#there is. so many lines in this. glad i could finally finish it while taking breaks from the cover im working on..

[garoujo]

✩ ˛˚ . WRIOTHESLEY — your boyfriend always had his own ways of teasing you whenever you’d visit him at work.

ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ warnings! f!reader, cockwarming, a lot of teasing, office scenes! my first wrio thing ueueue ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! i had to write something for him before i lost my mind ,, im going sooooso crazy over him <3

you were always so incredibly needy by the time you finally got to visit your boyfriend wriothesley in the fortress of meropide. unfortunately, he’d seemed to pick up on that — always figuring out new ways to tease you by the time you arrived, like he hadn’t been yearning for you just as much.

you’d barely been there a few hours and you’d already been palming at his muscles over his shirt, losing yourself in one of the many makeout sessions with the duke that seemed to take all of the air from your lungs. he was a daunting presence, all sharp edges and rough lines and exceeding the kind of dominance he holds over everything else in his life as he kisses you.

“wrio, i want you—please—“ is where wriothesley’s little game begins when he pulls away to give you a narrowed sort of look— crossing his arms over his chest as he hums to himself.

“mmm, in my administrative office space? what ever shall i do with you?” the tone of his voice is playful as he tries to bite back the whisper of a smirk on his features, his sharp eyes are on you and he’s already so consumed by the way your thighs rub together from where you’re sat on his desk.

“it’s been so long, i wanna feel you.” your voice trembles under the weight of your arousal as you blink up at wriothesley, sending him a terribly unfair, glassy look that makes him tilt his head down at you before he breathes out a laugh. oh, he’d devour you entirely— and he will, eventually.

“oh? is that so? well i might have a suggestion to fix that.”

you should’ve known what he meant by a suggestion, known that is was always going to be something amusing for him but oh so annoying for you. he’d led you into it, drowning you in kisses and languid touches when he’d coaxed you into his lap— sinking into you with the sweet promise of making you feel good after he’d finished his work— it was his office you were in after all. god—he was so annoying.

“well then, is this enough for you, hm?” wriothesley grits as he exhales deep against the shell of your ear. your chest is pressed tight against his and your thighs are spread so prettily over his own as you sit on his lap— soft walls wrapped around his heavy cock as you both rest on his desk chair.

he’s got one hand on your ass as he palms at the skin, the other flipping through the paperwork on his desk and he’s so glad you can’t see the way he does it without purpose, his only goal to last as long as possible with you around him— but it’s harder than he thought it would be.

“you didn’t even finish your tea.” his tone is smooth as he grumbles, giving your ass a particularly rough squeeze while he eyes the set of teacups at the other end of his desk— he’d even used the fancy kind to make you that cup. “i could always stop and make you another if you’d rather that.”

“n-no!” you squirm at that, you’re already so wound up tight— feeling his cock smooth along your sensitive walls and stretch you out so mercilessly. his teasing isn’t doing you any favours and you’d do anything for a little friction, all he’s offering you being a few shallow thrusts everytime he readjusts himself on his seat with a ‘oh i’m just getting comfortable is all.’ but you know him, you know it’s just an excuse for him to rock his hips into yours, pushing his cock even deeper into you just to hear you bite back a whimper of his name, a plea.

“wow, you’ve really been waiting for this, huh?” wriothesley tries again and you don’t even need to see his face to know he’s smirking just as he pulls your hips closer to his. there’s a lewd squelch between you both with how wet you are, the blunt head of his cock gliding along your sweet spots until you’re mumbling out a strangled sort of sound, and you feel something burn in your abdomen as you all but drip down his heavy shaft.

“mmhm, that’s a real shame. bet you’re regretting being impatient now.” he truly was relentless,

“wrio! just move already, come on!”

“oh no, you insisted you’d let me work like this. all i’m asking for is a minute to finish my work and my tea, ‘s all. you can handle that, right?”

oh but despite his teasing you feel like silk around him, making his fingers twitch and grip at the edge of his desk as he tries so hard to focus on his documents in front of him. he wants nothing more than to have you over the table, walls trembling around him as you cum but he’d started this little game — he can’t give in too quickly.

“well can you hurry up, n-need you to move!”

“yeah, well .. maybe if you stopped moving so much i’d be done a little faster.” wriothesley grumbles playfully, pulling back to shoot you a look before he’s placing a few ticklish, open mouthed kisses along your jawline.

you can only glare cutely at him in response, not trusting the sound of your own voice when you’re so full— but you still manage to tighten your walls around him as a little playback. you watch his lips part at that before he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, biting back a low growl but you still feel it rumble through his chest— he always liked when you teased him back, it made his games more fun.

“oh? good for you. that is wonderful~” wriothesley grunts with the praise but you can sense the sarcasm, goading as the muscles in his chest expand with a sudden, shaky exhale as he narrows his eyes up at you again— they’re darker now.

the sight alone has your pussy twitching, flexing around him and he hisses through his teeth at the sudden tightness before he thrusts abruptly into you in response. it makes you moan at the sudden friction he’s been so generous to give you— but makes you whimper even louder at the loss when he slows back to a stop before popping his neck to the side.

“quit teasing me! just fuck me, already!” wriothesley can’t deny the way your want—need for him has him like putty, making something burst and warm underneath his shirt when your fingertips graze their way beneath his collar, making him shudder when they trace so gently over his scars. he hums like he’s considering it, thinking it over before he’s placing a sloppy kiss against your neck and taking a ragged breath, then finally rolling his hips languidly into yours.

oh but it’s so fast the way he moves you, pushing you so quickly onto his desk that you squeeze around him from the movement alone. he lets himself curl over you this time, his cock throbbing when your thighs tremble around his hips and you’ve never been so thankful to feel the cold wood of his desk against your lower back and this man between your thighs.

wriothesley’s eyes are blown as they glance down between your bodies, so hypnotised by the way your folds spread for him before he almost crumbles with the first real bounce of his body against yours. his palms reach to squeeze at your hips, pulling back until only the tip of his cock is resting inside of you before he’s sinking back down, and the way your pussy coaxes him back in is filthy with the wet, clapping connection of his hips with yours.

“aren’t you eager? seems i win this round. you gonna give me a prize?”

© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[droopycoquette]

Coffee And Cupid || Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: How you and Alexia meet

Warnings: Fluff, strangers2lovers, barista!reader

Word count: 2.0k

|*|

You smiled as you heard the small ding of the shop's door, symbolizing that a customer had entered. You continued your task of wiping off a table. 

"Hello, you came just in time I was just about to close up," you start, finally looking up. 

You saw a woman looking around the shop, taking it in. Giving you the chance to absorb her beauty. 

Alexia smiled at you when she was done taking in the cafe, soaking in the small establishment’s aura. The black counters and wooden outlines of the place gave the cafe an old, mystic vibe. The books that lined the south wall gave the area a warmth that many new or well-known cafes couldn’t claim. Then, of course, there was you. As she approached the counter she found you gave off a calm and collected yet fun and artsy energy that made you very approachable. She could feel a love for the cafe brewing in her. 

Her eyes found the menu overhead, and she let out a ‘hm’ as she figured out what she wanted, periodically glancing at you as you cleaned. 

Eventually, she realized that periodically glancing turned into just plain staring making her shake her head and focus. She needed to choose something. She set her eyes on the menu once more and quickly picked something that sounded good. She made sure to keep it simple, you were closing up after all.

You found your gaze drifting to her as well, taking in her athletic build and strong features. From her tan skin to her dirty blonde hair. 

"Hey um, I think I'm ready to order now," she called, forcing you to come back to reality. 

"Of course," you put down the washrag and made your way over to her.

"I think I'll have a turkey sandwich and then an iced americano," she said glancing between you and the menu.

"Are you sure you want an Americano this late," you asked concerned.

She was shocked. She didn't expect a person much less a worker to be concerned for her. She knew it was a little late to be drinking something with so much caffeine in it but she didn't think someone would call her out on it.

"Well, is there something you would recommend," she smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

You could tell she was taken aback.

"Um, well,” you paused to look her once over. “You look like you’d like our iced raspberry black tea.”

“Why do you say that,” she asks, glancing down at herself and then back at you.

“Well, black tea still has caffeine just not as much as an americano. You also look like you came back from some sort of work out so it should help cool you down,” you explained. 

“Wow,” Alexia gawked. “You got all of that just by looking at me?”

You blushed, “Was I right?”

She thought for a minute before answering, "Yeah. Yeah, you are. I'll take that raspberry black tea then senora, thank you."

She sat down in one of the chairs and kept her eyes on you. 

"And that's for..."

"Alexia," she finished.

You nodded once more and walked back behind the counter to begin preparing her food and drink. 

"So, what are you doing out so late," you asked as you began to brew the tea.

"Well, I was just coming home from practice, I was hungry and this place looked nice," Alexia smiled.

"Practice? What were you practicing," you asked as you set your sights on preparing the sandwich. 

"Soccer," she smiled. “I play for Barcelona.” 

You almost dropped the cup you were holding. 

“Holy shit.” 

She just nodded and smiled. 

“Well that’s cool,” you say dumbfounded. “I’m glad you came here.”

“Me too, I really like this place,” she gushed, swirling her wrist to make a point.

"If you want you can go look at some of the books while you wait," you suggested, pointing over to the bookshelves lining the wall.

Alexia nodded and went to go look a the books. She picked a random one up and quickly looked at the summary before sneaking a peek at you. She watched as you got the sandwich ready and moved around the kitchen. You looked surreal, there was something so homey about you. You were gorgeous, anyone could see that. Your white button-up with the sleeves rolled up made you look so hot yet so...mommy. She couldn’t describe it. 

Plants and flowers littered the ceiling. It gave the place a homier garden vibe on top of everything else. 

"Find anything you like," you called.

Alexia was snapped out of her daydream. 

"Um, no, not yet," she stuttered. "Is there anything here you would recommend?"

"Well," you stopped to think while you poured her tea into a cup filled with ice. “It depends on what genres you like."

"It's been a while since I actually sat down and read a book but, I remember liking romance," she answered. 

"Okay, well then I would recommend Forever... by Judy Blume. It was originally written for teens but it covers a lot of controversial topics while still holding that romantic aura. It's kind of angsty as well," you said.

"Okay," she muttered while looking for the book. 

"Also, your order is ready," you called out, bummed by how fast you had worked. 

Alexia jogged back over to the counter with the book in hand.

"Do I check this out or do I buy it?"

"You can do either," you laughed.

"Well, then I will get this with the order," she smiled.

"Alright, that will be $25.98."

She gave you $30 and told you to keep the change.

"Have a nice night, ma’am."

"You too."

|*|

Ding

The bell on the door rang, notifying you that there was a customer. 

"Hell-. Alexia! You're back," you exclaimed.

"The food was so good I just couldn't stay away," she laughed. 

"Well, I'm glad. Are you getting something different today?"

"No, I think I'll have the same thing, you really know what you’re talking about. The raspberry tea was delicious. By the way, I started that book you recommended and so far so good."

"That's wonderful! I'm glad you like it," you smiled as you began to get the tea ready.

She's here again, you thought as you busied yourself. She is so cute...and pretty...and nice...oh my god!

"Hey, I never really got your name," Alexia commented.

"How about you come back tomorrow and I'll tell you," you giggled as you began to prepare the sandwich. 

"Is this a new trick to keep getting customers to come back," Alexia teased.

"Is it going to work," you laughed.

Am I flirting? Correctly?

"Definitely," she stated.

Your cheeks warmed as you looked down at your task. You could feel her stare on you and you found it strangely comforting. Alexia could have anyone, she was good-looking, kind, well-dressed, tall, hot, momm-

"Hey,” Alexia called out. “Whatcha thinking about? Were you thinking of me?"

"How could I not," you smiled.

"Good," she giggled.

"Okay, order up! That will be 15.20," you said.

She handed you a twenty-dollar bill and headed out.

You could feel yourself falling.

|*|

Ding

"Ms. Alexia," you smiled not even having to turn around to know who it was.

"You got me," she laughed.

You had gotten her order ready so you could spend more time talking to her. 

"I'll have what I usua-"

"I know," you laughed cutting her off and handing her the food and tea. "It's on the house tonight."

"You won't get in trouble?"

"Well, unless someone else is going to tell me how to run my own place no."

Alexia stopped in her tracks.

"You own this place? That explains it," Alexia exclaimed.

The whole vibe of the café fit you to a T. The mysterious, homey, artsy atmosphere was so you. You gave this place life. If she wasn't in love with you then she was definitely now. 

She took the food from you and then leaned onto the bar counter. 

"So, are you going to tell me your name today," Alexia questioned.

"Only if you promise to keep coming back here," you stated.

She held her right hand up and crossed her heart. 

"Y/n," you smiled.

"Y/n," she repeated, liking the sound of it.

She smiled back at you and stared at you for what seemed like hours. You continued to look away and then back at her, holding eye contact has never been your strong suit. 

"I was wondering if maybe, you could teach me how to make something from the menu?"

You raised your eyebrow. Noticing your confusion, Alexia decided to take a leap of faith. 

"Like a date," Alexia stuttered. "Like cooking together, and-"

"I would love to," you giggled. 

What was this giddiness? Alexia had turned this night from great to amazing. If she could do this just standing on the other side of a counter what was she going to do when she was right beside you?

"Great," she grinned as she took off her jacket and set it on one of the tables.

"Give me a second and let me close up," you said as you left the bar and went to the door to lock the door and flip the sign from 'open' to 'closed.'  

"Is there anything on the many that you want to make particularly," you asked while you opened up the bar to her. 

Alexia passed you and you could smell her perfume. It smelt like cedar and lemongrass, you could get high off of it. 

“I don’t know,” Alexia sighed. “You’re the boss. Literally.” 

You leaned against the counter as you thought about what to make. Giving Alexia a chance to look at you more. She could spend forever staring at you, your small breaths made her shiver and your eyes made her want to kiss you. 

“We could make your turkey sandwich,” you say, thinking out loud. “It’s pretty easy and it doesn’t make much of a mess.”

“That sounds perfect,” Alexia smiles, leaning against the opposite counter. 

A beat of silence follows as you and Alexia stare at each other. Alexia can feel her heart jump as your lips part. It’s as if your breath begins to match up with one another, your very bodies wanting to be near the other. 

“Right,” you exclaim, jumping into action. “The first thing we’ll need is-”

You’re cut off by Alexia’s lips, the footballer not being able to hold herself back anymore. Her hands find your cheeks and cage your face. Her hair tickles your face and overwhelms you with its scent. You quick to kiss back, your hands finding her wrists and holding onto them sweetly. 

Alexia deepens the kiss, her arms snaking around your waist and pulling you closer.  Your arms find a home, wrapped around Alexia’s neck lazily. You could feel her smile into the kiss, her lips upturning causing you to smile too. Pulling away, you both giggle at your giddiness. 

“Are you free tomorrow night,” Alexia asks, slightly out of breath. 

“I can be.”

“Would you like to come to a game? I’m playing tomorrow and would love to have you there.”

Alexia takes a breath and holds it, mentally crossing her fingers. Imagining you in the stands cheering for her made her blush.

“I’ve never been to a football game,” you admit. “I’d love to go.”

Alexia beams. It made your heart flutter and your insides melt. You peck her lips gently before kissing her once more. Both of you begin to sway and Alexia realizes that she loves having you in her arms and kissing you. Loves how natural it feels. You find that you love being in Alexia’s arms, her muscles bulging against your frame and warming you. It was nice. It felt like home. 

[randombush3]

revocate animos (with or without me)

alexia putellas x reader

part one, part two, part three, part four

the second half of this part (it didn't fit in one post lol)

words: it's over 14k. i had lots to say.

summary: the final part, which originally had a different ending but i was told it was evil so i changed it.

warnings: it's mainly just sad, there's a bit of smut though

notes: i could give you so many excuses as to why this is being posted now but no one wants to read that so i'll just say sorry x

anyway, i got very lost along the way at points and had some serious plot crises that had me tearing my hair out. i researched children's behaviour to the point of needing an honourory qualification, and i spent the last three hours ignoring my girlfriend while i finished this off.

for as much as i put these two through (and myself tbh), i'm sad to finish it off. BUT ALSO NOW IM FREE.

have fun reading! and sorry about the length of it

London smells of dirty rain and exhaust fumes, of a homelessness crisis and inflation attempting to impersonate that of the Weimar Republic; greyish streets, cracks in the pavement, thousands of spices from all over the world. Grubby patterns, hidden by the smudging of millions of bottoms, coloured poles that used to match the train line but no longer do. You breathe it all in, eyes closed as the motion of the underground jerks you sideways, the train leaving London Bridge just as you left Barcelona. Without looking back. 

You had laughed when they told you they’d send a driver to get you from the airport. The luxury of some shiny black car held no appeal when compared to the familiar Northern line, its blackened route well-travelled and your own brick-road home. 

Part of this choice to ‘slum it’ is borne of your desire to return to the past; a time before the fame and the fortune, when camera flashes came from your parents’ Sony Cyber-shot and not paparazzos with a hunger to splash you across the front page of a slimy gossip magazine. There was no Alexia, then. The extent of Spanish in your life was Anya studying for her A-levels, and you’d spend time writing songs without it feeling like pulling teeth. Without having to relive some of the worst moments of your life. 

Those hadn’t happened yet.

God, you were so naive then back then. 

Your London shows are in Wembley. Two nights, two journeys through your album, through your heartbreak. Both are sold out. 

“See it, say it, sorted,” you mouth along to the voice, pushing the handle of your suitcase upwards, rising from your seat. The doors of the tube swoosh open, the yellow line of the platform attacking your tired eyes as Highgate station is revealed to you. You hear a whisper of ‘is that Y/n L/n?’ but you don’t turn around. 

The wheels of your suitcase gurgle against the bumpy pavement leading up to your house, but they grow quieter as you approach. They must sense the tension, glad to have the smoother surface of your driveway to move across as you force yourself to continue walking forwards. 

A woman is standing on your porch. Her body swivels around as she hears you stop just behind her. 

Leah takes in the sight of you, deciding that you definitely did not enjoy Barcelona. “I was just about to ring the doorbell, but I guess you wouldn’t have answered the door anyway,” she says with an awkward chuckle, not sure if you want to talk about how rough you look. You cried the entire flight, and refused to contact anyone once you had landed, hoping they assumed your plane had crashed and you had drowned somewhere in the English Channel. 

“I got here in the morning.” Your voice is unused. It croaks, shattered. 

“Let me get your bag?” asks Leah, rather firmly, leaving you no room to decline her request before she has stepped off the porch and into your personal space. She looks up at you, wondering how you manage to look so beautiful even now, hand blindly reaching out for the hard shell of your suitcase as she stares. “How’re Nico and–” 

Your lips silence her before she is finished. Leah freezes, surprised this is the moment you have chosen to kiss her.

But she misses you as soon as you pull away. 

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, and she cringes at the self-loathing that drips from your words. A tear rolls down your cheek, but you are unsure whether it falls because you have kissed her or because you want to kiss her again. “I shouldn’t have done that.” 

You must have argued with Alexia. Leah’s realisation weighs heavy on her heart. Something has to have happened for you to have made your move, because Leah had been starting to accept the idea that you were still in love with your ex and she was nothing more than a friend. She had been looking forward to your concert tonight, in all honesty, and was excited to see you again, glad to have you in her life in any way, shape, or form.

“Because,” she starts hesitantly, “because you didn’t like it? Or…” 

“Leah.” 

“If you wanted to kiss me again, I wouldn’t mind.” 

“Leah,” you repeat, the vowels almost failing to drop from the tip of your tongue. This is a dangerous game, but the look in Leah’s blue eyes tells you that she is happy to play it. “Leah, I… I shouldn’t have kissed you?” 

“Is that a question?” 

You blink. “I’m not sure.” 

“If it’s a question, I’d say that the answer is the opposite. And that we should go inside.” She slides her hand over the metal handle of your suitcase, warm skin covering your fingers where your grip is still curled around it. “But only if you want to.” 

Do you want to? 

