#it's currently set to 4 hours... but my goal is to bring it down to 3 👇🏾

[fragilepromise]

putting a screentime limit on my phone so i can become a better women this 2024📱

[wearebarca]

Epilogue. Captured // Alexia Putellas x Original character

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8* - Part 9* - Part 10 - Part 11* - Part 12

synopsis: Rosalie has never stayed somewhere too long. When the opportunity of a lifetime presents itself at critical moment in her life, the photographer decides to once again leave behind what she knows and joins the staff of Europe's best football team.

A/N: Here it is, the end of an adventure. I am so glad I got to share this story with an amazing community. I am not done writing. I’d like to hear your ideas and keep sharing stories with you beautiful people. Au plaisir de vous revoir mes amis.

She had worked so hard for more than a year on this project and still, it felt surreal to have all her efforts culminated to this moment. She was proud. She had poured her soul in every picture, and it was all for a good cause. The profit of every print sold would go to the Barcelona foundation.

So far the night had gone like a charm. People were walking around and admiring her work. Several people had seeked out the photographer to give their congratulations and share which frame they would bring home at the end of the night. The whole ordeà was a lot for the brunette, but what fuelled her was seeing her friends walk around in a room that showcased the love their fans arbour for them. Every now and then, she could hear a loud exclamation in Spanish and she knew it would be one of the players stopping in front of their pictures, and that meant the world to her.

The wine glass in her hand was still full an hour after the opening and the dark liquid was more and more enticing the closer she was to her speech. This was her exhibition, her grand idea, it wasn’t surprising that the club wanted her to present it properly. But Rosalie had never been a public speaker, she hated when attention was on her and that much became pretty clear to everyone around her after the events of last year.

Her nerves were slowly getting the best of her, until a particular voice reached her ear. Even in a room full of people, her senses were always reaching out for her. A quick scan of the room and there she was, engaged in a conversation with the buyers of her picture. It was of her, after her goal at the champions league final. It had been taken from behind, her arms out, her beautiful back tattoos on display, about to take a bow in front of the crowd.

The digital version currently took place as her lockscreen and she was very proud of it. As if feeling the pull of eyes, Alexia turned towards the photographer’s who’s gaze was already on her. One look at the brunette and Alexia excused herself and motioned to the smaller woman to follow her out back.

The backroom was dark and the sounds of the gallery were muffled. Rosalie took a deep breath, the first since she had set foot in the building. Behind her, strong hands connected with her waist and spun her around. Alexia’s familiar perfume engulfed her senses, automatically calming her down.

“This Is your moment bonita, you are going to be great.” She whispered in the brunette’s ear, scared to break their bubble by speaking too loud. “Je suis fière de toi mon amour.”

The words were still heavily accented but they were spoken with a lot more fluidity than a year ago. The words pulled a smile from the photographer who unburied her face from the blonde’s neck.

“You are getting better and better at this,” she said, chuckling. “You might actually impress my family On Christmas.”

Alexia laughed at the comment. They had just booked their tickets to go spend Christmas in Quebec Canada and she was nervous about meeting her girlfriend’s family, but the giddiness with which Rosalie had described Christmas time in Quebec had managed to convince her nonetheless.

“Oh no, my French skills are reserved just for you.” She said, pecking the brunette’s lips. “ Rosalia, what you accomplished is beautiful, be yourself, be proud of your work and it'll all be great, believe me.”

“I love you.” It was natural by now. The words rolled off her tongue with ease but held the same meaning, the same intensity as the first time she had uttered them. “Te amo también mi amor.” Alexia answered.

Whispers could be heard outside of the door which provoked an impressive eye roll from the blonde captain. “Aye dios ellas serán la muerte de mi.”

Alexia yanked the door open which made Patri lose her footing and tumble in the room. Mapi and Pina both looked like children who knew they’d been caught.

“What are the three stooges doing here?” Rosalie asked, unable to hold in her laugh.

“Nothing very smart I am afraid” Alexia said.

“They sent us to look for Rosa, they want her to do her speech soon.” Patri said.

“But we thought you ladies ran away to…”

“Marià Pilar Leon, don't you finish that sentence.” Alexia said in an annoyed tone. The three women smiled in a suggestive way and walked out, but not before reminding the two to finish up quickly and get back to the real party.

Rosalie took a deep breath and closed her eyes for an instant. She felt warm, callous hands grab her own.

“Listo, Rosalia?”

“Oui.”

[jillsandwhichs]

Our Future Days

Joel Miller x Reader series, Chapter 4, A lovely dinner

masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Joel cooks you and Sarah a lovely dinner and you two have a sweet talk together. He ends up telling you to come over Friday for a surprise...

WC: 4.6

Type: Sfw

A/n: Hi! Hope you all enjoy. Please check out my masterlist, there's a lot of stuff there. You can get to know me, you can see the rules of my blog and then you can see all of my fanfictions. You'll be able to find the previous chapters to this fic and upcoming ones. You'll also be able to find my Wattpad & AO3. Comments, reblogs & likes are appreciated. Thank you

"Ugh!" You grunted out to yourself. You've been totally stressing yourself out the past hour, just trying to figure out what to wear. You got home around five, it's almost seven, Joel said the dinner will start around 7:30 PM, you need to get ready quicker. But finding what to wear is so difficult. All you know is, is that you wanna keep it casual. It's not some fancy dinner or anything, just a simple one at his place and besides that, his daughter will be present.

You currently have two outfits laying out on the bed.

The first one has a long sleeve red shirt with plain blue jeans, super cute. The second one is an Oregon sweater with black leggings, also cute. But you just couldn't decide on which to wear. You doubt Joel will care what you wear but you do care, you wanna look nice, not only for him but for yourself. You don't want to seem like a fool.

After staring at both outfits for a minute straight, you just grabbed one, beginning to remove the attire you were currently wearing. You looked like a mess from work, today you had to add a lot of older people and wow, they drain you. But after all, this is the work you chose to be apart of, it's the work you won't give up on. And besides, maybe Joel finds it attractive; The fact you're a doctor. A lot of men prefer women with ambitions and goals, like you.

You kept your undergarments on, the same from this morning as you slipped on the slightly baggy jeans, buttoning them up. You rarely wear jeans, you are always wearing sweatpants or pajama shorts, so jeans is up to you. You then put the red shirt on, your curves being evident through the tight piece of clothing. Overall, you think you look nice in it. You plan to just pull your hair back, it's already brushed out nicely.

You wondered what he was going to be making and whether or not he'll be a good cook. You assume he'll be a great one if he's confident enough to cook for you. You aren't a foodie or anything though, your food variety is wide. You're just so nervous, very much on edge. Not only will you be with Joel, you'll be inside of his personal home, eating a homemade dinner he cooks up for you. It'll be lovely, you're just edgy about it all.

For shoes, you plan to wear your boots, they go all the way up just below your knee. They're what's in nowadays, you think they'll look great with the entire outfit.

You raced down the wooden, carpeted staircase, seeing Becker resting on the couch. The Living Room television had some random reality show playing on it; Becker enjoys the background noise. You know Becker despises being alone for a considerable amount of time so in hopes of helping him with that irritation, you put on a show and set a decent amount of treats in his bowl. Maybe he'll forgive you easier that way.

You've also been considering bringing a gift to show your appreciation for him inviting you to dinner. You had an array of things you could bring. There was extra food, a sweet treat, something he'd personally enjoy, etc.. But the main thing that continually came to mind was some neat wine. You know you have a bottle on hand you could bring. Obviously Sarah wouldn't be able to have any but it could be something you and Joel share together.

Opening up one of the lower cabinets, you brought yourself downwards, scanning the very few but expensive and luxurious bottles. You only had four but all four of them were so nice, you knew they'd taste pleasant as well. Picking one up, you saw it was a red wine, all the others were simply white. You doubt Joel really minds what type of wine you bring over, hell, you doubt he'd care if you brought any all but it's just the gesture that counts.

You set the bottle on the counter, double checking to make sure it was dusted off and looked according, which it did. Hopefully he occasionally drinks, or else this'll be super duper awkward.

Until it's about 7:30, you plan to just take it easy. You could take this time to check your emails and Facebook, see if your coworkers have said anything or if your family has either. You miss your parents dearly, they mean a lot to you and it's hard being away from them like this. You also miss your sister, Hannah. You two have been so close since you were little, growing an extraordinary bond and now, you've been apart from her for a week. You miss her dearly, along with your mom and dad.

Checking emails first, you only seen one and it was a directory for all employees of the hospital. All it really said was that we'd be having changed schedules. That doesn't really affect you, you've only been there for two days. But for some, it will. And on your messages, you had one from your little sister.

"Hey! Call me whenever, I got a dog too! Momma let me get her for my birthday!"

Your heart warmed up at her text. Your guy's mother was always the 'almond mom' type, and over the years she's gotten better about it. It must've been a large step to purchase a dog. You began to message her back.

"That's great Hannah! I'll call you once I'm home, I'm about to go get dinner. Send me a pic of him/her."

You kept it short but sweet.

There were no messages from your mother but that was to be expected, you two last spoke this morning about your work. She told you she's incredibly proud of you; It made you feel so special. And as for your father, you two rarely text, usually call only. The last message from him was before you even moved to Austin. You do enjoy his texts but calling with him is even better. Your father and you have always had that special 'daddy daughter' bond.

Until it's 7:25ish, you plan to just cuddle with Becker and scroll on Tumblr or something, just anything to keep your mind in la la land til dinner.

-

As you were scrolling on your phone, you noticed the time. You immediately hopped off of the couch, keeping the television on as you slipped your knee high leather boots on; You pray he'll find them attractive at the very least. You leaned down, pressing a smooch on Becker's furry head. "See ya later, big guy." You hummed out to him. You love him so very much, you'll ramble to him about the night once your home, same with Hannah.

You grabbed the wine off of the counter, holding it close to you. The thought of it crashing to the ground, the red liquid going everywhere, it was just not something you wanted to imagine nor to happen. You slipped your phone into the butt pocket of your jeans, making sure it was secure and wouldn't fall on out. You then opened your front door, taking a final glance at Becker, his sweet puppy eyes looking up at you from afar. "Love you puppy." You gave him an air kiss before shutting the house door.

Joel's house from your view looked clearly active. The lights were on, his truck was home and through the curtains, shadows were spawning in consistently. You could only assume it was him and Sarah. You looked both ways before crossing the street, convoying over to his suburban house. You always thought the suburbs and the houses in them looked the same, but oddly enough, your house was significantly different from his.

For example, his front door was brown, yours is black.

You brought your hand up, knocking a couple times on the door before swiftly adjusting your hair and stance, making yourself appear more natural. You plastered a faint smile on your pink lips, hoping you looked the part. You didn't wanna look stupid, especially at a dinner where his daughter is present. You hope not only he thinks you're gorgeous, but she finds you pretty as well.

Moments after knocking, you heard stomps approaching the door, then it opening. It was of course, Joel. He was wearing a tight, short sleeved blue shirt with some messy jeans, clearly they've been stained. Now you feel a bit silly for dressing up this way. He ran his hand through his hair, his brown eyes looking you up and down, his lips curling. "Hey there, c'mon in." He stood to the side, allowing you to make way.

You took a good gander around his house. It was very pristine. You hadn't expected a man to hold such a nice house, inside and out. You really liked it. It seemed so... Rustic and retro but in good ways. It was also quite basic but hey, he's a grown man, without a wife, decorating, you shouldn't expect much. Especially from a man like Joel whose more career and child focused. "Thank you." You nodded, the wine still in hand before Joel spoke up about it.

"That for us? Want me to take it off your hands?" He was so kind. "Sure." You smiled, handing it to him. He look a glance at the label and whistled with a chuckle. "See, this is that expensive stuff, thank you darlin'." He then tilted his head, nudging you to follow him. He talked while walking, "So, Sarah is upstairs, prolly drawing or sumthin but til then, I'll tell ya what I'm making us, and her, for dinner, sound good?" "Sure does."

He pulled out a barstool for you, making sure you are comfortable. He was quite courteous. "I'm making us some steak, red potatoes and sauteed green beans. It's rare for us to eat a lot like this and well, it's a special occasion." Joel snickered, leaning against the counter. "Sounds great, thank you." You liked the sound of that. You also rarely eat a lot of fancier foods like that - Steak can be expensive.

"Glad you'll like it, Sarah helped me pick. She's real excited to meet you." Joel chuckled, stirring the sauteed green beans in the pan, the sizzle of them was loud but you knew just by the sound they'd be tasty. "That's good to hear, I bet she's be a cutie." You cooed to Joel, talking highly of his daughter. It's true. You imagine she's sweet by how Joel talks of her. "How old is she again?" "She is twelve." "Wow, she's so young, got her whole life ahead of her." "You betcha, I know she'll do amazing as she grows up." Joel praised his kiddo. It was adorable.

"Well, y'know, my kid at home, he's just being a lazy slob." You joked, referring to Becker. Joel laughed as well, "Yeah, but he's cute, if you didn't have him, I imagine we wouldn't have spoken so soon to one another." "You think?" "Yeah, I just tend to keep my distance from neighbors." "Understandable." You nodded, your lips curling downward. You had a love hate relationship with your neighbors back home but here, it's pure like.

"You and Becker been settling in fine?" Joel asked you, now checking on the steaks. "Yeah, for the most part. Definitely a little homesick but, what can you do?" "I understand, being apart from family is shitty. I can't imagine my life without my dumbass brother around." Joel snorted. "Not to pry but what about your mother and father?" "Mama comes around every so often but she travels a lot, my father has always been a dead beat." "I see, I'm sorry." "You ain't gotta apologize, things happen, it's the way of life." He confirmed.

He's right. It's the way she goes. Life goes on, things change and things happen, whether it be good or bad. Many amazing things have occured in your life along with terrible ones such as failing classes and losing family, but you must push through. One great thing that happened to you recently was meeting Joel. He's just such a great guy, you're grateful you were able to meet him.

"Do you want me to help with the dinner at all?" You changed the subject, wanting to seem not so selfish. "No, you just keep your pretty ass in that chair, I got this." His accent made you weak. His words did too. He thinks your pretty? Damn, does he realize how handsome he is? "Alrighty then." You chuckled, pulling some strands of your hair back.

As the two of you conversed more, the sound of small steps walking down the staircase behind you could be heard. Your head spun around, scanning the stairs, thin legs made their way down then until her full body appeared. It must've been Sarah. She was so adorable. You expected her to be a brunette but her ice blonde hair was so suited for her. She seemed so precious, the way she shyly walked over to you and Joel.

"Hey babygirl," Joel smiled, "This is ___, the one Tommy primarily told you about but, y'know." Joel snickered. "Hi." She said softly, sitting in the chair beside you. "Hi Sarah, I've heard quite a bit about you." You beamed at her. She had a blanket wrapped around her - Maybe she was napping or something. "Dad, can I turn on something to watch?" "Yeah, just as long as it's not that damned werewolf movie again." He scoffed playfully, cutting up some extra taters.

Sarah giggled before speaking, "I guess you're in luck, I plan to watch the vampire show instead." "Dammit." Joel snorted, looking back at you now. "Teenage girls and their obsession with the supernatural." "Hey now, don't diss The Vampire Diaries or Dawn of the Wolf, both are enjoyable." "'Course you think that." He shrugged whilst chuckling. When Sarah heard you say that, she turned around and ambled back to you. "Whose your favorite character? Mine is either Damon or Katherine."

"Ooo, that is a tough one but I got to go with either Stefan or Bonnie." "Oh I love Bonnie too, Stefan is just meh to me." Sarah vocalized, she was obviously passionate about the TV series. "My Lord." Joel shook his head whilst his eyes were closed. "You know," Sarah spoke in a whisper, "He claims he hates it yet whenever it's on, he suddenly gets invested." "Oh I'm very sure of that." You gave her an endearing smile.

The thought of Joel being into some corny, romance filled vampire show was cute and you could see it. Sarah just unwinding and watching in while Joel's in the background making fun of it yet he can't stop peeking over at the TV, it was a sight you needed to see sometime.

