#sorry for the tag coco I can’t help myself ;3;

[ghonorrhead]

SOME GYJOS FOR @coco-chip RAHHHH

I care for them so much you have no idea

[aliwritesfic]

So since you did the cutest job with my mini golf ask…wondering what the TF boys would be like while tie dying with Frankie and his daughter?! I’m attempting to do that tomorrow with my son lol. Please and thank you if you’d like to explore the idea. 🥰😘

First of all, I am SO SORRY this took so long, I've been so busy with uni and forcing myself to actually do the work this semester (who would've thought I could actually apply myself) but I really enjoyed this, and it's actually made me want to go out and do some tie-dying of my own.

Anyways, here's Tie-Dye Tueaday

W/C: 1.6k

T-Minus 5 Hours Until Disaster

“Daddy?�� a soft voice rose Frankie out of his fitful sleep. He distantly felt a tiny, warm hand rest on his cheek.

“Yes, cricket?” he mumbled voice heavy with sleep, struggling to open his heavy eyes. He had stayed up until the small hours of the morning frantically researching for the day, watching YouTube videos, making notes, doing whatever he could to prepare.

“Mommy’s going and said I should wake you up,” Everly pulled herself up onto the bed and sat down directly on Frankie’s bladder. He winced and pushed her off gently, wondering just how she always managed to find the worst spot to sit.

“Have you had breakfast?” Frankie asked, and Everly nodded. He said a silent thanks to his ever-amazing wife, who would be spending the day getting massages and facials and whatever else her heart desired before pushing out twins in less than two months’ time. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around that – there would be two more tiny humans in his life soon. The thought left him exhilarated and riddled with anxiety all at once.

Frankie carried Everly downstairs on his back, grabbing his cap from the dresser on his way. The boys would be here soon – they had agreed that tie dying alone with a hyper four year old was a terrible idea, so they were coming to dye something of their own and help Frankie keep a handle on things. Benny was especially excited to dye his shorts to wear to his next fight.

They were halfway through Coco, Everly’s favourite movie, when the front door opened and in came his three best friends, men he had no relation to but considered brothers. Everly went straight to Benny, who was undoubtedly her favourite of them. Frankie had his suspicion that is was because Benny loaded her up on sugar whenever he could. Sure enough, Frankie could see a packet of candy in the plastic bag Benny carried.

“You ready for this?” Will asked, placing a six pack in the fridge. Frankie sighed and nodded.

“Ready as I can be. It can’t go too badly, right?”

~

T-Minus 3 Hours Until Disaster

The sun was bright and hot on their backs as they set up. Everly sat in the shade of the oak tree, a cup of lemonade in one hand, and her favourite doll in the other. Frankie had forbidden her from coming out in the sun until the sunscreen was fully absorbed, which according to his watch wouldn’t be for another few minutes. It occurred to him that since becoming a father, his mind was filled with worries that he never even considered beforehand.

Frankie had brought dyes in every colour he could, several plastic tubs had been fished out of storage and so many ties that he was sure he would be finding them all around the yard for weeks to come.

“Whatta ya dying, Ev?” Santi called to Everly.

“Purple!” She responded, holding up a pristine white pair of cotton shorts and a shirt.

“Just purple?” Will asked.

“And pink and blue and green!” Everly jumped up, setting her cup down carefully and ran over. “I want it swirly. You should be rainbow wiggles.” She told her father seriously. Will grinned.

“She’s a natural born leader,” he said with more than a touch of pride.

“Just like her mother,” Frankie replied. He took the clothes that Everly held out and began to scrunch and fold them according to the instructions he had written down while watching YouTube last night. The whole thing seemed a lot easier when he was watching through a screen.

Everly chose her dyes as Frankie folded, occasionally handing a certain colour to one of the boys, telling them that they hadto use it. None of them wanted to defy the four year old, so each accepted his colours without protest. Benny seemed quite thrilled when he was given a colour labelled Hot Barbie Pink.

“So many guys will be so fuckin’ embarrassed to get their ass beat by a guy in pink shorts,” Benny grinned.

“Language, Ben!” Frankie darted a frantic look towards Everly, who stood with a cunning smile on her face. Frankie knew that she knew exactly what she wasn’t supposed to say.

“Fuck! Ass!” she declared. Will snorted and Santi had to turn away, face turning bright red from holding in laughter.

Frankie gaped, lost for words for a moment. “Everly, don’t ever say that, but especially the first one, and especially not in front of mommy, okay?”

“Why not?”

Frankie shot a look to Benny, who at least looked a tiny bit sorry. “They’re big people words. Each time you say one your . . . hair gets less curly.”

Everly, who loved her curly hair, looked stricken. Frankie felt bad about lying to his kid, but not as bad as he would’ve felt if his wife came home to a child cussing like she had just strolled out of the military.

The words seemed forgotten as the dye was applied. Everly was surprisingly artful in the way she applied the dye, carefully creating patterns that didn’t make much sense to Frankie but must have made sense to her.

T-Minus 30 Minutes Until Disaster

The group of them sat around the dining room table, beers for the boys and juice for Everly. Most of them had small flecks of multi-coloured dye on their hands, but Frankie was sure they would come off easity. Everly had scoffed down her lunch, and now sat staring outside, looking antsy.

“Go play if you want to,” Frankie said, “you don’t have to sit here.” Frankie was confident there wasn’t anything in the backyard that could pose a danger to her, and besides, he had a view of almost the whole yard from the table.

Everly tore off like a hurricane, juice forgotten as she ran outside, doll in hand.

“If the twins are anything like her . . .” Santi began, taking a sip of his drink. “Fish, you’re gonna have your hands full.”

“If they’re anything like Ev, they’ll be great kids,” Benny said. Will rose his beer bottle. ‘But yeah, you’re definitely gonna have your hands full.”

“Amen, I’ll drink to that,” he said. Frankie nodded and had a sip himself. They talked for a while about football, Benny’s next fight, Santi’s new flame.

Then a thought occurred to Frankie.

“Is it quiet out there?” he craned his neck to investigate the yard and saw . . . nothing. Frankie shot up from his seat, panic rising in his chest. “Everly?” He almost tripped over himself in his haste to get to the backyard. Every worst case scenario was forming in his head.

“Ev?” Benny was beside him in an instant.

“Daddy?” Everly wandered out from behind the tree, and Frankie took a deep breath, calming himself. She was unscathed . . . except for the dye that now stained her arms, legs, face, hair. She was grinning widely, and held up her doll, who was also covered in a rainbow of dye.

“Cricket, what did you do?” Frankie gaped, wondering just how she managed to get almost every inch of exposed skin in such a short amount of time.

“Miss Mildew wanted her hair to be pretty,” Everly explained.

“Your dolls name is Miss Mildew?” Santi asked, red in the face with held back laughter. Everly nodded proudly. She had heard the word on television one night and latched onto it.

“What do you think is worse,” Will murmured to Benny, “Ev swearing, or Ev covered in dye?”

“Swearing,” Benny said snickering, “you can wash out the dye, you can’t unlearn a word.”

“What word?” Everly asked. Ears of a hawk, Frankie thought.

“The word you’re not allowed to say,” Will said.

“And what word would that be?” A smooth voice behind them almost made Frankie jump out of his skin. His wife, beautiful and terrifying all at once, stood on the patio, one hand on her stomach, the other on her hip.

“Fuck!” Everly declared loudly and proudly.

“Teaching my child new words, I see, Benjamin.”

Benny to his credit, at least looked more apologetic than he did with Frankie.

Frankie’s wife waddled down into the yard and set her gaze on her husband. “That dye won’t make her sick will it?”

“No, no, not at all,” he said. He had specifically brought kid friendly, skin safe, non-toxic dye.

“Good. Then I’m gonna go lie down and try and forget my four-year-old just said the eff-word and is every colour under the sun.” His wife shook her head and rolled her eyes at Benny. Once she was inside, Frankie turned to Everly.

“C’mon, we gotta clean you up,” he reached to pick Everly up who shook her head.

“We gotta see what they look like first!” she said. Frankie considered her point and nodded.

“Alright, cricket,” he said. They unravelled the clothes to a chorus of oohs and aahs, Everly clapped her green hands together as her multi-coloured shorts and top were revealed.

Benny sheepishly wandered over to Frankie as he put everything in the washing machine. “Hey man, I really am sorry about that.”

Frankie shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Just buy the missus as much caffeine as she wants when she’s done breastfeeding and she’ll forget all about it.”

“I hope so. Her bad side is not a place I wanna be.”

Frankie laughed and scooped up Everly in his arms. Her curls were streaked with blue and her cheeks were magenta. “Trust me, she won’t stay mad for long. I don’t think she’s that mad to be honest.”

“You don’t?” Benny sounded unsure.

“Well she didn’t yell, and it looked like she was trying not to laugh. All things considered, I think today was a success story.”

Tagging @sharkbait77 because I think you’d enjoy this

[lustinglilac]

Everything About You

A/N: This is a long one but, I’ve been meaning to post it, just hadn’t had the time to edit it until now! It’s a couple of different parts happening over a span of 3 days leading up to them finally getting together. (Not based on any episode in particular)

Pairing: EZ Reyes x OC (Nestor’s sister)

Warnings: blood, death, shooting, guns, strong language, brief sexual harassment, 18+, smut, choking, oral (m/f receiving), vocal EZ, unprotected sex.

Word count: 33.1 k (sorry, I couldn’t stop typing)

*gif not mine*

Thursday, 2:15 PM She rolled over in her empty bed, sighing, plain white sleep shirt rising over the curve of her ass.

“Fuck!” She was going to be late to Miguel’s interrogation. Her phone had at least five missed calls from her brother and three messages from her boss, Miguel.

She braced herself for the angry man on the other line as she finally called him back, “Where the fuck are you, Nic?” Her brother’s voice coming through tight on the other side.

“Nestor, fucking relax. I just got up.” She admitted cringing at her words, hopping on one leg trying to put on her pants and talk to him at the same time. She stumbled over the mess of laundry she had on the floor of her room, kicking it to the side to deal with later.

“Hurry the fuck up. The guys are going to be here soon and I can’t have my right hand not show up.” He hangs up abruptly, not giving her a chance to respond. He could be so frustrating at times.

She looked at her outfit in the mirror before brushing her teeth and fixing her hair to look somewhat presentable.

She knew Miguel’s cartel dressed to the nines but, in all honesty, she couldn’t be bothered right now considering she was too late to pick out a decent outfit, going for a more laid back option.

2:35 PM She had a few more minutes before she had to show up, taking her chances, grabbing the keys to her Cadillac and running out the door. She stopped at their local Starbucks, the drive thru line surprisingly empty. Luck was definitely on her side today as she ordered her espresso and paid, downing the tiny cup in two gulps.

“Si tú me llama'. Nos vamo' pa' tu casa. Nos quedamo' en la cama. Sin pijama, sin pijama.” The radio played softly in the background, making her hum along; she came to a halt at the shady spot where people did not make it out alive most of the time.

It was three o’clock on the dot as she cursed under her breath, throwing her empty Starbucks cup on the ground and walking quickly into the building; her breathing never faltering thanks to her rigorous exercise routine.

“She’ll be here, Miguel, she was just running an errand for me—“ Nestor’s voice sounded as she rounded the corner, coming to a halt at the gate.

“I’m here.” She smiled, panting slightly, as twelve pairs of eyes landed on her. Some widened, others more dark as they looked at her from head to toe, eyeing her body. She walked past the men closest to the gate, the Mayans, excusing herself and making her way towards her boss.

Nestor shook his head, running a hand down his face as Miguel all but frowned at her. He had known her and Nestor since they were younger, always having their backs because he knew they always had his. Miguel smiled, pulling her in for a kiss on the cheek as she gladly accepted before flipping off her brother behind Miguel’s embrace.

“Gonna let me get one last fuck in before I die, Galindo? How fucking thoughtful of you.” A strangled voice seethed to her left as the room was stunned into dead silence now.

She bit her lip anxiously, closing her eyes, huffing quietly as Miguel held a firm grasp on her as not to let her interfere with what was going to happen next.

“Hijo de puta— what the fuck did you just say?” Nestor abandoned his position at the table of weapons altogether narrowing his eyes at the perpetrator, tied up to the pew and struggling to breath.

“Hermano—“ Her voice coming out small in the room full of men. She knew what he was about to do. The man on the wooden pew messed with the wrong Oceteva as realization dawned across his bloody face.

“That’s his sister?!” A muffled voice from one of the men in leather vests gasped before being shut up by another older gentleman.

“Please— I-I didn’t know! Please!” Nestor had already brought his gun to the traitor’s temple, pulling the trigger without hesitation. She flinched slightly as the man’s body lay limp on the seat, Nestor telling his men to clean up the mess.

“Sorry you had to hear that—“ Miguel apologized sincerely, patting the younger woman on the shoulder as she shrugged. She was used to seeing and hearing worse from men who thought she was just another easy girl, Nestor always coming to her defense when it did happen though. She’d always told him, “Nestor, I can handle myself.” Yet, he couldn’t help but be protective. She was his baby sister after all.

