#and the way Anya looks up to both of her parents

[tare-anime]

The way Anya really looks up to Yor is very sweet and cute 🥰🥰

She adores her stength

She adores her dresses

And she also wants to become a protector like her mama 🥰🥰🥰🥰

Super cute 🥰🥰🥰

[faedotexe]

Im sorry but these were just the forgers from Spy x Fam do not try to change my mind

i’m gonna cry it’s raining right now and i just passed by a family where both parents were without an umbrella but their kid who couldn’t have been older than like 3-4 was proudly holding this GIANT umbrella whose diameter was as tall (if not taller) as the kid. both the parents were getting absolutely drenched but u could tell the kid was just so happy to have an “adult” task and carry the umbrella themselves and i think that sacrifice is what love is all about

[whateversawesome]

Spy x Family Chapter 103: Peace and Family

How nice it was to see the Forgers go on an outing again!

A few things to notice...

I'll start with Twiyor hehehe:

This is easily my favorite panel in the chapter. They're getting closer and closer!! Loid sits first, Yor follows. She's not shy about siting next to him. Good for you, Yor! 👏

See how comfortable they are with each other? She has a soft smile and he's not pretending anything; he's just there, existing. By the way, observe their body language: Both of Yor's knees are pointing at her husband, she's also leaning slightly towards him. Twilight, on the other hand, sits at a more neutral position, still it's an open position. Notice how one of his knees is pointing at her too. And their hands are mirroring each other.

It's worth mentioning that Yor is such a good influence on Twilight. This man suffers from anxiety and it's hard for him to turn his brain off and just relax. Yor reminds him of this. She is his peace 😌

And look at Twilight being honest with his wife and admitting something very true about himself (that it's hard for him to stay still). I believe that every time Twilight is honest with Yor, they get closer. In this chapter there wasn't even a fake twiyor moment for this to happen. We're making progress!

Also, did you notice Yor teased Loid?

It is the sacred duty of a wife to tease her husband and call him old every once in a while 🤣 I'm glad Yor is finally fulfilling this fun wifely obligation 😆

All joking aside, it's pretty obvious Yor feels much more comfortable with Loid now. When they are with other people, she still gets nervous, probably because she thinks she could mess up and blow their cover. However, when they are alone, she seems much more relaxed and able to make comments like this that show that she trusts Loid enough to joke with him, to tell him in between lines that she notices things about him (just as he notices everything about her) and that she worries about him too.

Endo is a master of "show, don't tell" and he's been showing us how Twilight and Yor are getting closer little by little. It's in every detail: their body language, the way they talk to each other, the words they use, how they see each other.

Another example in this chapter? Twilight is incapable of saying "no" to his wife hehehe.

Yup, he still has that shoujo filter attached to his eyes when it comes to Yor.

Now that we have overanalyzed Twiyor, it's time for some crazy theories.

This could be important!

Don't you find it funny that each gave a different answer according to their experience?

Yor feels lonely, because she doesn't feel like she's normal enough to belong to society and it's hard for her to make friends.

Twilight got separated from his his herd. His family and friends died and he had to go to a different country, where he is scared and feels in constant danger just like Belle.

AND ANYA?! I'm wondering if this is a clue. I'm wondering if Anya is a missing person, meaning someone is looking for her, whether it's Project Apple or her biological family.

Talking about Project Apple, we seem to get crumbs every once in a while. I believe it's still too early to get an arc that will actually involve Anya and Project Apple together, but we'll know more as the story moves forward. It's a good sign that Project Apple is in Twilight's mind; he has good instincts for this. We may see him or Yor get involved with it in one of their missions before we learn Anya's past. OR either of her parents may discover what Project Apple is really about without knowing one of the test subjects is their own daughter.

Something that Anya has said several times is that her parents are dangerous people. It's easy to forget about this, but it's true. Twilight and Yor are very dangerous, but not for Anya. The day they find out someone hurt their little girl, it'll be a very bad day for all the people who participated in Project Apple.

[mind-intheclouds342]

Do it for them - Co-captain reader x Curly

Previous - FINAL PART - Bonus

"Let me see"

You mentioned while laughing, sitting in front of the man who looked at you affectionately as you touched his face and observed him attentively.

"Your eye looks a bit red... Have you been using the drops the doctor recommended?"

Curly: "Maybe... I forgot them... today"

His voice was still somewhat strange to hear, it had the essence of what his voice once was, but much rougher and it was difficult for him to say long sentences, he had to pause between words to be able to say them.

You caressed his cheeks with your thumbs, seeing the scars on his face.

At first, it wasn't the same skin you knew; you were surprised at how his body returned to that familiar skin, changing its texture, gradually becoming the skin you love to touch.

You noticed the ring hanging from his neck, with the lack of hands, he wore his ring that way to keep it close.

He had to convince you to give him back his ring, but at that moment you were in crisis because you had told him that the day you took it off, you would leave him. Although you reached an agreement to annul that promise.

Five years had already passed since you returned to Earth, and too many things had happened.

On your side, you started following your dream when you were little, and today you have your own bakery.

But it was hard work getting here, because the first thing you worried about was your husband's well-being, who spent half a year resting in the hospital, and then you had to take care of him with attention at home.

Pony Express decided to give you a percentage of your salary and a bonus for the damages they suffered, so with that money, they performed the man's first surgeries.

A skin graft, hair, and facial reconstruction, among others, over the next two years.

He used prosthetics that helped him walk and pick things up on his own, although just in case, you still had his wheelchair as a backup, which he refuses to use again, and when you're not watching, he tries to get rid of it, but you've locked the room where it is.

You even adopted two dogs, the first was Jupiter, a Labrador, a service dog who helps Curly when you're not around, and he's also a very good companion.

And after insisting for so long that Jupiter needed a little sibbling, you adopted Sunset, a dog you had found outside your bakery begging for food, a golden retriever who had escaped from her home, where it seemed they only used her to have puppies and sell them because she was purebred.

Both animals got along well right away, both quite calm, they don't cause any problems.

On the other hand, you stayed in touch with the rest of the crew.

Anya was able to get into medical school a few months after returning, and she is currently in her final year to receive her diploma.

Swansea retired and stayed at home with his family and children, being welcomed by his wife and the little girl she had had a few months ago.

Daisuke tried again with the art school, giving his all and with the support of his parents, he was able to get in. He even has a blog where he talks about the experiences he had in his life to motivate other young people to follow what they love.

Jimmy on the other hand... The last thing you heard about him was that his sentence was extended further for causing conflicts during his time in prison.

As for the little baby... you found out she was adopted by a good family, and that was all you needed to know about her.

Curly: "They're already... about to arrive"

He alerted when he heard Sunset start barking upon hearing a car park nearby.

He got out of bed and went outside to open the door and let his friends into the yard.

There was something that became a tradition among you, every year you celebrated the anniversary of the day you returned alive to Earth after such an experience, having a meal at your home.

Daisuke: "Who is the cutest girl! Let me pet you, fluffball!"

The boy, every time he went, was determined to make Sunset his friend, but she always ended up hiding where he couldn't reach her.

Anya: "Today is a wonderful day... And the food smells really good, every year they surpass the previous year's food, it's incredible."

Swansea: "Not bad, huh! Did you make this grill by yourself, Curly? The meat looks incredible."

Daisuke: "Where is (Yn)?? I want to greet her!"

He had managed to catch the dog, who was resigned in his arms while Jupiter was barking at Daisuke, knowing how upset Sunset was.

Curly: "She has... a surprise for... all of you."

He said, smiling, waiting for you to come out in the summer dress he had bought for you, quite loose and comfortable, perfect for your growing belly. 

Everyone was surprised to see you, Daisuke was left speechless, dropping Sunset.

Daisuke: "But! You said-!"

"Well, not naturally—but... I was given the opportunity to do it in vitro and it was a success! I was afraid it wouldn't work because of my eggs, but... after several failed attempts... we finally got very lucky."

You caressed your belly, smiling.

Swansea: "Look at that... Congratulations, kid!"

Anya: "That's wonderful! Oh my God, how many weeks are you now? Do you already know their gender? Why didn't you tell us anything?"

She approached to touch your belly, happy that you have achieved what you wanted so much.

"I'm already in my 29th week... And we already know it's a boy! We were deciding on a name!"

Daisuke: "I have a really cool one!"

"I'm not going to call him Daisuke."

The boy let out a disappointed "aaaw" that you weren't going to consider his name for your son.

Curly: "We thought... of Charles"

"That I'm still not at all in agreement with that name."

You pointed at him, making him laugh and roll his eye.

Anya: "You still have time! When is your due date? I would like to be with you when it happens."

Daisuke: "Can I be there too? Maybe the second time I won't faint, hehe."

Swansea: "I wish you the best, boys are not difficult to entertain, they are difficult to keep alive, they love danger even after reaching adulthood."

You felt very excited about all the support you were receiving, happy to have met such wonderful people.

You didn't regret at all for having done everything possible to get them out of that situation.

The gathering continued with everyone eating and talking about the things they had been doing lately, catching up on their activities, until dessert time arrived, everyone's favorite moment.

Curly: "The best sweets... are from my wife..."

Swansea: "You don't even like sweets!"

Curly couldn't help but smile anyway when he saw everyone enthusiastically eating the ice cream cake you had made for that hot day, while he had his own special portion that you prepared for him so he could eat without too much sweetness.

You couldn't resist feeding him, and even though he wanted to seem annoyed, he adored the attention you gave him.

"Oops~ I'm sorry~ I stained your cheek"

You said with a smile to kiss his cheek, you started smearing hkd face with the dessert and left kisses on all those spots.

Swansea: "Get a room!"

Daisuke: "...Did you ever do it on the ship while working?"

"DAISUKE!"

You shouted with your cheeks red at such a true thing that had been said.

Curly: "...Two or three times..."

Swansea: "That's nothing, you managed to control themselves quite well."

Curly: "....During the week"

"Can I send it back into space?"

You didn't know how to hide your face in response to his declaration, you were extremely embarrassed.

But you had no escape, from the day you said yes, that man was going to stay with you until the end of his days.

And you knew well that he is going to be an incredible father soon as well.

In the end, everyone was able to have their well-deserved fate.

[sy-on-boy]

Real talk: the fact that Anya expects to read Demetrius’ mind but sees nothing is kind of sad because Demetrius saw his 6yo brother approach and congratulate him, and had zero thoughts in his brain. But that doesn’t mean Demetrius doesn’t care about him. When Damian stutters, Demetrius initiates conversation by talking about Damian’s grades, showing that he indeed pays attention.

Demetrius seems almost resentful by Damian’s insistence to impress Donovan, giving out a snarky, passive aggressive, teen appropriate response: “How would I know? It’s not as if I’m in regular contact with him.” This is like the passive aggressive version of whatever is going on with Melinda. Damian is a relatively innocent 6yo kid seeking his father’s approval, but both his mother and his brother appear to be seriously affected (in a bad way) by Donovan, and they avoid talking about Donovan even as Damian repeatedly mentions him. Demetrius doesn’t understand Damian’s desire for their father’s approval. He also doesn’t understand his father, hinting at some sort of disconnect between them.

What also saddens me a bit is how Demetrius barely acknowledged Damian’s friends talking to him. Like, they’re six year old kids trying to make a good impression. Still, Demetrius didn’t completely ignore them, just gave a meaningless “oh” and decided to stop thinking about people. It’s very much giving “stressed (and depressed) to the point of apathy”. When facing the innocence (ignorance?) and optimism of 6yo kids, Demetrius doesn’t understand. (And maybe he doesn’t understand friendship, which is what Damian has?)

I mentioned before that characters Anya met are probably “good” characters on the side of Forgers or at least are sympathetic to readers. Because if Anya met a “bad” character and read their mind, she would be too OP and the plot could be quickly solved. It’s like how we all thought Melinda was suspicious when she met Yor, but then Anya met Melinda and read her mind to reveal that she cares about Damian (even if it’s in a twisted way). Demetrius is interesting because he subverts what I said above by thinking very little, so Anya cannot really read him. But so far, I think his portrayal is that of a typical middle schooler with middle school angst, and he cares about Damian even if he has zero thoughts on his brain (and doesn’t like the way Damian craves fatherly approval). He is still a child and presumably a victim of his father’s parenting.

The framing is also interesting. Damian telling his friends to go on without him while he waits for Demetrius. The panel of Demetrius towering over a stuttering Damian. Demetrius going away, showing a panel of him as a small figure in an otherwise blank background. That panel when Anya thinks Damian’s relatives are weird has her looking at Damian while he’s some distance away from her (and the rest of his friends). The brothers feel disconnected. Damian is both eager and nervous to talk to Demetrius. Demetrius is nonchalant and apathetic, but not impolite or outwardly wholly dismissive.

Given Damian’s wacky family situation, I’m glad he has friends at Eden. Ewen and Emile of course are steadfast and loyal companions, always eager to back up their beloved boss man. Anya can read his mind and she knows about his insecurities (and also his weird family).

Becky is also good as a friend because she doesn’t care about sucking up to Damian, she often calls him out, but she also supports Damian when he deserves it. A sweet scene here is Damian saying he’s a Desmond so he’s expected to get a star, and Becky adding “it’s still a great achievement. Congrats!”. Becky is validating his success and telling Damian it’s okay to be proud and happy for himself. Even though she’s usually judgemental towards Damian, she’s still kind to him because that’s who she is as a character.

In the end, Damian still wants his father’s attention. He had no idea Demetrius wasn’t that close to their father… I would assume Demetrius spent most of his time at Eden and this is Damian’s first year at Eden, so he actually gets to interact with his brother instead of hearing things about him?

So far, Demetrius seems like a very jaded character in contrast to Damian who feels like a beam of sunshine now. He’s the heir so he’s got more troubles. But it’s nice that he’s finally debuted and no longer in mystery. Can’t wait to see what Endo has in store for him :)

[unluckiestmember]

Mouthwashing X Innocent! Reader

Characters: Anya, Swansea, Daisuke, Curly and Jimmy

Warning: Mention of death, but outside of that, none. SFW.

A/N: Should I open up requests for Mouthwashing? I absolutely love this game so I wouldn't mind doing some headcanons here and there for it!

Anya

When it came to everyone in the Tulpar, Anya tried her best to have a strong bond with her crewmates. You were no exception. She found your presence along the spacecraft to be a breath of fresh air. She is always delighted to see you and super excited to teach you all she knows about medical practices and safety she’s read up on. When you, her and Daisuke are together on game nights, she always knows it’s going to be one of the best nights ever.

Some nights when she stays up, she appreciates your company and will even tap into her motherly instincts by laying your head on her shoulder or lap while she hums a tune to you. You are one of the only people who knew about her “incident” and jumped straight into action against Jimmy. Anya greatly appreciated it but always tries to keep you out of trouble out of fear of you getting hurt. The final days of her life were hard, but at least she can look back and confidently say that you were one of the best people she’s ever met. She hopes you two meet again in another life…

Swansea

Swamsea didn’t like you when he first met you. He thought you were another airhead like Daisuke or some quiet soul like Anya. But after a while, he came to secretly care for you like one of his children back on Earth. You are one of the only people he opens up about his family to, reminiscing on the past and revealing his inner turmoil as a father. He appreciates how you simply listen instead of overlapping him, bearing his heart to you unlike another lovable young member aboard to Tulpar.

If you love shoes, Swansea will find it easier to love you since the both of you bond over shoes of many kinds. If your shoes get ruined during the crash, he won’t hesitate to give you his own shoes so you don’t hurt your feet on loose materials. Swansea reminds you a lot of your own father, so you guess you can call him a dad away from home? He’ll act annoyed, but he secretly loved this title. He always did…

Daisuke

Let’s not lie to ourselves, when Daisuke first laid eyes on you, he wasted no time rushing to your side. In your eyes, you might’ve seen only a fellow co-worker, but for him, he saw a new friend. The both of you ended up being pals way before the Tulpar even set off into space! The members aboard the ship like to label you two as siblings, one being a chaotic brother and the other the sweet gentle sibling. A golden retriever and a puppy to say the least.

