#recently read the book and it's now one of my favourite reads from this year i love it so much its so funny

[sunshine-theseus]

Apple and Chocolate Muffins | Katie McCabe x Reader

Words: 1.9k Summary: owning a café apparently brings you the girl of your dreams Warnings: fluff

Having your own little book café on a corner of a small street in St Albans, London, brings you things you’d never expect.

I’d first bought the place from an older lady, Ms Nelson, who sold antiques. She’d decided she wanted to spend whatever time she had left travelling. She tried to simply give it to me, but I couldn’t accept and ended up paying her half of what was listed.

She likes to send me post cards whenever she’s about to leave a place. I put the most recent on display on the counter and the rest go in an antique memento box she gifted me before she left.

Ms Nelson also introduced me to my best friend Juniper, one of her old workers who helps run the place now.

“3 years here and you still refuse to tell me what your special recipe is. Whyyy?” Juniper’s favourite item, was my special apple and chocolate muffins. It was an item I refused to take off no matter how many times we changed the menu.

“They wouldn’t be a secret then would they June?”

“But I’m your best friend. And I need these in my life daily.”

“I literally make an extra 3, every night, just for you.”

The ringing of the bell on the door stops her from retaliating, and I approach the counter while June finally makes an order for Mr Byrne, one of our regulars.

“Welcome to the Inkwell Café! What can I get you?” I look at the customer, but my breath gets caught in my throat.

It’s like the Gods just sent down and angel to derail my day. Her eyes were a greyish blue and her skin was sun kissed, freckles scattering her cheeks. And her arms… well fuck me.

“Hello?” I hadn’t even realised I’d stopped paying attention until she waves a hand in front of my face.

“S- sorry could you repeat that?” I let out a nervous chuckle, but she just smiles a magnificent smile.

She starts listing off an order and I momentarily get caught off by her Irish accent, but I manage to take down the 3 different drinks. I’m about to tell her the total when she stops me again.

“Oh! And can I get one of those apple and chocolate muffins? Jonas is going to kill me, but I hear they’re worth it.” I give her a confused look.

“My friend Steph, she comes here once a month as a treat and raves about it at training.” Training?

“Oh! Well, here’s an extra one for her! For free of course. What’s the name for the order?”

“Katie”

“It will be ready soon.” I flash a smile before going to make the coffees.

June comes out of nowhere.

“Why is Katie fucking McCabe in here?” she whispers into my ear.

“Who?”

“Katie McCabe. One of the best Arsenal players ever? Captain for the Republic of Ireland Women’s National Football team? How do you not know her? I talk about Arsenal all the time. They literally train right down the road.” I stare blankly back at her.

“How did she even find us? You don’t casually find this café on your way to work.”

“She said her friend Steph comes here, told her about it.”

“Steph Cately!? I’ve never seen Steph Cately walk through those doors.”

“…Who? And you do tend to not pay attention.” Juniper just groans and I finish making the coffees.

“Katie!” as I give her the drinks, her hand brushes against my own. Tingles run up my arm, but I bid her adieu with a small smile and wave.

~~~~~

Katie begins coming in every Tuesday and Friday, and we slowly get to know each other while Juniper freaks out in the corner. Or sometimes Katie liked to just sit and read in a corner for whatever time she had before she left for training. Either way it was nice.

She loved telling me about her younger sister Lauryn who was on her way to joining Katie on their senior national team, and her crazy encounters on the pitch during games. I tell her about how and why I decided to open a book café and retell the stories Ms Nelson sends me. I also desperately try to repress all my feelings for the Irish angel that blessed my shop every week.

I also find out who Steph is. A very nice Australian woman, who does in fact come in once a month for the Apple and Chocolate muffin. I get to know her a bit too, but she usually grabs her muffin and something for her fiancée and leaves.

The first time Katie misses a Tuesday is 4 months after her first visit. I’m disappointed but don’t think much of it until she doesn’t show up on Friday, or either day the week following. That’s when I decide to visit their training ground, obviously dragging June along to do any talking, to see if I can figure out what happened.

I don’t think about how weird it is until Juniper pulls me out of the car in front of their training centre at 9am on Friday after hurriedly closing the café. And a promise for a free coffee to everyone we had to kick out.

“June this was stupid, this is something you do, not me. Why didn’t you talk me out of it.”

“I’m about to meet the whole Arsenal team just because your huge crush failed to come for her regular coffee a few times.”

“But like it is weird she just stopped coming so abruptly, right? Like we were getting along.”

“I mean sure, but you didn’t freak out like this when Mickie stopped coming. And it took us another six months to find out she’d moved to fucking Glasgow.”

“We should leave shouldn’t we.”

I turn around to head back to the car right as we’re about to enter the reception but come face to face with a slightly shorter brunette. One I’ve seen the face of in some recent team photo Katie had shown me, but was otherwise completely unfamiliar.

“Are you trying to get in? The door can be a little tricky sometimes.” How many Australians did they have here?

“Oh no-“

“Yes! We’re friends of Katie; Y/n and Juniper, and we haven’t seen her in a few weeks. We were hoping to catch her.”

“Oh! I think she’s shown us a picture of you actually! She talks about you both quite a bit. I’m Kyra by the way.”

“I know.”

“Nice to meet you.” I talk over Juniper and hold out a hand for Kyra to shake.

“Well, I’m not quite sure why she hasn’t come to see you, but I can bring you back to the locker room, you’ll just need to fill some forms out probably.” She’s already leading us to the front desk before I can deny her offer.

 Not 5 minutes later Kyra is happily dragging us to the locker room, and I can see Juniper skipping next to me, clearly excited.

“Dude you’ve gotta calm down.” I whisper to her.

“More like you need to stop being so uptight. Kyra Cooney-Cross is literally leading us to the whole Arsenal women’s team.”

“McCaaaabe! Someone’s here to see yoouuu.” Kyra calls out as soon as she opens the door.

“It’s not my bloody mum again is it? I swear she decides to come surprise me far too often.”

I peak out from behind Kyra and give a small wave.

“Hiii” I say meekly as Juniper jumps into talking to her favourite players.

“What are you doing here?” Katie gives me a quick hug.

“Well, you kinda stopped showing up and I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

“Oh, y- yeah. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I just, I started getting feelings for you and freaked out and thought that cutting you off would help.”

“Y- you like me?”

“Yeah. Like a lot. I obviously totally understand you don’t like me back.” She lets out a sigh and looks at her boots.

“Shh shoosh shut up.” I place my fingers under her chin and tilt her head up.

It was hard to escape the doom of falling in love with Katie McCabe. Her eyes were the perfect shade of blue, her lips the softest of pinks, her freckles like the stars. She had the kindest of hearts and the most beautiful laugh. A creation made by Aphrodite herself.

“I really like you too.” And her lips are softer than you could imagine as she presses her’s hard against my own.

We’re broken apart by an array of whistles and shouts from Juniper and Katie’s teammates and I hide my flushed face in her neck.

“I can’t believe we finally get to meet the girl Katie hasn’t shut up about for like 4 months.” Alessia Russo, one player I am familiar with, comments from across the room.

“You talk about me?” I poke her in the side.

“Y/n you can’t talk you literally don’t shut up about Katie. ‘Oh my god she’s sooo funny and pretty.’”

“Bro what the fuck? That was a secret you were meant to take to your grave.” Juniper simply shrugs.

“As much as I want to stay and tease you about how much you talk about me, and kiss you, we do unfortunately have training.” Katie pouts as she hugs me.

“Oh! Before I forget. I brought you an apple and chocolate muffin.” I pull the baked good from my bag and hand it to her.

“Fuuuck yees! You are literally the best person ever. I need to know your recipe so bad.”

“Mmmm maybe I could teach you how to make them. Tonight, at the café?”

“I’VE BEEN ASKING FOR THAT RECIPE FOR 3 FUCKING YEARS AND YOU’RE GOING TO JUST HAND IT OVER TO HER?” Juniper’s outburst makes the room erupt in giggles.

“How about for your birthday?” She nods solemnly and begins to say goodbye to the other girls as they begin to head out to the pitch for training.

I turn back to Katie.

“I’ll see you tonight…” She leans up and kisses me one more time.

“Girlfriend.” She leaves before I can reply, and I’m left to giggle as Juniper drives us back to the café, to reluctantly reopen for the rest of the day.

~~~~~

The clock shows 6:13 and I begin to think Katie flaked, but right as I’m packing up the ingredients, the bell rings and in rushes a flushed, panting, Katie McCabe.

“I’m so… sorry! Caitlin could only… drop me… a few blocks away… so I had to… run.” She pants out.

“It’s ok.” I peck her on the cheek and take her coat, then offer her some water which she sculls down.