“It’s fine. What can I do for you, though?” She crossed her arms over her chest as she watched her brother’s movements behind Miguel. He was pissed the fuck off, to say the least.

“I’d like to introduce you to my newest hires.” He walked her over to the stunned men in the corner, who wouldn’t dare make eye contact with her. Hell, not after what just happened. She smiled tightly, despite wanting to roll her eyes at their sheepish behavior.

“They will be working with us, reporting back any suspicious activity going on that we may have missed. Although that is highly unlikely.” He stated matter of factly making her nod her head in agreement. “Gentlemen, this is Nicole Oceteva, Nestor’s second in command and his sister.” Miguel kept his naturally stoic posture as he introduced her.

“Pleasure to meet you, Miss Oceteva. We look forward to working with you.” She read the name tag of the person who had spoken to her, choosing his words carefully, Presidente.

“Please, call me Nicole.” She smiled warmly, sticking out her hand for him to shake. “I look forward to getting to know all of you.”

EZ furrowed his brows, eyeing her warily. How the hell had she been so comfortable after what just happened minutes ago?

“Bishop.” The older man returned her smile as he turned around to his crew and introduced them, “This is Riz, Taza, Tranq, Gilly.” He pauses to let them shake her hand hesitantly, “Coco, Angel, and EZ.” The younger looking Mayans more confident in stretching out their hands for her to shake.

She couldn’t take her eyes off of EZ as he had been introduced, his touch lingering the longest. She pulled away from his warm grasp on her hand immediately at the sound of her brother’s voice, “Nicole—“

Miguel let her go as he stayed behind, whispering something to the Mayans that had to do with business no doubt.  

EZ had felt the same, he felt a spark run up his hand as soon as she had taken it. He knew she could sense it, too. He watched her walk away, the sway of her hips distracting him, until Miguel cleared his throat, nearly catching him staring.

“You didn’t need to do that, Nestor—“ She huffed as the dead body had been taken away seconds ago, eyeing the pew in which it once lay.

He scoffed, stubborn as ever, “Nah, he deserved it, trust me. Next time, you come here on time, even earlier than when I tell you, I don’t want you slipping up again, understand?” He looked down at her shorter frame, trying to intimidate her but he knew better than that.

“Mhmm.” She mocked. They both knew she probably wasn’t going to kick her habit because Miguel was too lenient when it came to her, he loved her like his own sister considering he never had one, she was the closest thing.

The Mayans were long gone by now as Miguel strode back to the siblings in his tailored suit.

“Everything okay?” Miguel scanned her face for any signs of distress as she nodded confidently, attempting to grab one of the guns from her brother’s array of weapons.

“Yes. How’s Emily? And my nephew?” She asked eagerly as Nestor slapped her hand away, making her pout and turn back to her boss.

“They’re doing well. Your nephew misses you, Nicole, don’t be a stranger. You are always welcome in our home. In fact, I have a charity event set up for this weekend, I would love for you to be there.” Miguel spoke as one of his men put on his suit jacket for him, straightening it out.

She contemplated her decision for a moment, tossing her hair to the side, “She’ll be there. I could use the help anyway.” Before she even had a chance to answer, her brother had spoken for her.

“Great. Saturday night, six o’clock sharp.” Smoothing down his collar, he turned on his heel and exited the building. She grinned politely until he was out of sight and then turned to frown at her brother.

“You’re not my lawyer, I don’t understand why you need to answer for me.” She stomped her foot like a child.

“When you start acting right, I’ll consider it.” Nestor huffed and fixed the holsters hanging under his arms.

“You literally embarrassed me in front of those guys! Three of which were so fucking cute!” She clenched her jaw tightly, wanting nothing more than to shove him into the wall for being so protective.

“Hey, watch your mouth.” He raised his eyebrows at her confession. “I won’t let you get involved with some lowlife who worships his bicycle.”

She could not believe how persistent her brother was, “Pretty sure they’re motorcycles. And next time don’t bother calling me when I’m running late. I’ll show up when I want to.” She turned away from him and strutted out of the stuffy room and into the daylight, Nestor hot on her heels.

“You stopped for coffee? Really, Nic?” He scoffed as he kicked the discarded paper cup towards her.

“I was thirsty!” She grumbled and slammed her car door shut, thanking God she didn’t have to see him until at least the night before Miguel’s gala. It’s not that they didn’t have a good relationship as brother and sister but he did manage to get on her nerves, a lot of the time.

She finally calmed down and put her car into reverse, backing out into the street, deciding on not heading home just yet. She made her way past the busy streets, traffic hitting hard at this time of the day. She finally got to where she wanted, pulling over into the designated parking spot.

She needed to find a decent dress for Saturday, she couldn’t show up in just anything. And if her favorite Mayan, at the moment, was going to be there Nicole definitely wanted to step up her game.

She was welcomed immediately into the air conditioned boutique, as the ladies had come to recognize her since the few times she’d shopped there with Emily.

“Nicole, what can we do for you?” The store manager smirked as she stalked towards her favorite customer. Nicole didn’t respond just yet as she eyed the rack of new dresses that hadn’t even been taken out of their plastic bags.

“Hmmm... I need a dress. Preferably long, preferably blue. Nothing too revealing but also, I don’t wanna look like a nun.” She raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow as the staff scrambled to find her what she’d just described.

She took a seat on the plush sofa as they presented her dress after dress, flipping through them like pages of a magazine. Until one finally caught her eye, it was gorgeous right down to the detailing. It was the only one that had been on an actual mannequin.

“I’ll take it.” Nicole was floored by the way it looked on the mannequin and to be honest, she couldn’t wait to wear it. She’d have to find a way to conceal her thigh holster in it considering that the hip-high slit left little to be desired. Nestor was going to flip out, but she didn’t care. She wanted it more than anything.

“And it’s just your size. It was meant to be, Nicki.” The manager held her hand out greedily to take her credit card, swiping it and packing the dress neatly into a box, handing her the bag.

“Muchas gracias, chicas.” She blew them a kiss and walked out into the warm air of her town once again.

She couldn’t wait to get home to try on the dress, speeding off in the direction of her house. Nicole grabbed her belongings and headed inside, dead bolting her door and running down the hall to her room.

She stripped off her clothes leaving her in a black lace thong and her bra, taking the dress out and placing it up against her body, the smooth silk fabric rubbing against her skin softly. She slipped it on with ease, the fabric tightening at her waistline and flowing loosely down the back of her legs.

Nicole picked up her thigh holster, securing it around her thigh to test it, it would definitely not be concealed but she’d have to deal with the consequences if she wanted to wear this stunning piece. And she really did.

With a soft sigh, she took the dress off carefully, placing it back in its box for safe keeping.

Nicole walked down the hall to her spacious kitchen, preparing herself a bowl of pasta and sunk down into the couch to enjoy it. Before she knew it, she’d dozed off with the TV playing in the background, a small blanket draped over her body. ••• “You got a deathwish? Hey, EZ—“ Angel was fuming as his brother had pissed him off yet again.

“What?” The younger Reyes turned around abruptly, glaring at Angel.

“Don’t do it man, I saw that look in your eyes. Nestor’s sister, don’t fucking do it.” He warned him as Ezekiel scoffed loudly.

“What look? I didn’t do shit, Angel. Tranquillo.” He was getting defensive and Angel knew better than to press him. Not yet at least.

“She’s the competition. You never fuck the competition.” Coco piped up from his spot at the bar, downing his beer in a few quick sips.

“What do you know about competition, loco?” Gilly couldn’t help but comment.

“Matter fact, what do you know about fucking?” Angel waited for a reply from the Mayan, grunting amusedly when he didn’t get one, “That’s what I thought.”

“Blowing this out of proportion, as always.” EZ was beyond angered at the way they spoke about a woman they barely even knew. He wondered if she’d be there Saturday night.

They’d been invited to Miguel’s gala as a second pair of eyes and ears. Bishop hesitantly accepted since he knew it wouldn’t really be their scene but, they were desperate for money so they took the invite anyway.

EZ was tired from the day’s events, slipping out of the clubhouse, driving his bike all the way to his father’s, settling in for the night.   ••• “Nicki! Open the door!” A loud banging on her front door interrupted her training session, pausing her music making her huff loudly running to answer it at the sound of her brother’s voice.

“What, Nestor?!” She swung the door open aggressively, wiping the sweat off of her brow and going back to her workout in the spare room.

He came in with two other guards she hadn’t seen before, she figured they were new hires considering the event was going to be packed with strangers and it was being held in Miguel’s own home.

Nestor held up a blueprint of the mansion to her face, “We need to go over the layout.”

She sighed loudly, stopping her assault on the punching bag and looking between him and the two new members, “I’m listening.”

“We keep it tight, secure, we have eyes and ears in every corner of the room, got it?” Nestor laid the paper flat on the desk in front of them, “This hallway right here has no cameras, it’s a weak spot, that’s where Nicole will be positioned. You two, front entrance, ID guests and make sure their names appear on the list.” He spoke aggressively, making sure his crew heard every word of the plan.

“This,” She motioned to the group, “Could’ve been a group FaceTime, Nestor, not a house visit.”

“That’s what I said.” One of the new guys snorted, earning a death stare from his boss.

She rolled her eyes at the way the man shut up immediately, apologizing to Nestor, not daring to look at him.

“Yes! Thank you, he gets it!“ She turned to the young man bold enough to speak back to her brother, “Don’t let him intimidate you.” She winked.

“That’s enough!” Nestor’s hand coming down harsh onto the wooden desk, crumpling up the blueprint, “I’ll see you on Saturday Nicole, and don’t be fucking late.” With that, he and his men left her home letting her get back to her activities.

She locked the door behind them, downing a water bottle, breathing quite heavily as she checked her phone for any new messages.

With a heavy sigh, she got up from the couch, heading for her shower to cool off. She needed to do her nails, picking a nice red color from her selection of nail polishes before stepping into the mist of water.

She washed off the sweat, shaving off the thin layer of stubble that had accumulated on her legs before doing the same to her underarms. She stepped out, drying off her body and applying some moisturizing cream, she sat at her vanity concentrating on shaping and filing her long nails perfectly.

Once she was pleased with the way they’d come out, she waited until they were dry to start touching anything. She needed to get her things ready for tomorrow evening.

She neatly folded her clothes and placed them in their respective drawers before tidying up her bed. She would have to be on high alert the whole night considering she had one of the weaker spots to guard. She picked out an outfit to wear for the remainder of the day, settling on a black shirt and a pair of cargo pants with sneakers.

She forgot that she promised her brother she would have dinner with him tonight, checking the time in order to start cooking something up to bring over to his place.

Dinner time rolled around, Nicole grabbing her belongings and heading over to Nestor’s. He didn’t live far, about fifteen minutes away by car; they used to live together until Nicole wanted to have her own space and Nestor his which was understandable.

“Qué pasó?” She smiled as he opened up the door to his lavish home, not a speck of dust anywhere.

“Hey. Thought you wouldn’t show.” He leaned down to kiss her on the cheek, ruffling her hair slightly and taking the glass tupperware from her hands.

“You ready for tomorrow night?” She spoke, setting up the island with two plates and utensils, uncovering her food. She hummed pleasantly as the smell filled her nostrils.

Nestor looked at her, “Yeah, we have everything secured. What are you wearin’?” He asked her around a mouthful of salad.

“A dress.” She tried to divert the attention to another subject, “You?”

“Okay, why’re you actin’ so weird? What color? Maybe I’ll match with you.” He laughed loudly at the disgusted look on her face, not that he was planning to match with her but it was funny to rile her up.

“Don’t even. People already think we look like twins, let's not give them another reason to add to the list.” She scoffed.

They wrapped up their dinner silently, getting comfortable on each end of one of his couches, watching whatever movie was playing on TV. The siblings enjoyed one another’s company, as much as they won’t admit it, because growing up they only really ever had each other.

It was getting dark out and Nicole really didn’t wanna be falling asleep at the wheel, calling it a night as Nestor walked her to the door, “See you tomorrow, hermana. Get home safe.”

Before she could respond, a knock at the door startled her as she looked at her brother with a  curious expression, “You expecting someone?”

“Ah shit. It’s the bike riders.” He opened the door up, revealing the same men she’d seen yesterday, smiling at them over Nestor’s shoulder.

Her eyes scanned the group of them for EZ, not being able to tell who was who underneath their helmets and the fact that it was quite dark out.

“Nestor, can we talk?” Bishop spoke calmly. Nestor grunted a response, seeing his sister out in order to handle the business until she protested, wanting to hear what they had to say.

“Absolutely. What about?” Nicole stood at the doorway, questioning the older man. Bishop looked over his shoulder at his club, looking back to the siblings with a grin.

“Nicole— I excused you. You can go.” Nestor pointed his stare at her, motioning for her to leave.