"Want to come and watch it with me? I'm on season three." You listened to her words, she seemed so happy to do it with you. You hadn't expected her to be so laid back with you so early on into meeting you. "Well, why not?" You stood up and walked over to the couch with her, taking a last gaze at Joel. He had a grin on his face as he gazed right back at you. "Have fun." He mouthed, his eyes trailing back down to the dinner he was whipping up.

You sat right beside Sarah, her hand picking up the remote and turning the TV on. She must've had the series on a box set or something, the only other way to watch it was through the CW channel. Unless she recorded the episodes anyway. She clicked on episode 6, which you've already seen yet you didn't care, and it began to play. Oddly enough, you felt at peace. Watching a good show, beside a sweet girl, a hunky man cooking dinner for you and her. It was paradise.

You'd just watch TVD with her til the food is ready and you can already imagine it'll be great.

-

Around 8:10 PM, Joel came around from the kitchen, taking a look at the two of you, then snickering. "Ladies, dinner is ready." His Southern accent is so sexy. "Finally!" Sarah stood up and ran over to the counter, picking up a plate. "She took the biggest steak, sorry." Joel cackled, leading you back to the kitchen. "Girls gotta eat." You responded. Joel picked up a blue plate, handing it to you and pointing over at the table. "Thank you Joel." You then walked over and sat at the end of the table, Joel sitting straight across from you.

You took a look at the plate, your mouth beginning to water. Not only did it look amazing, it smelt lovely too. The green beans were coated in garlic, the deep smell of it filling the aroma. The potatoes looked so seasoned, Joel really knew how to do this stuff. The steak was also so crispy and meaty, you didn't even mind how he made it rather it be well or rare, it just looks tasty.

The wine you brought was standing on the table.

"Oh, I almost forgot." Joel briskly stood up, walking over to the cabinets and pulling out three wine glasses, one for you, for him and for... Sarah? She's literally twelve!

Although, relief washed over you as he pulled out some juice, filling only one of the cups with it. "I'd never let her have wine... At least a excessive amount." Joel chuckled, placing the juice beside Sarah's food. "I still feel fancy and rich with a wine glass, so." She shrugged, picking up her fork. Joel popped the cork off of the wine, the mist appearing from the top of it. He poured the red tangy liquid into his glass.

He then made his way towards you, his strong built body right beside you. You could smell him, he smelt so masculine, it made your eyes roll back a little. You don't know what it is about men and their musk, but Joel rocks it.

He poured the wine into your glass as well, being very careful as to not have any splash out. "There you go." He hummed, placing the wine back onto the table and making way back to his wooden chair at the other end of the diner.

You blew out softly, taking this all in. Never did you expect to have dinner with him, at least not this early. And surprisingly, you didn't mind having Sarah around. You believe most women would but she's such a darling. You picked up your fork as well, noticing that Joel was already digging in. You took a medium sized bite of one of the potatoes, letting out an audible 'mmm' sound.

"Super good Joel, I never took you for the type who could cook." "Believe me, me either, but having a kid will do that to you." "Yeah, if he didn't know how to cook Lasagna, I would've moved out by now." Sarah commented, earning a giggle from you and Joel. "Is that your favorite food?" "One of them! I also love the salmon he cooks and don't get me started on the chicken wings." Sarah nodded, puckering her lips. She is so mature for her age.

You snickered, "Bet it's all great." You then took a bite of a green bean and wow, it tasted great. It was so salty but in a great way, the texture was so welcomed as well. "Joel, you're seriously a great cook." "Why thank you darlin'." He replied, beginning to cut up his steak. Sarah gave Joel an odd look when he called you that. You understand. You don't know the situation with Joel's ex wife, Sarah's mother, but all you know is he's been single for quite some time. Hearing her dad call a woman 'darlin' may be different for her.

"So, Sarah, how about you tell me a little bit about yourself? I wanna know more." You said softly to her, cutting up your beefy steak. "Oh, sure," She cleared her throat. "I'm twelve, I play soccer and run track, I love movies and drawing and I love cats." She smiled, eating some of the food off of her plate. You let out an audible hum, she seems so interesting. "Well that's quite the way to live, I like it. Soccer and track are great, I also ran track back in High School." "Really? So cool, I only recently begun." Sarah explained.

You picked up the glass of light alcohol beside you, taking a sip of it and nodding. It tasted super good, you were glad it was the one you decided to bring over. Joel also took a sip, giving you a look of approval. "This is nice, clearly expensive, thanks for bringing it." Joel set the glass down. "Of course." You said with pure kindness. With Joel welcoming you into his home and before that being so sweet, the least you could do was bring a house warming gift - Wine.

"Dad told me you're a doctor, is that true?" Sarah questioned, biting her thick and juicy streak. You nodded, food still in your mouth before you swallowed quickly. "Yes, it is, I am a doctor." "Really? So cool. Do you get to see brains and stuff?" You chuckled at her question, quite the brain she has, huh? "Not yet, maybe someday! But primarily surgeons work with brains, I'm just a family doctor." You explained simply. Sarah nodded, sipping her juice.

"I also heard you have a dog, can I meet him someday?" "Of course, anytime you want to. He's super friendly." You smiled, your pearly whites being flashed off. "I wish we could get a dog or cat, dad says it's to much responsibility." "Well, because it is. You killed your fish baby." Joel breathlessly chuckled, taking a bite of his steak. You made a face of shock, how can you kill a fish? "I was ten then dad!" She protested. "We'll see soon babygirl." Joel responded to her. He was such a parent.

As you all ate, the radio in the kitchen played Billy Joel. The music was tranquil, it added to the atmosphere of the dinner. You were really enjoying the night so far. You wonder if there'll ever be a time where you and Joel can just chillax alone and have some dinner, maybe go out somewhere. You don't know whether or not to consider this a date, what if he doesn't? He could be perceiving this as a innocent, friendly dinner. That would be fine but disappointing.

It was hard to keep your eyes off of him. He is incredibly handsome, everything about him. His looks, voice, stature, skills, job, everything - It was all attractive. You could notice him staring at you every so often. You wanted to gaze into his eyes minus all the awkwardness, it'd be so romantic.

You continued to eat, your brain processing the words from the song playing. You figured Joel would have this kind of music taste. It's nice actually, similar to yours in a way. You took another gander at the interior of his home, really being able to let the details sink in. One thing you noticed was the flowers on the coffee table. They were Gardenias, one of your favorites. They are the most alluring flower.

Another thing you soon took note of was the pictures all over the walls. It's evident Joel cherishes his family and to you, that's admirable. There were pictures of Sarah, Tommy and him, and some where it's either just two of them or all three of them together. Back home, your mother was the exact same - Photos literally everywhere. It's just one sweet way to express your love and gratitude towards those you love, whether it be friends or family.

-

Midway through the dinner, Sarah let out a soft burp, covering her mouth. "Manners sweetheart." "Excuse me." Sarah said quickly, standing up. Her plate was cleaned off. Yours almost was as well, just a few pieces of steak left. Joel's was a little less gone than yours but he eats a little bit slower than you do. "Go put your plate in the sink and wash up." Joel ordered Sarah. She listened, going off to do her own thing.

There was silence for a little bit. Neither of you spoke, you just kept on eating your food until Joel talked.

"Thank you for havin' dinner with me, I enjoyed it and well," He paused, watching Sarah jog up the stairs, "She did too." He snickered. You smirked, sipping the remaining drips of your wine. "I did too, thank you for having me." You replied, clearing your throat. "And I hope you enjoyed my cookin'." He chuckled, taking another bite of his steak. "I really did, best meal I've had since moving to Texas." "Good." He smiled at you.

You ate the final chunk of your steak, clearing your throat again, the sauce of it feeling clogged. "Very good, I'll be full til tomorrow evening." You joked. Joel gallowed, standing up and walking over to you, taking a hold of your empty glass and clear plate. "Allow me." He grunted, leaning back up and bringing them over to the sink. "Are you done eating?" "Yeah, why don't you bring the rest of it home for Becker." "Oh, sure, he'll definitely go crazy over it." You giggled, accepting the idea.

Joel grabbed out a tub, putting some steak chunks, potatoes and green beans in it, shaking it up a bit. Oh yeah, Becker will feast on it.

"Thanks." You chuckled, taking the tupperware in hand. "'Course, anything for you." Joel's cheeks puffed as he gave you a smirk. You sort of got lost in his eyes, your mouth opened slightly as you just stared at him. You wanted to feel his lips against yours...

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you looked down, making sure your attire wasn't messed up or anything. "We'll definitely need to do something like this sometime again." Joel mumbled out, crossing his arms. "You think so?" "I do." Joel assured you, "I dunno, I like bein' around you." He chortled. "You do?" "Yeah, I do." "Me too." You articulated, your throat feeling somewhat dry. "I think Sarah likes you too, she seemed comfortable." "I like her too, very sweet little lady." You beamed at Joel.

Simultaneously, the two of you made your way to his front door, Joel leaned against the staircase. "Come over on Friday, around... Hmm... Ten?" What? Why ten? His voice suddenly got so deep. You felt your stomach do flips, his eyes on your face, then trailing down bit by bit. "Ten? Why?" "Well, I wanna show you sumthin, is that alright?" "Guess so, you're just being suspicious." You were blunt with a snicker. "You'll see, view it as a surprise." He laughed, opening the door for you.

You looked outside, the fresh breeze hitting you as you stepped out onto his porch. "Well, thanks again." "Anytime sweet thing." He hummed out to you. It must just be a southern thing - Calling women random little nicknames. "Bye Joel, see you Friday." "See ya then." You nodded, giving a slight wave, stepping off of his porch and making your way across the street. You wondered what it was he'd have in store for your Friday night...

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

i got in my target number of hours for the week! \o/ and the strategy of aiming for a couple days where work is really my main focus worked really well for me i think both in terms of actually accomplishing that and in terms of like... psychologically helping me feel at peace, freeing up room, etc. gonna try that again this week, aiming for 25 again... probably aiming for 25 until i'm "caught up" on being on track for my weekly goal which is set at an average of 20 and then... well i don't know then what. i was going to say then dropping down to 20 but maybe i want to "bank" some hours [which is kind of nonsensical but in practice would mean banking prep work and/or development hours which are paid], maybe it will depend on where stuff's at with the development project currently in process and also where i am financially and what my student load is... i did have two students this week (one very new, one semi-new) ask to switch to other tutors which is always a bit demoralizing (although the very new one had already switched from someone else so... not sure what she's looking for but i hope i guess that she finds it!). but things should still be fine... i paid my taxes and contributed to my IRA (LOL very funny week to do that "ha ha ha" ok going back to simply not thinking about the little red line) and am not like, broke suddenly, so... it's fine... i'm fine... i can even pay my quarterly estimate this week and i think still be not broke... it's fine. uhhh. anyway. 25 hours. chill.

it continues to be very annoying getting back into the swing of working out after being sick, both for like general habit-reforming reasons and because omg my hamstrings were so mad at me all week after that one leg day... but i did get 4 workouts in which is not the worst even if one of them was a low impact cardio day and another one was my favorite 20 minute full body day i did today just so i could say i got 4 instead of 3 lol. and i did work towards closing my steps gap wrt my annual goal! i am also doing pretty well at flossing which is cool because last year i really failed that one. i'm not reading as much as i want to be but i did finish playing in the dark. i also started, as mentioned previously, i'm glad my mother is dead, which is sooooo good so far (heartbreaking/enraging/etc.), and which i started because i was really struggling with sticking to my no scrolling before 10 policy most days so i decided to bring back Phone Book. it's tough because i actually do have a pretty strong experiential preference for physical books for anything remotely weighty... and i mean i don't actually want to read novels or heavy nonfiction in, like, 5-minute increments waiting for the train. but those snatches of time really do add up and it is better when i am proactive about filling them with something easy enough to dip in and out of that i don't mind reading on a tiny screen. so... easy to read but good nonfiction recs always welcome! i hadn't previously considered celebrity memoirs (which i would not really classify this as exactly but it made me think of them) but maybe i'll go on a kick.

i'm not writing as much as i want to be and it continues to be the toughest thing and the thing also that is hard to work on because i don't have anything i'm super animated about right now - i have stuff i'm sort of vaguely conceptually into but nothing Consuming me which is historically how i have done most of my work lol. i really... really... would like for that not to be the case FOREVER... but cracking that is a work in progress i suppose. i did add a couple hundred words to the (lol) yellowjackets fic which at this point i think is not going to be finished by the finale but which i suppose i have committed myself to finishing... at some point... even though this show sucks so, so bad now that it's literally crazy, i've never seen television go from good to sucking like this before ever. but it's the project i have that's like closest to being done and i just need a win after three months and counting of wheel-spinning.

this week i got really good mexican food with a friend & hung out with a different friend yesterday; this week i have some cute stuff planned too :) tonight i closed out the week by scanning workbook pages by watching the white lotus finale (i had fun!) and the livepod reaction from prestige tv pod. the earliest spring flowers are blooming which is nice to see even though the weather has been frankly pretty fucking horrible! (every year, april in new york somehow gets me... my brain just refuses to process it as a month that is often Still Cold.) i have reached part three of tender is the night which means i am narrowing in on the most sublime bits of writing in the whole thing (and tomorrow or soon i have GOT to post for you all the exchange about rosemary's virginity) and while i have a number of serious or seriousish books on the agenda i think probably next up is going to be the new hunger games prequel lmao. i cannot seem to train myself to go to bed at a reasonable time but while i do think it would be nice to have a consistent wake up time and for it to be earlier than like 10:30 as was the case one day this week it does not seem to be ruining my life at present.

[circa98s]

‧ ₊ ˚ ✧ › MUN: good afternoon, my dears! i'm k ( she/her, est, 21+ ), the writer behind han mila & shin eunbi. milas blog serves as my main, while eunbis is a side, so you'll most likely see me interact from this one more frequently ooc! if you'd like to plot over on discord, i'm happy to give that out upon request! ♡

‧ ₊ ˚ ✧ › MUSE: and now, meet han mila— 25 years old, a city girl who planted her roots in yuseong bay only 4 months ago, so she's a new resident. utilizing her marketing degree ( wow, fancy ), she currently works as a visual merchandiser at eclectique 33. you can find her wip stats page here!

when did your muse first arrive in yuseong bay? mila has only begun planting roots for herself in yuseong about four months ago ( so, essentially, at the very beginning of this year ).

what does an average day look like for your muse & where can they usually be found? the busiest of bees, mila can be seen fluttering around eclectique, as well as it's general vicinity, the majority of time— at least, during the day / general work hours. as mornings wind down into evenings and the sun begins to set, the blonde often takes refugee at the 88&bar, nursing cocktails of her choice as a way of keeping her frazzled thoughts at bay ( when i tell you this city girl is still trying to adjust to rural living amidst having her hallmark movie moment . . . pls help her ).

how does your muse feel about hanhwa resort? having no real frame of reference for what mild negativities a resort like hanhwa could be bringing to the local space and its primary inhabitants whose daily lives are now continuously altered, mila herself doesn't see the harm with how much attention it seems to be garnering. honestly, the urban crowds that filter in and out are a welcome familiarity.

is there an aspiration for your muse to stay in or leave yuseong bay? for the time being, mila has no real idea what she's looking for just yet— coming to yuseong had been a random, but conscious, choice, one made with the intention of being somewhere different. for now, four months in and still aspiring to find some sense of rthym for herself ( as hard as that'd currently been ), the thought of wanting to leave has yet to cross her mind.

list your muse’s three favorite songs. healing — fletcher. walking home — mac ayres. naked girl — iyla.

describe your muse’s wardrobe. flirty, girly, pastels. a soft romantic at heart, that aspect of her personality translates one for one in terms of her fashion.

what is a color, word, and emoji that you feel describes your muse? baby pink, ambitious, 🎀.

three strong likes and dislikes for your muse. likes — floral perfumes, early mornings, staying busy. dislikes — creative ruts, the stench of fish, root regrowth.

three positive and negative traits for your muse. positives — sweet, upbeat, extroverted. negatives — impulsive, workaholic, judgy.

three talents and shortcomings for your muse. having a knack for connecting with others, a skill she'd already had since childhood that only got stronger with time, mila can make an acquaintance out of anyone. open, ready to talk about anything and everything, there's not a single person she'd ever found herself intimidated by enough to keep her distance. often times, it's this very facete of herself that leads to a decline in energy by the days end, her social batteries quick to recharge after quiet evenings, and even then, she'll often find herself engaging in conversations past her moods expiration simply because that's what she's always done. mild eye bags and all that'll be gone come time to wake up the next morning, mila engages with a smile.

what is a book/tv series/movie/video game character that you feel your character relates to? without question, elle woods has always been a role model, a character mila strives make proud.

a relevant goal or arc for your character to overcome. finding balance, not just within herself, but in this new daily life she's found for herself.

