#this brought to you by the fact that I find

[wheres-mylove]

ice-cold revelations - modern!cregan stark x fem!velaryon!reader

Summary: You are in a risky secret relationship with your brother's best friend. What happens when Cregan's unexpected injury exposes your feelings? Well, isn't there somebody you forgot to ask?

Disclaimer: English isn't my first language!

Word count: 2.8k

The wind tore through the streets with a biting ferocity, tugging at (Y/N)’s skirt and making her instantly regret both her outfit choice and this entire trip to the bus stop.

“Stupid winter has to be coming,” she muttered, yanking a colorful scarf up to cover her nose. Her phone chimed in her pocket, vibrating with the familiar sound of a new message. She fumbled with one hand to pull it out, her fingers stiff from the cold.

🐺: jace wouldn’t stop bugging me about that earring under my bed

🐺: i convinced him sara must’ve left it when she crashed at our place lmao

(Y/N) raised her eyebrows, her breath fogging the air as she sighed. The last thing she needed was her brother playing the part of a suspicious rom-com wife, finding random jewelry in odd places and jumping to conclusions. At least he hadn’t figured out where he’d seen that earring before.

Jacaerys Velaryon, as much as she adored him, had a habit of being a little too protective. He was always there when she needed him. But he was also the kind of brother who, despite being only a few minutes older, seemed to think that fact gave him full control over her dating life. Any guy who so much as glanced her way was either a potential threat or one of his friends. And friends were off-limits. Too much drama, he’d say. Too awkward if things went south. Even more awkward if things somehow worked out. Conflict of interest. Absolutely not.

Which was precisely why, in the grand scheme of things, the most logical solution was for her to start dating his best friend and his hockey team captain, Cregan Stark.

Cregan was wonderful. The kind of guy who would do anything for her, no questions asked. That's what had brought them to where they were now. Hiding their relationship from her dramatic brother and quite literally gaslighting him.

Did she feel guilty? Absolutely. Did she know it would be a hundred times worse if Jace found out? Also yes.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a bus speeding past the stop, tires screeching as it flew by. Her bus. Of course.

With impressive force, she pressed the green phone icon.

“Hey, sweetheart. What’s up?” Cregan answered in three seconds. Her irritation melted a little at the sound of his deep voice. Down bad.

“Hey, did you guys finish practice?”

“Yeah, just now, I couldn’t cut the boys any slack before tomorrow.”

“Any chance the strict captain could give me a ride home? I missed the bus. Or more like the bus missed me.”

“You’re kidding,” Cregan said, sympathy already thick in his voice. “Of course I’ll come get you.” He paused for a beat, then cleared his throat. “Only thing is… Jace wanted a ride too.”

“The gods are punishing me today,” she groaned.

“Call him. It'll be the same ride. Just, you know, he'll think it was his idea,” Cregan suggested.

“Are we bad people, Cregan?” she asked, half-serious now.

“Nah. He’ll find out eventually, just better if I’m in full hockey gear when it happens.”

“Fair enough,” she said, the corner of her mouth lifting in a smile. “Thanks. Love you. Bye.”

She hung up and immediately dialed her brother, requesting the same exact thing.

“Sure, you owe me one though,” he said cheerfully. “I don’t have my car today, so we’ll have to go with Stark. Is that a problem?”

“Nope.” No, her boyfriend wouldn’t be a problem.

(Y/N) Velaryon paced back and forth under the shelter of the bus stop, her boots crunching against the thin layer of frost that had already formed on the pavement. She rubbed her arms, trying to keep the cold at bay, when the familiar growl of a black Jeep Wrangler cut through the quiet. It rolled to a stop near the curb.

She jogged toward the car, her breath puffing out in small clouds, as the driver’s window slid down.

“Your chariot awaits, princess,” Cregan announced with a mock flourish.

“More like a toad,” Jace quipped from the passenger seat, his grin unmistakable.

“One more word and you’ll get my bag to the head. I’ve got half my textbooks in there,” she threatened playfully as she slid into the backseat.

The backseat of this car had witnessed many events, and that was the first thought that crossed her mind. One look at Cregan in the side mirror, and she knew he was thinking the same.

She pretended to be very engrossed in buckling her seatbelt.

“How was practice?” she asked out of politeness.

“Not bad. Stark was all business today, but it was necessary. Big day tomorrow,” Jace replied, fiddling with the radio. Cregan slapped his hand away as he slowed down for a red light.

“Great,” the girl muttered, not trusting her tongue around the two of them together.

An awkward silence fell, broken only by some random song. How long can a red light last?

“So, (Y/N),” Cregan began, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. His voice wavered, but Jace was in his own world, watching pedestrians crossing the street. “How’s it going? How was your day?”

“Pretty good,” she replied, playing with the hem of her skirt. “Though the classes dragged on.”

The devil on her shoulder won an uneven fight with the weak angel. She smirked.

“‘M absolutely knackered.”

Cregan inhaled slowly through his nose.

“Dude, it’s green,” Jace informed him, just before the car behind them honked.

“I can see,” Cregan reassured him, finally moving forward. “I’ll need your sister’s address since I’ve never been there before.”

If Jace had one more brain cell, he wouldn’t be so easily fooled.

“Sure thing,” her brother agreed, typing the info into the GPS on his phone. “Hey, kid, are you coming to the game tomorrow?”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?” (Y/N) asked angrily, kicking his seat. “Baela’s taking me.”

“You know what I think?” Jace started, spreading his arms dramatically. “A girlfriend in the stands is such a power boost. Such a boost… I never play as well as when Baela supports me from the bleachers.”

“You never play well,” His sister muttered under her breath, but her brother was currently listening only to himself.

“Cregan wouldn’t get it,” He patted Cregan on the shoulder in the meantime. “If you combined your skills with that support, if you brought a girl, trust me, your performance would be a hundred times better.”

“Talented people don’t need superstitions to play well, Jace,” (Y/N) chimed in, leaning forward. “Besides, Cregan is single.”

“Because he’s too serious and broody, girls don’t like that,” her brother declared in a know-it-all voice. She gave him a side-eye. “He is afraid of women.”

“Are you afraid of women, Stark?” she asked seriously, barely holding back laughter.

Cregan shot her a look in the mirror, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Terrified,” he deadpanned. “That’s why I’m thinking maybe your sister should be my good luck charm tomorrow. Just as a friend, of course.”

“Eh, it’s not the same,” Jace protested, scrunching his face.

“Don’t you believe in the power of friendship?” the driver asked with full seriousness.

“Can I get a jersey with your number?” (Y/N) batted her lashes playfully at her boyfriend.

A jersey with his number was already hanging in her closet.

“Alright, you’ll see, you need deeper feelings for it to work, otherwise it just won’t…”

Jacaerys continued his monologue all the way to her apartment. The girl sighed with relief once she was back in her room, the familiarity of it a welcome escape from the tension.

Two new messages.

🐺: you looked so pretty today

🐺: but next time wear a damn coat, or you’ll catch a cold!!!

The fluorescent light above (Y/N)’s head flickered ominously, casting creepy shadows across the cramped janitor’s closet. She swore that if the bulb died completely, she'd either pee her pants or spiral into a full-blown claustrophobic meltdown. Leaning back against the wall, she tried to focus on the neatly arranged rows of brooms and mops. Soon, the door creaked open, revealing Cregan in all his glory.

Full hockey gear? Check. Helmet? Tucked under his arm. That goofy, ridiculous smile? Definitely check.

“You look so good,” she admitted, grabby hands already in the air. “Come here.”

Cregan shut the door behind him with a soft click, casting a glance at the flickering light overhead. He sighed, took one of her hands, and kissed her wrist softly. 

“We have to tell your brother,” Stark said, his voice serious as he placed his helmet on the wooden shelf beside them. “It’s not right that my girl has to sneak me a good-luck kiss in a smelly closet. You should be able to strut right into the locker room.”

His girl grinned. “You’ve got your gear on,” she pointed out. “We can tell him after the game. Besides, Baela’s softening him up for us. I asked her to.”

Baela Targaryen was known for sniffing out secrets, and the second she spotted (Y/N) wearing Cregan’s jersey before the game, she didn’t even need to ask. Her knowing look said it all, and within minutes, Velaryon girl spilled the truth, enduring Baela’s delighted squeal that had probably echoed for miles.

“I knew you had high standards, girl. Going straight for the captain!” Baela teased, laughing. “Jace obviously doesn’t know? He hasn’t said anything... and Stark’s still breathing.”

Thankfully, Baela had been more than willing to help, distracting Jace so Cregan could sneak away after the pre-game pep talk. Now, Cregan was looking at (Y/N) with pride, his eyes lingering on the jersey she wore. 

“She’s a real one for that,” he mused. “But seriously, we have to tell him. I want a picture of us on my lock screen, and that asshole keeps looking over my shoulder.”

She laughed, pulling him closer and kissing him hard, savoring the way his rough stubble tickled her skin.

“For now,” she murmured against his lips, “just focus on the game. You’re incredible. An amazing captain. And it’s going to go great. I believe in you.”

Cregan grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Maybe one more kiss. Just to make sure we win.”

“The power of having a girl in the stands,” she teased, poking his chest playfully.

“Jace definitely exaggerated that theory,” Cregan admitted with a chuckle. “But honestly... I’m just glad you’re here.”

With butterflies in her stomach and a grin she couldn’t wipe off her face, (Y/N) found herself in the stands minutes later, sitting next to Baela. Her friend was watching the silent exchange of glances between her and Cregan with thinly veiled amusement.

“I always knew Jace was blind, but this is just tragic,” Baela remarked, elbowing her in the ribs. Jace, oblivious as ever, waved enthusiastically from the rink. Both girls waved back, cheering with the crowd.

“You’ll boo with me when the Dornish Spears come out, right?” (Y/N) asked.

Baela gave her a mock-serious look. “Technically, we shouldn’t. Obviously, I will,” she promised. 

The game was fast, brutal, and nearly deadlocked until the very end. (Y/N) had never yelled so much in her life, though her shouts were lost in the deafening roar of the crowd. Cregan played like a man possessed, commanding the ice with his usual grace. At least twenty times during the match, she found herself holding her breath, her heart leaping into her throat with every risky play. But she knew he had it under control. He always did.

Of course they won.

The victory rippled through the stands like a wave, and (Y/N) screamed herself hoarse as the crowd erupted around her. Cregan pulled off his helmet, his eyes scanning the stands until he found her. His smile—tired and breathtaking—was for her, and her alone. She didn’t regret the ringing in her ears or the scratch in her throat for a second. Moments later, he was swept up in a sea of celebrating teammates.

“Girl, are you crying?” Baela asked, pulling her into a hug.

“I don’t know,” She sniffled. “I’m just emotional. I just like that boy so fucking much, Bae.”

“I know, honey. Come on, they’re heading off the ice. Let’s congratulate them, and then have a crazy party or something. No time for tears.”

Cregan was one of the last players to leave the ice, trailing just behind Jace. But before he could step off, the captain of the opposing team, his face twisted with anger, skated up to him. For a moment, it looked like they might talk it out. But then, it all happened too fast.

The player from Dorne shoved Cregan hard against the wall. Stark, ever the calm one, simply raised his hands in a peaceful gesture.

And then he took a fist to the face. The sickening sound of bone cracking echoed across the rink.

“What the hell is going on? Jace!” Baela shouted, holding her friend back as she tried to rush forward.

Jace jumped back onto the ice, but by the time he got there, the other team had pulled their enraged captain away. Cregan stumbled off the ice just as (Y/N) reached him.

“Are you okay? Oh gods, let me see,” she fretted, her hands hovering near his face.

“What a fucking jerk!” Jace nearly screamed, skidding to a stop by the exit. “I called for help, they’ll be here in a second.”

(Y/N) carefully moved Cregan’s hand away, revealing the damage. His face was a swollen mess, his nose clearly broken.

“Do you think they’ll make me lie face-down on the ice?” Cregan joked weakly, leaning on her for support.

“Does it hurt a lot? Maybe you should sit down. Oh shit, I can’t believe—”

“Hey, sweetheart. Calm down,” Cregan murmured, his voice soothing despite the pain. “It hurts like hell, but I’ll live.”

Just then, the medic arrived, momentarily distracting Jace. But despite the chaos, he had clearly heard what Cregan just said. For a moment, Jace stood there, his face pale as the words and the image before him sank in.

“Sweetheart?” he echoed softly, but no one paid him any attention.

“Jace, maybe now’s not the time,” Baela said gently, stepping up beside him.

“I feel physically sick,” Jace muttered, staggering to the railing for support.

The medic handed Cregan an ice pack. “Hold this to your face for a bit. I’ll get you something for the pain right away, but a doctor’s gonna have to set that nose.”

Cregan winced but smiled through it. “You might wanna check on my friend first,” he said, gesturing toward Jace. “I can wait. He looks like he’s about to pass out.”

Jace did, in fact, end up passing out.

Cregan had to take a break from sports after that little adventure. He’d recovered, but now sported a slightly crooked nose—something his girlfriend found oddly hot.

(Y/N) saw his temporary recovery as the perfect chance to manipulate him into watching Teen Wolf with her every evening. After all, the title worked in her favor.

They were nestled on the couch, wrapped together in a soft gray blanket. It was their first time lounging in the living room of the apartment Cregan shared with her brother, rather than hiding behind the securely locked door of his bedroom. 

It would be perfect, really. If it weren’t for Jace’s constant, deliberate trips to the kitchen and bathroom, each one an obvious reminder that he was keeping an eye on them.

“Dear Jacaerys,” (Y/N) said, her patience wearing thin, “you do know we don’t need a chaperone, right?”

Jace barely paused, shooting her a sidelong glance before muttering, “You need someone to knock the stupid ideas out of your heads,” as he slammed the bathroom door.

Cregan chuckled softly, pulling her closer. “Give him some time,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. “To be honest, I thought it would be worse. He’ll come around eventually.”

They’d already gone through several long, tension-filled conversations, with Baela stepping in as the voice of reason when things got too heated. They were careful now, avoiding anything that might provoke Jace further.

But Cregan was right—Jace was slowly coming around, even if he was still stubborn. The days of silent treatment had finally passed.

“This is on us for hiding things from him,” (Y/N) sighed, watching her brother embark on yet another purposeful long journey to the kitchen. “No more secrets now.”

“Your brother’s just looking out for you,” Cregan called out, raising his voice slightly so Jace could hear. “He doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you, and I respect that. I don’t know anyone else who cares like he does.”

Jace stopped, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, eyes narrowed. His lips curved into a sweet, mischievous grin.

“Yeah,” he began, drawing out the word. “So tell me sister, when are you introducing him to Mom?”

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Afterlife, But It's A Bar

[discontinued, feel free to add on]

It was weird. Not wrong, alarming or dangerous type of weird. Not good or comforting either.

Just plain weird.

It all started a few days ago, on Wednesday, to be exact. On a rare occasion, Jason was patrolling outside of his territory ("cover for me, I have a date" my ass, Replacement), and he spotted something out of place. A neon green, almost toxic colored sign that read "Afterlife".

Honestly, who names a place like that? But judging by the placement and design, it was a bar, and Jason could almost appreciate the irony. Maybe it had a slogan along the lines of "our drinks will send you beyond the lines of life and death" or something. But at the same time, it could be interpreted as "alcohol can and will be the death of you," which, technically, is not the best PR campaign for a bar.

Jason decided to visit the place anyway. He was curious about the implied death joke, sue him.

Of course, he didn't visit immediately. He was still on patrol, and he just heard the sound of gunshots to the west. Not to say that the place was quiet.

(Oddly quiet for a bar in Gotham, now that he thinks about it)

Anyway, the next day, he went there not as Red Hood but as Jason Todd, an ordinary civilian who decided to grab a beer in the evening. Only to not find the place.

He couldn't have just miss it - he remembered the street, he knew the building, he was absolutely fucking sure where the "Afterlife" should have been. He searched the whole block nonetheless, and then proceeded to check the whole area, but to no avail.

Damn, it seems like he can't get to the afterlife both literally and- the other literally. Yeah, he might be having too much fun with the oddly chosen name for the nonexistent bar.

