#but for me it’s the game that came out the same year

[drenched-in-sunlight]

"Marika becomes the sum of all the Fromsoft girlies" is nice but you forgot Nashandra who actually has parallels with Marika! Recommending to check it out, she's cool!

let’s get this out of the way now… I love DS2, I think the vibe and gameplay is immaculate and I’ll defend it as a whimsical and enjoyable videogame experience till the end of time.

But my god, I hate how they handle female characters in that one 💀

In fact, I don’t like how they handle female characters in DS franchise in general. It got a bit better in Bloodborne and Sekiro and especially AC6, but overall ever since I started playing Fromsoft game in 2020, my main gripe with them is they only have 2 tropes to shoehorn their female character into: helpless victim of a system that would mangle and exploit them OR serious sword lady. And if I’m being real, it’s the main gripe I have with Elden Ring base game too?

I didn’t discuss it on tumblr because back then I were still trying to keep this blog art-focused, but when the game came out in 2022, I did express my concern on twitter that I found the female characters cast… strangely lacking. Because I went into the game expecting Ema-level of writing (literally Sekiro’s Ema is one of the best female characters Fromsoft has ever written to this day I could and have talked ppl’s ears off about her. And I’m glad she on her own is very different from Marika. That means they could at least write 2 more types of female characters now the bar is on the floor but I’ll take it and cherish what I have), but it felt like they got reset back to DS franchise with ER base game.

(This has an added layer of me being a girl born, raised and lived in a Sinosphere country that is entrenched in Confucius values just like Japan, so yes I do understand and experience firsthand the underlying culture values that shapes their writing. Hell, I live and study postgraduate in Japan for 2 years too).

But we are going off track, this is about DS2. Now, my problem with DS2 is, see, with 1 or 3, the female characters either have very little agency or no agency at all. And it just…. be like that. The male characters are somewhat the same, so it really doesn’t bother me that much. The cool, unique, not sexualized design is enough. But 2?

2 has a lot of female characters…. who either play no role in the world setting or sinister figures that charm men and bring ruins to kingdoms? What?

(Before anyone says “but Lucatiel—” Lucatiel is the beacon of light in that game, yes, but at the same time her purpose centering around her brother is… also a problem I have with the way they handle Malenia’s story. My Fromsoft experience has lore to it as well jfc)

Like, it’s just ??? to me half of those women have no agency or backstory whatsoever apart from being the Dark’s daughters that would bring doom everywhere they go??? You can say everything wrong in DS2 world is their fault and I actually wouldn’t have much to argue. Actually, it’s interesting you bring up Nashandra because I do think Nashandra has parallel in Elden Ring. But not to Marika.

Nanaya.

That’s who reminds me of Nashandra in Elden Ring. Literally the mysterious, lowkey nefarious lady and her old man husband with questionable dynamic DS2 trope 🧍‍♀️ you can actually see that in their name too.

If I have to pick a character in DS franchise specifically to make parallel to Marika, it’ll always be Gwynevere. Because I honestly think it’s amazing they took a character that has the least amount of agency they’ve ever created, and turned the core concept of her (warmth, healing spells, sunlight, mother, daughter, queen, faith) into another character with actual good writing.

That’s why I didn’t include Nashandra in my previous post. Not because I don’t know about her. It’s because I know.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

What's your opinion on Dadmare aus?

I don’t think much about Dadmare aus, or not very often. I don’t have anything against them and whenever I come across content i usually think it’s cute and like the post before moving on, but i don’t seek it out and hardly engage in it.

This is mostly because i haven’t found an interpretation of dadmare aus ive been able to get invested in, most interpretations ive come across just aren’t for me.

My biggest “issues” (but not really) with most interpretations is that nightmare is almost always portrayed as a perfect dad who can do no wrong, all the other sanses are infantilized to hell and back, and as @/signanothername said in their own post, none of the characters feel like their own people.

Their relationships to eachother and Nightmare all feel very one note and cut from the same mold most of the time. All the same reactions, all completely trust Nightmare and kiss the ground he walks on.

I don’t mind found family, but I don’t like it when the found family is shoved into little boxes and cannot differ from them.

Nightmare is 500+ years old, did not grow up with any significant parent figure in his life despite winging it on taking care of Dream, and spent his 6 early years of life being routinely abused by all the adults around him. And then he was horribly transformed and corrupted.

Why would he take on a parental role again when the last time he tried something like that he was also a child, he had no other choice, and everything went to shit despite it? Wouldn’t he also struggle like any actual parent would.

If he spent 500+ years isolated and only interacting with others when forced to, or needing something from them like negativity, wouldn’t that life experience translate into trying to care for this group of traumatized men.

And they are men. They aren’t boys. They’re adults. Unless they’re supposed to be actual children when they meet Nightmare, or one or all of them are age regressed, then I don’t see the point in infantilizing them or treating them as if they’re children. None of these guys are looking for a father figure.

Adults can be found family, there doesn’t need to be any dad or child or siblings boxes to me.

Especially not when Horror already has a brother, Killer’s concept of family dynamics is also very likey screwed to hell and back (just look at what he thinks about any relationship, there’s no such thing as “equals” in his eyes, killer in dadmare dynamics would probably just view it as another role and game he has to play and “dadmare” is his new Chara), Nightmare killed his mother and his currently trying to kill his brother after trapping him in stone for years.

Dust killed his brother and is constantly haunted by his hallucination, Cross destroyed his entire AU and also came from an entirely different AU with a completely different life from the others. (Alphys being his sister, for example. Horror having lobotomized his Alphys and Killer having likely killed and tortured his many times and Dust having murdered his.)

So tldr: I don’t mind dadmare, but it personally isn’t for me. I like found family bad sanses, but not if there’s roles assigned and not if it’s not earned.

I don’t like Nightmare being the perfect father somehow and the sanses being treated like children even though they’re 30-40+ adults and aren’t looking for a father figure.

I prefer dysfunctional found family dynamics with the bad sanses.

Also that some people aren’t likely to be overly emotionally involved or invested in these dynamics for a very long time if at all, even if he plays along as if its all a game or some elaborate test being played on him— either because he thinks he has to, or because it’s something new and he’s curious. He may even get bored of the dynamics eventually, and start asking Nightmare when it’s game over.

Which could lead to something very interesting if he realizes it was never supposed to be a game or a test.

[swappedandtrapped]

Rent Help - Part 1

Hey, first thing I'm posting here. Character consistency with AI is difficult for me, so just go with it.

It wasn't a good time in my life. The pandemic hit, making me unemployed. I stayed at home to avoid getting sick and with nothing to do I was starting to find any excuse to go out of my room. I was renting this flat with another guy I found on Craigslist, Roy.

Roy was my age, he moved in from some place outside the county a few years ago and we managed to stay out of each others' way. Maybe except a few times I heard his booming voice shout at the TV, cursing other players in some online game. He was also too comfortable in the house, taking off his shirt and staying like that even when guests came over.

Slowly, the world came back to order. The quarantines stopped, but I was still out of a job. I ended up searching for a long while. I was struggling and really tried to be frugal. Eating cheap, saving up, the usual. But my savings were about to run out.

I was desperate, and even though I felt bad doing so, I asked Roy if he could lend me the money for rent. Roy, to my disappointment, refused. He said he had really bad experiences with friends he lent money to, but never payed him back. I begged, said it was a sure thing, I was willing to do anything, sign contracts, whatever he wanted.

"Sorry man," He said. "You know how it is, I can't let my friends owe me money," He insisted. "But if you're willing to do something for me in return, I think we can still work something out." I was hesitant. "What do you mean? Like doing your laundry?" "Well. Sort of." He smiled. "Just make sure to be free this weekend so you could help me with that thing." It was either that or become homeless, so I jumped to hug him "Yes, of course! Anything! Thanks man!" "No worries. I'll give you the details Friday morning."

The week went by quick. I wasn't sure what he wanted, but I guessed it was just some house work or doing errands for him. He was straight, so anything sex related was out of the question. I relaxed and knew that I won't be kicked out of my place. At least this month.

…

Friday morning came, but my alarm didn't go off. I woke from the direct sunlight peaking through the window curtains when I knew that my window was facing west. But the first thing that I knew was wrong was the smell. Something smelled... Wrong... Like someone else's laundry. In my half-asleep state, I turned on my side to get my phone to check the time. Eyes still closed, I couldn't feel the phone on my nightstand. I opened my eyes to see where the hell was it, but my heart stopped when I first saw my hand.

It definitely wasn't my hand. Darker skin, hairier, and a bit bigger than mine. I saw it was attached to a foreign arm with the same features of the hand. Darker skin, more hair, and bigger than mine. I gasped in fright and used the hand and arm to take off the blanket and reveal what was underneath.

Not my body. This is definitely not my body. I was wearing only pajama shorts, which I never do. My chest was thick, heavy, and hairy. My gut spilling over its own weight. My legs wiggled with fat from my movement. Wait, is this… Roy's body? I touched my chin and felt the beard Roy had. I took a look up from my body and saw I was actually in his bed, which is also in his room. What the fuck happened to me? What is going on? I run to a mirror to see if my fear is true. All I saw was Roy, having the same expression of horror I had.

I screamed, only to quickly stop and cover my mouth. What the hell was this sound coming out of me? "Ahh, test, test." I tried to listen and realized I also heard Roy's voice coming my throat. MY throat! I couldn't escape it. I tried looking for a way out of this body, clawing my skin to find an opening, but all I did was hurt myself.

I was out of breath. I started to sweat. The world was spinning and I had to sit down. After crashing on the shared living room sofa, my heartbeat lowered to a normal pace, but I was still shocked. "What the fu-" I said, surprised again to hear Roy's accent through my teeth. Was this a dream? What the fuck is going on?

"Can you keep it down? It's barely 8 o'clock." a voice behind me said. My voice. My real voice. I looked up to see who I assumed was "Roy?". I stood up to face him. "I didn't think you'd wake up this early, but whatever, I guess we can do this now." "You… You knew about this?" I stammered. "Wait. Did YOU do this?!" "Don't make a big deal out of it man, I told you I'll needed you on Friday." "FOR WHAT!?" I shouted, with his booming voice. "For replacing you?!"

"Don't give yourself too much credit. It's just for this weekend.". He started getting ready to go out. "And I don't need you to replace me, I just needed to not be me for a bit." "WHAT THE FUCK ROY?!" I started getting out of breath again. Maybe even a low-key panic attack. "Why didn't you say anything about that? I thought I was just gonna clean your room or something!"

"I don't understand why you're so upset. You're getting free rent money for basically just sitting on your ass all day." "Because you TOOK MY BODY." "Don't be dramatic, it's just for the weekend. I'm borrowing it." He put on my coat on his way out. "Couldn't you tell me before? How did you even do this?"

"That's not important, I've had this thing since I was little." He started putting on my shoes and tying his shoelaces. Listen, if you don't want this, we can switch back now, but forget about the rent. I'm not giving out free money. It's your choice."

I started to form an insult, but quickly realized this might be my only option. And is being in Roy's body for a weekend really that bad?

"And this is just for the weekend?" "Yes." "And all I have to do is stay here?" "Or go out, I don't care. I just need your body." "But why?" "That's where the money comes in. Most of the pay is for you being discreet about this." The gears in my head turned. "What, like something illegal? Sex? Don't do weird shit in my body." "Nothing sketchy, I promise, but I really need to go. I'll be back tomorrow."

He closed the door after him, leaving me still shocked at the situation he got me into.

Thanks for reading. Part 2 out soon.

[janeyseymour]

You Matter To Me

Summary: Based off of the stunningly and hauntingly beautiful song in the musical Waitress, by Sara Bareilles. After years of hiding, you're going to let yourself free, with the help of Melissa.

If you haven't heard this song, I highly suggest listening to it, and crying like I do.

WC: ~2.9k

Your life hasn’t been good for… as long as you can remember, if you’re being honest. It’s been train wreck after train wreck. But unlike some of those around you (your mother, your sister, your brother), you’ve changed the cycle and changed the game- or at least tried to. You took all of those years of abuse and neglect from your father and became a teacher at Abbott Elementary. Your only goal in life is to make sure those kids are as loved and as cared for as they can possibly be by you. Teachers saved your life all those years ago, so if you can be that person for even just one student, you know you’ve made your mark on this world.

The only thing that’s the same about your life compared to your family’s is that you… you made a choice, a not so great choice, when it came to who you were going to marry.

It started back in high school when you fell for a boy who used to sing and play guitar, serenading you. You, in true teenager fashion (and maybe a little naivety), fell for a boy and his boyish charm. He’s been by your side since. Mason has been by your side since, and while you’ve grown up, he hasn’t.

When your mother died, he stuck by you though. He took you in when you were faced with either barely scraping by on your own or moving back in with your father… he saved you from poverty for the rest of your life and from the abuse that your father would without a doubt hurl at you if you were to go back to him. 

He proposed to you with a lousy ring, and because you figured that you were lucky enough to find what you thought was love, you stayed. You married him. And you wish you wouldn’t have.

Because now, what were once warm kisses and sweet songs dedicated to you have morphed into hungry, horny kisses and smashed guitars during fits of rage. And it… it’s turned into an almost perfect side by side of what your mother’s marriage was before she passed away tragically.

You hold what happens at home to yourself- there’s no need to burden those around you with you problems. So, you throw yourself into teaching and making the world a bit brighter in the small ways that you can.

At school, you’re a part of quite the crew: a veteran kindergarten teacher who is as regal as the queen, a quirky man who is all about social justice (and you’re sure if you went to him for help, he would have resources for you in a flash, a custodian who lives life to the fullest, two younger teachers who have finally found each other, a principal that is all play, and then… a fiery redhead known for being tough as nails but turns to butter for you.

You’re quiet, timid- you always have been. That’s just been part of your personality for as long as you can remember. Or maybe the lively and effervescent side of you was beaten out of you by your father. Any normal person would not pick up on the subtle signs of abuse that you show.

But Melissa Schemmenti does. And it breaks her heart to know that you’re hurting, or at least to think that she knows you’re hurting. It’s part of why she puts her ‘tough as nails’ act aside when you’re around- she doesn’t want to startle you. She doesn’t want you to feel as unsafe as you usually do when you aren’t within the confines of the school.

During your preps, Melissa finds her way into your room quite often for an extra cup of coffee and to discuss things that happen at the school. But today, you really aren’t feeling it.

Mason was brutal last night. You’re hurting all over, and you really don’t feel like having to cover up what is happening off school grounds. So, instead of keeping your door open during prep as you usually do, the door is shut. Your lights are off, and you gently hold an ice pack to the bruises on your ribs inflicted on you from the previous night. You have a heating pad on your back for the soreness that you feel from an injury in the past. You settle into your chair, prop your feet up on a student chair, and try to get as comfortable as possible before resting your head against the back of your chair. Your eyes close as you try to adjust to the cool sensation on your front and the hot sensation on your back, hoping to get at least a few minutes of shuteye in before you have to pick your kids up again. Your husband kept you up most of last night- first with his actions, then with the consequences of his actions on your aching body, and finally his incessant snoring.

You feel like you’ve rested your eyes for about thirty seconds before you hear the door to your classroom open. Your body can’t take you moving too quickly at the moment though, so you just come to terms with the fact that whoever is at the door caught you with your feet propped up and eyes closed. At least they can’t see the bag of ice you have under your sweatshirt, or the heating pad that you’re leaning against.

“Hun?” Melissa knocks on your doorframe softly before taking a few steps into the room. “You okay?”

I could find the whole meaning of life in those sad eyes. They’ve seen things you never quite say, but I hear. Come out of hiding, I’m right here beside you. And I’ll stay there as long as you’ll let me.

You open your eyes and turn your head just slightly to look at her, and… she wasn’t quite ready for you to look at her the way you do. As you look at her tiredly, she can see the pain and exhaustion of the things that you refuse to say aloud. She hears the things that you never quite say, but she can hear it clearly in her head. She knows those eyes aren’t just perpetual exhaustion.

“Just tired,” you say softly as you subconsciously pull at your sweatshirt, making sure that she can’t see the slight bulge of the ice pack. “Mason and I were up late last night.”

The redhead lifts a brow. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” you sigh quietly. “Just… tired is all.”

The second grade teacher catches the way that you hesitate in your response, and she wants to beg you to just tell her the truth- to come out of hiding. Tell her everything that she thinks is happening is true so that she can help you get away from the situation you’ve found yourself in. Instead, she just holds up the cup of coffee she brought you and steps in a few paces further. Melissa sets the coffee mug on your desk and pulls up a chair next to you before taking your hand softly.

You look at her with a confused look. Why is she holding your hand suddenly? The two of you have flirted innocently, but she knows you have a husband.

“If you ever need to talk, I’m right here beside you,” Melissa tells you with as much heart as she can pour into those few words.

You hum quietly as you reach forward just slightly to grab the cup of liquid gold. In doing so, the icepack crinkles under your shirt. Your eyes widen just slightly as you go to adjust it quickly.

“Y/N,” she whispers. And in that moment, you know she knows. Fuck.

“I- I bumped into my counter on the way out the door this morning,” you try to excuse weakly. It doesn’t do you much good, because the green eyes that you’ve looked into so often see right through your lie.

It’s odd to see a few tears prick at the corner of Melissa’s eyes, and it’s an even worse feeling to know that you’re the one who caused them. “Mel, I- Don’t cry. I’m okay.”

“You’re not,” the usually tough teacher’s voice cracks ever so slightly. “I wish you would just… come out of hiding. Tell me what I think I already know. I’ll- I’ll be right here beside you through it all, and I’ll stay there as long as you’ll let me.”