When he’s not bothering Swansea or hanging out with Anya, he’s rushing to your side to see if you want to take turns playing Pokemon on his gameboy or if you want to play dress up with his abundance of clothing. Sometimes he’ll open up about his life at home, revealing the troubles he has with his parents and how he doesn’t like to be labeled as the “rich kid on board for fun and games”. It hurts, but it helps knowing that you’re sweet enough to look past that aspect of him. Even with that axe hanging over his head, he could at least close his eyes and drift to sleep knowing that in taking this job, he met his true best friend; You.

Curly

Though the both of you didn’t spend much time together, whenever Curly was around he always tried his best to make sure you were comfortable along the Tulpar. When you two first met, he could tell you were shy and nervous about your space voyage together. So in good spirits, he opened up a dialogue of Pokemon with you, leading to not only you revealing more of yourself to him, but also attracting the rest of the team. Whenever he had cake aboard the ship, he would always sneak his slices over to you and Daisuke since he made sure to note you loved sweets.

After evaluations with Anya and others, he always made sure to treat you in some way for being such a good member of the crew. The time the both of you spent together was short, but also as sweet as commodorative cake and Curly would’ve loved to spend more time with you. Unfortunately, his chance has passed… There were so many times he wished he would have opened up to you and just. Be your friend instead of your captain… Some captain he was, right? If only he knew that even up to the end, you still cared for him…

Jimmy

If you got any requests for Arcane or X-Men '97, send them my way! Screw it, if you have Mouthwashing requests too, then throw them my way!

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, stay hydrated and have a good day! <3

[hxney-lemcn]

Late Night Chaos — Daisuke x gn! reader

summery: you become the first of many tragic deaths...

tw: murder, graphic descriptions of injuries, suicide, descriptions of a corpse, spoilers for all of the game basically

a/n: LAST PART! gosh I had such an evil smile writing the beginning of this. sorry that the end is literally just the game, I wasn't sure how to make commentary on it that the game doesn't do beautifully already :(

wc: 2.9k

Master List

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine

no

no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no

This couldn’t be real.

“They came at me like they went mad.”

You couldn’t be gone, you wouldn’t leave him like that.

“I had no choice!”

Daisuke felt like he was going to puke, your unfocused eyes staring at the ceiling, lips slightly parted and the darkening skin around your neck. 

“It was either me or them.” 

Daisuke felt his hands shake. He couldn’t accept this, there was no way you were dead. You would get up any second and say this was a prank. Please. He doesn’t think he can handle this. You had been the only one keeping him sane, the only one he found comfort in, the only one to stand up for him if he felt uncomfortable doing something. You both were supposed to get off this rock together. You were supposed to meet his parents and have dinner and…and…and

Daisuke felt himself let out a sob, rushing towards your body and falling to his knees. Shaky hands reached out towards your face. You felt cold. You weren’t supposed to be this cold. You needed a blanket, or…or something. His hand went from caressing your cheek to holding your hand, bringing it up to his face. Your knuckles were bloody, but Daisuke didn’t care, he just wished you could cup his cheek again, reassure him that everything would be okay and you would always be there for him. 

Swansea scoffed at Jimmy, glaring daggers at the man, “Right, like they were much of a threat.”

“You think I’d lie about this?” Jimmy seethed. “You think I enjoyed doing that?”

Anya felt like herself plunging even farther down her spiral of madness. Why the hell did she tell you? Every time she tries to speak up, to get comfort, to find help for what’s happened to her she finds another tragedy left in her wake. First it was the crash and Curly, now you’re dead…who else will get hurt because of her? She couldn’t even look at your body or face Daisuke. Your cloudy eyes seemed to be taunting her, blaming her, and Daisuke’s sobs were like a stab to the heart. 

“Maybe you did,” Swansea glowered, bumping harshly into Jimmy’s shoulder as he walked past towards Daisuke. “C’mon kid, you shouldn’t see ‘em like this.”

“N-no!” Daisuke protested, trying to free himself from Swansea’s grip on his shoulder, clinging onto you desperately. “I-I can’t leave them. I just can’t…”

…

Your death made the tension on the ship worse. It caused the crew to be more distrustful of Jimmy, something he hated. Who did they think they were to judge him? You were like a wild animal, your assault had no end in sight? Was he supposed to let you beat him to a pulp? It’s not like there were enough medical supplies for that, and for all he knew you weren’t going to stop. 

Daisuke’s cheerful demeanor had darkened, but he still tried to keep a smile on his face, even if it was wobbly and didn’t reach his eyes. He would try to joke, to say something silly to lighten the atmosphere, but it started to come out forced, and he couldn’t help but imagine how’d you react. Would you laugh? Smile? Roll your eyes and shake your head? And just like that he’d feel his mood drop all over again. 

It had been a month since your death and he still couldn’t move on. He had got to know you over eight months, and for five of them you both were dating. Gosh, you really made the trip go by so quickly (even though it felt like you had been in space forever). And after the crash, you made it just a bit more bearable to be sitting like a waiting duck in the middle of nowhere. But now you’re gone, and the crash happened five months ago, and he could feel the despair start to consume him slowly but surely. 

Anya had kept to herself more than usual as well, tending to Curly as best she could. They ran out of clean bandages ages ago, so she couldn’t tend to his wounds as well. They had no more disinfectant, so the best she could do was try and keep him as comfortable as possible. Just focus on doing her job so she couldn’t think too much, so she wouldn’t think of how Curly's silent stare reminded her of your blank gaze. Try to keep her cries to herself when she was alone in the medical bay with Curly. 

Swansea was vehemently trying to protect the last working cryopod. He thought you and Daisuke were the most worthy of it, but fell under the dilemma of who it would go to between you both. It was clear neither of you would leave the other, and Swansea knew better than most what it was like to be completely infatuated with someone. When you believe you’d do anything for them, that you’d rather die than see them hurt. Seems like Jimmy solved that little problem for him. Swansea couldn’t help but internally seethe when he saw your body. If you were angry enough to throw a punch, then whoever it was you were punching deserved it, ‘cus you were one of the most level headed ones of them here. 

Jimmy? Oh, he was spirling further and further. The judgemental looks Swansea sent his way, or how Daisuke seemed to avoid him like the plague…he felt his control slipping, and he needed a way to feel in power again. To feel like he was in charge. So he took it out on Anya, the first person he’d go to when he needed to be in control. Whispering harsh words without an ounce of guilt, venom seeping past his lips and poisoning those around him.

Anya couldn’t take it anymore, the entire situation was too much. Jimmy terrified her, and the guilt was eating her from the inside out. She couldn’t handle it, rushing to the medical bay and locking the door. Curly’s stare pierced through her as Daisuke called out to her, asking if she was stuck. Anya didn’t have the heart to tell Daisuke how terrified she was, how the medical bay was her only safe place. So she told him she couldn’t leave, hoping everyone would leave her alone.

She was scared. Scared of what Jimmy would do in response to her pregnancy, her refusal to follow what he wanted. He had proven her fears right. That he was willing to kill. She thought hiding the gun or the fact that Swansea kept the axe would be enough protection, but he had killed you with his bare hands…

But sweet, sweet Daisuke was worried for Anya. Asking Jimmy for help, not wanting to see another crew member dead. Especially not Anya, you cared for her so much, he couldn’t imagine the despair you’d go through if she were to pass. 

“Anya!” Daisuke called through the thick metal door. “I brought Jimmy! We’re here to rescue you! Don’t worry! Don’t panic!” It was meant to be reassuring, but it seems like Daisuke was trying to comfort himself as well. 

“Hey,” Jimmy called out nonchalantly. “Heard the lock’s broken.”

Anya felt her heart drop, hands shaky as she refused to respond. 

“Hey. Anya!” Jimmy spoke louder, feeling irritated now. “Can you hear me?”

“...yeah, I can hear you, Jimmy,” Anya replied. Looking at the last of the paracetamol and grabbing it, sitting down beside Curly’s cot. 

“There rest of our medicine stash is in there too. Damn, this could be bad,” Jimmy grumbled, clearly not caring about Anya’s safety. “Did you really put your back into it?” “Any wrenches laying around?” Daisuke asked, the pit in his stomach only growing. “How heavy is the med kit?!”

With no response, Daisuke tried jiggling the handle again, his efforts being fruitless. 

“...Anya,” Jimmy called out coldly. “Is the door really stuck?”

“...” 

The silence caused bile rise in Daisuke’s throat. No, no no no

“No,” Anya replied strongly. 

No no no no. Not again. Daisuke tried more desperately to jiggle the handle. 

“H-huh?” Daisuke called out, trying to see any way that this wasn’t as bad as it looked. “What do you mean?!”

“Look, we’re all stressed,” Jimmy scolded, brushing off her emotions. “But you can’t go breaking down at every little hardship. Open the damn door.”

“...you were right,” Anya spoke out, hands failing to open the cap a few times. “You were right all along. I should have done this from the beginning. I always believed that our worst moments didn’t define us. Didn’t make us beyond repair.”

A strange sense of calm fell over the practicing nurse as the safety lid finally opened. It was going to be over, finally. 

“You think I wanted this either?” She laughed humorlessly, a grim smile on her lips. “Make no mistake, this isn’t my worst moment. Far from it. It’s the best one I’ll ever make.” 

“Open the door,” Jimmy ordered, clenching his fists tightly. Daisuke placed his hand on the door, that dreadful sense of hopelessness tearing his heart apart. This wasn’t happening, no way. 

“I’ll take care of it,” Were her last words before she downed the rest of the pain medication. 

“Anya?!” Daisuke called out, banging on the door. “What does that mean?!”

…

This wasn’t right. Daisuke wearily eyed the vent that held sparking cables. 

“Swansea said it’s not safe,” Daisuke tried to argue against Jimmy’s demands to enter. “I know he forgot to tell us about the pod, but he knows, like, everything about this kind of stuff. Maybe we should just wait for him to wake back up…”

“You said you could handle it,” Jimmy glared. Everything was slipping out of his control, first you, then Anya, then Swansea…he’d be damned if he let Daisuke rebel too. “Swansea taught you well, right? Time to prove it. He’ll be impressed when he wakes up. Proud. He’ll understand why we had to do this, then he can explain himself.”

“You think so?” Daisuke asks, alarm bells ringing. Glancing back at the vent, Daisuke couldn’t help but think about how you’d react. Probably fight against this, yell about how dangerous this was and if Jimmy wanted someone to crawl through that hazard then he should do it himself…but you weren’t here anymore, and Swansea was passed out from a drink he made with Jimmy…and Anya…

“Daisuke,” Jimmy spoke sternly. “Everyone’s counting on you…Captain’s orders.”

And in that moment, it really felt like this all fell onto his shoulders. Jimmy’s arguments made sense…if he could save Anya and Curly, maybe he could make both you and Swansea proud.

“Y-yeah,” Daisuke nodded, trying to hype himself up. “I got this!”

“Okay…” He made his first step towards the vent. “H-here we go…”

Grabbing the ladder, he climbed his way into the vent. A sense of claustrophobia hit him right away, trying to avoid any curling livewire or sharp metal, but it was clear this was the wrong choice. Daisuke let out a sharp gasp, feeling his body get zapped by an unseen electrical current, letting out a groan when he felt something cut his skin. He couldn’t stop now though, no matter how much it hurt, no matter how much it stung, how he started to feel sluggish. No, he pushed through, he needed to get to Anya, needed to make sure everything was okay. Ignoring the way tears pricked at his eyes, or how it took all his strength and energy to pull himself up into the medical bay, he needed to keep…

“Anya…?” Daisuke gasped out in horror, the pain both physical and emotional becoming too much. “...what d-did you do?”

…

Daisuke couldn’t stop squirming, he could still feel the stings of electricity, like his muscles had become a livewire themselves. The burns and cuts wouldn’t stop bleeding, and Daisuke felt worthless. This was all for nothing, and the two adults were arguing over him. 

“Don’t do anything,” Jimmy huffed, not sure if he was talking to Swansea or Daisuke. “Stop, stop, stop. I can fix this!”

Maybe it won’t all be bad…maybe you’re waiting for him. He just hopes his mom won’t blame herself, that his parents will be able to continue to live a happy life…

“Why do you keep fuckin’ saying that?” Swansea shouted. “Are you hearing yourself?!”

“I-I’m s-sorry…” Daisuke muttered out. This is all his fault, he should’ve never entered that stupid vent. It was too late for Anya anyways, and now Swansea was angry…he doesn’t even wanna think about how you’d react…

“We still have disinfectant, right?” Swansea asked, trying to think of a way to keep Daisuke alive. “The one from the extra medical stash? Get it! Now!”

Jimmy avoided Swansea’s gaze, looking down to a struggling Daisuke, grinding his teeth, “The cocktail, we…you…”

“The cocktail?!” Swansea roared, rightfully pissed. “What are you blabbering about?”

“That was your fault!” Jimmy deflected, pointing at the older man. “You would never have-”

“I-I had no choice.”

“You…” Swansea sneered, banging his fist against the wall. “Useless! You goddamn fucking idiot! There has to be something else!”

Daisuke wasn’t sure how long they left him alone, but he found himself coming to terms with his fate, feeling guilty. He had always been a useless mess up, a last minute intern who didn’t even want to be here. It seems like even his final moments were because he fucked up. 

“I’m so…rry,” Daisuke struggled to speak as Jimmy crouched next to him. “I messed…up…mgh.” He wasn’t sure how much longer he could handle the way his muscles continued to tense and relax, like he was being continuously electrocuted. He could feel his wounds pulse with every contraction, blood trickling out like a steady stream. 

“Don’t try to talk,” Jimmy ordered, uncapping the bottle of mouthwash, pouring it on his wounds. 

…

“...the bleeding won’t stop,” Jimmy mumbled. “Just try to stay still, Daisuke. I-I need a second to think. We can fix this.”

“Hey, kid?” Swansea called out softly. “You hear me?” Daisuke could only make a strangled groan in response, everything felt like it was on fire and he could feel his body cry out for sleep, but the pain wouldn’t let him rest. Even breathing became a task he had to focus on.

“Daisuke?” Swansea called out again, feeling his heart break further at the sight as Daisuke jolted up in pain. “Hey!” Jimmy shouted, watching in horror as Swansea picked up the axe. “Stop, stop, stop! Don’t move!”

“It’s alright Daisuke,” Swansea comforted his young intern. “Calm down. This line of work…you could have never become like miserable ol’ Swansea. What a tragedy. Decades of hauling ass for Pony Express, big mighty bruiser with all his shiny tools. This is where it got me. The good life, huh?”

“I thought you were dumber than a can of paint, always just chewing my ear off about nothing,” Swansea continued. “Useless ray of goddamn sunshine. Not an ace student, workhorse or force of ambition. Just a damn good kid trying his best. You coulda taught an old fool like me a lot.”

“...”

“Close your eyes, Daisuke.”

…

no.

no no no no no no

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go! Everything was fine! He had it all under control! Swansea had gone crazy, that’s why he killed Daisuke, that’s why Jimmy was forced to tie him up before he was another victim to the crazy madman. This wasn’t his fault. No one was letting him fix a goddamn thing! This was all because everyone stepped out of line. First you attacked him, then Anya decided to be selfish, then Swansea murdered Daisuke, now he is being attacked again. None of this was his fault, not a goddamn thing.

“I have something to say,” Swansea spoke up calmly, not batting an eye as Jimmy stood before him holding the gun. “So shut the fuck up and listen.”

But Jimmy wasn’t having it. No. He couldn’t listen, because if he listened, then he’d have to take responsibility. He’d have to admit that he failed, that they died because of his selfish actions. Clutching the gun just a bit tighter, Jimmy spoke resolutely.

“Swansea…I’m going to fix everything. We’re going to make it.”

“Fuck you.”

…

This would all be over now. It’ll all be fixed. He knew exactly what he needed to do. Curly’s stare burned through him as he carried his former Captain. This was the only way now, the only thing he could do to make this better. Swansea was right, a captain goes down with his ship, so that left only one person to take the cryopod. 

“It’s okay, Curly,” Jimmy consoled through the glass panel. “You’re going to be okay. You always had my back. I ended up hurting you even though I was trying to save us. But now you’ll survive. It’s like you said, together we can fix anything. I’m just proud I got to be your friend and co-pilot, Captain.”

“No one can hurt you now. We fixed it.”

