completely new territory, there was no waiting for Mapi to arrive because Ingrid knew she wouldn’t. It was up to her to calm down the child but for the first time, she was completely stumped.

She didn’t know what she could say to calm her down. She didn’t know how Isabel felt, she was too young to be able to express her emotions, to talk through what she was feeling.

But this wasn’t a tantrum or a small cry over a minor convenience. This was a meltdown, caused by her overwhelming emotions that she couldn’t quite comprehend.

“Ingrid…”

She spoke quietly, leaning into the comfort of the Norwegian’s hands on her face.

Ingrid nodded, encouraging the child to continue.

“Why my Papi a rock?”

The Norwegian’s face softened, her heart sinking as she tried to subtly release an exhale that she had been holding in.

Unsure what she was going to say, she opened her mouth. But Isabel was too quick, raising her voice another time.

“Why Mami sad at rock?”

“Is…”

The child looked up at her, eyes shining with unshed tears, pure innocence reflected in her eyes, her features.

“Isabel. Your Papi, he’s not a rock. Your Papi was a person, a very good person.”

The child frowned, confusion etched deep into her features. Ingrid thought she seemed entirely too concerned for a not quite two year old.

“He died before you were born though, Is. Mami is sad today because she misses him. She misses your Papi.”

She doubted Isabel would even understand what she was trying to say. She didn’t know when children were supposed to understand the concept of death, the concept of life.

Definitely not before the age of two.

So Ingrid decided to try to move away from the topic, her new goal just to bring a smile back onto Isabel’s face. It was the least she could do, really.

“But it’s ok, Is, because you have Mami and you have me and you have Alexia and you have Leila and Patri and Pina! You love all of those people don’t you?”

Isabel nodded easily, a smile creeping onto her face.

“I love them so much. Especially Mami. And you, Ingrid!”

Ingrid chuckled, her laughs a superficial cover of the anxieties and concern she felt. Because Isabel was right here calming down in her arms, but she had no idea of the state of Mapi, she had no idea how long this happiness would last.

“And everyone I just mentioned loves you too. And your Papi, he loves you as well but he loves you from somewhere else. You have people everywhere loving you!”

Ingrid beamed, trying to make the conversation feel more lighthearted. It was a successful attempt, apparently, because Isabel replicated her smile and turned herself around, sitting back down in Ingrid’s lap and leaning into her chest.

“I love you Ingrid.”

The Norwegian could only smile sadly, planting a thoughtful kiss on Isabel’s head.

~~~~~~

Mapi’s head was a mess, Alexia had realised. Her emotions all over the place, her priorities set in a weird and confusing line.

The tears had eventually ran out and she was clearly exhausted, her head in Alexia’s lap as the blonde spoke softly. The familiar Spanish was a comfort to Mapi’s ears, the words meaningful, flooded with emotion.

“You need to worry about what is important right now,” Alexia had murmured, her hands combing through Mapi’s hair. It was reminiscent of how the centre back calmed her own daughter, soft hands and quiet words.

It was reminiscent of how Mapi’s own mother used to soothe her, nostalgic and comforting.

“Luis is important, of course he is. But he’s gone, Maria. If you’re going to worry about anything it has to be yourself, it has to be Isabel. You have to think about Ingrid, how to prioritise your relationship on top of everything else.”

Alexia shook her head at that, sighing almost silently.

“Ingrid will try not to let you focus on her, but you have to try. You have to show her how much you love her like I know you do. That she’s your person.”

Mapi looked up at Alexia, her forehead wrinkling as she frowned.

“She… she doesn’t know that?”

“She does know that, of course she does. But sometimes you need to put her first. Sometimes she needs you the most. Sometimes, she needs you more than Isabel does. She wants to know all of you, Mapi, even this part. She wants to understand your grief, to know what to do when you are having a hard time. She wants me to look after Isabel while she comforts you because she loves you. You are her person, just like she is yours.”

Mapi frowned again, swallowing back the tears that threatened to fill up her eyes. Because Ingrid was everything to her, of course she was. She was the person that Mapi loved more than anyone, the first person she had ever really and truly fallen in love with. But Alexia was right. More often than not, her attention was pulled away from Ingrid, Isabel making an appearance. Maybe she was hungry, thirsty, tired. She could have been bored or overexcited or maybe she just couldn’t sleep.

Because Isabel was her baby girl, her last connection to Luis; her last connection to her person before Ingrid.

It was somewhat painful for Mapi to consider how these small things would have hurt the Norwegian, how they would have all built up over time, building Ingrid’s thick skin, the impenetrable strength and sometimes superficial happiness that the Spaniard wished to break down.

“What do I do, Ale?”

Her voice broke and Alexia pulled her upwards, straight into a hug.

“You talk to her.”

Mapi nodded, falling back down to her lying position on the sofa, the exhaustion of the day overcoming her despite it only being 12pm.

Alexia could tell the exact moment she fell asleep, her breathing evening out and her body finally relaxing.

The midfielder had expected something like this to happen today. She knew that Luis’ death was a date engraved in her friend’s mind, one that could never pass without any upset, any thought.

It was only the second anniversary so of course it would bring up all of the emotions that were left and ignored two years ago, Mapi’s grief pushed away by the little baby Isabel. The same thing had happened a year ago and the midfielder knew it would happen again in another year.

Only she hoped she wouldn’t be needed in a years time, similar to how she had hoped that she wasn’t required this year.

She had been somewhat surprised and just a little bit disappointed when she received Ingrid’s text, having hoped that Mapi finally would have spoken to her girlfriend about it, that Ingrid would have expected it and known exactly what she needed to do. It was abundantly clear, however, that it was not the case.

Ingrid’s terrified and bewildered facial expression was one piece of evidence, but so was Mapi’s silence, her heavy breathing and her complete refusal to speak while the Norwegian was in the room.

She was disappointed, really. She felt guilt overcome her as she watched Ingrid slip out of the room, a look of pure defeat written all over her face as she accepted that there was nothing she could do to help Mapi.

Mapi who was an emotional wreck, who needed support and who just needed to let everything out for once.

Mapi, who needed her girlfriend’s comfort but didn’t know how to ask for it, couldn’t bring herself to ask for it.

Alexia knew that the Norwegian would have given it to her without a second thought.

It was all she could think about as Ingrid walked back through the door, Isabel’s hand tight in hers as her eyes scanned the room and landed on the sleeping Mapi in Alexia’s lap.

Isabel inspected her quietly, satisfied with her sleeping body on the sofa. She was with Alexia and Alexia made people happy. She was sure Mapi would be happy now, so she scampered out of the lounge and into the laundry where she knew Bagheera would be waiting.

Ingrid was less convinced, sitting beside Alexia with concern written all over her face.

“She’ll be alright.” Alexia whispered her words softly, an attempt to make the Norwegian feel better. She didn’t expect Ingrid’s eyes to fill up with tears, her head falling into her hands.

“Why doesn’t she talk to me about any of this?”

Her voice sounded defeated, frustrated. Her watery eyes looked back up towards Alexia and the midfielder could easily see the anguish in her eyes.

“She’s bad at talking about it, embarrassed by it. She doesn’t like to feel all these emotions so she just pushes them away. But they come back every now and again and she has no idea how to deal with it. I try telling her that it’s normal, she shouldn’t feel embarrassed but she doesn’t listen. It makes her feel weak, she said. You saw her earlier too, she just shuts down. I think it’s because she just doesn’t know what else she can do so she turns into a robot of sorts, on autopilot to get things done. And then someone will come and see straight through her and it’s like she breaks.”

Alexia’s eyes were watering, her hand coming to rest on Mapi’s head.

“But she loves you so much, Ingrid. More than I’ve ever seen her love anyone before. I know she wants to talk to you about all this, she wishes she could just let it all out. We’ve discussed it before, what she could say, how she could say it. She’ll call me the next day and say she chickened out, she couldn’t bring herself to go through it all. It’s mentally exhausting, I think. She used to be so confident in herself, she didn’t care about anything but her happiness and the happiness of the people around her. She was the person who would cheer everyone else up, make us smile and laugh. She’s still that person, that’s the one that we see everyday. But she never learnt how to grieve or how to let other people cheer her up and this is what happened because of it.”

Ingrid was quiet for a few moments, her eyes focussed on Mapi’s sleeping figure. She looked so peaceful, her golden brown hair falling over her face, completely covering her tear stained cheeks and puffy eyes.

“Why didn’t you help her?”

She knew it wasn’t Alexia’s fault; she knew that the midfielder beside her would have done whatever she thought was right. But part of the Norwegian thought that if she had learned what to do with her emotions two years ago when Luis died, everything would be easier now. Everything would be easier for everyone.

“She just wouldn’t let us. I regret it every day, Ingrid. ”

~~~~~~

It wasn’t long before Alexia left, leaving Ingrid with a sleeping Mapi and taking the almost two year old back to her house with her.

They didn’t want Isabel to be able to understand what was going on, they didn’t want her to feel those sad emotions when she was entirely incapable of understanding why she suddenly felt so sad.

So it was Ingrid’s face that Mapi woke up to, the familiar green piercing straight through her, a sad expression all over her face.

“Ingrid.”

Her voice was hoarse, her words scratchy and her eyes swollen. It had been a difficult few hours and she felt entirely incapable of having the conversation that she knew Ingrid wanted to have.

“I don’t know how… how do I even start?”

But it seemed she was wrong as Ingrid shook her head, her arms wrapping the Spaniard up in a tight hug as she sat up from her horizontal position.

“No, you don’t need to. Not right now. You’re exhausted, physically and emotionally and I don’t want to talk now. I want you to be ok, I want to make you feel ok.”

Mapi didn’t know it, but the Norwegian’s words were exactly what she needed. Ingrid was exactly what she needed.

Her emotional perception, the unique ability she had to be so aware of how everyone felt at any given time. It was one of her qualities that Mapi loved the most, one of the things that was so intriguing, so alluring about the defender.

“What can I do to make you feel ok?”

Mapi smiled weakly, trying to bite back the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. It wasn’t just sadness this time, but gratitude, love. Because Ingrid was perfect even when the centre back knew she had been the opposite of that. And despite all of Mapi’s own personal flaws, Ingrid still loved her.

And if everything else fell apart, Mapi knew that her love would be more than enough.

“You being here makes me feel ok.”

Ingrid smiled into the embrace, only releasing the hug when Mapi’s grip on her loosened.

“Isabel is at Alexia’s and she will be there all night. She shouldn’t be in this environment when you are so upset, not when she’s so young. So it’s just you and me, whatever you want to do.”

Mapi nodded easily, somewhat relieved that her daughter was away from all this.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me.”

The evening was a slow one, relaxed and quiet in the calm apartment. They weaved around each other in the kitchen as they cooked with a practised ease, dinner cooked and plated up seamlessly.

Conversation as they ate was minimal, the Spaniard clearly distracted and the Norwegian happy to focus on her own food.

“I… I need to talk to you, Ingrid. Not right now, but soon. Maybe tomorrow. I just don’t know how to say what I want to say in a way that makes sense. It’s… hard for me, hard to talk about… it.”

The Norwegian’s attention was captured at the sound of Mapi’s voice, instantly nodding with a comforting smile on her face.

“I know it’s hard. I don’t want you to feel any pressure to tell me anything.”

But the Spaniard disagreed, shaking her head quickly.

“It’s not pressure, I want you to know everything.”

Ingrid’s forehead creased, her eyebrows drawing together as she frowned.

“But why? Why do you want to go through it all again with yet another person if you don’t have to?”

It was Mapi’s turn to frown, her head shaking as she let out a quiet exhale.

“I haven’t ever gone through everything with anyone. Alexia knows a lot, sure. I know she’s told you what she knows. I want you to know everything. Because I love you more than anything and for you to love me like that you have to know everything, you have to see all my faults, everything that I’m ashamed of.”

Ingrid stopped the tears from forming before they had a chance to materialise in her eyes, but Mapi could tell she was stopping herself from crying by the way her eyes blinked away the invisible tears.

“What’s wrong?”

Her voice was incredibly soft, her Spanish lilt calming, comforting.

“I don’t think there’s anything you could say that would change the way I love you. I couldn’t love you any more than I do and there’s nothing that will ever make me love you any less. I wish you would understand that sadness and grief isn’t a weakness or a fault, it’s not something to be ashamed of. It’s natural yet it takes a completely different path in every single person. You’re not different, Maria. You’re not weak. The opposite of weak, really. I love you for who you are, because you are funny, you’re kind, you’re caring. You look after people and you’re an incredible mother. I love you because you are strong, one of the strongest people I have ever met. The love I have for you is not… despite anything, there’s nothing that I would change because you’re perfect. So sure, tell me everything because I will listen but it will not change a single thing. Don’t tell me that I can’t love you before I know because I do, so much.”

“Thank you.” Mapi sniffled, her voice thready as she nodded at Ingrid, her eyes dropping back down to her plate in front of her.