It didn't exist on the maps and internet either. At this point, Jason was contemplating the idea of it being a hallucination or a dream. He even checked the recording on his helmet from Wednesday night, but the whole time he was in the area, the video was filled with interference and static.

Weird. Slightly suspicious, but Red Robin, who's been patrolling the same area for weeks before him, never reported any interferences, so it probably had something to do with his helmet and not the area in general.

On Thursday night, he purposefully went there right after patrol. And the nonexistent bar suddenly existed again! The same neon green sign, the same quiet street around it.

Seriously, what is this mysterious fuckery?

Now, if he was a Bat, he would have reported this to others and investigated, lurked around in shadows, and approached with caution. If he was a Robin, he would have still reported and then straight up marched in there and saw how it goes.

Alas, he was Red Hood, so he decided to watch for the bar guests and see just who the hell goes in and out of the place.

And there was the next weird thing.

No one was going in or out. Jason sat there for a whole hour, and not even one person entered or left the building. Despite the muffled sounds of music, voices and laughter coming from the place.

The final kicker was the fact that after some careful questioning and dropping hints, Jason found out that no one except him ever saw the "Afterlife"'s sign. No one's even heard of it, both the Batclan and the Gothamites.

The fuck?

So he did the next logical thing. He brought the smartest member of the Bats with him. Tim owed him anyway. Might as well use it now instead of later.

Friday night proved two things: one, Tim was still his favorite to work with out of all the bats and birds, not questioning anything as to why Jason is asking him to check out a bar, and two, Jason just might be going insane.

Tim couldn't see the "Afterlife" even when Jason pointed at the sign from not further than ten feet. The irony of the stipid name was not even amusing anymore.

Tim didn't ask any questions after this experiment, and Jason didn't want to admit that he is losing the grip of reality, so they ended up simply parting their ways after. Can the Pits cause brain damage? More damage than there was in the first place, that is.

Now that he thinks about it, the color of the sign is really similar to the Lazarus waters. He should have noticed it sooner, but in his defense, who would look at the bubbling pool of toxic waters and think, "Oh, that would make a dope neon sign"? Apparently, the owner of the "Afterlife".

The color might be just a coincidence.

...no, in the world he lives in, coincidences like this just don't happen. Besides, Jason doesn't believe in shit like fate or destiny.

So, here he is, on Saturday night, standing in front of the door to the Afterlife. It would have been funny if it wasn't so weird. What's even more weird is that the closer he gets to the door, the less nervous he feels, like the place is radiating some calming aura. Wait, no, scratch that, Jason is so not calling it a calming aura for God's sake. That sounds just like those homemade witches with their crystals, tarot readings, and whatnot.

He's going to call it... tranquilizer vibes. Yeah, that's better.

He takes a deep breath, getting ready to see whatever it is on the other side, pushes the door open, and walks into the bar.

...

Whatever he's been expecting to see, it's not this.

[thelostconsultant]

Cheerleader

pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

summary: Charles has a cheerleader, and temporary admin Ollie is ready to post about it.

“You just let him do that?” you asked your boyfriend as the two of you were sitting on chairs you had brought closer to the main entrance of the Ferrari motorhome.

You picked that place because you wanted to keep an eye on one of his adopted sons who was having fun with Kimi in the pouring rain without a jacket, an umbrella, or at least a baseball cap that you tried to put on his head before he left. On your side Charles shrugged. “I’ll convince him to get in bed and drink a lot of tea when we get back to the hotel. He’s a good kid, he’ll listen to me,” he said, although his doubts seeped through the cracks on his chill mask.

With a hum, you nodded, then returned your attention to your phone. “Have you seen his tweet from his brief admin era?” When he shook his head, you showed him the tweet that you found hilarious, especially because he was referring to the latest Lollipopman video. “Do you know who he was writing about?”

Fun fact: @Charles_Leclerc does have a cheerleader, it’s just not who you think - OB

Charles looked at you with a smile, then even reached out to take your hand. “You, obviously,” he said lovingly.

“Try again,” you told him with a laugh, and his smile disappeared as it was replaced by genuine confusion. “Well, I do talk to our son, so it wasn’t that hard to find out. Then I asked him if I was right, and guess what? I was!”

For a few seconds he was watching you in silence, the gears in his head turning while he thought about this. “Oh.”

“Oh.”

“I told you he’s a good kid. Loves his dad,” he noted before taking a sip of his coffee. 

Letting out a thoughtful hum, you looked back at Ollie. “He sure does,” you confirmed. “Shouldn’t we… I don’t know, ask him to come inside to dry up a bit?”

“I’ll go, you stay here and look out for my coffee, please.”

[mapis-putellas]

[ᴄᴏꜰꜰᴇᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʟᴇᴀᴛꜱ ]

Summary: You never intended to meet the love of your life on a random Friday at work, and you definitely never thought she’d be world famous footballer Alexia Putellas.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑

Your date with Alexia ends up lasting the entire day. After getting ice cream -the second activity Alexia had planned- you'd ended up taking a small road trip to the nearest beach just a few miles away. Due to the time of day it was still relatively crowded, but you'd managed to find a small unoccupied area near the water where Alexia had promptly laid out the hoodie she'd brought from the car for you to sit on.

She'd sat herself opposite, cross legged, just like you, with her knees flush against your own. It was kind of perfect honestly, just sitting with her talking about anything and everything. She even teaches you a few more Spanish words, high-fiving you and intertwining her hands with your own whenever you got something right.

Had it been just an excuse to touch you? Maybe? But you certainly hadn't minded.

You'd then spent at least an hour walking hand in hand down the shoreline, comfortable conversation still flowing smoothly between you. It was only when the sun had started to set did you make the joint decision to call it a day, the car ride back feeling a lot quicker than the initial journey there. She'd pulled up outside of your apartment just as the clock strikes nine pm, leaving the car running as she unbuckles her seatbelt and steps out. You watch her round the vehicle before reaching to your open door, not hesitating to take the hand she offers you and allowing her to help you out of the car.

You'd stared at one another for a few moments before you had step forward to loop your arms around her shoulders, pulling her into a tight hug, Alexia responding almost immediately by securing her arms around your waist and lifting you slightly off of your feet.

You cup the back of her head, effectively bringing her with you when she sets you back down and pressing your lips softly against her own. A few murmured assurances about a second date had briefly filled the silence, and then you'd both bid one another a rather reluctant goodbye, you waving her off from your place on the sidewalk.

You had entered your apartment feeling both ecstatic and sad. Ecstatic because this was officially the best date you'd ever been on and sad because it was over. That continues as you get ready for bed, but a text from Alexia sweetly bidding you a good night immediately cheers you up.

Throughout the remainder of the week, you and Alexia text pretty frequently. It's mostly in the evenings when she was free and the conversation was mostly pretty friendly with the occasional i hope to see you soon thrown in. It bums you a little that nothing had been brought up about a second date; especially when you'd asked her to let you know when she was free so you didn't plan something when she was busy. But it could simply be the fact that she had no free time and was waiting for a day to be available. That's what you've been telling yourself anyway, so not to drive yourself insane with the what ifs.

About three days after your first date is when she FaceTimes you for the first time. It was a little after eight at night, so you were in the bathroom getting ready for bed when your phone buzzes softly against the counter. You pick it up, blinking a little in surprise when you see the name on your screen but not hesitating to press accept.

"Hey." You smile, propping her up against the back of the sink as you continue wiping off your makeup.

She was in her car, you think, though it didn't seem as though she was driving. It was slightly dark, but you could make out the fact that she was wearing the same football kit she'd been wearing the day you'd met. Man, she really liked football huh?

"Hola, amor." She greets, reclining her seat back slightly so she could get more comfortable. She props her elbow up on the door, resting her head in her hand. "How has your day been?" She wonders.

You shrug slightly as you wet your face before uncapping your face wash, pouring some out onto your hand and rubbing it onto your skin. "It's been alright," you shrug. "work was long but productive. I ate some dinner and read my book and now I'm getting ready for bed. How was your day?" You quickly rinse off your face before drying it off with a clean towel.

Alexia sighs softly. "My day was good, gracias, amor." She offers you a tentative smile, one you don't hesitate to return. You bend down a little, resting your elbows against the counter and resting your face in your hands. Alexia tilts her head to the side, looking inquisitive as you stare at her.

"What is it?" She whispers after a few silent moments, and you sigh softly as you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"Is it weird to say that I missed you?" You admit a little more bashfully than you would have liked, your cheeks flushing a light shade of red.

Alexia's features soften as she holds her phone a little closer to her face. "No," she shakes her head. "It is not weird. I missed you too. I have been trying to find a free day for our second date but I have been..."

"Busy," you nod, letting out a soft sigh as you pick up your moisturiser. "I know, I understand. I just wanted to tell you."

She nods. "Actually, I call because I have a question...for you."

"Ask away." You assure.

"I have training tomorrow, and I want to ask if...you could, wanted, to go with me?"

"Football training?" You ask, turning off the bathroom light and making your way into your bedroom.

"Sí." Alexia nods.

"You want me to go with you to training?"

"Yes. If you want to. Of course you do not have to, it will be boring, just sitting in the stands but..."

"I'll never turn down an opportunity to see you Alexia. Of course I'll come with you." You were quick to say as you settle against her headboard of your bed, propping your phone up with a pillow in front of you. "Just know I have no idea how any of it works." You warn somewhat seriously.

Alexia laughs. "That is okay. I will explain it to you." She assures.

"You will, huh?" You grin, reaching back to pull your hair back into a ponytail. Your tank top slips up your body at the action, slightly exposing your torso, and you pretend you don't notice the way her eyes not so subtly flicker down to get a look. She clears her throat softly just a few seconds later, a sheepish smile slipping onto her lips when she realises you'd caught her in the act.

"Promesa." She says after a few seconds, and you hum softly as lean back against the headboard of your bed.

"Wait," you abruptly sit back up. "does training count as a second date?"

"Uhhh..." she sends you a guilty smile.

"Alexia! I was supposed to plan the second date!"

*

It was only when Alexia pulls up outside of a large looking stadium the next day do you realise that maybe this whole football thing was a lot more serious than she'd been letting on.

You look around as you exit the car, seeing many others in matching football kits as Alexia grabs a large duffel bag out of the trunk. Some look right at to with a look of confusion on their faces, making you wonder if Alexia really had permission to bring you here after all.

You turn, ready to question her, but Alexia subtly shakes her head as she gestures you towards the entrance of the stadium. Though your confusion deepens, you comply and follow her inside, your eyes widening when you take note of people with cameras and phones filming everyone who passes as Alexia grasps your hand and pulls you out of the way of everyone.

"Alexia, what's going on? You said this was football training-"

"Sí," she cuts you off, squeezing your hand. "It is football training. I...I play for Barça."

"I-okay? I don't know what that means. Why are there people taking pictures? Why are there cameras?" You whisper the last part, not wanting anyone to overhear.

Alexia sighs lightly. "Vale. I...I am Alexia Putellas."

You raise an eyebrow as you lean back against the wall, shoving your hands into your pockets. "I know your name, dummy."

"No," she shakes her head. "I do not know how to explain in English. I do not know the right words. You have your phone, sí?"

You nod, your eyebrows furrowing.

She swallows heavily as she gestures for you to pull it out, and you comply. "Google my name. That will explain and I will answer the questions you have."

"I am so confused." You mutter, unlocking your phone and typing Alexia's name into google. Your eyes widen in disbelief at the results that greet you, lips parting in silent surprise as your body becomes entirely still. You blink rapidly, trying to clear the fog of bewilderment that had clouded your vision.

Alexia Putellas didn't just like football like you had assumed. She was a famous footballer.

You jump reflexively when you feel her hand gently come to rest on your arm, wincing a little when Alexia rips her hand away a though she'd been scolded.

"I..." you have absolutely no idea what to say.

"I know," Alexia murmurs. "I am sorry, I should have-"

You shake your head, holding a hand up to stop her from talking. She complies, but grows more antsy the longer you remain silent. You swallow heavily as you lock your phone, stuffing it back onto your pocket with a little more force than was maybe necessary.

"You're...famous. You're a famous footballer and you didn't think to tell me before bringing me here?" You didn't sound mad, just...confused, and maybe a little hurt too.

Alexia adjusts her kitbag on her shoulder before softly clearing her throat. "I wanted to," she promises. "but, I did not know how to say it. So I thought-"

"That bringing me here would tell me for you." You cut in, and Alexia visibly winces.

"Sí." She murmurs. "I am sorry."

You sigh lightly. "It's okay. I have...more questions, but you apparently have training and I don't want you to be late."

Alexia nods. "Are you still..."

You nod. "I'll still watch." You say, smiling a little at the breath of relief that slips from Alexia's lips as she tentatively holds out her hand. You take it, feeling the way she squeezes tightly as she leads you outside and towards the stands.

She offers you any of the seats, and you decide on one that was close enough to be able to see what was going on but far enough away where you wouldn't be too easily noticed. The last thing you wanted, or needed, right now, was questions. Questions you had no idea how to answer. You sit down with your bag on the seat next to you, expecting Alexia to head off to training but blinking in surprise when instead she crouches down before you and rests her hands on your knees.

"I am sorry, again," she murmurs, still evidently feeling bad. "I did lot mean to lie to you. I was just-"

"I know," you assure. "Like I said I'm not mad at you. Just confused. But you'll explain everything to me later, right?"

"Sí. Yes. Promesa," Alexia nods, "but I still-"

"Ale." You gently cup her cheeks, trailing the pads of your thumbs over the warm skin. Brown eyes flicker up and meet your own, lips quirking up into a hesitant smile. "we've only known each other a week. Been on one date. It's a big thing, telling someone this. I understand, truly."

Alexia shifts softly as she leans into your touch. "But you seemed upset," she whispers. "You jump when I touch you." 

"Because I wasn't expecting it," you admit with a soft smile. "I didn't flinch because I was upset. I flinched because it genuinely made me jump."

"Oh," Alexia mumbles, "vale. That is good then. I-"

"Alexia!" Someone calls her name.

You both turn your heads, spotting Mapi's familiar face staring right back at you. You wave, genuinely happy to see her again and Mapi grins widely as she returns it before she once again gestures for Alexia to come over.

Alexia nods in acknowledgment before turning back to face you. "I have to go now, you have food yes? And drinks?"

"Sí." You nod, taking the hands on your knees and giving them a soft squeeze. "I have entertainment too. I have a book, my iPad. I'll be fine. Go do what you gotta do."

Alexia nods, leaning forward to kiss your cheek before standing up. She goes to walk away before abruptly stopping and unzipping her bag before rummaging through it, turning back to face you just a few seconds late with a hoodie in her grasp.

You shake your head softly. "Ale, it's hot. I don't nee-”

"Just in case, amor," She folds it up before placing it on your lap. "I do not want you to get cold."

You know full well you wouldn't get cold, but the thought of Alexia worrying that you would and offering you her hoodie fills your stomach with butterflies.

"Okay," you accept. "Thank you."

Alexia nods, sending you one last smile before hurrying down to the large field. She was immediately greeted with Mapi's knowing smile, Alexia rolling her eyes playfully as the rest of her teammates approach her. Someone says something promoting every single pair of eyes down there to meet your own, and you stare wide eyed for a second before bravely bringing your hand up for a cautious wave.

Some wave back. Some smile. One in particular; a brunette with her hair tied back into a ponytail slips away from the group, a wide grin on her face as she makes her way towards you. You wince internally when neither Alexia or Mapi seem to notice, hoping to god your terror wasn't noticeable as she makes it to the seat next to you and sits down.

"Hola," the brunette grins. "Soy Aitana. Eres la novia de Alexia?"

You stare at her blankly.

She frowns. "No hablas español?"

You somehow manage to understand this and promptly shake your head.

"Ahh," she nods before pointing to herself. "I am Aitana." She says slowly, accent thick, before pointing to you. "You are?"

"I'm Y/n."

"Ahh. And you are Alexia's girlfriend, sí?"

"Aitana! Vuelve aquí!" A voice you don't recognise calls out, but Aitana ignores it as she looks at you expectantly.

You swallow heavily before shaking her head. "Um, no. I'm not her girlfriend."

"You are not?" She frowns, and you shake your head again.

"We've only been on one date. This is the second." You explain.