“I…fixed it…”

[verdantwyrm]

On the topic of Mouthwashing though, I really do wish we got more time as Curly's POV to get a better understanding of the rest of the crew and their personalities.

Jimmy's pov he views Anya as weak, constantly fawning, a nervous wreck, incapable of thinking for herself. He views Swansea as this drunken, fat oaf who's never spent a day in his life being successful at anything other than one bottle down the drain away from complete spiral. He views Daisuke as his rich boy who's never had to work a day in his life and has absolutely everything— including the internship, handed to him on a silver platter. And he views Curly as this absolute. A thing to idolise, a thing to destroy, a stepping stone but also a helping hand. He utterly loves hating Curly, and he loves the hate that comes from it.

Jimmy rarely talks bad about Curly, only ever swapping the blame off himself but he never once talks badly about him the same way he does to the other crew members. Curly is his paragon, something he spent years and years of chasing, being so far and yet so close to, and when he finally feels like he could finally surpass him, or even simply be equals for once, Curly gets the opportunity of a lifetime at a job he hates. How selfish, how utterly pathetic and selfish for Curly to hate a job that makes Jimmy feel powerful. He likes it there, he is in control. And that resentment starts to truly build when Jimmy realises how selfish Curly is for wanting to escape from something that enables Jimmy so much.

But when we finally see through Curly's eyes, Anya is fun, she is enthusiastic, she loves to make jokes, she loves to draw, read, and even has what seems to be an budding relationship with Curly himself, taking to his comment about being fit to fly in her eyes like it's a common exchange of flirting between the both of them. She is at ease around him, her walls have dropped, and she feels safe to talk to him, and even attempts to try and get him to open up more to her.

Daisuke is capable, he is enthusiastic, a hard working Intern who really enjoys what he does, engineering. Curly is receptive of this, and isn't even the one to reprimanded him when he sets off the sealant foam because he can see the good in him, because he can see that he was genuinely trying to help. He never once comments about him being stupid, or lacking, or in any light that could implicate that he hasn't worked hard to get where he is, even if he did have assistance from his parents, he still met that mark of passing for internship.

And although not much is expressed with Swansea, we know that they're capable of being honest with eachother, and allow themselves to joke between the both of them. And when Curly does have to step in and act like a Captain, he even goes as far to trust the axe directly to Swansea himself. In a ship where absolutely everything has to go through him, everything needs clearance and everything needs to be triple double checked, he trusts Swansea with the axe.

And onto Jimmy, Curly can see his faults, the cracks and the damage Jimmy has on the surface, but insists on seeing something deeper within him too. Constantly reminding him that "They'll figure it out" and just to take "One day at a time" because he is genuinely reaching out to Jimmy and attempting to give him support. Despite the ugliness, he is looking at Jimmy with a lens of the bigger picture, his overall achievement of being his co-pilot, his friend. Curly was genuinely proud of Jimmy for accomplishing what he has, and acknowledges that it wouldn't have been wasted considering he has had it rough back on earth.

We can see both of their stark personalities in also how we see the ship itself. Everytime we are through Jimmy's perspective, the ship is destroyed, blanketed in a red hue constantly, it is crowded, suffocating, rusting and breaking apart at the seams. Even right before the ship is actually crashed, it is not long before his entire senses are overloaded with the red flashing lights of an emergency warning. He lives in that sunset, in that firey essence of destruction and death.

But through Curly's eyes? We see sun, clouds, happiness, warmth, we see the moon, the twinkling stars. The beauty of a lived space, the calmness and the comfort of the Tulpar. Celebrating birthdays, playing board games, reading books, enjoying life to their fullest on the ship. We know he enjoys simple food, trucker food. That caffeine keeps him up, that he refers to Polle with joy, referring to the statue as "Ponyboy", mentioning that he loves Anya's and Swansea's music choices on the radio.

And then suddenly his whole life is utterly consumed by that red, firey inferno. Constantly blaring in his eyes, burning away at his skin and even more constant reminder of the white, hot death that awaits him.

Everything in this game is through the lense of a cynical, self absorbed unreliable narrator who sees kindness as a weakness and lashes out accordingly. I would kill to have seen and experienced more as Curly, but I think the lack thereof is intentional. A nod to just how truly empty and vulnerable he has become, stripped away of all things that made him, him. Both in appearance and personality, all taken from him by the one person he thought he could trust.

[arcticzuko]

Spy x Family Ch 96 spoilers

Seeing people complain about Anya telling Damian that she can read minds before Loid/Yor is so mind boggling to me. Because even if we ignore the fact that Anya is scared of being abandoned by Loid and Yor if she tells them the truth, or the fact that Damian is someone her age/a peer, and it's common for kids to feel like it's easier to tell things to their peers then to their parents... even if we ignore all that, it was ALWAYS going to Damian. I feel like Endo has been hinting that for a long time. It's a recurring theme/gag that Damian questions if Anya can read minds... and I feel like Endo has also been building up the fact that Anya and Damian actually are in pretty similar situations... they both want to impress their father/make their father proud.

LIKE THIS PANEL... Anya isn't mind reading here. There are no sparkles around her head. She didnt need to mind read! She KNOWS that Damian loves his father!

And there have been many moments in which she seems to show some reflection/thought after hearing Damians thoughts about his father (like during the dodge ball game, or her apologizing when they were making their paper animals)

ALSO THIS SCENE...

Here Anya literally says she doesn't even know if Loid likes her, because he's so hard to understand. But she loves him, and believes in him. Isn't that EXACTLY what Damian is going through right now?

Perhaps people didn't completely register all these small moments bc of the gag/jokey vibe Damian and Anya moments have, but I feel like it's ALWAYS been there that Anya maybe relates to Damian in this way, which is why she has her moments where she tries to be kind to him.

Also I want to point out that, in a LOT of pivotal moments, Endo DOESNT tell us what Anya is thinking. Instead we have to guess or theorize... and we know that when Anya is doing a sobered up/serious expression, we should definitely pay attention. (Some random panels below to show u what I mean).

And in this panel, I feel like Endo is doing something similar... I mean look at Anya's expression!

So I feel like in this moment, where Damian is being honest, and kind, and true to himself-- it makes Anya want to be truthful too. And I don't think it came out of nowhere. I mean I was surprised LOL but I never thought it didn't make sense for this to happen.

I think people forget that Anya is probably the character we know the least about, and that a lot of her more "serious" thoughts are usually kept from us, but that doesn't mean she's not... thinking serious things lol!!

Anyway this was a long rant and idek if it made sense but if you got this far thanks for reading lol

[piracytheorist]

No listen because I can't stop thinking about this scene!

So after Twilight infiltrates the airship, he disguises himself as a captain and heads for the command center. His disguise is immaculate, no-one suspects him, and he has to be as stealthy as possible while looking for the command center.

Yet, as he walks to it, he happens upon Dmitri and Luca. He overhears them talk about a "gluttonous brat" and a "stupid mutt". From before, he had heard from the radio about how Anya somehow swallowed the microfilm, and he knew that Bond had tried attacking Anya's kidnappers.

Meanwhile, Luca's jacket still has the hole from where Bond had bit his insignia off.

It doesn't take much to put the pieces together. These are the men who kidnapped Anya, and not only that, they're now insulting her and Bond.

And what does Twilight do?

He beats them up.

Attacking them cost him time and a small risk of exposing his disguise. They hadn't suspected him, and as far as he knew they weren't heading to where Anya was (otherwise he would have tailed them), so he had absolutely nothing to gain from doing this.

It was a moment of him lashing out purely out of, dare I say, parental anger. Beating them up wouldn't save Anya or even reveal where she was being kept. It was a rare moment of his emotions taking over.

Funny thing is, he doesn't even try to "For The Mission™" this. He acts on his impulse, then he actually takes a moment to compose himself. He stands at the corner of the hall with his eyes closed and his head low for a few seconds, then he continues on his way.

Deep down, he knows it was just that; an impulse driven by his emotions. But he has no time to unpack that, both because he has a mission and because he's still too emotionally repressed to do it, so he moves on to his actual objective of finding Anya.

I really like it because it says a lot without any actual words being spoken or even us getting a peek into Twilight's thoughts.

[pyramid-of-starrs]

More clingy/possessive/obsessive san x Black reader those make me go feral ! LOL

PTA Parent: Celebrating 300 Followers!

Daddy San x Mommy Fem reader

Summary: You and San are married with a beautiful Daughter, sometimes you both can get busy in your day-to-day life and with a clingy husband like San it can absolutely get annoying.

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Parent AU

Warnings: Acts of possessiveness, some toxic behavior from San, pushy man, mentions of killing (no one dies), adultery??

Smut warnings: Spanking, crying, vaginal sex, oral (F receiving), unprotected sex, mentions of impregnation, let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: I'm kinda unsure about how I feel about this story so please let me know what you think in the comments! Also there might be hella typos lol

Minors dni

"Breakfast is ready." You said as you finished setting up the table still in your robe and pjs, the sounds of two sets of foot steps heading your way could be heard, one belonging to your 6 year old daughter Anya and the other belonging to your husband San. They both enter the kitchen after San finished getting Anya dressed and doing her hair in two curly puffs. The little girl runs over to her seat at the end of the table where she waits for her daddy to pull out her chair and push it back in, then San walks over to give you a kiss on the cheek before heading to the other end of the table and they both thank you for the meal.

"Mommy look at my hair! Daddy did it by himself this time and it barely hurt." Anya said as she moved her head back and forth to show off her new hairstyle.

"Wooow so pretty, daddy did a good job! Even better than me." You exaggerated to make your child and husband feel better.

"No! He'll never be as good as Mommy! He is too rough with his hands!" She protested while you giggled.

"Heeey, Daddy is really good with his hands, if I wasn't you probably wouldn't be here." San said while continuing to eat, you kicked him under the table for his joke, once everyone finished eating you cleared the table while San got ready to take your daughter to school then he was heading to work. While on the way out you hugged Anya and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"Have a good day Honey, Mommy loves you."

"I love you more Mommy!" Anya said back while hugging you.

"No, I love you more." You playfully said back.

"Well I love mommy the absolute mostest in the world!" she excitedly said, San pouted a bit.

"What about Daddy Anya? Don't you love Daddy too?"

"Not as much as mommy! I love Mommy more than anyone."

"Not more than me! I love her way more!" San said as he pulled you up from your child to kiss you, Anya's little fist started to hit her father's leg.

"Get off my mommy!" She yelled.

"She was my mommy first!" He argued back.

"San!" You hit him on the shoulder, this was a pretty normal occurrence, San has always been clingy even before you two started dating, he moved fast throughout the relationship and immediately expressed his interest in marrying you and making a family, little did you know you two would just end up making a mini San that is just as obsessed with you.

"Since I'm off early tonight and Anya is going home with her friend from class maybe we could go out to dinner." He said as he held your waist.

"Baby I would love to but you know I go to PTA on Friday nights." You replied as San's signature pouty lip returned.

"You can't miss this one? I've been working like crazy and I miss you so much, we haven't had a "play date" since Monday." San replied, your face heated up a bit since play dates were the code you used for sex, though he was right, you would be lying if you said you didn't also miss being with your husband intimately. Your sex drive was fairly normal and technically so was San's but it wasn't about the need to cum for him, it was about the need to feel you in a way that no one else can, feeling you wrapped around him while he listened to your beautiful moans and whimpers with your nails making artwork on his back made him crazy, getting to see your beautiful bare brown skin was pure bliss for him. Though it was a beautiful and raw moment for San it was something a bit different for you, Sans obsession with you and your body tends to make him a little crazy in the bedroom, it's almost like cuteness aggression, except instead of wanting to squeeze you San wants to fuck you until you can't walk, think or see straight. The day that you two got married he fucked you all night and made you two almost miss your flight to your honeymoon.

"I-I know but I can't miss this meeting, the person I'm partnered with needs me for the school bake sale prep." he gazed into your eyes hoping that you would change your mind but as much as he wanted you all to himself he just had to be okay with that not being realistic.

"Fine, I guess it can't be helped then, Anya why don't you run upstairs and grab the mini shiber plush I gave you so you can have someone to sleep with tonight at your friend's house." San said looking down at his daughter.

"Good idea Daddy!" the little girl cutely ran up the stairs to get her toy, though it seemed like an innocent suggestion it was just San's way of getting you alone for two seconds because as soon as your daughter was out of the room San kissed you hard with vigor and emotion, inserting his tongue in your mouth to swirl it around yours. All you could do is submit and whimper while you felt your core heat up, he managed to pin you against the door as he gripped your ass and placed his other hand against the door next to your head, when he pulled back from the kiss a string of spit followed his lips that connected yours

He leaned down to whisper into your ear. "I'm off tomorrow and Anya will be at her friend's still so expect to not get anything done and clear your schedule okay? " He stared directly into your eyes and soul with nothing but pure lust, San can't go too long without fucking you, it makes him unwell, you nodded your head to agree. "Use your words."

"Y-yes San." you said softly.

"Good girl." He said pecking your lips one more time before Anya re-entered the room with her plushie in hand. "Alright let's go Anny! Tell mommy bye."

"Bye Mommy!" They both said in sync as they left, you were still in disarray. Why did it just feel like you signed your soul to the devil?

...

Later that night you were sitting at your PTA meeting as San blew up your phone with messages of him telling you he missed you and all the unspeakable things he wanted to do to you. You sat at the table just watching the messages roll in, your breathing becoming shorter as you anticipated the things your husband had in store for you.

"Y/N? Did you hear me?" A voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

"Huh? Oh no sorry could you repeat that?" you said back to the person, the person being one of the other parents on the PTA, Kyle, he was the father of one of the girls in Anya's class that she was close with. He was recently divorced and splitting custody with his ex-wife, his daughter lived with his ex which is where Anya was having a sleepover at, you and San only ever interacted with the mom so meeting Kyle now was a bit random. He knew that the kids were close and that's why he asked to partner up with you for the bake sale project, at least that's what you assumed.

"Everything alright Y/N? You kinda left Earth for a second." He asked.

"Yeah, my husband is just freaking out about what he should have for dinner." Technically that wasn't a lie but San's dilemma was more so about the fact that he couldn't have you for dinner but Kyle didn't need to know that.

"Yeah sounds about right for us guys haha, anyways I asked if it was okay if I came over tomorrow night so we could get the baking for Sunday done? Then I can take everything in my car and drop it off since we don't have to be there." He suggested.

"That actually sounds like a good plan, my husband wanted to hang out tomorrow but I can cancel on him." you said while smiling at him.

"Cancelling for little ol me, oh I'm charmed." You both laughed, Kyle was a sweet guy but the rumor around school was that he was a cheater which is why his ex left him but he was so nice could that really be true?

...

"What!" San yelled while drying dishes in his little apron and dish gloves like he was a housewife.

"I'm sorry baby I know that you wanted me to yourself tomorrow but I really have to get the sweets done for the bake sale on Sunday." You said as you stood next to him in your nightgown, you had come home, ate dinner, and immediately got in the shower so you could get ready for tomorrow.

"This isn't fair Y/N! I have needs too, I haven't been inside you in almost a damn week, how do you expect me to live like this!" He dramatically pouted.

"Stop being dramatic San." You said folding your arms.

"I just... miss you, I work all day and by the time I come home we are both too tired to do anything besides cuddling which I love but... I miss connecting with you on that level, I know you have a lot going on but I can't help but feel this way..." He said as he took off his gloves and turned the sink off. You felt for San, you missed him too, especially in an intimate way and you had to give it to him he has really matured from when you first started dating because old San wouldn't have cared and would fuck you until you were too tired to do the bake sale.

"Aww baby I miss you too." You said as you cupped both sides of his sharp jaw, his hand held yours as his thumb rubbed the back of your hand and you both looked into each other's eyes. "I just have to do this one thing tomorrow then I'm all yours okay?" you pecked his still pouted lip.

"Okay, I love you." He said giving you a smirk to make sure you didn't worry about him.

"I love you more, let's go to bed, I have to get up early to go shopping."

You both went to bed too tired to do much of anything but San snuggled his face into your chest as you both drifted off to sleep. By the morning time you had left for the store to buy everything you needed for the bake sale. When you finally made it back home in the late afternoon, you texted Kyle your address and San was already gone, probably to spend the evening with his friends since he wanted to give you your space. Kyle arrived about an hour later, which was enough time for you to prep everything needed and start on the first batch of sweets. You walked to the front door to let him in.