You value your friendship, you really do; Leah has been there for you many times since you met her, never asking too many questions. She means something more than what you crave from her, and doesn’t deserve to be the woman you use to detach yourself from reality. 

But Leah is looking at you with desire that has been missed, relentlessness promised by her toned muscles. Leah is looking at you as though you are the only star in the galaxy or the sun on a rainy day. Leah is looking at you like she wants to devour you, and you, with no soul left to give, resign to letting her have your body.

“This won’t change anything, right?”

It’s a mean question. You know that. 

“Course not,” Leah lies. 

You let it convince the both of you. 

Pink glitter covers the dining table at one end, and shiny green stars are scattered on top of the brown grain of the wood on the other.

“She might be at soundchek,” Alexia explains to Nico, who is finished with his Mother’s Day creation and is now intent on FaceTiming you to show you the card he has made. “And cards are supposed to be a surprise. That’s why we made envelopes!” 

“But you said my card should be put in a museum,” he replies with a frown, his nose crinkling in confusion just as yours does. “So we show her now.” 

“Mi amor, that’s not how it works,” laughs Alexia, reaching out to ruffle his hair. With Elena settled comfortably on her healthy knee, gleefully pushing piles of glitter around so that it mixes with the glue smeared on her card, it is safe to say that this year’s cards are going to be successes. “Mama has promised to call when she gets home, and you can tell her that you have a surprise for her. That will build up the excitement, and make it even better when she gets to open it.” 

Your son has become a cynic. “And when will that be?” 

“Mother’s Day is on the 19th, so we have three days to wait.” You have purposely chosen a chartered route to Tokyo that flies via Barcelona so that you get to spend the day with your children before your fortnight in Asia to end the first half of the tour. “Do you want to write the words out for Lela once the glue has dried?” 

“I don’t know what Lela wants me to say,” he explains with great concern, turning to his sister with a very serious expression. He speaks to her in English, because he knows that this card is for you. He understands that there are two Mother’s Days, though he thinks it’s because he has two mothers, and that Alexia’s day is in May. When Alexia opens her mouth to speak, Nico is quick to shut her down. “Calla, Mami, no sabes nada de inglés.”

Your legs slam together but find no available route with Leah’s body in between them. 

It feels… good. 

Liberating.

You haven’t brought her into your bed, which she notices but doesn’t comment on. It’s excusable to be on the sofa, to have stayed downstairs for the hours she has spent trying to make you feel better, because the clock has only just ticked its way to lunchtime. You laugh to yourself at the thought of that, amused by the notion that you have already eaten.

Leah is curious when it comes to you. That much you had expected, having been aware of her lingering gazes long before the sores on your heart had calloused into tougher muscle. She has been waiting for this resiliently, and you present yourself to her as though you are a new toy she finally gets to play with. She kisses you slowly at times, to memorise the warmth of your tongue or the jut of your chin, but she often grows impatient, wanting nothing more than to end her torture and find out what it is like. 

What is it like to have a woman like you? To wake up next to you, kiss you, touch you? 

How does your mind work? What do you smell like just after getting out of the shower? Does your accent ever slip, or is it really that posh? 

The air in the living room is hazy now, and your eyes close in bliss as you let your sweat seep into the grainy fabric of your white sofa. Leah doesn’t crawl into your open arms as you assume she will. 

She wipes her mouth. 

Although Leah has enjoyed this very much, she knows that this instance has not been you allowing her to start to love you. It has been for her to help you forget how much pain you are in. Somewhere deep down, she cares, but she doesn’t try to search for the emotion.

“So,” she says with a giggle, as if you are two teenage girls, best friends who have decided to kiss so that they can practise for the real thing, “do I need to send an apology present to your makeup artist?” Sitting back on her knees, she swipes one hand down to pluck her t-shirt from the floor, pulling it on top of her naked body before sending you an exaggerated smirk and prodding the developing bruise on your neck.

“Fuck,” you groan, batting her hand away. “I completely forgot I had that thing tonight.” You also need to call your children before Alexia bans your name from her household (if that hasn’t happened already). 

“That ‘thing’ being your concert at Wembley?” 

“I’d have thought selling out Wembley is the norm for you now, Captain,” you tease, clearing your throat. “England have done it, Champions of Europe for the very first time.” 

“You’re freakishly good at a commentator’s voice.” 

“Gotten used to being my own commentator. Only Spanish streams in my house – even United matches!” You smile at your own frustration but it quickly sours as awkwardness drops on top of you. You bring your arms up to cover your bare chest, but Leah clears her throat with softened eyes and you no longer feel so exposed. 

You feel safe.

“What happened in Barcelona?” You shake your head at her question. “That bad, huh?” she presses. 

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” you tell her, grey clouds hanging over you as your voice darkens and lowers. “Like, at all.” 

“I think you should. It’s better it comes out now than later when you’ve had lots to drink and no idea who you’re ranting about it to, isn’t it? And it’s just me; I’m not going to judge you.” 

“But you know her. You know her friends.” Your hands move to cover your face. Leah can have your body, but you don’t want her to have your tears. “Thank you for caring, babe, but I think I’m going to handle this one on my own.” 

“Well, you know that–” 

“You’re always a phone call away.” You smile, tears sucked back inside you, bottled away in glassware you store in crates labelled ‘VERY FRAGILE’. Desperate to change the subject, you adjust your position on the sofa, sitting up. Leah tries very hard not to stare at the curves of your chest. “You know, Lee, I never thought you’d be that good in bed.” 

…

Alexia is in desperate need of advice. 

Her muscles contract and relax, the tissues pulling on her bone, which, in turn, pulls her. She is strung along, driven perhaps by her leap in recovery and impending comeback. She almost breaks out into a jog, but the church she has dragged herself to comes into view before she can gain speed. 

She had not expected this from herself. 

It’s nothing special to her, though she will admit that the architecture of the building does hold some sense of divinity, but the heavy wooden door is propped open and she is drawn inside. 

The Sacrament of Reconciliation, Fridays, 17.00-17.30. 

Alexia checks her watch, the golden links gleaming on her wrist, catching the sunlight that filters in through the glass windows. 

She catches a glimpse of white behind the doors of the Confession booth, becoming acutely aware of how empty the church is. The curtain has been pulled back, bunched to the left-hand side carefully, as though the previous handler had moved with peace. 

It can’t be that bad, can it? 

It’s just like therapy. 

Her feet carry her forwards once more, leading her into the wooden booth. It smells old. The cushion she kneels on is blue, she thinks, but she cannot tell because it goes dark once she pulls the curtain shut. 

Alexia is not a religious person. Sure, she signs the cross before stepping onto the pitch, and, like most people she knows, she is baptised, but her faith is limited to that. When she tore her ACL, she spent evenings trying to pray, trying to force her to believe in Him. It would have been comforting to know that someone had a plan for her, was watching over her carefully with the knowledge of how it was going to play out. It was to no avail. 

But somehow she knows what to say, and so she does. 

“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” She recites the words like lines from a play, head bowed in shame as she writes her next sentences in her mind. “This is my first and, probably, my last confession.” 

Silence. 

She rests her hands in her lap, shuffling around to ensure she is not pressing down on her knee in any way that is harmful. It would kill her to have to push back her return to the pitch because of some stupid thing she has spontaneously chucked herself into. 

“I messed up.” She laughs. “No, that is actually an understatement. I know this is a church and I really shouldn’t swear, but I fucked up. Father, I had Heaven in my hands and I threw it away as though it were meaningless. Was it greed? Was it greed that led me to do it?” 

“Do what, my daughter?” 

The priest sounds younger than she’d thought he would be. 

“I had an affair with a woman whom I am certain I do love a little bit, but, by doing that, I destroyed a life that was perfect. Was it greed?” 

“I think you know the answer to that.” 

“Was it temptation?” Alexia tries again, desperately. Part of her yearns for the priest to tell her it was the Devil so that she can shed the responsibility. “I love my wife. More than anything, I love her. I do not think my own life is worth living if it is not in service to her, to our children, to the smile she reserves for her favourite people. I… I didn’t attempt it, but I thought about killing myself.” She swallows the lump in her throat. “Only once, but I thought it all the same. My sister called me selfish.

“It’s just – forgive me – fucked, isn’t it? I got carried away. I got lonely, I was alone. I craved something to make me forget, to pinch the gaping hole in my life shut. I relied on it to make me feel better, and it did for a time. But now it has made me feel much, much worse.

“And I am sorry! I am so, so sorry. I have grown sick of the word; I’ve used it so much that it holds no meaning anymore. It doesn’t do my regret justice, nor my quest for forgiveness, and I’m really on that quest, Father, I want to stress that to you. I lost my temper and said things I should not have said – things I don’t even believe – but I did not mean them then, and I do not mean them now.” 

“You are not religious,” accuses the priest, very gently. His voice washes over Alexia’s ears like a wave of warm saltwater from the Mediterranean, and she feels comfortable enough to swim into the expanse in front of her. “Our God is forgiving, but it is not His forgiveness that you seek. I cannot give you a prayer that will make her absolve your sins, because our holy words are not spells.” 

“Father,” croaks Alexia. As her lips part, she tastes the saltwater of the sea, dripping down her cheeks as though the tide has come in and there is no other option than for her to be flooded. “Please help me. I don’t know what to do.” 

The priest speaks, but she assigns the voice to someone else. 

The first thing you forget about a person is what their voice sounds like. It lingers like a feeling you can’t quite name; distant, distorted, enhanced by fantasy.

Alexia does not remember her father’s voice. 

The realisation is crushing. 

She knows his words – they are her prayers – but, like Catholics do not know the voice of their God, she can no longer hear the voice of hers. 

What would her father say if he saw her like this? On her knees in a Confession booth, backed against the wall with nowhere to hide?

This is not the girl he was proud of. Alexia, of course, is not that eighteen-year-old anymore; she hasn’t been for a decade. But, recently, the legacy of that unknown Levante player has disappeared. 

Alexia is so very lost. 

She does not know where she is in her own city. In her home. 

She does not know her place in her life, much less her place in yours – if you will still grant her one. 

She has not felt the thrill of football for months, has driven herself to Hell and back, and considered giving up enough to be on the brink of actually doing it. 

She has seen countless meals hit the water of her toilet, never digested, never deserving of the very thing that keeps her alive. 

She has counted your sacrifices, memorising the digits of an ongoing figure so that she can punish herself with the knowledge. 

She has tried to forget English, tried to improve her English, and taken vows of silence. 

She has cried and cried and cried until the only thing left for her to excrete is her hot, red blood. 

She has searched for a way out of the maze. She has failed every time. 

Alexia is lost without you, and she knows it. Everyone knows it, perhaps even you yourself. Do you revel in that fact? Do you enjoy it? 

You have a right to watch her suffer. You do, you do, you do. 

Alexia runs a hand through her damp hair, sweating as she sobs in the booth next to some stranger who she will never meet again. Her mouth is dry but her cries are wet and raw, and they scrape her throat as she chokes them out, losing her breath and falling silent only to catch it and begin again. The cushion burns her knees as though she is trapped in an inferno, the darkness blazing against her skin. 

The priest talks to her for a long time, not letting her leave until she has calmed down. She sniffles, wiping her nose with the back of her palm before softly pressing her thumbs to her blotchy cheeks to clear the final tears from them. 

When he is finished, he instructs her to take a few deep breaths, which she does. “You are not entitled to her forgiveness,” he reminds her. He begins the Prayer of Absolution – he insists for the sake of closure – and Alexia walks away from the church no more than five minutes later. 

She is still stuck in the maze, but she has restored that voice in her head that she knows will help her find her way out.

…

“So you went to church?” Olga asks with an amused smile, taking the first sip of her latte, relishing in the gentle burn of the liquid. She needs this coffee; she stayed up late last night because she knew Alexia has been struggling. There is nothing worse than being asleep when Alexia calls her for help. 

“I have no idea how I ended up there,” Alexia explains, somewhat defensive about yesterday’s catharsis. “Confession is way better than therapy. There is too much accountability in therapy.” 

“You have a lot to account for.” 

She huffs out a breath, taking a sip of her own drink. “I know, Olga, but I cannot change the past, so what would you like me to do?” Olga doesn’t reply. The brunette parts her lips, but promptly closes her mouth when she sees Alexia’s slight discomfort. “Mama wants you to come to dinner tonight. I… I do too.” 

Olga’s smile is big and genuine. “I’d love that,” she answers. “Eli is the best cook out of our friends’ parents. Everyone knows that.” 

You’re in London, childless, and are watching the grand old Arsenal play (reluctantly, forced to by Leah if anything). Alexia has seen the pictures of you at the match on Instagram; she has already felt the frustration that you are most-likely never going to watch Barcelona play again unless it is to support the other team. Like clockwork, Alexia seeks to fill the gaping hole you have left in her life. Somewhere, somehow, the lines of friendship between her and Olga have blurred. 

…

It takes just over a month for Leah to crack. 

You appear in London every two weeks, attending meetings and events, but she has decided, once and for all, to see through your excuses. You come to London for her. She knows that, and so do you. Leah’s ego has not reached a size where she believes she is enough for you, but the facts (and Lia Wälti) tell her she is wrong. 

Except, what Leah tends to leave out is that no matter how many times you let her sleep with you, she still is unable to access a certain part of your mind. 

She has never been upstairs in your house because you always prefer to go to her place in St. Albans. She has never slept in your bed, nor woken up next to you. 

You talk to her like she is still the same old Leah, the captain you befriended during the tournament of her lifetime, your entrance in her life intertwined with the ecstasy of winning the Euros. She closes her eyes and thinks of how you looked that summer; white England shirt, sunglasses pulled down over your eyes. Smiling, cheering. For her, she greedily claims to herself.

Sometimes, in her mind, you lift your sunglasses – you always seem to be crying when she pictures this – but Leah is only vaguely familiar with the timeline of your divorce. This is the issue.

There is a door that you have locked and refuse to let Leah find the key. It leads to heartbreak, to Nico and Elena, to a family you once had. 

“I wish you would let me in,” Leah says one day. (The day she cracks.) She tears her ACL two days prior, something that makes you feel guiltily nauseous, and you have come to visit her. She knows that you had flown over the minute you had swapped custody with Alexia. 

Your legs curl into your chest as you try to reduce the amount of space you are taking up on Leah’s sofa, cautious of her injured knee. Leah misses the warmth of your thighs, and wants to revoke her conversation starter instantly, pained that she has to even ignite the fire of this forbidden topic. “What do you mean?” comes your quiet reply, unwilling to disturb the peace of her living room. The peace of existing side-by-side. 

“Exactly what I said.” Leah nods to emphasise her agreement with herself. “I wish you would let me in, because how do you expect me to love you if I don’t know you?” 

She sees the bullet fly through the air; she sees the moment it hits you, the way you go rigid. Dead. Dying? 

“It’s crazy because it usually takes years for me to feel about someone the way I feel about you, and I just… I just wanted to tell you that it’s okay to let me in. I want to hear everything, to know everything.” 

“Oh.” What had you expected when you kissed her? “Oh, Leah.” 

“You don’t have to apologise.” She assigns your guilt, the tears in your eyes, to your distance. Perhaps you hadn’t realised, perhaps it is a coincidence Leah has never slept in the bed you used to share with Alexia. Maybe you are unaware that Leah has never heard you speak Spanish, and doesn’t know a single thing about your life in Barcelona. 

You’re a busy person, after all. 

“No, no,” you dismiss quickly, shaking your head. Leah can’t help but wonder if the paranoid voice in her head is right; has she been reading too much into this? “Fuck, I am such a twat.” 

But you don’t elaborate further, asking how she’s feeling, distracting her from your realisation about her realisation. Before Leah knows it, you are making her laugh harder than she has in a month, and soon, like most good things, your visit comes to an end. 

Returning to Barcelona is a little weird. 

You feel as though you have done nothing but check over your shoulder the entire journey, staring the past straight in the eye and wishing you could change it. 

You hadn’t meant to make her fall in love with you. (But she has. Oh, she has.) 

This week’s swap is no different; the same park as usual, the same pleasant weather to undergo an unpleasant task. 

On the bench usually occupied by Olga, a different, blonder head comes into view. 

“Irene?” you ask in surprise, wondering if she has been sent in Olga’s stead or just so happens to have brought Mateo, her son, to the very same park. You sit down beside her, somewhat pleased to not see Alexia’s henchwoman today. “Where’s the free childcare?” 

The defender’s eyes narrow, as though she is debating whether or not she should tell you. 

Irene has known Alexia for a long time, and, by extension, has known you for a long time too. She is calm, level-headed, and mature, much like Alexia. Except Irene hasn’t ever thought to cheat on her wife. 

You are clearly in a lot of pain, and you have a right to be; Irene does not rise to your comment. “Olga has gone on holiday,” she states with practised neutrality. 

“Ah, they’ve broken up.” 

Eyebrows raised, she turns to you, breaking her line of sight that encompasses Nico, Mateo, and Elena. The playground is small enough, and very safe. “They were never together.” You wait patiently for her analysis of whatever the fuck was going on between them. “Olga said she wasn’t what Alexia needed. She’s on holiday with Carla, and I guess she is quite upset.” 

“And Alexia?” You know Irene does not like to gossip, nor stir the pot. So you can be nosy about how she is doing. 

“I think her ego was bruised, but she sees Olga’s point. She has been… better recently. She’s focused on getting back onto the pitch, and Jona is only saying good things about it.” Irene’s eyes brighten at the thought of her captain’s recovery, and her tone soars through the air. The entire team has worried for Alexia, spending their own nights tossing and turning, wondering if the old version of her will ever return. “I know you two don’t speak, but if you did, you’d get a glimpse of what it was like before.”

You can’t help your smile, and Irene does not make you feel pathetic for wearing it. “Good.” 

“I heard you were in London?” 

“Visiting a… friend.” Irene is not a gossip, you remind yourself. “I think I might have to stay in this country for a bit and let things cool down over there.” 

She chuckles. “Whose heart have you broken?” She won’t tell Alexia, when Alexia inevitably asks about you, that you are seeing someone. Not that you have confirmed that to her. 

“I’m yet to break it,” you tell her, sighing, “but I know I will, and that is much, much worse.”

“Hey, at least you have two weeks of being endlessly busy to keep your mind off it.”

Children change a lot in two weeks, so Irene then launches into an update on school, clubs, and everything else. She gets the information from Alexia, of course, who writes out a list every time you switch over. No one has ever handed you the piece of paper before, worried that her handwriting will be an unnecessary reminder of the pain she has caused you, but, for some reason, Irene does today.

You are not put off by the swirling Spanish in front of you, instead choosing to study it. You have spent hours in Alexia’s lap as she scrawls out football notes upon football notes, scribbling prompted by footage or, freakishly, her own memory. From the lightness of the indentations of the pen, you figure that Alexia is exhausted. From the half-finished sentences, you decide that she was rushing when she wrote this. 

But, as much as you delight in your brief analysis of the evidence in your palms like Sherlock Holmes solving a mystery, you can’t ignore just how greatly you have missed the letters that swim between the lines (and the hand from which they were written). 

Irene spares you your dignity by standing from the bench and checking on the children just as your tears begin to fall. 

…

You take one last look in the mirror embedded in the sun visor, ensuring your hair is perfectly in place and your earrings match your cream, sleeveless turtleneck to poise you just between casual and smartly-dressed. A quiet grumble from the backseat draws your attention away from your reflection, though your last glimpse at your concealed eyebags and red-rimmed irises leaves you feeling a little dejected and mourning the days you’d actually get some sleep. (Or wouldn’t, smoking cigarettes on the balcony while talking Alexia’s ear off.) 

“Mama, we go,” decides Elena with a huff, tugging on the buckle of her car seat. 

It’s Nico’s first-ever recital tonight. 

He started playing the piano in September, when his teacher at school had mentioned how he boasted to the children in his class that he was a musician: ‘if I am Catalan because my mami is Catalan, then I am musician because my mami is musician’. You felt guilty. His teacher says he is naturally talented, voice lacking surprise but praiseful nonetheless, and is proud to name Nico his youngest student at tonight’s show. 