Because you matter to me, simple and plain and not much to ask from somebody. You matter to me. I promise you do, you, you matter too. I promise you do, you see? You matter to me.

You bite the bottom of your lip before nodding, just barely. “But I’ll be fine. I’ve always been fine.”

“You are not fine right now,” Melissa counters.

“I’m used to not being fine,” you mumble. “But I will be… just keep having to hold out hope, and I’ll get there.”

“What if you aren’t?”

“As long as my kids here are safe and okay for as long as I’m here, I will be,” is all you can tell her.

“Do you not understand that you matter to me?” your colleague asks you quietly. “That you matter to all of us here? It’s simple and plain as that. I promise you- the way that those kids matter to you is the way that you matter to us, and we need you to be okay.”

“I will be,” is all you can offer. “Now, if you’ll leave me be…” you request softly, as much as you don’t want her to go away. But you know that if you don’t ask her to exit the room, everything will finally come tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop it. And with Melissa and her connections, who knows what could happen to Mason. For as much shit as he’s put you through, he’s still your husband. He still saved you from hell all those years ago. You… you still love him. Through good times and bad, right?

The redhead doesn’t want to leave you alone right now- afraid that if she does, something horrible will happen to you- something more horrible than what is now confirmed to her. But you asked her to leave you be for your prep, so she nods silently. You feel a gentle hand squeeze your own again before the warmth of it fades away. You close your eyes again and try to relax into your chair, but a pair of lips just barely brush against your temple, and a soft voice tells you that she will always be there for you whenever you’re ready.

The rest of the day passes by as you simply give into your body’s desire to teach from your chair. You pack your things and quietly make your way out of the building without running into any of your coworkers, by some miracle.

As you pull up to your house, your bright and beautiful and non-assuming home, you breathe out a sigh. The outside looks like a happy couple lives there- decorated with beautiful landscaping and flowers. You allow yourself to reminisce about how life used to be when you were a happy and healthy couple, and for a few minutes you pretend that you are still that happy woman, dreaming about a different life from the rest of your family. But as you open up the front door and see the shattered plates, the smashed guitar, and the angry fist shaped hole in the wall, reality crashes down on you.

With a few pained grunts and groans, you’re able to clean up the wreck that lies in your kitchen- that seems to be where most of your troubles find you these days. And it sucks, because the kitchen used to be your favorite room in the house. Cooking and baking used to be the one thing that would take you from the hellish place on Earth you found yourself in and transport you to a world where everything was okay- even just for a few minutes. You’ve come to hate being in the kitchen.

You settle on the couch with a slice of leftover pizza and a beer, although you then realize that the television remote is not where you usually leave it. So, as you munch on your dinner, an ice pack pressed delicately to your ribs, you allow your mind to wander. 

It’s addictive the minute you let yourself think, the things that I say just might matter to someone. All of this time I’ve been keeping my mind on the running away, and for the first time I think I’d consider the stay.

Your thoughts take you to what had taken place during your prep today. Melissa knows. You know Melissa knows. And she’s still telling you she’ll stand by you. She practically begged you to verbally confirm what she knows, and then to come out of hiding and tell her everything. She promised you that she would be there for you for as long as you would let her. And… and you believe her. You believe that if you told her about your life away from the school and outside of being Miss Y/N, the things that you would tell her would matter to her. And that… that thought becomes addicting.

All of this time, you’ve been thinking about the day where you would finally be able to get away from your husband- the second bank account that you secretly open is finally starting to look like something that you could fall back onto as you begin your new life. You’ve been thinking about just faking your death and running away to another place far, far away from here to get away from Mason. Of course, in doing that, you would have to leave Abbott and the city that has captured your heart from the time that you could walk, but it would be worth it to get away- at least that’s what you’ve been telling yourself.

But now, you’re considering the stay for the first time. Not staying with your husband of course- but staying in Philadelphia. You’re imagining a life where you could maybe… just maybe, still be able to make it here in this city. You have a support system behind you apparently. It shouldn’t come as a shock to you that the Abbott crew would have your back, but after being alone in this world for so long, after being told time and time again that he is the only person who could love someone like you, it takes you by surprise.

Because you matter to me, simple and plain and not much to ask from somebody. You matter to me. I promise you do, you, you matter too. I promise you do, you see? You matter to me.

You’re not quite sure when you picked up your phone, as your finger hovers over your redheaded coworkers number. Before you lose your nerve, you call her.

She picks up after just one ring, and she sounds concerned. “Y/N?”

You weren’t really expecting her to pick up, but she did. And you have no idea what to say. You know what you want to say, but you still can’t quite get those words out. So you settle for a, “You matter to me too.”

Her low voice whispers out a, “Are you okay?”

Your shoulders shrug, as if she could see you through the phone call. You don’t answer her question. Instead you say, “It’s simple, and plain, and not much to ask from somebody, but you matter to me too. I promise. You matter to me.”

“Hun,” Melissa breathes quietly. “Hun, you aren’t making sense. Are you okay?”

You just repeat the sentiment again, letting her know how much you care for her. You let her know that your heart loves Abbott.

“Y/N,” the second grade teacher stops your rambling. “Y/N, I need you to tell me what’s happening right now. Do I- Do I need to come over there? Call the police? Are you okay?”

“I-” The dam breaks, and you begin to hiccup sobs out in earnest.

“Hun,” Melissa’s voice is soft, warm. “I- Can you tell me where you are?”

“My house,” you choke out. “I- I don’t know why I called. I’m sorry.”

“Stay where you are,” the redhead tells you. “I’m on my way over.”

Before you can protest, telling her that you don’t want her to see the dark and dismal space that you inhabit, she hangs up.

After threatening your boss, Melissa is given your address, and she speeds her way to your house. She doesn’t even have to knock on the door before you open it and fling yourself at her. Your body tries to tell you how much you shouldn’t be doing this- your heart racing, your ribs on fire. But as you hold onto her, and the tears pour down your face and hit her leather jacket, you can’t find it in you to hold back anymore.

After years of hiding and being afraid of your own shadow, not knowing if it was yours or someone else’s, you’re about to come out of hiding. You’re about to attempt to claw your way out of this hellhole that you call a life. Hopefully, everything will change with the help of Melissa.

TAGS: @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie

[loz-furbies]

Zelda ages based on when their games came out. Welcome to the team EoW Zelda!

Characters and design thoughts under cut:

For starters, I did a similar Zelda piece a few years ago and ran into the problem that I can't really draw anything else than anime teen girls, which is kind of a problem in a drawing where half the characters are above 20 and their age differences are the whole point. And in addition almost everyone is supposed to be royalty with very similar clothes too. But in my defense, in general it can be pretty hard to tell the ages of 25 to 40 year old anime women anyway.

I needed a reference for the body proportions in order to even get started, so I quickly thought "who is an anime woman who doesn't look like a teenager", and used Yor's character sheet for assistance. The younger characters' proportions are a little inconsistent, since I couldn't choose if I would look at realistic growth chart or go with the anime look (where teens and children are often shorter than they would be in real life) so the result is this weird hybrid.

Four Swords (December 2, 2022) & Four Swords Adventures (March 18, 2004) - Chronologically they are different Zeldas even though they use the same promo art/character design, so I used the promo art design for the original FS Zelda and drew the FSA Zelda based on her sprite. There's not much to these designs, they have very little going on in terms of story or personality to use as inspiration and their character design doesn't offer much anything original when compared to the other more well known Zeldas either. Their only distinct element is the big red hair bow, but I thought it would look too childish when they're supposed to be in their twenties here.

Minish Cap (November 4, 2004) - There's not a lot MC Zelda that I could use for inspiration. But then I remembered that a while ago I wrote about how the pointy hat Queen Ambi wears should be used more often, so I thought I should put my money where my mouth is and draw it here, since Zelda does wear a red cap for a couple seconds in MC. In general the MC Zelda and both FS Zeldas are at a little awkward age for this picture, since they're too old for youthful child designs but not really old enough for more mature queenly designs either.

Skyward Sword (November 18, 2011) - Her design is based on her concept design, which I assume is meant to be her casual look and not the ceremonial costume she wears in the game.

Ocarina of Time (November 21, 1998) - I decided that age-wise she makes the cut of when I start using updos. Why do the Zeldas have such similar canon hairstyles anyway, it was surprisingly boring to work with them. Still not sure about the curls though, my fancy dress design artbook that I used for inspiration had so many cute curly hairstyles but I couldn't really use any here because I worried the characters would become unrecognisable. But since OoT Zelda had some curls in her "sideburns" she fell victim here.

Hyrule Warriors (August 14, 2014) - HW Zelda has a distinct enough design from the other Zeldas that it gives a lot of elements to work with, though her age here limits it a little since she's too young for bikini armour. Also because HW is a spin off, I also considered including the Cadence of Hyrule Zelda, but that led to the realisation that it would have opened the doors to CDI Zelda as well. Which I guess would have been fine, but this is already a pretty wide drawing full of adults, so while a Cadence of Hyrule Zelda would have been easy to fit on the front row, I couldn't justify adding even more adults just for the CDI games. So only HW is included because I've played it and actually like it.

Zelda 1 (February 21, 1986) - The original Zelda is at an age where it's a little awkward how there's little difference between her (38 years old) and OoT Zelda (25). But I couldn't think of any anime that would help me as reference here, and I don't think she's old enough to have that "this character is getting old" wrinkle under her eye (you know the one).

Echoes of Wisdom (September 26, 2024) - I think she looks a bit too old here to be a zero-days-old newborn but work with me here.

Breath of the Wild (March 3, 2017) - She's actually at the age where her mum died, poor girl. She's very refreshing to work with since her look is so different from the other Zeldas.

A Link to the Past (November 21, 1991) & A Link between Worlds (November 22, 2013) - Originally I also had the Oracles Zelda in this since she does have a unique design, but then again I consider the Oracles Link to be the same as in aLttP which ought to apply to Zelda as well, plus the design isn't unique in any interesting way and is just a combination of the OoT & aLttP designs, so in the end I just gave the Oracles Zelda sprite's hair buns to aLbW Zelda. Overall having to use the essentially same design for both aLttP and aLbW Zelda wasn't much fun, especially when neither really offers anything notable in terms of story or personality, but at least they're pretty far apart when it comes to age.

Twilight Princess (November 19, 2006) - I haven't played her game so I don't know a lot about her (other than reading the manga which didn't give me anything to work with either) and she's also close to her canon age (?) here so she ended up looking pretty similar to her canon design.

Spirit Tracks (December 7, 2009) - This was a tough one because technically ST Zelda does have a lot of elements to her story and character that could work for a redesign, but not really for the purposes of this picture. Anything train related is more of Link's thing, and anything ghost related doesn't really fit either since she's not supposed to be a ghost at this age. And as for the Phantom, I got the impression that while she learned to appreciate it, she didn't exactly like using it, and that personality-wise she would prefer not to go on another similar adventure. So In the end I just replaced the regular armour parts many Zeldas have in their designs with the Phantom armour and used the ghost palette for the rest of her look, and I kind of like the result. Her personality looks a little out of character though but I couldn't resist the opportunity to draw this with Grandma Tetra.

Wind Waker (December 13, 2002) - I haven't played WW so I'm not sure how accurate this is, but drawing her with the pirate design definitely added some much needed variety to this picture. I really like her twirly hairstyle in canon, but I also really wanted to draw her with short hair, so it had to go. Maybe ST Zelda can style her hair in a twirl when she gets older to compensate?

The Adventure of Link (January 14, 1987) - Really don't know what happened here, not particularly happy with the end result. I prefer to draw the Zelda 2 Zelda with her sprite design because just reusing the OG Zelda design is boring, but I really should have kept it closer to that since now she's practically unrecognisable.

[wannabehockeygf]

State of Grace | Clayton Keller

"We are alone with our changing minds, We fall in love 'til it hurts or bleeds, or fades in time, And I never, Saw you coming And I'll never, Be the same."

*** request: "☁️ (fluff) w keller inspired by the song state of grace by taylor swift" summary: same people, seven years of distance... word count: 9.2k pairing: clayton keller x fem!reader warnings: public drinking/alcohol, pda (kissing, making out), very very slight sexual innuendo notes: - tbh this isn't my best work. but I worked hard on it and didn't want to scrap it so I hope you like it ! - this is def giving slightly cocky more confident flirty clayton... but i will probably make him a lot softer and sweeter in the future. just felt like doing him this way this time. - also, I have 2 more keller requests. so if u requested him and this wasn't ur request they are coming. - I have never been to salt lake city. apologies if I completely slandered it. - red is my fav ts album, just felt like I should mention. ***

You never thought you'd see Clayton Keller again.

He was supposed to be a chapter you’d closed long ago—one you’d shoved into the back of your mental bookshelf, never to be opened again. You had plans, big ones, bigger than the swoon of your teenage heart. You had meticulously plotted your path to Boston University, intent on becoming a sharp, hard-hitting journalist. You could see it now: your name, printed in bold letters, beneath a thought-provoking headline in The New York Times.

But then he came. His blue eyes locked with yours, his stupidly perfect hair falling just right, those dimples of his flashing at you like some cruel joke. You didn’t stand a chance. The kind of falling you did for him wasn’t cute or accidental—it was more like falling flat on your face in front of a crowd. Painful, embarrassing, and lingering.

He was your first everything. And you gave him everything—not a piece of you left unshared, unexposed. It felt romantic at the time, but looking back, it was more like you emptied your entire emotional bank account and let him walk off with the cash. Seven years ago, when he told you he was moving to Phoenix and that you two should “see other people,” you didn’t buy his polite words. What he meant was that he wanted to be young and free, without the burden of a long-distance girlfriend dragging behind him.

“Wait, wha–”

You never even finished your sentence. The door had slammed behind him before the rest of your thought caught up to your lips.

That was then. Seven long years had passed, and you were standing in a press area in Salt Lake City, feeling like all your well-laid plans had been thrown into a blender. You weren't in New York writing world-changing pieces for a big-name paper. You were pushing through a horde of sweaty, exhausted journalists, armed with a press badge that read "Utah Hockey Club"—a new team you hadn’t even thought much about until you got the assignment. You’d taken this job because, well, rent. Plus, there’s something humiliating yet poetic about going from wanting to change the world to covering idiotic brutes who give two-word answers between mouthfuls of Gatorade.

The Delta Center hummed with the energy of a big game, the walls vibrating with the echo of shoes shuffling, cameras clicking, and reporters murmuring amongst themselves. The fluorescent lighting overhead gave the place a washed-out look, amplifying the wrinkles in everyone’s faces. Hockey’s a fast-paced game, but the post-game press scrum felt like watching paint dry. You pushed forward, determined to at least pretend you were thriving in this moment.

“Excuse me, sorry—coming through!” You elbowed your way to the front, probably earning a few disgruntled glares. But at least you’d get the scoop firsthand, even if it was on some sweaty player who would grunt a few words before retreating to the locker room.

The door on the far side swung open, and the team’s PR person stepped aside as the hero of the night walked out. You barely had time to register who it was before the sea of reporters parted slightly, and there, standing in front of you, was Clayton Keller.

No fucking way.

Of all the faces you expected to see tonight—sweaty athletes, fellow journalists, maybe a stray beer vendor—his was not one of them. And yet, there he was, stepping out like a ghost from your past. Clayton Keller, in the flesh. For a moment, the crowded press room shrunk, the shuffling reporters and camera flashes dimming into the background as your gaze locked with his. His eyes widened, a flicker of recognition crossing his face, but neither of you said a word. It was like being hit by a rogue puck, stunning you into stillness.

Clayton freakin' Keller? You blinked rapidly, trying to process the cosmic joke unfolding before you. How did you not know he was playing for this team? You’d been on autopilot since you accepted this job, barely caring who laced up their skates for Utah as long as you got a paycheck at the end of the week. And now, standing mere feet away from you, was the boy—no, the man—you’d once mapped out a future with in your mind. The same guy who had practically evaporated from your life with nothing more than a mumbled excuse and a slammed door.

Your thoughts were a jumbled mess, racing like they were being chased down the ice. Part of you wanted to turn around and melt into the crowd, become invisible like you had all those years ago. But the other part, the journalist, the professional, forced you to stay rooted in place. You had a job to do. You had moved on. You were fine.

Except you weren't.

The lights in the room seemed harsher now, bouncing off his ridiculous helmet hair—seriously, how did it still look that good after a game? He looked annoyingly fit in his compression shirt, like a real-life action figure, and it felt unfair. You, on the other hand, were wearing the same tired blazer from two seasons ago, still trying to convince yourself it was "timeless."

The pit in your stomach deepened as Clayton’s eyes bore into yours, his mouth tugging into a half-smile that sent a wave of heat rushing to your face. That stupid smile. You’d seen it a thousand times when you were together—playful, slightly cocky, but never without charm. You hated that your body still reacted to it like this, even after all these years.

Don’t smile back. For the love of God, don’t smile back.

Too late. Your lips betrayed you, quirking up before you could stop them.

Suddenly, the PR person began talking, but you didn’t catch a word. You were too busy trying to remember how to breathe. The room seemed to shift back into focus, the noise returning as questions were fired off at him—none of which you could hear through the roaring in your head. Your fingers clenched around your press badge as you watched Clayton respond to the reporters, his voice low and steady. You didn’t need to hear what he was saying. His presence alone was enough to throw you into a tailspin.

What does he think? Your mind raced with a hundred possibilities. Was he surprised? Regretful? Did he even remember how you left things? Of course, he does. You’ve never quite forgiven yourself for the way you let him walk out without a fight. And now, here he was, larger than life, as if fate had decided to throw you together just for kicks.