She scoffed, raising her eyebrows, wanting so badly to argue with him right now but deciding not to, “Ugh. You’re fucking annoying, and don’t forget it. Goodbye.” She stomped her foot, huffing in frustration as Nestor snickered obnoxiously at her attitude.

“What did you want to talk about?” Nestor’s hushed voice sounded behind her.

She was barely watching where she was going as she headed to her car, catching herself before she bumped into a mass of muscle, “Excuse me.” She whispered harshly, looking up at the figure.

It was him. Her breath caught in her throat, she was flustered for the first time and if anyone knew Nicole, they knew she never got flustered that easily.

“Sorry.” EZ coughed, moving out of her way, a few snickers were heard behind him.

“No, don’t be. My fault, I wasn’t watching where I was going.” She bit her lip, watching him shift his eyes between her and her brother at the door who hadn’t noticed their interaction yet.

“All good.” EZ smiled down at her smaller frame, mentally face palming himself for his lame choice of words. All good? Really, Ezekiel?

“Well, have a goodnight. See you around.” Her eyes held a glimmer of hope that he’d return the same words.

“Yeah, see you around.” He breathed out, keeping his distance, just as Bishop had finished conversing with Nestor.

With that, she left the scene, hot and bothered, all eyes on her due to the interaction that just occurred. ••• Slipping on the beautiful silk fabric, she secured her gun to her thigh holster, trying to conceal it as best as she could; the thigh high split really brought attention to that part of her legs.

Nicole was almost ready to go, checking often to make sure her brother hadn’t arrived to pick her up yet. She made sure her purse had all of her essentials in it and put on one more coat of lip gloss just for safe measure. She figured she wasn’t going to get on Nestor’s nerves tonight considering it was a huge event and it was important to Miguel.

She slipped on her heels, making sure they were snug before heading down the hall slowly, adjusting her dress every now and then. Her hair flowed down her back, makeup kept to a minimum as not to overpower the color and details on her dress.

Nestor was outside with his men, honking once to signal his arrival just as she closed the door behind her and turned around, eyes following her every move to the waiting car.

“Where’s the rest of your dress?” Here he goes again. She rolled her eyes at his old fashioned thinking, flipping him off and settling into the passenger seat, smiling over her shoulder at two of their men who occupied the backseat.

“Not even a ‘Hi Nicole, how are you?’ ‘Oh, Nicole you look beautiful’.” She hit his shoulder.

Nestor scoffed, continuing to drive for another few minutes before pulling up to the lavish mansion. It was a quarter to six when they’d arrived and some guests had already begun populating the front yard, waiting to be checked by security.

She opened her door, swinging her legs out as elegantly as possible, trying not to catch the dress on anything. Her heels clicked on the pavement as she strutted past the front door with Nestor and his posse, winking to the two younger men who had been at her house the other day.

Miguel turned around upon hearing the doors open, “Que bonita. You look beautiful, as always.” He marveled at the young woman, pulling her in for a kiss on the cheek just as Emily emerged with her son on her hip.

“Nicole! Oh my goodness.” Emily gawked at her from head to toe, eyes wide as she took in what she was wearing.

“Hey! I missed you!” They hugged each other tightly.

Nicole placed a kiss on her nephew’s cheek as he smiled at her, “I cannot get enough of that face. Look how big you got!” She cooed.

The ladies had a lot to catch up on since the last time they’d seen each other, gossiping and laughing occasionally as guests poured in. Her eyes searching every now and again for the soft brown ones she’d grown accustomed to.

She kept a watchful eye out for that hallway Nestor had positioned her to, making sure no one went out of their sight of vision. After an hour of chatting with guests and receiving multiple compliments, and some stares due to her scandalous dress, he finally decided to show up.

Her breath caught in her throat as she turned around, facing the handsome man who wore all black and he looked damn good. She bit her lip absentmindedly as she watched him, easily slip through the crowd, not once leaving his club’s side.

“You’re drooling, hermana.” Nestor nudged her, smirking once he caught sight of who it was she was staring at.

She gasped, “Shut up.” Grumbling something under her breath, she turned around, taking a sip of her drink and conversing with the men at the bar. She threw her head back, laughing at a story, completely missing the fact that some scumbag was trying to talk her up. Though, the boys around the bar were quick to shut up, on guard as the sleeze made a scene.

“Beautiful body and easy access? I could have fun with you.” He slurred, bold enough to thrust his hand out to grab her exposed thigh.

She clenched her jaw, shocked that someone had the nerve to come up to her like this, looking around her at the stunned faces, the whole room going silent, as she turned around slowly catching the perp’s hand, twisting it back with a vengeance, moving her body out of the way to slam his head into the wooden bar, pulling him back by his hair as he groaned in pain, nose gushing blood.

“Not so fucking easy now, huh?” She seethed in his ear as she let go of him harshly, the man stumbling back nearly unconscious, guests moving out of the way to let him fall to the ground. He choked on his own tongue as the men behind her pulled him up, dragging his body outside.

“If this motherfucker got blood on my dress—“ She huffed silently checking the fabric for any signs of red spots. She sighed out of relief once she saw that her dress hadn’t been dirtied.

“You good?” Nestor came to her side immediately, making sure his sister was okay before proceeding to deal with the drunken bastard outside.

She smiled politely at the people still staring, making her way to the hallway that she was securing, knowing they wouldn’t know where she was. She needed a second to breath.

EZ had been watching though, the whole ordeal from the moment the man had made a bet with his buddy at the bar that he could land “that hot piece of ass” and it made his blood boil but he wasn’t going to make a scene. Her expression was deadly, he noted, as she turned around to face the bastard. He was stunned but kind of turned on at the fact that she was able to handle her own.

“Man, I wouldn’t wanna fuck with her.” Coco had commented next to him as they were taking the drunkard out of the room. EZ simply grinned, watching as Nicole composed herself and walked off, eyes following her body the whole way down a dark hallway.

“I’m gonna go find the bathroom.” He downed the rest of his drink, fixing his jacket as he stood, looking around discreetly making sure no one saw him follow her.

There they were, together, in a secluded corridor of Miguel’s mansion, tension at an all time high.

Her eyes had to be deceiving her as she gasped, looking at the man standing in front of her, “You lost?” She asked him, pretty eyes widening as he shook his head sheepishly.

“Nah, I’m right where I wanna be, actually. You okay? I saw what happened—“

She stepped closer, almost closing the space between them, heat radiating off both of their bodies, “I’m okay. Nothing I couldn’t handle.” She shrugged nonchalantly, meeting his gaze once again.

“Good. Just wanted to make sure.” EZ reached his hand out cautiously, holding her small jaw in his much larger hand tilting her head up, “You don’t deserve to be treated like that. I know, better than anyone, this is a man’s world, they’re intimidated by you, shit, most of my guys are too. You’re somethin’ else, Nicole.” He inched closer until she melted into him, lips pressing softly into hers.

He pulled away, realizing where he was, “Shit. I’m sorry.” But he wasn’t met with resistance, instead she pulled him back down by the lapels of his suit jacket, whimpering softly when she caught his lip with her teeth.

She pulled back breathlessly, panting slightly, lips swollen and wet, “Fuck me.” Her doe eyes looked up at him, tempting him to take her right then and there.

He groaned lowly, he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, if he wasn’t hard two minutes ago, he was definitely rock hard now. His self control was slipping more and more as she took his hand, running it down her body to the thigh high slit that could make any man fall to his knees.

She watched him the whole time, even when she took his long, thick fingers and slid them past her holster and into the flimsy thong covering her pussy, his breath hitching slightly as he felt how fucking wet she was.

She shivered as he finally took control, swiping a finger up her slit collecting the sweet cum that pooled there, bringing his hand out and up to her waiting mouth as she sucked on his fingers, moaning softly around them, shooting a wave of pleasure straight to his cock.

He leaned down to press his lips to her temple, “Are you sure?” He asked her as she let go of his fingers with a pop.

“Yes, please.” She nodded her head waiting for his next move.

He shut his eyes for a second, breathing out, reveling in the way she spoke so politely. She was going to be the death of him, literally and figuratively.

EZ slowly backed her up to the wall, the molding digging into her back as she gasped, pressing his lips to hers once more desperately. He needed to feel her, to taste her right now.

He grunted as she pressed her hips into his, bringing her palm down to cup him through his black slacks, “Fuck, I been wanting this since the day I first saw you. You’re perfect.” He grinned softly at her as she stared up at him, wanting more.

“Then do it, EZ. Ruin me.” She tempted him. He didn’t need to hear anything else after that, eyes clouded with desire as he kneeled down in front of her, grabbing her left calf and placing it on one of his sturdy shoulders.

She literally felt like she was dreaming, she, like him, couldn’t believe this was happening right now. He nudged her clit over her thong, rubbing it till she whimpered for him, pulling down her thong harshly and spreading her lips with his fingers to his hungry gaze.

“Perfect. Everything about you is.” He hummed making her throb, pressing her head into the wall behind her as he leaned in, pressing his tongue flat to her pussy.

“Oh, fuck.” She was a mess above him and he’d barely even started. As per her request, he was definitely going to ruin her.

He licked at her clit, then fucked her with his tongue, adding a single finger to the equation, “That’s tight.” He growled against her, chin wet with her arousal as he continued his assault.

“Yes, yes, oh fuck.” She whimpered, barely catching her breath, the only sound in the hallway was that of her soaked cunt. Her ears were ringing, her vision nearly went black when he curled his finger against that one spot that made her dizzy.

She was dripping, making a mess on his face, and he couldn’t stop, her smell alone enticing him wanting to make her cum at least 4 times with just his mouth.

“Gonna cum?” He hummed, pressing deeper and rubbing her clit even faster as her body tightened and then spasmed without warning, her release covering his hand down to his wrist.

“Oh my god. You were fucking made for that.” She praises him, pulling him up for a searing kiss.

“I could barely get two fingers in you. So fucking tight.” He spoke against her mouth, biting her lip and letting it go making her giggle.

“I wanna return the favor. Please.” She spoke eagerly, cupping him through his pants again. He was huge, she could already tell and it excited her that much more.

“Nah, you don’t have to—“

“But I want to, EZ. I want you to fuck my mouth.” She pouted.

For the second time that night, he’d lost his cool, his desire for her overpowering his mind. She pulled him into the empty spare room that she knew all too well, having spent multiple sleepless nights in there when she had nowhere else to go, when Miguel was kind enough to help her out for a few months before she could stand on her own two feet.

“Woah— whose bed is this? I don’t wanna intrude.” EZ tugged on her hand, making her stop and explain.

“Don’t worry. It used to be mine. No one’s gonna find us, trust me.” She assured him as he eased up only slightly, the dreaded thought of someone catching them still in the back of his mind.

She kicked off her heels, hiking up her dress, getting onto the large bed, “EZ, relax. Wanna make you feel good.” She was level with his face now as she pulled him closer to her and made him sit back against the headboard.

Her eager hands undid his belt buckle and then his zipper, reaching a hand into the waistband of his boxers, feeling his cock pulsate under her touch.

“Fuck.” He grunted breathlessly, helping her pull him out all the way, pushing his pants and boxers down his thighs a little more.

“Shit. You’re big.” She gasped quietly, seeing him in all his glory, his cock fully erect and leaking cum at the tip. She took him into her hand, pumping slowly, biting her lip as she watched him struggle not to thrust into her hand.

He couldn’t take it anymore, beginning to push her head down gently towards his dick, “Gonna take me all the way in your throat? Fuck that pretty mouth of yours.”

Nicole let out a satisfied hum at his words, she licked a long line from the underside of his cock to the top, repeating the action again making the Mayan hiss at the divine feeling.

“Keep doing that, yeah, just like that— fuck.” He groaned sending a wave of heat straight to her pussy. As embarrassing as it was, she was wet again just from his words.

She tested the waters, delving deeper, licking and sucking, the slurping noises obscene in the darkness of the room.

He pushed her head down deeper, fingers threading through her hair as he guided her on his length, her tongue never ceasing.

“Mmmm, fuck.” He gasped, jaw going slack as he watched her incredible mouth take what she can of him, her hand doing the rest of the work at his base. He thrusted into her mouth making her gag lewdly around his tip, sending him over the edge for the first time.

She swallowed every last bit of his seed, wiping some spit at the side of her mouth. She unbuttoned his shirt quickly, wanting nothing more than to feel the abdominal muscles underneath and lick at his tanned skin.

She straddled his waist, careful not to step on her dress, the thigh high slit proving to be of use in this situation as she grinded down on his bare cock.

EZ palmed at her breast, pulling down the cup revealing to him a shiny metal bar pierced through the nipple, swiping a calloused thumb across it, making her arch into his rough touch, “So sexy. Wanna fuck you, make you mine, baby.” He licked at it, the coolness of the bar sending a shiver down his own spine.

She took it upon herself to grab at his cock, aligning him with her soaking wet hole, sinking down slowly as both their breathing nearly stopped at the sensation.

