#not that i have anything against frances i really don't

[meiloorunsmoothie]

On the Other Side 💞

[yazmarina]

walk me through it

for the love circuit series

—you're used to being flirted with in front of the camera. but something about franco is really doing you in.

franco colapinto (f1) x fem!reporter reader

warnings/notes: smut, unprotected sex (no condom, yes birth control), guided masturbation, lewd photography, lots of flirting, franco is shameless (naturally), some Spanish sentences and phrases

a/n: will resume hit play for a bit after this one! enjoy franco girlies mwa

Your job was simple enough. Well, for today, at least.

Stand in the media pen, gather statements, and piece together a couple of stories later that evening for publishing first thing tomorrow morning. All in a day's work, like all the other days before.

You've grown immune to the charms of rich, adrenaline-seeking men. Didn't take you too long, the illusion breaking as soon as any one of them opened their mouths. Some you tolerate more than others, but some you'd rather steer clear of completely.

This isn't to say that you've brushed all of them off. You might have agreed to a date here and there but nothing ever stuck, the nature of your jobs a bit too similar and all too different at the same time. You've given up on the prospect that you'll somehow end up with one of the many Formula 1 drivers you've interviewed and spoken to. And you've spoken to a lot. You've had this gig since you were shipped off fresh from uni and one too many 'What happened there?'s and 'Tell me about qualifying's can put a damper on the romantic side of things.

But someone new's in town. Well, er, new in the paddock. And you'd be lying if you said you weren't even a little bit excited.

He's charming, that much you can already tell. He walks into the media pen like he's done it thousands of times before and you have to actively suppress a smile as he walks over. Confidence is always a plus. For the interview, of course.

"Hola, Franco. Antes que nada, enhorabuena," you greet warmly, extending your arm over the barrier to place the microphone nearer to him. Hi, Franco. First of all, congratulations.

Franc's eyebrows shoot up, a wolfish grin settling on his face. "Oh. I thought this was an English interview?"

You smile back. "It is, but I know my way around Spanish, as well."

"Ah," Franco nods. "Gracias, _______."

"You know my name?" You ask, momentarily forgetting that you're being taped and recorded. You clear your throat, ignoring the quiet snicker from your cameraman.

"Yeah, I've seen you around and watched some of your other interviews," Franco confirms, a hand settling on his hip as he leans against the barrier, closer to you.

You can smell his perfume from where you stand.

"Thank you, I've heard and seen a lot about you as well," you respond, trying to return to your original train of thought.

"Which is why I want to ask you how it feels on your first day as a Formula 1 driver," you quickly follow. "Have you done anything special to prepare for this weekend? Other than the obvious, of course."

Another easy smile spreads across Franco's lips. "I've definitely added to my training and done some new things to prepare. I haven't done a full F1 weekend before so everything will be new."

"We definitely don't have reporters like you in the lower Formulas," he adds.

You feel a violent blush rip up through your neck all the way to your cheeks. As if the Monza heat wasn't enough.

"Well, I'm glad you could meet me here," you manage to get out.

The thing is, Franco isn't even the most attractive driver you've met. He's definitely up there, but not the most.

That's a discussion you have with yourself semi-weekly: ranking the drivers in terms of attractiveness, factoring in personalities and general attitudes towards the people around them, specifically the media.

Look, people love to shit on the media and press, calling journalism all sorts of derogatory words, but you're just here to do your job, like anyone else. And it gets pretty fucking hard when your boss is ringing your phone every five minutes demanding four stories by tomorrow and drivers are sassing you out as if you asked them if they've murdered their whole family.

So, naturally, the way they treat you determines a big chunk of how you think your day is going to pan out.

And right now, Franco seems to be lifting your spirits just fine.

"What are your goals for this weekend? Are points on the horizon for you at your first F1 race?" You continue, trying not to stare at the way Franco starts to rub at the back of his neck, bashful all of a sudden.

"We'll try," Franco begins. He plants both his hands on the barrier and leans even closer. You have to physically take a step back.

You gulp. Franco smiles.

"Anything is possible this weekend."

-

"You broke the internet last night."

You scoff, sending your cameraman a vicious side-eye. It's crowded in the paddock today, everyone wanting to get a glimpse of the new rookie, it seems. Such is the eagerness for this young driver that even that 30-second clip of your interview with him blew right up in your face. Your inboxes at capacity, your own voice speaking back to you with every other swipe on your TikTok.

It's not all bad, though. A tweet with one of your Instagram photos attached to it captioned 'TE ENTIENDO MUCHO FRANCO ES MUY LINDA PERIODISTA' did weasel out a chuckle from you.

Your cameraman shrugs, gesturing with a jerk of his head in front of you.

"There he is. I'm sure he knows all about it."

You look over to where he's pointing and lo and behold, Franco is right there, chatting with a few Williams team members, his race suit hanging undone around his waist. He turns to you even before you can fully register that it's him you're looking at.

But your training kicks in even faster. A megawatt smile appears on your lips and you wave enthusiastically at Franco.

"Hi."

"_______," Franco says, face lighting up at the sight of you. Your name seems to fall even more effortlessly off his lips.

You reach over and pull him into a half-hug with one arm, but both his arms wind around you and you have no choice but to squeeze back.

"You saw?" Franco asks, a gleam in his eye as he pulls away. His hand remains casually on the small of your back.

"Saw what?" You know what it is he's asking but you'd like to hear it from him.

"We went viral, no?" Franco says with a laugh, reaching further around you and squeezing your waist. You lean into his touch, heart jumping as his fingers graze just underneath your cropped top.

"That's all because of you," you reason, pointing an accusatory finger at Franco. "I bet you say that to all the other reporters."

The Williams team members standing nearby burst out laughing and even your cameraman affords a snicker. A deep blush spreads across Franco's face as he rubs your side reassuringly.

"No, no, I don't. Just you," Franco admits with another lighthearted laugh.

"Sure," you say with exaggerated skepticism. You pull away from his touch, catching his hand before he slips it fully off of you.

"I'll talk to you later," you say. And it's fully intentional, the words you choose to say. I'll talk to you later. Not 'I'll catch you later' or 'I'll see you later'.

I will talk to you later.

Franco understands, giving your hand a squeeze.

-

Later that day, you pray that no one catches you grinning behind your hand as Franco takes the chequered flag at qualifying.

P11.

Almost there.

-

"Hi. Come in."

Franco beams at you from across the threshold, stepping into your room with slow, measured steps.

"Great qualifying," you compliment, eyes traveling down Franco's body, noting the way his team kit hugs his frame just right, his hands shoved into his pockets, exposing just his arms, veins and all.

Your eyes snap back up to his face when you hear the door shut in place.

"Q2 on your debut. Not bad," you go on, taking a step back. Franco takes one toward you.

"You're just repeating what you said at the media pen earlier," Franco points out. He reaches out and gently circles an arm around your waist.

Always straight to the point.

Like this morning.

You tried not to make it so obvious when you ran into Franco earlier, but all you could think about was The Message.

You were doing your cursory social media checks a few minutes after you had woken up, still snug in your bed and unwilling to get up just yet. A message in your Instagram inbox caught your attention, sitting at the very top of your 'verified followers' tab.

Franco Colapinto: hola, hermosa 😉

It took a minute for your motor functions to return, your fingers hovering over the keyboard as you pored over what to reply. You settled on a nonchalant greeting, asking if Franco needed anything.

You realized rather belatedly that this was looking a little familiar. You wished he wouldn't say the dreaded answer, the more-than-predictable response that every man liked to use.

Franco Colapinto: you, maybe?

You groaned into your pillow, not because you were repulsed by his answer, but because you liked it. If you were easy, then so was he.

You: i finish work at 9 pm tonight...? 👀

It's 9 PM now. Franco's in the room and your hand is running up his chest.

Easy.

"It's such an honor," Franco teases, backing you up further into the room. His hands feel heavy on your waist and your heart hammers against your chest.

"I get to work with people like you now," Franco continues, stopping right in front of the bed.

The kiss comes as a shock more so because of how good Franco kisses. One of his hands is now cradling the back of your head, keeping you in place while he licks into your mouth, groaning with every pucker of your lips.

You pull away for barely a second to get both of your tops off before you dive back in, seemingly too desperate and too starved for each other's mouths. Franco's hands are everywhere; they run down your arms, paw at your waist, tugging at the belt loops of your jeans.

You giggle as he pulls you even closer, your bare chests pressed against each other. Franco pulls back and peers down at you, reaching behind to unclasp your bra. You let it fall, already guiding one of his hands to your tits.

"Couldn't stop staring at them?" You ask, your voice rising with an innocent lilt.

Franco kneads at the mound beneath his hand, eliciting a moan from you. He grins.

"I wanted you to notice," Franco admits simply, kissing you again.

"Perv," you mumble against his lips. Franco laughs, already undoing his trousers.

You wiggle your own way out of your jeans, letting Franco get the shortest of glimpses at your baby pink underwear before you discard them off to the side.

"Mierda, you're so sexy," Franco compliments as you crawl backward onto the bed, laying back and letting your hair splay out beneath you.

Franco pounces on you like a man starved, bare atop your own naked body, his arms caging you in.

"Big moves from somebody so new," you whisper, carding your fingers through Franco's soft locks.

"I like to make a statement," Franco says with a shrug. He glances up momentarily, something piquing his interest off to the side.

"Is that your camera?"

You crane your neck to see where he's looking and sure enough, your personal DSLR is right there on the bedside drawer. You look back at Franco, an eyebrow raised.

"You wanna use it?" You ask, not expecting him to actually say yes. But a mischievous grin settles on Franco's face and you feel your heart skip several beats.

"Knock yourself out," you say.

Franco reaches for the camera and fiddles with it for a few seconds. His eyes scan over your body and you suddenly feel the urge to hide away with how hard he's looking.

"May I?" Franco asks, brandishing the camera. Your mouth falls open as you realize what he's asking.

"You can keep them for yourself. For your eyes only," Franco hurriedly adds, planting his knees firmly on either side of you.

You stare up at him, a million thoughts running through your mind.

"Just...touch yourself."

You gasp, stunned at his proposal. Franco watches through the LCD monitor, glancing up at you through his lashes. Your bottom lip slips between your teeth, and as if on instinct, your hand inches down slowly between your legs.

"You're in front of cameras all the time," Franco reminds with a smirk. "This should be easy for you."

You suppress a whimper at his words, your fingertips swiping through your slick folds. You're already soaked and you start to wonder if it started even before Franco got here.

The shutter clicks and the lens whirs, sharp against the soft breaths you're letting out. Franco is concentrated, snapping photo after photo as you rub yourself closer to release. But it's not enough. You need more.

"Franco...," you implore, peering up with bright, begging eyes.

"Slowly, mi amor," Franco coos. "Just where you like it. Right there."

Click.

"Harder now, but still slow. Yes? Feels good?"

You whine, eyes fluttering shut as your pleasure picks up again. Several clicks. You're panting now, the tendrils of release wrapping themselves around you.

"Faster, yes, like that," Franco eggs on. Your fingers speed up against your sensitive clit and a litany of Franco's name spills from your lips. Before you know it, he's putting the camera away. You reach for him, gripping the back of his neck as he smashes his lips into yours.

Franco bites down on your lip and you cry out, your orgasm washing over you like a tide. You arch against Franco, feeling his own stiffness heavy on your thigh.

You blink, Franco's face coming into focus, barely an inch from yours. He watches you closely, pupils blown wide and plump lips even redder. You hook your legs around his waist, letting him know that you're not done yet.

Franco is quick to pick up, smiling as lines himself up with you. The groan that escapes him is nothing short of delicious as he pushes himself in. You gasp along, the stretch a welcome sensation.

Franco wastes no time and pounds right into you, catching you by surprise. You let your head fall back against the mattress, a long, drawn-out whine erupting from deep within your chest as Franco licks a stripe up your neck.

Your whole body quakes with how hard he's thrusting into you but you're clearly enjoying it if your wanton moans are anything to go by. Franco meets your eyes and you pull him down, wanting nothing more than to drown in those lips of his.

It's feral and it's unrestrained, spurred on by the knowledge that this is more than unprofessional in your line of work. Not illegal by any means, but risky enough to warrant warnings from your coworkers. Never sleep with a driver unless you're committed.

Oh, well.

Franco groans loudly in your ear, movements losing their rhythm as he speeds up. You're clinging to him as if he'd disappear if you let go, your own belly tightening once more with that familiar feeling.

Franco. Franco. Franco.

He kisses you just as he finishes. Passionate, eager, heady. You feel him inside you, a different kind of elation filling you as you release all over him.

Franco pulls away to allow yourselves to breathe. He pulls out, rolling over to your side. You hug your folded knees to your chest, too lazy to get up and find something to deal with the mess.

"No hagas eso. Eso es demasiado doméstico," Franco jokes, moving closer and planting a kiss to your shoulder. Don't do that. That's too domestic.

"Relájate, estoy usando anticonceptiva," you reassure with a lighthearted roll of your eyes. Relax, I'm on birth control.

Franco hums, laying an arm over you. He pulls you close and you face him, reaching up to brush away some of his unruly hair.

He plants a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Happy that you're a Formula 1 driver?" You ask, grinning.

Franco chuckles. "Very."

[norrisluv]

EURO FINAL - LANDO NORRIS

summary: you go to the euro final with your boyfriend

warnings: fluff and smut

Lando and I were arriving at the Olympiastadion in Berlin for the final of Euro 2024. Lando was obviously cheering for England, the country where he was born and raised, while I was cheering for Spain, my second home.

“Our seats are 12 and 13” I nod and start looking for our seats. I walk down a few rows and finally find the two unoccupied seats.

“Lan, over here. Got it” Lando walks over to me and we sit down in our seats. We watch the players train until they finally go inside to prepare for the game.

“If England win, you sleep on the sofa.” Lando looks at me with confusion and arched eyebrows.

“Why? I'm not the one playing for England to win” I shake my shoulders and look to the front where some people are starting to dance

“But you're going to sleep on the sofa anyway” He lets out a low laugh and looks ahead like me, watching the show until the players from both teams start to enter the field. We started clapping and then stood up for the anthems. For the next 45 minutes, we watched the game with a few shouts and sighs until half-time, when it was still 0:0.

“I'm going to the bar to get something to drink, do you want anything?” I hear Lando's voice as I watch the players leave for the changing rooms.

“Hm, yes. A pineapple juice please. Do you want me to go with you?” He shakes his head negatively and leaves a quick peck on my lips.

“No need beautiful, I'll be right back with your drink” Lando goes to the bar while I stay on my cell phone. Two girls come up to me and ask for some photos and I smile and accept. Lando arrives and sits down next to me, sipping his drink.

“Am I really going to have to sleep on the sofa if Spain lose?” A smile grew on my face as I sipped my juice

“I don't know, I'll think about it. Pierre had to sleep on the sofa when France eliminated Portugal.” Lando's eyes widen and he looks at me. He stays silent for a few seconds and then looks at me again.

“Really?” I nod and take another sip of my drink, even though I don't know if it's true or not, I decide to say it.

“ Really.” The second half begins and in the first few minutes, Spain scores a goal, causing me to get up from my chair and Lando to let out a sigh.

“AH, Spain is winning” He looks at me with his face closed and his jaw clenched.

“Yes, I saw it” I sit back in my chair and smile until England score a goal a few minutes later. I roll my eyes as Lando celebrates the goal. He sits back in the chair next to me and puts his hand on my leg as I cross my arms over my chest

“It's the same now” He smiles and I continue with my face closed and my arms against my chest.

“I don't like you” He lets out a laugh and squeezes my leg.

“I love you too” The game continues and Spain score a goal in the last minutes of the game. When the referee blows the final whistle, I jump out of my chair, shouting happily. Lando, even though his team has lost, looks at me with a smile on his face.

“What?” I ask as he continues to smile at me

“I don't care if my country lost, I like to see you happy.” I let out a laugh and kiss Lando on the cheek.

“You're going to sleep on the sofa anyway,” he rolls his eyes and my smile grows. After the celebrations and me making Lando stay in the stadium to watch the players lift the cup, we get in the car to go to the hotel.

When we get to our hotel room, I quickly take off the jacket Lando lent me and put it on the back of the chair.