We spend hours baking and messing around. Mostly kissing.

~~~~~

Another 6 months pass before Katie and I decide to move in together in a small apartment down the street from the café.

She now helps me bake my apple and chocolate muffins once a week, insisting she has to always be in a simple cropped singlet after I had made a comment about how good her arms looked when she mixes the batter.

There was something so domestic about baking together that made it hard not to just scream to the world how much I loved the woman. Instead, I stick to wrapping my arms around her waist and whispering it in her ear, periodically kissing her while she cuts the apples or mixes whatever needs mixing.

I can’t wait to tell Ms Nelson her apple and chocolate muffins brought me the most beautiful girl in the world. She and her wife have been begging for a new post card.

#woso x reader #katie mccabe #katie mccabe x reader #woso #womens soccer #wwc 2023

[alloftheimaginesblog]

nose in a book {bucky barnes}

plot: the coffee shop you and bucky frequent is also a library and every week, you have your nose in a new book.

request by sunflowerkitten2: a coffee shop meet-cute

character: reader x bucky barnes

In all of his years, Bucky Barnes had been to hundreds of coffee shops and had drank thousands of crappy cups of coffee but recently, he'd began to drink at this coffee shop. It was a small shop, half library half coffee shop with warm lighting and a nostalgic musky smell from the old books that adorned the shelves. There was a certain charm to it but the coffee certainly wasn't it. The coffee was actually pretty awful but there was a reason that Bucky kept coming back to this one.

The reason was you.

Each time Bucky came into the small shop, there you sat same time every Saturday morning, same time but always with a different book in your hand. From the first time Bucky entered that coffee shop, he was intrigued by you.

You were usually too concentrated on the book to look up at him when the chime of the door went as he walked in. Sometimes you caught each other's eye and exchanged friendly smiles but that was rare.

Bucky had never approached you, he wanted to but he wasn't that confident around asking beautiful people out anymore. He had changed a lot since the forties. Today though, the book you held in your hands was familiar to him... in fact it was one of his favourites; The Hobbit.

"You know," he said gently as he approached you, voice soft so's not to scare you, "I was there when they first printed that book."

With the comment, you expected it to be attached to a ninety year old man (which he was but you didn't know that yet) and instead you were met with the blue eyes of a very handsome thirty something year old. You laughed, "That's a rubbish pick up line," you teased.

Bucky frowned, "Not a pick up line, doll," he said, "I was actually there. 1937. What a year."

You blinked at him, insanely confused, before your foot pushed out the chair across from me, "Okay, I gotta hear this... How?"

He sat with a smile, reaching his hand across the table to shake yours, "Bucky Barnes, ma'am. Pleasure to meet you." Bucky... Barnes. That name sounded familiar.

Then it clicked.

"Oh!" You exclaimed with a little surprise as your shook his glove clad hand, "Oh my god, you look so good for your age." You hadn't meant to say that, it sounded pretty fucking weird but Bucky's face split into a wide grin. You were amusing. Usually, when people realised who Bucky was they recoiled with fear or at the very least they'd be apprehensive to talk to a ninety something assassin but you... you looked intrigued? He laughed, thanking you for the compliment that slipped out.

"Have you read Lord of the Rings?" You asked him with slightly warm cheeks.

It was his turn to be confused, "I don't think I've ever heard of them."

"Oh my god!" You gasped, "So obviously this is the Hobbit and this is a prequel to The Lord of the Rings which is hands down one of the best series ever written. They made movies of them too! It follows Bilbo's nephew, Frodo and his quest to destroy the Ring."

Bucky vaguely recalled Stark talking about movies that sounded similar to that title, "Are they any good?" He asked, genuinely curious, "To be honest, I've not seen many movies."

"They're so good. They made Hobbit movies too. Three."

He frowned, "Three movies? Did two more Hobbit books come out then?"

You shook your head, explaining that it was three movies centred around the one book, "I really liked them," you shrugged, "but is that because I just absolutely love the Hobbit? Who knows?"

As you and Bucky continued to chat you realised a very important fact, "I just realised I never told you my name," you said stopping mid sentence, "I'm (y/n). It's so nice to meet you, Bucky."

Bucky grinned, "Trust me, doll, pleasure's all mine... Now, can I buy you another cup of coffee?"

#one shot #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #fic #os #marvel #marvel imagine #avengers imagine #avengers #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky #bucky barnes imagine #imagine

[happilyfeatherafter]

Happilyfeatherafter’s ficrec Fridays

Good friday y'all. Welcome back to a new fortnight of fics that I’ve read and loved recently. I took my first holiday of the year and IMMEDIATELY caught a cold that knocked me out for the week but at least it meant I got reading done. Save me, destiel, save me.

If you want to find more you can see my previous rec lists here!

29 March 2024

virga(e) by @shineforthee (art by @neversleepuntilfive) has gone straight to the top of the favourite fics ever pile, oh my god you guys, please read it immediately and admire the art that inspired it as part of @deancasreversebang. This fic is a thing of beauty from start to finish. In one version of the story of Dean and Cas, we find Castiel perpetually waiting in the desert, when a 26 year old Dean stumbles upon him drawn to the location mid-hunt. They must learn to trust each other, to figure out what's causing the push and pull that bonds them. The poetry of this fic, run through with this yearning devastating emotion on their journey together, coupled with the incredibly evocatively descriptions and research into the setting, come together to make the most gorgeous picture, the desert a place that seems desolate but is teeming with life. Much like the slowburn romance that flourishes between them. It also links back to post-canon in a way that is seeded so carefully and cleverly, and made my heart explode. It's funny, romantic, devastating, emotional, moving....I can't do justice to this fic with such a short snapshot, please read it for yourselves and come yell at me about it. It's so beautiful. shineforthee also has a great 9x06 fanfic gap one shot and an ongoing wip now too and I can't wait to read that! (Somehow need any more convincing? Check out @bloodydeanwinchester's Virga(e) liveblog).

It's all very complex by artichokeflower okay that was all very serious, so let's turn to a short and sweet smut fic that had me giggling gleefully throughout. 'After walking in on Dean's private time, Cas decides to do a little research and experimentation of his own and gets magically trapped in a book about sexual fantasies. And if that means Dean has to go in after him, well what are buddies for, right?' The thing that is just GOLDEN about this fic aside from the hot smut is the dry sense of humour, borderline French Mistake parody level porn and dialogue between Dean and especially Cas which just gets them so well...the cowboy scenes in particular. Glorious: “I’m sorry, Dean. That’s the end of the erotic violence. Are you hurt?” “Is there going to be any sex in your sexy fantasies?” Dean wheezed. “Not that the whole shoot out wasn’t fun. I just wasn’t expecting as much plot is all.” He coughed. That had probably sounded too eager.

Just Being and Just Having by Englandwouldfall I have recced before but is now complete!! This the post-canon fic series delves so incredibly beautifully into Dean and Cas’ history of miscommunication and gives them the chance to truly talk things out, finding themselves falling more deeply in love as they do so and understand their own mistakes but also what makes them work so well together when they’re no longer under Chuck’s thumb. Each chapter feels like therapy and a brain and heart massage! It sticks the landing so well and I just love these boys so much.

Something Happening Somewhen by allthismusic (@folkbloodbaths, art by @eggchef) aaaahhh time travel young Dean brought to the future to meet older Dean and Cas fic trope my beloved. A @deancaspinefest fic, Allthismusic is a fan of the trope too and this fic is a gorgeous tribute to it and the fics that came before. Cas saves 24yo Dean from an accident and brings him to the future when he witnesses what his life will be. Will Cas have to remove his memories to stop a paradox? Sweet and heartfelt, a joy to read.

Books, Pies, and Roommates by @seidenapfel (art by @kitshay) is a @deancaspinefest two-person love hexagon, with some excellently farcical misdirection. Cas moves in to the spare room of Dean's house, but he doesn't meet him, he meets Sam, as Dean is busy working. Cas is professor but helps his cousin out as a barista and his favourite customer is Deano. Dean's intrigued by the barista but he's not his online penpal and best friend Angel. Lines blur, connections are made, and hearts are gonna get broken...or are they?

Tag list under the cut, let me know if you'd like to be added! Please reblog <3

@dean-you-assbutt-cas-loves-you

#happilyfeatherafter ficrec friday #ficrec #destiel #destiel fic #deancas #destiel fanfic

[hellfirexhoe]

The Pool Boy - Eddie Munson x BoredHousewife Reader

@likedovesinthewnd thank you for being the real brains behind this filth <3

Warnings: 18+ content, minors this isn't for you so fuck off, cheating, bored housewife x poolboy trope, oral sex (m&f receiving), unprotected p in v sex

3,278 words

Masterlist

The hot sun beats down on you, lounging in a sun chair, dark sunglasses obscuring your eyes. An open book rests at your thighs, you look as though you are deeply engrossed, but your eyes are elsewhere, shamelessly ogling the pool boy your friend had recently hired. Tall and slender, with long dark curls and a few tattoos dotted about him, honestly, if you looked up pool boy in the dictionary a photo of this guy would be the last thing you’d find. And yet, the way he moves so confidently as he cleans the pool floor, the way his muscles flex and relax under his vest, it all just looks so right. 

Eddie, you were told his name was, with a nod of your friend’s head towards the figure by the pool as she handed you an icy margarita in the kitchen. 

“Never seen him before.” You comment, sipping at your drink, relishing the coolness of it. 

“Yeah, well, he’s cheaper than what the other guys charge and so far hasn’t urinated in my garden, so he’s a winner.” Your friend had joked as you both stepped out to the sun loungers. 

She left you alone to fix more drinks, so you had pulled out your book, not comfortable to make conversation with Eddie, nor do you have any idea what you’d even say, ask him his favourite brand of chlorine? Please. You struggle not to bite your lip and give yourself away as you watch droplets of water running down his soft skin, and then as though he can hear your thoughts, Eddie turns around, a devilish smile on his face,

“Whatcha reading?” You snap out of your trance and shake your head slightly, almost disorientated,

“Um, what, sorry?” You squeak out the words as he sets down his net and strolls over to you,

“The book. You’re so engrossed in it I figured it's either a really good book, or you’re straight up reading porn.” 

You cough a little, caught off by his brashness and quickly grab for your glass sipping down melted ice, you hold up the book so the cover can be seen while Eddie tries not to laugh, he reads the cover and nods,

“The Shining? Wouldn’t take you for a horror fan, considering how much I make you jump. I’m not that scary am I?” The only jumping you want to be doing right now is jumping his bones, and it seems like he’s flirting with you. You push that thought aside, he’s not flirting, just wants me to hire him. 

“No, you’re not scary.” Sexy, perhaps. “Who doesn’t love a good scare?”

“I don’t love a scare.” Your friend re-emerges from the kitchen, sunglasses on her forehead showing pale skin around her eyes where the sun has not hit, she looks pointedly at Eddie and back to the pool. Eddie nods and gets back to work without another word.

“You don’t have to be so rude, he can take a break for a few minutes.”

“I’m paying him to clean my pool, not host a book club in my garden. You want to pay for his conversation? Be my guest.” Your friend grabs her bag off the floor and rummages until she finds a business card, it's fairly plain just a phone number and the words “Munson Landscaping”. You plush the card from your friend’s manicured fingers and settle back with another drink. Careful to not let your gaze wander back to Eddie.

When you get home, it’s late and yet still you’re greeted by an empty house. You’d married young and for money. And now you are left with the distinct feeling that you might be wasting your best years on someone who deep down you share no meaningful connection with. Your parents of course had been delighted, it was a step up in the world for you and meant they could look forward to a comfortable retirement since you were their only child. You wander into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water as you stare out of the window to the pool. A woefully immaculate pool. One that definitely does not need a pool boy to attend to it.

Maybe it's the slight buzz that does it, maybe you’re having a quarter life crisis. But you step out into the garden and find the waste bags the gardener would be collecting in the morning. Dumping all of them into the pool would be ridiculous. So you settle for one, the heaviest, mind you. You cast a quick look around and quickly rip the bag open, tossing the contents into your pristine pool. You look over your handiwork as you dispose of the bag.

“Yep. I’m losing it.” 

You walk back into the house, shutting the cool night air out and shivering slightly, you’re still only clad in a bathing suit and cover-up. You rummage through your bag and locate the business card you were given earlier this afternoon, you practise speaking a few times, trying to sound casual and not desperate and once your semi-confident you can talk like a person you dial the number, twisting the cord between your fingers as you hear the dialling tone. Your heart sinks into your stomach when an older voice answers,

“Munson Landscaping, Wayne speaking, how can I help you?” 

“Oh, uh um hi. Is Eddie available?” You hear a changing of hands and a muttering from the older voice identified as Wayne.

“Eddie speaking.” 

“Oh, hi Eddie, this is Miranda’s friend from today.”

“Oh hey, Miranda gave you this number?” You nod, and then remember that’s not how phone conversations work.

“Yes, listen I just got home and I think my gardener’s check might have bounced or something because it looks like he’s dumped a load of garden waste into my pool. I was wondering if you would be free tomorrow to come and sort it out for me?” You hope you sound casual and lighthearted.

Eddie laughs, “So, a quick tip when you’re calling people to do services for you, don’t mention checks bouncing. I’ll be over at 10am tomorrow.”

“Oh, thank you! You’re a lifesaver, I’ll make sure I have cash for you.” You’re kicking yourself right now, why on earth would you mention a check bouncing? You could have said the wind this evening blew it into your pool.

“Relax sweetheart, it's just a pool. See you.” The line clicks and you lean back against the cool kitchen counter, you swear you can feel your skin sizzle from how hot your whole body feels, all this just from a phone call?

You sleep fitfully that night, your dreams nothing short of vulgar, that leave you waking up multiple times wanting. It’s almost a relief when your alarm finally rings, freeing you from the relentless lewd scenarios your brain is able to come up with. You take a cold shower, trying to calm your mind down, trying to rationalise that you’re not going to fuck the pool boy. You’re not that much of a cliche. You just want to ogle him. Oof. You’re not sure that’s much better. One thing is for sure, you can’t start fights with your husband for visiting strip clubs ever again.

You rummage through your swimwear drawer, throwing bits of fabric over your shoulder until you land on a dark red set you'd bought for your honeymoon, hoping to jump start your husband’s libido. You’d stood at the foot of the bed, striking a pose and your husband’s response had been to peer over his newspaper and inform you it was distasteful and to get changed before returning to his crossword. You doubt Eddie’s reaction would be in even the same realm as your husband’s. You slip into the bathing suit, grabbing the black sheer wrap and wedge sandals you had left on the floor from the previous day. 

Eddie is perfectly punctual, knocking on your door as the second hand ticks to 10 and greets you with a disarming smile, the pool vacuum resting over his arm, he looks you up and down before he can help himself and quickly forces his eyes back up to your face, clinging to a veneer of professionalism that is dangerously close to slipping. As you turn around and lead him to the back garden you hear a sharp intake of breath. As expected, an infinitely different reaction than your husband’s. You unlock the back door and gesture to the pool, filthy now from the garden waste being left in overnight.

“Damn, I’d get a new gardener. You clearly pissed them off.” Eddie whistles as he takes in the damage that your “gardener” caused. Eddie gets to work straight away, pulling his sweatshirt off over his head and giving you a glimpse of more of his skin. You head inside the house and return shortly with glasses of lemonade, you gesture to Eddie, indicating which one is his and he gives you a thumbs up in thanks.

You settle yourself into a sun lounger, this time determined to read more than 3 pages of your book in between glances at Eddie. You can’t just sit here staring. Eddie is a quick worker, you look up from your book after 20 minutes and find he’s almost cleared the branches and leaves. Maybe I should have used all the bags… The thought enters your head before you can stop it and you force yourself to look back at the book, certain your knuckles are white from the grip you have on the pages. You refuse to allow yourself to look back up at Eddie, not even when you hear him approaching and taking a seat on the sun lounger opposite you and chugging his lemonade.