[ohwolfling]

Things I did to reset after a few days of intense chronic pain with increased ideation:

First things first, check in with the site So You Feel Like Shit, to take care of some basics. It walks you through when you last ate, slept, took your meds/vitamins, had some water, etc, and gives you teeny tiny goals to help you get by. It's non-judgemental, requires no sign in or anything, & doesn't limit how often (or not) you use it. The following might resonate with you if you don't know what else to do and you can do it in whatever order you want. This is just what makes me into a person.

PLEASANT ROT. I took massage balls, my rice heating pack for my shoulders and neck, and a full body heating pad into a comfy chair with my preferred blanket, and also took an ice pack for my chest so that I could stand all that heat AND reset my nervous system. Once I was comfy, I set up my Kindle to hang out with Lestat. I'll do a podcast that doesn't make me feel like I need to pay attention or the Endel app in my bluetooth headphones usually but tonight my roommate was playing the new Star Wars game so I let that be my background noise. I set a timer once I couldn't read anymore and let myself scroll TikTok asmr vids for a half hour.

JOURNAL. Sometimes I don't feel safe or stable enough to write about my feelings so I'll just doodle or make lines and shade in squares. Tonight I decided to use my journal to write down some Irish vocab staples and then moved into phrases that felt relevant to the struggle. The Irish for homesickness btw is Tá cumha i ndiaidh an bhaile orm.

LAUNDRY! I physically pulled the cubes out of the little shelf and threw them onto my bed, threw the clothes in my hamper into little piles near the appropriate cube, and then shoved them in. I still have a pile of clothes to hang up but hey, if I don't get to that, I still made progress. ANYTHING on a floor, chair, bathroom door/counter, gets tossed into the washer to do a fresh load.

GET CLEAN AND COMFY! Stripped down, used antibacterial wipes (I showered yesterday but also sometimes it might be longer due to pain/mental health/freak plumbing incidents, whatever), and put on fresh comfy clothes combos so my current night clothes can also hit the wash. Regardless of weather, put on a base for warmer temps and set aside a hoodie/sweatshirt and socks jic you get cold.

FEEL CUTESY! For me, this means braiding my hair, putting on a perfume, lighting a candle with a smell complimentary to that fragrance, and setting my ambient lighting just so. For you, could be slugging, a little lip gloss, flexing in the mirror, whatever.

HYDRATION! I fill a big mason jar with water to add a lil flavor packet to it and fill a regular water bottle for regular water. Now I have options and can refill the Brita filter. When I have extra bottled water, I use resets like these to make sure I have 3 or 4 in the fridge & two room temp by my bed, jic things get bad again.

SNACK TRAY! When I'm down, I don't really know what I want so variety is key. I put tortilla chips & spinach dip, a handful of almonds, a spoon of peanut butter, half a piece of cheesecake, & the aforementioned flavor water on this tray. If hunger returns, I am ready.

DISTRACTION! while the laundry is doing it's thing, I have booted up Dimension 20 on a screen and a little strategy game (Dawnmaker) on the other.

After my next rest- whenever and whatever that means for me- I will either repeat this process OR I can make a little to do list of other things that might bring me joy, make the next week easier, or stuff that just needs to get done. Everything on that list will be something that takes 20 minutes or less because I know that I'm still physically and mentally drained. The goal is not to overdo it to prove myself. The goal is to keep on keeping on.

[crochetinggarbagebagjellyfish]

Day 1/100 January 7th 2025

Hey look at me go everyone, two posts in one day. Anyways, today was a pretty good day. Sang while doing chores and had a good chat with my father-in-law. He is always wonderful to have a yap to, and not even about anything in particular, just a straight yap fest.

So in regards to my to-do list today

1. Have meds + water ✅

2. Make bed + tidy bedroom ✅

3. Bring in washing + put away ✅

4. Do dishes + recycling ✅

5. Wipe down all surfaces in the house ✅

6. Clean billie water ✅

7. Vacuum house ✅

8. Do some cleaning around the cat area ✅

9. Tumblr Update ✅

In regards to my goals for the day- a little update

I have managed to finish a 600 ml bottle of water and I have just opened a second one. This is an unfortunately solid effort for me as I consume maybe a bottle of water a week… I really don’t like the taste of water but my partner F tells me that water doesn’t taste bad and that I might just be being silly, but even my mum doesn’t like the taste of water which is why she always has lemon wedges in her water.

As for steps, I forgot to put my watch on charge but I did do like maybe 2 hours of housework which might add up to like…. 3500 steps. I currently have my watch on charge and I might end up doing a youtube walking challenge a bit later, although that being said it is almost 9pm… which is a bit weird because it is still incredibly light outside but you know what, we vibe with the remaining bit of sunset.

Remaining things I want to get done today— which means maybe one more update but we will see how I go.

1. Take photo of desk set up for Tumblr post + photos of progress

2. Crochet- Frog Eyes for bucket hat x2 + sew them on

3. Crochet- F’s Frog Bucket Hat restart because the original one ended up way too big but I am going to keep that one and turn it into more of like a sunhat.

4. Take pictures of progress

5. Stretch 15 mins

6. Shower routine

7. Read for 30 mins

Goals

Water intake- current 600ml & remaining 1400ml of water

Step count- ~3500 from cleaning the house and doing chores - might see how I am going later energy wise in regards to maybe following a step workout video.

[digital170cm]

before i leave,

a (personal) retrospective on leaving.

about 8 months ago, i was telling one of my close friends that i would definitely be setting up a blog to document and share thoughts on my exchange. well, i’m 8 months into an 11 month exchange program and i decided it would be a good time to start.

tomorrow marks the beginning of semester 1- which is my second and final semester abroad in Singapore. time goes by so quickly once classes start and i already feel like my exchange period is coming to an end. i feel a little sentimental as i try to recall the decisions that put me where i am now- in a 4×3 dorm room on the west side of such an interesting city-state island. truthfully, this wasn’t exactly what i had intended.

when i decided to go back into education after a brief stint of living in in another state and working my ‘admin assistant’ (customer service) job for a few years- i had a single goal: to live and study abroad. of course, if you know me, you know the intention was not to land in Singapore, but another island a little north-west of Singapore called Japan. i even delayed going on exchange, declining an offer to go to Hong Kong University in favour of entering into another round of exchange applications. sometimes it’s nice to imagine what it would have been like if i had accepted that first offer- i hope i get to go and see what life would have been like there one day.

i could barely bring myself to tell anyone when i received my second exchange nomination for my current exchange university. when i saw it was not for the university i thought i had a decent chance at getting into, i felt embarrassed after 3 years of being so steadfast about exchanging to Japan and so open with my family and friends about what i had planned for myself. it was my only goal and motivation through some very difficult periods. it was the reason why i could wake up at 5am every week day and head into a job that occasionally set me crying on the train home after a 13 hour day. yet, there are some things, namely university admin processes, that are out of our hands and eventually, i felt comfortable enough to tell my family and coworkers about the change of plans. they were all supportive and expressed to me that despite not really knowing anything about Singapore, but they were sure that I’d have a great time. I couldn’t say I knew much more than them either. my friends, of course, were great.

while almost everyone was supportive, i remember when i told my partner at the time, i could hear the disappointment in his voice. i speculate that is when he decided that we weren’t going to work out long-term. one of his own goals at the time was to work in Japan while I was studying there, but from that point on, there was no mention of him visiting me on my exchange. my plans for the future were no longer valuable for him, i guess. from what i recall, it was all down-hill from there.

yuck.

a few months later, after a break-up, i began to think about (and hold out for) my future in Singapore in a different way. whenever i would talk to my sister or friends about the place i was in at the time (not so good!) i would say “well, it doesn’t matter, i’m moving to Singapore anyway.”. everything became irrelevant and temporary. i was leaving and more importantly, i would be gone for so long that nothing in that moment would matter by the time i got back. suddenly, by way of circumstance, Singapore became a saving grace for me. (if you couldn’t already guess, this should confirm that i’m a bit emotionally avoidant). the disappointment i had felt in myself began to subside and in its place was anticipation for relief, a change of environment, new people, new food, academic focus.

anyway,

that was around a year ago now, if i had to guess. my old perspective has changed a little, luckily. though, i can’t be certain that it’s just not me trying to make myself feel better about the (perceived?) failure to attain my goal, i do think it worked out for the better. after all, English is widely spoken in Singapore and Singapore is a lot more culturally similar with Australia than Australia is with Japan. while it’s still a little hard to think and talk about, and it definitely remains a sore subject for me, there is still a lifetime of opportunity to make up for it. i think Japan would have been a hard place to study in, anyway. (probably copium but probably true). while i will save some insights for future posts, there are a few things i know i will miss greatly when i leave Singapore. i would not have grown to understand this country or the way of life here had i not come here for academic purposes. i would not have come to know the people i know, or have tried kaya toast with raw egg and kopi o.

there are ways of living here that i hope that Australia comes to incorporate, as well as things that I’m grateful are not issues carried over to Australia as they are here. i’m looking forward to writing these thoughts out, if only to have a record of my perspective before i forget.

there is a lot, a lot, i have chosen to omit about the period of time before i left my home city as this is public. it was a difficult time, all in all. i say all this to share the frame of mind i began my exchange in- the background and the long-build up, i think these things are important if i’m aiming to be sincere and share my thoughts, experiences, opinions and perspectives about my exchange experience transparently. while i wish my blog could be observational commentary in the workings of Singaporean culture and society- and there will surely be some of that- but i’m nothing but a water sign, so i hope you can understand why i’m deciding to write what i am deciding to write.

please leave me a lil message in my guestbook here!

[stephspurs]

A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

Life is beautiful and life is cruel. A window into the souls of the victorious and the vanquished. In a way, football did come home during the summer of 2021. Follow along Amelia’s journey, navigating the football world as a tactical analyst for the italian football team, with a brother and father part of the three lions. Will Amelia leave Italy and come back to England? Will she leave the Serie A for the Prem? Will she set aside the bianconeri stripes for new colours, leaving behind friendship for love? Maybe she can have both...

Hello my lovelies!! Part 3 sees a whole lot Amelia's beautiful brain & you get your first slice of interaction with the british boys - leading up to an all important Mykonos adventure (part 4 - out friday). As usual, please let me know your thoughts and feelings, and let me know what you want to see happen with Amelia and her story! Updates have increased to 3/week! I hope you're enjoying it as much as I am!

Love always,

Steph xx

UPDATE as of 31/07: I've made some additional editing changes due to some feedback about the confusion between ben white (her brother) and ben chilwell (not her brother LOL). Nothing has been added to the story, just the addition of either surname has been added where i think it could be more straightforward - for future readers!

Part 3. | parte terza

warnings; none - just a whole lot of feels.

word count; 2081

writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter.

next update; Friday 30/07 5pm AEST. Updates are three times/week (Monday, Wednesday & Friday)!

Tags (as requested by users); @footballffbarbiex @obsesseds-world @abysshaven

link to fic masterlist here

It was the day after the final match and Amelia should be nursing a hangover due to the large amount of red wine she consumed with her Italian counterparts the night before. However, she finds herself at St. George’s Park before 9am, meeting one of her father’s colleagues who directs her to the recreation room that she remembers from a few days prior.

Standing outside the door, she assumed she was just waiting for her dad as agreed on the phone an hour earlier. As she was waiting, she could hear Gareth Southgate give a team talk to the players, praising them for their ability and pleading for them to bounce back from this defeat and use it to push on. The next voice she could hear was that of her father, giving them the tactical run through of the game. She listened to the points her father made, and both agreed and disagreed with some. Unexpectedly, the man sent to collect her opened the door and ushered her inside.

She stood at the back of the room, facing her dad and Gareth, whilst the team and other management staff had their backs to her. Making eye contact with her dad, he smiled slightly.

“Whilst I can offer you my opinion on the match last night, to better prepare you for the next time, there is no better opinion to learn from at this moment than that of your opponent. Amelia, would you please come up here” Dean really threw her into this situation, that again, she was not prepared for nor did she want to participate in. However, the 30+ sets of eyes that had currently turned around to stare at her didn’t exactly inspire a choice to be made here.

_____________________________________________________________

“Lads, this is my daughter. I taught her everything she knows, which was probably too much considering I can now recognise that it was her signature plays that the italian side used to their advantage last night. Treat her with respect, or I will let her at you. Which i’m sure you all saw a few nights ago in this very room” My dad spoke as I walked up to the front area, weaving in and around beanbags with players occupying them.

Standing in front of the Three Lions was more nerve wracking now than it had been when she was confronting her brother, maybe Fede did offer her protection as his bodyguard. Either way, she put her big girl pants on (figuratively speaking, literally she was wearing her official puma tights and Italian polo) and got on with it as if she was speaking to her team.

“Thanks Dad. Hey guys, I think the first thing I would like to say is that you’re allowed to feel exactly how you feel right now. There is no rush to ‘get over it’ or ‘push on and learn’. You need to feel this now, feel it throughout your body, understand the pain and then turn it into motivation.” I speak to the group, trying to accurately express how sincere I am to this group of heartbroken men.

“As for tactics, I can stand here and praise you for how good you really are but that's not how you are going to learn. You came into the game hard and fast.” I paused, understanding the innuendo just as it was flying out of my mouth. I pursed my lips and tried to hold my giggle in, however some of the boys seem to have the same sense of humour as I do. My brother, face of steel and eyes that burn into any man that tries to joke with me.

“Sorry, can’t help myself. So yeah, you took charge of the game from kick off and we were not ready. You had the aggression and desire to push from the start and that's what you did, Shaw, you really surprised me with that goal. Not because I didn't think you could do it but because I wasn’t anticipating you being someone we had to watch so closely.”

“Again, something you guys need to keep in mind is that it is literally my job to know everything about you and how you play the game, what foot you prefer, who you pass to, how long you hold the ball before you pass, do you like to assist or score...all of these things make a massive difference in each play we make.”

“The error you made came around the 25th minute of the game, we had settled into the game and did what we do best - we slowed you down. In Italy, in the Serie A, which is where most of my team play, the game is a lot slower. There is more skill and tactic used to ensure a favourable outcome. Again, i'm not saying you all don’t have skill, but the Prem favours pace over tactics and strategy. The only way we were going to be able to win was by making you play our game, but in your half of the pitch.”

At this point, all of their eyes are trained to me and the more senior players of the team, like Henderson, Walker, Coady, Kane, they understand what i’m trying to say. Gareth, my dad and other members of staff are sitting to one side, arms folded and a slight smile on their face at the simplicity of my approach to such an important game. I direct my next question to them.

“Can I ask - have you already selected your man of the match?”

“Off record, yes we have. Before I announce to the team who it is, can I direct the question back to you and find out who you would award it to?” Gareth poses back to me, interested to hear my opinion.

“While the obvious choices would be Kane, Sterling, Maguire - your players who perform week in week out and are consistent and no doubt deserve an award as such. I would recommend Declan Rice. Personally, he was the most instrumental in the match last night. Every time we turned to attack, he was there to stop it. He was a player I was confident that I knew the extent of his ability, when it was obvious that I didn't.”