It was exactly what she needed to hear.

~~~~~~

“Mami!”

Despite Ingrid’s protests in the kitchen, Isabel bounded into their bedroom, bouncing up onto the bed right beside a sleeping Mapi.

“Isabel! I said not to wake her up!”

Ingrid frowned from her spot at the bedroom door, her forehead creasing further at Isabel’s defiant expression. The toddler turned back towards Mapi, shaking her shoulder rapidly.

“Mami! Mami!”

Ingrid rolled her eyes, releasing a loud sigh and shaking her head as the Spaniard rolled over, groaning as she opened her eyes.

The past few days had been rough and Ingrid was sure Mapi hadn’t gotten more than three hours of sleep each day. The Norwegian was awoken constantly by the sound of her cries or her restless movements in the bed, but had stopped asking if she was ok after seeing the guilt on Mapi’s face at waking her up.

It was an obvious question anyway, Mapi clearly was not ok.

She had been distant, often unfocused. The Norwegian had to take over the parenting ropes and she hadn’t left the Spaniard’s apartment, helping with cooking and cleaning and the other mundane housework that Mapi just didn’t have the energy to do.

She would say a few words over meals, and quiet murmurs of gratitude throughout the day. Ingrid didn’t know how rapidly her notes app was filling up, full of dot points about how and what she would say to Ingrid. When she could bring up that conversation that she was so desperate yet so hesitant to have.

“Morning Is.” The Spaniard rolled over, opening her arms up for the toddler as she fell into them, snuggling easily into her mother.

“Mornin’ Mami!”

Mapi smiled, looking over at Ingrid in the doorway and motioning for her to come and join them on the bed. Naturally, the Norwegian moved towards them, sitting up beside Mapi and resting her head on the centre back’s shoulder.

“We were awake very early this morning, weren’t we Is?’

She rolled her eyes as the child nodded and Mapi bit back a laugh, squeezing Isabel softly.

“You should have woken me.” Mapi smiled, planting a kiss on the side of Ingrid’s head, ignoring her scoff.

“Ingrid said don’t wake you up, Mami!” Isabel interjected again, looking up at her mother. “But I missed you!”

Mapi could only chuckle, planting a kiss on her child’s head. “I missed you too, my Is!”

It was a slow day, but one full of quiet laughter and happiness. The small family of three spent the late morning hours in bed, before getting up and heading down to the park and tiring the toddler out. She was exhausted by the time they got back, passing out on the sofa as Ingrid took off her shoes and Mapi scrubbed the mud out of her jacket.

The girl had been put to bed by the time Mapi had returned from the laundry, Ingrid sat on the sofa with the remote in her hand.

“What do you want to watch?”

She had heard Mapi walking towards the lounge room, apparently. The Spaniard didn’t enter immediately, instead steadying herself on the doorframe and taking a deep breath.

The time had come, she realised. She couldn’t justify pushing this conversation away any longer, pretending that she wasn’t thinking about it when truthfully it was at the top of her mind at all times.

She knew it wasn’t an easy conversation to have and she knew that it was going to be hard to bring it up. But that difficulty won’t ever go away, no matter how long she leaves it. If anything it will get harder over time because time gives her fears and anxieties an opportunity to grow, an opportunity to overcome her.

And she was completely adamant that that would not happen. She would not be overcome by those terrors ever again.

She realised she had paused in the doorway for too long when Ingrid turned around, a small frown settling on her face.

“Are you ok?”

Mapi nodded, forcing a stressed smile onto her face and finally taking those steps inside, sitting herself on the sofa beside Ingrid and taking the remote from her hands.

“Yes. No, but.. Yeah.”

“Talk to me.”

And she did. She started at the beginning, all the way back when she was a small child and meeting Luis for the first time. She told Ingrid how they had been glued to each other’s sides forever, how they grew up and nothing ever changed. How grateful she was when Luis followed her to Barcelona, moving into his own apartment just a five minute walk away.

The Spaniard reminisced on times where they would eat dinner on the floor of his unfinished apartment, takeaway boxes empty but the room still full of happiness and laughter. She showed Ingrid her tattoo, the little girl and boy on the playground that she had gotten to match with Luis.

It was his first and only tattoo and he had only trusted Mapi to give it to him. She knew she had to get one the same and it was something they had treasured. A secret of sorts, a little thing that almost nobody knew about.

The centre back explained how he had always been a paternal person, all the way back when they were those little kids on the playground. He would look out for everyone, act all big and strong to protect his friends even when he felt equally as terrified. He was the person that everyone went to as they got a bit older, his emotional nature and calm demeanour always popular among their peers.

She told Ingrid that she always felt so lucky that even though he was so popular, she was still his best friend. She was always his number one and that only ever changed when Isabel came along.

Isabel who was just as lovely as her boyfriend, another person that Mapi learned to love.

Another person who proved time and time again that she was a mother.

So she lamented on the heartbreak that the young couple experienced when they realised they couldn’t have a child, that parenthood seemed almost impossible.

She explained her entire thought process to the Norwegian, how she debated with herself whether it was worth it to miss so much football during what could have been her peak years. Whether she would ever feel comfortable around a child that was half of her DNA, a child that she carried for nine months but technically didn’t belong to her.

But Luis’ happiness was always the most important thing and when he rang her up for the 10th night in a row in tears, her decision was made for her.

She told Ingrid how long it took to convince the couple to let her carry their child, having to go through the same arguments that she had with herself only weeks earlier, having to come up with rebuttals to their incredibly valid points.

But it had only taken an emotional monologue from the Spaniard to convince them, all three of them sat in tears as they finally agreed to it.

She talked her through the IVF process, every high and every low that she experienced. How easy the pregnancy was at the beginning, the only symptom her small bump and minor cravings.

But she had Luis and she had Isabel at that point, both of them so incredibly grateful that they practically waited on the centre back’s hand and foot. It annoyed her, really, so she had kicked them out of her apartment, told them to only come over if she called them.

For the most part, they respected that, only visiting once a week unless Mapi called them for the company.

She admitted how much she regretted that deal, how she wished that she made them sit with her all day every day.

Maybe then they wouldn’t have been in the car that day, maybe they would have been safe and sound in Mapi’s apartment.

She couldn’t have known that their trip to Madrid would be fatal, there was no way of being able to foresee that and to stop them from going.

Tears started to slip down her cheeks as she recalled what they told her over the phone, how both Isabel and Luis had been killed on impact. A drunk driver, it was, a drunk driver who was miraculously left unscathed.

She talked Ingrid through her thoughts that followed the phone call, after she had sobbed and screamed. Once the tears had finally ceased and an unsettling silence fell upon her apartment.

She felt lost, she felt alone. She wanted to call Luis because he was the person that made her feel better in these times, he was her company when it felt like her entire world was falling apart.

But of course she couldn’t call Luis. She should have called someone else, her mother, her brother. Alexia, even. But that would be replacing her best friend, something she couldn’t bring herself to do. Not so soon after he had died. Not when the wound was so fresh, not before she even got the chance to process it.

She admitted to her girlfriend that she still hadn’t really processed it, that it was still a work in progress. His death was one she would never understand, she didn’t think she ever would fully process the idea that he was gone.

Ingrid let tears spill from her eyes as Mapi remembered how lonely she was for the next few weeks, how she realised that now she had this child that she was just supposed to be able to raise. How she felt entirely unprepared, unfit to be a mother, unequipped to be able to raise a child to a standard that Luis would be happy with.

How she doubted herself even before Isabel was born.

When she gave birth it got so much harder, everything seemed so impossible and she couldn’t think about anything else other than that little life in her arms.

She had fallen in love with the baby immediately, guilt overcoming her at her selfish gratitude that Isabel was a living reminder of Luis, she was someone that Mapi would always have. A living being that literally carried her father around with her.

She told Ingrid how she saw his eyes as soon as they opened, the tape over her shattered heart doing little to protect it when it was forcefully thrown back on the ground at the reminder of everything she had lost.

But as she spent more and more time with Isabel, as she watched the little girl grow up she could feel her heart building itself back together, little pieces at a time supergluing themselves together, creating an indestructible structure.

Isabel had been the reason her heart was being fixed, the reason that she felt like she could finally breathe again, finally reunited with the organ that pumped the blood around her body, the organ that made her feel alive.

She smiled through the tears as she recalled how alive she felt when Isabel took her first steps, when her first words tumbled right out of her mouth. As the child laughed, as she played with the cat. As she grew up into a child, something for Mapi to love, to be so incredibly proud of.

Because Luis was gone and that was something that Mapi would never be ok with.

But he left her the greatest gift of all time, like he knew that his best friend wouldn’t be ok without him.

And similar to everything else he had done for Mapi through their lives, this gift, his daughter, had made sure that the blood never stopped pumping, that every single fragment of her shattered heart was still there, ready and waiting for its turn to be glued back into place.

Isabel had done a good job of orchestrating the reconstruction, even if she had no idea what she was doing.

“But then you came along, Ingrid, and you fixed my heart too.”

~~~~~~

alright this was very long

i've proofread a couple times and kinda hate this but it's as good as it will get :)

please let me know what you think! send me anything else you would like to see as well.

and i apologise for this taking so long, i have been very busy with uni (as usual) but on top of that i had surgery on my knee almost a week ago so am very tired and in a fair amount of pain at the minute

have a good day

#mapi leon #ingrid engen #woso fanfics #woso #barca femeni #mapi leon x ingrid engen #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #fcb femeni #alexia putellas

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hoernypie · 2 days

Text

₊˚. '♡ Suguru's teachings ♡'.˚₊

tags: virgin y/n, p+v, cheating, first time, unexpierienced y/n

wc: 4976

The sun glared down without any mercy on the schoolyard, the only source of shade was a bench nestled under the big tree. On this bench, you sat, your eyes closed to avoid the harsh light and your mind racing with thoughts that you were lost in. "What do you think about so much?"

Looking up, you saw Suguru standing in front of you, with a furrowed brow and a look of concern on his face. He walked with purpose, knowing exactly what you were feeling and what was going on after accidentally hearing how you talked with Shoko before classes started.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure of how to respond to Suguru's question. You two were very close friends after all, but this topic could be a little embarrassing for you. "It's just...I'm feeling annoyed," you admit, a hint of vulnerability in your voice. "Dating Yū... I thought it would be amazing." Suguru nods in understanding, taking a seat beside you, now even more curious about the whole dating situation. He gently pats your hair. "Y/n," he says gently. "Tell me more about it so I can help." You smile weakly before continuing, "I just don't know what's wrong with me. He's sweet, caring, and much more but we've been dating for a month now and we won't even kiss me. I've seen other couples do that. I know it's stupid but...".

"Sometimes, the girl could take the initiative."

You blush at Suguru's suggestion, feeling a mix of embarrassment and hope. "But what if I mess it up?" you ask nervously. "What if he doesn't like it?" Suguru chuckles and nudges you playfully with his elbow. "Just be yourself," he reassures you. "Yū loves you for who you are, right?" He pauses, looking at you with a knowing smile. "And besides, I can give you a little...practice," he says, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. Your eyes widen in surprise, but before you can object, he leans in and presses a soft, chaste kiss to your cheek. "See? It's not that hard. Now, when you feel the moment's right, just lean in and..." He pauses, his eyes searching yours for a brief moment before pulling away. The air between you feels charged, and you realize that maybe taking the initiative isn't as scary as you thought.

"But a kiss on the cheek is different", you pout while turning your gaze away from him.

Suguru's smile widens at your pout, and he leans back against the bench, stretching his arms out along the backrest. "Alright, if you're that nervous, we can practice," he says, his tone light and reassuring. "How about we go to my dorm room?"

Your heart skips a beat at the suggestion, and you can't help but feel a rush of excitement mixed with anxiety. "Practice?" you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper. "But it'll be cheating, right?"

He shrugs nonchalantly and he nudges you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Don't worry, we'll be just practicing, besides we are friends," despite the awkwardness of the situation, you can't help but slowly nod. "Okay," you murmur.

You both stand up from the bench and with a reassuring pat on your back, Suguru leads the way to his dorm room. The short walk feels like an eternity as your mind races with a whirlwind of emotions. When you reach the door, he unlocks it and invites you inside. The room is simple and clean, with a bed on the opposite side of the desk. He motions for you to sit on the bed. As you sit down, you notice your hands are trembling slightly, and your heart is pounding against your chest. Suguru sits beside you, giving you a comforting smile, twisting strands of your hair between his fingers. He leans in, his breath warm on your face, and whispers, "Just remember to breathe." His hand reaches for yours, giving it a gentle squeeze, and making the nervousness seem to dissipate. With his other hand, he gently cups your cheek and tilts your face towards his. Your eyes lock onto his for a brief second, before he leans in to kiss you softly on the lips. It's quick and gentle, and when he pulls back, he's still smiling. "See?" he says, his voice a comforting murmur. "It's not so scary." The warmth of his hand and the softness of his kiss linger on your skin, leaving you feeling more motivated than ever to take the next step with Yū.

Encouraged by Suguru's kindness and guidance, you take a deep breath and lean in, aiming for a kiss on the lips. Your heart races as your eyes close and your lips meet. The kiss is delicate at first, a soft brush of your mouth as you try to imagine Yū's reaction. But when you feel Suguru's hand gently cradle the back of your head, pulling you closer, you relax into it, letting the warmth of his lips guide you. The kiss deepens, becoming more earnest as your arms instinctively wrap around his neck.

When you finally pull away, both of you are smiling, the awkwardness of the moment replaced by a sense of shared accomplishment. "Thank you, Suguru," you whisper, your cheeks flushed. "I think I'm ready now."

"Alright," he says, his voice slightly huskier than before. He scoops closer to you, placing a hand on your waist and the other hand on the side of your face, tilting it slightly to the side to show you how to angle your head for a more intimate kiss. "Now, let's try again," he whispers, his breath caressing your ear. This time, when your lips meet, there's no hesitation. You mimic the passion he had shown you, feeling your heart race even faster. Suguru's hand on your waist tightens slightly, guiding you to lean into him as your kiss becomes more intense. He moves his hand to the back of your neck, his thumb brushing against your skin as he shows you how to deepen the kiss. You follow his lead, exploring the sensation as your tongues tentatively touch. It's a moment of pure closeness, your breath mingling as your body leans into his on its own. When you pull back this time, you're both breathless, your eyes wide and searching for approval. Suguru's smile is warm and proud. "You've got it," he murmurs. "Now, just remember this feeling when you're with Yū." With a final peck on the lips, he leans back, giving you space to process what just happened. Inside, you're overfilled with emotions, but you know that you're ready to face Yū and express your feelings in the way you've always wanted to. Or at least that's what you think for now.

