#but yeah anyway we talked about it and i just now sent her the links to the past job postings with the real time requirements on it

[starbuck]

literally actually shouldn’t even be posting this, but like. y’all.

there’s a tiny itty bitty chance i might be getting promoted soon.

[sunkissed-zegras]

𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 ─ PB⁵

౨ৎ ─ summary | request -> "hey! I think u should right a fic about the night ice and paige were in miami out partying (obviously including reader) but paige has a little too much fun, so reader and ice to take care of her. reader is also dating paige at this point they are just on the down low 🤫 anyways adapt on the story however u want i just think this would be super cute!!" or, paige wants to finally tell ice that you two are together.

─ word count | 1.2k

─ warnings | drunk!paige, mentions of being wasted af, emotional paige, confused af ice, scared y/n, ummm... confessions, idk what else

─ taglist | @xocherishxo @iienstein @yazmunson @euphternal @uraesthete @hello-nah817 @wanderlusturous and here's a link to my taglist if anyone would like to join!!

PAIGE STUMBLED FORWARD as you and Ice grabbed her arm, making sure she didn't fall.

You and Ice exchanged amused glances as you got Paige up to her feet, drunken giggles coming out of the blonde's mouth. She had one too many drinks tonight and now, you're not sure she'll remember tonight.

Paige's hand went up to grab your shoulder, holding on tightly. "Hey, you guys are the fucking best," Paige slurred, her words weaving together slightly. "I love you guys, have I ever told you guys?"

You chuckled, exchanging another glance with Ice. "We love you too, P," you replied, steadying her as she swayed. "I think it's time to call it a night, what do you think?"

"But we're out here in Miami," she slurred as she let out an amused chuckle at her own joke. "L-Looking for the hoochie daddies,"

"Yeah, it's time to go back to the hotel." Ice held in her laugh as she looped Paige's other arm around her shoulder. You carried their bags as you guided her through the crowd.

The cab drive back to the hotel was anything but peaceful, Paige almost puked five times and she kept talking about how much she cared about you guys and the team. When you finally made back to the hotel, Ice threw Paige on the bed with a groan.

With a weary sigh, Ice carefully helped Paige settle onto the bed, making sure she was lying down comfortably.

"You're lucky we love you, Paige," Ice said with a playful grin, shaking her head as she glanced back at you.

"Yeah, me too." Paige sighed as she glanced back at you with a grin. "C'mere,"

Your face felt warm with embarrassment as Ice gave you an amused look as Paige kept gazing at you expectantly. Oh shit, she wasn't about to air you two out, right? Well, drunk Paige was very unpredictable you slowly made your way over to where Paige lay on the bed, her gaze fixed on you with a playful glint in her eyes.

With a nervous chuckle, you took a hesitant step closer to Paige's side, unsure of what she had in mind. "What's up, Paige?" you asked, trying to keep your voice casual despite the butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Paige's grin widened as she reached out to grab your hand, intertwining her fingers with yours. "Just wanted you closer," she said softly, her words laced with drunken boldness. "You know I love you, right?"

Your heart skipped a beat at her words, warmth flooding through you as you squeezed her hand gently. "Yeah, Paige. I know, I love you too."

"Damn, am I interrupting something?" Ice joked as her amused expression faded into a confused one. You and Paige exchanged glances as Paige laughed, pulling you closer.

Ice looked very confused as you shot Ice a slightly panicked look as you tried to figure out how to respond.

"Oh, no, nothing like that," you stammered, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. "Just, you know, friends being close."

Paige sent you a glare as she sat up. "A friend? Are we really still doing this, Y/N?"

Ice looked slightly uncomfortable as she watched the interaction, sensing the tension in the air. "Um, I'm gonna go get us some water."

You shot Ice a grateful look, silently thanking her for the distraction, before turning your attention back to Paige. "Paige, I..." you began, searching for the right words to say.

But before you could continue, Paige let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through her hair. "I'm tired of pretending, Y/N," she admitted, her voice softer now, tinged with vulnerability. "I'm tired of hiding how I feel about you."

Your heart skipped a beat at her confession, a whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. "You're just drunk. Are you sure you wanna do this, now? On vacation, with Ice?"

But Paige shook her head, her expression determined as she reached out to take your hand. "No, I've never been more sure of anything in my life," she insisted, her eyes pleading with you to understand. "I love you, Y/N, and I don't want to hide it anymore."

You felt a lump form in your throat at her words, torn between the fear of what could happen if you gave in to your feelings and the overwhelming desire to be with her. "Paige, I..." you started, your voice faltering as you struggled to find the right words.

But Paige pressed a finger to your lips, silencing you. "Please, just hear me out," she urged, her voice soft but determined. "I know this might be scary, but I can't keep pretending that I don't feel this way about you."

You looked into Paige's eyes as she sobered up, seeing the depth of emotion and vulnerability in them, and felt your resolve crumbling. "You're sure?" You whispered, your voice just above a whisper as Paige nodded.

As if on cue, Ice came back with three bottles of water and an awkward smile. She looked at you, noticing the proximity before handing you the bottle. You both mumbled a quick thank you before glancing at one another.

"So..." Ice began, her voice soft as she looked in between her close friends. "What's going on-"

"We're dating, Ice." Paige ripped the bandaid off quickly as your eyes widen in panic, shooting her a glare. "For like three months, I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"Just three months?" Ice asked as she opened her water bottle casually, taking a sip. There was a moment of silence as you all just stared at each other, waiting for Ice to continue. "What?"

"That's all you're gonna say?" Your tone was slightly annoyed as Ice shrugged, sending Paige a grin.

Ice laughed as she shook her head, as Paige pulled you into her chest. "We've been known, Y/N. It's pretty obvious, trust me."

You blinked in surprise, feeling a mix of relief and disbelief wash over you. "Wait, you knew?" you asked, feeling a bit dumbfounded.

Ice chuckled, nodding as she took another sip of her water. "Yeah, it was kind of hard to miss," she admitted, a playful twinkle in her eyes. "But hey, I'm happy for you guys. You make a cute couple."

"That's all you're gonna say?" You repeated as Ice sent you a glare, Paige stifling her laugh.

"What do you want me to say? Oh my god, really! You guys are fucking, wow what a surprise." Ice exaggerated as you let out a laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. It was really that easy, huh?

You couldn't help but laugh at Ice's response, feeling a sense of relief wash over you at her easy acceptance. "I guess we were just expecting a bit more of a reaction," you admitted, still chuckling.

Ice rolled her eyes playfully, nudging you with her elbow. "Come on, you know me better than that," she teased, a smirk playing on her lips. "I'm happy for you guys, really. You guys are adorable but I hope I don't become, a third wheel or something."

You grinned at Ice's playful remark, appreciating her lighthearted approach to the situation. "You could never be a third wheel. You're an essential part of this trio." you reassured her, nudging her back gently.

Paige nodded in agreement, looping her arm through Ice's. "Yeah, we're a package deal, remember?"

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[slvt4em1lyprenti2s]

Don’t worry about him

Summary: Derek makes a comment about you being too clingy and it upsets you more than you’d like to admit

Word Count: 1.5k

Fluff, kissing, slight self doubt?

Pairings: Emily Prentiss x fem!reader

!NOT PROOFREAD!

Reader pov:

“Are you like glued to her? If my girlfriend was that clingy I could not cope, it’s like being suffocated surely!” Derek taunted as he saw me clutching Emily’s hand on the jet. I instantly let my hand fall out of hers as I laugh it off with the rest of the team. He says stuff like this all the time, why does this one kinda hurt? Am I really annoying? Does Emily not like it when I hold her hand? Am I suffocating her?

Emily must’ve seen the slight falter in my features because once everyone was back in their own conversations, talking theories about the case, Emily placed her hand on my thigh and started rubbing it soothingly. I looked up to her already looking at me. Her brown eyes held a sympathetic expression, I gave her a weak smile and placed my hand on hers. I looked away and started listening to the others talking about the case again.

Time skip to when they’re at the local PD:

Emily’s pov:

I realised through the day y/n’s been pulling away from me, being more distant. I swear to god if it’s because of what Morgan. Anyway, we don’t normally have much pda out in the field, or at work because of keeping it professional obviously, but even when I graze my fingers over her back she’s pulling away. It’s not like her at all.

I walk over to where she’s standing looking through evidence and place my hand in hers.

“Hey you okay?” As soon as I finished my sentence her hand was out of mine already.

“Yeah, fine. Why? You okay?” She responded, sounding deflated.

“You don’t sound okay honey, and you keep pulling away from me.” I hold her hand again and this time she keeps hers in mine, that’s progress.

“Yeah I- uh just. Ugh it’s stupid. I’m fine I promise.” She put on a bright smile and stuck her pinky out in my direction, an adorable tradition of hers. I link my pinkie around hers and place a delicate kiss on her forehead.

“Okay, if you say so.” At that moment Derek walks in followed by JJ and Spencer.

“You still at it? You always this clingy y/l/n?” Jesus, read the room Morgan. She let go of my hand once again and hung her head.

“Hey leave her alone, just because you’re single doesn’t mean everyone else has to be miserable!” JJ teased, instantly jumping to y/n’s defence. I give her a look to say thank you as Morgan holds his hands up in defence. Just as he was about to say something else Hotch walked in.

“We have him. Everyone in an SUV now, Garcia sent the name and location to your phones let’s go!”

The drive to the unsubs house was, not awkward, but different. Y/n didn’t even spare me a glance, Derek was in the back so I didn’t dare reach over to try comfort her, he’d just say something again. I love him like a brother but sometimes he’s just so annoying. We begin to slow down and I look and see that we’re already at the place. We all get out of the SUV and make our way to the front, Spencer and Rossi take the back, me and y/n take the front door, Morgan took the left, JJ took the right and Hotch trailed behind in case anyone needed support.

We breached the front door and found the unsub holding a woman with a gun pointed at us.

“FBI! Mike McAllister put the weapon down!” I yelled as we got in his line of sight.

“You don’t wanna do this James, you’d be just like your dad.” Threatened y/n, a good move on her part.

“You take that back!” He screamed at us, his hands shaking trying to keep the gun steady.

“You’re no better than him if you do this. In fact, you’d be exactly what you made him.” The unsub looked between me and y/n after I said this. I glance towards her to make sure she’s okay, she looks back and silently tells me she’s fine.

“Oh, you’re gunna be sorry you ever said that.” The unsub warned through gritted teeth. He looked me dead in the eye, and then pointed the gun at y/n.

Reader pov:

The son of a bitch just shot me. What on earth? I was pushed back by the force of the bullet hitting my chest - that was thankfully covered by my bulletproof vest - winding me slightly.

I looked back at him after I hear another shot ringing through the house a split second after the first one did. The hostage had run to Hotch in the fuss and Emily had pulled the trigger. After confirming he was dead she came back over to me.

“Hey, are you alright?” Emily fussed as she placed her hand on my back, her eyes were darting all over me to check if I was okay.

“I’m okay- yeah I’m good.” I splutter out, still a little out of breath. She gently pulled the bullet shrapnel out of my vest and ushers me outside to go see medical to double check everything.

As we were walking there em kept putting her hand on my but I just kept shrugging her off. I didn’t want to be clingy or needy just because I was mildly injured. Especially since Morgan was walking up to us.

“Damn you okay?” He asked as I sat on the edge of the ambulance.

“Yeah fine, I’m fine.” I say while removing my vest. I could tell Emily wanted nothing more than to hug and comfort me right now but I don’t want to be clingy and rely on her, like Morgan said. Ugh I need to get him out of my head.

Time skip to when Emily and reader are back home after the case

I walk into mine and Emily’s shared apartment and put down my bag. I let out a big sigh and go to walk to the kitchen for a drink when I feel two hands on my waist that hold me back.

“Hey you.” She muttered as she gently pulled me backwards into her. My from now pressed against her back she spoke again, “What’s gotten into you today? You wouldn’t even let me near you after you got shot y/n/n. What’s going on?” She was lightly swaying us side to side as she spoke while leaving featherlight kisses on my neck and shoulder as her head snaked round the side of my own.

I shake her off yet again and turn to face her, “Nothing I’m okay I told you. I just do t want to you know, suffocate you by being clingy. I didn’t want to annoy you at work either so, yeah. Just after what Morgan said. I mean he was probably just being him but, it got me thinking that I probably do suffocate you and I’m really clingy I’m sor-“ It was as if she didn’t even want those two words to come out my mouth because as soon as Emily caught wind of what I was about to say, her hand came up to cup my cheek and pulled me into a sweet, comforting kiss. Our lips moved together and it was like her kiss was the antidote for all the anxiety I’d been feeling all day. As soon as her lips were on mine, I temporarily forgot all about what Derek said and how it got in my head.

My arms snaked around her neck and hers found home around my waist as she pulled me flush against her. She pulled away but just enough so that I could still feel her warm breath dan across my face. “Don’t worry about him. Morgan I mean. He doesn’t mean it, he’s just lonely, believe me. I love it when you grab my hand or lean on me. It’s comforting, for me and i’m assuming you too. My love, being clingy isn’t a bad thing and honestly you’re not even that clingy Derek’s just being a moody man who isn’t getting any. I love you so much honey please don’t let him get to you.” She kisses me again at the end of her speech. A much needed speech, that is, on my behalf.

I pull away and look her in the eye, trying not to stare and get lost. “Thank you em, I really needed that.” She just smiled and mumbled a ‘You’re welcome.’ As I pulled her into a bone crushing hug. My head fell into her shoulder and I mindlessly played with her hair as her hand ran up and down my back.

Screw Morgan’s stupid comments.

(A/N: I LOVE MORGAN SORRY FOR LOWKEY MAKING HIM THE BAD GUY BUT HES THE ONLY ONE WHO WOULD TEASE ABOUT THIS!!)

[magicfootballstuff]

Dirty Little Secret - part 2 (leila ouahabi x reader)

Summary: A love story about secrets, flirty messages, football rivalries, and useless lesbians who don’t know how to communicate. And it all starts with one badly timed challenge in the Champions League.

Leila Ouahabi x Arsenal!reader

Part 2/?

Read other parts here.

———

It’s strange the way that fate sometimes works.

You’d heard whispers that England would be hosting a mini tournament during the February international window in preparation for the Euros, even heard talk that Germany could be one of the potential opponents, but you didn’t really think much of the rumours at first. 

But not even two weeks after Arsenal’s second defeat to Barcelona and your little makeout session with Leila in a deserted equipment room at the Emirates, a public announcement goes out. England will host the Arnold Clark Cup in February, playing matches against Germany, Canada, and most significantly Spain.

You’ll get to see Leila again.

She messages you with a link to the announcement almost immediately, and it’s nice to know that her first thoughts are also about a reunion with you.

Leila See you soon! Already practising my slide tackles 😜

You smile to yourself and shake your head as you type out a reply.

You I thought we agreed there were better ways to get my attention?

You’re in the Arsenal gym with the rest of the team doing some conditioning exercises before you head out onto the pitch for training. It’s hardly the ideal place to start another flirty text exchange with Leila, but you can’t deny the fact that knowing you’re on her mind is nice.

Leila Like this?

Leila has attached a picture to her message and it’s bordering on obscene. It’s just a mirror selfie but Leila is wearing only a sports bra and a pair of Barcelona shorts that she’s rolled up at the bottom to make her already long legs seem even longer. In the picture she’s sticking out her tongue and throwing a peace sign but it’s her tanned abs that catch your attention.

Sparing a quick glance around to check there’s nobody close enough in the gym to see what’s on the screen of your phone, you zoom in, practically drooling at what you see.

She’s ridiculously attractive. Suddenly you regret not taking things further the other week at the Emirates. 

But at least the announcement of the Arnold Clark Cup means you’ll get to see her again sooner than you realised.

You Yeah, that works 🥵

Leila Your turn 😉

Here in the gym, there’s absolutely no way you’ll be able to take your top off and take a tantalising picture for Leila without getting absolutely rinsed by the girls.

You I’m in the gym

You try to make your excuses but Leila’s not letting you get away with it that easily.