“Fuck, yes.” She whimpered as he adjusted his grip on her curvy hips, scrunching up her gown just enough to get a good hold on her to thrust upwards.

“Too fuckin’ tight, shit.” He struggled to catch his breath and bottom out at the same time, inching his way into her making sure she was comfortable enough. He finally bottomed out, staying still for a minute until she clenched around him deliciously, begging him to move.

She whimpered when he finally decided to give a little testing thrust upwards, his cock engulfed in her warm, wet pussy, never wanting to leave. She couldn’t help but let out a breathy moan, the feeling all too much for her to handle.

She grinded down on him one more time before he took matters into his own hands, ridding himself of his dress shirt and placing a chaste kiss to her swollen lips.

“Wanna get a better angle, mi amor— make sure you feel me.” He grunts, pulling himself painfully slowly out of her, leaving her to clench around nothing, her thighs burning.

He placed her legs to the side, helping her slide the dress down her body until it was all the way off, leaning his head down to kiss just above the soft skin of her navel.

She didn’t have a moment to compose herself before she was being coaxed down gently to her hands and knees, ass up in the air for his viewing pleasure.

“EZ, please—“ She let out a breathy moan as the cool air hit her most sensitive spot that he’d been in just a minute prior. He cursed, watching her pussy still clench around nothing and listening to her breathing pick up.

“I got you, sweetheart.” He promised her, placing a soft kiss to the bottom of her spine, making her shiver. She was dripping, her core pulsed with anticipation of what was going to come next from him.

He wrapped a calloused palm around each one of her thighs, spreading her for him, pumping his length once more before inserting himself into her. Her walls stretched to accommodate him, though he couldn’t see it, her face contorted in the pain and pleasure of it all. Her grip on the sheets below her tightened as he pulled her back onto him, making her hiss softly.

“Nicole— shit.” EZ grunted behind her,  struggling to catch his breath as she clenched around him wanting him to move already.

He wrapped a hand around her hair, arching her back into him, and thrusted in and out of her tight heat. Her breath caught in her throat, choking on her words at the new position.

“Yes, baby, oh fuck!” She panted, barely able to form any other words.

Ezekiel let go of her hair, bringing his palm to rest against the column of her throat and squeezing a tiny bit, kissing the side of her cheek and groaning into her ear when he felt her pussy squeeze his cock as he’d done so.

Oh, so she was into that shit? Ezekiel smirked against her cheek, choking her just enough, bringing his other hand down to rub harsh circles into her clit. Her nails sunk into the wrist between her thighs when her body almost gave out, writhing with pleasure as he held her tightly against him.

“Don’t fucking stop— oh my god.” Her throat raw from the activities as she continued to meet his thrusts, feeling the swollen head of his dick press against her g-spot vigorously with every snap of his hips.

“Let go— cum for me, baby.” EZ sighed in her ear, the fingers on her sensitive clit never easing up. He felt her body tense, milking his cock for all it was worth as she came.

“Where the fuck did she go?” A muffled voice accompanied by footsteps sounded in the hallway.

“Shit—“ She was panting and gasping as she came down from her high but he had yet to find his own release.

“Can you stay quiet for me? Hmmm?” EZ whispered, pulling out of her swollen, dripping cunt and flipping her onto her back. She nodded wordlessly as he penetrated her once more.

“Feel so fucking good— wanna stay here forever with you.” The Mayan grunted, placing a kiss to the inside of her thigh, thrusts never slowing down as he chased his own orgasm.

She let a loud moan slip between her lips. EZ clamped a hand over her mouth, her eyes rolled back as the tight feeling in the pit of her stomach returned. She was about to cum for the third time that night.

The snap of his hips began to get sloppier, eventually tempting him to pull out, thick white cum painting the lower half of her abdomen.

“Wow—“ She gasped softly before being cut off.

The door handle to the room they were currently using jiggled, his eyes flitting between her and the locked door. He huffed quietly, pulling on his boxer briefs and helping Nicole slip on her thong.

“EZ—“

“Ezekiel— my name’s Ezekiel.” He whispered, smiling at her.

“Ezekiel— I really enjoyed this. Us. And I don’t want it to be a one time thing—“ Her eyes held a glint of hope that he’d felt the same way.

“Yeah, me too.” He pressed his lips to hers, kissing her softly. Before they even had time to react, the door swung open harshly.

“Get the fuck out. Right now.” Nestor’s voice deadly as the two of them pulled away. She barely even had her dress on, grabbing the comforter off the bed and shielding herself from her brother’s view and the extra eyes behind him.

“Nestor wait—“ Her voice wavered, she couldn’t look him in the eye, especially not now.

“Nah— get fucking dressed. Party’s over.” Nestor seethed, glaring at the half naked man standing next to his sister, “I’m not done with you yet, puto.”

With that, he and his men left them to get dressed. Ezekiel shook his head, mind racing a thousand miles a minute.

“I’m so fucking sorry.” She sighed, wiping away the single tear that ran down her face.

“Hey, hold on, what’re you sorry for?” He took her jaw in his palm holding it gently and caressing the skin of her cheek, “Family is family. He’s always gonna worry about you, he’s your brother. Believe me, I know more than anyone.”

“I’m honestly surprised he didn’t shoot me—“ He chuckled lightly, trying to lighten the mood.

“I wouldn’t have let him.” She sniffled, shutting her eyes for a split second before composing herself.

“Oh, yeah? My protector, huh?” He smiled down at her, kissing the top of her head, taking her smaller hand in his and walking out of the room.

[samcrobae]

Nanny, Part 10

Gif Credit: @blackmoonrising

Warnings: mentions of substance use, abuse and overdose. Read with caution or just skip if this is not something you are comfortable reading.

I didn’t proof read all the way because I can hardly keep my eyes open

If I missed you in the tag list please let me know!

Thank y’all so much for all of the positive feedback on this, my heart is seriously so thankful! ❤️❤️

————————————-

Angel stared at the packet in front of him, sitting across from EZ at his fathers kitchen table. “Nah I don’t believe that, this can’t be right.” He slams the file shut and stares at EZ. “Drugs? Elena? No.”

“You read it for yourself Angel. It doesn’t say who she was involved with or how she got involved but look. She was arrested not long after she left. Then again a few months later. He pulled her bank statements and she deposited a lot of money Angel. Then a year later she took it all out. And look. Hospital records. She was there for an intentional overdose.”

“Yeah but who was she getting this shit from? Where did she get the money? Was she running from something?” Angel couldn’t wrap his head around the idea.

“Or someone.” Felipe added. “That could explain why she left the way she did. Didn’t want to put Natalie in any danger.”

“I gotta find her and talk to her myself. If this junkie thinks ima let her come near my kid she got me fucked up. Y/N can’t find out about this. Not yet. She’ll lose her mind. Bad enough she ain’t sleeping. With Nico up all night anyway she’s stressed out.

——————————————-

You had just put Natalie and Nico down for the night and had about 3 hours before he was up again to nurse. You were loading up the dishwasher for the night when you heard Angels bike pull into the driveway.

He kicked off his boots and hung his kutte by the door and made his way into the kitchen to greet you. “How was your day mami?” He kisses your cheek and pulls you in by your waist, your hands coming up to rest on his chest. “Long. All Nico wants is to be on the boob all day, I can’t keep up. Natalie has so much energy, I’m pretty sure I’m gonna be sore from running around with her tomorrow. I just wanna get in the shower and sleep.”

Angel turned you around so that your back was to him and he rubbed your shoulders, “then let’s go take a shower. I had a day too. Shit with Elena-"

“Angel can we not talk about her tonight? I’m just so tired.” You walk away and head into the bathroom to turn the water on. You strip down and toss your clothes into the hamper, Angel doing the same before you both step in. You let the hot water run over your neck and shoulders, washing the days chaos away. Angel brings his hands up and wraps them around your waist hugging you tight against your chest.

“I love you Y/N.” He peppers your neck and shoulders with quick and delicate kisses and you let your head fall back against him. “The doctor said we can have sex again... let me help you relax baby, yeah?” He brings his hands up over your breasts and squeezes them, taking care not to squeeze too hard since you are breastfeeding and one wrong touch and you’re leaking everywhere.

Your reach your hands back to touch the back of his head and give his hair a gentle tug, causing him to let out a low groan and he bit down on your neck. “Let’s go to the bed, we can shower when I’m done with you.” You step out of the tub and he leads you to the connected master bedroom and you lay down on your king sized bed.

He kneels in between you running his hands up your stomach and back to your breasts again, before taking a finger and running it along your core. You drove your hips forward begging for the attention you so desperately needed, “Angel don’t tease me.” He lowered his face closer to you and kissed, sucked, and bit your inner thighs then delivered one slow lick up your folds, making a gasp escape your lips. You had goosebumps and your legs were beginning to quiver each time he delivered another lick.

Wrapping his arm across your hips, he held you in place as he ate you out. Your hands gripping and pulling at the sheets as your back arched. He was good at so many things, but damn that man had a way with his tongue you never thought possible. He spread your lips and flicked his tongue along your clit, causing that familiar fire in your belly. Your thrust your hips up to meet his tongue and brought one hand to his head, instructing him to continue what he was doing.

“Oh my god.... baby.... yes....” you felt your orgasm rush through you, your vision fading momentarily and you chanted his name like a prayer. He lapped at your juices and came back up to kiss you. You could taste yourself on his lips. He sat back on his knees and spread your legs and lined himself up with your entrance. “Look at you...look at that pretty pussy..” he rubbbed the Tip over your clit and you shuddered. “This what you want mami? You want daddy to give you this dick don’t you?”

“Yes..please Angel..”

He slipped himself inside you effortlessly, but was more gentle than he would have normally been since you hadn’t had sex since giving birth.

“You okay? Is this okay?” He asked as he slowly thrusted in and out of you.

You nodded your head yes, followed by, “baby, I need you. Faster please.” He sped up, you gripping his forearms. The only sounds filing the air was the sound of skin slapping skin and your muffled moans as you pushed your face into a pillow. He always made you feel like you could explode at any given second when he was inside you, and tonight was no different.

“Shit you fuck me so good, please keep going, pleaseee..." you were whining, begging at this point, but you were touch starved and sex deprived you didn’t care. “Angel I’m gonna cum ..."

“Cum mami, say my name..." he brought his thumb up and ran circles over your clit.

Your breathing was fast and heavy, barely able to form a sentence, “Angel— ang-" your mouth formed an O shape and you threw your head back into your pillows. Angel quickly followed, and laid down next to you.

“I love you mami.” He kisses your shoulder.

“And I love you baby.” You replied.

—————————————-

2 months had passed and Angel still had no other leads on Elena. No contact, he hasn’t seen her, heard from her, heard of her. He was out everyday with EZ trying to find something, anything that could possibly point to what had happened causing her to leave the way she did.

You hardly saw him, the club and him being out on runs or with EZ all the time had completely consumed him. You were exhausted and essentially raising two kids alone. You had stopped waiting up for him after about a month.some nights he’d come home and not speak to you or the kids. Other nights he’d come home, you’d have sex and that was it.

You were currently sitting in the doctors office as you had made an appointment to talk with her about getting back on birth control. Of course you and Angel wanted more kids but a lot had happened in the amount of time you had been together and Angel wasn’t in the right head space and had so much going on with the club.

“Well, we have options, but none of which we can explore today. You’re pregnant." Your doctor informed you.

You felt your heart sink. “Again? No that’s not possible.”

“Well, are you having sex?”

“Yes...”

“And are you using any form of protection?”

“Well no. But I’m breastfeeding , I read that i wouldn’t get pregnant...."

“Well that’s not a guarantee, either.” The doctor stated very matter of factly.

You got into your car and sobbed. You loved Angel. Natalie. Nico. Why were you so upset? Upsets not the word for it. Disappointed? How were you going to tell Angel? Did you even want to tell angel?

You pull into your driveway and see EZ and Coco’s bikes out front. Stepping into the living room Natalie ran to you “mommy! For dinner today can we have Chinese food? I love Chinese food”

Angel handed Nico over to you, “hey baby we missed you.” He grabbed his kutte and threw it on.

“Angel where are you going? I literally just walked through the door.”

“I know querida I know I’m sorry but shit with Elena is finally coming together"

“Oh Jesus Christ can we just stop talking about Elena?! Fuck Angel this shit has you completely tangled in something that doesn’t make sense. Between the club and Elena we never see you, we don’t even speak! Just fucking let it go." You groaned and head to the kitchen to look for the Chinese menu.

“Woah, let it go? What? Are you kidding me? All of this shit I’m doing , time I’m spending away from my family is so that I can get some answers and so you can lay your pretty head down at night and finally get some fuckin sleep. So you can stop being so god damn paranoid all day long. Shits fuckin exhausting to watch." He hollered. He had never raised his voice at you and you were caught off guard. You were still processing your pregnancy.