"Hey, come in, glad you made it safe!" you smiled while stepping to the side to let him in.

"Hey, can't believe our kids have been friends this long and this is the first time I've been here, lovely home you got here Y/N." He said as he walked deeper into the house following you to the kitchen.

"Oh the credit isn't just mine my husband planned the renovations and I just decorated and furnished it."

"Well, the woman is who makes the home." He said winking at you.

That was kinda weird but whatever" you thought to yourself.

"Well I finished the first back and they are cooled down you wanna start boxing everything?"

“Sure thing” You and Kyle got to work baking and boxing, you didn’t even notice the time flying by until you looked up to see it was dark outside. You looked at your Apple Watch to see it was 8:36 pm you wondered for a moment where San was but then the cookie timer went off.

…

A cup slams down on the bar, shaking the remaining ice in it. “Another Jack and Coke please.” San asked the bartender.

“2 drinks in one night buddy? Something going on?” Wooyoung asked as he drank his beer.

“I miss my fucking wife Woo.” A red San replied as he received his next drink.

“Did she go somewhere? What happened to your weekend you had planned to-“

“Planned to fuck her brains out and romance her while my sweet princess was away? Unfortunately that won't be happening because of this dumb school bake sale she's doing for the PTA. Now I only get one day with her." San said as he dramatically dropped his head on the bar.

"Oh yeah I think my husband mentioned that to me, at least you've got tomorrow." Wooyoung said as he rubbed San's back to cheer him up, then San's phone rang, the name "Mrs. Choi" with lots of hearts and a photo of you and Anya flashed on his screen, he immediately answered.

"Hi my love, I miss you, need me to come home and eat-"

"Don't even finish that sentence San, I'm calling because I was letting you know that I'm probably going to have to go to the bake sale tomorrow." You said, San's face dropping.

"I thought you were only baking for the bake sale, isn't the volunteering covered for tomorrow?" San asked.

"Yeah that was originally the plan but Kyle thinks that I should come to help out just in case someone has questions about the sweets or-"

"Who is Kyle?" San questioned.

"Oh, He's Sana's ex-husband, you know Anya is their daughter's best friend, you probably never met since you both work so heavily." You replied.

"You're baking cookies with another man in my house Y/N?"

"Um- first of all this is our house." You replied somewhat taken aback by San's tone.

"I don't give a damn about that right now Y/N, my wife, baking with another man in my kitchen, in my house and now he's taking another one of My days with you?" You could hear San somewhat spiraling.

"Why do you keep saying my like-"

"Like what Y/N?? I keep saying my because it's true. The house is mine, the kitchen is mine, the stove you're using is mine, YOU ARE MINE!" He yelled at the end as he slammed his fist on the bar startling everyone in the vicinity.

"I'm not your fucking property San! I thought you grew out of this possessive thing!" You yelled back.

"I'll never grow out of thinking you belong to me and only me Y/N stop fucking playing with me." the sternness in his voice was sharp.

"Boy, who the fuck do you- you know what, whatever San, I'm glad Kyle asked me to come tomorrow, I'd rather spend tomorrow with him and everyone else than with you right now! And when you come home sleep on the damn couch." Before he could respond you ended the call, leaving San's eye to twitch, the argument combined with the lack of quality time was enough to send San into a coma but you saying you'd rather spend time with another man than him made him see red, he only came back down to earth when Wooyoung's hand landed on his shoulder.

"Calm down buddy, come back to earth." San took a few deep breaths and ran his finger through his hair while he groaned.

"I'm going crazy Woo." San said taking another drink from his cup.

"I don't want to contribute to it buuut, I wouldn't be a good friend if I didn't tell you." Wooyoung said, San looked over at him confused.

"Tell me what?"

"Well, that guy, Kyle? On the PTA? He was married to Sana who's my husband's best friend so naturally he knows the details of their divorce and my husband told me everything..."

"Okay?"

"Okay so... Kyle was a cheater, like big time, but he is specifically known as a PTA home wrecker, he's slept with most of the moms on the PTA." Wooyoung and San's eyes met.

"What the hell are you saying Wooyoung?" San said with all seriousness immediately sobering up.

"I'm saying you need to get home before a serial wife fucker makes a move on your wife." Wooyoung finished his beer. "Go, I'll pay." San didn't waste any more time and left the bar.

....

You hung up from San knowing that the conversation went south but honestly, who does he think he is talking to you like that?

"Everything alright? Didn't mean to overhear the ending of that..." Kyle said walking back into the house from loading the baked goods into his car.

"Sorry about that... Yes, everything is fine just-"

"Marital problems? Trust me, I get it. I am flattered you said you would rather spend time with me..." He cleared his throat, coming off a bit shy. "and everyone else of course."

You chuckled at his shy response. "Yeah my husband's just being a brat is all, it's just been a while since me and him have spent time together so he's going crazy." You may have been oversharing but eh, so what.

"You know Y/N if you want someone to talk about it with I have some wine in the car I picked up on the way over." You shrugged your shoulders why not indulge him.

"Don't worry, I have a bottle in the fridge that's already open I'll get us some glasses." You walked over to the kitchen to grab glasses and then to pour you two a glass. Kyle followed you into the kitchen and smiled watching you pour the glasses then took the one you offered to him.

"To the bake sale." he said as you two clinked your glasses together then drank. "How long have you and your husband been married Y/N?" he asked.

"7 years, we got married then had Anya immediately after, my husband is very persistent about spending a lot of time with me, and around the time Anya was born he started his job so he rarely gets to spend a lot of time with us so I know it takes a toll on him." You said sipping more from your glass.

"I see, so he's a bit clingy then?"

A bit is putting it nicely, San is so clingy he got upset that he couldn't go to your bachelorette party and threw a tantrum. "Yeah you could say that, how long were you married ?" You asked.

"12 years, we were happy until we weren't anymore, then we only took care of our daughter together until we decided to call it quits after a fuck up on my end." He said as he swirled the wine in his glass.

"A fuck up?" you asked.

"Yeah, a fuck up, but I've learned from my mistakes, the next woman I'll cherish her, giving her my time and love from head to toe." He said as he sat the glass on the counter.

"You could have done that with your wife." You thought to yourself. "Well, I hope you find her soon." You half-heartedly smiled, he absolutely cheated and when you were done being mad at San you couldn't wait to tell him, you told him all your little PTA tea as if he cared, he just liked hearing you ramble.

"You know Y/N, I think I did find her." He said looking at you. "I need a woman that's attentive, who cares, who doesn't put her career over me, who isn't going to complain when I'm late for dinner, whole love me and my fault." He said as he stepped a bit closer to you.

"You did? A-and who might that be? She sounds like a catch!" You asked as you noticed him getting closer.

"You Y/N, I need a woman like you." He continued to step to you as you backed up.

"Oh- no, no you don't-"

"Yes, I do, a woman as gorgeous and understanding and caring as you are. You even said yourself that you would rather spend time with me." He backed you into a wall.

"Dude what? I was just talking shit, I'm married and happily at that." you looked at him with disgust.

"Marriage shouldn't stop you from finding your soulmate Y/N. Let me give you what he can't, let me give you what you need." he said as he grabbed your shoulders.

"And what does she need?" Kyle started to lean in then stopped when he heard the voice in the distance, he looked back and you looked over Kyle's shoulder to see your husband standing calmly however you could tell he was pissed. "Kyle right? I'm San, Y/Ns husband, now tell me what do you think my wife needs? Because I am in charge of handling all her needs and wants." Sans slit eyes stared directly into Kyle's eyes.

"I, uh" Kyle said stumbling over his words.

"Why don't you take your hands off my wife and get the fuck out of my house." The air was intense, Kyle released you from his grip and then cleared his throat again.

"I-I guess I need to head out then Y/N." You both awkwardly looked at each other then he walked toward the front door after hesitantly passing San.

"By the way Kyle, my wife won't be there tomorrow, she'll be preoccupied." San added before Kyle left the house, San followed him to the door. "And stay the fuck away from my wife." he said slamming the door and then locking it. San slowly walked over to you, for some reason you felt nervous, scared even, he didn't say a word but picked you up by the legs and threw you over his shoulders.

"S-San what are you doing? Put me down!" You squirmed in his arms as he walked up the stairs. He was not phased by your attempts to get out of his grasp but you still fought him. You had to stay mad at him for being kind of a jerk over the phone but damn it was hot how he just kicked Kyle out of the house. San reached your shared bedroom and dropped you on the bed, he stood there looking over your body.

"Strip." was all he said, you wanted to protest more but his tone was so demanding and assertive you had to listen, you sat up on your knees and removed your long bodycon maxi dress that had splotches of flour and chocolate from the baking, you were left on the bed wearing a lace black bra and panty set, his sharp eyes scanned over your body, it made you shy so you covered yourself with your arms.

"Don't be shy now baby, you sure weren't shy when you were telling me you weren't mine on the phone." San said.

"I didn't say I wasn't!" You argued.

San got closer then reached down to grab your chin and point your face up to him.

"Did I say to speak my love?" his voice was very dry and stern, he was serious, over the years San had agreed to get his clingy and possessive ways under control and keep his antics down to a minimum, however everyone has a breaking point. Addiction for some people was hard, going without something caused withdrawals and San was going through withdrawals after not touching you for almost a week. Tuesday he was good, no complaints or anything but he definitely needed you tomorrow. Wednesday he spent his break at work locking his office door to fuck his hand while he was on the phone with you while you talked about your day, but that wasn't enough. Thursday he thought about the many ways he was going to have you while he worked out at the gym, he was excited to get off early tomorrow so he could spend the day fucking you. Friday when you left for PTA he laid in bed aimlessly staring at the ceiling, the smell of you started to engulf him he closed his eyes and bit his lips thinking of how bad he needed to feel you, to hold you, to hear your cries of pleasure, he wanted you more than anything, then his eyes opened and he realized he was holding on of your pillows while thrusting into it. Saturday after another disappointment and him waking up to his face no longer comfortably nuzzled into your bosom he was just upset, to hell with the PTA at this point, usually he at least had a filter for his obsession with you, your adorable daughter Anya but with her being away for the weekend he couldn't do much, he even tried to call to get Anya from her friends and she said "No daddy I'm having fun." San wanted to snap and say he didn't care and go get her anyway but he vowed to not let his ways affect his precious baby girl.

Instead he spent the day with his best friend trying his best not to be anxious or angry but Wooyoung could always read him like a book. He could see the anger seething from San, the frustration and when he told San about Kyle he got nervous, San wouldn't kill him right? Wooyoung sent a prayer and moved on. When San arrived at the house he wondered if he should go in guns blazing and utilize all his pent-up frustration to teach a low life like Kyle a lesson but he didn't want you to see him like that. When he walked in to see Kyle's hands on what was his and to hear him saying he wanted to give you "What you need" oh San was not happy, not at all.

Now here you were sitting over San's lap while he spanked you, one smack after the other hitting harder than the last.

"Who do you belong to Y/N?" San said landing another strike on your ass, tears streamed down your face while you wore a dazed look on your face.

"You San, please." Your voice was hoarse from the yelping every time he would hit you again.

"Please what my love?" He asked halting his next strike.

"No more San, I can't... I can't take it."

"Yes my darling, I'm sorry if I went to far." San said as he helped you up then laid you on the bed, he wiped the tear sitting at the corner of your eye. "I just need people to know that you belong to me and only me, obviously the ring on your finger isn't enough." San started to kiss from your neck down the length of your body, he had already covered you in love bites and hickeys, you remember telling him "Black people can't get hickeys" and damn did he prove you wrong over the years. His lips reached your thighs, he wasted no time removing your panties then kissing around your slick-covered pussy.

"I need you and everyone else to understand that you are mine and only mine, only I can fill your needs." San said as lips peppered teasing kisses on your core.

"Of course I know that Saaah~" Your sentence was interrupted by his sudden attachment to your clit, he started to suck passionately like he wanted to hear you struggle.

"Do you though darling?"

"Yesss, fuck, yes!" You moaned out while your hands ran through his hair.

"I don't think you do, why were you willing to spend so much time with someone else then?" He held your slit in his mouth while flicking it with his tongue, you tried to squirm away but he held your thighs tightly.

"I told you nghh~ it was for the PTA-"

"I don't give a fuck about that damn PTA Y/N!" he slid his two fingers into your already pulsing hole, he started slow for a second then immediately started to finger fuck you faster, more pleading whimpers fell from your lips as you tried to close your legs.

"Fuck I'm going to cum San !" you yelled out, his pace never slowed down while he licked stripes up your clit while alternating between licking and sucking it.

"Cum for me my love, cover me in all of you." Almost like it was on command you came on San's face, your slick oozed down his chin while he continued to eat you out through your orgasm, however even when your body stopped spasming he didn't stop. You yelled out while trying to push his head away but he wouldn't move, the over-stimulation started to sting with the pleasure.

"San please." You cried out.

"All mine, I needed this so bad baby." He finally removed his face from your core to plant a sloppy kiss on your lips, you could taste yourself on his lips and tongue as he swirled his tongue into your mouth. The sloppy exchange caused your cum to smear onto your face as well when he pulled back, he licked the remaining cum off your face. "You taste so good my love, my wife, I'm so glad you're all mine." you could hear the desperation in his voice.

"I'm... I'm sorry San." You said looking into his eyes. "I'm sorry for what I said and I'm sorry for not prioritizing our time together."  the cutest little smile showed on his face before he pecked your lips once again.

"I just... I know you have a life Y/N but I can't help but feel like I need you." you pulled him down to kiss him, the kiss lingered a bit.

"I need you too Sannie, please take me, I feel so dirty knowing that man touched me."

"Yes my love, I'll make sure a low life like him never gets the chance to touch you again, I'll love you in my love so they know you only belong to me." San removed his clothes then climbed back on top of you and took off your bra. He bit his lips as he hovered over your naked form, he needed to take you now, he couldn't wait anymore. He pulled you down a bit more then turned you on your side, he put each of his legs on the side of your thigh that was on the bed while he held your other leg up with his thigh, the position looked a lot like scissoring? It confused you a bit as you never tried this position but before you could question him San slid his thick cock into your pleading walls making you moan softly for him. He sank deeper and deeper into you until you realized this was deeper than he normally could reach in missionary, you immediately felt the need to yell a string of curse words as you felt him in your gut.

When he heard your cry and watched your eyes roll he smirked watching you struggle, he slowly moved his hips back out then at a teasing rate pushed back into you, he repeated this motion a few times, watching you fidget and not knowing how to take him like you two hadn't fucked a million times. He pressed his hand on your lower stomach causing even more pleasure. "Do you feel me right here baby? Deep in your stomach?" you couldn't even properly respond as you whimpered at the feeling, it wasn't uncomfortable or painful, you just felt so stuffed full.

"San- Sannie, you're so deep." You huffed out as he sped up his pace a bit, his hips moving in a steady driving motion, you already started to feel dizzy from the pleasure, drunk off of your husband's dick going in and out of your sensitive cunt.

"I'm the only person who can be this deep inside of you, right baby?" He asked.

"Yeeess-" you answered but then you noticed San gradually picking up his pace more.

"Only me, only I can fuck you like this, only I can fuck you this deep." You realized he was going on a tangent, losing himself in the moment while his hips never stopped, he let your leg fall on his shoulders while he grabbed both sides of you and fucked you deeper and faster. "Mine, mine, all mine, only for me, this pussy can only be fucked by me, he doesn't have what you need, only I can give you what you need." San started to drive into you faster, your mouth was wide open but no sound was being pushed out while your eyes were fully in the back of your head, the ecstasy of how San was fucking was amazing enough but you had to admit there was a guilty pleasure behind his words of him claiming you like his territory.

As San continued to fuck you like his own personal fuck toy you started to feel your orgasm rushing forward, your walls contracting around his length causing him to drop his head back as the beads of sweat fell from his forehead and he groaned. "Sannie I'm about to cum again please, hold me." San looked at you as you twisted your body a bit to stretch your arms out to embrace him. He quickly pulled out to reposition you in missionary then put himself back inside of you. He leaned down to welcome your embrace while his hips bucked into you quickly.