Leila Mmm perfect

You definitely want to give Leila something in return, something to tease her and let her know you’re appreciative of the picture she sent that’s now permanently burned onto the inside of your eyelids. You just need a way of doing it that doesn’t alert the rest of your teammates to your new flirtationship.

“I need the bathroom,” you excuse yourself, and nobody pays you much attention as you leave the gym.

Once you’re alone in the bathroom, you remove your training top and take out your phone, before you stand in front of the sink and check out your reflection in the mirror. You try to find a good angle but it just feels awkward and there isn’t really a way to make a picture in a public bathroom sexy. But you tense your abs anyway and take a few photos of your reflection, trying and probably failing to smoulder at the camera.

You scroll through the results. It’s very hard to look at the pictures with anything other than mortifying shame, but you try to be objective. The lighting is unflattering, the toilet cubicles in the background ruin the sexy vibe you want to go for, but hopefully Leila won’t pay attention to that and will just appreciate that you’ve tried.

Before you can send one of the photos, the bathroom door crashes open behind you and Leah walks in, stopping in her tracks when she sees you.

“I was just…” you stutter, scrambling for an excuse to explain why you’re topless in the bathroom when you’re supposed to be in the gym. Improvising a lie, you continue, “My back was itchy so I just thought I’d check to see if I had a rash or something. Can you see anything?”

You turn to expose your back to Leah and you can tell from the reflection of her expression in the mirror that she doesn’t quite buy your excuses, but all she says is, “Looks fine to me.”

“Cool, thanks,” you reply, tugging your turquoise training top back over your head. “See you back out there.”

With your phone in your hand, you leave the bathroom, sending Leila one of the photos you took as you go.

She replies immediately with a single emoji.

Leila 🤤

You have absolutely no idea how you’re going to survive until February.

———

What you didn’t realise is that the Spanish team is also using St George’s Park as their base camp for the tournament. 

You discover this information in the food hall on the first morning of camp. The two squads are mostly kept separate, training on different pitches and sleeping in different accommodation blocks, but some of the communal areas on campus like the cafeteria and the recreational spaces are shared. 

As you go down to breakfast with Ella, who’s staying in the room across the hall from you, half the Spanish squad is already in the dining hall. The two teams seem to have segregated themselves pretty well, the Spaniards occupying one side of the hall while the few Lionesses who are already here have taken up places at tables on the other side.

You join the back of the queue for food and Ella greets the Spanish player in front of you, her Manchester United teammate Ona Batlle, with enthusiasm.

“Hey Ona!”

“Tooney!” Ona says, as both her and one of her Spanish teammates turn around at the sound of Ella’s voice.

And who just happens to be the teammate standing with Ona?

“Hey,” Leila says, a small smile just teasing the corners of her mouth upwards when she sees you.

“Alright,” you greet her, feigning polite indifference, as if you didn’t have your tongue in her mouth and her hands feeling you up under your shirt two months ago after the game at the Emirates. As if you don’t have a couple of borderline racy pictures of her saved on the phone that suddenly feels very heavy in your pocket.

“You two know each other?” Ella asks.

“We played against each other in the Champions League,” you’re quick to explain. “You know, that competition you don’t get to play in because you play for a shit club like United.”

“Hey!” Ella protests.

You grew up about ten minutes away from Ella, a couple of years older than her but moving through similar youth pathways until your journey took you south to Arsenal. She’s a diehard United fan, while your family’s loyalty lies with the blue side of Manchester, and the rivalry is a constant source of entertainment and banter between the two of you. 

It’s also a very easy way to distract Ella from more serious topics. Such as how you know Leila.

“United are not shit,” Ella insists. “Don’t forget who knocked you out of the Conti Cup.”

“Ouch, that one’s still sore,” you say, wincing at the memory of Arsenal’s defeat to Manchester United just a few weeks ago. 

“Well just remember that next time you think about chatting shit about United.”

You pick out some breakfast food from the serving counter and follow Ella to a table where Alessia and Georgia are already sitting. As you drop into an empty seat, your phone buzzes in the pocket of your shorts and you take it out to see that Leila has sent you a message.

Leila You look cute

You glance up, looking for Leila, and realise she’s positioned herself at a table across the room where she’s got a clear line of sight at you. She’s looking at you now, teeth digging into her lower lip as she waits for your reaction.

You look back down at your phone and type out a response.

You Stop looking at me like that

Leila Why?

You’ve completely tuned out the conversation at the table around you, entirely focused on Leila across the room and her messages lighting up your phone.

You Because now I want to kiss you

You watch Leila as she reads your response, and she looks from her phone back up at you, her eyes dark and her tongue darting out to moisten her lips, before she sends her next reply.

Leila Laterrrr

You Is that a promise?

Leila doesn’t reply, but every time you look up as you eat your breakfast, she’s watching you from across the room, and that’s enough of an answer.

Later can’t come soon enough.

———

Worked up from your impromptu morning flirtation with Leila, you channel all your sexual frustration into training. By the end of the morning, you’re exhausted but in a good way, and the reward of getting congratulated on a good session from Sarina as you head in for a shower makes it all worthwhile.

After having some lunch and a brief tactics meeting led by Sarina in preparation for your first game against Canada, the rest of the afternoon is for downtime. You’re slumped in a beanbag in the recreation room, watching Georgia get thrashed by Lucy at some shooting game on the PlayStation, when a small group of Spanish girls enter and make their way to a pool table at the back of the room. Leila is among them and she makes eye contact with you for just a moment as she passes. Her expression doesn’t change, but her gaze lingers for just a fraction of a second too long for it to feel like you’re strangers.

It feels like the air in the room has shifted with Leila’s presence. You can hear the Spanish girls behind you, arguing over something in words you don’t understand as the balls of the pool table clack against each other with every shot, but you can only think of Leila. You’ve spent months dreaming of being in the same country as her, let alone the same room, and the opportunity to actually have time to spend with each other instead of a quick ten minutes in a store cupboard or a flirty exchange of messages has seemed like a luxury you would never have.

Until now.

But you can’t exactly walk over to the pool table, grab Leila by the hand, and drag her to your room upstairs in front of teammates from both sides.

Or can you?

You’re getting restless in your beanbag when footsteps come up behind you and Leila walks past again, this time alone. As she opens the door to leave the room, she lingers, looking back at you and somehow beckoning you with just the look in her eyes. She disappears before anybody else can notice, and you think your self-restraint deserves a commendation because you manage to wait a whole forty-five seconds before you haul yourself out of the beanbag and make excuses that fall on deaf ears as the other girls celebrate Lucy winning yet another round against Georgia.

You slip out of the room almost unnoticed by everybody else to find Leila hanging around outside.

“I found a place,” Leila tells you, as she starts to walk away down the hall.

You chuckle in amusement at the image of Leila sneaking around St George’s Park on a recon mission to find somewhere private for a hookup, and follow just a few paces behind her, keeping enough distance between you so that it doesn’t look like you’re together, though luckily you don’t bump into anyone along the way.

She leads you to the media area of the building, which is thankfully deserted, and eventually pushes open the door to a large room that is used for press conferences, a long table in front of a sponsorship board at the front of the room and rows of chairs set up facing it. Leila turns to look at you, an expectant smile on her face and her arms outstretched.

“This is the place you found?” you ask.

“Uh huh. Look.” Leila walks past you to the door and reaches for the lock, which she twists with a click, before turning her attention back to you. “Now it’s private.”

Locked or not, it’s still a bit of a thrill to know that you could be caught at any moment, but you’ve been thinking about Leila’s lips since you last kissed her two months ago and all the teasing today has only worked you up further. You take a few steps forward, pushing Leila back against the door she’s just locked with a little grunt, your hands coming to rest on her hips.

“And what are we going to do with all this privacy?” you ask.

“I think you know what.”

“Show me,” you instruct Leila.

All you can think as your lips move against each other and your hands tug at clothing is finally.

———

Afterwards, you redress yourselves and try to look presentable - you’d really rather you kept this from your teammates for now and you definitely don’t want to announce it to them by re-entering the recreation room with tousled hair and dishevelled clothing. You pull your top back over your head, then use the front camera of your phone to check that your hair isn’t too messed up.

You glance across at Leila, who is doing the same thing nearby, and feel a fresh wave of attraction towards her as she runs her long fingers through her dark hair.

“We should do that again sometime,” you say.

“We should,” Leila agrees, with a smile.

And you do. It’s difficult, given the fact that you’re both busy with your separate preparations for the first games of the tournament and that there’s also the challenge of sneaking away without anybody noticing, but over the next two days you manage to rendezvous with Leila no fewer than three more times. 

When you’re not with her, you spend most of your time thinking about her - the taste of her lips, the way her hands feel on your body, the look in her eyes when she smiles at you. It’s probably not a good thing to be this distracted by an opponent while at camp but thankfully nobody seems to notice that your mind is wandering, nor that you keep sneaking away to meet Leila when you get downtime.

———

The first games of the Arnold Clark Cup - England versus Canada and Germany against Spain - take place in Middlesbrough. With travel both ways, an overnight stay in a local hotel, and the games themselves, it means you go almost thirty-six hours without seeing Leila.

That’s something that shouldn’t be a problem, but is. 

It’s crazy how in just three short days, most of which have been spent with your respective teams anyway, you’ve become dependent on those secret little meetings with Leila. 

You draw against Canada, playing the last ten minutes of the game off the bench, and if you’re in a bad mood on the bus back to St George’s Park the following morning, your England teammates think it’s just because you’re disappointed with your lack of minutes. 

You let them believe that, even though you know the whole point of this tournament is rotation and that you’ll get your chance to start in another game, and sit quietly with your headphones on and your head leaning against the window. You even try to convince yourself that that’s the problem, because the other alternative is admitting to yourself that you miss a girl you’ve been hooking up with for three days.

And so what if the only thing that puts you in a good mood is a message from Leila that says ‘Want to hang out later?’ that lights up your phone when you’re about thirty minutes away from returning to camp?

At least she misses you too.

———

The day before the game against Spain, you’re asked to do the pre-match press conference with Sarina and Leah. You sit at the front of a room that has become familiar to you over the last five days, being one of the regular spots that you keep returning to when you want some alone time with Leila, only this time it’s with your captain and your coach at your side and two dozen reporters all watching intently as they ask about your preparations for the biggest test England have faced so far under the new management.

“We know that Spain has a very distinct style of football,” Leah says, answering one reporter’s question about the opposition. “In some of our recent games - the World Cup qualifiers - we’ve been used to having a lot of possession and a lot of chances. But Spain likes to have the ball, they like to pass the ball around a lot, and we need to make sure we’re patient but also clinical in taking the chances we do get.”

“You’ll both be familiar with some of your opponents tomorrow from your recent Champions League games with Arsenal, but how do you prepare for coming up against star players like Alexia Putellas?”

Leah nods for you to speak and you give your answer.

“There’s no denying that Spain has a lot of quality all over the pitch,” you say. “They’re a team full of world class players. But these are the opponents we want to be playing against as we prepare for the summer. In order to be the best we need to test ourselves against the best.”

The next question goes to Sarina, and you lean back in your chair again as you listen to her response.

———

Later, you’re back in the press conference room, the door locked and the lights off, as Leila peppers your neck with kisses while her hands wander beneath the hem of your shirt and up your sides.

“You think Spain is the best?” she murmurs against the skin of your neck, her voice a low rumble that sends a shiver of arousal throughout your entire body.

Suddenly it all makes sense. No sooner had Leila got you alone and locked the door, did she steer you towards the table at the front of the room, where she pressed you into the exact spot where you sat a couple of hours earlier to speak to the media.

“You watched my press conference?” you ask, letting out a gasp as her teeth find a sensitive spot. 

Leila confirms with a hum.

“I think Spain is one of the best,” you clarify.

Pulling back from your neck to look into your eyes, Leila smirks and asks, “Do you think I’m the best?”

As she speaks, one of her hands toys with the elastic at the bottom of your sports bra.

“At this, yes. At football, I guess we’ll see tomorrow.”

Your teasing seems to be enough to satisfy Leila, who lifts your top over your head and captures your lips in another bruising kiss.

———

The game against Spain the following day finishes goalless. It’s not the result you wanted but the overall performance was good and you know there’ll be lots that Sarina will pick apart and ask you all to learn from the game.

Having been substituted off after around sixty minutes, you push yourself off the bench when the final whistle blows and wander back out onto the pitch. 

You shake hands with a few of the Spanish players and hug your own teammates, before finally going over to Leila, who greets you with a smile and wastes no time asking, “Can I get your shirt?”

“Normally when you want me topless, you take it off yourself,” you tease her, thinking about yesterday’s encounter in the press room as you remove your white England shirt.

She removes her own and whips your leg with it in retaliation for your teasing, before you both swap shirts. It’s cold and rainy and you don’t want to walk around in just your bra so you pull Leila’s jersey on, smoothing out the red fabric.

“Maybe I’ll take it back off you later,” Leila replies, her eyes raking down your body. “You look good wearing my name.”

The look in Leila’s eyes and the slight hint of possessiveness in her voice turns you on more than you’d care to admit.

Your mind is already running at a million miles an hour, playing out fantasies that involve Leila wearing nothing but your England shirt. You briefly wonder if there’s a hidden corner in this stadium, just like the closet you found at the Emirates, where you can show Leila exactly what the vision of her in your jersey is doing to you, but you know it’s an even greater risk here than it was last time.

The fantasies will have to wait for now. 

———

England wins the Arnold Clark Cup after beating Germany and while you’re delighted to get your hands on some silverware and know that it’s a promising sign ahead of the Euros in the summer, there’s a tiny part in the back of your mind that is sad that the international break is coming to an end.

Though you don’t want to admit it, you know that’s probably because of Leila.

You return to St George’s Park for one last night with a medal around your neck. Tomorrow, you go back to London and Arsenal, while Leila will fly back to Spain. Normality will resume and you know it’s unlikely you’ll see Leila again before the Euros at the earliest, when there will be more important things on your mind than hooking up.

But if you only have one more night with Leila, you want to make the most of it. Clearly she does too, because she messages you later that night asking to meet, and you sneak out of your room and down to the communal areas to meet her.

You don’t bother to look for any real privacy, instead taking your time with each other right there in the rec room. Your teammates are all asleep in their beds and now that the tournament is officially over, you don’t really care if you get caught anyway. A twisted part of you actually wants to get caught, wants somebody else to know that at least for these short ten days, Leila has belonged to you and you to her.

But nobody interrupts.

Afterwards, you dress again but instead of returning to your separate rooms, you end up on one of the beanbags together. Your head rests against Leila’s chest, rising and falling with each slow breath she takes, and her fingers play absently with your hair.

It’s perhaps more intimate than all of the actual sex you’ve been having over the last week and a half.

“This has been fun,” you murmur, though your words feel empty compared to the weight of how significant Leila has been to your life in recent days.

“It has,” Leila agrees, pressing her lips to the top of your head.

If the situation was different, if you lived closer together, you might ask Leila out. In all honesty, you haven’t actually talked much, partly due to the language barrier and partly because you’ve just wanted to jump straight to the physical stuff in the limited time you’ve been able to spend together.

Despite that, you’ve clicked with Leila in a way that feels special and you want to get to know her better. How does she take her coffee? Is she a dog person or a cat person? Stupid things like that but also what annoys her, what makes her laugh? What are her fears and ambitions?

Maybe you’ll never know those things.

You doze together on the beanbags, never quite fully drifting off to sleep but much more content in Leila’s arms than you would be if you returned to your empty bed. It’s only when the first glimpse of dawn starts to filter into the room that you reluctantly start to get up to return to your rooms before any of the other players from either team come down. 

You don’t know how to say goodbye so you don’t, parting ways with a silent hug that lasts an eternity but still isn’t long enough. It’s a goodbye that doesn’t quite feel final, but with a huge question mark hanging over when you’ll be able to see Leila again, or even if you’ll get that chance, it does feel like the end of something.

Whatever this has been between you, for now, is over.