“Screw you Angel this is not the shit I signed up for! Being put 2nd to your club, to your junkie baby mama, oh yeah I know about that. Did you think I want gonna find out? You left her paperwork on the living room table. Were you even gonna tell me?”

EZ and Coco watched on as the two of you fought, EZ taking Natalie into his arms and outside, coco following behind them. Nico on your hip.

“Not the shit you signed up for? Are you serious right now? You were all about the shit back in San Francisco, all about the shit when you moved in with me, you were really with the shit when I put that diamond ring on your finger. Or did you forget?"

“Fuck. Why can’t you just be wrapped up and concerned with the 3 kids and fiancée you have now and not Elena and whatever is happening with the club?” You felt your eyes begin to water.

“Three kids?” His face contorted and stepped closer to you.

“I’m pregnant Angel. Again”.

———————————————————-

Tag List: @starrynite7114 @woahitslucyylu @briannab1234 @gemini0410 @ifoundmyhappythought @cind-in-real-life @scuzmunkie @iambabyharry @sadeyesgf @carlaangel86 @everyhowlmarksthedead @notsobuckybarnes @wrcn9fvlcver @elcococruz @jenny885 @general-tiny-mouse @loud-midget @danie1432 @strawberrywritings @justanothermonstah @whatdoyoumeme @thickemadame @jadert15 @yoooitssalexx @blackmissfrizzle @mheart27 @briana-mishell24 @that-chick212 @clayymarek

[heartcravings]

twenty questions tag

thank you @diamozi and @jongin-be-my-jagi for tagging me! sorry it took me so long to actually reply tho! 

1. what do you prefer to be called name-wise?

sam

2. when is your birthday?

a little after winter’s solstice, 26th december. 

3. where do you live?

portugal

4. three things you are doing right now?

hm, trying to have better routines (like sleeping and eating and drinking more water), be more focused on my thesis work (so that i can move on with my life) and also trying to draw more consistently because it really makes me happy.  

5. four fandoms that have piqued your interest?

I don’t think I am a fan of anything else other than exo and even to them I am a lousy fan type of person. I just love what I love and that is that I guess.

6. how has the pandemic been treating you?

so-so? I was on a hard journey already and when it came it certainly didn’t help me. quite on the contrary, I felt like I regressed so much in my mental state, my motivation and concentration dropped and I developed a certain level of anxiety I wasn’t used to. but I feel like I had to go through these hardships to grow and learn more about myself. I’m slowly (very slowly!) getting back on horse and in control of my life. hopefully I'll continue to grow and steadily increase stability in my emotional/mental side. I hope it gets easier to find some happy too. 

7. a song you can’t stop listening to right now?

last week I was working on my gluttony art and I listened to it a lot. today I listened to ending by yeule around 4 times? i'm not one to listen to the same music on loop all day, rather listen to it everyday instead. but sometimes some songs get to me and I can’t let them go right a way.

8. recommend a movie?

somehow I've been thinking of Little Forest: Summer/Autumn and Little Forest: Winter/Spring a lot lately. It’s a 2014 japanese adaptation of a manga and it is so wholesome. I definitely recommend  for some peaceful time.

9. how old are you?

a little older than kim minseok (not by a lot, but still an 80s baby) 

10. school, university, occupation, other?

finishing my phd. 

11. do you prefer heat or cold?

cold, cold cold! (I can always dress warmer, hide under blankets or drink hot beverages!) 12. name one fact others may not know about you?

I got an email last weekend of a friend I first met in Transylvania 7 years ago. The total amount of time physically shared between us in the same space was around 6 weeks. We randomly met twice in the same year in our lives. 7 years without talking to each other or even following each other on social media. And he wrote me the most amazing letter last weekend. It’s really cool to know that the people who touch you deeply sometimes were touched back just as much. 

13. are you shy?

I don’t think so? i open better in one on one relationships though. in group settings it depends:

. if I'm surrounded by people I don’t know at all, I'm friendly and quiet but I approach people first or show that I am open to be talked to and try to mingle and meet new people.  . if I'm surrounded by my group of friends and they bring someone I don’t know to the group, I try to be kind and make them feel welcomed but I'm more quiet and observant. . if I'm surrounded by people I feel safe with, I'm just me: happy and silly if happy or quiet and observant if I need a little more energy to interact. . if there are people that I don’t feel comfortable with around me, my energy tends to drop significantly and I hide more. (pro at blending with the wall ^^)

but amongst all the scenarios I always tend to have my moments of solitude, being inside my own head, lost in thought, daydreams, etc. so if I'm suddenly quiet I'm probably noticing how you touch your ear lobe when you get nervous, or how your left eye has a little dot, or how the clouds look like bunnies right now, or how the light makes my cats hair shine in warm gold tones... you get it xD  

14. preferred pronouns?

she/her due to the social norms I grew up with. but those are just labels right?  

15. biggest pet peeve?

I don’t like saliva... not even my own? idk if this counts. 

16. what is your favorite “dere” type?

oh idk, almost all of the ‘deres’ have their charm. but I think I relate more to dandere? i think i’m just a dandere (silent type) trying to be a kuudere (cool type) but ending up like bakadere (clumsy type) xD

17. rate your life 1-10, 1 being crappy and 10 being the best it could be:

since once upon a time it was already an 8 (saving the 9 and 10 for a the possibility of being better) I'd say right now it is a 5/6. 

18. what’s your main blog?

this!

19. list your side blogs and what they’re used for:

hm, I had @100daystofinishmyphd but I haven’t used it at all. I have another recent one but it is (for now) a sort of secret dairy log, sry! 

20. is there anything people need to know about you before becoming friends?

I'm very demanding with myself. I don’t judge others easily. I used to wear my heart out on my sleeve but life happens and now i hide it a lot more. once I love you, I love you forever. but I will still need time alone once in a while, so i tend to disappear sometimes. 

I think everyone already did this but I'll tag: @byuns-coco @xiuminscheeks @thedeviousdo @delhyun @yeolville @kyungseokie​ @bacon-notbaekhyun-jaehyun-mingyu​ @bikeryeollie​ @hkynm​ @guardians-of-exo​ and everyone else who’d like to be a little closer with me! (of course you don’t need to do this, we can just talk on pm ^^)

[azuregold]

all.....all of the fanfic asks :>

Hey! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

1. If you’re an author, how many WIPs do you currently have? (Be honest!)

Two, if I only count the ones that have at least part of an actual scene written for them and which I still intend to finish someday. (Because otherwise, they're not works in progress, are they? :P) Three if I count the one that's still in the idea stages but is starting to be fleshed out a bit more.

2. What’s next on your ‘to-read’ list? (Fan fiction or otherwise)

City of Stone and Silence by Django Wexler. Everyone, please give his books a try if you're into fantasy. They're so good. He's written for adults, middle grade, and YA, and all of it is fantastic. He's probably my second-favorite author atm (because I love Seanan McGuire and her writing too much to give the top spot to anyone else XD).

3. Do you prefer canonverse or AUs?

Yes.

(Seriously, I like both. I guess my very favorite would be canon divergence—where we're still in the canon universe but one or more things change)

4. What fandom’s/ship’s fan fiction do you read the most?

I don't think there's a clear winner? I bounce around a lot because I read too fast and am too picky with my preferences for one fandom to sustain me. I guess out of the fics I'm following that are still updating at least somewhat frequently, it'd probably be more-or-less a tie between BnHA and Trollhunters/Tales of Arcadia. But that only means, like, 5 – 6 fics each compared to 3 – 4 for most other fandoms, so. Not a big difference. ^^;

5. What’s a crackship you love?

I…can't think of any. ^^;

6. What’s the last thing you read that made you laugh?

I don't really remember. Maybe the newest October Daye book? Tybalt can usually make me smile even if he wasn't in this one much.

7. What’s the last thing you read that made you cry?

No idea. ^^; Probably a fanfic, but beats me which one it was.

8. Bed sharing or roommates AU?

Hmm…roommates, I guess?

9. Fake dating or arranged marriage?

Probably arranged marriage.

10. Mutual pining or enemies to friends to lovers?

Enemies to friends to lovers.

11. Kid fic or childhood friends?

This…depends a lot on how you define kidfic. If it's "the characters raise a kid together" then…I'm not all that interested in either, but I'd probably take childhood friends, depending on the plots of the individual stories. If it's "the adult characters when they were kids", then…they're almost the same thing, unless you're writing adult characters who grew up as childhood friends, and either way I have no real preference for either. If you define kidfic to include de-aging fics, then I'll take kidfic. Such a surprise, given my current WIP, I'm sure. :P

12. Friends with benefits or secret dating?

I guess secret dating, though I'm not fond of either.

13. Exes or established relationship?

Established relationship.

14. (For authors) Post a line of dialogue from one of your WIPs without context.

“Perhaps we should give him what he wants. There is no need for him to remain on the island when he is this desperate to leave.”

15. Post the last line you wrote without context.

Robin's neck prickled. That timing had been far too convenient. The librarian had likely known where the book was the entire time, if there was even a book at all.

(This is technically the last line I edited; the last new line I wrote was in the chapter I just posted and I have no idea which one it would be)

16. Describe your WIP that currently has the highest word count.

That would be Dissonant Echoes, so…The Straw Hats arrive on a mysterious island. Zoro disappears and comes back as a kid with strong negative reactions to the rest of the Straw Hats, and they have to find out what happened and try to fix things.

17. Describe a fic that is still in the ‘ideas’ stage.

A full AU, tentatively titled Praying to Embers. More-or-less modern times. Luffy and his friends come to an island on vacation (still working out which SHs come with him and which they'll meet there). They arrive just in time for a festival celebrating the island's god, Roronoa, and at the festival they meet Zoro, a local who Luffy ropes into being their tour guide. He's not very good at the guiding part, but Luffy's sure they'll be great friends, which is good for Zoro, because he's really going to need some friendly help soon, if he can learn to trust them before it's too late.

This is what I'll be writing after DE, barring a new idea taking me hostage unexpectedly.

18. Do you have a fic reading/writing routine?

Reading, not really, unless you count downloading fics to my kindle and doing most of my reading: in the bathroom, while waiting for laundry or food to be done, when I’m supposed to be sleeping, etc. Well, that and reading on the computer, trying to see the screen past my armful of big fluffy kitty while he kneads my neck and shoulders and arms and face. >.<; Writing, I like to have a cup of tea before I start, I guess? And usually some music.

19. What’s your favorite character headcanon?

I…can't think of any right now. ^^;

20. Do you have a favorite fanfic or author? If so, tag them/post a link and share the love!

I don't think I have a single favorite. I'm not sure I could even narrow it down to a half dozen, haha. But I'll link a few fics (not going to tag anyone because I don't know everyone's tumblr, if they even have one, plus that would be putting myself out there a bit more than I feel comfortable with atm. If one of the authors of these fics see this, I love your work and I'm sorry for being such a shy anxious mess ^^; ).

Going to keep it to one per fandom so this doesn't get obnoxiously long, though for most of them (looking at BnHA, Detective Conan, Coco, and ToA in particular), you can assume there are at least one or two other fics I like just as much as these.

From Muddy Waters, Boku no Hero Academia, by HLine

Want and Need, Fate/Zero x Fate/Stay Night, by Kiiam

The Case of the Missing Detective, Detective Conan, by Utukki

Don't Listen to Kafka (series), Tales of Arcadia, by Archaeopter-ace

A Pound of Flesh, Tokyo Ghoul, by notitlesapply

Population: 1, Voltron: Legendary Defender, by AvaBlook

El Camino a Casa, Coco, by Bookwormgal

The Human Mask, Natsume Yūjin-Chō, by harunekonya

Half of these are WIPs that haven't updated in years, which is really depressing T-T And I'm absolutely sure I forgot some, even limiting it like this, but they'll just have to wait for another time.

[vintagegoddess12]

Radioactive Salvation Ch.4

[Cordelia Goode x Reader]

Chapter: 1, 2, 3

A/N: Sorry if this took too long. Also, this is one of the lengthy chapters to come up in this fic. Hope you like it. Tell me what you think ok? Love lots.

