#lemons from Spain

[butterbourbonandothersins]

Bombay Sapphire Premier Cru

I recently enjoyed an incredible chat with Anne Brock, Master Distiller at Bombay Sapphire, as we discussed the distillery’s newest creation, Bombay Sapphire Premier Cru.

I recently enjoyed an incredible chat with Anne Brock, Master Distiller at Bombay Sapphire, as we discussed the distillery’s newest creation, Bombay Sapphire Premier Cru. Bombay Sapphire is one of the world’s most popular gin brands, known for its distinctive blue bottle and iconic design. What sets Bombay Sapphire apart from other gins is not just its striking appearance but also its unique…

[lemonduckisnowawake]

Rating (the translated, not actually OG) titles of manhwa/manga because I was bored

Monstrous Duke's Adopted Daughter/The Monster Duchess and Contract Princess - not egregiously long but boring when the story is actually interesting. 6/10. Rename it with something more snappish like the Adopted Shadow or whatever. idk. Have I mentioned I've been banned from naming things?

My In-Laws Are Obsessed with Me - 4/10. Also not horrible but it's clearly a clickbaity title and I roll my eyes. Better to rename it to like ..... something to do with blood maybe? Or if you want to keep it family-themed. Blood Ties? Also boring and you can tell I'm speaking from a western YA-genre reader

Beware the Villainess - 8/10. This needs no change

The Perks of Being an S-Class Heroine - .... it's exactly what the title says, ngl. 7/10. But it could be better and less of a summary. Don't know what, though

The Noble Girl Who Finds a Nerdy and Plain Guy Moe Thinks That the Arrogant Prince Is in the Way - 0/10. I just. Why? The official English title is something like The Lady Likes a Nerd over Princes, which I found weird but the summary was interesting (turns out it was a good manga. But the author just has zero respect for the agency of women. Like. Comically so that it's not even funny as it gets a tad bit narratively frustrating as it's used as a device to drag on the plot) Anyway. Just why?

An Archdemon's Dilemma: How to Love Your Elf Bride - 2/10. Not as unforgivable as the previous but horrible all the same. And while the concept was interesting and I gave it a try because it was a rec, it turned out to not be for me at all. The title is dramatic, I'll give you that. It reads like it's a self help book for demon kings who want to learn how to Love and that's basically the manga

Frieren: Beyond Journey's End/Frieren at the Funeral/Frieren the Slayer - 10/10. Look. Any of those titles are good. It doesn't pop out but neither does it force you to hide the title out of fear of being misunderstood

The Savior's Book Cafe Story in Another World - 5/10. Inoffensive but another summary title. You could have literally just called it the Savior's Otherworld Cafe instead. Or something

I Listened to My Husband and Brought in a Lover - 1/10. Encourages cheating with consent. Actually, the manhwa kinda did too (the husband cheated first and was like you should cheat too). At least people know what they're in for? Don't want to retitle it. It deserves it for starting with decent potential for that premise and kinda failing to deliver.

I Stole the Number One Ranker's Soul - 6/10. Again, it's pretty catchy and not terrible but I still don't like these summary titles. Manhwa is amazing, however.

Can't Stop Cursing You - 8/10. Dying laughing because it reads as someone going "man, I just... can't stop cursing you. Really can't help myself you know? Sorry not sorry" while zapping you repeatedly with curses. Still pretty stupid when the actual manga was REALLY shiny with all that horror and bloody gore and interesting plot

Gingerly in Love - 10/10. Trust me. Once I saw what it was about, I died laughing. Not the most memorable manhwa but the wordplay of the title....

The Tyrant Wants to Be Good - 6/10. Again. Inoffensive but there's something annoying to me personally. The manhwa is great, though. Love me a woman who makes her trauma everyone else's problem, regrets it, and then internalizes the guilt in her do-over at life so bad that she ends up getting aggressively adopted into a found family

I Got a New Skill Every Time I Was Exiled, and After 100 Different Worlds, I Was Unmatched - 0/10. Why are isekai titles actually the worst sometimes. Manga itself is meh, in my opinion. It has potential ruined by the usual commodification of women, so I dropped it despite my interest

Bonus:

A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court - 3/10. Twain really was isekai titling when he probably didn't know that Japan was even a thing, huh. Not terrible, but it has that isekai style of summarizing the premise.

Bonus again:

The Fortunes and Misfortunes of the Famous Moll Flanders Who was born in Newgate, and during a life of continu’d Variety for Threescore Years, besides her Childhood, was Twelve Years a Whore, five times a Wife (whereof once to her brother) Twelve Years a Thief, Eight Years a Transported Felon in Virginia, at last grew Rich, liv’d Honest and died a Penitent - -10/10. It was an okay book but you shouldn't have had this power over your book titles, Daniel Defoe. Seriously. My edition just says "Moll Flanders". Never have I wanted to shame a dead author more. It's not even an isekai but it's worse than an isekai title. It's a whole anime opening credits.

[diari0deglierrori]

Definitely feeling more sensitive than usual. I almost burst into tears because I realized I forgot the lemons at the grocery store today, which was a very important ingredient and I needed it today if I wanted to respect my schedule

[aaronofithaca05]

Gallego????????

Granadino sí, pero gallego????

wTF???????

ahhhhhh T T

que soy mxxxxxxx T T

Que yo no soy de las Rías, ni tomo albariños, tampoco soy madrileño NI SOY CASTELLANO, SOY 🍋,

POR LO MENOS NO ME HA SALIDO VALENCIANO O CATALÁN, entonces me tiraba de un puente si hubieran salido ahhhhhhhhhhh

T T

Words that TELL where I´m from; alcancíl y expolsar.

ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

@iroissleepdeprived @perroulisses @ironspdr6700, vuestro turno, que a conmigo no ha acertado, solo lo de Granada y por los pelos de un calvo.

fellow hispanics and non native spanish speakers, I found a quiz that tries to guess your dialect !!!

it was pretty accurate in my case, please do it and then put in the tags what you got 👀👀👀

[hedgehog-moss]

I finally planted my garden last week! We had a couple of days of sun which gave me hope, but it's once again raining every day. Thoughts and prayers for my tomato plants, but I couldn't keep everyone in the greenhouse forever, I had to make room for other plants.

(In the fourth picture above you can see what's inside the hügelkultur mound—it's a pile of branches + llama manure + compost + potting soil. One thing I find great about it is how well it retains moisture! Well it's not a problem this year so far but during heat waves I water these plants a lot less than non-mound plants.)

In the greenhouse my seedlings have been struggling due to lack of sun. Impossible to get courgette plants so I had to buy a few from the young couple in town who recently started a plant nursery—they didn't have many either, and I had to share with the mayor who also came looking for courgette plants because slugs devoured all of his.

He must have seen on my face that I thought my plants didn't stand a chance if slugs don't even respect municipal authority, because he kindly advised me to place crowns of bedstraw (see above) around my plants to protect them. I didn't dare to ask "If it works so well why do you have no courgette plants left?" I just said thank you, and then spent an entire evening last week weaving this sticky weed into crowns and whatsapping photos of my art to the mayor, who always replied "More! More! It needs to be thicker! Like a doughnut!"

Meanwhile 1 leek in the greenhouse suddenly grew a lot thicker while the other 3 remained skinny and fearful-looking and I'm not sure why. They share a pot, so maybe it's like vanishing twin syndrome. My bell pepper seeds had the same asynchronous development issue—one pot is just now starting to have timid seedlings while the other (right next to it) already contains a grown-up plant with baby peppers:

By far my happiest greenhouse plants are the potatoes and lettuce. They shot up so fast! I've been eating a lot of lettuce lately but I can't keep up with how quickly they grow in this cold, rainy spring. And I haven't had any slug raids in the greenhouse so that's great.

My greenhouse squash, onions and pickles are still tiny and not worth a photo (harsh, but this post already has too many photos). My strawberries in the aquaponic towers are beautiful despite the lack of sun and I've been getting mini-harvests of 2-3 strawberries a day for two weeks! They're done now, but I started more seeds so maybe I can get a second round at the end of the month.

Three more things:

1. Morille helped a lot as I was planting the garden. She kept an eye on my gardening tools so no one would steal them, and sometimes used them as cheek-scratchers. At one point I put one of my beautiful bedstraw crowns around her neck so she looked like Philip III of Spain in that painting where he wears a big ruff, but tragically she ran away in outrage before I could take a picture, and when she returned she'd got rid of her collar.

2. At the cow parade the other day there was a lady at the market who sold jars of homemade pesto sauce made from all kinds of different plants, and it opened up my mind to entirely new pesto horizons!! I always make the traditional kind with basil, but I have plants that grow much faster than basil, like my rocket, so I tried making pesto with 1/3 basil 2/3 rocket (plus garlic, olive oil, parmesan, cashews) and it was so good! I have to explore all of her recipes now, like plantain or nettle or sage pesto...

3. There's a monster in the greenhouse. It appeared practically overnight and is quickly claiming more and more territory. Unlike last year it's not a parsley monster—it's my lemon balm. One day it was growing in its vertical tower, luxuriant but tidy, like a normal plant, and the next it had quintupled in volume and was threatening to swallow the nearest planter. Look at the tiny tomato plants, they look terrified of it!

I urgently need to fight back against this giant mélisse (as we call lemon balm) but I've been really busy and I keep putting it off, and then remembering anxiously at 11pm that I still have this creature to take care of, which is ironic seeing as lemon balm is supposed to relieve stress and anxiety. This is the exact opposite of why I planted you. Anyway if you never hear from me again after this post it's because I finally engaged in battle against this year's vegetal menace, and lost.

[sunny44]

Lemonade for Carlos

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x wife!reader x mom!reader

Warnings: mentions of difficulties of getting pregnant

Summary: Your’s and Carlos daughter wants to sell lemonade to buy him a birthday present, so you help her set up a lemonade stand.

I was just finishing the pancakes for breakfast when I heard Eva's rapid footsteps coming down the stairs.

"Mommy." She says, entering the kitchen. "Can I buy a present for Dad? For his birthday."