As the days pass, missing Suguru's lips becomes a constant ache in your heart. Each time you kiss with Yū, the one on your mind is Suguru and you can't help but feel a mix of fondness and guilt. You love Yū, so why practice with Suguru lingers in your mind? The more you think about it, the reality of the situation starts to sink in. That Yū doesn't feel the same way as Suguru. That the kiss with Suguru meant more to you than just a rehearsal. The thought of losing either of them weighs heavily on your conscience, and you find yourself caught in a whirlwind of uncertainties and feelings. You decide to keep the secret buried, focusing instead on strengthening your relationship with Yū. Yet, every time you're around Suguru, you can't help but feel the electricity between you, a silent reminder of the moment you shared under the guise of "practice".

The memory of Suguru's lips lingers, leaving a gentle imprint on yours. Each time you see him in the hallway, share a laugh in class, or catch a glimpse of his concerned gaze, the intensity of those kisses echoes through your thoughts. The guilt of keeping this from Yū gnaws at you, but the fear of losing either of them is paralyzing. You convince yourself that it was just a friendly gesture, a way to help a friend in need. But deep down, you know it was more than that. It was a spark that ignited something within you, something that makes you question the boundaries of your relationships and the true nature of your feelings that maybe unknowingly you've been pushing deep into the corners of your brain. You find yourself lost, torn between the comfort of your current romance and the exhilarating thrill of a new, unexplored connection. Yet, you remain silent, the secret nestled in your heart, waiting for the right moment when you'll have the courage to face the truth of your feelings and the consequences that are about to emerge.

A couple of days later, you find yourself in Yū's door room after lessons, the setting sun casting a warm glow through the curtains. You've decided it's time to take the leap and show him how much you truly care and want him. As you nervously approach the moment, you start to unbutton his shirt, your hands shaking slightly from anticipation. He smiles at you, his eyes filled with love and excitement. However, when he notices the blush on your cheeks and the way your eyes dart to his mouth, he seems to understand that this might be more than you're used to. He gently takes your hand in his and stops you from unbuttoning his pants. "Please stop," he says softly, his voice filled with concern. You bite your bottom lip, feeling a mix of embarrassment and frustration at your inexperience and him stopping you. You just nod and lean in for a kiss, but he turns away. The passionate kiss you had shared with Suguru fills your mind, now feeling awkward with the weight of your secret pressing down on you. Yū seems to sense your unease and pulls close, stroking your cheek with his thumb. "We should go slow," he whispers, trying to comfort you. But as the silence stretches out, you realize that you're not ready to face the truth of what you're feeling and he's not ready for what you seek.

That night, unable to shake off the lingering confusion and yearning, you find yourself standing in front of Suguru's dorm room. Your hand hovers over the door, unsure if you should knock or turn back. The sound of doubt in your mind grows louder, but the memory of the kiss, the warmth of his embrace, and his gaze push you forward. You finally muster the courage and knock softly. The door opens to reveal Suguru in his shorts and a loose shirt, his eyes widening in surprise as he sees you. "Hey, what's up?" he asks, his voice gentle. You swallow hard, trying to push the words out of your mouth. "I... I need to talk to you," you stutter, your heart racing. He steps aside, inviting you in with a concerned look, and once the door is closed behind you, you take a deep breath.

"I think Yū, doesn't want me. Well, of course, now we kiss, but..." you started while pacing around his room, "I wanted to try... something more but he pushed me away."

Suguru's expression turns from surprise to concern as he watches you pace, his eyes following your every move. He can see the hurt in your eyes. He gently takes your hand, leading you to sit beside him on the bed. "What do you mean, 'something more'?" he asks, his voice tender and understanding. You look down at your hands, fidgeting with your fingers as you struggle to find the right words. "I...I want to be closer to him, body to body, and... Ugh! You know what I mean" you admit. "But every time I try, it feels like there's a wall between us. I know that I've never done those... dirty things but still. If this keeps going we'll break up for sure”. The silence that follows is thick with unspoken emotions, until finally, Suguru speaks up, his voice serious. "If you're not happy with the pace of your relationship with Yū, maybe you should talk to him about it," he suggests, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand. His touch sends a jolt of electricity through your body, and for a moment, you're lost in the memory of your kisses. You nod slowly, knowing he's right, but the fear of losing either of them keeps you from saying what's truly in your heart. "I'll think about it," you murmur, standing up to leave. As you turn to go, Suguru's hand reaches out to grab your wrist, his eyes locking onto yours. "But remember," he says, his voice filled with a quiet intensity, "I can help you with anything you want, we're friends after all." The weight of his gaze makes your heart ache with a love that goes beyond friendship, and for the first time, you realize that the line between practice and reality may have been blurred more than you ever intended.

You nod again, unable to find the words to express the storm of emotions inside you. With a forced smile, you pull away from Suguru's grasp and head for the door. "Thanks, Sugu'," you whisper, your voice full of sadness. As you step into the hallway, you lean against the door for support, trying to compose yourself. Your heart feels like it's about to burst from everything and now from feeling kind of disappointed that tonight nothing more happened with Suguru. You know you can't keep pretending with Yū, and you can't ignore what happened with Suguru. You walk back to your room, the gravity of the guilt pressing down on your shoulders.

The silence in your room offered no escape from the thoughts. You slip into bed, your mind racing with images of Yū and the gentle way he holds you, the way his eyes light up when you're together. But as your hand slips under the covers to find some relief from the growing tension in your body, it's not Yū's face that appears in your mind, but Suguru's. The memory of his kiss, the way he touched you, and the passion in his eyes during those "practice" sessions flood your senses. Despite your best efforts to think of Yū, it's Suguru's name that slips from your lips in a soft, involuntary moan. Your touch becomes more urgent, your body responding to the memory of his embrace rather than your boyfriend's. As you reach your climax, the guilt crashes over you like a wave. The stark realization hits you that your desires have shifted, and you're no longer sure who holds the key to your heart. The lines between friendship and love have become blurred, you need to confront your feelings and face the consequences, no matter how painful it may be.

The next day, you find yourself back at Suguru's dorm room door, feeling both nervous and aroused. You've been craving the intimacy you shared during your "practice session," and you know that he's the only one who can give it to you. This time, you don't bother to knock; you just walk in and step inside. He's sitting at his desk, engrossed in a book, but looks up when he hears you enter. "Hey," he says casually, but his brows furrow when he sees the look on your face. "What's wrong?"

"I... I need more practice," you say, your voice quiet. The words hang in the air, as Suguru sets his book aside, his gaze pinning onto you as he stands up and walks over to you. "Are you sure about this?" he asks, his voice laced with concern. You nod, unable to hide the desperation in your eyes, he sighs, understanding what you're going through, no matter how happy he feels - especially after months of loving and craving you. "Alright," he says, his voice serious. "But remember, we're just friends, okay?"

Without waiting for your response, he takes your hand and leads you to the bed. Your heart races as you sit down, knowing that what you're about to do is wrong, but you can't seem to help yourself. Suguru sits beside you, his hand resting on your knee. He leans in and whispers, "What do you want to learn today?"

You take a deep breath and look into his eyes. "Something more than kissing," you murmur, looking down. He nods slowly, as his hand moves up to cup your cheek. "Then, let's get started your today's lesson."

And with that, the line between your friendship with Suguru was crossed with no point of return. His lips are on yours, his hands exploring your body in a way that Yū never has, and you can't help but wonder if this is where you truly belong. The guilt is pushed out by the overwhelming pleasure of the moment. As you kiss him deeply, his hands are slowly going under the rim of your shirt, gently touching the skin under it.

The warmth of his touch makes you lean into him, eager to feel more. Suguru's hands continue to roam, his fingertips tracing the curves of your body, you find yourself responding to his touch, your body arching towards him as he takes off your shirt and throws it on the floor, revealing your breasts to the soft light of the room. He looks at you with a mix of awe and hunger, after all his waiting. He leans in to kiss your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he whispers, "Do you like it?" You nod, your voice barely a whimper as he takes one of your breasts in his hand, his thumb teasing your nipple until it's a hard peak. The pleasure is intense, and you can't help but moan his name, the sound echoing through the quiet room. His mouth follows his hand, capturing your nipple in a gentle suck that sends bolts of pleasure through your body, making you squirm with need. The reality of what you're doing hits you, but the desire is too strong to resist. You're lost in the moment, your body craving the connection that Suguru provides, even as your mind reels with the thought of what this means for your relationship with Yū.

As Suguru's kisses and caresses grew bolder, your body was responding to his every touch with fervor. You found yourself craving more, leaning into his embrace as he navigated places nobody touched you before. You reached up to tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as you arched your back, giving him access to your neck. His hand trailed down your stomach, and you felt your breath hitch when he took off your shirt, letting it fall to the floor. Your heart raced as he kissed you, his hand moving to cup your heat through your shorts, his thumb circling the clit, hid behind the fabric, that was begging for his touch. Your breaths came in shallow panting as you felt craving more and more of his touch.

Without breaking the kiss, Suguru's hand slipped under the waistband of your shorts, his fingers finding the wetness of your pussy. He groaned into your mouth as he felt the heat and wetness, his desire for you growing even stronger. He gently pushed aside the fabric and began to stroke you lightly, his thumb circling your clit. You moaned into his mouth, your body trembling as he teased you closer to the edge. Then, with a sudden urgency, he broke the kiss and moved down, his mouth replacing his hand as he slowly licked and kissed along your inner thighs, his warm breath making you shiver. When his tongue finally reached your core, you couldn't hold back the gasp that escaped your lips. He took his time, savoring every inch of you, his tongue flicking against your clit in a way that made your toes curl. The sensation was new and overwhelming, and you felt your body tense up as the pleasure built inside of you. You gripped his hair tightly. Suguru looked up at you, his eyes sparkling as he was now pussy drunk on you. Something he wanted for so long, now happening.

As Suguru's tongue bullied your clit, he gently inserted one finger into your tight, virgin pussy, feeling you tense around him. He moved slowly, giving you time to adjust to the new sensation. His eyes never left yours, he watched as you bit your lip and your breathing grew erratic. He knew he had to be delicate, but he also knew that he wanted to show you how much he wanted you to break in his hands. As he continued to explore you with his mouth and finger, the pleasure grew more intense, and you felt yourself getting closer. Yū and your relationship with him were pushed away as your body focused only on Suguru and his touch. This was a moment you never thought you'd experience with only Yū, but here you are, with your best friend between your legs. His movements grew more confident, his finger moving in and out of you with a gentle rhythm that matched the flicks of his tongue. You couldn't hold back anymore, and with a strangled cry, you came for the first time with someone else's touch. Suguru looked up at you, his face glistening with your juices, a smug smile playing on his lips as he knew he was the only one to make you feel this way. He gently kissed your inner thigh before pulling away, leaning over you, and letting you taste the sweet juices on his tongue while his hands quickly took away your and his underwear.

Suguru pulled back, breaking the kiss just to reach into his drawer, and pull out a condom. You watched him, your heart racing as he rolled it on, his dick ready with need, precum dripping from his tip. "I'm just gonna rub," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "You'll go all the way with Yū." He kissed you again, his hand guiding his cock to your entrance. With a gentle push, he began to rub against you, the friction sending pleasure through your body. Suguru leaned down, leaving kisses all over you as he continued to rub, his cock teasingly sliding against your wetness without entering you.

The pleasure grew unbearable as Suguru's cock slid against your pussy and clit, and before you knew it, the tip of him accidentally slipped inside of you. You gasped into his mouth while frowning and he froze for a moment, looking into your eyes with a mix of shock and concern. "It's your fault," he murmured against your lips, "you're too wet." You couldn't find the words to protest as he gently pressed his soft lips against your forehead. The initial pain was overwhelming, but it soon gave way to a deeper, more intense pleasure as he stretched you out. His eyes never left yours, searching for any sign of distress, but all he found was the same yearning that reflected in his own. He began to move slowly, letting you get used to the feeling of him inside you, his movements tender and deliberate. With each stroke, the pain subsided, and the pleasure grew until it was all you could feel. You wrapped your legs around him, urging him closer, repeating his name as if it was a prayer. Suguru's breathing grew ragged, his eyes glazed over with passion as he claimed you fully, his cock sliding in and out with ease now. Your body felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending alight with sensation as he pushed you towards the orgasm once again. It was at this moment that you knew the truth of your heart, that no matter how much you cared for Yū, it was Suguru who truly made you feel alive and wanted. And as you reached your peak, your walls tightening around him, he looked at you with a smug smile.

Suguru's hips began to move with more urgency, his cock plunging into you with a steady rhythm that had you digging your nails into his muscular upper arms. You moaned loudly as his movements grew stronger and more erratic. The sounds of your moans and his grunts filled the room, mixing with the slick sounds of skin on skin and the wet sloppy sound of his pretty dick bullying you. His hands gripped tightly your breasts as his lips clashed against yours. Each thrust seemed to be claiming you, marking you as his. Despite the guilt that lurked in the back of your mind, you couldn't deny the feeling of rightness that accompanied his touch. The pleasure was like nothing you'd ever felt before, and you knew at that moment that you'd never be able to go back to the way things were with Yū. You were lost in Suguru. And as he reached his climax, filling the condom with his warmth, you felt the first crack in the dam holding back your rationality. This was where you belonged, wrapped in his arms, not Yū's.