[mbappeslover]

écoute chérie // kylian mbappé | part one.

kylian mbappé x f! reader.

saw this edit on tiktok, they edited mbappé to écoute chérie by vendredi sur mer and… i fell in love. the song is sooo mbappé.

y/n got the job as kylian’s personal assistant. his previous assistant fired for unknown reasons. y/n had heard about kylian mbappé and his terrible attitude. she wasn’t excited to work with him. but, turns out.. he’s actually not that bad.

read part 2 here.

read the finale here.

credits to the editor: strkvoid on tiktok, they did such an amazing job <3, my favorite mbappé edit.

“y/n y/l/n, you’ve been accepted!” the notification pinged and appeared at the top of your screen. you clicked on it so fast.

one week ago.

“y/n, have you seen this? kylian mbappé’s management is looking for a new personal assistant.” your friend tells you during a phone call.

“oh really?” you ask.

“yes… and, you qualify for it! like a 100 percent. wait, i’m gonna send you the link.”

you received the message and clicked on the link, it was indeed an exclusive offer/application to becoming the footballer’s new personal assistant.

“y/n, you should really go for it. the pay is amazing and i’m sure it’ll be an awesome experience.”

you skim through the countless pages and listing of requirements and benefits the job offered. plus, you were indeed qualified for the job.

“mmm… i don’t know. everyone talks about how much of an asshole kylian mbappé is. how he’s a jackass with a shitty attitude and an unbearable ego, bigger than the universe.” you explain, iffy about this whole thing.

“oh please, it’s not like you’re gonna be all lovey dovey with the guy. imagine how much money you’ll be making. you want to quit your current job right now anyway.” your friend says, trying her hardest to convince you.

you laugh. “okay, you’re right. i’ll call you back, i’m gonna read through all the paper work, submit my résumé and update you on it.”

you weren’t too serious about it, you doubted that you’d actually get the job.

everything just got real. definitely serious.

you got the job, you were on call with the footballer’s management, and you were now getting familiarized with his schedule.

“alright, ms. y/l/n, we’ve spoken through all the things you’ll be needing to do for kylian. i’ve sent you an email of a file that lists all the things you must do for him. now, all we need is for you to sign a few things. it’ll take you about ten minutes. it wasn’t much before but… some things went down. so, we had to make a few arrangements.” kylian’s manager stated.

you just nod taking everything in and trying to process it at once.

you heard the ping from your phone, signaling you got the email.

“okay, perfect. today, i’ll show you around psg and tomorrow you’ll be meeting kylian.”

a tour guide took you around the stadium, briefly explaining different areas and rooms in the building to you.

it was a long day. you were now in bed, aimlessly scrolling on instagram because you couldn’t sleep.

you’re nervous. why?

the athlete you’ll be attending to is possibly the biggest asshole in paris, france and you’re gonna have to deal with it.

you decide to go on his instagram.

“k. mbappé, 94.1m Followers, 389 Following, 1204 posts.”

you click on the first photo presented and begin scrolling down.

in almost all photos he’s smiling, with a caption full of emojis and empowering words.

he looks so… sweet?

is this the same guy with the so-called “bad attitude?”

you fell asleep.

after scrolling through all one thousand, two hundred and four posts by kylian mbappé.

your alarm rang, loudly.

you groaned, getting up to prepare yourself for the day.

after getting dressed, you received a call from kylian’s manager.

“good mornin-“ you tried greeting politely, before cut off.

“good morning dear, i need you here in ten minutes.”

“it’s only 9:00, i was told to be there at 9:30. did something happen?” you ask, exasperated.

“yeah, well, kylian decided to come earlier than we thought and right now, he wants an organic green juice from le juice. it has to be from juicerie.” the manager explains.

“le juice is like fifteen minutes from where i am right now, how will i be able to make it in ten?” you say, slightly panicking.

“well, find a way. mbappé cares about his health, a lot. all that stuff about nutrition and good food is the key to health. if you didn’t know, now you do. be here in ten, please darling!” the managers says in a cheery voice before hanging up.

first day on the job and they were already trying to make the impossible, possible.

you quickly go on the website for le juice and order and paid online for a medium organic green juice for pick-up.

you catch a taxi and head over to le juice. it was a five minute drive because it was still a bit early and the streets hadn’t start to fill yet, luckily.

you ask the taxi driver if they could wait for a quick second while you grab the order from inside.

the taxi driver fussed a bit yet ultimately decided to wait.

again, you were able to swipe up the juice since the shop just opened and customer didn’t pile up in the juice bar.

you hop back in the taxi and make your way to the stadium.

“tsk, your first day on the job and you’re seven minutes late. you better hurry up and get in there.” the manager scolds you once you arrive, outside the office room of psg.

“well, you should’ve told me i would have to be here earlier, you cunt.”

you didn’t actually say that, you thought it, but, you didn’t say it.

you quickly enter the room, with a little a stumble, almost tripping on your own feet. you quickly laugh at how much of a mess you are.

the room is packed, there’s people everywhere, most likely other staff members. you see at the corner of the room, there’s a small crowd of people surrounding something.

you squeeze in between people, trying to find a way through.

“excuse me. yea, sorry. my apologies. let me just squeeze in. i’m sorry.” you murmur out while gliding through the people in the packed room.

that’s when you were faced with him.

he’s exactly like those photos on the internet, a vibrant face, smiling while the people around him asks him questions like how’s his morning, would he like anything to drink, trivial things to simply make conversation. 

the infamous kylian mbappé.

you cleared your throat, put on your most brightest smile and polite voice.

“mr. mbappé, this is your organic green juice.” you say, putting your hand out to give the drink.

the area becomes quiet as the attention shifts on you.

you briefly look around confused.

and the smile that was once on kylian’s face had disappeared.

it was replaced with a hard stoned, cold glare.

“the fuck?” you thought.

he grabs the drink from your hand, not even thanking you before continuing the small talk with staff around him.

you try your hardest not to make a face at his rude behavior.

you brush it off.

literally.

brushing yourself off, taking a deep breath. putting on a polite voice again, you introduce yourself.

“hello, my name is y/n. i’m sure your manager already told you about me, i am your new personal assistant. if you ever need me, for anything, feel free to let me know. that’s my job, of course.” adding in a little humor to lighten the atmosphere, reaching your hand out.

once again, the area of the room goes silent. his smile falls once again and he slowly turns to look at you.

“d'accord. où est ma paille?” (okay. where is my straw?)

the crowd laughs.

you reach out your bag, handing him the straw before walking away.

“the rumors are true. he’s insufferable. literally an asshole. a two-faced scum? who even treats someone like that? no wonder his old assistant left. who’d want to deal with that.” you were now on the phone with your friend who encouraged you to apply.

“y/n, calm down. i know it was frustrating, but, it’s just your first day. at least quit after you get your first check.” your friend said, trying to comfort you.

yea, that’s right. y/n cried. cried very hard. today was extremely difficult.

you followed kylian everywhere, attempting to tend to his needs, but, all he did was be rude or downright ignore you.

“sir, how are you feeling? would you like for me to schedule a massage for you, in case you are feeling tense?” you ask.

“do i look tense to you?”

“mr. mbappé, your manager has informed me that you have a meeting on friday at 3pm.”

“who makes meetings on friday? i’m not going, you’re going. i have to relax.”

“mr. mbappé-“

“please stop bothering me. aren’t you my assistant? why must you keep calling out my name, you’re here to handle my business.”

“i don’t even know what i did to him? why should i get treated like this? it makes no sense.” you complain to your friend.

“i’m sure it’ll get better eventually… hopefully.”

“yea, hopefully.”

it’s been two weeks, working as kylian mbappé’s personal assistant.

to say y/n felt drained would be an understatement.

fourteen endless days of talking to a brick, solid wall.

a brick, solid wall with snarky remarks and a stinky attitude.

“mr. mbappé, your driver is outside waiting for you. he has the specific refreshments you asked for.” y/n says.

“alright, walk me to the car.” he says.

y/n’s concerned because he usually just nods and walks to the car himself.

as the two makes their way to the car, kylian starts conversation.

“your name, y/n, right?”

this is weird.

so weird.

“yes, sir. y/n y/l/n.”

“alright y/n, can you cook?”

“yes, i can cook, why?” y/n questions.

“génial. je veux que tu cuisines pour moi. (great. i want you to cook for me).” kylian says nonchalantly.

y/n stops dead in her tracks as kylian continues to walk.

“so, now i have to cook for this man? really?

well, it is your job…

oh, shut up. i know that!

just saying…” you internally battle with yourself.

he turns around, “well are you coming? i don’t have all day and i’m starving.”

you snap out of it, speed-walking to catch up.

“why are you standing by the door?”

you were in your bosses house. well, it’s not out of the ordinary because you are his personal assistant.

however, this is a drastic jump from a few days ago, when he didn’t even want you near him.

“are you okay, mr. mbappé? it looks pretty bad. i can go get you some soothing gel!”

he hurt himself pretty badly while trying to perform a trick during practice.

“no! i’m fine. don’t touch me, move!”

he spat out, stumbling to get up by himself.

you back up in utter shock.

other staff runs up to offer him support as he limps away.

mbappé’s pov:

his new personal assistant stood at the door, looking like a lost puppy that was left for dead on a rainy night.

kylian knew he was being hard on her, harsh to her. but, he couldn’t let his guard down.

he refused to let history repeat itself.

“why are you standing by the door?” he asks.

y/n seemed to be lost in her thoughts when he said that because she snapped up and made her way into the house after taking off her tory burch sandals.

kylian observed the woman as she subtly looked around the place before making her way to the kitchen.

he couldn’t lie. she was beautiful. she could be on the cover of a makeup magazine because of how natural and pretty her features were.

he wishes he could see her smile. most of the time she wears a frown on her face, sometimes a pout that kylian finds endearing. he wouldn’t show that though. or.. say it, ever.

her hair looked so soft, her voice was so nice on the ear. she had a nice figure, ones of a dancer, delicate, light on the feet.

“mr. mbappé? did you hear what i said? i asked, what exactly would you like for me to cook?” she said. he loved her voice, utterly. like a bee, wanting to drown in honey. he wanted to drown in her voice, listen to it forever.

“call me kylian.”

for some reason, he finds himself wanting to get to know her. get closer to her.

y/n’s pov:

‘oh God, he’s staring.’ you think to yourself.

y/n has made her way to the kitchen after taking in the penthouse. it was so nice and luxurious. she wondered how much or how long she’d have to work before ever living in a place like this.

she began looking in the cabinets, taking out a few pots and pans before realizing her boss didn’t even tell her what he wanted to eat.

“mr. mbappé, what exactly would you like for me to cook.” y/n says, an attempt to ease the tension.

‘he’s still staring. what the hell is wrong with him?’

“mr. mbappé? did you hear what i said? i asked, what exactly would you like for me to cook?” she repeats.

he looks you straight in the eye.

“call me kylian.”

you two continue making eye contact, you thought you’d feel uncomfortable, but, it’s rather… nice? it feels nice. it’s the first he’s ever actually acknowledged you.

you break the eye contact, clearing your throat.

“alright, if you don’t have anything set in mind, i’ll just cook and try to make do with whatever you have here.” you say.

it’s been about 50 minutes and you’re finally done cooking. you made steak & farfalle pasta with creamy tomato sauce.

kylian went into his bedroom since you began cooking and hadn’t come out. but, you did hear faint music coming from his room.

you begin to plate his food nicely, setting it on the kitchen island with a glass cup of ice water.

luckily, you clean along the way while cooking so there wasn’t a mess. you were tired, you wanted to get home and unwind.

you walk up to his bedroom door, about to knock, when the door swings open.

“oh! i was just about to knock. the food is ready.” you say slightly surprised.

he doesn’t say anything.

but, you could care less. your attention shifts to the song being played in the background.

“is that écoute chérie by vendredi sur mer? i love that song so much.” you say excitingly, completely forgetting that you’re at work. technically.

“yeah, it is. i love that song too.” he replies with a small chuckle.

‘did he just chuckle? with me? did kylian mbappé, my rude ass boss. chuckle… with me?’

you smile, looking at the small smile that adorned his face as he chuckled.

you won. you’re winning mbappé over.

mbappé’s pov:

he was in his room, sipping on some expensive red wine from a brewery that gifted him some.

he felt at peace, moments like these to himself. drinking something, listening to music, letting loose.

not only that, but, most likely, he could smell the aroma from the food his personal assistant, y/n was making for him.

its been a little while, he was gonna go check on the food.

his favorite song comes on.

“partir, venir, mourir, courir.”

what a lovely song. he sings to himself, along the chant before making his way to the door.

opening it, there she was.

“oh! i was just about to knock. the food is ready.” she says, obviously a little spooked.

he doesn’t care about that, though. the more he looked at her, the more time he spent around her, the harder it got to suppress his obvious attraction to the woman.

he visibly sees something click in her head as she moves from his sight to get a better hearing of what was being played.

“is that écoute chérie by vendredi sur mer? i love that song so much.” she says.

‘God, she’s so cute.’ he thinks to himself.

“yeah, it is. i love that song too.” he says, trying to hold back the ‘awe’ he wants to say so bad.

she smiles.

kylian felt like his heart could explode.

without absolutely zero exaggeration, she has got to have an award for having the most beautiful smile in the universe.

that smile right there—convinced kylian that he would make it his mission to always see that smile as long as y/n’s around him.

y/n turns around, leading him to his meal.

his stomach grumbles as he lay eyes on the food. it looks delicious. better than any five star michelin restaurant he’s been to. would probably taste better as well.

he’s confused, though. there’s only one plate of food.

he turns to y/n.

“where’s your food?”

“oh, i only made food for you, sir-“

“kylian, call me kylian.”

“yes, i’m sorry, kylian.”

“i’m gonna wait here for you to finish your food so i can wash your plate, then i’ll be out your hair, if that’s fine with you, kylian.”

he knows he can’t just let her leave like that.

he doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he thinks he knows what he wants.

“that’s fine. come sit down.” he says, pulling out the chair next to him.

y/n hesitantly makes her way and gets seated. kylian slides over the glass of ice water to her.

“no, it’s for you.” y/n explains.

“i know, but, just drink it. i have some wine in my room.”

“okay, do you want me to go get it and pour some out for you?” y/n says, about to make her way there when kylian gently pulls her down.

“no, no, it’s fine. relax.” he says.

kylian begins eating, almost scarfing the food down.

y/n takes a sip of the water while looking at him eat.

“is it good?” y/n asks.

he stops for a second, chewing and swallowing what’s in his mouth.

“very. best meal i’ve had in a long time, y/n. thank you.” he says with a genuine smile on his face.

y/n smiles back before bringing the glass cup up to her lips and drinking some more water.

“so, y/n, how old are you?” he says, finishing up his food.

“i turned 24 a few months ago.” y/n says.

“really? i turned 24 a few months ago as well.”

“i know that, you’re the star of france.” y/n says with a small smile on her face.

he smiles at her again.

y/n couldn’t take it.

‘this is awfully weird. why is he being so… nice. it was concerning.’ she thinks to herself.

silence takes over the room and the only sound being the fork hitting against the glass plate as kylian takes a bite of the pasta.

“kylian, why are you so mean to me?”

“y/n, i know i haven’t been the nicest to you…”

they say at the same time. they both laugh.

“you go first.” kylian offers to y/n.

“alright, i was asking. why are you so mean to me? did i do.. something.”

kylian sighs deeply, “no y/n, you did nothing wrong, but, a lot happened before that’s making me like that towards you. just know i don’t mean it.” he explain.

“well, what happened?”

“i’ll tell you later.” kylian says finishing the food.

y/n took the plate and glass cup, made her way to the sink and began washing the dishes.

y/n wondered, what was on his mind. what was he thinking about.

too deep in thought to not see her boss, kylian. staking right next to her, leaning on the countertop.

she finishes cleaning the plate and cup.

she turned to her left, her soul jumping out her chest.

“kylian! why are you always sneaking up on people.” y/n said, laughing off the remaining shock with a hand over her heart.

“sorry, sorry, i just like looking at you.” he laughs.

y/n laughs too.

“oh really?”

“OH? REALLY?” she says backtracking because it registered to y/n what he said.

“yes. you’re beautiful.” he says, stepping a teeny closer to the beautiful woman in front of him.

y/n blushes.