“Do you want to take a shower?” he asks as he approaches me, making me feel his warm breath on my ear and his hands on my hips, which makes me smile. I turn to Lando and wrap my arms around his neck

“Not now. I want to do something first” Lando smiles and gently removes my Spain T-shirt. He throws the fabric on the floor and pushes me lightly onto the bed, then gets on top of me and carefully runs his hands over my body.

“What do you want to do, baby?” Lando smirks and unzips my pants, while I take my hands in his, pulling his boxers and jeans down to his knees.

“I want you,” I whisper before joining my mouth to his, then starting to run my hands down his shirt, trying to pull it up. Lando lets out a laugh and stands up a little, starting to undo the buttons. He finally throws his shirt on the floor and brings our mouths together again

He runs one of his hands down my leg and ends up on my thigh. I move my hips, wanting more friction, but Lando holds my waist, not letting me move. He reaches his fingers down to the fabric of my panties and pulls them down my legs, tossing them in the same place as his shirt and my t-shirt.

“As beautiful as ever babygirl” Lando whispers against my skin and seconds later I let out a loud moan, feeling his mouth between my legs. His tongue dances across my pussy and I try to move my waist, but he wraps his hands around my stomach, holding me down.

“Lan...baby, please,” I beg Lando as I feel his tongue slip in and out of me. He lets out a few grunts against my core and I let more moans escape my mouth. He puts his thumb on my clitoris playing with me as he pulls his mouth away from me a little.

“Come on baby, I want you to cum,” he whispers before putting his mouth on me again, feeling a tremor run through my legs and my orgasm hit me.

“That's it baby” He stands up and completely removes his pants and boxers. Lando lies back on top of me and runs the tip of his cock over my lips and clitoris.

“Lan, please...I need you,” I sigh and close my eyes as he enters me in one thrust.

“Fuck baby... I won't last long” He puts his head between my neck and starts thrusting rapidly into me. I grab his back and dig my nails into his skin. I scream out Lando's name, wrapping my legs around his waist.

Lando starts leaving kisses on my neck and running his hand down my body, squeezing whatever he can. My fingers curl in his curls and I let out one last cry before of reaching my orgasm. Lando let his thrusts get stronger and faster as he let out several grunts

“Baby... I'm going to cum inside you” I bite my lips through the overstimulation and nod. I feel the ropes of Lando's cum inside me, making me let out a few more moans.

After a few seconds, he pulls out of me and gets up to go to the bathroom. He comes back with a towel and wipes me down my thighs and between my legs. A few minutes later, he lies down next to me and takes a deep breath, smiling.

“Spain may have won the Euro, but I won today too.” I let out a laugh and turn over on my stomach, resting my head on his chest.

“You always win when you're with me”

A/N: Let me know if you like it! Thank you <3

[woso-dreamzzz]

Prodigy

Olympique Lyonnais x Teen!Reader

Summary: A slow morning at baggage claim

Two international youngsters are produced out of the Chelsea academy.

One goes to Spain and Barcelona. She plays striker.

The other goes to France and Lyon. You play centreback.

It seemed like fate that everyone would consider you rivals but you don't really care about that. You don't put much effort into looking through media articles.

You have better things to do.

"Hey, y/n! Come back here please!"

You huff, peeling off from Damaris and Ellie to head back to Ada and Wendie. You'd been sitting next to them for the whole flight from France to America.

"I don't want you to get lost. Hand, please."

"Come on!" You complain," I'm not as bad as-" You trail off. You don't say her name.

You think she must be a sore spot for the team after the three goals she scored past them in the Champion's League final. You were meant to be on the pitch that day too but during your last training session, you'd hurt your ankle and had to stay in France.

You give Ada your hand.

You live with her most of the time, although frequent sleepovers at Ellie and Daan's were a must. When Ada is stressed about things, you leave her to decompress by hanging out with Wendie, though you have to prepare yourself every time.

Your Papa is French and you've yet to decide what international team you want to play for. Wendie keeps trying to convince you to pick France.

It's kind of funny to see her try to sneak it into every conversation she can when you sleep over at hers.

Either way, Ada walks you through customs before setting you free in baggage collection.

You're off like a shot, eager to stretch your legs as Damaris and Selma race the luggage carts. Vanessa is on Selma's so you clamber onto Damaris' as she gets a run up and pushes you.

Ellie's acting as the ref and she narrows her eyes as both carts come to a stop.

"She's cheating!" You insist as Vanessa drags the cart forward using her hands. "Cheater!"

Ellie closes her eyes. "I don't see anything."

"Oh, come on!"

It's very early in the morning so there's no one else in the luggage claim, just your team.

You kind of assumed with no one else around that the bags would arrive quicker but clearly not.

You get bored of the game rather quickly and return to your older teammates.

Wendie, Ada and now Lindsey too are sitting on the floor, up against the wall as they wait for the bag carousel to start moving. You don't know who brought out the football but they did.

They're not using it though, just rolling it between them as you approach.

"Ellie's not a very good ref," You tell them," She's helping Vanessa and Selma cheat."

"Do you want to play with the ball?" Lindsey asks and you puff out your cheeks.

"I'm not a baby." You plop down next to her and she ruffles your hair.

"No but you don't do well not doing stuff and I know your phone is dead. Do you want the ball or not?"

You mumble something.

She grins, cupping her ear. "What was that?"

You mumble something again.

Ada and Wendie are grinning now too.

"Sorry. I couldn't hear. You'll have to speak a bit louder."

You glare at her and Wendie snatches the ball. "Go stand over there. Volley is back to me."

Wendie is a centreback. You're a centreback too.

You arrived from Chelsea fresh-faced and worried and Wendie decided you were her little project. She'd told you once, a little tipsy during a team bonding session, that you had the most raw talent she'd seen in a while and that she wanted to see you get better and better.

She trained you every second she could.

"Weaker foot this time," She says to you as you volley the ball back to her.

It's still early. The flight was long but you've suddenly got energy again so you can keep up with her coaching even as she gets up. She changes from throwing the ball at you to kicking it so soon you've both got a good volley going as Ada and Lindsey talk to each other.

"I didn't know Barcelona were doing their preseason here," Ada notes," I thought they'd be in Mexico."

You let the ball drop, turning your head automatically to see the Barcelona girls coming into the baggage claim.

You spot her quickly, just like how you usually do. You could spot her in any crowd.

Wendie spots her too, as does Ada. Both of them lay their hands on your shoulders.

She's across the room with Alexia Putellas though, held back by her backpack when she nearly wanders into a pillar because she's focused on eating her snacks.

You go to move but the hands on your shoulder tighten.

"What?"

Ada purses her lips. "Why don't we sit back down?"

It dawns on you then that Ada and Wendie have seen all the articles, all the articles that insist on the 'bitter rivalry' between you and your daydreamer.

"No-" You say with a little laugh," It's not like that. It's-"

A body barrels into you and lips are on yours in an instant.

You kiss your girlfriend back.

"I missed you!" She says and you peak over her shoulder to see Alexia Putellas and Irene Paredes standing there with their mouths wide open.

You laugh, just knowing Ada and Wendie are the same. "I missed you too!"

"It's so cool we're in the same city again! I've been doing my research and there's this really well-reviewed snack place near her that we should go to!" She tugs on your hand and you dig in your heels.

"Slow down, dreamy," You say," We still need to get our bags!"

"But Ale and Irene said I could go if I took someone with me."

You can hear Alexia Putellas sigh and mutter," I meant someone from our team."

Your girlfriend ignores her.

"Ada? Wendie?" You ask tentatively.

Ada sighs. "Take Daan and Ellie with you. We'll get your bags."

"Thank you!"

Your girlfriend sorts out her own escorts in the form of Ingrid Engen and Mapi León and she pulls you out the door.

You can't resist the teasing words you throw over your shoulder at your girlfriend's captain.

"I'll have her home by midnight!"

[sunrizef1]

What Happens in Vegas pt 14

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, verbal abuse

Word Count: 1.6k

Authors Note: No Charles content in this one but important nonetheless

Summary: Logan and Y/N talk, y/n finally reveals who’s been texting her

Masterlist

“Have I ever told you about my family?”

Logan doesn’t reply for a moment, annoyance still resting under his deadpan expression. You’re both sat on the floor of his drivers room, backs resting against the wall behind you, coffee from the Williams hospitality sitting in foam cups getting cold as they sit, untouched. Champagne dries on the top of your skin, casting a sticky residue onto your face and the ends of your hair.

Your win was now forgotten, the trophy having been left in your room to be picked up by a random Porsche employee who’d eventually get it back to you. Logan’s DNF was also now forgotten, although it did leave a lasting effect on his mood, eyebrows furrowed and arms crossed tightly.

“No, but I know your dad.”

You tilt your head, pulling the inside of your cheek between your teeth as you respond, “Well, you know him now.”

Logan doesn’t respond, not in the mood to play into your vagueness. He’d invited you here to explain. He knew you’d clarify eventually, whether he asked you to or not.

“It’s a complicated story,” you pause, bile rising to your throat at the notion of explaining your childhood and forcing you to swallow it back down, “You don’t have to say anything.”

Logan hums, obviously not planning on speaking much anyway. Both of you stare off toward the floor in front of you, unspoken words hanging in the air around you.

“I was born in France, not sure if you knew that,” you start after a moment, hesitance laced in your words, “Everyone thinks I was born in Texas but my mom would’ve rather died than let that happen.”

“You probably know my mom, Amelie Laurent, French, vogues favorite person and I guess she’s a pretty famous model,” Logan pauses for a second, no doubt not aware of who your mom was, before he nods in recognition of the name.

“When my parents had me, they were still in love, I think,” you furrow your eyebrows as the words leave your mouth, “Um, but after they had me, I guess they got really busy with their jobs and stuff so they sent me to live with my grandparents in Texas for a while.”

“Didn’t really see them much growing up. My dad took me to the paddock a lot though, I got to hang out with everyone at McLaren, which was nice.”

“But he was busy so I usually got stuck with Kimi and then eventually Lewis, when he joined, which is where the uncle Lew thing comes from. Sometimes I felt like McLaren and Mercedes raised me more than my dad did,” the end of your statement comes out in a whisper, this being the first time you’d voiced the idea.

Logan glances over as your face sours, his hand coming out to hand you your, now cold, coffee. You grasp it from him and take a sip, sliding it back down to the ground after.

“When I was 8 my parents had my brother, which I think was the final straw. They got a divorce right after and my dad moved me to England. My brother stayed in France with our mom,” you wince.

“I started karting, my grandma moved to England to take me around to races when my dad couldn’t. Despite my own… objections, I spent my summers at my moms house with her and my brother.”

You pause, stomach turning as you let out a shaky breath, memories flooding back. Logan shows his first emotion of the night, glancing over to check you're not going to die. When he confirms you're, in fact, breathing, he looks back to the floor.

“I don't think she wanted kids. Maybe she did. At one point. But I think, after the divorce, all I did was remind her of my dad, a man she hated more than anything. She made it obvious with the way she treated me, as well. Well actually, the way she treated both me and my brother.”

“She never wanted me in karting, made it clear. Only reminded her of my dad again, made me do ballet in the summers. Thought it was more proper, or whatever. Didn't let us speak English at her house either, we were only allowed French, took Juli forever to learn English correctly, he'd only grown up with her.”

“Juli?” Logan asks, adding his first bit of input since you'd started talking.

“Brother,” you mumble into your knees as you pull them into your chest, resting your tired face against them. Logan nods.

“Um, she yelled a lot, I guess. A lot of stuff about our futures and how we'd always be failures if we went through with racing and football, she didn't like that Julian only wanted to play football, either.”

“Dad didn’t know, I didn’t tell him,” you mumble, “I didn’t think there was that much wrong with it until I left.”

“She just sucked, man,” you groan, eyes shutting tight as your head falls back against the wall, “I hated her so much! Because I was winning, I was getting these championships and getting these trophies and I thought she’d finally accept that I wanted to kart but the only thing she’d tell me was that I’d never get anywhere!”

You take a deep breath, holding back the faint tears in your eyes.

“But yeah, that's the worst of it, really. Completely cut contact at 15. Begged my grandparents to let me spend summers with them. They let me.”

“It just stuck with me for a while, you know? The shit my mom would say. A lot of crap about how I was failing myself with racing or how I would never have a future if I continued down that path. Said a lot of things about how I'd always find a way to lose and that it would never be worth it if I wasn't the best. Everytime I lost a race, she would find a way to use it against me, proof that I shouldn't be racing.”

“I did block her though, couldn’t stand the constant texts when I lost. Probably wasn’t even very easy to find those results, they weren’t exactly mainstream,” you furrow your eyebrows, confusion passing over your face momentarily, “Anyway, three years later, I’m 18. I move out and sign an f3 contract. My dad got super busy with Lewis’s championships and Mercedes. Kimi was actually the first to congratulate me.”

“I haven't spoken to my mom or my brother in, what? 8 years? I've mostly forgotten them by now, paris a thing of the past,” you trail off, the air of Logan’s room suddenly feeling a lot colder.

“All this to say, um-“ you rush out, shaking your head quickly.

You finally look over toward Logan, moving your body to face his, “She texted me, in Australia. Told me that the crash was all she'd ever expected from me, anyway. She's been calling ever since.”

Logan turns his head, concern written on his face.

“I think I'd forgotten about everything she said since it's been so long. But that text kind of brought it all back. It's been stuck in my mind for every single race. That's the reason I’ve been so unfocused lately. I don’t even know how she got my number, she was blocked on my old number and then I just got a new one, I don’t know how she could’ve got it.”

Logan, having dropped his previous spite, quirks his head, “What about yesterday?”

You swallow thickly, “Julian texted me. She kicked him out. He’s staying with a teammate. He’s sixteen, Lo. He’s still a kid.”

You fall back against the wall with a thump, your hands coming up to cover your eyes, “He’s still in France, still training with PSG. He’s asked to talk to me before Monaco.”

“Monaco?”

You nod solemnly, “My least favorite race, too close to my mom. I was so relieved when they took France off the calendar, you know? I’m pretty sure that, until recently, she didn’t know I was even in F1. She’s sworn off any media that isn’t French and I chose to race under dads last name. Makes me think someone told her I was.”

Logan hums, trying to process all the information you’d just told him. Eventually, he pats you heavily on the back, groaning as he stands up. You look up as he reaches a hand down to you, questions laying in your gaze.

Logan pushes his hand further down toward you, “Seems like a good enough reason to go out, celebrate your win. We can talk heavy solutions in the morning. For now, you are a race winner. A race winner who needs to get her mind off her fucked up family.”

You grin at his words, grasping his outstretched hand and letting him pull you up, “You reacted better than Arthur did. Think he was about to throw up with me.”

Logan pauses, his face screwing up with faux betrayal, “You told Arthur before me?”

You roll your eyes, “I was having a panic attack on the floor of the bathroom, talking about it was the only thing to get me out of it.”

Logan smiles softly at your response, slinging an arm over your shoulder as you two walk out of his room, “Let’s go, winner. Who do you think the most famous person you can get to celebrate with you tonight is?”

You take a moment to think about your response, “I think I saw Kendall Jenner, I’m sure I’ll probably see her at some point.”

Logan hums, looking out ahead of both of you, “You know I’ve seen the pictures of you two in Miami last year? You were so far gone.”

You laugh, hitting him in the ribs, “Shut up. We should leave soon, Porsche has probably already started partying without us.”

Logan laughs, patting your shoulder lightly as you both go to leave the Miami paddock.

———————————————

[mj0702]

Secrets

Something different than the usual...

“Amor... Estic a casa!” Alexia said loudly as she pushed the door shut with her foot her arms full with groceries

“I'm just saying Jenni...” you said hoping no one heard your girlfriend in the first place

“.... qué??” Jenni said confused but the little flicker of your eyes didn't go past her “... todo bien?”

“Sí... bien” you said quickly directing your attention back to the screen

“Vale....” your best friend chuckled knowing exactly why you were distracted for a split second “... so you wanted to answer some questions sí?”

“Sí.... let's have a look...” you said scanning through the questions fans send in while Jenni and you yapped about anything and everything a few minutes before

“I like this one...” Jenni smirked “... what got you to move to Spain?”