The boys around him, Mason Mount & Ben Chilwell, offered him a gentle shove and ruffle of the hair, to show their encouragement to the bashful boy who seemed surprised at the praise he was receiving.

“The other player that I think deserves a bit of a shoutout, and not because of his hair, is Jack Grealish.” I spoke, looking around the room until we locked eyes. I wanted him to understand how serious i was about my next words.

“You are so dangerous on the ball, you are an asset as a team mate, you aren’t guilty with the ball, but you have the power behind you to score when the opportunity presents itself. The moment you were subbed on I pulled Jorginho to the side and told him to treat you like Chiellini and Bonnucci were handling Sterling and Kane. You were one of my players to watch, and for good reason”

At the end of the little session, I said thanks to the boys for listening and that I hope to see them again in a tournament. The only way to be the best is to beat the best. After a quick round of applause that made me feel more special than I am, I walked past my brother, gave him a quick ruffle of his hair and met my dad at the back. Gareth dismissed the boys and they all stood up, breaking away and grabbing some breakfast that was set up to the side of the room, for one last team meal.

“Mills!! I’ll get you an almond croissant and a coffee, come sit with me!” Walker shouted from across the room.

“Oi mate, she’s my sister not yours” Ben counters from the back of the line.

“Yeah she's your sister by blood, mine by choice.” Kyle firmly states and begins his way to one of the tables.

“I suppose i better join Kyle before he drowns everyone in his tears” i joked with the england officials i was standing with before walking over to Kyle and a few of his team mates.

“Sooo am I supposed to pretend I don’t know who you all are so you can introduce yourselves? Or do we just mutually agree that I know too much about each of you and not bring it up?” I question the boys, jokingly. They all laugh and I sit down in the space Kyle left between himself and John Stones. I sat there and got to know some of the boys on a less competitive level, working out who was a leader both on the pitch and off it. After listening to the boys joke around and just be mates, rather than teammates, I leaned over to Kyle.

“Hey, before I go, do you think you can introduce me to Bukayo? I want to speak with him for a moment.”

“Yeah sure, I'll take you over there. Why are you nervous? You've never been shy before” Kyle questioned back at me.

“I’m not nervous, I'm just hyper aware of the sensitivity of the moment. Last night would have been tough”

Saying goodbye to the boys, Kyle directed me over to a table that was sitting my brother Ben White, Kalvin, Ben Chilwell, Grealish, Saka, Sancho & Rashford.

“Hey boys, Ben, I just wanted to come say goodbye before I head off.” I directed towards my brother. He pulled up a chair and asked me to sit for 5 more minutes, claiming he deserved it after months of no contact.

“Ben here didn’t let us know he had a sister as smart as you...what happened to you Ben? Did you miss that gene?” Jack Grealish poked at my brother. With his signature scowl on his face, Ben White let his mates laugh at his expense.

“Oh don’t make fun of my brother Benny, that’s my job!” I joked back, setting the boys off again with my brother’s childhood nickname. It was nice to hear some laughter again from a side that looked so solemn the night before.

“No in all seriousness boys, I especially came over because I wanted to talk to you Bukayo - what you did was so impressive. In a final, as the last penalty taker, to take on the responsibility of the nation at the age of 19! Not many players would dare to do that. You have earned a lot of respect, particularly from the Italian camp.” I spoke with a smile on my face, directed at the young boy.

“The same goes for you two” Now looking at Sancho & Rashford.

Bukayo looked down at his hands & smiled, before getting up and walking to my side of the table. Anticipating what he was going to do next, I stood up and welcomed him with open arms. Grateful that he understood my message and was beginning to accept the praise he so deserved. Stepping back from the hug, I turned to address the group of lads one more time.

“If any of you fancy a change of pace and want to come over to the Serie A, just give me a call - Benny can give you my number!” I start to speak, before I'm cut off but my brother.

“Stop poaching my mates! I’ve already lost you to another country. I don't need to lose anyone else” He jokingly says while standing to walk me out of St. George’s Park. I know it was a joke but I can't help but think there was some truth to that.

It had been more than 3 years since I moved out of our family home to start my life in Turin, and not one moment had i regretted it or thought i made the wrong decision. Don’t get me wrong, there are times when I wished I was closer to my family, but I know I had to make that move to prove to myself I am just as successful as I hoped I would be. Not saying I have learnt everything there is to learn with the Serie A giants, Juventus, but maybe it's time for a new challenge? Maybe I can bring the strategic spin on the game to the fast paced action of the premier league?

Part 4. | quarta parte

[rouiyan]

𝘖𝘍𝘍 𝘐𝘊𝘌 [ 𝘭.𝘫𝘯 ]

⧏ jeno's installment of the keep your cool collective ⧐

synopsis: he likes to think it's romantic how he always finishes your sentences for you. you think it's annoying that he keeps interrupting you.

✧ ice hockey player!lee jeno x (fem.) tutor!reader ✧ college au

✧ genres : fluff, angst, slightly suggestive ✧ word count : 4.4k ✧ disclaimers : mentions of sexual activities, swearing

✧ author’s note — same universe as my puck in your goal which does not need to be read first but can be. also, hi @crownily i did it :)

let's just say jeno sucks at school and that the one thing he doesn't suck at is hockey, ice hockey. and let's just say that you're his tutor, strictly for tutoring purposes. yet, here you find yourself at his doorstep at 3:47 in the morning, or so your phone says.

he opens up to see you clad dressed down, different from the neat tee and skirt he's so used to. to be completely honest, jeno has never felt anything towards you and even he himself finds that hard to believe since you're everything he could ever ask for in a girl. pretty and cute, snappy but sweet, the most perfect curve of lips and above all, you're an intellectual. he finds it attractive but he isn't attracted to you, per se.

jeno wished he would though, especially now that he's suffering from what he called you here for in the first place: an extreme case of breakup.

one hand leaning your weight on the doorframe, the right of your shit rides up. jeno bites down on his lip, retracting his eyes to your face. "let me get this straight, you called me here, at this time of night, to get me to help you with what exactly?" so what if he thought fucking you would be a good way to keep his mind off things? too bad he didn't think any further than that. the words come to his as he speaks, "i just thought that- that...you- you would be awake at this time! because you know- you like to study…did i interrupt anything?"

donning a dreary expression, you nod in clarification, "yeah, you interrupted my studying."

"right, okay, i'll let you get back to that," he turns in haste as if to close the door behind him but you catch it with your heel, a scowl making its way across your face at what you were about to say, "forget it, jen, i'm already here. what do you need help with?" you stare into his back, his widening eyes unbeknownst to you. he turns again, now deliberate in motion, just to give him as much time to get his bearings together. lifting one shoulder in suggestion, and truthfully confusion, his voice is a pitch higher when he responds, "...studying?"

and that's how he finds himself staring into the crack between the wall and the far end of his desk, your figure hovering above him but not in the way he'd planned for, planned poorly for. jeno is on edge and frankly, he feels incredibly bad because he doesn't understand anything that comes from your mouth and the words you jot down on his paper before him all seem to collide and blur into each other. that's when he realizes he's started crying.

and that's when you're rendered speechless as the boy sits there, the little tracks running down his face wetting the paper you were teaching off of. "jeno, oh my god. fuck, you good?" you don't want to come off as prying so you avoid the whole 'why' notion but you're not that socially inept to miss that he didn't call you here at such an ungodly hour of morning just to get some unpaid tutor hours in and he certainly isn't crying because he doesn't understand shit. 

a hand of his is sifting through his hair while another rubs harshly down the side of his face. "i don't think you should- i'm just gonna go get you some tissues, i'll- i'll go get that." you turn on your heel and navigate your way from his room to the kitchen you'd passed on the way in. it's dark and you know he has roommates, you were less than willing to make your presence known. to your dismay, the kitchen was currently being occupied by a man whom you've yet to identify, being only two steps in when you stop in your tracks. 

he identifies you first, "y/n, what are you doing here?" and you pick up from the voice that it's donghyuck. your foot hits a cabinet before your eyes get a chance to adjust to the lighting, "fuck, yeah i'm here with jeno, well i'm not- not like that, we're just studying."

"just studying?" there's no way to see it but you swear the cock of his brows is apparent as it would be at day. you hum in response, fingers trying to make out the paper towel dispenser you were sure you caught a glimpse of on the way in. "so you're saying," he pulls out his phone and the light that emits from the screen is enough to guide you in the right direction before he shoves is back in his pocket. "that you booked a tutoring session with him at 4:19 a.m.?"

tearing one, then two, from the dispenser, you distractedly let a disbelieving, "yup," past your lips. hyuck scrutinizes you in the dark and his next words nearly shock you out of your skin, "is he fucking you because he just got dumped? is that why?"

you swivel at lightning speed, "he what?" hand over his mouth, donghyuck seems genuinely apologetic, though you wouldn't put it past him if he was not, "shit, you didn't know?" folding the paper towels two times over in your hands, you gingerly across the room to where the boy is seated, "i mean, i know that he didn't call me here just to study but that's legitimately what we ended up doing." he doesn't answer for awhile so you follow up with a question, "you think he wants to fuck me?"

hyuck looks you straight in the eye, "yeah, yeah i do." it hangs unsaid in the air between the two of you, but it's within both of your knowledge that jeno only wanted you here for sexual relief from his frustrations, that whatever else could be denoted by the deed was simply inapplicable for this situation. you shake your head of the thoughts, "so, what are you doing up this early?" you know that there is a weary and weeping jeno you have to get back to but you also know that your presence is somewhat unwelcome there, uncomfortable even, while he wades in his fit of tears.

hyuck replies with a heavy tone, "he gave me some things to think about too."

and you jump to conclusions all too quickly, "he wants to fuck you too?"

"god, y/n, no."

a weak laugh lining your demeanor after the last of the interaction, you reenter jeno's room to find him sprawled wide, his back to the bed. "hey," you preface as you round upon his bed, setting the paper towels on his nightstand. it seemed his tears had run their race and his eyes were now staring lethargically into the ceiling. perching yourself on the edge, you reach to place a hand atop one of his, giving two reassuring squeezes. "need anything?"

only now does jeno seem to take note of your arrival, his eyes hooded eyes flit to you for half a second before resolutely tugging you by the hand you had clasped within his. "what-" your breath is stolen from you as your back hits his chest. jeno drapes his arms across you front, "jeno, what-"

"i need a pillow, that's what i need."

you blink, trying to make sense of your thoughts, "did you ask me here to fuck you numb?" his body goes rigid underneath yours and you're right to assume that you've pinpointed the answer. "i'm right, huh?" eyeing downwards, his fingers are fiddling for you to see. after a few moments laid in bated breath, he lets weakly, "sorry about that, it's not gonna happen."

"yeah no shit," is said dulcetly despite the denotation. you feel his chuckles reverberate beneath you. "i'm really sorry, i swear i don't think of you that way." a smile upon your own face, you turn in his arms to place an expression to his voice. propping your head up on your folded arms, your arms atop his chest, you peer into his eyes sincerely. there is much that needs to be said, the reasonings behind his unexpected breakdown and the closeness you suddenly feel with still have to be addressed. but at this hour in the morning, you can't bring yourself to. 

instead you query, "should i stay the night?" he peers into your eyes with equal sincerity when he responds, "it's already early morning, you'd probably be off better sleeping here." giving a soft nod and a few moments to rearrange your thoughts, you perk up again just as he's about to fall asleep. he isn't annoyed in the slightest, rather he smiles at that, your voice, "do you have practice tomorrow?"

it's his turn to give a nod in response. "wanna come watch?" your arms move around his chest, encasing him like how he's encased you. hiding your smile in the front of his sweatshirt, your voice comes out muffled, "i'd love to but i'm a bit busy, jen. next time, maybe."

at your response, it's the first time that jeno feels, acknowledges, that his heart drops, even though it's in the slightest. there's an image of you in the stands, your textbooks in your lap and glasses sliding down the bridge of your nose. the image moves as he moves cross the rink and you look up when he passes by, eyes bright and a small smile and thumbs up in encouragement. from then on, it's that image that's plastered in his mind every time he thinks of you, that one self-conjured image. 

jeno feels his heart drop even more when he awakes to an empty bed. he finds that the text that you've sent in departure isn't nearly enough to repair his spirits, he wishes you were there instead.

practice sucks ass the next day and the day after that, he doesn't pay it any mind, knowing more than well enough how renjun whispers of the news of his breakup among the members. he doesn't hold it against him though, after all, his ex is his teammate's best friend. jeno thinks it hurts the most when his ex shows up at the next game, the one he'd invited you to when you'd crossed paths on campus a few days ago. he finds himself in a weird predicament between trying to forget about a girl and chasing after another one. he can't tell if he really likes you or if he just needs a rebound.

today, jeno decides it's the latter because he's fuming the entire game at how hyuck would send winks in her direction, how he would skate up to the edge of the rink to converse with her during their breaks. jeno hates how she's moved on all too easily and he feels and urge to prove that he can do the same. he wants to prove to himself.

he's let almost every goal in by the time the buzzer signals the end of the final round. the coach reprimands him because at this point, he might as well be from the opposing team. the helmet is off in a split second, he showers for the briefest of moments, only allowing the water to slosh across his body one time before he's patting himself dry. jeno slips the towel from his shoulder throws on a hoodie in its stead. he's out the locker room in bare minutes where he comes face to face with you. you, with the little sheepish, apologetic smile on your face. you, who'd just arrived from your shift at the local cat adoption center, late for the game but in just time for him. you, the only person he's been aching to see the whole day. but even now, he's unsure of exactly why. 

"y/n, hey," he's by your side in an instant, hesitant in his actions but words tumbling out nonetheless, "you came. late, but...you came."

you meet him in the middle, hands coming up to your aid and waving nonsensically as you speak, "i'm so sorry, my shift was extended and i forgot to tell my boss beforehan-"

"it's fine, i'm just glad you're here." he readjusts the bag onto his shoulders in a nervous fit. he barely manages to make eye contact with you and he wonders when he started to feel this way about you or, again, the desire for a rebound, his need for a taste of vengeance is willing him to act this way. jeno shrugs off the thought and fills the silence with an offer, "so do you wanna go...do something together?" 

jeno should know by now. the little sparkle that glints in your eyes and the way his stomach upturns itself in response. he should know by now how much you like him too. hyuck exits the locker rooms in that instant, he greets you in passing as he joins a girl up ahead. you turn back to jeno, momentarily distracted, only to find his gaze hardened and fixed on the girl. a sickening feeling erupts within you as you begin to piece one and one to make two. 

he turns back to you and you avoid his gaze. the shift in your countenance jolts him as much as his had jolted you. you lick your lips before looking back up at him, your own eyes guarded. he wishes he knew why. "jeno, i'm gonna have to rain check. i just- i thought of something- something came up. i have to go."

you're stalking away from him before he can even process it. he's lucky that his strides are long because he catches your wrist right before you get to the exit, "y/n," he tugs gently so that you turn to him but he's caught off guard even more when he sees the tears that have begun to form in your eyes. "why are you like this all of a sudden? what happened?"

you shake your head at him, hurriedly swallowing the sobs before you can embarrass yourself even further, "nothing, jeno. i just realized something." you stare down at his wrist expectantly but he only clutches it tighter, "then, what did you realize?"

he lets go of your wrist now and you feel like your heart couldn't get any heavier as you answer, "i realized that i'm just a fill-in until you get over her." jeno sucks in a breath as he watched the words leave your mouth, as he watches you turn and leave, and he hears more tears bubble from your frame, the sounds receding the farther you walk from him. for some reason, it's only when you tell him so that he understands that he feels the exact opposite.

it's only when you shove it in his face, your own face scrunched up in tears, that he's only going after you as a rebound, when he sees his feelings for what they really are. honest, jeno finds it hard to believe that he's never felt anything towards you since you're everything he could ever ask for in a girl. pretty and cute, snappy but sweet, the most perfect curve of lips and above all, you're an intellectual. he finds it attractive, he finds you attractive. fuck it, he likes you.

fortunately for him and unfortunately for you, your next tutoring session was scheduled for just a few days after, just enough time for him to get his act together and enough for you to cool your head enough sift through the thirty or so voice mails he'd left you. most of them seem to contain the same rueful, repentant tone, though a few seem to be displaying his slow spiral into self-deprecation. you're pretty sure the last is a mistake, a butt dial maybe.

jeno's not proficient with the knife, definitely not with how he's cutting the pears right now. he thinks he would've been better off bringing bananas but that would've seemed too insincere, wouldn't it? his thoughts are jumbling and sludging against one another when a finger of his slips and the fine edge of the knife is pressed on a knuckle. "fuck," he swears, his other hand already reaching over to the sink to run the cut under cold water. the sting is piercing and he looks away from the cut to the clock overhead. "double fuck," he mutters this time. the last thing he needs right now is you thinking that he stood you up. 

with steadfast athleticism, he finishes off the last of the pears with one hand. he's sure you'd laugh at the whole debacle if you were there though he's thankful you're not. jeno faces the fear that he sucks at everything except ice hockey, and he's barely getting by these days. he only ever feels confident on the rink with his stick in hand, crouched low so his eyes were level with the ice. he's never felt that much control over anything else, much less confessing to a girl and trying, somehow, to show that she was of much more worth than what he'd made it seem like. 

the library is a ten minute walk from his house, a three minute sprint. yes, he had sprinted. 

he knows for a fact that pears were the right way to go when you let the tiniest of smiles adorn your face at the sight of him setting the tupperware in front of you. you check your expression back into taut impassivity before he can indulge in his victory any longer. he knows you're not half as mad as you present yourself to be but that doesn't mean he'd take his mistakes lightly and go about this sleazily. jeno needs your trust. 

you resist the urge to reach over and flip over the hair that stood upright on the wrong side of his head. reverting your eyes onto the computer screen before you, "let's get started." not a half hour into your session, you're spaced out, eyes zoned onto the way jeno spins his pen between his fingers. maybe it's the lack of sleep that's getting to you.