The press scrum started to disband, the tension loosening as the cameras lowered and the reporters shifted toward the exit. You should’ve done the same—should’ve grabbed your recorder and escaped with what little dignity you had left. But your feet refused to move. And then, suddenly, neither did his. Clayton looked right at you. The air around you crackled, thick with unspoken words, neither of you daring to break the silence.

Before you could decide whether to run or speak, he was walking toward you. Your breath hitched, every nerve in your body buzzing. The gap between you felt like miles and inches all at once. Each step he took seemed to echo in your chest, like the beat of a drum getting louder, faster.

He stopped just in front of you, close enough that you could smell the faint hint of sweat and Gatorade. The grin had faded from his face, replaced by something unreadable—soft, curious, maybe even a little sheepish.

“Hey,” he said, his voice quiet, like he wasn’t sure how to start.

Hey? That was it? After all these years, after everything, and all he had was a “hey”?

Your mind screamed a million things at once, none of them appropriate for public spaces. But what came out of your mouth was... “Hi.”

Nailed it.

The awkward silence stretched between you, both of you clearly unsure of how to navigate this weird, tension-filled reunion. It was like standing at the edge of a frozen lake, knowing one wrong move could send you crashing through the ice.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to focus. “So... you play for Utah now?” Wow, groundbreaking journalism. Really killing it.

“Yeah,” he said, a hint of a smile creeping back onto his face. “I do. Yotes are no more. Guess I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“I could say the same.” Your voice wobbled, betraying the chaos in your chest. You weren’t sure if you were more mad at him or yourself. For not seeing this coming. For caring. For still feeling something after all these years.

His eyes softened, as if he could read your thoughts. “It’s been a while, huh?”

Seven years. Seven long, winding, confusing years, filled with everything you thought would erase him but never quite could.

“Yeah,” you whispered, swallowing down the lump in your throat. “It has.”

Another pause, thicker this time. You weren’t sure where to go from here. He didn’t either. But here you were, both stranded in this moment, waiting for something to break the ice—or for the floor to swallow you whole.

He rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous habit you’d forgotten about but instantly recognized. “Maybe we could... catch up sometime? After all this?”

Your heart skipped. There it was—the opening, the question that could send you spiraling back into something you weren’t sure you could handle. You should say no. You should walk away, hold your head high, and leave him standing in the echo of his own question. But, of course, that’s not what happened.

“Yeah,” you found yourself saying. “I’d like that.”

What was wrong with you? This was the exact opposite of moving on. But standing there, with Clayton looking at you like no time had passed, like maybe you were both still the same people you’d been before everything fell apart... how could you resist?

*** It had been a few days since the interview, and you were still trying to wrap your head around the surreal fact that Clayton Keller, that Clayton Keller, was back in your life. You'd both exchanged numbers after that painfully awkward conversation, the kind where every word felt like walking on eggshells and every pause seemed to echo louder than it should. A part of you hoped he’d never use it—let the number sit in his phone, untouched, like some relic of a past better left buried. Another part of you, though… well, that part was curious.

So when your phone lit up late one night, your stomach did a little flip when you saw his name. FaceTime. Of course, it was FaceTime. He’d always preferred that over a regular call—something about needing to see your face when he talked, like the words didn’t count unless he could watch them land.

You hesitated for a split second, staring at the screen. What could he possibly want? At this hour? A thousand scenarios played out in your mind, but you knew you’d overthink yourself into oblivion if you didn’t answer. So, with a quick swipe of your thumb, you connected the call.

And there he was.

Clayton, shirtless, lying in what looked like a messy bed with white sheets, his hair damp and tousled, the way it always looked after a shower. His chest rose and fell slowly, like he’d just finished a long day of skating and was too tired to care that he looked half-dead. The dim glow of the bedside lamp cast soft shadows on his face, making his eyes look even bluer than you remembered. He looked exhausted, but somehow still infuriatingly good.

“Hey,” he breathed, his voice a little hoarse.

You blinked, trying to process the sight of him. "Hey," you managed to say back, though it came out softer than you intended, like your voice wasn’t quite ready to handle the weight of this unexpected late-night call.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. He just stared at the screen, blinking slowly, his lips quirking into a lazy smile like this was totally normal, like you weren’t both swimming in a sea of unresolved feelings and unspoken words. His half-smirk sent an unwelcome rush of heat to your face, and you cursed your body for still reacting to him like this.

“I, uh… didn’t wake you, did I?” Clayton asked, his tone casual, but there was something in his expression that felt… tentative. Like he wasn’t sure if he was crossing a line by calling, but had decided to do it anyway.

You shook your head, the corner of your mouth lifting in a small smile. “No, I was just… working on something.” Which was technically true, if by ‘working on something’ you meant binge-watching Netflix in your sweats and trying not to think about him.

“Good,” he said, sighing like he was relieved. He stretched his arm behind his head, his bicep flexing a little, and you tried—tried—not to stare. But come on, the guy was practically a walking thirst trap, even when he wasn’t trying. “I figured it was late, but…” His voice trailed off, and he rubbed the back of his neck, a familiar gesture that tugged at something deep inside you. “I don’t know, I wanted to talk to you.”

That admission hung in the air for a second, and you weren’t sure how to respond. He wanted to talk to you? After all these years? After everything? Part of you wanted to ask why. What did he think he’d get out of this conversation? Closure? Redemption? Or was he just bored in his bedroom, flicking through his contacts until he landed on a name that felt familiar?

Instead, you settled for a simple, “What’s up?” You hoped your voice sounded more casual than your heart felt, which was currently doing cartwheels in your chest.

Clayton shifted on the bed, the sheets rustling softly under him. “I’ve been thinking about… you know… us.” His eyes flickered away from the screen for a moment, like he wasn’t ready to face the weight of that statement. “I mean, it’s been a long time, right? Since we’ve, like, actually talked.”

You nodded, feeling a lump form in your throat. “Yeah, it has.” The understatement of the century. Seven years wasn’t just a long time—it was practically another lifetime. And yet, here you were, talking to him like no time had passed, like the years between you had folded in on themselves.

He let out a soft laugh, one that sounded more self-deprecating than amused. “So, uh… what have you been up to? I mean, other than, you know, writing and all that.”

You let out a short breath, trying to figure out how to distill the chaos of your life into something that didn’t sound pathetic. “Well, I’m not exactly where I thought I’d be,” you admitted, leaning back into your pillows. “Thought I’d be in New York by now, writing Pulitzer-worthy exposés. But, surprise—here I am, covering hockey in Salt Lake City.”

You watched as Clayton processed your words, his expression softening, a faint smile playing on his lips. His gaze never left yours, even through the screen, and for a moment, you felt that old, familiar connection stirring inside you, the one you thought you’d buried beneath years of moving on—or at least pretending to. He shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow, his movements slow and languid like he wasn’t in any rush to end this conversation.

“I noticed,” he mused, his voice low and scratchy, as if he hadn’t spoken in hours. “Never would’ve pegged you for a Utah girl.”

You tilted your head slightly, trying to ignore the way his gaze lingered on you through the screen. His words floated in the air like an awkward icebreaker at a high school reunion—too familiar, too uncomfortable, and yet, impossible to avoid. Covering hockey in Salt Lake City. How had that become your life?

"Salt Lake's... different, you know?" you finally added, giving a small shrug like it wasn't a big deal, even though you felt that weird tightness in your chest whenever you thought about how your career hadn't exactly gone according to plan. "I mean, I didn’t expect to be here either, but hey, life happens, right?”

Clayton’s blue eyes narrowed, his lips twitching in amusement, though there was something behind that look—something like understanding. He was watching you carefully, and it felt like he was seeing more than what you were saying, like he could tell just how much you'd needed that reminder to yourself, more than him. That quiet acknowledgment hung between you both, the years of growing up, of failed dreams, pushing at the edges of the conversation.

“You always made it look easy, though," he said suddenly, like he'd just remembered something. “Everything, I mean. You had this way of… handling stuff. I used to think it was kinda badass.”

Your eyebrows shot up, his words catching you off-guard. Badass? Was he serious? You could barely handle anything these days without second-guessing every decision. Yet here he was, casually throwing compliments like it was nothing.

“Yeah, well, I’m sure badass isn’t exactly what people are thinking when they see me asking sweaty hockey players questions about their game-winning strategy.” You tried to sound light, but there was a hint of something vulnerable under the joke.

Clayton let out a low chuckle, the sound sending an unexpected flutter through your stomach. “I don’t know. You’ve always been good at getting people to talk. Especially me.”

Your breath caught for a second. There it was—that little jab at the past, not sharp enough to hurt, but just enough to remind you of all the conversations that had gone unfinished between the two of you. His compliment, while soft, carried the weight of a thousand unspoken things.

You rolled your eyes a little, but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Don’t give me too much credit. I wasn’t exactly a therapist back then.”

His face softened, a different kind of look crossing his features now. “Nah, but you listened. You always did. Even when I was being an idiot.”

The admission hung in the air, and you couldn’t help but bite the inside of your cheek, trying not to let your emotions show on your face. What was he doing here? Dredging up memories that had long since been buried under years of moving on, of pretending you hadn’t spent too many nights wondering if he’d ever think about you again.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t always know what to say," you admitted, your voice a little quieter now. "But I tried."

There was a moment of silence, the kind that stretched out too long, where every second felt loaded with thoughts neither of you wanted to acknowledge. Clayton shifted on the bed again, running a hand through his damp hair, and you caught yourself staring at the flex of his arm before quickly looking away. Damn him for still looking this good. Even better, actually, because since the last time you saw him, he’d grown into his body and had gained the ability to grow a moustache.

“Look,” he began, his voice dropping a little, “I know I wasn’t… the best back then. To you, I mean.” His words came out slowly, like he was testing them, gauging your reaction. But instead of following through with what felt like the start of an apology, he hesitated, his gaze dropping to the screen.

You waited, expecting more, but it didn’t come. Instead, Clayton leaned back on his pillows, a faint smirk curling his lips. “But you still looked cute when you were pissed off at me. I always liked that.”

You blinked, the sudden shift from what might’ve been an emotional breakthrough to yet another casual compliment leaving you disoriented. “Are you… serious right now?” You couldn’t help the incredulous laugh that escaped you. Only Clayton would steer an almost-apology into flirting territory.

He shrugged, a lazy smile still playing on his lips. “Just saying. You had this look. Like, when you were mad, but you were trying not to be. Your nose would scrunch up a little, and your eyes—”

“Okay, stop,” you cut him off, raising a hand to your face to hide the fact that yes, you were blushing. Damn it. “You can’t just… I don’t know, throw that out there after all this time. You’re still deflecting.”

“Deflecting?” His eyebrows rose, a mock-innocent expression spreading across his face. “I’m just being honest.”

“Honest?” You scoffed, leaning back against your headboard. “What, by bringing up random stuff from eight years ago?”

Clayton’s smirk widened. “Seven. Not random. I remember a lot, actually.”

Of course he did. The way he said it, too—like he was deliberately nudging you, reminding you of all the things you hadn’t forgotten either. But you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

“Oh yeah? What else do you remember?” you asked, your tone playful but with an edge, daring him to see just how far he’d take this little game of his even though you felt like you were about to throw up.

His eyes sparkled, that familiar mischievous look you’d known so well flashing across his face. “Like the time you sent me that–”

Your stomach did a full somersault, heat flooding your face instantly. Oh no. He was not going there. “Nope. No, we are not talking about that,” you cut him off quickly, your voice coming out a little too high-pitched as you desperately tried to keep the conversation from veering into dangerous territory. “That was a one-time thing, and we agreed never to bring it up again.”

Clayton leaned back into his pillows, that damn smirk still glued to his face. “Okay, okay, I’ll drop it—for now,” he teased, his voice low and smooth, sending a ripple of something through your chest. You could almost feel his presence through the screen, that mix of nostalgia and charm making you momentarily forget all the reasons you’d been trying to stay away from this exact moment.

You let out a small breath of relief, glad to have dodged whatever embarrassing memory he’d been about to dredge up. But the silence that followed wasn’t exactly comfortable—it was thick with things left unsaid. You couldn’t tell if the tightness in your chest was from anticipation or dread. Maybe both.

“Anyway,” Clayton said, stretching his arms overhead in a lazy move that only drew more attention to his already distracting physique. His voice had that familiar playful tone, the one you used to hear all the time when he was up to something. “I was thinking… we should actually catch up. Properly.”

You raised an eyebrow, shifting in your seat. “Properly?” The word hung in the air, vague but full of possibility. “What exactly do you mean by ‘properly’?”

Clayton tilted his head to the side, his lips twitching with amusement like he was letting you in on some kind of secret. “Well, what are you doing tonight?”

You glanced at the clock on your phone screen. “Uh, it’s already like, midnight, Clay. What could I possibly be doing?”

His grin widened. “Exactly! You’ve got no plans. So let’s fix that.”

You blinked at him, unsure whether he was serious. “And how do you suggest we ‘fix that’ at midnight in Salt Lake City?” You emphasized the city name, because let’s be real—Salt Lake City wasn’t exactly known for its wild nightlife. You were pretty sure the most exciting thing happening outside right now was… nothing. “There’s not exactly a lot of options here. The city basically shuts down after dark.”

Clayton gave you a look that was equal parts amused and mischievous, like he knew something you didn’t. “Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you haven’t discovered the real Salt Lake yet.”

You squinted at him through the screen. “The ‘real’ Salt Lake? What, you’re gonna tell me there’s some secret underground club scene I’ve missed out on all this time?”

He laughed softly, the sound warm and familiar, like it could melt away the awkwardness that had been sitting between you. “Maybe not exactly an underground club, but I could show you a thing or two. You free? I’ve got nothing going on tomorrow, so… why not?”

You stared at him, your brain struggling to catch up with what he was suggesting. Was he serious? A late-night tour of Salt Lake City with Clayton Keller? The guy who’d ghosted you years ago, now offering to play tour guide like it was no big deal?

“You want to go out,” you clarified slowly, feeling like you needed to repeat it just to make sure you weren’t hallucinating. “In Salt Lake City. At midnight.”

Clayton shrugged, completely unfazed. “Why not? If there’s one thing I’ve learned from all these away games, it’s that every city has something going on. Even the Mormon capital of America.”

You narrowed your eyes, still half-convinced he was joking. “Are you really trying to convince me there’s a hidden nightlife here?”

“I���m telling you, it’s not as boring as you think,” he said with a wink, clearly enjoying how skeptical you were. Then his voice dropped a little, a teasing lilt sneaking in as he added, “You still like your wine, right, sunshine?”

Your heart stopped.

Sunshine.

The old pet name hit you like a sucker punch to the gut, the way it slipped out so casually as if no time had passed at all. He hadn’t called you that in years, but hearing it again now sent a shiver down your spine. It brought back a flood of memories you thought you’d buried—a thousand late-night phone calls, stolen moments when you were younger, when he would look at you with that same mischievous grin and call you his Sunshine.

You blinked, forcing yourself back to the present. The screen in front of you, Clayton’s blue eyes twinkling with the kind of trouble he used to drag you into without a second thought. You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “I… I haven’t heard that name in a while.”

His face softened for a moment, the playfulness easing into something more sincere. “Yeah, I know,” he said quietly, almost like he hadn’t meant to let it slip, but now that it was out there, he wasn’t going to backtrack. “But it still suits you. Always did.”

You felt your stomach do another flip, that knot of unresolved feelings tightening all over again. Damn it. How was he still doing this to you? You had no reason to trust this—no reason to believe this wasn’t just some spur-of-the-moment thing he’d forget about by morning. And yet, something in the way he was looking at you made it hard to resist. The old pull between you, still there, lingering just beneath the surface.

You let out a slow breath, leaning back into your pillows, your mind racing. Was this a terrible idea? Probably. Was it also incredibly tempting? Absolutely.

“So… where exactly are you planning on taking me at midnight, Keller?” you asked, adding a bit of edge to your tone, trying to regain some control over this conversation.

Clayton’s smile widened, his eyes gleaming like he’d just won something. “Guess you’ll have to come find out.” He paused, then added, “I’ll pick you up in fifteen?”

You stared at the screen, still trying to process the fact that this was actually happening. “Fifteen minutes?”

“Yep.” He was already sitting up, throwing his legs over the side of the bed, ready to go. “Better get moving, Sunshine.”

Before you could argue or talk yourself out of it, he flashed you that damn grin, and then the screen went dark. The call ended.

You sat there for a second, staring at your phone, a thousand thoughts swirling through your head. What were you doing? Going out with Clayton at midnight? Had you lost your mind?

But despite the logical part of your brain screaming at you to stay home, your body was already moving, throwing off the blankets and scrambling to find something halfway decent to wear. You might’ve been completely out of your depth here, but there was no way you were backing out now.

Fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes to figure out why in the world you had just agreed to go on a midnight adventure with your ex-boyfriend. You were practically sprinting around your apartment, rifling through drawers and closets as if your life depended on finding the perfect outfit. The truth? You had no idea what "perfect" even meant in this situation. Was this a date? Was it just two old friends catching up? Was he seriously about to show you some secret Salt Lake City nightlife, or was he just messing with you like old times?

Your hands shook as you grabbed a pair of jeans and a cozy sweater. Casual, but not too casual. It was chilly outside, and something about layering up made you feel a little more in control, like the extra fabric might protect you from all the feelings currently fighting their way to the surface.