“What got you to move to Spain?” you repeated confused and distracted as you watched Alexia padding through the living room bare feet

“TU... no yo” the Madrista rolled her eyes still smirking

“Sí... yo” you mumbled your eyes following your girlfriend who just started to put away the groceries

“Ay.... Ojos en la pantalla....” Jenni snapping her fingers in front of the camera trying to get your attention

“Lo lamento” you mumbled your eyes quickly moved to the screen again getting greeted with your best friend grinning wolfish “What was the question?”

“What made you move to Spain” the dark haired snorted

“Ehrm... I mean.. when Barcelona knocks on your door... you don't really throw that door shut in their faces” you rambled

“Oh come on... lame” Jenni rolled her eyes

“What... that's what made me move to Spain” you said bewildered

“I was the reason you moved to Spain” Jennis smirk widened

“You were the reason I nearly didn't accept the deal” you shot back

“Puta” your best friend snorted “.... stop lying”

“Well... we DID share a flat in France...” you grinned “... you're imposible to live with”

“¿¿disculpe?!?” your best friend exclaimed her hand over her heart “WHO brought you into hospital when you decided that the 7 week old yoghurt was STILL good to eat”

“Kurvetino” you grumbled blushing and the swear word made Alexia look over from the kitchen “... and WHO always walked through the apartment naked? And I mean NAKED”

“Yeah well...” Jenni grinned again “... I mean... look at me... who wouldn't...”

“My PARENTS saw your....” you started but then shut your mouth quickly “... next question”

“Vale... how did you two meet?” your best friend read of the screen “... I came to play for PSG and they made me share a flat with her because no one else wanted to”

“Puta... that's NOT how it went” you exclaimed annoyed “... they ASKED me if I could show the spaniard around and maybe teach her basic French... I had nothing better to do so I said yes.... next thing I knew was her climbing into my bed in the middle of the night complaining how cold it was”

“It is cold in France” Jenni pointed out not denying the rest

“It was summer” you rolled your eyes

“Still... I need warm temperatures” your best friend said

“You LITERALLY complained yesterday on Instagram that it was “too hot for 9.30”....” you looked at her expectantly

“I'm...” Jenni started as delicate fingers grabbed your chin turning your head and you felt soft lips on yours making you completely freeze

“Vaig dir que sóc a casa Amor” Alexia mumbled against your lips after she ended the sweet kiss

“I'm...” you pointed at the screen where suddenly the comment section exploded

“Oh please... it's just Jenni” your girlfriend snorted

“... and around 9.000 fans watching our little Live session” you murmured not daring to look back at the screen seeing how the eyes of your girlfriend got big

“Well...” the blonde was at loss for words

“Don't worry Chica...” Jenni now snorted “... I saw way more of you two than a kiss... I once...”

“Callarse la boca!!!” you interrupted your best friend quickly already knowing how her mind works

“Looks like you just confirmed all the rumours that floated around you two for a while now” your best friend smirked

“Well... no point in denying it now is there...” you rolled your eyes at the smug look on Jennis face

“Next question” the dark haired sing songed while your girlfriend still stood a little off screen rooted in her place her face a blank look of horror “How long have you been dating Ale... uh uh uh... I know the answer... I know the answer!!”

“But obviously no one cares about you since the question was directed to me” you huffed “... a little bit over 9 Month now...”

“... aaaaafter...” your best friend pushed

“After Jenni Hermoso introduced us at the Ballon d'Or.... her words were “This is mi Amiga Alexia... Alexia this is y/n... she doesn't speak a word spanish... teach her” and gone she was” you grumbled

“And oh she did” Jenni laughed “Was looking for you all morning the next day”

“NOTHING happened okay... you left me stranded you Kurvetino” you exclaimed and suddenly your girlfriend rebooted herself pushing you out of the frame

“I swear Jenni Hermoso... if you still gloat about the fact that you were the reason we ended up together – you are not” Alexia said

“But I am...” your best friend huffed “... you would never had the balls to talk to her if it wasn't for me”

“I was just waiting for the perfect timing” your girlfriend exclaimed while you try to find your balance

“I provide perfectivity” Jenni smirked proudly “... I'm your perfect timing”

“Bas si gnjavator” you mumbled appearing on screen again

“Sí... I am” your best friend smile even more proud

“You have no idea what I just said” you deadpanned

“That you love me and are forever grateful that you met me” Jenni grinned

“No...” you rolled your eyes

“That you love me forever and I'll be your Maid of Honour once Ale pulled her finger out of your.... HER ass and finally asks you to marry her” the dark haired grinned

“No... but you could be Godmother...” you smirked “... if you beat Keira to it... she's actually nice to me you know”

“Pff... that stand in bench friend...” Jenni rolled her eyes huffing not catching on what you just revealed as Ales hand protectively found your stomach

“Jenni” you groaned

“She only there for the time I can't” your best friend defended herself

“Well... YOU decided to fuck off to Mexico” you grumbled

“You know...” she started

“I do know...” you said softly ignoring the “screaming” of the fans in the comment section “... but sometimes I just wish you'd still be across the hall”

“You could always come here.... Sandra is coming too...” your bestie said hopefully

“I don't think so... Spain is treating me quite well...” you smiled slightly softly looking over to your girlfriend

“I mean... it would be funny... a Croatian player trained in France, her prime in Spain... retired in Mexico” Jenni grinned

“Far from retirement thank you...” you snorted “... but I do have to take a break soon”

“Your knee again?” your best friend face converting to pity

“Oh no... knee is fine...” you waved off “... sometimes you're just so dense Hermoso... even the fans already caught on”

“Caught on what?” your best friend asked confused

“Okay... official then” you huffed trying to calm your nerves feeling how your girlfriend started to draw small circles on your stomach in silent support “Jennifer Hermoso Fuentes... you know I love you to the moon and back...”

“Ehrm...” Jenni looked a little lost successfully interrupting you “... you sure you want to say all that with your girlfriend right next to you? If this is an offer for something... more than a friendship... I have to pass”

“Shut up and don't interrupt me again” your voice mirroring your nerves “... I love you... you are my best friend and I couldn't asked for a better friend than you... you've been with me through my highs and lows... you were the first one by my side when Carmona broke my knee in that game and you've been with me through everything... so... Jennifer Hermoso Fuentes... I couldn't ask for a better Godmother to my child than you... so would you do us the honour and be my babies godmother?”

“What?” your best friend looked flabbergasted at you while Alexia stood up retrieving the ultrasound pictures

“I need you to be there for my baby the way you've always been there for me” you said your voice strained with stress as your girlfriend handed you the little pictures

“What?” Jenni asked again as she couldn't wrap her head around the new information

“Jenni... please” you begged shoving the ultrasound picture towards the camera

“You... you messing with me right?” your best friend shook her head and in that moment your heart broke a little bit

“No...” you shook your head slightly biting your lip so you wouldn't start crying

“I... no wait...” Jenni stuttered and you watched how she stood up starting to roam the living room all the way in Mexico her hand in her hair

“Jenni” you begged desperately successfully getting her attention back on you the comments of the fans all forgotten as she just looked at you coming forward disconnecting the live

“Mi Amor” Alexia whispered softly as you tried to hold in your tears while the fans went absolutely mental about Jennis reaction to your news

“Can you...” you quickly said motioning towards the screen as you stood up speed walking into the bedroom closing the door behind you

It didn't took long until Alexia quietly opened the door to find you curled up sobbing quietly a spanish national jersey clutched in your fists as you cried into the material.

“Oh mi amor” your girlfriend said her heart breaking at the sight of you

“I thought...” you sobbed out as you felt the bed dip behind you

“Ssssshhhh...” Alexia hushed you gently laying down behind you her hand automatically finding that small bump that was the only evidence so far that a human was growing inside you “... sleep mi amor... I promise when you wake up it will be better... promesa”

“She's my best friend Ale...” you sobbed clutching the jersey tighter pressing your face into the fabric

“We maybe shouldn't have told her when so many people were watching” your girlfriend said knowing it was Jennis Jersey in your hand – you always got out her jerseys when you missed her it was your way of coping with the separation

“I didn't plan on it” you said thinking it was your fault

“No bebé...” Alexia quickly said “... don't start to think it's your fault... you felt it was the right thing to do”

“Obviously it wasn't” you sobbed “... she hates me now”

“No...” your girlfriend said softly pulling you closer into her “... Jenni could NEVER hate you... she's probably just... aclaparat”

“Overwhelmed” you offered the english translation

“Sí.... she needs to sort her head out” Alexia pressed soft kissed to your temple

“Good luck...” you chuckled quietly “.. it's Jenni”

“Sleep mi Amor...” your girlfriend said gently a little relieved that you calmed down a little bit

“Your child wants pollo al ajillo and patatas bravas as a midnight snack” you mumbled your eyes closed already

“Hm... I'll see what I can do to make our daughter happy” Alexia smiled into your neck her hand gently caressing your stomach

You were physically and mentally exhausted when you woke up the next morning. Alexia being the loco woman that you fell in love with already out running on the Beach like every morning and you knew she'll probably be back within the hour. You groaned as you rolled out of bed and padded into the bathroom trying to get your day started when your eyes fell on the scrunched up jersey that laid carelessly on your dresser. Immediately your thoughts flew back to the afternoon before and to the reaction your best friend showed over the news of you being pregnant. You always wanted kids. Jenni knew that. She was there when you broke down in tears after a meaningless one night stand as you took a test. You wanted kids yes – just not like that. Jenni promised you all the years back that she would be there no matter the outcome. Now apparently her view on things have changed. You thought she would be over the moon. Maybe cry a little bit out of happiness. But not.... nothing. You felt so empty. You should've feel joy and happiness but right now you just felt empty. Your fingers felt the fabric of the Jersey your memories flooded back to the day Spain won the World cup. The second the final whistle blew you saw Jenni sinking down on her knees praying to whoever was listening above her thanking whoever would accept her silent prayer. Seconds later she sprung up to her feet sprinting over to where you were waiting for her. She pulled you over the barrier laughing loudly crying at the same time. Before you know it she pulled her jersey over her head and she woman handled it onto you.

Alexia watched you as you mindlessly stroked your fingers over Jennis jersey obviously deep in thoughts. Alexia was angry. This deep anger she knew she shouldn't feel towards also HER best friend but the way Jenni reacted to such important news was just – Alexia didn't know how to call it. It was more than inappropriate. It was just – not acceptable. Your girlfriend stood silently in the doorway sweat running down her back and her abs as she saw how your other hand came up to rest on the little bump. Alexia decided to leave you be with your thoughts knowing that no matter what she would say it wouldn't help you at all. The only person who could help you was Jenni. Jenni. The person who was responsible for your sadness but also the person who was the only one to pull you out of it – it was a paradox on. The blonde tried to sneak away as quietly as possible but you already sensed her presence turning around

“You've been quieter...” you smiled but Alexia saw the sadness in your eyes

“I still am... if I want to be” your girlfriend answered her face showing sorrow

“She'll... come around right?” you asked your voice cracking a little bit “.... she just needs time to process”

“Sí mi amor” Alexia covered the distance to you with three strides pulling you against her the Jersey still clutched tightly in your fist “... you know her... she's... dense... she just needs more time than others to understand”

“I don't have anyone else Ale...” you felt tears filling your eyes once again “.... I don't have anyone I want our kid with if something...”

“Nothing will happen mi amor...” your girlfriend spoke against your hair “... we'll see her grow up and be strong and brave and beautiful... so basically Jenni is not needed...”

“Who is your person?” you asked your head placed over Alexias heart

“Mapí” Alexia said seriously “And before you veto – with Mapí comes Ingrid... I trust Ingrid to take good care of another child – she has plenty of experience by then... she can make all the mistakes with Mapí and IF she's needed then she knows what she's doing with our Princesa”

“What if it's a Principe?” you chuckled at your girlfriends train of thoughts

“We can give him away and try again” your girlfriend deadpanned and it made you laugh

“Tell me she'll come around” you begged a second later as the hormones getting the better of you again

“She will...” Alexia pressed a kiss to your forehead “... even if I have to go all the way to wherever she is in Mexico and slap some sense into her”

It was two days later when something pulled you out of your not so peaceful slumber. It was some sort of ringing so you did what you always did

“Ale... your alarm” you groaned pushing your girlfriend harshly

“Sí...” Alexia mumbled against your shoulder still asleep

“Alexia” you grunted loudly pushing her again “... turn your alarm off”

“Lo siento” your girlfriend mumbled while she tiredly moved her arm to punch the alarm clock

“Gracias” you huffed getting comfortable again and JUST as you closed your eyes again the ringing started again

That's when you realized it wasn't the alarm... it was the doorbell

“Alexia...” you whispered

“Hm?” your girlfriend pulled you tighter into her her nose brushing against your neck

“There's someone at the door” you whispered again not knowing WHY you whispered

“Mi amor... just a dream” Alexia mumbled against your shoulder blade

“No I'm serious” you now said loudly “.. go look”

“Why me?” your girlfriend now groaned finally giving up on her sleep

“You can run faster if it's a robber or murderer” you said seriously

“Mi amor... mi vida... mi sol” Alexia rolled her eyes “... no robber uses a doorbell”

“Maybe he's a polite robber” you looked at her confused

“Of course he is” your girlfriend mumbled as the doorbell rang again

“Well... go open it” you pushed your girlfriend towards the side of the bed to get up

“I'm a two times Ballon D’or winner” Alexia said bewildered

“And I'm carrying your child... what's more importante La Reina??” you asked and Alexia knew there was only one correct answer so she groaned but got out of bed swearing under her breath

“If you are a polite robber... take everything what you can carry but let me get back to bed...” Alexia ripped open the door to immediately turning around again to get back into the cosy warmth of her bed

“I'm not interested in your stuff...” your girlfriend whipped her head around so fast she nearly fell over “... I'm interested in seeing my best friend”

“You have some nerve standing at my door in the middle of the night two days after you said NOTHING” Alexia sneered as she chased towards Jenni

“I...” your best friend started when Alexia stood in front of her poking into her chest

“No... you listen and you listen good...” Alexia grumbled “... you made her cry... you made her sad... you made her feel like you left her... she told me you were her everything – the only person she wanted around our child... and you fuck up saying NOTHING and just disappearing not answering any calls or texts? She cried into your Jersey Jenni and I'm not allowed to wash it because then it “doesn't smell like Jenni anymore”... “

“I booked the first flight over... it was with a ton of layovers... I got to the airport as fast as I could and left everything at home.... I just got through because people can google me – I don't even have one Pesos on me....” Jenni said taking whatever Alexia threw at her “... I love her Ale... not like you do... I would give my life for her... I want to hug her when she tells me she's pregnant... I want to cry with her together... I want to BE THERE when she tells me”

“I'm pregnant... I'm pregnant and you're the only person I wanted to tell from the day I had a weird feeling... but you were in Mexico and the Doc said to wait until the end of the first Trimester since that's the most difficult time... we said my knee was acting up that's why I was on the Bench for the last games...” you suddenly spoke from behind Alexia after you came out of the bedroom looking for your girlfriend – kinda expecting her to be already murdered but you heard what Alexia said to Jenni and what Jennis answer was “... I wanted to tell you so bad but they banned me from flying since my bloodwhatever is kinda on the low end so Jennifer Hermoso Fuentes... I am pregnant”

You were crying when you spoke the last words and so was your best friend who just pushed Alexia out of the way to engulf you in the tightest hug. Jenni kissed your hair over and over again as you both were crying into each others bodies.

“I'm... gonna make some tea” your girlfriend grumbled but silently was so relieved that everything turned out how she hoped

“And some patatas bravas” you mumbled shyly looking at Alexia innocently “... not for me... your baby...”

“Mhm...” Alexia rolled her eyes playfully

“While your at it Putellas...” Jenni perked up but Alexia just threw her the legendary la reina glare

“Your girlfriend hates me” she heard Jenni say to you making you laugh

“You can share Patatas with your godchild” you laughed making Alexia smile to herself while she started to cut up the potatoes

“So... names... can't call it it all the time” your best friend said as she threw the door shut with her foot

likes by Mapí.Leon, Ingrid_engen and others

alexia.putellas Benvinguts a les nostres vides Valentina Jennifer Putellas Segura

Cata.Coll ~ strong grip... she's going to be a Keeper ♥️

alexia.putellas ~ recupera això!!!