“the food was really good as well. i really wish you would’ve ate with me.” he says.

“i’m just your assistant. i don’t want to break any of your boundaries. i respect you.” y/n says.

“i respect you.” kylian replays it in his head.

he already had a slight crush on y/n, but, this was different.

he has a crush on y/n.

“wow, you’re making me feel like shit for treating you the way i did. i respect you, too. say, come over again tomorrow. if you make me something to eat again, i’ll tell you what happened.” he says with a smile on his face.

y/n remains silent. she was thinking.

‘is kylian mbappé flirting with me?’

there’s no way.

yes there is! look at the way he’s looking at you. he wants you!’ you weigh out to yourself.

kylian think it’s adorable. the way y/n constantly looks like a lost puppy.

he bends down a bit, leveling himself to y/n’s height to get her attention.

“everything alright in there?” kylian says.

y/n seems to still be in deep thought when kylian giggles.

he takes his index finger, placing it underneath y/n’s chin, lifting it up.

he looks her in the eye.

he wants to kiss her, her lips look so soft. he’s 100% sure if their lips were to simply graze across one another, he’d still love it. be addicted to it.

y/n looks back into his eyes, feeling her heart beat and her stomach start to flutter.

“deal or no deal?” kylian says as he tilts his head to the side.

y/n eyes drops to kylian’s lips. they were the perfect size and naturally protruded out.

she imagined how it’d feel. probably like a pillow, or, maybe a marshmallow.

y/n eyes make its way back to kylian’s.

she made up her mind.

“deal.” she says before gently removing his finger from her chin. she gathered her bags and made her way to the door, kylian following right behind.

she slipped on her sandals as kylian unlocked & opened the door.

y/n walks out, before turning to kylian who stood by the door.

“goodnight.”

“goodnight.”

they say together.

the two laugh.

“till next time then, goodnight mr. mbappé.” y/n says.

“it’s kylian and i’ll call you tomorrow. make sure you answer. goodnight, y/n.” he says, smiling.

a/n (author’s note):

i am confident in this at all.. i feel like it could be way better but i wanted to hurry and publish something to whoever’s waiting. i’ve been so busy and tired with school :,(. it was supposed to only have one part but i didn’t wanna rush the plot too much.

i tried something new with the whole “pov” thing. and, i hope it’s not too confusing because i switch from 2nd point of view to 3rd a lot.

i guarantee part 2 will be more exciting than this. thanks for reading!

[pensat-i-fet]

Dealing with the enemy (Pablo Gavi x Reader)

Part 2

**A little enemies to lovers request. Hope you guys enjoy it 😉 I loved writing it!**

Word count: 2955

Masterlist

Wattpad

The red carpet was your least favourite part about being an actress. You got so nervous that you just ended up saying a lot of stupid things while pretending you were not nervous at all. And that’s why everyone wanted to talk to you. They got great headlines.

“So, you got a lot of new fans when the first season premiered. Are you expecting another big boost to your Instagram following with season 2?”

“It’s not something I care about. I appreciate all my fans but I’m not counting the followers or something like that”.

“But some your fans are very famous too”, said another reporter. “We’ve seen a lot of football players have their eye on you”.

You just laughed and rolled your eyes playfully. “Yeah, I guess”.

“Anyone sliding into your DMs? Come on, we won’t believe you if you say no”.

“I guess there is one or two that have sent a hello or something”, you giggled. “But some don’t seem to get I’m a Madrid fan. I don’t care about my rivals”.

That message was directed to one player in particular. Gavi. You noticed he started to follow you a couple of months ago and he was liking all your photos. But recently, he sent you a DM too. Even though you didn’t follow him back or liked any of his posts. You just left him on read.

“And what about Madrid players? Can they DM you?”

“Can you name names?”

“I don’t want to embarrass anyone, guys”.

You looked at one of the cameras and winked. “At least I won’t leave them on read”.

Your publicist took you away from the cameras. You were getting too playful and she knew you were going to mess up soon.

And also, you had lied. Of course, you liked seeing Madrid players following you but you didn’t fancy any of them. Those who were single and close to your age just didn’t do it for you. Sadly. Why did the cute player have to play for your rivals?

**

Pablogavi: you leave me on read but mention me in interviews? Is that how you flirt?

You stared at the new DM. The nerve this kid had.

Yourusername: are you stalking me now? And who says I’m talking about you?

Pablogavi: rival player left on read.

Yourusername: maybe it’s someone else from your team. Or someone from Atlético.

Now it was his turn to leave you on read and that didn’t sit right with you.

Yourusername: I see you’re a sore loser off the pitch too.

Pablogavi: want me to give you tickets for the next Clásico so you can see who the real losers are?

Yourusername: no thank you. I don’t want to be seen at your stadium. I’ve got a reputation.

Pablogavi: I’ll dedicate my goal to you anyway.

That really was the moment to stop chatting with him. He was getting too cocky getting your attention. Also, him scoring at El Clásico? Sure it’ll happen.

**

But it did. It did happen. Gavi scored and your frustration was double that of normal. Not only was it the final goal that confirmed Barça were beating Madrid again, but he actually dedicated it to you.

When you saw him running to the camera, you rolled your eyes. But then he pointed at it and said “te lo dije” (I told you so) with a little wink and you almost threw the remote to the tv.

After the match, you checked the new movies on Netflix and picked one just so you could forget about the match. But then one of your friends sent you a link to a video.

PaulaGmz: I think this is about you 😂😂

You opened the link, curious about what it could be and found a post-match interview that Gavi had done. Your friend was the only one who knew about your conversations with him, so you took a deep breath before hitting the play button. Hoping for the worst.

“Yes, the dedication was for a friend who didn’t want to come to the match. She was worried about her team losing and, well, I guess she had a reason for it. So I told her I would dedicate my goal against her team to her. And I always keep my promises”.

His final wink to the camera both annoyed you and made you feel something you didn’t want to feel. No no no, you weren’t going to allow yourself to have a little crush on this arrogant prick. No…or maybe just a small one? Ugh!

**

For the next few months, you were busy doing more filming for season 3 of your show. Season 2 had been another absolute success and the show was confirmed for another two seasons immediately.

Fans were obsessed with creating their own theories about it since it had a whodunit element. And those fans included mister Gavira, who would randomly DM you his theories.

Pablogavi: it’s not your character who did it. It’s too obvious.

Pablogavi: or wait. Are they making it too obvious so we think it’s too obvious and look somewhere else?

You couldn’t help but smile reading his silly comments. And yes, they were making it too obvious on purpose. It was your character who had been organizing everything. But she wasn’t alone.

Yourusername: if I told you, I’d have to kill you to protect the secret.

Pablogavi: nah, you like my pretty face too much. You wouldn’t hurt me.

Not this again.

Pablogavi: Pedri keeps asking about you liking that comment, you know? He thinks we would make a great couple.

Yourusername: is he blind?

One night, you were coming back from an event where you had a couple of glasses of champagne. You didn’t normally drink, so a couple of sips were too much for you. And when you couldn’t sleep, you went on Instagram and somehow (you knew how) ended up on Gavi’s page. He had posted a photo from a Nike campaign that day and his friends were laughing at him because of the poses. Pedri wrote several posts bantering and, because of the stupid champagne, you liked the one that said “such a pretty boy. Such a pretty face”.

By the time you realised it had happened, Gavi had already seen it and he wouldn’t stop talking about it whenever you two messaged each other.

Pablogavi: are you coming to the next Clásico, then? It’s at your stadium. No excuses.

Yourusername: I’ll be there, ready to see you lose.

Pablogavi: wanna bet?

You knew you should say no. Nothing good could come out of this but Gavi made you stop thinking clearly.

Yourusername: sure.

Pablogavi: if Madrid wins, I’ll leave you alone.

What? Why was there a part of you hoping your team won’t win? He was really making you go mad.

Yourusername: and if we lose?

Pablogavi: you’ll go on a date with me.

He could see you had read the message but…should you accept?

Yourusername: no. That’s not fair. The team might win without you playing or doing well but you get the reward. Not fair.

Pablogavi: what do I get if we win, then?

Yourusername: if you win…nothing. If you score…find me after the match and I’ll give you the kiss you’ve been dreaming about for months.

Pablogavi: deal!

**

Gavi was absolutely buzzing while warming up at the Bernabeu. As if he needed more motivation for a Clásico, your little bet made him even more eager to win. And of course, to score.

The team started the match really well and got an early goal. But he had to stay further away from the goal than usual because of the orders Xavi had given him. So when the second goal was scored, he talked to his coach during half-time and got his approval to play in an attacking position during the second half.

But the goal still didn’t arrive. You were in the stands, annoyed at the 0-2 score but also secretly hoping your little DM frenemy could score the third. If you had to see your team lose to their biggest rivals, again, at least you should get a little kiss from it. It was only fair.

The fourth referee signalled there were going to be 5 minutes of added time. And you saw people leaving the stadium already. And because of that, they missed the third goal. The goal that Gavi scored.

He couldn’t believe it had finally happened. The closer the match got to the end, the more certain he was that his chance had gone. Madrid had gotten the ball and dominated possession, so Barça didn’t even have many chances to score in the final 20 minutes of the game. But on the second one they had, he put the ball on the back of the net.

His celebration was a bit over the top and people just thought it was because of the rivalry between the two teams. But no, he was just thinking about the bet he had won.

He looked at the stands, trying to find you. But couldn’t see you anywhere. That was ok. He was going to see you soon.

**

You told Gavi to meet you in the area that was near where the families waited for the players. And when he took so long to get there, you started to worry that he would stand you up. He wouldn’t dare…right?

You were about to leave when you noticed someone behind you, but before you had time to turn around, that same someone put his hands over your eyes.

“Who am I?”

“A player from a small team that got lucky today?”, you said, trying not to show the nerves you were feeling.

“Oh, I got very lucky today. You’re right about that”.

When Gavi removed his hands from your face, you turned to face him. It was the first time you two saw each other in person and you wanted to curse him for being even more attractive up close.

“I think you owe me a kiss?”

“Maybe I changed my mind and I’ll slap you instead”.

He laughed at your comment, moving even closer. “That little blush on your face tells me you would prefer the kiss. But if you want to slap me as foreplay, I might let you do it. You’re very sexy when you get all feisty”.

His words only made you blush more. And you were sure he could hear your heart beating extra fast. But he also thought you could hear how fast his heart was beating.

You finally took matters into your own hands and grabbed the sides of his face before you leaned in to kiss him. It was a rough kiss. The sexual tension you had been building up for months with your texting poured on to the kiss. You didn’t even know how long you were kissing for before you were caught by one of his teammates.

“Oh! Crap! Sorry!...wait! Aren’t you that actress Gavi is obsessed with?”

“Obsessed, huh?”, you said, raising your eyebrows.

“I think you just showed me the feeling is mutual, baby”, he whispered in your ear while his teammate left.

“I’m an actress”, you shrugged.

“Yeah, and you’re good. But you’re not that good”.

With a final peck, he left to follow his teammate. Not without turning to tell you that you’d see each other soon.

And you couldn’t believe how much you hoped that was true.

**

The kiss had changed things but also really hadn't. You were still stuck in Madrid while Gavi was in Barcelona, so you couldn't see each other. But the banter on your texts had changed a bit. It got a little…spicier. And you moved from Instagram to WhatsApp.

Gavi found it hilarious that you would give him your phone number but still refused to follow him on Instagram.

The success of your show meant a lot of cool opportunities for you. And one of them was being the face of a perfume. You had done the campaign with a fellow actor and it was time for you to do the promotion.

On press day, you spent the entire day going from one interview to another. It got to the point where you literally lost track of how many times you had changed outfits.

For one of the bigger interviews, you were given a pretty revealing dress. The campaign was very sexy, so the wardrobe for the press tour had to match that vibe.

When you were left alone backstage, you took a photo and sent it to Gavi.

Pablo: Jesus! Send that with a warning. I'm having dinner with my family and they think I'm having a heart attack.

You: so you like it?

Pablo: I'd like it better if you were here with me and I could take it off you.

You: keep dreaming.

Pablo: I'll dream about you in this dress, yes.

You were biting your lip reading his messages. Even if you were confident, your self-esteem wasn't always at its highest. But reading his reaction, and imagining his face when he saw the photo, gave you the confidence to go to the red carpet and show everyone how sexy you were.

But still, the red carpet remained your least favourite place.

**

"You two look stunning!", said the reporter. "And oh my Lord that advert. It was the hottest thing I've seen in a while. How was making the ad?"

Roberto, the actor you are in the campaign with answered for you. "Well, when you have such a gorgeous woman next to you, it's even easier. No acting needed".

He looked you up and down and even though you felt a bit uncomfortable, you just played along. "Yeah. It was a very easy job".

When you finally finished all the interviews on the red carpet, you grabbed your phone to post some of the photos of the event on Instagram.

You were also expecting more texts from Gavi. You two were constantly sending things to each other but there were none. Maybe he had gone to bed early.

**

Gavi had been following your day of events on social media. He couldn't get enough of how stunning you looked. And now he had actually seen you in person, now he had been able to kiss you…yes, he couldn't get enough of you.

It killed him that you two lived far away and he didn't get to see you often. He wanted to take you out on dates, to spend hours bantering with you in person, not through text. But he knew he would have to wait until the end of the season for that.

When he saw the way the guy who did the campaign with you acted around you, he wasn't pleased. He kept on touching your arm and your back. And then when he was asked about the ad and answered that…

The jealousy Gavi was feeling was too much. He knew it. You weren't even together. You had kissed once and that was that. But he couldn't stand seeing more of those videos. So he put his phone away and went to bed.

**

You had noticed Gavi had stopped texting as much and wanted to ask him why. But you didn't want to sound desperate to him. His ego was big enough.

You: not sure I want you to win or lose tomorrow. Trying to work out if I hate your team more or less than Atleti.

Pablo: want to do another bet?

Seeing this playful side of him back made you happy.

You: I guess 🥱

Pablo: if I score, I take you on a date.

You: and if you don't?

Pablo: you take me on a date.

You: that doesn't sound right.

Pablo: you know what else isn't right?

You: 🤷

Pablo: that I still can't call you mine.

You read and reread his last message, feeling your chest tightening.

You: then do something about it.

**

The match ended on a draw, and Gavi scored once again.

He had asked permission to stay in Madrid after the match, since they had a couple of days off. It really was the best opportunity.

Even though he was supposed to take you on a date, you were the one who invited him to your place after the match. You didn't want to deal with the press seeing you together and making a big deal out of it.

When he got there, he kissed your cheek and you led him to the table where your dinner was.

"Did you cook that for me?"

"I ordered it. But it's the thought that counts, right?"

He laughed and you both started to eat. Gone was the banter. Replaced by the tension you both felt.

"I was jealous the other day", he said, surprising you.

"Why?"

"That actor you were doing a press day with. He just couldn't stop touching you and insinuating there was something between you two".

"Yeah", you said nonchalantly. "He was pretty annoying".

Gavi stared at you. His look was so intense, you could read all the feelings he was trying to communicate to you.

"Be my girlfriend".

"Why should I?"

"Because you felt the same connection I felt when we kissed. Because you haven't been able to stop thinking about that moment, like I haven't. And because I don't just want to call you mine. I want you to go on those red carpets, alone or with other people, and tell everyone I'm yours".

"But you play for Barça…", you teased.

"You can wear my shirt when I play for Spain".

"Deal!"