What am I doing? you thought, your heart racing faster than it had any right to at this hour. The rational part of your brain was screaming for you to stay home, to crawl back under the blankets and pretend this whole thing never happened. But your body—the traitorous thing—had other ideas. It moved on autopilot, pulling on sneakers, brushing your hair, applying just a hint of makeup, because apparently even at midnight you still cared what he thought.

You caught your reflection in the mirror and sighed. "You’re insane," you muttered to yourself, but the slight tug at the corner of your lips betrayed you. There was no denying it—you were excited. The nervous, butterflies-in-your-stomach kind of excited that you hadn’t felt in a long time. And for better or worse, Clayton Keller was at the center of it.

By the time you heard a knock at your door, your hands were still trembling, but you pushed aside the anxiety and opened it.

There he was.

Clayton leaned against the doorframe, his hands shoved in the pockets of a jacket that fit him way too well. His hair was tousled, like he hadn’t bothered with it before heading out, and his grin—God, that grin—was the same cocky, boyish one you remembered from years ago. Except now, it carried a weight that hadn’t been there before, like he knew exactly the effect he had on you and wasn’t about to let you forget it.

"Ready?" he asked, his eyes sweeping over you in a way that made your skin tingle.

You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. "You really think there’s something to do here at this hour?"

He chuckled, that low, familiar sound. "Guess you’ll have to trust me."

Trust. That was a loaded word.

Still, you stepped out, closing the door behind you, and followed him to his car. The night air was crisp, biting at your skin just enough to remind you it was almost fall. Clayton opened the passenger door for you—something that shouldn’t have surprised you, but did—and you slid in, trying not to think too hard about how close he was when he leaned over to shut it behind you. The scent of his cologne lingered, a warm mix of something woodsy and clean, the same one from all those years ago, and it was enough to make your mind go blank for a second.

As he got in on the driver’s side, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at him. His jawline was sharper than you remembered, more defined, and he had this maturity that wasn’t there before–some stubble, barely-there fine lines. It was a face you knew well, but now it felt foreign, like you were seeing him in a new light.

"So," you said, trying to distract yourself from the knot forming in your chest, "What’s the plan? Are we sneaking into a speakeasy, or are you going to take me to one of those places with $12 coffee?"

Clayton laughed, and the sound was like a balm to your nerves. "Oh, come on. Give me a little credit. I’m not about to drag you out at midnight for overpriced coffee." He shifted the car into drive and shot you a sideways glance. "Unless that’s what you’re into now, Sunshine?"

There it was again. The nickname.

You rolled your eyes, trying to play it cool, but your heart did a little flip at the sound of it. "You really need to stop calling me that," you said, but your voice was softer than you intended.

He didn’t respond right away, and for a moment, the air in the car felt thick, like the space between you was shrinking by the second. He drove in silence, the streets quiet and still, as if the whole city had gone to sleep while the two of you were still wide awake, caught in some strange limbo between the past and whatever this was turning into.

"You gonna tell me where we’re going, or is this part of the whole ‘mysterious night tour’ you’re so committed to?" you asked, breaking the silence with a quirk of your eyebrow. Your voice was light, but the tension was still there, hanging between you both like a thread stretched too tight.

Clayton smirked, not taking his eyes off the road. "Be patient. You’ll see soon enough." His voice was teasing, but there was an undercurrent of something more, like he was just as aware of the weight between you as you were.

You cleared your throat, trying to regain some semblance of control. "You still haven’t outgrown that whole ‘man of mystery’ thing, have you?" you teased, your tone playful, though your heart was pounding a little harder than you wanted to admit.

"Wouldn’t be any fun if I did, would it?" he shot back with a grin, glancing at you briefly. And that’s when you noticed it—the way his eyes lingered just a second too long, as if he was memorizing the details of your face, taking in the little things you hadn’t even realized he’d noticed before.

You felt the energy between you shift again, and it was suddenly harder to breathe. There was a tension simmering beneath the surface, bubbling up in the things you both were dancing around, the memories neither of you had acknowledged yet. You glanced down at your hands, fidgeting with the hem of your sweater, the silence growing louder the longer you stayed in it.

And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, you felt Clayton’s hand brush against yours, his fingers grazing your knuckles absentmindedly. It wasn’t intentional—at least, you didn’t think it was—but the warmth of his skin sent a ripple of awareness through your entire body.

You glanced up at him, startled, but he was still focused on the road, like he hadn’t even noticed the accidental touch. Except… you knew he had. The way his jaw tightened ever so slightly, the way his one-handed grip on the steering wheel shifted, knuckles going white for a second before he relaxed again—it was all there, in the small, nearly imperceptible gestures that spoke louder than words ever could.

Your heart thudded in your chest, a familiar ache starting to form. Damn him for being able to do this to you without even trying.

"So," you said, desperate to break the silence before you could lose yourself completely in the warmth of his touch. "You’ve been in town a lot recently, huh? Since the team got moved?" It was a lame attempt at conversation, but anything was better than the whirlwind of thoughts currently swirling in your head.

"Yeah," Clayton replied, his voice casual, but there was a slight tension behind it. "Trying to get used to it. A lot of home games lately. But I don’t mind it. It’s kind of nice getting to see places like this again."

You raised an eyebrow. "You mean you enjoy being stuck in this city at midnight?"

He chuckled, and the sound sent a warm shiver down your spine. "When you put it that way, it sounds awful. But, you know, every city’s got its charm. And besides"—his voice dropped lower, a little more serious—"it’s not the place that makes it worth it. It’s the company."

You froze for a second, the weight of his words settling in like a stone in your chest. The way he said it—so effortlessly, like it wasn’t loaded with a thousand layers of meaning—made your stomach flip. You didn’t know what to say to that, so you did what you always did when you were caught off guard.

You deflected.

"Is that your way of saying I’m good company?" you teased, trying to keep your voice light even though your pulse was racing.

Clayton shot you a sideways glance, that damn smirk returning to his face. "You always were," he said, and the sincerity in his voice knocked the wind out of you for a second.

You bit your lip, suddenly feeling like you were eighteen again, sitting next to him in the car, wondering if he was going to reach for your hand like he used to. And just like back then, the possibility hung in the air, heavy with unspoken tension.

You turned to look at him, studying the way the dim light caught on the sharp edges of his jawline, the way his lashes cast soft shadows on his cheekbones. His face had matured, sure, but the boyish charm was still there—the same Clayton you’d fallen for once upon a time.

"You really haven’t changed much," you found yourself saying before you could stop the words from slipping out. "I mean, you’re still… you."

He glanced over at you, his expression softening as he caught the hidden meaning in your words. "Neither have you, Sunshine," he murmured, his voice almost too quiet for the small space of the car. "You’re still… you."

The way he said it—like he hadn’t forgotten a single thing about you—made something inside you ache. You wanted to say something back, to tell him how much you’d missed him, how much you hated that he still had this power over you after all these years. But the words wouldn’t come. They stuck in your throat, tangled up with all the things you hadn’t been able to say back then, and now.

Instead, you reached for his hand—just a simple, fleeting touch, your fingers brushing his in a way that felt almost accidental. But it wasn’t. Not really.

His fingers curled around yours, just for a moment, just long enough for you to feel the warmth of his skin and the way it made your whole body hum with something familiar, something you hadn’t felt in far too long.

And then, just like that, he let go.

You blinked, pulling your hand back and staring out the window, the city lights reflecting off the glass in a blur of color and motion. Your chest felt tight, too many emotions crashing into you at once. But you couldn’t deny it—no matter how hard you tried to keep your walls up, they were crumbling. And Clayton? He was still the one person who could knock them down without even trying.

"So," you said, your voice a little breathless, "Are we almost there?"

Clayton glanced over at you, his expression unreadable for a moment before he smiled softly. "Yeah, we’re close."

The rest of the drive was silent, but it wasn’t uncomfortable anymore. It was the kind of silence that was full of possibility, of things left unsaid but not unwelcome. You didn’t know where this night was headed, but you knew one thing for sure—whatever happened, it wouldn’t be something you’d forget anytime soon.

***

The city streets blurred as the car slowed to a stop in some tucked-away corner you barely recognized. The soft glow of the streetlights overhead cast a warm hue on the pavement, but you barely noticed. Your mind was still spinning from the weight of Clayton’s words, from the way his hand had felt when it lingered on yours for just that fleeting second.

“We’re here,” he said, his voice low, almost hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure this was the right place, or the right time, or maybe the right anything.

But you didn’t care. The night felt charged, like the two of you were moving in slow motion while the rest of the world was speeding by. It didn’t matter where “here” was, not really.

You both stumbled out of the car, the cool night air rushing at you as you wrapped your sweater tighter around yourself. But it wasn’t enough—not with the way Clayton’s presence seemed to radiate heat just inches away. You were on edge, your senses heightened, and every part of you was hyper-aware of how close he was, of the way his breath lingered in the crisp air, of the way he watched you with a look that made your heart skip a beat.

“Come on,” he said, a grin tugging at his lips as he grabbed a bottle of something from the back seat. “We’re not done yet.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Is this still part of the mysterious tour?”

“Maybe,” he teased, already uncorking the bottle and handing it to you. His fingers brushed yours again, and it was ridiculous how that tiny touch sent another shiver down your spine.

You took a swig, the liquid burning as it slid down your throat, but you welcomed it—the warmth, the distraction from the pounding in your chest. Clayton took the bottle back, and soon you were both drinking far too much, far too fast, but neither of you seemed to care. You walked aimlessly, shoulders bumping, laughing at nothing and everything, the weight of the past slipping further away with each step.

It didn’t take long before you found yourselves outside some random corner store, the neon sign buzzing faintly in the distance. You leaned against the brick wall, head tipped back as you took another swig, giggling at something Clayton had just said—something about how ridiculous it was that he had to move here, that his dogs liked it better in Arizona.

But then, suddenly, it wasn’t funny anymore. Not when you felt his eyes on you, the intensity of his gaze burning into your skin. You turned to face him, your breath catching in your throat as the space between you disappeared in an instant.

He was close. So close.

Without thinking, you leaned in, your hand finding the front of his jacket, tugging him closer until there was no more room left between you. And then his lips were on yours, soft but insistent, as if he had been waiting for this moment just as long as you had.

The first kiss was electric. You could taste the alcohol on his lips, sweet and sharp, but that wasn’t what had your heart racing. It was the way he kissed you—hungry, like he was trying to make up for all the time you’d lost, all the time you hadn’t spent together. His hands were on your waist, pulling you closer, and suddenly, the entire world faded away, leaving only the two of you under the dim streetlights.

You didn’t care that you were making out in public, that anyone could see. In that moment, nothing else mattered. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him even closer as you kissed him harder, more desperately, as if you were afraid this would all disappear if you stopped for even a second.

You broke apart, gasping for air, but Clayton didn’t let go. His forehead rested against yours, his breath hot against your lips as you both stood there, hearts pounding, the night spinning around you. “God, Sunshine,” he muttered, his voice hoarse, “What are you doing to me?”

You couldn’t find the words to respond, so you kissed him again. This time, it was slower, deeper, and the warmth of it seeped into your bones. His hands roamed your back, pulling you against him in a way that felt reckless, like neither of you cared about anything except the feel of each other.

Somehow, in your drunken haze, you ended up wandering through the streets, arms wrapped around each other, stumbling over your own feet as you laughed and kissed and touched like you were teenagers again. His hands were everywhere—on your waist, your hips, sliding up the back of your neck to tangle in your hair—and you couldn’t get enough of him.

At one point, you found yourselves pressed up against the side of a building, your back hitting the cold brick as Clayton’s body pressed against yours, his mouth hot against your neck. You were both breathless, both lost in the moment, and you couldn’t stop the small moan that escaped your lips as his teeth grazed your skin.

“God, Clayton,” you gasped as he kissed a trail down your jawline, his stubble scratching deliciously against your skin. “We’re in the middle of the street.”

He grinned against your neck, his breath hot against your skin. “So? It’s not like anyone’s around to stop us.”

You laughed, a giddy, breathless sound, and shoved him playfully, though your hands were still clutching the front of his shirt. “You’re such an idiot.”

“And yet,” he murmured, pulling you back in for another kiss, his hands sliding to rest on your hips, “you’re still here.”

You couldn’t argue with that. Your body pressed against his again, and suddenly all your protests faded away as he kissed you like he had something to prove. You could feel the way his fingers dug into your hips, pulling you impossibly closer, and your whole body felt like it was buzzing with energy. It was overwhelming, intoxicating, the way he touched you, kissed you, like he was trying to make up for all the lost time in one night.

The two of you were a tangle of limbs and breathless kisses, stumbling down the sidewalk toward what you assumed was his apartment. Neither of you seemed to know—or care—where you were headed, as long as you were together. The past, the complications, the years of distance—they all melted away, lost in the heat of the moment.

And you? You were drowning in it. Drowning in him. And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t want to come up for air.

*** You woke up to the sound of an obnoxious alarm blaring from somewhere across the room, the kind that felt like it was drilling straight into your skull. Your eyes fluttered open, your brain struggling to catch up with the sudden onslaught of noise, and you groaned, pulling the covers over your head in a desperate attempt to block it out.

That’s when it hit you.

This wasn’t your bed.

The sheets were soft, unfamiliar against your skin, and the room smelled like him—clean, woodsy, with that faint hint of his cologne that you’d been way too aware of last night. Last night. Oh, God.

You froze, every muscle in your body tensing as the events of the previous evening slammed back into you with all the subtlety of a freight train. Clayton. The kiss. The way he touched you like you were the only thing in the world he wanted. The way you hadn’t stopped him, hadn’t even wanted to stop him. And now, here you were, tangled in his sheets, his bare chest pressed up against your back, his arm slung lazily over your waist like it had always belonged there.

You squeezed your eyes shut again, praying this was some whiskey-induced fever dream and that in a few minutes, you’d wake up in your own bed, alone, and none of this would have actually happened. But no amount of willpower could change the fact that you were very much awake, very much in his bed, and very much aware of the fact that you’d slept with Clayton.

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, your heart pounding in your chest like it was trying to break free.

Beside you, Clayton stirred, groaning as he stretched lazily, his fingers brushing against your bare skin as he shifted. “Mornin’,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep, and you could hear the smile in his tone even though you couldn’t see his face.

Oh, he sounded way too casual for someone who had just turned your entire world upside down.

“Morning?” you squeaked, your voice coming out far higher than you’d intended. You shifted out from under his arm and sat up, clutching the blanket to your chest like a lifeline. “Clayton, what the hell—?”

His eyes cracked open, blinking at you with that groggy, lopsided grin that would have been charming if you weren’t currently having an internal meltdown. He looked… annoyingly good. The kind of good that made you want to punch him and kiss him at the same time, and the conflict was making your brain short-circuit.

“What?” he asked, his grin widening as he stretched again, the muscles in his arms flexing. “You’re freakin’ out. I can tell. Relax, Sunshine.”

“Relax?” Your voice pitched higher. “You told me you didn’t have anything going on today!”

Clayton blinked, then frowned slightly as if he was trying to recall. And then, like a lightbulb flicking on, you saw the realization dawn on his face. “Oh. Yeah… about that.”

Your heart sank. “Clayton.”

“Okay, look, technically I don’t have anything going on until later…” he started, but you shot him a glare that could’ve melted steel.

“Then what is that?” you asked, pointing accusingly toward his still-blaring phone, the sound making your skin crawl. Clayton sighed, pushing the covers off and swinging his legs out of bed. He crossed the room in nothing but a pair of his boxers—of course he looked ridiculously good in them—and smacked the alarm off with a casualness that made you want to scream.

“I might’ve… uh, forgotten to mention that I have practice this morning,” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s just a quick thing. Early session. In like… 20 minutes.”

You stared at him, incredulous. “You lied to me?”

“I didn’t lie!” he protested, his hands up in mock defense. “I just… omitted some details. For the sake of the night. I didn’t want to kill the vibe.” He had the audacity to smirk at you, that same cocky, infuriatingly charming smirk that used to make your stomach flip when you were younger—and still did, apparently, despite everything. “I figured I’d have enough time to grab a shower, kiss you goodbye, and get outta here. No big deal.”

No big deal? You gawked at him, your mouth opening and closing like a fish, trying to find some coherent response to that. Was he serious? After everything that happened last night, he thought you could just… what? Kiss him goodbye and pretend like nothing had changed?

“Clay,” you said slowly, “We slept together.”

He shrugged, that damn smirk never leaving his face. “Yeah. I remember. Pretty sure you were there for that.”

Your face flushed hot, embarrassment and frustration bubbling up inside you. “How can you be so—so chill about this? I’m freaking out! We haven’t seen each other in years, and then you just show up and… and this happens?” You gestured wildly, like the whole situation was somehow his fault, which, okay, maybe it wasn’t entirely fair, but still.

Clayton’s smirk softened into something gentler, his eyes searching your face as he stepped closer to the bed. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice low, calming, as if he could sense that you were on the verge of spiraling. “I’m not freakin’ out because… because I wanted this to happen. And not just last night.” He reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine. "I know it’s complicated," he said, his voice steady. "But I also know that I don’t want you to leave."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you finally turned to face him, your eyes searching his for any sign of hesitation. But there wasn’t any. He was looking at you like he meant every word.

"What are you saying?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair, clearly trying to find the right words. "I’m saying… I don’t know what last night means either. But I do know that I don’t want it to be a one-time thing. I don’t want to wake up and find you gone. I don’t want to go to practice and come back to an empty apartment. I want you to be here when I get back."

You stared at him, stunned into silence.

"I didn’t realize it until last night, but I’m not… I’m not the same without you, Sunshine," he continued, his voice soft but sure. "And I don’t think I want to be."