"Sure, have you thought about what you want to buy? We can go today if you want."

"But I don't have any money."

"I'll buy it for you, my love don’t worry."

"No, I want to buy it with my own money."

"And how are you going to get this money?" I asked, putting her in her chair and leaving the plate of pancakes on the table.

"I'm going to work." She says innocently.

"What are you going to work at?" I asked, pouring her a juice.

"Selling lemonade, a friend of mine from school said she got money to buy a doll by selling lemonade."

"Do you want to sell lemonade in front of the house?" She agrees.

"Please mommy, tell me I can." She looks at me with those same big brown eyes as her father.

"All right, we'll buy things after breakfast and set up your stand in front of the house."

...

After breakfast we get out of the house and went to the store to buy the necessary supplies, we bought lemons, sugar and colorful paper for a sign.

Eva couldn't contain her excitement as we set up a lemonade stand in our front yard.

After setting up we sat down and waited for the first people to come by and buy.

She wanted to write on the sign "Lemonade for Carlos" and when people came to buy she explained that she was selling it to buy a birthday present for her dad.

Obviously her cute face and speech moved people who ended up buying the lemonades and I had also made some cookies and brownies that she was selling too.

We were at the end of the day when Carlos arrived, as the race was here in Spain this weekend, the team was organizing here so he was in a meeting all day.

"What are you two doing?" He asks and as soon as she sees him she starts to smile.

"Daddy." She runs up to him who, after taking her in his arms, walks towards me and starts laughing at the sign.

"Lemonade for Carlos?" He asks.

"Yes, mommy and I sold lemonade so I could buy you your birthday present." she said excitedly and I could see that he loved her attitude.

"Oh baby, I love what you've done." She smiles and hugs him tighter.

"Well, we've finished work, so what do you say we go in, have a shower and celebrate with pizza?" They both agreed and that's what we did.

...

Eva was already asleep and I was lying on our bed sending the photos of the lemonade stand to Carlos' mother, who thought it was very funny that her granddaughter had come up with the idea.

"Are you going to sleep yet?" He asked, lying down next to me.

"Actually, I was going to read a bit, but if you want to talk." I say, putting the book in my nightstand and turning to him.

"Whose idea was that? The lemonade thing?"

"Your daughter's." I say and he smiles. "She came down today asking if she could buy you a present and I said I'd give her some money but she didn't want to and said she'd work to get the money."

"I love that little girl more than anything." He says sighing and smiling at the ceiling.

I remember very well the day I told him I was pregnant, we'd been trying for a while but it wasn't working. It had been a difficult few months for us, with the problem of getting pregnant, Carlos busy with work and stressed that the Ferrari wasn't good this year.

So I had tests done because I thought the problem was me and that I couldn't get pregnant but when the tests came back clean it added more stress to Carlos because he started to think the he was the problem.

So on the day he went for the test I stayed at home and took advantage of the fact that I was feeling unwell and took the test out of conscience and it turned out I was pregnant. I did a few more to make sure and when they all came back positive I spent the whole time Carlos was away crying and when he came back I told him and he started crying with me, both with relief and happiness.

"I know you do." I said, hugging him. "And I love you for it."

"Do you want more?"

"More what?"

"Children." He says, taking me by surprise.

It's not as if I hadn't already thought about having more children, but Carlos never showed that he wanted more. I think the fact that he gave Eva all the attention in the world made me think that he only wanted her.

"Maybe, do you want more?"

"Before Eva I thought about having more but then we had the problem of having her so when you got pregnant I was content that we'd just have her and I put all my attention and effort into making that little girl happy, but then over the years I started to think that I want to do it again and that I want her to have someone else with her when we're not here anymore." He says sincerely.

"I also want more children with you." He smiles."I never said anything because you never showed that you wanted more children and I see how dedicated you are to Eva."

"But if you wanted more children, why didn't you tell me?"

"Because as much as I wanted to, it's not something I'd regret if I didn't, I love you and our family so much and I am really happy with what we have."

"I love you too and we don't need to decide anything now."

"I know." He smiles and kisses me.

"Daddy." We hear that little voice at the door. "Can I come in?"

"Yes." He says, pulling away from me and looking at the door to see her come in clutching a Lightning McQueen plush Charles gave her since she calls him Uncle McQueen. "What happened?"

"It's just that I missed you and I was wondering if I could sleep with you and mommy." She says and I can see Carlos melting with love.

"Of course you can, my love." He says and she goes to his side, who picks her up and puts her in the middle of us. "I love you, you know that?"

"Yes, I love you too." She says, closing her eyes. "Good night mommy, good night daddy."

"Good night, baby." We kissed her forehead and all went to sleep.

Bonus scene!

Y/nsainz instagram post

Liked by @carlossainz, @charlesleclerc, @reysvdec and others 92730

Y/nsainz “Lemonade for Carlos”, who wants it?

@carlossainz can I have one please?

@y/nsainz yess you can daddy - Eva

@charlesleclerc can uncle McQueen have one too?

@y/nsainz yess you can uncle McQueen - Eva

@Thesainzfamily that’s the best seller ever

@reysvdec muy hermosa

Liked by @y/nsainz and @carlossainz

[hetalianhistorian]

Menu and goods information has been released for the upcoming Hetalia Halloween Party AMOCAFE collab!

Source links: 1 2

The event period will run from October 10th until November 11th. Reservations will start on October 6th! It is advised to read the precautions before signing for a reservation, in which you can find through the AMOCAFE website.

Something peculiar about this collaboration menu is that it seems it will change halfway through the event. The first two weeks will serve a menu based off the Axis and the later half will serve based on the Allies! If you are dropping by this event for a certain character, please keep in mind of the dates!

That said, below are the menu items with each dish and drink being themed after each character. The dates, ingredients, and prices will all be included. Please keep in mind that I use a translator for all of these, so there may be mistakes!

Menu (10/10 - 10/24)

Italy

For dish, Spaghetti al Nero di Seppia- ¥1,540 yen each - Squid pasta/squid, tomato, and powdered cheese. For drink, Amaretto Milk Almond Latte - ¥880 yen each - Amaretto milk, and whipped/sliced almonds.

Germany

For dish, Baumkuchen - ¥1,210 yen each - Plain chocolate, marshmallow, and chocolate sauce. For drink, Kiba - ¥880 yen each - Cherry syrup, banana syrup, and milk.

Japan

For dish, Chestnut Rice and Seared Bonito Set Meal - ¥1,870 yen each - Seared bonito over straw, sliced onion, shiso leaf, daikon radish with ponzu sauce, boiled hijiki, chestnut rice, sesame salt, wakame, daikon miso soup, and bamboo charcoal powder. For drink, Brown Sugar Milk - ¥880 yen each - Brown sugar syrup, milk, and whipped warabi mochi.

Portugal

For dish, Pastel de Nata - ¥1,100 yen each - Egg tart, caramel ice cream, caramel sauce, and cocoa powder. For drink, Port Wine Grape Juice - ¥880 yen each - Elderflower syrup, grape juice, mixed nuts, and honey.

Spain

For dish, Creme Catalana - ¥1,210 yen each - Creme brulee, bamboo charcoal powder, cinnamon powder, orange peel, and orange. For drink, Calimocho-Style Drink - ¥880 yen each - Grape juice, cola, and lime mint.

Prussia

For dish, Götterspeise - ¥1,100 yen each - Strawberry jelly, strawberry, raspberry, custard raspberry sauce, mint, and bamboo charcoal powder. For drink, Schwarz Coffee Tonic - ¥880 yen each - Instant coffee and carbonated water.

Romano

For dish, Polpo Affogato - ¥1,540 yen each - Octopus, tomato sauce, olive, parsley, countryside garlic butter sauce, and bamboo charcoal powder. For drink, Limoncello Royal Lemonade -¥880 yen each - Peach lemonade, white grape soda, and lemon mint.

Menu (10/25 - 11/10)

America

For dish, Sugar Glazed Donuts - ¥1,210 yen - Baked donuts, chocolate sauce, chocolate spray, sugar glaze, and white chocolate. For drink, Pumpkin Latte - ¥880 yen - Pumpkin milk and whipped cinnamon powder.

England

For dish, Shepherd's Pie - ¥1,540 yen each - Meat sauce, mashed potato, cheese, and seaweed. For drink, Pimm's Style Drink - ¥880 yen each - Elderflower syrup, black tea, white grape juice, carbonated water, orange, cucumber, raspberry, and mint.

France

For dish, Potage de Potiron - ¥1,210 yen each - Pumpkin soup, fresh cream, and fresh bread. For drink, Chocolat Chaud - ¥880 yen each - Chocolate sauce and milk whipped cream.

Russia

For dish, Blini - ¥1,210 yen each - Crepes, sour cream, strawberry jam, raspberry sauce, and granola. For drink, Yagoda Lemonade - ¥880 yen each - Lemon syrup, strawberry sauce mixed berries, and mint.

China

For dish, Black Sesame Dan Dan Noodles - ¥1,320 yen each - Dan Dan noodles, black garlic oil, green onion, meat miso, and cheese. For drink, Tapioca with Coconut Milk - ¥880 yen each - Coconut milk, tapioca, whipped condensed milk, and mint.

Goods Information

Source links: 1 2

There will be goods available for purchase and offered during the event!

Goods List

Acrylic Stand - ¥1,540 yen each

Mini Acrylic Stand Keychain - ¥880 yen each

Clear File - ¥770 yen each

A2 Sized Tapestry - ¥3,960 yen each

Mini Tapestry - ¥1,650 yen each

Clear Card - ¥550 yen each

Postcard Set - ¥1,210 yen each

Tin Badge - ¥550 yen each

Offers List

For every character drink ordered, you will receive a free coaster of random design.

For every character dish ordered, you will receive a free placemat of random design.

A random invitation ticket style card will be given out to customers who come to the event! The offer will continue while supplies last.

For every ¥2,000 yen spent on food, drinks, or products, you will receive a random heart card from each period at the register! If there are any defects on the card, exchange will be limited to the time of your departure.