Mapí.Leon ~ @pinata you owe me 100€.. i told you she's going to get Ales weird feet

Pinata ~ she can still outgrow them!!

Mapí.Leon ~ not with these genes 🤣

Ingrid_engen ~ i know who's going to apologize to Alexia and y/n for this very rude comment

Mapí.Leon ~ lo siento Alexia 😔

Ingrid_engen ~ and?

Mapí.Leon ~ and she's very beautiful

JenniHermoso ~ most beautiful girl in the world ♥️

y/n ~ keep it in your pants ... she's too young to be corrupted by you already

[mimicmimikyuwrites]

Cooking Together - (W/ America, England, Canada, Russia, France) x GN!Reader

Summary: Cute little scenarios where you cook together with some of the nations. 💕

Contents/Possible Warnings: A lot of food mentions, fluff, like a ton of fluff, slightly suggestive/flirty dialogue and implications (nothing outright not sfw), major emphasis on how England cannot cook

America (Alfred F. Jones)

There were both pros and cons to the situation you found yourself in. The pros were that the kitchen smelled nicely of apples and cinnamon, but the cons were that the flour had only been out for a few minutes and it was already everywhere. Still, the smell of cinnamon was nice; so you had that going for you.

Despite the state of the room around you, your boyfriend was not deterred in the slightest. In fact, he was practically bursting with excitement, humming a song as he formed the dough that the flour had been used for into a pie crust. A fresh apple pie was the end goal, and he couldn't be more thrilled. The way those handsome, baby blue eyes of his were shining with pure glee had you melting.

"I haven't baked in so long!" He exclaimed, grinning at you while you worked on the pie filling in the bowl in front of you, the scent of nutmeg in the air now joining the smell of cinnamon. "Hold on," He told you suddenly, reaching out to cup your face in his hands. "You've got something on your lips." With that, he kissed you sweetly, smiling into the kiss as his lips moved against yours.

"There we go," He spoke, pulling away once he was done, looking satisfied with himself. "All taken care of." You chuckled, your cheeks a light shade of red. "Did I really have something on my lips, or did you just want to kiss me, Alfred?"

"Both. You tasted like sugar, literally." He laughed, kissing you again, much quicker this time. "It isn't even done yet, but you might be sweeter than the apple pie is, babe." He teased with a small smirk.

"If we hurry up you can have both, you know."

You didn't need to say that twice. He did go fast when he was motivated, after all, especially with an awesome two-for-one deal. Needless to say, you both shared a lot of kisses that tasted like sugary, cinnamony apples that day.

England (Arthur Kirkland)

As much as you didn't want to admit it because it sounded harsh, Arthur Kirkland could not cook or bake anything without it going horribly wrong, even when it came to the dishes he had been 'perfecting' for years now. Fish and chips? That would burn. Beef wellington? Overcooked and inedible. His infamous scones? Ash. If you weren't used to it by now, the results of his cooking would scare you.

Speaking of scones, he tried to make them at least once every month or two, and surprisingly, nothing had yet to catch on fire. It made your heart break without fail every time you saw him look at his failed attempts, though.

"Arthur? Love?" You approached him one night, having already gone out to the store and bought every ingredient you'd need from the scone recipe you'd found online (you weren't going to risk using his. It might very well have been cursed.) "Do you want to bake with me? It could be an unplanned date night." You smiled at him warmly. You were his biggest soft spot, and he always gave in to those smiles of yours.

"Of course, dear." He smiled back, placing the book he had been reading down. "Oh! We should bake scones, I haven't made any in a while, and you love my scones, don't you?" You nodded, your smile faltering a bit as you remember the last time you tried his scones. They were burnt, of course, but you still managed to put on a smile and tell him how good it was in a little white lie.

"I was thinking the same thing." You responded, leading him to the kitchen to show him that you had already prepared everything. Every measurement was made and ready, all he had to do now was put it in a bowl, mix, and then bake. Easy as that. Or you hoped.

"This must've taken you a while, love." He observed, smile widening at the sight. You were so sweet to him! He never liked the whole measuring part, and here you had done it all for him. He could swoon over just how much he loved you. "Let's get started!" He exclaimed, overflowing with excitement.

With you guiding him along, things came out more than edible, they looked delicious! Instead of a hardened, blackened mess, the scones looked almost exactly like the picture in the recipe as you pulled them out of the oven.

"Look, Arthur!" You grinned, showing him the tray before setting it down. "You did it! These look bakery-worthy—" You let out a surprised gasp as he pulled you into a celebratory kiss, soon melting into it.

"Aha! Now France can't say I don't know how to cook!" He beamed, causing you to begin laughing. If he was happy, then so were you.

Canada (Matthew Williams)

Mornings with Matthew were always something you looked forward to. Waking up in his arms, combing your fingers through his soft, messy blond hair, and giving him his well-deserved 'good morning' kisses. It was a pure domestic bliss that you wouldn't trade for anything else in the world.

"What do you want for breakfast, hon?" He asked softly, still cuddled up next to you in bed. Another great thing about mornings with him was his cooking. Every day without fail he made you something mouth-watering good. Whether it was something simple or more complex, everything he made showed his love for you, even if cooking seemed to be a bit mundane to some people.

"Pancakes? Ooh! Blueberry pancakes." You replied happily, a small laugh leaving him in response. He blushed slightly, finding your enthusiasm both endearing and adorably cute. "Let me help you make 'em," you insisted with a grin. He laughed again before leaning into you, unable to resist kissing you when you were this adorable.

It didn't take long for you to find yourselves in the kitchen, hugging him from the side as you watched him cook. The blueberry-filled batter you had made turned out amazingly, and you were eager to see the results of your work in the form of masterly crafted pancakes.

When they were all done and covered in Matthew's favorite maple syrup you both sat down to eat, talking about whatever crossed your minds as you ate your breakfasts and sipped your coffee. It was moments like this why you savored and enjoyed your mornings with him, these moments where you two engaged in quality time and you were reminded just why you had fallen in love with him.

Oh, not to mention you also liked how his lips tasted like maple syrup when you were kissing him afterward, too.

Russia (Ivan Braginsky)

Before he met you he was used to doing everything alone, including having meals. He had no one to share his favorite dishes with, and eating was always a lonely activity when the seat next to him at the dinner table was empty. When you came along things weren't so isolating anymore.

Cooking dinner together had become a staple in your relationship early on, the act being used as a way to spend some quality time together in a simpler fashion. It was something that you two used to bond when you were still getting used to each other. Cooking wasn't just making a meal for you, it was a display of priceless non-physical intimacy.

"That tickles, Ivan," you giggled, feeling him nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck as you sauteed the meat and stirred the sauce you'd need for the meal you were making, the tall Russian towering over you from behind as he held you gently. "You're really affectionate today, дорогой."

He let out a happy hum in reply, pressing a soft kiss to your neck. "You're cute today, мое солнышко. How could I not be?" You smiled at his compliment before grabbing a spoon and scooping a bit of the sauce inside of the pot in front of you, turning around to face him. "Open up," you said, moving the spoonful toward his mouth and letting him taste what you had made.

"Very good," He told you after tasting the sauce. "You're starting to cook like a professional, дорогой. I don't think I've ever had a better beef stroganoff sauce." You blushed, tilting your head to the side. "Really?" It really must've been good if he hadn't tasted a better version of a dish he had eaten countless times over the decades.

"You're being cute again," He chuckled, a warmth growing in his chest at the sight of you. He loved you and these moments together so, so much.

France (Francis Bonnefoy)

French cuisine wasn't known for being regarded as some of the best in the world for no reason. Living in Paris with your boyfriend who was fond of dinner dates led you to witness firsthand why France was seen as a leader in the culinary arts. As much as you loved going to a fancy restaurant and sipping wine while you ate with Francis, you wanted tonight's date to be a bit less extravagant.

All you wanted was to cook with him at home and share a simple night over a home-cooked meal. Luckily, your boyfriend wasn't opposed to the idea in the slightest.

"This is romantic, oui?" He questioned with a pleased smile as he poured you a glass of wine (nothing too expensive, per your own request). "A night in with mon amour. What could be better?" He smiled, handing you your glass. "I'm a chef magnifique, so you'll be served food better than any restaurant can offer."

He wasn't exaggerating, either. As your date commenced, you were pleasantly surprised to see how talented he was when it came to both cooking the main course and baking the dessert of raspberry macarons. The only downside was that the macarons were harder to make than they looked.

"Mine look weird compared to yours," you observed, looking over to see his work. "I think I keep piping in too much jam..." He looked over at yours, nodding in agreement. "Oui. But they'll still taste good, non?" His gaze then traveled to your lips, and he smirked. "You have jam on your face, mon amour."

He leaned in, kissing you lovingly, making sure to get rid of that raspberry jam he was talking about. You tasted beyond sweet, and that wasn't just because of the macaron filling. "You know, I wouldn't mind tasting something else tonight other than the food we made, chérie~"

"Let's eat first, Francis," you replied with a playful roll of your eyes. He was a flirt, but he was still yours.

[coffeegnomee]

The psychological analyses that can come from that conversation with Ash is insane. And then the convo after with chat. 

 ASH: “WAIT. ZAm is accepting hearts from people That Kill? That’s not very peaceful of you zam. That goes against your oath. You’re just accepting heart that has, that puts blood on your hands. I’m not even joking about this” 

ZAM: “I-, I don’t. I don’t think it does.” 

ASH: “You’re benefiting from the spoils of the death that you claim to be so against” 

Zam physically JUMPS away from the conversation at the same time. Visibly unsettled by what Ash just said, because this exact stance has come up in chat in the past weeks. 

But nonetheless he proceeds to talk very calmly and practically. 

ZAM: “If kills have already happened what am I supposed to do to stop it. I only care about myself not killing people” [parkouring over to the roof of the house] 

ASH: “You literally-” 

ZAM: “not other people. The server can do whatever the fuck it wants. I don’t care” 

PANGI” aaahhhhh”

ASH: “That’s the most. That’s the most selfish view”

Hold that line for future analysis. In the moment Zam moves past it instantly, settling in the safe arms of being misunderstood. Nobody understands PrinceZam. 

 PANGI: “He’s like switzerland, you know. Like trading with uh germany and trading like england and [france?] in the middle of a war” 

ZAM: “nobody understands. Nobody understands princezam.” 

ASH: “that doesn’t make. That makes you a rat more than anything” 

(A snitch betrays his teammates for something in return, but a rat goes behind his teammates back to save his own cowardly ass.)

ZAM: “[cobs ash/under ash and jumps into it] nobody understands princezam” 

ASH: “maybe I will eventually. Why did you try to do- what?” 

ZAM: “I learned from you! The best side to play is all sides, right? That’s what you said” 

This is the FIRST time Zam has accepted this role. He has debated and worried about accidentally playing both sides, worried how each team will react, it has been WEIGHING on his mind that he DOESN’T want to play all sides. But in the heat of the moment, in the face of being called a hypocrite, he EMBRACES it to get Ash off his back. 

From 7/18/24, 33:20 ZAM: “I really don’t like the idea of playing both sides, but like, like- I’m trying my hardest not to, I’m just kinda like, at spawn and people are confiding in me. It’s like really awkward. Like maybe I’m leaning into it a little bit, I think, just because it’s like, easy. You know? Like if you shove 100 dollars in my face like I’m probably gonna take it right? Like like [giggling], it’s just like, ugh, it’s so stupid [laughing] i don’t like this. I don't know, I’m opportunist I guess. I’m just an opportunist I guess because I'm pacifist and I don't wanna die. So. But like also I really just don’t like the idea of being someone who plays both sides, it’s so awkward” 

Interestingly enough, we weren’t even talking about playing all sides. We were talking about taking bloodied hearts. Goes to show what is really on PrinceZam’s mind. 

ASH: “I mean, yea. I mean. Uh. okay. I guess we’re both insects then damn.” 

[zam laughs as he stutters his way around] 

ASH: “whatever bruh” 

ZAM: “hypocritical as fuck” 

ASH: “I mean, I’m not claiming to be any good person, I’m just saying your whole oath and code of honor is” 

ZAM: “I’m not either. I’m trying to be a good person but, hey” 

PANGI: “You’re doing a really bad job I can tell you that, Zam” 

ZAM: “yea. [pauses and then swings around to confront pangi] coming from you is crazy” 

PANGI: “[indignant] what do you mean coming from me, what did I do wrong?” 

ZAM: “hey guys my name’s pangi, my bit for today is I’m going to go inside this guy’s house and then what’s it called, frame him for doing drugs and take him to an obsidian box and lock him up in there” 

PANGI: “It was pretty funny. I thought that was pretty funny” 

ZAM: [now notably staying in one place for the conversation] yea you thought it was funny? It was HORRIFYING for me. Fuck you [punches him a couple of times]” 

That Pangi bit was not lore just the other day, but now it is. And it was horrifying. Love it.

PANGI: “Did you not find that video funny?” 

ZAM: “I didn’t enjoy that one bit, no.” 

PANGI: “suuuure buddy. Sure” [zam starts parkouring again] 

ZAM: “I don’t think pangi’s a pacifist” 

Classic deflection! It wasn’t Pangi’s pacifism that was in question, it was Zam’s. But Pangi’s pasifism is on Zam’s mind, so he’ll dredge up everything that’s been on his mind to make Pangi look bad so Zam can win the moral high ground. Or the highest low ground. 

In my mind, he’s starting to subconsciously not believe in his stance. Someone who believes in their beliefs fully doesn’t need to stoop to calling out everyone else’s flaws. He’s uncomfortable with the topic, which is why it became a lore moment with chat after, but even so, this is an early sign of cracking I think. He feels BAD about playing all sides, but puffs up that he doesn’t. He was SO worried about it the day he watched the bros vs empire fight. And again on gossip city day, but now he brings it up as a defense.

And also about receiving bloodied hearts, we’ve had this debate to chat before and Zam acknowledged that it is an ethical dilemma:

From 7/20/24, 4:51:10 “imagine flame goes on a killing spree just so he can pay you to make more builds lol’ (citrus) dude. Is the blood on my hands then? That’s something I was wondering, what if this becomes bad. To where they’re like murdering people just for the sake of like, whats it called, paying me. ‘Yes youre evil then’ (sin) aw shit. It’s my fault. I mean I guess it depends on how bad it gets. I felt really bad when they killed jepex for me. I can’t lie, in the moment I thought it was really funny but looking back, it’s literally the same as like. Like I think me asking them to kill someone is the same as me killing them myself, it lowkey does not matter. So I’m lowkey like having another moral dilemma right there, on that one. I’m gonna stop asking people to fucking kill people for me that’s stupid, i don’t want to do that anymore”

And then he debriefs the conversation with chat: “‘you’ve only done build commissions for incredibly violent people huh’ (arch) that is something to consider huh, am I [sharp breath in] let me put on the lore music hold on. Am I. and I, I don’t think I’m the worst person to- okay. No. you know what? It doesn’t matter. Because there are worse people on this server. So I’m not that bad by comparison. It doesn’t matter. Heh. it doesn’t even matter like, like, by comparison I’m not that bad it’s fine. You know I’m doing better than I did last season So I’m okay. I’m happy with my choices I feel like. I dunno. I mean like gaining, gaining hearts is not the worst thing in the world, it’s kind of like the point of the server is it not? I dunno. Hmmm ‘i mean violent people are the ones who have the hearts’ (citrus) exactly! Yea, my only, the only people I CAN do business with is the violent people.”

“But by taking hearts from them am I not encouraging them to kill more? Yea, that’s something to consider as well, you know? Cause, but it’s like. Ugggghhh let me read through the oath again. ‘Are they killing other violent people’ ‘or innocents’ (arch) that’s true! I mean. They kill innocents when they feel like killing innocents it depends on the person i’m dealing with. I don't know.. How often does mapicc kill innocent people?”

Him having to reference the oath in order to figure out if he’s okay, if he’s “in the right”, whatever that means subjectively, he needs the reassurance that he’s okay. Because he does not feel okay.