Her frown deepens. "El entrenamiento de fútbol fur su gran idea para una segunda cita? Idiota, Alexia." She grumbles to herself.

You didn't understand the first part of her sentence, but you sure did understand the second. She thought Alexia was an idiot.

"Aitana! Ahora!" Calls that voice again, and Aitana waves them off as she sighs heavily and turns in her seat a little to face you.

"I will talk to her." She reaches her hand out to pat your leg in what you assumed was an action of reassurance, and though you didn't quite know what she planned to talk to Alexia about, you find yourself nodding your head in hopes it'd get her to head back to training before she got you both in trouble.

"Aitana!"

"I am going now, but we will talk later, yes?" She questions as she rises to her feet, and you nod somewhat dumbly as she turns makes her way back down to the field. She skips right over to Alexia who was in the middle of talking to someone, tapping her on the shoulder to get her attention. The second she has it, she begins talking, waving her hands about animatedly as she gestures from you to the field around you placing her hands on her hips.

Alexia watches on in mild concern and confusion before her eyes flicker over to you. Her eyebrow raises in silent question, and you nod assuringly, not at all affected by Aitana despite how enthusiastic she'd been.

Her other brow raises, almost as though she was asking if you were sure, and you nod again, this time throwing her a double thumbs up for good measure.

Alexia nods, turning back to face Aitana. As she begins to talk, you rummage through the small bag you brought and pull out your iPad. You'd download a few new books this morning that you knew would occupy you for the entirety of the time you were here, and as you select one, you lean back a little in your seat in hopes of getting a little more comfortable.

*

Alexia's training ends up lasting a little over four hours, and you surprisingly manage to keep yourself appropriately occupied for little over three of them. You read your book, play a few games and even make a good dent in the snacks you'd brought. It was part way through the fourth hour that you start becoming a little restless.

In an attempt at distracting yourself, you try and follow along the little scrimmage match that Alexia and her teammates were having, but it ultimately proves ineffective when you have absolutely no idea who was winning or what was even going on.

Eventually, you're forced to stand, shrugging on the hoodie that had been on your lap ever since Alexia had put it there before beginning to pace, subconsciously bringing the sleeve to your face to take in her scent. It smelt just as you remember.

You manage a total of five laps before your name was called, your eye's immediately flickering towards the direction it had come from. It was Alexia. She was stood at the edge of the field, gesturing you over with a smile on her face, and you hesitate for only a second before grabbing your things and making your way down.

She immediately throws an arm over your shoulder the second you were close enough, pressing a rather sweaty kiss to your forehead in which you just about manage to refrain from wiping away. You completely miss the smirk that graces her features at the sight of you in her hoodie.

"They want to meet you. Is that okay?" She murmurs quietly, gesturing to her teammates who were talking amongst themselves just a few feet away. You glance between them and Alexia as you lean slightly into her side, a rather hesitant look on your face. Alexia's facial expression was much the same, almost as though she'd tried to talk them out of it but had ultimately failed to to do.

"You can say no, amor. I will not be mad, and they will not either.” she assures softly, and you let out a quiet exhale through your nose before nodding your head. Getting it over and some with would be the easiest option, right?

"Vale, come on then."

**

Tags:

@simp4panos @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @marysfics

[imnotyetfound]

My take on Five/Lila - and why they were endgame

I’ve seen so many people say that Five and Lila didn’t make any sense, and I just disagree. I've tried to really motivate why, and also why I see them as endgame. Feel free to agree or disagree.

First of all, Five and Lila share a common background of being raised plus trained as survivors and weapons. Five was molded by his time in the apocalypse, the Commission and his ruthless upbringing within the Hargreeves family, while Lila was similarly trained and manipulated by the Handler. Both of them were forced into brutal, high-stakes environments from a young age, developing a sense of independence, ruthlessness, and survival instincts that the rest of the family can’t fully relate to. We see this especially in Five and Lila’s difficulties in showing emotional vulnerability and trusting others. This shared experience means they both understand the cost of their traumatic upbringings and can relate to each other’s emotional scars in ways others just won’t be able to. So already by this, they’re somewhat bonded from the start.

In other similarities both Five and Lila possess extraordinary intelligence and tactical thinking. They challenge each other in a way no one else does. This has been an ongoing thing between them, bouncing off each other and sometimes teaming up. It’s also what drew them to work on another mission together in S4, there has always been some kind of pull/push there. Personality-wise both Five and Lila have a dark sense of humor and a cynical outlook on the world. But despite the cynicism, they still manage to eventually relax and find humor in each other’s company. The lighter moments we’ve seen between them at times have been an interesting contrast to their otherwise serious and violent lifestyles. 

I do believe their shared backgrounds and personalities created a bond that was then further strengthened during the years they spent lost in the subway together. Isolated from the rest of the world, they literally only had each other for company. The intimacy and trust that grew between them was inevitable. When you have no one else to rely on, you’re going to develop a relationship stronger than under normal circumstances. So over those years, they must have grown close in ways that no one else could fully understand. Even though we didn't get to see every detail of how it unfolded (because the season was way too short), it’s not difficult to imagine.

I’d also say they naturally grew a bond stronger than with any other character at that time, except for the one between mother and child which is why Lila’s need to be with her children would always make her go home if given the chance. Five knew this and it’s the reason he kept the solution from her for months. 

Now, to my thoughts about their actions in regards to Diego as this is often brought up. The argument that Lila cheated on her husband with Five is understandable from a moral perspective, if we see it as just that without any context. But when you consider the circumstances it is way more nuanced. You have to look at not only the environment they found themselves in, but also the emotional and psychological journey they went through together. Their relationship was ultimately forged over a shared background and then several years of isolation. Then you add to the fact that Diego seems to have treated Lila like crap in the years leading up to the isolation, she said it herself he was always moping around and complaining while she sacrificed her life to stay at home and take care of the kids. She even told him she needed a break to reassess their relationship. I do believe her and Five had somewhat already begun an emotional affair before the isolation, the way they were sneaking off together and clearly wanted to keep their thing separate from Diego and the others. Yet they still didn’t get physical until they settled down, believing they weren’t gonna find a way back.

Also, it’s important to here consider the strength of the bond, as I mentioned earlier, that Five and Lila must have developed over those years. They knew each other better than anyone else by the end. Spending every day together in a survival situation with nothing else around would likely create an unparalleled level of intimacy and emotional closeness. This bond would probably transcend Lila’s previous relationship with Diego, and maybe even Five’s bond with his siblings. It’s been years since he returned to them and they had all grown in separate directions. Lila and Five however had recently experienced something life-changing together, and it is unfair to dismiss the strength of their connection as something unethical or out of character when their reality had shifted so drastically from when the show started.

Another important point here is how the relationship with Lila allowed Five to finally be "human" and emotionally open in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to be before. Five was obviously emotionally detached as a result of both his past trauma and the burden of being a hyper-intelligent man in the body of a boy. With Lila, he had the chance to just feel love and trust without worrying about anything else. So I do think this outweighs his “betrayal” against his brother as people claim.

Now on to how and why Five and Lila were endgame. I’m convinced that Lila did love Five despite her choice to leave their isolation. To me this was cemented as she didn’t deny her feelings when Diego asked her straight out. If she wanted to make Diego feel better she could have easily denied her feelings for Five to reassure him. Yet even when asked twice she couldn’t do it. There was also Lila’s look of relief when Five returned to them at the end. It was Five who Lila allowed to comfort her after she said goodbye to her family, trusting him in her most vulnerable moment instead of blipping back to Diego and the others. These events showed the deep trust and emotional intimacy that still existed between them after returning to “the real world”. Despite her saying it was over. I also want to add here that Lila took Five’s hand as they were dying, the look between them was for me at least silently saying they loved each other. 

So all in all I do believe that the connection and love between Five and Lila was authentic. It also made sense. They’re able to understand each other’s emotional complexities, including their darker tendencies, without needing to change who they are. Still their time together seemed to actually have softened them both when they finally had the chance to settle down, almost as if they were healing from past trauma together. This would forge a relationship that no one else could replicate without going through the same experience. Making Five and Lila a reasonable endgame, which they also were in my eyes considering they died holding hands.

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

Summary:  Five and Lila's shared background of trauma, matched intelligence, and similar personalities means they make sense. They shared a bond that was only further strengthened during their years of isolation. For 7 years they only had each other to rely on. This inevitably created an intimacy and relationship that couldn’t be compared to what they had had with anyone else. Outweighing what they did to Diego when you consider all context. Lila and Five ended up being human and vulnerable with each other on a level they hadn’t been with anyone else. Ultimately Lila’s refusal to deny her feelings for Five, her relief when he returned, him comforting her as she sent her family away and then finally them dying hand-in-hand, showed that they were endgame.

[imwetforyourmom]

GLISTENING UNDER THE STARS.

CW: Breaking up, mutually(?) wanted breaking up, sex for the last time, softdom!chris, romantic sex?, smut, p in v, unprotected sex (pleaseeee dont do this), crying during sex but we all know why 🫤, oral f!recieving, not much dirty talk, not really meant to make you horny but if it works ig it works!!

SUMMARY: You and Chris dont workout as good as you’d hoped for, and thats okay. But, just one last goodbye kiss, one for the road.

A/N: Drowning in a bath of my own tears

·˚ ༘

"Can- could we spend, y’know.. one last night together?"

His unrelenting gaze laid upon you, it held the same similarity as a cold hand had rested on your shoulder, the frigid temperature seeping through the cotton of your shirt. The palm rubbing into your shoulder, in a comforting, assuring rub, as if to remind you, ‘you’re okay.’ Even when everything wasn’t okay. Like the world had come crashing, burning down before your very own eyes, the cause your very own hands - maybe even tongue in this situation.

What were you to do in this moment? The pure look in his eyes was enough to make you sick with guilt. How were you expected to speak, when the ball in your throat began to shape into a fist? The sick with you-don't-know-what being your most prime feeling, as if it was tearing your body apart, slitting it in half and moving to wriggle inside, replacing the blood coursing through your veins with that feeling. Changing the thrum of your heartbeat against your ribs to constantly remind you of the illness you felt. Each pump a sick, cruel manner as to give that dreaded reminder above your head, that this was all entirely your fault. Everything you felt was of your doing. What did you do?

The fist in your throat began relaxing, instead now clawing its way up your throat, reaching to the base of your tongue, where a sob slipped through. Why were you crying? You’re the one who’d suggested it, told him straight to his face.

“Chris, this isnt working out.” No sympathy lingering in the undertones of your voice, not even a spared, merciful glance towards his now shattered demeanor before speaking again,

“And I know you think the same Chris. Its so painfully obvious, you’re constantly out with your friends, never at home with me. You almost never speak to me enthusiastically,” you trailed off. Your sentence finishing off with a sigh, your head tilted upwards to meet his gaze. What you saw was no less than what you’d expected, but what you hadn't looked past, was the fact Chris had redeemed himself almost everytime after one of your listed incovencies, after hanging out with his friends all day, he’d always have brought you more than one gift back, and spent the night with you for as long as you wanted (or needed).

But, because the boy was so helplessly inlove with you, he’d agreed. Wanting you the best, completely leaving his own feelings in the trail of your footsteps. He’d told you he wasn't doing well in the relationship either, that he couldn't find contentment - or whatever bullshit excuse he could think of. But, what he didn't say, was how sick he felt whenever he thought of you anytime, his body full to the brim with love, and the butterflies flapping inside his stomach. He’d be happy, as long as you were happy. Whatever it takes, he’d told himself.

You felt his eyes heavy upon you, his lips twitching in a beg to twist his words together, ask for a simple favor, or, task in your hands.

“Can- could we spend, y’know.. one last night together?” He whispered, his voice only a crack away from collapsing entirely ontop of himself. His tears only relying to stay put on the dam he’d built inside his mind, his voice keeping what it could, together.

Your heart dulled in acceptance, the sick feeling running throughout your veins falling to a stop. If it’d help him relax throughout his unspoken words, then so be it.

You nodded, making no effort to form your lips to speak, instead you only stood from the bed, now holding all of your previous guilt. Your hand traveled to his body, running it gently along his chest to the nape of his neck, where you gently wrapped your fingers to twist the waved, shorter hair. Your eyes holding significant love inside them, Chris ignored it. You didnt love him.

His hands begin their journey to the rightful place on your body, wrapping his own palms on your waist, gently. His hands holding a silent, subtle passion behind them, like hands that have longed for their lover, they’ve waited for forever to rest upon this one person. You basked in it, enjoying it for the last time you probably ever would. Whose to tell the future?

You gently pulled his face closer to yours, interlocking your lips in a quiet, loving kiss. No movement being made, or even an effort to be made, just a simple, slow, loving kiss. All you’d need for now, there was no reason to bring it any further, to rush this already treasuring moment, what better than to just, slow down and let it go as it goes?

Your lips were the first to make a move, finally kissing with more passion, it felt right. It felt as if the moment had desired this, this was the way it was meant to go. Your hand gently squeezed as your lips grew along his with more passion, his tongue sliding inside the enclosure of your mouth.

His own hands slid further down your body, his fingertips tracing across till they found the desired plush of your ass. While his other hand held a hold on your lower back, pulling you closer into his embrace, closer to him.

With a slow begin, Chris guided your body to the bed behind you, the hand on your back serving as a quiet reminder that he’d catch you if you’d fallen. Your back met with the soft plush of your comforter, your back painfully easing, causing a soft moan to slip, which only served to intensify Chris’ desire, but he showed no movement to act on it.

Sliding his hand from underneath you, his hand rested on the cotton plush beside your head, while his other went to your hip, digging the tip of his finger through the fabric just enough to feel his caress teasing as it went further, and further down. Eventually falling to a stop once it’d connected to your inner thigh, mere inches away from your heat.

A soft, palpable whine of need escaped your throat, you reached down to grab his wrist, urge him to get closer, to fulfill your desires without a word spoken, but he stopped you. Shaking his head softly as he leant up to connect your lips in a soft kiss, his hands attached to the waistband of your pants, slowly pulling them down in an act to expand the moment, let it linger longer.

His fingers hooked under the waistband of your panties as well, bringing them along with your pants as he tugged them down, closer to fully off with each sound of your lips in the otherwise quiet atmosphere.

Eventually tugging them down your ankles, he de-attached almost immediately, the eagerness underlying his now quicker movements to move between your legs, his hands now moving to your inner thighs again, where he’d spread them wider. His eyes glued to your sex, watching as your wetness dripped to the blanket below you. His tongue licked over his teeth, his fingertips digging into the plush of your thighs.

“Y’look so pretty,” all f’me he murmured, swallowing down the words he wanted to say, all laced with possessiveness. With the guilt he felt pooling inside his stomach, he leaned forward, attaching his mouth to your clit at his own attempt at distracting himself from the overwhelming thought of you no longer being his.

A moan slid from the capture of your throat, already in a prep for bliss. God, you were gonna miss this, miss him- him and his, tongue..? That's what you wanted to tell yourself.

His grasped hands around your thighs squeezed tighter, already finding himself entranced within your heat. His tongue swirling around the bundle of nerves, sucking before sticking his tongue out to trail down to your opening, sliding his tongue into the hole, and back out, creating a rhythmic pace.

His tongue kept up with the pace, his eyes peering into yours as he watched you slowly begin to become out of it, your moans falling even smoother from your lips than before. Not a thought behind your eyes, only the way you felt. His tongue curled into what your face contorted into when he brought you pleasure, yet he’d rather have your body curled into his as he brought you the warmth he seeked. Pleasuring your body with the simple affection of a kiss to your cheek.

Your hips bucked into his face, nudging his nose to your clit in the process, spiking pleasure throughout your veins, the ache for more surging blended within. Your stomach seeped till it fell through an endless pit, either mixing with the underlying guilt, or the start of an orgasm. You weren’t sure.

His hands gripped around your thighs, kneading the flesh beneath his fingers and palms. His tongue moving in desperate acts of more, more, more and more. Perchance more of the unrequited love he wanted to be requited, but that wasn't fitting.

His tongue departed as his hand slid from your thigh, his thumb tracing tight circles on your clit as his ring and index finger slid inside your entrance, quickening his previous pace, sliding deeper against your soft walls, the pleasure ricocheting onto you.