You cupped San's face and looked him in his blown out eyes. "I love you so much San, I'm yours forever, and only yours." you said between trying to stay sane as he fucked you.

"Forever baby, only mine, I love you." connected your lips as you both tried to kiss wholesomely but with the pace of him fucking you and your moans going directly into his mouth it just turned sloppy. The kiss with San driving into you made you wrap your legs around him while he started to cum deep inside you, the rush of his hot cum sending you into a frenzy as your orgasm followed shortly after. San removed his lips from yours and held his still-leaking cock inside you, he looked at your fucked out face and pecked your lips a few times.

"I'm sorry if I lost myself for a bit Y/N" San said as he slowly dropped his body to lie on top of you. You smiled at him then peppered his sweaty face with kisses.

"It's okay Sannie, I love it when you tell me I'm yours." You smiled at each other again and decided it was time to get cleaned up and go to bed after a long night.

...

The next morning was peaceful, Anya had returned from her friend's house and sat in her daddy's lap as he forced her to watch anime with him, Anya grew to love it after a few sessions.

"Daddy this episode is so good! We should ask Mommy to join us." She looked back and said.

"Mommy is too far behind to watch with us." San replied

"Hey, I'm trying my best!" You yelled from the kitchen as you were making lunch.

"But you're right Anya we need a third person to watch with, how about Mommy and Daddy give you a sibling?" San smiled while your face heated up and Anya cheered, loving the idea of being a big sister.

"San!"

[randombush3]

revocate animos (with or without me)

alexia putellas x reader

part one, part two, part three, part four

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

have fun reading! and sorry about the length of it

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

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

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

Those hadn’t happened yet.

God, you were so naive then back then. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But she misses you as soon as you pull away. 

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

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

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

“Leah.” 

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

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

“Is that a question?” 

You blink. “I’m not sure.” 

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

Do you want to? 

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

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

“This won’t change anything, right?”

It’s a mean question. You know that. 

“Course not,” Leah lies. 

You let it convince the both of you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It feels… good. 

Liberating.

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

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

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

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

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

She wipes her mouth. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You feel safe.

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

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

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

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

“Well, you know that–” 

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

…

Alexia is in desperate need of advice. 

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

She had not expected this from herself. 

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

The Sacrament of Reconciliation, Fridays, 17.00-17.30. 

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

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

It can’t be that bad, can it? 

It’s just like therapy. 

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

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

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

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

Silence. 

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

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

“Do what, my daughter?” 

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

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

“I think you know the answer to that.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alexia does not remember her father’s voice. 

The realisation is crushing. 

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

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

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

Alexia is so very lost. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

“You have a lot to account for.” 

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

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

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

…

It takes just over a month for Leah to crack. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re a busy person, after all. 

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

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

Returning to Barcelona is a little weird. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, they’ve broken up.” 

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

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

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

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

“I heard you were in London?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You pray this goes well. 

It does. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Im-men-lee?” 

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

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

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

You try not to blame yourself for his derailed childhood. 

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

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

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

The silence is awkward. 

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

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

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

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

“She’s a very good person.” 

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

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

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

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

“Hola,” you say shyly. 

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

You try very hard not to burst into tears. 

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

You blow off your FaceTime call with Leah.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure?” 

It’s late.

“Yes, I’m sure.” 

I don’t care. 

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

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

This is not a second chance. 

This is a lift home. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, London was great.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perhaps it never will. 

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

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

“Lela, me tengo que ir.” 

“Pero–” 

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

It starts off innocently. 

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

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

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

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

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

“So you’re back to playing?” 

“Sí.” 

A doorway conversation. 

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

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

“We play the day after tomorrow.” 

“Oh, Ale, this is a good one.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

She opens the next bottle for you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In Highgate?” 

“Anywhere,” you breathe. 

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

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

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

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

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

Alexia knows you well.

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

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

“Please.” 

And she really doesn’t make you beg. 

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

Parted legs and soft moans. 

She slots herself between your thighs. 

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

Your fingers repay the favour. 

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

“Is it in the same place?” 

You nod, panting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re glad, you’re really glad. 

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

And then it all comes crashing down. 

Everything. 

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shrugs. “Okay.”

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

“Nico, what’s ‘lesbian’?” 

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

“My mum says that lesbians kiss girls.” 

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

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

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

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

Nico sometimes feels stuck between it all. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But now you are ripped down the middle.” 

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

“God, you are such an idiot.” 

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

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

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

“I think we are destined for each other.” 

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

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

Is that an understatement? 

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If you say so, Alexia.” 

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

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

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

Is this how Pandora felt? 

If you open it, what will be unleashed?

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

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

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

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

...

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

[oneverydelululemon]

SXF MANGA SPOILERS AHEAD, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

So, like many of us in the sxf community (especially damianya fans), i never stopped thinking about ch 96 and the confession. Well, i finally decided to write down what I imagine the conversation between Anya and Damian would look like when he figures out Anya wasn't joking. This little text is exclusively a dialogue, as I wanted to see how I'm doing with writing the natural flow conversation. I might post a prequel to this, showing how I imagine Damian would figure it out and and how Anya would confirm his suspicions.

Now let's go!

The Conversation

In a janitor's closet/behind the school

Damian leads Anya to their meeting place so they can talk in private. Upon arriving, both stand frozen in place, staring at eachother in silence. Both are clearly nervous. Damian is the first one to speak.

D (wide-eyed): So....what you said at the gala....you weren't joking?

Anya only nods, looking down at her shaky hands, fidgeting. She's pale.

Damian observes her for a moment or two before sitting down on the ground and putting all the weight from his head onto his palms, which are now on his knees. Anya does not dare to move.

D: Wha-how? How is that even possible? Since when have you been able to do that?

A (shrugs): A-Anya was born with it.

Damian moves his hands around his head, his brows furrowing. Anya hears him think:

D: Born? What does she mean by born? Can people be born with powers? Do superheroes actually exist? Wait, does that mean.... No! There's no way! Right?!

D: Wh-what do you know about me then?

Anya finally turns to look at him. She sits beside him and returns her gaze to the ground, this time in thought. After a moment, she returns his gaze with a slight smirk on her face. She's still pale, sweating bullets.

A: Anya knows Sy-On Boy likes drinking milk in the morning so he can be tall. Anya also knows he has a dog and misses his big plushie. She knows he threw up after eating green peppers and that he peed in the bed when he was small-

Damian stops her from continuing, clearly embarrassed.

D: Okay, okay, I get it! Stop!

Anya stops talking. He sighs in frustration. She can hear him rambling in his head again, this time in panic. She looks back on the ground, fidgeting with her hands once again. She tries her best to shrink herself, tearing up.

A: Anya kn-knows Sy-On Boy h-hates Anya. Anya understands if he is m-mad and doesn't want to see Anya e-ever again. Anya will leave him a-alone and stop reading Sy-On Boy's mind.

Damian immediately moves his eyes from in front of him to her, his face turning red.

D: H-Hey! Th-th-that's n-not true! And besides, I can't just forget you can read my mind!

Anya starts slowly calming down, wiping tears from her eyes. She looks back at him. He gets even redder.

A (shocked): Sy-On Boy's not m-mad at m-me? Really?

She instantly hears the answer in his mind. She exhales, finally breathing normally. Upon seeing her do so, Damian does the same.

D: You should drink something. Let's go get some water and then go back to our classes. The teachers will notice if we're out for too long.

He hands Anya a handkerchief to blow her nose with. It has his initials on it. She gladly takes the handkerchief before turning her nose into a little trumpet with it. Both seem nore relaxed now. While Anya's blowing her nose, Damian looks away again, a curious expression on his face.

D: Hey, um...does anybody else know about your powers?

A (done using the handkerchief): No. Only Sy-On Boy.

Damian looks at her again, surprised.

D: Only I know about this? Not even Becky? Or even your parents?

Anya nods. Damian hesitates for a moment, brows furrowing once again, before asking:

D: Why did you tell me of all people? How can you trust me with this secret?

Anya looks at him before turning her gaze in front of her. She was silent for a few moments, deep in thought. Then she finally spoke in a low tone.

A: Anya knows what it's like to be sad and alone, and she doesn't want Sy-On Boy to be sad and alone too. Anya thought he would not hate her anymore if she stopped lying to him.

She stops for a moment before meeting Damian's gaze, looking at him with the most genuine gentle smile spread across her face, blushing ever so slightly.

A: Anya really wants to be friends with Sy-On Boy. She wants him to be happy.

She pauses before asking, her face slightly changing into an expression of cencern.

A: Are we friends now, Sy-On Boy?

Damian stares at her for a bit, mesmerized. He answers almost in a whisper:

D: Yeah. I think we are.

His voice becomes louder as he stands up, dusts off his uniform and fixes up his hair.

D: Come on, let's go drink something. There should be a water fountain nearby. We should be careful not to get noticed.

Anya stands up as well, observing Damian.

A: Thank you, Sy-On Boy. You're a good person!

She smiles from ear to ear, beaming. Damian's face goes red again. He averts his eyes from her, turning his back to her. She can hear him say in his head:

D: You can call me by my actual name, you know, I have it for a reason...

He calls out to her.

D: L-lets go, already! We're gonna get Bolts for skipping classes because of you!

He starts walking, expanding the distance between the two of them.

D: Come on, Forger, hurry up! Move those stubby legs of yours before I change my mind about befriending you!

Anya catches up to him gasps.

A: Anya doesn't have stubby legs! Damian should get his eyes checked!

D (blushing slightly from hearing her say his name): ME?! LOOK WHO'S TALKING! I BET YOU COPY NOTES FOR YOUR CLASSES FROM OTHERS! YOU CAN'T EVEN SEE THE BOARD THAT'S RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU!

A: WELL DAMIAN SQUINTS HIS EYES LIKE A GRANDPA EVERYTIME HE READS!

D: HOW DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT- oh yeah right. DAMMIT I HAVE TO GET USED TO THIS!

D: I'M. NOT. OLD!!! AND I DON'T DO THAT! THERE'S JUST TOO MUCH LIGHT AND DUST IN THE CLASSROOM!

A: heh.

D: AAAAARGHH SHUT UP!!!

They continued arguing until a professor heard them. Thankfully they didn't get a Bolt, but they were let off with a warning and a suggestion to get glasses.

FRIENDSHIP WITH DAMIAN: 100+

That's it! Thank you for reading! Feel free to let me know what you think!

Byeee <3

[keepyourpantsongohan]

Ayesha Liveblogs Spy x Family S1

"Proof that the foreign minister wears a toupée. I even have the negatives." "Well done. Now we can force him to resign." How could this possibly be enough to force a resignation? Is wearing a toupée a sign of dishonesty or shame in this cultural context??

"In an era in which the nations of the world were waging a fierce war of information just out of sight, this man survived the battlefield by being a master of disguise." Ooooh is this a historical anime? How fun!

Update from 1 minute later: The newspaper confirms this as a Cold War-era story!! Colour me intrigued

"Farewell. May you find happiness." What a polite end to such a callous breakup LMAO

Why does Donovan Desmond look so incredibly haunted LOL

"In order to achieve this [spy mission] you will get married and have a child." Ah, there we are with the premise!

Of all the spy strengths they've displayed thus far, I am most impressed with this blond man's ability to pull a newspaper apart without bending it. You must need to generate a lot of force:

"Yeah, sure. Take whichever one you want." This is about the average regard for orphans in Shonen Anime Societies

"This little girl happened to be a telepath." She's a WHAT NOW? What a casual way to introduce this fact

Honestly the random facts about what Anya likes and the bursting into tears with unclear motivation seems very much a realistic parent and child experience

"I just don't understand this irrational behaviour." I love how quickly Loid Forger aka Twilight, International Spy, has been foiled by this tiny, psychic child

Loid is approaching parenthood very casually so far. Surely a spy (pretending to be a psychologist, even) can recognize the psychological impact of abandonment on a child

Fjlkjfljflf what kind of society allows Loid to barricade his six (or maybe four) year-old child inside their apartment unsupervised all day LMAOOO

SCREAM not Anya immediately revealing their location from playing spy games. Also a very realistic problem to have

"Boss, I think we should just give up on the toupée." [Pulls out a gun and shoots him] "Transparency is essential in government. Toupées are a no-go." WHY ON EARTH ARE TOUPÉES THE ULTIMATE SPY PLOT DEVICE JFKJFJF

Love that the betrayal of the nation is SECOND to the toupée. They said: Wigs are for liars and cowards

"No one reached out their hand to save me. I felt alone, in despair, and so powerless all I could do was cry." We have unlocked Loid's parental instincts AND his tragic backstory in the span of 1 and a half minutes

"I'm a failure as a spy? No. My mistake was putting that little girl in danger to begin with. How could I forget? To create a world where children won't have to cry... That's why I became a spy." Alright Loid, colour me charmed:

Ahhhhhh I love Loid giving his enemy the chance to go back to his daughter instead of attacking him

Loid deciding to take Anya back with him despite all his misgivings bc he wants to give her a home 🥺💘 HE'S NICE

"Papa is a huge liar. But he's such a cool liar." Awww, Anya

I can see how being psychic and being able to hear every single child's confusion during a test would be distracting

"I... relaxed? What the hell is going on with me?" FATHERHOOD

"It is mandatory that the applicant attend with both parents. Absolutely no exceptions." For a society with such a cavalier approach to violence and orphans (at least where Loid goes), you'd think they'd be more accepting of single parents

Everyone's absolutely on Yor's ass for being a single 27-year-old. [Yor as Charlotte Lucas voice] I'm 27 years old. I have no money and no prospects. I'm already a burden to my brother—

"I have a client for you, Thorn Princess." Is Thorn Princess Yor's sleeper agent activation phrase? Her whole face darkened

Clearly Yor doesn't have the same violence-aversion as Loid:

Yor ready to fall in love with anyone who's nice to her. Mgkjgkg but same perhaps

"A spy...An assassin...? I'm... so excited!" [Narrator voiceover] "The little girl was straving for entertainment." The narrator's interjections are very funny

HAHAHAHA I love that they're both trying to fake date each other for very different reasons. Incredible, 10/10, love this

It's fun that Franky, spy gadget guy, is also now mission back-up

Also I take back everything I said about Loid's violence aversion

"I'll be sure to tell your brother that you came alone." Why is every woman that Yor works with (and, it seems, every woman with more than one line in this show thus far) seem to be so mean-spirited LOL

HFHLKHGLHGLGH Loid showing up to the party covered in blood and introducing himself as her husband when she needed a boyfriend. We love a spy who is terrible at his job

Loid managing to somehow make a really amazing impression on this party by being hot and defending Yor's past as a masseuse (murderer). GOOD FOR HIM

"The concussive recovery method is the latest in modern medical practices." Imagine going to your doctor for a prescription and having them kickbox you into submission LMAO

"Um, Loid-san, this may not be the best moment to ask, but why don't we get married?" SCREAMING AT YOR BEING THE ONE TO PROPOSE AND HOW KNOCKS THE WIND OUT OF LOID:

"No matter what hardships await us, let us be there for one another." [Explosions go off in the background] Colour me sold on this grenade-pin ring and spy-assassin romance

I love that they're going on a little family outing to prep for their interview

I can also understand how a political rally would be stressful for Anya

"I've completed countless missions, yet once again I find myself losing heart." Loid will eventually get used to his girls who are obssessed with nuts and knives 💞

All of them calling attention to themselves by helping an old lady deal with a purse snatcher ❣️ I love this family. I've only had the Forgers for two episodes but if anything happened to them I would [redact] everyone in this room and then myself

"I guess... receiving thanks every once in a while wouldn't hurt." "Papa is a softie." YEAH HE IS

"Papa and Mama are flirting." "No we are not!" HEE HEE

"Anya, are you going to be okay in this crowd?" Dad Mode Activated

Ohhhhhhh Anya helping the cow through her fear. Baby!!!!