“Okay, honesty hour. Did you dump all this into the pool so you’d have a reason to call me?”

You still don’t look up, “Really, why on earth would I do that?”

“I don’t know but either you made this mess or your gardener has an expensive taste.” You look up at him quizzically and immediately your eyes settle on a glittering bracelet that Eddie is dangling in front of you, reflexively you grab for it and give yourself away. There’s no way you could lie about this being the gardener’s based on the way your magpie hands grabbed at the shiny object.

“Wanted to see me again that badly huh?” Eddie smirks as you reattach the bracelet to your wrist, then as quickly as he came over he strolls back to the pool, continuing to work, the smirk never leaving his face as he continues skimming, the gentle laps of water against the side of the pool the only sound that breaks the silence between you two. You decide to ignore it, turning your attention to your book, a resolve that lasts for all of 30 seconds before you’re staring at Eddie again, watching the way his body moves, eyeing that tattoos that peak out from his vest, while you try to work out the shapes your questions are answered when he pulls the vest top over his head and wipes his forehead with it before throwing it to the side. You blindly reach out for your glass but the condensation makes the glass slip out of your hand and shatter on the ground. You curse loudly and Eddie looks up at the sound,

“You okay?” 

You nod, “Fine, just clumsy. I’ll grab a pan for this.” You head to the kitchen and are followed by Eddie, insisting he can help. You grab the pan from the cupboard and start slightly when you see Eddie immediately behind you. 

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” He all but purrs at you, stepping into your space, but slowly, giving you an opportunity to push him away. You don’t, you step towards him and before you can register what’s happening your lips are locked in a searing kiss, Eddie pushes you against the counter, pinning you between it and him, meaning you can feel his cock as it hardens through his thin shorts, you gasp for air as he pulls away,

“Is this okay?” He asks, cheeks flushed and breathless, you nod, pushing him away just enough so that you can slip down to your knees. Screw it. Fuck the thought of being a cliche, you banish all those thoughts from your mind, this is something that you both want and need from each other.

You pull his shorts down slowly, and can’t help but lick your lips as you take in his length. He's bigger than your husband, not just in length but in girth too. You run your tongue up the underside of his dick, eliciting a deep groan from him, you might be rusty but you haven’t completely forgotten how to give good head. You take his tip slowly, barely sucking but enough to have Eddie gripping the counter behind him for dear life, you work your way up, gradually taking more and more of his length until his tip is nudging the back of your throat, you use your hand to squeeze and stroke along the length that you know you can’t take,

“Jesus christ.” Eddie mumbles as you take his length as deep as you dare, until your eyes are misty with tears and then come back up his length, over and over until his cock is coated in your saliva and he’s barely able to speak,

“Sh-shit you need to stop or I’m going to cum right down your throat.” You grant him reprieve, letting his length go with a sordid pop as the tip leaves your mouth. Eddie leans back on the counter for a second, appearing to catch his breath before a devilish smile spreads across his lips, 

“Your turn.” and before you can speak he’s pulling you to standing, and lifting you onto the counter with a surprising amount of ease, he’s definitely stronger than he looks. 

“This,” he plays with the top of your bathing suit, before unclasping it and throwing it to the floor,

“Is,” now he yanks down the bottoms, leaving you bare on the counter, “So fucking hot.”

“If you like it so much why did you take it off?” You tease him, trying to cover yourself, unsure of why you’re attempting to preserve any modesty.

“Because as sexy as you look in it, you look much better like this.”

Before you can come up with a smart retort his head is between your legs and he’s alternating between sucking on your clit so harshly it makes your hips buck and tracing letters on it with the softest brush of his tongue, it’s maddening sensation that has you racing towards your peak before being slowly brought back down to earth. You whine in frustration and Eddie comes away, kissing at your thighs and rubbing circles into them as though anything other than an orgasm could calm you now.

“Let’s play a game, if you can guess what I’m spelling I’ll let you cum.” You nod, breathing hard, only focused on winning the game so that he’ll stop tormenting you. Eddie’s head dives back in, the tracing of his tongue now going much slower, allowing your head to clear enough to think. The first letter is E - easy enough. Then the second and third letters are the same and form a slow circle around your clit then a quick upwards flick - d. 

“Eddie!” you cry out panting, praying to be right, you hear a quiet chuckle before Eddie is eating you like a man starved, shaking his head and moaning against you, your hands become tangled in his hair and your hips start to twitch entirely of their own accord, it's been what feels like an eternity since you last felt this desired, this kind of bliss. Eddie keeps his actions consistent, wrapping his soft lips around your clit and wrapping his arms around your thighs to hold you close until he has your whole body in spasm from orgasm. 

He wraps his arms around your body as you cling to him, coming down from your high with breathy sighs and unconscious twitches. He helps you down from the counter and holds you steady, waiting until your legs are able to take your weight before his hands leave you, 

“Think you can keep going?” A hungry smile forms on his lips as he speaks and you nod, desperate for more. You bend over the counter, sticking out your ass at him and Eddie hesitates for just a moment,

“Do you want me to grab a condom?” You shake your head,

“Just fuck me Eddie.” You’re practically pleading but it's not like you’d need to plead, he’s lining himself up and trying to bite back a moan at the mere sensation of your slick dripping onto the head of his cock. He shivers and slowly slides in, the stretch burns slightly and you make a noise somewhere between pleasure and pain and he stills,

“Everything okay?” You nod and he continues to fill you up, it’s almost a relief when you feel his thighs flush with yours, he pauses, allowing you to adjust to his size before he starts slowly pulling back and setting an almost torturously slow pace, like he has all the time in the world to fuck you and he’s going to relish every single second. 

“Fuck you feel so fucking good.” Eddie groans against your shoulder and you can only nod dumbly and moan in response, as your body becomes used to his size he begins to pick up the pace, biting at your shoulder as he pounds into you, every thrust forcing a soft cry of pleasure from your lips. You lean back against him, pressing your back against his chest and he wraps an arm around you to toy with your clit, the dual stimulation making it impossible for you to focus on anything but the euphoria of this moment. Eddie sucks the skin of your neck harshly, you know its going to leave a mark but you don’t care, you cry out for more and then Eddie fucks you harder, nearing his peak, and thats when he makes you do something unexpected. Eddie makes you squirt, creating a mess on the kitchen floor.

“That’s so fucking hot.” Eddie grunts as he reaches his own orgasm, burying himself to the hilt inside you so that you can feel every pulse of his cock as he unloads inside you. Eddie pulls out slowly, as if he resents doing so.  You lean forward onto the kitchen counter and try to catch your breath and control the shaking of your thighs, Eddie strokes your back soothingly, whispering words of encouragement to you. You hear cupboards opening near you and then Eddie presents you with a glass of water that you take in shaking hands.

“Fuck.” is the only word you’re able to say. Eddie laughs breathily, 

“Right there with you.” 

As you recover from your post orgasm haze you suddenly become hyper aware of your nudity and scramble for your cover-up from the floor. Eddie follows suit and grabs his shorts, hiking them up. You throw a kitchen towel over the mess on the floor, cheeks blazing at the sight. 

“Well, I’d better get back to the pool.” Eddie bumps your shoulder playfully and then whistles when he gets a look at your neck, “Sorry about that.” 

You sneak a peak in the mirror and gasp when you see the darkening love bites left on your skin, those can’t be explained. Then it thrills you a little. How far could you take this?

Eddie taglist: @hellfire-puppet @just-absolutely-feral @fangirling-4-ever @and-claudia @scrumptiouslyangrystarfish @quinndjarin @munsonsgirl71 @likedovesinthewnd @boomhauer @joejoequinnquinn @callmeloverr @dukesmebby

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie imagine #eddie munson imagine #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie stranger things #eddie fluff #eddie smut #stranger things x fem!reader #stranger things x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie my beloved #smut #smutty saturday #smut fanfic #eddie munson smut fanfic #x reader #x reader smut

[spencerdaze]

'Labyrinth' and how trauma makes us search for escapism

Welcome to 'Mikaela please log off' where i talk and overanalyze movies because i'm unemployed. In today's hell of a post, i'm going to talk about probably my favourite movie and one that has shaped me for my entire life: 1986 'Labyrinth', with musical numbers written and performed by none other than Miss David Bowie himself! SPOILERS AHEAD.

Now i've seen this movie more times than i've seen my own face in the mirror. It's a movie i enjoyed in my childhood and certainly one that has shaped me, with how the puppets have a certain uncanny feel to them almost and how crazy and whimsical the whole movie is. It trully is an amazing movie that can be enjoyed by children, but also by adults as well, with many of the movie's themes and meanings being hidden or something you find with experience or relate to later in life. Because the movie is a very clear reference to fairytales like Wizard of Oz and Alice in Wonderland, is no surprise to know there are many, many different readings that can be done to it. The firts reading i made of the movie when i rewatched it as an adult was that the movie was a very clear allegory for growing up and maturing, having to leave behind your childhood but also keeping in mind your inner child so that you don't lose yourself in the labyrinth that is life.

While the allegory reading is correct, and i think it's one of the meanings behind the movie and certainly the most obvious theme, it's definetly not the only one. One thing kept me wondering after watching the movie this time: Why is the phrase 'You have no power over me' so important? It's used in the beginning of the film, with Sarah forgetting this line in her book, and by the end, when she's facing Jareth, Sarah remembers the phrase by herself, clearly showing us as viewers the inner power Sarah has over her life. It's obvious this line is meant to represent Sarah's ambition and power, but why is it this phrase? Whi is it You have no power over me and not something else like 'My power lies within me' which could tie to the end of the film, with Bowie's Within you playing? Well, after rewatching it recently, i figured it out: Sarah isn't just talking to Jareth, she's talking to her stepmother.

At the beginning of the film Sarah seems to be, on the surface, a spoiled 15 year old girl who doesn't want to do her chores and just wants to play around, not even wanting to date, something her stepmom wants her to do. Her stepmother wants her to mature and grow, to find love, etc. And Sarah and her obviously do not get along a lot. Two important details appear when Sarah goes back to her room at the beginning after fighting with her stepmother over having to take care of her little brother: her stepmother talks to her dad, telling him 'She treats me like the wicked stepmother of a fairytale', and when Sarah goes to talk to her to her room, he doesn't even bother to open the door or make sure she's okay after the fight. To some people these details seem just normal parent behaviour, but it was very clear to me after the film that Sarah is being emotionally neglected by her father, and possibly made by her stepmother to grow up to fast. Sarah is fifteen and an older sister, and unfortunately is common for older sisters to act as parents for their siblings while also not being taken care of themselves. We see Sarah clinging to her childhood as an escapism from the fact she feels completely neglected, since her dad won't even open the door to talk to her.

When Sarah tells Toby her fairytale, it's a clear depiction of how she feels like: There once was a princess who was basically a slave to her stepmother and she was forced to take her of her baby brother. Sarah takes her rage out on her brother and sends him away with the goblins, and inmediatly regrets it. She's repeating patterns of abuse. She's realizing sending her brother away is the submitting him to the same neglectful behaviour she has struggled with. So she makes a deal with Jareth to get him back.

Jareth poses an interesting character in Sarah's healing journey from her trauma. He's in love with her, in very possessive, clingy way that makes him do anything she asks him too to try to manipulate her to love him, which doesn't work on her, because she's probably used to it. The fact Sarah has a lot of toys and costumes, which makes us feel like she's spoiled, while being simultaneously emotionally neglected, is a very common way a manipulator convinces the victim there's no reason to feel that way. So seeing as she's used to being gifted things, being given 'her dreams', instead of actual emotional support and availability, Sarah is basically inmune to Jareth's advances. This could be read as Sarah's first experience with love outside of her family life, which is also a common thing in the experiences of older sisters: they date men who aren't good for them, repeating the patterns they're used to and being once again emotionally hurt. By the end of the movie, after meeting new friends Sarah loves deeply and grows to appreciate, and by being shown there are people who do care about her and who do love her and respect her, Sarah is able to fight Jareth alone, because she might be phisically alone, but she knows her friends have her back always. The found family trope is used here even until the end when we think Sarah has grown and the people she met in the Labyrinth are gone, and Sarah tells Jareth he has no power over her because she finally has healed, and she knows she deserves better.

By the end, Sarah has matured and learned, not just about herself, but about love and relationships of all kinds. She gives Toby her plushie as a way of showing she doesn't need to desperately cling to her childhood anymore, because she now has people in her life who care about her for real, and also she tucks him in as a way to show she's going to break the cycle, and show him finally the emotional support she didn't get from her parents. She keeps many things in her room, but puts others away, and when her friends from the Labyrinth appear to tell her they'll be there if she needs them, they don't simply say this and go away, but she makes them stay. 'I need you', she tells them, because even if she's healed, her life might still be filled with the remnants of her trauma, and an escapism might be needed. But most importantly, 'I need you', because they're her friends, her found family, the people who have shown her what she deserves in her life.

The movie definetly shows us the many highs and lows in life, particularely in adolescence, and how the journey to being mature can be difficult. But these subtle themes of emotional neglect, trauma, and the struggles of a young girl forced to grow up a little too soon trully give the movie another layer of depth that maybe not everyone might see, but some of us, specially those of us who relate to these struggles, do see and aknowledge, reminding us that we're not alone and that we deserve better, for our trauma has no power over us.

#labyrinth #the labyrinth #jareth the goblin king #labyrinth 1986 #sarah williams #jareth #film #cinephile #movies #cinema #movie review #essay #in this essay i will #literacy #childhood trauma #maybe the labyrinth was childhood trauma all along

[kitorin]

letters to my favourite author.

in which, within the darkest times of your struggles, a secret yet admiring fan is there for you.

contents. unknown bllk character (revealed towards the end, check tags if you want to know beforehand) x gn!reader | fluff | 6.591k words | writer!reader | self esteem issues | one argument (reader and isagi are harsh) | slowburn (?) | isagi is your childhood friend

a/n. thank you to yumi and ray for the help !

"I wanna be a writer."

It's summer of your final year of primary school, radiant sun sinking into the horizon, vibrant hues of orange bleeding out into the sky. The taste of soda lingers in your mouth, drops of the melted ice block gently plop onto your skin, the cold sensation makes you jolt a bit.

"Really?" Yoichi, the boy who's been by your side since forever piques with fascination. He pauses from eagerly sucking on his popsicle, turning towards you with his azure eyes, interest blazing within them.

You nod, ignoring part of the melted ice block dribbling down your chin. "Miss told me I was really good at it, she said to write everyday, I like stories. I don't want to stop making or reading them when we're adults." The liquid smeared onto your face remains neglected, as your heart begins pounding at your teacher's words.

"This is amazing, you have to keep writing. I want to read so much more."

It's not like the first time you've been complimented, but being called good at a game or sport can't even compare to someone craving more of what you created. There's an indescribable sense of pride heating up in your chest, maybe one day you could even write something, something that has people glued to every word on the page, something that someone couldn't resist putting down; something that's like the books you stay up reading.

You've finally found it, the soccer to your Yoichi, what you want to continue doing for the rest of your life, what you want to dedicate your life to.