The bouquet of daisies you ask Elena to hold makes her look like a miniature carnival float, and she toddles into the venue by your side while you do mental gymnastics between the knowledge that Alexia will be here tonight and the nerves for your son’s performance. It’s nothing complicated, but you worry he will hate it. This is the only thing he does that is a nod towards you; his one deviation from his worship of Alexia. 

“Mami!” squeals the walking flowers as soon as you make it to the half-full hall. You direct your gaze to the three rows your daughter refers to, every seat lined with either professional footballers or family. With a sudden rush of blood to your head, you feel out of your depth.

You’re not sure whether the hazel eyes that find yours help or worsen that. 

“Keep it moving,” you mutter firmly, holding her hand so she does not make a break for it and tumble right over to the cohort of FC Barcelona and Seguras. Not wanting to get too close to them, you take your seat in the penultimate row, knowing Nico will not be able to see you over the grand piano set up on the stage wherever you sit. “You can talk to her later, sweetheart.” 

She is in an obedient mood, most-likely intimidated by the tension in the air. You tell yourself it’s the stress radiating from the line of performers sitting on the front row. Nico stands on his chair, waving first to Alexia and then to you (it’s your turn with them so you are a lot less exciting right now), before he is lightly scolded by his teacher and the first child walks up the steps and onto the stage. 

Five uninspiring children later, Nico is finally led up onto the stage. His teacher sits down on the piano stool and nudges him forwards. He smiles brightly at the room. You reciprocate, encouraging Elena to do the same to keep her engaged with an admittedly boring event. 

“Bona nit a tothom! Jo sóc en Nicolau i tinc quatre anys i ara aniré a tocar ‘Brillia Brillia Estel Petit’.” The audience melts before him. “Mama, that means ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’,” he whispers loudly. 

You send him a thumbs up. He sends you a grin back, before giggling as he climbs onto the piano stool beside his teacher. 

Situated comfortably, feet dangling adorably far away from the pedals, his chubby, little fingers hit the ivory keys once, then twice. 

You pray this goes well. 

It does. 

He plays with two hands, something you hadn’t expected, and Elena holds in her noisy yawn until after he is finished so she must have been invested in the performance. Your own hands sting after you clap with such prideful force that you are the loudest in the room, and the hoots and hollers from Alexia’s territory only make Nico even happier as he bounces down the steps and back to his seat to wait for the others to do their pieces. 

After the recital has finished, you walk down the aisle separating the seats in half to get to Nico, daughter-less courtesy of a squadron of football-playing kidnappers. 

“How was that?” you ask him smugly, his arms wrapping around you in a tight hug. “I knew you would be brilliant, even when you were scared you weren’t going to be. Do you know how proud I am of you?” 

“This much?” He holds his hand about thirty centimetres apart. “Mami says this much.” 

When he widens his hands, you gesture something even bigger. 

“‘Immensely’ is the word I would use.” 

“Im-men-lee?” 

“Es que nuestro orgullo llena una casa sin techo. Hasta el cielo.” 

“Up to the sun,” you amend, ignoring the way the voice has made you stiffen. You don’t read too much into her misuse of the collective pronoun. There is no ‘our’ in ‘affair’.

Alexia’s hand hovers by your waist for a moment, muscle memory getting the better of her before she draws it back into her body. Nico gives her a matching hug, telling her how much he has missed her. 

You try not to blame yourself for his derailed childhood. 

“You were amazing, petit,” Alexia says, picking him up with one strong arm and settling him on her hip. You grip the wrapper of the bouquet you are holding. “Did Mama get you a gift?” 

He peers at the daisies in your hand with curiosity. Shaking his head, his confusion deepens as he studies the bouquet you are extending towards him. “They are for Mami? Flowers are for love.” 

“I love you,” you tell him, not trying to make a point but instinctively prickling in the presence of Alexia.

The silence is awkward. 

A few metres away, whilst entertaining the sleepy toddler on her lap, Mapi is excitedly talking to Alba. “Y/n hasn’t killed her yet,” says the defender with glee, one of your admirers. The team respected you before, never questioning their captain’s judgement nor family, but when word got out about the affair amongst the older girls, most of them began to see you as more than Alexia’s wife. A new layer to your character was revealed; you are a strong, independent, and successful woman. Football nerds sometimes forget success comes in more forms than blaugrana kits. “They made such a beautiful couple.” 

“They did.” Alba watches as you talk to your son, your eyes actively avoiding the woman in front of you. “Our mother has sent Alexia over there to invite her to dinner. It killed me to see her sit alone.” 

You are too used to the feeling of eyes on you that you no longer notice the weight of people’s stares, but, if this were not the case, you would know that most of the heads attached to the bodies sitting in Alexia’s rows had been swivelled towards you for majority of the recital. Pity is never a desired emotion to have offered to you, but the Barça girls can’t help but feel that way whenever they see your forehead crinkle in an attempt to understand Catalan, presuming you only speak Spanish as you have more than enough on your plate. (And, as most of the players will admit, your children speak better English than them, so one can only assume that it is your main method of communication.)

“She’s a very good mother,” Mapi comments with a small nod, sucking a sharp breath in as she begins to sympathise with you even more. Not a day goes by where she witnesses the suffering Alexia’s idiocracy has caused – as Ingrid, her girlfriend, knows very well – and does not fail to scream in frustration about her best friend’s stupid mistakes.

“She’s a very good person.” 

They fall silent as they see your head tilt up, jaw clenching as Alexia begins to speak to you. 

“Can you hear what she’s saying?” whispers Eli to her daughter, equally invested in the conversation. “I knew I should have sent you; Alex is too socially awkward.” 

“Mami, she is talking to her wife,” replies Alba, though she remembers what happened the last time Alexia and you had spoken and the outcome of that. Maybe that commences her increasing agreement with her mother… “I guess you– Are they coming over here?!” 

Even you seem surprised by how your legs carry you towards the Barcelona clan, a step behind Alexia and Nico. Hesitant would be an understatement, but most of them are too preoccupied with congratulating the four-year-old they have come to watch to notice your tight-lipped smile and trembling hands. 

“Hola,” you say shyly. 

Eli pulls you into her strong embrace without missing a beat. “Te he echado de menos, hija.” 

You try very hard not to burst into tears. 

They take you to dinner; a plan you had known about but not envisioned yourself included in. Although it’s your fortnight, Alexia (through the conduit of Alba) had previously arranged to drop Nico and Elena over to yours before midnight. 

You blow off your FaceTime call with Leah.

The restaurant is on the lower level of fine-dining. It’s chic, but it does not make your children feel unwelcome. The table is set for five places, though Alba informs you that the reason for this is because the reservation was made before she broke up with her girlfriend. 

“Mama, what are you going to eat?” asks Nico, slipping back into his old life seamlessly, mixing his English with the Spanish he knows everyone can understand, his legs swinging underneath the table with an enthusiastic energy. He is still too young to pick up on how far apart his parents are sitting, or how you refuse to let your eyes linger on Alexia’s tanned skin, far too much of it shown off by the tank top she sports in the humidity of the busy restaurant. 

You glance around the room, searching for those who have recognised you. Under the weight of at least four curious stares, you motivate yourself to enjoy your meal. 

“Not sure yet, babe,” you answer. “Alba, do you fancy sharing something?”

“Yeah, of course.” The younger Putellas smiles. Alexia knows who has lost the war.

Dinner passes with light conversation centred on very neutral topics. No man’s land is clearly the children, and you had never expected to be so desperate to continue a conversation about school lunches until the other options are how Alexia had an affair with her teammate or that your song with her favourite singer is topping the charts and explicitly about being cheated on. 

Although you and Alexia both watch how many times your wine glasses are refilled, Alba lets loose, as does Eli (probably to ease the stress on her heart that her girls force upon her). Their cheeks redden and Nico begins to yawn, Elena already curled into your side halfway between dreams and reality. 

“Should we head out?” you ask it to the table, but the only functioning person is Alexia, really, and so you close your eyes to avoid having to make eye contact. 

“I should probably get Mama and Alba into a taxi.” 

“If you call one for them, I will call one for us?” Your suggestion is instinctive; an old habit reminiscent of many similar nights, back when there was love and happiness and a relationship that didn’t feel like walking on a floor made of broken glass. “Or did you drive here?” 

“No, but you drove,” comes Alexia’s reminder. Internally, you face-palm. Parking the car before dinner seems like years ago; something feels different now. “But if you don’t feel up to it, I could drive you home. I haven’t had much to drink and I have nothing else planned for tonight. Elena is practically in a coma anyway.” 

You laugh – a softened version of it so as to not rouse the dead weight of your daughter. 

“Are you sure?” 

It’s late.

“Yes, I’m sure.” 

I don’t care. 

“Mama,” Alba slurs, pulling her mother in close. “The saint has given her sinner a second chance.” 

It may not be as quiet as she thinks it is. Alexia, occupied, is deaf to the comment. You are not.

This is not a second chance. 

This is a lift home. 

The last time all four of you sat in a car together was the day you found out about Alexia’s affair. 

You had suffered then – are still suffering now – but your anger was hot and sharp and new. Fresh wounds. 

Now, though more scabbed-over than healed, those wounds no longer seem to gush blood; you entertain Alexia’s stiff small-talk. 

She asks about the tour, never veering too far off the road of practicality and shared custody. When does it resume? Which has been your favourite show? 

“Wembley is like playing El Clásico in Camp Nou,” she determines, not needing to ask about that because she knows you too well. 

Your memories of the London shows involve a naked Leah Williamson. (If only she knew that!) 

“Yeah, London was great.”

Awkwardness is part of Alexia’s personality; something you are fairly certain you still love. She is shy, though it perhaps comes off as stoicity, and she has never been good at making conversation. You know she hates it, and you know that her eyes, Alexia’s eyes, are gazing at you every time she thinks you are not looking. 

She is weary about the desire darkening her pupils, but she does not do well to hide her hunger nonetheless. 

“Go into the carpark,” you instruct as you approach your building.

Wordlessly, she presses the correct pin into the pin-pad, never having forgotten it. 

She parks the car beside a new-looking Mercedes. It’s not a car for children, and she imagines it reeks of cigarettes – there is no way you have stopped smoking. 

It belongs in the carpark; in your little world of celebrities and male footballers; of money and fame and fortune. (One could argue you lack the latter, what with your current situation.) Alexia’s life has never moulded with yours. 

Perhaps it never will. 

Perhaps she slept with Jenni because they are equals, you think. Because Jenni understands Alexia in a way you cannot. 

“Mami,” cries a quiet voice from the backseat. You stop staring at the grey, concrete walls, snapping back to reality as Alexia shifts to turn her attention to the source of the whimpering. “No quiero que te vayas.” 

“Lela, me tengo que ir.” 

“Pero–” 

“You could always come up to say goodnight to them?” 

It starts off innocently. 

Of course it does. Of course you are nowhere near forgiveness, more likely to forget about the crushing affair before you excuse any of her actions. Sometimes, you wish for amnesia. Sometimes, you refer to the tab open in Safari – ‘is there a drug that makes you forget?’. 

Alexia is granted a tuck-in and a story for each child, glad that their rooms are separate so that her time in her home is prolonged. The walls are familiar, the floor is the same. There are new pictures in new frames, but the old ones have not been removed. If you had ever wished to take photographs of your relationship down, you have never acted on it. 

She realises you must not spend a lot of time here alone. Maybe you cannot bear it. Maybe your life in London is more important to you than she had thought. 

Anyway, for as much as she subtly noses around and draws out the night, she has no intention of overstaying her welcome, sure that she probably did that the minute she stepped inside. 

In fact, she is on her way out, under the assumption that you will not want to speak to her.

“So you’re back to playing?” 

“Sí.” 

A doorway conversation. 

You’re English. You’re very polite. Alexia knows this, tries to not get her hopes up. 

“Does that mean you don’t want a taste of this ‘97?” You hold the bottle up to her, the cork lying on the granite worktop with the incriminating suggestion that you have already had a glass. 

“We play the day after tomorrow.” 

“Oh, Ale, this is a good one.” 

How many times have you said that to her before? The same tone, the same look in your eye; red tinting your lips, one hand on a lighter because you smoke when you’re drunk, even if you refuse to touch the cancer-sticks when you are sober. 

“Was this a gift?” she asks, drawn into your magnetic field like a flimsy paper clip; thin, worn metal trying to piece the pages of her life back together. “Or have you been making ridiculous purchases again?” 

“I can assure you that it is not ‘ridiculous’.” You moan in delight as you take a sip from a glass you subsequently hand over to her. “Gosh, that is divine, and you are simply going to dissolve when you taste it.” 

Dissolve she does, but one can attribute that to the company. 

The contents of the bottle dwindles quickly, paired with a vulnerable retelling of her ACL recovery (sans suicidal thoughts and huge, huge regret about the affair – she doesn’t want to bring that up, seeing as you are clearly trying to forget about it), and the warm breeze of the Barcelona nighttime. The salty air from the mediterranean mingles with cigarette smoke, though Alexia softly says that you really should stop. 

You hesitate on your next puff, but you inhale it all the same. “I like my wine smokey.” 

She opens the next bottle for you. 

The wine glasses are soon discarded, pouring becoming shaky and difficult. 

“They sleep all the way through the night here,” observes Alexia, surprised that no little hands have knocked on the glass door leading to the balcony. The last time you had reached for the wine, you’d moved closer to her. You have not yet returned to your original seat on the other side of the rattan sofa. 

You raise your eyebrows, under the impression that they were both sleep trained. “They don’t at yours?” 

“Elena keeps trying to sleep in bed with me.” 

“Maybe she likes you more,” you suggest with a light, alcohol-infused laugh. “She must have been upset to find her place filled by your friend.” 

“No,” murmurs Alexia, “it has never been filled. Though I don’t think you can say the same.” 

You swallow the stickiness of the wine running down your throat.

“Not in our bed. My bed.” You fight yourself. “Our bed.” 

“In Highgate?” 

“Anywhere,” you breathe. 

“It’s been months,” croaks Alexia, your hand pressed against her stomach as you slowly lean into the feeling only she can give you. “Months.” 

You kiss her. Time folds in on itself, and you are transported back to when every touch was electric; when nothing was tainted. The pain of the past months, the heartbreak, momentarily fades into insignificance as you lose yourself in Alexia’s warmth.

Her fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, afraid that this moment might slip away too soon. The taste of wine lingers on your lips, and she craves the softness of them – she has been craving them since July.

“Well, now it has only been seconds,” you whisper as you pull away. 

With a sense of urgency, she chases your mouth once more, strong arms pulling you on top of her, manipulating your body against her with no hint of uncertainty. 

Alexia knows you well.

Her touch lacks curiosity and exploration. Her hands are experienced and confident in their movements, and she has hoisted you up and brought you to your bedroom without needing to have been told that this is what you want. 

“Is this what you want?” she asks anyway. 

“Please.” 

And she really doesn’t make you beg. 

Your hands roam her body with a primal hunger, instinctive touches to the most sensitive parts of her, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Her back is tense, muscles flexing as she pushes your clothes off your skin, her own following their path soon after. 

Parted legs and soft moans. 

She slots herself between your thighs. 

Her tongue is determined, fierce. Sloppier because she is drunk, but, then again, so are you. 

Your fingers repay the favour. 

“More,” you request just as she pulls away. 

“Is it in the same place?” 

You nod, panting.

There is a playful glint in Alexia’s eyes as she finds the strap just where she left it. As she secures it in place, you wipe the sweat from your brow, forcing your mind into the dirtiest of thoughts to ward off the building regret.

The room is dimly lit, and the air heavy with desire. Your heartbeat pulses in the silence, the thrum of the organ drums that guide Alexia’s slow, deliberate steps back towards the bed, kneeling atop the scrunched sheets. 

She positions herself between your legs once more, and you can feel the heat of her body radiating against your skin. She leans in closer, her breath hot against your neck, sending shivers of anticipation shuddering down your spine. 

With trembling hands, you reach out, nails digging into tanned, taut skin. You pull her closer to you, urging her to take whatever she wants. 

You want her to have you. You want her to make it hurt less. 

As Alexia presses inside, a jolt of pleasure courses through your body. You cry out, the sound igniting a blazing inferno within her that grows hotter the moment you ask her to move. Feverishly, her hands move over your chest, finding purchase on your breasts with a dormant possessiveness as her hips begin to drive the strap in deeper. 

Your breath hitches in your throat as you surrender to the overwhelming sensation, encompassed by someone so divine that you begin to separate yourself from all things wrong with this situation. The headboard thuds against the bedroom wall as she pounds her thrusts into a rhythm, and you shut your eyes as you quietly ask her to kiss you.

Tears cascade down your cheeks, but you do not know to whom they belong. Her tongue smothers your moans, and her hips begin to snap into yours more urgently, with more desperation. The pressure builds inside of you, and you feel as though you might explode. 

You feel as though this is the end, and you are glad that here is where your misery terminates. 

You’re glad, you’re really glad. 

Your back arches, your chests pressing together, large hands holding you close to her. 

And then it all comes crashing down. 

Everything. 

You wipe your eyes once the orgasmic bliss subsides, seizing your wine haze as the tide goes out and destroying the blindfold that had deprived you of seeing things straight. Right now, with the pleasant ache between your legs, you can’t quite bring yourself to regret it, but you know you will. You haven’t forgiven her; you’re not sure that it is possible. 

“You can shower, but you can’t stay here.” 

…

Nico knows that he is special. He is lucky, and he is loved, and he gets to go to a very nice school that Mateo (his ‘cousin’) claims is fancy. 

He likes his teacher. She reminds him of someone he once knew – you have suggested the nursery helpers back when he lived in London. He is not sure if you are right, but he doesn’t remember what London was like so he tries not to think too hard about it. 

Nico’s friends, like Pau who is sitting beside him, all think it is really cool that he can speak English. Pau says she hears his mother on the radio sometimes, but Nico hasn’t yet grasped the concept of fame past the annoying camera flashes and big, sold-out stadiums. He dislikes fame as he knows it, anyway, because the cameras hurt his eyes and the stadiums are so loud that he has to wear ear-defenders that squeeze his skull a bit too much. 

“My mum is from Bilbao. My dad is from Barcelona,” states Paula as she swipes a crayon over the sheet of paper her drawing is on. Green wax slowly stains the white to form ‘grass’. Everyone is drawing their family today, although Nico hasn’t yet started, waiting for his teacher to circle their table so that he can ask for another piece of paper. “And this,” Paula carries on, squiggling brown hair onto a smaller version of the stick-figure father, “is Ander, my big brother.” 

“Who is that?” Nico asks, pointing at the fifth figure on the page, guessing that the fourth and Pau-sized person is, in fact, Pau. 

“My sister! She’s called Nerea, and she plays basketball.” Pau promptly makes an orange circle the size of Nerea’s head, which floats in the air between her and her sister. “My mum says Nere is going to be a lesbian, but I don’t know what that means.” 

“My mums are lesbian!” he blurts out, excited enough to garner the attention of his teacher. When she appears, he grins at her sweetly; the kind of smile that has melted many hearts, though Nico is unaware of how many people know he exists. “More paper, please.” 

“Nico, you haven’t even tried with your first one.”

She isn’t harsh at all, but he has slowly learnt to stop asking follow-up questions. Six months of exasperated ‘I don’t know, Nicolau’s has taught him that. 

He shrugs. “Okay.”

He learnt what a shrug was the other day, when Mapi told him off for doing it to her. (“Don’t shrug your shoulders at me, Nicolau Putellas!” she had chided playfully. “All I asked was which of your mamas’ houses we need to go to.”)

“Nico, what’s ‘lesbian’?” 

“Mama says football is lesbian. Basketball might be lesbian! That’s why your sister is lesbian.” 

“My mum says that lesbians kiss girls.” 