"y/n? you good?"

you swallow thickly, removing your gaze from his hands, from him, from his paper, from anything that has to do with him. you notice how your chair has inched closer to his, or his to yours, you notice the finger-wide distance between you and him. shivers are sent down your spine. "let's take a break, is that fine?" jeno, from beside you, yawns and for a brief second you think he's about to pull the stretch and hand around shoulder trick. you blush unknowingly. 

jeno speaks before you can ask to resume the session, "can i say something?"

"is it work related?" you give your best efforts at keeping your voice level and head turned somewhat in his direction. in your peripheries, he cocks his head to the right, "...no, but we're on break." almost letting a huff escape your complexion, you relent, "fine then, shoot," figuring he would say it anyways.

"i want you to come to our next game."

you're lucky you had the whole scenario thought through, at least something can be harvested from your late nights spent tossing and turning, "i don't think i can-"

"y/n, i haven't even told you when."

"okay fine," you wrinkle your nose in distaste and hand out the truth for him to see, or hear, "i just don't want to." jeno is doing his best, he really is, but he knows that you've heard all that he has to say, if not once, then twenty-nine times over. the last one was a mistake. "did you get my voicemails?"

sighing, you chance a glance at him to see that he isn't the slightest bit annoyed, face drawn into a frown of sorts. you'll never admit that even just the sight could soften your set mindset. consideration replays in your irises when you answer the yes or no question with a decisive nod.

"then i'm sure you understand why i want you to come."

jeno lets you drive him home that day, he'd be the last to complain. the ride is silent from start to finish until right when he's about to close the passenger door, the car parked in front of his shared house. an, "i'll think about it," is what he's left to brew over for the next week or so as he stares that the text, read and unreplied, that he'd sent to remind you of the day and time of the game. he's anxious but it's only to that extent.

it's becoming more and more evident that jeno is loosing his touch on ice. he hates that the only thing he can attribute it to is his dwindling love life. he finds that the enforcer is atypically rough today but he's glad that his role at the goal requires the least interaction and footwork. he'd promised his coach that he would be more wary of his surroundings but he can't help the occasional glance at the rink entrance every once in awhile. what he doesn't understand is that his definition of 'once in awhile' marks at around every thirty seconds.

the last round is the most painful, undoubtedly, because it's as if his defeat is being dragged on and on, as if the giant timer above the rink is ticking to the heartbeat of a dead man. 

jeno can is aware that he's breathing. he's aware but he has to double check when the entrance doors open for the last time that game and you've arrived. you're standing by the doorway, apprehensive, but jeno can't get it past his head that you've arrived, that you're here. he'd have gotten decked in the face had you not motioned your head in the direction of the fast approaching puck and the burly man behind it.

he blocks the shot and every shot after. there's no need to wonder why.

the buzzer rings in his head so quick that he thinks time runs on his emotions rather than the clock. his helmet is often in seconds and he's making his way at supersonic speeds to the part of the rail where you're stood. the glass fogs with his breath as he tries to get his words across. 'i'll be quick,' he mouths. 

you count two minutes until he's off ice. jeno hasn't bothered to shower, he lacks the patience for it. he sits you down on the lowest of the bleachers, closest to the rink. standing over you, he finds that he has so much to say, so many things he wants to let you know, all the feelings he's ever bottled up for the girl so obviously made for him.

he's never had much of a way with words but he thinks that the romance movies hyuck's made him watch over the years give a pretty good overview of what to say in situations like these, "i'd cross the world for you." you snort back at him, nose crinkling in distaste at his choice of words and poking fun at him with your own, "rink, jeno. you mean you'd cross the rink for me."

"y/n, i'm tryna do something here," he whines, the pout on display mimicking his displeased but light-hearted implications. you're equally as amused, "oh yeah? what are you tryna do?"

"i'm tryna," he takes your two arms in his and wraps them around his middle. you instinctively fist the fabric of his blue jersey at the back, "jeno, what are you-" you stop when a hand of his own comes to trace the lines of your face softly. maybe he can't find the words but surely he could show you. if he could just…"you keep interrupting me, jeno."

drawn from his resolution, he's snappy when he retorts, "i think as your boyfriend i ought to have that privilege."

"boyfriend? since when did you-"

"i just did," he revels in the idea that you think him to be smooth with words when in reality the 'boyfriend' was a slip up, a mirror of his daydreams. he's over the moon that it worked out in his favor. while he fixates on just how much he feels for you, you're playfully annoyed at a whole other, "stop fucking interrupting me, jen-"

"i love you."

you blink up at him. well shit. a lot of things are happening and you lack the brain cells to process them. there's only one thing you can think to do, only one think that you're thinking about, have been thinking about, will still be thinking about. 

he may be the one to steal words right from your mouth but beyond that he's oblivious, you think. the smile still plays on his lips when he follows up, "is it okay to interrupt you if i say something like tha-"

you press a smile of your own onto his lips, cutting his words effectively. a hand of yours moves up to the curve of his neck to bring him down further, the angle at which he is kissing giving him all the advantage he needs to deepen it. when you part, you aren't surprised to see how half your body is leaning on the row of seats behind you and that jeno's entire body is sprawled on yours, supported by a knee on one side of you. 

you like your lips as you feel his breath hot on yours. "how's it feel now?"

shaking his head, jeno presses his temple to yours so that the only thing you can see is him, just him. "interrupt me any day, will you?"

copyright © 2020 rouiyan all rights reserved.

✧ end note — wrote this up in approx. three hours. lee jeno is so rude for interrupting all my other wips (that are also mostly for him). i hope you enjoyed because i did, i freaking love writing for him <3

[kingstylesdaily]

What the 2021 Grammy Awards Will Look Like

Artists including Billie Eilish, BTS, and Taylor Swift will perform in a circle of five stages with masked crew at the center — in a ceremony that first-time showrunner Ben Winston calls “part Grammys, part Abbey Road studio session”

Ben Winston is exhausted. The television producer, who moved from the U.K. to Los Angeles six years ago to start The Late Late Show With James Corden, is a week away from executive-producing his first Grammys telecast. “I literally had two hours of sleep last night,” he tells Rolling Stone via Zoom.

On Sunday, March 7th, the Recording Academy revealed a slate of performing artists for March 14th’s 63rd Annual Grammy Awards that includes Billie Eilish, BTS, Taylor Swift, Cardi B, and Harry Styles. But while those names are on the lineup, Winston knows nothing about live TV is ever set in stone — especially in the time of a pandemic —so he’s been spending his days double- and triple-checking plans, waking up at 4:30 a.m. dry-eyed and restless. He’s worked to make a show “with heart,” he says — one that “doesn’t feel isolated, quiet, or alone.” He also had to take extra steps to ensure the three-and-a-half hour show, which will not take place at the Grammys’ usual home of the Staples Center, is Covid-safe for performers and attendees. Despite all that, he appears remarkably enthusiastic and alert.

Here’s what viewers next Sunday can expect from music’s biggest night, according to Winston: a multi-stage, audience-free show that highlights the year’s creative triumphs, social justice movements, as well as Covid-19’s impact on the arts. Winston hints at several “unbelievably powerful” performances on the slate, adding that the Grammys “absolutely are acknowledging what’s happened” in the country in the last year.

Winston, who in 2018 co-produced Bruno Mars’ well-received live show at the Apollo for CBS, also wanted to highlight independent venues, which are the “lifeblood of this industry” and a launchpad for emerging musicians — so the Grammys will feature guest spots from owners and workers of iconic American venues, including L.A.’s Troubadour and Hotel Café, N.Y.’s Apollo, and Nashville’s Station Inn. “I drive past the Troubadour on my way home from work every night,” Winston says. “It’s a significant thing for me when I look at it all boarded up. I always think, ‘When those boards come down, this will be over.’ That will be the sign. That will be the day where it’s like, ‘We got through this.'” Winston realized from his conversations with venues that many of them put on their last shows on March 14th, 2020, meaning the Grammys will mark the one-year anniversary of the shutdown.

Employees will come on camera to “tell us a little bit about their venue” and present some of the awards. “So, you’ve got, like, a bartender at a beautiful, independent venue — and she’s giving out Album of the Year to these megastars,” he explains. His goal is to acknowledge the people who work tirelessly to keep these stomping grounds afloat and have recently lost their jobs. “Those venues are made up by the bartender and the security guard, the manager, the box office person, and the cleaner at the end of the night.” He hopes to remind people of the importance of supporting local venues again when it’s safe to do so.

Originally, the Grammys were scheduled for January 31st, but organizers announced a move to March right after the new year. Winston says he felt American morale was at a low point in January — between political insurrection, an impeachment trial, and Covid-19 running rampant in Los Angeles — and it “didn’t feel right” to put the show on in the middle of that. The Recording Academy and CBS, which exclusively airs the annual show, both supported his decision to postpone. “I can now do everything that I wanted to do in my best-case scenario for this year,” he says of Sunday’s show.

Sunday’s location is an undisclosed building in Los Angeles, but Winston teases that the new venue is “massive,” “magical,” and “the biggest building I’ve ever been in indoors.” “I don’t want it to look like I’m criticizing Staples, because it’s the most amazing venue,” he emphasizes, sharing that he’s open to bringing the Grammys back to the arena in the future if they ask him to. While he does believe that Staples is a safe place, he says he wanted to go above and beyond to make even the most-skeptical participants feel undoubtedly safe.

A team of Covid safety officers oversaw the production set-up, and artists will enter the stage from different directions to minimize contact. Each artist also has their own backstage area. The space “allowed us to build an entire world,” he says.

The show will involve five stages of the same size and shape, four of which are for performances and one of which is for presenters. Stages are organized in a circle, facing one another, and crew members will work from the middle of the set. “People will perform while the other three or four artists on their stages watch, applaud, and enjoy. As soon as that one finishes, the next one goes, the next one goes, and the next one goes. Every 45 minutes, you change out those stages, and you bring another four megastars into the room,” says Winston, who was partly inspired for the “part-Grammys, part-Abbey Road studio session” setup by British shows he watched as a child, including Jools Holland and TFI Friday.

It’s going to be a “bespoke night of music that I don’t know if we’ll ever be able to repeat,” Winston says. “It’s about taking a camera into a room, and making an amazing musical moment by filming it quite simply and elegantly.” Performances, which started being planned in April 2020, will be a mix of live and pre-recorded — a fully live show would involve too many crew members moving sets and risking close contact — but the whole thing is intended to feel completely live. (Winston challenges viewers to try and guess which sets are pre-recorded; he designed them to be difficult to tell.)

To help plan the sprawling, immersive show, Winston brought in a suite of collaborators including co-executive producer Jesse Collins, who produced The Weeknd’s Super Bowl halftime show; co-executive producer Raj Kapoor, who handled creative direction for various artists on the last seven Grammys and produced Vegas residencies for the likes of the Backstreet Boys and Mariah Carey; producer Fatima Robinson, whose expansive background in creative direction and choreography landed her the Black Eyed Peas’ 2011 halftime show and Kendrick Lamar’s 2016 Grammy performance; producer Misty Buckley, who handled production design for Kacey Musgraves’ 2020 Christmas show; talent executive Patrick Menton from Dick Clark Productions; Corden collaborator Josie Cliff; and Super Bowl halftime, Olympic ceremony, Oscars, and Emmys director Hamish Hamilton, who Winston describes as a “legend” he’s admired since he was 14 years old. (David Wild, who has written for the Grammys since 2001 and became a producer in 2016, is the only person returning to his role.) Winston also points out that artists were heavily involved in designing their own performances.

Rather than have cameras pan over empty seats and an awkwardly small stage, the production team decided to reinvent the visual format with the five-stage setup. The pandemic’s limitations, coupled with the advantages of new faces coming in with fresh perspectives, helped them refrain from thinking in terms of what the Grammys had done before, he said.

For the most part, Covid-19 didn’t force too many changes. It did give Winston a lot of anxiety.

“There’s been so much uncertainty with what you’re allowed to do,” he says. Changing international quarantine rules made him question whether certain performers could fly in, while health guidance keeps fluctuating: “Every time my computer or phone dings, my first instinct is, ‘Oh, God, what’s gone wrong?’ I don’t know if that’s ever been my mentality before.”

While all the performers are confirmed and currently Covid-free, “you never know, one of their girlfriends could have Covid and have to quarantine, it’s all just bonkers,” Winston says. “There’s one artist that may, in the end, not be able to make it here due to rules of the country they’re currently in. There’s one immigration issue that we’ve got left.”

The show does not have replacements on hand if anyone pulls out — it’ll just cut that performance out.

Above all, Winston wants the 2021 Grammys to focus attention off of dire times. “I want people to be able to watch the 2021 Grammys in 2040 and go, ‘Wow, what an amazing show that was,’ and not go, ‘Oh, that was the Covid year, that’s why they had to do that,'” he says. “I think that’s what we could achieve if we get it right on Sunday.”

via RollingStone.com

[bigsnzstanacct]

King’s New Allergy Part 4

This is wildly overwritten but at least I’m writing...? Here is the link to the other chapters of this story lmao. Of course it is also on le blue forum. After this chapter there is one more to conclude the story (which is already partially written!) and then there’s a chance I’ll eventually write an aggressively porn-y epilogue. okay byeeeeeeee!

------

My nose. My damned nose. By all the gods old and new, my insatiable, insufferable, intolerable, insistent, itchy, tickly, twitching, torurous nose!

“So the… th-thehhhh… the harvest in the W-weehhhhh… Western… -sniff-”

I was fighting.  I was fighting as hard as I’d ever fought anything. Harder. But to do battle against a swordsman, a sorceror, a monster, a ghost… that was child’s play. For that I had tools and training. Years of training in weapons and fighting. For this meeting too: years of training in diplomacy, in leadership. But none of that training involved a struggle to the death against your own damned nose!