As Suguru's thrusts slowed and his breathing evened out, you clung to him, your legs tightly wound around his waist pushing him deeper in you. The tears streamed down your cheeks. You kissed him desperately, each kiss tasted of salt and love, a bittersweet reminder of the secret you now had to carry. You knew you had crossed a line, one that could never be uncrossed, and yet you felt an overwhelming need to be closer to him still. As he pulled out, the emptiness inside you was unbearable, a contrast to the warmth that had filled you so completely.

You looked up at Suguru, your eyes shimmering with a mix of emotions. "What will you teach me next?" you ask quietly. Suguru's expression was a blend of satisfaction and love. He leaned down and kissed you gently, tasting the salty traces of your tears on your lips. "We'll figure it out," he murmured, his voice soothing. "But for now, let's just enjoy the moment." He pulled you into a warm embrace, his arms enveloping you as if he didn't want to let you go back to Yū, greedily wanting to keep you only for himself. The comfort of his touch was undeniable, and you couldn't help but melt into his arms.

As the days went by, the weight of your secret grew heavier with each passing moment. You knew you couldn't continue like this, living a lie with Yū while your heart and body craved Suguru's touch. After a sleepless night, you made the painful decision to end things with Yū. It was a decision that was necessary.

The next day, you gather your courage and head to Yū's dorm room, your heart heavy with the weight of your decision. You know this conversation will be difficult, but you can't ignore the truth any longer and live in this situation - forcing yourself and lying to him. Knocking softly, you enter, and he looks up from his bed, a smile fading as he reads the seriousness on your face. You sit down beside him, your hands trembling slightly. "Yū," you begin, "I need to tell you something." He sits up and looks at you with eyes full of concern. "What is it?" he asks gently. You take a deep breath, feeling the tears threaten to spill over. "I've been thinking a lot, and I don't think I can be the girlfriend you deserve," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. His expression falls, and he takes your hand in his, squeezing it tightly. "What do you mean?" he asks, his voice cracking. You look down at your lap, unable to meet his eyes. "I've realized that... We don't really match," you confess, the words feeling like a betrayal as they leave your lips. Yū's hand goes slack in yours, and the room is filled with a deafening silence. "I'm so sorry, Yū. I never meant for this to happen. I think we should break up," you murmur, your voice breaking. "But we'll still be friends, right?" The desperate hope in his eyes breaks your heart even further. You nod, unable to speak, as he pulls you into a tight hug. You can feel his shoulders shaking with silent sobs, and you know that this is the end of the relationship you once cherished. But deep down, you can't help but feel a spark of excitement, knowing that now, you're one step closer to exploring the love that has been growing between you and Suguru.

The days that followed were filled with a whirlwind of emotions as you and Suguru explored the new depth of your close relationship. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word was laced with a mix of passion and love. He was tender and attentive, eager to learn your every want and need, making sure each moment was as perfect as the last. The guilt of your past with Yū was slowly replaced by the warmth and love that Suguru brought into your life. You found yourself blossoming under his affection, feeling cherished and desired in ways you never had before. Each time you looked into his eyes, you saw a reflection of the love that was growing stronger with every shared secret and every intimate moment. The world around you was painted in vibrant colors, and every step you took together felt like the start of an adventure. Suguru had become your anchor, and you knew that no matter what the future held, you two found each other forever as the red string would keep you together.

#jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk geto #geto smut #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru smut #geto suguru #smut #jujutsu geto #yu haibara #jujustu kaisen

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agere-fics · 2 days

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Pretty Kitty

pairing: cg!logan howlett x little!reader

word count: 683

content warnings: cursing, usage of "daddy" and "dada", mean guy judging both you and wolvie

summary: you paint logan's nails!

@sleepyboy-stuff you seemed interested in this so i tagged you!

♡

For years in the making, an after battle nap became routine. He couldn't just nap anywhere, though. It had to be on brown, leather couch in the x-mansion living space. The couch was old, worn, tattered, even blown up a few times. But damn if it didn't lead to the best sleep Logan's had in ages.

He wouldn't consider himself a light sleeper but something definitely triggered his consciousness. Shuffling, movement, soft mumbles. Someone was here.

He groaned and squinted his eyes open, tensing at the blurry figure next to him. He shifted away from it quickly. Who would even dare to- oh.

"Don't move, daddy, you'll mess up my artwork!" you whined.

He breathed a sigh of relief. Logan wasn't under attack. It was simply his sweet little bub kneeling beside the couch, holding his hand and painting red onto the nail of his pinky finger.

"Hey, bub." he muttered.

You turned to look at him with bright, sparkling eyes. You were so happy to see him. "Have a good nap, daddy?"

"You know it." he rumbled.

Your eyes shifted back to your task at hand. You brushed a bit more red onto his pinky finger, trying very hard not to get polish on his skin. Daddy wouldn't care but you knew you would care. It's got to be perfect for daddy!

"Whatcha doing?" he asked.

"Making daddy a pretty kitty." You picked up his limp hand and showed him your work so far. Logan didn't mind the nickname. He liked anything you gifted him.

However, he did quirk his brow at a certain implication. "Wait a minute, I thought you said I was already pretty?" A sliver of a smile poked through his serious facade. He can't actually be serious with you, you're way too cute for him to be all grumpy, wumpy. You've got him tied around your finger and he's a-okay with that.

"Wait but you are, daddy! You are! I'm just uhhhhh...." You looked around the room, aimlessly searching for an answer. "OH, I'm making you even prettier! The mostest prettier ever!"

The sliver of a smile turned into a full grin. He sat up and observed his now painted hand. "What colors did you use?" He wouldn't be your daddy if he didn't test your knowledge just a little bit.

"I used some red and pink and blue, oh and orange, and only a little yellow cause it's basically empty, see?" You turned the bottle upside down and shook it before tossing it to the side. "Do you like your nails, daddy?"

Logan lifted his hand, moving it this way and that. Up, down, left, right, sideways, up ways, down ways, more ways. You patiently waited for his approval with wide eyes. "Of course, I do, pumpkin. It's perfect."

You pulled him closer by his shirt, jutted your lip, lowered your brows, and squinted your eyes. With your other hand you pointed at him very sternly. It took everything in Logan to not coo at your cutely angry expression. Your face was scrunched, just like your daddy does sometimes. "Never take it off, daddy."

"Don't worry," he giggled. "I won't."

"What's happening here?" came a voice.

Mr. Butern... the professor of mutation genetics. When did he get here? "Turning into a pretty little princess, huh, Logan?" he scoffed and began to walk away.

Logan moved quickly and shoved the professor against the wall. His claws came out to play, pricking at the meanie's neck.

"Say another word and I will slice your fucking head off-"

"Daddy, that's a bad word!" you scolded.

Your daddy turned to face you. "Apologies, pumpkin." He turned back round. "Now, you tell my little one how good of a job they did."

The other guy stuttered, shaking so bad he must be a milkshake inside. "You d-did a good j-job."

Daddy dragged him to the tattered couch and shoved him down. "Sit your ass down."

Daddy's face immediately went from angry to mushy mush as he looked at you. "Bub, I think you should give him a makeover, too."

"Right on it, Dada!"

♡

#cg!logan howlett #cg!logan #cg!wolverine #age regression #agere #sfw agere #age regressor #agere blog #agere little #agere sfw #agere fanfic #little reader #xmen agere #agere xmen #agere logan howlett #caregiver logan howlett #logan howlett agere #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett

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entiqua · 2 days

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I love your artstyle!! Do you have any tips for drawing?

thank you so much! i'm really happy you like it!!💗 as for tips, what i would say would change drastically depending on what kind you're looking for, but some very general ones:

draw what you love and want to see most, regardless of whether anyone else wants to see it. if you don't enjoy what you're drawing it'll never come out as good or genuine as something your whole heart and soul is in. i mean you'd think this would be a no-brainer but sometimes i've had to sit back and ask myself 'if no one was ever going to see this except me, would i actually spend time drawing this?' and i was surprised by the answer

that said, it is also completely valid if your motivation for drawing is to draw for other people! there have been plenty of times where i was too artblocked to draw my own ideas but was still able to draw commissions or gifts and enjoyed it simply because making other people happy with my art makes me happy.

don't get too caught up in having a consistent art style. in my experience this 1000% hinders you

having your sense of anatomy degrade over time without you noticing because you keep drawing the same types of characters is a very real thing! if this is a concern to you be sure to draw a variety

follow a billion artists that you like the art of and you will have endless inspiration injected directly into your brain every time you open social media

my favourite practical tip for those who draw at a desk: keep a small mirror next to you at all times. absolute game changer for quickly referencing hands

if you're drawing digitally, make the canvas huge! in my experience this lets you draw messier/faster and you can't tell at all when you zoom out. if you tend to get stuck spending unnecessary amounts of time micromanaging pixels (me💀) keep it zoomed out while drawing

related to the above point, messy drawings can have far more expressiveness in them than neat and polished drawings. nowadays i never do lineart and go straight from 'barebones stickman pose' to 'varying-levels-of-coherent sketch' and use that as my lineart. sweet freedom from the sketch-looks-better-than-the-lineart phenomenon

if your goal is to improve, then you really do have to scrutinize your art, figure out what you're not satisfied with, and commit the time to focusing on it. 'practice makes perfect' kinda rubs me the wrong way because of how much i've seen it interpreted as 'just draw everyday and you'll magically improve' but genuinely it won't get you very far if you don't actively think hard about what you're trying to improve and take the steps to do it. is this a hot take idk. also hand in hand with this, not every artist is trying to improve and you shouldn't feel bad for this! maybe you just wanna make a little headshot doodle of your fave blorbo and that's your only drawing goal ever. awesome. maybe you know your art has flaws but it's passable enough to convey what you want and you're perfectly satisfied with that. (this is the stage i'm usually at). also awesome!

don't hesitate to draw something because you think it's out of your skill level. the worst that can happen if you draw it is that it comes out terribly but you learned something and can always redraw it better in the future. the worst that WILL happen if you don't draw it is that you'll never draw it. and then it will sit in the back of your brain haunting you for years. it's not like i'm speaking from experience or anything aha

look up 'hand stretches for artists' and do them if you draw a lot unless you wish to summon the wrath of the carpal tunnel demons

of course, these may not necessarily work for you, and most importantly(!) these are coming from the perspective of someone who is primarily a hobbyist. some of this won't be practical for people who need to build an audience, maintain a consistent style for work, etc. these are just things that have personally helped me over many years of drawing :)

#i haven't posted in like 6 years i've been in the trenches #but i could yap about art all day

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cosmicconversations · 1 day

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Thoughts On Libra (Sun, Moon, Rising) 😍

LIBRA SUN

Those with the Sun in Libra are interesting people. They have complex personalities but tend to hide that behind some sort of veneer they think is acceptable. But, they are generally not phony people. In fact, they are the least likely to fit the stereotypical “fake nice” Libra mold. Many of them are quite assertive and have no issue fighting back or standing their ground. However, they will default to whatever they think is fair. But, fairness can mean convicting a criminal and sending them to prison. Libra Suns are like judges. They make objective and impartial assessments and they know how to get people to listen to them. If they are ever harsh, it is usually warranted. But, they can also become overly fixated on the idea of “justice”, which can make them a bitter enemy to have or bring out a vindictive streak. Relationships matter a lot to them but largely because they feel like others need them. Kind of like Cancer, they need to be needed; not so much emotionally but more so to give feedback, validation, and encouragement. When they are younger or not so self-aware, they may project this role on to others, feeling like they are the ones who need other people to thrive. But, no. They are the ones who keep their loved ones balanced. In a romantic context, they are the strong man/woman behind their partner. (But, they deserve the same support in return!) Their famous flaky or noncommittal streak can stem from insecurities regarding the pressure of being that support system. If they don’t see the value of their partnership or presence in others’ lives, they can become avoidant in response.

LIBRA MOON

Libra Moons have a hard time telling the difference between their need to keep the peace and their insecurities. An essential insecurity of theirs is being disliked or having someone else reject them. At the same time, it is hard for them to be fully honest with themselves about their emotions or motives. So, they may convince themselves that they are being thoughtful or kind when they are really just avoiding conflict or suppressing their needs or ignoring deeper feelings. It might seem like it doesn’t take much to make them happy. But, sometimes, they don’t actually know what makes them happy. Moon in Libra people tend to kiss the ground their mom/mother figure walks on. They put this parent on a pedestal and can struggle to acknowledge their actual issues with her. Doing so can give them major inner child healing they didn’t know they needed. They have to realize their needs matter, too! Many people with this Moon sign are very, very sweet and thoughtful. They feel very fulfilled by acts of kindness toward others and will go out of their way to make their family or friends or significant other feel special and loved. They are sensitive but in a more intellectual way. As Air Moons, it can be harder for them to grasp the emotional nuances of situations. Yet, they will always be there with a comforting word or a listening ear. But, less evolved or mature people with this placement could expect others to always be there for them or see their point of view while failing to realize they don’t give them the same consideration or support. Avoiding accountability can be their way of avoiding possible rejection.