Your heart felt like it had taken off at a sprint, and suddenly, all the panic, all the confusion that had been swirling in your head since the alarm went off, started to melt away.

You didn’t know how to respond—hell, you didn’t even know if you had the right words to respond to something like that. But as you looked at him, sitting there with that vulnerable look in his eyes, you felt something inside you shift, something that told you that maybe—just maybe—this was worth the risk.

You still loved him. Him, and those blue eyes that practically glew, all of his awkward, uncoordinated limbs paired with the way he never failed to make you laugh.

How could you not?

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I’ll be here."

Clayton let out a breath he’d clearly been holding, his shoulders relaxing as a relieved grin spread across his face. "Good," he said, his voice lighter now, teasing. "Because I was really hoping to have breakfast with you after I kick ass at practice."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop the smile that broke through. "Oh, you were, huh?"

“Yup,” he said, popping the ‘p’ as he leaned in, his voice dropping lower. “And if you’re really nice, maybe I’ll even make you coffee.”

You laughed, shaking your head as the tension between you both dissolved into something warmer, something familiar. "Wow, lucky me," you teased back, tilting your head up to peck him on the lips. Your heart felt lighter now, like maybe—just maybe—this was the start of something neither of you had expected but were both willing to explore.

A love that’s worth the fight, even if it hurts, if it faded in time a long time ago, because it just feels so right. 

He’s it for you, and even though he was always notoriously bad with his words, the way he’s looking at you speaks all of them for him.

[hips-like-battleships]

I am mostly avoiding Veilguard previews at this point, but I have seen the choices available for input into the character creator. Genuinely, I think it’s fine? I know some people are really mad and I’m not talking those people out of their feelings (feel your feelings girl!!!), but, it’s about what I expected.

First from just a practical standpoint, bruh this game came out ten years ago. A console cycle ago. Pretty close to a generation of humans ago!! I want the game to be accessible for a new audience. A new audience means more games and continuation of this series that I love very much!! I am very onboard with this game being a new entry point.

But second of all—we’ve done this twice already! Nothing really mattered from one game to the next and it’s been totally fine. I never even got my hopes up for anything beyond solavellan closure so what is there for me to be disappointed about personally.

I am just trying to imagine BG3, which we all loved, being slavishly devoted to player choice carryover from BG2. I know the time gap was longer, so it’s not quite the same, but aren’t we all happy with what that game gave us? Aren’t we all happy we could be welcomed into that world with very little context of its history? I know I sure am.

Anyway. Continuing to stay excited and optimistic. It’s been so long and it’s almost here!! I am finding it a lot more fun for me personally to just be like, thankful it’s here at all and open to whatever that means. I think I get more optimistic as time goes. No reason to frustrate myself early.

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Yes Mama Chapter 2

Summary:  Bucky Barnes has made quite the name for himself in the underground mob boss world.  But he’s not the boss.  Just the face of the Family.  

Warnings:  violence, subtle mention of drugs, murder, language, possessiveness, smut, mild choking, public sex

Kids: oldest (from Steve) Frankie 12, second (from Tony) Antonia 10, third (from T’Challa) Uuka 8, fourth (from Bucky) Beau 6, fifth (from Bucky) Lottie 5, sixth (from Bucky) Valentina 3

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Y/N was stuck in her office for hours lately.  Bucky was usually in on those meetings, but she’d been sending him out to deal with making sure that loyalties among the lower level “employees” who didn’t know about her were still strong and people were doing as they were told.  Being the mob boss queen meant she demanded respect and fierce loyalty from all she worked with, and in exchange she took care of them.  Everyone on her payroll and their families would be set for life if they just followed the rules: don’t get caught, and if you do, you know nothing.  You might not make it out of prison, but you would be protected while inside, and your family and affairs would be taken care of until you got back.  

With the amount of rats they’d had pop up over the last couple of years, she was paranoid, making sure that those working under her, as well as her informants, spies, moles, connections in law enforcement, and her allies were all on the same page as her and her expectations.  She had been having long meetings with the other Dons who knew who she was and fathered her first three children.  The kids knew who their fathers really were, and were loved and doted on by their biological fathers, but they almost always referred to Bucky as “dad.”

Y/N was in a meeting with Steve Rogers, Frankie’s father, and Bucky was feeling the jealousy eating him alive.  It was just the two of them in there.  He tried to tell himself he had nothing to worry about, but couldn’t seem to get his heart to listen to his mind.  The separation was becoming too much for him, and he was missing her terribly.  He returned from being out and rounded the corner to see Steve and Y/N walking out of her study.  They talked quietly for a moment before Steve took Y/N’s hand and kissed the ruby ring, then leaned in and kissed her cheek, far too close to her mouth for Bucky’s liking.  Bucky hid himself behind the corner for another minute until Steve nodded and started to walk away from her towards him.  Bucky pretended to just come around the corner and Steve gave him a friendly smile.  “Hey Buck,” he greeted him.  “Good to see you.”

“Rogers,” Bucky greeted him coldly.

“Oh come on, punk,” Steve frowned.  “When are you gonna let it go?  It was a long time ago.  You’re married to her–”

Bucky scoffed.  “Yeah.  See you around.”  He walked away towards Y/N’s study, then Frankie came running around the other corner.  “Hey bud,” Bucky greeted him.

“Hey Dad,” Frankie said, hugging him.  “Mama said Steve was here.”

Bucky gestured behind him and Frankie looked and saw him.  “Oh, hi Steve.”

“Hey kid,” Steve smiled widely.  “Are you ready for some fun?”

“Yeah,” Frankie nodded with an excited smile.  He looked back up at Bucky.  “We’re going to see the Yankees game.”

“Nice,” Bucky nodded with a tight smile.  He leaned down and kissed the top of Frankie’s head.  “Be safe, and have fun.”

“I will.  Love you!” Frankie said, then ran over to Steve, who hugged him and ruffled his hair.

“Love you,” Bucky called back.  He watched them leave before huffing a sharp breath then turning to her study.  At least he calls me dad, he thought wryly.  He knocked on her door and she called him in.  He walked in to find her pouring over some paperwork on her desk, writing some things furiously before flipping pages over.  “Mama,” he greeted her.

“Report?” she asked, not looking up.  

Bucky silently sighed.  She’d been much more curt with him since that night she rejected his advances.  He didn’t blame her, but it still hurt.  “Loyalties are strong on the surface, but we’re doing some double checking,” he said.  She continued to jot things down and then put down her pen and looked at him.  “How was your meeting?” he asked, immediately regretting it.  He just couldn’t seem to help himself.  

Y/N smirked at him.  “It was fine.  Steve is still committed to our arrangement.  Did Frankie find him?” Bucky nodded.  “Good.”

“And Tony?  T’Challa?” he asked.

Y/N rolled her eyes.  “Are you asking because you’re interested in business or because you wanna know if I fucked any of them on my desk?”

Bucky grimaced.  She could read him so easily, and he felt embarrassed and ashamed at how jealous and insecure he was about it.  He inhaled deeply, looking away and down at the floor.  “I’m asking about business,” he said quietly.  

Y/N stood from her chair and walked around to the front of the desk, hoisting herself to sit on top of it.  She was wearing a shorter dress today, and as she sat it rucked up her thick legs, letting him see more of her thighs, and a small peek of her bright red underwear.  He tried really hard to keep his eyes on her face, his jaw clenching as he refused to let his frustration show on his face.  “I was doing the same as you, checking that our loyalties are strong.  But, just for your peace of mind, no, I didn’t fuck any of them,” she started, arching her eyebrow at him.  “The only time I ever fucked them was, is, and will be, the only time that ever happens.  It was for protection, alliance, not out of lust or love.”  She paused, then lifted her hand and crooked her finger to gesture for him to come closer.  Bucky walked over until he was standing right in front of her.  She grabbed his flesh hand and held it.  “I didn’t know Steve was your friend,” she said quietly.  It was most likely the only apology he was ever going to get from her for the past.

Bucky squeezed her fingers.  “I understand.”

Y/N let go of his hand and reached up to cup the side of his face.  “I love those babies I got from them, but they will never take over the Family someday.  Your babies,” she paused, gripping his jaw and making him lean down close to her face, “our babies, that you and I made, with lust, and love, and everything in between, are our legacy.  You gave me a prince and two princesses to take over the empire, didn’t you?”  Buck exhaled shakily, his eyes flicking across her face, his hands steadying himself on either side of her on her desk as he felt the desire flooding through him.  He nodded at her words, his face leaning closer to nuzzle her nose.  She angled her face and her lips ghosted across his lips.  “You and I, babydoll, are never off the table,” she whispered.

Bucky whimpered.  He hadn’t heard her call him that pet name in the longest time, and it ignited something deep inside that made his knees weak.  “Mama please,” he begged.  

Y/N’s hand let go of his face and felt him all the way down to his pants, palming him gently.  She hummed.  “You want me?” she asked seductively.  Bucky nodded frantically, watching her touch him.  She leaned back, still touching him, but giving herself room to spread her legs, making her dress hike up so he could see her underwear fully.  They were wet where they met her pussy, and he shivered at the sight.  “And all that comes with me?” she asked.  

Bucky nodded frantically.  “Yes!  Yes, Mama,” he breathed.  “I love those kids…even though they’re not mine.  I love them.  And I’m sorry my jealousy got in the way of that,” he said, his words coming out like word-vomit.  “I missed…I miss you.  Please Mama.  I need you.  I want you.  All of you.”  His eyes started to fill with tears.  “I love you.  I’ve always loved you.”

Y/N’s eyelids fluttered at his words.  “I love you,” she whispered, then pulled him down to lay over her as she laid back on the desk and kissed him hard.  Bucky whimpered again, kissing her back deeply.  It was heavy panting, hurried movements, sloppy and passionate, just how it always was with her.  His hands gripped her thighs and moved her legs to intertwine at her ankles behind his back as his hips rutted into her.  Y/N moaned at the feeling of him against her core.  Bucky couldn’t get enough, having been deprived of her for so long.  His kisses moved from her mouth down to her chest, where he started untying the wrap-around dress so that it splayed open for him to kiss, lick, and suck at her breasts that were bare underneath.  “Fuck yes, babydoll,” Y/N groaned.

“God I missed you calling me that,” Bucky grunted as he sucked at her nipples, giving each of them ample attention.  “Can I have you, Mama?  I’ll make you feel so good, please…please please please…”

“You wanna fuck me babydoll?” Y/N asked as he continued sucking at her breasts, his flesh hand sliding down in between her legs, feeling her wetness in her underwear.  Bucky nodded, looking up at her pleadingly.  “You gonna fuck another baby into me?”

“If that’s what you want, Mama,” he said, moving back up to her face.  “I’ll give you everything, all that I am.  I’m yours to do with whatever you want.”

“Then give it to me,” Y/N said, pushing his jacket off.  “Give it to me the way only you can.”

Bucky moaned.  “Yes, Mama,” he said, then picked her up off the desk and carried her over to the couch in the corner.  They’d fucked on this couch multiple times over the years, but after not having her for a while he felt a twist of excitement at the sight of it, the memories rushing back to his mind.  He pulled her dress completely off, laid her on the couch making sure they were both settled, and then ripped her underwear off with his metal hand.  

Y/N gasped.  “Buck!”

“I’ll get you some more,” he groaned as his metal fingers got wet from her arousal rubbing up and down through her lower lips.  “Though with how much time we have to make up for, I don’t want you wearing any underwear so I can take you anytime, anywhere.”

Y/N smiled up at him.  “Great minds think alike,” she said teasingly.  Bucky kissed her again as he stripped himself, throwing his clothes off to the side.  He gripped his cock and slid it through her wet slit, teasing her clit with his tip repeatedly until she was writhing underneath him.  “Don’t tease, babydoll,” she said in a warning tone.  

“Yes, Mama,” Bucky smirked, then slid all the way into her in one thrust.  Y/N stiffened under him, her mouth dropping open as she silently gasped.  Bucky tensed his whole body, trying desperately not to immediately cum.  “Holy shit, you feel so good.  Always so good to me,” he breathed.

“Move,” Y/N said, her hips trembling.  “You know how I like it.”

Bucky nodded and lifted her legs so she was nearly folded in half, her feet on his upper back from how spread her knees were.  She had always been flexible in her hips, and he loved that he could feel her all around him.  He pulled his hips back, his hands still pushing her legs up, and started thrusting hard.  Y/N moaned, and he reveled in the noises he could pull from her.  He hadn’t heard them in so long that his head felt dizzy.  His hands felt all over her legs, her hips, her stomach, her sides, her breasts, everywhere that he could reach easily.  

Y/N’s hands were feeling him, too, her arms winding behind his back and her hands grasping his shoulders from behind, keeping him as close as possible.  Their combined heavy breaths, the moans, sloppy kisses and skin slapping skin all echoed through the study.  Her pussy fluttered around him and her legs shook, warning him that she was close.  “You gonna cum for me, Mama?” he whispered, a huffed breath on her cheek with how close they were to each other.  She nodded drunkenly, her eyes looking him over like he was brand new.  “You want my cum?”

“Yeah,” Y/N said, then squealed when his hand gripped the back of her neck and into her hair.  “Fuck yes.  Fuck it into me, babydoll.”  Bucky shuddered at her words, making her smirk deeply.  “You like that?”  He nodded, licking up her neck.  “You like me dripping you all day long?”

“Yes!” Bucky grunted.  “Make you mine.  Only mine.  My Mama.”

“That’s right,” she nodded, running her hands through his hair just how he liked.  “I’m yours.  You’re mine, babydoll.  Only…mine…”

Bucky started thrusting even harder and faster, his metal hand slipping between them and flicking her clit fast.  Y/N tugged his hair hard, her forehead pressing against his as she shrieked and finally came, her pussy gripping him mercilessly.  As she shook under him he couldn’t hold it anymore and came inside her, continuing to thrust and fuck it into her like she wanted, his own loud whimper getting swallowed by her kiss.

They kissed lazily until they could breathe normally again, then Bucky pulled himself up.  He sat up on his knees then pulled her up with him, doing his best to keep his cock buried deep inside her as he maneuvered them to lay back on the pillows, her head laying on his sternum.  When he was comfortable he pulled her left hand up to his mouth and kissed her Family ring, then saw she was wearing the wedding ring he’d given her years ago.  It wasn’t as grand as the ruby ring, but complemented it, just like their relationship.  She hadn’t worn it in a while, and it filled him with pride that she finally put it back on today.  It was like she knew this would happen all along, which if he were honest with himself, she probably did.  She knew him better than he knew himself, most days.  She most likely knew that after these meetings he’d be jealous, insecure, horny and desperate.  He couldn’t even be mad at her as he kissed her wedding ring as well.  “I missed you, Mama,” he said quietly.

“I missed you, Buck,” Y/N breathed, squeezing his fingers.  She looked up at him with a sweet smile.  “My babydoll.”

[canirove]

The invinsible princess | Chapter 3

“First times”

Chapter 2 | Chapter 4 (coming out next Friday - October 4)

Masterlist

“Knock, knock.”

“Mum, hey.”

“May I come in?” she says from my room's door.

“Sure” I smile. 

“So…” she says, sitting down on my bed. “You are leaving again.”

“It's just for a few weeks, mum.”

“A month. And then it's the summer holidays and you are also going away with your friends and I don't know when I will see you again.”

“Don't be that dramatic, mum” I laugh. 

“The house is gonna be so empty without you and your sister…” she continues . “Though I guess we should be getting used to this. To you spending more time away and following your own path. You aren't our little girls anymore, you are women now.”

“Don’t let dad hear you saying that” I chuckle.

“I won't” she smiles. “But Sofía… Is there anything going on?”

“Uh?”

“Lately you've been… I don't know. Different.”

“Different?” I ask as I keep packing my bag.

“Yes, like… I don't know how to explain it, but you look different. Happier.”

“Well, I am happy.”

“Because you aren't invisible anymore?”

“What?” 

“Sofía…” my mum says, taking a deep breath. “I know that's how you've been feeling all these years. As if you weren't important to us, as if everything was for your sister and we were ignoring you. As if you didn't matter, as if you were just a second choice. But you do matter, Sofía. You do.”

“I know” I whisper, playing with the necklace Pedri gave me over Christmas. Touching the little banana charm has become something I do mostly without thinking when I am nervous or feeling a bit anxious, something that helps me relax.  

“And now… I don't know. You've spent most part of this year constantly going to Barcelona and staying with your aunt and your cousins, looking the happiest I've seen you in a long time when you come back, and I can't help but feel like… like…”

“Like?”

“Like they are giving you the love you deserve. The love your father and I have failed at giving you.”

“You haven't failed me, mum” I say, looking at her.

“Haven't we? Because I can't remember the last time I saw you smiling like this. Well, I do. When Spain won the Euros” she chuckles. “You had the same sparkle in your eyes after the boys came to visit us.”

“The same sparkle?” I laugh.

“Cheesy, I know. But it's the truth” she shrugs. “Both things aren't related, are they?”

“What?”

“Your aunt Cristina has a theory but… Nah. Forget about it.”

“A theory?” I ask her. “What theory?”

“Well, she thinks you are dating someone in Barcelona, and that he may be either one of your cousin's teammates or a Barça player from the football team. One Irene seems to fancy.”

“What?” I laugh, hoping that my reaction will hide the fact that my aunt is right. Kind of.

Because Irene actually fancies a guy who plays handball with her brother, and since I owe her for helping me when I meet with Pedri, now I'm doing the same for her and accompanying her to his games.