“Mama kisses girls! And Mami. And they used to kiss each other but now they don’t speak and me and my sister swap houses.” Nico begins drawing it out for Paula when she peers at him, befuddled. “Here is Mama’s.” A big square, a glamorous-looking woman inside of the blue shape; a stick with a circle on the end of it; the notes he sees in his piano music floating in the air. “And…” he says, tongue sticking out as he concentrates on the opposite half of the page, “here is Mami’s.” 

He draws a football. He picks up the red crayon too, and uses both the blau and the grana simultaneously. “Mami plays football for Barça.” He draws two lines on Alexia’s t-shirt. 11. “Mami made me get 11 at football.” Nico had originally worn the 10, but then the affair had come to light and Alexia was suddenly deep in conversation with his coach and apologising to the boy Nico then had to swap shirts with. 

Then, he drops the crayons in his hand and searches for the stack near Paula. He selects the purple one, gripping it tightly, his friend still listening to him with intrigue. 

“This is me and Lela.” Two stick figures are drawn in the middle of the page; the middle ground between each of the squares. 

Nico sometimes feels stuck between it all. 

When Mami got very sad, he and Elena went to stay with Mapi and Ingrid for a few nights. He held his little sister’s hand as much as he could. He always tries to remind her that he is right there with her. 

Mami once told him that it was his turn to protect Elena. Nico hasn’t forgotten that. 

“I keep Lela safe.” He has encouraged her, slightly selfishly, to call him ‘skipper’, which he has picked up from the Lionesses. Luckily, Alexia has not told him off for it because she doesn’t know what it means. “Lela is my little sister. She is a baby. She doesn’t remember what it was like when Mama and Mami loved each other, but I do.” 

The purple crayon scrapes on the page as he presses it into the white, colour rubbing out in the shape of a heart. “Lela and I are together tot el temps. Mami tries to take me from her sometimes, but I don’t let her.” 

His story – and ability to make Paula pay attention for longer than ten seconds – has already attracted the quiet attention of his teacher, but she moves closer as Nico continues. The four-year-old leaves out how Alexia is usually inviting him to training with her. Since Elena has yet to show any interest in football, it remains her and Nico’s special thing, and, of course, his mother misses him when it is not her turn. 

You benevolently give your permission if you have no prior plans. It is upsetting that the only hindrance to extra time spent together is the little boy who once worshipped Alexia Putellas like a god. 

“Nico, why did you want two pages?” asks Paula curiously, assuming he is finished now that his whole family is displayed on the piece of paper. 

He frowns. “Because now I have to do this.” And with that, he tears the sheet in half. 

Paula’s mouth drops open in surprise, as does his teacher’s. 

“What’s wrong?” comes a mature voice, a hand placed on his shoulder just like it is when the other children in his class cry. Nico doesn’t cry. He is strong and brave, like a little soldier. “Did you not like your drawing?” 

“No,” he replies neutrally, “half can live with Mama, and half can live with Mami.” 

“But now you are ripped down the middle.” 

He traces the jagged edges of the halves of his life. One of his legs is on your side, the other on Alexia’s. 

“I know, but it’s okay. I don’t cry.” 

Alexia does, though, when his teacher talks to her that afternoon. 

…

“I slept with Alexia,” you confess quietly, comforted by the sound-proofing of Anya’s home-studio. She asked for help with her album; your success might be contagious, she insists. “Last week, when Nico had that recital.” You clutch your mug protectively, as if she will strip you of the right to drink your tea to punish you for your crime. 

Anya is unsure what you would like her to say. You search her face for anger, but do not find it. 

“If Gio were here, she’d probably slap you.” 

You snort, almost spilling hot liquid all over yourself. “You two are like my mothers, and you’re the nicer one by far.” 

“God, you are such an idiot.” 

“And a slag.” She waits for your next admission with excitement. “I also slept with Leah Williamson.” 

“Do you think you and Alexia are just destined for polyamory?” Her amusement is quite pleasant, but one thing wasn’t dulled by the wine that night and you have been dying to tell someone about it.

Your knee bounces up and down as you gear up for it, having thought it through 

“I think we are destined for each other.” 

Song-writing be damned, Anya fully removes her headphones, placing the equipment beside her keyboard before letting out a small, exasperated laugh. “You are in love with Alexia again,” comes her accusation, with no real malice behind it. 

“I never stopped being in love with Alexia. She just made it a lot harder to love her.” 

Is that an understatement? 

“Hey,” you say with sudden energy, sitting upright and grasping at your phone, tea wobbling over the lip of the mug and running down your wrist. “Should we go to Bali in August?” 

…

You avoid both of your footballers right until the World Cup camps roll around. 

Leah doesn’t get to go, subjected to the ACL curse. Alexia’s call-up is not necessarily unexpected, but you do find yourself wondering how many more betrayals her friendship with Mapi León can handle. (Mapi is on her last straw, but she knows her friend really needed the win after her hellish year. The Champion’s League was never going to sate Alexia’s hunger to be the best at football – possibly an overcompensation for her terrible relationship skills.)

Your children, this time, are delivered to the park by their very own mother. Alexia beats Leah in this sense, because she has a valid excuse to see you without confessing feelings you do not want to hear. 

“I have something for you,” she says just after she has finished her goodbyes, pressing a small box into your hands. Her voice is filled with nerves and you are intrigued, hating yourself for being so. “Don’t open it until you get back home.” Her eyes meet yours for a moment. I’m sorry, they seem to say. “Alright, have fun in Bali, and don’t forget that I legally have custody but I am not going to go to court to battle you for it as long as you put them in Spain kits for Spain matches.” 

She could, if she wanted to be difficult, have you send Nico and Elena to New Zealand during her weeks. It would be very unreasonable, but the contract your lawyers drew up still stands. 

“They were delivered yesterday. I think it’s going to be a struggle to convince them to put on the worst kit ever.” You still don’t forgive Alexia for cheating on you, but there has come a point where acceptance replaces the animosity. Nico’s teacher has been the catalyst in this step forward. The developmental pamphlets she had thrust in your faces were enough for the two of you to come to a mutual agreement of increased civility (that maybe, maybe was only made possible by the fact that you have very recent memories of each other’s orgasms). “But, yes, I agree to your terms. Don’t forget that his favourite player is Alessia Russo, however.” 

“He is in a phase where I am ‘uncool’! It’ll pass.” 

“If you say so, Alexia.” 

“Anyway,” she carries on, rolling her eyes. “Open it when you get home.” She… presses a kiss to your cheek? “I’m so sorry, mi amor.” 

You blink back your surprise, but she is gone before you can reply. 

The small, neatly-wrapped box sits in the palm of your hand, the corners edging off your skin and sticking out as you stare at it. Nico and Elena continue their (unsupervised) playing, but you manage to call out a warning for ‘five more minutes and then we’ve got to pack’ while you examine Alexia’s gift.

Is this how Pandora felt? 

If you open it, what will be unleashed?

Alexia, before now, hasn’t actively pursued your forgiveness. She has given you the time and the space you had broken-heartedly requested, nodding as you communicated your wishes to her through someone else, never before able to confront the face that tore up your life before your eyes. 

There was a time when all you ever wanted to do was talk to her, but she tried to forget about that when she realised the extent at which you went to avoid an interaction. When she had understood your desperation to be left alone fully, she began to breathe. The step backwards gave her room to examine just how royally she had fucked it all. 

She now feels a bit more capable of tackling the clean-up, working with a much clearer mind. Everyone is relieved that she hasn’t killed herself, or, at least, that she is keeping those thoughts at bay. 

You realise that she has bought you a ring, and regardless of whether you wear it or not, she wants to tell you that she is sorry.

...

IT'S NOT OVER YET! THIS WILL TAKE YOU TO THE SECOND HALF

[kakushino]

Talk dirty to me

Tomioka Giyuu x AFAB! Reader

Prompt: “Look at you. I’ve only started using my fingers and you’re already shaking.”

Tags: sub! reader, fingering, dirty talk, alcohol (Giyuu and reader are tipsy) Word count: 1,1k

Masterlist

AN: Happy birthday, Giyuu! I love you with all my heart and soul.

Hearing Uzui go on and on about dirty talk in bed was annoying, yet Giyuu couldn’t deny being intrigued, especially if he imagined one of such lines being whispered into his ear by you. The full-body shudder that ran through him went unnoticed by his fellow Hashira at the get-together, and he couldn’t be more glad about that. 

Call him a coward, but the first time he really went for it was when you both had a little bit to drink one evening. Liquid courage coursing through his veins and spurring him on to initiate a little more than just kissing. 

Deft hands untied the sash holding your yukata together before he lightly pushed you down onto your back. One forearm laid next to your head to support him while he feasted on your love, the other caressing and groping where he could reach. A light brush over your nipple with his thumb, cradling your breast, soothing fingers trailing down your side to squeeze your waist, and you couldn’t help but roll your hips, so needy for more yet not knowing how to ask for it. 

Everything was hot, and you could not get enough of him, of the taste of sake and desperation on his lips, of his scent and breath - oh-so intoxicating. With him at your side, you felt beautiful. How could you not, when his unsure fingers finally found their way where you needed him the most without a prompt; how could you not, when he braved a previously uncharted territory in an attempt to please you?

Giyuu had listened attentively to Uzui’s many drunken lectures about pleasure of the flesh, so he knew what he was doing - or at least he told himself. The first touch was little more than a caress, trying to convince himself there was nothing to it, it was just you. But then his finger made contact with your wetness and he thought he would cream his pants right there. 

Fuck.

Your hands gripped at his clothes, keeping him in a liplock, craving more of him as he tried to keep a coherent thought to do his best. He wanted to give you the love you deserved, starting with the pearl he found with little trouble. 

What a sight - the shudder rolling through your body was something he wanted to see again and again, he wanted to bring you ecstasy, drive you to heights you had never had the pleasure to see. 

His thumb, wet from your own slick, kept circling your clit in soft slow motion, one of his fingers sinking into your warmth and fuck, he did come a little, didn’t he? Giyuu had to pull back to try to catch his breath; total concentration be damned, he could scarcely breathe normally. 

Soft, hesitant curling of his finger and you quivered all over, and he saw his opportunity.

“Look- look at you- I’ve only just started using my- my finger, and you’re shaking already?” 

He hardly finished the sentence and your hands dug into his shoulders, pulling him closer with a stuttering sigh. 

Your reactions guided him to repeat the motion as he stared at you with half-lidded eyes, your own clenched shut.

“You like- you like this? So needy, aren’t you?” 

His hand pulled back, only to sink a second finger in with the first, curling them in the right place again, earning him a full, though quiet, moan. The visual of your pleasure-laden face and the way your noises sang to him- 

“You look- hot, beautiful, taking it so well for me,” he whispered, trying to keep track of every little motion your body made in response to him. He felt like an artist, for this was a masterpiece before him.

You could only cling to him as he unravelled you at the seams. Wasn’t he supposed to be inexperienced? Your head was spinning at the way he talked dirty to you, your eyes filled with tears as you tried to chase the sweet release his motions promised. “Please-!”

Giyuu had never seen nor heard a more beautiful sight than you begging for him. It was altering his mind, driving him insane, 

“Don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of you. Just let yourself go.”

Your hips bucked into his hand, and your pussy made a low squelching sound, and he could not get enough of it. All of you was an aphrodisiac he was willingly breathing in, tasting on his tongue and absorbing it through his sinuses.

“Do you want more? Need more?” he panted for air, lost in the lust and in you. You mewled cutely when his fingers pulled back only for him to sink in three- “Hah, there you go, love… So w-wet for me.” 

The soppy sounds echoing through the room made blood rush to your face and you felt as if you couldn’t handle it anymore yet you could not run from him. Breathy moans were stolen from your throat and your hands nearly tore the seams of Giyuu’s clothes when his fingers curled again.

The involuntary reaction made his dick throb again. “Moan like that f’me again… Please, c’mon, pearl?” his own voice hitching when you opened your eyes in a daze. It was clear you couldn’t see him, you could only feel. “You should see yourself right now - fuck - I had no idea you could make these faces… all f’me.”

And your cunt fluttered at his words, his mind all over the place at how your body responded to his.

“Fuck, you’re so- Think you can do this on my cock later? P-please? You can… right, lovely?”

Your hands clenched onto his yukata again and you could not bear another word out of his pretty well-kissed mouth, pulling him close to kiss him and muffle any other pathetic noises you didn’t know you were able to make as you came hard on his fingers. Even so, a high-pitched keening left your throat, earning you a moan from Giyuu, a shudder rolling through his body in answer to your trembling. 

His fingers slowly withdrew, and you hid your face in his chest. You behaved like a wanton whore in his arms but… you liked it. A thought flitted through your mind - surely he was pent up after-

You reached for the tie of his yukata, but his hand - his wet hand - stopped you. “What about-?”

Giyuu shushed you gently, “I only wanted to please you.” 

He omitted the fact pleasing you pleased him more than he felt he deserved, his underwear ruined the minute your orgasm rolled through you.

dividers by @hitobaby network: @enchantedforest-network

I couldn't resist... Tell me he wouldn't come in his pants the minute he realizes he made you come

[noeou]

hello:) this is based off of aces halloween card because he has a line something like saying he has his makeup down and wants to try on us sometime. could you possibly do the first years x reader headcanons of them doing the readers makeup !! i love your crush ones

HIDDEN TALENT.

letting them do your makeup, willingly... or not.

includes: ace trappola, deuce spade, epel felmier, and sebek zigvolt. ( x gn!reader )

next parts: currently unavailable.

contains: fluff! romantic.

sincerely noe ,⠀thank you for your kind words, nonnie! im glad you enjoyed them and will enjoy these just as much :) there is no jack or silver because i can't see them being interested in makeup to that extent, i'm sorry.

ACE TRAPPOLA

although it may not look like it, ace is a lot better at makeup than you'd think. he's very quick about it as well. 

when you asked him to do your makeup for no particular reason, he was actually excited. spent the whole night looking at different styles that would suit you and practice on himself. yes, he did fall asleep with makeup on his face, doesn't matter.

you first got brunch at sam's, it was (in a way) awkward with ace just staring at your face but what did you expect?

"wow, you brought a lot more than i'd expect."

you stared at your once empty vanity filled with the supplies he brought. you didn't know whether to be flattered at his effort or offended at the fact he thought he'd need this much.

"only the best for the prefect," he mumbled, mind clearly elsewhere.

he worked in silence. it was kind of funny, how close he was to your face yet not once making eye contact with you. the concentration is truly on another level.

it didn't take too long before he stepped away, somewhat proud of his first attempt on your face. 

"that was a lot harder than i thought it'd be." ace sighed, glad to finally rest his arm.

you glared at him for that statement, despite knowing what he truly meant. as much as you wanted to bring up how rude the statement could be interpreted, you noticed something was off. ace was much, much paler than usual, other than his eyes that were darkened.

standing to get a better look at his face, you finally were able to look in the mirror (he wanted you to be surprised so he had you turned away.)

no, you were not met with a monstrosity. three hearts of different sizes were made around your left eye, resembling the single one on ace's. you never would have expected such a thing from the ace trappola, infamous prankster.

a gentle snore interrupted your thoughts; a grin tugging at the corner of your lips, you worked to move him to a more comfortable spot to get some rest.

DEUCE SPADE

he learned a lot of what he knows from his mother. to start, he'd catch his mom watching makeup tutorials as background noise while she'd do anything. that's how he was introduced to the art. 

when you asked him to do your makeup, the one he wanted to do immediately came to mind. it was one he was still working on perfecting, it was inspired by one of the characters in a drama his mother frequented; his favorite one (don't tell anyone.)

before getting to work, he watched the first episode with you to show you who the look was inspired by. he kept it on as he worked, not getting distracted for a moment.

"can you look up for me?" deuce requested, gently pulling your chin upward.

"she's actually pretty cool," you hummed, eyes still glued to the screen. "i can see why you chose her as inspiration."

he tapped your nose with the end of the brush in his hands, scoffing at your comment. "i chose her because she's my favorite in the show."

"just like i'm your favorite in this wonderland?"

"you are aware that i can mess your makeup up at any given moment, right?" deuce said, glaring.

"okayokay–" you grinned, "i'll stop."

which you did, until you didn't.

funny enough he finished when the show did. and the show wasn't short. nonetheless, you took so many pictures with and without him. going as far as to fix your hair like hers, just to tease him further. 

"i'm never doing this again." he groaned, falling into a pillow to hide his flushed face. it was his best attempt at tuning out your professions of love in anaccent similar to the character's.

EPEL FELMIER

he needed a face to practice makeup on that wasn't plastic in order to complete vil's assignment, leading us to where we are now. 

while he may not be a makeup pro, he could be mistaken for one given how much attention to detail there is in his work. the precision is unmatched among his peers, apple carving was to thank for that. 

he went for a more minimalistic look, if only it didn't sting as much as it did. 

the melody of piano being played in another room made sitting through this easier than it was, humming along to that epel put you through an hour's worth of skincare (not including the time you spent on it the night prior to) before getting to the makeup part. 

an unexplainable joy filled you when there was only lip gloss left on the table, you watched as epel began tidying up his other belongings before finishing the last part.

he quickly dragged his thumb across your lower lip, to check that the chapstick had already been absorbed. the warmth in your face was at first our of shyness at the unexpected gesture, which quickly turned to irritation when your lips began to sting.

"my lips burn, again!" you poked the skin around it, wanting to wipe off the plumper but at the same time not wanting to mess up the hours of progress. 

"don't talk, ya might get some in your mouth." epel said, looking up at you for a brief moment. "i need to take pictures, don't mess it up."

"wasn't planning on it…" after a few more minutes of silence, an idea struck you, "as long as you kiss it better."

taking advantage of the confusion in his face, you quickly pressed a kiss to his cheek. at least you won't be suffering alone.

SEBEK ZIGVOLT

out of the other, he is definitely the most shy about being able to do makeup. he doesn't keep his knowledge secret, but he doesn't go out of his way to tell people about it either. 

he knows a lot about more traditional styles, finding the modern ones very… silly, if you will. 

given his more tradition preferences, sebek is definitely one to never use products found in stores. he makes his own. and yes, he does use them very often.

over a break, lilia convinced him to take you with them to briar valley. they planned a ball for a reason you can't recall, but it's allowed you to learn more about this side of sebek.

it took him a while to stop being flustered with the amount of skincare and make supplies he's mad. when he did, he most certainly geeked out about it. it was more of like what styles you do when, and techniques. 

"ooh, we match!" you grinned excitedly, looking at your face in the mirror.

you noticed a light shade of pink dust his ears at you observation.

"it's tradition that knights match with their lover at gatherings like these."

“what? really?” you gaped, you’ve truly come a long way.

it was almost like yesterday he was embarrassed to know you exist and now he’s willing to show your relationship to those he’s grown up with.

you pressed a kiss to his cheek before (debatably) skipping off to change.

[velaryqns]

REPEAT HISTORY,

Derek faces the repercussions of his stupid decision when he returns home after the case to his girlfriend — you.

Derek Morgan x female! reader

Set after season 4, episode 1; mayhem

Warnings: mentions of bombs and death, angst, criminal minds themes

Derek silently walked into the apartment, expecting the lights to be off with how early it was in the morning. He dropped his go bag to the floor and began to remove his shoes, body aching from the stunt he pulled on the case. One of which almost earned him a suspension but did give him a long scolding from Penelope Garcia about pulling such a move.

But Derek would quickly learn that Penelope’s rage was nothing to the person he was returning home to.

Derek made his way down the hall, pausing at a door before he pushed it open. He smiled at the small figure curled on the bed, then turned his head toward the room he shared with you. The light was on — likely the lamp — and he felt more regret wash over him as he thought about his apology.

He pulled the door shut and finished his walk down the hall, pushing the door open. You were propped up on the bed, your lap desk over your legs as you graded assignments. It wasn’t rare for you to grade papers well into the night, however to do it in the mornings made Derek know that something was truly on your mind.

“Honey —“

“I’m glad you made it home safe,” you muttered, not bothering to look up from the papers. At least your students would get their assignments back sooner.