"I think it's awesome! Your stories are always read out in class. You could beat Detective Conan!" He's too engrossed in this new found dream of yours, not even noticing the melting ice block in his hand, coating it with sticky syrup.

"Yocchan that'll never happen… All stories are beautiful, it's not like soccer where you have to be 'better'." Despite telling him off, another smile creeps up on your lips, with your best friend's support and teacher's encouragement, this new objective of yours seemed attainable. Either way, you were determined to work hard and persist no matter what.

Yoichi's hand grasps yours, the joyous glint remaining in his eyes. "Doesn't matter, I'll be the best striker and you'll be the best writer! Promise?"

"Promise." And with confident grins scrawled on your expressions, you race home, popsicles long gone and forgotten, melted away in the suffocating heat.

"Y/n, what the fuck is this?"

The cursing and vexation threaded into his voice and tone catch you off guard, a complete juxtaposition of the peaceful atmosphere of the classroom, with now only you and Yoichi there, soaked in the comfortable sunlight. Gold stains the room as cheery exclamations can be heard in the distance, as students rush to their after-school plans.

"What's wrong?" Your lips curve into a frown, scavenging through memories in an attempt to figure out what's wrong. Though you'd been struggling recently, none of those issues translated to your friendship with him. "Did something happen?"

"Oh my fucking god, I'm talking about this crap." He slams a sheet on the closest desk— yours. It's your career path form. You recognise your own handwriting, the occupations "psychology" and "law" written as the main two paths you're interested in.

"What about it?" You're still not sensing the issue here. "It's my future, I'm interested in those paths." There's a puzzled expression as you wonder, why Yoichi was so annoyed at the degrees you might want to study, it's not like you're altering his life.

Your confusion only seemed to amplify his anger. "What the hell happened to writing? Weren't you supposed to become an author?" So this is what this was about.

"It's just a hobby. Other jobs make more money anyways-"

"Fucking hell, since when did you care so much about money?"

You don't. Obviously money matters significantly within one's life, but you're not striving to be filthy rich. Realistically, studying at university would bring a lot more success than writing, at least, not at how you are currently.

"Yocchan— I still need to make a living, I can't make much out of being an author—."

"So? You haven't even tried."

Because it's obvious it'll never work. "Writing isn't a career I can succeed in, I mean, just look at Haru. Someone like them. Or anyone else I know who writes." "Haru"'s a friend of yours, one that you met on the website you frequently post your works, among plenty of other writers you've befriended. They're popular, only being on for a few months and managing to rack up thousands of likes, as well as plenty of followers.

You're over the moon for how well they do, you truly are, but it doesn't and can't stop the envy and insecurity creeping up on you; a fatal disease slowly infecting you, tainting you with overwhelming jealousy.

You can't help it, not even their account makes your achievements look pathetic and insignificant; if Haru were to have an off day and receive less attention on any of their uploads, it'd amount to what you get on a good day, actually, probably even more.

"Oh. My. God. Haru this, Haru that, you don't see me getting upset about Hiori or Kurona everyday do you?" Yoichi scowls, seemingly getting more upset at you and this whole ordeal. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

"Sports and writing aren't the same. You wouldn't get it." He really wouldn't. In soccer you can practise the same kick over and over again, until it really drills into muscle memory. But when writing, you can't rewrite the same metaphor, or simile, or anything really, then be able to write something beautiful. Repetition can't save an author.

"Fine—, but one thing I understand is having a dream." That day twelve years old you announced your new life goal of becoming an author flits through your mind, and gosh you'd do anything for that oblivion, the oblivion of how harsh reality is, the oblivion that provides innocence the privilege of dreaming freely.

"You don't get it, writing needs talent." Or whatever the hell it is, because no matter how much effort you put in and how much wellbeing you sacrifice, there's always someone doing better; attracting more attention, more compliments and more love.

"And you have it. I know how you and Haru write, you're equally good, actually, your writing's so much more interesting. Talent isn't the fucking issue, it's you and how you're not trying enough"

"You're only saying that because you're too stupid to differentiate." Guilt is quick to stab you in the stomach, and you're already feeling the consequences and hurt of your words, as if they were targeted towards you.

Yoichi only scoffs. "And you're too fucking sad and undisciplined to work hard." And he's wrong. Completely. Yet it's salt to the wound, to be perceived in such an ugly manner by someone so valuable to you. “I have training now. Bye.”

You're mustering a response, wanting to apologise, beg for forgiveness; whilst desperately finding the right words to defend yourself. Yoichi doesn't give you a chance to respond, as he leaves, you notice the frustrated grit of his teeth and how even his footsteps sound livid.

"Yocchan—"

You follow, unsure of what you want to do. You want to cry, but you also want to scream out of rage. You're doing your best to chase him down the corridor, your legs are tempted to give out from the sheer emotional torment the argument was; yet you insist on pushing through the discomfort.

Yoichi's long gone by now, either sprinting home or running to the comfort of his soccer team.

As a sigh of defeat leaves your lips you return to the classroom for your stuff, chewing on the inside of your mouth out of frustration, not caring about the consequences nor the ulcers that'd appear there in a few days.

Fights are normal, they're inevitable in all kinds of relationships. They're not foreign to you and Yoichi considering how you've been friends since diapers, you both put the effort in communicating afterwards, and knew how to properly apologise.

But not once has Yoichi ever sworn at you like that.

It's immature to ignore issues instead of making an attempt to resolve them, but if you keep telling yourself to focus on going home for now, you can deal with your emotions once you were okay physically.

The pencil case returns to your bag, and your books are about until you notice the post-it stuck on it, sky blue with thin writing resembling fish bones.

Hello [username]

I've enjoyed reading your works for a long time now, they're such fascinating pieces that I find myself rereading and staying up late for.

I know I had no right to eavesdrop, however it was not intentional in the slightest. I don't think you and Haru are comparable. They may have more followers but your ideas and there their execution are a lot more beautiful in my eyes. Popularity, followers, and likes don't define you, or anyone.

I can tell you work hard I respect and admire it but take care of yourself. You take priority.

As you finish reading the pale blue post-it, you finally register the sense of dread.

The words are sweet, they're wholesome and what you've needed to hear for so long. Roses of warm comfort bloom within your heart at the sight of someone acknowledging the effort you put in.

But thorns of trepidation remind you that someone knows your online alias; someone at school nonetheless.

Ah.

You're screwed.

Your online presence has always been a secret, for the better. Someone discovering all the love stories you posted online would simply be embarrassing, that's for your follower's eyes and theirs only.

Normally you'd ignore the message, and just pray they don't decide to reveal your identity.

Yet you find the pen in your hand dancing across a piece of paper.

[To the light blue post-it, thank you so much ! It's really appreciated]

Then you don't stop there, pinning it onto the class noticeboard with a push pin. What were you thinking? Or expecting? You weren't exactly sure, and found this trivial attempt at contacting a stranger foolish, yet you still give your message displayed on your board the last hopeful look, before going home.

By the next day, your note was nowhere to be seen. And this time, instead of a post-it, it’s a pale blue envelope, carefully slid between your notebooks.

"And here, with the context of the Egalitarian and feminist era, we can tell…" The teacher's words are drowned by your fascination with the letter, as you carefully open it, ensuring only you get to witness the contents.

Hello again

i'm I'm glad to hear that my words could mean something to you. It's an honour for you to respond, I wasn't expecting anything back. I hope after yesterday you feel better, even if it's the slightest bit.I've been re-reading your stuff a lot recently, especially on the bus, train and before sleeping.

It's oddly weird, I never liked reading. I can't seem to find books that I don't give up on. Even so I never thought I would read romance. I always thought it’d be a bit uncomfortable to read.

I don't have much time since I've been busy, but if you have the time I'd like to receive a letter back. As long as it's from your heart. It's a lot for just a follower to ask. But I find you as interesting as your writing. If you're okay with sending a response can you slip it in the very last locker in our class? It's unused so it works for now.

There's a faint tinge of disappointment at them remaining anonymous, but it's cancelled out by the overwhelming joy tugging your lips into a smile.

Someone likes your writing enough to put the effort into a letter.

You still continue to ignore the teacher, tearing out a page of your English book, eagerly writing a response for whoever this. The now familiar blossom of warmth is back, you could almost start giggling at how exhilarating you found this all.

The pen skims across the torn out page, your reply gradually materialising. The world around you is completely dismissed, right now it's only you and the letter.

It's not until your teacher snaps at you, demanding your attention, earning a quick switch in demeanour; from accumulating excitement to fabricated focus and a feigned interest in classic texts.

Have you made up with Isagi?

Your heart drops at the mention of Yoichi in today’s letter, nails digging into your palm with frustration; because the answer to the question is no.

I'm not trying to intrude, but you should try to if you haven't (it looks like you haven't talked about it yet). Fighting is normal among people, but it's dangerous if you don't do something about it quickly.

With time, it can become irrepairable irreparable. And I don't want you to go through that with someone you care about cherish.

It's been around a week, a week of these note and letter exchanges, slipping them into the empty locker. Lately, you've found yourself patiently waiting for their messages to appear alongside your possessions. They didn’t always write letters, if they didn't have time it was a post-it note instead, either one had you fully engrossed, clinging onto every word written.

I can't really offer advice. It might be a bit scary but anyone can tell you and Isagi care about each other a lot. He looks upset at training. You seem to be the same during class too.

And they're right, ever since that heated exchange of untruthful words in the classroom, Yoichi's been avoiding you. Eyes avoiding yours, opting to eat with his soccer teammates instead, and the absence of time spent together leaves you feeling empty.

So don't beat yourself up about over it. Stress and anger can make you say things you don't mean. I know you'll be able to fix things.

They're right again. You didn't mean to call Yoichi stupid; all the insecurity and doubt had been accumulating recently, internalised with the suppression of expressing yourself, it had gotten to a point you couldn't control it. As a consequence, you unwillingly took it out on Yoichi, he retaliated and the pointless argument left both of you hurt.

A few glances of the classroom inform you that he's not here, either out speaking to someone in a different class or at a meeting for soccer. You ask Bachira, a teammate of Yoichi's.

"Hm? Isagi and Rin had to go do something, it might be about the upcoming game." Bachira pauses for a moment, pondering what exactly it might've been about. "Somethin' about them having to figure out who plays striker, probably." A quick thank you sends him buzzing away, on this way to go bother Kunigami.

After school it is.

Time passes rapidly, as you're preoccupied with selecting a work in progress to continue, brainstorming the potential trajectory of the events. Mechanical pencil rushes over paper, transcribing your thoughts into potential story. It's not until the bell drags you back to reality, as Yoichi calls out to you. Speak of the devil.

"Can we talk? After school and at our usual place?"

You nod "Was going to ask you the same." The convenience of how the two of you always seem to be aligned would've earnt a grin, if only it wasn't for such a serious and uncomfortable topic.

He reciprocates the nod, returning to his desk, as you fail to ignore the creeping dread ensnaring your heart.

You're not quite sure what you're exactly so worried about.

It's either:

a) Possibilities of another argument occurring, with the recent avoidance and discomfort, it’ll be worse than last time. It’s likely, given how tense the atmosphere was yesterday, regret and hurt lingering in the air yet simultaneously suffocating you.

b) The tiny sliver of chance that Yoichi wants to stop being your friend, rather than talk about the argument. Although this outcome is unlikely with how close you are, paranoia couldn't care less about logic and rationality.

c) Being unable to articulate your recent inner turmoil and conflict. Despite your passion for interpreting your thoughts and emotions into fiction, it feels impossible to explain yourself to Yoichi; words getting stuck in your throat and choking on the bitter self doubt.

Maybe it’ll be a combination of the three. Struggles with communication melt into another heated dispute, which would then solidify into a heavy burden within your heart, as Yoichi decides your insecurity is intolerable and disappears from your life.

You shake off the thought, as you make your way to where you’d always hang out with Yoichi; the rooftop. It’s prohibited for all students but with enough messing around you had managed to pick the lock, every break period invested on it was worth it; within the hours spent in school the pale cerulean and cotton like clouds were only for you two, accompanied by the wind playing with your hair.

By the time you arrive, Yoichi’s already there.

You analyse every crevice of his face, searching for any emotion and attempting to map out his thoughts. His eyebrows are slightly furrowed, and his arms are crossed, leaning against the fence.

“Yoi-,”

“I’m so sorry.”

And he doesn’t give you the opportunity or time to respond.

“I don’t know what I was saying, I know better than anyone else that you’re always working hard. Heck you probably spend more time writing than anything else. I didn’t mean anything I said last week, ‘m so sorry, I don’t know why but I was angry and took it out on you.”

It almost all comes out as a whine, not the kind with a bratty tone but the kind that an apologetic child would have as they cry. It’s not out of character, he’s always been a bit of a crybaby, especially as a kid, bawling at the slightest jump scare or change in weather. With how much older you are now, you’ve almost forgotten this side of Yoichi, it’s easy to grow used to the sharp tongued and brutal character he now adopts when on field.

“Those are my words… I said everything that day because I was anxious, not because I meant anything.” Relief washes over you and you’ve never relished in it so much. “I’m sorry for taking it out on you…” There’s a slight pout in his cheeks as he pulls you in for a hug.

“You were kind of right though.” Before you can refute he keeps going. “I don’t understand all those weird English techniques, and to be honest I still google a lot of the words you use because they’re too complicated.”

“But even then, I know your writing’s amazing. I was worried. I thought you had given up on it entirely, all because you think Haru’s better. It’s— I don’t want you to give up because you think you’re not good enough—, because you are. Writing to you is like soccer to me, I can’t imagine what it’d be like if either of us quit. But if writing doesn’t make you happy anymore I’ll respect it. Or if you’re not aiming to do it professionally.”

As kind as his words were, it doesn’t loosen the grip insecurity has on you. It doesn’t change how others have so much of what you want; Paragraphs of praise instead of the short, brief and shallow compliments, popularity; As Haru hit impressive milestones you were wondering why some of your works got so neglected. Everytime you hear him make some sort of self-deprecating comment, crescents of frustration being dug into your palms; because he’ll always have people waiting for his posts, typing out long paragraphs eulogising everything he writes. It doesn’t exactly matter how much he doubts himself, people will shower him in praise either way. It seems a bit hateful, but it can't be helped with how you'd do anything to receive even a fraction of the love he gets.

You have someone like that, remember? The letters come to mind, they’re a foreign yet comforting presence.

Writing is such a significant component of you, yet it leaves you feeling so empty at times. But even if there’s one person; someone who only knows you by your writing and willing to support you purely based on that.

Someone, is better than no one.

Although Yoichi’s been supporting you from the day you started writing, that's a different story, Yoichi has your friendship, the creator of the letters doesn’t.

“You’re worrying over nothing.” It’s far from nothing. There’s still uncertainty in the confidence of your work, you’ll probably never eliminate the grasp of jealousy asphyxiating you each time you notice the difference in feedback and attention in comparison to your friends. Maybe it’d be better for you to quit, to move on from that silly little dream you declared to follow as a kid, and accept that some dreams will always remain as dreams. “I’m still passionate about it, but I’m interested in other things too.”