For every ¥3,000 yen spent, you will receive a lottery application form for a random mini-sized stand panel! If you receive this application, you will need to drop it off in the application box within the café. The lottery will be drawn once the collaboration ends.

[arsenal-womens-1]

I see you in my reflection part 2

Tw: guns school shooting death blood self harm description of death murder panic attack if there’s any I’ve missed sorry

“The bravest thing I ever did was continue my life when I wanted to die.” — Juliette Lewis

“If you love someone, you say it. You say it right then, out loud. Otherwise, the moment just passes you by.” — Mark Sloan

Six hours later, you are on your way back to Leah's. It was just going to be Beth, Viv, you, and Leah having dinner tonight after you’re planning on watching a movie called *The Fallout*. You have no clue what it’s about, but it’s apparently meant to be good. It’s cold outside, not too cold, but still cold. The car comes to a stop. Finally, you get out of the car and run to the door. Leah walks up the stairs as slowly as possible, finally opening the door. You run in, running straight to the kitchen. Leah had agreed to let you help with dinner. It’s called marry me chicken. It takes about 45 minutes to cook.

“Right, get all the ingredients out, and we can start cooking,” Leah says, pulling out all the ingredients: 30 g of plain flour, 4 chicken breasts, 125 g sundried tomatoes in oil (drained and roughly chopped), 3 tbsp oil (reserved), 1 red onion (finely chopped), 3 garlic cloves (crushed or finely grated), ½ - 1 tsp chili flakes (to taste), 2-3 thyme or oregano sprigs (leaves picked), or 1 tsp mixed dried herbs, 150 ml of double cream, 250 ml of chicken stock, 35 g parmesan (grated), 8-10 basil leaves (torn), and lemon wedges.

Halfway through making it, there is a knock at the door before Leah can say anything. You run to the door. Beth and Viv are just standing there. “Come in,” you say, taking off their shoes and coats. You all walk back into the kitchen where Leah is still doing stuff for the food. “How was media day?” You just shrug your shoulders at that.

“Boring, mainly they all ask the same question, just in a different way,” you reply. Beth and Vivian just shake their heads. You have said multiple times that you don’t like media days. This is only the second one you’ve done, but you still have the same opinion: “Yeah, they do that a lot apart from a few, and since you couldn’t do any work today, you need to do a bit more tomorrow.” The only downside of living with Beth and Vivian is that they make you do schoolwork. It’s the most boring thing.“What if I don’t do any more schoolwork?” you ask.

Viv loses it at your shoes, saying that no matter what you are doing, the work is still there.

You just accept your fate. “Can someone call my phone? I’ve lost it. It’s aging.” Leah holds your phone up and says, “Thank you.” Opening your phone, there is a text from your dad.

Dad:

“Hey kid, I know we haven’t spoken in a bit, but I thought I would text you and see how you are doing. Also, Max and Missy want to know if you are going to be home this summer for their birthday.”

You:

“Hey Dad, I’m doing good. I don’t think I’m going to be able to make it home this summer, but tell Max and Missy that I miss them and I wish I could be there, but I can’t. I’ll send them presents.”

Dad:

“It’s okay, kid. You don’t have to apologize. I know why you don’t want to come back, but they wanted to know if you were able to come. It’s good to hear that you’re doing well. I have to go. The twins need to be dropped off at your grandma’s house.”

You:

“I’ll text you later. I love you too.”

“Who are you texting?” Leah asks as she finishes cooking.

“My dad was asking if I was going home this summer.” In the time the team had, knowing you’ve only ever said that you lived in America, you dodged any other questions, so at one point they all just left it, seeing that you didn’t want to talk about it before you got there. “Are you going home this summer?” they asked.

“No, I think I’m just going to go to another country,” you told them.

They all nodded. “What country are you thinking of going to?”

You had thought about this a lot. “I was thinking Norway, Sweden, Spain, or the Netherlands. I’ve always wanted to go to those countries.” When you said “Netherlands,” Viv smiled a bit for the next 45 minutes. You all talked for 20 minutes before the food was done. It was time for the movie.

The movie starts with a girl sitting on the toilet. Three minutes later, she walks to the bathroom. Viv and Beth are sitting next to each other, and Leah is in the middle. On the end, exactly seven minutes in, it sounds like a door banging and screaming more. It feels like your heart is about to pound out of your chest. A lump in your throat starts to form.

Blood everywhere, screaming, bullets.

“I can’t breathe.” The second you say that, all three of them are beside you. Vivian lifts you up and places you in her lap. “Copy my breathing pattern.”

“Y/N, I’m scared.” The door slams open.

“They didn’t do anything wrong; it should have been me.” Your breathing isn’t slowing down. “They didn’t deserve it; we were just kids.” Beth is now standing behind you, kind of trapping you like a burrito. “Copy my breathing, kid.” You try your best to copy her breathing, eventually doing so.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Your head is still on Vivian’s chest.

“I’m a twin… was a twin. The shock on their faces was something. We were identical. Lucy was 1 minute and 25 seconds older than me. She always would use that or say it was the best time of her life.” Tears were falling down your face. The girls said nothing, so you continued. “When we were 4, we moved from California to New York. Our next-door neighbors had a girl our age. Her name was Lily. She had green eyes, brown hair, and was a little bit taller than us. We became inseparable. We were in the same class. It was grade 6; we were in 4th period English with Miss Cooper. We sat at the back of her class.”

“Today we are learning about Romeo and Juliet.” Lily is to the left of you, and Lucy is to the right. “Lily, give me a pencil; I’ve forgotten mine again.”

“We were 12 minutes into the class when the first shouts could be heard two doors down from us. The screams for help were horrifying. We did everything they said to do. He was down with that class fast. He moved to the one next to us. There was a door connecting both classrooms together. We didn’t barricade it.”

The sound of the door crashing open startles everyone. Before anyone can do anything, he’s shooting randomly all over, and in 2 minutes, he’s gone.

“Lily was on the ground. She was in a pool of blood. He shot her 6 times; 2 of them hit her left lung. I tried to stop the bleeding, but it was no use. Her lungs were filling up with blood. Her beautiful face was covered in blood. She was scared. I could tell because of the way her eyes looked. She would get that look when she was scared. Lucy laid her head on my shoulder. She had been shot once, between her chest and shoulder. I remember Lily’s eyes starting to shut. I remember saying, ‘Come on, Lily, keep your eyes open for me. Keep them open.’ I remember her last words so clearly: ‘Y/N, it’s okay. It’s okay. Go be a superstar, win all the trophies. Don’t give up on your dream.’ There was another round of shots. The color in her eyes was gone. She was gone.”

“No, no, no, Lily, don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.” Armed police rush through the door. “Everyone show hands.”

“I don’t really remember much about how I got from the classroom to the ambulance. I remember the paramedic saying that I had been shot 3 times. I didn’t even know that I had been shot. I was in shock. I remember the sirens. I remember them asking questions, getting wheeled into the ER. I was next to Lucy. I remember her heart monitor. I didn’t know what it meant except that she was alive. Within 2 minutes of being there, she flatlined. They tried to get her back, but they couldn’t. 14:25 was her time of death. A piece of the bullet had made its way to her heart. They were dead, and I wasn’t. After that, I turned to self-harm and other things. I wanted to be with them. It wasn’t until about 2 months after it all that it sank in that I had lost my twin sister and my first love in the same day

[smoooothoperator]

Drunkenness Scale

Normally she doesn't drink. Her fridge doesn't have beer or other type of alcohol, neither the drinks cabinet that is on her livingroom, that is supposed to have alcohol on it but instead she has snacks and chocolates. When she eats a good piece of beef she prefers another thing instead of a red wine. And on special events she only takes a sip of champagne and then leaves the glass on the table.

But when party time comes she is the first one to go to the bar and order shots and drinks. She knows every components of the cocktails her friends like. And her friends know every stage of her drunkenness scale.

"Well, well, well" Max smirked walking inside the crowded club, heading directly to the VIP zone. "Today will be the day we meet a new stage?"

"Seriously? Are you really going to continue with that?" she frowned, rolling her eyes.

"You are our Amy Santiago" Lando laughed wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "And we were so close to meet the sixth stage last month"

She looked at them and groan, but she smirked after that. She knows she can trust them, they have been best friends since they were little and both boys would kill if something happened to her.

"Okay, okay" she laughed. "Let's get started!"

Stage 1: too normal yet

The first shots of tequila came to the table. Lando looked at her amd them at Max, moving his eyebrows up and down. The three of them drank the liquid all at once, groaning when the alcohol went down their throats.

"I hate tequila" she groaned, taking a bite of the lemon, eating it.

"Well, it doesn't seem like that" Lando teased her, leaning on the back of the seat, looking at her, waiting for a reaction.

"Come on, guys" she groaned looking at them. "I'm okay! That theory you two have is stupid!"

"The two of us? Oh no" Max laughed. "Pierre, Charles, Carlos and Alex are part of this study too"

"I can't believe it" she sighed.

She was feeling the effects of the alochol, but had enough strength to hide them. So she just talked with her friends, smiling, even making small jokes and enjoying when she heard her best friends laughs.

But then it was Max the one that ordered another round of shots. This one was vodka with mango and other things.

Stage 2: time to tell facts that came from nowhere

She drank the small glass slowly, humming at the sweet flavour of the shot.

"I like this one" she smiled looking at Max.

They were talking with some other people of the group that was on the boat Lando rented joined, while she just sat in silence, looking at them.

"Did you know..." she started, getting the attention of her best friends that had a smile on their lips. "... that The King of Hearts is the only king without a mustache?"

They looked at her and laugh, giggling. She smiled softly, innocent, and looked at them. She loves when she makes them laugh

"I didn't notice!" Max laughed grabbing his phone and searching it. "It's true!"

"This shot has mango?" she asked tasting the drink. "Oh! Did you know that they can get sunburned?" she said gasping.

"Really?" Lando frowned.

"Oh yeah" she chuckled. "And flamingos turn pink because they eat shrimp" she smiled proud.

"Sometime I think that George and her could make a competition about who tell more facts" Lando joked, making her smile wide.