His lips meshed with yours, your lingering taste slipping inside your mouth and dawning onto your taste buds. Yet the pleasure from your legs was bundling your head far too much to care for the luscious taste coating your mouth.

The previous knot — or, ‘endless pit’ fell snapped, a moan sliding off your tongue and whispered into Chris’ mouth, swallowing what was left of the efforted moan, yet it only bounced off the walls of only being needed of one thing.

His fingers retracted from your legs and moved to the buckle of his belt, retrieving it from its locked position, and sliding his throbbing dick from the tight enclosure of fabric. He continued the motions of pulling off his pants and boxers, his movements yearning, yet a coat of desperation blinded longing, leaving the yearning to be of what it was, yet tiny and unnoticable.

His lips never disattached from yours, even when he slid his length inside your entrance, but a striking, pleasurable pain overtook his lip once your teeth had bitten onto it at an attempt to soothe yourself, probably stabilization but all Chris could focus on was the squeeze of your walls bringing the pleasure he so badly seeked earlier. His cock almost begging with the leaking pre-cum.

With one last kiss, bathing in the warmth of your lips, he’d pulled away. His hands grabbing at your hips, groping at the flesh of your stomach, caressing the skin of your ribs as well as the skin below your boobs. His fingertips dancing along the skin left for his eyes, left for the moon to shine onto, casting an ethereal spell on your skin to reflect, let Chris deliver the satisfaction of being inevitably perfect.

His hips moved along with the rhythm of your moans, moving deeper whilst your moans grew louder and harder as your moans strained in the journey of your scratchy, used throat. Your eyes bathing in the tears of your pleasure. The sway of his hips meeting with yours urging the tears to produce, lay this last drop of mercy.

Despite the ache of how hard & deep he went, his movements were soft, cherishing in the bath of your body kneeling to his actions, taking in what it could get and giving back the pleasure he proclaimed. He wanted to soak in the soft hum of the tiny whimpers that failed to succeed from slipping your throat, he wanted to dry your tears with his lips - even if they weren’t from mental or physical pain. He wanted to be able to let the praises slide from his lips as easily as they used to, let each word bathe inside a pool of his possessiveness, reminding your conscious of just whom you’d ‘belonged’ to.

He wanted this one last given opportunity to be by your side, linger in the warmth of your being and skin to be memorable, not any other time you’d have sex, just, lacking the speech.

Your hand slithered to his bicep, squeezing hard, digging a crescent moon shape of your nails into his skin, your eyes closing as the returning feeling of an endless pit formed into your stomach. Perchance this time it wasn’t because of your orgasm. You could see the glint in Chris’ eyes, neither irises carrying a wash of lust inside them, rather, only a form of yearn and— longing. He longed and longed, for what you didn't know.

He was touching you, staring at you, embracing you, inside you for fucks sakes. What more did the man want? What more could a man ask for? Your body laid vulnerable in front of him, your flaws for his eyes, your insecurities lie for his hands to caress, yet he had done neither. Not a whisper of a praise sliding from his pretty pink lips.

Your hand slid to the nape of his neck, running your fingertips up his head, gripping at the loose curls, you pulled his face closer to yours, your lips a breath away from his.

You opened your eyes, meeting his in a long, tension full eye contact. Your face churned in pleasure when he thrusted especially hard in that moment, his cock slamming inside you, as his gaze didn't falter. A cocky smirk laid over his features, clearly enjoying the sight of you, the sounds you were making. His tongue darted out to lick his lips, his gaze unrelenting, his lips moved to form the letters he was yet to pronounce.

His previous yearn drowned in his now lust filled irises, a grunt slipping past his lips before he muttered possessively, “C’mon pretty, be a little louder for me baby. Wanna hear your moans and whimpers.” His thrusts slowed with each word his spoke, a seemingly threat.

“Fuck Chris, please don’t slow down, faster, please.” You’d begged, your knees curling into your chest as the feel of his cock drove into your insides, ridding any of the guilt that remained.

Low and behold, the mustered strength provided to your lustful needs was rooted from the tightening in his throat and burning eyes. Each thrust was a way to take his mind off of what was to come after this, each syllable said was a beg of the peace he desired for such an intimate moment. He wanted, he so badly wanted to want to fuck into you, whisper his possesive lacen words into your neck, his re occuring hands keeping your under him as you pleaded for him. Yet, he just couldn't.

Instead, your body lie before him, the window allowing the moon to assure you as the most beautiful thing he’d ever lain his eyes on, sweat dripping down the creases of your body, a mesmerized expression etched on your face, you glistening under the stars as a guiltiful apology sat on the shine coating your body from the moon. Reflected onto your body as it slightly shook with the forces of his thrusts. Each sparkle dancing on your skin a haunting taunt for the body he no longer could love and adore. Only to watch as memories and need for more relentlessly took over his mind.

2578 words.

TAGS

@luverboychris @chrissturniolosfavoritesexdoll @meg-sturniolo @junnniiieee07 @ssilentzom @b2cute @graysturns @wh0resstuff @sturn-bugz @sunsetsturniolos @strniolo @sturnssmuts @simply-a-simper @stunza @meerkatzthings @joemamaaa42069 @sturniluvr @cindylcuwho @wurlibydominicfike @watercolorskyy @aaliyahsturniolo1 @alyrasturnz @colorthecosmos444 @sturnobsessedwh0re @jetaimevous @nicksgirlfriend @4kv4mp @asherrisrandom

@lovesturni0l0s @maryx2xx @mattsmad @dollyspsychoxo @riasturns

@starsturni @britishamerican11 @mattspinkshirt

@chrissturniolosworld @ariqolyx

@mels22lunchbox

@elas3

[xoluvx]

Can I request to be completely dominated by Billie for feral Friday? That’s my one and only mood. I don’t even care where or how 😭💚

no like please.. mood 24/7 !! please just one night 💚

"please," you breathed curling your toes. face pressed on the mattress. her grip on your hips was firm. thrusting into you relentlessly. she grunted each time you moved pulling you back on her cock. her hand coming down firmly on your ass each time.

you cried out fisting the sheets. your eyes watering. mouth open spilling your cries of pleasure over the white sheets. staining it with your sobs. you squeezed your eyes shut feeling the sting on your ass. she was buried so deep in your pussy you could hardly think. in fact, you were so fucked out you could only picture her hips thrusting into you. filling you so deliciously.

"please what?" billie snarled lifting your body in a swift movement. she held you flushed against her chest as you planted on her cock wincing at the new angle. with your eyes still shut, you breathed heavy trying to find your words. she moved under you. one hand holding your hip. the other wrapped around your neck.

"please. what?" she growled in your ear moving your hips as you whimpered. you were so sensitive. so tight around her cock. mouth hanging open gasping for air.

"i-" you breathed out feeling her fingers tighten around your neck. you were seeing stars. so close to breaking.

"you-" she whispered in your ear.

"-are a slut?" she finished her sentence. voice so sweet. so soft. grip on your neck still so firm. the juxtaposition made your head spin. your legs quiver. your insides churn. your pussy throb. you were so close. so fucking close. you were moving your hips slowly. cock hitting your cervix.

when she grabbed your hips lifting you slightly, you whimpered and breathed in. she brought you down roughly a few times until you were bouncing on her cock. skin slapping. cries louder than before. orgasm so close you could taste it.

[lagataprrr]

is it possible to get a short blurb of Satoru and plus size girl friend and how they go costume shopping, and he sees reader staring at a ghost face mask

hehehe

OH! I LOVE THIS

I hope this satisfied your ask <3 currently still working on chapter five of the series and its taken me longer bc kind of stuck on a scene lol

Ghost face Mask

"What about this one?" You ask, and Satoru looks up from the rack of costumes he was looking through to look at you. He raises a brow at the costume in your hand of what seemed to be a sexy witch, it was a long dark purple sleeveless dress, that had a slit that probably stopped high enough on your thighs. It brought purple gloves and a black witches hat and a garner belt for the exposed thigh???

Satoru's mind began playing a scene of you coming out of his room dressed in it, how sexy you'd look prancing around in it while wearing your hot platform boots. He could see himself dragging a hand up the slit of the dress, caressing your calves and up your thick thighs. In fact it would be so easy to slip his hand between your thighs and touch your pu-

"Baby?" Satoru is snapped out of his daydream at your voice. Clearly knowing the look on his face as you let out a laugh, putting the costume back on the rack and walking elsewhere.

"Wait," Satoru pouted, grabbing it and stuffing it into the basket he was carrying for you. "I like this one too."

"Toru, I only need one costume. You've said yes to four of them, we're gonna have to choose one."

"We can get all of them."

"Halloween is only one night."

"It can be halloween every night if you just wear these for me." He says, arm wrapping around your waist, as he presses a smooch on your cheek. You giggle and softly push him off from his antics.

"Let's find you a costume." You say as you pulled his hand, finding the men's costume area. Eyes scanning through the many options, as you found a couple of possible ones. "What about this one?"

"You want me to be your sexy doctor, hmm?"

You grin, stepping over to him as you leaned into him dramatically. "Oh yes, doctor. Somethings terribly wrong with me."

His hand comes to your waist again, dramatically dipping you back and lifting one of your legs up making you squeal. "Of course, my sexy patient, I as your doctor will do a thorough full body check up," He says, momentarily letting go of the basket on his other hand to grip the thigh of the leg he'd raise. "Starting with the most vital place." Unabashedly patting your inner thigh, so fucking close to your cunt.

"Satoru!" You gasp, laughing loudly, probably catching the attention of a few onlookers but paying them no mind. He leans down and kisses you a couple of times before letting you stand normal again, still attached to your lips. You're giggling into the kisses, never a dull day with your boyfriend. He picks up the basket again and takes the costume from your hands and puts it in it. "So that one?"

"We can keep looking, you already have a sexy nurse one picked out so I can match it. Now let's find one about a wizard or warlock or something so I can match that sexy witch costume." You shake your head and glance around the racks, though your eyes caught a white mask that was hanged up near a corner of a display. Walking over and pulling it off the mass of masks from the wall and suddenly it was you who were having lewd thoughts about this costume.

A ghost face mask. And suddenly you're remembering all the hot tiktoks you'd seen on your for you page, about girls having a fun time with their boyfriends while wearing the mask. And fuck, you could definitely see Satoru in this.

He'd be standing on the doorway to your bedroom, mask on, his full on toned chest on display, delicious rippling abs and toned V on his hips leading down to a pair of black pants and boots covering his lower half. And then it was an image of you being fucked by him, ghostface mask still on, you're on your stomach, his full weight on you as he had both your hands behind your back. Cock dragging in and out of your pulsating cunt. The skin of your ass and thighs rippling at his hard thrusts, the contionous sound of skin slapping against skin.

All the while you're staring at the mask, Satoru caught on to the look on your face. Blown out pupils, completely out of it in your little head and he has the biggest smirk on his face. He takes quiet steps towards you and stands directly behind you, a hand slowly gripping your hip to pull you back into him. This makes you look back at him, now out of your little daydream.

"We're definitely getting that."

You clear your throat, a nervous laugh stumbling out of your lips. "What? Why?"

"I've seen your TikTok for you page while you've showered." And your jaw drops, he smirks at you, hands grabbing the mask out of your hands as he walks away to look at other costumes. "Come on baby, the faster we find other costumes the faster we can get home so I can put on the mask."

Credits to @super-marvel-dc for the gojo divider!!! the Ghostface pic I found online and added a purplish filter on it for the purposes of this blurb

I've added this to the Blame it on the Club's Playlist| Series Masterlist, under Blurbs :))))))

Tag List:

@bankaixx

@shiftinghoe

@uniquecutie-puffs

@thewomans-stuff

@plathsotherib

@lanaismotherrrrrrr

@fangirllookingforlife

@tluvr777

@sunehry

[hxney-lemcn]

Distance Makes the Heart Grow Confused — Twilight Princess! Link x gn! reader

summery: you find your life turning monotonous without your childhood friend around, but when he comes back you find yourself conflicted. thankfully, he has his ways of making you feel better.

tw: mentions of getting hurt (not described tho), hurt/comfort, linked universe.

a/n: ALWEHFDLKGJ I LOVE LINK!!!! Finally wrote for him!!! Words kept getting put down I couldn't stop myself. Also, heavily inspired by @maple-the-awesome's The Chain Meets You, His Partner but also vastly different lol (so go read that too if you haven't).

wc: 3.6k

Master List

Trying to ignore the sweat that dripped down your brow, you continued to watch Talon hack and swing at the dummy that was set just outside of Link’s treehouse. He had left, again, on a dangerous mission that you had little to no information about. Once again left in the dark. So you didn’t think he’d mind if you used his equipment for training. You're being filled with sorrow for multiple reasons, but the main one at the moment was for Talon, who felt the need to learn how to fight to protect the village. A task that  you had failed at. Something that ate at not only you, but Rusl, Colin’s own father. It ate at you for a different reason than Rusl, as not only had you failed at protecting the other children, but you had failed Link, who had set out and brought them back. A task that shouldn’t have fallen onto his shoulders solely, but became his burden to bear as both you and Rusl were too hurt to travel, let alone fight. 

You had cried when he came back (much to your embarrassment). Cried happily that he returned. Then cried solemnly when he had told you about how he not only saved the children of Ordon, but had saved all of Hyrule. Cried for just how quickly he had to grow in the few months of his travels, how he found solace with someone that wasn’t you (you knew that was selfish, but you just couldn’t help it). If the villagers had thought you and Link were close before, they were surprised that you had managed to become closer. You never left his side, always trying to do chores before he had the chance. Link needed time to rest, but you knew he would refuse to…so you had to force him somehow.

That felt like forever ago as he once again found himself placed with an even heavier burden than before. Traveling through different dimensions to kill some sort of shadow beast. You weren’t one hundred percent on the details as Link as rushidly explained that he was leaving and he wasn’t sure for how long. That had been months ago, and you found yourself taking over his role in the village. You were the ranch hand now, as well as the defender since Rusl was needed at home to help take care of his newborn. Which led you to this moment, teaching Talon how to defend himself. He was still young, so he had time to learn of the best stances, strikes, defenses, and more. And even if you weren’t as great as Link when it came to a fight, but you were still pretty darn good, which is why Talon asked you. 

You were brought out of your reverie when Talon let out an excited cheer, jumping up and down as he pointed out the broken pumpkin that once acted as the dummy’s head. With a small smile, you congratulated the young boy, telling him to go take a break and play with the other kids. To your satisfaction he did just that, running off into the village as you let out a sigh. You didn’t mind the kids, in fact, half the village were kids. No, you just weren’t as close to them as Link or Ilia were, but they didn’t seem to mind your awkwardness. Just as you were about to make your own way into the village for your much needed break, you were caught off guard as you were brought into an embrace. Panicking, you went to elbow whoever decided it would be a smart idea to catch you off guard, only to be swung around in a circle. You grasped onto the strong arms that held you by your waist, turning your head only to see your greatest cause of stress for the past few months. 

A mix of emotions washed over you as Link set you down, letting you turn to face him fully. Happy once more to see the man you loved, relieved to see that he was not only alive, but no visible injuries, and a bit annoyed. Annoyed that he just pops back in and acts like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t just left you alone again, like he hadn’t just left for a mission that could’ve left him dead in a world he was unfamiliar with. Where you would’ve never known of his status, if he was alive or dead, left to forever ponder the fate of your childhood friend. In the end, your relief won, staring into his azure eyes that shone with pure adoration and happiness. 

“You’re back already?” You whispered, like if you spoke any louder he’d shatter before you and you’d wake from a dream. He nodded, always one who expressed himself with his actions instead of words. “To stay?” You clarified, and that was when your heart dropped. His smile fell, and his gaze drifted away from you. 

Yet he still refused to let you go, if anything he pulled you in closer as he spoke in a similar hushed whisper, “Came here to restock our supplies.” Before you could ask what he meant by ‘our’, you heard multiple footsteps approach, causing you to pull away from Link much to his dismay. Each time he was pulled away from you he felt like he was missing a part of himself. He almost downright refused to leave you when he came back from saving the forest temple and saw you laying battered and bruised in your bed. Your despondent attitude had caused him great heartache, unable to stay and lift your spirits as he had to clear the twilight from the rest of Hyrule. Instead, he kissed your battered and bruised skin that day hoping that his love and adoration for you would seep through your skin and reach your bruised soul. Instead, it seemed his affection had done the opposite, and as you littered his own face with kisses of your own, he could feel the regret, self hatred, and sadness drenched in each and every peck. You had given him the most soul crushing look as he exited your room to continue his journey. He knew at that moment you blame yourself for the children being taken, for not being able to come and help him on his journey.