Tagging: @cordeliasflowergirl @athenamgh @stevenuniversetanzanite @germansarechill @chonisbestmistake @alurous

Cordelia’s P.O.V

I look at your familiar face and thought to myself: I have missed you so bad. I want to reach across the table and hold your hand, feel your warmth, one that I've missed so much. I miss your hands intertwined with mine. I just want to be close to you and remember how it feels to be complete once again. But I can't. You're sitting across from me at the dinner table, paying no attention to my thoughts. You used to know what I'm feeling and thinking, especially if they are so loud. Now, I'm just one of your guests that you pay no mind to. Your attention is divided between Michael and Myrtle giving you compliments for the meal. The world may have ended but you still found a way to bring food to the table and be a great hostess, one thing Myrtle and Bubbles - your mentors - thought you in the academy. "This is really magnificent, darling," exclaimed Myrtle, "how did you find this fresh seafood?" You were about to answer when Mallory, who helped you prepare in the kitchen, excitedly answered, "she used this magic that took apart the components of the nutrition cube we eat then brought them back to their original state" "That's my witch," Michael said after letting out a chuckle. His hand landed on your arms and you smiled at him upon contact. I felt Madison's stare at me so I decided to keep my reactions to myself. If I have to be honest, the gesture sent a pang of pain in my chest. The world is about to end and all I have are regrets when I used to have you. I failed you as a partner and as your Supreme to keep you safe from the dangers of the world. I feel guilty feeling this way. I was so caught up in my thoughts, I didn't even know the Antichrist finished eating. "Excuse me, ladies," Michael catching the attention of everyone in the table, "I'll leave you alone so you can catch up." He glanced at everyone then headed for his office but not before lightly touching your shoulder. I can sense that everyone is wary of his actions. "For someone who caused the end of the world, he looks too darn jolly," Madison commented not too long after he walked away, breaking the silence. Suddenly, all the attention in the room went to the woman seating in front of me. You were not bothered by all the eyes focused on you and kept on eating. "So are you like his girlfriend or something?" Madison asked, voicing out the thought every witch in the table has. Her choice of word made me wince inside. You looked up and met her gaze. "Nope," you answered and caused Madi's brow to raise. "I'm just here to pay a kind act that he did for me." "Was there anything kind that came out of the person?" Madison retaliated, her voice laced with poison. You stopped eating and focused on her, "Well, you're here, aren't you?" Your reminder of her resurgence caused the witch's jaw to drop and made her silent for a while. "I believe what she's trying to say, dear, is why are you here when you left the coven?" Myrtle tried to reach for your hand on the table but removed it and place it in your lap. "I didn't leave the coven. I simply stayed away." You answered with a weak smile across your face. "We looked for you," I blurted out loud, causing everyone to look at me. You turned your face to me, pain passing in your eyes. I somehow regret saying it. "Really?" You replied with a trace of mockery. "Did you find me?" That answer stung and I had no words to make up a reply. I wanted to say that I tried really hard to look for you. I even asked Papa Legba if you were in hell. After a few hits of cocaine, he said you weren't there. I exhausted my Power of Sight and the connection we have but I still failed. I couldn't even feel your presence, even now. I'm starting to think it's because of Langdon's magic. "I didn't," was all that I could simply say. I saw disappointment pass in your face before Coco spoke. "But I did." You instantly looked at the witch, as if waiting for the words that will come out of her mouth. Your eyes became glassy, tears forming in it. "It's still blurry to me but I remember seeing you at the academy," she kept trying to remember. I have to admit she got me hanging to her every word. "You were standing over a bed," I looked at you and your eyes were going wide. "Oh and you look like shit," Coco continued, "you were with --" You curled your fist and uttered a spell to bind her lips together, stopping the words to come out of her mouth. "If you do remember," you blinked back the tears in your eyes, "then you know what's at stake." "What is at stake?" Myrtle asked but you remained focused at Coco. "It's not like there are any more witches that will die if you let this nutrition label to speak," Madison matter-of-factly said. You looked at her, shocked. "They're all dead, thanks to this voodoo bitch." She tilted her head to Dinah, who is seated the other end of the table. "Hey, it's kill or be killed," Dinah replied, looking at you. "Oh don't worry, backstabbing bitch, you will be killed," Madison threatened. You remained silent during the exchange. Hearing your sisters die seemed like news to you. I wonder if Michael had told you what he did. If he had, you would definitely run away from him. You don't tolerate violence, never did. You were about to speak but then you were interrupted by Ms. Mead or her robot counterpart. She whispered something to you that caught your attention. You released your hold on Coco before standing up. "I'm afraid the Q and A portion of the evening are finished, ladies." You looked at each one of us. Your stare lingered a moment at me but maybe I was just dreaming. "I have some matters to attend to." You then started to walk away. I remained still to my seat, unsure whether I should follow you or watch over my girls. I want to say a lot of things to you because I'm not sure I'll walk out of this place alive. Myrtle noticed my internal crisis. She nods her head, letting me go after you. It was the push I needed to stand up and follow you. I just want to see you smile for me, one last time. --- "I have found the answer to your question, darling," Michael's voice echoed through the halls when he greeted you. "Questions," you corrected him. "They multiplied." I ran after you and it was not my intention to eavesdrop in your conversation. However, something inside me tells me to do so. I hid to the closest pillar and used a cloaking spell to hinder anyone from seeing me. "Oh my, those witches are real trouble, aren't they?" He commented to himself. "Careful," you reminded him. "I'm still one of them." "I assure you, not for long." His smile sent shivers down my spine. What does he mean by not for long? He inched closer to you before speaking. "I am not responsible for the tragic death of Ms. Vanderbilt." "So I was informed," you coldly replied before glancing to Ms. Mead. "Yes. There was an intrusion earlier. A man," Ms. Mead left the room while he was speaking, "who calls himself Brock." She returned with a scruffy looking man in chains and dragged him a few feet closer to me. You approached the man while Michael continued to speak. "He killed one of our people to gain access. Disguised himself as a guest to the gathering. Got Ms. Vanderbilt alone in her room then killed her." You stood in from of him and, unknown to you, me. Brock, on his knees, kept trying to break free from the chains that bound him but I'm guessing Ms. Mead is making it tighter for him every time. You stared him down before softly asking, "Why?" He looked back at you, still fighting against his restraints, and replied, "because she left me in Santa Monica. She broke up our relationship for selfish reasons. She allowed me to die with the rest of the world." He was catching his breath. "Because I loathe her and revenge is a dish best served cold." You closed your eyes and your fist. You only do that when you're trying to control your temper. Something about what he said sparked something in you. "Such a shame, isn't it?" Michael teased from behind you. "Your excuse for killing is all for selfish reasons too." He started walking towards you. "Sadly, all your efforts are wasted." "No, it wasn't. I killed her dead." Brock spat back. "No witch stays dead for too long, moron." Ms. Mead stated. You remain unmoved in your position. Michael is now directly behind you, caressing your hair, making you calm down. Brock processed the idea of her ex-girlfriend being a witch. "More reason for me to kill her," he hissed and tried, even more, to get out of his restraints. You shot your eyes open with his response. Your body tensed and you clenched your fists even more if that is possible. Your eyes focused only on him. "Let me handle this, darling," Michael whispered to you. "I will make sure he gets the punishment he deserves." He reached for your closed fist. "Does that satisfy you?" Michael seems different around you. His commanding presence still remains but there is more to what he is showing. More concerned. More human. "No, it won't." You shot him a look that made him step back. "I will handle this." Michael signaled Ms. Mead to step back also. Whatever you're about to do made Michael smirk. He looks proud. You raised your hand and called the fire from one of the candles. The flame rested in your palm. You stared at Brock while the light in your hands illuminates your face. There is something sinister with your expression. "You think that revenge is a dish best served cold," you knelt in front of him and looked at him eye to eye, "well, witches like it hot." With that, you closed your fist and seconds later, he was screaming and writhing on the floor. Smoke diffuses from the metal chains you're burning. A small sinister smile forms in your face. I looked for the expressions of Michael and his confidante. There they are, standing like two proud parents. I can't believe this is happening. You can't even hurt a fly. Never would you take pleasure from inflicting pain. The torture stopped as you open your fist. You walked away from him, anger blazing in your eyes. Brock lay at the floor, breathing heavily and slinging curses at you. You stopped in the middle of the room before speaking. "On the count of three, you run as fast you can," you said coldly, "and pray to whatever god you believe in to save you." With a flick of your wrist, the shackles that bind him broke. "One..." The burn marks of his torture are now evidently black against his skin. "Two..." He tries to stand, ignoring the pain of his wounds. "Three!" You bellowed. He was practically limping when he tried to run. "Why did you do that? You could have killed him right there and then." Ms. Mead asked. "Michael knows why." You replied. She looked at the figure near the stairs. His stance proves that he is indeed having fun with what you're doing, his gaze locked on you. A smirk formed in his lips before answering, "To give him hope." You raised your hands once again, this time a man instead of a flame touched your palm. Brock is limp against your grasp in his neck. "You bitch!" Brock uttered under his breath. "You really had the hate coming! Freaks!" How dare he judge our kind? Behind the pillar where I hide, I was ready to impale him using my magic but you threw him against the wall near me. His body fell hard on the floor. Before he can recover, you threw him again. "You're a murderer and you dare judge?" Your voice filled with anger. You threw him again with more force. I think I hear a bone or two broke. "Do you remember what happened to men like him?" Michael asked, probably triggering a memory in you. What he said further ignited the flame of anger inside you. "Oh, I do" You pinned Brock against a wall with your mind. I can sense that you intend to end him right there. You were never a killer, even to those who deserve it and I'm not going to let you start being one now. How will I stop you? I need to get to you. I focused my mind on everyone's consciousness in the room. I can feel three heads. I see Brock's first. It's all hazy and no straight thoughts. In the brink of death, his mind is on survival mode. Then there were two. Your's and the Antichrist's. I see darkness, in both of them. If I choose the latter, he will realize that I am here and I don't know what he will do. But how do I set you apart? I had an idea. I sent a cool whisp of air in your way, enough to trigger a response. True enough, you flinched. It caused small shock in your consciousness. I took that as an opportunity to enter your mind. It felt so wrong to be doing this. You despise the idea of mind reading, that's why Bubbles rarely use her powers around you. You would always say that no one should be privy of their most intimate thoughts other than one's self. While trying to communicate with you, the energy in the room shifted. The flames flickered. The temperature in the hall got hotter. I can feel sweat trickling down my face. The forces seem to be gathering in the middle of the room, in you. Now, what is happening? "The descent is upon us," the Antichrist seemingly answered my question. What does it have to do you?. He called out your name and said, "you know what to do." Suddenly, your thoughts focused on gripping Brock's neck tighter. I used my inner voice to talk to you. "[Y/n], don't do this." You were surprised by the intrusion in your thoughts. I was shocked however when you breathed heavier than usual. That seemed to anger you more and focus on your victim. "If you kill him, you'll be just like him," I tried to reason out in your head. You gave one last push on your hold on him before you screamed in agony. I was terrified for you that I lost concentration in your consciousness. Brock fell on the floor, breathless. So did you, as you continue screaming, in what I can only guess as pain. I tried to enter your mind again but it is completely sealed off. My instincts say that I should run to you but Michael did it first. "[Y/n], what are you feeling?" He asked as he helps you stand. I remained behind the pillar, assessing the situation. I believe you wouldn't reveal my presence to him. "He doesn't deserve to die," you exclaimed, looking at the other slumped figure on the floor. "He doesn't deserve to live either," Michael replied to your sentiment. The two of you exchanged looks as if understanding what the other meant. The way we used to. You returned your gaze to the figure, who's now trying to stand up on his own. What are you going to do? You shook free from the Antichrist's hold on you. Once again, the energy in the room shifted - going to you. You raised your hand, calling forth the wind. "Haec pro maledicto sunt," you started, a whisp of air rests in your palm. "Sit corpore separata." You pointed the ball of air as you walk to Brock, his eyes now pleading of mercy. "Sit corpus attingunt." The whisps of air are now changing color to black. His body began shaking. You stepped closer. "Mitte animam ad infernum." You stopped in front of him, beside me. You looked at your right side, knowing, feeling, that I am there. Your facial expression similar to a hurt child. Innocent yet resembles the pain of ten lifetimes. You sent the ball of black air to Brock's chest as you finish your curse. "Descensum!" Just like that, his body stopped shaking and breathing. Silence covered the hall and he remained limp on the floor. He remained dead. The silence was broken by Ms. Mead, asking what will she do now. As if this situation usually occurs. The Antichrist then answered, "hide the body but don't burn it. He can still wake up if [y/n] wants to." She proceeded as she was told. You didn't kill him. You just sent him to eternal damnation until you don't want to anymore. The next thing that happened surprised me just as much as Michael. You turned on your heal and slapped him. The echo still ringing in my ear. "How could you lie to me?" You shouted, barely a question. How could you not tell me that they're gone!" "Who? The witches," He seemed to have an idea on your sudden outburst. "Yes, the witches!" "I had to," he replied calmly. If that got on my nerve, it surely did the same thing to you. "Had to? When was killing ever a necessity!?" "It is the acceptable action so you can perform your role," he tried to reason with you. You shook your head and breathed out a heavy sigh. You faced the direction of the decontamination area and started walking. "Where are you going?" "Outside," you looked back at him. "Pray to your father that nothing bad happens to me out there or everything you've ever done will go to waste." Anger is once again evident in your voice. "Don't. You. Dare. Follow. Me." and you continued walking out.

---

Translation of the curse in Latin (thanks google translate):

Let this be a curse.

Let the body and soul separate.

Let the body be untouched.

Send the soul to hell!