"Oh, oh! And you know the the only thing you can lick on the mirror is your tongue?" she said laughing.

Stage 3: suddenly, she can speak other languages!

"Hola, puedes ponermos otra ronda de shots?" she asked on a perfect spanish, the only thing that betrays her is the English accent.

"Spanish? Really?" Max frowned.

"Yeah, why not" she shrugged her shoulders, looking at the waitress that came back with other type of shots. "Estamos en España! Hay que hablar en español"

"I don't understand a shit about what you said" Max frowned looking at Lando.

"Something about Spain and Spanish" he frowned too. "Last time it was Italian... Are you sure you don't search on Google basic things to say on every country?"

"No! Of course not!" She giggled already a little tipsy.

She does study a little of languages, but she listen to people talk, so her own brain works fast when she's drunk and remember things she heard hours before.

Alcohol can do magic.

Stage 4: dance. All she wants to do is dance and jump and scream. Like if she had too much sugar (in fact, she did)

"Let's go to the dance floor!" She exclaimed, leaving the shot glass on the table and jumping up, standing on her heels and holding her friends' hands.

Lando and Max looked at her, giggling. The three of them were already a little tipsy, but the two men were making sure they were not drunken enough to control their friend and take care of her.

"Oh god, I love this song" she exclaimed, jumping and singing the lyric of Despechá by Rosalía. "Come on guys!"

Lando chuckled and danced with her, small steps and making sure she wouldn't go too far from them. In this state she uses to be too much social and go dance with strangers.

"Oh! Guys I think I saw someone I know!" she exclaimed and started jumping trying to reach that person, that unfortunately she definitely doesn't know.

"No, no, no!" Max exclaimed holding her hips and stopping her, making her giggle and continue dancing, swinging her hips and looking at her friend with a big smile, giggling.

Stage 5: depressed. Not the depressed that thinks her life is shit but the depressed that is too much dramatic.

After she drank the shot glass that had again a fruity drink, she let a long sigh escape from her lips, making her friends look at her.

"You know... Sometimes when you go to races I cry" she sighed looking at Lando, making him frown.

"Why?" he frowned, biting his lip and trying to not laugh,knowing that this might be one of those moments of drama queen.

"Because your work is drive a car that goes 300 km/h! And there's a tiny chance of you dying!" she exclaimed, raising her arms and making dramatized mevements. "And I will never have the chance of saying goodbye to you because you are always away "

"Ah, come on" Lando chuckled softly, hugging her and rubbing her back. "In case something like that happens..."

"No! It can't happen!" she exclaimed holding him by the shoulders, shaking too much to make someone throw up. "It will never happen! You hear me? Because if you did I'll kill you!"

"Okay, okay" he laughed hugging her, looking how Max was trying to not laugh loud.

Stage 6: the new stage. Too soft to be her.

When she swallowed the last drop of alcohol she placed the glass back onto he table, taking a deep breath and smiled. She feels light, like if her body was a feather and she was floating around her friends.

"Well?" Max smirked.

"I'm feeling really good" she smiled softly, leaning on him.

"Oh?" he frowned confused.

She smiled looking at Lando. He's handsome. All her friends are handsome. How can she be so lucky to be surrounded by handsome guys? Some girls might say she's lucky, and in fact she feels lucky; other would ask how is not possible that she dates one of them.

"You are so handsome" she smiled cupping Lando's cheeks and squeezing them. "I'm so lucky to have such a handsome best friend!"

Lando and Max looked at each other, Max grabbing his phone and documenting how the new stage is.

"Since when do you have such a beautiful face?" she gasped turning around and looking at Max, rubbing his beard and smiling. "And so cute! Look at those curls! And that nose!" she exclaimed tooching the tip of his nose. "Boop!"

Lando and Max were shocked. She never showed so much affection or gave her friends compliments.

"I need to record this" Lando laughed, grabbing his phone and recording how she was hugging Max and pocking his cheek, while his friend was calling for help with his eyes.

"Yeah, definitely no more drinks for you" Max sighed hugging her back.

"Look at this curls! Oh god so cute!" she giggled playing with their hair.

[gratelove]

You Know You Can’t Resist Me

Tangerine x Reader

Warnings: 18+, p in v, cursing, rough, fighting, blood

You’re set on a mission to retrieve a briefcase for your boss. Little do you know someone else is sent to do the same thing. Someone you have way too much history with. Someone that you know you can’t resist.

You push through the crowded train car, trying to find the package you were sent to retrieve. You were hired by an anonymous billionaire to take out the White Death’s son and bring back a briefcase. You were an assassin and thief for hire, so you never asked many questions. You did the jobs and got paid big. That’s all you ever cared about. The train was way more populated than you had expected, but thankfully you knew what the White Death’s son looked like. Everyone in this business does. The White Death is the most well known criminal there is.

You make it to the next train car, continuing to look through a sea of heads, hoping to spot him. You then see a guy sitting by himself in a booth with large, pink, bug eye glasses on. He is wearing a furry blue coat and looks to be asleep. The glasses are starting to fall off of his face and you see a recognizable tattoo on his right temple.

“Bingo,” you say to yourself and walk over, taking a seat in the spot next to him. You look around to make sure no one is watching. You pull out your dagger and put it to his neck. “Hey, wake up asshole.” The guy makes no movement. “Hey,” you push on his shoulder. The glasses fall off his face to reveal blood pouring down his cheeks from his eyes. “Oh, fuck. Who got to you first?” You ask yourself out loud and put the glasses back on his face. You stand and open the cabin head doors, hoping to find the case in there.

“Looking for this?” You hear a British, male voice behind you. You spin around and whip your dagger to the mysterious man’s neck. Your eyes widen in surprise. “I thought it was you, sweetheart. Almost didn’t recognize you with clothes on.” A smile appears behind that too familiar mustache. You then look to see he has a silver briefcase in his hand.

“Tangerine? What are you doing here? I haven’t seen you since Spain.” You and Tangerine go way back. You’ve done multiple jobs where he just so happens to be after the same thing, but always for different people. You’re never on the same side, always at odds, and somehow you two always end up getting a little too friendly, but not this time. This time your on one missions and one mission only. You won’t let him distract you from that.

“Well, it looks like the same thing as you, love.”

“Seems like it. You still with Lemon?”

“Yeah I am. Actually, he’s in the next train car.” He nods his head in the direction of Lemon.

“Oh good, you can give me the briefcase and then go finish sucking each other’s cocks like you do. Don’t forget to tell him I said hi.” You smile at him, reaching for the item. He pulls it away slightly.

“Not gonna happen.”

“You forget I’m the one with a knife to your neck.” You remind him as you motion your eyes toward the dagger at his throat.

“You forget that we’re in a train car full of people.” Tangerine quickly reminds you.

“Well, I’m not leaving without the briefcase.”

“It looks like you are.” You quickly put your dagger in its sheath on your hip. You squint your eyes in concentration, thinking about your next move. “So, what’s it gonna be, doll?” You smirk and put your hands on his shoulders. You lean in close to his face. “We’re getting to it already, huh? I thought there’d be a little more foreplay.” You let out a small laugh at Tangerine’s words as you lean even closer. You both start tilting your heads in opposite directions, as if to kiss, and as you see his eyes flutter closed you lift your knee right into his groin, using the hands on his shoulders to push him into it. Tangerine groans in pain, falling to his knees on the train floor. You chuckle and grab the briefcase from his hand.

“Is that good enough foreplay for you, sweetheart?” You mock his nickname for you and the look on his face lets you know he is fuming. “Thanks for this by the way.” You pat the case and spin around, jogging through the aisle to reach the next car.

You know he won’t be far behind you and the next car you enter is an empty bar. You turn and look through the small window to see Tangerine is already up and heading your way. You think quickly at where to hide the case. Your eyes dart between cabinets and you decide on one right under the bar top. You slide it behind several alcohol bottles. You grab a bottle of vodka and then swiftly close the door, and just in time for Tangerine to enter the room.

“There you are. What took you so long? You need a drink, baby?” You pout your lip out at him as you pour the clear alcohol into a shot glass and hand it to him. He slaps it out of your hand and it spills on the carpet floor.

“Where is it?” His eyes burns holes through you. He is infuriated, and you find it incredibly hot.

“It’d be no fun if I just told you,” you say and take a shot. The alcohol burns as it runs down your throat and you throw the shot glass to the ground. Tangerine reaches over the bar and puts his hand around your throat, pulling your face close to his.

“Y/N, where is it? I’m not fucking around.” His grip gets tighter around your neck.

“Neither am I.” You rear your head back, and smack it right into his nose. His grip loosens and he stumbles back. He looks up at you and reaches his hand to his face. His gaze turns to his hand and he rubs the red liquid from his nose between his index finger and thumb. Tangerine laughs and wipes the back of his hand across his face, removing the small amount of blood coming from his nose. He suddenly pulls the gun from his waist and points it directly at your forehead. “There he is. I thought you went soft on me, baby.”

“Let’s dance, sweetheart.” The minute those words fall from his mouth you grab the gun and twist his wrist. You leap over the bar and your foot meet his chest. He falls back, but quickly recovers, lunging at you. He takes a swing that you barely dodge. Then another comes that you’re not prepared for. It connects with your mouth and you feel an instant sting to your bottom lip. You have the familiar taste of copper in your mouth and spit. Blood lands on the floor and your head whips toward him. “You done yet, love?” Tangerine asks. He is sweating and his curly brown hair is sticking to his forehead.

“We’re just getting started.” You lunge at him pulling out your dagger. You slice toward him cutting his shirt and exposing his chest. He grabs your arm and puts it against the bar top, hitting your hand against the edge so you’re forced to drop your dagger. He then pushes you until your back hits the train car wall. He has you pinned with his legs pressing against yours and your wrists held tight. You’re both breathing heavy and you feel his warm breath hitting your cheeks. You are flushed and wet from sweat. Tangerine makes eye contact and holds your stare. He leans in so close that your lips are almost touching.