“I understand,” His pout is replaced by a grin. “Whatever you choose to pick ‘m always here for you, ‘kay?

Tell him. Tell him how the sight of your friends’ success leaves you and your heart thirsty for the same love and attention they receive regularly. Tell him—

“Of course you are, you’re my best friend.” —instead comes out. “You always will be.” You’ll tell him another day. Probably.

Tick. Tock.

The clock in the kitchen reminds of you every passing second, as you're quietly bringing and preparing a drink for the night. You quickly re-read today's letter, getting ready to write out a response

I know you already told me that you and Isagi made up, but has the topic of the argument gotten better?

It might be a bit invasive to ask about it, but I'm worried. I'm an athlete, and I know it's different to being a writer. But what I do understand is what it's like for someone to seem so much better and out of reach. There's a lot of doubt and you start to question why you're even trying.

I can't guarantee results, but I like revisiting my favourite parts of my sport. It helps remember why you started. Sometimes we care too much about others' opinions and forget who we are.

When and why did you start writing? What's your favourite part of it? What made you love it so much? (There's no need to feel obligated to answer these. They've just helped me a lot and I hope they can help you too.)

Please remember you're enough. You always have and will be. You're more than enough.

Drawing in a sharp breath, you stare at those words, relishing in the soothing solace of their kindness. Unknowingly you've craved that saccharine emotion for so long, despite not asking for it or expressing the struggles burdening you.

Before you know it, your pen's gliding across the page, you're engrossed in completing a response, expressing your gratitude for his goodwill.

To be honest, I'd love to become an author. I love the idea of having a book. The thought of having my words printed with a cover, and bought and enjoyed by others brings me indescribable joy. But I'm scared. It's a risky career for anyone, but I'm scared it'll be like my presence online; almost non-existent.

You blink a couple of times. Conveying your thoughts wasn't even that hard, yet you struggled so much to tell anyone else, not even being able to muster an attempt.

But your subtle confusion evaporates, as you continue the letter, everything else disappears, including your worries. While the hours pass, it's just you, the letters and your racing heart.

xx / xx / 23

Your recent work was compelling. The confession was my favourite part, I enjoyed how it wasn't perfect. It's unrealistic and gets boring when they're perfect. I know that's the purpose of fiction but a bit of realism is appreciated. You always achieve the right balance, something that seems impossible to happen, yet believable and not weirdly convenient. I had a lot of fun reading it on my way to school this morning, thank you.

A letter from this morning, a couple of hours after posting.

xx / xx / 23

Training was a bit longer than usual, but I wanted to say good luck for our upcoming exam. I hope maths isn't too bad for you. The topics we're going over seemed tricky… You'll be fine though, you're always studying hard when you're supposed to.

Before the maths exam from the other day, the one that everyone was panicking over.

xx / xx / 23

This is for you. You mentioned craving it last night. Hope you enjoy it.

The day after you posted on a whim "I feel like royal milk tea and idfk why."

The notes, both the latest one and a few from the past days are enough to earn a verbal reaction from you, "Oh my god— I adore them so much." Beaming, you re-read the notes a couple of times, savouring their feedback and sincerity. A few were carried around, while the rest remained safe either at home or in your locker.

Yoichi pauses from sipping on his drink. "They're still writing to you? You really are popular." He shuffles a bit closer, "Wow, they even went far as getting a drink for you. It's already been a few months."

"They already read my recent post too." You're already writing back, depicting your appreciation for their feedback. "That was quick though, I posted it before leaving the house and they had already written a response by the time I got to class."

"Hm." Yoichi hums a bit, gazing up at the sky and swallowing a piece of his onigiri. "How'd they find out it was you, only I know your username, you don't use your real name as your alias, and you're not public about writing as a whole. I can't guess anyone on our team, but that's the only clue we have, right?"

You nod, "They're also in our class." Too many questions and no answers. "I should ask them in my response."

He pulls out his phone, opening the notes app and typing the only two clues you have. "Right, but making a guess should be fun. It's a bit like all those general ability tests our parents made us practice, no? C'mon we'll figure something out if we work together."

"Why not." You recall everyone in your class. "Soccer team and in our class, aside from you there's Bachira, Kunigami, Yukimiya, Reo, Rin, Otoya and Chigiri."

"Well first we can eliminate—"

"Bachira." To his amusement you finish this sentence.

"Yup, I don't think he's physically capable of reading, or writing legibly. Besides, he'd be straightforward about it. If it was him everyone would've found your account by now." So that limits the possibilities to six people.

"Kunigami doesn't seem into reading either."

"He isn't, if he's not at soccer training he's either at the gym, eating or sleeping. There's no way it's Otoya, he only talks to people he wants to date, and does it straightforwardly " You'd question what kind of person would behave like that, but for now you'll save it for another day.

"Reo studies and reads a lot, doesn't he?" That would explain how they rectified any errors.

"Business and economics related books mainly, but he reads fiction too. He could've gotten his dad to pay someone to find you. Something like that."

"…" The soccer team was certainly a unique group.

"It's definitely possible it's him. But he would've been extra about it, I mean he's the heir of the Mikage Corp, 'course he'd do something extravagant as a fan. Who else again?"

"Rin, and Yukimiya, oh and Chigiri."

"100% Yukimiya. I guarantee you. If not, then Chigiri." Yoichi, then that's not a 100% guarantee, but you keep that thought to yourself.

"I thought Yukimiya would hate reading, since he said art strains his eyes."

"He reads as a hobby. So does Chigiri. Rin only likes horror, all your works are romance."

"Can't you just ask?" As fun as attempting to deduce who the fan was, your curiosity couldn't be contained.

Yoichi shrugs. "It'd be awkward if we're wrong. You'd rather not risk someone else finding your account."

"Wonderful point." You glance at your phone and notice the time, break's about to end. "Let's get out of here, before we get caught."

"I don't wanna go to maths… Not on a Monday afternoon please—" Those were his last words before you dragged him back to class.

"Wait, where's my phone?"

It's finally Friday, the conclusion of the week and the long awaited weekend. You had just left the school to go out for dinner with Yoichi and Bachira, until you realised its absence from its usual pocket in your bag.

"You must've left it in the classroom." Yoichi asks, "Bachira and I can wait here for you. Or I can go run up to get it for you."

"No it's fine, the place is nearby anyways. I'll meet you there."

Either of them don't get the opportunity to protest, rushing back into the building and up the stairs. How inconvenient of you to lose your phone, especially on the one day you're dying to leave immediately.

You finally arrive at your classroom, but there's someone already there, hood concealing their face, despite it being summer.

And they're at your desk.

"What the hell—" You waste no time, sprinting to your desk and grasping their hood, pulling it off and exposing their face, whilst having a grip on their wrist.

A shocked gasp leaves their lips; your name, but instead of your real one it's the one you use online. Is he—?

Adorned with captivating and noticeable eye lashes, alluring, deep beryl eyes stare right back at yours. Accompanying them on the pale canvas of his skin were faint pink and glossy lips. His teal hair's a bit messy, almost covering his eyes and contrasting the soft rose dusted on his cheeks

He's ethereal.

"Itoshi…Rin?"

The silence is loud, neither of you knowing what to say.

With the release of his wrist, you decide to break the silence.

"You're the one who's been writing letters to me?" Now that you've registered the surprise and who he is, you notice the sky blue envelope in his other hand, confirming your suspicions.

"Guess I got caught."

"Wait, that doesn't make sense—? I never told you about my account."

"I know you didn't." He responds verbally, voice hoarse and raspy. "I recognised your writing style after seeing sir show the class your writing."

That was from a year ago. "You knew me from that?"

"And some intuition. Whenever you made a post rambling about something at school, it matched up with whatever was happening here. So I took the risk and wrote that note." You're still in disbelief, Itoshi Rin, popular with his seemingly permanent stoicism, wrote all those affectionate words.

"To be honest, I know it would've been better to approach you normally. But I'm not—." He pauses, before continuing, roughly stuffing the envelope in his pocket. "I'm not like Yukimiya or Karasu, I can't express myself well through words and I was a bit worried." That explained his anonymity.

"Every time I read whatever you write, letter or not, I love it. A lot. I found your writing through a mis-click and I don't regret anything, your works are so addictive." There it is again, the sweet, warm words that sooth your scars and hurt.

"I like you, a lot. Though I can't say for sure if I love you, but I know I am with your writing. I want to talk about how much I cherish you and your hard work, instead of expressing it through a letter. I like the expression you make when you're focused, or how you smile while eating your favourite foods." Sunlight drenches the two of you in warmth, colouring the classroom gold.

The sun isn't the only reason why you feel so hot.

It's so infatuating, despite him not being a close friend at all. The way he speaks of you and your writing so highly. Your heart's pounding against your chest, begging for more of him.

"I don't want us to be just writer and fan. I want to grow close to you, and eventually end up as lovers." Rin's face is a bright red with embarrassment, averting his gaze from you. "Gosh, your writing is almost as pretty as you."

It almost feels like a dream, to finally feel some reassurance of your insecurities, even if Rin had been sending you letters and notes for the past few months. Something tells you to be a bit daring. "May I?" Your fingers reach up to his face.

It catches him off guard, and the flustered expression on his face is adorable as he nods. His hair's soft, as you brush it away from his eyes.

"Rin, I'd love that. You've been my lighthouse, I've felt so lost recently and those words you left me saved me." You're already regretting using a metaphor in regular conversation, but it's what you do best, even if it is embarrassing to say it verbally. "If it weren't for you, I think I would've quit writing entirely."

It was completely unfamiliar to you, for someone to praise you with that much effort, to finally have a source of comfort that seems to understand the relentless storm of self doubt; yet you can't imagine things without Rin anymore.

What has this boy done to you.

"It was my intention to prevent that." Despite him maintaining his calm and cold tone, he's still blushing heavily. "I'll be your lighthouse for as long as you'll allow me to then."

You joke around a bit, amused at his words. "I guess you'll be by my side forever then."

"That'd be ideal, sweetheart."

He relishes the growing blush on your face, chuckling at leaving you speechless and flustered.

"I can't believe you out of all people would do that. Why the hell would you gaslight me?"

"Listen, I didn't gaslight you."

"Lies, Isagi Yoichi, you're the reason my phone went missing that day." His lips curve into a delighted grin, as he helps you carry the heavy boxes.

"I was setting you up with the love of your life."

"You also knew the letters were his. You tried to convince me it was Yukimiya or Chigiri." Books are placed onto the shelf.

"I was trying to surprise you, I can't believe you didn't notice that. Didn't you find it weird how we spoke about the argument the same day the letter mentioned it, and after Rin spoke to me? Dude you ditched Bachira and I for him—" More books now. "You've grown up so much though— I can't believe you've publishing a book and you're in university already."

"You're literally the same age as me."

"I was born a few months earlier."

"Yet I'm taller." The faux offense on his expression is priceless.

Before he retaliates, you're called out to by a few people.

"y/n!" It's Reo, followed by the rest of his team, most you recognise, Nagi, Chigiri, and Yukimiya.

"Long time no see!" Violet hair tied up and with his expensive outfit, he looks like he's going to a business conference rather than meeting up with an old classmate. "Congratulations, it's doing really well already. You should've told me you've been writing since high school, I would've loved proofreading for you."

"Thanks, but aren't you guys busy with training?" Rin mentioned a few important and upcoming games.

"I have my priorities. I really loved the fireworks chapter—"

"124-136." Nagi butts in.

"Hm?"

"The page numbers. If it was really your favourite you would've recognised them." Not even you, the author remember that. "You're a fake fan Reo."

"Congratulations." Ignoring Nagi doubting Reo's 'loyalty' as a fan, Chigiri approaches you with a smile, a copy of your book in hand. "Mind signing my copy?"

With a thanks and a nod, your pen (Yoichi insisted on you keeping it at all times) glides along the cover, producing your autograph.

"Someone's popular." A familiar and raspy voice comments—, it's Rin. "Sorry for being late, Coach was being annoying. Did I miss anything?" Similarly to Reo, he's overdressed for the situation, covered in designer brands.

Chigiri scoffs. "You never apologise for being late to practise."

"Shut up princess." The nickname makes Chigiri chuckle, joining whatever chaos Reo started, muttering a comment about love birds under his breath.

"Rin, you already know you didn't have to come— Yoichi and I were only helping Anri restock."

His arms wrap around you from behind, head resting on your shoulder. "I'd rather be with you than train." Rin's hair tickles your cheek as he places a kiss on it. "I knew you could do it." Pride is laced with his voice, almost as if he was talking about one of his soccer games.

"It's thanks to you."

"Bullshit. You're the one who took the initiative to send your manuscript, you're the one who spent hours working on it, you're the one who didn't give up. My support can't compare."

A lot of things come to mind. The initial letters and notes, which became him bringing your favourite foods and drinks during your all your writing sessions. Rin was always there, ensuring you never overworked yourself, proofreading every word and providing his input and feedback. He even went as far as utilising his and his team's fame to assist with the promotion.

"It still meant the world to me. And it still does." Despite it being a regular way of him being affectionate, it still manages to make your face heat up, probably colouring them pink by now.

Though it's been years, there's still a bit of uncertainty. Even with a published book, it's scary knowing that it's out there for criticism.

"You're going to be okay." Rin, as always, notices the change in mood, hand caressing yours. "I'm always going to be by your side."

"I know just— it's so weird." It's surreal how you went from contemplating giving up writing to signing something you wrote from scratch. "I'll probably have to make alt accounts just in case of hate comments."

"Don't think you have to worry about that, Reo already sued some people. Pretty sure Isagi and Nagi stay up fighting people online. So don't worry about anything happening, we're all here to support you, you're my favourite and I love you." He concludes his speech with a peck on the lips, ignoring everyone who recognises him. "Let's get out of here."

"Wait, aren't we having dinner with everyone?"

"Change of plans, I only want to spend my money on you." Rin's already walking out the store, holding you hand. "You said you wanted to try Kobe beef, no?"

"Fine— you win." A high school reunion will have to wait for another day.

From milk tea to infamous and expensive beef, it's sweet how he things have changed yet have still remained heart warming, just like how he went from fan to lover.

tagging : @yuzurins

© kitorin : do not repost, plagiarize, change, or translate

#I HAD TO GET IT OUT OF THE WAY #now i can focus on school #unless i hyperfixate on another wip #bllk x y/n #blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk #fluff #blue lock x male reader #blue lock x you #blue lock x y/n #itoshi rin #bllk itoshi rin #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin x male reader #itoshi rin x gn!reader

[sarahreesbrennan]

sorry if you have already answered this, but are we getting any queer rep in Long Live Evil? 💕 i am super excited to see what you've cooked up for us either way!

I came back after I'd gone off on one, seeing the post had struck a chord and being thankful but fearful of my inbox. Let me say with delighted surprise that all the asks are very kind.

Thank you for this one, sweet anon. I am so excited and so nervous about my best beloved, Long Live Evil, and about coming back with a new book of my own after so long, when I believed for a long time it was hopeless.

I'm really grateful to find readers waiting for me. But I know readers are naturally more invested in characters they know: I extremely appreciate you taking an interest in the future.

So, short answer: YEAH you are!

Long answer: Long Live Evil wouldn't exist without its queer narratives.

C.S. Pacat and I were talking in our virtual Brookline Booksmith event recently about our favourite Disney villains. C.S. Pacat picked Maleficent, a fine choice. I picked Snow White's Evil Queen. We agreed we loved most of them.