“Yea, there’s no stopping the violence on lifesteal obviously that’s just how the server works so I, I’ve only, it’s only about like, me. You know? ‘Can’t extend beyond yourself or else it would drive you crazy’ (mer) exactly I can’t control what other people do. It’s not selfish [heavy emphasis. Meaning ashsawg’s comment] it’s just like, me controlling what I can control. You can only control, you should only worry about what you can control, and what I can control is limiting myself. Umm from all that stuff.”

Because this isn’t about true pacifism, this is about Zam stopping Zam from being the joker again. And he can’t be the joker again because it was damaging to the server (7/9/24, 5:28:18 “‘it was fun tho’ (chips) it was, but it was fun at the expense of others. It was fun… but it was damaging to the server.. It was. I dunno. I don’t think it’s who I want to be.”)

So Zam’s form of pacifism, not killing anyone himself, is precisely Not Selfish because it’s saving the server by preventing the joker form coming back. 

But everyone observes him as trying to be classically Pacifist, which means being against all violence.

And then new chatters start bringing up the Planet kill. 

“‘you got one kill’ ‘you killed planet’ okay okay okay you killed planet okay. I hate how many people are talking about that. Can i talk about how I hate how many people talk about that? Cause like, it’s absurd that people are even bringing that up. I shot at him and he took off his fucking armor, what do you mean!? It obviously was never going to kill him, are you stupid? Like why are we why do so many people talk about this? Like it’s an actual point. ‘YOU CANNOT DENY IT ZAM’ yes I fucking can! Yes I fucking can! Because I shot at him as a fucking like bit, because was obviously never to kill him, and he took off all his fucking armor. I’ve been over it! I have been over it like a million times it’s insane! I gave back the heart too like what. [opens statistics] Like it doesn’t even count. [closes statistics without scrolling down] It does not count. ‘You’re still killing’ [mocking] you're still killing. Okay actual like bot opinion. Bot take. Actual bot take is what this is. Insane. Like actually insane. The fact that people are still on this is craaaazy like actually crazy. ” 

I love talking about the Planet kill (not in chat tho) because it’s such an interesting character moment that Zam is trying to retcon as not being important or meaningful at all. It Should be meaningful, he was shooting that bow, he went up to the closet moments before. He came up with a sword moments before. Murder Was On His Mind. He didn’t mean to, but that just enriches the character more. But also, it is wildly interesting to have him, as a character, retconning it from a character perspective. Getting mad about it is so much better than being dismissive of it. Or ignoring the messages. He is bothered by it, that’s why he gets so mad. And that has potential.

And then my favorite part:

“‘PANGI HASN’T’ oohhhh that’s what this is about. That’s what this is about. That’s what this is about, it’s about pangi, and and pangi being better than me okay. That’s what this is about. It means nothing to me. Means nothing to me. I don’t care. PANGI LITERALLY- okay. Okay. okay. Okay. okay. Okay. okay. Okay. [giggle laugh] pangi is a pacifist because he wants to be. But that’s like. Dude, woogie 1 for 1 took my thing. Dude, it’s crazy how many people are pacifist why did everyone like take my thing. I mean like the whole point is proof of concept is prove that it’s possible, right, but like heh heh. It’s also lame that other people are taking my thing. [more deranged leaning giggles] ‘everybody wants to be princezam.’ (mer)”

Here comes out the truth as to why he turned on Pangi in the Ash conversation. It’s on his mind that Pangi and Woogie are also being pacifist, and that “by the definition” they are “better” than him. Better. That one word that boils Zam’s blood. Because incompetence is his trigger. He always gets cynical and mean when someone is dumb or messes up.

And he thinks Pangi is bad at being pacifist, kill count not included. He's removing the Dirtica walls, getting into conflict with his stream bits, he's looking for violence while not being overtly violent.

And then Pangi is talking about a villain comeback when he stops pacifism. And Zam, you can tell, has no faith that Pangi is good enough at pvp to pull it off. Is it because Zam’s self conscious about his own potential return to pvp and the scariness of just loosing every battle? Is it because he’s constantly defending himself against the “weak player” allegations from his chat? He projects his own insecurities on Pangi, and then gets frustrated at him because he’s copying his arc, the arc that he so confidently and happily said has never been done before. 

A lot is boiling up under the surface of PrinceZam. 

[unreliablesnake]

Vincent takes a liking to you, even though you’re loyal to your boss, Winston (Vincent de Gramont x reader)

Summary: You're working closely with Winston, but the Marquis wants you for himself.

Note: I might write an actual chapter about the time Winston and Wick show up in Paris. / If you want to know when I post new stuff, follow @unreliablesnakefics and hit the get notifications button. I don't have a taglist.

Part 2(ish)

Bedside Charon, you were one of Winston’s most trusted employees, an assassin who decided to settle for a quieter life–if there was anything that could be considered quiet in this line of work, that is.

Throughout the conversation, the Marquis’ eyes kept falling on you, watching you as a predator stalked its prey. Winston noticed too. You knew because he gave you a worried look at one point.

After he shot Charon and began to walk out of the room, he stopped next to you and said, “You’re coming with me.” It was an order, not a request. You gave your boss a desperate look, hoping he could say or do something to stop him, but he remained silent. “Are you loyal to the Table? If so, you come with me now. If not, you’ll get a bullet like your colleague,” the Marquis told you coldly.

You soon found out he was going straight back to Paris after this. “I don’t even have clothes or other stuff with me, let me–” you tried, but he stopped you, telling you that he would take you shopping once you arrived to France.

He kept his eyes on you the whole time. On the jet, you couldn’t look up from the magazine you had previously found without meeting his gaze. It was tough not knowing whether he wanted to kill you or study you like a lab rat. Neither sounded like a good option, but you would rather choose the latter to stay alive.

When you landed in Paris, he showed you he wasn’t kidding about the shopping. He had already asked one of his men there to get you something new to wear, along with some necessities you would need to freshen up. Then to your surprise he asked you if you would rather sleep or go shopping, and when you chose to get it over with, he took you to all the best places around the city.

Your entire body froze when he walked over to you to take a closer look at the elegant gown you were wearing in a boutique, his fingers running down from your shoulder to your hips. You gulped, definitely not happy to have this kind of attention, but you didn't say anything. You were like a deer in the headlight, frozen from fear.

For whatever reason, the Marquis insisted on you staying in the bedroom next to his. He told you about his plans for the next day or so, expecting you to follow him around wherever he went, always wearing some fancy clothes.

In the evening his chef prepared delicious meals for the two of you, and he kept you close the whole night, his fingers not-so-accidentally brushing against yours every now and then. It was hard to believe it, but he was clearly flirting with you. Even though a part of you found it flattering, you still couldn't understand what he wanted from you exactly.

He took you to the Opera the next day, but instead of focusing on the performance of the dancer, his eyes were locked on you. “You are beautiful, my love,” he said at one point, shocking you with the pet name. “Do you know why I brought you here?” You didn't know if he was referring to Paris or the opera, but you still shook your head.

Since he didn't elaborate until you got back to his place, your mind was in overdrive by the time you entered his mansion. “Why did you bring me here?” you asked him before he could disappear. Instead of answering, he just smiled at you then pulled you into a kiss.

It was terrible, really. You knew that Winston would be utterly disappointed in you if he found out, but you couldn't resist the Marquis' charm. When his fingers began to look for the zipper of your dress, you knew you were a goner.

[vidavalor]

Hey there :) I love your metas and would like to know why you think they decided to show satan as an actual being, but not god? Or do you think we will see god in the final episode?

Hi there! 💕Thank you & very interesting questions. *rubs hands together* This'll be fun. I know God is big on reminding people to not avoid salads but I also have chocolate cake so we can have a bit of both, yeah? *gets plates*

To answer your questions, I've got to share some ideas about The Voice of God that I've had lately that I think could come about in The Finale. If it winds up anything like this, it might not just change how we see God in the series but also completely upend our understanding of the novel at the same time...

So, throughout Good Omens the tv series so far, we've had what appears to be three beings who are the ones in charge of Heaven and Hell: The Metatron, Satan, and, kind of out here in her own world a bit, God. The Metatron claims to be the spokesperson for God but that is in doubt in a lot of people's minds, my own included. I think he's a fraud who cannot speak to God and whose power is dependent upon the angels believing that he can. I'm pretty sure that The Finale will see the main characters challenge him on this and expose his deception, leading them to be able to overthrow him and create a better system in Heaven.

Satan and The Metatron are dependent upon one another for power so if one of them goes down, they both do. Exposing The Metatron would cause the angels to realize that God didn't judge the demons-- The Metatron did. This would mean that the angels and demons would realize that they're all just angels and that they are on the same side against both The Metatron and Satan. I'm pretty sure that's why those two villains were working together to get rid of Aziraphale and Crowley in The Final 15 and want Gabriel dead-- they don't want the angels and demons to talk to one another long enough to figure it out and start a revolution.

So, let's say that all of that is close to (or is) accurate and we get to a point in The Finale when we find out that Heaven is a sham and The Metatron can't talk to God. This then brings up a big question that the characters in Good Omens aren't really seen asking a lot but that will suddenly be as big to these angels as it is to us humans:

Does God exist?

We might think we already know the answer to this, right? Of course she does! She's the ball of light that sounds like Frances McDormand! She's narrated S1 for us and she's talked to Crowley and Aziraphale and Job! When you ask if I think we'll see God in the finale, this is the being that you're probably asking about, right? The God we listened to who narrated S1 to us was crazy about humanity, yes? You'd think she'd want to participate since, as God, she'd know that would be what living really is. Does she, as you ask, have a body? Is she a living being? We might think she really does exist because we've heard what she sounds like but I think we might not quite yet have the full picture on that, as you'll see...

We can see what they're doing with The Metatron and Satan more clearly right now, I think. These two are two sides of an evil coin. Heaven and Hell are equally terrible. Neither has any sense of individuality, boundaries, or bodily autonomy. They are full of toxic, harmful ideas and are inflicting horrific abuse on the angels and demons. How they are presented to us as beings also reflects those horrors.

The Metatron is the only supernatural character in the story who does not have a full human corporation. He is just a floating head and that is the, well, pardon the pun, but the most meta thing in this story imaginable. He presents himself as above the other angels and nearer to God by virtue of the fact that he just needs a head to get around and doesn't deal with having a human body. His presentation is saying to the other angels that they couldn't ever possibly live up to his standards of holiness because they might all be magical but they have bodies, which are, by definition, unholy. They aren't supposed to feel or need anything that requires a body and what's extra fun for them is that everything does so the angels are made to feel like they cannot win from the get-go.

Fuck it up and wind up in Hell? Now, you are evil and belong to Satan for eternity. Violence, torture and assault from which there is no escape awaits you. I'd argue that while Satan is an actual being, as you put it, because he was an angel before, that we might not have actually seen that true form yet.

In 1.01, he attacks Crowley while being basically vapor and using the voice of Freddie Mercury. (That's definitely the most bizarre-sounding sentence I've written this week lol.) In 1.06, he is coming to claim Adam and Adam is told by Crowley and Aziraphale right before that this is what's about to happen so I think that Satan appeared as Adam would think The Devil would look like. He was eleven at the time, so, a giant, angry, horned, red devil cliche beast that sounded like Benedict Cumberbatch was probably about accurate. Satan has so far appeared not necessarily as himself but as whatever being might be most torturous to the person he's showing up to or whatever being might meet his end goals-- which is how he is appearing as The Metatron With A Body in 2.06. He's coming to tempt Aziraphale to Hell and Aziraphale would only ever think the offer genuine if he thought it was coming from The Metatron so that's who Satan made himself appear to be.

Both Heaven and Hell are, as Crowley puts it in 2.06, toxic.

But when you bring The Voice of God into this, things start to really interesting.

While it's not hard to see both Satan and The Metatron as evil, God is a little more difficult. This is some of the basis of the theory that The Metatron cannot communicate with God. One of the things that makes the theory have weight is that it's very difficult to see this God that is narrating the story to us in S1 as someone who would actually be behind the atrocities that Heaven claims are her will.

I think most of us like The Voice of God. She is very sharp, very dry-witted, and she's curious about people. She clearly loves all her beings. She really doesn't seem like a vengeful God that could be behind drowning people or casting all these demons to Hell or wanting to murder a laundry list of living beings around Job. The God we heard in S1? She wouldn't believe that Job's children belonged to Job in the first place, let alone want to kill any kids, let alone to do so only to win a bet with Satan.

There's a moment in S1 that I think solidifies that The Voice of God isn't a villain and that's when Crowley arrives at Tadfield Manor with baby Adam. God's narration introduces to us the baby swap plot about to go down by telling us (paraphrased) that it's helpful to understand that events in human history do not happen as a result of people being good or bad but just as a result of people being people. When she says this, Crowley is participating in the misunderstandings of the scene, alongside the humans in it, and God is counting him among the people of which she is speaking.

That's basically the moment that it becomes impossible to see The Voice of God as a villain because here she is, seeing Crowley as human. Here she is, narrating his and Aziraphale's story, and we the audience, for much of S1, really want to tell Crowley and Aziraphale that she is, right? If anything, this is the one thing we're angry with her about...

When Crowley is talking to God alone in his flat and not getting any response, we're angry at the God we also like because we know that she loves Crowley but he doesn't feel that and is suffering. We want her to tell him. We want her to be more clear with Aziraphale, too, after just appearing outside Eden. Even still, though, she's likable in her narration and seems separate from The Metatron and Satan.

There is the feeling that, if The Voice of God is God, that she believes that the universe is the dominion of her creations and that she cannot interfere because to do so would be to force them all to follow her will. She doesn't want to rob her creations of their free will. There is no plan from God but for them to all be free. This would make her a just god and go along with her narration so it allows us to be understanding about the fact that she cannot actually talk that much to her creations directly or stop any terrible things from happening-- because it's up to them to do so, not her.

That may all well be true but, as we will see, there might be some evidence that The Voice of God might have a more complicated identity than we might originally have thought.

If the main characters overthrow The Metatron and Satan in The Finale, it's going to be as a result of the characters talking and realizing that none of them-- including Gabriel and the archangels-- have ever spoken to God. As a result, they will all know that they don't know how to reach her.

They've only ever reported to The Metatron. God didn't even turn up for Gabriel's trial-- a big deal in Heaven, since he was The Supreme Archangel. All of this will lead them to the realization that The Metatron is a fraud but these characters are angels. They believe that they were made by the God they haven't ever actually interacted with entirely for the purpose of serving that God.

When they find out that The Metatron cannot contact God, they're all going to be wondering if God exists and it might be here that we'd think that Crowley and Aziraphale might share their experiences of hearing The Voice of God, yes?

Except...

...think about those known experiences for a moment...

The Voice of God has only appeared (key word: appeared) to speak to three characters: Aziraphale, Crowley and Job. In the first scene we see in which she speaks to a character, it's to Aziraphale, when he is alone outside the wall of Eden, right?

In this moment, Aziraphale has just rebelled more than he probably ever has before. He gave Adam and Eve his flaming sword and helped Crowley get out of Eden and now, here he is, standing outside the walls of Eden, having escaped himself and both thrilled and terrified to start a journey of exploring the Earth. He's been having an internal crisis as to whether or not he did the right thing. He knows that he did by his own moral compass but it's all very much against how Heaven works and he's unsure what it is that the God he believes made him and whom he serves actually wants him to do.

This is the exact moment when The Voice of God appears and has a short little chat with him about it-- dryly dubbing him "The Angel of The Eastern Gate" and asking him what he did with the flaming sword. This scene is fun because we all figure that, if this is God, surely she knows what Aziraphale did with the sword, but we get to watch as he lies straight to her ball of light. We think that she approves because nothing ever happens to Aziraphale as a result of this.

However, there's no real proof in this scene that The Voice of God was ever actually talking to Aziraphale. Aziraphale is the only other character in the scene and one could theorize that he has imagined God talking to him more than God actually talking to him.

We tend to never question the fact that, while God doesn't seem to be talking to anyone else in the story in S1, that she does briefly talk to Aziraphale. This makes sense to us because Aziraphale's role in Eden was a big deal in the whole series of events on Earth and we already feel like God feels that Aziraphale and Crowley are important because she's narrating their story. Not only do they appear to have been chosen to be in Eden to help jumpstart human life on Earth but they're important enough in everything for God to be telling us their story as she chats with us. Because they're our main characters we don't see anything off about God seeing them as main characters, too.