“I love you in this position,” he whispers against your mouth. You try hard to not get hot and bothered by his words. He’s so close and you can’t help but feel the need to kiss him. You smash your lips against his in a rough and hungry kiss. He pushes his tongue into your mouth and you moan. His grip around your wrists loosen and he moves his hands up your arms, down your breasts, and finally stops at the bottom of your skirt. You feel his hands start to run up your thighs and you get the instinct to push him off. You shove his shoulders and he looks at you with confusion.

“No, not this time. This always happens, but not this time, baby. I’m here for one thing only,” you say to him, and really try to stick to the promise you made yourself when you realized he was here. He starts to laugh at your words.

“Come on, sweetheart. You know you want me.” He pushes you up against the wall by your shoulders, and once again has you pinned. You try to push your hands against his chest and it’s a short battle before he has your hands pinned above your head. “Stop resisting. You know you can’t resist me. Just like I know I can’t resist you.” Just his words make you wet and you hate yourself for that. You know he’s right. This happens every time you meet him at a job. You wish you could control yourself, but when he’s around, all you can think about is him fucking you. “Are you gonna be a good girl for me now?” He takes both your wrists in one hand as his other hands finds its way back to your thighs.

“I’m never a good girl,” you say to him and he smirks are your words. His smirk alone makes you drip.

“I know, sweetheart. That’s my favorite thing about you.” He breathes as he runs his fingers over your clit through your panties. You shutter at the feeling and a distant sensation tingles through your thighs. He pulls your underwear to the side and runs his index finger between your folds. “You’re already so wet for me. I knew you wanted me,” he breathes. He finds your entrance and slowly pushes two fingers inside you. You gasp and spread your legs open so he has better access. He starts by slowly pumping his fingers in and out of you. You throw your head back against the wall and your eyes flutter shut. He picks up the pace and you feel your legs start to get shaky. The sensation suddenly stops and you’re lifted up off the ground. He’s carrying you over to a booth. He sets you down on the edge and gets on his knees. He pushes your legs open by your knees and rips your panties down your legs. “Oh my god,” he whispers and you look at him staring between your legs in awe. He licks his lips and wraps his arms under your thighs, getting a tight grip on your body. He lowers his face in between your legs and you feel his warm tongue run down your center. You shiver at the feeling. His tongue starts to move faster up and down you. He does this several times before stopping at your clit. He pushes two fingers, roughly back into you and takes your clit between his teeth. You moan loudly as his tongue swirls around your sweet spot. Chills rush up and down your body. You can’t help but squirm as the sensation intensifies.

“Oh my fucking god,” you scream and grab handfuls of his curls. You tug on his hair and his grip tightens around your thighs in attempt to hold you still. “Tan, I’m gonna cum. Oh my fucking god, I’m gonna cum.” You throw your head against the seat as your eyes roll back in pleasure. You feel a wave of release wash over you. Tangerine laps up your juice. He lifts his head, flicking his hair back from his face.

“God, you are so fucking sexy, sweetheart.” He wipes his mouth. You lift yourself up and reach for the zipper of his pants and waist no time pulling them down. You see him bulging through his boxers, and are eager to feel him inside you. You pull those down swiftly and he grabs your wrists, pulling you up. He hoists you up onto one of the tables. His large hands wrap around your hips and he lines himself up with your entrance. You feel him slowly enter you and you can’t hold back the moan that comes out as he stretches you. You wince a little as he fully enters you. “You okay, love?” He stops moving. You bite your bottom lip.

“Mmhm,” you nod. He grabs your face, crashing his lips into yours. You being to move in sync and he slowly pulls out of you, and then shoves back in. You gasp mid kiss and Tangerine rests his forehead against your. You can feel his wet hair against your just as wet forehead. He repeats the motion again, making you moan louder. You throw your arms around his neck. He picks up pace and starts pumping into you. Your nails dig into his back and he goes deeper and harder with every thrust.

“You feel so tight.” He groans and grips your waist again, squeezing hard. Those words make you even more hungry for him, if that’s even possible. You wrap your legs tightly around his waist as he pounds into you. Your moans soon become screams of pleasure. Your whole body is numb with sensation and you dig your nails deeper into his skin. “God, you’re gonna make me cum.” He groans into your neck and starts to suck on your sensitive skin. You bite his shoulder to try to suppress the overwhelming sensation. This makes him let out a loud moan. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He warns and his pumps pick up pace.

“Fuck baby, I’m gonna cum too.” You moan in his ear. His head is thrown back with one final thrust and he suddenly pulls out. He cums onto your bare thighs and groans, his upper half falling limp on top of you. You both are a mess of heavy breathing and sweat for a pause. Tangerine then lifts himself up, placing an arm on either side of you.

“That was fucking amazing,” he says and you giggle.

“Yes it fucking was.” He leans in and gives you a long kiss.

“God, I needed this.” You lean in and give him another kiss in the lips. You don’t know the next time you will see him after this, so you take in what you can.

“You know, once I catch my breath I’m gonna kick your ass. That briefcase is still mine.” You smirk at him. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and smiles at you.

“We’ll see about that.”

[its-time-to-write]

please don’t be - ch. 5

I’m so terribly sorry that this so late. I wasn’t entirely sure how I wanted to end this, and I almost added another chapter, but here it is!! Thanks for your patience and for 1k 🩵🩵 (ps you should listen to nothing to be scared of by Kacey Musgraves)

table of contents our town

You’re staring at him again. Jamie hates it, but also he doesn’t care because he gets to gaze into your beautiful eyes once more.

“Hm,” you say, because you can’t come up with something better. Instead, you let him be uncomfortable. You spent a long time making space for him, so in this, he can wait.

“I should have left you,” you say eventually.

“I know,” Jamie replies ruefully. “Remember you fuckin’ told me?”

You nod. “I do. And then I told you that I never leave. I always stay till the last second, and it’s the worst thing about me. And you said-” You pause. There’s no point in bringing up the past.

“I said some stupid shit about my mum,” Jamie fills in.

You nod. “Yeah, it was stupid. I know you said it just to get me to stay.”

“Didn’t,” Jamie interjects. You give him a look. “Alright, shit, maybe I did. But I wanted you to stay. I loved you, I was just too fucking scared to say it.”

“I gave you SO many opportunities to tell me,” you reply. “And you didn’t take any of them, you just left me behind. I knew you were going to so it’s fine, but you can’t just come back into my life and fuck things up again. I’m really not in the mood for it.”

You’re lying straight to his face, and you wonder if he knows. You hope he doesn’t. All you need is to wait just long enough for Jude to come back and then Jamie can go away and you don’t have to let him back in. Not that you have to. But you want to.

You understand that the moment he lets you have an inch, you’ll take a mile. You’ll write your whole future together based on a passing comment or an arm around your waist.

But Jamie knows you’re lying. You see it flicker in his eyes for half a second too long, and you know you’re screwed.

You take a step back. Jude isn’t coming back.

“I’m going,” you say. “I’m going, so don’t follow me. I can’t take you back. We won’t work.”

And Jamie- Jamie sees it.

You were always the visionary, weren’t you? The one who designed the future as though it were as easy as scribbling on a piece of paper. The one who saw the worst but believed in the best, and Jamie never quite believed you the one time you told him it could work forever, if he wanted.

He believes it now, though.

It’s too late as you slip past him and back inside, presumably to find Julia and keep her from committing murder; or maybe you’ll let her have free reign and Jamie is a dead man in about fifteen minutes.

It drives him mad, the future, and he wonders how it didn’t drive you mad as well.

—

France, Spain, Italy. They blend together in a haze of sunshine and lemon, as you, Nicola, and Julia travel the summer away. 

You refuse to think of Jamie, wherever he may be, but as July becomes August, you wonder what his mum is doing.

You’re on a first class flight back to London scrolling through Instagram, and you find yourself looking at her account. 

It’s private, but she followed you first a million years ago and you realize neither of you ever unfollowed the other. 

So you’re able to see how she’s filling her days.

She doesn’t always post Jamie’s face, but you see a familiar sleeve, or a Jamie-shaped shadow. You scroll back far enough to find a post from his twenty-seventh birthday which is a mistake because it’s a photo of Jamie blowing out candles with your arms wrapped around him.

You remember that moment, you were laughing and singing with his family while lying to yourself about how serious everything was.

But there’s no time to go down THAT rabbit trail so you close your phone and try to sleep through the rest of the flight.

—

Jamie is in hell. Training started a week ago, and it’s a shit show. It doesn’t help that he was never like this when you were with him. The first match of the season is coming up and he needs to get it the fuck together. There’s no way he’s getting in the starting lineup like this, not with the way he keeps glancing to the stands like you’ll be there.

He can’t help but think of you all the time, wherever you may be, and he tricks himself into seeing your face in every crowd.

He debates calling you (he never could delete your number), but he’s pretty sure he’s blocked so he doesn’t.

—

Jamie’s right, he doesn’t get started, but he has a good run in the second half. City win, obviously, but instead of going out with the lads Jamie gives them the slip and heads home.

Except he doesn’t exactly head straight home, he just sort of wanders around Manchester until he ends up in his favorite chicken shop.

He has exactly one day off of training so he figures one cheat meal won’t fuck him up more than he already is. It’s late, and he shouldn’t be eating at this hour, but he cannot give less of a fuck. He orders and goes to sit in the corner booth, only to find it occupied.

He thinks it’s you, for a moment, but you’re not in Manchester. He doesn’t know where you are, but that he knows for certain.

He’s wrong.

You’re looking up at him with a half-eaten plate of chips in front of you, and Jamie remembers every time you’ve looked at him like that.

“You have puppy eyes,” he said.

You scrunched your nose. “I know they’re puffy,” you said. “I was just crying in the car.”

“No, puppy eyes. I’d never say your eyes were fucking puffy, unless you were like, fucking dying or something.”

You had blushed and looked away, and Jamie knew he shouldn’t have said it. Knew he was getting in over his head.

Those eyes look more tired than he’s ever seen them, but you say, “Need a seat?” as you gesture to the place across from you.

Jamie slides in before he can think better of it. “Bit crowded in here,” he says, and you glance around to the empty tables.

“Wouldn’t have offered to share if it weren’t so hard to find a table,” you say.

