#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 🥰🥰🥰

[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 :)

[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.

[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

[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 TOUP��ES 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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@struggling-with-delia

[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

[musicalmoritz]

Just saw your TBHK headcanons post and saw the one about Akane being the father who stepped up for Tiara since she sees him and Teru as her parents (Literally adore the mental image btw) Do you have any other headcanons for how Akane and Tiara would interact?

Omg yayyyyy yay more TBHK found family asks. Ya’ll are giving me too much to yap about, I feel spoiled. Alright onto the silliest father/daughter duo of all time, we’re about to take more liberties with fanon so everybody fasten your seatbelts

• So this headcanon happened as a result of the whole “Teru is basically raising Kou and Tiara” thing

• I feel like it’s true, their dad is absent and while most of the household work falls on Kou (a massive responsibility on its own), Teru seems to take on more of the “parenting” responsibilities. Such as training Kou and giving him guidance, plus the way he interacts with Tiara feels v much like a parent and their child

• I don’t mean to take away the sibling dynamic at all tho, there are plenty of oldest siblings out there that have had to raise their younger siblings. Being a parental figure doesn’t cancel out one’s role as a sibling

• Anyways that made me think that whoever Teru ends up dating is probably gonna end up co-parenting Tiara, especially if it turns into a long term relationship

• If their dad never gets his act together Teru will likely be the one having to raise Tiara into adulthood, I don’t think he’d let Kou take on that much responsibility (plus he likes to be involved in his siblings lives, I think he’d genuinely enjoy it)

• Since Teru and Kou are closer in age tho I don’t think the co-parenting thing applies to Kou, he’d be a regular brother-in-law (minus maybe one awkward “I’m not calling him dad” moment)

• Terukane is my main Teru ship so naturally I have to imagine Akane getting overly involved with the Minamotos

• “But what would that progression look like?” Tysm for asking, I’ve given way too much thought to this

• Tiara initially goes through a phase of not liking Akane very much, he’s way too blunt with her and she’s used to being coddled

• In return, Akane doesn’t like Tiara too much bcuz we all know he’s not above beefing with toddlers

• Since Tiara is five tho she gets over that hatred pretty quickly. All Akane has to do is, like, bring her a juice box and suddenly they’re best friends

• Akane wants to make Teru’s life a little easier bcuz he can’t help but want to take care of every person he falls for. I do believe his obsession with Aoi was unique but I also like to think it’s partially just an Akane thing, when he falls he falls hard. He locks in

• When I write Terukane I usually try to balance their canon dynamic with Akane’s obsessiveness, tho I don’t mind when some writers lean more into his yandere side for the ship. I know some shippers really hate it but I kinda like seeing various interpretations (keep in mind tho I don’t read Terukane fics often so I’m not the best authority on this lol)

• Holy Tangent, Batman! That is not what these headcanons are about. I need to yap on track

• Anyways, because Akane wants to take care of Teru he ends up babysitting Tiara a lot. This gives both the Minamoto brothers more free time, and it fulfills Akane’s need to constantly be making himself useful

• Their dynamic is one of the very imaginative, hyperactive child and the apathetic dad who adores her. He’s not overly doting like Kou and Teru are but that’s weirdly what makes Tiara attach herself to him, he’s different from most people she knows

• Oh yeah she calls him papa btw. This stems from my headcanon that she calls Teru mama, and this is where I have to reaffirm that I’m not trying to feminize him guys I just think it’s funny :(

• Basically just picture Loid and Anya from Spy x Family, that is how I imagine Akane and Tiara

• He hangs around so often that she genuinely starts to think of Teru and Akane as her dads. This indirectly strengthens their relationship bcuz like…they can’t just break up now. That would be like divorce for Tiara

• Every time they have a mild argument Teru’s like “think of Tiara :(”

• In turn, Akane starts acting more like a dad. He takes Tiara to the park and prepares her snacks when Kou is busy

• One day Tiara calls him papa in front of his parents and they have to grapple with the realization that their son has had a whole ass child for months and neither of them knew

• Akane’s dad panicked for like a full minute thinking it was a teen pregnancy before he realized that’s not really possible

• Akane would def introduce Tiara to his favorite rock bands (totally not based off me and my dad)

• Seeing Teru and Akane together actually helped Tiara understand the concept of marriage (since she doesn’t seem to understand it in canon), and that there are different types of relationships. Teru had to sit her down once and carefully explain that he and Akane aren’t married. She didn’t get it but, oh well, baby steps

• Akane introduces Tiara to people as his daughter, which results in a lot of confused looks from strangers

• When she gets older Teru becomes “dad” but Akane stays papa. She also calls him “old man” sometimes

• Since everyone seems to agree Mirai is a sister-figure to Akane, I could def see her making Tiara call her “Aunt Mirai” lmao (they would be best friends, trust)

• If someone upsets Akane or tries to hurt him, Tiara will go full lightning mode on them. Legend has it her first words were “Nah, I’d win”

• By the time Akane meets the Minamoto Father it goes down like “Who are you??” “I’m the owner of this house🤨”

• “Father?? No, you’ve been demoted to grandpa”