[an-unknown-writers-world]

Saving me ~ Salvándome

Summary: Reader had a terrible day at work and needs to be rescued from herself. Fluffy Angel

Warning: Angst, mentions of depression; Fluffy Angel(it’s a warning in its self- Although so should Clayton Cardenas’s beautiful face)

Word Count: 1511

A/N: Probably not the greatest thing I’ve ever written. But I had a super shitty day and needed to be rescued myself (I struggled to open my own champagne bottle). I also fully believe that there are not enough fluffy Angel fics in the world. 

It had been a terrible day at the office. It seemed like everyone you had to interact with was either an asshole or incredibly unintelligent. You pulled into the garage at your home and got out; the garage door closed as you entered the house. Making it up the hallway you put your purse and tote bag on the table in the entryway and kicked off your high heels, walking into the kitchen you took your blazer off and hung on the back of an island chair.

You knew you should eat, but food didn’t sound appealing to you. All you really wanted to do was drink a few mimosas and take a bubble bath. You went to grab your phone out of your purse before circling back to the kitchen. You turned on your favorite Spotify playlist and pulled a wine glass out of the cupboard, you sang along to the Halsey song playing in the background as you pulled out the orange juice and champagne. It was a fresh bottle and still needed to be popped. Hoping for an easy task you pealed the wrapper off and untwisted the metal cap holder. You looked at the white plastic cork and felt defeated immediately. This wasn’t going to go as well as you had hoped.

Grabbing a towel, you wrapped it around the cork and held the bottle and pulled. The towel slipped, and you punched yourself in the jaw.

You grunted, “you’ve got to be joking me.”

You stared at the bottle racking your brain on ideas to get the bottle open. You thought about trying to cut it with a knife – but knew you were clumsy and that probably wouldn’t end well. How do other people make this so easy? You thought to yourself.

“Pliers!” You exclaimed.

You scurried to the garage and rummaged through an old toolbox until you found a pair of pliers. Taking them back to the kitchen you tried multiple directions and still couldn’t get it open. Feeling defeated you took the bottle and pliers and sat on the floor, your back leaning against the cabinets. You had an idea on how to get the bottle opened, but it was risky. Deciding your desire for a mimosa was greater than your fear of what could happen you pulled your phone off the counter and typed out a message.

You put your phone on the floor and stared at the bottle in defeat. Fighting with a champagne bottle was not how you wanted to spend the evening; pent-up energy and emotions from a draining day were weighing on you. Tension had pulled your neck and upper back painfully stiff. Your phone vibrated on the floor.

You laughed at his response before replying and laying to stretch out on the floor. Sending Angel a 911 message was probably not the best way to go about this, but you knew he’d understand once he got here. After what felt like hours you could finally hear the familiar rumble of a motorcycle come down your street. You knew it had only been a few moments but you still felt defeated and grew increasingly frustrated you couldn’t even handle opening a bottle on your own. Depression was starting to set in – you needed a release or escape from this day somehow. The engine cut and within seconds your front door was flying open.

“Mi amor?” Angel called out.

“Here.” You said from the kitchen floor.

He rounded the corner and instantly began laughing.

You looked up at him completely unimpressed.  “If I didn’t need you so badly, I’d probably kick you or throw these stupid pliers at your head.” You said holding up the pliers.

He came to sit next to you on the floor, his laugh reducing to a smile; “lo siento querida.”

“Hey,” you said looking at him still frustrated. “don’t get all sexy on me; I’m still mad.”

He reached his hand out to take your own before kissing your knuckles. “Is this where you tell me that falling alone is dangerous and you need one of those lifesaving buttons?”

“And the kid has jokes.” You said to yourself trying not to laugh at him.

“Who you calling kid?” He asked nudging you. “I got eight years on you, remember?”

You looked up at him from your laying position with a pitiful look on your face.

He smiled at you, smoothing your hair back, “que puedo hacer, mamí? (what can I do, mama)”

“I can’t open it.” You mumbled holding the bottle up.

His eyes crinkled, you could tell he was trying not to laugh. You admired his strength to refrain but oddly felt resentment that he couldn’t just let it out.  He held out his hand and took the bottle; popping the top off as if it was as simple as tearing a piece of paper.

“I hate you.” You said shuffling over to lay your head in his lap.

“Bad day?” He asked holding one of your hands in his own while the other rubbed softly up and down your back.

“el peor dia (the worst day)”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Not really; I just wanna forget it happened.”

“Come on,” he said patting your back. “Go change and meet me on the couch.”

You sat up and looked at him, suddenly feeling a little relieved. “You’ll stay?”

“I’ll tell Coco to cover for me.” He stood up before stretching his hands out to help you. “I can’t leave you in this condition.” He finished before kissing your forehead.

Making your way down the hall you headed straight for the closet in the bedroom and pulled off your slacks and dress shirt and tossed them in the hamper. Pulling out your favorite red and black plaid looking sweats and black tank top, you quickly dressed and made your way back to the couch. Angel was already there waiting for you – his kutte hung on the coat rack next to the door and on the table in front of him was a wine glass and a full pitcher of Mimosas; next to it you saw his beer and both your and his phones. He was pulling the blanket off the back of the couch when you sat down next to him.

“C’mere.” He said opening his arms.

You leaned into his chest where his arms wrapped around you tightly after laying the blanket over you. Curling into his chest you were thankful for his warmth and the scent you breathed in that could only be described as Angel – a hint of oakmoss, sandalwood, worn leather, and tobacco. It was intoxicating and soothing.

Angel shuffled with the remote until he found ‘How I Met Your Mother’. It was your favorite show when you were having a bad day and he knew it. He put the remote on the table and sunk down on the couch a little to be snuggled a little closer to you. This was just the kind of escape you needed but could never admit

“Thank you.” You murmured into his chest. “Sorry for 911ing you.”.

He tightened his grip on you and kissed the top of your head. “It’s okay mi amor.” One of his hands began to rub up and down your bag again, slowly and in a soothing motion. “I wish you could see that it’s okay to be needy sometimes, especially with me. I know you think that you always need to be my rock and I appreciate that, and I love it. But sometimes I think you forget that I am supposed to be the same for you.”

“I don’t want to burden you when I’m like this.” You say truthfully.

“My love, you can never be a burden to me,” Angel said emphasizing the word never. “You are my everything – my world, my heart, and soul. It breaks my heart to see you like this.”

“I’ll be okay. I promise.” You reassure him.

“I’ll deal with your boss tomorrow and have Coco tell Bishop I’m off the grid for a few days. You and I are going to spend the weekend together.”

“Angel, I’ll be okay, really. You don’t need to do that. I know they need you.” You said pulling away to look at him.

He hushed you. “I want to do this. They are fine without me for a few days.”

You looked at him hesitantly.

“Please, mi amor. Let me spend the weekend showing you how much I love you.”

You nodded. “Okay, but only because I am terrible at telling you no.”

He kissed you. “Now please, get some rest.”

You knew it was a losing battle to argue with him. He would demand, and you would resist for a while, but in the end, you would give in to whatever would make him happiest. If you were being completely honest – a weekend shut in the house with Angel sounded amazing in so many ways. You just wished it was under different circumstances than one of your depression fits.

Thanks for reading!

Works also available on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17315702

Also thinking about tagging those who’d like to read regularly. If you’d like to be tagged- send me an ask <3 

[mycandylovenaire]

First: sorry about typos and mistakes, I try my best to write and speak english without mess up everything inside my brain lol

i was tagged by @mytrashylove 

1. Nicknames: I actually have many nicknames, my actual name it’s Eugenia and my friends call me Euge, Nia, Ni, Eugenita, Nini (? idk I think all of them are cute.

2. Zodiac Sign: libra uwu

3. Height: 1.59 cm :)))))

4. Hogwarts: Slytherin

5. Last Thing I googled: “aceite de coco para las pestañas” (coconut oild for eyelashes) I saw a girl on instagram saying that it helps them to grow up and I tried it but wanna make sure that my eyes don't will get hurt

6. Favourite Musicians/singer/group: I’m a kpop trash in this moment of my life so now my favourites are BTS, Sunmi, NCT 127 and Red Velvet. And also I love 5SOS, Charlie Putt and Rosalía

8. Following Now: 243 on my personal blog, 13 on this sideblog

9. Followers: 162 on my personal blog, 11 on this sideblog lol

10. Do I Get Asks?: in this blog nope

11. Amount of 💤?: ten hours on weekend, but like four/five hours in school days.

12. Lucky Number: 24

13. What I’m Wearing: withe tshirt and calzas (??? idk how they are called in english sorry

14. Dream Job: draw things in my house all day and get paid for that

15. Dream Trip: Go to Paris with my mom, and Amsterdam with my best friend.

16. Favourite Food: milanesas with noodles, icecream

17. Instruments: flute (we learn it at school), ukulele (No soy milipili lo juro)

18. Languages: spanish (native), english (basic, like I learn it by myself), italian (B2)

19. Favourite Song: at the moment, Boy with love, BTS. Llorando en la Limo, C. Tangana.

20. Random Fact: I can speak about wathever you want because I have opinions about everything and I love to talk

21. Aesthetic: idk??? like I really like a lot of things that maybe are not raleted so I can’t define me with only one? maybe a baddie aesthetic fused with an art hoe aesthetic

I tag:

[pengychan]

[Coco] Nuestra Iglesia, Pt. 3

Title: Nuestra Iglesia Summary: Fake Priest AU. In the midst of the Mexican Revolution, Santa Cecilia is still a relatively safe place; all a young orphan named Miguel has to worry about is how to get novices Héctor and Imelda to switch their religious vows for wedding vows before it’s too late. He’s not having much success until he finds an unlikely ally in their new parish priest, who just arrived from out of town. Fine, so Padre Ernesto is a really odd priest. He’s probably not even a real priest, and the army-issued pistol he carries is more than slightly worrying. But he agrees that Héctor and Imelda would be wasted on religious life, and Miguel will take all the help he can get. It’s either the best idea he’s ever had, or the worst. Characters: Miguel Rivera, Ernesto de la Cruz, Héctor Rivera, Imelda Rivera, Chicharrón, Óscar and Felipe Rivera, OCs. Imector. Rating: T

[Tag with all chapters up here.]

[Also on Ao3]

A/N: “I mean being a Catholic priest only takes years of study and training how hard can it be” -- Ernesto, probably.

***

“We have to keep going.”

“Santiago, we don’t even know which way he went…”

“Then we split up and keep looking!”

“To regroup where? And what if we meet enemies? We’d be easy prey-- Chago, wait! We lost him. We can’t keep looking blindly for--”

“Then go back to the barracks. De la Cruz is out there somewhere. I’ll find that traitor myself, and hang him with my own hands for what he did to Beto,” Santiago snapped, and turned his horse to face Nando, a scowl on his face. It caused the other man to rear back on the saddle, but Santiago didn’t see him, not really.

All that he had before his eyes - all that he’d been seeing, even behind his own eyelids when he shut them - was Alberto’s body on the ground, the blood and brain matter splattered on the rocky ground, carrion birds already beginning their descent… and the tracks of two horses leaving. 

They had found Beto’s horse not too far away, wandering lost, but Ernesto de la Cruz was nowhere to be found. He’d fled like the coward he was, after shooting a man from behind.

He didn’t have to do it. He was giving him his back, he could have stunned him if he so wanted to escape.

“Chago, listen,” Nando spoke again, reaching to put a hand on his arm. “There is nothing more we can do now, and you need to be reasonable,” he said, and sighed. “I know he was your friend. I am sorry it was you to find him.”

Santiago almost snapped back, but he suddenly found he had no strength to. He had to swallow before he spoke. “His mother is waiting for him at home,” he said, very quietly. “How can I go back and tell her Beto is dead if I don’t at least avenge him? I promised Raquel I’d look after him, and now…”

“It is war, Chago. She knew death was a real possibility.”

Of course they all had known that, but it had seemed such a distant concept when they’d signed up - Alberto with the eagerness of a man who wants to prove something, and Santiago with a sense of duty that compelled him to follow his friend as he always had. And even afterwards… death in battle, or even in a skirmish, was one thing. Being shot in the back by a deserter was worse. It was unfair. It was personal.

“I should have been the one on patrol with him,” Santiago murmured. He would have been, normally, but the day Alberto had died he’d been assigned to some other menial task, and Ernesto de la Cruz had been chosen to go with him instead. Beto - who had waved at him before going off, telling him he’d see him later - had liked the man, but Santiago had never quite warmed up to him; he recognized a coward at heart when he saw one. He hadn’t trusted him but even so, he’d never thought he’d kill Beto in cold blood and flee.

“It wasn’t your fault that you weren’t,” Nando was saying, a hand still on his arm. Santiago nodded, but in truth he’d hardly heard him.

I joined the army because he had, but now he’s gone and I can’t do this on my own.

But he would have to, of course. He’d have to brush it off the best he could and keep marching on. He didn’t have to like it; he just needed to make himself keep going through the motions until the right moment came, until he could finally get his hands on Beto’s murderer - because he would, come what may. He couldn’t allow himself to doubt that for one moment.