OHGHGLGHLKGH setting aside how they managed to have at least three outfits in that suitcase, I really want to know how the quick change is happening in the middle of this cobblestone pathway to the school

"Why are you getting irritated, Loid? She's not even your real wife." I love that whenever someone makes an out-of-pocket insult to Yor (her coworker calling her a whore, this dorm master critiquing her lack of cooking) Loid jumps in and he's like, HEY, THAT'S MY WIFE

"My Papa and Mama are both so much fun, and I love them very much. I want to be with them forever." I also want this family to stay together forever, Anya 💗

Both Yor and Loid ready to fight this jerk for making their daughter cry!! I love them

The hope that Loid has because of his new family. This is really fulfilling a deepseated psychological need that I had to watch an anime that's just about a nice man

"He might just be the best spy in Westalis, so don't worry too much." With all due respect, that doesn't say much for the other spies, considering how suspiciously Loid acts everywhere he goes

Yor genuinely considering murdering someone to get her daughter into school 💝 Parenting!

"I appreciate the attempt at consolation, my elegant boy." This is how I will be responding to all attempts for someone to comfort me from now on

Loid just carrying a party popper around in his pocket for when Anya gets in. I LOVE HEEEM

Loid can waste government resources on a little play mission for his family. As a treat

"He's requesting agents. As many as possible," incredible how Loid immediately folds to his daughter's request to be attacked by enemies LMAOOO

HAHAHAHA Loid telling them in morse code it's an imperative part of Operation Strix, which is technically true, but not at all for any reason they would think

The way they're all like, "I will JUMP at the chance to attack Loid, been waiting my whole life for this," is also really fun

I was waiting for the spy costume. I am so glad it is a plot point

I can't decide what I enjoy more, Loid's blush over having to put on the costume mask, or the way the other spies are fangirling over him

Loid getting his butt kicked by Yor in this drunk roleplay does make me wonder if we're going to see that her assassination missions run contrary to his goals of peacekeeping

"I've come to save you, Princess Anya." "Papa!" "Wait, I'm supposed to be your dad in this?" AWWWW ANYA JUST WANTED TO HER DAD TO ACT OUT SAVING HER

In fairness to Anya's fear of kidnapping, she has been kidnapped before!

"Though, you're usually on the ball, so [discussing Operation Strix Phase 2] may not be necessary." "Well... I may actually be off my game lately." At least Loid's willing to own up to it LMAOOO

Firstly, what happened just now was definitely an attempted [redacted] crime, which is hideously uncalled for, what the fuck. But secondly: I love Yor and Anya bonding time

"I know it's really dangerous to be an Eden student now. But it won't be as scary if I train. I can do my best at school without dying!" I do love the idea of teaching this tiny child fighting techniques, but my god, what a thing to say

"Even if I can't be like a normal mother, I'm going to do everything I can for her." YOOOOOOOOOOOOR I love you

"She's already realized how amazing I am and fallen for me." Incredible confidence from Damian Desmond, Very Rich Six-Year-Old LMAO

"Mama, you liar. Smiling didn't help at all." I am very entertained by Anya's psychic child conflict management

Ffjhfkhfk I really do love the way that Anya tries her best to do things in a way that her parents would most approve of. Smiling first, trying to not get in trouble in front of the teacher when she punches Damian, claiming defence of a friend. She's a good kid!

What will Loid, who is not actually a psychologist, be doing during the day while Anya goes to school and his wife does her work. I hope it involves costumes

Update from 1 minute later: At the very least, it involves stalking elementary students from a rooftop

Update from 4 minutes later: IT DID INVOLVE COSTUMES!

Also. Also. How the hell would Loid's plan work if his daughter was NOT psychic. Like yeah yeah yeah, she knows she's supposed to be a good student. But it doesn't seem like he's explicitly told her out loud to be friends with Damian. So is he just hoping for her organic success? It's a good thing his baby knows exactly what he's thinking LMAO

I love that Becky has decided to be Anya's no. 1 supporter. She needs a friend!!

"Why do I find it so hard to speak when she's in front of me?" In a very expected turn of events, lil Damian has a crush:

"Plan B is done for." You are wrong Loid! Plan Befriend has simply turned to Plan Boy Has a Crush on Your Daughter

This at-home tutoring really resonates with my experience of being the child of Asian parents with high expectations when it comes to their children's innate talent for math

"No, Yor. You're not a stranger, nor part of someone else's family. Right now, you're the mother of the Forgers. I'm counting on you to provide whatever I'm lacking." AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I love the Forgers

I loveeee this parenting discussion around positive reinforcement

"I wonder what it'd feel like to have a real family," said Loid, tits deep in a family and fatherhood

"My sister got married?" I was waiting for this ball to drop. Can't wait!

NOT BABY BROTHER YURI BEING EMPLOYED BY THE TORTURE DEPARTMENT OF THE GOVERNMENT OMG

"[Twilight] is the villain who is trying to make this world fall into chaos. You could call him my natural enemy." NOT BABY BROTHER YURI ANNOUNCING HIS INTENTIONS TO MERC HIS BROTHER-IN-LAW WHO HE'S ABOUT TO MEET AT DINNER:

I gotta say, despite them introing with assassinations, I do feel like Yuri represents a drastic tone shift for this show

"Yuri... I mean, my younger brother is coming here today! [Loid's voice raises several octaves] "Today?" The voice crack was funny. Back to family shenanigans

As a sister. I AM SICK OF THE SISTER COMPLEX JOKES. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU, BABY BROTHER YURI, ANIME AS A GENRE, AND WHATEVER JAPANESE SOCIETAL NORM THAT ALLOWS THIS TO BE A CONSTANT IN SO MANY DIFFERENT STORIES?

"What could my sister possibly like about this guy?! Just because he can cook a little, and he's handsome, and tall, and considerate, and a doctor," It sounds like Yuri is talking himself into having a crush on Loid????

Wow, Loid has made Yuri as an intelligence agent within like, mere minutes of meeting him. Maybe Loid is a great spy!

Ahhhh, so the reason Yor took up killing as a job was to put her little brother through school. How honourable!

"Kiss here and now." I can't decide if this is terrible or fun. Maybe both. My money is on Anya interrupting to see her Uncle

I do appreciate that Yor has never been kissed! It makes sense, given her murder job, and I feel like we don't often get 20somethings without prior entanglements

HDJHDKJDHDHD this is so unhinged and weird. Jesus. Yuri Briar puts the B in Behnchod

"Loid Forger. You may lay claim to my sister's lips for now." WHAT A THING TO SAY

"So, let's do everything we can to make sure Yor is happy." Loid is THE Husband. There are no other husbands, just him!

"Children are so curiously observant at times," said Loid, about his daughter who is literally telepathic

"It's a terrible idea to date a woman while deceiving her," said Loid, as if that has not been the premise of his ENTIRE romantic history thus far

I think Loid is starting to develop (romantic) feelings:

You know, I haven't really commented on the horn cap thing, but I do wonder if they are to do with Anya's powers rather than just a fun little design thing

I need you to see what I'm looking at when they tell me this is Bill Watkins, Age Six:

I do like all the montages of how all of these children (and Bill Watkins, Deeply Suspicious Age Six) were preparing for this dodgeball tournament

SCREAM THE CUT TO THE DRAGON BALL Z NAMEK BACKGROUND

Damian taking the dodgeball bullet for Anya. Love u little guy

Calling it right now, with all this lead-up, I don't think Anya's throw is going to work out the way she wants

Update from a few seconds later: Yep, that was correct!

Gnjghkgjhgkjhg Loid loves Anya too much to be strict with her so he is engaging in quite a permissive parenting style

ANYA TRYING TO SAVE THE LITTLE BOY FROM DROWNING WHEN SHE'S JUST A LITTLE GIRL HERSELF. SWEETEST BABY ALIVE

DAD'S HERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ANYA EARNING HER FIRST STELLA! YEAH BABYGIRL

I like how they do a count of her Stellas (merit points which lead to the Imperial Scholar Society of Parent War Instigation) and Tonitrus Bolts (demerit points which lead to expulsion) whenever Anya gets closer to her goal

Also, bonkers that getting a Stella doesn't cancel out your Bolt? It's like, forgive, but never forget

Fhkhfkjfhfkjh Anya deciding she'll only respond to Starlight Anya. Very Six-Year-Old Behaviour

"Do you really think we go to some third-rate school that would hand out a Stella by mistake?" Damian continuing his chivalry streak

1) Extremely rude of the people to treat the dogs that way and 2) Does that big white dog's flash to the Forger family mean that we have unlocked a psychic puppy subplot?

I have been thinking since Damian was introduced that he and Anya are paralleling the Syaroan and Sakura Archetypes, but there is no greater Cardcaptor Sakura parallel than the fact this episode is called Penguin Park

"Please wait, Papa, who is a good and normal person." 10/10 spy deception Anya, no notes

Gghkhgkghkg Loid being yelled at by his Spy Juice Lady for not prioritizing this other mission. How does no one overhear this!!

"Mama, I'm being kidnapped," said Anya, as if she did not latch onto this spy herself to help out her dad's Penguin Mission

It's incredible how many of Loid's problems are solved just by him being hot:

Awwwwww I'm glad they did some actual family time after the Aquarium mission. Also I love how embarrassed Loid is every time has to do something silly, like pretending to be a Penguin Plushy for his kid, but how he'll immediately do it, even in public. Best dad!!

"Being both a Papa and an agent... must be tough balancing the two." Real and true, spy chauffeur

I love how they do parallel plots between family stuff and spy stuff. Anya looking for a puppy... Dad looking for bomb dogs!

They are in fact explaining the psychic puppy subplot

"It is far too early for Anya-san to get married!" Yor, I would like to study the way your mind works (also mom's here!!!!!!!!!!!!)

UHHHHHHHHHHHHHH EXTREMELY TRAUMATIZING FOR ANYA TO HAVE TO WATCH HER DAD'S IMMINENT DEATH BY EXPLOSION THROUGH DOG-O-VISION

That was an incredibly morose diatribe from The Handler, who is the only spy other than Loid to get a title/name

How is this baby supposed to disarm a bomb?!?!?!??

Ahhhh, by leaving a ketchup message for her dad on the door that says "NO! (Drawing of Bomb)" Of course! We love a girl who knows how to improvise

Dad has got back in the danger zone to stop the last of the Foreign Affairs Minister's terrorist threats, fair enough! I really hope they don't make him [redacted violence involving animal]

OH THANK GOD THEY HAD HIM ATTACK THE VEST AND NOT THE DOG—I WAS PRETTY CONFIDENT THEY WOULDN'T DO THAT TO LOID, BUT YOU NEVER KNOW WITH ANIME

From Yor's perspective, Loid has been in the bathroom for two full episodes

Yor kicking Keith the Radicalized Student Terrorist's car off the road after he has been discovered by Anya and foiled by Loid. We love a team effort!

"How many times must I tell you not to run off alone because it's dangerous?!" [Tearfully] "I'm sowwy." Awwww a very reasonable worry for your daughter who keeps running into every spy mission she possibly can

"I also had a daughter about her age." The Handler's tragic backstory unlocked?!

"Be prepared to take care of him until the end. I may have no right to say those words." Loid's dog care advice has accidentally turned into existential dread about adopting a child for the sake of a peacekeeping mission

Awwwwwww Yor taking cooking classes from her workplace enemy to be a better cook for her family

"Camilla-san has always been a nice person," said Yor, about the woman who called her a whore in front of a room full of people and tried to scald her with hot food on like Episode 2

"The more I savour each bite, the more I see my life flash before my eyes." Say what you will about Weird Brother Yuri, he is supportive

Admittedly this cooking lesson episode has made me like Camilla

HAHAHAHA the "They are whispering" caption so the viewer can understand why no one's reacting to the yelling about spy intel on Scruffy's potential lover

Awwwwwww Loid opting out of the family outing to comfort his little scruffy friend, who I have just re-learned is named Franky

LMAOOOOO at them just having Henderson-sensei do literally all of the classes. Top-tier writing

The Handler now has unlocked TWO new names, which are Sylvia Sherwood and Fullmetal Lady

"On the one day each month that Mister Moon goes away, Anya's power to read minds goes away too." Oooooh new psychic baby lore unlocked

Even though I don't care for Weird Brother Yuri, it is nice that Anya has someone outside of her parents to rely on for tutoring

Loid covering for Incompetent Spy Daybreak jkhfkhfkjhf

I love that Loid broke into the school, not to boost his daughter's grades, but rather to check that she didn't fail and leave it that way, and then reverse cheat (as in, undo someone's wrongdoing) to make sure two other students got their earned grades. What a man!

Ffljlfjjflkj Becky objectifying Anya's dad. I know they're six, but it's not a trope I love

"I was trying to report the cigarette I found, then he punched me." I know this is a scheme but what kind of society has SIX-YEAR-OLDS plausibly smoking???

"Second Son wouldn't do that! Anya was watching." Heck yeah Anya standing up for Damian (even though her Damian motives are decidedly ulterior LOL)

"Don't try to drag me into these adult matters in the first place!" An incredibly reasonable request from Damian

Gdljljggjglkj I love these kids telling Glooman 'Actually, the biggest problem is you have a bad personality' True and real and cutting

"Don't worry. The West is a safe place." ANYAAAA. Something something children and their ability to see people outside of the confines of politics

"There's saltwater pouring out of my eyes." The implication that George has not cried once in his six years of life LMAOOOO

Genuinely heartwarming to see all these kids singing for George and giving away their favourite school items for his sake (also I bet you $5 he doesn't actually have to quit this school)

Update from two minutes later: I was correct lol

I've been thinking about this since the hospital volunteering, but it is kind of a flaw in Loid's spy tactics to choose a public-facing job, because at any point someone could just walk into the hospital and realize he doesn't work there kjhgkjhgg like he should've just been some sort of private practice

Loid running home to "check on what Yor was doing at the school" but actually using it as an excuse to ask her on a lunch date <3

As if the show could psychically tell that I was wondering about it, they are now forcing Loid into a "Take Your Kid to Work Day" situation lmaooo

"[Loid] became an important part of our team as soon as he transferred in." How is Loid an important part of the staff if he's constantly out of hospital doing spy stuff??? How is he even capable of giving psychological care???

"To go with the rest of the facade, a number of my coworkers have also inflitrated this hospital." Ah, perhaps the fact he has a research position and other spies in the hospital is enough to cover his absences and maybe make him have fake patients

Honestly, it's a wonder Anya hasn't run into more problems in the spy realm recently other than getting stuck in a secret passage

HHGKJHGKJHGKJGH Loid taking Anya's improvised sandbox of toys as a sign of deep psychological distress

"He golfs at his workplace and creates shady channels." In every class there is one child who has the most chaotic possible interpretation of their parents' job (the kid who says their parent stabs people for money when really their parent is a tattoo artist) and Anya has decided to be that student

"But if Mrs. Forger just happened to retire, that position would have to be filled, would it not?" Why is Fiona so comically evil about getting to fake marry Loid

"But... this woman doesn't seem to have any flaws in her appearance." Even Father-snatcher Fiona Frost thinks Yor is hot

"To think the great Twilight is stuck playing house.. It's a disservice to the world." Loid said: Fuck you Fiona, I like playing house!