• Akane gives Tiara a lot of piggyback rides

• He tries to give her a lot of attention bcuz his own parents aren’t very involved in his life and he knows that can cause issues

• She likes her sandwiches cut into little shapes and Akane can accurately guess which shape she wants every time

• He can do hair really well because of Aoi and Mirai so he styles Tiara’s for her a lot

• I like the headcanon of Akane becoming a psych major (we’re twinning) so I like to imagine that when he eventually takes a lifespan development or child psych class he’s like “Teru. Teru we need to develop authoritative parenting styles. Teru we’ve been too permissive. Teru.” • I think they’d already be authoritative but shhh

• He becomes mindful of the type of attachment style Tiara has and tries to make her feel as secure as possible

• He picks up a couple parenting books

• Him and Teru would also be the type to read their Tiara LGBTQ+ children’s books. Woke parenting/j

• I think it would make both Teru and Akane happy to know they don’t have to go through with getting married and a whole adoption process for Tiara to see them as her parents. They don’t have to rush into anything or follow any standard process, they can just do their own thing and be a happy little family

• And Tiara gets to grow up with two parents who love her more than anything in the world

I’m ending it there because I could yap abt the Minamotos forever. Glad I got to spend my Terukane Girl Dads agenda again. Hope you enjoyed!!

[miss-ali-lawliet]

Anya's background!

Hello! I am so excited to talk about my latest oc, my beloved Anya! She is paired with Laios, and a part of me is interested in possibly writing about what it would be like with her in the party! For this post I’ll tell y'all about some background info on her, I'll have a separate post most likely about her relationship with the party and specifically Laios. The first picture is an art commission I got made by Jaijiggles on Instagram! Check them out! The end of the post sketch is made by myself!

Some basic things before delving in deeper

Her full name is Anastasia, but she prefers being called Anya. She's not even fully sure why, but it makes her happy.

Her parents are both elves, meaning she is an elf, but they also became poly when she was an adult! So she has a second mom, a human woman who fell in love with her mother mainly but also loves her father very much as well. Very healthy relationship.

Her Nana is a dwarf that isn’t blood related who lived with her and helped teach her everything she knows as well as her parents.

Anya was raised in the north, not the west, and with her influences, she grew up having general respect and admiration for all races and not just her own.

She is autistic! Her main special interest is nature and animals, having such a general love and respect for all living creatures, including monsters. 

Her special interest and because of her influences in her life, she would learn what she could to become a druid mage! She also handles healing, much like her Nana, but she offers a bit more offense with her magic mainly. Including being able to transform into animals. 

Despite being brief childhood friends, it was that friendship that pushed her to bask in her passions despite what outsiders may say or think.

Because as pretty as she may look, she would be classified as weird(yet she’s literally just autistic lol) that she grew to learn how to mask when around strangers a bit more, before she was reunited with her previous childhood friends when they arrived at the same island she had moved to not too long ago.

With them, she felt like she could freely be herself without judgment, and they could honestly say the same towards her.

She could be best comparable to a rabbit, which is also one of her many favorite animals.

She really loves fruits and veggies, and honestly she really isn’t a picky eater at all. 

She also really wasn’t opposed to eating monsters either, sure it’s odd, but if dungeons have their own sustaining ecosystems.. It had to be alright to benefit from something like that? And Laios was right! She supported him full-heartedly, trying to appease the other’s about their skepticism. Especially Marcille. 

It’s hard for her to pick a favorite monster, she absolutely loves Senshi’s cooking, but one of her favorite treats was the ghost sorbet, and dragon meat really is one of her favorites as well.

Background

Anastasia is an elf, yet she grew up raised in the north rather than the west. 

Before I move onto anything else, I’ll talk about her parents! Her mother is a powerful mage, even used to work with the royalty of the elves. Her father mainly focused on combat, his favorite weapon being his trusty bow and arrow. Both elves that lived in the West for a long time, but they felt themselves growing disdain with the treatment of other races from the elves point of view. Her mother always liked tallmen/women, and thought the races were just as brilliant in their own shared ways (she is neurodivergent, which did pass down to her daughter) and her father found himself sympathizing with her views.

So what did they do? They decided to leave, heading to the North where they would join an adventurer’s party together to make more of a living. The party had become a bit of a found family in a way, and her mother was particularly close with a dwarven female named Mirja. 

They had a good life together that way for a while until it was discovered that she was pregnant. It was a bit of a wake up call for the couple, that perhaps after the adventures they shared, the biggest one they’d have to tackle was parenthood, and they wanted to do it away from the dangers of the life they lived for a while now. 

So they would leave the party, but they wouldn’t leave empty handed. Mirja would insist on coming with them, that they would need all the help they could get. Dungeons and fighting monsters were one thing, but parenthood? She knew they needed the extra hands. With that, they would travel more north to try to find a home.

There they found a place to live, and they had their daughter, Anastasia!

They would raise her there for a long time, but when she got older they would eventually have to leave her childhood home due to unfortunate circumstances, which had an ex party member suggest a certain village to live near temporarily with some of that party member’s family there. 

Anya’s family found themselves staying near the same village that Laios and Falin Lived in. From the elf girl’s wandering around until coming across the siblings. Despite being there for a short time, she had spent so much of her time with them both, being each other’s real first friends. Their friendships were something that Anya held close to her heart and cherished deeply, they had such a deep impact on her that she held onto into her adulthood.