“In the W-wehhhh… weeeeeeehhHHHH…”

Through narrowing eyes, I saw their faces: full of disapproval, fear, hands itching to clap to their ears, legs twitching to hide under the table, as though I really were a storm unto myself, and in taking cover, they might be spared the worst. Perhaps if I simply allowed the sneeze to come, it might not be so monstrous but… I could not. I could not bring myself to succumb so easily, to give in, to be weak. I chanced putting a finger beneath my nose. It was a desperate failsafe that had served at least a few times, but in truth I could never resist for long. I could no more resist these violent eruptions than the sky, overcharged with energy, could resist the lightning arcing across the sky, or the terrible roar of the thunder in response.

“Oh gods… I’m sahhhh.. s-ssaahhhhhh… s-sorreeehhhhhHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRSSSSCCCHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! AnothhheeEERRRYYYYYYYYAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! hehhhh… hh-hehhhhhh… HUUUH! HHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

They came, thick, fast and violent. Each one felt like it took all my strength, as though I couldn’t help but through the full weight of my body—no, the full weight of the castle herself into each sneeze. And then, for a moment…

Bliss.

No itch, no tickle, no torture. As terrible as they were, as much as they terrorized my meeting, my castle, my citizens, my countryside… there was a guilty, fiendish part of me that felt such magnificent release and relief with each great roar that was loosed from my mouth and nose. Drained, too, of course. Exhausted as though I’d climbed a mountain after practically each sneeze, let alone a whole terrible fit of them like I’d done. But also, utterly and simply delighted.

And then I opened my eyes and the embarrassment flooded in, and then, barely a split-second later, the tiny, teasing, barely-perceptible blossom of the itch that presaged another sneeze. The urge to sneeze again was following closer and closer on the glorious feeling of release and relief. When this all started I could go half the day without a sneezing fit. Then hours. Now barely minutes. But perhaps if I didn’t think about it, if I just barrelled through and ignored the tickle… maybe it would leave me alone.

“My apologies again, gentlemen.” I said, and quickly, before anyone could comment upon my nose: “Now, the Western harvest is among the best we’ve had in some years, which means our levy at the current rate should be -sniff!-” the itch already was worming its way up. But I could hold out still. I could ignore it.

“At the current rate should be more than sufficient to provide for capitol needs, y-yes Minister?”

The Minister of the Exchequer tried to discreetly rub at his ears, but it was obvious what he was doing, trying to clear his head from my sneezing long enough to focus on what I was saying. I couldn’t bear it.

“Yes! It will be sufficient, I don’t need you to check my arithmetic. You may repohhh… re-re…” I gave a hard sniff, and allowed myself  a quick rub at the underside of my nose with the heel of my palm. It was an embarrassing, almost childish gesture but I was far beyond caring about small embarrassments. I had much, much larger mortifications to be concerned with.

“Youmayreportbackifneedsbe!” I barrelled out, knowing the tickle was already roused, and at any moment could turn the act of speech into feat as tricky as any in my storied questing career.

“What is the next item on the ahhh… hahhh…” my eyes swam, unfocused for a moment. Hands crept up towards ears, dread lining in every face of the council. I could feel my knights tensing behind me, as though bracing for an explosion, hoping not to be knocked off their feet. The sneeze wasn’t even ready, it would play with me for several more moment yet. It reminded me of nothing more than sparring with the quartermaster as a boy: putting up a valiant fight, certain I was on the edge of victory… only to find he was only playing a game with me. He would always win.

“The next agenda item!” I said, slamming a fist down on the table. I wasn’t angry with the council, and I hope they knew that, but. It was all so damned frustrating… I couldn’t speak without terrifying my council, not with my words but with the threat of my nose. Of all the mortifying.

“Well my lord, we have not admitted petitioners in over three weeks, owing to your condition. I was informed the Royal Physician as well as the, ah, King’s Right Hand will be pursuing some possibilities for treatment, but the peo---”

“Damn the conditiiIiiiHHHHHH… HHIIIHHHHHH!!” May noses and sneezes be damned by all the gods old and new! The urge was already prickling in my nose, fanning its way towards inevitability, as though to mock me for cursing it. By all the gods, I should be able to see my people, to hear their complaints and all because of my god’s damned lack of control, I couldn’t even do that… I felt furious as a boy, looking up at the quartermaster teary-eyed with rage at losing, at humiliation. And here I was again, losing. And to a thrice damned tickle in my thrice damned nose…!

My nose, on which the whole room hyperfocused, as intent upon it as I’d ever been on any foe on the battlefield. Every twitch garnered a flinch, every skipped breath a skipped heartbeat. My damned sneezes could be heard throughout the entire castle, throughout the entire town. I was just waiting for someone to announce they’d heard me sneeze at the furthest edges of the regions, echoing off the Black Mountains or the White Cliffs, resounding across oceans…

With all that, being so close to my sneeze must have been a form of auditory torture. And I couldn’t put my advisors through that. Not any longer. And not with the vague but unmistakable sense I felt that what was beginning to well up in me would be a fit to rival any I’d suffered since I came down with this accursed, irreparable allergy, this implacable need that seemed to be unmoved by any force physical or magical, on earth or in the realms above. I was going to sneeze, and the fit would leave me exhausted and the whole castle ringing, I knew. But the urge itself was small now, my winds gathering strength for the one man hurricane they would turn me into. What a curse, to make of a king a slave to his own body. I was disgusted with myself. And yet, I could no more stop the force building within me than I could will the rising sun to set or still the flowing tide.

This council meeting was accomplishing nothing. And dammit, I needed to sneeze.

Abruptly, I pushed back from the chair. Everyone rose with me. “Ladies and gentlemen, you must excuse me, I’m a-afraid… oh I…” I was doing my best to keep up a kingly facade but already I was faltering before the effort of damming back the torrent of sneezes that seemed to be pressing up against each other, jockeying for position, each demanding to be the first to erupt out of me. “oh gods, I have to sneeze. It’s going to be a terrible fit and I… Iahhhhhh… I m-muuhhhhh… I must r-repair to my… my chahhhhHHHHH… hAHHHHHHHHHHHH… w-with m-mehhhh…!”

I ordered my retinue to follow me, but I’m sure a number of them did so quite reluctantly, and frankly I couldn’t blame them. What I felt coming seemed like a sneeze to beat all sneezes, an itch to beat all itches, nothing which could soothed, calmed, or controlled by a little finger under the nose, a few rough rubs. I’d asked my former manservant more than once about his… powers. How he felt all the hidden powers of the earth welling up through him, the connection to the secret side of everything, how he could make it shimmer and dance. I felt the same sense  of something beyond myself intruding upon me, but it was not under my control. I was beneath its thumb, dancing like a marionette on a string in miserable abasement to, of all things, a tickle in my nose.

“Someone… someone please… huhhhh… p-put your f-finger… under…”

It was pathetic. At least I’d managed to get well out of the way of the council chambers before I succumbed. I’d only embarrassed myself like this once or twice before, but if this went on much longer, I’d have to appoint a knight to do this for me full time, to press and pinch and wrangle my nose in a way my own hands could no longer suffice. Perhaps that way I could at least forestall the sneezes long enough to do any of the duties of a king.

But for now, my only goal was fighting off the absolutely monstrous fit I felt brewing for a few more moments, until I could at least reach my chamber. At least then I could succumb in private, although such succumbing was never private. Before the curse even, I blushed to think a vigorous sneeze might echo through the castle, and I never could dam them back. But under the curse now… all of the castle, all of the city heard my every falter. The sound of my failure resounding back at me from every brick in the kingdom.

The Captain of the Guard slid a thick finger under my nose, and ever so imperceptibly the urge diminished. He pushed upward, hard. And all I could do was blink at him in acknowledgement. At this point a single word would send it all crashing down.

“Knights dismissed! I will escort the King further.” I heard his voice ringing out, and I was as grateful as I’d ever been for him. At least the knights would be spared the very worst. The captain alone would be with me to the eruptive end.

“Not much further now, sire. Please, hold out!” And there was an uncertainty or even... a fear in his voice. It wasn't as if I'd never heard such fear from the Captain of the Guard before. We had quested together, season after season. But this tone of voice ought to be reserved for a onrushing army or a sleeping dragon. Surely there was no reason to steel himself so before my nose?

“T-t-traahhHHHH… tr-trying…” I choked out, scrunching my nose as aggressively as I could, as though if my nostrils recoiled from the irritation, I might dodge the sneeze—no, sneezes—altogether.

And suddenly, unimaginably, the urge… exploded.

It was as if I had never needed to sneeze before in my life. Tears sprang to my eyes, and the simmering flame of the urge became a wild forest fire. Helplessly, I jerked away from the Captain, scrubbing desperately at my nose even as the heavy breaths ripped themselves from me…

“HHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHH… HUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH…”

“My King, not yet!” the Captain insisted. Not to be deterred, he came up behind me and tried to guide me, but I was surrendered to the sneeze, overpowered by the urge, defeated by the invisible twinging need. He was practically pushing me as the sneeze swelled and swelled.

“HUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH… UUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH…”

It swelled more and MORE, feeling more ferocious than any of my previous sneezes. I felt like a volcano on the precipice of eruption, as though my winds were swirling and turning and twisting and braiding their way towards tornadic devastation, as though I were not only a a lightning strike but indeed a whole storm set loose to wreak havoc across the land.

“Nearly there, nearly there, please sire you musn't give in…”

But it was too late.

“AAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRSSSSSSSSCHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” I exploded, and it was as though… some sort of… power erupted from me, from my mouth and nose from… from everywhere. The sneezes had always been incredibly loud but now tapestries on the wall flapped, armor rattled, it sounded as though something fell but I couldn’t tell because before I could so much as think, the next sneeze was already erupting: “HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOO-AAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRSSSSSSCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUHHHH!!!! AARRRRRRRRRRRRRSSSSSSSSSCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! HehHHHHHHH… HEEEEEYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATTTTSSSCCCHHHHHHHHHEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!! YYYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTTTTTTSSSSSSSSSSSSCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWW!!!”

On and on and on the sneezes came, more and more violent, “volume” not even describing what I felt bursting from me. Somewhere, dimly, I heard the sounds of something falling over, and yet still the steady pressure of the Captain at my back, finally…

“Sir, your chamber… We must not let them see you!”

Whether I was able to exert some minimal effort even subdued by my sneeze attack, or whether the Captain just shoved me, somehow I stumbled into the chamber, still sneezing relentlessly, barely heard the door slam behind me, helpless to the urge. My whole world narrowed to my nose, and it was as though some block within me surrendered and the sneezes roared out of me, louder and more violent than ever before again and again and again…

I could not tell how long it had been when the fit finally ended. I felt… amazing. Warm and sated. Entirely itch-free, as though I’d never need to sneeze again in my life. Practically glowing. Maybe that was it? Maybe that monster of a fit had at last blown the insufferable urge away for good? But the moment of euphoria lasted barely an instant. I heard a… squeak? and I opened my eyes to find… him. The sorcerer. His robes and hair disheveled, and then, the room… The bed was without sheets. The mattress ripped, feathers piled against the stone wall, piled up with the rugs, half my clothes, my pillows, my chairs…

“Wh-what… what did I… what did I do?” I asked, panting and mortified.

He stood, mortified, as red as I’d seen him in years. His mouth agape. “I—I… I—I have to go!” He exclaimed, and rushed from the room.

Had I hurt him? Scared him? Surely he of all the denizens of the castle had no reason to fear… anyone. But as I cast my eyes across the disheveled, half-wrecked room, I began to see what he saw. Nothing to fear. But something to pity. An out-of-control freak. Certainly no King.

And even then, with a trickle of fear running down my spine… I began to feel the urge to sneeze again, sputtering back to life. I sat on my bed, feeling the weakened timbers sputter and creak with my weight, head in hands.

“By all the gods…”

[thecaffeinebookwarrior]

My Top Tips for Sticking to That Damn WIP

Anonymous asked: 

Hey so I have this thing were I get an idea for a story and then put a bunch of effort into it and develop the world and characters a lot then I kinda just get distracted by a new idea and the other work gets abandoned. It freaking sucks that all these stories ive put so much effort into just kinda ... disappear. If you know anyway to combat this I'd really appreciate it.

First and foremost, take comfort in the fact that this is a ridiculously common issue. One of the most frequent complaints I hear from fellow writers is that they can’t stay focused on a single idea, and keep getting distracted. 

Am I a stranger to this? No, I am not. But I’ve gotten pretty good on self-managing my writing habits and sanctioning off distractions, so I figured it was time to make a post outlining my tips!

1. Set achievable goals, and keep them as best as you’re able.

The biggest culprit when it comes to incomplete or abandoned projects as a writer is a lack of habit-building. You don’t necessarily need to write every day -- there’s a whole slew of reasons why that isn’t doable for some people -- but in order to build the habits you need, you need to set goals you can keep. 

Maybe it’s an hour a day, maybe it’s an hour a week. Maybe it’s a page a day. There are no rules. But set a goal you can keep, and keep at it till it becomes second nature. 

You can set multiple goals for multiple projects, but I find that it’s best to focus on one project at a time. I’m about to explain why. 

2. Realize that planning a project is almost always more appealing than doing the project.

Daydreaming, worldbuilding, and even plotting are dope as hell. You get to soar over the sprawling landscape of your fictional world, and it feels limitless. Actually writing can feel like transferring that landscape onto a piece of paper using only a spoon. 

The reason why you’re stuck in a world-building and planning rut is because PLANNING a project is almost always more exciting than DOING the project. Doing a project is where expectations and reality crash like twin freight trains. It’s hard, especially when you’re getting started. That’s why so many people have fifty projects planned, and few to none underway. 

Learn to anticipate this! If it’s harder to actually start writing than it is to plan it, that doesn’t mean you’re failing. It means you’re doing something right. 

And on that note...

3. Come up with a game plan to avoid distractions. 

Once you’re in the WIP trenches, your other projects and ideas will suddenly look a lot more appealing to you. “I should have started that other project. Why didn’t I?” you may lament. Of course, if you had started That Other Project, you’d be wishing you started work on your current project. 

Why? Well, as I mentioned before, planning projects is almost always more fun than doing projects. (At least to start with. There’s an unmatchable exhilaration that comes from watching your work finally start to take form, but I’ll get to that later.) 

Once again, ANTICIPATE THIS! And come up with doable ways to document your other ideas so you can work on them later, without walking away from your current project. 

Which brings me to my next point:

4. Keep at least one notebook for your other ideas. 

And preferably at least one word document for each, so you can jot down ideas for each new project as you come up with them. I’ve gone back to SO many project ideas after completing the first draft of another, and one of the best ways to ensure you can do so is to document them as they come up.

Some authors will take a day off from their current WIP to plot out each new idea as it comes up, but personally, that’s never been my style. However, it’s important to experiment and figure out a method of documentation that works for you. 

Remember: you’re not abandoning these ideas. You’re squirreling them away for future use! 

5. Recognize when you need to take a break from a project (or drop it completely.) 

Ultimately, and despite evidence to the contrary, writing is supposed to bring you joy. There are few experiences more exhilarating than finally watching a story take shape, or writing a sentence that you’re really proud of, or walking home from the coffee shop and daydreaming about your next scene. 

If, after a reasonable allotment of time, you find that your current WIP isn’t bringing you joy, there’s no shame in taking a break from it. Give it some distance for, say, a week or two, and then see if you feel compelled to return. If you feel little or no inclination to return, it might be time to explore other ideas.

Ultimately, writing is a relationship, between the author and their creation. As with all kinds of relationships, there are healthy ones, and there are unhealthy ones. If your current project is making you miserable, then keep exploring till you find one that makes you happy. Each “abandoned” project is not a lost cause, because it has taught you something new. 

I hope this helps, and happy writing! <3

[cactuskate]

Chapter 4: Navarro

an: as promised!

Summary: Y/N, Chewie, and Han make it to Navarro, where they are looking to find a high paying guild job. Y/N -- being the badass she is -- gets the information Han and Chewie need, but not without a little jealous angst from Han. Queue a fight in the cockpit and a sweet ending!

word count: 4190

----

You wake up the next day feeling restless. Your feelings got the better of you last night, and your lack of good sleep proved that. As you start to shift to get out of bed, the pain from your ribs shoots you back to reality.