[starglitterz]

serendipity. (vii)

─── chapter 7 ! ~ my bff thinks she’s sherlock holmes (…what?)

summary; when you, a waitress at the local coffee shop, are paired up with the new recruit scaramouche, you’re pretty sure both of you are going to get fired within a week. he’s just quit being a social media influencer and after being forced to work here to make ends meet, he’s ready to let everyone there know how much he hates it. the worst part? you can’t shake the feeling that you know him from somewhere. but as he slowly warms up to you, scaramouche realises that having a fresh start isn’t that bad after all, and perhaps the two of you meeting like this was pure serendipity.

a/n; hiii it's me again ! i'm so back >:) hope you missed serendipity bc i definitely did hehehe,,, also for further context on some details mentioned in this chapter, you should totally read cynosure 👀 (shameless self-promo LOL) anyways i hope u enjoy this chapter !!

warning(s); a lot of swearing, scuffed pics 😔

previous.┃masterlist.┃next.

please reblog w comments ! it helps a lot :)

private messages #1 !

phone call !

incoming call from kokomi at 1.30 p.m.

kokomi: hi, y/n! it's your lunch break now, right?

y/n: yep! i'm surprised you remember.

kokomi: hey! i just visited you the other day, my memory isn't that bad!!

y/n: yeah, yeah, whatever you say. anyways, what did you want to tell me? it sounded important.

kokomi: well… you know how we met childe and signora the other day, right?

y/n: yeah, i could barely believe they knew scara. i mean, this is the same guy who complains about the stray cats making a mess outside the cafe but still leaves leftovers for them. i wouldn't have expected him to have such famous friends.

kokomi: me too. and i actually wanted to talk to you about that.

y/n: why, what is it?

kokomi: i was curious about how scaramouche knew them, so i asked gorou to do a little digging.

y/n: what? kokomi, why would you do that?

kokomi: this guy shows up out of nowhere and ayaka hires him, and it turns out he has friends in such high places? it's suspicious!

y/n: what the fuck, kokomi? what's gotten into you? this is my colleague we're talking about. he's literally just some random guy ayaka hired, why do his friends matter? it's not like they're bad people!

kokomi: they might not be, but he is.

y/n: and what's that supposed to mean?

kokomi: check the link i just sent you.

y/n: fuck off, kokomi. i'm not dealing with this today. what's wrong with you?

kokomi: y/n, please just click it. i really think you need to see this.

you click on the link kokomi sent you - it's a youtube video titled 'the rise & fall of scaramouche'. you watch it in silence with kokomi still on the phone.

kokomi: you see? he was a drama youtuber and he got clout off of ruining other people's lives - he even got fired from genshin impact! when genshin threatened a lawsuit, he agreed to settle privately by deleting all his accounts. genshin must have paid to scrub all the traces of him they could from the internet too. i knew there was something fishy about him!

y/n: honestly, fuck you, kokomi.

kokomi: what?! why me?!

y/n: because who cares what his past was like? yeah, maybe he used to be a shitty person, and yeah he's still a pain in my ass, but he's changing. scara hasn't done anything bad since he started working here, i don't know why you're so against him.

kokomi: i just don't want you to get hurt, y/n. we all know you're still looking for that mystery guy from when you were younger, and this is the first time you've liked someone without mentioning that. i'm worried he's taking advantage of you.

y/n: get a grip, kokomi. i'm a grown adult, and you're not my mother. i can make my own choices and deal with the consequences.

kokomi: well forgive me for being worried about my FRIEND.

y/n: just… leave me alone. goodbye, kokomi.

call cut from y/n's end at 2.17 p.m.

private messages #2 !

twitter !

i'm curious, what do u guys think abt what kokomi did? are you on her side or y/n's side? i've personally experienced a lot of friends getting defensive whenever you point out anything wrong with their rs/bf so i guess this is partially inspired by that LOL

© starglitterz 2024. do not repost or modify in any way.

[whatstruthgottodowithit]

Tennessee Orange

Fandom: Elvis Presley, American Musician, RPF

Pairing: Elvis Presley x Reader

Characters: Elvis Presley, Reader, You, Original Female Character

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 2407

Summary: I met somebody, he’s got blue eyes.

Tags/Warnings: Young Love, Established Relationship, Romance, Angst, Fluff, Leaving home, Baby Boy Elvis, 1950s Elvis, Comfort, Song Fic, Tennessee Orange // Megan Moroney, Idk what football teams where around in the 50s so lets just lend some artistic license to it k?

Notes: Oh to have a whirlwind romance with baby boy Elvis

This is linked to Die From A Broken Heart

ELVIS MASTERLIST // SONG LINK // HALLOWEEN MASTERLIST

I was nervous, the knots in my stomach growing tenfold with every passing second and every unanswered ring of the phone. It wasn’t that I’d been waiting long but I’d built up my nerve and it was losing momentum the longer the call went on. Not to mention how the idea of my daddy answering the phone sent me into a cold sweat.

Fortunately I didn’t have to worry much about that as when the line clicked on it was my mother's soft voice that answered, ‘hello?’

‘Mama?’ I asked.

‘Darlin’ is that you?’ she said with a smile in her voice.

‘It’s me,’ I said and though my nerves hadn’t completely vanished they dulled as I allowed the comfort that only a mother's voice could bring to wash over me.

‘Well isn’t this a surprise,’ she chuckled, ‘we figured we wouldn’t hear hide nor hair of you for a least another couple of days.’

‘I got a spare minute,’ I mumbled as my nerves amped up once more. She was right given that the moment I had touched down in Memphis my thoughts of home seemed to vanish and they probably would’ve stayed that way if I hadn't been forced to make this blasted phone call.

‘How is it going?’ she asked.

‘Good,’ I said which technically wasn’t a lie. I was having the time of my life here but that wasn’t what I had called to talk about. My mother however didn’t seem to grasp that as she continued to ask, ‘are you girls having fun?’

‘Yeah, actually-'

‘Behaving?’ she mused.

‘Yeah, Mama,’ I said attempting to get to the point only to find she once again beat me to the punch.

‘Because I won't have you putting Betty out you hear me? You’re a guest in her home-‘

‘I know,’ I said hoping I could nip whatever rant she was going to go into in the bud.

‘Because-'

‘Mama I’ve got some news,’ I said, the words tripping out of my mouth without permission though they seemed to do the trick as she fell quiet on the other end. I fell quiet too, my heart hammering in my chest as I realised that there was no way I could back out now.

‘Oh?’ she said. It wasn’t an outright question or even a statement but it was enough to know that she was waiting for whatever information I was going to lay on her.

‘Yeah,’ I said hesitantly, ‘it’s important.’

‘Oh,’ she said again and I was stunned at how she could keep her tone so even. How she could make it that I couldn’t sniff out anger or happiness alike. How she could remain unphased whilst I was sitting on the other end, knots in my stomach as well as the phone cord I had taken to twizzling around my finger the moment the call began. How she didn’t betray her feelings as I did when I rushed to say, ‘but you can't tell Daddy! Not yet anyway.’

Only then did I hear her falter, a hefty sigh escaping her lips as she asked panicked, ‘What is it? Are you okay? Oh Lord please tell me you are not in some sorta trouble.’

‘Of course not! You know you raised me right,’ I protested feeling a warmth in my cheeks at the thought of her picturing whatever mess I’d gotten into.

‘Well then, what is it?’ she asked.

‘Mama…I met someone,’ I mumbled.

‘Oh,’ she said softly and though it was nothing more than a word I could sense the emotions in it because it was one of surprise.

I didn’t blame her of course. She had sent me to spend time with my aunt and my cousins not to get involved with boys but it wasn’t as though it couldn’t happen. And suddenly my protests of her having raised me right reared their head because if she had I wouldn’t have been keeping him a secret. I wouldn’t have kept his existence in my life on the fringes. They would’ve gotten some inkling of what was coming.

‘You remember the boy from summer I told you about?’ I asked hoping that if she recalled my having mentioned him, if only once, it would make me feel less guilty.

‘Elvis? The singer guy?’ she said making my heart flutter at his mere mention, ‘the one whose concert you and June went to?’

‘That’s him,’ I agreed feeling slightly better that at least he hadn't come totally out of the blue as I carried on explaining, ‘Well, we’ve been talking and writing all the time since and well…Mama he asked me to be his girl.’

‘Well,’ she said before she paused for a moment causing my emotions to buy another ticket for the rollercoaster they were currently on until she said, ‘That’s good. What’s he like?’

‘Oh he’s amazing,’ I said, the damn finally breaking as all the happiness and love I’d been terrified of admitting to spilled out, pouring from me and down the phone line in gushing sentiments, ‘I’ve never met a boy like him before at all. He’s sweet and charming and handsome. I mean you should see his eyes, Mama, he’s got these gorgeous blue eyes I swear could hypnotise ya.’

‘Well he sounds quite the guy,’ she said in the way that mothers do. The way that makes you wonder if they’ve ever felt that way before though at some point they must’ve otherwise you wouldn’t even be here to be feeling it yourself.

‘He is,’ I said trying not to feel embarrassed by my gushing and rather to see them as an aid in making her see just how much I loved him.

‘Well I’m happy for you baby and don’t worry about your daddy, I’m sure he’ll be fine with it,’ she said and for a moment I forgot about all the worries I’d had about telling her. She was happy for me. And if she was happy it would only take some cajoling from her to get daddy on board which was why I had ventured to tell her first, to lay the groundwork for any further conversations.

‘Doubt it he’s a Vols fan,’ I giggled.

‘Oh Lord help you,’ she mused.

‘I know! Actually, he took me to a game the other day, he even got me wearing that horrible orange jersey,’ I teased making her laugh.

‘So long as you don’t bother learning the words to Old Rocky Top I think your daddy will survive,’ she said.

‘I won’t,’ I promised though as her laughter died down my nerves crept back in. I’d gotten lost in the conversation, lost in getting her on board with the mere idea of Elvis that I’d forgotten that wasn’t why I was calling.

‘Mama?’ I asked earning a hum from her that signalled she was listening, ‘that’s not all.’

‘What is it?’ she asked in a voice so earnest I could picture her sweet face, plastered with confusion waiting for whatever bombshell I was about to drop. And once again I felt the need to defend myself as I rambled, ‘you gotta understand. I’ve never felt like this about anyone before and I don’t think I ever will for anyone else.’

‘Baby what is it?’ she said hesitantly.

‘Well Elvis’ singing career is getting real big and he’s doin’ real well-'

‘Okay,’ she murmured.

‘Which means he’s all over the place workin’ which is why when we have seen each other I’ve always had to come to Memphis and well it's not gonna get any easier or at least it doesn’t look like it will what with him doing so well-'

‘Honey you’re rambling,’ she said stopping me in my tracks.

‘He asked me if I’d want to move here…to live with him,’ I said quietly unable to gauge any reaction before I whispered, ‘and I said yes.’

And with that she fell silent meaning that all the nerves I had alleviated with her happiness came flooding back only ten times worse. I could picture her now, trying to work out how to dash my dreams but to do it in a way that didn’t break my heart entirely. That had been why I had been scared to tell them because I worried they’d ask me not to. And I couldn’t do that because when Elvis had asked I had said yes without question and though it was a big change I knew it was what I wanted with my whole heart.

‘Oh baby I don’t know,’ my mother said quietly.

‘Mama I know it's soon but I promise you he’s a good guy. And it's not like I’d be on my own. Betty’s here in Memphis and he lives with his whole family so it’s not like it’s just us. And they're all so sweet to me you’d really like ‘em,’ I said hoping to reassure her. Hoping that if she saw that I’d thought about it thoroughly she’d see it wasn’t as bad as it sounded on paper.

‘But it's just so far and you're so young sweetheart,’ she said.

‘Not that young,’ I said feeling a pout fall on my face as though I was a kid who’d acted rashly when that wasn't the case at all. In fact, I’d been chewing on the idea for days.

‘Young enough,’ she countered and with that, I felt my sorrow turn to irritation.

‘As young as you were when you married Daddy,’ I refuted feeling immediately guilty as I realised it was a dirty move, ‘besides it ain’t like there’s much waiting for me back in Crawford.’

‘What about your family?’ she bit back making the guilt hit another level.

‘Mama don’t be like that,’ I sighed.

‘I’m not being like anything you’ve just told me you want to run away to live with a boy you barely know, one that your daddy and I haven’t even met!’ she said heatedly.

‘Well, what if you meet him?’ I said hoping the conversation wouldn’t spiral any further. I hadn't meant to hurt her with my words but I could tell that she was hurting anyway. So I tried to compromise, I tried to offer something that would make her see I was happy, ‘how about you come to Memphis and meet him and his family? I swear you'll see this is good for me I promise.’

‘Why don’t we talk about this in the morning?’ she asked cutting me off.

‘But-‘

‘Look I just some time to think about it okay? To think about what I’m gonna say to your daddy,’ she said quietly.

‘You’re saying it can happen?’ I asked trying desperately to pick apart what her words meant.

‘I’m saying you're a grown-up. I can't stop you and I won't,’ she said, ‘but if it’s what you want…’

‘It is,’ I said.

‘Then we’ll figure it out,’ she said, ‘it’s just a lot you have to understand that.’

‘I do Mama,’ I said, ‘but I promise this is good for me. I know once you meet him you'll understand.’

‘You're probably right,’ she said, a tad flatter than I’d hoped. I could hear her moving now, no doubt itching to get me off the line. A suspicion that was confirmed as she said, ‘Look your daddy will be home soon. I should go.’

‘Okay,’ I said trying to sound as understanding as possible.

‘Okay,’ she replied, ‘I love you.’

‘Love you too,’ I said quietly.

‘Bye.’

‘Bye.’

And with that she was gone, the line going silent as I slipped the handset back into place. As I thought about it all I flopped back on the bed exhausted by the mix of emotions flooding thought me. I supposed it could’ve gone worse. It wasn’t the best it could be sure, but she could’ve said no. She could’ve told me I had to come home which would only leave me heartbroken, not by the prospect of leaving Elvis, but by the fact that I would choose him, I knew I would.

I knew how it looked. I knew I must sound crazy to move hundreds of miles away from home for a boy I had only just met and that as my mother she had every right to be concerned. But as my attention was pulled to the door where I found Elvis poking his head around it, a lopsided grin coming to his face as he found me splayed out on the bed, I knew her concerns weren’t warranted. Because as hard as I had fallen for him he had fallen for me just as much.

And though we could try to do long distance it wouldn’t be the same. I'd be stuck moping around Crawford, my days spent waiting for him. At least here I was in his world and that world was one I never wanted to leave, because no matter how mixed up I was feeling at that moment everything felt okay because he was there.

‘Hey,’ he said coming into the room and sitting next to me.

‘Hey,’ I replied as I pushed myself up, looping my arm through his as I placed my head on his shoulder.

‘Everything alright?’ he asked with concern making a small smile come to my face.

‘Yeah,’ I murmured, ‘just got off the phone with my mom.’

‘Ah,’ he said understandingly, ‘how'd it go?’

‘Could've gone better,’ I admitted, refusing to look up though I felt him glance down at me. It was true, it could’ve gone better but I supposed it could’ve gone worse too and for that I was grateful.

‘You told her I was a Vols fan huh?’ Elvis asked making me giggle, his own hearty rumble soothing against my ear. Though as quickly as my laugh came it went and he must have heard the deep breath that came from me as no sooner was it out did he put his hand on my knee, providing me with comfort I could never repay. Comfort that only continued as he said, ‘They’ll come around.’

I smiled, wondering how on earth he always knew just what to say.

‘I hope so.’

He ain't from where we're from,

But he feels like home, yeah,

He's got me doin' things I've never done,

In Georgia, they call it a sin,

And I still want the Dawgs to win,

But I'm wearing Tennessee orange for him 🧡

ELVIS TAGS

@girlblogger2002 @sania562 @caitlin1996 @literally-just-elvis-fics @notstefaniepresley @artlesson8892 @18lkpeters @velvetelvis @jaqueline19997 @elvispresleyxoxo @amydarcimarie @presleyenterprise @everythingelvispresley @elvispresleywife @lillypink @richardslady121 @lettersfromvenus @louisejoy86 @ccab

[thefirstknife]

So Immaru this week is clearly trying to manipulate us, but it does make me wonder just how much influence the Traveler has/had on who the Ghosts choose.

Its always been said that the Traveler chose who the Ghosts choose, but Ghosts are clearly their own people

Yeah, it's up for debate. Even among Ghosts themselves. Some Ghosts clearly think that the Traveler told them to raise a specific person. A good example is Felspring who told Felwinter exactly that:

Then it gentled its voice, "The Traveler told me to save you. That something was different about you." "That ball in the sky you showed me? It talked to you?" "I can't explain it."