And just when everything seemed to go back to as normal as life could get, it got uprooted once more. That sorrow filled your eyes once more when he brought up leaving soon. Once more, he longed to stay by your side as your hand cupped his cheek, stating that he shouldn’t have the world rest upon his shoulders again, how it wasn’t fair he couldn’t just live his life like any other hylian. Deep down Link knew you were right, and as he met the Links from the other dimensions, he knew it was unfair that they also had to bear similar burdens. Yet at the same time it was a solace that he met others who were dealt similar hands as him. So when it was time to go back to his dimension, where you would be there to greet him, Link had been overcome with eagerness, wanting to see you once more, talk of his adventures, and give you a few items he deemed you’d enjoy. He completely forgot it wasn’t to stay, and when your loving expression turned sour he felt his heart drop. 

Before he could try to cheer you, the rest of his group had finally caught up, causing you to stare at the multiple blond men who wore green tunics. You blinked rapidly, wondering if you had hit your head to cause such a sight, because it almost seemed like many Links of different variations stood before you. 

“So this was why you were running so fast,” One of them huffed, the only major difference was the scarf he wore around his neck. An awkward air settled around you all, and you found yourself itching for a reason to excuse yourself. You’re sure anyone Link would travel with was nice, but you always had a harder time getting to know new people. 

“Everyone, meet my friend,” Link gestured to you, a warm smile lining his lips once more. Then he introduced you to each individual. Apparently they were all Link, just from their own times/dimensions. It was honestly hard to wrap your head around the whole situation, but they all went by unusual names to clarify who was who. Your Link being called Twilight (or Twi) due to the darkness your land had fallen to years ago. 

“It’s nice to meet you all,” You smiled politely, hoping to not come off as awkward as you felt. “Unfortunately I have to go help Fado with the ranch now.”

“I can–” Before your Link could offer to help, you sent him a sharp glare that quickly shut him up. 

“You need to rest,” You scolded, and as your gaze fell onto the others you clarified. “You all need some rest. You should stay for the night at least, Link—Twi has room in his house to fit you all.”

“But–”

“No buts,” You shook your head, already starting to walk towards the village, the argument ending before it could even begin. You could hear some chuckles from the group, but you paid no regard. 

To clear your mind from everything that just happened moments prior, you found yourself cleaning the goats stalls at Fado’s ranch. Clearing and refilling their food and water troughs, shoveling out their poop, stacking hay bales that will be used the next day, then preparing to herd all the goats back into the barn. A routine you had grown accustomed to in Link's absence. This was his job…had been his job, but it was yours in the meantime. It unsettled you how well the village could do in the absence of Link, how no one dared to utter his name. Or perhaps they thought the topic would upset you…they wouldn’t be wrong in that regard. 

Just as the sun started to set, you closed the doors to the barn, ready to head back to your home and prepare a warm bath to rid yourself of the grim accumulated from a day of hard work. Of course things could never be so easy. Link stood by the gate, watching you close up. As you approached the blond hero, those tumultuous feelings from earlier rose once more, unsure if you could handle any more emotional encounters. 

“Come,” Link waved at you, nodding towards the village. “Wild made dinner.” You planted your feet, ceasing your movements as you felt your eyebrows furrow. On one hand, you felt like you were being unfair to Link's companions, but on the other, you felt completely exhausted both mentally and physically. Waking up before the sun rises and falling asleep long after it sets does one to someone's body. Not to mention the constant work that was piled onto you, from working on the ranch to training Talon, you hadn’t had much time to yourself, and you weren’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. And when Link sensed that you stopped, turning around to face you, you're sure the bags under your eyes, slouched posture, and how you could barely keep your eyes open screamed everything you felt. The bone deep ache that just wouldn’t go away. 

Still, he grabbed your hand. His calloused palm slotted in perfectly with your own. As he pulled you past everyone’s house, stopping in front of his own you almost gave in, too tired to fight back. Instead he quickly went in and came out with two bowls of what you assume is stew. You quickly grabbed the bowls before he could spill them on his climb down. Once more, he grabbed his bowl, then your hand, and pulled you towards the spring.

The crystal water lapped at your feet after you pulled your boots and socks off, curling your toes in the pristine sand. Both you and Link sat in silence as you ate, the starry sky peaking through the trees that swayed with the small breeze. Slowly, you found your body unwinding, each tense muscle coming loose with each small wave of the spring. The stew was good as well, filling your stomach with something other than the basics you had been forcing yourself to eat. You scowled into your bowl when you realized you were feeling better than you had in a long time, and that always seemed to be when Link was by your side. 

Like he could sense your thoughts, he scooted closer to you, arm to arm, nearly thigh to thigh. Lifting your gaze, you were met with his worried one. His eyes searched your face like he was deciphering a language only he could…and in a sense maybe that was true. With a full belly and an exhausted body and mind, your eyes started to droop and you leaned against the blonde next to you. No matter what, he was still Link, still your childhood friend that you grew up with, and you’d always cherish him. 

“I missed you,” He muttered, gently brushing away any hair that managed to fall onto your face.

“I missed you too,” You mumbled back, the warmth of his body inviting you into a peaceful sleep. A comforting silence had fallen over you both, making it harder for your struggle to stay awake.

“I love you,” Was all your mind could barely comprehend before you fell unconscious. 

When you awoke the next morning, you half expected to be by the spring with a sleeping Link by your side. But to your disappointment you were in your room. Of course, being the gentleman he is, he carried you home and even tucked you in. You’d have half the mind to be embarrassed, but this was Link we’re talking about. You both had done and said more embarrassing things around each other than you’d like to admit. And when you opened the curtains you nearly had a heart attack realizing you were late as the sun had already risen a good amount. You shuffled around the room and put on your clothes, trying to ignore the thought that Link had undressed you for your comfort the previous night. Stumbling into your last boot, you ran as fast as you could, ignoring your rumbling stomach in favor of not getting scolded. (Not that Fado would actually scold you, if anything he’d be thanking Ordona for letting you rest a bit). 

Arriving at the ranch, apologies lining your tongue, you felt your mouth drop at the sight of all the Links already at work. The smallest Link, Wind, if you remember correctly, dropped his crate at the sight of you and ran over. You winced, hoping that the crate didn’t contain eggs or glass, but got sidetrack as the young boy smiled brightly at you, asking a ton of questions right out of the gate. 

“Good morning! Did Twi go out with you last night? What did y’all do? He seemed pretty happy when he came back. How did you both meet? Are you both–” Wind was quickly cut off as an older Link approached with a stern look. 

“Wind, you know better than to toss crates around,” Time scolded. “And don’t overwhelm the young one with too many questions. Now go and finish stacking those crates.” With a pout, the kid gave you one last look before dashing back to his previous task, leaving you and the older male alone. Helplessly, you watched all the chores you typically get done ten times faster than you’ve ever seen, feeling unsure what to do without work. Seeming to sense your cluelessness, Time spoke up once more, mentioning that Twilight had stayed behind at his house. And so, you found yourself wandering over, only to pout this time. Link was watching Talon’s new skills with the sword, all the village kids watching them both. 

Beth had spotted you first, shouting your name and waving at you with a giant smile, “Look! Link’s back and he’s gonna spar with Talon!” “Spar?” You repeated as you blinked. Talon was in no way shape or form ready to spar yet, but Link had a sparkle in his eye that only spelled mischief when your gazes met. Talon was jumping up and down, excited to not only see Link again, but to do something you had been holding off on. With a resigned sigh, you only shook your head, letting out a short ‘okay.’ The two got into a fighting stance, and you had to fight the itch to correct Talon’s incorrect posture. Instead, you continued to watch from the sidelines as Link let Talon start with the first strike. The skill difference was obvious, and it was clear that Link was going easy, but in the end, Talon ended up knocked to the ground. And as you expected, Talon complained, waving off his own mistakes and pinning it onto someone or something else. To your surprise, instead of asking for a rematch, Talon ran off with his friends following shortly after. 

Bumping your shoulder slightly, Link drew your attention back to him, a boyish smile resting on his lips. After all this time, all the hardships he went through, he still managed to have a young air around him. You weren’t sure how he did it. You reciprocated the gesture, bumping into his shoulder slightly harder. 

“I don’t know what to do,” You couldn’t help but confess. “All the work is getting done and I feel like I should be doing something.” Link looked up with a hum, tapping his chin in thought for a few seconds. That cunning grin once again settled on his face before he grabbed your hand and sprinted towards the springs. 

“The springs, again?” You asked with a short laugh. “Didn’t we do this last night?” You felt your skin prickle as he sent you a devious look, picking you up like you were nothing and tossing you into the water. Thankfully, he threw you into the deeper part, or else that fall would’ve surely hurt. Wiping the water from your eyes, you sent the man your best glare you could muster, grabbing the front of his tunic and pulling him in further. In retaliation, he sent a wave of water at your face with a chuckle. With a huff, you tried to do the same, but the wave wasn’t as big as you’d like it to have been and you both laughed. You felt the darkness that had enveloped your heart slowly melt away as both you and Link played like you used to when merely children. Something you had missed dearly in the past few years. 

As your playful fight slowed, you couldn’t stop yourself from watching Link, or how the water fell from his hair and dripped back into the spring. The last three words he muttered last night rung back through your head. All the love and adoration you held for him gathered into a pool, ready to spill past your lips, and who were you to fight that? Not you, you thought as you eyed his lovely smile, one you would die for. 

“I love you,” You stated, heart beating wildly as Link turned to face you. At first he looked at you with shock, but that melted into pure warmth and affection as he waded closer. So close that you felt your body warm at the mere thought of his touch, felt your heart quiver in anticipation for his next move, and stomach flutter with all the love you held. 

It was silly. When you were younger, you recalled that you’d pretend to be his spouse and play house. How you stated you’d both get married someday, and how he would always go along with your nonsense. You said all those things with your full chest before, but now saying your true feelings felt like a battle. It made everything more real, and as you grew older you assumed he had never taken your childish ramblings seriously. Yet you seemed to be proven wrong as he gently cupped your face with one hand, the touch sending heat blazing throughout your entire being. As he leaned in closer, you closed your eyes, expecting a kiss…only for him to nuzzle your nose with his own. Yet the disappointment was drowned with the fuzzy butterflies that flew in your stomach at such an intimate act. One so loving and pure. 

Link’s actions screamed volumes louder than any words could as he littered both your cheeks, forehead, nose, chin, or anywhere he could reach with kisses. A bittersweet reminder of the day he came back after twilight had taken over. And just like that day, you reciprocated, this time with a heart full of light and happiness. Instead of ending it there, you pulled him in for a proper kiss, one you had wanted for as long as you could remember. He wasn’t as surprised by your actions as you wished he’d be as he reciprocated without hesitation. You didn’t mind his chapped lips, or the way you both kissed clumsily, because this was Link. Your Link. And you wouldn’t have him any other way.

And once you both pulled away breathless, ignoring how you both still stood in the spring with sopping wet clothes sticking to your skin, you took in the other's presence. The warmth you both offered each other, the happiness, the love, the need and the want. You were like two pieces to a puzzle, a part of you missing with the other gone. And in that moment, everything felt like it clicked into place. He may still need to continue his journey, but you knew that he’d always find his way back to you, just like he’d always know where to find you.

[ninjatrashpanda]

The Other Shoe (Waiting for it to drop)

Written for @bucktommypositivityweek Round 2! Today's prompt is "Coming Out Scenes!"

Read it on AO3 here.

“I, uh, I think it’s time to face the music,” Buck whispered, tugging on Tommy’s sleeve. His eyes wandered over to his parents, who had watched him and Tommy like hawks throughout the entire reception, though Buck had a hard time predicting what they were thinking. On one hand, therapy had been going well, and while The Buckleys would probably never be the big happy family Buck had wished for as a kid, Mom and Dad were trying. They had been nothing but supportive about him being Connor and Kameron’s sperm donor last year, and Buck would be lying if he said he hadn’t felt a pang of appreciation when they had stood up for him against Chimney’s father and stepmother.

On the other hand, well, these were his parents, and old fears die hard. While they had apologized for how they had treated him and Maddie and become better, there was a little voice at the back of his head that told him they’d just be disappointed again. The fact that his mother hadn’t managed to get rid of the bewildered look on her face since he had dragged Tommy into Chimney’s hospital room didn’t help.

“Should I be scared?” Tommy asked, raising an eyebrow.

Buck chuckled, though it sounded more like a nervous exhale. He stole another glance at his parents, then shifted his gaze to the floor, kicking at an imaginary speck of dust. “Nah,” he said, though he admittedly wasn’t even able to convince himself of that. “Not scared. Just... prepared.”

Tommy followed Buck’s gaze across the room, where Buck’s parents stood stiffly by a wall, half-empty champagne flutes clutched tightly in their hands. Buck knew they had been mingling just a few minutes ago, but he still couldn’t help but feel that they looked, well, out of place. While they were nothing but polite, they didn’t really mesh with anyone else, and always seemed a little awkward.

“They don’t seem like they bite,” Tommy observed, in that casual, dry tone Buck had grown to appreciate over the past few weeks. In an instant, a part of his anxiety evaporated and bubbled to the surface in a barely held back snort.

“Not literally, no.” Buck ran a hand through his hair with a shake of his head, the slight smile Tommy had brought to his face staying on his face. “It’s just... history, you know? They’re trying, and I get that, I do. But sometimes it’s like...” He trailed off with a shrug, struggling to find the right words. “It’s like I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Tommy nodded, his hand reaching out to squeeze Buck’s. Buck had told him the basics, how Maddie had practically raised him, how their parents had been neglectful and controlling. He vaguely knew about Daniel, too, though Buck hadn’t delved into the whole Savior Baby thing yet. The subject was…touchy, to say the least, and while he knew he had to breach it at some point, he wanted Tommy to have as neutral an opinion on his parents as possible. They were putting in the effort, so Buck figured they deserved that much.

“Well,” Tommy said, squeezing Buck’s hand again, a bit firmer this time, “if things get weird, you’ve got me for backup. Just say the word, and I’ll distract them with my fake mouth static.”

Buck couldn’t help but let out a genuine laugh at that, which surprised even himself. Tommy had a knack for diffusing tension, and Buck was grateful for it. It was one of the reasons he had gravitated toward him in the first place. He tightened his grip on Tommy’s hand, drawing strength from the contact, before letting go and straightening up.

“Good idea. You’re renowned for your fake mouth static after all.”

“Damn right I am.”

They stood there for a moment, neither quite willing to take the first step towards the inevitable conversation. The reception was starting to wind down, (because the nurses were kicking people out now) so at least if this developed into a scene, not too many people would end up seeing. Chimney, now recovering well after the whole viral encephalitis debacle, was in high spirits, chatting animatedly with Hen and Karen. Maddie was close by his side, smiling brighter than he had ever seen, seemingly refusing to let go of her new husband’s arm.

The love between them gave Buck a tiny surge of courage. If Maddie and Chimney could find happiness after everything they had been through, then maybe things could work out with his and Maddie’s parents too.

“Alright,” Buck said, straightening his posture, bracing himself for impact. “Let’s do this.”

They crossed the room together, Tommy a step behind Buck, offering silent support. Buck’s parents straightened as he approached, their faces neutral masks. They clearly didn’t know how to react, and Buck could hardly blame them for that.

“Hi,” Buck said, forcing a smile. “You probably have a few questions.”

His mother’s eyes softened, but there was still a glimmer of uncertainty in them. His father cleared his throat, his grip on the champagne flute tightening just slightly. The atmosphere was stiff, and the air felt thick enough to cut it with a knife.

“Hi, Buck,” his mother replied, her voice wavering just a bit. Buck was actually (positively) surprised that she used his nickname, though he had to admit it sounded almost foreign in her voice. “Yes, we, uh…” She glanced at his father, who nodded, urging her to continue. “We do have some questions, but—”

“We don’t want to push,” his father interjected, his tone uncharacteristically gentle. “We’re just… trying to understand.”