LIBRA RISING

So, I agree. I think Libra Risings are really pretty. But, it is not just a physical thing, although it can be for many. With Venus influencing their Rising sign, a lot of them are blessed with a facial harmony and lovely features that go beyond genetics. Your energy and aura affect your appearance. So, since Libra Rising has such a lovely aura and energy, it is like they were just meant to be pleasing to look at. But, their overall vibe is highly attractive, as well. Without even trying, they charm and endear and win people over in any given situation. Most Libra Risings are never single, either always jumping from one relationship to the next or spending most of their life in a major connection, for better or worse. Select people with this placement may spend long periods single but still live their lives in ways that put others at the center, like being of service or always being there for the people they love. A fixation on fashion or passion for art can be other ways they strive to bring beauty or happiness to others. Let’s be honest, though. Some people with this placement can be horrifically fake. Not all of them, though. I feel like there are three types of Libra Risings. The first type has a “niceness” that is largely a facade, smiling in your face but then talking shit behind your back or being secretly manipulative. The second kind is genuinely super-sweet and caring, to the point where they either need to get better at asserting themselves or making sure others don’t take advantage of them. The first kind can often present themselves as the second but their true colors are eventually revealed. And the third type can be a little blunt and “tell it like it is” but only because they want others to do the same for them. So, they are treating them how they wanted to be treated. This is part of their charm and, in spite of their potential harshness, they are very likable and kindhearted.

#astrology #astro observations #astro community #astro notes #libra #libra placements #libra season #libra sun #sun in libra #libra moon #moon in libra #libra rising #libra ascendant

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seancekitsch · 3 days

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Can’t Stand Me Now; a modern Aegon x Stark! reader fic

CHAPTER THREE: Gift Horse

Y/N Stark and Aegon Targaryen. Aegon Targaryen and Y/N Stark. Inseparable since both eldest children met at Kings Landing University, until they weren’t. One night of drunken passion ruins it all.

Five years later, Aegon is coming off a broken engagement to Larissa Lannister and sends a risky Instagram DM to none other than Y/n Stark.

series masterlist here

warnings for the series: smut, smoking, drinking, friends to strangers to lovers, angst, fluff, more to come as needed

Barre class is across the city, in Sara’s neighborhood. A large building part of a smaller art university that is made up of mixed use floors. Some are classrooms, a black box theater, workshops, and nestled in at the very top is your barre instructor’s studio. And while it’s rented for her by a mostly online chain company that sells classes, she runs it as if she’s the choreographer for the Winterfell ballet company back home, the most prestigious in all of Westeros. It’s routine that you go there at seven with Sara, then open the shop at noon twice a week. Only Satuday you missed class, and today you’re running late. Sara’s only given you slight hell for ditching her, which is unusual. You love your siblings, you really do, but they both live up to the ‘The North Remembers’ stereotype. Frequently arguing with you and the nanny when you were kids, when Cregan and Sara could never drop anything. So Sara not being too pissed at you skipping barre has you questioning everything.

Your sneakers slap against the pavement as you pick up your pace, ready to catch even more hell about your inability to be prompt to anything besides the store opening. You sigh as your turn the block, the building finally imposing on your view of one of the more tree lined areas of the city.Despite the chill in the air, the trees still have leaves and the sun is bright and warm against your hoodie, oversized and spritzed with your signature perfume Mugler Alien. Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you ignore it, knowing already who it is.

Aegon has been texting you. Long paragraphs sometimes, barely legible ranting other times. He’s filling you in on his family, his life, been telling you how much he misses his best friend. Tuesday night he drunk dialed you and in no uncertain terms told you how hot you were and exactly how he would fuck you every which way every day of the week. That one was hard, mostly because in moments of weakness, you cannot help but think about it and the way he practically moaned into the phone. More than once you’d pictured yourself underneath him, on top of him, pressed against the cold shower tile, thrown to the floor, even bent over the till at your shop. He’d wormed his way back in, at least mentally. You’d decidedly kept your distance, not entertaining a lot of his messages, not texting him first. You hadn’t seen him since Sunday morning, and you were planning on keeping it that way until he gave you a clear answer to all of your questions.

That was the most infuriating part. Whenever you actually text him to ask about why he’s back in your life or why he left in the first place, he just tells you it’s better explained in person. You’re not completely sure you want to meet in person again, though. You know yourself well enough to know you’ll probably forgive him again right away, no matter the reason.

And Old Gods be damned, a lot of his messages are tempting. You want to hang onto every word, respond just as eagerly, purging thoughts into those little blue text bubbles and letting him in. Keeping your phone in your pocket is the best protection for yourself, certain that whatever Aegon Targaryen is up and doing at 6:55 on a Thursday is a diabolical trap to get you to respond and fall back into old habits with him.

You fling open the door to the building, more or less jogging to the elevator and slamming your knuckle into the button. The elevator here is new, and moves quickly.

You more or less tumble out of it, already hearing the sarcastic jeering on Sara’s tongue from here. Only, when you enter the studio, that doesn’t happen. She doesn’t call out to you right away, doesn’t stop what she’s doing.

Sara isn’t alone, though, and the sight has you tripping over your feet. The silver hair is unmistakable, and for a moment your mind drifts back to your unanswered texts, knowing the Targaryen siblings are more or less a unit, and she probably knows about at least a few of the goings on of her brother and you. Helaena is the same age difference to Aegon as you are to Cregan, the only real difference being that her family is only slightly messier than yours. While your family is plagued by maybe more than one affair baby scandal and ski lodge residences, her parents being loyal to one another and having lived all in one house might actually be their plague.

For a brief second, your blood runs cold knowing that she realistically knows more than you. You’re not the kind of person who’s used to not having the power and information. You’re used to holding all the dirt, the gossip, the emotional ammo so to speak. In college it was a weapon at worst and a tool at best, and now it is a shield. Only today, Helaena holds the shield instead of you.

Sara leans in close to the Targaryen, whispering and giggling to one another as if they were alone in the world. This must be why Sara was not as mad as she usually is about your skipping this weekend. The two look like they’re in their own little world, a Sara Helaena bubble where everything is so funny and their proximity is their barrier. They look almost entranced, and when Helaena brushes hair off of Sara’s shoulder, your feet find themselves again.

“What’s up, did you find a new barre partner?” You ask, looking questioningly between your sister and Aegon’s sister. The women look close, as if there was a shared something between them, and for a moment jealousy spikes within you. But then you reign it back in, immediately recognizing the feeling as one thats completely inappropriate. Sara deserves friends, and you should get some more.

“Hel here had to get out of that stuffy estate, it’s apparently all doom and gloom there,” Sara explains, “she showed up at the class you ditched.”

Her tone is haughty, but you know it’s a joke. She’s been filled in just enough about the situation to only slightly rag on you about the whole thing. Sara doesn’t know about Aegon’s order, doesn’t know about the near constant stream of messages that pour in, doesn’t know about the comfort being wrapped in his cologne spritzed blankets for at least a few hours.

“Right,” you drawl, rolling your eyes, “Because your dear old sister is so easy to replace.”

“Oh, the more the merrier,” Helaena chimes in happily, pulling her bag over near where you dropped yours. Her bag looks almost identical to yours, but instead of a charcoal and wine color way, it’s sage green and sand.

“I agree, darling,” you say, pulling off your hoodie to get ready to warm up.

Conversation flows freely then, shoes and inhibitions kicked to the side. There is a certain comfort to this, a confirmation that the world did not end because for some unknown reason someone in the Targaryen family doesn’t hate you. Granted, you’re at least half sure Aegon doesn’t, and Aemond you’d only seen in passing once in five years. You had been on a date to a brewery when he entered with an older woman, and then your date went to shit. All because you could not get signature silver curls out of your mind.

You lean down to touch your toes, chipped manicure just brushing an even more chipped pedicure. It’s when you rise back up that Helaena tries to get your attention specifically.

“You know I tried to hate you,” Helaena starts as if she had read your mind, her eyes and voice drifting away as she warms up, stretching and bending, “Because Aegon was so upset when you rejected him, but you’ve always been nice to me. I couldn’t find it in me.”

An airy smile graces her face, as if what she said wasn’t just insane for a multitude of reasons. She’s always been, as long as you’ve known her, in her own little world in a sense. Always sweet and kind, but in a space all her own. You remember Aegon’s words when he had brought you to the Targaryen estate for the first time: She is an enduring mystery, but I love her. This is, however, the most clear and direct you’ve ever heard her; and what she had to say enraged you.

“I rejected him?”

You cant help the rise in your voice, despite the few heads that turn towards your corner. You scoff. He really had the audacity to ghost not only his closest friendship but clearly the promise of something more, and say you had been the aggrieving party? Helaena doesn’t back down, but also doesn’t cower. For her, this is just a fact and not some life altering revelation. You envy her for that.

Sara gently adjusts Helaena’s tank top strap for her, a gentle gesture you’ll have to call attention to when you’re more level headed. Helaena cocks her head to the side as she takes in your body language, your anger.

“Is that not what happened?”

“No!” You whisper shout, now trying not to have little gossips listen in. You throw your ankle up onto the barre and stretch your arm out the opposite direction.

“Oh,” Helaena’s eyes widen as if this is now finally a revelation to her as well, “Thats why your name was a curse.”

What the fuck does that mean? You look at her, and she gazes back at you as if her words should have cleared something to up. Maybe to her, they did. Your eyes then dart to your sister behind her, and your sister’s eyes are wide, her brows furrowed. ‘Aegon?’ she mouths, her lips warping into a grimace.

Your name as a curse, to whom? Aegon?

…. Larissa?

Your face relaxes, the realization washing over you in waves. You now assume you had been a curse on their entire relationship. The picture of you on his Instagram, was it taunting her? A mean spirited part of you hopes it was, an unjustified possession of Aegon in your mind.

You pull your foot down, and bend to grab your phone from where you’d tossed it over your bag.

You pull up Aegon’s instagram, something you’ve been doing at least once a day since Saturday morning. Swiping to his tagged photos, you find what you’re looking for. Hundreds of paparazzi and press photos of Aegon and Larissa, all of her vice grip clutching him, all of him looking like a less than sober flight risk. This paints a different picture than the one you’d been drawing up in your head. You’d known he fucked her in university. You’d known she was one of his regular rotation of girls he’d dabble with at the party house, one of the faces you’d accidentally barge in on in the bathroom fixing her make up after they’d hooked up. None of those girls liked you much because they thought you were competition for Aegon. While you thought that was stupid at the time, they were ultimately right, and you’d only realized when you were in too deep.

Your eyes find one thumbnail for an article saying that the Lannister’s pulled out of a partnership with the Targaryen’s corporate ventures after the split. Another piece to a puzzle that you hadn’t realized you were putting together until now.

The instructor enters the room just as you open your mouth again, the moment to ask for clarification gone. Helaena offers a faltering smile as she straightens her back, getting herself into position as the instructor raises her arm. She calls you all to attention, more like an actual ballet instructor than for a posh girl barre class. Later, you think, It’ll have to wait until later

The class goes by without a moments relaxation, going through the motions while internally you freak out about what all the little clues you’ve been given could possibly mean.

“Hey, wait up!” you call, even though the Targaryen woman looks like she’s not in a rush. You yank on your joggers, holding out a hand to tell her to stop. Helaena turns quickly, as if she’s excited to talk to you again. She looks to Sara though, and you don’t miss the way your sister tries to cover her blushing with her dark hair. You’re not letting her get away with that, you decide.

“Did you want to walk somewhere after this together?” the blonde asks sweetly, and you nod, finishing stuffing all of your belongings into your bag as you shove your feet into your shoes, and link arms with her and Sara to pull them out onto the street as a united front.

The walk to the juice bar isn’t far, and the trip to your shop from there is even shorter. You pay for the juice, knowing you’re potentially about to interrogate Helaena and cockblock your sister from whatever it is going on with her. The sun beats down on you, despite the chill in the air, casting everything behind you into shadow.

The shop is bright, a beacon of pattern and color that calls down the street. The fall decor is something you still have to plan with Sara, probably after hours re-dressing the mannequins and making tissue paper leaves the way your mother taught you during an arts and crafts day when you were kids. As the three of you walk, the conversation is meandering, friendly and full of nothing at all.

It’s not until you lock the door of your shop behind the three of you that you decide to strike.

“Oh, you own Lone Wolf! I’ve bought from your website-“

“Why am I a curse?”

You and the Targaryen both speak at the same time, a cacophony of sound. Shit. You’ve always had a history of running your mouth, and you know Helaena is soft spoken. As if you have to coax a wild creature, so too do you have to coax Helaena into conversation with you.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry. Thank you!” you wince as you backtrack, but if she’s offended she doesn’t look it.

“You’re fine, I promise.”

Helaena looks around the shop, inspecting all the intricacies of your decor choices, the way the colors of your house crest are put into the fine details to honor them, the way that your space is an eclectic blend of you everywhere, if not only the professional friendly version of you. There is a weight that does not seem to press on her as she inspects the details. Last you saw her, she was a very withdrawn girl, practically speaking in riddles unless she was alone with her brothers, and even then she was more a wallflower than an active participant. She’s still quiet and gentle, but finally, Helaena Targaryen has grown into it.

Fuck, she’s a saint. You nod, and take a sip of your carrot juice.

“He said your name,” she reveals, and you fully turn towards her, pulling up a stool opposite to where she decides to drop herself onto the plush shop couch.

“When?”

“So at the engagement party two weeks ago,” Helaena begins.

Fuck! This is really really recent. This is an actively open situation. Aegon contacting you was not as random in its timing as you had first assumed.

“He gave this speech, and it was really not like Aegon. He’d been sober and brooding all day, I’d almost mistook him for Aemond.”

She pauses, as if trying to recall something. The Aegon you know was and is rarely sober. Not always drunk or high, but not what a normal person would consider sober.

“The speech was weird for him too, it was very thoughtful,” she chuckles to herself, “and then instead of her name he said yours. He was looking down at his champagne the whole time. Everyone was pissed. Grandpa Otto even tried to get Mum to cut him off for that slip up but she stood up for him.”