She had so many good memories with them, that it really was devastating for the three of them when she had to leave. She wished that she could see them again one day, and she vowed to herself that she would come back to the village in the future if necessary. 

Her family found their new proper home on a farm, and from there the young elf would continue to learn from her family. She was essentially home-schooled, learning from her mother and her mage work as well as from Mirja who was a druid-cleric.

For years, she was so dedicated to her work that once she left home she would move to start with taking on jobs to help her get experience.

They weren’t crazy jobs, but it was enough for her to try to ‘learn’ to be normal and get better with her magic. Years passed like this, her moving between groups and people, until she would finally move to the Island. It’s on that island, when staying in inns that she would come across two newcomers to the island one day. It was Laios and Falin! 

After being reunited with them, they would of course decide to all move in together so they could be able to afford someplace decent while also starting to take on work together!

They eventually would join their first party together with Shuro, Namari, Chilchuck, and Marcille, leading to the events we all know. 

I think I'll end this right here before it gets too long! I hope you all are having a great rest of your day/night!

[changingplumbob]

Foster Household: Chapter 9, Part 7

CW: Mental Health Struggles - Guide to content warnings

The last thing Carson felt like doing on a warm morning was dressing up and getting the ferry to Copperdale, but he had no choice. That’s where the high school was, even if it was covered in several inches of snow. He quickly headed inside to the library to double check his homework. Confident he hadn’t missed anything he decided to go find some friends.

Darwin was in his usual spot, asking the milling students for some homework he could copy. Study was not his priority.

Darwin: Carson! My best buddy. How about that math homework? Can I check your answers

Carson: Math home- we didn’t have math homework

Darwin: You sure? I got a text from Anya reminding me but then I changed topics

Carson: She’s not even in our year Darwin. And isn’t she like best friends with Artemisia?

Darwin: Oh yeah. She must have taken her phone and sent me a bogus text, she takes me flirting with her friend personally for some reason

Nanami: So I’m thinking we should shift you more to the middle and then while you’ve got the flyer-

Onyx: We’ll have more room for tumbling up the left side, got it

Ariadne: Hey Onyx

Onyx: Hmm? Oh hey Ariadne. Have you met Nanami? She’s in cheer with me

Ariadne: I don’t think so. I was actually hoping I could speak with you for a minute

Onyx: Yeah sure. Catch you in math Nanami?

Nanami: Math. The best class for doodling routines in

Onyx: You all good Ariadne

Ariadne: Yeah thanks. I, um... how close are you and Carson

Onyx: Me and Carson? Oh we go way back, best friends since forever

Ariadne: Are you and he... like together?

Onyx: What? No, no. We just grew up together in scouts and stuff, our dads are best friends

Ariadne: So he... he’s not dating anyone?

Onyx: *smiling* Tell you what, he’s over there by the mural project if you wanted to check with him

Ariadne: Oh no, I mean I didn’t-

Onyx: Bye now

Carson stared at the wall. What to paint, what to paint, what to paint? He was deep in thought when he heard Ariadne talking and had to stop himself kicking over a paint can accidentally.

Carson: Sorry what?

Ariadne: Oh, ah... I just asked if you’re... painting anyone-thing at the moment

Carson: I’m trying to paint but *sighs* I don’t know how mum does it. I love art but a blank canvas and I just falter. Maybe I didn’t inherit the right genes

Ariadne: I know what you mean. My grandmother... well she did a lot and I’m not sure I can do any of it half as well

Carson: I’m sure you can, you're brilliant

Carson was busy staring at the mural but that made Ariadne smile.

Ariadne: It’s so much colder here than Sulani, how do you stand the change everyday

Carson: *shrugs* I get by. I mean I have been in snow when we lived in willow creek. Are you cold?

Ariadne: Yeah... a little bit

Carson: You should tell your dads. I’m sure they’d wrap you in furs before you could blink

Ariadne: Oh I like my animals alive thanks. Listen, could we- I wanted to ask...

The bell rung loudly and a startled Carson began to pack up, terrified of being late. If he was late his grade would go down. Or he’d get detention. And if he got detention once he was bound to keep getting it and then he’d be kicked out of school. His parents would probably die from embarrassment. Wait, Ariadne had been saying something...

Carson: Sorry, you were going to ask something?

Ariadne: Nevermind, I better get to class

Carson tucked the paints away and watched her walk off. He liked that they were both wearing green today. It was matching in a way. Not that she was likely to want to match with him. Especially if he got kicked out of school. He ran the rest of the way to class one she was out of view.

Mrs T: Hurry up, everyone sit down. Who can tell me what we did in our last math class

Darwin: Sleep

Mrs T: We all know you did Darwin, we heard you snoring

The class giggled and Darwin tried to look put out but Carson knew he loved being the centre of attention.

Carson: We were talking about how to find x if there’s more than one

Mrs T: Very good Carson. Now, who can tell me our first step to solve the written equation

Carson: Nice job on that last question Paola, it threw me for a loop

Paola: Thanks! I was practising all weekend, no way am I flunking exams this week

Onyx came over and pulled Carson aside.