But there's other Ghosts don't feel that way. Difference of Opinion lore tab is funny, but it also highlights just how much Ghosts differ in opinions about the Traveler and their own purpose. In contrast to Felspring, Sagira's answer for Osiris was just:

"Why did you choose me?" Osiris's voice is hollow. He flattens a palm for Sagira to perch. "You have a spark." Her voice is warm air.

Sagira further offers some insight after about why some Ghosts potentially choose bad people:

"He needed someone strong. A fighter." "Nothing more?" Sagira pauses. "The Traveler was… wounded when it created us. That pain echoes. Some of us make choices we shouldn't. Some of us are scared. The process isn't streamlined."

We obviously don't know if this is just Sagira's interpretation or if it's fact. Ghosts simply don't know anything with 100% certainty, but this bit that she said makes a lot of sense. Ghosts are pieces of the Traveler and when they were made, the Traveler shed those parts of itself and sent them out into the world. It's logical that some Ghosts adopted certain aspects of the Traveler. Some Ghosts are scared and impulsive and raised a bad person who ended up being cruel because being scared and impulsive and needing a protector at all costs is part of the Traveler. Others chose heroic people who would sacrifice themselves for others because being heroic and sacrificing yourself for others is also a part of the Traveler.

Most likely what happens is that it's a Ghosts' choice, but that choice is inextricably linked to the Traveler. Even what Felspring said makes sense in that regard. Perhaps Felspring was a part of the Traveler that was observing Felwinter's progress as he was learning about humanity and believed that he was worthy of that humanity (and he was!).

One of my ideas right now is that perhaps Immaru (and other Ghosts that followed him) adopted the part of the Traveler that really wanted to help the Hive, back when they were on the Fundament. It would explain why he feels so strongly about the Hive being more deserving of the Light. That's just an idea, if we follow this logic that Ghosts are reflective of all aspects of the Traveler.

I doubt the Traveler could influence Ghosts post-creation however. First of all, it was dormant so that would've been almost impossible anyway. If any Ghosts could specifically hear the Traveler's instructions back then, it was probably exceptionally rare, if possible at all. And second, the Traveler is all about personal choice. It would never tell anyone what to do or what not to do, even if their deeds will end up badly. Even when it spoke to Clovis, it wasn't to give him orders, it was only in metaphores to nudge him to realise that he's doing something awful. But it never directly told him "Stop this!" It's something that Clovis resented about it and why Clovis fell to Darkness in the first place. Clovis wanted to be pointed directly towards a goal. Meanwhile, the Traveler:

"The best voices," she said, with infinite grief and unending hope, "never let themselves be heard at all. This lesson is worth teaching again and again. The choice is never mine. It is always yours."

The only other time the Traveler made a direct choice and spoke was when Rhulk wanted to experiment with a Ghost. The Traveler not only said a strict no, but also went as far as to destroy the Ghost to make sure. Now that I think about it, in retrospect, knowing that a Ghost can be used to connect to the Veil to make the portal... I wonder if the Traveler's reaction was for this reason. A Ghost in the hands of a disciple of the Witness is not a good idea. With extra extra retrospect, this is possibly also why the Witness had to trick us into getting our Ghost near the Veil. If the Witness simply took one or directed a disciple to take one and bring it to the Veil, the Traveler could've simply destroyed it. Obviously hard to tell if this was planned out that deeply, but it certainly adds some sense to several details.

I definitely think that the Traveler has no direct say in who is chosen by a Ghost. The Traveler chooses who to help in the sense that it appears in their system. And at one point it appeared in the orbit of the Fundament, helping species one by one and Hive were in line to get that help, but they were steered against it before the Traveler could reach them. Ghosts themselves are unique and were only made in the Collapse on Earth. They, from all we know about them and the Traveler and its philosophy, choose by themselves, even if they maybe feel some urges that they can't explain and some may attribute those to the Traveler. But yeah, it was Ghosts that chose the Hive. It was Immaru that chose Savathun. The Traveler had no direct say in it, despite many characters blaming it on the Traveler. It's a natural reaction to do so, but as far as we know right now, the Traveler didn't tell those Ghosts directly to go rez the Hive. Until the Traveler speaks directly and plainly to us, until it lets us ask it questions, we will probably never know for sure.

[teecupangel]

Ad Altaïr Anon

Curse ye Tumblr! Why must you prevent me from showing the image of t-posing Altair moments before being sucked into The Cube!! (it's absolutely not me being a first-time nooby asker who has never sent a link through ask ever nu-uh it's all tumblr)

maybe this link will work instead, I'm slightly better with imgur links at least :v

https://imgur.com/a/Hl2elSH

And yeah that's it! I never put one on my computer myself simply because i once tried to mod minecraft in the olden days and messed up so badly that I figured i should just leave that sort of stuff alone.

But AH, my heart! The future and doomed Desmond giving them that slight control over the grey so maybe this Desmond wouldn't have to die 😭

but also lol oh boy would Altair get lost in the sauce surfing the web! It worse than when he was alive with the apple because now he doesn't have to eat, drink, or sleep so someone has to pry him out of the web every once in a while.

(The only real modding I’ve done in a long time was for Mugen back in those days. To be honest though, my brother helped me add characters and stuff hahaha)

The “Altaïr interrupts Desmond’s game using an ‘ad’” idea and its sorta prequel sorta sequel for those curious

“We need to talk about Altaïr’s internet addiction.”

Desmond stared at Shaun’s solemn expression for a fraction of a second before he turned his attention back to the instant noodles he was having for lunch.

He didn’t really like soggy noodles.

“Desmond, this is serious.” Shaun placed his hands on the table and towered over Desmond who was hunched to make it easier to eat his noodles.

That was a bad move.

Desmond could just as easily headbutt his nose at this distance.

“I’m listening, Shaun.” Desmond replied half-heartedly before eating once more.

He didn’t understand why Shaun wanted to talk to him about Altaïr’s internet addiction. It wasn’t like Desmond could stop the man from scouring every web page available in Wikipedia in his endless pursuit of knowledge.

… not that he would want to anyway.

“Desmond, Altaïr has been using the computer 24/7. We have to keep the AC on just to make sure the computer doesn’t overheat. Together with the electricity needed for the Animus and our other devices, two of which are now fully being used by Ezio and Connor-”

Desmond slowly raised his head so Shaun would have a warning to pull away. It was still a close call, Desmond’s head almost knocking against Shaun’s nose but Shaun stood and crossed his arms while Desmond took a sip of the soup before asking, “Are you… are you trying to talk to me about our upcoming electric bill?”

“Not ‘ours’ but the building we’re ‘piggy backing’ from.” Shaun clarified, “They’ll definitely think something is up when they see the sudden spike.”

“Then isn’t this too late already?” Desmond countered lightly, “The bill’s gonna come sooner or later. Might just be better for us to book it.”

Shaun grimaced but did not deny it.

Desmond sighed before he said, “How about this. I’ll tell Altaïr to find us a new safehouse and take care of the logistics and stuff. That’ll be his punishment for skyrocketing some random business’ electric bill.”

Shaun opened his mouth, most probably to argue, so Desmond asked, “Unless you already have the next safehouse in mind?”

Shaun sighed as he said, “I’ll tell the others about it. You tell Altaïr about his punishment.”

Desmond waved his hand before lowering his head to continue eating while Shaun stormed out of the dining room, most probably to bother Rebecca.

Or complain to her.

Maybe both.

Probably both.

Desmond waited until he could no longer hear Shaun’s footsteps before turning to look at his phone that was lying next to the cup noodles.

“Congrats, Altaïr. You got what you wanted.” Desmond mumbled.

His phone’s screen lit up and showed Altaïr in front of his homescreen, arms crossed as he said, “Not yet. Not until we’ve finally settled in a more secured location.”

“More secured.” Desmond snorted, “Just say the internet is too slow for you here.”

“Hm.” Altaïr didn’t even bother to give him a proper reply.

Nor deny it.

“Well, at least wait until midnight before sending the plan to everyone.” Desmond reminded him, “Otherwise, Shaun’s going to find out this was your plan from the start.”

“I know. I’m not a fool, Desmond.” Altaïr said calmly before adding, “Eat a fruit or have salad after that.”

“I’ll eat an apple, alright.” Desmond rolled his eyes, “Please don’t repeat to me how bad it is for my body to keep eating instant noodles.”

Altaïr sighed, “Fine. I’ll leave you with your pathetic excuse for a meal then.”

“Thanks.” Desmond sarcastically said, watching as the screen of his phone turned off.

And he can finally eat in peace…

… soggy noodles.

Damn it.

[ravenclawwitchc]

Normal People

*Happy New Year!

*a family bonding story

I took off to Beika like a fugitive, hastily launching without even getting fully dressed. The moment I touched down, the cold Beika air hit me. That chill snapped my soul back from its tropical island drift. Luckily, my grandmother, who came to pick me up, had brought a thick coat. When I asked about it, I learned that my grandfather, lying in his sickbed, had foreseen my wanderings and thoughtfully worried about me. Before putting on the padded jacket, I peeled off my loose-knit sweater. Grandma took it from me, examined it closely, and laughed, asking why I was still hanging onto the sweater she had knit for my mom so many years ago.

For an old woman, her body could be called robust.

I was still pondering whether her reassurances about her health during the small talk were just politeness – considering the Japanese cultural nuances and the estrangement of several years could easily create a facade of false dialogue. However, in the blink of an eye, she effortlessly heaved my massive suitcase into the trunk, making it look like a breeze.

The last time I visited Beika, I was just entering adolescence, a troublesome thirteen-year-old.

At that time, my grandparents were already retired, and they used to take me around Beika, riding roller coasters at Tropical Land and overlooking the Park from the Tokyo Tower. During the summer break, we happened to catch the summer festival, and it was my grandma who picked out the yukata I wore to watch the fireworks – a yukata with a ripple pattern of plum blossoms. I couldn't tie the obi of the yukata properly, so she stood in front of me, skillfully creating a bow shape with her warm fingers. That was the first time I felt a sense of familiarity with her, and I couldn't help but shed tears before leaving.

"Did you come back because of your grandpa?" Grandma asked as she drove.

Beika had just experienced snowfall, and the snow on the asphalt had been shoveled to the sides, forming towering snowbanks. The air in the wind was sharp, and the biting cold seemed to penetrate the car. I wondered if it was just my inner perception. The smell was my first clue to recognize Beika – the refreshing scent of Ramune Soda, the lingering smell of fireworks – all summer imprints. In contrast, winter in Beika felt like an unfamiliar rejection, making both the residents and the messages they conveyed seem unfamiliar.

"Yeah, but I had planned to come to Tokyo for an exchange next semester anyway, just a bit earlier, nothing much," I replied.

After hesitating for a while, I asked her if my grandpa was okay and took the opportunity to explain why my mom couldn't make it.

Grandma didn't look at me; she stared straight ahead at the road, as if there was something at the end of it. Her brow was furrowed, quite different from the always-smiling middle-aged woman in my memory – not just because of the passage of time. I feared her current expression might be the prelude to tears, and I dreaded hearing bad news about my grandpa. Clutching the tissues in my bag, ready to pull them out, I finally gathered the courage to ask again, and she replied, "Don't worry, it's not a big deal. If you're concerned, come with me to the hospital tomorrow to see him."

Before leaving, I asked my mom if she wanted to come.

I used Messenger for the inquiry, as international texts and calls were expensive, and messaging seemed more convenient and swift. There was an alternative possibility – I wasn't particularly keen on talking to her on the phone, and she probably sensed that. Yet, we both pretended as if everything was normal, skirting around the issue of our strained family dynamics. The last argument occurred when I wanted to go on an exchange to Tokyo University. The time before that was when I disregarded her advice and dated an Afro-Asian boyfriend – now an ex. But this didn't stop her from using stern words when she found out.

I also sent her Japanese news links, carefully choosing ones that weren't too sensational. However, the headlines in the links still sounded alarming with phrases like "seeking revenge" and "extremely vicious." The news images were pixelated, but one could vaguely make out people lying on the ground and blood spilled around. Mom read the messages but didn't reply. In the end, I called her. No answer. I didn't even have her new boyfriend's contact information. So, I tentatively emailed Mouri Law Firm, not expecting a response, but surprisingly, someone replied. And that's how I ended up flying over alone, in a rush, bringing only clothes, medicine, and my laptop. I forgot items like a comb and makeup – things my grandma had already prepared.

Grandma's house is a three-story building that seems to have been recently renovated. When I visited before, it had low Japanese-style tables where we knelt to eat. Now, it has been transformed into a Western-style dining setup with comfortable wooden chairs. According to my grandma, they replaced many components, including adding non-slip facilities and assistive devices in the bathroom. A savory aroma filled the room, and on the cutting board were scattered half-cut vegetables, fish, and tofu. Glancing at her watch, Grandma told me that her timing was just right, and the potato stew with pork ribs was almost ready to be served.

This marked my first meal back in Beika.

What gave me a bit of relief was that my grandpa seemed to be doing okay. Grandma mentioned that my perception of "okay" might be due to not comparing him to how he was before the surgery, let alone using Kudo Shinichi from even earlier as a reference.

The ICU at Beika Central Hospital had snatched him back from the clutches of death. Now he was recovering in a single-patient room, with only two hours of visiting time allowed each day. On this point, Grandpa expressed a different opinion, attributing his survival to the "goddess of luck." As he said this, he looked at my grandma, who silenced him with a disapproving gaze. I sensed there was something I didn't fully understand in their exchange.

Regarding the attack, he spoke about it casually, mentioning it was simply a matter of a former suspect he once investigated seeking revenge after being released from prison. Death sentences are rare in Japan, so it's not uncommon for the perpetrator to consider him prey years later. He had mentally prepared himself for this possibility. However, he emphasized that if anything were to happen, it would be best not to involve his family, including me. His tone grew solemn here, and a certain aged expression appeared on his face. Before this, I would have described him as cheerful and indomitable.

Of course, he said this while my grandma was out. When she returned to the hospital room, he changed his tune, mentioning that the situation was unexpected, and that he would take precautions in the future. As for the details of these precautions, he evaded the topic. Grandma advised him to rest more, not to overthink, and to discuss these matters later. It was clear from her expression that she knew what he had just told me.

"If it weren't for... in the past, I could easily block a slow knife like that," Grandma said as she was cooking at home in the evening, adding butter. "But Shinichi's legs are not what they used to be either."

I initially joined her out of courtesy, not wanting the elderly to work alone in the kitchen. However, her discussion of food philosophy was so exquisite that it pulled my wandering thoughts away from my studies, the grandfather in the hospital, and the unanswered messages from my mom. The conversation gradually extended to those who weren't present. I took the whipped cream she prepared and, under her guidance, added low-gluten flour and eggs to the plate, then started stirring. My hands remembered before my mind did.

"Are we making lemon pie?"

"You remember? I used to make it for you."

"Oh, ... my mom taught me before."

The memories connected through food were more distant than I had imagined. It was an image of me, who now often ate alone while watching Netflix, almost forgetting. The lights, the kitchen, the child teetering on a chair, and the mom deftly grabbing the knife – no one else, no other sounds.

"Is your mom doing okay now?" she finally asked.

"She... has a new job and a new boyfriend," I replied, not wanting to delve into details. One reason was that I wasn't sure if this fell under my mom's privacy, and the other was that we had grown distant in the past few months. Discussing topics like "privacy" and "distance" with my grandma felt a bit odd, after all, it was her daughter – a daughter she didn't often see. "By the way, you're still keeping that bedroom on the third floor for Mom. It's a pity she can't come back to stay."

"That child... she won't want to come back to Beika."

Grandma turned on the tap, washing her hands back and forth. "You two had an argument about you coming to study in Beika, didn't you?" Seeing my expression, she smiled gently and added mischievously, "It seems I've picked up some detective skills after all."

Despite her playful words, Grandma's expression still seemed a bit tense.

"Has she ever talked to you about the past?"

"The past?"

"Guess not... Well, you have to protect your mom's privacy, and I have to protect my daughter's privacy too," she laughed. "If there's a chance later on, let her tell you herself."

While it's true that Mom hadn't talked much about the past with me, it didn't mean I was completely unaware.