“You two go watch your cousin play handball all the time and also go to the Camp Nou pretty often. And then you alone disappear most weekends and don't stop by the house. You say you are meeting with friends, but she suspects it's because you are staying with a boy.”

“That's… I…”

“Ferran!” my mum suddenly says.

“Ferran?”

“That's the boy Irene apparently likes. Are you dating him? I saw you looking his way when they visited us. He is quite handsome.”

“I'm not dating him, mum” I chuckle. “And I wasn't looking his way.” Though I was, because Pedri was obviously next to him. 

“I wouldn't mind if you were” she shrugs. 

“Really? He is… a football player.”

“And?” she says. “I was just a tv news presenter when I met your father.”

“Yes, but… But you had a degree. Most football players have struggled to finish high school.”

“Sofía, as long as you love each other and you have a healthy relationship, I don't care about what the person you choose does for a living. But whatever they do has to be legal, of course” she says with a playful smile.

“Of course” I reply, also smiling. 

“Does this mean there is a boy, then? Is your aunt right?”

“I… ummm…” I say, back to playing with my necklace.

“Got it” she winks. “Am I right about what I was saying earlier too?”

“Uh?”

“About you going to Barcelona so often not just because of a boy, Sofía. I think you are doing it because of me and your father. Because here with us you feel alone and lonely. Because here it is all about your sister and getting her ready for her future. And when we do something together as a family, like going to an event the four of us together for example, it also ends up being about her. So I understand it, Sofía. I understand if you've felt left behind and invisible, and now in Barcelona you don't anymore.”

And the thing is… that she's right. That in Barcelona I've found what I didn't have in Madrid, and not only because of Pedri. 

My aunt Cristina (my dad's sister) has basically adopted me and has been taking care of me as if I was another of her kids (she has four, Irene and her three older brothers). She has set a room just for me, and a box with things she knows I like (like my favourite chocolate or some of my favourite skincare products), is waiting for me in my bed every time I go back. And every day I share at least one meal with her, Irene, her brothers or all of them at the same time, something I'm not used to and that I've always missed back in Madrid. The laughs, the bickering between my cousins, the catching up about how your day has been… With my parents it mostly is silence or talk about work, even when Leonor is at home.

And speaking of work, I've found myself working on something I actually like, which isn't easy being who I am, invisible or not. 

My aunt takes care of some charities and foundations created and sponsored by the crown, and while Irene is at uni, Pedri in training and I'm bored at home, I usually accompany her to her meetings and help her with everything she may need as some kind of assistant. That's how I've found myself taking care of the foundation named after my sister, one that is focused on young people and helping them in anything they may need. And I… love it. I love it all, from coming up with new ideas for charity events, to meeting the kids and teenagers who are part of the foundation and spending time with them and helping them with whatever they may need, to even doing all the paperwork. 

Last time I was in Barcelona for example, I helped a group of kids with their homework, and once we were finished we spent most of the afternoon playing together, all of them going back home with a big smile on their faces. Them and I, to be honest. 

On this trip, among other things, I'm going back for an event with Barça's foundation that I've managed to organize thanks to Pedri's help, and I am so looking forward to it. You should have seen the kids’ faces when I told them about it, they couldn't believe it. I can't wait to see their reaction when he actually shows up and surprises them. 

And now that I mention him again, things are going so well between us… I sometimes have to pinch myself to make sure I'm not dreaming, that everything I'm living and feeling with and for him is real. That I'm… that I'm in love with him even if I haven't found the guts to tell him just yet. 

What I have had to guts for, tho, is to say yes when he asked me to be his girlfriend, and he did it just a couple of weeks ago while he was away with the national team in Germany. 

Since it was the first official game Spain was playing after winning the Euros and Germany kind of is special for us, I went to watch him play. It wasn't an official visit, so as usual, going unnoticed was the easiest thing in the world.  

After the game we managed to have a sneaky date, and it was perfect even if we didn't leave my hotel room. Carlos was the best and helped us with everything, and even though he has to deal with us constantly being cheesy and too touchy when we are together out and about, I think he is starting to get used to it. To us being together.

“I'm sorry, Sofía. I'm sorry we've made you feel like that. That we've ignored you and neglected you the way we have.”

“Mum, I…”

“But we love you, Sofía. You know we do, don't you?”

“Of course I do, mum! I've never doubted that.”

“Then… do you forgive us?” she says, getting up and walking towards where I am standing. 

“There is nothing to forget, mum” I say, taking her hands on mine. “I know you were doing the best you could. And being invisible isn't that bad sometimes” I shrug.

“You aren't invisible, Sofía” she says, squeezing my hands. “You are a remarkable young woman, one I am very proud of. One both your father and I are very proud of.”

“Thank you, mum.”

“Ugh, come here” she says before hugging me. 

“Mum, can you… Can you squeeze me a bit less tightly, please? I can't breathe.”

“Oh, sorry” she says, still not letting go of me. “See how you aren't invisible?”

“Yeah” I chuckle.

“Though I hope you aren't using that excuse to do things you shouldn't. Like sneaking out to see that boy…”

“Mum…”

“Oh, look at the colour of your face” she laughs. “Will you tell me more about him if things get serious between you two?”

“I will.”

“Good” she smiles. “Now, do you need any help packing? You know I'm an expert. And maybe we could put on some music while we do it? I'm so out of the loop with what you girls like... Last thing I remember is One Direction, and I believe they stopped making music together years ago.”

“You are a bit out of date, yes.”

“Then… May I help you pack?”

“You may” I smile. “Thank you, mum.”

“You're welcome” she says, kissing my cheek.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Look at him. He never pays attention to his hair, and now he's been looking at himself in the mirror for the past five minutes” Ferran chuckles.

“His girlfriend is coming to see him play. He has to look royally good” Fermín says.

“I can hear you, you know?” Pedri says, trying to tame a lock of hair that keeps sticking out. He should not be bothering so much with it, he's about to go into the pitch and after a couple of runs it'll be ruined. But Sofía is on the stands, and he wants to look good for her even if she always says that she prefers his hair when it is messy.

“She is still coming to my birthday party, isn't she?” Fermín says.

“She is. She actually got you a present” Pedri says, giving up with his hair.

“A royal one?”

“Will you ever stop with those jokes?” Pedri says, rolling his eyes.

“Ummm… no” Fermín smiles.

“Don't worry, Pedri” Ferran says, putting an arm around his shoulders and messing his hair with his other hand. “He will go all shy when he meets her and won't say a word to her the whole night, you'll see.”

“I already met her when we went to the palace after the Euros, you know?” Fermín says.

“Yeah, and you weren't able to look up her shoes” Ferran laughs. “So don't worry about him, Pedri. Just focus on the game and scoring a goal to dedicate to your princess.”

“Ferran!” 

“What? Many people call their girlfriends princess as a cute nickname” he shrugs. “No one has to know that yours actually is a real one” he smirks.

“Yeah, well.”

No one from the team knew about Sofía. No one but Ferran, Fermín and Gavi, of course. And Pedri was expecting to end the season like that, with not having to tell anyone else. 

They only had four more games left. Four games, and he would be able to go on holidays with Sofía. 

They had booked a little house in the south in France to be alone and celebrate their anniversary since they had picked the date they met at the Euros for it, and he couldn't wait to go there and just disconnect. To spend his days waking up and going to bed next to her, cooking their meals together and eating them in the garden while they talked about the most random things, going for walks together without worrying about someone recognising them, to watch the sunset together on the beach, and basically enjoy her company and… well. Her. 

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Guys, finally! Where were you?” Fermín asks us when we walk into his house. Or shouts, because the music is so loud and there are so many people…

“There was traffic” Pedri says.

“What? I left after you did and the roads were the same as always after a game” Gavi says, joining us.

“And you left before Ferran, and he already is here” Fermín adds.

“Is he? We should probably go say hello to him, you know how he gets if we…”

“You are not going anywhere until you tell us where you were” Fermín says, stopping Pedri.

“We… umm…”

“We had to wait until Carlos had checked the party and made sure it was safe for me” I say.

“What?” both Gavi and Fermín say, looking my way.

“It's the usual procedure” I shrug. The usual… with my sister. With me things are more chill. “He says thank you for making it a party with no phones, by the way. It makes his life easier.” Which isn't a lie.

“I… umm… you're welcome?” 

“Anyway, why don't we get ourselves a drink? What do you want, Sofía?” Pedri asks me, trying to escape from his friends. 

He's been worried about them not behaving properly in front of me since the day I confirmed I would be attending the party. When I've met them on their own it's been fine, they all are really nice guys. And Fermín actually got a bit teary when I gave him his birthday present earlier after the game, which was really cute.

But Pedri fears that once they all are together and have drank a bit, they may get too cocky and say something they shouldn't in front of me. But not because he is hiding things from me or anything like that. Our phone conversations are so long that by now we basically know everything about the other when it comes to boys, girls, relationships, crushes and hook ups. He worries more about… embarrassing things and stories. 

“Look who is finally here!” Ferran says behind us, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and the other around Pedri's. “What took you so long?”

“Sofía’s bodyguard had to check if the house was safe” Gavi says.

“What?” Ferran laughs. “Did you seriously believe that?”

“It is the truth.”

“And I'm blonde, Pedri” Ferran laughs again. “Guys, haven't you looked at them?”

“What do you mean?” Gavi asks with a confused look.

“Swollen lips, the neck of Pedri's t-shirt is a bit crooked, Sofía isn't wearing lipstick and she was when we met them at the stadium… These two were late because they were making out in his car. Maybe doing more than that” Ferran smirks.

“No!” Fermin gasps, his eyes going wide. “You guys are late to my birthday party because you were too busy fucking?”

“Language, bro!” Gavi says, elbowing him and nodding towards me.

“You can swear in front of me, Gavi. It's ok. You should hear the things I say sometimes” I chuckle. “And we weren't fucking. We just had a quick make out session because my boyfriend here scored an amazing goal and we had to celebrate” I smile, looking at Pedri. “Besides, sex in his car isn't too comfortable.”

“Sofía!” Pedri gasps. Now he is the one whose eyes are about to pop from their sockets, his cheeks turning bright red.

“What? It's the truth, you've said it yourself” I shrug.

“You are lucky he got rid of the Mini before he met you” Ferran laughs. “Because if you find this car uncomfortable…”

“And I'm lucky I already got my driver's license and I don't need Pedri taking me everywhere” Gavi says.” Having to go training with him every day in that car knowing that you two have… you know…”

“Can we please talk about something else? Like, we are here to celebrate Fermín getting older, not to discuss details about my personal life” Pedri says, letting go of my hand and crossing his arms over his chest. He looks so pissed… 

“Exactly!” Fermín says. “Let's go get us some shots to celebrate. Follow me.”

“Pedri…” I say as the others start walking away. But he doesn't hear me… or doesn't want to. And I'm pretty sure he dodged my hand when I tried to touch his arm. “Great” I sigh before following him.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“To the birthday boy!” Ferran says once we all have our tiny glasses.

“To me!” Fermín smiles. 

“Pedri, where are you going?” I ask him when he finishes his shot and gives Gavi his glass, walking away and completely ignoring me. Again.

“Oh… trouble in paradise…” Fermín chuckles. “Ouch! Why did you hit me, bro?”

“Do you seriously have to ask?” Ferran says, nodding towards me.

“Oh, umm… Sorry, Sofía.”

“It's ok. I'm… I'm gonna go talk with him. Take this” I say, giving my glass to Ferran.

“Sofía, do you want me to go with you?” he offers.

“This is my mess, Ferran. But thank you” I smile before leaving him and the others and starting to look for Pedri among all the guests. How can Fermín know so many people?

“Hey, I know you!” a boy says, stopping me when I make it to the garden. 

“I don't think so.”

“Of course I do! You are the hot princess!”

“The what?”

“Yeah… Bro, what is the name of the princess?” 

“Leonor?” one of his friends says, not even bothering to look at me.

“Nah, not the one with an old lady name. The other one, the hot one!”

“Oh, Sofía.”

“Yes, Sofía! You are her, aren't you?” he smiles.

I am the hot princess? What? Since when?

“I'm afraid you are mistaken me with her. Besides, what would she be doing at a party like this?” I chuckle.

“Yeah, you are probably right… You still are really hot, tho” he smirks.

“Thank you. But now if you'll excuse me, I need to go find my boyfriend” I say, giving him my best fake smile, the one I usually use at boring events. 

“Burn!” his friend laughs, some other people around us joining him. 

“Boyfriends can break up, you know?” he says, ignoring them.

“I know” I sigh. Mine may be thinking about that right now. “Anyway, it was nice meeting you. And thank you for the compliment.”

“You're welcome. And princess or not, you know where to find me!” he says as I walk away.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Ferran… Fer… Ferran” I say, tapping on his shoulder. “Ferran!”

“Shit!” he says, turning around. “Sofía?”

“Hi, yes. Sorry for interrupting” I smile at the girl he was making out with. “But I can't find him.”

“What?”

“I can't find… you know” I whisper, not saying Pedri's name just in case the girl has recognised me. “I've looked everywhere and I can't find him. And I don't want to call Carlos and ask him if he has seen him leave, because I know the look he will give me, and I can't deal with my bodyguard telling me I told you right now.”

“You have a bodyguard?” the girl asks.

“That's how she calls her older brother” Ferran quickly says. “But are you sure you have looked everywhere for him?”

“Yes” I nod. “I fucked up, Ferran. He got mad and now he has left me and…”

“Sofía, hey, no. We are gonna find him and you will fix things.”

“I hope so. Because I… I… you know.” I love him.

“I know” he says. “He does too.”

He… what?

“Do you mind if I go help my friend find her boyfriend? They had a little argument and… you know. But I'll come back and I will make it up to you. I promise” Ferran says to the girl with a smile that could make anyone fall at his feet. 

“Ok” the girl says before whispering something in his ear. “Don't take too long.”

“I won't, I promise. Let's go, Sofía” he says, taking my hand and basically dragging me behind him.

“What did she tell you?” 

“Oh, you don't want to know, Sofía. You don't want to know…”

“Ferran, I may be a princess, but I'm not a delicate flower like the ones you read about in fairytales.”

“That's what I've gathered after some things Pedri has told me” he says as he suddenly stops, making me almost crash into his back before he starts walking again, leading us upstairs. “But I am a gentleman, Sofía. What she said will stay between her and I.”

“Sure” I snort.

“Ok, fine. I may tell the boys some details about it. And… this way” he says as we go up another set of stairs.

“Ferran, where are we going?”

“I assume you checked all the rooms on that floor while looking for Pedri.”

“I did, yes. And saw things I didn't want to see.”

“Been there” he chuckles. “Did you come to this floor too?” 

“I did. But all the rooms were empty.”

“Did you go into the attic?”

“There is an attic?”

“There is” he says, opening a door I hadn't seen earlier since it has no handle. It is one of those kind of hidden on the wall, one you have to push to open. “Fermín basically uses it as a storage room, but it has a balcony with amazing views and Pedri has always loved it. So if he hasn't left the party yet, he's up there.”

“Aren't you coming with me?”

“It is an attic but there are no spiders if that's what you are afraid of. Pedri would never go there if that was the case” he chuckles. “And this is something you need to do on your own, Sofía.”

“I guess, yes” I sigh.

“Good luck” Ferran says, giving my hand an encouraging squeeze.

“Thank you” I smile. “And good luck to you too. Though I think you won't be needing it with that girl.”

“We'll see” he says before walking away.

“Ok, Sofía. You can do this” I say, taking a deep breath and going up the stairs.

Like Ferran said, the attic basically is a big storage room, boxes of gym machines, shoes and random bits and bobs scattered everywhere. At the end of it there is a big glass door that lets in enough light to illuminate the room without having to turn it on, and that door is currently open, letting the music and the voices from the party come in.

As I get closer to it, I can see someone sitting on the floor, his legs hanging between the bars of the balcony's railing. 

“Pedri?” I call.

“Bloody hell!” he screams, hitting his legs as he tries to get up.

“Sorry, I'm sorry. Are you alright?”

“I may wake up with a huge bruise on my knee tomorrow, but I'm fine” he says, massaging his leg. “What are you doing here, Sofía?”

“I… I was looking for you.”

“To embarrass me a bit more in front of my friends?”

“What? No! I just… I… I'm sorry.”

“I was looking forward to this party, you know?" he says after a few seconds in silence. "Actually, we both were. We had agreed on wanting to spend some time with the boys and have fun like any people our age would do, relax a bit before the end of the season and before we can go on holidays just the two of us. And as you also know, my only worry was that the boys could start behaving like idiots and saying things that they shouldn't, embarrassing me in front of you. I've spent the whole week telling them to behave, that if they actually were my friends, they would do it for me. Little did I know, that it would be you the one embarrassing me in front of them.”

“C'mon, Pedri. It was just a little bit of banter between friends.”

“Banter that made me uncomfortable, Sofía” he says, standing up. “You know how much they've been teasing me about you and our relationship since we started seeing each other. And you also know that even if they aren't doing it to be mean, it bothers me. Because I may be a worldwide known football player, but you are Spain's fucking princess. Yes, the second in line, but still a princess. And sometimes I can't help but feel… I don't know. Small next to you.”

“Pedri…”

“I know what you are going to say. That I'm not small. At least not in the way I'm thinking” he chuckles, his smile quickly disappearing. “But just as you struggle with feeling like your whole life you've been invisible to everyone despite me telling you that that's not true, I struggle with this. With sometimes feeling like I'm… not enough for you. And those insecurities came back earlier when we were with the boys. Because you are comfortable and confident enough to openly talk about such personal things with anyone, but I'm not. One thing is doing it between us, in private, and another with and in front of my friends. Like, it takes ages for Ferran to get something out of me and I know I can trust him with my life!” Pedri says, running a hand through his hair. “And I thought you knew that and understood it, Sofía. So when I saw you talking about it with them… Well. It hurt.”