He smiles, and you want to make him smile like that all the time.

“Watched the match,” you tell him. “You were great.”

Jamie rolls his eyes. “I were shit, and you know it. Don’t know what the fuck was happening.”

“You weren’t shit. You always say that, and you’re never right.”

You’re not sure exactly what’s coming over you right now. You’re detached from your body, watching this scene unfold from above.

Jamie shakes his head. “Why do you always say shit like that? Why the fuck did you stay for so long? You knew-” He’s unable to finish, captivated by the pools of tears collecting in your eyes. He knows you’d rather die than let them fall, and he wishes he weren’t the cause.

“You still have the most beautiful eyes in the whole fuckin’ world,” he says softly.

You glare at him. “Fuck you for that,” you say. “And I stayed because I wanted to. And because I thought you’d change. You changed everything else for me, and then didn’t ask me to come with you. You just assumed that I wouldn’t want every part of you, remember? You didn’t listen when I told you how much I’d give up for you. And sure, it’s not very feminist of me, but I- I loved you. I’d do anything for the people I love. But you never fucking asked.”

You sigh. This conversation is a lot angrier than you wanted. You’re not angry. At least, not with Jamie. With yourself, sure. You take a bite of a chip to stave off the tears.

Jamie’s still processing. “You would’ve stayed longer?” he asks slowly.

You almost choke. “Yes, you absolute fucking idiot! I told you that! Your mum fucking told you, for Christ’s sake! Everyone fucking knew how much I loved you, and I knew you didn’t feel the same which is why I didn’t fight you when you left! I figured it was time for me to move on as well, so I did my absolute fucking best. But yeah, Jamie, I love you. Every part, too. Not just the things you think make you lovable.” You stand up. “I’m leaving. Goodbye, Jamie.”

As you brush past him, he catches your wrist. You look down at him with as much disdain as you can muster (it’s not a lot).

“Stay,” he whispers.

And you’re at a crossroads.

—

Three years later…

“Can’t believe we’re going back,” you groan as you tape a box.

“Coach asked,” Jamie calls from another room. “And you better not be lifting anything.”

“I’m not,” you shoot back as he enters the room. “That’s what you’re for. And anyway, the movers will be here in half an hour, so there won’t be much for me to do anyway.”

Jamie wraps his arms around your waist so he can pull you close and study your eyes. “You sure you’re alright going back to Richmond?”

You shrug as best you can. “I’m living the dream, babe. Not worried about it.”

And Jamie believes you.

He can’t believe much else, that’s for sure, not that you took him back. 

“One last chance, Jamie Tartt,” you had warned. “Fuck it up and I’m gone before you can blink.”

So he didn’t. Sure, no one’s perfect, but he’s trying. You both are. You’ve made it this far. Who’s to say it’ll crash and burn? 

Besides, he’s got a rock burning a hole in his pocket that says otherwise.

table of contents

[otrtbs]

i need more historian nat: what's your favourite artwork in ahb and what's the lore behind it 🤭

OOOOOOOOH THIS IS SOOOO HARD. SO HARD.

Because almost all of the works in Art Heist, Baby! are chosen because I've seen them in person, or because I yearn to see them in person with a longing so intensely that it eats me up.

Okay, I think I'm going to have to go with Allegory of Charity by Francisco de Zurbarán (1655). (See is currently housed at the Prado museum in Madrid but she's not on display for the public to see).

I mean look at her, she's gorgeous!!

I think the flaming heart is pretty famous in its own right (often cropped without the complete image) and I am slut for catholic imagery (as a girl who went to catholic school for a bit and grew up catholic). So, let's discuss!! 😋

Zurbarán was a Spanish Baroque painter mainly known for his religious oil paintings (s/o to his still life with lemon, oranges and a rose though. that painting goes hard). He was a part of the Catholic counter-reformation in which a resurgence of catholic religious art, symbolism, imagery, and even institutions (such as seminaries and churches) that popped up in response to growing protestant support. Zurbarán was often commissioned to paint for monasteries and the king of Spain, is known to be "the Spanish Caravaggio" for his use of similar harsh lighting styles and painting techniques (chiaroscuro and tenebrism).

Zurbarán's works are often highly stylized and Allegory of Charity is no different. She is very posed and poised and looks out at the audience, directly (even the dramatic folds in her clothing aren't probable, but are done for visual effect, and not life-immitating accuracy). The central figure in the work is Charity personified, and she holds in her hand the flaming sacred heart of Jesus. The dove above, that is bursting into flames, represents the holy spirit.

-> Personal non-art historian nat input here -- there is just something about the way she looks out at the viewer. charity, with her compassion, or pity, making direct eye-contact with you. like, i would kill to see it in person...

Charity is seen clothed in red (the color of love and fittingly charity and green (the color of life and abundance).

Anyway, I think it's mentioned very briefly, in passing in AHB! but I made her viewable to the public (and to Regulus and James) because the Prado Museum in Madrid is gatekeeping her from the public!!!! I love this painting so much, so much. It's hard to describe, but she feels like an old friend. Like we'd be kindred spirits or something. And,,, I want to see her.

Okay thank you for listening to my little rant <3

[hetalia-club]

Fuck It Who Cares Here's What Fruit I Think The Hetalia Boys Would Taste Like If You Bit Them...

(No one asked for this but here you go)

America- Oranges

England- Figs

France- Apricots

Canada- Black Raspberries (not the nasty red ones from the store)

China- Cherries

Russia- Blueberries

Italy- Peaches

Romano- Lemons (Self defense)

Japan- Watermelon

Germany- Pear

Prussia- Mulberries

Austria- Plums

Spain- Green Grapes Sweden- Cranberries Norway- Cantaloupe Finland- Pluot Iceland- Strawberries Denmark- Bananas

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

Mariposa - A Pedrotober Drabble

Day Thirteen of Pedrotober: Javi G Pedrotober Hosted by @norththelemon and @alyssamariag. View the full prompt list HERE and view my entire Pedrotober drabble catalog HERE.

Pairing: Javi G x f!reader

Rating: This one's soft and SUPER angsty but is also rated E for some mature themes. Brief mentions of the softest of intimacy (oral and p in v sex occur) near the end but it's not exceptionally explicit.

Word Count: 4014 (idk if this can truly be classified as a drabble anymore, but here we are anyway!)

a/n: This is a VERY special day. There's a full list of notes about how this incredible collaboration came to be at the end, but I would be remiss if I didn't START by mentioning the unbelievable work created by @imdrinkingpedro and @alyssamariag. Before you read, please start by putting on THIS PLAYLIST by @alyssamariag and check out the stunning Book Cover she's created HERE. Then make yourself a drink with THIS RECIPE by @imdrinkingpedro and settle in to read THIS DRABBLE that inspired everything you're about to read here. Or you can save it for the end. The work below is actually a prequel to the world they so beautifully created. I want to note that I could not have done this without their love, assurance, and dedication to bringing this story to life. Plus the one brain cell that we seemingly share. This is their story as much as it is mine and I'm just thankful they trusted me with a part of it.

You always loved the feeling of the dirt beneath your fingertips.

It was one of your earliest memories, the way your small hands were enclosed in your grandmother's gentle embrace as she taught you how to help things grow. You could still smell the sweet scent of lemon and picture the blanket of colorful blooms that flourished outside the little home she owned in Mallorca, and as the golden sun beats down on your bare shoulders, you can hear the whisper of her lessons in the air.

A sigh of relief escapes you when your feet hit the dock. The Mediterranean is just as you remember it, reflecting brilliant hues of blue that you admire as you begin the walk to the estate on the hill. It's impossible for it to feel like anything but home as a wealth of memories flood your senses, and you will the salty air to calm your racing heart.

Your parents had been the ones to suggest that you return to Spain. On one hand, traveling halfway across the world to prepare your grandmother's home for sale, a long overdue task after her passing nearly three years prior, felt like an opportunity straight out of Mamma Mia! On the other hand, it also meant putting your life on hold for the entire summer. Not that there was much to put on hold.

The gravel path that leads to the only home your grandmother ever knew crunches beneath you as you adjust the duffle on your shoulder. The two lemon trees out front are larger now than you remember them, but are still standing proudly, and it feels a little like she's there when you pluck one from the branches, bringing it to your nose as you inhale its scent.

The rest of the house, however, immediately causes you to frown.

Long gone are the flourishing gardens, replaced instead by a wealth of overgrown beds and half-destroyed planters. Things aren't any better inside, where you cough the moment you open the door. A layer of dust unsettles as you push your way inside, clouding the space in a haze as your hope for an easy summer abroad quickly deflates. Each room is in desperate need of a deep clean, most of them need to be repainted, and you find that the floor in the kitchen is barely there. In another life, you can recall this home brimming with energy. Now, it simply feels empty.

But, as your grandmother said, emptiness can always be filled with love.

Unlike the house, the local market is exactly how you remember it. The distant sound of music is what draws you in like a moth to a flame, leading you to the rows of vendors selling everything from fresh vegetables to art. The noise of livestock mingles with the constant hum of the city, bringing the square to life in the same way it did during your childhood.

You weave from booth to booth, reminiscing about the way your grandmother would hold you by the hand as she introduced you to the people she shared her life with. You recognize some of them, still here selling their wares, but you eventually find yourself gravitating toward a booth, not unlike the one she once ran.

The memory is intensified when you spot the young girl hiding behind her mother's skirt, clutching a stuffed fox in her hand, and it's almost like you can see a younger version of yourself in her eyes. She smiles back at you when you offer her a small wave, and soon you're being led around the small booth as she eagerly explains the meaning of each flower to you.

Her name is Sofia, you learn, and she's about to explain the significance of tulips when you realize that you aren't alone in your crash course on flora.

"Javi!" Sofia yells excitedly, abandoning you as she rushes toward the man you know has been watching you. He's tall. Handsome. Incredibly so, with messy curls and broad shoulders covered by a knit top that perfectly emphasizes his arms. He drops to a knee as Sofia rushes to embrace him in a tight hug, and when your eyes meet his, something shifts.

Like there is only before and after this moment.