Buck nodded slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. They weren’t throwing accusations and bad faith arguments around, so that was a good start. Still, Buck knew that they weren’t out of the woods yet. He hadn’t spoken about the big B yet, after all.

“Yeah,” Buck said, rubbing the back of his neck, a nervous habit he hadn’t quite outgrown. “I figured. And, uh, it’s okay to ask. I know this is… a lot.”

He could see the moment his mother tried to put on a brave face, her lips curving into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “We were surprised, that’s all,” she said. “When you came into the room with…”

She trailed off, her eyes moving over Buck’s shoulder to where he knew Tommy stood just a foot or two behind him. He took a deep breath. This was it. No going back. He had thought about it for weeks at this point, had said it out loud to himself in the mirror, but not to anybody else, not even Maddie or Tommy.

“Tommy.” He turned slightly, reaching out his hand out to Tommy, who took it into his own with a smile as he stepped up. “Mom, Dad, this is Tommy Kinard. He’s my date. He, uh… he’s the reason I figured out that I’m bisexual.”

The words hung in the air for what felt like an eternity. Buck could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the sound of his blood rushing through his ears almost deafening. He knew this moment was pivotal (one of the most important in his life, probably) and the weight of it pressed down on him like the world on Atlas’ shoulders.

His parents exchanged glances, and Buck could see an onslaught of emotions flitting across their faces: surprise, confusion, and perhaps a flicker of something that could be hope. His mother’s fingers tightened around the stem of her champagne flute, and his father took a small step closer to her.

Tommy, for his part, stayed by Buck’s side, his presence a quiet but powerful anchor. He gave Buck’s hand a reassuring squeeze, a silent promise that he was here, and that he wouldn’t leave. Buck was grateful for that; it reminded him that no matter what was going to happen, he wasn’t alone.

His mother was the first to speak. “Bisexual,” she repeated, as if testing the word on her tongue. Her brow furrowed slightly, but there was no trace of anger or disappointment in her tone. Instead, she seemed...curious. “I…well, I didn’t expect that.”

Buck could see his father’s jaw tighten momentarily before he let out a slow breath. “Buck,” he began, his voice careful, deliberate. “This is…this is a lot to take in. But I want you to know that we’re listening. We’re trying to understand.”

Buck nodded. This wasn’t a rejection, not outright. But it wasn’t exactly acceptance either, not yet, at least. Still, it was something, and in this moment, something was better than nothing.

“I know it’s a lot,” Buck said, his voice quieter now. “And I don’t expect you to get it all at once. I only figured it out a few weeks ago, too. I just wanted you to know, because…because it’s who I am. And Tommy… he’s important to me.”

His mother’s eyes softened at that, and Buck could see her shifting, recalibrating her thoughts, trying to process this new piece of information about her son. “Tommy,” she said, as if tasting the name for the first time. She looked at him then, really looked at him, and there was something in her gaze that was almost…gentle. “It’s nice to meet you, Tommy.”

Tommy smiled, his usual confidence replaced by an almost shy nervousness. “Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Buckley. And Mr. Buckley,” he added, nodding respectfully toward Buck’s father.

Buck’s father gave a small nod in return, though his expression remained unreadable. “Tommy,” he repeated, his voice a bit more measured. “You’re… Buck’s boyfriend?”

Buck sucked in a sharp breath. Obviously that question would come up. He should’ve been prepared for it, but he wasn’t. He and Tommy hadn’t even really had that conversation. He’d certainly like for Tommy to be his boyfriend, he just wasn’t sure if Tommy was at that point yet. It had only been a few weeks after all. They had been on four dates, one of which was a complete disaster, and another that hadn’t even been a date at first, but an apology for the date that had been a complete disaster.

“Yeah,” Tommy said, his tone steady. “I’m his boyfriend. And I know this might be surprising, but Evan…he means a lot to me. I care about him.”

Buck’s breath hitched in his throat. He hadn’t expected Tommy to say it outright. He had expected a lighthearted “Not yet” or “We’re seeing each other.” That he’d gone right ahead… Buck’s heart swelled just a little bit. He squeezed Tommy’s hand a little tighter, grateful beyond words. Tommy’s answer made Buck just a little braver.

Finally, his mother spoke again. “I…I see,” she said, her voice softer now, almost hesitant. She looked at Buck, her eyes searching his, as if trying to reconcile the son she knew with these new things she was learning about him. “And you… you’re happy?”

Buck felt a lump rise in his throat. It was such a simple question, but it carried so much baggage. She wasn’t asking if he was happy with Tommy. She was asking if he was happy with himself, something that would’ve been absolutely unthinkable just three years ago.

“I am,” Buck replied, his voice growing more assured. “I’m happy, Mom. I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time.”

His mother’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and she nodded slowly, as if coming to a decision within herself. She reached out then, tentatively, her hand hovering in the air for a moment before she placed it on Buck’s arm. “That’s all we want, Buck,” she whispered, her voice wavering a little. “We just want you to be happy.”

His father, who had been silent for most of the exchange, cleared his throat again. “It’s…a lot to adjust to,” he admitted, his voice gruff but not unkind. “But if this is who you are, and if this man makes you happy, then…well, we’ll do our best to understand.”

Buck felt a surge of relief wash over him, so powerful that it nearly knocked him off his feet. It wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot, but it was something. Something good. It was yet another step toward healing their relationship, and for that, he was grateful.

“Thank you,” Buck said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you for not, like, freaking out.”

His father gave a small nod, and his mother’s hand tightened on his arm, a silent reassurance that they were, in fact, trying. Tommy smiled and wrapped his arm around Buck’s shoulders, Buck leaning into his side almost automatically, enjoying the warmth of their connection.

His mother glanced over at Tommy, her expression softening further. “You’re welcome to join us for dinner before we fly back to Hershey, Tommy,” she said, a small, tentative smile tugging at her lips. “We’d like to get to know you better.”

Tommy’s eyes widened at the invitation, and Buck didn’t blame him. It was already unusual that Tommy had met his parents this early, but getting invited to family dinner? That was big. “I’d love to, Mrs. Buckley. Thank you.”

Buck’s father gave a curt nod, not quite ready to add anything further, but his stance had relaxed just a little. There was still a long way to go, a lot of conversations to be had, but in that moment, Buck knew they were moving in the right direction.

As the reception continued to wind down, Buck stood there with Tommy by his side, his parents before him, and for the first time in a long while, he felt a cautious sense of optimism. The journey ahead would be challenging, there was no doubt about that, but they were all still here, still trying, and that was more than Buck could have hoped for when he first approached them.

As they exchanged a few more words, lighter now, less fraught with tension, Buck realized that this was what he had been waiting for all along. Not just acceptance, but the willingness to grow, to move forward together. And maybe that was enough to help the wounds of the past heal.

[cloudysarts]

Hi there!!

I want to say that your “Mabel’s muse” Au concept has absolutely called my attention, Bill mentions multiple times (Dipper and Mabel’s guide to mystery and fun and TBOB) how he likes Mabel’s personality and wanted her to be his ally…sooo the idea of an alternative time where he decided to approach her and where she trusts him and considers him as her friend is absolutely full of potential

I just think about how many stuff would change and how bill would be a little more genuine with her as he for once isn’t pretending to be an all-wise being and having to constantly rise the ego of Genius minds…instead he just has to party with a teenager whose idea of fun is quite similar to his…he doesn’t have to be the “supreme being” for once just a silly fella in order to earn Mabel’s trust

Also about how some episodes would have to take a completely different route:

maybe “Mindscapers” wouldn’t even take place…because I doubt that Mabel would trust a Bill if he went inside Stan’s head

Bill possessing her during the “sock opera”episode instead of dipper

Also don’t get me started on “the last Mabelcorn” episode. All the angst and horror that Ford would feel when he finds out about the whole friendship with bill situation reflecting himself on Mabel and probably Dipper being the one who search for the unicorn hair while ford tries to convince her that Bill isn’t trustworthy

I apologize for my rant but I seriously love your idea and sorry if it’s a bit confusing English isn’t my first language

I hope you have a nice day and thank you for reading this silly thing!!

first of all, your english is great!! second of all, i am SO sorry it took me so long to respond to this ask, it just made me so happy that i wanted to take my time to craft a response!!!!!! :DDDD (context: for people who don't know what my 'mabels muse' au is, you can check it out over here!)

you are practically SPOT ON with my ideas for this au!!!!!! but i'm gonna briefly run through all the things you brought up!!

first of all, yes, absolutely!!!! for bill, partner-ing up with mabel was a very nice change of pace. he likes stroking the ego's of genius', just for his own amusement, but he doesnt get the THRILL of just getting to PLAY very often!! he's a very childish being, at the end of the day. he enables mabel's selfishness, while getting to indulge his own, silly passions right alongside her!! and obviously, mabel LOVES being enabled <3 i imagine most of the dreams he gives her would make any normal persons eyes bleed

as for your episode ideas, you're mostly right!!! :) mindscaperers does, in fact, NOT happen in this au. in my head, i imagine gideon trying to summon him, only for an 'I.O.U' to appear where bill should be. he's busy hanging out with his favorite pre-teen!!! so gideon skips straight to his backup plan, aka, gideon rises ^^

for sock opera, i'm still on the fence a little bit. one of the reasons bill is hanging out with her at all in this au is because, unlike in the regular timeline, this bill actively wants stanford to be brought home. the reason mabel is important to him, is because he can see timelines where she presses the button in not what he seems, and keeps him from returning. in his mind, he has the greatest shot of success if mabel doesn't press it. in this au, she doesnt even hesitate to trust stan, because she has another, trustworthy voice in her head, yelling DON'T PRESS THE BUTTON. its 2v1! ANYWAY, the reason any of that matters for sock opera, is because he wouldnt have any need to possess anyone, because he has no interest in smashing the laptop! BUT.....i can see him doing it anyway. i figure, most likely, he gets mabel to (willingly) let him use her body, so that she can work on her sock opera while her body sleeps. i just imagine a bill-possessed mabel up at 3 am, covered in hot glue and googly eyes as he tries to work it out shjdkfhjsdkf. but......honestly, he probably destroys the laptop in the process :) just to fuck with dipper <3 not that dipper ever finds out its her. he has no idea that mabel was ever possessed/has no reason to suspect her, because at this point, he still doesnt think bill is real. that is....until the last mabelcorn.

IN the last mabelcorn, mabel reveals to ford that she does recognize bill, and that he lives in her brain! she says it really excitedly, at the table, while dipper kind of just rolls his eyes about it. to her, its vindicating, because it's the first time anyone has ever acknowledged bills existence. but to ford, its HORRIFYING, because he knows it isn't just a coincidence. he knows he has to do something, but he doesn't know what, right away. this is where our ideas differ a little bit, because i think that mabel still WOULD be the one retrieving the unicorn hair! ford just didnt tell her what the hair was for. ford sends her off, because he wants to brainstorm a way to get him out of her head, preferably without hurting her/her memories. he also plans to bill-proof dippers mind in the process, just in case mabel is too far gone already. the events here happen basically the same (with minor tweaks), but instead of dipper suspecting that ford is evil/bill-possessed, this is where he finally learns that bill is real at all. ford tells him about his backstory, and explains the REAL reason he sent mabel out to get the unicorn hair, etc etc. he loves mabel a lot, but hes not sure how to go about dealing with this situation yet. its not HER fault she trusted bill, but he knew that if he just tries to tell her hes evil, she wont believe him. shes known 'her muse' longer, and as of right now, he's never lead her wrong. just like what happened to him in the past...

i wonder how mabel would feel if she only heard the end of that conversation...

[ringsreforged]

Natalie's *deep* Haladriel thoughts - BEWARE

Pau - When you read this later, let me know if you want me to move it to my personal account, yeah? If it even still exists...

I’m not really sure what this post is going to end up being. A defence of the show and the separation? In part! A critique of the show based off leak spoilers and my own gut feeling? For sure! A desperate ramble in an attempt to get my head in order? Absolutely!

I will say before we dive in that I’m absolutely a Haladriel shipper, but the way I ship isn’t always in line with fandom. I ship what I see as part of the narrative because it’s the narrative, and everything else is a bonus. I make this distinction because I think this is why I’m so okay with a lack of scenes when some others are not, and I don’t want to come across preachy. I don't think I'm in any way superior for this by the way. In fact, I wish I could be more *normal*!!!!

If you came to this show for Haladriel alone, and simply want to see them share scenes week to week – that’s your prerogative. I’m not trying to say you shouldn’t feel that way. What I might try to say is that I don’t think that makes the shows bad or suggests that the writers have baited with this relationship. I think that’s ultimately what I find frustrating…

But anyway, let’s get into whatever this is. A reflection on expectations, a five-season arc, and those STUPID spoiler leaks…

AND THERE WILL BE SPOILERS. STAY AWAY. HISS.

Alright, so this post is mostly brought to you by a sinking feeling I have that the leak spoilers are real. Because everything in that episode 7 promo matches up.

STOP READING if you don’t want to know the spoilers. And honestly? STOP READING IF YOU THINK YOU WANT TO KNOW because living with this knowledge has truly made this season less enjoyable for me (credit to it, then, because I still think it’s incredible). IF I’M MAKING YOU PANIC, STILL STOP READING because there very much is a world where these spoilers aren’t that bad in context…but I prefer to keep my expectations low…

Have you gone???

HAVE YOU GONE?????

SPOILER TALK

Okay.

So, the leak spoilers say that there is no kiss between Sauron and Galadriel (which, honestly, I have no great issue with – more to come on that later). Instead, the kiss is ELROND AND GALADRIEL, and I absolutely do take issue with this.

I can only hope and PRAY that it works in context, but I can’t get my head around it. And yet, the promo…it’s all falling into place. Elrond will be sent to discuss terms with the orcs before the battle. He’ll see Galadriel in chains, and he’ll ask for a moment to say goodbye. Adar will allow it because he’s a gent like that. This is where we get the chin touch with the thumb everyone speculated over and then…HE LEANS IN AND KISSES HER TO PUT A NEEDLE IN HER MOUTH? SO SHE CAN RELEASE HERSELF LATER??

To clarify, most of this is my spec, but THE KISS TO PASS HER A NEEDLE IS A REAL LEAKED SPOILER THAT NO LONGER SEEMS FAKE.

It's just…so convoluted and weird??? Does he store needles in his mouth like a squirrel? Why couldn’t he have slipped the needle into her hand??? WHY ARE YOU PUTTING ELROND’S LIPS ON GALADRIEL’S?

And look, maybe this spoiler IS still fake! But the details were so specific, and everything about the context seems to be accurate, so that feels like it would be a bonkers coincidence to me. Maybe when we actually see it play out, it will be fine.

But that does bring me back to the Haladriel of it all, just briefly. With my whole heart, I do not need them to kiss. After season 1, I didn’t think it would be possible, and I’m okay with that. But if you’re willing to let ELROND’S lips touch her, then MY GOD, you could have let Haladriel have ONE kiss where she’s trying to distract him or some shit. OOF.

My only relief is that it happens next week, so we can hopefully get it out of our systems and enjoy the finale.

That said, if these leaks are true then that also means the finale leaks are true. Now, I actually never wanted to see any of these spoilers (hence me making it VERY CLEAR what this post is about, because I wouldn’t inflict this stress on anyone unwillingly), so once I got the Elrond kiss details, I tried to get away without seeing much else. But there was some information on the big Haladriel scene.

I’m actually not going to detail it here, because – overall – I think we’ll still super enjoy it (just…lower those kiss expectations) AND because I don’t think all of it was spoiled. At the end of the day, there will be plenty to unpack, they’ll be back on our screens, it will be meaty, it will be layered. I’m really looking forward to it, in general.

My one fear is that it’s a season 1 finale repeat. And again, that won’t necessarily be bad per se, but it will feel a little bit underwhelming. Now, I’m not somebody that wants a true corruption arc for Galadriel. Normally, I love that shit, but not in this IP and not with this character. I want to see her explore her darkness, I want to see her face it and accept it, and I certainly want to see her be tempted…but I don’t expect or believe we'll ever actually get the whole ‘dark queen of Mordor’ vibe. Prisoner? Maybe. But not an actual dark queen.