Occasionally, she would mention my grandpa and grandma, her tone complex. Sometimes, I would catch her flipping through her own photo albums. When I was a child, I played with her iPad once and found a long string of search records for "Kudo Shinichi" and "Mouri Ran." These names were unfamiliar to me, so I clicked on them, reading stories that seemed like something out of a novel – a person capable of everything, solving injustices and fighting evil. At that time, I didn't know they were my grandparents. I asked my mom if she knew these two people while holding the iPad, and she then told me they were her parents.

On the second night in Beika, I couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned, trying to recall any hints my mom might have dropped about the past, attempting to piece together what happened. However, what lingered in my mind were my grandma's seemingly carefree attitude, my grandpa's attempts to be strong in front of her, and my mom staring blankly at photos. A family that was difficult to understand.

Unable to sleep, I walked to the window and opened the curtains slightly. It was snowing. The street lamps cast a yellowish halo on the pure white snow. Beika had gradually shifted from the central area due to Tokyo's development over the years, and this area with its old buildings was especially quiet, occasionally interrupted by the sound of cars speeding by.

I took out my phone and looked at the album I had secretly taken of my mom. The first picture showed a young and handsome couple holding a baby, smiling together. The second one captured them frantically trying to calm down a crying baby – the look of anxiety written on the faces of the new parents. It was evident that the person behind the camera must have burst into laughter, as the second image was slightly blurry.

My mom and grandma looked very similar. The first time I saw them, I almost thought it was a picture of my parents.

The events that unfolded the next day proved my grandma's reasoning error, particularly the notion that "she won't want to come back to Beika." Mom came back.

My mom is a very meticulous person, someone who dresses neatly and immaculately even at parent-teacher meetings. It seems like she perpetually carries a part of Japan or Beika with her – it's not that she won't return; it belongs to her. She is also very strict with me, down to specifying the exact times I can't eat ice cream. So, I eventually learned to buy two cones – one for myself and one to shut her up when she started lecturing me. My cunning side is probably something Grandpa would appreciate. However, some matters are not negotiable, unlike ice cream. For example, my desire to come to Beika – or rather, my intention to settle down here – was an absolute mistake from the beginning.

So when I saw her in the hospital room, I was genuinely surprised. She looked a bit disheveled, and that's when I realized the inheritance of our hair – if not carefully maintained, it would defy gravity and stand tall, a trait shared between me, my mom, and my grandma.

Grandpa lying in the hospital bed, seemed more lively than the day before, clearly not anticipating his daughter's arrival.

I could deduce that she arrived in a hurry, perhaps having bought a ticket as soon as she read my message, taking an overnight flight. Seeing Grandpa looking seemingly fine, she wore a face that expressed both relief and slight annoyance. When I arrived, she had just finished talking with my grandpa, and it was clear she still remembered that the man in front of her was now a patient, so she tried to keep the atmosphere at a warm level.

She asked Grandpa, "Is the culprit caught this time?"

Grandma answered, "He's been detained, going through the legal process. This time, it's your father's disciple who's handling the case..."

She glanced at Grandma and said seriously, "This time, you were lucky. What about the next time? Do you plan to keep relying on luck to survive?" Her tone softened, "Is it really that bad for you to live outside Japan with me?"

I started feeling awkward and quietly slipped out, opening the door. The hospital corridor twisted, with people waiting to visit Kudo Shinichi holding gifts not far away. The windows were clear, reflecting the falling snow outside. After a while, Mom came out. There were tears on her face. She wordlessly grabbed my hand, gripping it tightly. Grandma followed, calling her name.

"If I won't take her away, how will you protect her?" Mom turned back, sadness in her eyes. "What if those people want to kidnap her, like they did back then..."

Grandma held my mom's hand, leading her back into the hospital room, as if guiding a child.

I stood there in confusion, with red marks on my wrist from my mom's overly strong grip.

The pie crust for the lemon tart can be refrigerated for an hour or more after being kneaded into dough. It can even stay for a day, with the maximum duration being a month. I took the crust out of the fridge, preparing to press it into the mold, and then put it in the oven for a bit. Grandma was next to me, making lemon custard and squeezing juice from the green lemons. Her hands were steady, and she handled the knife with expertise. I encountered danger during the summer; Beika had an unexpectedly high crime rate. It might be the mutual attraction between detectives, lawyers, and criminals. At that time, my grandpa spoke calmly, intertwining his hands and supporting his chin, presenting his deductions, while my grandma swiftly ended the criminal's counterattack with a spinning kick, appearing smooth and agile.

"About your mom's situation..." she hesitated this time.

"I'll hear it directly from her," I interrupted her, feeling that a serious family discussion required my mom's presence. "She messaged me, and we plan to meet tomorrow. So, why don't we talk about your past instead?"

My mom's "past events" might have some similarities with what my grandpa was currently facing. However, rather than delving into those matters tonight, I would prefer a cozier atmosphere and save the family affairs for later.

"I once read news reports about you and grandfather," I said, "They described you both like superheroes or something."

"... " Grandma mixed lemon juice, sugar, and eggs, creating a fresh and tender custard. She asked softly, "So, have we disappointed you?"

I was poking holes in the pie crust and nearly distracted enough to poke my own hand. "How could you be a disappointment? It's just that stories from others always have some element of exaggeration."

For instance, my grandparents are not omnipotent. For instance, they can also make mistakes in weighing their decisions.

"Alright," Grandma said thoughtfully, "Well, I haven't talked to you about it yet..."

She began, stating that everything started with a lie, a case that spanned half of their lives and consumed almost all of their energy. The initial point was quite ordinary.

"Is it the one where you took me to play at Tropical Land?"

Not just Tropical Land. In the memories that followed, there were shadows of places I had been to, such as Beika Central Hospital, the summer festival, and the Tokyo Tower. The events experienced by Kudo Shinichi and Mouri Ran together grew more and more, until finally, she realized that the boy with round glasses was her boyfriend.

"Do you just forgive him like that?"

"Yeah," she smiled, "Your grandpa and I, we've made a lot of mistakes... in the end, we're just ordinary people."

The ordinary proposal, ordinarily giving birth, struggling to take care of their daughter in the intervals between work, wanting to protect her world from being destroyed but always falling short. Cases solved, the exciting ones get written and reported, and the ones with no follow-up are pondered in the late hours of the night, sometimes waking up the sleeping person beside, two people brooding together. Losing some people, and gaining others in their lives.

Beika is a complex and three-dimensional city, dangerous, yet stamped with layers of intertwined memories. Over seventy years, piled into thick heaps like snow, starting with Kudo Shinichi and Mouri Ran, then becoming a family of three. Later, the daughter leaves, and the granddaughter occasionally returns, like a migratory bird. In the photos, those two young people who were once at a loss gradually turned into elderly figures who now admit their shortcomings, narrating to me the dark and bright years.

The oven signaled that it was time. I watched as my grandma poured the lemon custard into the pie crust, creating a complete lemon pie.

"Wait until tomorrow, take this to your mom," she said softly.

Fin.

[thinplacesradio]

stacked sound equipment and a radio with glowing green numbers. the image is distorted by VCR static. white text reads:

[026] THE SEEKER... A CALLER WAITS. THE SEEKER HEARS A VOICE ON THE RADIO.

listen here, or anywhere you find your podcasts. transcript under the cut:

[static, radio tuning]

[traveling sales rep: don’t touch that dial! We’ll be right b-]

[a high-register voice, not the Host’s:]

Car radio, yet again. Fixed, for now. It’s from a 2005 Honda CR-V, which I know is old, but, as you know, it’s been acting up for months now, um, and it finally just gave out on me. I don’t even know what worked to resurrect it here, but, well. [tools moving] The mystery of life, I guess. I’m sure it’ll start jumping stations again any day now.

[beep]

I could use a distraction so we are back to the transmitter. I’m building it from scratch instead of from a kit, uh, which basically means I’m just buying the parts that would have been in the kit separately, so I don’t really know if I’m saving money here or losing it. [tools clink] It’s pretty much kid stuff, but hey. It’s nice to go back to the basics sometimes, I guess. I think just to make it interesting I might take one of the old desktops to see if I can link it to some visuals? With different colors representing, I dunno, different letters, maybe? Maybe… make it so the words will show up as you tap the code in? Or I could just leave it with the binary, do kind of a black and white thing. I don’t know. [sigh] I don’t know.

[beep]

[phone ringing] [voicemail]

Hey, it’s me, you know what to do!

[beep]

[phone ringing] [voicemail]

Hey, it’s me, you –

[beep]

No one knows where she is, why does nobody know where she is. I - I think there’s something wrong.

[beep]

[phone ringing]

We’re sorry. You have reached a number that has been disconnected, or is no longer in service. To -

[beep]

I didn’t quit my job today. This isn’t really a project log, but I almost quit my job today, and I didn’t, and I, I think that deserves to be noted down, somewhere. I love what I do. But - doing it doesn’t seem as important anymore when I could be looking for her. I know I haven’t found a single thing, but that’s no reason to stop. I - [sigh]

I don’t know why I’m talking around it like this. Someone that matters to me is gone, and no one knows what happened, or why, or if - 

I wish she was just ghosting me, specifically. Like, that’s not something I want, at all, but I would take it if it meant that she was safe, living her life somewhere else. [sigh]

I don’t. I don’t think she’s dead. I really hope she isn’t dead. Sometimes I’d be at work glancing at the chat and there would be no new messages. Or at home with my phone on the table building myself a new desktop, and there would be no new messages. But I could still feel her on the other side, connected to me with that, I don’t know, electronic tether. Even when she wasn’t there, it helped knowing that she was somewhere.

That’s how it feels, still. I think she’s somewhere. I just don’t know where.

[voicemail]

Hiiiii, iris! Hi-riss! That’s nothing, sorry.  I texted you but I guess you must’ve lost track of time? I’ll just scale the building here and crawl in the IT window - you guys have windows, right? I feel like I imagine you in like a scifi basement most of the time. Anyway. I’m here, I’ll see you soon. Get down here before I bribe the security guard to let me in. I... yeah. See ya. I’ll be here.

[beep]

[morse code beeping] 

T-E-S-T. S-O-S. [pause] Where… are… you? 

Stupid, Iris. Just, stupid.

[beep] [equipment rustling, clinking, scraping]

It was, um, same company, different cities. I called her on the phone before I ported in to fix her computer, and she was – warm? Tired. Not exactly funny, but trying to make me laugh. I didn’t, but I thought about it, just to see if she’d laugh back? She messaged me on the company chat after, to thank me, and sent me a link to an article we’d been talking about while I worked on her desktop. I don’t remember what it was about even though it feels like I should. There are a lot of things I’m already forgetting. But I messaged back, and then we didn’t stop messaging. Until eight months ago.

I always want to know more about everything. Too much, probably. I can never stop digging. But she was the only one who really wanted to know more about… me.

I’m glad I got to meet her, but - I was supposed to keep meeting her - I - 

[beep]

[morse code beeping]

Don’t… be… dead.

[beep] [equipment moving aggressively]

Rob told me today that if I’m not going to go out for drinks with them after work anymore my only hobby can’t be looking for someone who’s been missing for a year. Really kind of insensitive, honestly. [huff] But I have been reading too many police reports, so today I will be starting a new project altogether.

[beep]

It’s the car radio, again, always the car radio. I should just buy a new one at this point, but then I’d never find out what was wrong with this one. Alright, okay, we’re trying scanning again, here we go.

[channels scan] [we hear the Sales Rep, and then the Host, cutting in and out:]

- Thank you for - feel - on - as always, our number is 71–

[Iris scrambles to stop the station but misses it. She tries tuning it back.]

Wait, wait wait wait wait. W-wait wait wait. 102 point 1. Oh my god. Oh my God. Wait. Hold on. 102 point - Wait, come back. Come back. 

I don’t – I don’t understand – [the road prov-] that’s Ha -

[beep] [keyboard clacking] 

I’m not the only person who’s heard her. There are people on subreddits talking about catching a radio call-in show on one frequency, exactly when they needed to hear it, but then not finding it again when they look for it, but just - How do I not need to hear it?

Here’s what I know about “the Host,” from what they know about the Host. Um, she’s always moving somewhere. She cares about her listeners. She’s experiencing impossible things, and so are the people calling in. And there’s a number.

Here’s what I know about my friend. She listened. She hated her job and always wanted a longer break. She loves pigeons and thinks that if aliens exist they’re single celled and acidophilic. She misses her mom. She was always reaching out for something. She was my friend.

[frantic music begins]

I know her voice, even if I haven’t heard it again. I know it was her, and I know I’m going to hear it again. I’m going to find the station. I’m going to find her.

[static] [Traveling Sales Rep: visit us at the - diner just off -] [Various Garbled Voices: the - road - provides - the - road - provides -]

Thin Places Radio is a podcast written by Kristen O’Neal and produced by Kaitlin Bruder. 

The voice of Iris is Kaitlin Bruder. 

The voice of H[static] is Kristen O’Neal. 

Editing and sound design are by Kaitlin Bruder, and the music track you heard in tonight’s episode is: Junoon by RANA. If you have a question to ask, a story to tell, or a suggestion for the host, give us a call at ‪(717) 382-8093. The lines are always open.

[Junoon plays]

[weridpersonhelp]

Red Phone [6]

Previous - Next?

master list!

warning: slightly scary, first-time horror writer, stalking, confusion, gramma and spell mistakes, screaming, getting up a horrible hour of night, neurodivergent reader, slow burnish? , x reader, children, puppets, curse langue, music, be ready for cringe!

“Safa you’re not going to believe what I’m going to tell you!”

“Okay but first I need to share what a found on that welcome home show! It turns out there is a website on it! It has the neighbours and everything, in fact they have a mission of finding all lost information on the show! It was started in 1969 and ended in 1974. The company says it’s because they ran out of money but there could have been a different reason, I mean it was doing extremely well, and people from all different ages loved it even parents. I’ll send you the link, anyway what was it that you wanted to tell me?” by the time she was done I had run upstairs to my room and shut the door slowly making sure it didn’t creek.

“Huh? Oh! Well, there was this weird phone that kept ringing in my grandma’s remember and how grandma acted weird about it?”

“yeah girl! Who was it? And old friend of your dead grandpa?! A mysterious man wanting to talk to you grandma? A murderer?!?!?!” Safa asks in excitement.

“umm, not exactly maybe the last one. But I picked up the phone last night and answered-“ Safa gasps dramatically, while she processes what happened. While she does that I open out texts and type in the link she sent me.

“No fucking way, who was it?”

“his name is Wally, and he was looking to speak to my grandpa. I explained how he passed he shocked, then explained he wanted to ask him something, I don’t know what. But then went to ask if my grandma was their but I said she was busy. Knowing if I told her I picked up she would of killed me, literally. He asked who I was I said only my name. but he seemed like a nice guy, he plays piano and paints, also he’s in a different time zone then us!” I explain to her, though I know safa is going to be a bit of a worry wort about it. But that’s one of the things I love about her, how she was so caring and worried about me. If I was being honest she showed me more care then my mother has ever done in a life time.

“Y/n this man could be 30! Hell, if he knew your grandpa then be in his late 40’s or just getting into his 50’s!” Safa says as I spin around in the wheely chair.

“it’s not like we where flirting, he was just very easy to talk too!, he’s going to call tonight again!”

Y/N! This is not a good idea!” “

“oh, come on Safa, it’s not like he knows where I am. If he did he would of come here a while ago and talked to my grandma instead of calling all the time.” “Y/n this could be an old man, this isn’t safe in the slightest. I know I can’t stop you but promise me you’ll be careful? Try not to share too much information about yourself and ask as many questions as you can. Example how old he is!” Safa scolds me.

“He’s homeowner age! Plus where 18 we can date older guys now.”

“Yeah but not too old, we don’t want to be a sugar baby already! anyway have you checked out the website?”

“What’s wrong with being a sugar baby but any ways. Yeah, it’s very well done, I haven’t watched all the episode yet but it seems like they have done pretty well.  Who’s your favourite neighbour?”