"How are you today, Little Duckling?" he asks, rubbing Sofia's back gently when she releases him from her grasp. "Selling lots of flowers?"

"Lots of roses," she groans, her smile morphing into a look of disgust.

It causes you to laugh, and Javi glances up at you, a flame erupting in your chest that you quickly try to dampen. Something unspoken passes between you, and you wonder if he feels it too, but then he focuses again on Sofia. "Roses are pretty gross, aren't they?"

She nods. "I think tulips are better."

"Yeah," he agrees, turning back toward you, but you're already gone. "I think they are, too."

"These are for you," Sofia explains the moment you step into the booth the following week. She's holding a brilliant bouquet of yellow tulips out for you to take, and when you attempt to refuse, she reaches out for your hand, gently wrapping your fingers around the stems until you have no choice but to accept them.

You shake your head regardless. "I didn't buy these, Sofia."

She smiles brightly, eagerly letting you in on the secret she's already tried and failed to keep. "They're from Javi."

Javi, the man who has infiltrated your thoughts for the better part of the last week. The entire week if you're being completely honest, no matter how hard you tried to resist. A quick search had granted you far more information than you perhaps wanted to know. You learn that he grew up in the olive business, that he writes for film, and that he's able to buy you far more flowers than you could ever afford. You know already that there's no way for your life to fit into his, but it does little to dull the ache you feel.

"Are they now?" you ask her, tilting your head as you look to Sofia's mother, Helene, for confirmation. Her response is nothing more than a knowing glance before she returns to another customer.

"Tulips," Sofia begins, standing a bit taller as she begins her lecture, "represent soul mates. He said the yellow reminds him of you. Of his Mariposa."

Your eyes widen. "A butterfly?"

"Specifically a yellow butterfly," comes his accented voice from behind you. You find him in a yellow shirt that hangs loosely over his shoulders, and you wonder if he chose it on purpose. "But yes, a butterfly. Thanks for helping me pick them out, Little Duckling," he finishes, winking at Sofia before she scampers back to assist her mother.

"You didn't have to do this," you tell him the moment you're alone, unsure of what else to say.

"I wanted to." It's a simple statement, one that immediately threatens to counteract any resolve you might have. "Plus, Sofia insisted that I buy the pretty girl some flowers."

The two of you observe as Sofia cunningly convinces another buyer to change from roses to tulips. "I suppose she is rather convincing."

"Can I be convincing, too?" he asks playfully. "Would you care to join me for a walk?"

You almost say no, but what feels like a whisper of the wind convinces you to say otherwise. "Walk me home?"

Javi nods, taking a step in the direction of the hill you climb each day. How he knows where you live, you don't ask, but this is a small town, and you've already learned that most of the community will be rabid with discussion tomorrow about Javi Gutierrez and the newcomer together on the cliffside.

The walk is, at first, spent in silence, although it doesn't feel uncomfortable. It feels nice to have someone beside you, filling the space in a way you haven't felt in a long time. Your reasons for traveling to Spain had been about more than just your grandmother's estate, and you feel a sense of ease by his side.

"She reminds me a bit of myself," you offer as you start the climb. "Sofia, that is."

"How so?"

"I grew up here. That's my grandmother's house," you point to the home you're heading toward. "I spent every summer until I was ten visiting her and I'd join her at the market every week just like Sofia does. I'm just back now to get it ready for sale."

You both stop at the end of the drive, taking in the yard that's still thick with thistles and overgrown herbs. "I would have taken care of it if I'd known," he tells you.

It's an odd statement, one that you aren't quite sure what to make of. "That wasn't your responsibility. Plus, you weren't even here," you continue, exposing the fact that you already know more about him than he likely knows about you.

Javi scuffs his canvas shoes against the earth. "I still would've taken care of it. Carmen was a wonderful woman."

It shouldn't surprise you, really, that he would have come into contact with your grandmother at some point, not in a place as tight-knit as this. Not when you know he's spent his entire life here too, and you wonder if you crossed paths in a different life, too. "You knew her?"

"She used to let me pick the lemons," he notes with a soft smile, stepping toward the two trees covered in yellow fruit at the edge of the yard. He moves forward, closing his eyes as he breathes in their fragrance.

"My grandfather planted them for her as a wedding gift," you explain, joining him. "She said that the scent calmed her nerves."

"It calms mine, too," he says with a sigh. The unspoken seems to be louder than the little he admits, but you don't say anything, letting him process whatever it is that seems to have a grip on his mind. "What happened to your grandfather?" he asks eventually.

You consider the roots at the base of the tree and the way the short truck barely seems to support the weight of the leaves and fruit at the top. "He passed away when they were still young. They only had a couple of years together before he got sick."

"And she never remarried," he replies, more of a statement than a question.

"No. She didn't."

A beat passes, and the two of you stand again in silence, golden light bathing you both. When the moment breaks, when his dark eyes take in your form, you feel the fire ignite again, the blush creeping into your cheeks until he nods toward the garden behind you. "How are things going here?"

You turn, letting out a breath. "I..." you start, and then you hear it again. The reminders she's left behind for you.

You don't have to shoulder everything.

"It's a little overwhelming, to be honest."

"I could help," he offers, nervous energy radiating off him, matching the feeling you have in your bones. Like you're both flying a little too close to the sun and if you aren't careful, you might get burned.

Javi, you quickly learn, is not a gardener. But for what he lacks in domestic skills, he makes up for with his company, quickly charming you as you instruct him on how to take out the dead plants and clear the land to make space for new ones.

In turn, he shows you his home. He takes you to the places you remember from your childhood. He drives you along the cliffs, your hair whipping in the wind, making you feel more carefree than ever. And in the evenings, after you've shared glasses of his homemade limoncello, he lets you fall asleep against his shoulder. He introduces you to the films that made him want to write, even if you can't seem to figure out why he's stopped writing now.

Despite the overwhelming scale of his life, he fits into yours as though he's always been there. You talk about what feels like nothing, even when it also feels like everything. From the way you take your tea to the places you want to go. The foods you couldn't live without and the kinds of things you like to read.

When he learns what you're most afraid of, you're standing near a dock that sits on the far reaches of his compound.

"Come on, Mariposa," he begs in the voice you can already recognize as the one he drops into just before he gets into trouble. It's light, completely unlike the man you expected him to be when you read article after article about the controversy surrounding his business years before. "It's just water."

A shake of your head confirms your denial to follow. "I don't swim, Javi." He raises an eyebrow, moving closer to you before carefully taking your hand in his like he's afraid you might break if he grips too hard. You roll your eyes, but you let him lead you toward the waves, your sandals echoing on the wooden dock. "You're not going to change my mind."

He stops at the edge, turning toward you before letting your hand fall back into place. In one quick motion, he grips the back of his shirt and pulls it over his head, revealing the toned muscles beneath. His shorts are discarded next, leaving him in just his boxers, and you barely catch a glimpse of the grin on his face before he lets himself fall back into the water.

"Javi!" you scream, immediately fearful that he's made a mistake. That he didn't actually mean to fall into the water. You rush to the end of the dock just as he reappears, head bobbing up past the surface as he shakes some of the water from his hair. "Don't ever do that again," you scold, shifting so your legs hang over the side, feet dangling in the waves. Close enough, your mind reminds you, causing you to grip a little tighter on the boards you sit on.

"You've really never swam in the Mediterranean?" he asks, floating closer to you, his arms swinging up onto the dock to hold him out of the water at your side.

"Never," you state.

"Will you?" he questions honestly, growing a bit more serious, "before you leave?"

You hesitate, unsure of what to tell him. Unsure that, at this rate, you'll ever convince yourself to go at all. "Maybe." He seems to accept your answer as he pushes back off the dock. "What are you afraid of, then?" you ask.

He dips down beneath the surface for a moment, causing you to hold your breath until you can see him once more. "I was afraid of my father, once," he explains, arms swaying through the water to keep him afloat. "He was not a kind man. But when he got sick, I think I realized that, really, I was never afraid of him. I was simply afraid to let myself love him."

"Why?" you question, even if the answer already echoes in your mind.

"Because everyone I love leaves."

The summer races by. Javi helps you repaint the house, the two of you spending hours breathing in the fumes and ending up with more color on you than on the walls. He hires someone to fix the floor in the kitchen, even after you protested that the house was your responsibility. He works in the garden at your side, Sofia and her mother joining you as you plant new blooms where old ones once grew.

You're kneeling next to him, both of you covered in dirt, when you realize that he's not patting the soil down firmly enough for the plants to root. You stop him with a laugh, instinctively taking his hands in your own, shifting so your knees are touching. "Like this, gentle," you breathe out, guiding him the same way your grandmother had done for you.

The pads of your fingers burn as they linger on his skin, and neither of you speaks when you pull back, the silence deafening for the first time in weeks until Sofia races to join you.

"Mariposa, I found a butterfly!" she exclaims, holding her hands out to show you the beautiful creature perfectly balanced on her fingertips. "Just like you!"

"It's beautiful," you note, wishing you had your phone with you to take a picture to save for later, for when you were missing this place and these people.

"She is," Javi notes from beside you, and it's only later that you learn that he hadn't been looking at the butterfly at all.

"He's a good man," Helene notes as you watch Javi carry Sofia's sleeping form, the two of you trailing after them on the cliffside. "And he looks at you like you're the sun."

You don't know how to respond, your focus solely on the person you're quickly finding it difficult to live without. You've desperately tried to keep some space between you and Javi throughout your time in Mallorca. To put the breaks on what feels like something quickly speeding out of control. But with each passing day, you find yourself wanting.

Wanting to give in to the thought that maybe you would adjust to the massive scope of his existence. Wanting to stay here, on the island, the way your grandmother had. Wanting to pull him into your bedroom and give in to the desire that now regularly overcomes every muscle in your body. Wanting to know what it would be like to have his lips on yours.

"He's my friend," you lie, to yourself and to the woman beside you.

Helene hums. "Sofia will miss you when the house sells," she says softly, and you know she's talking about more than just her daughter.

"I know."

Someone buys your grandmother's home.