That said…surely this scene doesn’t play out the EXACT same way as season 1? Sauron shows her a vision, she’s tempted, but ultimately resists and tells him she’ll never be at his side. I just don’t get why we’d repeat that, when there are so many other options that still keep Gal on the side of light.

I keep coming back to Galadriel’s line to Elrond in episode 4 – when it comes down to it, he has to choose to defeat Sauron and sacrifice her. I feel like if I hadn’t seen the leaks, then I would be 1000% expecting this to be the outcome. Especially with how Elrond’s theme comes in at the end of The Last Temptation track. He comes upon the confrontation but chooses to do the thing that will harm Sauron in the long run, rather than the thing that will save Galadriel.

I hope so badly for this, but I do worry that it will go the other way. What if it parallels Gandalfanger’s destiny/friend choice, and Elrond chooses her because THAT is how light wins or some shit? Not that this will be a bad scene by any stretch – I love their relationship and want to see their FRIENDSHIP (grrrr) reforged…but, again, the S1 finale! Sauron left her in the water, and Elrond was there to save her.

There’s also Galadriel’s conversation with Adar in the most recent episode – you succumbed, I resisted – but I guess this could go either way? He succumbed, so she resists. She insists she’s able to resist, so she succumbs. URGH. MY HEAD.

There MUST be a difference. SURELY??? Like, this season has been so well written…I just can’t comprehend the copy and paste.

Again, this isn’t anything close to a deal breaker for me. I firmly believe the showrunners when they say this relationship will remain the core of the show, but…hmmm. Okay, on that note…

DAMAGE CONTROL – MOVING ONTO THE DEFENCE OF THE SHOW

So, this is where I want to get into some stuff that I just…don’t agree with that I’ve seen being thrown at the show by shippers. And I’ll reiterate here that I’m truly not telling anybody what to feel. You can hate the show for its choices and feel how you feel. You can express yourself in your social media spaces, and if anybody doesn’t like it they can mute/block/unfollow. This chunk isn’t really aimed at you guys.

This is more for other people like me, because I’m cursed to be somebody that generally wants to just…enjoy things for what they are, while also being susceptible to the mood of others. I want to scroll tags and have a good time, rather than see negativity because it lowers my mood (this isn’t just ship related by the way, I really love this show overall…it’s just this tag that has been impacting my mood most this season). Regardless of the nonsense that might be in episode 7, and even if the finale scene is a repeat of S1, I’m still going to want to focus on enjoying what we get, enjoying the narrative being told etc. So, for those of you that have a little sinking feeling in your gut after the first half of this post, hopefully this second half will help.

This isn’t a ‘typical’ ship. This is a true ENEMIES ARE ENEMIES dynamic where the bad boy is ultimately going to be (is already) pure evil, and where our heroine is the embodiment of light. There are certain things that we just have to accept when it comes to loving this dynamic as part of the show – there will never be another season like season 1. Nor should there be?

Do I wish for s3 to have them in close proximity for at least a few episodes? Of course! Do I think it’s possible with or without finale spoilers? Absolutely (given how quickly characters travel from place to place on this show, they could end the season at opposite ends of Middle Earth and this would still be on the cards…). I’m also anticipating Season 4 as a good time for them to be in full MIND PALACE mode – where the rings are all ringing, but Galadriel hasn’t yet worked out how to shut him out yet. By season 5, there might just be one final scene before the final battle. But, again, I really do think there needs to be a little bit of acceptance of that. Or, at least, expectation of it.

Something I really want to push back against is this idea that Haladriel was baited or teased, but the writers don’t actually care for it. Honestly, that’s nonsense to me on a couple of levels.

First of all, almost EVERY dynamic this season has been reduced to a handful of scenes here and there. The most consistent relationships have probably been Annatar and Celebrimbor, and Durin+Durin+Disa (off the top of my head). Elrond and Durin (probably the other most popular dynamic of S1) have been apart all season, Elrond and Galadriel have too. Isildur popped up to say hello and we might not see him again.

When you actually stop and look at this season…Sauron and Galadriel had to be separated. She could not be anywhere near him while he’s working Celebrimbor, and there’s no world in which they were ever going to change that narrative. And yet, the Sauron and Galadriel dynamic has been consistent across the season. With Galadriel predominantly (and depending on how the finale goes, I may have thoughts on this), but it has also been easier with her because people have talked with her openly about Sauron. It’s been harder on his side, but the fact that Mirdania seems to have been cast to look like Galadriel honestly – right now – feels like it was done with the express purpose of giving Sauron a Galadriel reference.

Again, I’m not saying you have to like the lack of scenes, but it’s not bad writing to respect the overarching narrative of an ensemble show. Galadriel’s season has been all about him, and we’ve had countless insights to make that clear – building up to their final confrontation. If Sauron was running around mentioning Galadriel every five seconds with Celebrimbor or with the dwarves, it would be horrendously out of character.

This next comment is…somewhat dependent on the finale…but as somebody that loves Elendil and Miriel, everything in Numenor has been somewhat crammed in. I would firmly argue that the Galadriel/Sauron dynamic across this season has been treated with care and reverence, all building to a climax designed as the high point of the season. Will we be 100% satisfied? Who can say! But it IS what the season is building to.

I think this brings me around to a particular gripe I have, and maybe the people that believe this came to the show after S1 had fully aired or something…but there’s this idea floating around that the showrunners don’t like this dynamic and are just giving it crumbs to bait people into watching. This makes me want to scream.

These showrunners literally took a few lines about Galadriel being tempted by Sauron and PITCHED THE ENTIRE SHOW OFF OF THAT. The Tolkien estate wasn’t only pitched by Amazon BUT CHOSE THIS PITCH OVER ANYTHING ELSE. Season 1 was written pretty much like a prologue centred around GALADRIEL AND SAURON HAVING A PERSONAL CONNECTION WITH ROMANTIC UNDERTONES…and guess what?

They wrote all that…they filmed ALL THAT…before knowing anything about the audience reaction! That was ALL the showrunners, the writers, the directors, the actors. They ARE the narrative. They are not bait.

Does that mean the fundamentals of their dynamic will always please you, individually? No, of course not. Some people want outright romance, some people want soft Sauron, some people want Dark Galadriel. Will they kiss? I doubt it. Do I wish they would? Sure! Will they be separated again next season? Probably! Will I also wish that they could at least be stuck together for a run of episodes again? Absolutely!

But the idea that any of this is bait, or unimportant to the show drives me a little bit bonkers.

I guess my personal feeling of frustration comes from the fact that I feel so lucky they are exploring this show from the perspective of this dynamic, regardless of specific details/scenes. I’d bet my house (I don’t own a house) that every other pitch hinged on Elendil or Isildur as the protagonists of the show. Now, I love those dudes, but just IMAGINE? The fact that we’re on this path at all is still WILD to me.

ANYWAY, this is what happens when Paulina goes on holiday and I have nobody to ramble too. Sorry for the explosion, but I’ve been dreading the stupid kiss spoiler since I stumbled on it after EPISODE BLOODY 3 and so I needed to vent somewhere.

TL;DR: You are welcome to feel the way you feel, and if you hate everything you go right ahead, but maybe this makes sense to somebody. IDK. IDK.

[demonstars]

wanted to paint these properly but got lazy SO. dnf dancing cueca chilena 🇨🇱 and polca montuvia 🇪🇨. in the first dream as china, jorge as huaso, and then them both as montuvios from the ecuador coast once again infodumping under the cut!

la cueca chilena has a complicated origin which i will not get into right now because i mostly forgot everything about it. oops. what does matter is that it is the typical dance around las fiestas patrias (as a fun fact: september 19th is the day of military glory which is. well. whatever it's a holiday yknow. yesterday was day of independence.) what is important to note here is that, as a courting dance, there are many variations of coquettish and cute movements to be done as a couple as they dance. the idea is to mimic the courting of a chicken and a rooster, funny enough

they're both using napkins, which are an important part of the dance, worn in the right hand and which serve to decorate the dance. there's a great (and sadly dying) tradition of weaving these napkins. dream is thus "hiding" himself from george's "courting" as a way to get him to insist more, and hopefully earn himself another dance so they spend more time together on the dancefloor :3

cueca is a dance that allows a lot of freedom to the dancers, with only three "stages" that they must pass do. there are many subgenres, such as cueca brava (angry), chilota (from a particular island), de salón, rock, and genres created to protest, such as cueca sola (lonely). THIS HAS NO IMPORTANCE TO THE DRAWING I JUST REALLY LIKE THE DANCE AND WHAT IT REPRESENTS.

now with polca montuvia, it has a more direct origin, being brought from spaniards colonizers and all of that not fun stuff. there aren't particular roles as far as I'm aware (aside from. men/women. yknwo). it is a very fun dance!!!

this is a musical subgenre that emerges from the ecuadorian coast, and it is a reclamation from the fancy vals dances that used to occur in the center of the city. by transforming the melodies, rhymes and steps of the general polka, a new version was created. it is often danced in the same parties in which amorfinos, villancicos or alzas are sang/danced.

there is a lot of negative perceptions as to who montuvios are or what their celebrations where, considered "drunken, messy people". this has resulted in a lot of degrading comments of these dances, but I find them absolutely wonderful :(((

according to the local mythos, this particular dance was created because the orenses (people from the "los oros" province) wanted a dance for themselves. it has evolved past this point by now, but the fight for identity is still present in many of the songs in which you would dance polka montuvia.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

George Orwell's 11 Rules for the Perfect Cup of Tea

George Orwell:

If you look up ‘tea’ in the first cookery book that comes to hand you will probably find that it is unmentioned; or at most you will find a few lines of sketchy instructions which give no ruling on several of the most important points. This is curious, not only because tea is one of the mainstays of civilization in this country, as well as in Eire, Australia and New Zealand, but because the best manner of making it is the subject of violent disputes. When I look through my own recipe for the perfect cup of tea, I find no fewer than 11 outstanding points. On perhaps two of them there would be pretty general agreement, but at least four others are acutely controversial. Here are my own 11 rules, every one of which I regard as golden:

First of all, one should use Indian or Ceylonese tea. China tea has virtues which are not to be despised nowadays—it is economical, and one can drink it without milk—but there is not much stimulation in it. One does not feel wiser, braver or more optimistic after drinking it. Anyone who has used that comforting phrase ‘a nice cup of tea’ invariably means Indian tea.

Secondly, tea should be made in small quantities—that is, in a teapot. Tea out of an urn is always tasteless, while army tea, made in a cauldron, tastes of grease and whitewash. The teapot should be made of china or earthenware. Silver or Britanniaware teapots produce inferior tea and enamel pots are worse; though curiously enough a pewter teapot (a rarity nowadays) is not so bad.

Thirdly, the pot should be warmed beforehand. This is better done by placing it on the hob than by the usual method of swilling it out with hot water.

Fourthly, the tea should be strong. For a pot holding a quart, if you are going to fill it nearly to the brim, six heaped teaspoons would be about right. In a time of rationing, this is not an idea that can be realized on every day of the week, but I maintain that one strong cup of tea is better than twenty weak ones. All true tea lovers not only like their tea strong, but like it a little stronger with each year that passes—a fact which is recognized in the extra ration issued to old-age pensioners.

Fifthly, the tea should be put straight into the pot. No strainers, muslin bags or other devices to imprison the tea. In some countries teapots are fitted with little dangling baskets under the spout to catch the stray leaves, which are supposed to be harmful. Actually one can swallow tea-leaves in considerable quantities without ill effect, and if the tea is not loose in the pot it never infuses properly.

Sixthly, one should take the teapot to the kettle and not the other way about. The water should be actually boiling at the moment of impact, which means that one should keep it on the flame while one pours. Some people add that one should only use water that has been freshly brought to the boil, but I have never noticed that it makes any difference.

Seventhly, after making the tea, one should stir it, or better, give the pot a good shake, afterwards allowing the leaves to settle.

Eighthly, one should drink out of a good breakfast cup—that is, the cylindrical type of cup, not the flat, shallow type. The breakfast cup holds more, and with the other kind one’s tea is always half cold—before one has well started on it.

Ninthly, one should pour the cream off the milk before using it for tea. Milk that is too creamy always gives tea a sickly taste.

Tenthly, one should pour tea into the cup first. This is one of the most controversial points of all; indeed in every family in Britain there are probably two schools of thought on the subject. The milk-first school can bring forward some fairly strong arguments, but I maintain that my own argument is unanswerable. This is that, by putting the tea in first and stirring as one pours, one can exactly regulate the amount of milk whereas one is liable to put in too much milk if one does it the other way round.

Lastly, tea—unless one is drinking it in the Russian style—should be drunk without sugar. I know very well that I am in a minority here. But still, how can you call yourself a true tea-lover if you destroy the flavour of your tea by putting sugar in it? It would be equally reasonable to put in pepper or salt. Tea is meant to be bitter, just as beer is meant to be bitter. If you sweeten it, you are no longer tasting the tea, you are merely tasting the sugar; you could make a very similar drink by dissolving sugar in plain hot water.

Some people would answer that they don’t like tea in itself, that they only drink it in order to be warmed and stimulated, and they need sugar to take the taste away. To those misguided people I would say: Try drinking tea without sugar for, say, a fortnight and it is very unlikely that you will ever want to ruin your tea by sweetening it again. These are not the only controversial points to arise in connection with tea drinking, but they are sufficient to show how subtilized the whole business has become. There is also the mysterious social etiquette surrounding the teapot (why is it considered vulgar to drink out of your saucer, for instance?) and much might be written about the subsidiary uses of tealeaves, such as telling fortunes, predicting the arrival of visitors, feeding rabbits, healing burns and sweeping the carpet. It is worth paying attention to such details as warming the pot and using water that is really boiling, so as to make quite sure of wringing out of one’s ration the 20 good, strong cups that two ounces, properly handled, ought to represent.

Published in the Evening Standard, 12 January 1946

[paddockletters]

chihiro | trent alexander-arnold

request:Can you please write something for Trent inspired by chihiro something angst when Trent becomes distant toward the reader (gf or wife ) and less attentive . But she still gives him all of her but soon realizes that it breaks her, and it breaks her more because he hasn't realized pairing: trent alexander-arnold x reader summary: You find yourself in a heart-wrenching struggle as Trent pulls away, leaving you to question your worth. Despite your devotion, his distance shatters your spirit. As you confront the painful truth, a life-changing decision awaits, forcing you to choose between love and self-preservation. warnings: angst, gaslighting author's note: i really enjoyed writing this and i hope you liked it, ... Well, as I always say... english is not my first language so sorry me if there are mistakes —feel free to tell me— and my requests are open!👀

I’ve been feeling it for a while now—the distance, the way Trent pulls away without even realizing it. At first, I thought it was just me being too sensitive, that maybe I was expecting too much. But as the days went on, I couldn’t ignore it anymore. He was no longer the person who used to look at me like I was his entire world. Now, it felt like I was just... there.

I remember the early days, the way he used to hold me so tight, like he was afraid I’d disappear. I’d catch him staring at me with that boyish smile of his, and he’d say, "What? Can’t I look at my girl?" I’d laugh and tell him he was ridiculous, but I loved it. I loved the way he made me feel seen, loved, important. That version of Trent feels like a distant memory now.

Now? Now he barely looks at me.

The other night, I tried to talk to him—really talk. I had been holding it in for too long, trying to give him space, hoping he’d notice on his own that something was wrong. But he didn’t. So, I brought it up, carefully, not wanting to start a fight.

"Trent," I said, sitting on the couch while he scrolled through his phone, "I feel like we’re not… us anymore."

He glanced up, brow furrowing for a moment before looking back at his screen. "What do you mean?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat, trying to keep my voice steady. "I just… I miss you. I miss how we used to be. Lately, it feels like you’re a million miles away, even when you’re sitting right next to me."

He sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I’ve been busy. You know that."

"I know, but…" I hesitated. "It’s more than that, Trent. I feel like I’m losing you, and I don’t know how to fix it."

His response was so simple, so dismissive. "You’re overthinking it."

Overthinking it. That’s what he said. And maybe I was, but it didn’t change the fact that I felt like I was pouring everything I had into this relationship while he was barely giving me scraps in return.