Onyx: What do you think you’re doing

Carson: Talking to our friend?

Onyx: Dude did Ariadne not talk to you? I think she’s interested. Last thing you want her to see is you talking to someone attractive. Oh quick, look like you’re talking to me so I can watch Zharfina

Carson: Does she... have binoculars?

Onyx: Isn’t it adorable

After eating Carson went to work on the mural again. Every so often he checked behind him to see who was around. He hoped Ariadne would come over and talk again, he was a doofus for not giving her more attention earlier. When she did come in she made a beeline for the food and Carson was sad to see that Artemisia was there talking to her. Stupid. Artemisia was probably busy telling her that Carson was seeing half a dozen girls, or gave terrible hugs, or-

Carson got so worked up at himself he had to leave the mural to chill out upstairs before class. As it was he almost stabbed his book with his pencil several times during science class. Thank goodness he had an appointment with Chad after school.

Previous ... Next

[j4m3s-b4k3r]

The Darkest Of Angels

The latest instalment in the MAD MAX series, FURIOSA, is not as inventive as its predecessor, FURY ROAD. There are few moments to match the kooky joy of seeing the DOOF WARRIOR thrashing his guitar made out of a bedpan, atop a truck full of Taiko drummers in this movie. But FURIOSA delivered, and not in the ways expected. It is dark. A post-nuclear Dickensian western. A harrowing tale of an orphan taken to the Wasteland workhouse. With no inheritance to save her day, she wants revenge. There's plenty of George Miller’s signature kinetic storytelling. This isn't mere mayhem, but a thoughtful meditation on war, revenge, grief, and hope, told in 5 chapters.

1: The Pole of Inaccessibility

“Do Not Look Away, You Mustn’t Look Away.”

The tale begins in the “Green Place”, an EDEN hidden in the Wasteland. Instead of an apple, a peach is plucked by a little girl - a much younger FURIOSA. For the first hour, the titular character is played by Alyla Browne, who gives an absolutely riveting performance. Many of the traumatic moments that will shape the character are dealt with by this incredible young actor. 

Furiosa is soon kidnapped by the motorbike crazies that populate the MAD MAX films. Unfortunately for the goons, Furiosa’s mum MARY JABASSA is a veritable fury, and relentlessly hunts them down. Played by Charlee Fraser, the character isn’t in the story for long but she absolutely fizzes with intensity while she’s on screen. Leaving a white hot afterglow that lasts for the rest of the film. Unfortunately, she is soon dealt with by the villain of the tale. 

When we first meet DEMENTUS, he is clothed in white robes, like a desert messiah in his tent. Hemsworth’s performance is one of the highlights of the film. Dementus has a rural Australian accent, and a speaking style reminiscent of earlier generations. This may be lost on anyone without a small town Australian grandfather, but for me it had a chilling effect. At once folksy, familiar and terrifying. Most of the quotable lines from this film are from Dementus. He’s a bad egg, but eminently watchable. A Long John Silver of the desert.

2: Lessons from the Wasteland

"Who's got the goods? The bollocks, the testes to ride with Dementus?! "

Anya Taylor-Joy was arresting, and did wonders with a largely non verbal role. She was a strange choice for the role though. Alyla Browne believably played a child version of Charlize Theron, but Anya Taylor-Joy’s distinctive features and slight frame aren’t going to look like Theron in 10-15 years time. 

When Charlize Theron’s FURIOSA spoke with a north American accent in FURY ROAD, I accepted it as possible in Miller’s Wasteland. After all, we’d already learned years ago that way out in the middle of the outback, you might meet... TINA TURNER. So yeah, that accent made sense in 2015. However, we now know that Furiosa’s parents and childhood accent were both Australian. Then, she somehow acquires a North American accent growing up in the Citadel. Surrounded by Aussie War Boys?

George Miller deservedly gets praise for his imaginative visual world building and storytelling, but sometimes his world doesn’t make ‘sense’. I know that these films are best taken as kinetic & operatic comic books, taking place in a mythic world. However, inconsistencies sometimes break the spell, popping me out of the movie watching experience, to ask real world questions. 

However, Tom Burke’s Aussie accent was flawless, and his turn as PRAETORIAN JACK was wonderful. A stoic character, with as many wounds and losses as any other wretch in this misbegotten landscape, but who hasn’t lost the ability to be humane.

3: The Stowaway

“Didja see that? How they fought for each other, this little army of two? Where were they going, so full of hope?”

Each MAD MAX film thus far took us to a completely new part of the Wasteland. FURIOSA too shows us a new location, the Green Place. Experienced for mere moments, before being hauled to locations we’d previously seen in FURY ROAD. 

Though shown 15-20 years earlier, they looked exactly the same. Instead of seeing The Citadel only partially built, ruled by a younger Immortan Joe (perhaps not yet needing his mask, but already showing the signs of physical frailties?) characters & locations look as they did in a movie set 15-20 years later.The only character who shows the passage of time is Furiosa herself. 