But was it a slip up? The timing of all of this, all of the evidence you’ve seen. You now think that despite all of your anger and heartache, maybe you shouldn’t have hung up on Aegon the other morning. Good on Alicent though, you think. Although her methods may sometimes seem insane, you cannot fault someone who had babies when she was a baby herself. Throughout college, she was on a sort of apology tour, trying to fix what her younger self and the people that had influenced her had broken when it came to her children.

Sara bursts into laughter the moment Helaena’s words sink in.

“Oh I swear by the Old Gods and the New, that’s like something out of a movie. Really?” Sara’s laughter rings like a bell again as she plops herself down on the couch next to the blonde. If you didn’t know better, you’re already planning their wedding in your head. Helaena nods, joining in with Sara, and you find yourself laughing too.

You smirk over the rim of your cup, and swipe up on the latest string of Aegon’s desperate texts that you haven’t replied to.

Just how much of a curse are you? Is it like Heathcliff and his Cathy? A selfish part of you hopes that it’s been gnawing at him, hopes it’s eaten away at him and Larissa this whole time. A jealous part of you thinks it should have been you the whole time, thinks your life has been stolen from you despite all of the good things and successes you have. The part of you that you are trying to ignore hopes that despite everything he’s been well, and that maybe someone’s been looking out for him after he stopped letting you do the honors.

Your Number: awright aeg. ill bite xx

#aegon targaryen x reader #modern aegon x reader #modern aegon #aegon x reader

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em-harlsnow · 1 day

Text

there’s a huge difference between the way frank and terry were as parents and i’m not just talking about the ‘levels’ of abuse.

so we see that frank has his ‘good father’ moments with most of the kids. we don’t see it with ian or lip, but we see it with the other kids. we see how carl idolises him when he’s young and thinks frank is trying to save him by shaving his head when frank said he had cancer. we see how debbie adores him when frank ends up in mexico and how frank completely ruins that. we see how fiona sometimes shares these moments with her father where you can tell she loves him and cares about him, no matter what he’s done.

and then there are the very few moments when frank does actually seem like a good dad. like when he took the fall for some of carl’s drug things with the police. and when he was sober for a week and making everything fun and happy. there are probably a couple more that i can’t think of right now.

but all that makes it SO much worse when frank fucks up again. it’s as if every time he does something shitty it’s a huge shock to everyone. you can see the complete surprise and devastation on fiona’s face when she finds out it was frank who called CPS (maybe she didn’t think he’d stoop so low, but still) and when he called out sean at her wedding. you can see the anger when frank ruined debbie’s school project and the shock for everyone when frank headbuts ian.

we know frank has been an awful parent for a while, based on fiona’s stories in court and ian’s stories about being locked in the basement, but every time it’s a bit of a horrible surprise because he does good things every once in a while. it’s so sad, because lip says that he didn’t know frank would go back to his usual shittiness when he got sober again when lip was a kid.

terry was very different though. we don’t know as much about how he was when mickey and mandy and the others were kids, but we know a little. so, terry was much more physically abusive than frank was, and had fewer ‘good father’ moments. therefore, none of his kids were surprised at anything he did. mickey isn’t shocked when terry brings svetlana round, he thought terry would actually kill him.

so it’s hard in a different way, because then terry will every so often drop in a little compliment. like when mickey says that terry was ‘proud’ when he caught a knife. and when terry tells mickey he could’ve been a good son. it’s these stupid compliments which leave the kids constantly begging for that positive attention no matter how awful he is.

the bar is at a constant low for terry, so the highs seem more amazing. for frank, i think the bar is at a low as well, but slightly higher because he’s not constantly abusing the kids, he’s more neglectful, and frank has more peaks in his ‘goodness’ which make him so much worse when he has the awful moments.

frank leaves his kids with hope for a good future when he’s sober, which is always disappointed. terry leaves his kids with a constant feeling of needing to be better as they strive for his approval.

frank is inconsistent, which hurts a lot, and terry is consistent with a few sick compliments about what should be considered bad behaviour in his kids.

i don’t know if this made much sense, but i wanted to blab about the different styles of abuse and emphasises the fact that frank is made MORE awful by the ‘good’ things he does for his kids, not less awful.

#shameless #gallavich #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #ian x mickey #shameless opinions #frank gallagher #terry milkovich is evil

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live-laugh-legolas · 2 days

Note

members of the fellowship’s sense of humour!!

The fellowship’s sense of humor

Aragorn:

-This guy would find Monty Python so funny

-Idk what kind of humor this is; maybe surreal?

-It isn’t the type of jokes he tells but it makes him laugh the most

-His jokes tend to be subtle jabs; jabs out of love though, he’s never mean

-Side comments and quips

Legolas:

-He has a smug sense of humor if that makes sense

-In the book he says he is going to “find the sun” so he can bring it down to his friends who are freezing in the snow

-Before prancing off on top of the snow like Peter Pan launching himself from a window

-He isn’t particularly easy to make laugh; he will smile along politely but to make him belly laugh is a challenge

-And it would probably be some silly and random situational thing idk

Gimli:

-Teasing; I mean Legolas made him laugh by teasing him for his height

-Like he loves little skits and bits

-Will always play along with any bit someone is doing

-Legolas often doesn’t understand these

-Would love improv and standup shows

Boromir:

-Dad jokes

-Specifically his dad jokes

-He always laughs way to hard at his own jokes

-He is the funniest person he knows

-Doesn’t mind jokes at his expense

Frodo:

-He often makes jokes at his own expense

-A bit self deprecating; often making a joke after he makes a mistake

-He often makes jokes to lighten a situation

-Somewhat unexpected I think but he definitely finds crude humor funny; when done appropriately (like not in excess)

-Kind of like Deadpool/Ryan Reynolds’s type of humor

-He doesn’t tell those types of jokes often but he will laugh at them

-Flirts with his friends as a joke

Sam:

-Similar to Frodo he makes jokes about himself

-Sometimes they are self deprecating but other times he makes jokes of grandiose

-Perhaps is comes from a place of insecurity

-Even if it’s not really a joke; it makes people smile (Samwise the Brave, not a joke really but it’s playful)

Merry:

-Practical jokes

-Loves pranks

-He is very sneaky and will set up elaborate schemes

-Pippin is often his bait

-Sam is a frequent victim

Pippin:

-He has the stupidest sense of humor

-Like those unusual meme compilations

-Also farts

-They will always be funny

Gandalf:

-Very dry humor

-The type of jokes where it could be a joke but also you aren’t sure

-He is funniest when slightly annoyed although he doesn’t really mean to be

-Unintentionally funny but he is also aware that it’s funny after he says it

#lotr #lord of the rings #lotr headcanons #legolas #lotr fellowship #lotr preferences #aragorn #boromir #frodo baggins #meriadoc brandybuck #peregrine took #merry and pippin #gandalf the grey #gandalf #gimli son of gloin #gimli #samwise gamgee #sam gamgee #the lord of the rings

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jazzy-art-time · 20 hours

Text

Alli - JarbleAU

Alli belongs to @curce [ I had permission to Jarble-ize her. Curce willingly sacrificed her to me ]

Diagnosis information below the cut

DIAGNOSIS:

Alli

Job: Stage performer / Stage magician

Despite her flamboyant and spectacular performances on stage at the Shining Ring's biggest Casino, Alli is all but a fraud.

Most wouldn't be able to tell that her acts are all fake. Just tricks of the light or very strategic stage tricks. She works hard to make sure everything looks spectacular and entertaining from down below in the seats… or well.. at least makes sure her stage hands work hard.

Whether or not magic does exist doesn't matter, in the end its just about money. Real or fake it doesn't matter, what sells, sells. Wasn't entirely the route she was expecting to take in her life but it's where she's at now and she is good at it.

She is extremely cocky and arrogant and demanding of those around her to make sure her performances go well. At this point, is she even doing much work out there?

However, stage tricks aren't enough to keep a crowd interested, so she sometimes has to resort to… interesting outfit changes to gather attention. She isn't the best at flirting face to face, but that doesn't really matter when you are on stage with a short skirt.

She gets easily worked up over any critic reviews of her show. What would they know anyhow. Better hope you aren't a stagehand who happens to be nearby when a bad review drops.

But despite her cockiness on stage, there is some level of discomfort with it. Sometimes she wonders if it's really worth it to be this way. Maybe she shouldn't rely on such cheap tricks to gain a audience. A deep ache resides in her chest whenever a child happens to pass by mentioning that they love magic and hope to see a show of hers once they grow up. She remembers when she believed in that stuff too. It hurts a little.

But she doesn't know why. DEFAULT WEAPON:

Expandable Cane/Wand

Is conjured by "pulling" out of her head gem.

Usually summoning it causes a mild headache. She cannot conjure it if her gem is somehow damaged or covered, even by her own hair.

The wand/cane can expand for as long as she needs to for the situation. She can also determine how flimsy or stiff the cane is. So it can either be being hit with a flimsy switch or getting nailed with a lead pipe.

Normally a clear glass like appearance during the day. But within starlight or specific brands of stagelight, it glows. EXTRA DESIGN NOTES:

-> Has a more witchy type outfit but had to go more magician for the gimmick. BUT kept the hat overly large with the crinkled tip just as a bit of a nod to the original.

-> Sparkle markings appear on her face, her hair shimmer and lightly faded on her tail tips. The ones on her face are supposed to mildly resemble that of clowns.

-> Has several gems that mimic her forehead gem on her body. When she performs, she somewhat hides that she is pulling her staff from her head gem. That way it leaves to some illusion on just WHICH gem she is pulling it from. Most assume she can pull it from any of them.

-> The inside of her cape has that like… "space" texture that changes and warps as she moves around. Is it just some kind of mythical fabric or does she own like 50 fucking capes with different sequin space patterns? WHO KNOWS

-> I'M NOT... ENTIRELY HAPPY WITH THE OUTFIT but like. Magician outfits can be kinda basic and so trying to do something more flashy but also like?? I don't know! I don't know how fashion or clothing work I'm still learning and practicing give a man a break

#channeling the GREAT AND POWERFUL TRIXIE-wait wrong show #JarbleAU #anthro #anthro pokemon #curce #doodle #concept art #sfw #my art #digital art #for others #stuff for others

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ikilledyvette · 2 days

Text

(Part II of my seriously condensed 9-1-1 fic is here! Hope people enjoy, even though it's all a bit rushed!)

Part I

Sunday afternoon, Father’s Day. It’s always a hard day for Bobby, but usually, working helps him get through it. Today has been ... worse, and not just for him. Bobby finds Eddie on the couch, staring blankly into nothing. Bobby sits down beside him, a silent invitation to talk. Eddie doesn’t always take him up on it.

Today, Eddie says, “He hasn’t called,” and Bobby reminds him the day isn’t over yet. Eddie asks, “What if he doesn’t call?” and Bobby reminds him about tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that.

“Every day you’re both alive is another chance to make things right,” Bobby says. “Don’t give up on tomorrow just yet, Eddie.”

Buck comes by then, and Eddie takes off to give the two some space. Buck says, “So, I had dinner with my parents the other night.” Bobby asks how it went, and Buck says, “Yeah, not great. They had, uh. A lot to say about me, you know. Going through a gay phase, or something. Wanting attention. Getting too old for, I don’t know. Making stuff up, I guess.”

Bobby nods. Cautiously, he says, “Sounds to me like they still don’t know you very well.”

Buck huffs a quiet laugh. “Yeah. Thing is, everything they said ... it’s all stuff I’ve thought too, you know? Like, I’ve always done stupid things to get people’s attention. Their attention, Tommy’s. Yours. And if ... if what I’m feeling, who I am, is ... is real ... how could I have not known before, right? And I, I do know how I feel about Tommy—I like him so much, Bobby, you don’t even know—”

Bobby knows. Everyone knows. Buck’s joy is not subtle; it shines through him, a thing to behold.

“—but sometimes I still—” Buck breaks off and sighs. “Well, maybe that’s why I reacted so badly last night. Cause sometimes, I worry they’re right.”

“They’re not,�� Bobby says immediately.

“How do you know that?”

And Bobby hesitates, not sure Buck is going to want to hear this right now. But still, he says, “Because I know you, kid.”

“Yeah,” Buck says, smiling a little. “You do. Bobby, I’m. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I do. Cause that night we talked about Tommy? You didn’t ask me to, to explain myself, or suggest maybe I wasn’t thinking things through. You didn’t need me to prove anything. You just accepted it, Tommy and me. You accepted me.” Buck shakes his head. “I told this to Maddie once, but sometimes it’s easier to lash out at the person you know is always going to forgive you. My parents, that’s not them, never will be. But you, uh. You’re safe.”

Bobby swallows a little at that. He wants to be that person for Buck—but Bobby know he isn’t, can’t be. He’s the reason his family is dead; he’s the reason so many people are dead.

“I know I hurt you,” Bobby says. “If I hadn’t left the way I did, Gerrard would never have been captain, and—”

“You think this is about Gerrard? Maybe you don’t know me as well as you thought.” But Buck’s voice is teasing, lessening the sting. “Yeah, I mean, working under Gerrard was ... rough, for a lot reasons. But that’s not ... Hen was the one mad at you for that.”

Bobby is aware. Hen had forgiven him pretty quickly, but her attitude towards Bobby on his first day back had been ... cool, to say the least. Bobby understands why, had prepared himself for Hen’s anger, potentially Chimney’s, too. They both went through a lot, working under Gerrard the first time around. Bobby had expected them to be upset.

He’s not sure why he hadn’t expected Buck to be.