Here's the relevant excerpt I was quoting in my last post from Carmen Maria Machado's In The Dream House, saying 'I think a lot about queer villains, the problem and pleasure and audacity of them.' Well... me too.

I think many of us have experienced feeling made wrong in some way - for not wanting what society said we should or being what we were expected to be - and that one step along that journey of discovery is going 'Okay, if it's wicked, I'll just BE wicked.' And that's part of why those characters appeal - because they seem free, and free of pain.

But modern storytelling isn't confined to coding, and audiences can now feel free to expect, not the certainty, but the possibility characters who aren't introduced as such still might actually turn out to be LGBT+. The essays I've read about Supernatural, Teen Wolf, Sherlock, Ted Lasso, Fox 9-1-1... I think the latest argued Jaime Lannister was bisexual. (Pretty persuasive.)

I remember reading the Raven Cycle going 'oh? OH.' I remember being at a writing retreat in 2013 and running through the halls screaming about Nico diAngelo. Ten years later we got a Nico diAngelo book co-written by Rick Riordan and the amazing Mark Oshiro. I watched Red, White and Royal Blue with a friend and she said 'honestly I hope the guys get together, but...' and I (having read the book) silenced myself with a herculean effort and watched her hopes come true. I didn't know about The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo and almost dropped the book in a swimming pool. But I've also read and watched many things thinking, just maybe... oh, no. Still that hope existing is meaningful, the thought that if the story had gone differently, if this revelation had happened, if this realisation had happened, if, if, if...

Long Live Evil is a story about the story going differently and asking yourself questions about your own nature, and the escape to fiction of those who really need escape. The book is based on that 'if,' and the 'if' itself is joyous, and brings me back to the idea of gleefully transgressing the narrative that much villain love is based on.

It's also an ensemble story with a rogue's gallery of characters and multiple PoVs. (I was much inspired by the Six of Crows ensemble.) So it isn't about any one character's romance, and by the book's nature there exist many possibilities. A critique partner read and said 'I didn't know you were going THERE' and I responded 'Should I?'

I've never been one to confirm where stories are going, and I won't do so now. I'm not talking about any one character or telling you a direction.

I'm just saying yes to rep. It's baked in.

#long live evil #supernatural #teen wolf #fox 911 #lgbt reads #six of crows #evil queen #maleficent #red white and royal blue #the raven cycle #in the dream house #cs pacat #percy jackson

[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and footballers (Part 42)

Alexia Putellas x Character (9)

Masterlist (other parts here)

((**Mentions of Lucy/YFN.* *What happens when two dominant people start falling for each other? This... :')* *I think this is my favourite chapter so far...**))

Alexia had her arms crossed over her body as she watched Lucy and her girlfriend through the glass at the airport. Lucy was the type of person to be so brutal on the field, so dedicated in her work, and so unapologetically independent. There were occasions where she was excited enough for physical contact with people, though they were rare, because that was the soft side of her that you only see if you truly knew her well. Even then, she hid it extremely well, even when she was with Keira.

Not now though. Alexia watched Lucy and YFN move like there was a cord connected between them, their movements naturally synced and complementing each other. And then there were the looks, the longing, the love, the hopeless expressions that were exchanged with smiles and blushes, many of which were one staring without the other noticing. It made Alexia feel a lot of things to see them like this. To see Lucy be so happy, so touchy, so in love. It now made sense to her why Lucy was always lost in a daydream since she’d returned from the last international break. Because she was always thinking about her; because this was one of those things you only see in movies or read about in poetry.

“They are cute, no?”

Alexia flinched at the voice which was a lot closer than she expected. She turned to Ridley who was leant against her car, hands clasped casually behind her back as she studied Alexia’s face. Her famous all-too-neutral expression usually helped her disguise her emotions, yet she felt Ridley could see right through it. And she could. Just the slightest hint of downturned eyebrows, her mouth set a little too hard, and the biggest giveaway, her eyes. Alexia’s eyes were like an open book for her, betraying her deepest feelings, and right now she could see…longing.

“I guess.”

“I prefer absolutes.”

Alexia raised an eyebrow, her face otherwise staying the same. “Is there a way to absolutely tell if tonight is going to be awkward between the two of us?”

Ridley smiled and Alexia watched the scar on her cheek shift with the movement of her face. “Awkward is fun, no?” She pushed off from the car and opened the door, gesturing Alexia in as if she were a chauffeur. “La Reina.”

Alexia looked at the fact that she’d opened the rear car door, and not the front. She was unsure if Ridley expected her to call her bluff, but she did anyways. She slid into the back seat as if she were an actual Queen, and Ridley an actual chauffeur. Bluff called. Alexia watched a smile creep over her face at her unexpected cheekiness as she closed the door. Alexia 1, Ridley 0.

“Ridley! It’s been too long! How are you?” The restaurant owner was gushing over the couple as they came in. “And I see your taste in women is impeccable, how lucky we are for you to bring the la Reina to our little restaurant.”

Ridley shared a grin and a polite half-hug with him. Did she know everyone? “Emiliano, I hope your family are well. Yes, I’ve been busy. I took a few contracts in Dubai recently so I’ve been gone for most of the year there.”

Alexia’s interest peaked at that. That’s where she’d been?

“My daughter wants to do that one day too. She’s so excited! Won’t shut up about it. Oh well, I’m glad you’re back. You look beautiful, as do you, Miss Putellas. As luck would have it, I have your favourite table free! Follow me.”

Usually Alexia was the centre of attention. The one who lead the way and had to do all of the talking and pleasantries. Here with Ridley she felt the opposite and it was…incredibly refreshing. Alexia followed closely behind Ridley, studying her back as she walked with such confidence. They reached her ‘favourite table’ which sported a stunning view of the city, but also retained a little privacy from half of the restaurant. In addition to that, she couldn’t help but realise how humble Emiliano had been when he’d said ‘little restaurant’. It looked and felt Michelin Star. Emiliano shared a gesture with Ridley that she didn’t see, and he stepped back as Ridley took his place to push Alexia’s chair in behind her. Another new fact about Ridley she’d just learnt. Chivalry. Alexia 1 – Ridley 1.

Ridley sat opposite her and pulled her own seat in. Alexia watched the two exchange a few more pleasantries and small talk before he gave them the chef specials and recommendations and left with a smile. The restaurant was so nice that the menus didn’t have prices. Cost was never a factor for Alexia anymore, though she felt like it helped her get to know the woman opposite her a little more. Gone were the days of the mysterious woman from the bar. Or so she thought.

They weren’t speaking, though it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, Alexia felt very comfortable, even with the astonishingly distracting tension between the two. If Ridley felt it, she hid it well. Alexia stared at the menu, not really seeing the words until two fingers gripped the top of her menu and gently lowered it so she could see her eyes.

“Are you going to hide behind your menu all night?”

“I was considering it.” She murmured, embarrassed she’d just been called out. Usually Alexia was the cool, calm person in control.

“And deprive me of those eyes?”

There’s that cheeky audacity. She made it worse by keeping that eye contact, making Alexia feel seen. And surprisingly safe also.

Alexia thought it best to not encourage her. “Any suggestions?”

“The salmon. I dreamt about it for days after.”

Everything sounded so flirty from her mouth. Perhaps it was.

“Okay.” She said and put her menu down as if to show she was done hiding. “And for you?”

Ridley hadn’t even opened her menu.

“Emiliano suggested the sirloin. Are you okay with wine during your season?”

“Si.”

Ridley raised her hand without her elbow leaving the table, and a server appeared, as if she’d been watching. Ridley handed her both menus and ordered for both of them with a wine pairing. Alexia noticed the girl staring at Ridley as if she was in love with her, or as if they’d had sex. After a few more seconds, she would have put money on it being the latter. Her emotions were poorly covered with longing looks and presumably old memories. Ridley’s expression, however, didn’t change. It was neutral, polite, unbothered. Usually in a situation like this, the person would be extra cold, or awkward, or making it obvious that it had meant nothing to them. Ridley did none of those things because she actually cared. Alexia had noticed that about her. She was so aware of people’s feelings, her intelligence shining through and although she had a perfectly composed self, that deep part of her could be brought out. She’d seen it in the worry in her eyes last night. She’d seen it in her amused expression in the rear-view as she and YFN had their little back and forth in the car. She’d seen it in the melancholy look that appeared for a split second when Alexia had said she was going to spend Christmas with her family.

When the server was gone, Ridley’s attention turned back to her date and just when Alexia thought she’d say something teasing, she did the opposite.

“I apologise for last night, Alexia. I…mishandled the entire situation. I won’t give you any excuses. Simply, you deserved better.”

It was short and eloquent. Not riddled with personal wants and needs and reasons and excuses. Just a genuine apology. Unfortunately, that made Ridley even more attractive to her than she already was.

“I accept your apology. Thank you for saying that.”

She wondered if that was it. If that was all Ridley wanted from their dinner tonight. She really just wanted to get to know her better, and she didn’t know why.

“Can I ask you something personal?”

“Sure, I’ll try my best to answer it.”

Alexia hesitated, which she rarely did. “In the car when you asked me about Christmas, you seemed upset. Why?”

Ridley stared into her eyes as if she were wondering how honest she should be. “Because I don’t have a family. I have YFN and her nan and her brother, but we’re not biologically related.”

No family? “Why..?”

“It would dampen the mood of tonight.”

“I want to know. Besides, what do you expect from tonight?”

“I expect to have dinner with you and apologise. I’d say we’re off to a great start.”

“Ridley-”

Ridley’s eyes flashed something unknown. It was the first time she’d heard her name from Alexia’s lips.

“I’m much more than my past.”

Alexia knew that, of course, but could also tell it was Ridley’s way of asking her to stop. So she did.

“I know you are.”

Before Ridley could respond, the server was back with the wine. She held it up for Ridley to look at and she tasted it like a wine connoisseur before she accepted it. Alexia noticed the server intentionally brushing Ridley’s fingers with her own, hoping for a reaction. Most people would have reacted to the touch, but Ridley remained indifferent and polite.

“I have another question.”

“By all means.”

One of the benefits of them both having dominant personalities was their ability to be straight to the point and honest.

“What do you want from me?”

Ridley took a sip while she thought. “In general or tonight?”

“Both.”

“Tonight I wanted to apologise and make sure you have a nice meal after your game. In general, I’m not entirely sure.”

She was unsure what she wanted from her?

“Last night you said a few things I’d like clarification on.”

Ridley gave her a look that said she already knew what those things were. “I’ll do my best.”

“Four questions. Firstly, you said that you ‘come here to see’ me?”

“To the bar, yes. Exactly how you go just to see me.”

It wasn’t cockiness, it was an observant fact. She knew she was going just for her? Alexia felt herself getting shy. She was rarely shy. She pushed that aside.

“That’s fair,” she murmured. “You also said ‘I don’t think of you like that’.”

“I don’t. You’re much more than a body to me.”

“What am I?” It wasn’t one of her questions but she couldn’t help but whisper it.

Ridley frowned. “I’m not sure yet.”

“Is that why you ‘don’t know how to give me anything else’?”

“I don’t date, Alexia.”

“And you just assume that I do?”

“Do you not?”

She frowned. She did. “You didn’t give me a choice.”

“There was no choice to offer. We didn’t know each other. We still don’t.”

“We could have changed that if you hadn’t left.”

Those words hung in the air between them. Ridley had left, and she knew it would have hurt her, but she assumed it would hurt her less than actually getting to know her for who she was. Ridley didn’t open up to people. Better to leave than break her heart.

The server arrived again during their silence, and placed their food in front of them, giving an extra sweet smile to Ridley. She pretended not to see it, her eyes on Alexia.

“I’m excited for you to try that, the chef is incredible.” Ridley’s eyes flickered to Alexia’s dish while Alexia continued to stare at her.

“Why did you leave?”

She sighed and caught Alexia’s eye again.

“Because I’m not good for you.”

“Why?”

“Trust me, Alexia. I’m not good for anybody.”

“You’re good enough for the women you fuck.” Alexia’s jealousy hit like a slap in the face. Usually people enjoy seeing their partners jealous for them. Ridley, however, didn’t want to see Alexia upset in any way.

“They mean nothing to me.”

Questions swam in Alexia’s eyes. “Were you trying to push me away…?”

That surprised her. Alexia’s jealousy hadn’t hindered her confidence. She knew her worth. It was an alarmingly attractive quality for Ridley. “Yes.”

Alexia was grateful for the fact that Ridley didn’t lie. She’d answer honestly or not at all. “Why?”

“I told you why.”

“You never gave me a chance…”

Again, those words hung in the air and the heartbreak on Alexia’s face almost broke her. Ridley had never felt like that before. She never let herself get close enough to. “I’m not good for you..” she repeated as if she hadn’t understood the first time. It was a weak argument.

“And you’ve just made that decision for me then? I don’t get to decide what is and isn’t good for me? What I do and don’t want?” Alexia was a softy at heart and although she was fierce with her words, unfallen tears were building up in her eyes. “You may be used to being in control and telling people what to do, but you don’t get to do that with me. Not right now.”

It was like two dominant animals butting heads. Both knew their worth, and Ridley had absolutely done the wrong thing by shutting Alexia out. Though she’d told herself she hadn’t owed her anything, she knew she did from that very first moment they’d locked eyes in the bar almost a year ago. Everything she’d done from then had been for her, and without her having a say in the matter. She hadn’t realised how selfish she’d been. She’d convinced herself she was doing the right thing by her and her feelings, without considering her actual feelings, because Alexia had been just as involved as she was. She’d underestimated that.

“You’re right.”

Alexia was also surprised at how easy she’d admitted that. She opened her mouth to reply and was cut off.

“Eat your food before it’s cold. Then we’ll talk.”

That was a good example of the type of control Alexia could accept from her. But not her avidly taking away her choices regarding her emotions.

The salmon was incredible, and she told her just as much. Ridley was happy at that. The wine pairing went down perfectly with their food and soon enough, the plates were replaced with the dessert menu.

“I can’t…” Alexia started to say before she was distracted reading the menu.

“We can share.”

Their eyes met, both happy at the compromise. Alexia smiled and Ridley’s heart almost stopped at that. She was stunning. She didn’t know if she could tear her eyes from her lips, but luckily she was torn away by the server again.

“What can I get for you two?”

“We’re sharing.” She said, clapping her menu closed and handing it over, looking at the Barcelona Captain. “It’s your choice.”

The server looked a little upset by that, and almost unwillingly turned her attention to Alexia.

“The crema catalana, please.”

She gave her menu to the server who nodded and left. Only then did she see the grin on Ridley’s face, and couldn’t help her face reflecting it.

“What?”

“That’s my favourite. Anything with custard, or similar to it.”

It was another rare fact that Ridley happily shared with her. She made a mental note of it.

“Can we continue?”

“If you’d like.”

“I would.” Alexia was suddenly a little shy again. “You admit that I’m right?”

“Yes.”

“Care the expand on that?”

“It was…selfish of me to make decisions for you. I convinced myself it was what was best for you.”

“And if you hadn’t thought it was what was best for me?”

“I’d have fucked you many, many times, in many different ways by now.”

The comment was crass, but her expression wasn’t. She meant it.

“You don’t date…” She repeated from Ridley’s earlier statement.

“No.”

“Why?”

“Many reasons.”

“Such as?”

Ridley sighed. She obviously wasn’t going to let it go. “I’m…broken. I can’t love.  I discovered that when I was younger and made the mistake of being with people who I knew would fall for me and breaking their hearts. I didn’t want to do that to you.”

“You’ve never loved anyone?”

Ridley’s melancholy flashed across her face briefly. “I love YFN. I loved my brother.”

Loved. Alexia didn’t even have to ask the question.

“He’s dead.”

“And your family?”

Her jaw flexed. “The same.”

Alexia’s heart dropped. No wonder she’d looked so sad when Alexia had said she was spending Christmas with her family. She thought that ‘I don’t have a family’ meant they’d chosen to not recognise her for her sexuality or didn’t get along. She never assumed they were gone.

“I’m so-”