“I'm sorry, Pedri. I truly truly am. Because I do know you feel that way and I understand it. I do, I swear. I should have known better and just shut up. But I didn't and I kept talking because I'm an idiot. I am a fucking idiot” I say, kicking an empty shoe box. “And I'm not trying to excuse myself but I just… I don't know. I guess I was just too excited because we were doing something normal with your friends. And then you have to add the game and your goal, the make out session in the car and… I don't know. It's like I was drunk in happiness and I got carried away and… I'm sorry.”

“Yeah” he whispers, neither of us saying another word for what feels like an eternity.

“I guess I should go back home” I finally say. “Carlos will probably be glad when he sees me. You know he didn't agree with any of this. With us.”

“Wait, what?”

“He didn't like the idea of us coming to a party with so many people, and he's never liked the idea of us together. He's started to get used to it, but since that misunderstanding when we met, I know he has never fully trusted you. So I guess he'll be happy knowing that it is over.”

“Over? What are you talking about, Sofía?”

“We have broken up, haven't we?”

“What?” Pedri laughs.

“Isn't that what just happened?”

“Of course not!” he laughs again.

“Then… umm…”

“Sofía, we haven't broken up” he says, taking my hands on his. “This has just been our first real and proper fight as a couple.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah.”

“Just that?”

“Just that” he chuckles.

“Then you aren't… I mean… Are you…”

“I'm a bit pissed and also disappointed, but that doesn't mean I want to break up with you. It only means we need to keep working on our relationship. Keep talking and telling each other how we feel, what we think, what worries us.”

“Oh... I see.”

“So clever and bold with some things, and so naïve when it comes to others, Sofía…” he says with a teasing smile.

“Could say the same about you, Pedro.”

“You could, yes” he laughs. “Looks like we are made for each other.”

“Yeah” I say with a shy smile. Here I am once again, feeling my face getting warmer by the second just because he has said or done something cute. “There was something Ferran told me before he helped me find you…”

“He helped you find me?”

“He did. I had been looking for you everywhere and couldn't find you, started to freak out, and had to interrupt him while he had his tongue down a girl's throat.”

“Wow” Pedri laughs. “Did she at least take it well?”

“She did. And if she had doubts, the smile he gave her sent them all away.”

“Oh, I know that smile. It is a dangerous one that has broken many hearts. But what did he tell you?”

“He… I mean… I implied something, and he said that so did you.”

“What?”

“I… Ok” I say, taking a deep breath. “I basically told him that I love you but without using those words, and he said that you…”

“I love you too, Sofía” Pedri smiles.

“You… You do?”

“I do” he nods. 

“That's… umm… ok” I say with a nervous laugh.

“Too many emotions in a short period of time, uh?” he says, moving one hand to cup my face, his thumb caressing my cheek. A cheek that is obviously burning.

“Definitely. I've gone from thinking we were breaking up to telling you I love you for the first time and you saying it back in what, five minutes?”

“Something like that.”

“Fermín said that his birthday party was going to be an unforgettable one, and he wasn't wrong. He probably had something different in mind, but… Did I tell you that some random guy recognised me? I obviously told him he was mistaken, that what would Princess Sofía be doing here. But he said that I was the hot sister. Me! And he also said that Leonor has an old lady name, which is pretty funny and…”

“And you are rambling, Sofía.”

“Am I?”

“Yep. And even though that guy was right when he told you that you are the hot princess, proving once again what I always tell you about being invisible… You, my lady, also are rambling” Pedri smiles, the fact that he has used his nickname for me making all my doubts and fears disappear.

“Another thing we have in common, then” I say. “You know, you may be right, and we may be made for each other.”

“We are made for each other” he corrects me. 

“Even if I sometimes I'm an idiot and have a bit of a big mouth?”

“Even so” he chuckles. “I love you, Sofía.”

“I love you too, Pedri” I say before kissing him.

[vodkacheesefries]

big spoilers for dragon age the veilguard from early access players beneath the cut.

Also lengthy rambling/opinions.

proceed at thine own peril

In theory I'm okay with things being boiled down into a handful of simple questions to help new incoming players establish a background for their game.

HOWEVER, we're only getting three, and those are:

Did your Inquisitor disband/keep the Inquisition?

Did they vow to save/stop Solas?

Who did they romance?

That's it. This is. A choice.

I get it. it's been 10 years since Inquisition came out and longer since DA2 and DAO. A lot of people probably haven't played the early games, and there are hundreds if not thousands of choices across all three games that including them in Veilguard would be difficult.

But there are a handful of choices/decisions that it is absolutely wild to me that they aren't including in Veilguard's questionnaire. At the bare minimum I was hoping for the following:

What was the fate of your Grey Warden?

What was the fate of your Hawke?

Who drank from the Well of Sorrows?

Did your Inquisitor disband/keep the Inquisition?

Did your Inquisitor vow to save/stop Solas?

That's it! Only two more questions than we already have, and two of them are the same as the ones we're getting. All of the important story choices, and small choices that you could make in the prior games boil down to the fate of your character in that game so there's no need to get more detailed than that.

For example, obviously if your Warden survived the final battle, the dark ritual took place, so there's no need to ask more about it. Obviously if Hawke was left in the fade, they didn't go to Weisshaupt, and Alistair/Loghain/Stroud stayed in the Fade. Obviously if Morrigan drank from the well of Sorrows, your Inquisitor isn't going to be linked to Mythal, but Morrigan is.

Those feel like arguably the most important story beats from the previous games and I feel like that still keeps it simple enough and doesn't rely on importing potentially thousands of choices you made across the three prior games, while still explaining just enough without having to explain too much to new players.

(side note: I suppose if we want to get extra fancy we can add a question for "Who did your Warden/Hawke/Inquisitor romance" because callbacks to those relationships have always been fun, especially if we're getting any sort of cameo of past companions. Which at this point, I don't think we are.)

As far as past player characters returning, I get why that's hard to do because there's so many different endings for the Warden, and even Hawke post Inquisition. Would I like for them to show back up? Sure. But I'm okay if they don't.

TBH the most I've been hoping for is that maybe somewhere in a level/mission you're on, maybe with Davrin, you could find an easy to miss crumpled up letter/codex entry on it talking about how if your Warden was still alive they found a cure and disappeared into a well deserved retirement and to not bother them with anymore end of the world bullshit ever again.

Hell, I'd even accept it if it mentioned they'd started hearing the Calling and went to the Deep Roads and they're sorry they couldn't do more. I just want to know what happens to them. It doesn't have to be a pivotal plot point or anything.

Crumbs.

I am begging for crumbs, Bioware.

PS: I know it sounds like I'm being incredibly critical of the game, but I am actually very excited for it and I do think I'll enjoy it, despite any ties, or lack thereof, to prior games. I'm a big fan of being critical of the things you enjoy.

Now if you want me to get really critical because I don't like something, ask me how I feel about Inquisition because WHOOO boy I could give a Ted Talk about how much I dislike Inquisition.

[capricorn-0mnikorn]

A few more thoughts on why I was, and remain, enraged by these words:

(A follow-up to this post: "Let's Play a Little Game, Shall We ... ?")

It can be frustrating for adults to deal with a health care system that appears to have little knowledge or interest regarding the changing needs of aging with a disability. A positive attitude makes a big difference, and developing relaxation techniques and coping skills can have a beneficial effect on mental and physical health.

When I was first diagnosed with cerebral palsy (C.P.) as a two-year old, back in 1966, the consensus among medical professionals was that intellectual disability was one of its more common symptoms. And, indeed, that was the first, knee-jerk diagnosis from the child psychologist who tested me.

[Note Well: The Stigmatization of Intellectual Disabilities is Wrong, and Undeserved. But the support needs for physical disabilities and intellectual disabilities are different, and misdiagnosis benefits no one]

Periodically, in the years since, I've gone looking for whatever is being written about cerebral palsy at the moment, to see if there's been any shift in that professional consensus. And I have been perennially disappointed.

On the particular night in September, 2012, when I'd stumbled upon the above quote, I'd already been going down that rabbit hole for many hours. And nearly every webpage on Cerebral Palsy I came across had three things in common:

They all had almost the exact same wording (leading me to believe that everyone was plagiarizing everyone else, and not actually writing from their own unique perspective)

They were all written toward an audience of parents of infants, or very young children who were newly diagnosed with C.P., and

Among all those recurring words I read were: "Devastating," "Debilitating," and "Severe."

(Very few of the webpages were clear, up top, about who had written them, but if I scrolled down and clicked the links in fine print at the very bottom, a majority of them turned out to be from law firms specializing in medical malpractice)

I was spiraling deeper into depression and anger, when, at roughly 4 am, I came upon a pamphlet titled: "Aging With Cerebral Palsy." And it was: A) Written for Adults with C.P., and B) Did Not paint C.P. as an absolute tragedy.

.... Just when I was beginning to feel both seen and validated, and began to breath a little easier, I was smacked in the face with those two sentences: Acknowledging that no one actually cares about my welfare, and then telling me that I shouldn't be angry, or do anything to fight back.

And it hit me that the medical and social clinicians in whom I'm expected to place my trust were on the same team as those medical malpractice-pedaling lawyers:

All they're really interested in is selling their services to the parents with money -- promising that this medicine, that surgery, or X number of hours of physical therapy, will make their child "more normal," and make their condition all but invisible. Once we reach the age of majority, however, and they're required to get our consent (rather than that of our legal guardians), they lose interest in us.

There's little in common between autism and cerebral palsy, except that people in each camp have to deal with similar B.S. from the medical and educational "experts."

[missmarveledsblog]

Flumpy ( Jake seresin x Reader ) Part 12

summary : rough morning in work for our girl with an unlikely admiral coming to the rescue while the guys find a nickname for her , also starting her birthing classes in a nice of town leading her to not only see a familiar face but make a new friend and well have some fun with the other snobs of the class

warnings : none really, pregnancy and it hormones , ok well the grammatical errors and spelling mistake more of a filler part

previous part

“ you know when the words she got an animal came from your lips i didn’t think it would be followed by a pitbull named peanut , honestly I was thinking she finally stole one of those duck” rooster snorted . 

“ as much as i hate the way these words are coming from my lips right now but  i agree with bradshaw but also bob kinda told me last email he sent  little guy is only a pup and he was so skinny too “ nat  smirked only wishing she could of see jakes face when he spotted peanut first but knowing y/n she would definitely get to see it . 

“ yeah so we got a dog now and the hard decks new mascot oh  she and guys sent care packages mine will have more pictures well sonograms of the baby , she making everyone wait  til i’m home til we find out the gender , javy did say she was tired alot and sick a good bit which honestly makes me feel useless  wishing i could help and be there but he also said that everyone’s taking care of her even kyles been hanging out in the hanger any chance he gets to help out never thought i would say this considering i punched him and kicked his ass in the start but he’s a good man “ jake chuckled. 

“ yeah who would of though nat would be in love with the guy she also punched in the hard deck parking lot” rooster almost fell over laughing. 

“ yeah he was a dick at first but like all men it was a stupid front , look at us all now a year and half later , jakes engaged to y/n and she’s having his baby and they have a dog” she laughed. 

“Hey i live there too dogs mine too “ rooster said easily. 

“ he is cute he’s a little thin but she said he was worse then that” he said knowing he would of definitely would of done the same probably would of kicked the guys ass .   “ there’s still time for her to get that duck actually i better try get javy make sure we don’t come home to a zoo” jake eyes widening knowing it was now a possibility. 

 “ we both know she would just bat those pretty lashes and you would melt and be all like of course darling whatever you want baby” nat imitated his accent . 

“ she’s not wrong , my friend you are as whipped as they come” bradley chuckled . 

“ says the one what is doctor love” jake smirked as rooster fell . 

“ that was one time man i’m not getting to live that one down” he huffed as they headed off ready to get another day of training done with . 

One month and three weeks down she was getting into a small routine  , each morning she and peanut would have their breakfast ,  the two would head to doggy daycare and work  then she would do her normal routine only with the guys joining more ,  they  would cook , play games even work out a little , she still helped payback with cooking but now it was them all doing it to which she was shocked at who had skills and who didn’t by end of the first night fanboy and coyote were told they were on chopping duty while bob and payback where allowed near the stove and oven  and kyle well he was happy with being the  official taster .  then when it came to going to her appointments  her dad would collect peanut from doggy daycare to which she was suspecting the man was carrying extra treats around with him .  She was now nearly a month and half til jake got home Slightly Insecure as bump was growing more it was huge by any means But it was enough To alter her body  shape in away she wasn't used to or  Could of just been in her nead but the insecurities creeped In now she was sitting waiting before work Crying in her overalls because well they didn't fit . Just as she got herself off the ground an unlisted number rang sending her hurdling to the her phone she tied Herself as quick as she could hitting The answer. 

“ hey whats wrong” jakes brow furrowed taking in her tear filled eyes And little red nose . 

“ im fat i mean so fat i cant fit into my overalls” she cried standing up to show him turning The camera to the full length  mirror ,  only to hear him chuckle . 

“ baby you ain't fat Your beautiful  and carrying my baby those overall just make it look cuter “ he smiled. 

“ on Plus side my boobs did get a lot bigger the intern nearly fell over looking at them “ she smiled only took couple of sweet words from her man to make her feel a little better . 

“ yeah i notice that too Not Gonna lie saw It before i saw the teary … Wait what you mean men are tripping over Your or should i say my boobs” he arched His brow. 

“awh jake sweet jake they gonna be the babies boobs the Moment they're  born” she snorted just as peanut came zooming into the room . “ look who’s also getting fat “ she beamed turning The camera to show the now healthier Looking puppy at her feet tail Thudding Off the side of bed as she sat down talking away filling him in on the fun she been having with the guys but of course she was missing him more and more also made him promise to hug roo and nat for her .  getting to stage after he hung up as much as she love seeing his face it made her miss him , miss them all so much more as much as guys tried they were all starting to feel the absence and what made it worse was the stupid birth classes admiral simpson and his lovely wife have gifted her which  were starting  that afternoon .  least she wasn’t going to be alone her father was going with her ,  it was better then walking in and well looking like the loner who the teacher would have to partner up with and it wasn’t like she could be like oh can we trade partners . Her dad was so excited it was actually so cute how he wanted to help her out and how excited he was over fact he was going to be a grandfather something she would of never see coming but then again she never thought a year and a half  nearly two years after coming to san diego that she would be actually in this position. 

“ hey  bumpy “ javy called the moment she walked into the hanger. 

“ huh? Oh like flumpy but pregnant version … no “ she rolled her eyes. 

“ we’re still working on a nickname , we can’t call you pretty girl or hotstuff , phoenix and rooster already told us and well flumpy is you and jakes thing but we will get their maybe brainstorm it first” bob smiled softley . 

“ ugh your adorable “ she cooed heading over to see her intern already messing at the engine she was working on , making her almost jump out her skin to get him away .  

“ maybe we could call her grumpy “ fanboy snickered. 

“ maybe i’ll throw this wrench at your head” she called back . 

“ maybe we can brainstorm it a little longer” he winced . 

“ ugh stupid stupid … not you kid” she added starting to feel her eyes welling up. 

“ y/n are you crying?” payback called. 

“ no … my eyes are leaking” she sniffled wiping them quickly . 

“ mitchell is everything ok ?” admiral simpson asked  hearing as he passed by. 

“ i’m fat and this kid is well not the brightest blub , i miss everyone and i want a burrito “ she cried out making them all stand looking at her . “ no i look like a nutcase” she cried harder. 

“ come on mini mitchell” admiral simpson extended his arm out . “ someone get him out  away from the engine “ he whisper yelled following her out.  

She felt ridiculous  and well maybe she was losing it and didn’t help she felt both nauseous and hungry. 

“ without sound inappropriate you are not fat , you are great shape giving your condition “ beau simpson coughed out. 

“ thanks sir sorry this is totally unprofessional” she sniffled slightly waiting for him to tell her to not come back in probably send her home til she popped the kid out . 

“ burritos in the canteen if you want on i think i can persuade them to give you one earlier” he said nudging her shoulder was like a older uncle trying to be cool with the kids the way he was acting giving his usually stiff by the book approach . 

“ nah me and ed are tight he makes sure to put extra aside for me , plus  i probably wont keep it down” she sighed softly. 

“ deployment isn’t easy i can see giving the circumstance if you can get more call time “ he offered . 

“ sir think you called enough favors for me “ . 

“ well my wife is very fond of you and giving the difference with me and your dad well i still think of you as a niece of sorts “ he shrugged. 

“ nice to have some still alive” she began crying again only for her dad to walk out of his office confused. 

“ everything ok ?” he asked. 

“ my uncles keep dying” she cried out . 

“ she have a rough morning “ beau winced. 

“ i’ll take it from here .. thanks beau .. come on princess” Mav guided her back into the office. 

“ thanks admiral simpson don't die” she called out before the door closed. 

She went straight to the sofa the moment she stepped foot into the office as her dad sat on  really already done with the day that not even started fully. 

“ what’s wrong kiddo” he asked holding her to his side.

“ i miss jake , i feel fat i wanna eat but i’m gonna throw up , now i’m sad over dead people and well my overall don’t fit” she sniffled . “ probably gonna be fired for being a nut job and i called  the intern stupid and feel bad” she added. 