The second day of travel goes by without any major incidents - Han-related or otherwise. You keep mostly to yourself, finishing your repairs and cooking enough food for a week. With Navarro in sight out of the window of the cockpit, you and the crew buckle in for an easy landing. Of all the places in the galaxy you could imagine visiting, of course the first place you go is another sand dune planet. Han and Chewbacca unload the cargo to the delivery point within an hour of landing, proudly boarding the Falcon with more credits than when they left.

“I take it you two got paid well?” you ask, chuckling at how giddy these grown men seem.

You are sprawled out on the couch in the living quarters, changed into your best desert-night-out attire - a matching tan ensemble, exposing your sunkissed arms and a plunging neckline. Your top and pants meet at your hips, covering the bruising that has gotten worse. You are still cradling your side, but the sight of your crew is enough to distract you from the throbbing pain from your ribs.

“Onto the next gig,” Chewie growls happily, stashing his share of credits in a bin he keeps above the couch. “Are you ready to hit the town? I think she’s going to be our secret weapon,” Chewie asks you, turning to Han who looks at you with a hint of concern in his eyes as he realizes you're wearing an outfit that conceals your injury.

“I was born ready, let’s go,” you smile, getting up from your spot on the couch.

Han hands you a communicator and instructs you on how to work it. You place the speaker in your ear and clip the controller around your wrist. Your other bracelets disguise it perfectly. Han and Chewie test their communications before the three of you leave the Falcon.

You follow the pair at a distance that makes it seem you aren’t part of their group. They lead you to the cantina where the guild members tend to hang out. Han and Chewbacca take a seat in a booth close to the entrance. You wait a moment at the door, scanning the crowd for someone who looks like they’d give you the information you need.

“We’ll sit just out of sight while you look for information. Keep your mic hot when you find someone. Once you get the location of the guild meeting, we’ll slip out the front and meet you back at the Falcon when we get a job,” Han chimes in over the comm, his rough voice echoing in your ear.

You don’t respond, as to not indicate to anyone paying attention to you that you are in cahoots with your crew. There. You spot a guild member seated at the bar, keeping a low profile but just buzzed enough that he’s looking for some entertainment.

Approaching the bar, you slyly click your comm’s mic on, making sure not to meet the man’s eyes that you now feel burning on you. You sit down next to him, and order your go-to drink for missions like this - a drink that takes most men by surprise that a lady like you would order it. Whatever that means.

“One fuzzy tauntaun, please,” you say to the bartender, sliding enough credits for the drink and a tip across the bar. You casually toss your hair behind your shoulder, exposing your collarbone and neck to the man seated next to you, still feeling his gaze adjusted on you.

“I would have never pegged you to be a fan of the fuzzy tauntaun,” the man says to you, flashing you a smoldering look.

You smile flirtatiously, knowing that the oldest trick in your book worked once again.

“You seem like too much of a lady to enjoy such a strong drink,” he says, shifting in his seat to get a better view of you.

“I like to keep people on their toes,” you say sweetly, reaching for the drink the bartender placed in front of you, taking a long, slow sip of the fiery alcohol while keeping your gaze on the man in front of you. You feel a familiar set of eyes land on your back. Han. He shifted in the booth to watch you engage with this man, intently observing your body language.

“What is someone as pretty as yourself doing in a place like this?” the man asks, carefully watching your drink release from your lips and land back on the table. “It’s not everyday I get to sit next to the most beautiful woman in the galaxy,” he adds.

What a line. You’ve heard that one before, never sincerely though. Every man uses it with one goal in mind. Hearing it, though, assures you that you’ve picked the right person who will bend just enough to give you the information you need.

“You flatter me,” you squeal, mustering up the most flirtatious tone you can, softly pushing the man’s shoulder away, then moving it to settle closer to you than it was before.

The man flashes a smile as you reel at his compliment, and you linger your touch on his shoulder just long enough to peak his interest. Slowly bringing your hand back to your legs, you respond, “I’m here for the same thing as just about everyone else - a job.” You bat your eyes and smile, as you bring your drink back up to your lips, hovering before you take a sip to ask, “Do you know how I could get a good paying job with the guild as an outsider? I’m new to Navarro, but I’m just passing through looking for work,” you say just softly enough to get the man to lean in even further. You take another long sip, maintaining his gaze.

“I’m not really supposed to say,” the man trails, pausing for a moment, entranced by your presence. You narrow your eyes slightly, willing him to bend.

“The guild only allows outsiders to take jobs at the recommendation of a member,” he says after you slowly move your hand to his knee, still not breaking your gaze on him. You feel Han’s eyes intensify behind you.

“The guild is handing out jobs in 20 minutes three doors south of here. Tell them that Kain Malo sent you, they’ll let you pick from the highest paying gigs,” the man tells you, short of breath because of your touch. You smile at him.

”Kain Malo?” you ask, “Is that your name?” The man smiles and nods, as he takes a sip from his drink. You shift your gaze from his eyes to his mouth and back to his eyes. “It’s the perfect name for a man as handsome as yourself,” you say, hoping to get more out of him. After a moment, you add, “When I get a good gig, I won’t forget your kindness,” sliding your hand up his leg a bit and slowly returning it to his knee. You feel his breath get short and you smile. “I’ll be sure to give you a nice cut as commission.”

“What is your name?” Kain asks, flustered by your advances.

“Nadya,” you smile, giving him a false identity. You extend a hand for him to shake, saying sweetly, “It’s getting late, I should get to the guild meeting.”

“Nadya…” Kain says softly, grabbing your hand and placing it back on his knee, “I’m staying here, at the inn attached to this bar. Room 319. Once you get that job, why don’t you come back and celebrate with me? We could talk about that commission,” Kain trails, his gaze turning seductive. You smile, standing up from the barstool and bringing your hand to rest on his face, softly grazing your thumb over his lips.

“It’ll be a big commission,” you whisper, leaning in so only Kain and your mic can hear. “You know I’m good for it,” you say softly, dragging your hand down his face and to his arm, beginning your walk towards the cantina’s entrance. You turn your head to look at Kain one last time, winking at him before turning to continue walking.

“You two got all of that?” you ask softly over the comm as you walk past the empty booth where Han and Chewie were no longer seated.

“We’re on our way to the guild now,” Han huffs over the comm.

“You’re good at this,” Chewie growls over the comm, his voice cloaked in awe.

“Let’s plan to meet back at the Falcon in an hour or so,” you announce over the comm, turning to find the Navarro Union headquarters. “I need to turn my comm off for a bit, but I will check in when I’m on my way back,” you say.

“Whatever,” says an annoyed Han. You switch your comm off as you walk down the stairs to the Union’s headquarters.

------

You slip through the back of the room of the Union’s headquarters, being careful not to distract from the dealing of missions that have already started. While you couldn’t accept any due to your probation, you wanted to make contacts at this location for future use.

Shit. Your side reminds you of its injury. You are in the most pain you’ve ever felt. After the assignments are over, you’ll go see the Union nurses.

Watching the slides of targets get dealt out among the members, you shudder when the last target is introduced. It’s Kain, the man you just swindled back at the cantina.

“This final target is at the top of the most wanted list for the Union of Navarro. We’ve confirmed he is currently on-planet but do not know much more about his whereabouts or what he plans to do,” the Sister continues. You stand up, requesting to interject.

“Excuse me, Sister. My name is Y/N, I’m a Union member from Tatooine, recently turned interplanetary. My member ID is K-2199.” The Sister nods, allowing you to continue. “I made contact with this target about 10 minutes ago in the cantina down the road. From our conversation, he is under the impression I will be joining him in his inn suite later tonight. I have no intentions of visiting him, as I gave him a false identity and only needed him to tell me the location of the guild meeting,” you say, aware the entire room has turned to your attention. “I cannot accept a mission at this time, but I have his location - room 319 of the inn attached to the cantina. You can use my false identity as an alibi for getting close to him. I told him my name was Nadya.”

“Thank you, Y/N. Damasa, you will lead this mission. We must act quick, form a team with Sister Lor to make a plan,” the Sister says. “That will be all for missions tonight, please stay around if you wish. Y/N, will you come see me?”

You make your way to the front of the room, being greeted by smiling members and choruses of thank yous. When you reach the Sister, she takes your hands.

“Sister Carrie informed the interplanetary council of your updated status as a member. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, and even more thankful for the information you gathered about the target. Is there anything you require while you are on Navarro?” the Sister asks, with genuine appreciation in her face.

“Thank you for such a warm welcome,” you say. “I sustained a bad injury several days ago, and was hoping to meet with a Union nurse if possible.”

“Of course, right this way,” the Sister says, ushering you to the medical corridor.

----

“Well, Y/N, it looks like you have three broken ribs and severe bruising. I’m glad you came in when you did,” the nurse says, giving you a concerned smile. “I think the best course would be a bacta shot.”

You wince. Bacta shots, though the most effective medicine, are also the most intense of remedies. You agree to the nurse’s suggestion, and she prepares the shot.

“I heard about what happened to you on Tatooine,” the nurse says, distracting you as she injects the shot just below your ribs in your abdomen. “I also heard that your injury was nothing compared to what that trooper got,” she smiles, impressed by you.

“He got it much worse, that’s for sure,” you chuckle, as you pull your shirt back down over your ribs.

“Now, this shot has some side effects,” the nurse cautions, as she disposes of the syringe. “It’s going to start affecting you in about thirty minutes. You might feel dizzy, maybe feel a bit of a high. You shouldn’t operate any machinery or drink any alcohol. The best way to endure the side effects is to go to sleep. You understand?”

“Yes,” you agree, this was not the first time you had a bacta shot. The nurse grabs a few supplies and throws them in a bag, handing it to you.

“What is this?” you ask, seeing she had given you four bacta shots, an assortment of bandages, and some other medicines. “I can’t accept this.”

“Of course you can. You are one of this Union’s best fighters. Now, more than ever, you need to be protected,” she says, earnestly. “Is there anything else we can help you with?” “Thank you,” you smile, doubting her compliment is remotely true. The best Union fighters wouldn’t be on probation. “I’d like to purchase something from the armory. I’ve recently joined a crew of smugglers and think it’s time to get something a bit more serious than my staff,” you chuckle.

The nurse leads you to the armory, where you pick out a small hand knife and a belt. You attach the belt just under your chest, with the knife in it’s slot at the center of your back. You cover your new weapon with your shirt and pay the fee to the armory.

You thank the members for their kindness, and start your journey back to the Falcon, hoping you get there before the side-effects of your shot kick in. You check the communicator for any messages you missed from Han or Chewie. There weren’t any, so you go back online to send an update.

“I’m back online. Be back at the ship in five minutes,” you click over the comm. You don’t get a response. You figure the two were still bargaining for a job and you’d beat them back to the Falcon.

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

“You’re late,” Han huffs, not even looking up at you as you enter the common room. Chewie is seated next to him at the game table, seeming happy to see you.

“What do you mean? I didn’t think we had anywhere to be,” you ask, genuinely confused at Han’s hostility.

“You said we’d meet back here in an hour. You’re late,” Han says, still not meeting your eyes. You check your watch. You’re six minutes past the suggested rendezvous time.

“Six minutes, Solo. I’m six minutes past a loose timeframe I set,” you say, matching his annoyed mood. “Was the lead right?” you ask the two of them, hoping there was some good news.

“Yes, we got the highest paying job. A delivery to Han’s friend,” Chewie growled proudly.

“That’s great,” you respond, genuinely happy you were able to help out your crew.

“Not great,” Han huffs, standing from the table, finally meeting your gaze.

“But, Chewie said it was the highest paying and it’s for a friend? That seems like the perfect job,” you say, furrowing your brows together at Han.

“He’s not my friend,” Han says, pausing for a moment as if to determine who this person was to him. “It’s complicated. But I know he’s going to try to shortchange us. It’s not an easy job.” Han breaks your gaze and paces over to the desk across the room.

“Don’t be so dramatic. We’ve dealt with Lando thousands of times, we can do it again,” Chewie grumbles. “I’m going to bed,” he announces a moment later, giving you a pat on the shoulder before disappearing into his quarters.

You set the bag of supplies the Union gave you down on the game table, looking in Han’s direction trying to get a read on him. He’s sitting in the desk chair with his back to you. His left ankle is resting on his right knee, while his hand holds his chin. He’s clearly thinking about… something. Suddenly, without warning, Han shoots up from the chair and storms to the cockpit. The mechanic squeak of the cockpit door opening and closing echoes through the Falcon.

You roll your eyes, and start to head to your room. You stop before pushing the door open, and turn quickly on your heel. You march after Han and fling the door to the cockpit open. Han jumps in his seat but does not turn to face you.

“Hey!” you yell. “Want to tell me what that was about, Solo?” you ask angrily. You’re not sure why him being a jerk set you off. Maybe it’s because he was rude, maybe it was the bacta shot rushing through your veins, or maybe it was the fact that he didn’t even say thank you for getting him the information he needed.

“I don’t want to talk, Y/N. I’m in a bad mood,” Han huffs, still not facing you. You move to the front of the cockpit in between the pilot chairs to be in his sight.

“Good, I’m going to talk then,” you huff back. “Did I do something to piss you off? Because from where I’m standing, it seems like you should be thanking me for getting you the information you needed to get the highest paying job on this planet.”

You’re livid. You don’t even care that he didn’t say thank you. You’re more upset about being subjected to his rollercoaster of emotions - a ride you’d rather not be on. Han’s eyes finally dare to meet yours.

“I told you, I don’t want to talk,” Han says gruffly, shooting up, turning to the side wall of the cockpit to mess with some buttons. You follow him to the side, staying in the center aisle of the cockpit, but still within range of his sight if he dared to look at you again.

“It seems my intelligence gathering skills will be feeding us for the next month,” you shoot at him, wanting to strike a nerve.

You were looking for an answer to what you did wrong. The only way to get that out of him was to push him. Han quickly turned around to face you, a look of bewilderment painted on his face.

“I think you’re giving yourself too much credit,” Han sneers, stepping closer to you. “Your skills,” he mumbles, shaking his head, meeting your eyes once again. “It seems like all it took for that guy to bend is a pretty face willing to sleep with him.” Han huffs, taking another step towards you, allowing only inches between your bodies. “Judging from the fact you turned off your comm for an hour, and, not to mention, the look of satisfaction in your eyes, seems like all it took for you to bend was a little sweet talk.”

It feels like a balloon is swelling in your chest, ready to pop. You are angry - no, upset? - that Han would even think you would be so reckless to sleep with someone while they were off job hunting based on information you gave them. Han stands in front of you, not moving, set in his convictions.

“You’re one to talk!” you yell at him. “Fuck you,” you whisper after a moment, shoving him back as you take a few steps towards the door of the cockpit.

“Tell me I’m wrong, then,” Han taunts, stopping you in your tracks and causing you to turn around. Regaining your voice, you catch his eyes.

“I don’t have to tell you anything, remember?” you hiss, bringing up the only condition that you really cared about.

Han rolls his eyes, his body language tensing more.

“You really think that little of me? That I would be so naive to sleep with a strange man I just met on a planet I’ve never been to before?” you shoot at him.

You shake your head, laughing, at how dumb this fight is. Han looks at you, confused. Your expression turns serious once more.

“You might think you know me, Solo. Like every other man in this entire galaxy, you must think that I’m a flirt, that I’m easy, that I’d sleep with the first guy to call me beautiful,” you pause, watching your words pain him. “I don’t care if that’s what you think of me. I care that you would think I’d turn off my comms for-” you pause for a second, before changing directions. “I need you to know that I’m in this. I’m part of the crew. You and Chewbacca are my priorities. I would never do anything to jeopardize that.”

Han watches you for a second. He starts to open his mouth to say something, but closes it again. You sigh. You’re not sure what you want from him at this point.

“I need you to tell me when I piss you off. I don’t like it when you’re mad at me,” you say, softly. Han says nothing. There’s nothing left to say. You turn on your heel and leave the cockpit, retreating to your room.