“Please don’t. I don’t want pity. It happened. It’s done.”

She left it for a minute before she whispered the next question. “Is that why you think you’re broken?”

“Alexia, I don’t want to talk about my past, or my faults tonight, please. I just want to have dinner with you.”

Her heart softened up at that admission. “We can do that…”

“Good.”

The crema catalana arrived then, with two spoons. Ridley picked hers up and noticed Alexia hadn’t taken hers. She was lost in thought. She took a breath and reached out, her fingers lightly touching one of Alexia’s hands on the table. That broke her thought as her eyes snapped up to meet Ridley’s.

“I’ll allow you one more question before we eat.”

It took her a few seconds to decide on which question to ask, Ridley’s fingertips warm and soft and distracting.

“Why did you leave?” She whispered.

“Because I was scared I would let you in if I stayed.”

Alexia inhaled sharply, blinking tears away. She wasn’t crazy. They did have a strong connection. And Ridley had just admitted that, unashamedly. Alexia knew how hard that must have been for her.

“Now eat, la Reina.”

The two ate dessert, unable to stop their satisfied hums as they did so, because it tasted incredible. Alexia made a note of the restaurant. She wanted to come back and bring her entire family and friends. As she thought that, the idea of Ridley being alone in the restaurant tugged at her heartstrings. Of course she’d never be alone. She’d be with a girl or a colleague, but that didn’t stop the fact that she’d be alone and would feel like it. Because no one can fill that empty space of family.

They finished quickly, Ridley paying for the meal before Alexia had a chance to argue. They said their goodbyes to Emiliano and this time when they reached the car, Ridley held the passenger door open for her.

Alexia’s grandmother’s house wasn’t far from the restaurant, and the drive was a comfortable, safe silence with Spanish music playing in the background softly. They’d both asked enough questions for the night.

As they arrive out the front, Ridley opened her door for her, and took her overnight duffle out, walking her up to the front door. The porch light was a dull yellow which made the gold flecks in Ridley’s eyes stand out even brighter. They shared a wordless smile until the sound of laughing filtered out through one of the front windows, and Ridley’s smile faltered a little. Alexia wanted to hug her, to kiss her, to invite her into her welcoming family and make her feel loved. All of that would have been too much though and besides, Ridley escaped before she had a chance to do anything.

She leant down and her lips brushed her cheek in a soft kiss. Alexia leant into her, and they stood like that for a little before Ridley was gone without a look back.

#woso #womens football #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso soccer #alexia putellas #barca femeni #fc barcelona #barca #barcelona femeni #fc barca #culers #lucy bronze #lucy bronze imagine #lucy bronze x reader

[hedgehog-moss]

hi! Just wanted to ask what you’ve been reading lately? I love seeing your book recs! Also what are some of your favorite books ?

Hi :) I've read some disappointing stuff lately, so I decided to start two books from my to-read list that felt like safe bets—Samantha Shannon's A Day of Fallen Night and Elsa Morante's Lies and Sorcery. I'm enjoying both so far!

I've read interesting nonfiction this year—Empire of Pain, about the Sackler family; Erich Schwartzel's Red Carpet about the role of the movie business in cultural hegemony; and Laure Hillerin's biography of the Countess Greffulhe, who was a fascinating woman. She was the real-life model behind Proust's Duchess de Guermantes character, and a really influential figure in the arts & sciences in the early 1900s—she financed the first productions of Diaghilev's Ballets Russes, frequented Rodin's studio, helped Marie Curie find the funds to start her Radium Institute... It was a good read. I also read a biography of Anne Perry by Peter Graham, which was so-so—the story of the murder is morbidly fascinating but the way it was told had too many trivial details and not enough depth.

Worst nonfiction books of the year so far were Niall Ferguson's Doom: The Politics of Catastrophe which didn't seem to have any point to make, and François-Guillaume Lorrain's Scarlett which was marketed as a fascinating new look into the making of Gone With the Wind but actually the author just watched his DVD's behind-the-scenes bonus content and diluted it into 300+ pages of rehashed anecdotes, it was so pointless. I found it on the "Vos libraires vous recommandent !" shelf and now I feel betrayed by that bookshop.

As for fiction, I've enjoyed Ira Levin's A Kiss Before Dying, it felt very dated in a fun way, everything about it felt intensely 1950s. Was very disappointed by Silvia Avallone's Acciaio, I'd heard good things about it but it was so joyless and meh. Álvaro Enrigue's Ahora me rindo y eso es todo was a bit disappointing in the second half, but the first half was good so I'll try other books of his. Pierre Lemaitre's Miroir de nos peines was fun in an expected way—I mean those who enjoyed the beginning of his Au revoir là-haut trilogy will enjoy this one too as it's more of the same. And I also had a good time reading Catherynne Valente's Radiance— similarly if you already like her writing style you'll probably enjoy this book. (I was listening to this as I read it and it fit really well with the floaty-nostalgic-unearthly atmosphere of the book, it's always nice to accidentally find a good book-soundtrack that enhances the experience! Now I can never listen to it while reading again as it's too intertwined with that story.)

And I really liked Madame de Staël's Delphine but I wouldn't recommend it to just anyone, it's very 18th century (though it's from 1802). If you enjoy idle noblewomen writing each other 20-page-long letters in gorgeously long-winded 18th-century prose about how the Viscount of Something glanced at them from the other end of a salon and nothing else happened and now they're having agonies then you'll love this book, it's 900 pages of this. I can't get enough of it personally, and I found it hilarious that these aristocrats had such low-stakes problems considering the story starts in 1790. They didn't notice the Revolution, they were too busy writing tormented letters about extramarital glances.

Some books I've added to my kindle recently: Virginia Feito's Mrs. March, Simon Schama's Landscape & Memory (someone I follow on GR described it as "monstrously bloated" while the NYT blurb diplomatically calls it "a work of enormous scope" which made me laugh), Seyhmus Dagtekin's To the Spring, by Night, Margarita Liberaki's Three Summers, Maggie O'Farrell's The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox, Dawn Powell's A Time to Be Born.

This got long, sorry! You can have a look at my 5- and 4.5 star shelves on goodreads, for some of my favourite books of the past few years :)

#ask #book recs

[littleststarfighter]

One of my favourite books is ‘The Green-Eyed Monster’ By Melanie Tushmore. It was released way back in 2013 and is hard to come by. I’ll let the summary off Goodreads sum it up

‘Sky Somers is an ex-traveller; the son of a folk musician and a new age hippy. Sky's form of rebellion is electric guitars, and he wants his own band. His desire is to set the world to rights through music. Brandon Cruikshank is new to London, recently arrived from Glasgow. Charismatic, charming; a natural born performer. Brandon is openly bisexual, with a penchant for dressing in women's clothes. His desire is to be adored.

From the moment Sky meets Brandon, he knows he has to have him. Brandon, in turn, wants Sky. But that's when it becomes clear they both have very different desires in mind. Brandon wants Sky as a lover, yet Sky only wants Brandon as a singer in his band. Misunderstanding set aside—or apparently so—Brandon and Sky become firm friends. To escape equally troubled pasts and families, they change their names. Now, Brandon Fox and Sky St. Clair are ready to take over the world.

As the years roll on, Brandon's desire for Sky still simmers, waiting. Then a chance night sharing a hotel room sparks the desire between them, and this time, Brandon wants it all. Sky has never explored his desires before. Now, the passion and jealousy Brandon has unleashed in him threatens to shake the whole band apart.’

It’s a cracking read and hits my fave trope of misunderstandings and bandmates arguing. I love Brandon, he’s such a shit with a sexy Scottish brogue. Sky is a short arse ball of anger, and very much misses every hint Brandon throws his way. It’s a fun book. So I had to try and draw it. I expect the author didn't see Brandon how I do, but he’s such a preening sod taking forever to get ready for gigs and in love with his creepy fox shawls. I just love him.

#brandon cruikshank #sky somers #melanie tushmore #the green eyed monster #gay band #goth #metal #80s #gay books #my fanart

[twinkodium]

lola lola lola !!! 😚

i hope your last week of work went well & that you’ve had a good break so far <3 i finally had time to go back and read the lola newspaper (i’ve missed out on over two weeks 😵 but i’m pretty much fully caught up now!) and i have some thoughts:

(some of them are just other random thoughts i have, not to do with your posts these last weeks heh!)

1. you wrote you like scandinavian crime stories? :o do you have any examples? i have a story about sweden’s biggest crime writer but i won’t tell it if you haven’t read anything by her bcs it would be boring 🤪

2. reading through your blog as i’m trying to finish my christmas osc fic was both good and bad because you ofc have so many good cute reblogs and gifs of him that make me think of him and get all mushy and in the right mood to write 🥰 but it’s also hard because you have a lot of lando content recently, and he’s the one i’m trying to escape because he’s continued to hold my brain captive these last few weeks…..

3. speaking of lando… i see you too have been in a bit of a lando mood recently? 🤭 very interesting how your blog has become like 90% lando, i do not complain 🥰 and i totally get where you’re coming from 🥰 tbh very easy to blame oscar for disappearing from the face of the earth (i think i’ve seen like one pic of him? one sighting a fan took??….), and lando for those god damn streams 🤤🤤

dropping these off as they’re on the topic of lando and i just haven’t been able to get these screenshots out of my brain so now you need to suffer too:

(the nose scrunch… bestie…. him and oscar and their god damn noses 🥺🥺 not fair)

4. okay this doesn’t actually have anything to do with your reblogs but i remembered it after seeing some of them: after the last like big handball match i was at, i was waiting at the entrance for some person, and guess who stood just a few meters away… the cute liam lookalike….. and like as soon as i saw him, i looked away because i couldn’t be caught staring at him when he was so close (like, staring at him when he’s playing is another thing, but like this?? 😳). then i ended up talking to someone else as i waited, and i felt someone looking at me… so i turned my head and the liam lookalike was looking at me??? and i looked away and acted like it was no big deal, he probs was just looking around the room randomly. but tell me why i caught him staring at me SEVERAL MORE TIMES ???? i shit you not ??????? i tried so so hard to act like everything was fine but i giggle even thinking about it now SJSGSSJSH

5. speaking of liam….. guess who still hasn’t watched his vlogs?? 🫠 i just can’t allow myself to watch any videos or do anything distracting before im done with my christmas oscar fic 😶 (she says, as she’s reading through the lola newspaper instead of writing) but i saw your reblogs of pics from his vlogs and i just can’t hold back from watching them 😭

6. omg you never watched gilmore girls??? idk why this is so shocking to me but like. i thought everyone had to :0 i watched it for the first time last year tho but i’m on my 4th rewatch…. now im curious about what other big shows you didnt watch? i remember us talking about gossip girl (right? i didn’t just make that up, did i?) but i cant remember why?… honestly i shouldn’t say anything because i hate tv-shows but i thought everyone had seen gilmore girls 🥺

i had more things to say but i really really need to get writing now so i’ll be back some other time! have a great day (night) love!! 🫶

JACKIEE, it’s been a long time that you’ve come into my inbox, welcome back 🥺

WELL, last day and week was chaotic af, my boss woke up from hibernation and wanted everything done before the break… 🙄OH MY GOD, two weeks worth of Lola newspaper? Holy shit, must have been over 200 posts 😂

Scadinavian crime stories are the best honestly!! OH, my absolute favourite write is actually Danish, Jussi Adler Olsen. Still have a few books to read from him, but his Q-department series is TOP NOTCH. Pretty disturbing and very horrifying topics but well written all of them. Tell me her name and we’ll see if I’ve read anything from her yet 😉😉

OHHH hello Christmas Os fanfic??? Okay, do not look at my blog till you’re done, because I have lined up a few more Lando reblogs in my queue 😏 honestly, we’re in the same boat… my god😭 he’s so incredibly hot lately and those streams short-circuited my brain 😵

Fuck... I blame Oscar for being in hibernation cuz Lando took over my mind and thoughts 😭 pls what I should I reblog, when our guy doesn’t post shit…? 😩 I’d even go that far to let you have Osc and I’m going for Lando, so we still have to hang out and be menaces in the Mclaren garage 😏

(WHAT THE HELL DID I JUST SAY???? 😵😵😵😵😵😵😵😵😵😵😵 WHO THE FUCK AM I???)

Literally one pic of him by a fan, but now he was attending a sponsor event, so pics and videos of him appeared 🥰 and the interview with Laura, the secret santa video 😩 THE NOSE SCRUNCH PLS SO CUTE 🥺🥺🥺 and the second one, he looks properly shy 🥺🥺 I LOVE that vein bulging on the middle of his forehead when he laughs so hard 😩😩 I MIGHT BE DOWN BAD 🤯Guess who wrote a smut with him based on his unhinged stream??? not this girl… surely not… 😩

OH MY GOD!!!! I was meant to ask about him a while ago, but guess my goldfish memory made me forget about it... 😒 damn he was eyeing you up GIRLIEEE.. More than once??? HELLO?? Make your move!!! I want this to unfold even more, I’M SO EXCITED FOR YOU!! 😉Imagine locking eyes with him for so long, you can’t look away 😩😩 So romantic 🥰

HOW DARE YOU NEGLECTING HIM LIKE THAT?? too much Lando and Oscar in your mind? Are you afraid he’s going to take over your thoughts huh? 😉 Awwww, did you watch them?? I didn’t see the newest one, it was posted when I was pretty busy worrying about my dog, but might have time to watch it now on low volume 😉

Everyone is shaming me not watching the Gilmore girls… Pls, it was so hyped up, I always hold off watching the movies, series that are popular at times and come back later when adoration dies down. But never really get around to do it. Obviously saw a bits and pieces but never really had the urge to watch it from start to end. I started watching Gossip Girl like 3 times probably, but never finished any watch through 😂😂 It was actually the first series I’ve watched with original dub and English subtitles. Pretty little liars, started it with my sister, but I got bored after like one season or something 😂 I think she finished it without me 😂Dunno what else… gimme a list of famous TV-show and I’ll let you know if I’ve watched them or not 🙈

So another long ask coming up from you in the upcoming days?? 👀👀

Wishing you a wonderful day and week ahead hun 🥰

#asks #jackie 🧡 #girl I missed you 🥰 #I've seen your messaged back to my long ass messages on discord #I'll get around to answer one day 😵😵 #daily discussion with jackie 🥰 #<- no drivers' name cuz we mentioned at least three LMAO

[atom-writings]

Hi!!!!!!

Can I request the main 8 with a poet/writer s/o?

The main 8 find their s/o's poems or writing about them and it's like how much they love them !!!

(hopefully this makes sense :D have a nice day!

Also your writing super coolio )

hetalia allies + germany with a s/o who's a writer

1.6k words ~ gender neutral heacanons + mini scenarios

tw: swearing, thats it!

a/n: i believe this is after the cutoff so its only 6 characters sorry! also ty :)

America

Alfred may not seem like it, considering his less-than-stellar attention span, but he can be quite an avid reader if he wants to be.

In fact, when he was travelling the western frontier, he often wrote poems himself.

He loves your work, (he’s always the first one showing up on release day!) but he doesn’t love how much time it takes away from you.

Seeing you exhausted and frustrated after a long night, trash can filled with discarded drafts, just breaks his heart. He’ll make sure your office is always stacked with 

Alfred wasn’t usually so easily swayed by cheesy romances, despite his sweet soft for them. But now, reading your book, he couldn’t help flushing at every interaction his favourite couple had.

The one he was reading now, well, it just took the cake. Spending the day wandering East Potomac Park? It was something out of his dreams- just endlessly… familiar?

Wait, hadn’t he done that recently with you?

Oh.

He set the book aside, burying his face in his hands as he blushed wildly.

Guess the blue-eyed, blond love interest hero was a bit more than a stereotype after all.

England

Ah, a writer. Arthur has long admired the literary arts, having many a classic writer come from his home. Yes, he’d quite enjoy someone like that.

He loves reading your work, regardless of what it is, but he’d prefer you read it to him. Then he can get all of your silly little notes along with it. Just for him <3

Although he wouldn’t appreciate you spending all day working. He’s not needy usually, but by the time you two go to bed, he’s DESPERATE for your attention.

He tries not to disturb you, though.

From the moment he picked up your work, he could tell where your inspiration for the main love interest came from. Sandy-haired, green eyes, tall but not too tall, always how you had described him.

Of course, that made his reading even more of a joy.

The only thing that bothered him was how the protagonist described themself. Always dismissed, below-par, never worthy of his love. Now, that just wouldn’t stand.

So he began to write as well. In between the margins, on attached papers, on the sides, everywhere. Correcting every disparaging thought.

Then when he finished, he handed the book back to you, with a cheeky comment.

“It was absolutely wonderful, my love.”