This silent spy standoff has certainly taken a turn:

I actually kind of love that Loid is faced with someone else who has feelings for him, because I KNOW for certain he will choose Yor, and I think that's good for Yor to see

"You're already working hard enough, Yor. That's why Anya is so fond of you. I couldn't ask you to do anything more." HE LOVES HERRRRR

I really resonate with Yor's Girls Who Are Bad At Stuff representation kjhgkgjh

"Agent Penguin suffered honourable injuries in battle." Loid sewing up his daughter's penguin stuffy and making up a backstory for their dog chewing him up ❤️ I love hiiiim

I appreciate that Fiona confirms from someone who knew him before Loid has been changed by love (for Yor and Anya)

NOT THE DOUBLE FAKE TENNIS COUPLE NAMES BEING TWAIN AND NAFALIA PHONY

Though, now that I think of it, I guess Loid's given last name is Forger, so really this is a pattern of very silly names

"We've been developing a new doping agent called OSO-R along with the government in preparation for the upcoming East-West Sports Exhibition." Every so often they dip back into the crime world, and today it's sports doping

"I wonder what her relationship with Loid is." Yor babygirl, you do not need to worry about her, Loid is fully Team Yor

I love this little look into all the different things that come up in an infiltration (having to be very good at specific things like tennis, dealing with potential poisons, compensating for traps)

"You're still young, and you're clearly talented. From now on, hone your craft properly. I'm sure you'll become an amazing player." "Twain, I'll really do my best from now on!" Aside from being an incredible professional tennis player, Loid's talents also include reforming his opponents into better people:

Fhfhfkjhfkfjhf Loid every time Fiona comes near Yor: Hey, please leave my wife alone

"Come at me with everything you've got." "Uh, don't, Fiona." Loid knows Yor has enough physical might to beat a hundred tennis players

Yor wanting Loid to praise her for winning the match 🥺❤️

Loid taking Yor on a reassurance date to let her know she's still #1

"Wait, does Yor have romantic feelings for me?!" TOOK YOU LONG ENOUGH, BUT YOU GOT THERE, LOID

NOT LOID IMMEDIATELY SWITCHING TO PLAN HONEY TRAP AND YOR ACCIDENTALLY KICKING SOME SENSE TO HIM

"I can't let my guard down like that. Somehow, being with Yor throws me off." Loid, you stupid man, who can't see that him AND his wife have feelings for each other

"I would love for you to continue being Anya's mother. And to continue in the role of my wife." This is the most honest thing Loid has said in hours

Anya getting Becky a keychain because she didn't think she was allowed to get one for herself!! Sweet girl

What kind of father has ZERO time to interact with his son LMAO (Donovan Desmond, apparently)

"Anya's a little scared because she's not sure if Papa loves her or not. He always gets mad at me. But I believe in him because I love him." ANYAAAAAAAAAA

Papa Desmond and his truly haunting eyes finally make an on-screen appearance and meeting with Loid:

"Even the child that shares your blood is a stranger." Is this a general view from Donovan on his parent-child relationships or is this a shot at Loid for not being Anya's biological father?

"People will never be able to understand each other." What a thing to say about your six-year-old, who is standing right in front of you with his friends

"What's truly important is to continue walking them despite [not understanding each other]. I decided that I would accept her regardless, and I try to find every opportunity I can to talk to her." Loid laying spy ground work on top of challenging Donovan to be a better father. We love a man who can multitask

"I'm pretty sure she doesn't actually dislike you. It'd make me happy if you could be friends with her." "Well, I want to, too..." Gjhgjhgjhfjlfj Loid is also working on Operation Playdate

This has been a pretty delightful show so far. Spy x Family proving to everyone you can fight people AND be nice!!!!

[everythingne]

out of the woods — LS2

After a short break during her time as a Ferrari reserve driver, loud-mouthed driver Dhanishka Dubey resurfaces when she moves up to f1 under Ferrari. She’s back to terrorize her ex, none other than Logan Sargeant when she conquers him once again this season, just like before, just like always.

But when faced with your first love, and your only love, it's hard to let those feelings past. Especially when a relationship was prematurely ended, especially when she's everything you aren't, especially when you never got over his love.

logan sargeant x ferrari!ex!oc

fc: iffat marash (adult) hamda al qubaisi (young)

warnings/notes: mentions of past car accidents, multiple incorrect dates, butchered pasts for logan and oscar, [] used to denote other languages being spoken, yes the title is taylor swift ok, the oc is indian, however the author is NOT, pls pls pls correct me on any inaccuracies ♥️ let me pretend logan didn't have a bad season by putting him on par w oscar. this is for MY mental health !!

(part two)

14 NOVEMBER, INSTAGRAM

scuderiaferrari made a new post!

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, logansargeant, and 238k others…

scuderiaferrari: welcoming dhanishka dubey to the f1 team from her past position of reserve driver this season! she will be the first ever bahraini f1 driver, and the third woman to take to the grid. dhaniska is currently sponsored by @ monsterenergy and @ colourpopcosmetics, she’s bringing a bright, energized feel to our team this season!

dhanishkadubey: so so excited to be here!

charlesleclerc: sometimes i still hear carlos… singing in the distance…

⤷ dhaniskadubey: smooooooooth operatoooorrr

⤷ carlossainz: you both act like i died, i just changed teams.

⤷ charlesleclerc: rip smooth operator &lt;;/3

user2: this is so a jab at williams .

⤷ user3: how ??

⤷ user2: @ user3 dhanishka is logans ex girlfriend

⤷ user3: OOOO

⤷ user4: NO WAY???

oscarpiastri: pls don’t run me off the track again (i will beg if i have to)

⤷ dhanishkadubey: no promises ossie ♥️ (get on ur knees)

⤷ oscarpiastri: AYO??

danielriccardio: DANNY 2!!!

⤷ dhanishkadubey: DANNY 1!!!!

dhanishkadubey made a post!

liked by charlesleclerc, logansargeant, landonorris, and 298k others...

dhanishkadubey: might be the prettiest thing i have ever worn?? happy diwali to u all and a (late) happy 22 to me ♥️ (yea, i AM feeling 22.)

tagged: anyadubey

anyadubey: ily&lt;3

user1: MOTHER IS MOTHERING EVERYONE!!

liamlawson: u look like a very nice disco ball ! happy diwali

⤷ dhanishkadubey: u look like a very nice young man ! thank u!

user2: god we don't need this conceited bitch on the track.

maxverstappen: happy birthday, happy diwali, and welcome to f1!

⤷ dhanishkadubey: thank you max !! looking forward to challenging you this seaon :)!

user3: shes going to get someone killed

14 NOVEMBER, TWITTER

28 FEBRUARY, BAHRAIN

"It's a pre-season dinner, how badly can it go?" Anya asks me, eyes darting down to my sari and then back to my face as she works on pinning the pleats to my shoulder as I adjust them and secure their positioning.

When she’s done, she squeezes my arms as she stands next to me in her much more casual western clothing. We look like opposites, me in a bright red sari and her wearing a black dior sweatshirt and jeans. She grins, “you look stunning by the way."

"Thanks, Anya," I give her a little side hug, passing her to continue fixing myself up in the mirror ahead of us. I huff as I adjust my earrings and bracelets, tacking the former down with eyelash glue, "I just worry if like… Logan says something.”

“You’re gonna let a man, a white man no less, make you worry?” Anya paused, hands on her hips as she looks at me in the mirror of our parents home, the little cookie cutter complex we lived in the corner plot in.

“Plus what would he even say?” Anya crosses her arms, “that whole thing wasn’t even your fault.”

“I know but… I was still Trident’s golden child when it happened. People are always gonna assume I had something to do with it. I’m lucky the FIA didn’t take anything away from me, I’m honestly lucky the team admitted I had nothing to do with it.”

“Does Logan blame you?” Anya leans on the doorframe to my bathroom, “because that’s the only opinion that matters.”

“He might. I… it made him break up with me. So, I don’t know.” I sigh, “but it’s just one guy, I still have Oscar, Charles, Carlos and Daniel.”

“I still don’t get Danny.” Anya muses, and when she sees my confusion she waves a hand, “No, not him, as your nickname.”

“Oh, a reporter called me ‘Dan-ish-ka’ and not ‘Dun-ish-kah’ and someone on Twitter thought she called me Danny and it just—rolled from there.” I laughed softly, turning back to Anya as I motioned for her to move out of the door so I could grab my bag and such. She did with ease, moving to grab the keys to my (but hers when I wasn’t home) Porsche Taycan.

“And, that’s when there were rumors I was joining Red Bulls Junior team as well, instead of Ferrari’s, so it all just kept stacking.” I grabbed my purse off my bed and dropped in a small perfume container, my lipstick, and a few other essentials, “people called me ‘Danny 2’ and it got to Daniel Ricciardo himself, and that’s how we started talking.”

“Oh that’s actually so cute.” Anya grins, following me out to the kitchen where my mother is forcing my father to help her make biryani while she’s fixing up the bar for a party they’re having tonight.

“Alright, [Momma, Dad, how do I look?] Do we like the red one better than the silver one? Anya helped me pick this one out, [she thinks it’s some sort of new style with the solid color.]” I call in the usual mix of Marathi, Arabic, and English out household uses. As I pause in the kitchen, Anya’s fixing my sari out of her own nervous habit. My mother gasps, pushing past my father to take me into her arms with a bright smile.

“Oh! Dhanishka, wow! [You look amazing! I love this one,] is it new?” My mother looks me over and I nod, seeing the hint of my father’s smile from the kitchen that makes my heart sing. He rarely showed his support on his face, but since everything with Trident and the subsequent fall out and mental break, he tried his hardest to show his love for me and Anya. He did a good job.

“Yeah, [it’s from Manish?]” I say, turning back to Anya who nods.

“All of my girls, [so stunning.]” My father grinned, wiping his hands off before giving me a loose hug as to not get anything from his hands on my outfit, “Do you need anything to eat before you go?”

“No, [dad], I’ll be fine. Thank you.” I squeeze his shoulder, and my mother makes me stand back so she can take about a dozen photos of everyone with me. Once the photos are done, we wave goodbye, and it’s off to the restaurant they’ve picked.

I would’ve settled with anything in Manama, honestly but eating at somewhere down by the Four Seasons is perfect.

Anya drops me off to the front of the restaurant and I slip in, greeting the staff and letting them point me in the right direction. My hands are slick as I pull out my phone from my bag, Charles letting me know he was coming in right behind me, and I turn to see him, Max, and Carlos.

“Dhanishka!” Charles grins, leaning down to give me a quick hug, “Oh, this is the one you sent me? It looks nice.”

“Thank you. Figured I’d come in looking like I at least belong in the country I’m in, since I don’t quite fit in with the people yet.” I shrug, fiddling with the red fabric in my hands, feeling the beading against my knuckles. Catching my worry, Charles turns to the two who awkwardly greet me with half hugs and congratulations on driving along with them this season.

Once everyone’s stepped back, Charles nodded to them, “You guys go ahead, we’ll see you in there.”

Carlos and Max move behind a curtain and into a doorway, but Charles grabs my arm gently and pulls me back into a hallway leading to the bathroom, hands finding mine and squeezing them.

“Stop overthinking this, it’s a room with a bunch of stupid men. Basically the same thing you’ve been dealing with for like—over ten years.” Charles looks at me and I huff, pulling my hands back from him and fixing my hair for the third time since we’d gotten to the hallway.

“I just—what if someone brings up the crash? Or me racing with Trident?” I stammer and he shakes his head.

“I’ll deal with it. If anything happens, I’ll help you. I’m in your corner.” Charles takes my hands once more, squeezes them, and then lets go of them, “now, are you ready?”

“As long as you’re next to me, yeah… yeah I can do this.” I nod and he grins, moving ahead to open the door for me. I follow him, taking a slow breath before nodding and moving into the little reserved dining room. At the sight of me, a few conversations halt and I scan the room before noticing Oscar moving away from Logan to come greet me.

Logan’s… the same. Blonde hair, blue eyes, pale skin, crinkles in the corners of his eyes and a permanent smile line as his lips fall from a grin when he spots me. I take him in, his crisp blue suit with the jacket discarded—sleeves rolled up to his elbows, tie a bit loose and fuck, he looks confident and calm. He’s nothing like me in this moment, almost like we’ve swapped.

“Dhanishka.” Oscar steps in my eyeline, breaking the stare down between me and the American boy, and I smile at the Australian as he gently takes me in a hug.

“Good to see you, Oscar.” I close my eyes in the hug, and he steps back.

“Nice—fuck what’s the word—sa..” He holds up a hand when I go to tell him and then snaps, “Saree!”

“I’ve trained you well.” I laugh, complimenting his black suit, noting the decorative papaya colored inside of his jacket and little McLaren ‘81’ lapel. He says Lando has the matching ‘4’ and I make some joke that’s lost over Daniel chanting my name as he comes over to give me a tight hug.

“How’s my mini-me?” He asks, making sure the beading doesn’t hook on his suit as he steps back, I laugh and tell him I’m good, leaving out the part where my ex has been staring at me since I came in the door and I’m about half a second away from yelling at him to look elsewhere.

Luckily, Alex pulls Logan’s attention away— flashing me a small apologetic smile before bringing him over to the little minibar on the opposite side of the room.

“Do you drink?” Charles asks, hand on my elbow and I nod. My parents were lax with drinking and stuff as long as it wasn’t a holiday where I shouldn’t be. He grins and guides me to my seat, Oscar, Daniel and now Carlos tagging along. As I'm settling down to sit, Oscar on my left side with Lando on his left, Charles asking me what I’d like to drink. After a quick peruse of the menu, I settle on a margarita, and he whisks off to the bar to get it while Daniel sits across from me.

“You’re nervous about Logan, aren’t you?” Daniel leans across the table as he speaks, Carlos sitting next to him and taking a sip of a drink. Lando leans to ask Oscar something in a hushed tone besides me, and my eyes flicker to their whispers momentarily before settling back on Daniel.

“I just don’t want someone to bring up Trident, for either of our sakes, its a sore subject.” I huff, looking around the room, everyones clumped off in the groups I expect to see, a few stragglers between each group either drifting to the table or the bar.

"I'm sure if someone tries, it'll get shut down pretty quick." Oscar turns to me after filling Lando in. Charles sits on my other side, setting down my margarita and taking a sip of whatever drink he'd been coerced into drinking. I assume Max had something to do with it when I eye the gin and tonic in his hand.

"I know, I know. I just worry." I hum, bringing the margarita to my lips as a few more people settle. Logan is sitting a few seats down on the other side of the table, giving us both a clear view of the other. I know it's not intentional, but it makes my skin crawl.

Oscar has Lando switch seats with him, claiming he doesn't wanna hear whatever the two will shout over him, but I know it's so that he can help distract Logan. I remind myself tot hank him later.

I set down my margarita glass, standing up to formally greet Yuki as he comes to sit next to Daniel and I notice Logan's eyes firm on the glass. As I sit back down, I know why he's staring and my cheeks warm. Red lipstick stains the edge of the glass, something that I used to use to stain his lips back when we'd sneak kisses between Trident and HWA's paddocks and in hotel elevators.

And he might have had power over me because I was afraid of causing a fight at my first event with the F1 drivers, but being civil and lying down never got me anywhere in racing. So, when his eyes linger on my lips, I 'accidentally' make a show of pulling out my purse and setting it on my lap. My dark red nails clicking along the zipper as I pull it open and pull out a compact mirror and the same tube of red lipstick he'd bought be back in 2021. Logan bought it days before the crash, a Valentino refillable lipstick, more expensive than I deserved. He'd proudly given it to me, claiming his mom had the idea after my long term lipstick had finally run out. It was still shade 22R. The only shade I ever wore.

Even if Logan had bought the lipstick, I still liked it. It looked nice on my lips, complimented my skin, transferred just enough for my liking.

Across the table, Logan's eyes dilate in a sort of recognition as I swipe the tube across my lower lip. My dark eyes watching his light ones out of my peripheral as I watch myself in the my little red compact Valentino mirror. I'd bought it since it matched the tube of lipstick, and I know he recognizes that too. His bottom lip disappears under his teeth in a soft hiss. I know he knew exactly what lipstick it was. He'd bought be the first one, I just got it refilled after.

And if I purposefully fuck it up, using my finger to fix it just to rile him into silence as he looks away flustered, no one else comments on it. Except a cheeky grin from Daniel who muffles a laugh into his palm, pretending Carlos said something to him.

I have the upperhand at the moment, and it eases my panic. Charles looks over at me, sending me an odd look as a click my mirror shut a little louder than I probably should, but a just send him a tiny smile in response and he doesn't question it as I drop both items into my Coach purse and hang it on the back of my chair once more.

Once everyone's settled, it's Max who stands and thanks everyone for coming and thanks Charles for helping him organize the little dinner. Menus are passed around by two waitresses who speak in soft voices as they explain the specials to us in groups, and then we're off to pick our food and mingle. I settle on a 'keto bowl' type dish with salmon and a small appetizer of these little potato wedge things Daniel claims I have to split with him.

And I get a stronger drink because each time Logan even looks in my direction it makes a knot form in my stomach.

"Are you gonna ignore him all night?" Lando turns to murmur to me when we're getting our appetizers. It's been twenty minutes of odd tension and I can tell Lando's getting a little irritated by it.

"I've ignored him for three years. I can do it now." I say back, a little sharp, but when I see Lando's not asking out of irritation but rather worry, I soften and whisper, "It's fine. I..."