George Miller takes big swings with these MAD MAX films, but in completely different ways with each one. FURIOSA is back to a revenge story, which is where the series began, but with a completely different structure this time. Ending on a dialogue in the desert, instead of blow-the-hinges off action sequence. After the excitement of what came before, a verbal showdown in the desert was anticlimactic for some. ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE WEST, climaxing with jibber jabber instead of Leone’s gunfight. For me though, this ending (and Hemsworth’s speech) was one of the high points of the film.

The film has many images that stay with me - A time-lapse shot of a young tree growing from a discarded wig. A lizard eats flies buzzing around a skull in the desert, only to be crushed under a racing motorbike tire. Parasailing marauders attack a giant truck from the sky. The sadistically twisted villain wears a child’s teddy bear. Owned by a victim? Or his own children from long ago? What a grimly beautiful world this is.

4: Homeward

“There will always be war. But to get home, Furiosa fought the world.”

Some critics said FURIOSA was “an epic slice of myth-making”, while others called it “a joyless, pointless, pretentious and inartistic slog”. Generally though, critical response was effusive. 90% on Rotten Tomatoes with an 89% audience score. Interestingly, these action films are consistently rated higher by critics than by audiences:

FURIOSA: 90%/89% FURY ROAD: 97%/86%  BEYOND THUNDERDOME: 79%/49%  ROAD WARRIOR: 94%/86%  MAD MAX: 90%/70% 

Also interesting, is that FURIOSA’s audience score is the highest of all the 5 films. Stranger still is that this favourable response didn’t result in box office success.. There are many theories as to why this is so. Although some say that this is the best prequel ever, any prequel is by definition unnecessary. Perhaps those that focus on a sidekick character will have a harder time connecting with audiences. Especially if the franchise’s main character is a no show. (Likewise, SHORT ROUND: AN INDIANA JONES SAGA might tank at the box office too, if Indy only has a cameo of mere seconds.)

This gets to why an audience decides to go see a movie. Personally, I just needed to know that George Miller - a director I’ve followed since my teens - was making another movie. That’s it. I was already in line before I knew what it was about. But most people, even MAD MAX fans, lost interest when they heard the famous character wasn’t in it. Joe & Jane Public bond with actors and characters. Directors not so much.

5. Beyond Vengeance

“D’ya have it in ya to make it epic?”

Movies used to be cheap entertainment, that audiences could afford to take a chance on, but they are expensive nowadays. Especially with all the bells & whistles of IMAX and reserved seating. People have been burned so many times by gushing press luring them to lame movies, that positive reviews and ‘buzz’ are now simply assumed to be studio psyops. Flatly ignored. Instead, if it’s a film they are unsure of, many prefer to wait a few weeks and try movies at home, affordably. On the big screen TVs & sound systems bought during the pandemic.

Given FURIOSA’s poor box office, we may never get the 6th instalment in the MAD MAX saga; WASTELAND. Which makes me regret that George Miller hadn’t made that film before this one. FURIOSA isn’t my fave of the MAD MAX films, but ranks high in my personal list. A fantastic addition to this series, that deserved more success than it got, sadly. Seeing George Miller stretch himself, in this mythic world he has constructed over decades, is a true cinematic joy.

“To feel alive, we seek sensation — any sensation to wash away the cranky black sorrow!”

[maxislvt]

Imagine this Alpha!Emo!Wanda w Omega!reader who just gave birth to both of her pups, Wanda who's really protective of r who is in labor she snarls at the nurse's because of the fear of hurting her mate and her pup's, so Wanda scent marks and holds reader the entire time of the process and at the end of everything Wanda teary-eyed gives reader kisses and praises after the birth of the 2 of her pup's and reader just looks at her with love in her eye's

(The birth is natural and the pup's are twin females, the names are Nadia and anya)

warnings: omegaverse, pregnancy

Wanda's parents had instilled a number of principles in the very second she presented as an alpha. They spent years teaching her everything that a good alpha was supposed to do. It was embarrassing, but Wanda was thankful for it. Having a mate wasn't on her mind at the time. Only after meeting you did she start practicing what she was taught. Wanda had always been kind, but she always made sure to go an extra mile when you were around. The effort had truly paid off in the end. After months of longing stares and a few awkward dates, Wanda was able to finally claim you.

She was over the moon. No one could take you from her and nothing could get her down. The only thing that made her happier was finally getting you pregnant. Wanda was terrified at first. Though her parents were no longer there to be proud of her, she still wanted to honor them. Which meant you were to spend the following nine months under the most possessive care you'd ever been in.

You understood it at first. Pregnancy was a vulnerable state for omegas and any good alpha would do their best to keep a pregnant omega safe. Wanda's firm touches and insistent pampering didn't bother you much. It didn't get bad until your second trimester of pregnancy. Wanda started to become unreasonable. Nothing could convince her to relax. Especially not if you dared leave your nest to do anything besides eat or use the bathroom. Wanda had always been protective, but it was starting to worry you.

"You're growling again," You said softly with your eyes still closed. Sleep while nine months pregnant was hard already, the constant shifting and growling of your mate had only made it worse. You nuzzled into Wanda's neck, covering her in your scent. "Relax, everything is going to be fine. We're safe."