“I’m not mad about Gerrard,” Buck tells him. “I’m mad that you lied. You—you were saying goodbye all day, only we didn’t know, I didn’t know. And you just—you were just going to leave?”

“I didn’t want—”

“You didn’t want us to change your mind,” Buck says, now visibly upset. “You—you said goodbye, Bobby. I didn’t realize it then, what you were doing, but—if you were gone, if you left, and I could have done something to stop it, stop you from, from—"

And Bobby realizes suddenly that Buck isn’t just talking about Bobby quitting.

“Hey,” Bobby says. “Listen. I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

“For how long?” Buck asks, and it’s not mockery this time. It’s pleading. Anxious. Young. For as much Buck has been through, for as much progress he’s made over the last seven years, Bobby is struck every now and then by how young Buck still is.

“That’s not up to me,” Bobby says and points up, skyward, at the man upstairs. “And listen, Buck, I won’t deny I was ... I was in a pretty dark place a couple of months ago. I should’ve been more honest about that. But I’m here, and I mean to stay here as long as I can. Okay? I’m not going anywhere without a fight, I promise.”

Buck inhales, a deep, shuddery breath, and Bobby hugs him, and Buck hugs Bobby back.

“I’m sorry,” Buck says again. “I think, maybe. I think I’ve just been really scared.”

Bobby hugs him a little tighter and says, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you, kid.”

Footsteps on the stairs interrupt them a few minutes later. “Not to break up this long overdue moment,” Chimney says, “but Buck, you’ve got another visitor.”

Buck turns with a little dread, expecting his parents and not sure he’s ready to face them just yet—but it’s Maddie. This time, it’s Bobby and Chimney who disappear downstairs to give the Buckley siblings some space.

Maddie tells Buck that their parents are flying home. “I told them to go,” she says. “And not to come back.”

“Chimney told you,” Buck realizes, resigned and more than a little annoyed.

“Of course, he did,” Maddie says. She’s slightly exasperated but mostly worried. “Why didn’t you?”

She thinks he’ll say something about not wanting to ruin Maddie’s relationship with their parents or Jee Yun’s relationships with her grandparents, and Buck does lead with that. But mostly, Buck’s ashamed of how he petty it was, bringing up Daniel. “I didn’t want you to think that I, I resented him,” he says. “I really don’t, Maddie. He was just a kid, and he never got the chance to grow up and, and I wish I could’ve given him that chance. I wish I could’ve met the person he would’ve become.”

“I know,” Maddie tells him, and reminds him that it’s not his fault; it was never his responsibility to save Daniel. Buck says he doesn’t blame their mom for slapping him after what he said, and Maddie, steely, says, “Well, I do. For that, and also for how they talked to you—no, it’s not okay. What if Jee grows up and realizes she likes both boys and girls someday? I don't want Mom talking to her like that. Do you?"

Buck recoils a little, and Maddie nods. “Would you be okay if Mom ever hit Jee Yun?” she asks. “Even if she said something terrible? Even if she deserved it?”

“She could never deserve it,” Buck says, knowing what Maddie’s doing but unable to keep quiet, not when his sister looks so upset, not with the ghost of Doug so heavy in the air. He hates to think of how many times Doug must have told Maddie that she was to blame for everything he did to her. “But Maddie, I don’t think Mom or Dad would ever—”

“Maybe not,” Maddie says, “but that doesn’t make them safe. They screw up, and they always feel bad about it, but they never really apologize. They never put in the work. They just ... make excuses and expect that we’ll forgive them, but I think I’m done with that now. I’m done with relationships where it’s only my responsibility to try harder, to smooth things over, to say the right thing, to always forgive. Maybe someday, if Mom and Dad actually work on themselves, but for right now ..." Maddie shakes her head. "Enough is enough.”

Buck gets that, he does. But he admits he isn’t sure he’s ready to cut off his parents yet, isn’t sure he wants too. He still wants to keep trying, and Maddie says that’s okay. What matters is, they still have each other. And she won’t try to change his mind if he doesn’t try to change hers.

Buck offers her a pinky swear. Maddie smiles and hooks her finger around his.

Meanwhile, downstairs, a phone rings.

“Christopher?” Eddie says, and takes a few steps, turning away from everyone.

It is Christopher. He calls to wish his dad a happy Father’s Day, but also to say he loves him, and while he’s not quite ready to come home yet, he still wants to come home, and maybe soon.

“I miss you,” Christopher tells him. “I don’t want to miss you anymore. But you have to stop lying to me.”

“I can do that,” Eddie promises.

“And go back to therapy.”

Eddie laughs. “Already on top of that one, bud. Maybe ... we could go together, sometime, when you come home?”

“Yeah,” Christopher says. “I’d like that. I love you, Dad.”

“Love you too, Chris,” Eddie says. He hangs up, takes a breath before turning around, and announces, “Christopher called!" as if everyone—including Maddie and Buck, leaning over the balcony—weren’t badly pretending not to eavesdrop.

Everyone cheers and rushes Eddie.

“What did I tell you?” Bobby asks him. “What did I tell you?” Hen asks, too, and Eddie says, “Yeah, yeah,” to both of them, with wet eyes and a shaky, hopeful smile.

“This calls for champagne!” Chimney announces. “But since we’re all on duty ... cheap coffee and leftover Ding Dong, Gerrard is Gone cake it is!”

—All in all, it’s the best Father’s Day the 118 has had in a long, long time.

(And that's it! Apologies, fellow Tommy fans, that he didn’t make it into Part 2—but you know. If Tommy’s at the fire house, who’s flying the plane? Actually, Tommy’s too busy babysitting Jee Yun, and—to both Buck and Chimney’s horror—introducing her to all the worst Star Wars movies. She loves them.)

Tag List @lavenderleahy @v88sy

#911 fanfic #my fics #team as family #buckley siblings #bucktommy #bobby nash is buck's dad #definitely not working out my complicated feelings about family redemption stories

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delusional-fantasising · 2 days

Text

I Do Love You (Soldier Boy x GN reader)

Summary: Reader tells him 'I love you' and he gets overwhelmed and shuts off.

Warnings: Soldier Boy kinda being an asshole/biggot, angst no happy ending, trauma, sexual undertone at one moment, slight misogyny, self hatred and emotional shut off

Word Count: 1176 words

The night was young, Soldier Boy had agreed dating you during his time with your team, The Boys. But one thing was obvious, under his brave and dominant bravado he was scared of loving ever again. He didn’t want another betrayal, another heart break, it just wouldn’t let him sleep to the idea of ever loving again. He was terrified of the thought that you, the one person he had slowly began to trust without any benefits could love him.

Every woman’s words rang out in his ears whenever you smiled at him;

“They don’t and they never have. The woman are either humouring you or they’re scared of you. But none of them like you.”

“I didn’t love you, I hated you. We all did.”

Soldier Boy was sitting near you with an arms reach of you, sure there was a part that did somewhat loved you but another part of him was sabotaging himself, ‘They don’t love you. They are afraid of you.’

He wasn’t looking in your direction, he was watching a documentary with you about all the years he missed. It was hard for him to watch to learn everything that changed and forced to change so fast. He had slowly gotten used to the race change not that he had too big of an issue, sorta. He just couldn’t wrap his mind around the gender roles, he found it absurd that men were no longer expected too much to have an income but more rather be expected to be emotionally available, talk things out when things get hard, respect boundaries, and empathy.

“Phht back in my day I never had to do that, women where at home and I would give them pleasure and necessities,” He scoffed as he listened to the feminist rallies that happened. You almost choked on your drink when he mentioned the whole pleasure thing, it was no joke and there was rumours from past lovers of his that his only green flag was that he was the one to go for pleasure.

“Soldier Boy, you can’t be saying that!” You laughed with very much flushed cheeks, he rolled his eyes at you telling him what to do. He wasn’t a big fan of being bossed around, he had to be in control not someone else. But then you say something that made him freeze, his hands gripping the couch arm till his knuckles went white.

“You are so lucky I love you enough to let that slide for now but you seriously got to get with the times. Women don’t want just pleasure, they want emotional connection.”

I love you…

Love.

Soldier Boy just looks away without responding to what you said initially, he was focusing on what his therapist says whenever he feels like he’s going to have a PTSD episode. (The boys forced him to go)

Breath in for four seconds

Hold it in for four seconds

Exhale for four seconds

Hold it in for four seconds

Repeat

Once he felt himself mostly calmed down he just gave a rude snarky response, his tone sarcastic, “Love. That’s a pretty big word, isn’t it? Especially for someone who barely knows me.”

“What? C’mon we have been dating for a month, you have told me some deep stuff. I just want to express some of my love for you,” You chuckled sounding confused at his sarcastic outburst but not taking it to heart since you knew that he sometimes does this to cope. You didn’t know you hit a trigger since the only one you knew about was nothing Russian around him especially the song ‘Escape’ as it triggered one of his worst episodes of exploding. Soldier Boy snapped at you and laughs with a mocking gesture as he waves his hand, “Oh so I opened up a few times and now you know me. This is crap and everyone now and days just throw that around with no meaning. I’m not some person who you can google and get all the real information about me, you don’t know anything about me besides what I want you to know.”

The bitter tone, the sharp cold glare as you could tell he was closing himself off emotionally off from you again. Trying to get distance to avoid a pain you never wish to bestow him.

“Benjamin, I want to know you then. I can’t do this if you just shut me out, I want you to feel safe around me. I really do love you,” You begin, bringing his real legal name to show how serious this conversation was. To show honesty to him and not some fake love that he has gotten in the past by a certain woman.

“Save it, I heard it all well too many times before, ‘I love you, Benjamin.’ Then follows is a knife to my back after you kick me down,” Soldier Boy spat the look of hurt in his eyes and his lip quivered slightly as he wasn’t ready for hearing someone say that to him ever again. “Benjamin I’m not Crimson Countess, I’m not going to hurt you like she did.”

“You can’t promise anything, no one can. Love is just a word, a filthy fucking lie people tell themselves to make them feel better. It doesn’t and will never mean anything to me!” He spat getting up from the couch to pace angrily not looking you in the eye anymore. His eyes getting watery at the thought of going back in the box.

The box

THAT FUCKING BOX

“That’s not true. Love means everything to me and Ben I mean it when I say I love you. Every little imperfection, even when you can being a raging asshole and slightly biggoted you have been changing for the better and I’m proud of you for it.”

Proud, he stopped in his tracks. His trembling hands at his sides turning into fists. He felt his walls of defense cracking at how much he wanted to believe your words but he just ended up muttering, “I used to believe that but love’s just a precursor to disappointment, it’s something to avoid the harsh reality of the real world… I don’t want to lead you on to disappointment”

He was avoiding being vulnerable but it was hard keeping everything bottled up. A tear was slowly building up threatening to spill, his muscles tensing up. Maybe a joke or another witty comment to brush off the stupid feelings. The feelings that made him weak.

“Ben, you won’t disappoint me.”

“Shut up. Just shut up,” Soldier Boy grumbled trying not to set off any alarms with you since he wasn’t facing you, he didn’t want you to see him cry, see him weak.

He isn’t in control

His feelings were going rampant.

You got up, sensing those tears practically going up to him softly cupping his face to make him face you. There was so much emotional turmoil brewing underneath the cold hard wall he placed up. He was scared.

Scared of you.

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pichiru · 3 days

Text

The Sun Also Smiles - Chapter 3

Chapters - [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

Summary - With Mabel and Dipper's 16th birthday party on the horizon, Grunkle Stan takes to online dating to find a date for the party. Things start to get real weird real fast.