Whether you ever saw the notes or not didn’t matter. He had made the book even more perfect, at least to himself.

France

As said before, Francis is a very artsy guy. Very artsy. Although he’s not always skilled at making art himself… so having another artist would help with that.

He’s absolutely the number one collector of your works. Every scrap, every trashed draft, every misprint, he’s keeping everything.

He’s also pretty ok with how much time it takes! It gives him time to relax, or maybe even join in working on creative projects.

Although he would insist on regular breaks. Fortunately, Francis is a hedonist at heart, so those breaks will always provide much inspiration.

True beauty is rare. Living for so long had proven that time and time again for Francis. It isn’t natural, it isn’t easy, and it never lasts. But…that doesn’t make the pursuit of it any more meaningless.

Even more rare than its existence, is the constant presence of it.

But when he read your poems, venerating and elucidating your own feelings, he felt as if he had found it. God, it was beautiful. Your words, unlike any other’s he had read in his many years, made him feel as if he was falling in love all over again.

Instantly, he was transported into your shoes, viewing himself in a light that had never been shone on him before.

He wasn’t entirely sure what to do with himself now. It felt wrong- wrong to not give absolute reverence to this piece of art.

If he had had access to the Louvre, he would’ve kept it there. But, well, his kitchen wall would have to do for now.

China

Finally, some good fucking talent. He's very excited about his S/O being an artist! He's not much of one himself these days, but it's good to see the youth catching up to the old masters.

As much as he loves you, he's very opinionated. Everything you write he either LOVES or HATES. Though he's always excited to show off his favourites of your works, he's very proud of you.

Though he absolutely is not stand by while you spend all day sitting around and writing. Get off the couch and come with him, you're never gonna write anything real good if you don't have any life experience!

Because of that, he's gonna be a little hesitant to cater to you while you're writing.

Your last work was good, to be sure, but nothing like this. Your newest release blew him off his feet with ease, captivating him with every turn of the page. One of his favourites, he thought to himself, that'll be one he'd have to return to.

The only problem was that it was almost over already. He wasn't that much of a fast reader, was he? Well, I guess it's easy to go quickly if you love it.

And love it he did, to the very last page. Wait, this is the last page, isn't it? Why are there three more?

He flipped through them, his eyes quickly widening as he read the last page.

A love letter? To... him?

“Is this in every edition?” He asked you shakily, looking to you for reassurance.

“Yeah?”

“That's...”  He brought a hand to his mouth, covering his blushing cheeks  trying to hide the tears welling in his eyes, “That's such a waste of paper...”

Russia

Frankly, Ivan doesn't care much what you do. The most exciting part of you being a writer to him is just that you'd need to spend plenty of time at home.

But he'd always read your work. (Especially rough drafts, he's really good at being blunt but not mean.) And as time goes on, he'll fall in love with your talent more and more. Despite his country's many famous writers, he thinks none of them stack up to you.

He wouldn't mind how much time you dedicate to your craft, but he'd make sure to take good care of you while you're writing. He's truly very worried about you withering away in that desk chair of yours...

“Oh, I absolutely loved the part where-“

Ivan had been ranting for hours, going over every single detail that had caught his eye. Every time he thought of something new, it would lead to another excited train of thought. But there was one thing they all had in common... he really loved one character.

”He's strong!“ He'd gush, ”He's kind, and loving, and I just want him to have a happy ending!“

You let him explain over and over again how much he looked up to this character, wanting to change to be more like him in every way.

But it wasn't until he calmed down a little bit that you felt it was time to reveal the truth.

”Yeah, you know... he's based on someone I know.“

”Really? Who? I must meet him!“ He clasps his hands together in excitement.

”You, you big dummy.“

He pauses for a moment, his smile fading. He looks upset for a moment, trying to figure out how.

”But... but I am none of those things.“

”You are to me. I mean, whenever I thought about you... I'd just write that character.“

He laughs awkwardly, “You are joking, right?”

“No, of course not. You're strong... and you're kind....” he shifts away from you, tears welling in his eyes, “You're loving... and... and I'll give you a happy ending, ok?”

Before you can react, he wraps his arms tightly around your waist, burying his face in your hair.

”Promise?“

”Promise.“

Germany

Ludwig would definitely love a S/O who writes. Mostly for one specific reason, though. Writers, well, they see the world in a different way. Whether that be in a more romantic, more objective, or more sympathetic way, he doesn't care. He wants to talk things through with someone like you.

He wouldn't be a total fanboy, but he'd still love your work.  Although, he might not show it the way you want... it's hard for him not to criticize. He wouldn't be too harsh though!

He wouldn't mind how much you get sucked into your writing either. He knows what it's like to be dedicated to your craft, and he won't bother you too much.

Ludwig had never been an emotional person. Never, not once, throughout his many years was he truly moved to tears by fiction. Art depicting real life? Of course, many times. But he simply never found fiction as compelling as reality.

That was, of course, until he read your own works. Now, going through what you had so effortlessly created, he couldn't help tearing up at nearly every turn of events.

The way you were about to put him into the character's shoes without him even realizing, forcing him along the same journey they had gone through. It was... stunning, to say the least.

But when one of the characters began to fall in love, it was like nothing he had experienced before. Not because of any significant jump in quality, but just because... you had written it.

For a moment he sat in silence, pondering the book when he realized.

Was this what it felt like for you to fall in love with him?

It sent a chill down his spine. No, he didn't feel any differently, not at all. But... he had assumed you couldn't possibly love him as much as he loved you. Except... now?

Well, if this was how you had felt. He couldn't possibly let you go anytime soon.

#heta tag #hetalia imagines #hetalia x reader #ivan tag <3 #arthur tag #aph russia x reader #hws russia x reader #aph england x reader #hws england x reader #alfred tag #aph america x reader #hws america x reader #yao tag #aph china x reader #hws china x reader #francis tag #aph france x reader #hws france x reader #ludwig tag #aph germany x reader #hws germany x reader #not proofread at all

[sciderman]

Yea, I am mainly reading some of deadpool's first comic books from 90's and sometimes when I decide to read some of more recent ones I always get confused, because it doesn't seem like he evolved at all. Like damn, its 30 years of comics and in his latest comics he sometimes seems to be less mature than 3 decades ago.

my GOD yeah. i kind of agree – wade as a character was kind of more mature, in the 90s – at least, he was more of an adult - or not necessarily, but the tone was different. maybe it was to do with his readership, but his comics dealt with more adult topics in a more adult way - i think it's the same for spider-man too, and comics in general. i think comics just – used to be better.

i think it's a problem that isn't exclusive to just comics - you'll find it kind of everywhere. how like, movies used to be for everyone, and now they're getting more and more targeted in their marketing. i think it ruins everything when you're like "this is FOR this specific group of people and we're going to alienate everyone else." no. no. bad tactic. targeted marketing is a curse. just tell a good story. a good story will find it's audience, no matter who that may be.

comics used to have that wider appeal, maybe - and now, they're kind of grasping at straws and don't know who their readership is. is it kids? yeah. probably. who's picking up a deadpool comic now? kids who watched the movie, maybe. fangirls, maybe. i don't know. do you know? it used to be anyone. everyone and anyone who'd pick up a book and see if it's interesting to them or not. they were kind of testing waters and weren't afraid to take risks with characters because the hope was that anyone who's interested in comic books will pick up a comic book.

now – most people who were interested in comic books hate comic books. and i think it's a snake eating it's own tail - they wind up alienating their existing readership because they're trying to appeal to new readers who were introduced to these characters via the movies - movies that, you know, have to be watered-down, simplified versions of the characters so they make back their budget. and so the comics wind up getting watered down to appeal to those new readers, and the old readers lose interest because their favourite characters are all watery, and the new readers are maybe interested for all of three weeks until they lose interest because there's no meat on these bones.

the problem is - a movie is fine to water down. you just want to entertain a person for two hours. a comic is meant to develop loyalty. you're meant to want to follow these characters across an entire title. they're meant to want to pick up the next issue. i think that's why the mcu is failing right now, they're taking the comic book approach. they want people to see the next movie. but people are realising there's no meat on these bones.

i think the last breath of life we had in deadpool comics might've been the duggan run – even though it's not my favourite, it might have been the last kind-of-mature approach to wade - where he's more than just a fluffy little crowd-pleaser. post-movie, that's kind of all he's been in comics. and it's just... i need meat!

#sci speaks #sorry to comics but. do better. #sci talks comics #wheres the BEEF.

[lesbicosmos]

it's international lesbian day and since im ill and just sitting here reading, have some of my fav lesbian book recommendations!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A Short History of Queer Women by Kirsty Loehr

Starting with a non-fiction one, this tells the stories of many lesbians and other sapphics from history and is really interesting and, at points, hilarious

Our Wives Under The Sea by Julia Armfield

This is my current favourite book, I read it recently for a book club and just fell in love. It tells the story of Leah, a marine scientist who went on a deep sea mission that went horribly wrong and is now acting very strangely, and her wife Miri. It is a dual pov, with Miri's chapters following her trying to figure out what is happening to Leah post-mission return, and Leah's chapters following the events that happened on the mission itself. The strange supernatural body horror is part terrifying part intriguing and the love story is so tender and devoted, and the writing style is absolutely GORGEOUS.

Afterlove by Tanya Byrne

In the similar realm of lesbian supernatural fiction, this is probably one of my all time favourite books. The first half is a sweet first-love romance between teenagers Ash and Poppy in Brighton, but when Ash dies on New Year's Eve and becomes a grim reaper, she can't forget what she and Poppy had, even if it means giving them only a few more days together.

Cinderella is Dead by Kalynn Bayron

A lesbian retelling of Cinderella, this book follows Sophia, who grew up hearing the fairytale and is now about to be sent to the royal ball for choosing, where her life may be forfeit if she isn't chosen by a man. Sophia doesn't want to be chosen at all, and she fears the girl she loves will be chosen and they will have to part.

She Gets The Girl by Rachael Lippincott and Alyson Derrick

I read this book while I was on holiday and loved it. It's a YA romcom which follows two perspectives:, Alex, a headstrong flirty lesbian who knows how to get girls but struggles to keep them, and Molly, who is very awkward and doesn't know how to go about talking to Cora, the girl she's completely in love with. When their paths cross at college, Alex begins helping Molly talk to Cora in an attempt to prove to her ex that she can be serious about romance, but as their plans progress, their feelings may have changed and they could be instead falling for each other.

Last Night at the Telegraph Club by Malinda Lo

This is the book I'm currently reading but I'm putting it on here anyway because I love it already. Set in Chinatown in 1954, with Red-Scare paranoia and deportation looming over her father, seventeen year old Lily Hu risks everything once she meets Kathleen Miller and the two fall in love at a lesbian bar called the Telegraph Club

#i love all these books SO MUCH #international lesbian day #book recs #queer books #lesbian books #a short history of queer women #our wives under the sea #cinderella is dead #she gets the girl #last night at the telegraph club #lesbian

[universe-friday]

EXCERPT #19:

Hello. I hope somebody is listening.

[…]

Old sport! Ah! I have such a story to tell you!

You must remember that Thalia is a DJ, right? Which is so cool! …Even if I don’t often visit clubs personally.

Well, we were hanging out again recently and she tells me she managed to book a gig as a supporting act!

I was so, so excited. I told her I was going to buy flowers, toss them on the stage as she gives her final bow, cheer the loudest, and be the biggest supporter in that crowd.

But when she told me when it was…Oh, old sport, I felt so bad when I had to tell her I was busy.

I apologised over and over. I reassured her over and over, that I will still be that biggest supporter… I’ll just have to give her the flowers after the show…

Being Thalia, she laughs and tells me not to stress so hard. Which, as she should know by now, is something I have no idea how to do.

I told her she was right. Because there would always be a next show, and maybe someday, even her headliner. It was only until I said that when she told me off…

[…]

When the day of the show came, I made sure to wish Thalia the best of luck when I could, before I set off on my own plans that day… To a concert!

This band that I have been obsessed with from day one, the first ever time they played at this carnival. Since that day, they have grown to be so much popular, so, of course, it gets harder day by day to talk to them.

Let me tell you, old sport, I would just talk their ears off… about how much their music has inspired me, how much it just lifts me up every time I listen to it. Never mind whenever the opportunity to hear them live strikes, I swear, I could ascend to heaven every time.

I’m lucky to get a good spot in the crowd, second or third row, though I remember when it used to be so easy to get barrier… I start to wonder if they ever remembered my face.

The lines dimmed and everyone starts screaming. It’s funny, old sport, how people scream at any small movements at concerts, knowing full well the main act doesn’t come on for another hour.

I’ve always enjoyed the openers for this band, as they choose artists they really enjoy personally, and they have an undoubtedly good taste in music.

Which is why I shouldn’t have been surprised when I saw a very familiar pink head of hair enter the stage…

I scream Thalia’s name in amongst the varied cheers from the crowd, and she looks up right at me. Her face reads of total confusion, as well as mine, yet we were equally as overjoyed as one another.

[…]

After Thalia’s set, I get a message from her. A rare occasion, as we both agree against trusting these forms of communication, since the City monitors it 24/7.

She tells me to meet her at the bar. Despite my good space in the crowd, I decided to head back to talk to her. Really, old sport, I wanted to tell her how good her set was. She really knew how to hype up a crowd.

Instead of talking, however, Thalia nods her head towards a door. Before I get to say anything, she’s already walked through.

As we walk down this hallway, I am asking Thalia so many questions.

‘How did you do this?’ and, ‘You know this is my favourite band, right?’ and, ‘How!?’

Yet, Thalia just stayed silent. The whole time we’re walking, I’m asking and asking, and only do I stop in my tracks when we make our way to the door at the end of the hallway.

The door lies halfway open, and within seconds, I saw them all.

The band I have adored for years, all sitting right in front of me. Even the drummer, my favourite in the group, was laying on the couch with his boyfriend; who himself is an infamous professional rugby player.

Thalia introduces me, but I have no clue what to say. I had so many questions, so many thoughts. Yet, all of them at once leave my head in that very moment.

As I muster up the courage, I eventually got to talk to them. Questions came back to me, and these were truly lovely people; who did recognise me!

I thanked Thalia for hours and hours after the gig. And yes, she did get her flowers.

[…]

If only I could find the right people to meet you again, February. I’d queue for hours to see you again. Wait at the stage door even just to see you in passing, to get a glimpse of you again…

Yet, I also have so many questions for you too, February. But when will we ever have the time to talk? I’m running out of time, even now…

♪ There’s nothing left for us anymore Why aren’t you listening? Why aren’t you listening to me? There’s nothing left. ♪

NOTE: as inspired by the week #4 prompts of february friday events as organised by @februaryfridayevents! this week's themes were minor characters / rarepairs / crossovers! so i decided to feature a certain band in this excerpt.... wonder who...!

thank you for joining and supporting the blog throughout the february friday festivities! and thank you to @februaryfridayevents for hosting! as always, i will be back again next week <3

#aled last #alice oseman #osemanverse #frances janvier #radio silence #universe city #carys last #universe city podcast #february friday #original work #universe friday excerpts #universe city excerpt #letters to february #universe friday #daniel jun #hstv #aled and frances #original fiction #original story