The buyer isn't disclosed, but it puts a definitive end date on your time in Spain. You don't tell Javi, but he seems to know anyway, even if he never brings it up. You notice a difference, though, in the way he's acting. The way he'll stand closer when you're both tending to the garden or the soft hand he keeps on the small of your back when you walk through the market.

None of it changes your mind.

He takes you to the cliffs the day before you're scheduled to leave, silence lingering between you. You let him take your hand in his, let him guide you from his jeep and lead you down a well-trod path to what feels like the end of the earth.

And when you step to the very edge, the water below flickering specks of gold as it crashes against the rocky shore, your shoulders tense. It frightens you. Both the vast expanse of the sea and the emotions swirling inside you, and your eyes fall shut as you breathe deeply.

It's only when he steps behind you, arms gently wrapping around your waist in the way you've longed for them to all summer, that you relax. "Trust me, Mariposa," he whispers against your ear, "open your eyes."

So you do.

Music envelopes you when you step into the safety of his living room, the space bathed in the last of the golden light as the sun sets on your final evening in Spain. You don't speak, you don't think you can when he draws you back into his arms, swaying slowly to the record he's set to play.

"I started writing again." His confession hangs in the air, a silent plea for you to stay, because while he's never told you why he stopped writing, you know exactly why he's started.

"Javi," you return, your voice begging for him to stop, to let this be the end and let it be easy. To let you make a clean break the way you know you have to. But you can't even manage to convince yourself. You only hold him tighter, and you don't stop him when he guides your lips to meet his.

It's gentle, the way he holds you like you're the most precious thing on earth. Surrounded by reminders of his wealth and status, but with a gaze that only sees you. He finds the straps of your sundress, sliding them over your skin until it floats to your feet. You find the buttons of his shirt, delicately undoing them one at a time until you can push the fabric from his shoulders.

He lowers you to the ground once you're both bare, his lips tracing a path to your center until he's settled between your legs, one of his hands stretching to lace his fingers with yours as you arch into his mouth. When he presses into you, you finally feel whole, and he guides you higher and higher until you're certain you float amongst the stars.

Javi murmurs into your skin when he collapses against you.

"Don't leave."

The morning sun warms you as you stand on the dock, waiting for the boat that will bring you home. Tears still threaten to spill over, the same way they have since you slipped quietly from Javi's arms this morning as he slept. You turn back to look at your grandmother's home atop the cliff, sitting above the town that has felt more like home than the one you're returning to, when a small shape appears along the road that leads to the top.

Sofia.

It takes time for her to reach you, but her form is unmistakable, and once she's close enough she races down the dock. "You can't leave, Mari!" She's in your arms the instant she reaches you, your duffle bag abandoned at your feet so you can fall to your knees and cling to her just as tightly as she's clinging to you. "I have to show you my new house!" she cries into your skin.

Helene appears at the end of the dock, and you meet her gaze instantly. You don't even need to ask the question for her to confirm the answer.

They were the ones who bought your grandmother's house.

How, you weren't sure. You knew how much it sold for, and how distant the price was from their means. Still, the tears fall freely, and you bury your face in the crook of Sofia's neck until Helene encourages you to look up at her. Her gaze tries to convey something she isn't supposed to tell you. Something you were never supposed to know.

But as the boat finally arrives, shaking the dock you stand on, everything clicks into place.

You find him in the garden. Not the one you'd carefully nurtured at your grandmother's house, the same house Sofia would now grow up in, but the one just outside his home. He'd followed you around one evening, listening intently as you outlined where everything could go - the raised beds, the irrigation system, the greenhouse, the lemon trees - all overlooking the sea he so loved.

The sea that reminds you of him.

He's facing away from you, wearing the same thing he was the day you met, his shoulders slumped slightly as he takes in the space in front of him. It's empty, the same way you'd felt when you'd arrived. The same way you supposed he's felt for longer than he lets on. Until somehow, some way, your souls found each other.

When he turns, the world stops, and you know this time that there is only before and after this moment.

Your breath hitches when he wraps you in his embrace, his hands tenderly pulling you closer. When he kisses you with a silent promise, it feels like returning home. And as the breeze swirls the fabric of your skirt against your legs, it brings with it the faint scent of lemon and the whisper of the words your grandmother once told you.

Emptiness can always be filled with love.

a/n: Let me take you on a quick journey. Months ago, @alyssamariag created a Spotify playlist aptly titled "javi g's living room after he drives you through the cliffs." It's 97% of what I listen to while working. Unbeknownst to me, @imdrinkingpedro created a drabble that wove the music into an incredible story about two souls who found each other amongst the lemon trees. Fast forward to a couple of weeks ago, when I was looped in so we could collaborate on something extra special for the one and only Javi G.

To continue your story, if you haven't yet read the original drabble by @imdrinkingpedro, which is set after the events of this work, please read HERE. It's gonna melt your heart. PLUS, go check out the recipe for a drink inspired by Mariposa HERE.

For your listening enjoyment, you can find the playlist HERE, and please go see the artwork created by @alyssamariag that brought this all together HERE.

[gawa-ng-gabi]

OKAY OKAY RAMBLES OF HEADCANONS ABOUT MIGUEL X A FILIPINO S/O

Okay, I'm a Filipino and I just have to get this out of my system. Might make some art about it in the future.

FIRST OF ALL THE FRIGGING LANGUAGE.

For those of you who don't know, the Philippines was colonized by Spain for 300+ years before the Americans and the Japanese got to us so until now, we have some Spanish words in our language.

So imagine taking Miguel home to meet your family and Miguel being a bit nervous he won't understand when you start speaking in Filipino (plus yannow, first impressions) then the first thing your relatives say when you introduce him:

Uy, ang guwapo naman ng jowa mo.

And suddenly, he's a bit comforted because he understood only one word in that sentence and he knows he has a good impression already.

Also cursing in Filipino when he's around!!! Istg cursing in Filipino hits harder than any "fuck you" you can throw around. If you and Miguel get into an argument and you let out a malutong na "tangina naman, oh" , he knows how serious shit is.

Also, I highkey believe that Miguel loves it (dare I say gets turned on) when he catches you speaking to yourself in Filipino and just being in your element when you're concentrating on something.

NEXT THE FOOD

MY GOD THE FOOD. HOW MUCH I WOULD LOVE TO COOK FOR THIS MAN.

Cooking champorado for him on rainy days (there's actually a fic for this written by Luciel49 in Ao3 A MUST READ!!!). Tuyong adobo with egg and steaming rice. Beef mechado during New Year. Miswa when any one of you is sick. Pancit canton, Lumpia, and Leche Flan for the S/O's birthday. Taking him around the Philippines to try street food like Kwek-Kwek, Betamax, or Dynamite. Sisig Nachos while staying in and drinking with him??? I COULD GO ON AND ON ABOUT COOKING FOR THIS MAN. I WANT TO MAKE HIM SMILE FROM THE FOOD I MADE FOR HIM!!!

TAKING CARE OF HIM WHEN HE'S SICK

(or idk how his spider altered genes work but let's say he does get coughs and colds). You make him salabat with lemon when he's got coughs. If he's got the flu, you make him arroz caldo or maybe lugaw with tokwa't baboy (making the baboy extra special by making it the lechong kawali version). Before sleeping, rubbing Vicks on his back and chest while wrapping him up in a blanket.

(I'll add on to the list as I think of more. Suddenly want to make an OC for my headcannons, now.)

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Hii! Can I please request a protective!Tangerine x fem!civilian!reader where Tan comes home from a mission and all she wants are cuddles and kisses? What can she say? She missed her husband and feels safe with him🥺🥺🥺 Y/n being Tan’s sweet wife🥺 + a warm bear hug from her brother in law, Lemon🥺🧡🍊

hii! love it! I have been fancying a decent roast dinner for a while now, so I may been a little self indulgent with the last part😭 thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

welcome home

wc || 0.4k

warnings || none (?)

masterlist + rules

taglist

You’ve been looking forward to this day all week, Tangerine and Lemon were coming back from a mission in Spain and you simply could not wait to see them. For the last few hours you’ve been preparing a nice grand dinner to welcome them home, one of their favourites; a Roast Dinner. You even made an apple crumble for pudding. 

Hearing the front door open, you excitedly shrug off your apron to meet the pair. “Hi.” You gush, running up to Lemon and pulling him in for a big hug. “Missed you. Wait where’s-?” Cutting yourself off when you see your broody husband bringing bags in from the car.

“Smells banging in here.” Lemon compliments while kicking off his shoes.

Tangerine bustles through the door, dropping the bags on the floor to pull you in for a tight embrace. Hugging into him tighter. 

“I fucking missed you.” He says sweetly, kissing all over your face. 

“I’ve missed you more.” Squeezing him more, not wanting to let go. 

“Not possible.” Pecking the crown of your head. “I need a drink, walk with me?” He offers, cuddling you as you both waddle into the kitchen. 

Making your way into the kitchen, still glued to his chest, you peek up to look at him. “Dinners almost ready, just got to- OH shit, I haven’t been stirring the gravy.” You blurt, removing yourself from Tan’s grip to stir the bubbling pan. 

He kisses your cheek as he walks past you and towards the fridge to get a cold bottle, cracking it open and leaning against the worktop. “Need any help?” He offers.

“No no, everything is all sorted… actually please can you get the plates out?” You ask looking over your shoulder at him. 

“Of course sweetheart.” 

“Where’s your brother?”

“Probably having a piss, he needed one the whole way.” He chuckles.

“Why didn’t you stop at a service station?”

“I wanted to get back to see you.” He sweetly says.

“You’re too cute.” Brushing over his cheek.

“OI! DINNER!” Tan shouts up the stairs to his brother. 

“One fuckin minute.” Lemon yells back in response.

Filling their plates with the works; chicken, ham, roast potatoes, all the veg you could think of, yorkshire puddings, stuffing, cauliflower cheese, the lot. Loading up their plates. 

Setting the plates down on the table you dig in, enjoying the home-cooked meal as you all caught up. The house had been so quiet the last week, so all the extra noise from your family was truly welcomed and very appreciated.