We actually use Eden in our minds as some of the foremost proof that God exists in Good Omens. These angels act like she must and Aziraphale's spoken with her so it must be true, yes?

Except... what if it's not?

What if Aziraphale was having a crisis of faith in Eden and basically imagined speaking with God?

What if The Voice of God isn't The Voice of Actual God (if God even exists) but rather The Voice of God in Aziraphale's Head?

We've never seen any proof that any of the angels or eventual demons have ever actually spoken with God, including prior to the creation of Earth. We assume that God is real because they all talk like she is but we've never been shown any concrete proof that they aren't all just believing they work for someone they've never met.

But, wait, you might say, what about Crowley and Job hearing her in the Job minisode, right? Isn't that proof?

Well... that's a bit suspect, too, and I'll show you why. It's largely hinted at in the sound mixing and context of that scene.

Like Aziraphale was outside the wall in Eden, Job was a man of faith in the midst of a massive crisis when we saw him. He and Sitis had been weathering what they believed was the wrath of God. Job's whole world was under siege and his children were in danger and his wife was begging him to go ask God for answers. When Crowley and Aziraphale come up on Job appearing to speak with God, several things are contextually important that suggest that this isn't quite what it appears to be.

Diluting the visuals is that, in this scene, the post-storm, dawn sun is starting to come through the clouds a bit, much in the way it was after the storm clouds of Eden were clearing when God appeared to Aziraphale in Eden. Job was under the light, praying and appearing to be communicating with God. Crowley and Aziraphale stop far back from Job and, when we're near them, we cannot hear God clearly. The key is in the sound mixing in this scene. When we're near Crowley and Aziraphale, God sounds like she's speaking in a wind tunnel ten miles away. We can catch snippets of words on the breeze but there's nothing tangible there. It would have been literally impossible for Crowley and Aziraphale to hear a single, complete sentence of any of this... and, based on what Job tells Sitis afterwards, he doesn't hear it, either. To add to this, Crowley is unreliable where this scene is concerned because, when it happens, he's drunk enough that we're shown him having trouble walking.

These two were drunk on food and wine in the midst of having moral crisis and watched a man pray under stormy, dawning daylight a half-mile away and think that, maybe, he might have been talking to God. That's it.

Job was in a state of madness and thinks he heard his own Voice of God when asked what happened the next day by Sitis. Crowley and Aziraphale think, from what they can see, that God really is talking to Job-- but they're so far back that they cannot hear basically anything that she's saying. They are both different kinds of intoxicated and likely seeing light and sound from the dwindling storm/emerging daybreak highlighting a man experiencing a kind of religious ecstasy and taking that for possible truth.

We hear her accurately when the camera gets closer to Job... but this all influenced by Aziraphale remembering these events as he reads them in his Bible in the bookshop, so the real is overlapping in this moment with the Biblical account... and it's also clear that Job doesn't remember much of anything he thinks that she said. He returns the next morning and tells Sitis that it was all too wonderful for him to comprehend and something something whales and ostriches. Basically, Job went a bit bonkers and convinced himself that he heard God and she was going on about different animals.

So, look at what we're saying here...

...if Job cannot remember what God said and Crowley and Aziraphale didn't hear it because they heard sounds on the wind and Crowley was drunk and Aziraphale thinks God had spoken to him before but was, that night, only speaking to Job... then from where, in the Good Omens universe, did the Job passage that is supposedly what God said to Job and was recorded in The Bible actually originate?

Who wrote it?

Who is the real Voice of God, when it comes to the Job passage and, likely, in general?

Who wrote the line that prompted Aziraphale to think back on the Job minisode in the first place-- the one that was the only thing which Gabriel could remember at first?

You know why this is all Gabriel can remember and why he looks awfully distraught at the recollection of it? Because Gabriel doubts the existence of God. He's been The Supreme Archangel for thousands of years and she's never spoken to him and The Metatron's a total bastard and God didn't even show up when Gabriel was thrown out of Heaven. What has he been clinging to all these years regarding her existence and his own sense of what the right path to take is? He's been clinging to the bit in The Bible that detailed what it was that God apparently said to Job.

Gabriel not only clings to this as proof of God's existence but he clings to it as proof that he is right to think what he does. Gabriel's own moral compass is at odds with The Metatron and Heaven, just like Crowley and Aziraphale's is. He is The Supreme Archangel of Heaven but he doesn't believe that the demons are all evil and beneath the angels. He actively works to keep angels and demons alike from The Metatron and Satan finding out that they are talking to one another. He wants to believe that God is not a villain and that she approves of this mentality and, as proof that she does, Gabriel clings to the line from Job where God told Job wistfully that she was there "when the morning stars sang together and all the Angels of God shouted for joy." He sees this as God supporting his mindset that the angels and demons are all angels of God and to mistreat the demons is wrong.

But... if The Voice of God is The Voice of God in Aziraphale's Head, then when we hear Frances McDormand, we're hearing Aziraphale.

When it came time to write what it was that God said to Job, though, it was Crowley and/or Aziraphale who actually wrote the passage below, which is why it sounds so much like how they view things:

Job, you've got questions for me? I've got questions *for you.* Do you know how I created the Earth? Where were you when I laid the foundations of the Earth, Job? Were you there when all the morning stars sang together and all the Angels of God shouted for joy? Do you know the rules of the Heavens? Did you set the constellations in the sky? Can you send lightning bolts and get them to report back to you? Did you give wings to peacocks, Job, or teach the ostrich to run?

What is credited to God here are actually things that Crowley and Aziraphale did, as suggested by the Before the Beginning scene, when we see that Aziraphale was involved in the creation of Earth and Crowley designed the stars. The line to which Gabriel clings is one that God didn't say-- Crowley and/or Aziraphale wrote it, explaining Crowley's hesitation when he says to Aziraphale: "your, ah, boss... said that to Job" in response to Gabriel quoting it, as well as what it is that Aziraphale wants to talk about when he says "Crowley" upon finishing reading the bit of The Bible recounting the Job minisode-- most of which was actually written by he and Crowley.

Ok, so, if The Voice of God is really more like Aziraphale's Voice of God? This explains a few things...

It explains why we haven't heard Frances McDormand's voice speaking to any other beings besides Aziraphale and ones who are otherwise unreliable. The only being who reliably hears her is Aziraphale and that's because she is how he imagines The Voice of God. She is the one that lives is in his head and talks to him.

It also explains why her conversation with Aziraphale in Eden opens the 1.03 Cold Open and why the two instances where she shows up to Aziraphale are both very early on chronologically in Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship. It's showing that Aziraphale's Inner Voice of God is something that is always within him-- because she is him-- but that hearing The Voice of God in his head was something that was probably happening with more frequency in the earlier part of Aziraphale's story-- back when he was more on his own for long stretches of time and before he had Crowley more frequently in his life to talk with about how he felt about things.

Interestingly, the last scene of the Job minisode begins with Aziraphale sitting under the sun/light of God alone, afraid that he's about to fall, echoing some of the scene outside the wall at Eden... but ends with the shot of Crowley sitting with him, after supporting him and their mutual admittance that they're both lonely without the other. The Voice of God can be seen as something of a feature of Aziraphale's loneliness but maybe he has those conversations with her/himself less frequently from the Job minisode on because both his perspective on Heaven/Hell has changed and, just as importantly, he has Crowley to talk to.

After all, remember how we said that she showed up as Aziraphale was having a whole inner crisis in Eden? The same was true in the Job minisode. Not only was Aziraphale having a whole moral dilemma over what to do about Job's kids when he apparently hears The Voice of God speaking to Job but he's just recently seen Crowley again and they are basically on a little date.

Aziraphale, in the hours prior to hearing God in the Job minisode, has just tried food for the first time-- a lot of food lol-- and is flirting his way closer to sex. He's literally taking a romantic walk with his demon love when Frances McDormand cameos so the possibility that, while he's having a very nice night, he's also internally having a bit of an ox ribs and lust guilt delusional freakout seems kind of high.

So, now, think about what else happens if Frances McDormand's Voice of God is Aziraphale's inner Voice of God... Gabriel has some scenes in S2 that could be seen as playing around with this a bit.

The first is Aziraphale bringing up the concept of an author when talking with Gabriel about the book organization project. While there is humor in the fact that Gabriel can't remember what an author is-- how could he when he can't fully remember who he is?--- there's also something else at play here, too.

Gabriel's idea for how to organize the books sounds balmy but it's secretly kind of brilliant-- especially when taken as a metaphor for how to view people. Gabriel can't be bothered with categories, genres, types, labels, or titles. All he's interested in is the first letter of the first sentence on the first page of every book. While we're laughing at this because we know that he's going to end up with most of the books just clumped together under a few sections like the one we see him spending time in-- the "I" section, full of "it's" and "I" beginnings of books-- that's also the point.

We have more in common than meets the eye and Gabriel is insightful enough to bypass the labels we put on others and ourselves and just get to the common origin stories and experiences. Aziraphale asks if his plan is to sort the books alphabetically by author and Gabriel says he is by the first letter of the first sentence-- ironically, Gabriel is sorting by author, really, but he's matching up authors based on what they've written, not by their similar names.

Why this matters is because we now have this scene between Gabriel and Aziraphale where the concept of an author is in play. Gabriel can't remember what the word means but his project is based around what is actually a really deep understanding of one. At the same time, Aziraphale knows what the humans refer to as an author but is struggling to claim authorship of his own life. The word author was also at the core of this struggle for him in S1 when he prayed for help in stopping Armageddon. What was it that Aziraphale said he was looking to reach when he prayed?

"A higher authority."

Aziraphale was looking to reach God or anyone with the power to stop Armageddon and his efforts to find someone else to be that higher authority were unsuccessful and that is because we are all the authors of our own lives.

We are God.

Aziraphale is his own higher authority. He is the author of his own plan-- his own life.

And, if The Voice of God in the series that we hear is really Aziraphale?

Then look at that moment when Gabriel pulled a book off the shelf of the bookshop-- one without a title or an author, though someone has written it-- and it turned out to be one with which we're very familiar:

As Gabriel works on his book organization project, we get this trippy moment when he opens up and reads from the first page of a copy of a book that we all know as Good Omens. There is evidence that this is different from just the "lol Aziraphale is a Doctor Who fan" joke elsewhere in the season. This Clue comes in the shot showing us the book itself from multiple angles in Gabriel's hands-- and the fact that the cover is not the same as our copies of the book. It is a red clothbound hardcover with no dust jacket and no visible title or author printed anywhere on it.

The show has already established that Terry Pratchett and that other guy exist in the Good Omens universe because their solo books are visible at different points in the series. When it establishes that the novel Good Omens exists within the Good Omens universe, though, it does so only by establishing that the text of book we know does. The title of it is not visible and neither are any evidence of its authors in our world, despite their existence in this fictional one.

Moreover, by showing us the first page of what we know to be the Good Omens novel, they're showing us a part of the book that we've already heard before, near its beginning. This bit highlighted on the screen to us-- the opening sentence and first, full paragraph of the novel-- were God's narration over the end of the Eden scene in the first episode. Most of the narration of The Voice of God in S1, as we know, is taken from passages of the Good Omens novel and the show establishes in S2 with this Gabriel scene that the text of Good Omens exists in an unmarked book in Aziraphale's bookshop.

I think it's all saying pretty emphatically that Good Omens, in the Good Omens universe, was written by Aziraphale.

The only way that works then is if the voice we've been hearing both read this book to us and seeming to speak to Aziraphale is of Aziraphale's own creation, which would then mean that Frances McDormand is also, essentially, playing Aziraphale. She is just what God sounds like in Aziraphale's head. She is what Aziraphale imagines God to be. She is, effectively, Aziraphale.

This then suddenly makes everything about God's narration make a lot more sense, right? God's love of humanity and her interest in behavioral science and her cheeky, dry-as-a-bone humor is all very Aziraphale. God's love of Crowley and the way that she approves of him and Aziraphale's relationship and sees them as people like her other beings is what Aziraphale believes would be true of the loving God that he believes in and is fundamentally true of how he views their relationship and Crowley himself. God's ability to speak Crowley and Aziraphale's language and the novel being written in it becomes less that God can do so because she's God and more because she's really just Aziraphale.

The whole novel itself takes on quite a different perspective if you look at it as the book above that Gabriel found when he was organizing the books. The one that, as of S2, it was too dangerous to have labeled at all but that we can theorize was written by Aziraphale and is wrapped up and bound in Crowley's signature color and that color of love-- red.

The book we know as Good Omens is, in the Good Omens universe, a book that Aziraphale wrote for Crowley in which they are two of the characters.

This is, more than anything else we've seen so far, the real book of life.

I think that it's saying that if you were to finish the series and find this to be true, you could then go pick up the novel again and read it as if Aziraphale wrote it, with the narrative passages maybe in his Voice of God Frances McDormand voice but with the knowledge that The Voice of God is really Aziraphale himself.

I love this idea because it means that the tv series that keeps giving us more information that reframes our prior understanding of things might wind up ending with a twist where the nature of The Voice of God in the series is such that it won't even just make rewatching the show a extra fun (although it will) but it'll make it so that you'll be able to go all the way back and read the novel in a different way as well, now with the perspective that Aziraphale is meant to be its author.

This also would be fun because it'd then be viewing the tv series as the canon and the book as what Aziraphale wrote happened and any discrepancies and changes as Aziraphale's writing choices. It means you get to read the passages in the book that are descriptive of Crowley or of he and Aziraphale together from the viewpoint that Aziraphale wrote them, which honestly makes them even funnier.

This would mean that God, as she's been presented to us so far in the series, is an actual being because she's Aziraphale and that we will see her in the finale because she's been a part of our main character all along.

So... there's then just one question left... and it's the same one we had earlier on in the meta:

Does God exist?

If The Voice of God is Aziraphale's inner Voice of God then is the story going to suggest that a real God does exist or is it going to suggest that she doesn't or is that going to be left as an open question?

There are a couple of paths that they could take-- two that I can see and likely some I haven't.

One is Agnes Nutter. I know a lot of people have theories that she's actually God. They could suggest or imply that a bit. In some ways, they might already have done so, as others have suggested.

The other path is the one that I think they might take, though, regardless of what they do or don't suggest with Agnes, which is to leave it so that Aziraphale is The Voice of Frances McDormand God and it's an open question as to whether or not an actual God exists.

The reason why I think it's that path that they're going to take is that Good Omens has a lot of themes around recognizing and claiming personal power and living to your own moral code. It's also very much aligning these supernatural beings in its story with the humans in it and it might just be the writer in me but I think it would be a stronger ending to have the angels and demons wondering just as much as the humans if God exists than it would be to definitively give an answer.

They're all going to know that The Ineffable/Great/Divine Plan in the sense that Heaven was saying existed for eons doesn't exist but the angels and demons will be left wondering along with the humans if they have a creator and if that creator made them for any particular reasons... just like how we wonder those things, too.

As much as the story is a religious satire, it's also a romance, and I can't see an ending of this story doing much to say that Crowley is wrong for his romantic notions that he and Aziraphale were made for each other. It's probably going to just leave the existence of God as an open question.

The story is already going to provide the characters with some much-needed peace from the fact that they'll know that what they endured was a judgement of The Metatron and not God. That and the resulting more peaceful system in Heaven will allow Crowley and Aziraphale to go live their life together without as much fear and they will do that. They might be able to put a name and a title on that book and own the authorship of their story. Even if some might label it as fiction, Gabriel, at least, sees it as belonging alongside the other, human-penned books on the I shelf in the bookshop, and he won't be the only one by the end of the story.

Not knowing then if God exists at all will yield just as many questions... but, if they had all the answers, where would be the sense of wonder in that? It will certainly give them some things to talk about for eternity together. 😊

[mapisgf]

The reason for her smile LW6 x reader

Alex Scott became a close friend of yours quickly, the both of you just clicked. you often partnered together since you were a world renowned photographer, photographing many celebrities. You had recently returned from living abroad in Italy. Upon arriving in London Alex offered you the opportunity to come take some photographs of a football star while she was being interviewed. This was also the perfect opportunity for you to catch up and work alongside each other. 

You made your way to the studio.

“I missed you so much.” Alex rushed into you hugging you tightly. “ I can't wait for you to meet Leah.”