“  missing people deployed or well dead is normal , being pregnant and dealing with all this isn’t easy and well  i’ve seen the kid he didn’t know which wrench was which so it’s not totally uncalled for i’ll see if we can sort something out and  penny made me bring crackers to work in case your were sick so let try those bad boys first and we’ll try harder stuff later and for the overall  can be let out” he smiled rubbing her back as she settle down. 

“ penny is seriously perfect for you” she settled on sofa even more enjoying the relaxation of her father rubbing her back giving it was starting to hurt lately . 

“ speaking of penny is going to collect peanut from day care and we will get him after the classes  , last time i was at one was when you were in your moms belly and now i get to be there  for you” he smiled . 

“ stop being so cute i’ll start crying again and well my eyes hurt and i wanna nap” she sniffled. 

“ why don’t you look i got a meeting soon and it gonna be an hour rest your head and i’ll wake you we can try the day again when your awake” he said softly already seeing her eyes closing . 

“ for once i’m not going to fight against the special treatment hell call me the teachers pet “ she yawn laying down feeling something covering her not bothering to open her eyes to see the blanket . 

Pete mitchell never move So quietly Out His office ge was usually rushing to get into it only See beau simpson Standing there. 

“ she asleep?” He asked peering In. 

“ out like a light might help hormones at big high today” he grimace . 

“ honestly my wife was worse Apparently She almost traveled to the area we were stationed at , no i was gonna honestly let her use my office” he smiled . “ the dagger squad Was right she does have a way Of getting People on her side huh? “

“ she been like that since she was a kid , i mean charlies dad this guy a stone cold man who well wouldn't smile for god himself  then an afternoon with y/n mans still smiling to this day” he chuckled . 

“ she would of been a good admiral she got the head for it  and she can be a bossy as one and she’s a flare for dramatics ” beau nodded as two went down  to get  to their meeting. 

The nap done wonders  , she was a lot calmer and well more herself when she joined them for lunch even after she was more patient actually showing her intern luke how to fix the engine instead of causing more problems then she was standing in the parking lot out side some building one she know had community activity classes like yoga and stuff it was in nicer part of town too watching the women going in better dressed while she had her adam sandler fit  and sad fact most of clothes were jakes .  her dad the traitor even showed up nicely dressed making her glare at the man as he walked towards her. 

“ what i do?” 

“ i look homeless more homeless then i did when i arrived to san diego “ she huffed . 

“ hey your my kid you could were a black sack and it would look gorgeous come one i need to take notes” he said as they two entered the building the woman at the counter was more interested in her dad to even notice she was there and she could of sworn she heard someone call her a  sugarbaby passing by .  the moment she stood into the room all eyes where on her most almost sizing them up looking between her and her dad already drawing a conclusion  of the situation .  one woman had  warm smiles on  her face so she went their way  . 

“ hey first day ?” the woman asked. 

“ yeah hi i’m y/n and this is my dad  pete mitchell “ she smiled holding her hand out. 

“ lila and this is my brother in law luke”  the man turned as she was looking at the deer in the headlight reaction on her interns face. 

“ you got to be shitting me hey kiddo” she laughed . 

“  you both know him” lila asked confused. 

“ i’m interning under y/n  , so she like my temp boss, lila is married to my sister she’s currently deployed with  rest of your squad “ luke explained . 

“  well just cause were in the same group doesnt mean i’ll go easy “ y/n teased . 

“ you go easier on me being your interns been fun .. well sometimes” he chuckled . 

“Well park those butts and stick with us the other are….” lila stalled trying to be polite 

“ assholes , snobs  i mean i could go on “ luke finished .

“ ok everyone sit down and we can begin … oh two new faces hi “ the woman called walking in the door . 

“ another gold digger great” she heard one woman mumble. 

“ hi my name is y/n this is my pookie  guess you know why were here “ y/n put on fake smile and sweet voice. “I ask for prada and his ears must of been acting up giving his age ” she added as room went silent. 

“ ignore my daughter she thinks she is a comedian , i’m just standing in while her partner is deployed … oh i’m pete” he smiled awkward seeing some faces of relief , the teacher and their new friends suppressing their giggles. 

“  yeah he’s my dad not my sugar daddy that ones someone in a classified location” she sat giving luke a high five. 

“ well what an introduction , lets get ready for today’s lesson guys , my name is melanie and i’m looking forward to having you in my class” she smiled .  

“ i think you and i will get on just fine” lila whispered . 

“ hey dad look i made a new friend already” she giggled .

taglist : @harrysgothicbitch @djs8891 @darksparklesficrecs @emma8895eb @sarah-bear706318 @katiemcrae

[aftgficrec]

Hi! I was wondering if you know of any fics that explore the friendship between Andrew and Kevin? Especially how they became close after Kevin came to the Foxes with a broken hand. I just think their friendship is so interesting, and I am so curious about how it started. Thank you!

@lynntjeeee and @sayonara-you-weeaboo-shits: These asks overlapped, so we combined them and separated fic types with subheads. The last ones under ‘you may also like’ don’t fit neatly but still hold the main ideas found in pre canon Kevin & Andrew stories. Unfortunately most are not very long. -A

also see:

‘a foxhole collection…’ Chapter 30 here

‘The gentle violence of loving you’ and ‘I Don't Know How to Breathe’ here

‘I came for the safety (stayed 'cause you made me feel)’ here

‘Searchlights’ here

‘Trust Me’ here

you may also like:

Andrew loving toward Kevin: friendship or kandrew here

Andrew & Kevin here

kandrew fluff & smut here

Kevin centric here

‘breaking every finger, praying that it makes me clean’ here 

‘do you care?’ here

‘Have a Kevin of the day’ Day 2 here

‘They All Burn the Same’ here (updated)

‘a lot's gonna change’ here

‘splinters beneath our nails,’ ‘Not again,’ and ‘Reasons’ here

‘Just Short Of A Fairy Tale’ here

‘the prince in the raven tower’ here

‘white soap’ here

‘Pieces of Ideas for Works’ ch 12 (also ch 43) here

‘Cross the Board and Crown Yourself Queen’ here

Rescue Me by Demiwitchwoodwalker [Rated T, 4564 Words, Complete, 2022]

Part 1 of Someone(s) To Stay, part 2 here 

“I can protect you, from him and yourself,” Andrew said in a tone Kevin couldn’t quite place after a long moment filled with nothing but the muffled noise of the game playing on Kevin’s laptop. “I can help you stay instead of running further or back.” Kevin stared at him then, finally letting himself actually look at him, and the same feeling from before returned, feeling like a hand clenched itself around his lungs and heart. He pushed his laptop closed, the game’s audio abruptly cutting off, and turned slightly to face Andrew, whose expression had shifted back into the grin that seemed to constantly be present in the day and whose eyes looked almost dead. Kevin’s lips parted, words rising in the back of his throat, but he couldn’t get them past his tongue. How was he supposed to do this? The memory of Andrew the night before floated through his mind again, when he was as close to sober as he could get, more vulnerable than Kevin felt he’d ever seen a person despite the fact that Kevin was the one halfway through a breakdown. "Why?" --- Aka, how Kevin and Andrew make their deal. (Potential triggers are listed in the tags, please be careful!)

tw: self harm, tw: panic attacks, tw: implied/referenced suicidal thoughts

broken wings by diabolicalandderanged [Rated G, 4625 Words, Complete, 2023]

Highlights of the year Kevin Day joins the Foxes as assistant coach!! Including: making the deal, meeting Wymack and taking down Riko

tw: implied/referenced abuse

Escape by 38booksonmyshelf [Rated T, 3430 Words, Complete, 2023]

The night Riko broke his hand, Kevin's only thought was that he had to get out. He went to his father.

tw: implied/referenced abuse

From Bones and Ashes by ScriptaManent [Rated T, 3006 Words, Complete, 2023, Locked]

Kevin has a mental breakdown during the weeks following his injury. He’s “safe” with coach Wymack but he can’t do anything, he can’t even hold a fucking glass and it pisses him off. He knows Riko is out there, looking for him (well, not yet, but he knows he will eventually). Kevin drinks to forget but his mind keeps going back to Riko, to that night when he broke his hand and when Jean collected him, to that night he got out of Evermore without looking back, and to that night he knocked on Wymack’s door, a living mess barely able to think straight. Then, without even a knock on the door, a first glimpse of hope manages to get him back to the surface, at least for a while.

tw: violence, tw: assault

take off your clothes and disappear by lackingsoy [Rated T, 3075 Words, Complete, 2020]

They recognize each other from the start. A yes, a no, and a maybe between Day and Minyard.

tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced violence, tw: alcohol, tw: medication addiction, tw: withdrawal 

Silver Crimson Black by sweetlikesugar [Rated T, 1076 Words, Complete, 2019]

Kevin can barely stand. He keeps swaying from side to side, vision blurry. Whether it’s sweat or tears he doesn’t know, and he doesn’t want to know. All he knows is the sickening rage, boiling and curling like a poisonous snake. He’s mindless with it, he’s feral with it.

TWO. by mostly_maudlin [Rated T, 2944 Words, Incomplete, Updated June 2024]

The Foxhole Court is the only place in South Carolina that makes sense to Kevin, but it lacks the discipline, rigor, and partnership that kept him grounded for years. Over four nights at the court in the spring of 2006, Kevin attempts to recreate the only life he knows how to live.

tw: implied/referenced abuse

oh icarus how do you fall (so hard and so pretty) by wxltedrxses [Rated T, 1008 Words, Incomplete, Updated Feb 2022]

An analysis of the rise and fall of Kevin Day

tw: alcohol abuse/alcoholism, tw: implied/referenced abuse

don't want no other shade of blue but you / no other sadness in the world will do by snnycarisi [Rated G, 1713 Words, Complete, 2024]

For just a moment, he could pretend that this man was Jean, that they were both free to do something as frivolous as go dancing, that they were both free at all. He imagined that those were Jean’s hands on his waist, Jean’s breath on his neck, Jean’s body heat making his cheeks colour. That Jean would even want this — want him — after everything he’d done was possibly the biggest fantasy of all. --- After a drunk encounter with a stranger at Eden's Twilight, Kevin calls Jean.

tw: implied/referenced abuse

tfc!written word au by @unkingly [Tumble Fic, 2016]

in a world where what someone believes about you is written on your skin, Andrew and Kevin make their deal.

Andrew & Kevin hc by @filippa-kosta [Tumblr, 2018]

I want to talk about the significance of Andrew & Kevins relationship bc tbh I think it's devalued and misinterpreted a lot, despite the fact it's hugely significant to the series, vital to the plot, & important to Neil

andrew and kevin’s individual recovery arcs… meta by @ketterdamns [Tumblr, 2017]

kandrew/kandreil:

Make Me Believe That You Need Me Most by sambutwithbooks [Rated E, 10598 Words, Complete, 2022]

The problem was that Kevin expected exy to be enough.  Most people went through life without finding a calling, without a modicum of the talent Andrew had and still found ways to live normal, fulfilling lives. Exy- and the comfortable life it offered- should have been enough to tempt and satisfy any rational person.  And maybe that was his first mistake- believing that Andrew was a rational person. 

tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced alcohol abuse/alcoholism, tw: explicit sexual content

Take me as I come (or discard me like the rest) by elias_day [Rated M, 9675 Words, Incomplete, Updated Dec 2022]

Kevin’s breathing picks up. “What would you take for your protection?” “It’s not like you can offer much,” Andrew says. It’s true. What could a broken man like Kevin Day offer him? A man crippled by fear, someone without the backbone to stand on his own feet? Nothing. He could give Andrew nothing. “You’re wrong.” ___ Kevin never thought he could keep his end of the deal with Andrew. Turns out in the end, he did. Only not in the way he thought. A.K.A pre-canon KANDREW turned post-canon KANDREIL with lots of pining and emotionally repressed lack of communication

tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: nightmares, tw: vomit, tw: ptsd, tw: recreational drug use

What is love when it's never fully consumed? by CamilleDuDemon [Rated T, 10522 Words, Complete, 2021]

5+1 significative moments in the relationship between Andrew and Kevin, before and after Neil Josten's sudden arrival at Palmetto State University.

tw: medication addiction, tw: implied/referenced abuse

Temperature of Healing by ReeseMH [Rated M, 5482 Words, Complete, 2024]

Kevin Day, picked up by Andrew Minyard, hand broken and eyes glossed over because he is dead. There is nothing for him, and he doesn't even remember using his good hand to dial that number, coughing up blood before he could tell Andrew where he was. He didn't even know where he was going but the lights of the highway are pretty, and even though he is dead... he's not alone for it.

tw: major character injury, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: anxiety, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon

invisible machinery by grainpatron380 (onesourfish) [Rated T, 2445 Words, Complete, 2020]

Andrew drags his mouth southward and doesn’t bother with apologizing for imagined horrors or future ones. Doesn’t bother to say, I won't, I couldn’t, I would never do something like that to you. Can't promise it. Months before Neil arrives at PSU, Kevin has a nightmare. Andrew questions him.

tw: nightmares, tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced abuse

I Am Ready Now by IKnowWhoYouAre_Damianos [Rated M, 6477 Words, Complete, 2019]

The problem is, he doesn’t hate him. He wants to. Wants to hate this monster so badly, wants to feel the urge to kill him like Andrew does, wants to drive out to West Virginia and waltz onto the court, choking Riko to death until his eyes turn from black and white to red, his skin from tan to blue. But he can’t. Kevin thinks about his relationship to Riko when he was still at the nest. He thinks he's falling. But someone will catch him this time. Can he let go?

tw: domestic violence, tw: explicit sexual content, tw: assault

kevin day prefers the night by thewintersolstice [Rated T, 3027 Words, Complete, 2021]

Part 1 of aftg: everything's the same except kandreil's real, duh. series

Months after breaking his hand and arriving at Palmetto State, Kevin's still struggling with leaving Evermore and Riko's still got a ghostly grasp on him. Andrew takes him for a drive. “Snap out of it,” Andrew says, simple again like it’s easy, and pushes hard fingertips into his skin until finally, finally Kevin can breathe, can fight the sick roll of his stomach and he shuts his eyes, focuses on the warmth of Andrew’s palm until it’s gone again. He pulls away and Kevin hears the press of the bed as he stands up. “Let’s go.”

Oh Captain, Let’s Make a Deal by takitalks [Rated M, 3690 Words, Complete, AFTG Mixtape Exchange 2023]

An exploration of Kevin and Andrew navigating this stand off pre-canon, with a sprinkle of getting together.

Broken promises by ok555 [Rated M, 10783 Words, Incomplete, Updated June 2024]

Kevin doesn't know if he will ever forgive Andrew for what he did to get information about Neil on their ride to Baltimore. What will Andrew do to try and win his forgiveness? Will he even care? Andrew doesn't believe in regret, but what if just this once he does?

tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: depression

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higher ground by darkoceanbottom [Rated T, 6085 Words, Complete, 2021]

Kevin Day and identity.

tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: canonical character death

Roaring Like Beasts Full Of Rage by Sashe [Rated E, 30713 Words, Incomplete, Updated June 2024]

The PSU Foxes' luck takes a turn when they take in the Raven's injured goalkeeper Andrew Doe. Andrew isn't exactly happy to be there, treated as a spectacle by the media, an outcast by his new team and a let down by the family that never wanted him. He's especially not happy about the new striker recruit, who no one else seems to think is supicious. or Roleswap canon divergent where Raven!Andrew has a broken hand and Wymack has been raising Kevin.

tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced psychological abuse, tw: implied/referenced drug addiction, tw: panic attacks

The Truth Hurts Worse by mcmeasle [Rated T, 2742 Words, Complete, 2024]

Kevin chattered on as Andrew opened the door and tuned out the cadence of his voice, Kevin’s full attention on Andrew. Immediately, Andrew locked on to the man with bright red hair sitting in his desk chair, feet thrown on top of the desk with ankles crossed, tapping an impressive looking knife blade over his fingertips. “Welcome home,” the stranger said cheerily, a sharp smile wending its way onto his lips, icy blue eyes locked onto Andrew. —- Or Butcher!Neil makes a house call

tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon

decline of the empire by drewdrugs [Rated T, 1507 Words, Complete, AFTG Mixtape Exchange 2024]

Kevin embraced the idea that, even he had never been taught by his father, he was learning to lose now. The structures of his coliseum were crumbling and there was nothing that could be done to stop it. This time, Andrew couldn't do anything for him. Or at least that's what he believed.

tw: recreational drug use, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced self harm

NB: this last one is the culmination of Kevin & Andrew’s deal from the very beginning

Interesting by ashestoashes7 [Rated T, 6632 Words, Complete, AFTG 2024 Olympics]

Andrew decided to make the Exy Olympic Finals more interesting. No one else knew what to do with that, not even his own teammates, but Andrew and boredom was a recipe for the unexpected. After all, it was not every day a goalkeeper slammed the ball down the court and bathed the opposition in red.

[palin-tropos]

harry du bois playing outer wilds and having a good cry over it

[bacchuschucklefuck]

and! barbarian!fig! its her

[icewindandboringhorror]

I know this is just a silly bad quality random screencap of a screencap that I found on facebook lol, BUT it's a succinct enough image to easily describe the concept in a quick/accessible way hopefully :

-

(and of course, feel free to elaborate in tags, etc.! (especially elaborating about other senses as well.. can you "hear" in your mind just as well as you can "see"? taste? etc.) It's an interesting topic to me, as someone who's like a 4.5 at MOST lol. I'm curious what option will be the most common :0c )