Wanda wrapped her arms around your and kissed your forehead. Anxiety had overtaken her as your pregnancy continued. "Sorry, it's just…I don't know." Sitting still was difficult. Every bone in her body ached to establish dominance and protect you, but there was nothing to protect you from. If she wasn't worried about you being in danger, she worried that she wasn't good enough. "Am I…enough?" Part of her dreaded asking you that question. What if all her fears were right and she was useless?

You ran your fingers through Wanda's hair. "Baby, you're more than enough. I wouldn't have stayed with you if you weren't." You grabbed her hand and put it against the curve of your stomach and placed a firm kiss on her cheek. "In a few weeks, you'll be a mommy and I'm so happy to raise these kids with you." A groan interrupted your words before you could continue. "Ah, I guess they're happy to have you as a mom too."

Wanda wiggled her way down to your stomach. She pressed her ear up against the curve of your stomach. "Do you think they can hear us?" Your hum of agreement made her heart swell. An unfamiliar heat spread across her face and chest, but she began to speak anyway. "I hope you girls are listening, but I get it if you two need to rest up…I can't wait to meet you. Just go easy on your fish tank until you come out." She softly kissed your tummy. "I don't know if I'm what you're hoping for, but I promise I'll do my best for you guys."

"Did you call me a fish tank?"

"...I mean, the guppies are inside of you."

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

After several long hours of labor, you had finally given birth to two beautiful baby girls. You were sweaty, hungry, and absolutely drained but you were happy.

"They look like…us." It was a simple statement, but one full of awe and happiness. Wanda carefully took one of the swaddled babies from your arms and held it close to her chest. "She's so small." She would have spent hours playing with their little hands and fingers, but eventually the nurses had come back and needed the children. "No," Wanda said harshly before baring her teeth at the smaller woman.

"Wanda, they just need to run some tests. I promise they'll be fine." You handed one of the twins over to be placed in the plastic crib. "I'm so sorry about her. Y'know how alpha can get." You smiled at the nurse hoping to make up for your wife's aggression. "I'll handle her, I promise."

The nurse nodded and smiled back as politely as she could. "It's no problem at all. Alphas are usually overprotective after their omegas give birth, especially if they're first time parents!" She placed your children into the cribs and quickly rolled out of the room.

"Come, lay down. You've done enough pacing for the both of us."

Wanda slowly sat down on your bed. "Are you hungry? I can go get you something from the cafeteria if you want. I know you can't have anything just yet but I'm sure a-"

You pulled Wanda into a kiss and then peppered more over her face. "I'm fine. Just be with me for a few minutes. We'll go see the babies once they're done."

Wanda let out a defeated whimper but snuggled up next you.

[asherbakugou]

Daughter of Tyraxes

Goddess of Peace, Wisdom, Strategy, and Reason

The Eyrie was absolutely beautiful, pale white stone gleaming in the light of the moonlight. The Keep rests at the very top of a mountain, making it difficult to reach, but making it seem ethereal in a way. From every room within the Eyrie has a stunning view, with every window giving them the view of the sky, nearby mountains, or the nearby cities.

Queen Alicent Hightower despised it. Hated the Eyrie, hated the cold mountain air, hated the views, hated the servents, and Lords and Ladies of the Vale. Every look she recieved, instead of being in awe of her piousness, grace, and beauty, they looked upon her in contempt, viewing her as a replacement of the Late Queen Aemma Arryn.

They seemed to forget that the Queen was a failure, having only given the King a singular daughter while she had given him two sons and a daughter. Yet she was punished, forced to watch as his whore of a daughter flaunted her position as heir, carrying around her bastard, alongside her swordswallowing husband.

She had given him a son, the son he had killed Aemma Arryn for, and yet he was not given the title he deserved. The title of Heir that was his right as a firstborn son. It was unfair to her and her sons! Shoved to the side as he doted endlessly upon his daughter and grandson, especially now that she was pregnant again.

The whore had barely waited six months before announcing she was pregnant again, and now at nearing 9 months she had packed up the entire household to visit her mothers home. And of course, the King had done whatever she asked of him.

So now she was sitting in this too small room with seven of her ladies in waiting embroidering a new pillow, listening to the chatter.

"Did you see what the Princess was wearing?" Cassandra Baratheon asked, leaning forward eagerly. As the youngest lady, at only 10-and-1, she loved to gossip and often heard the most scandalous gossip since she was ignored on account of her age and gender.

"Northern rags," Lady Maria Redwyne sneered, rocking slowly in her chair. As Queen Alicents Aunt, sister of her mother, she held seniority within the seven ladies. "They make her look the savage she is."

"Not that these people see it that way. Have you seen how they treat her? It's as if she is already Queen," Celia Lannister stated, shaking her head. The cousin of Jason and Tyland Lannister she was just as vain and proud, forming a deep dislike for Princess Rhaenyra and her ladies.

"If only the King would see reason," Lady Leyla Brackens murmured. "A woman ruling over the Kingdoms? We'd go bankrupt in months with all her fancies and expensive taste."

"She'd probably offend everyone she talked to," Ceryse Hightower chirped, gigling with Cassandra. As the two youngest, with Ceryse being 10-and-2, they had formed a close bond of friendship.

"The men at her feet would probably ignore her actions just to continue laying in her bed," Lady Mari Ambrose scoffed, sneering. Lady Leyla and Lady Maria nodded as the two youngest giggled.