Not hearing one of the affectionate nicknames you had made for him confirmed that Penelope had already called you. Derek had no right to be mad about it — Penelope thought he was going to die. It only made sense for you to know, especially when you had a child with him.

“Close the door, would you?” Your voice was level as Derek shut the bedroom door. You lowered the pen to your desk and leveled your eyes with Derek’s, “What the hell was I supposed to think when Penelope called me about your heroics? Especially when Aaron had already been caught in a vehicle with one.”

He could hear your voice crack and walked toward the bed, grabbing the desk and setting it aside. Derek sat beside your legs, taking your hand, “Baby you have no idea how sorry I am. I never wanted to put you in a position like that. But I couldn’t let so many more people get hurt, we had already lost one person today.”

“I can’t lose you,” you whispered, shaking your head as you finally let tears fall, “I know you want to honor your father, and I support you in every way possible. But when I get a call like that from Penelope…I was scared shitless. I don’t want to go through that again.”

“Are you asking me to leave the BAU?” Derek questioned. It was a conversation you two had at the start of your relationship, and then twice after that; the last two times revolving around your daughter.

“You know that’s not what I’m asking of you,” you shook your head, eyebrows furrowing as you adjusted how you were sitting on the bed. You were now on your knees beside Derek, your chin on his shoulders while he lazily wrapped a warm around your waist — knowing you may still be upset based on the events that led to this discussion, “I’m asking for you to use that damned brain I know you have. Stop being stupid. We have a daughter, and I don’t want her to lose you. I don’t want a repeat of history.”

You knew the last words hit Derek hard, and it pained you to say them, but he needed to hear it. You were met with reluctant silence, his brown eyes glued to the floor. You gently rubbed his back, leaning to press your forehead against the side of his head, a gentle kiss to his cheek.

“Derek, I’m sorry,” you whispered, regretting your words as he turned to you, tears clearly filling his eyes, “I know it crossed a line, but — “

He silenced you with a soft kiss and gentle head shake, “I understand.”

Derek Morgan looked apologetic, holding you closer. You remained tangled amongst each other for a few moments before he sighed; “I’m sorry for not thinking, baby. I don’t ever want something to happen to me that would hurt my girls.”

“I know you don’t, baby,” you assured him as your door creaked open, your daughter standing the doorway with eyes that matched her father’s watching the both of you.

You quickly wiped Derek’s tears away and then smiled at your daughter, “Come on in.”

She rushed in, jumping into her father’s lap and holding on to the both of you:

“I’m glad you’re home, daddy!”

The next or so was filled with her asking Derek questions about the case, he of course left out the bomb mentions, before she drifted off to sleep beside the both of you. You watched her for a moments before you glanced to Derek.

“I love you,” you whispered to him, and Derek grinned.

He kissed your daughter’s head, nodding, “And I love you. Both of you.”

[sappy-seresin]

Karaoke Night (J. Seresin)

Pairing: Jake Seresin x female!reader

Warning: Mentions of alcohol consumption, mildly suggestive content, cursing. Minors DNI.

Summary: You get invited to go drinking with the Dagger Squad, kudos to your boyfriend Jake. The one detail he left out about the excursion is that it’s Karaoke Night at the Hard Deck, and your participation is mandatory.

Word Count: 3.2k

MY WORK IS NOT TO BE COPIED OR POSTED ELSEWHERE, especially without consent. DO NOT steal the work of other writers, thank you.

Gif Creds: @unicornships

“Y/n, I’m so glad you could make it,” Natasha greets, bringing you in for a friendly hug while Jake takes liberty to order your first round of drinks.

“Of course I made it,” you smile after the hug broke. “A night out with my favorite pilots? I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” Jake returns with your drinks as the rest of the squad find you and Natasha, each of them bidding you friendly ‘hello’s’ and offering you hugs. You smile up at Jake when he gives you your drink, accepting the kiss he offers to go along with it.

As everyone falls into their normal banter, filing around the pool table to watch the rematch Mickey challenged Jake to upon seeing him, you can’t help but notice that the bar is more full than it typically would be on a Thursday night.

“It’s busier than I thought it would be,” you mindlessly tell Bob, your eyes still scanning the growing audience of people occupying the bar. He nods in agreement, taking a second to study the rest of the room with a light grin.

“Me too, but everyone always gets excited for events, so the larger crowd makes sense,” you furrow your eyebrows at his words. Events? Jake hadn’t mentioned anything special going on at the bar tonight, he was just insistent on you came along. You assumed it was because he’s been extra busy with training the last few weeks and hasn’t been able to spend as much time with you.

“Events?” Your voice trails off as an invitation for someone to explain. Now Bob’s eyebrows are pulling together in confusion, his eyes wordlessly flitting over to Jake who has his signature smirk plastered on his face after sinking two more pool balls into the table. Mickey groans in frustration, knowing he’s lost any chance of gaining the upper hand while Jake lines up another shot.

“You didn’t tell her?” Bradley asks, making his first appearance. There’s a humored smile on his face at the feign surprise he’s pointing in your boyfriends direction. Everyone’s eyes are on Jake as he takes the perfect shot, shrugging in victory when it ricochets off the table wall before rolling into the hole he was aiming for.

“She wouldn’t have come,” he states, his demeanor light and playful when he glances at you. “I thought we all agreed we’d tell her after she finished her first drink.”

Bob’s raises his hands in surrender when Jake’s focus shifts onto him, not wanting to take the blame for your questions when he’s been under the impression that you knew what Thursday nights at the Hard Deck entail. “It’s not my fault, she pointed out how many people are here, and I thought she knew.”

“I’m sorry, I’m standing right here,” you interject, still lost as to what any of them are talking about due to their lack of answers. “What am I missing?”

There’s a chorus of excited glances, each of them seeming to enjoy your cluelessness in what you’ve gotten yourself into. Or, sorry, what Jake knowingly dragged you into without your fully informed consent.

“Well Darlin’, it seems that Hangman here forgot to mention that Thursday nights are a big deal at the Hard Deck,” Bradley begins, smacking Jake’s shoulder to mess up his final shot. Jake releases a frustrated groan when Bradley’s attempt to sabotage him is successful. The cue ball smacks into one of Mickey’s balls, sending it into the nearest hole, ending Jake’s streak. There’s a quiet ‘prick’ whispered under Jake’s breath, but you don’t pay it any mind as you gesture for Bradley to continue. “Karaoke night.”

While he seemed pleased with his explanation, your confusion only grows. What’s so special about a bar hosting Karaoke night? Karaoke isn’t exactly new in the bar scene, you’ve been to several bars that have nights dedicated to it, hell, you’ve done your fair share of participating when there’s been enough alcohol to encourage you to do so.

Upon realizing that there’s no further explanation, you ask, “Why do I feel like there’s more to the story? What’s the big deal?”

“It’s tradition that everyone in the friend group participates,” Reuben cuts in, taking a sip of his beer with a knowing look. “Starting with the newest member. I hate to break it to you Y/n, but tonight, our newest member is you.” Your eyes practically bulge out of your head as it whips over to Jake, who's wearing a shit-eating grin. He doesn't even attempt to look apologetic for not telling you the full truth as he approaches you.

"You seriously couldn't have told me what I was getting myself into? Jesus Jake, you know what it takes for me to be performance ready," you scold him, unapologetically smacking his chest before he can pull you into him.

"Woah, sweetheart, there's no need to get hostile," he chuckles, pulling you flush against his chest anyway. The glare you send him turns his humored smirk into a lighthearted smile, his eyes softening as he looks at you. "Come on, it's not that bad. They already know you can sing and have been dying to hear you anyway. The way I see it, you're doing them an injustice by gatekeeping that sweet voice of yours that I love so much. It'll be just like when you used to perform in college, except in front of friends and a bunch of drunks that won't remember whether or not you suck tomorrow."

"I can't believe you brought my 'open mic nights' into this," you huff, knowing fully well that he's won. Jake knows how much you love it when he praises the way you sing, even though you don't believe your voice is anything notable. "You're still an ass for not telling me."

"Maybe, but I'm your ass, and you love me for it," he flirts, playfully kissing you while everyone impersonate over embellished gagging noises at his words.

You giggle at their antics, molding against Jake's chest while they return to their usual banter. "When does it start?"

**********

"Alright, settle down everyone," Pete speaks into a mic, walking onto the makeshift platform that's specifically utilized for Karaoke. His presence makes the overall chatter in the bar die down as the attention shifts to him. "I know I'm not your usual MC but I was informed of a special guest tonight and requested that Penny let me give her a warm welcome." You catch the squad all glance at you in your peripheral vision, but choose to ignore them as Jake's arm falls across your shoulders. "Without further ado, I'd like to welcome Y/n Y/l/n to the stage!" Your eyes widen at the immediate introduction, they told you that you have to be the first in the friend group to perform. They never said anything about you starting off the entire damn circus with an introduction from their captain.

"You're up, Y/n," everyone cheers, watching Jake usher you forward. He smacks your butt before you're out of arms reach, earning an eye roll in response.

"You better be prepared to make up for this later," you quip, a serious look on your face with the subtle suggestion. Jake raises his eyebrows at your words, his classic smirk crossing his face as he shoots you a wink.

"I'll make it up to you all night, baby," he calls, not caring that half the bar hears what he said. Whistles sound through the room at his words, making your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. Pete offers you a hand when you reach the platform, immediately welcoming you into the spot next to him.

"Alright, now that she's here, let Karaoke night begin," he exclaims, sliding the mic into your hand before moving to stand next to Penny.

"Hey everybody," you timidly wave, taking a second to compose yourself while you cue for the song to start. The intro of "Love on the Brain," by Rihanna fills the room, earning various cheers across the room from those who recognize the song. "I swear, I'm not drunk enough for this." Laughter echoes around the room, everyone already enjoying your stage presence before you've even had a chance to start the song.

You take a deep breath, steadying the mic in front of your mouth, playing over the lyrics in your mind.

"And you got me like oh, what you want from me? And you tried to buy your pretty heart but the price's too high. Baby you got me like, oh," you sing, smiling at the chorus of claps ringing across the room. Everyone's attention is trained on you, no one having expected any actual talent to waft into the bar.

"Damn," Jake hears Natasha gush to no one in particular. Her eyes pan over to him, jaw slack in shock as your voice fills her ears. "I know you told us she can sing, but I didn't expect her to be this good." Pride swells in Jake's chest at the continuous praises showering over you from his colleagues mouths. He loves showering you with praise, but hearing his friends hype you up? That's next level for him. He watches you in awe from his spot several rows back, unable to tear his focus away from you as several more emotions flood his system.

The further you get into the song, the more comfortable you become. Strutting around the stage in confidence, you let your body do the talking, easily finding Jake's eyes in the sea of others. That's when you get an idea. He'd dragged you into this, and you want to be a little petty and make him pay for it.

The cordless mic makes it easy to see your plan through. The lyrics continue flowing from you as you take a step off the platform, eyes still locked on Jake as you make your way closer to him.

"Oh, and babe, I'm fist fighting with fire just to get close to you," you sing, your gaze burning so deeply into him that it makes him shiver. He's captivated by the way your hips sway as you walk, the melodic movements making it nearly impossible for him to keep his desire for you at bay. "And I'll run for miles, just to get a taste. Must be love on the brain..."

You're right in front of him now, deliberately trailing your hand down his chest to fully captivate him. To give him just enough that he's practically squirming in his chair in an attempt to collect his thoughts. Your forehead presses against his as you sing, and he's sure you're going to kiss him, but instead you pull away, breaking contact completely.

There's a stunned intake of breath from someone in your friend group when they notice your newfound attention on Bradley. Natasha's fighting back laughter, immediately catching on to what you're doing before watching it come to fruition.

Your gaze fixates on Bradley now, who eats up every second of the attention while Jake watches. He feels your fingers slowly drag across the skin on his neck, a laugh bubbling from his throat at the playful wink you shoot at him before turning your back to him and gently pushing yourself into his lap. Being the good guy that he is, Bradley plays along, while respectfully keeping his hands to himself. He respects you and Jake enough to not take it too far, but he's willing to be used as payback to get back at Jake.

"..It beats me black and blue but it fucks me so good and I can't get enough," your eyes lock with Jake's, lips twisted into a devilish smirk as you sing to him whilst leaning further into Bradley. Jake grips his glass so hard that it's a miracle it doesn't break. He knows exactly what you're doing, and it's working. "Must be love on the brain, yeah. And it keeps cursing my name." The simple task of you participating in karaoke has turned into a ploy to make Jake go absolutely feral, and everyone's eating it up.

"Jake's met his match," Bob snorts to Javy, who nods his head in agreement. The pair of them noticing the effect your scheme is having on Jake. It's a change of pace to see the overly confident man completely defenseless before you.

After a few more minutes of innocently ogling over Bradley, you decide you've tortured your boyfriend enough. A friendly kiss is pressed against Bradley cheek after you stand up, your attention remaining on him long enough to see him tilt his drink toward you humorously before you make your way back up to the platform, nearing the end of the song. You make a point to meet Jake's firey gaze, letting your eyes assure him that you know exactly who you belong to. There's no hiding the jealousy he's harboring over the attention you gave to Bradley. Even in knowing that you purposely did it to get him worked up, Jake's skin feels like it's on fire as he watches you with the image of you on Bradley's lap burns in the back of his mind.

"..don't you stop loving me, don't quit loving me, just start loving me..." The rest of the song fades out of Jake's senses. Though his eyes never leave your figure, his thoughts are solely centered around all of the ways he's going to make you pay for toying with him later. All of the ways he's going to have you squirming and moaning his name.

You can see how lost in thought he is from your spot on the stage, knowing you're in for it later as you finish the song. "..must be love on the brain." You wink in his direction, though you're not convinced he catches it.

He snaps out of his trance when the bar erupts with a heavy round of applause, cheers and whistles accompanying the noise as you humbly bow to the crowd. Penny climbs on the makeshift stage while the room starts chanting, "Encore," repeatedly, the praise growing louder when you bow again.

"Alright, alright everyone, settle down," Penny commands, gesturing for everyone to oblige as she chuckles at their enthusiasm. "That was amazing, thank you." She gives you a quick hug, keeping her hand on the small of your back. "I know you all love her, but we can't pay her to give us a full concert, so we're going to continue on with Karaoke as planned." A chorus of playful "boo's" sound across the room as you exit the area, ready to get back to your friends.

There's a wide grin on your face as you make your way back to your table, pleasantly thanking those around you who stop you to shoot you words of praise. After making it through the last conversation, your eyes find Jake's again, which have remained locked on you from the moment you started your crowd-winning performance. You smile in his direction, hurrying to close the space between the two of you to ease the performance induced adrenaline that's left your body buzzing.

"Well if it isn't the woman of the hour," Coyote applauds the moment you reach the group, earning a sheepish grin and rosey cheeks from you. You giggle in response, finding your place next to Jake while the squad begins gushing about your incredible, hidden, talent. Jake's arms loop around your waist, pulling you into a half-seated position on his lap while everyone continues carrying on about how shocked they are that music isn't the line of work you chose to pursue.

His breath fans against the exposed skin on your next, sending goosebumps across the area which are accompanied by chills that rush down your spine. He kisses your temple slowly, dragging his lips across your ear when he pauses, taking a deep breath.

"I know I dragged you into this without knowing what you were getting yourself into, but what you did wasn't fair," the words are husky and low, only meant for your ears to hear. You can tell by the tone in his voice that he's frustrated and that your little game to get him worked up was successful. You twist your head in the slightest so that you can meet his dark gaze, your eyes innocent and twinkling as you shoot him a knowing smirk.

"I don't know what you're talking about Lieutenant," you whisper slowly, making a point to keep your tone sickly sweet in that way that always drives him crazy. "You asked for a show, and I'd like to think that I gave you one. I'm sure Rooster would agree." His eyes narrow in your direction, Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallows to clear his throat. You're being a brat, and it's driving him up the wall that he can't put you in your place in the way that he wants to.

"I'm sure he would, darlin'," he smiles, leaning back in the slightest to compose himself. There's a glimmer that flashes in his eyes as you watch him carefully, enjoying the way that he's subtly flustered by the casual name drop of his colleague who's only sitting a few feet away. Jake's pulling himself back in, lips grazing your ears once more as his signature smirk curves onto his lips. "But, it want be Rooster's name you'll be moaning once I get you home, it'll be mine."

Now it's your jaw that's practically on the floor, heat rushing to your cheeks as you lose the upper hand in the little competition the two of you have going. Jake's a pro when it comes to taking these little games and twisting them so that you're the one who's hot and bothered, antsy to get home, while he pulls back and makes you wait. You mentally curse yourself for not finding the right words to put yourself back on top, but a part of you knows that you were asking for this behavior when you made the decision to egg Jake on in front of the entire squad, using Bradley as your scapegoat because seeing you drape yourself over him is the exact thing you knew would drive Jake crazy.

"What's the matter, darlin'? Don't have anything to say now," Jake teases, dipping away from you so that he can take a sip of his beer while you watch him, apparently defenseless, as the cockiness in his tone grows slightly. He's got you right where he wants you, and he's weaseled his way into his favorite spot to be. Right on top.

The rest of the night at the Hard Deck continues on as planned, you and Jake making points to challenge each other further as the night progresses. Many laughs are shared as the rest of the squad participates in their own karaoke performances, your favorite being Jake and Coyote's rendition of "You've Lost That Loving Feeling," as it was the song Jake serenaded you with ages prior when he saw you at a bar, hosting a karaoke night just like this one.

By the end of the night, Jake's practically dragging you out of the bar, over the pleasantries and well past ready to get you home. You force him to contain himself long enough that you can bid the other aviators proper goodbyes. He stands in his spot impatiently, talking to Coyote and Javy while you make your rounds with everyone.

"I hope he doesn't go too hard on you," Bradley whispers, his stature light after you pull away from your friendly hug.

You laugh at his words, squeezing his arm in playful assurance that you can handle what Jake has planned. "Truthfully, him going hard on me might have been part of my plan. Don't worry about me Rooster." Loud laughs echo from Bradley's chest as he shakes his head with an award-winning smile.

"Fair enough," he chuckles, giving you one last hug before Jake drags you away with a casual goodbye to everyone.

He speeds down the nearly vacant streets with one hand on the wheel and one hand squeezing your thigh. Neither of you have to say anything to know where your minds were at, especially when the truck is thrown into park in your driveway and he's rushing you into the house, bridal style.

Let's just say that Jake was right about one thing, Rooster's name was the last thing on your mind the second you were tangled in the sheets with your favorite Lieutenant.

*********************************

I hope you guys enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Tags: @clancycucumber230 @sehnsuchts-trunken @atarmychick007 @b-radbradshaw @teacupsandtopgun @fanboygarcia @bradleybeachbabe @rosiahills22 @athenabarnes @fogle97 @vici111 @noz4a2 @bcon24 @startterfly @fandomunite2107

[cottagecorrosive]

*Tears of the Kingdom SPOILERS*

Okay, so I've seen some fanart that may line up with my thoughts, but I just have some stuff I wanna say after beating tears of the kingdom. The ending was very sweet and wholesome and it is literally the best ending possible for the circumstances. HOWEVER, I think it would have been more appropriate (may not be the right word) if Zelda stayed a dragon and LINK completely lost his arm.

So like, it was stated many of time that consuming the forbidden fruit gummy would result in an unchangeable and unthinkable transformation. I'm glad Zelda came back in the end, but as far as themeing goes, I feel she should have stayed a dragon. The monumental sacrifice to transform yourself into something you wouldn't even recognize to MAYBE get this decayed weapon to your companion thousands of years into the future so they can defeat the apocalypse (again). Although, the reason Zelda did so was because she had unwavering faith in Link - and vice versa - even though she is completely unaware of his state in the future. The last thing she saw was Link falling with her and his arm and his sword completely busted. But she still had faith because Link is the only thing in Hyrule that she can rely on. No matter what happens, Link will be there. So she makes this sacrifice to become a dragon and help Link kill the Demon King. There are a few moments throughout where there is some longing between Link and Zeldragon, which are quite somber. And by Link slaying the Demon King and ridding Hyrule of evil, her sacrifice was not in vain. In my opinion, her transforming back into human form takes away from the impact of that decision. While her initial decision believed she would not come back, within the themes of the story it makes it feel less (to me at least). And think about the bittersweet ending it would've been if everything was better and Hyrule was safe and Link just looked up to see her at all times. Sad, yes. But without her Hyrule wouldn't exist.