“ Me too, I'm so happy we're working together again. Why didn't you tell me it was Leah Williamson? You know I'm a huge fan!”

You hear the door open and you're greeted by a blonde girl with a bright smile on her face. She wore brown trousers and a simple white crop top showing off her abs. In her hand three coffees. 

She sets the coffees down on a table and gives you a hug. 

“I'm Leah. It's nice to finally meet you y/n but i must say if anything i'm your biggest fan.”

“I don't believe you.” You say expecting her to not even know your name. Her blond hair was loose reaching her shoulders, a halo of blonde framing her face. She was even more gorgeous up close.

“She serious , Leah asked me if you would be available for today.” Alex took a sip from her coffee smirking at you. 

“Oh sorry i almost forgot i got you a coffee too.” her hands brushed against yours. It was from your favourite coffee shop and it was also your go to order.

“Oh my god this is my favourite coffee shop. How did you guess my order?” Leah just shrugs.

The photo shoot goes well. Leah changes outfits, styling herself looking impeccable due to her amazing sense of style. She often turns to smile at you, occasionally asking you questions it almost becomes a mix of her interviewing you. Suddenly Alex gets a phone call from her mom since it was just the three of you. You both tell her to go take the phone call . She steps outside the room leaving you to alone. 

“ Can I see some of the pictures you've taken?” Leah walks over to you and places a hand  on your back. You nod and show her some of the pictures so far.

“These look great , I really love your work, it just has so much warmth to it.”

“I think you and your smile put all the warmth in these pictures.” It was true her smile was like warm honey. She blushes and shakes her head in disagreement.

You walk over to your equipment on the table. Leah follows you and leans against the edge of the table. 

“What's your favourite club ?” You laugh and raise your head up to look at her. She wears a smirk on her face.

“Do i have to say arsenal.'' Leah playfully nudges you but shakes her head while biting her lip. 

“It's Barca . I loved watching them play while I lived in Spain i actually saw you play against them you broke some hearts after scoring that header.” 

She laughs and so do you. What you don't realise is Leah looking at you needing to make you laugh again. Leah doesn't want the day to end; she wants to keep talking to you. She wants to hear more about your time in France and Spain.

“You should come to an arsenal game sometime. Then you'd get to see how many hearts I can break.” She leans in closer brushing your hair out of your face. Your face gets hot, a blush creeping up on your skin. You hear Alex come back into the room you move away from Leah but not before whispering “Maybe I will if you ask me nicely.” Leah turns to look at you but you're already behind your camera .

The sun starts to set as the three of you say goodbye you don't realise that Leah hugs you for a seconds longer than she does Alex. You both walk Alex to her car but you realise you forgot something in the studio. Alex offers to go with you even though she is already in her car but Leah insists that shell go instead. 

You enter the studio and quickly find your missing piece of equipment. You turn back to look at Leah when she starts to speak.

“ Y/n will you please come watch my game on Saturday. I'm asking nicely. “ She smiles at you. 

You walk over to her and focus all your attention on her face. “I've never been to watch a football match for a first date.” You pray that she's actually interested in you starting to overthink what you just said. 

“Well there's always a first time and I promise a proper first date on Sunday.” You feel giddy at the promise of Sunday.

“Who says I want to go on a first and second date?” You ask her sarcastically of course. Leah smirks .

“ I have a feeling.”

She walks you to your car and helps you pack everything. She even opens you door for you. 

You look at each other you're about to say bye when she kisses you so sweetly . You melt into her touch. She pulls away.

“Goodnight y/n”

When you reach home you get a text from a number.

Leah - Hey love , it's Leah, here's your ticket for Saturday (she sends a picture). Can't wait to see you. Xx

You - The feelings mutual. Can't wait to take more pictures of you.

[txttletale]

Okay so. The biggest Marxist party in France is trotskyist and if it's not too much trouble, I would really like a rundown of why every ML I've talked to hates trots? Because there aren't many other options to be honest

basically it is because every trotskyist party is an anti-solidarity dead weight on the socialist left. they're almost inevitably hypersectarian and stuffed to the brim with grifters, opportunists, and careerists. they have absolutely no shame and see everything as a branding excercise and as an opportunity for sectarian digs and relitigating arguments from thirty, forty, fifty years ago. they often take soft-imperialist positions, both-sidesing nato imperialism and scoffing at the idea of critical support.

they also habitually turn into cults of personality that close ranks around sexual predators, but that's not endemic to trotsykist parties, that also happens with demsocs and MLs and maoists and anarchists and [checks notes] uh oh all the liberal bourgeois and right-wing political parties too.

i don't have a particular hypothesis for why trots are so uniquely fucking obnoxious, but i theorize that like--from the 70s onward, most western countries had an ML and a trotskyist org engaged in pointless sectarian warfare as the former toed the CPSU line and the latter railed against them, both to the exclusion of actually doing anything useful. after the dissolution of the USSR, the ML parties more or less collapsed or went entirely directionless for a long time. as a result, trotskyists have been spending three decades in parties that have no particular goal or point, and as such have completely ossified, bureaucratized, and become terminally infested with grifters.

i obviously don't know the french political context, so i can only describe my experience: my ML org has worked happily side by side with anarchists and democratic socialists--we have never been able to work with trots.

[romesblogz]

➡︎ 「 ᴏʀɪɢɪɴᴀʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ x ᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ 」

Kimura Kenji x bottom male reader

Suggestive, making out

College au, friends to lovers, male reader is mentioned being with a girl (ex), male reader is going through a tough breakup

A/n: This can definitely turn into a series btw

Pt. 2

It's been two months since you and your girlfriend has broken up. And it's one of the hardest break ups you've been through yet. You really liked her, maybe, possibly even loved her.

And you're definitely not in the mood to travel right now. You want to be alone but nope, you and your classmates are on a trip. To France. The whole day, you, along with your classmates were walking around, trying out the food and the drinks and exploring.

And the whole day you basically clung onto your friend, Kenji. You two aren't that close but he's going through a break up too. Him and his boyfriend broke up a day after you and your girlfriend broke up.

Kenji is a very straightforward guy. Sometimes him being straightforward can make him seem harsh. He's quiet and observant.

When the sun began to set, everyone headed back to the hotels you all are going to stay in for a few days. You're sharing a room with Kenji and another friend of yours who is a foreigner named Sam.

You and Kenji arrive at your shared hotel room. You both enter, plopping immediately on the soft mattress, “God, I'm so tired.” Kenji mumbled. “Me too.” You reply. Your phone starts to ring so with a sigh you pick up. “Yoo, Y/n, I'm gonna be out for a while so don't wait for me.” Sam says into the phone. “Okay, stay safe Sam and enjoy.” You then hang up after hearing Sam hum in reply.

“He's drinking isn't he?” Kenji asks. You scoff, “Most likely yes.” Kenji clicks his tongue. “Y/n,” Kenji calls out your name. “Hmm?” You hum in response as you put your phone on charge and look at Kenji afterwards. “How have you been doing?”

You sigh, “A bit better but I can't stop thinking about her. I hate thinking about her. She doesn't even care about me anymore I mean she won't talk to me at all, I mean it's valid, like, I know we broke up but I need that closure talk ya know?” Kenji listens as you ramble on about your ex and he occasionally nods his head or hum or say “yea.” To let you know he's listening.

“But how are you though Kenji?” Kenji smiled slightly, “I'm fine.” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Are you really though?” Kenji rolls his eyes playfully at you.

You two continue to talk. The two of you talked about anything and everything for hours, even started talking shit about others that annoy them.

However, talking to Kenji like this for hours makes you realize how attractive he actually is. You can stare at him forever at this point. You can't stop admiring him and you can't stop staring at his lips. Those very very kissable lips.

And Kenji notices the way your eyes switches to his lips. Kenji stops talking and you immediately avert your eyes to his own. He smirks. “W-what?” You're surprised. “Did I just catch you staring at my lips?” You blush and look away, not even trying to deny it.

Kenji finds your current state cute. He can't hold himself back anymore, so, his hand goes to your jaw and make you look at him and he pulls you closer as he leans in and smashes his lips against yours. You freeze for a few moments but then you respond as you wrap your arms around his neck, gladly digging your hands in his soft dark locks.

You whimper into the kiss as Kenji continues to kiss you oh so sinfully yet skillfully. His hand travels down to your crotch, loving the way he's made you so hard so easily. You whine into the kiss, desperate for his touch.

Kenji starts massaging your clothed hard on slowly. You break the kiss for air, you let out a soft airy moan. He's doing the bare minimum yet it's so pleasurable. You haven't been touched in months, let alone had sex.

You've been sexually frustrated for months.

Kenji grips your hips and places you on his lap. “Ride me.” He says. You're certainly shy and not use to being a bottom. You were a top with your ex and Kenji notices. “You don't have to if you don't want to.” He adds.

You shake your head from side to side, “I want to...I just need a little guidance.” You state softly. His hands that's on your hips start to guide you on him, it starts to create friction where you both need it. You moan, Kenji groans out of pure pleasure.

He attacks your neck as he kisses and sucks on your neck's skin hungrily, your fingers gripping his hair, “P-please Kenji...” Kenji pulls back to look at you, “Please what?” He teases. You whine and grind harder on him, Kenji curses as his grip on your hips tighten and that only makes you moan louder.

“G-guys...I think you locked me out,” Sam's voice scare the both of you as you both jump and stand up. Sam is drunk and he's waiting outside the room. You both sigh in relief but then you groan as you plop back onto the mattress, mumbling, “I was so close.”

Kenji chuckles softly as he shakes his head from side to side and go open up for Sam. When Kenji opens up for Sam he immediately rushed to the bathroom, closing the door. You both hear him lock the door. Kenji sits next to you, you still lying on your stomach.

Kenji grins. He get's an idea. Kenji lies down on top of you, you gasp softly as you feel his dick against your ass. “K-kenji...” You whisper. You feel his hot breath fan your neck. “Sam is clearly totally wasted.” He whispers lowly against your ear, “Wanna continue this when he's passed out, baby?”

[arcadianambivalence]

IWTV S2E2 and History

One thing I really appreciate about this show is how it interacts with its historical setting. I worried that when Louis and Claudia left New Orleans last season, the show would start to shirk the historical details, but the latest episode has given me enough historical tidbits to chew on (pun intended).

Hidden behind the humor of lines like "Paris is shit" and the thrill of meeting other vampires, there's a sense of foreboding lingering beside the recent traumas.

As with the first episode of season 2, Louis and Claudia are surrounded by reminders of war, even if they do not have the context (or empathy) for the survivors they encounter. Claudia complains that she has to pick twice as many pockets to get by, but the two are still able to afford an apartment. Meanwhile, food staples and clothing are still rationed, but people and pigeons are easy to come by.

"Paris was Nazi scar tissue at the time..."

Louis explains, but the scars historically ran deeper than a tourist (and Louis is The stereotypical tourist in this episode) could understand. Blackouts, food shortages, rations, soldiers, and refugees linger at the corners of the episode.

Even Madeline is introduced to us by a man warning Claudia that she was a collaborator or Nazi sympathizer (he does a subtle salute and points to the shop window), which will certainly influence how the next episodes take her through her narrative beats.

The plays performed by the Théâtre des Vampires cross 1920s to 1940s expressionism with absurdity and horror. Even after all this time, Louis is unenthused about the theatrical performances.

"The plays were weird. They always ended in death or some kind of cruel, barely motivated violence."

Armand's reply is dulled by the onstage spectacle:

"Life is cruel. Life is violent. [...] It was all a seduction to lure the cattle into a willing belief of disbelief."

It's a line that is all the more concerning if you know where the story is going...

Annika, the doomed woman onstage, is from Belgium, yet another country recovering from occupation and war. When she desperately tries to convince the audience to flee (not just for them to help her, but to save themselves), she speaks Dutch, so neither the French nor English-speaking audience members understand her.

Still in character, Santiago pretends to offer her a choice. She could live if she gives up someone to die in her place, if she, as the phrase goes, "turns someone in." First, he offers to take her husband, and she refuses. Then he offers to take her son, and again she refuses. Finally, he points to a man in the audience. She nods vigorously, but it's a cruel joke.

Santiago has already made up his mind about her. He addresses the man, warning him against trusting his neighbors:

"They'll give you up in a wink."

As if someone who spent the last five years in occupied France would need reminding.

The warning is for us, the viewers.

Later, the troupe takes Louis and Claudia to a mansion, ostensibly to eat people who, apparently, hoarded resources from the black market. Another show for Claudia and Louis, tourists who still think of themselves as the "good" vampires. Because why would a troupe of vampires concern themselves with that? They don't need anything from the black market. They don't eat anything from the black market. Where was this sense of justice in recent years?

As with Annika, it's yet another excuse to enact cruel and public violence against people they consider less than them.

So when Santiago's introductory prologue includes lines like:

"Being vampires, and by nature superior to you mortals, we can [...] disrupt your tiny ship called human decency."

"Our jobs, which is at the heart of it, to laugh alongside your misery while you cry and scream for more."

"Everything you're about to see is real. Remember that when you leave here tonight. You are all complicit [...] I love you for it."

You know things are not going to get better for Louis and Claudia.

[vanessalocke]

UkFr or FrUk gives me the icks because it looks like a relationship that begun when they were kids and France tried something on England because it felt good but England felt abused and discarded so he just did worse to France and they never stopped hurting each other and basically want to destroy the other while hating everything ... Awful dynamic here. How could it break? They don't even have anything in favour

*sigh

I'm asking you if you see Dover based on official Hetalia, or your headcanon?

If it's your headcanon, I have nothing to say. Everyone has their own perspective and I don't want to change anyone's mind.

If you're referring to official Hetalia, then I'll give you evidence to refute your argument. Please note that I don't like official Hetalia, when I make my headcanon, I keep the details I like from official and leave out the details I don't like. But since you messaged me, I'll go over their childhood a little. There are 3 pieces of evidence that show the abuse you're talking about is wrong, at least in official:

England fell asleep while France cut England's hair.

Would you let someone you don't trust touch your hair? Would you sleep in front of someone you don't trust? Would a person do all of those things to someone who abused her/him/them?

England agreed to stay with France when he thought the end of the world was coming.

France thought of England first when he knew he was going to die. England had no intention of escaping France's embrace when he knew he was going to die.

England was very mean-mouthed when standing with France and France always smiled, or had a very calm attitude.

I'll say it straight out that England was spoiled by France. No abused child would be comfortable enough to speak freely like this.

Although the early APH period was a really horrible mess and I hated it, as far as I can remember, even then Himaruya didn't portray the bad things in their childhood.

Let's put the abuse aside for now and talk about your "basically want to destroy the other while hating everything" line. Did you know that Dover isn't just a normal "enemies to lovers" couple?

Their relationship is more complicated than "enemies to lovers". They are a combination of "childhood friends", "closest friends", "rivals", "soulmate", "old married couple". I agree that there are times when their relationship is terrible. However, while they are against each other, they also have a soft side for each other. They are very soft on each other when they see each other sad. They show concern for each other many times when they see each other hurt, if you actually watch the anime.

They were just two stupid kids playing stupidly together throughout their childhood. And they maintained that stupidity with each other throughout their lives. One thing was clear, they were comfortable and happy in each other's presence.

You really think this is the atmosphere of a perpetrator and an abuse victim?

[blubffsd]

— WORLDS COLLIDE.

summary: It's the world cup final, your boyfriend and his national team reached the final again. But this time he's playing against your country.

note: play "The Great War" by Taylor Swift if you wanna a better experience.

thank you so much @http-isabela for make this with me, this is yours too girl 😋😋

warnings: a lot of drama.

Mia is in the bathroom of the hotel room looking at the shirt she is wearing. It's the France jersey, with the number 10 on the back and her boyfriend's last name too. At another time she would have been proud to wear it, but now she feels uncomfortable. She knows she doesn't want to use it.

This event and football itself is very important to her boyfriend and it's also important to her. Not only because of Kylian, her whole family has always been related to this sport and her father was a player too.

Her boyfriend's parents and his little brother are in the room too, they're all totally excited and all they're talking about is who could win the match. Obviously they are sure that France will be the winner and they really want it to be so. But Mia can't say the same.