"Hush girls," Lady Anya Peake barked, severe brown eyes sharp. "If anyone were to hear your words on the Princess our heads would roll. Have your parents not taught you to whisper?"

The oldest of her ladies, Lady Anya was second only to Lady Maria, for she was Queen Alicents paternal great-Aunt. A severe, pious woman, she was normally the one to escort Alicent to the Sept to pray.

"Unfortunately my husband is besotted by his daughter, unable to see any flaws she has. This extends to both her husband, and son, as I'm sure you've seen," Queen Alicent added, sadly. "Our own children are neglected by him, and so often does he refer to the Princess as his only daughter. My heart aches for my dear Halaena."

Her ladies murmured agreements, and hopes that Halaena did not feel left out. While her words were true, she did not truly wish for him to spend time with her children because he'd share the Targaryens queer customs with them.

"One day the King will see reason," Lady Maria swore, eyes darkening. If he didn't they all knew what would happen.

War.

Lady Annara Celtigar, Lady Amanda Arryn, and Lady Sara Snow watched over Crown Prince Jacaerys as he sat beside Vermithors snout, playing with his wooden figures. A group of five Dragonkeepers stood nearby, just in case.

"I never thought I'd see a dragon acting as a babysitter," Lady Annara giggled, earning a snort from Lady Sara.

"A dragons connection to their rider is something we will never understand. The closest we have ever come is when we bonded with Griffens, or Direwolves," Lady Amanda stated wisely. Both girls, barely 10-and-6, watched her in shock and awe before realizing the significance.

Silence fell before Lady Sara muttered, "He really does look like a babysitter."

Lady Annara burst into a fit of giggles, cutting herself off when Vermithor huffed out smoke, orange-yellow eye focusing on her.

"I feel like I'm being told to shut up," Lady Annora whispered, trembling as the Dragons gaze returned to his rider. Jacaerys, with no fear, smacked his dragons snout.

"Bad. Good lady," Jacaerys called, glaring at the dragon in defense of his favorite Lady-in-Waiting. Lady Amanda and Lady Annara both cooed at his sweetness as Lady Sara smiled affectionately.

The little prince had won their hearts near instantly after his birth. While several of Rhaenyra's Ladies-and-Maids-in-Waiting had come after her historic birth, they had all fallen for the sweet little prince and they were excited for the Crown Princess' next child.

"Such a sweet boy. He will be a wonderful King when it is time," Lady Annara said.

"Unfortunately, his personality is not set in stone, Annora. It will be up to his mother, father, and us to make sure he and all of his future siblings are raised well," Lady Amanda corrected.

"Prince Laenor and Princess Rhaenyra were talking of when it would be considered appropriate to begin having lessons to be a knight," Lady Sara commented, brow furrowing a little.

"What else did they mention?" Lady Annara questioned, vivid blue eyes sharp as she lowered her voice.

"They decided that once he turned 4 he would begin watching the Knights practicing before being allowed to train at 5, and squiring would begin upon his 8th nameday," Lady Sara stated, glancing around to check for servents or others. Fortunately, few would dare come when Vermithor was there, so they had complete privacy. "Princess Rhaenyra mentioned sending him to the Wall for a time so he may be a true knight that has not just seen tourneys and jousts."

"That would be a smart play," Lady Amanda agreed, nodding. "It would strengthen his ties to the North, and show them that a good King will sit the Iron Throne."

"Allies could be made as well, but . . ." Lady Annara hesitated. "Those that take the black are often criminals, would he be safe there?"

"I doubt they would send him without Vermithor. Besides, by that time he will be fully knighted," Lady Sara corrected.

"Good. Did anyone else think that Princess Rhaenyra seemed quite confident that it was a girl?"

"Confident enough to create a contract that would make her heir of the Vale," Lady Amanda said. Neither were surprised. "While the Vale is behind the Princess, this will give them something to hold. A Princess of their own, who will one day care for them as Princess Rhaenyra does."

They understood what the older woman truly meant. When King Viserys died there would be war, and having the Vale and the North securely behind Princess Rhaenyra and her children would tilt the scales in their favour.

Lady Jeyne Arryn stood at the balconey doors of Crown Princess Rhaenyra's quarters, cradling the newest Princess in her arms. Smiling down at the babe, she could not help but see the similarity in the babes face to Princess Daella's face from the portraits her Grandfather had commisioned that were found in several halls of the Eyrie.

"She's beautiful, your majesty," Lady Jeyne murmured, completely captivated. Crown Princess Rhaenyra smiled, leaning back against the headboard as her husband, Prince Laenor, carefully wiped her forehead of sweat with a cooled rag.

"Please, Lady Jeyne, we are cousins. You have my permission to call me Rhaenyra."

"Then you have mine to call me Jeyne, Rhaenyra."

Both women shared gentle smiles.

"Thank you, Rhaenyra. You have given me the Heir I have been so worried of giving," Lady Jeyne admitted sadly.

"If I am to understand it, the boy you would have been forced to name as heir is Arnold Arryn's son?" Prince Laenor asked, leaning forward.