In addition, I believe Link should have permantly lost his arm. As stated at the beginning, the damage was beyond repair so Rauru just gave Link his arm / power for a bit. And in the end he used said power to heal both Zelda and Link's arm. However, I think it would've been way rad if Link, along with the help of the sages, took on the Demon King and they had to use all their collective powers to do so. And to land a final blow (since the Demon King is literally the most powerful being in Hyrule) they used Rauru's hand to weaken him, and tear away from Link's arm (though it's just a smooth stub now), and use the master sword to finish him. (And I feel the final fight was a bit lackluster but that's neither here nor there). Link would then straight up not have his right arm anymore. And it would've been cool if either Purah crafted Link a new arm from sheikah technology or if he simply lived without it bc disability doesn't need to always be "fixed." I was thinking something similar to Finn from Adventure Time honestly.

In conclusion, I believe Zelda should have stayed a dragon and Link should have fully lost his arm because it would fit better with the themes and make for a more interesting story. What I think both Zelda and Link's arm represent are sacrifice and loss for what you believe in. They were both willing to give up a part of themselves (though Link kinda unintentionally) to protect those they care about and safeguard their home. The end would've shown that their actions were not in vain and that it was worth it. I feel getting things back to "normal" takes away from these themes and the impact of these events. This is my headcanon bb. In addition, all the cute zelink stuff could've taken place between botw and totk so you could have both "haha cute couple" and "I lost my arm and my gf is a dragon now. That's rough, buddy" at the same time. :)

P.S. This is just my opinion I promise pinky. I heavily enjoyed this wonderful game (I finished it after all) and think the ending is really wholesome and great for Link, Zelda, and everyone else. Maybe I just wanna see my little guys suffer. Who knows.

[zepskies]

Patched Up (I)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Summary: How Dean thanks you for treating his wounds.    

This is part of a 3-part series with Sam, Dean, and Castiel -- first up is Dean! Word Count: 820 Warnings: Fluff, mentions of blood

Part I - Dean

“You don’t have to,” he said, for the third time. You continued to ignore him and instead, set your hands on his shoulders.

“All right, twitchy. Stop moving,” you said in exasperation. You were sitting behind him in the bunker's living room. For a moment, you couldn’t help staring at the broad expanse of his naked back, all tan skin and light freckles and lean muscle.

But then you forced yourself to focus on the suture you were only half-finished with for the three small, but deep cuts under his left shoulder.

“You haven’t done this before, have you?” Dean drawled.  

You inspected the wound with pursed lips. It was all too close to his heart.

Just a couple inches higher and this would’ve been a moot point…

Thinking about that would just make you angrier at the werewolf that slashed him, so you pushed that thought away.

Your hands shook a little with nerves, but you wiped at the bit of blood weeping every time you pulled the thread through his skin.

“It’s not rocket science,” you muttered. Dean was breathing deeply, trying to block out the pain of the sterile needle going through his flesh with a glass of whiskey. He swiped a hand over his tired face.

“Goddamn it. Should’ve just waited for Sam,” he said grumpily.

“Sam’s three states away.” You knew you didn’t have to remind him, but the point was made. Sam was on his own hunt, meaning all Dean had right now was you.

“And you’re not that flexible,” you added with a smirk. His head turned toward you a little, and you caught a glimpse of his lips curving upwards.

“That a challenge, sweetheart?”

You were glad he couldn’t see you blush at the suggestiveness in his deep voice. In that moment, you forced yourself to focus on what you were doing before you gave him a starfish instead of a straight line to close this cut.

But then, the more mischievous part of you suggested that might not be a bad idea. You grinned a little. Maybe next time he does something especially annoying.

Which would probably be tomorrow. Dean loved teasing you, though you hardly knew why.

“What, you taking yoga in your off time?” you teased.

“Not exactly, but close enough I reckon,” Dean replied. You could practically see his insufferable, lascivious smirk, and you were tempted to poke him with the needle…but you thought better of it. You were already causing him enough pain.

Eventually you tied off the suture and admired your handiwork.

“Am I gonna live, doc?” he asked dryly.

“You just might.” But you held fast to his shoulders to stop him from getting up just yet. “Wait, one more thing.”

The muscles in his shoulders and back flexed under your hands, making your face heat up again.  

“What now?” he asked. You sensed his impatience, but it really was important.

Grabbing the hydrogen peroxide, you doused some on a cotton ball and gently swabbed around the stitches.

“You already cleaned it before you started,” he said.

“I just want to make sure!” Your brows furrowed in concentration as you finished. Then you got up and went to sit in front of him, swabbing at the small cut above his brow with the unused side of the cotton. Then the red, angry scratch on his hand, just under his thumb.

You tried to avoid looking at his bare (and firm looking) chest, all while tuning out the heat of his stare as you completed your self-appointed task. You were a detail-oriented person by nature, and you were thorough as you dabbed at each cut and laceration. Dean finally piped down, allowing you to work in peace.

But really, he was watching you. First in bemusement at how unnecessary you were being. Then grateful, because you really didn’t have to do this.

And then fond, because not many people outside of Sam were left to care about him as much as you seemed to.

Dean watched the narrow concentration in your beautiful eyes, the way you were biting the inside of your lip.

When you were satisfied you’d cleaned every wound, no matter how small, you smiled to yourself and set down the peroxide and the cotton. That’s when Dean surprised you, taking your hand.

You stared up at him with wide, doe eyes when he pressed the back of your hand to his lips.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

Your face was set aflame as you looked into his green eyes. They glinted with affection, and his mouth curved against your skin.

Clearing your throat a little, you managed to reply.

“You’re welcome.”

You slowly took your hand back and grabbed all of your medical supplies. But before you left (and before you lost your nerve), you leaned in and kissed Dean on the cheek.

His soft surprise gave way to a smirk as he watched you scurry away.

Here's Part 2: Sam

Here's Part 3: Castiel

Dean Winchester One-Shots

[bluebird-the-seeker]

Let’s Talk about Rise of the Beasts!

So I just finished watching Rise of the Beasts in theatres, and here are some things I noticed:

Optimus acknowledges Bumblebee’s relationship with Charlie from the Bumblebee movie, confirming that the two movies take place in the same universe and that ROTB, while not exactly being a sequel, is a continuation of that universe.

Scourge’s badges display various Autobot badges, Decepticon badges, Predacon, and maximal badges. This confirms the existence of all these factions within the established universe and sets up potential new characters such as Blackarachnia or Dinobot.

Scourge mentions “Primus would be ashamed” when he discovers that Optimus is a Prime, introducing the cybertronian religious aspects we usually only hear about in the comics or in TV shows, such as the lineage of Primes or the original 13 and their connection with Primus.

I didn’t think Pablo could get any worse from the promo art and yet somehow he got way worse the moment he started talking and I’m glad he wasn’t in the movie all that much.

I still wish we could’ve seen the bot modes of the Maximals, we only see them transform in battle and it’s not very clear what they look like. Airazor didn’t transform at all.

The ending of the movie not only sets us up for a sequel, but an entire new continuity and expanded universe. Plus with the introduction of G.I. Joe, one of many references to things we really only see in the comics, there’s a possibility for things like Skywarp’s involvement with G.I. Joe, Marissa Fairborne, Thundercracker, etc.

The G.I. Joe operative that Noah speaks with mentions that they’re “in the middle of a war”. This can be connected back to the Bumblebee movie and the arrival of Decepticons on earth, and could potentially set us up with the main Decepticon/Autobot war in a next film.

They wrote Optimus so well and I love that it shows Optimus building trust with humans instead of having that trust already be established. Very refreshing. His dynamic with Primal was wonderful.

Mirage being able to turn into a suit that Noah can wear is something I personally don’t think has ever been shown in Transformers before in any media or comics? I could be wrong but it’s definitely very very rare if not a completely new concept.

Using Arrival to Earth for the last epic moments was a punch to the gut like wow my feels. And I don’t even like the bayverse movies.

I love how they gave a legitimate reason why Scourge was so powerful instead of just going “oh he’s just really strong and hard to kill” but no Unicron buffed the hell out him.

When Araizor was being taken over by Scourge I gasped and whispered “rust plague” cause if you know you know that disease is a bitch.

Finally humans I can actually tolerate in a Transformers movie.

There’s a lot of potential for this new cinematic universe (I hope)! They left it very open ended and allowed space for all sorts of stuff both from the Comics, the other live action movies, and even the TV shows in terms of references and characters and even plot lines. It’s a perfect grab bag of various Transformers media wrapped nicely with a bow for both new Transformers viewers and old ones.

THEY FINALLY LET BUMBLEBEE SWEAR-

[heavyhitterheaux]

Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You

A Ballerina's Tale Fic

AN: Jack learns that love at first sight is definitely real

Synopsis: From the time Jack first spotted you at his concert on the Confetti tour, he just knew you were the one for him even if no one else believes it

Pairing: Jack Harlow x Dancer!Reader

A Ballerina's Tale Masterlist

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

You had just finished putting the final touches on your makeup when Camila came bouncing into your room smiling at you and took a seat on your bed.

"Are you going to tell me where we're going tonight yet?" You curiously asked before taking your bonnet off to do your hair.

"No, it's a surprise. I know that you've been working really hard and my best friend deserves to have something nice done for her since she's always doing things for everyone else around her."

"I just do what needs to be done." You said while shrugging before looking down at your outfit which consisted of a black mesh crop top, ripped boyfriend jeans, and black and white New Balance 550's.

"You don't give yourself enough credit and come on because we need to get there early if we want a good spot."

"A good spot for what?!"

"Nice try. Not telling." 

It was getting close to 6 pm and you were still confused on what was going on and Camila wasn't budging on telling you anything. And you were getting tired of standing in line. It wasn't until you kept seeing people in Jack Harlow merch that you finally caught on.

"Camila!?!?" You squealed and she just looked at you confused.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Is my surprise Jack Harlow?"

"Hmm, maybe."

"CAMILA!"

"Fine, yes! I made us leave early so we could get in the front."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!!" You said while tackling her in a hug and she quickly embraced you back.

"I saw where your future husband was going to be here so I immediately tried to hurry up and buy the tickets. It's the least I could do for you."

When the doors finally opened, the two of you made a beeline to the front of the barricade so that the two of you would be able to see and made a decision to go to the merch stand before the two of you left.

"Shit, I'm glad we left when we did since it helped us to be in the front of the line." Camila said while looking around as the two of you were now surrounded by an entire crowd of people.

"Yeah, that was smart."

"So, aren't you happy you called out of work tonight?"

"Definitely."

When Jack hit the stage, you were nothing but smiles and Camila was just happy that you could get a break even if it was only for one night.

This wasn't the first concert of his that you had been to, and knew that it wasn't going to be the last. It always took you an extended period of time in order to save up to go to concerts because of everything you had to pay for. You had to keep a roof over your head, your mother’s and your little brothers. It wasn’t the fact that you absolutely had to do that but you were going to make sure your brothers had everything that they needed. 

The two of you were dead center in the front row and you couldn't help but notice that it seemed like Jack kept looking at you and you could have sworn that he sent a wink your way.

Or maybe it was just your imagination.

You put the thought in the back of your mind, until Camila brought up your suspicions.

"He is most definitely staring at you and that wink he did was all for you too."

"Do you not see how many people are in here? Let's be serious Mila."

"I am being serious! Maybe it's because your boobs are sitting perfectly. I knew what I was doing when I picked out that shirt."

"Bye Mila." You just shook your head and rolled your eyes at her.

"What did I do!? I'm trying to help you marry your favorite rapper!"

"Once again, let's be serious. There is no way in hell that I have a chance with him."

"You always sell yourself short and you have no idea how amazing you actually are. You never know what the future holds."

Your suspicions were true and Jack was definitely staring at you the entire night. He made a note in the back of his mind to try and find you after the show ends and hopefully be able to talk to you.

What he didn't expect was who he assumed to be your best friend to whisk you away almost immediately and he lost sight of you.

He didn't know what it was, but he was immediately drawn to you. He swears when the two of you locked eyes, that was it for him and he wanted to know your name and get to know you better.

If it was meant to be, the two of you would cross paths again, and Jack couldn't wait for it to happen. 

—

There Jack was sitting with Drake in V.I.P.  at Magic City to celebrate Drake’s birthday when he spotted you walk in.

His jaw immediately hit the floor.

Your hair was a little bit longer, but there was no denying that you were the same girl that caught his eye when he first saw you at his concert.

Hearing Urban's voice quickly got him out of his trance. 

"What in the world are you staring at?" Urban asked his best friend since he had been distracted for the last fifteen minutes.

"That girl right there." Jack answered, nodding his head in your direction.

Pardon the way that I stare (The way that I stare)

There's nothing else to compare

The sight of you leaves me weak

There are no words left to speak (Words left to speak)

"Well, go get her." Urban replied while shrugging. Jack went and got any girl he wanted any other time so why should this time be any different?

"Hold on, I can get them to come to us." Drake said, grabbing the attention of one of the bottle girls and asked her to bring the two of you over to V.I.P.

Not even ten minutes later, you were following Camila into the V.I.P. area and she was all smiles while you just wanted to go home.

Until you made eye contact with him and his heart was doing backflips.

He waved you over to come and sit by him while of course Camila went straight to Drake.

"What's your name, pretty girl?" Jack asked while smiling at you.

"Y/N. And my best friend over there is Camila." Jack just knew that you could probably hear his heart about to burst out of his chest. Your voice was angelic and he couldn’t get enough of hearing it. 

"But I didn't ask about your best friend, I asked about you. You enjoying yourself?"

"I'll be honest. I kinda wanted to stay at home and watch Netflix, but she dragged me."

"I'm happy you came, otherwise we would have never met."

By Jack saying this, you instantly got a smile on your face.

"So tell me all about Y/N. You in school?"

"Nope."

"Okay what you do?"

"I'm a dancer and quick question, are you a cancer?"

"Hell nah. Where you dance at?"

"Blue Flame, that shit be jam packed."

"Damn facts? So where your man at?"

"What's that?" You asked before you started to laugh, giving Jack a dumbfounded look.

"I don't need a man, she my other half. We got something not a lot of others have and I feel like I knew her from the past. I mean at this point we're like lesbians." You said and laughed once again.

"Hmm, you sure about that? Look and see for yourself."

You looked over to see Camila all over Drake and he was loving every minute of it.

"Doesn't surprise me at all. She gets like that sometimes."

"What days you dance at Blue Flame?"

"Friday through Sunday with an occasional weekday thrown in there."

"I'll be here for a few weeks so I might have to take you up on that offer."

"I'll be sure to keep an eye out for you. And private dances are extra if you were wondering. Are you in Atlanta often?" You curiously asked and Jack simply nodded.

"That's fine. You're the only person I want to see anyway. And I definitely look at it like a second home."

You were usually shy so the fact that you were just having a conversation with your celebrity crush and not falling out was surprising.

"I think I caught on since I know that you've been eyeing me since I walked through the door."

"Damn, and here I was thinking I was being discreet." Jack replied while laughing.

"It's okay. I feel that you're someone who goes after what he wants." You said and Jack moved closer to you if that was even possible.

"And what do you think I want?" He whispered in your ear and you felt the floodgates opening up down below.

"Let's take a wild guess and say me."

You don't know where all of this confidence was coming from, but you were grateful for it.

The last thing you wanted to do was look like a fool in front of him.

Jack simply laughed before kissing the shell of your ear.

"I think we have a winner."

"Hmm so, why don't we leave and I can give you a little preview of a dance I've been working on."

Without a second thought, Jack was on his feet and held out his hand to help you up.

This caught Camila's attention.

"Damn, it actually looks like my bestie is living a little. Jack, you better take care of my girl."

"You definitely don't have to worry about that." 

You and Jack had been together for at least a month now when he was approached by Neelam one morning. She was shifting her weight back and forth and Jack was not paying her any attention. He figured if she had something to say then she would say it. 

"I… I don't want to get in your business." And there it is. 

"Then don't."

"But… a stripper? Really?"

"Why does everyone have a problem with what her profession is? It's not like she's out here having sex with the people she dances for."

"You don't know that, she's probably a gold digger who is going to hurt you in the end."

"Do you know how much money she makes in one night? Being a gold digger is at the very bottom of her list."

"Look, I'm just trying to protect you and a few other people agree with me. We just want the best for you and not to do anything to mess up your career. You've worked so hard for this and shouldn't let a girl ruin that."

"I can focus on my girl and my career and it's no one else's fucking business. I'm not going to stop seeing her just because a few people don't like it. None of you even know her and I haven't even brought her around. But I guess if all of you feel like this and don't care to see me happy then I won't. Judging someone and you don't even know her."

“Look, I don’t want to upset you.”

“Too late for that.”

“But Jack if you decide to go public with this girl, which you should most definitely NOT do, how do you think it’s going to look?”

“And why do I give a fuck? I mean seriously. I like her for her. She does what she has to do to make a living.”

“Your image, that's why! You’ll be making my job ten times harder.”

“Oh, so this is about you now?”

“Jack, that isn’t what I meant.” Neelam said while blowing out a defeated sigh. 

“Sounds like it. So I just have to go along with what everyone else wants me to do and not be happy?”

“No… I….”

“She is about to be here in thirty minutes and she’s excited to meet all of you. So I suggest you and whoever else has a problem with someone that they don’t even know get their shit together and be nice to her. Because if she tells me otherwise it’s going to be a problem. Don’t mess this up for me. This has been my most serious relationship since fucking high school. I will never forgive yall if yall fuck this up and run her off.”

“She’s a stripper, you can literally find one in every city!”

“We’re done with this conversation and I meant what I said.”

“Fine.”

Jack had invited you to come with him while he did a few festival shows and you were able to get off for two weeks in order to spend time with him. In order to be able to make sure all your bills were covered, you taught the little ones in the morning and had been at Blue Flame consistently every night for three weeks straight. You admit that you were nervous meeting everyone else because the only person that you had been around besides Jack was Urban. He quickly took to you once he saw how happy you made his best friend and didn’t judge you on what your profession was.

That was the main thing that you were scared of. You weren’t embarrassed and absolutely loved what you did, but when you told people when they asked what your profession was people tended to look down on you and that is the last thing you wanted from anyone on Jack’s team because you knew how important they all were to him and wanted to make a good impression. You couldn’t pursue your dreams of being a ballerina so this was the next best thing, you got to dance and pay your bills. 

You weren’t going to do this forever, just until you made enough in order to be able to open your own dance studio.

Then being an exotic dancer would be a thing of the past. 

It was early in the day and the festival wasn’t until about 4 in the afternoon, so Jack decided himself that he would go and get you from the airport and you couldn’t help but laugh at his”disguise” when you saw him. Or lack thereof.

“Baby, that’s not supposed to be a disguise is it?” You asked while looking at his sunglasses and hoodie that was attempting to cover his curls. You immediately let out a laugh.

“Look, this is all I had on short notice. I had to work with it.” He said while leaning down to kiss you before bringing you into a hug.

“Then let’s hurry up before someone actually spots you and then we’ll never be able to leave.”

You had now gotten back to the hotel, but before Jack could slide the key card in the door, you grabbed his arm to stop his movements and he looked at you concerned. 

“What’s wrong babe?”

“I.. what if they don’t like me?” You quietly asked while you were now more interested in your army green New Balance 580’s that were covering your feet. Jack’s heart dropped. 

He knew that you were an introvert and kept to yourself and he knew meeting new people sometimes

could set off your anxiety. He was actually surprised about how relaxed you were around Urban, but then again Urban had made you feel comfortable. He was nervous that the others wouldn’t.

They knew how protective they were over him and it was possible that this could turn into a dumpster fire.  