She leave the bathroom under the gaze of Fayza, who noticed her strange behavior today, but didn't want to tell her anything. Mia walk over and sit next to Ethan, and he rests his head on her shoulder.

—Hey, I don't think I should go, I'm very nauseous and I don't think that going to the game gonna be the best, what if it's a virus or something contagious?

—Oh, please. –Ethan laughed– what you have is called nerves, you're afraid to see Kylian play, I understand you.

The fear is actually seeing Kylian win.

—Come on, Mia. Don't be negative, you'll see that we'll do very well –this time it was Fayza who spoke to her trying to calm her down.

—I can even see the photo of us kissing the cup just like in 2018 –her brother-in-law hugs her by the shoulders.

Why does everyone assume she wants France to win? Mia doesn't know what to do or say, she wants to think of something else so they will believe her and leave her alone in the room, but she knows they won't allow that. Kylian needs her there to feel good, but this time she doesn't want to support him.

Mia stays in the room with her boyfriend's family until it's time to go to the stadium. She leaves the hotel knowing that what is about to happen is not going to be easy.

And that what happened in 2018 is going to happen again, no matter which country she support.

As she walk into the stadium her boyfriend is on the pitch warming up with his national team, he's pretty determined to win today. His ambition doesn't let him think about anything other than the possibility of raising the cup a second time and fulfilling his dream again. On the other hand, her love for her country, her father and the sport doesn't let her think about anything other than seeing Lio win the cup, even if it means that her boyfriend loses.

Mia had even seen several comments on instagram posts from people who expected her to support her boyfriend's country, since it was the place where she lived now. Even several Kylian fans had sent her messages threatening her to support him and not her country.

Mia knows that this isn't a normal football match, it could say that the pride of two countries was being played. And that both the Argentines and the French expected her to support their respective countries. The Argentines because it's her country of birth and she is the daughter of one of the most beloved football players in the country, and even Messi's former coach, also because of the good relationship she has with some players and their families, and the French because she is the girlfriend of their biggest star and they don't want her to distract him.

She feels like everyone is waiting to see what she does but even she doesn't know what she wants to do.

Mia knows that she doesn't want to support her boyfriend's country, she knows that she feels like a black sheep sitting on the side of France and she also knows that now all the Argentine media are attacking her, like in 2018.

Mia knows everything that is happening and everything that she is feeling right now but she doesn't know how to act in the face of it. And it's not very easy to think about that when she has a camera in her face as she sit next to Ethan in the stands, knowing that her dad will be disappointed at the moment he sees her in the Kylian jersey.

Behind Mia are her in-laws sitting, with Jirès and Melissa and on the other side Hakimi and Hiba, who don't stop talking about how very proud she must feel to be about to see her boyfriend be world champion for the second time.

Everything that was happening around her is making Mia very nervous, it won't be long before the game starts and she knows that there are many people in the stands recording her to prove or deny that she is supporting Kylian just by seeing her reactions.

All the people sitting around her supporting her boyfriend are talking but she doesn't really pay attention until she hear her name.

—Right, Mia? –Jirès is looking at her waiting for her answer.

—Sorry, I didn't hear you, what?

—Your father was a player for the Argentine national team, right? –Mia nod– and he never made it to any world finals, right?

—No, but he won World Cups in Argentina as a coach.

She doesn't know why he asked her that, but it made her feel bad. Mia feels Melissa's gaze on her, so she turns to look at her and see her mocking face.

—The good thing is that now you are with a true champion.

What did she just say?

What did she mean by "a true champion"? Was it a roundabout way of saying that my dad was a failure or something? Or did she just want to praise Kylian and chose the wrong words?

Mia wants to believe that it wasn't malicious, but Melissa's expectant gaze on her, waiting for some reaction on her part, makes things clear to her. And she weren't going to let her humiliate her dad like that.

She is about to say something she'll regret later, but Ethan interrupt her saying that the game is about to start.

When the game started and she saw the Argentina players touch the ball, she remembered the times her dad took her to see him at his games or training sessions, the way he told her how proud he was to be able to say that he played for his country, and how he always taught her that she never have to forget where she came from or the difficult situations she went through, because that's who she is.

Mia remembered all the conversations that he and she used to have, everything they used to do before she moved to France, before everything changed.

She can't screw it all up again, so she gets up from her seat to do what she wanted to do since she arrived in Qatar: cheer on her country.

Mia knows that there are many French fans recording her while she sings "Muchachos" or other songs supporting Argentina, she is aware of all the signs that her brothers-in-law, her in-laws and her boyfriend's friends have given her to sit down and shut up, but honestly at this moment she cares in the least.

After a while of shouting to the beat of the Argentine fans, she sits down while she feels the disapproving looks of her boyfriend's family. They are looking at are so badly that it really makes her uncomfortable, but she tries to ignore it.

This is the moment that she and her father had waited all their lives and what they think didn't affect her joy and her desire to support Argentina at all.

The atmosphere in the box is tense after Mia have supported Argentina with the France shirt on, she were too brave to do that.

But obviously everything got worse.

Mia feels how her breathing paused, the whistle blows, it's a penalty kick for Argentina.

Everyone around her is too deep in their own mind to notice her happy face.

The person in charge of kicking the penalty is obviously Lio, she does't know how it happened, the only thing she saw was the ball going through the net of the French goal.

Her body acts on its own at this point. Lio scored the first goal of the game, she gets up from her seat shouting with happiness like the rest of the Argentines.

Right now she doesn't care that she is wearing the France jersey, that Ethan is next to her, or that her boyfriend can see her. Nothing matters now.

Ethan took her arm with a lot of force making her sit again.

—What's happening to you? You're crazy, don't do that again. –her brother-in-law looks at her angrily, with a frown and a glare.

—Ethan let me go, you're hurting me –she raised her voice so he can hear.

But he ignores her words, so in a sudden movement she let go of his grip, seeing that he left the mark of his hand on her arm.

—How dare you support Argentina and then celebrate their goals? You have my brother's number jersey on your back.

—Calm down Ethan, I couldn't help it.

It's my fucking country that scored, what you do expect me to do? Cry?

—Don't do it again.

Mia is about to answer but Hiba grabs her shoulders stopping as a sign to shut up, so she did.

—Enough both of you, silence. Don't make a fuss here. Ethan, relax, please. –Hakimi intervenes this time seeing the tension between the two of them.

—I can't calm down, she's celebrating that we're losing. –he turns to see Achraf and then back to Mia.– What's wrong with you?

She knew this was going to happen and she couldn't be more sorry she went to the game.

—Ethan, please. It was an impulse, let's focus on the game, there are cameras everywhere. –says Hiba trying to end the discussion.

Ethan looks at Mia for the last time and she prefer to remain silent.

She turns to see Hiba and smile at her, as a sign of gratitude for having calmed the situation, but she just nods.

After 13 minutes where Argentina has absolute possession of the ball, Di María scores the second goal of the match.

Mia rises from her seat again, whooping with excitement, as she watches the players from her country hug each other.

This time no one stopped her.

The only thing she thinks about is her father, who could never win the world cup when he was playing, knowing that right now he is probably shedding happy tears at home, almost feeling the cup in his hands.

When her excitement fades a bit, she sit down again, then Ethan tosses her jacket onto her lap, the jacket that's been on his since they sat down. Mia looks at him confused.

—You're a fucking traitor –he yells close to her face.

Wilfried puts his hand on Ethan's chest, pulling him back away from her.

—Stop son, don't do that.

Mia keep seeing his angry face, she never seen him like this.

—You don't deserve the shirt with my last name on your back –he yells even louder.

She feels how her pulse quickens.

—Kylian deserves more from you, it can't be that you don't support him when he needs you the most –Hiba brings her face closer to Mia whispering– Stop doing stupid things, you're crazy. You're wearing Kylian's jersey and sitting next to his family as you clap for the enemy.

Enemy? It's my country, my people, my father and his dream, it's all my life.

—Have respect for him.

Mia doesn't know what to answer so she looks back at the field.

The first half passed, with a 2-0 result with Argentina winning. She is all the time with her eyes fixed on the field, she doesn't have enough courage to look at someone.

Now Mia is sitting between Hakimi and Ethan, both of them mad at her.

She is deep in her thoughts, she doesn't know what to do, her father will be devastated if he sees her supporting France and Kylian will be more than disappointed if he sees her continue supporting Argentina.

It feels like two worlds about to collide, her life in Argentina and her life in France. Her father and the people she loves against her partner and everyone around them. Both sides expect her to be with them.

She doesn't notice that the players have returned to the field until she hear the whistle of the referee starting the second half of the game.

The match continues with France without scoring a goal, the players already a bit tired and making fouls.

But the time came, a player falls in the Argentine area after a push from Otamendi, the referee whistles indicating the penalty.

Kylian is going to kick it.

Mia feels her body tense, everything in her wishing he would miss the penalty. She closes her eyes feeling guilty about her thoughts.

Seconds later she hears everyone around her scream with excitement, she opened her eyes and saw all the French people celebrate, Ethan, Hakimi, Hiba, Wilfried, Fayza, Jirès and Melissa scream and hug each other with excitement.

Mia and Ethan make contact for the first time after the fight, his eyes teary from the excitement and joy of his brother's goal. Joy she doesn't feel.

Her eyes go to the field, looking for Kylian. She realizes that he was already looking at her, pointing at her, dedicating the goal to her. She smiles slightly, feeling completely guilty.

The celebration ended, just a minute after scoring the first goal, Kylian scored the second.

Her body completely tenses up, her breathing stops for a few seconds, it's the same feeling as when she was 8 years old and she saw her dad lose a game. Maybe he feels the same now.

Mia wants to cry and run away, she can't be there.

Everyone around her shouts with joy, Kylian on the field hugs his teammates.

Once the celebration is over, Kylian turns his gaze towards her, her eyes met his. She can't take it anymore and she let out a sob, covering her face with her hands.

—Are you seriously crying? –she looks up and sees Achraf, looking at her with anger and disappointment. Mia tries to say something, but no words come out of her mouth.

The rest of the game was intense, Argentina scored another goal, wanting to avoid another fight, she just lowered her head, put her hands together and mentally thanked for the goal.

Not long after, Kylian tied the game for the second time. Making a goal that, in addition to achieving his hat-trick, would change everything.

Ethan is excited, shouting and celebrating, telling Kylian from afar that he is the best, that he is incredible.

The last minutes of the game were the worst.

Dybala took the ball from Kylian, preventing the tiebreaker at the last minute, making her boyfriend yell in frustration.

The game ended and the penalties came, the players and the referees are preparing for what is to come.

Mia takes her jacket and head to the bathroom, she needs to calm down a bit and be alone. Ethan didn't take his eyes off her until he saw her disappear into the crowd.

Once inside the bathroom she takes a deep breath trying to control her breathing, everything around her is spinning, she is about to have a panic attack.

Mia grabs her phone as fast as she can and send a message to the only person who can help her right now.

Mia tries to take big breaths to calm her thoughts but she can't. Ethan hates her right now. Hakimi and Hiba are upset with her. She doesn't feel comfortable there at all.

Mia wants someone to understand at least one of her reasons for supporting her country. Although she knows that the simple fact of being her country was enough. But there is much more than that.

She hears someone knock on the bathroom door.

—Is occupied –her voice is shaking.

—Miss Mia? Mrs. Antonella sent us, she said that she spoke with you recently.

She opened the bathroom door to find two security men, both of whom gave her a slight smile and guided her to the opposing team's box.

Mia manage to calm her breathing and her mind on the way to the box, knowing that she would no longer have to deal with the disapproving looks reassured her a lot.

She finally arrive and see Antonella waiting for her, she rushes over to hug her.

—Tranquilizate, ¿sí? No pasa nada –she says while stroking her hair– Ya está.

Mia nods her head and give her a small smile.

—Decime entonces, ¿qué pasó? (so tell me, what's happened?) –she sees the concern on her face.

—No me siento cómoda allá, no me puedo hacer la triste (i don't feel comfortable there, i can't pretend to be sad) –she laugh a little– no quiero volver (i don't wanna comeback there)

Anto smiled at Mia again.

—Bueno vení, vamos a ponerte otra cosa, que te van a decir mufa acá si te ven con eso puesto. (Well come on, we're going to give you another shirt, because if they see you with that shirt they're going to tell you that you're bad luck.)

Antonella goes to the box to look through her things and returns with an Argentina shirt with the number 24.

—No tenía ninguna yo, así que le pedí a las chicas y la novia de Enzo te prestó esa (I didn't have any t-shirt, so i asks the girls and Enzo's girlfriend lent you that one.) –she gives her the shirt and guides her to the bathroom.

Mia walks into the bathroom and looks at herself in the mirror. She knows that if she changes her shirt she betray her boyfriend and that everything would get worse, but she doesn't care.

She leaves the bathroom with the Argentina shirt on and she feels more comfortable and safe being on that side of the stands.

Just as Mia sit down next to Antonella, the referee blows his whistle indicating to Kylian that he should take the first penalty. He kicks and scores, the entire audience celebrates with him. He looks happy.

—Silence –Anto laugh– My husband is going to kick.

Everyone wait for Lio to kick with sweaty hands and heart to the fullest, ready for anything. Antonella was the first to shout the goal, being imitated by all. They all hug each other. Mia hugs Mateo, completely moved.

The next penalty was missed, Dibu Martinez saved it. The silence from the French audience was chilling. Argentina for its part celebrates and praises its goalkeeper. Happiness overflows her.

Her phone was ringing with messages from your father, full of emotion about what is happening. Mia feels her teary eyes, his dream is coming true.

She hears Antonella call out to you and point to the field, Kylian is grabbing Enzo by the jersey. Antoine and Olivier try to calm the situation, while Di María and Cuti Romero keep Enzo away from her boyfriend.

Mia sees Kylian's angry face while Enzo was talking to him, surely provoking him, he points in her direction. She feels her skin crawl when Kylian turns to where she is and looks at her and her shirt.

Enzo doesn't stop with the taunts, she doesn't know what he's saying, but he keeps pointing at her until Oliviar punches him in the face.

Security intervenes and separates them, but her eyes are fixed on Kylian, who didn't move from his place, looking at her from afar, his eyes reflecting pain.

The people around her yell in anger at the interruption of penalties.

Her phone vibrates in her hand, making she looks away from Kylian.

She stares at her phone for a few seconds, feeling a slight pain in her chest.

Mia gets up from her seat without wanting to attract anyone's attention and lock herself in the bathroom, quite overwhelmed by everything that's happening, and not wanting to face whatever it's going to happen.

She looks at her in the mirror while she thinks about everything that will happen when this is over, she doesn't know what will happen, but she knows that it will not be good.

She hears everyone nearby yelling and you open the bathroom door to find out that Argentina just won.

All hugging and crying with joy.

Her dad's dream came true, the dream that made her wait for him for more than one birthday, the dream that made her dad not go to the hospital when you were born, the dream that forced her to love football to spend time with her dad.

The moment she has been waiting for her whole life has just arrived. And she wants to cry with happiness, her dad is surely the happiest man on earth and she is happy with that. Although she would have liked him to have been just as happy on her birthdays, or everytime he was with her.

Mia leaves the bathroom coming back to reality, all the happiness she felt a second ago gone. She is thinking about Kylian now, she needs to talk to him and try to explain something to him, if she can, but she knows that he won't want to and that no one is going to let her get close.

Mia feels the tears running down her cheeks, everything she said really hurt her, mostly what she said about her dad, but she can't blame her, although it hurts, she's right after all.

She puts on her jacket, the same one that Ethan had thrown at her completely angrily a few hours ago, and she goes to the exit of the stadium.

She takes the first taxi she finds and go to the hotel, she quickly goes to her room once she arrived and put her things away as fast as she could.

She takes the first shirt she finds and take off Enzo's to put that one on.

She looks for the fastest flight to Paris and buy tickets for the first one available.

She has to go.

She can't see Kylian, she can't look him in the eye.

She brokes his trust in her.

His brothers hates her

His father looks at her with contempt.

His friends do the same, reminding her that everything she did was wrong.

She rushes her steps in the lobby to leave the hotel as soon as possible, she takes another taxi, this time bound for the airport.

She ruined everything, like in 2018.

note: i really tried my best this time lol

tags: @suzysface @mrswhitethornbelikov