"His nephew, through his sisters marriage to Jackson Redfort, my Lady Jessamyne's elder brother. As the second son of a second wife he has been raised modestly these past 4 years, but we shall see what kind of man he will grow into," Lady Jeyne stated, glancing towards the bedroom door. While she despised Arnolds Line, the boy was innnocent, as was his mother.

"And if he turns out like his Uncle?" Princess Rhaenyra asked, wincing as she shifted in the bed.

"Then your daughter will be free to pick any Valeman she wishes, as long as they understand that her children will take the name Arryn."

"Good."

"May I ask what you plan to name her?" Lady Jeyne asked.

"Ah yes, our apologies," Prince Laenor said, offering an awkward grin. "We have decided upon the name Alyssa, both for Alyssa Velaryon and Alyssa Targaryen as well as Alyssane Targaryen."

"A strong, beautiful name," Lady Jeyne agreed smiling down at little Alyssa. "Mo oidhre." The Old Language of the Vale flowed effortlessly from her tongue, making Alyssa coo in delight.

In the moonlight her red-gold hair shone softly, reminding Jeyne of spun gold in sunlight, where it glowed red. The soft curls covered her entire head, nearly hiding her beautiful blue-purple eyes.

"Cosúil leis an spéir roimh titim na hoíche." (Like the sky before nightfall.)

"When I have recovered, I wish to announce her to the Vale if possible."

"Of course. The Vale will know of my heir, of your daughter, Rhaenyra."

Three days had passed since Lady Jeyne Arryn had first held her heir, since Crown Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen had given birth but no one outside of the two, Prince Laenor Velaryon, and Crown Prince Jacaerys Targaryen knew of her name, so a feast was thrown.

Queen Alicent wore a velvet green dress with golden leaves sewed into the sleeves and skirts. The design of the dress was beautiful, but the itchy fabrics it was made of made it look less so. All three of her children originally accompanied her, but Princess Halaena cried starting Prince Aemond off so the two had to be taken back to the nursury.

Prince Aemond wore a doublet of the same itchy material, shown by how he constantly tugged at it and tried to take it off. His caretaker was struggling to keep him dressed, much to Queen Alicent's irritation but there was nothing she could do.

Lady Jeyne Arryn stood before them all, with King Viserys, Crown Princess Rhaenyra, and Prince Laenor at her sides. She wore a beautiful dress of blue and white, with fabric forming 'wings' that connected to her wrist using silver bracelets.

King Viserys and his daughter wore red and black, while Prince Laenor wore blue, green, and gold complememtimg each other quite nicely.

Much to her distaste, Queen Alicent had not been allowed up onto the dais where the Moonwood Throne sat.

"After hours of hardship, my daughter gave birth to her own daughter, another Princess for House Targaryen and House Velaryon," King Viserys announced.

Rhaenyra stepped forward with her husband, hand resting in the crook of his arm, "My daughter came when the moon had risen to its peak, and just as my eldest son was, she has been marked by the gods. I have been blessed, both in birth and in life, for this opportunity."

"For years you have all worried who would take the Lordship of the Vale, of the Arryns, upon my death," Lady Jeyne stated, bringing everyones attention to her. Queen Alicents heart dropped. "Through my grandfathers second wife, Princess Daella, and my aunt, the late Queen Aemma Arryn, I am cousin to Crown Princess Rhaenyra as she is mine. Through her, her daughter holds the blood of Arryns, so I have made my decision."

With a nod, Crown Princess Rhaenyra carefully placed her daughter in her cousins arms.

"Princess Alyssa Velaryon, shall take the name Arryn upon reaching her 6-and-10 nameday, where henceforth she shall reside here in the Vale. Upon her 7-and-10 nameday she shall marry Theodore Redfort who is an Arryn through his mother to strengthen my bloodline. Her children shall inherit the name Arryn. As such, I introduce you to Princess Alyssa Velaryon, Heiress to House Arryn, and Heir to the Vale!"

The crowd of Valeman erupted into cheers that seemed to shake the halls of the Eyrie until a roar truly shook the keep. Silence fell as everyone turned their gazes to the dais.

"Sil'wing wan' her rider," Crown Prince Jacaerys announced, pronouncing some of his words wrong but getting his point across.

"Then she will recieve her rider," Princess Rhaenyra stated, taking her daughter back into her arms. The enfire crowd followed the princess to the courtyard where the she-dragon had landed. The same place where Ronnel Arryn had taken his first flight upon the dragon, Vhagar.

Silverwing seemed to glimmer in the light of the setting sun, and many thought, upon seeing the she-dragon, that she would be a perfect match for the Princess of the Vale.

Lowering her head she crooned to her rider, earning a delighted burble.

And so Princess Rhaenyra took her daughter upon the dragoneses back and took to the skies as the Greens watches in anger and the Blacks watched on in awe and delight.

Princess Alyssa of House Velaryon, Third of Her Name, Heiress to House Arryn, Heir to the Vale, The Moonborn, Daughter of the Vale, She-Dragon of the Vale, She-Who-Was-Born-In-The-Night, the Peaceful, the Diligent, the Strategist, the Falcon of House Targaryen, rider of Silverwing, the Silver Queen, the Beautiful, the Pearl, the Protector of the Vale, had been born.