----

Han stands in the cockpit, looking at the place where you just told him off. He didn’t know why he was in such a bad mood. You were right, tonight was a success. After a moment of processing, he decides to go after you.

He stops cold at your door. What am I going to say?, he thinks, taking a step back from your room.

“What are you doing?” you ask, faintly. Han turns around to see you sitting on the ground, leaning against the couch.

“What are you doing?” he asks, crouching down next to you, a look of worry across his face. “Why are you on the ground?”

“I couldn’t make it to the couch,” you say, trying to adjust yourself to sit up straighter. The bacta was working, alright. You tried to make it to your bed, but you felt dizzy and needed to sit. The ground seemed like the best place to go. “You didn’t answer my question, Solo.”

Han smiled slightly, though his eyes were still worried.

“I didn’t get to ask- I wanted to know how your side was,” he said, stumbling over his words. He gently starts to untuck your shirt from your pants, careful not to accidentally brush your bruises. You catch his hand before he can lift your shirt.

“Stop,” you say. “I can do it.”

Han moves back slightly, giving you room to move. You unbuckle your new weapons belt from under your shirt, placing it on the couch behind you. Han’s eyebrows raise, curious as to how long you’ve had that.

“It’s new,” you shrug, answering his question.

You use Han’s shoulder to help you stand. Han carefully spots you until he’s sure you can stand by yourself. You turn to face him, lifting your shirt just enough to show the blotchy yellow bruise that shows you’re healing. Han’s eyebrows furrow as he examines your side, noticing the point where the bacta shot was injected, softly brushing his thumb across your side. You reel at the touch; not because it is painful, but because it is dangerous. You quickly lower your shirt, forcing Han’s hand off of your skin.

“A bacta shot?” Han asks quietly, meeting your eyes, realizing his judgement of your satisfied look was from the medicine and not a one night stand.

“Guess you figured out where I was tonight,” you huff, grabbing your weapons belt and starting to walk across the room to your door.

“Y/N…,” Han falters. You feel his gaze on you and your stomach churns.

“It doesn’t matter, Solo,” you say, pausing briefly before entering your room, locking the door behind you.

Falling into your bed for the night, you can still feel his touch on your stomach. You touch the spot a few times, making sure his finger wasn’t still there. The pit in your stomach grows, sending a warmth through your body, aching for Han.

No, you think. This can’t happen.

You try to recall the nasty fight you just had with him, his glares, his arrogance. It all comes to mind in a rose-colored facade. Fuck. Before you know it, the bacta effects overcome you to sleepiness. The medicine distracts you from the allure of one Han Solo, just long enough for you to get a full night’s sleep.

[kyndaris]

Journey to the Forbidden West

The first thing that everyone who is intrigued about Aloy’s next adventure should know is that the Forbidden West is bloody big. The second thing that they should know is that if you’re a bit of a completionist, like me, it can take upwards of a hundred hours to explore every nook and cranny. While there’s plenty to do and the world doesn’t feel empty because of all the threats that are lurking just beyond the horizon, to this weary gamer, the review on Polygon was right. The emphasis on more only served to make the game a much more tedious slog than it needed to be. Beyond that, the gameplay was still top-notch and the characters felt both like pastiches of their particular tribes while also being actual human beings in their own right.

Forbidden West continues on from the ending of Zero Dawn. Six months have passed and the planet has gone from bad to worse despite the fact that Aloy was able to stop HADES from destroying Meridian. The biosphere is fading fast and Aloy is desperate to find a way to restore GAIA, the AI that had been Elisabeth Sobek’s life work and end-goal when the Faro Plague struck.

After the opening narration, Aloy finally arrives at the location of her final lead. Keeping her company is Varl. Together, they search through the ruins of a building that once belonged to Far Zenith. But despite fending off a Slitherfang, their efforts are in vain. The supposed GAIA backup that was rumoured to be at the base turns out to be a logic bomb. 

Dismayed, Aloy returns to Meridian, empty-handed and feeling the full weight of her failure. Although most would consider her a saviour, Aloy is not the type to bask in praise and put her feet up after a job well done. For her, there is always more to do. In that, she echoes the heroes of many a story in books, shows and video games.

The one that immediately came to mind as I was playing was Adora from the 2018 animated She-Ra and the Princesses of Power. Just like Adora, Aloy is the type that would throw herself into the fire to save her friends rather than let them help her. The risk of them getting hurt is something they both share. In Aloy’s case, it’s much more prevalent with the active way that she pushes away those closest and dearest to her. As the game continues, however, Aloy begins to accept the aid that is offered rather than going it alone. 

That, in and of itself, is what elevates her above Sylens and many of the antagonists in the sequel to one of my favourite games on the PlayStation 4.

Once Aloy helps out the Carja by investigating the tower that helped bring down HADES subroutine from the end of the first game, she uncovers a message from Sylens telling her to go into the Forbidden West, a land that is governed by the Tenakth. A new goal in hand, Aloy sets out to the Daunt to attend the embassy being held between the Carja and the barbarous Tenakth. So began my hundred hour long journey through the new playground Guerilla Games provided us with.

From a narrative standpoint, Forbidden West built upon what came before. After all, HADES could not have become self-aware without the aid of another. The extinction signal that had activated the subroutine had to have come from somewhere. Then, of course, there had been the sprinkles of lore that had been scattered throughout the first game of the Odyssey: a ship which many of the brightest minds had taken to flee the dying planet. Taking advantage of what they had seeded before, Forbidden West was able to finally reap the plot points that had been left hanging in the previous game.

While the Far Zeniths were not particularly bombastically evil, they still served as passable antagonists to Aloy’s quest to save the Earth. Only Erik Visser seemed to have revelled in death, while others, such as Gerard Bieri felt like caricatures of current wealthy billionaires.

Then, of course, there was Tilda van der Meer. Voiced by Carrie-Anne Moss, she was the perfect foil to Aloy. Though she’s not as vicious as the others, the dream that she had, and her obsession with Aloy (a clone of Elisabeth Sobeck) meant that she was just as greedy and corrupt as the others. After all, who would be able to live for a thousand years and remain sane? Let alone altruistic?

My main problem with the game actually came with the contrivances that so many of the subroutines were located in North America. With a majority of them being scattered in the titular Forbidden West. While ARTEMIS, APOLLO and ELEUTHIA had been snapped up by Far Zenith, the fact that AETHER, POSEIDON and DEMETER were all located fairly close to each other stopped the game from being the globe-trotting adventure it could have been.

Although, to be fair, that particular contrivance helped Aloy immensely. Given that many of the tribes were very centralised, she would have needed to figure out a way to cross the oceans (or fly in the sky) with only a few months to spare before the biosphere would have been become unlivable. 

Then, of course, there was MINERVA. The one subordinate function that was named after a Roman Goddess. But that’s not the end of my gripes with MINERVA. Akin to Athena, MINERVA is the Goddess of war and of wisdom. She isn’t one that is known for messages and communication. So, why is she the subroutine that is in charge of the communication arrays? If that was to be the case, why couldn’t the scientists at Zero Dawn have named it HERMES?

On that note, why is APOLLO regarded as the subordinate function with an archive of human history and culture. True, he was a patron of the arts and has also been associated with health and the sun, but it seemed a far cry from his actual responsibilities as a deity of Ancient Greece.

Beyond that, I loved my time helping out the various Tenakth clans and meeting new tribes such as the Utaru and the Quen. Aloy’s companions: Zo, Varl, Erend, Kotallo, Alva and Beta were all such rich additions. I loved each and every one of them and felt as close to them as family.

For too long, Aloy has operated as a one-person army. Yes, she might be skilled and smart, but everyone needs help sometimes. And it takes a strong person to realise that and to be open about accepting it.

As for the combat, I loved the new machines that were introduced in Forbidden West. Facing up against a Frostclaw, Tremortusk or even a Burrower felt like a refreshing change. Then, of course, there were the legacy machines - ones that I faced in Zero Dawn. Honestly, the variety between the machines was outstanding. The only one I look forward to never fighting again, however, are the Rockbreakers. They are the worst machines. Anything that tunnels and leaps out from underneath the ground is terrifying. 

And while the changes made to the weapon wheel was great for those that liked to experiment, I found myself sticking to true and tried formulas for fighting. My Aloy was stuffed full to the gills with sharpshot bows, blast slings and hunter bows. Sometimes, I’d pull out the occasional warrior bow. That was it. My arsenal when it came to taking down humans, creatures and machines alike.

Actually, now that I think about it, the animals in the world also seemed very limited in the world that Guerilla Games created. I was always puzzled why that there were foxes, prairie dogs, vultures, owls and rabbits (to name but a few) but I never saw any apex predators that would have been on the top of the foodchain. Were were the wolves? Or even the mountain lions? The deserts didn’t even have snakes or coyotes! How does the food-web in the new biosphere operate? Have the machines taken over a lot of the jobs that might have been done by a plethora of insects and other creatures? 

I have so many questions and yet so little answers.

Forbidden West is a great sequel to Zero Dawn. The world is rich with history and the characters were all a delight. I very much enjoyed seeing the different tribes interacting and seeing what in particular inspired them when it came to their beliefs and ways of life. There is so much to love in this unique world that Guerilla Games have created, from MachineStrike to the graphical fidelity to the intricate lore in the games...

Is it any wonder that I also platinumed the sequel as well?

Here’s hoping that Guerilla Games can stick the landing when it comes to the ending of what has felt will be a trilogy of games. Each and every time, the threat has been escalated but I hope that Aloy’s adventure comes to an end with a bang. She certainly deserves the chance to take a break after all the time and effort she has taken to saving everyone else. Whether or not they know it.

[whatta-babe]

Date Crashers (Obvious pt. 2)| Peter Parker x Reader

Taking place months after the Avengers found out that their youngest member, Sider-Man, had a crush (Obvious), the team only wants to meet Y/N officially. They will achieve their goal through any means necessary… This takes place before Infinity War and Endgame and can be read seperately.

Disclaimer: I wrote the first part of this two-shot over three (3) years ago and just never finished this part until now. Some of the characters are definitely out of character, but I am following the same characterization I used in part one (1).

Warnings: Minor cursing, OOC characters, and soft Peter Parker

Word Count: 1,247

On a random fall day in a random small café, Peter Parker is nervously bouncing his leg at an empty table, waiting for his girlfriend, Y/N, to come back from the restroom. Even after finally making the relationship official after months of aggressive flirting via text and shy stuttering flirting in the high school highway, and after approximately four (4) months of dating, the young brunette still gets jittery and bashful at even the thought of her.

Sure, he faces mutant people and aliens trying to take over the Earth on a surprisingly regular basis, but it just isn’t as nerve wracking as being in the presence of his loving girlfriend.

As Peter’s leg bounces, in a random small café, on a random fall day, he is being surrounded and spied on by the people he considers family- the Avengers. If he hadn’t been so obvious with his infatuation of Y/N all of those months ago, unintentionally drawing notice from his superhero familia, maybe the events that are currently playing out would have never happened.

Various pairs of eyes located from inside the café to the rooftop of a neighboring building snap to focus in on movement heading towards Peter’s tiny black table. It’s Y/N in her favorite skirt and- is that Peter’s decathlon sweatshirt? Wanda is already at risk of blowing her cover as Vision attempts to stop her from vibrating excitedly.

The girl finishes patting her hands dry on her clothes as she sits down, but before the couple can greet each other again, Peter’s name is called. He shoots out of his seat to dart to the pickup counter to collect his girlfriend’s and his drinks and freshly warmed pastries. Located in a dark corner of the café, Steve nods to himself in silent praise. Good job for paying for and collecting the food for his partner; what a gentleman.

The brunette swiftly walks back to their table and sets Y/N’s order gently in front of her, and as he sits down, their easy conversation starts up again. It seems that neither one of the teenagers notice that they are simultaneously playing footsie under the table as they discuss topics of interest- maybe it’s Star Wars or something nerdy like that as Bucky shakes his head slowly.

This boy is hopelessly in love, and I can’t with this young teenage romance any longer. He silently contemplates heading back to the compound. Why did he even agree to this anyway? Oh yeah, to get more dirt on the kid to tease him with it later.

Now the couple’s conversation switches to future plans. “Saturday is supposed to be really nice. Do you want to have a picnic in Central Park? I’ll pack all of your favorites!”

Peter grabs her hand and smiles sweetly as Y/N nods in excitement! “That’s a great idea, Peter! And we can look at all the sculptures! I haven’t been there in so long…” She trails off.

When Peter brings the hand that he is holding to his lips in a sweet kiss, Sam has to say something to his frenemy. “Man, who knew this kid had game? Because I sure as hell didn’t.”

Bucky can only nod silently in agreement because yeah, who the hell would have thought?

Another peaceful and giggle-filled hour passes by as Natasha records the entire date from afar, not only for her own pleasure of rewatching it later but also because she promised Bruce that she would record their interactions for him to see. He had some type of life-changing and important research he had to conduct instead of joining the team for this bonding experience- lame.

In the end, it’s Clint that exposes the team to the happy couple, but was anyone expecting anything different? It seems that the café’s air vents were not as stable as he would have liked because its Clint’s body tumbling from the ceiling that leaves the café customers and workers in horror and surprised confusion. The man in question rapidly stands up to dust himself off and cheerily waves “Nothing to see here! Just go on with your daily activities,” to try and act like this event is no big deal.

But it is a big deal to Peter who knows what’s happening the second he recognized the falling body. “You’ve been spying on us??” He stands up in disbelief while Y/N can only become more confused than before.

Tony, who has been shaking his head in disbelief at his teammate’s idiocy, quickly joins the fray from his inconspicuous hiding place (the same shady corner Steve is located in) to explain the situation. “Look, kid, what else were we supposed to do? You’ve been making excuses for months to not bring Y/N over when all we want to do is meet her!” Okay, so maybe he is doing more accusing than explaining.

“I-what-ugh! Where is everyone else?” Peter’s face is amusingly splotchy and red while Y/N can barely keep up with the drama unfolding.

As the Avengers assemble in front of the couple, a strangled gasp and the sharp sound of a hand being hurriedly placed over one’s mouth is heard. “Oh my gosh… It’s really you guys! I’ve heard so much about you, and I’ve so wanted to meet you all!”

As Y/N smiles bashfully in front of her favorite heroes, Peter seems to snap back into focus and turns back to his unhinged family. Before he can speak again, Vision loses his fight against Wanda as she flings herself at Peter’s girlfriend in a flurry of long hair and flying arms. The squeal that has been building up for the past half hour is now being unleashed, but somehow someway, Y/N doesn’t seem to mind the ear-splitting noise. In fact, all she does is hug the woman back with equal enthusiasm.

Natasha pries the Scarlet Witch off only to take her place as she sways Peter’s girlfriend back and forth in her arms whilst muttering compliments and encouragements into her ear.

Peter can only pout heavily from the sidelines, arms crossed and bottom lip jutting out as he childishly huffs. Steve pats the boy’s back softly and waves to his two best friends as they finally make their way into the café from their rooftop hiding spot.

Apparently, there’s a line of people wanting to talk to Y/N because as soon as Natasha loosens her arms around the blushing girl, Tony steps up to her and pats her on the shoulder in acceptance. “You should come over for dinner this week, kid. We’ll get to know you more.” The usually obnoxious man is surprisingly composed and sane which Peter is grateful for, and he knows that Mr. Stark is really holding himself back at the moment.

Y/N can only smile brightly and clasp her hands together in excitement because who wouldn’t be excited if they were invited to have dinner with Earth’s mightiest heroes? She is totally writing this in her diary later!

But as the girl realizes the current time, all she can do is frown and starts to reluctantly says goodbye to everyone that she has met and places a chaste but sickeningly sweet kiss on her boyfriend’s cheek as a farewell. When Peter blushes, she lets out one last laugh and slips out of the café, excited to make dinner plans with Peter’s family and eternally grateful that Peter warned her that something like this may eventually happen. His Spidey senses never miss.