Trailing off, my eyes find Logan's accidentally, and it's like I can't look away. It's the second time we've made eye contact, and maybe its the margarita swirling in my stomach and pumping liquid courage through my veins, but I can't look away. It's like we're trapped for a moment, breaths caught in our throats. His voice fails in whatever story he's cheerily recounting to Oscar and Alex, and I see the former look towards where Logan's staring and he makes a bit of a worried expression.

I swallow, Pierre screeching in laughter pulling us from the moment, and I turn back to Lando as Logan rips his eyes away to look at Oscar.

"It's just... hard." I muse and Lando nods, he doesn't say anything about Logan after that as I turn back to Charles who gives me a tiny reassuring nod and then introduces me to the aforementioned Pierre who's come to stand behind us. I keep myself turned away from Logan for the rest of the meal, appetizers swallowed quickly between Daniel and I, Yuki and I sharing drinks and stories as we wait for dinner, I'm at least seven drinks in and happily going for an eighth.

My high tolerance doesn't fail me, but my bladder is close to doing so. With as much tipsy grace as I can muster, I slip out and down the hall to the bathroom, and when I'm done there I stop to freshen myself up in a mirror in the hall. I reapply my perfume, check my teeth, and wipe off a faint smudge of lipstick on my nose from when I had taken a rather large bite and smushed my lip up.

I hear the door click shut and glance over, throat going dry at the sight of Logan. I turn back to the mirror, digging in my purse for my lipstick once more, and he silently passes behind me without a word.

Somehow, that hurts more than anything.

But it's not like I'm making myself available to speak, so I finish tidying up my lipstick, and go back into the room. I grab more drinks for most of the table, thanking the bartender who comes around to help me bring all the drinks to the table.

Entrees arriving at the table passes me in a blur, I'm somehow shoved in a story with Yuki, Zhou, George, Esteban, and Max. I don't even know what they're really saying as everyone's laughing and speaking over one another, but I just enjoy being included.

I eat slow, laughing along with Daniel when he pops into whatever debate Lando, Carlos, and Charles, have pulled him into. And when the hyperactivity dies down as more of us get a bit sluggish from drinking, I eat a bit quicker to finish up my food so it helps my stomach have time to digest before I leave and helps my tipsiness lessen.

I check my phone, it's about ten thirty when we finish eating, and then it's kinda just a free for all hang out for a while. A few people start trickling out after it hits midnight. I know some of them have training tomorrow, as do I, but I kinda can already tell I'm not getting much rest tonight. Alex leaves in a group of about half the table, and I'm helping Charles and Max clean up as the rest slowly trickle out. Eventually I'm escorting Charles to a car as he waves goodbye to Max with a drunken laugh on his lips. Once the driver is on his way, I pluck my phone out of my purse and look through my messages. Anya's on her way, running late due to having to park her car far away since we had a lot of guests at the house.

"You shouldn't... ah," A familiar voice chimes and I look over to where Logan stands. He's far enough away to not be intruding, but close enough to shift towards me a bit as some random men pass behind us on the nearly vacant sidewalk, "You shouldn't stand out here alone, Dhanishka."

Him saying my name makes my heart leap into my throat and I pocket my phone, speaking gently, "Thanks for the concern, but I assure you I'll be fine. Anya's just down the road."

"Still, you know my mom would beat my ass if she knew I left a girl out here alone." He pauses, "Especially if it's you." And his voice trails off. For years his mother had helped raise me, my parents still spoke with her frequently—hell, she and her husband were at my house right now. And I know he’s right. But I can’t say anything past the bump in my throat. My silence makes him shift as he adjusts his grip on his jacket over his shoulder. It was an exceptionally chilly night for some odd reason. A cool breeze ripples across my shoulders. Bahrain was a desert, the lowest we got was 10 degrees celsius, nothing like the zero it was settled at now.

"You can stay." I say after a while and he visibly relaxes, still watching me out of the corner of his eye. The 'few minutes away' Anya texted me feels like a joke as the time stretches on and on and the cold bite of the air gets worse. I try using my saree as a bit of a scarf, but the red fabric is thin and does little to help.

After ten minutes, my teeth start to chatter as the street empties of most people and cars. It's a short hour or so lull when not much will happen at all before people start morning commutes. Beside me, I hear Logan huff. He moves closer and I look over to see him settle his jacket across my shoulders.

"Don't need you getting sick before the first race." He says softly, now far closer than he has been all day. I know I thank him, because I feel the words leave my throat, but I can't hear it over the blood rushing past my ears.

He'd broken it off with me, I never loved another. I still wore the same shade of lipstick and the same perfume, the same songs played on my Spotify whenever I had a chance. Taylor Swift blasting in my ears on long drives, Eminem for parties, Beyonce or Shakira for hyping myself up. I followed the Miami Dolphins loosely because I knew he loved them, and after all this time I found my heart still could be held in his hands. No matter how hard I tried to ignore the feeling of blush spreading across my chilly skin.

After a moment of us just staring at each other, the dim light being broken by passing cars, he whispers, "You can't ignore me forever. As much as you want to, the media is gonna stick us together the first opportunity they have. And... I know I remind you of Trident. I know I remind you of that 'crashgate' shit and maybe I should since you took my victory away."

"You and I both know I had nothing to do with that accident." I turn back to Logan, now fully facing him. I feel suffocated, the scent of his cologne on his jacket covering my perfume, like some sort of silencer washed over my voice. He still wears the same brand from back in the day, from when I stole his jackets and hoodies rather than being gifted them. It felt like a sick metaphor. Somehow we were the same after all this time, yet we would never get to be that again.

"Oh, come on." Logan laughs through a taught frown, threading a hand through his hair, "Now, I can believe that your team principal planned for your teammate to crash into me if I was ahead of you without you knowing. But when they told you to let your teammate overtake you for no reason, you didn't stop to ask why?"

"I did ask why, did you read the FIA reports?" I say back, wind whipping across the street and blowing my hair in front of my eyes like a blindfold.

"Or how about when the accident happened? Why did you keep racing?" He asks, sharp, and I can tell it's something thats been brewing. Years of silence on my end after he'd snapped with tears in his big blue eyes, telling me he 'couldn't do this anymore' and I let him walk away.

But I held my ground, as I always had to do. On my own once again, ostracized, I step closer and rip my hair away from my face in frustration that it wont stay back, "I was told I had to, Logan! I begged them to let me know what had happened to you and they refused! I didn't care about Viscaal! I cared about you!"

"Then why did you let me leave?!" He shouts and the whole street goes silent. We breathe heavy, almost chest to chest, eyes boring into each other with unshed tears. It's a gaping hole in my chest he claws at, trying to scrounge up answers I've buried six feet in the ground. I hear the sound of a car pulling up, I know its Anya without looking.

"What was I supposed to do?" I whisper, ripping his jacket off my shoulders and shoving it into his chest, "Beg you to come back? Apologize a hundred times? You didn't want to see me, you didn't care. I let you go because you wanted to go, and I'm fine with that."

He stares at me and I sniffle, cursing when I realize I've let the tears fall, and I continue, "I never would've let them do that to you if I knew. If I knew, I would've gone right to the FIA, you know that. Don't drag my name like the media already has, please. I can't take it from you of all people, Logan."

We stand in silence for a few more moments and then I turn around, passing in front of Anya's car to get in. I pause with my hand on the handle, watching Logan watch me with this expression in his eyes I can't read. Maybe I was wrong, maybe Logan and I weren't the same anymore, but I don't stop to think too hard as I rip open the door and throw myself down. When I slam the door, Anya puts the car in drive without pausing to ask anything, and pulls away as I desperately try to not watch Logan in the rearview.

"Can we just... drive?" I ask after a long silence and my sister nods, cracking the windows to let the cold air circle around us. I take a slow breath and tilt my head up, swallowing down my emotions until I feel a cool numbness roll across my skin. A familiar numbness.

It's going to be bad again, I can feel it in my chest.

--

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dhanishkajpg: shade 22R. his favorite. red. the color that's always bested him. (viewing translation from arabic)

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taglist (thank you!)

@struggling-with-delia

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If slots are not already filled then may I ask for Ler: Anya, Lee: Yor?

It is okay if you wanna decline this :3

(Not sure if you are taking requests for this fandom or not.. if not then I am sorry 😅)

My HEART!!! God I adore Spy x Family- it's been a hot minute since I've written for them, so this is a perfect opportunity! Friend, I've gotcha covered!

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps):

@thatbigbisexual29 @dirtpie39 @duckymcdoorknob @baby-tickles2022 @cupcake-spice13 @rachi-roo @chibisstuff @imjusthere07 @sevenincubistolemyheart @riisada

“Mama!” Anya stretched out her small hands, eyes glittering with joy. “Let’s play dress up!”

“Dress up?” She asked, surprised by the request. It wasn’t unusual for Anya to want to play; she was ever the adorable if not hyperactive child coming up with games and scenarios for both her toys and parents alike. However- majority of Anya’s games usually centered around some sort of spy related theme- missions and secret operations of the sort. It wasn’t common to hear her request something so…normal sounding. “Okay. I’d love to play dress up with you, Anya! What’s the theme?”

“Disguising ourselves and invading the evil doer’s party!” Anya cried. Yor nearly laughed out loud. Looks like her hunch wasn’t too far off. “I’m gonna need my top agents for the task- but Papa’s working right now. We’ll be short, but it’ll have to do!”

“Very well, agent Anya!” Yor saluted her, ready to help out. “I’ll be sure to put in twice the effort needed to accommodate our shortcomings!”

“What does accom-acu-” Anya blinked, brows furrowing as she tried to say the word. “What does that mean?”

“It means I’m all yours for dressing up.” Yor scooped her up and tickled her gently, making her burst into giggles. “Lead the way, Agent Anya!”

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

Yor knew what she was getting into- and yet at the same time, she wasn’t prepared at the slightest.

“Mama, you’re gonna blend right in!” Anya cheered in glee, running the small but surprisingly painful plastic brush through the back of Yor’s hair again and again. She usually made sure to detangle it every morning, but given it’d been up most of the day in her usual style, there were a few snags. Every hidden wince felt like repentance for the days she forced Yuri to sit still while she combed through the bird’s nest on his head growing up. “And you’re gonna look super pretty!”

“Aww! Tha-ank you Anya!” Yor smiled despite the sharp tug, internally glad when she heard her daughter put the brush down. “What kind of party is it? Did you get any intel?”

“But of course. Agent Bond was on the case- he said it was a mass-mass-masquito ball!”

“Masquerade ball?” Where did Anya learn that?

“Yeah! He said it was full of fancy people all hiding their faces with masks! He said he saw the bad guy at the party too. They were trading super secret messages!” Anya reached out and tugged at Yor’s hair some, gathering bits up the best she could. “We need to in-infull..”

“Infiltrate?”

“Yeah!” Anya nodded, her excitement once again tugging at Yor’s head and making her wince slightly. “In fa-trait the secrets, Agent Mama!”

“I won’t let them get away!” Despite her cheery voice, she could feel Anya getting a bit frustrated. Her arms weren’t long enough to gather all of Yor’s hair, and her even smaller hands weren’t quite dexterous enough  to do much with it. She was about to offer a hand when Anya’s fingers slipped, pressing into her collarbones. “Ee!”

“Oops- did I hurt you?” Anya asked, wide eyed and voice sounding suddenly thick. Yor had to be quick.

“Oh no, honey- not at all!” She reassured her, smiling. “I’m just a bit ticklish there.”

Anya’s tears faded, her face a look of wonder. “Mama is ticklish?” Oh dear- maybe she shouldn’t have been that honest.

“Just a little bit.” Yor gave her one last smile before turning her back to her daughter- already knowing where this was going but deciding to accept her fate. “Don’t tell anyone, okay?”

Anya giggled. “Okay!” When her small hands came back to her hair however, they didn’t make their mark. Instead, they gently rested on her shoulders, skittering. “Tickle tickle Mama! Hehehe!”

“Ah! Ahahahhaha! Oohohohoho nohohohoho!” Yor burst into giggles, shrugging her shoulders up as she barely leaned away, giggling up a storm. “Mihihihy ohoohonly wehahhahakness! Nohohohot tiihhihihickling!”

Did it really tickle? Kinda- but Yor wasn’t gonna rain on Anya’s parade. Especially when she let out a delighted squeal, proud of her discovery. “I got you now! This was all a trick Agent Mama- or should I say; the bad guy?”

Yor let out a dramatic gasp through her giggle fits, clutching her pearls. “Hhohoohw did yohohohou know? I thohohohught I hahahd a goohohohod coohohover! Ahehahhahhaaha!”

“Agent Anya knows all! I had my team following both the party and you! Tell me- where’s the real Agen Mama?” She switched to poking now- which okay, maybe it really tickled this time! Yor let out a surprised giggle as she fell over, still giving Anya equal opportunity to tickle her. “Spill the beans!”

“Nehnehehehver! I’ll nehehehver thehehell!” Yor cried back, laughing now more out of Anya’s adorable antics than from the tickling. “Yoohohu’ll nehhehehever ghehhet me to squeuueahahal!”

“So you say- but I’ve got you! Agent Bond! Help!” With her call, Bond came bounding into the room, woofing and skittering against the wooden floors. “Help me make her confess!”

“Borf!” Now Yor had two beings on her- Anya and her tickly fingers and Bond with his relentless kisses! She let out a squeal of laughter at the attacks, trying to gently push Bond away while petting him simultaneously. This of course only encouraged the big furball, leaving her more entrapped then before.

“Nohohohohohoohoho pleahhahahhahse! Pleahahhhahse I’ll tehhehehell yoohohohohu!” Yor cried, tapping out against the ground beneath her when she finally reached her limit. In response, Anya stopped her tickles, and even Bond refrained from further drowning her in kisses. “Thahahnk you.”

“You're welcome. Now- tell me where Agent Mama is!” Anya puffed her cheeks determinedly, balling her fists up to show true determination. Yor let out a giggle before grabbing around her eyes, pretending to peel back a mask. “AH! Agent Mama?! It was you all along!”

“Ha ha! Yes- it was me! This was all a test from the-erm, peanut corps! They wanted to see if you were up to par with your investigation!” Yor sat up, struggling not to laugh at Anya’s jaw dropped expression. “Congratulations, Agent Anya. You have passed!”

Anya went from shock to excited, gleefully jumping into Yor’s arms with a happy cry. “Yay! We passed, Bond! We passed!”

Their cheering was suddenly interrupted by someone clearing their throat. All eyes turned to a clearly amused Loid leaning against the doorframe. “Am I interrupting?”

“Papa!” Anya ran over at full speed, nearly knocking the air out of him. “You’re home!”

“Welcome back, Loid.” Yor smiled at the sight, smoothing her hair down with a small blush as she stood. “How was work?”

“It was…certainly interesting.” Loid laughed gently, patting Anya’s head. “Go wash up for dinner. I’m making hamburg steak tonight.”

Anya let out a delighted squeal as she ran off, Bond following and leaving the two adults alone. Yor giggled in her hand, her heart warm at just how precious Anya was. “She’s so sweet. Hm? What is it?”

Loid was staring at her- well; he was before she pointed it out. His gaze was so soft and kind- an expression she’d swore she’d seen a hundred times before but felt different all the same. “Sorry- I…don’t really know. I think I was lost for words for a minute there.”

Yor’s eyes widened some, her cheeks filling with color. Surely he didn’t mean it like the way all those romantic leads in movies meant it? His own face colored as he looked away, gaze shy and ever so cute. “I should go make dinner. I’ll see you soon?”

“Oh, erm. Absolutely. I’ll come help.” She nodded as he turned to go, fanning at her cheeks.

“Yor.”

“What?” She nearly jumped at her own name. He seemed to linger, shoulders tense.

“You…you’re very pretty when you laugh.” His ears were on fire as he practically sprinted away. Yor’s ears were ringing from the amount of blood that flooded her cheeks at his words. Was she swaying? Was this swooning?

Did he…call her pretty?

Her lips pulled into a smile, hands against her chest as if to keep her heart from breaking free. She waited until it was at a reasonable pace before joining her husband and daughter for dinner.

It never did slow down though. Not once.

Thanks for reading!