“Eddie’s cute but Howdy is so hot-“ “SAFA HE’S A CATERPILLAR!”

“SO?!?! THEIR PUPPETS! IT’S NOT LIKE THEY ARE REAL AND WE COULD MARRY THEM OR SOMETHING!” I shake my head at my friend choice in men, or puppets? caterpillars?

“You have interesting taste my guy-““Says you! Your taste in guys is not better than mine!” Safa says trying to defend herself, I roll my eyes at my friend though she can’t see them I know she knows.

“I like men who are tall! Human- ““What about Neteyam-“ “Do not bring the boys into this.”

Safa cracks up laughing, knowing very well we have similar taste in guys. After she was done laughing, I closed the website before adding it to my favrioutes.

“Anyway, again with the old man- ““we don’t know if he’s actually an old man yet!”

“Still, ask him for his actual number maybe? Just remember to be safe, I don’t trust him.”

“You’ve never met him! And I’ve barely even met this guy, he’s calling me to night okay. Don’t worry.”

“DINNER TIME” Mum screams from the kitchen...

“Oh sorry Safa, dinner time.”

“Your fine girlie, remember to ask this guy’s age! And his experiences to know his-“I cut my friend off done with talking about the person who called me last night. I turn off my computer and head downstairs, to a well cooked and delicious meal!

{hi everyone the results are in, and it seems everyone want them to some to life! but i forgot to add a thrid opption where I combined them but meh-

anyways this is where the story will be going, I hope thoese who's option was not picked still continue reading! and thank you for the support i have reviced!

if any of you have sugestion please comment or if you just wanna say hi! Thank again for reading and have a lovely evening.} Tag: @quittingfortgebetter @egg1sblog @ice-cream-writes-stuff @thealreadyunsteadyteddynewpaper @narucore

[talesfrommedinastation]

My redneck neighbor Doug reads my fanfiction for 'The Bad Batch'

Proverbs 11:2 “When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom.”

I made the gross error of telling Doug that I was writing a novel length fanfiction crossover of The Bad Batch and The Expanse. It's here if you'd like to take a gander yourself.

A massive fan of both, Doug practically hooted with joy when I mentioned it at a barbeque. So, like a dumbass, I sent him a link to the fic, thinking he’d wax praise on me.

I had forgotten how aggressively irreverent this man is. I was in for a beating.

Hint: I quickly sketched this up and sent it to Doug asking if this is how he imagined Tech and Sjael Drummer in the story. He said yes, and was ECSTATIC. I'm 99% sure it's on his fridge now. Next to @amalthiaph's piece of course.

CW: It's Doug, he's not child friendly. Y'all should've figured it out by now.

They're looking at me like 'We're a clone commando genius and a pilot with a Ph.D in chemical engineering. WTF is this hillbilly shit?"

Anywho, here’s the delightful exchange we had after he finished up the current chapter:

Doug: So, lemme get this straight. We got a nice pretty Belter scientist-engineer, Sa-Jail Drummah, –so the lady’s a space Cajun. She got an undercut, tattoos, some Indian blood in her, and a crazy bitch sister who was in the Navy! Yup, pure Gulf Shore girl, got it. Sa-Jail’s a chemical engineer, I bet she got her degree at USM* like a good gal. And she meets Ryan-from-Accounting, who is a space redneck, because the boy’s a Mandalorian clone. And they’re all out camping, nice. It’s a white trash love story in space, awesome. Love it.

Me: It’s not a white trash love story in space, DOUG.

Doug: Oh, it ain’t? Let’s see here…the first time the boy meets the girl, she’s setting up a shitty perimeter fence around her trailer in the woods and he holds her up at gunpoint in the middle of the night. That’s some bayou romance right up in there. Did she show him her shrimping boat after that?”

Me: …that is true. No shrimping boat, but he joins her on a hike the next day.

Doug: Taking a girl out into the woods to show her what a rough rugged redneck you are! That’s classic white trash mating rituals right there. I’ve seen it in action my whole life, I know it when I see it. Did the boy talk about his guns?

Me: No, but he does talk about his time in the armed forces and his brothers. His guns are in his backpack. 

Doug: Guns on the first date? Seriously. And bragging about your time in the USMC is like, the first thing a redneck does to impress a lady besides talking about his truck and his smoker and how much he goes to church. This is real redneck courtship happening in this story. Oh, and the part where they finally start banging?”

Me: (takes deep breath) What about it? 

Doug: First of all, my wife, she loved that part!

Me: YOU READ THIS TO YOUR WIFE?!**

Doug: Well, yeah! She loves a good romance and we had a long drive that day. Anyway, Sa-Jail had just been bitching about her ex-oyfriend, or was it ex-husband?

Me: Ex-fiance.

Doug: Same difference. Anyway, Toby***–clearly named after Toby Keith like a good Southern man–left her for some other chick after he joined the Navy because that’s how the Navy man rolls. Just like Toaster Strudel's daddy. Wasn’t Toby a pilot? Yup, sounds like an average day in Pensacola to me. Flew his Blue Angel to different poon. Then, Sa-Jail, well, she needed somebody else to wash her mouth out, per se. 

So, after knowing the man for what, two or three days, she flings herself at Ryan-from-Accounting and they proceed to hump like coked-out rabbits all over her trailer. And in TRUE Cajun fashion, Sa-Jail is so impressed by Ryan-from-Accounting’s pipelaying skills that she makes him DINNER. And what does Ryan-from-Accounting do that any self-preserving redneck man would do with a woman he just started dating?

Me: Enlighten my Yankee self, Doug.

Doug: HE CALLS ALL HIS HUNGRY RELATIVES OVER TO JOIN THEM FOR THEIR FIRST DINNER TOGETHER. Which they all enjoy outside the trailer! Cookout style! Nothing says ‘redneck romance’ like ‘Hey sugar, you and me just started getting serious five minutes ago, now HERE IS MY WHOLE FAMILY. FROM MY BROTHER CLAYTON THAT JUST GOT RELEASED FROM ANGOLA TO MY COUSIN CAROLLYNN WHO HAS FIVE BABY DADDIES. ALSO WE ARE GOING TO CHURCH TOMORROW AND GETTING CRACKER BARREL AFTER THAT SO GET A NICE DRESS OR MEEMAW AND MY AUNTIES WILL JUDGE.” 

Me: Jesus Christ, Doug, that is not what happened.

::Doug screenshots my longfic and sends it to me and I am deceased because he’s not exactly wrong::

Doug: And of course, Sa-Jail is a good Cajun woman, just rolls up her sleeves and feeds everybody because that’s how the bayou babe do. The rest of the story might as well be called ‘Real Housewives of Space Slidell’ for all of the white trash shenanigans that follow. Let’s see here…there’s knife chasing, screaming, someone gets pregnant out of wedlock, a fist fight while someone’s driving, lots of guns, tattoos, motorcycles, a cowboy bar, a hot Southern nurse, lots of cussing, baby daddy drama, biscuits and gravy, Navy veterans, Ryan-from-Accounting’s various brothers from different daddies show up and they all want food and a place to stay, hooch-making, pimp-slaps, more guns…this is a real Cajun-Redneck tale of love. With spaceships. It’s great!

Me: I’m speechless, Doug.

Doug: Jenny loved the scenes where they cross a river with the motorcycle and then they do the nasty next to it. That’s 10/10 on the redneck  Was Ryan-from-Accounting playing ‘Fishin’ in the Dark’ in the background on his phone, too?” 

Me: I AM GENUINELY SPEECHLESS, DOUG. 

@eyecandyeoz, did he do a good job capturing the essence of the story? LOL

---------------------------------------------------------------------

*=In Doug’s defense, University of Southern Mississippi has an incredible department regarding chemical engineering and specifically, polymer science. So he’s not far off.

**=I DIED, I’M DEAD, A GHOST IS WRITING THIS RIGHT NOW. 

***=HIS NAME WAS NOT TOBY FFS. 

[thereaderinsertlady]

Request Vivian x Reader head canons!

Iiii figure this is for the quest-tober since this was sent in directly after I posted the event! Anyways, ended up making this into a little date fic. Here's the link on ao3, and I hope you enjoy!

Vivian x Reader - First Date

Vivian had always been a bit on the shy side. She was used to lurking in the background, occasionally helping Mario on his adventures from the shadows. However, today was different. Today, she was stepping into the spotlight for a special occasion– a date with you, who had been by her side even after the whole Shadow Queen incident.

The setting sun bathed Glitzville in a warm, golden glow as Vivian waited nervously at the rendezvous point, outside of a quaint little café nestled in the heart of the bustling city. She fidgeted with her purple scarf, wondering if she looked presentable enough. Her shadowy features, normally hidden beneath her hat, were now fully exposed. Her eyes sparkled with a mix of excitement and anxiety.

Just as she was beginning to think she had been stood up, you appeared around the corner, glancing around before settling your gaze on her. Vivian's heart skipped a beat as you approached, a warm smile on your face. You wore a smart outfit, a nod to the grandeur of Glitzville, yet still casual enough for a cozy evening.

"Hey, Vivian," you said with a smile, your voice smooth as butter. "You look absolutely stunning– as per usual." 

Vivian blushed, her cheeks glowing with a faint, rosy hue. You’d compliment her often, being flirtatious, but your words felt… different today. "Thank you," she stammered, her voice soft. "You look… really nice too."

“I appreciate that,” you smiled. After a moment, you pulled the door to the café open. “Shall we?”

As you both settled into your seats at a corner table by the window, the café's cozy ambiance enveloped the air. Soft jazz music played in the background, creating an intimate atmosphere that seemed to cocoon the two of you from the bustling world outside.

“You know,” you began, browsing through the menu. “I don’t think we’ve ever done anything like this before.”

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Going to a little café like this,” you clarified. “I mean, we’ve been to a few parties, celebrations, and restaurants with friends, but nothing like this.”

Vivian hummed in response, peering through her menu. “I suppose you’re right… Do you… enjoy, being with me like this, without our friends?”

You offered a soft smile. “Of course I do. I enjoy talking with you, Vivian, and… being around you in general, too.” You glanced up from your menu. “What are you going to get?”

She was a little startled by your change in topics, still stuck on the first thing you said. “Uhm. I dunno…” She inspected it closely. “Um… there’s a lot of unique words up here… like… um… esc…ar…got?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at  her pronunciation. “Escargot?”

She smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, that one… What even is a escar…got?”

“Snails. I think they’re boiled.”

“Snails?!” Vivian seemed horrified. “And they’re boiled? Alive?!”

You snickered. “Maybe– I’m not sure how they prepare them.”

Vivian's eyes widened in disbelief. "Oh, I don't think I can handle snails, boiled or otherwise. Um… Let's see... how about we go for something a bit less adventurous?"

You browsed the menu. “Hm… do you know what a croissant is?”

“Fancy bread, right?”

“Sure,” you said, amused. “It says it’s paired with honey-pumpkin butter.”

“I’ll have that then,” she said while putting down her menu. “Do you know what you’re getting?”

You nodded, putting your menu with hers. 

After placing your orders with the server, you settled back into your chairs, the conversation flowing effortlessly. You talked about your past adventures together, reminiscing about the thrilling battles and heartwarming moments. Vivian shared stories of her time with the Shadow Sirens and how meeting Mario had changed her life.

"You know," you mused, "I've always admired your abilities. You’re so… skilled, with what you do and how you handle things. Makes me jealous,” you joked. 

Vivian's cheeks flushed with pride. "Thank you. It's… something I've always been grateful for. It's... nice to hear that you appreciate it too."

The conversation continued, touching on favorite places in the Mushroom Kingdom, dreams for the future, and even the occasional silly joke. Time seemed to fly by, and before you knew it, the waiter was setting items on the table. 

“Oooh… that looks so good,” she practically drooled, poking at her croissant. 

You hummed in response, quickly eating some of your food. 

As you both indulged in your meals, the conversation never waned. Vivian's initial nervousness had given way to a comfortable camaraderie. 

The cozy atmosphere of the café seemed to wrap around you like a warm blanket, making this date feel like a cherished memory in the making. To Vivian, this whole date seemed like it was straight out of a movie. 

When the bill came, you immediately placed the correct amount of coins onto the table along with a decent tip. 

“Hey, I was gunna pay,” Vivian told you with a pout. 

“Not anymore.” You offered her a smirk. “And I’m paying the next time, too.”

“But, but…” Vivian whined. “I can’t just let you pay all the time. I feel like I’m mooching off of you!”

You laughed, standing up from your chair. “Fine, fine… I’ll let you pay next time, if you’re so concerned about it.”

Vivian's expression shifted from a blank stare to relief, and then back to a playful pout. "You better hold onto that promise, or I might just have to sneakily pay without you noticing."

She laughed with you that time, stepping out of the café with you…

“...So, are we heading back to our respective homes?” You asked.

“......Well…” She seemed very meek, looking down at the ground. It was getting a little dark outside, the sun barely peeking over the horizon and the street lights coming on. “I don’t want our date to end…”

You made a thoughtful noise, humming thoughtfully. After a moment you smirked. “You could always come to my place for the night,” you said smoothly. “It’ll be safer walking back to your place alone.”

“Are you sure it’ll be alright?” Vivian asked softly. “I wouldn’t want to intrude…”

“I’d love to have you over,” you told her gently, reaching over and holding her hand. “I don’t want this date to end either…”

Vivian sucked in a steadying breath. “Okay… I’ll…” Her face warmed more, lowering her head. “I’ll go back to your place.”

With Vivian's decision made, the two of you left the cozy café behind and headed towards your abode…

[gayofthefae]

MAYBE buckle up for some general audience Byler posts because I just gaslit my friend HARD into thinking I hadn’t totally spoiled Stranger Things for her.

So she doesn’t really follow pop culture or fact check pop culture stuff on google and also she is notorious for forgetting major plot points I’ve spoiled very quickly. Her record is [9-1-1 spoilers] forgetting I told her Eddie got shot within a day [end of spoiler]. 

So I was telling her about Stranger Things and spoiling it for her bc she doesn’t watch it and then I was like “damn I wish I hadn’t so I could send you in blind and hear what you have to say and kinda live vicariously through your first watch” yk?

And then I said MOSTLY AS A JOKE BECAUSE I DID NOT THINK IT WOULD WORK: Unrelated! There’s this other cool DnD show called Stranger Things you should watch. And she was like “Isn’t that what we were just talking about?” and I doubled down and said NO. The one we were just talking about was the Snape kid one (she thinks Mike looks like a young Snape). And she was just like...oh okay.

And then I thought she caught me because she was like “hold on” and sent a YouTube link and I thought it was gonna be like a clip of a plot point I told her titled “Stranger Things” or something. But it was just a DnD podcast and we started talking about that instead. 

I asked her to watch it and she said usually she wouldn’t but because she loved my 9-1-1 recommendation I was earning some points with her. So she’s gonna text me if/when she starts it. And then she went to sleep.

So ummmm.....yeah basically

tldr: I spoiled Stranger Things for my friend then as a joke said “I wish I hadn’t spoiled Stranger Things for you because then I could send you in blind and hear your thoughts but you should watch this other show Stranger Things.” And she caught me for a second but I doubled down and then we changed the subject and the conversation ended. Also, she is notorious for forgetting things so the odds that she doesn’t catch on are higher than you think.

My one concern is that she will recognize Steve because she recognized him beforehand but if she does I’m just gonna tell her “haha he has a crazy specific typecast for DnD shows amiright?” and if she asks what the other show is called I’m prepared to say “I won’t tell you so that maybe someday you forget and I can recommend it to you” because I’m a meta evil genius like that. And since she’s likely to forget the plot points, she could actually probably talk to people about the show without my lie getting busted. I mean, I hope she doesn’t and she’s unlikely to anyways but...this is actually kind of weirdly air tight.

My goal is to stay friends with her through 2024/the season 5 release and have her believe it the whole time and tell her after the finale. But I am feeling fucking maniacle right now.

Oh also! She doesn’t know them by their names. I mentioned briefly at the beginning Steve, Mike, and Will but that was around the same time I said “Stranger Things” and she forgot that. For the rest of the conversation, I just referred to them as “Snape, Enola, and Bowlcut”