“They’re going to love you simply because you have made me the happiest that I’ve been in a long time. It’s going to be fine, okay? I’m going to let you get settled first and we’ll meet up with them later.” Jack responded as he leaned down to kiss your forehead which you gladly accepted.

“Okay, sure thing.”

You had taken a shower and gotten comfortable and was simply happy to be in the company of your boyfriend. It wasn’t ideal for you to go long stretches of time without seeing him, but you knew that his job was demanding. There was no way in the world that you would ever let him put you before his career. Jack didn’t let a day go by without calling you despite the time differences. He made it known every single day how important you were to him and you did the exact same thing.

You thanked Camila every day for dragging you to Drake’s birthday party because who knew that it would lead to this?

It was now around noon and Jack had told you earlier that the two of you would meet up with everyone else around one in order to be able to get food and for them to meet you before his show later. 

“Babe?” You asked, poking Jack’s side. He had his eyes closed and you were curled into him and you could tell he was tired.

“Hmm?”

“It’s 12, should we start getting ready?”

“No.”

“What, why?”

“Because I want to have you to myself for a few more minutes before I have to share you with everyone else.” You couldn’t help but to laugh.

“You have me for two weeks.”

“And that isn’t anywhere near long enough, so I have to soak in every second I can with you.”

“You are such a simp and I love it.”

“I’m just being honest. But I guess we can start getting ready.”

All of you were now sitting in a restaurant by the water and it was absolutely gorgeous. However, you were a ball of nerves no matter how much Jack and Urban tried to reassure you that everything would be fine. 

“Oh, so you’re Jack’s girl who we keep hearing about?”

“Yes, I’m Y/N, and I’m guessing your Ace? It’s nice to meet you.”

“Where did he meet you again?” Nemo asked while eyeing you.

“Drake’s birthday party in Atlanta awhile back.”

“Oh, were you like the entertainm….” Urban immediately nudged Neelam to get her to stop and not finish her sentence, but you caught it anyway.

“I’m sorry, what?” You asked, looking confused. This was going just as terrible as you thought it would. 

“She came with her best friend Camila and they were both with us in V.I.P.” Urban quickly chimed in, saving you from having to answer.

“How did they even get in the party and who in the world got them in V.I.P.? Wasn’t it an invitation-only type thing?” 2fo asked.

Just then you heard Jack’s voice behind you as he came back from the bathroom. 

“Because I saw her when she came in the door and asked the bottle girl to go and get her for me. Any more questions or are yall done being nosey?”

“We’re just trying to get to know her.”

You were now extremely uncomfortable and tried not to show it on your face as Jack sat down next to you.

I mean you did understand to a certain extent. They only wanted the best for him and that's fair. Just then you got a text and looked down to see that it was Urban.

Urban- We're all just extremely protective of him. They'll warm up to you soon.

You- If you say so, that felt like I committed a crime and was being questioned.

Urban- It’ll get better

“Okay, I’m just going to go ahead and say it since yall are too scared. What are your intentions Y/N? It’s obviously not money because strippers can make a lot of money, at least that’s what I’ve heard. He has worked entirely too hard for someone to just come in here and ruin his career.”

Your jaw was on the floor and Jack looked at Neelam with wide eyes as she was sitting directly across from the two of you.

“Wait, she’s a stripper?”

“At Blue Flame!”

“Oh, I love that place. I think they actually have better food than Magic City.”

“Lies you tell! They have nothing on Magic City’s buffalo wings.”

“What the? The lemon pepper ones?! Come on, now. Nothing is touching those.”

As Shloob and 2fo went back and forth debating on who had the best food between the two strip clubs, Jack was at his wits end. 

“NEELAM!” Jack exclaimed while Urban just hung his head from his place on the other side of you. 

“WHAT? DON’T NEELAM ME! I’m just being honest. Like you could literally have any girl you want and that’s what you settle for? I have to protect you and that’s what we all want to do. You can understand why that is right? We want the best for you so why can’t you see that? Y/N this is literally nothing against you, it isn’t.” 

“Nothing against me? It sure sounds like it is. Settle? You think that he’s settling with me? You don’t even know me. That was rude as hell of you to ask me and if you were wondering I have nothing but good intentions in this relationship not that it’s any of your business.” You said getting up from the table and Jack sighed before getting up to follow you.

“I asked yall to do this one got damn thing. Get to know her because she was excited to meet all of you and what did yall do? Fuck that up.” 

Later that night, the two of you were laying down in a comfortable silence and Jack knew that he had to be the one to break it. That of course upset you for the rest of the day and you couldn’t even truly enjoy his set like you wanted to because what Neelam said earlier was playing on a continuous loop in your head. You didn’t even bother making conversation with them as you were attempting to watch Jack perform and if someone asked you something, you kept the answer short and sweet.

It looks like you had thirteen more days to deal with this.

But if this relationship lasted long like you wanted it to, it would be a lot longer. 

At least you could hang around Urban since you knew he at least liked you.

You didn’t think that the others didn’t, it’s just that you knew that Jack’s image meant everything to him and that because of society’s standards, he would probably be facing a lot of backlash if this relationship were to go public.

You could see both sides, however, there is no room for judgment especially when they don’t even know you.

“Baby girl?”

“I told you that they wouldn’t like me.”

“That’s not it, they’re just protective of me. We’re like that with each other. Don’t get me wrong because I am not making excuses for them at all. What she said was outta pocket and she should have kept that to herself.”

“Can we just move on? I don’t want to even think about it anymore.”

Oh, pretty baby, don't let me down I pray

Oh, pretty baby, now that I found you, stay

The next seven months couldn’t have been a happier time for you and it seemed as if you were on cloud nine. You came to the conclusion that you only had to work at Blue Flame for another year or so until you would be able to purchase your dance studio and that doing this would be a thing of the past. You would still help out your mother and brothers whenever you could, but it was time for you to be able to focus on yourself. You hadn’t been able to do that since you were fourteen and it was long overdue.

You were definitely a lot closer to Jack’s team and even you and Neelam had made up when she saw that what you had said in the beginning turned out to be true with only having good intentions. You made sure to still keep a little distance between the two of you just in case, but you had a forgiving heart despite how people may act towards you.

You were confused as to why Jack had been ignoring you and dodging your calls. You had a difficult few days and needed to talk to your boyfriend, but he was nowhere to be found. 

The two of you did not go a day without talking to each other so you were definitely confused and needed an explanation as to why he was acting the way that he was. 

It wasn’t until you got this message that your entire world was crumbling right before your eyes.

Jack- Y/N, I didn’t want to do this over a text but, I have a lot of things going on and I feel as though we need to take a break from our relationship for a while.

You- Jack, where is this coming from? Did something happen? Let me know so I can fix it

Jack- I didn’t realize you did more than dance with your clients

You- What the hell is that supposed to mean? Baby, please explain because I don’t understand.

Jack- The fact that you thought you could be in a relationship with me and fuck other people is beyond me, so we’re done

You- Jack, I have no idea who told you that, but it isn’t true

You- Come on, don’t do this to us

You- Jack, please just call me so I can explain. I don’t understand why someone would tell you that because it isn’t true. 

You- Baby, please answer me

Tears immediately filled your eyes and you were beyond confused and you then realized that Jack had blocked your number.

Jack on the other hand was running his hands through his curls clearly frustrated at the situation before him.

You and Camila were close and he knew that the two of you knew each other like the back of your hands. So, why would she have a reason to lie to him about what you were doing behind his back?

He admits that you put up a good front and acted as if you had no idea what he was talking about, but the pictures that Camila attached? There was absolutely no denying that the girl in the pictures were you and that you got a little too close to your clients for Jack’s liking.

Urban could tell that something was bothering Jack, but he figured that it had to do with you when he hadn’t mentioned you in over a week. Which was never the case, because he could never shut up about you for a total of five minutes. 

“What is going on with you? And I thought Y/N was coming this week?”

“She cheated on me.”

At that moment, Neelam was passing by the two of them and couldn’t help but overhear what Jack had said.

“What?! I don’t believe that for a second.” Urban said clearly confused.

“Well, believe it. Camila told me.”

“Not going to lie, Camila has given me weird vibes ever since we met her. I get that’s her best friend, but I don’t know. Do you think that she might have been jealous of the two of you and trying to get you to break up with her?”

“No, they talk about each other like they’re legit soulmates. I never got a weird vibe from her.”

“I don’t know, Jack. This seems a little sketchy to me. I know I might not know Y/N as good as you do, but from my understanding, she wouldn’t cheat on you.”

All Jack did was simply shrug.

“I’ll talk to her.”

“No. I blocked her and I don’t want anything else to do with her. I guess it was too good to be true.”

Five days had passed and Jack was going through it. He would scroll through his phone looking at different pictures of the two of you for hours along with your text thread. He missed you and didn’t want to admit it to himself. But one thing he didn’t tolerate and wasn’t going to tolerate was cheating.

Just then his phone rang and he saw it was Camila.

He debated on answering her, but he figured at this point, he didn’t have anything left to lose since he had already lost his girlfriend.

“Hello?”

“Umm, Jack? Hey, it’s Camila.”

“What’s going on?”

“I… I have to tell you something and I… I know you’re going to be very mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“After I finish telling you this, you’ll see why.”

“I’m listening.”

“Y/N never cheated on you. I admit that I was jealous of her and that night I went down to Blue Flame and took pictures of her, but I also photoshopped them and sent them to you. I’m sorry, I know I’ve been a terrible person and a terrible friend to her. I saw how happy you two were and I.. I don’t know.”

All Jack could see was red.

“Jack, please say something. I’m so sorry. I’m just trying to make this right.”

“What… what could I possibly say to that?”

“I don’t know, but she overheard me talking about it and she kicked me out of our apartment and told me that she never wanted to see me again.”

“As she should have.”

“I know that she probably won’t forgive me and I know you probably won’t either, but I just had to tell you. Once again, I’m sorry.”

“I have to go.” Jack said and hung up without another word.

The first thing he did was unblock your number.

Now, how was he going to get you to talk to him and hopefully forgive him for how he treated you and cut you off without a second thought?

He immediately sent a text to Urban.

Jack- You were right

Urban- About?

Jack- Camila

Urban- What did she do?!

Jack- Lie and say that Y/N cheated on me when she didn’t. She admitted it.

Urban-I TOLD YOU I DIDN’T LIKE HER!

Jack- Now I know she probably isn’t even going to want to talk to me

Urban- You never know until you try

Jack- Like how fucked up is that and she had the nerve to call herself her best friend? What kind of shit is that?

Urban- Let’s just hope Y/N gives you the time of day. I told you from the beginning that what Camila said didn’t sound right. 

Jack wanted to be able to see you in person so that the two of you could talk about this, but every time he hovered over your number to call you he hesitated. He had been back in Atlanta for a day and a half and it looked as if fate had been on his side that day.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Jack recognized that voice anywhere and realized he had bumped into you. 

“Oh, hi.” You said finally making eye contact with him.

“Um, hey. Can we talk?”

“I really have to go, I….”

“Please, Y/N. I owe you an apology.”

“Jack, it’s fine, I’m fine.”

“No you aren’t and no it isn’t. Even though we were only together for eight months, I know when you’re lying to me. Just let me buy you that mocha cappuccino you like. It is Wednesday after all and you told me that you always get it after you teach your class.”

“Okay.” You quietly said as Jack followed behind you to one of your favorite hole in the wall coffee shops. 

The two of you sat down in the back corner and Jack slid your drink towards you before saying anything.

“Camila called me and told me what she did.”

“Oh.”

“Y/N… I know I should have asked you but those pictures she sent me looked so real and I just didn’t know what to think. She also told me the two of you obviously weren’t friends anymore because of what she did. I was falling in love with you and that shit hurt for me to see.”

“I’m surprised she actually confessed and you were?!.”

“She said she felt bad thinking about all that you had done for her and wanted to make it right, I guess. And I definitely was.”

“She can try to make it right all she wants, but I want nothing to do with her.”

“And that’s fair. But I want to apologize for doing that to you and acting that way towards you.” Jack said while grabbing your hand and he was honestly surprised that you didn’t pull back from him. 

“It’s just when I really needed you, you weren’t there. And I… didn’t know what to do. I confided in Camila and she was behind the entire thing.” You responded and Jack could see the tears building up in your eyes that were threatening to fall. 

“I want to make this right if you let me, and we can start over. I lost you once and I’d like for it to not happen again.”

All you did was sigh and Jack immediately became nervous.

He knew for a fact deep down that you were his soulmate ever since the two of you locked eyes at his concert.

“If someone ever says something to you about me, can you just ask me from now on instead of assuming?”

“I promise and I should have done that the first time. I’m going to make it up to you if you give me the chance.”

“Please don’t make me regret this.”

“I promise you won’t.”

“Good because otherwise my nana is going to kick your ass once she gets out of rehab.” You said while cracking a small smile. 

“Wait, what?!”

“I can’t wait for you to meet her.”

“And now I’m nervous.”

“Don’t be, she wants to meet the man who stole my heart.”

“Then just maybe I’m a little excited. I also wanted to bring up one more thing.”

“What’s that?”

“You’re going to audition for Julliard and you’re going to get in.”

It was around six in the morning and the sunlight was slowly creeping into the floor length windows. Jack had been awake for a while and was simply taking in the sight next to him.

His wife and his first born.

She was nestled between the two of you sleeping comfortably and Jack reached down to place a kiss on her forehead.

This movement caused you to stir and when you opened your eyes, you saw Jack staring at you.

“Do you always stare at me when I’m sleeping?” You asked as you closed your eyes once again.

“Ehh more or less. Can’t help it if my wife is gorgeous.”

You opened your eyes again and looked down between the two of you to see that L.O. was awake and smiling looking up at the both of you.

“Leticia, your daddy is a creep.”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

All she did was laugh and she looked between both of her parents as Jack reached over to place a kiss on your forehead too.

He then placed Leticia on his chest and she immediately cuddled into him. You looked over to see that he was deep in thought and was wondering what was going on since he got quiet all of a sudden.

“What are you thinking about?” You curiously asked while sitting up against the headboard and running a hand through his curls.

“How I knew when I first laid eyes on you that you would be my wife.”

You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off you

You'd be like heaven to touch (Heaven to touch)

I wanna hold you so much (Hold you so much)

At long last, love has arrived

And I thank God I'm alive

You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off you

Taglist:

@harlowsbby

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@babyvinnie

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@chtkmyharlow​

@mortirolo

@itsyagirljaz

@neon-lights-and-glitter

[peenyas]

┊Special Brew .2

I was scrolling tags and got reminded about my lil au, Since I'm taking a course that's related to bartending I've a better understanding about the whole thing now, exciting(diluc pls be real)

✦ *˖ ° . ﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍

Content: Diluc x GN!reader, slowburn, fluff, cat calling once (drunk guest), you got a bartending job at angles share!

[Diluc's speech will be bold!]

✦ *˖ ° . ﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍﹍

[ pt.1 ]

.

.

Months into your work have gone by quite smoothly, work load is alright and being in charge at the front desk with charles had no problems. Even if there were a few problematic guests, he's usually the one to deal with them. One's thing for sure is that diluc seldom comes by the tavern, he's a busy man after all.

You'd still end up day dreaming about what happened on that particular night, analysing what had happened and giving yourself so many possible reasons, just to keep yourself amused during slow hours, though. The scene of how diluc just turned back so suddenly still plays through your mind like it happened yesterday... Your thoughts are interrupted by a whistle.

"your hand would look nice around something else than a wine bottle~, lady..."

You had to stop everything and take a deep breath, sighing while you try to compose yourself for the next interaction with this drunkard. It's not uncommon to get them here, wine is what the people of Mondstat stand by after all.

"it seems you're quite drunk sir, may I offer you to have some water?"

"w- WHAD DO YOU TAKE ME AS?? A LIGHT WEIGHH?!"

The unpredictability of these boozehounds is what scares you more, jumping up with the sudden outburst, and your patience is running thin. His hands frail over the counter trying to get a hold of you. A few steps back, you cannot argue with the guests, you wish you could break this rule right now, but your job would be on the line if so, how you wish charles were here so he could deal with this person instead.

"is there a problem sir?"

"hey get your hands off m-"

The voice that has been repeating in your head, the same red haired man who has been preoccupying your thoughts all this time. You take a sigh of relief, so glad you won't be dealing with the man anymore.

"I would advise you to take some fresh air instead of bothering the working staff."

Diluc did not let the man finish before pushing them out of the tavern, you look at all that in envy, how come he's allowed to do that? Diluc returns and subtly scans you and the area before speaking again

"He didn't cause you too much trouble right?"

"ah, no. But I i do thank you for dealing with him, boss!"

"... ..oh y-es, gladly"

Diluc quickly leaves and goes into the wine cellar. Just now, His gaze was fixed on you the whole time.. that's what you'd notice if you weren't staring at how red his ears were, was he upset about that man? How much has he heard? Now seeing where he went, leaving you to wonder more about him, why is master diluc so strange?

Work went on as usual from then on, closing hours nears while you clean up the counter table. Diluc has long left the cellar and is now in the kitchen, yet there are no food orders from the guests. Curious about what diluc is up to, the tavern is about to close anyways, it wouldn't hurt to check to see if he needs anything..

Right as you were about to turn and head towards the kitchen, diluc was suddenly right behind you, it was hard not to strumble backwards till he catches you.

"Archons I.. apologize, I should've said something earlier."

"it's fine! I should be watching where i go.."

It's that same pause like he did earlier, now you finally noticed how he looks at you, his red eyes somehow looks over you so fondly, does he always do that? A panicked cough while he helps you get onto your feet again, his hand was so warm around you, ears back to the shade you remember seeing.

"... right, I wanted to ask if you'd.. like to help me sample some new dishes I'll be putting up next month."

His voice was trailing off, getting more softer and quieter till he finished the question. His eyes weren't quite looking at you at all, darting from the glass on the cupboard to the dust on the floor. One thing that has caught your interest was the mention of food, personally prepared food by none other than master diluc, how could you refuse.

There weren't many, 4 small plates of new dishes that were made by diluc, and it smells amazing. You went away with sampling and pairing it with suitable drinks together,

"any thoughts?"

"amazing! It suits the cocktail special on our menu."

"I see.."

Checked, yep. Ears still flushed red, is he alright? What are the causes of red ears? Perhaps a cold. And yet your hand seems to instinctively reach over under his bangs, earning you a look from mister ragnvindr.

"I-.. what are y-"

"checking to see if you have a cold is all."

"how so..?"

"your ears are red."

His next reply was a little mumble, you didn't quite catch that. Diluc had no intention to remove your hand from his forehead, staring into the food was his only option. There was a nice warmth emanating from him, maybe because hes a pyro user. One thing for sure is that his face was starting to turn a faint red. Removing your hand was like stripping away his only comfort, diluc was sad for that fact, but he can only shake his head.

"See, I'm fine.. do you always go around touching people's foreheads?"

"That's- pure instinct, just wanted to check.."

"Might I remind you that I'm your boss."

That's where the realization sets in, panicked and embarrassed. Did you really do that now, with master diluc? Now rushing to leave, still bowing towards him and thanking for the food (and apologizing with what you did), not forgetting your compliments where you really fumbled with your words, and left in a hurry.

In the midst of that, all Diluc did was look at you and chuckled, where you didn't notice because you were busy trying to run from the situation. His hand went onto his forehead when you walked out the door, reminiscing where your palm once were. Should i walk them home again..?

(2/?)

.

.

Xtra notes: I'm not sure if anything changed or if y/n was acting the same as my last fic, should be ok. And I've been crying over dainsleif the past days so there were struggling. Also no art banner, I'm drawing for my anniversary with dainsleif

No update time frame, I write when i want and able to.

[iamnotawomanimagod]

Did you finish The Tortured Poet's Department? I'm not a swiftie but I'm seeing a lot of mixed reactions.

I did, finally.