Word Count - 3,251

Pairing(s) - Stan Pines x OC

Genre(s): Romance, Comedy, Mystery

~~~~~~~~

Solana said:

Good morning, Stanley Pines 🖤

Stanley 🖤🖤🖤 said:

Mornin toots

Solana said:

Did you sleep well?

Stanley 🖤🖤🖤 said:

Like a damn rock. What about you?

Solana said:

I slept wonderfully. Had a hot date with a nice and shy old guy and my favorite tv show last night

Stanley 🖤🖤🖤 said:

Oh yeah? Hope he was handsome

Solana said:

He is. Sexy even.

Stanley 🖤🖤🖤 said:

Damn. You think I’m sexy? Wish I could give you a compliment too but I have no idea what you look like, toots

Solana said:

Soon, soon. Very soon. I promise. I wanna make sure that you’re not gonna up and run away the moment you see me.

Stanley 🖤🖤🖤 said:

Why would I book it?

Solana said:

Iunno. It happens all the time.

Stanley 🖤🖤🖤 said:

Even for me, that’s rude as hell. I’m sorry

Solana said:

Why are YOU sorry? You didn’t do it. I appreciate the kindness though.

Stanley 🖤🖤🖤 said:

Lemme meet you at your job some time?

Solana said:

Maybe. Let me get through the day today and I’ll give you an answer to that. I’m in a rush right now. Boss is on my ass about being present and punctual.

Stanley 🖤🖤🖤 said:

Yeah I gotcha. I’ll be waiting for that answer, babe

Solana said:

🖤🖤🖤

“Grunkle Stan, are you ready yet?” Mabel called from up the stairs.

“Did you sleep in your chair again? That’s not good for your back, you know,” Dipper said with playful disappointment in his voice.

Stan smiled to himself at the kids looking out for him despite the fact that he was a grown man and could take care of himself. It was just nice to know that people other than Ford cared for once.

He dropped the leg rest on the recliner then pulled himself to the edge of the seat. With a large and very much audible grunt, Stan pushed himself onto his feet. He knew Dipper was right but sometimes forcing himself to lay in an empty bed was tough. A loud crack was heard when he stretched out his back, immediately creating relief.

“Yeah, yeah, kids. I got it,” he yelled up at them, knowing they were standing at the top of the stairs listening to his morning routine.

“Lemme take a shower and snag breakfast on the way there,” Stan offered as he continued to stretch and crack bones in his rickety old body.

“No chance Grunkle Stan! It’s almost noon and I’ve been waiting alllllll morning for you to wake up and take me and Dipper-“

“I told you, it’s Maze now. Short for Mason,” Dipper murmured to Mabel, hitting her arm. Not hard though.

Mabel rolled her eyes in an exaggerated manner. “I’ve been waiting alllllll morning for you to wake up and take me and MAZE to that massive art store that just opened up recently.”

“Maze?” Stan asked under his breath to himself in confusion. “I’m sorry, kid. I stayed up a little later than usual to watch the rerun of The Duchess Approves. I’ll make it up to ya. I promise.”

Mabel peeked down the stairs to see Stan standing at the bottom, looking as if he was deep in thought. “Okay. As long as you keep that promise.”

“I’m a man of my word! I’ve never made a promise I couldn’t keep. Ask Sixer.” Stan yawned as he stretched one last time to get the residual tiredness out of his body.

“Shower then store!” Mabel said with a nodding huff.

“You got it, kid,” Stan chuckled. He turned the tv off and tossed the remote back into the recliner. He trudged up the stairs and past the kids at the top, immediately making his way into the bathroom. He shut the door quickly and sighed heavily.

Why was Solana being so avoidant about being seen? Was she actually a catfish or even a modicum of who she said she is? It was hard to tell through just a screen or a phone call. Stan was used to being scammed and the scammer but this one…this one felt like the worst kind of scam and that’s saying a lot considering he was actually a criminal.

He shook his head to try and shake the feeling off. Today was about Mabel and starting up her weird earring business. This wouldn’t even be a thing he’d consider if she wasn’t looking to be a business owner like her good old Grunkle Stan. It lit up the darkest corners of his heart to know that fact.

As he went through the motions of taking a shower and getting dressed, Mabel was sitting with Dipper in the living room. She was sitting in the seat of the recliner and Dipper on the arm with his leg up. They were barely watching some old cowboy flick that had a lot of staring and not a lot of action. It could almost be classified as media's longest staring contest if one to be honest.

Dipper had on a black denim vest with distress on the sleeves, (what he thought was) an obscure band t-shirt, ripped jeans, and combat boots. Even though it was the beginning of summer, he chose fashion over comfort. He even started donning "guy-liner" which everyone knew was just eyeliner he tried to masculinize. Mabel did it for him every morning without complaint because she wanted her brother to look pretty.

Mabel however barely changed her fashion sense in the years since they were last in the mystery shack. Except she upgraded to overall dresses over her sweaters instead of regular skirts and wore high top converse instead of regular black flats. Sometimes she would steal Dipper's band t-shirts if they had a weird enough logo.

"Dip-" Mabel started before she got a death glare from her brother. "Maaazzzeeeeeee," she said in a drawn out way to try and get the name on her tongue. "Maze, did you hear any of what Grunkle Stan was saying on the phone last night?"

"No, I was _actually_ sleeping."

"Hey! I was too excited to sleep because we're starting up my business soon! And going material shopping today. I had to make sure I had everything written down and designed so the art store people could help me," she explained before puffing out her cheeks at the end.

"ANYWAY!" she continued. "He was talking to a mystery woman and watching The Duchess Approves. It had a crazy plot twist at the end. I won't spoil it for you though," she rambled.

"Mabel, you're getting off track again," Maze said as he flicked the shoelaces on his combat boots.

"Oh! Right! Well anyway, I think he asked her on a date," she whispered to him.

"A date? Grunkle Stan? Yeah okay. Funny joke Mabel," Maze said as he rolled his eyes. "Grunkle Stan doesn't have it in him to even talk to a woman let alone ask her on a date."

"I dunnoooooo! He got pretty far on courting Lazy Susan before things went downhill. I just think they thought they were better as friends. But this woman...She's different. I think he really likes her."

"How could you know that from one conversation on the phone?" Maze asked.

"I can tell by the tone of his voice when he was talking to her. Grunkle Stan never talks to anyone like that. Not even us! And you know he loves us to death."

"He'd never admit it though," Maze added.

"Of course not. But we will always know his truth," Mabel sighed gently as she sat back into the chair.

"Kids? Ya ready to hit the road?" Stan's voice suddenly called from up the stairs.

Mabel and Maze sat up straight when they heard his voice. They looked at each other, scared that he might have heard their conversation. They gulped in unison.

"Y-Yeah! I got everything in my bag and Di...Maze is ready too!" Mabel called back with a nervous laugh, grabbing her tote bag and standing up straight.

"Nice," Maze said sarcastically with no real bite to it. But he's glad she said something because he knows they would have both been sitting there in stunned silence until Stan came down to see if they were even still alive.

"Shhhhhh!" Mabel covered his face with one of her hands. Maze didn't move in the slightest. He was used to Mabel doing that at this point.

They could hear footsteps descending down the first half of the steps then onto the landing. Stan was standing there in his mystery shack suit with his red fez, a sleek gold chain with his stylish, totally for show, cane in his right hand. Which meant...he was ready to haggle the art store workers at any cost. He only wore that suit when he wanted to scam during daylight hours.

"Grunkle Stan, you better be nice! I know what that suit means," Mabel warned, putting her hands on her hips and puffing her cheeks out.

"Hey, don't ya want the best materials at half the cost? Which means ya can get even more!" Stan retorted with his signature, boastful grin plastered on his face.

Mabel sighed loudly while leaning her head back. "Yeessssss," groaned playfully.

"Exactly. Let's get going." Stan looked at Maze and gave him a thumbs up. "I had a goth phase too, kid. Just want you to know that," he said as he finished coming down the stairs. He patted both of their heads with heavy hands and smiled even more. Nothing made him happier in this moment than seeing his niece and nephew continue growing into their own person. He just wanted them to be happy and he'd do anything to make that happen.

"Grunkle Staaannnnnn," Maze groaned, shaking his head from under Stan's hand and fixing his hair.

"Sorry, kid. Takes a lot of hair gel to get it like that, eh?" Stan chuckled as he walked towards the door. "Keepin it in mind for the next time."

Maze smiled at his uncle's apology. Stan was the last person he expected to understand him right now. How could Stanley Pines of all people understand what it felt like to be an outcast? It always seemed like he knew just what to do to fit in and Ford was the outcast.

"Maze?" Mabel called from the door. She was looking at him with concern at the way he spaced out suddenly. "You okay?"

"Y-Yeah! Sorry. I was just thinking about what kind of earrings I could make for myself when you get everything. Twin discount, you know," He said coolly.

Mabel grinned, clutching the strap of her tote. Her family's support meant the world to her. "It'll probably be something emmoooooo," she teased. "Shotgun!" she yelled suddenly before darting towards Stan's car.

"NOT FAIR! You got a head start!" Maze said as he ran out of the house past Stan to try and beat Mabel to the car.

Stan laughed to himself as he closed the front door and locked the door. He strolled over to the car as the twins argued over who was going to sit where in the car. "The lady of the hour should sit in the front." Mabel stuck her tongue out at Maze. "Then...Maze can sit in the front when we come home." Maze stuck his tongue out at Mabel in retaliation. Stan unlocked the car and hopped in. Right after, the twins piled into the spots in the car.

"Buckle those seatbelts up," Stan reminded as he turned the radio on a low volume so there wasn't any awkward silence.

"Grunkle Stan, you literally never put your seatbelt on," Mabel laughed as she put hers on.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm an adult. I could take a car crash to the head right now and be fiiine," Stan said smoothly but in a way that would definitely be conveyed as a joke. He admired her for calling him out on his shit. He needed to be setting a better example for them since they were much more sentient and impressionable than the last time he saw them. He popped it on, adjusted his rearview mirror and drove off towards town.

Stan and Mabel were singing along to a random pop song that they both were surprised that each other knew. Once they realized that they were karaoke buddies, they sang their hearts out to the song while Maze sat in the backseat, marveling at their ability to not care so much. Once the song was over with and they calmed down, Stan adjusted his rearview mirror so he could have a direct eye line with Maze.

"So uh, Maze. Ya wanna talk about the name change?" Stan asked as he turned down the radio so he could hear him if he decided to respond.

"Oh, uh..." Maze's cheeks flushed shyly as he sunk down into the seat. "I felt like Dipper was too little kiddish and Mason wasn't cool enough. It feels like an old man name. So I came up with Maze," he explained, feeling his ears heat up from embarrassment. "It's like a cooler and more edgy version of Mason, you know?"

Stan smiled to himself. He was proud of his nephew for taking steps to trying to find himself in this crucial stage of his development. "Yeah? It sounds badass," he admitted with a grin. "The ladies'll go crazy over Maze."

"You think so?" He asked, his cheeks fully flushed now. He had a smile on his face that was so relieved that Stan was extremely supportive without a second thought to it.

"Hell yeah! Better than borin old Stan," Stan said with a nod, smiling even more now.

"Well someone seems to like that, 'boring old Stan'," Mabel chimed in bravely with a devious grin while she wiggled her eyebrows knowingly.

The car swerved slightly after she said that. Stan was shocked that she knew _anything_. His own cheeks started turning red in response.

"Got no clue what you're on about, kid," he deflected quickly.

"Oh yeeeaaaahhhhhh? Who's Solana then?" Mabel asked, putting her head in her hands with her elbows on the arm rest between her and her uncle.

"B-Bill collector!" He stammered before turning the radio up loud enough to where he couldn't hear her if she tried to speak again.

Mabel giggled and turned to face forward in her seat again. She knew he was lying of course and it was hilarious watching him trying to explain his way out of it.

After what felt like an agonizing amount of time to Stan later, they pulled into a parking spot at the new art shop he promised he'd take Mabel to. He turned the car off then immediately pulled the keys out.

"Ready to get the ball rollin, kid?" Stan asked Mabel.

"I'm ready like Freddy!" Mabel said excitedly, practically vibrating in her seat at this point.

"Go on in. I'll meet you kids in there. Make sure you look all helpless so they'll feel bad for some kids and give even more of a discount," Stan reminded, looking between the both of them. The twins nodded and rushed out of the car to run into the store.

Stan took his phone out of his pocket to see if Solana had texted him. She didn't. He figured it was because she was at work so he figured he'd hear from her later on in the day after her shift. Or maybe on her lunch break? He hoped lunch was the option.

Wait what? Stop. Full stop. Why was he acting like this about a woman he barely knew?

Get it together, Stanley, he thought to himself, shaking his head and rubbing his face in disbelief. His eyes trailed over to his reflection in the rearview mirror. He almost didn't recognize himself.

"Ya got this. You are the man. Ya'll get Mabel the best deals in the history of Gravity Falls on art supplies. Keep it together around them. Don't let them see you crack," he said to his reflection in the mirror, trying to hype himself up like usual. He always did this before every Mystery Shack tour back when he still ran it. He left that up to Soos long ago. It'd been a while. He was rusty but he hoped he still had the charm.

Before he could get inside his own head any more than what he already was, Stan got out of the car. He made sure to grab his cane just in case he had to play up the old man card. As he locked the doors, he was already walking into the store.

The doors slid open and he was hit with the crispest wall of air conditioning he'd ever felt since he moved to this, not so, sleepy town. They weren't kidding when they said this was the biggest art store this town has ever seen. It seemed locally owned. By who, he didn't know. Nor did he care. He was about to scam the fuck out of them.

There was a loud clatter heard in a nearby aisle.

"Fuck!" the voice said in a defeated tone.

Stan grew curious if the kids had anything to do with that. He went to inspect almost immediately. Once he reached the aisle where the commotion was, there was a woman bent over in a short skirt. If she didn't have her striped tights on, her ass definitely would have been showing. It was nice and round plus her thighs were the perfect size to match. When he caught himself staring, Stan screeched to a grinding halt in his tracks when he remembered that he was still very much interested in Solana.

"Excuse me, toots. Ya need a hand?" he found himself asking without even thinking a millisecond about it. He cussed himself out internally for treating this woman the way he did initially and wanted to right the wrong. Even though she had no idea.

"Ah, no. I got it," she said as she stood up straight and turned around to see Stan. She froze in her tracks when their eyes met. She stood there, statuesque.

Stan couldn't help but look over her in the few seconds he had to respond. She had a light yellow color to her hair and it was almost reminiscent of Betty Boop with all the little curls she had covering her head and part of her face. It was short too. Above her shoulders. Her skin was dewy and brown. Her eyes were a deep and chocolatey brown. Her lips. Her shirt had one of those little heart shaped keyholes. It showed every bit of her cleavage.

He snapped himself back to reality first, still finding her seemingly frozen in time.

"Hello?" Stan asked, waving a hand in her face. "Anybody home up there?"

"Hi, Stanley," she said in a very familiar voice with a smile and a tiny wave of her fingers.

Stan froze in his spot as well. His throat immediately started feeling like it was closing up and his heart started racing.

"S-Solana?" he asked in quiet shock. His entire demeanor changed almost instantly. He was looking everywhere but her, feeling the anxiety of seeing her set in quickly. This was something he hadn't accounted for. At least not today.

"Tsk, tsk, Stanley," Solana said as she did the two finger wiping motion at him. "Eye fucking me already?" she laughed. "How ungentlemanlike of you."

#gravity falls #gravity falls fandom #stanley pines #original character #Stan Pines x OC #online dating #Mabel Pines #Dipper Pines #stanford pines #fanfiction #fanfic #romance #ocs #oc insert #self insert #self indulgent #bill cipher

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