I gave him a small, sad smile, hoping it would break through his detachment. "I’m not trying to push you away, I just want… I just want us to be close again."

Trent shifted uncomfortably, clearly not in the mood for a deep conversation. "We’re fine. I don’t know why you’re making a big deal out of this."

The silence that followed his words was suffocating. I remember how my chest tightened, and I had to fight back the tears threatening to spill over. Why couldn’t he see it? Why couldn’t he see that I was breaking right in front of him?

There was a time he would come home, exhausted from training, and still find the energy to cuddle up with me on the couch, kissing my forehead, telling me about his day. I remember one evening after a tough match, he had pulled me into his lap, wrapping his arms around me, and whispered, "You’re the best part of my day, you know that?"

But those days feel like they belong to a different lifetime now.

Another night, I cooked his favorite meal, hoping it would spark something between us—bring him back to me. He came home late, as usual, tired and distracted. He barely glanced at the dinner I’d spent hours preparing.

"Thanks," he muttered, barely looking at the table. He grabbed a plate and sat down, eyes glued to the TV, like I wasn’t even there.

I sat across from him, pushing my food around my plate, trying to find the courage to say something, but the words died in my throat. It wasn’t just that he was distant; it was like I had become invisible to him.

When did it get this bad? I wondered, feeling a heaviness in my chest. The love I had for him was still there, burning painfully bright, but it was slowly killing me to keep holding on when he wasn’t holding on to me.

And then came the night it all fell apart.

I couldn’t sleep. I had spent hours lying next to him, staring at the ceiling, my heart aching with the weight of everything left unsaid. I needed to say something, to make him understand, but I didn’t know how.

I slipped out of bed and went to the living room, sitting in the dark, hugging my knees to my chest. I must have been there for a while because, at some point, Trent came out, rubbing his eyes.

"Why are you out here?" His voice was groggy, but there was no concern in it. Just exhaustion.

I looked up at him, tears already spilling down my cheeks. "I can’t do this anymore, Trent."

He frowned, confused. "Do what?"

"This." I gestured between us. "Us. Whatever this has become. I can’t keep pretending that I’m okay when I’m not. I’m breaking, Trent, and you don’t even see it."

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. "What do you want me to say? I’m doing the best I can."

"But your best isn’t enough anymore," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I’ve given you everything—my love, my time, my heart—and I’m still left feeling like I’m not enough. Like I’m the only one fighting for us."

He sat down across from me, sighing heavily. "I don’t know what you want from me."

"I want you to care," I said, my voice breaking. "I want you to look at me the way you used to. I want to feel like I matter to you again."

There was a long silence. I stared at him, hoping—praying—that he would say something, anything, to make me feel like I hadn’t lost him completely. But all he did was look away, rubbing his face in frustration.

And that was it. That was the moment I knew. He didn’t have it in him anymore, and I couldn’t keep pouring my love into someone who wasn’t willing to do the same.

"I love you," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "But I can’t keep hurting like this."

He looked at me, his eyes finally softening, but it was too late. "I don’t want to lose you."

I smiled sadly through my tears. "You already have."

That night, after Trent and I sat in silence, I knew it wasn’t just a phase. It wasn’t going to change overnight or even at all. The weight of it all was too much, and I didn’t know how to carry it anymore. My hands were shaking as I reached for my phone, scrolling through my contacts. I needed to talk to someone—someone who might understand.

My thumb hovered over my best friend's name, Jess. I hadn’t told her much about what had been going on, mainly because I didn’t want to admit how bad things were. But now, it was like the dam had broken, and I needed to get it all out.

I hit call.

She picked up after a couple of rings, her voice groggy. "Hey, what’s up? It’s late, everything okay?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat, trying to steady my voice. "Not really."

Her tone shifted instantly, becoming more alert. "What happened? Is it Trent?"

I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. "Yeah. I just… I don’t know what to do anymore, Jess. It’s like I don’t exist to him. I love him so much, but I feel like I’m losing myself in the process of holding on to him."

There was a pause on the other end. Jess wasn’t one to sugarcoat things, but she also wasn’t the type to push unless I was ready.

"Has he said anything about how he feels? Have you guys talked?" she asked cautiously.

"We tried. Well, I tried. It’s like he doesn’t even see the problem. He keeps saying I’m overthinking it, that I’m making a big deal out of nothing. But it’s not nothing, Jess. It’s killing me."

There was another silence, and then she let out a deep sigh. "Babe, you deserve someone who sees you, who cares enough to put in the effort. I know you love him, but if he’s not giving you anything to hold on to, what are you supposed to do?"

I leaned back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling. "I don’t know. I don’t know if I can keep doing this. I want to believe things will get better, but he’s so... distant. Like he’s already gone, and I’m the only one holding on."

Jess’s voice softened. "Have you thought about what would happen if you walked away?"

My breath caught in my throat. I had thought about it—many times. But actually doing it? The idea felt like ripping my own heart out. "Yeah. I’ve thought about it. But I don’t know if I’m strong enough to let him go."

“You are. You’re stronger than you think,” she said firmly. “But don’t make any decisions until you’re sure. Give it some time, see if he changes. But if he doesn’t... you deserve better, and you know that.”

The next day, I found myself dialing a number I hadn’t used in a while—Trent’s mom. She and I had always gotten along, and part of me wondered if she could help, if maybe she’d seen this side of him before.

"Hello?" Her warm, familiar voice answered, and for a moment, I felt a little less alone.

"Hey, it’s me," I said quietly.

"Oh, sweetheart, it’s so good to hear from you! How are you?"

I hesitated, my voice catching in my throat. "Not great, to be honest."

She paused, clearly sensing the heaviness in my tone. "Is everything okay with you and Trent?"

I let out a shaky breath, the tears I’d been holding back finally spilling over. "I don’t know. I feel like I’ve lost him. He’s been so distant, and I don’t know how to reach him. I don’t know what to do anymore."

She was silent for a moment, and then she sighed. "I’m so sorry, love. I’ve noticed he’s been a bit off lately, but I didn’t want to interfere. You know how he is—sometimes he gets so wrapped up in his own world that he doesn’t realize how it affects the people around him."

"Yeah," I whispered, wiping my eyes. "But I feel like I’m breaking, and he doesn’t even see it."

“Have you told him this? Really told him?” she asked gently.

"I tried. I told him how I felt, but he just brushes it off, like I’m overreacting."

There was a long pause before she spoke again, her voice soft. "I know he loves you. He may not show it the way you need right now, but I know he does. But if he’s not making you feel loved, if he’s not making you feel like you matter, you have to think about what’s best for you. You can’t keep giving and giving until there’s nothing left of yourself."

Her words hit me like a punch to the chest because they were the truth I hadn’t wanted to face. I couldn’t keep pouring everything I had into Trent if he wasn’t willing to meet me halfway.

"I don’t know what to do," I admitted, my voice breaking. "I don’t want to lose him, but I can’t keep living like this."

"No one can tell you what to do, love. Only you know what’s right for you. But whatever you decide, you deserve to be happy. Don’t settle for less than that."

That night, after talking to Trent’s mom, I lay in bed next to him, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on my chest. The silence between us was louder than ever, and for the first time, I wondered if this was how it was always going to be. If I was going to spend the rest of my life feeling like a ghost in my own relationship.

I thought back to the last time we’d had a real conversation—weeks ago, maybe more. I had asked for space, told him I needed some time to clear my head, to figure things out for myself. I had been so overwhelmed by everything then, but I thought that maybe stepping away, even for a little while, would make me feel better.

"I need to be alone for a bit," I had said quietly, standing in the doorway of our bedroom, my hand still gripping the edge of the doorframe.

He’d looked at me, his face unreadable, but nodded. "Take your time."

It had been a relief at first. I had gone for a long walk, let my thoughts run wild as I tried to make sense of what had been happening between us. I’d told myself that once I came back, we could figure things out, rebuild what had been crumbling.

But when I returned that night, the house had felt different. Colder. Like something essential had disappeared. And Trent… he wasn’t there in the way I needed him to be. Physically, yes, he was there. But emotionally, mentally? It was like he had already checked out. I had walked back into the same room, into the same life, but somehow, I was the one who felt lost.

Now, as I lay beside him, I could still feel that same emptiness between us. I rolled over, my back to him, blinking back tears as I whispered, "I miss you."

He didn’t respond. I don’t even think he heard me.

And that’s when I knew—I had taken a break, hoping to come back to something familiar, something that we could still fix. But instead, I had returned to someone who was already gone.

Weeks passed after that night. The silence between us only grew, consuming every corner of our relationship. I kept hoping—foolishly—that maybe something would change, that Trent would look at me the way he used to, or that he would finally notice the cracks that had been widening for months. But nothing came. No words, no apologies, no acknowledgment of the distance that had turned us from lovers into strangers.

One morning, I woke up and knew. It was like the weight of everything had finally sunk deep enough for me to let go. I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t keep waiting for him to realize how much this was breaking me. So, I packed my things in silence. The room felt eerily calm, like it knew what was coming before I did.

Trent was at training, and for the first time, I was glad he wasn’t there. I didn’t have the strength to explain myself again, to beg for him to see me, to see us—the version of us that once existed. I left him a note on the bed, my hand trembling as I wrote the words that had been festering inside me for weeks.

"I can’t do this anymore. I gave you everything I had, but somewhere along the way, you stopped giving me anything back. I love you, Trent, but I love myself too much to keep breaking for someone who doesn’t even realize I’m shattered. Take care of yourself. Goodbye."

I walked out the door, my chest tight with pain, but for the first time in months, there was also a small sense of relief. I hadn’t felt this light in ages, even if it was paired with heartbreak. The hardest part was over. I was leaving.

"I guess this is it," I had said, my voice barely a whisper.

Now, weeks later, I sat in my new apartment, staring out the window as the city buzzed below. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I could breathe. The space around me was mine, filled with my own choices, my own life. But the ache in my chest was still there, lingering like a bruise that hadn’t quite healed.

It took time—too much time—but I finally realized something that had been staring me in the face all along. I had been waiting for him to notice me, to care enough to fight for us, but Trent had already made his choice. He’d been gone long before I ever walked out that door.

And now, after everything, I was the one who was finally gone. And for the first time in weeks, I realized… I wasn’t going to come back.

Then, one evening, while scrolling through my phone, I saw a text from a number I almost didn’t recognize anymore. It was Trent.

"I didn’t realize until now. You were gone, and I didn’t even notice. I’m sorry… for everything."

I stared at the message for a long time, feeling the tears pool in my eyes, but I didn’t reply. Because now, it was too late.

He had finally realized. But I was already gone.

[orcasoul]

Joel Miller Headcanons

Joel when you're ill.

This idea came to me while dealing with a stomach bug and, oh how I wish Joel Miller would take care of me :)

Joel's bones ache as he rides into Jackson after an eight hour patrol. Knees creaking as he dismounts at the stables, he presses his hands into his lower back and stretches out, a satisfying click rippling through his spine. All he wants now is a hot bath and quality time with his girl. After settling his horse in the stable, he makes his way outside with Tommy, where Maria is waiting to greet her husband.

"How was it?" she asked, pressing a chaste kiss to his Tommy's lips. "Nothing much to report," Tommy began, "A couple 'a' straggler Runners-" "But Tommy shot them from half a mile away," Joel ribbed, at his younger brother, thumping his shoulder. "Damn right!" Tommy grinned and Joel rolled his eyes. "I'll catch you both at the Mess Hall. Just gonna meet Y/N at the greenhouses and we'll join you."

Joel began to stroll away but Maria's next words brought him to a standstill. "She went home earlier, Joel. She's not feeling well." Joel spun to face Maria, eyes wide and chest pounding from a sudden surge of adrenaline. "What's wrong with her? Is it serious? Is she okay?!" "Joel..." Maria raised and lowered her hand. "Breathe... she's alright," Maria insisted with a reassuring smile, "I checked on her a couple of hours ago. Probably just caught a bug."

Joel doesn't have time to hear any more. He needs to get to you now. The thought of you sick and alone is unbearable! His legs move before his brain can catch up, his stiff knees and aching back no longer of any importance. He bursts through the front door to find you balled up in a thick fleece blanket on the settee, fireplace crackling and glowing and a bucket on the floor below your head.

You've always been a light sleeper, and the fact you've remained sound asleep despite the crashing door indicates to Joel just how bad you must be. He kicks off his muddy boots and closes the door, quietly this time so not to disturb you. kneeling in front of you, Joel removes his gloves and gently places his calloused palm on your forehead, instantly feeling the reason for your flushed complexion.

Next he checks your pulse, relieved that it seems normal. He takes a moment to study your face. Even though you look peaceful he feels his heartstrings being tugged at the sight of you so weak and vulnerable. He's overcome with the desperate desire to scoop you up into his arms, to hold you close and make it all go away. If he could trade places with you, he would in a heartbeat.

At the flutter of your eyelids, Joel's pinched eyebrows give way to a tender smile. "Hey, darling," he whispers while smoothing his fingers over your cheek. "I was worried about you. How are you feeling?" You blink slowly and grumble, "Like crap." Joel's lips purse, accompanied by a sympathetic frown. "I'm sorry, baby. What can I do to help?" You shake your head as if to say 'nothing'.

"Have you been drinking enough?" "I've been asleep most of the time," you answer sluggishly. Joel immediately heads for the kitchen, returning moments later with a glass of water. "Here, let me help you up." He sets the glass down on the coffee table, and turning back to you, slides his arm under your shoulders to sit you up, despite your protests that it's hard to keep anything down. The most important thing for you now is to stay hydrated, and he's going to make damn sure you do.

"Hey, why aren't you in bed?" Joel asks softly but sternly as you take little sips. "Wanted to wait up to see you," you smile as you lay back down. Joel tuts and shakes his head. "Darling, you should be in bed, resting properly." "No...," you mutter. "I'm sleeping here tonight. I don't want to pass this onto you." 'Like hell you're sleeping here!" Joel scoffed, his eyebrows hitting his hairline.

"Joel-" "No!" Joel cut you off firmly. "Either you sleep in bed with me or I sleep on the settee with you. Either way, I'm not leaving you alone." "So stubborn," you chuckle, tapping his cheek. Now Joel knows you must really be out of sorts if you're not even going to fight him on this. "Bird's of a feather, sweetheart," Joel retorts with a teasing smirk. He carefully lifts you off the settee bridal style to carry you to bed.

The feeling of you snuggling into his chest begins to calm his racing heart. The warmth of your body, the rise and fall of your ribcage against his, the complete trust you gift him with, once again reminds Joel of his purpose; that he's here to care for and protect the people he loves. This is what he was made for, it's what he knows and it's what makes him, him. He tucks you into bed and pushes any loose strands of hair behind your ear.

With a soft lingering kiss to your forehead, Joel whispers, "Be back in a flash." Pulling himself away from you goes against every natural instinct he has, his entire body thrumming with the need to settle beside you and hold you in his arms. But he's dirty and sweaty from the trail and wants to be clean for you; besides he knows you'd give him hell if he got into bed in his state. A very quick shower will suffice.

After rushing through his shower, he goes downstairs to bring you the glass of water and the bowl - just in case. Climbing into bed next to you, Joel slips one arm under your side and the other around your chest, pulling you into him until your back is flush against his torso. He smiles as you sigh and wrap your arm around his as if you can't get close enough to him.

"Joel?" "Mmm?" "Have you eaten?" " Not yet..." he presses a kiss to the back of your head. "I'll make something later." "Make sure you do," you reply with a hint of finality in your voice. Joel's heart feels close to bursting with the love it harbours for you. What did he do to deserve you? Even when you're sick and exhausted, you're concern for his own welfare never wavers.

Joel tightens his hold on you, running his fingers along your forearm; a sensation, he has learned, which always helps you drop off. "Don't worry about, baby. You just focus on getting better, okay. I'm here for whatever you need, I'll look after you," he promises in earnest. "I love you, Joel." Another kiss to the back of your head. "I love you too, Y/N. Get some sleep now. I'm here."

Joel listens as your breathing evens out. Now that you're asleep, relaxed and safe in his embrace, he can feel the tension in his muscles dissipate. His mind starts to clear and now, and only now can he join you in your ease. As long as you're okay, he's okay.

@pedrospurplerain @picketniffler