There's parts I liked and parts I really disliked. This is going to be a criticism-heavy review, so please scroll on if you don't want me harshing your vibe

First and foremost: Taylor Swift is one of the most popular singer/songwriters of all time. She's "earned" the right to do whatever she wants (not that anyone should really have to do that.) And there is undue pressure on artists, especially female artists, to reinvent themselves every era and bring something totally new to the table. And it's totally fine that Taylor didn't want to play that game. Any of my criticisms aren't going to take away the fact that she's a literal billionaire, selling out huge stadium shows worldwide, and will go down in history for all the work she's already released and the incredibly passionate fanbase she's gathered.

And I think that confidence, while earned, is a huge core of the problem with this album.

Someone needed to say "no" to her. Someone needed to be like "hey, glad you got that out of your system, maybe it doesn't belong on this album though." I feel there is a good album in here, a cohesive and complete piece of work, but there's about 15 songs too many (spread across both sides of the double album.)

My top three complaints are this:

1 - Too long, too much (this includes the lyrics which I'll touch on in a minute)

2 - Doesn't feel like an "album" but a collection of songs

3 - Too reminiscent of aspects of her previous sounds but not in a good way

Too Long, Too Much

I am a pretty casual fan and was already feeling the Taylor Swift Fatigue before TTPD was even announced, so when I woke up to discover 15 more songs than there was the night before, my heart literally dropped and I just felt exhausted. That feeling carried over into my listening and I found myself making edits to her lyrics like "that line would've been more impactful if it ended there" or "that's a bad metaphor and an unnecessary addition."

Like, she needed an editor. She needed someone to go through and make the lyrics less long-winded, and she needed someone to strike about half the songs. I made it through the whole album but I definitely won't be listening that way ever again. That's in part because...

It Doesn't Feel Like An Album

Walk with me on this one. I will cede the point that not every album has to be a beautifully flowing body of work to be "good." I'm okay with an album that plays with a lot of different genres - I think Halsey's Manic is a great example of that working. And if I squint, I can see the overall "theme" Taylor was going for, even if it feels poorly realized. It's one big poetry reading where everyone is heartbroken and no one knows how to strike unnecessary lines lol. It's clearly meant to be indulgent and pretentious and a little cringeworthy. And if you're a huge Taylor Swift fan and/or a big fan of poetry you're probably having the time of your life right now.

But I truly believe you could have hit shuffle on TTPD and put the tracklist in a different order and it'd feel the same - because right now it feels confusing, disjointed, and a little haphazard.

And I have to admit, I vastly prefer an album that sounds best when played in order. Even Manic has a section that works best when listened to in a row, and it tells a cohesive story. A good, strong album should be able to do both - have great songs that stand alone while also being a complete work when you put them all together.

Cowboy Carter by Beyonce did an incredible job with this - none of those songs sound the same, she plays in all sorts of (primarily country influenced) genres, most of the songs are great to shuffle in a playlist - but they all also flow together so thoughtfully and in such a satisfying way. Each song was placed with intention and care, so when you reach "Amen" you feel like you just went on a journey with a complete beginning, middle and end.

I can't think of a single moment on TTPD where that happened, where I had any "aha! very clever" moment in the production or even the lyricism. It just doesn't feel like it goes together, except under the very loose heading of "poetry reading after heartbreak."

Which is fine, I guess? But that also loops back around to "too much" because at some point it was just like... girl, make your point. Were you trying to make a point?

And maybe she wasn't! But that feels lazy for someone of her prestige, and it definitely makes me like the album a whole lot less.

Sounds Too Similar to Past Works

One of the things that I adore about Halsey's work is that none of her albums sound the same. While you can definitely pick up on certain patterns, it's not usually possible to say "this song sounds like it should have been on [previous album.]" Every album has its own distinct sound, aesthetic, and theme.

Granted, Halsey has had four studio albums, Taylor has had eleven. I'm not asking Taylor to re-invent the wheel. (I'm actually not asking her to do anything at all lmao, just expressing my viewpoint.) At the same time, like....Beyonce has eight studio albums, thirteen if you count her work with Destiny's Child, has been in the game even longer than Taylor, and is STILL finding ways to challenge herself and make her music even better.

Anyway, there were SO many songs on this album where I thought "this could've been on Midnights/Lover/Reputation/Etc." It's starting to really feel like Taylor just keeps repeating herself, especially from a sound/production perspective.

I guess she primarily works with two producers, Jack Antonoff and Aaron Dessner, and I can mostly blame the former for the songs with production that I hate. It'd be cool to see her branch out and work with someone else for her next projects, though. After a nice long break. Because it doesn't feel like there's anything really fresh or novel coming from these pairings anymore.

And again, there doesn't have to be innovation. Taylor's done a lot of innovating in pop music (by standing on the shoulders of giants, but still.) Maybe she's done with that. That does mean that I'm kind of done with her though, lmao. (Somehow, I think she'll survive.)

I really didn't like Midnights. I think there are more songs I like on TTPD, but that's in part because there's 31 songs to choose from lmao. I just personally want something more interesting. I like it when the artists I follow really push themselves and rise to the challenge of finding new ways to express themselves.

This kind of brings me to my fourth big complaint, which is that this album feels like it's going to be the most rewarding to the people who are the most invested in Taylor's personal life. Taylor's always written really diaristic and true-to-life lyrics, but this album in particular felt like it was especially "designed" to be a sort of "figure out which guy THIS one is about" easter egg hunt and like. Yucky.

It probably wasn't actually designed that way, this is more of a fandom issue than a Taylor issue. But like..... is it? Doesn't she make more money, sell more tickets, and remain in the spotlight longer when people obsess about her love life? Doesn't this album invite that obsession by being about nothing BUT her past lovers? Some of my favorite songs by her are the ones that have absolutely nothing to do with love or her love life. I feel like this one really lacked any of those.

And on a petty, catty note - it's embarrassing how many of these songs appear to be about Matty Healy lmfao. Like he must be somethin' else to inspire not only these tracks but many of Halsey's songs on Badlands as well. Tattooed golden retriever, indeed.

AND AND.... the fact that she's still writing songs about Kim Kardashian in the year 2024 is insane. Making it as obvious as she did by capitalizing Kim's name in the title is embarrassing and juvenile. I'm not saying that Kim's part in that whole fiasco wasn't wrong, and I certainly don't like Kim, but goddamn. That shit went down in 2016. Please move on. (Unfortunately it's one of the songs I like, but we'll see how long that remains true every time I see the title and remember who it's about.)

Anyway. Those are my big complaints. Here's the songs I actually enjoyed:

Florida!!!, Who's Afraid of Little Old Me?, I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can), I Can Do It With a Broken Heart, The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived, The Black Dog, I Hate It Here, thanK you aIMee, The Prophecy, Cassandra, and The Bolter.

I don't know how many of these songs will actually stick with me, I think my top three are WAOLOM, ICDIWABH, and The Black Dog.

there are a handful of moments I really liked, some lyrics that I found really good and clever. I might write those up in a separate post at some point. but suffice to say, TTPD is not going to be my album of the year and might not even crack my top five.

Thanks for asking anon! Hope you enjoyed my overly long rant.

[king-paimon]

Houseki No Kuni Chapter 102 Thoughts: A Pleasant Surprise

Hello everyone! I hope April has been kind to you. I can’t believe that the month is already almost over. Time is still going by way too quickly. Maybe I feel that way because I’m “old.”

Anyways, I just finished reading chapter 102 and once again, I’m baffled by Ms. Haruko Ichikawa’s abilities to put more twists in her stories. Maybe it’s because I’ve gotten so used to anything good happening in this story ending with more heartache and tragedy, I was ready for that to happen once again because of how the last chapter ended.

Thankfully, it appears that didn’t happen this time. Though I’ll admit, I’m still skeptical.

I honestly (for real this time) don’t have much to add for this meta post, but I still want to share my thoughts. This was a nice chapter with a pleasant surprise in the forms of new members of Phos’s found family!

Spoilers below! And as always, feel free to share your thoughts! I love reading them.

Eye’s Real Identity Revealed

First thing I have to say: Great job to everyone who correctly guessed the identity of the eyeball! It’s Adamant’s long lost “brother!” 

And he’s a goofy little guy!

That was the biggest surprise for me. You’d think that the being that helped end humanity would have a dark personality and be thrilled at the thought of wiping out the little rocks because they are linked to humanity too. But no! He seems to be enjoying life. Neat! Their interactions with Phos and the little rocks was interesting, including how they described humans. I mean, after everything that happened, can’t say I blame them. 

I don’t have much else to say about them. Again, great job to everyone who was able to figure out who it is! I’m glad I was wrong with my old prediction. I wonder how their interaction with Phos will go in the following chapters. 

Speaking of interactions... let’s briefly talk about Phos’s last lines.

Phos’s Final Quest

I’m not surprised by Phos's request. Though it could have been nice for Phos to live out their existence amongst their growing found family of little sentient pebbles, goofy eyeball creatures, and other beings yet to be discovered. However, it’s been reiterated many times that for Phos, so long as they exist, they will suffer in some manner. And even though I think they were happy with the pebbles, Phos wants to truly be free from their existence. To completely erase it.  And I think that’s completely fine. Sure, it’s sad to think about, but it’s understandable and I’m here for it.

Besides... the last few chapters seem to indicate that Phos feels like they’ve done what they’ve needed to do in this new world. Maybe Phos’s finally established their true end goal. After beating to the tune of someone else’s drum and being driven by their own unquenchable desire for unrealized goals, Phos now has a goal that is truly theirs and theirs alone. And if that’s how Phos wants to end their story, I hope the goofy eyeball will be able to help them.

Inching Closer To The End

I don’t have any predictions at this point and I think I’ll be holding off making any prediction for a while. Like I said before, Ms. Ichikawa has a knack for taking the story in unpredictable directions. Whether these story twists translate to good story telling is still up for debate, but I’m saving my final judgement for the end of the story. With that being said...yeah. Though I’m not super invested in Houseki no Kuni as I was a few years ago, I’m excited and sad to see how this will end. Because it’s clearly coming to an end soon. How it’ll end? No clue.

We’ll have to wait and see. Until then! See you!

[sad-brunnettee]

Eddie x Mexican/Latina!reader where Eddie finally graduated and her family throws him a big graduation party.

This is so adorable!!!

Enjoy :)

Word count: 1,306

—-

It all started when Eddie called you one day after school. You were doing some homework that your college professors left you. Groaning you got up and we’re about to head down and pick up the phone. You stopped in your tracks when you heard your mom pick it up.

After a few seconds she told you to go for the phone . You were a bit annoyed at whoever decided to interrupt your concentration. You finally reached your mom who only held the phone towards you with a teasing smile.

It was then that you felt your change of attitude, you knew who it was just by the look on her face.

“Hello?” You spoke while walking as far as the cord would let you. It was your attempt of getting some privacy but you noticed that your mom lowered the volume of the music that was playing.

“I did it!” He screamed and you could hear the smile on his face.

You laughed at his enthusiasm thinking it had something to do with D&D.

“I’m graduating, I told you this would be my year.” After hearing that you couldn’t help but let out a happy scream while bouncing on your toes. You praised him, telling him how proud you were

Once you both hung up you ran to your mom to tell her the good news. Of course she had to make a few phone calls and let everyone know. Claiming your aunts and uncles should also get invited for the celebration.

There were still some days left for graduation but you still had some homework to finish. Running up to your room you did as much as you could in order to have some free time to help with the preparation. Not just that by you also wanted to spend some time with your boyfriend after the party.

Knowing that other families will also be buying graduation decorations you went with your mom to the store and bought napkins, hats, confetti and anything else that ensured you’d have the best to celebrate.

Your dad had also went to the store with some of your uncles with the promise of buying some non-alcoholic drink. Of course you and your mom knew this wouldn’t be possible. You chose some juices for the little ones, water bottles and sodas.

Next thing you know, it was graduation day. You would go with your siblings to the ceremony. While your mom and everyone else added some final touches to the food and decorations.

In order to get good seats you had to be there early. As you got there you noticed a couple of cars parked giving you plenty of choices to choose from. You walked inside followed by your siblings and sat near the front, you wanted to get the best view. Your mom made some posters and your brothers were holding them in their hands. Meanwhile, you had your Polaroid camera ready to start shooting pictures.

You made sure to save a seat for his uncle who had to step out in order to have a quick smoke.

As the graduates started marching you kept on looking for a certain boy. It was then that you saw him walking in front of some of his friends. He kept on looking around and you were sure he was looking for you as well.

“Eddie!” You screamed, trying to get your voice to be heard over the loud music.

He heard you nonetheless and looked at you with that smile that made you fall in love with him all over again.

You raised your camera up and he posed. Putting up a thumbs up while his other hand was pointing at his graduation cap. You were glad that at that moment they stopped moving in line, this allowed you take a clear picture with no blurs.

As they all took a seat you couldn’t help but notice that there weren’t that many graduates. Which made sense why graduation was so early.

Eddie’s uncle finally came back and you told him where Eddie was sitting.

The speech was just as boring as any other and it was hard to not doze off. Eddie must’ve noticed because whenever you caught his eyes he would make funny faces or mouth you something.

Finally they would call the names of the graduates and when it was Eddie’s turn you and your brothers cheered loudly. Once again you lifted up your Polaroid to take another picture.

As the rest of the students were called you sat down and tapped your foot on the beat up floor. Hoping that time would speed up.

“He’s really lucky to have you, I can see how much you love him. I’m glad you could make it.” His uncle spoke while looking forward. For a moment you thought you imagined it, he usually isn’t much of a talker compared to his nephew.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” And you meant it. You could’ve been doing who knows what and you’d still set it aside just so you could be here.

When the ceremony ended all students threw the graduation caps in the air but not Eddie. He ran to where you guys were to engulf you in a kiss. Of course you weren’t complaining but you were a bit embarrassed doing that in front of your siblings. They would never let you live that down.

“I’m hungry, can we go now?” Your younger brother pulled on your shirt. While still holding onto the poster he was forced to carry.

You turned to face Eddie “come on, let’s go to your party.”

Looking back to make sure nothing was left behind you walked out. You could hear his uncle, Wayne, giving Eddie a pat on the shoulder while congratulating him for his success.

You all got in your cars and drive to your house. It was now 5:00 and you were sure that almost everyone will be there already. You weren’t sure how many family members were invited but you were sure the party would last a long time.

Luckily, you managed to find a parking space near your house. Eddie and his uncle didn’t park too far behind you. As you all walked towards your house you walked hand in hand with Eddie forming small circles on his hand with your thumb.

The music was loud you were sure you’d go deaf but taking a look on Eddie’s face he seemed to be the happiest he’s ever been. You weren’t sure what his relationship was with his parents but something told you nobody has ever done something like this for him before.

The party was held in your backyard, balloons were everywhere, your aunts were all sitting on the same table gossiping and your dad and uncles were drinking beer. The music coming from your dad’s Sharp VZ-2500, seemed to be playing music only they wanted to hear.

It was then that your mom saw you guys walking in that she started cheering which caused everyone’s attention to turn to you. They all did the same as well and you heard some claps and whistles.

Letting go of his hand you also started clapping, Eddie’s eyes were looking everywhere just trying to take everything in. As he noticed that the cheering wasn’t going away he did a little bow which caused some laughter to erupt before everyone turned their attention back to what they were doing.

Your uncle was in charge of the food and decided on making carne asada, classic. Some of your aunts contributed by bringing: guacamole, pico de gallo and desserts.

To end the night, some of your tias took turns dancing with Eddie and teaching him new dance moves. Seems that his charm worked on everyone in your family, not just you.

[babygirl-diaz]

Samtember Day 09: Carnival | King of Mardi Gras

841 words | Rated G | @samsseptember

((I chose Carnival as the theme))

It was a warm summer night and Joaquin arrived at Sam’s apartment in a car he borrowed from his friend. He looked at himself in the rearview mirror, straightened his olive jacket, and ran his fingers through his hair to make sure that it looked good. After deciding that he looked enough, Joaquin went to the door and rang the doorbell. 

When Sam opened the door, Joaquin’s breath was almost knocked out of him. He wore a white button-up shirt and black slacks, and he was perfectly groomed, as always. Joaquin felt his heart racing. “Wow, you look beautiful,” he managed to say. 

“Thank you,” Sam replied as he stepped out of the apartment. ‘You don’t look too bad yourself,” he added cheekily. 

“Thanks,” Joaquin chuckled as he led Sam to his car. 

“I didn’t know you could drive?” Sam said as he got in. 

“I’m from Arizona, Sam. It’s kind of a requirement to drive out there,” Joaquin replied and pulled out of the street. “This is my friend’s car, by the way. I never really needed one here in New York.” 

“How are you liking New York and the civilian life, anyway?” Sam asked. 

“I miss home. I’m not gonna lie. But I’m glad you’re here.” Joaquin didn’t mean for it to sound as flirty as it did. But oh well, the damage was done. 

Sam just laughed at that. So that was a good sign. “So, ready for a fun evening?” He asked instead. 

“With you, I am always ready for an adventure,” Joaquin replied, blatantly flirting with Sam again. 

“You’re really laying it on thick, aren’t you?” Sam asked. 

“I am trying to.” Joaquin didn’t look over at him and kept on driving. 

Random small talk filled the rest of the trip upstate. When they finally got to the fair and parked, Joaquin was immediately by Sam’s side when he got out. There were bright lights everywhere, as it was after dusk. They first browsed the place before stopping near the games. Joaquin tried Ring Toss at first but was absolutely terrible at it. He then tried his hand at whack-a-mole and that’s where he excelled. He won a giant brown teddy bear, which he handed over to Sam. 

“Oh, no, no, no, I’m not carrying this thing around the fair,” he told Joaquin. 

Joaquin turned his sad big brown eyes at Sam, who sighed and took the teddy bear. “So manipulative,” he grumbled under his breath, but Joaquin heard it anyway. He followed Sam through the fair with a pep in his step. 

Once they got hungry, the two of them had funnel cake and cotton candy like a couple of kids. 

“Do you know how many carbs these things have?” Sam asked as he ate the funnel cake. 

“No, do you?” Joaquin asked. 

“No, but I don’t care right now because I am having the time of my life,” Sam replied and gave Joaquin a smile that brightened his whole evening. 

After they finished eating and walked around, Joaquin dared to take Sam’s hand, who didn’t protest, so that was another good sign. 

“You wanna go on the Ferris Wheel?” Joaquin asked once they were near the brightly lit giant wheel. 

“Sure, why not?” Sam shrugged and dragged Joaquin along to stand in the line. Once they got to the front, Joaquin let Sam ‌take a seat while he talked to the operator. 

“What was that about?” Sam asked once Joaquin got in. 

“Oh, I was just asking him how old this thing was because it doesn’t look very safe,” Joaquin replied. 

“Not afraid of heights now, are you, Joaquin?” Sam teased, bumping his shoulder against Joaquin’s. 

“No, of course not! I mean, if I was afraid of heights, then I would never wear the Falcon suit.” 

“I know, I know, I’m just joking,” Sam chuckled and leaned in to kiss Joaquin’s cheek. 

Joaquin’s entire face suddenly felt very warm, and he looked up at Sam, surprised. 

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” Sam told him. 

The Ferris Wheel soon started going around and Joaquin slowly moved the teddy bear Sam had placed between them to the side and scooted closer to Sam. If Sam noticed, then he said nothing.

Once they reached the top, the Ferris Wheel stopped. 

“Um, Sam?” Joaquin called out. 

“Yeah?” Sam asked, looking over at him.

Under the bright lights of the Ferris Wheel, Sam looked even more beautiful. “Can I- uh- can I kiss you?” 

Sam burst out laughing, dwindling Joaquin’s confidence a little. 

“You gave the operator money to stop up here, didn’t you?” He asked. 

“How did you-” 

“That’s a classic trick. I bet the operator makes tons of money on the side.”

Joaquin blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Yes, by the way.” 

Joaquin looked up when he heard that. “What?” 

“You can kiss me,” Sam said, leaning in. 

Joaquin closed the gap between them and finally kissed him. He could swear there were fireworks behind them or maybe they were just in his heart.