De la Cruz couldn’t get away with it. He wouldn’t. Maybe not today or tomorrow or the day after that, but someday Santiago would face him again.

And that day, Ernesto de la Cruz wouldn’t get the luxury of a quick death.

***

When it was time to thank God for his food and whatnot, Ernesto barely needed to pretend; he hadn’t had a proper breakfast in so long he was ready to personally thank everyone, from God down to the hens who had laid the eggs, and the nun - Sister Sofía, was it? - who had put the dish in front of him.

If anything, the hard part was focusing on the prayer with that delicious smell distracting him, and trying to make himself pause and chew instead of guzzling it all down in seconds. After the first few bites, he found that easier.

“Where are Gustavo and Brother Héctor?” Ernesto asked after swallowing another mouthful. It occurred to him that the novice would likely live there as well - he hadn’t bothered looking around much after being led to his room the previous day, and he’d have expected the sexton to have showed up by now.

Sister Sofía shrugged, and dropped another couple of eggs on his plate. She was a good deal shorter than him, thin as a twig and nothing much in the way of looks, but as he wolfed down the extra eggs Ernesto thought he could kiss her on the mouth right there and then if it weren’t so likely to land him in trouble.

“Gustavo showed up earlier, but he was absolutely useless here, so I sent him off to feed your horse. Brother Héctor is helping Chicharrón at the cemetery. His joints aren’t what they used to be, and he needed some assistance straightening up a tombstone. Not that he’ll admit it. He’s probably grumbling that Héctor didn’t need to show up at all right now, while watching him do the heavy work.”

Ernesto raised an eyebrow, trying and failing to picture the beanpole he’d met at the church’s steps lifting anything heavier than a basket of laundry, but he didn’t ask. “Chicharrón?” he asked instead.

“The old grave digger, Padre. You’ll meet him today, I wager.”

“I’m guessing that’s not his real name,” Ernesto said. For a moment he kicked himself for not giving a fake name, or asking the dying priest for his own so that he could use it. But then again, he suspected that might have led him to fail to respond when called, which would have probably been rather suspicious.

Unaware of his thoughts, and pouring some more water in his glass, Sister Sofía shook her head. “No, but good luck getting the real one out of him. No one knows.”

“Must be embarrassing, if he’d rather be called after fried pork,” Ernesto muttered. Sister Sofía laughed and so did he - only to realize his mistake when she spoke again.

“It’s good to see your headache is gone, Padre.”

For the second time in a minute, Ernesto felt like kicking himself really hard. He’d come out of his room mumbling that his head hurt, so that he could get out of saying the afternoon mass, but breakfast had been so good he’d simply forgotten to keep the act up.

No matter. I can claim it spiked up again. I just need to be careful now.

“It is slightly better,” he said, and put the fork down on the plate. “It was all delicious, Sister.”

Sister Sofía smiled. “Oh, I’m glad,” she said, and went to take his dish off the table, standing close to him. Very close. Close enough that her arm brushed against his own, startling him a little and causing him to look up. Still, nothing showed on her face. “Anything else, Padre?”

Nothing a nun can give, but thanks for the reminder I’ve gone too long without a woman.

“No, nothing,” Ernesto said, a bit too quickly, and stood. “Is… is there a schedule, or…?”

“This is about the time people come in for confession.”

“Oh, great. I mean-- I’ll be in the confessional in a few minutes,” Ernesto said quickly, and left, heading to his room - he needed the Bible, plus pen and paper - before she could ask anything else, acutely aware of her gaze fixed on his retreating back.

***

They will come collect everything tonight. Keep the back door open. Ensure no one is there.

The note had no name on it, as always. It was safer that way; if she and whoever was keeping direct contact with the revolutionaries kept ignoring other's identity, they could be sure that information could never be forced out of them under any circumstances.

The notes, always written in the same handwriting, came inside the collection box, and Imelda always made sure she'd be the one to collect the offerings for the orphanage - or, if not, that Sofía would do it. She, at least, could be trusted to be discreet.

... Well, no. Not really. But on such serious matters, she knew when to keep her mouth shut.

After giving a quick look around - the church was empty aside from a few people waiting by the confessional and, she assumed, Padre Ernesto inside said confessional - Imelda held the note over a candle, and let it burn. The small piece of paper quickly turned to ashes, the smell easily covered by incense burning, and she went to look for Sofía.

She found her in the sacristy, getting the purple robe out of the closet and ready for the afternoon mass.

"He's bigger than Padre Edmundo was," Sofía muttered when she saw her walking in, eyeing the robe. “Broader shoulders, deeper chest. It's going to be a tight fit."

"I can just hear the sorrow in your voice," Imelda said, holding back a smile, then lowered her own voice. "They'll come to take the weapons and ammunitions tonight."

"Your friend wrote you, huh? Ever wonder who it is?"

"It's not relevant. Have you found out anything about Padre Ernesto?"

Sofía shrugged. "He's got a cleft chin. Still like him best without the beard."

Imelda forced herself to hold back an exasperated sigh. "Anything else?"

"I'm almost positive he puts something in his hair to keep it that glossy. It can’t be natural."

"Are you making a point to annoy me?"

"I want to see how far I can push it before I make you curse in a church."

If not for the fact she had the basket with the offerings in her hands, Imelda would have smacked her. Maybe she should consider using the basket. "Anything of any relevance?"

"He's got a healthy appetite. And he seems rather out of his depth," she added quickly when she noticed Imelda's eye twitching just a little. "He almost began eating without a prayer. He's like a fish out of water. But that's likely because he just arrived."

Yes, Imelda had to admit that was a likely explanation. Still, with all that was going on, having a perfect stranger at the helm of the parish unnerved her. She'd feel safer once she knew something more about him. If only Héctor had taken his vows already... no. She wouldn't allow herself to think of that. "Nothing that gave any indication of where he stands?" she asked instead.

Sofía rolled her eyes. "That's hardly something you tell a stranger over breakfast. Give me time, Imelda. I'll crack this one and give you answers."

"It might be worth having a look at his room."

"I told you, I need time to--"

"Without him in it, Sofía," Imelda said drily, getting herself a laugh and a hand on her shoulder.

"You worry too much. He's just a priest, from way out of town and probably fresh out of the seminar. At worst, we need to be careful around him as we are around most others."

Imelda hated to admit that maybe she was worrying too much, but... well, maybe she was worrying too much. She sighed, and nodded. "All right. But if you find out anything--"

"You'll be the first one to know," Sofía reassured her. "And if there is any reason to, we'll search his room. I think I know where I can find a spare key."

"Gustavo?"

"Gustavo the Disappointment. Though to be fair I was expecting little, so being let down wasn't a long drop."

Imelda's lips quirked upwards. "I believe I heard you saying never again, though."

That gained her a solemn nod. "I did. But if it's to get that key, so be it,” Sofía said, and gave a long sigh. “I did commit myself to a life of sacrifice, after all."

***

Ernesto hadn’t bothered to confess himself in a very, very long time.

Even when he had to, it had simply been… something he had to do. It wasn’t always easy, because apparently he was supposed to confess to wrongdoings - and he couldn’t think of any, he had good reasons for everything he did - or actions that he regretted, which was… rare.

For his first confession as a kid, prior to his first Communion, he’d flipped through the pages of a Bible and taken note of sins that sounded especially impressive: just because it was something he had to do, it didn’t mean he had to half-ass it. He wanted it to be memorable.

He hadn’t understood most of the words he’d read, and the priest inside the confessional had been quite confused to hear a nine-year-old confessing to fornication; much later on, Ernesto would muse he had simply been confessing his main sin ahead of time. Back then, he’d fixed everything by adding ‘and I just told lies’ at the end of the confession. He’d had to say hell knew how many Ave Maria for that, but at least he hadn’t made the confession boring to listen to. Like, say, the ones he was listening right now, sprawled on the amazingly uncomfortable wooden seat inside the confessional.

Miguel had been right: absolutely nothing of interest seemed to happen in that place.

“... And what’s worse, I have…” the whisper became fearful, getting up Ernesto’s hopes to hear something interesting. “I have lain with my husband, last night...”

Thunk.

“Padre? What was that?”

With his forehead resting against the wooden panel he’d let it drop against, Ernesto held back a sigh and a muttered ‘congratulations’. That was worse that the idiot who had confessed to stealing an apple, or another who envied the neighbor for his plump chickens. “Nothing, child. So, you slept. With your husband. Great. And...?”

“And… we did not… we didn’t do so in order to conceive. We know it is wrong, but we cannot afford another child!”

“That’s fair enough. How many children do you have?”

“Seven.”

“... It does sound like a good place to stop, yes.”

“I need your absolution, Padre.”

“What for? It’s your husband.”

“But we committed onanism!”

“That’s… what usually happens when it’s done right?”

“What?”

Oh, Ernesto thought, straightening himself. Wait. He quickly glanced down at the the piece of paper he’d scribbled his notes on, squinting. “Ah. Right. Onanism. That is concerning.”

The voice on the other side of the wooden panel turned anxious. “Can I have absolution?”

“Of course,” Ernesto muttered, turning the piece of paper on the other side. “Ego te absol--”

“No… no penance?”

Yes, start reciting the goddamn Holy Father and keep going until you die.

“... Say ten Hail Mary. Ego te absolvo a pa… pe… peccatis tuis in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Next,” Ernesto sighed, rubbing his forehead as he heard the woman rising from her kneeling position outside the confessional. His head was really starting to hurt, so maybe he wouldn’t even need to lie about it later that day.Not that he planned to confess a thing either way.

After that confession nonsense was over with, he’d go out to have a walk. He needed to be out in the open again… and to check the quickest route out of that town, just in case.

***

“This… this is for me? Really?”

“Of course!”

“Made it ourselves!”

“Couldn’t make you keep using that old thing!”

“No offense, Cheech.”

“Please don’t chase us with a stick again.”

“Hmph. You can count yourselves lucky I just sat down.”

There was something oddly amusing in the protective way Cheech patted the old guitar on his knees, and if he’d looked Miguel would have seen Héctor - still sweaty and panting a bit, because pulling tombstones back upright was hard work - trying and failing to hold back a smile. But he wasn’t looking, all of his attention taken by the guitar Óscar and Felipe had just handed to him, white and shiny and with a skull motif on the head. It was the most beautiful thing Miguel had ever seen, let alone owned.

“You mean it? It’s mine?” he asked, his voice suddenly small, and looked up to see both twins grinning, clearly pleased with his reaction.

“Sure!”

“We said it, didn’t we?”

Miguel smiled, trying to ignore a sudden tightness in his throat. “Thank you! It’s… I just don’t know if they’ll allow me to keep it…” he muttered, barely daring to touch the strings. The sisters at the orphanage tended to frown upon personal possessions, saying it wasn’t fair for one child to have more than the others. But maybe, if he promised he'd let other children use it, and play it for them...

"Of course they won't," Felipe muttered, sounding almost offended.

"Imelda wouldn't let them," his brother added, causing Héctor to frown.

"Your sister is still a novice, chicos. She can't argue against a decision taken by one of the Sisters, or la Madre Superiora, any more than I could argue a decision by Padre Edm-- Ernesto."

"But she would," Felipe pointed out. That caused Héctor to smile a bit, a fond smile that he wasn't quick enough to smother.

"Oh, I know she would. That's exactly what worries me," he said, causing the boys to laugh a little and Chicharrón to scoff.

"Hmph. That is an argument I'd like to see," he muttered, throwing away the stick he'd been chewing on for his pet rooster to catch and, apparently, try to kill. Miguel was pretty sure Juanita wasn't right in the head. "Either way, these two pend--"

"Cheech," Héctor said, a bit warningly, but the old man waves a hand in dismissal.

"... These two are right. That guitar is yours. If those penguins--"

"Cheech."

"-- If the nuns try to take it from you, they're thieves," he finished, rolling his eyes at Héctor before looking at Miguel. "Just do as Héctor did when he was your age and leave the guitar with me, muchacho. I'll keep it at my place and you can come play it whenever you want. If anyone asks, it's mine."

"That's lying," Miguel pointed out, but he was already grinning from ear to ear, holding tightly onto the guitar. "Thanks, Cheech."

"Don't mention it. Better to hear your music than your whining when it's taken from you."

"Aww, he has a heart!"

"Soft as butter!"

".. Don't push it, kids," Cheech warned, but Óscar and Felipe just grinned before looking back at Miguel expectantly.

"Well, come on! Play us something!"

"Yes, we made it for a reason!"

"It probably needs tuning first, that is not our thing..."

It did need tuning, but Miguel took care of it quicky; when he gave a strum, the sound was perfect. For a moment he considered playing one of Héctor's songs - he wrote so many of them, he'd showed him his songbook once - but he knew he didn't like to let too many people know he wrote songs that were not about religion at all, so in the end he just went for something else entirely. There was that song he'd heard a couple of weeks ago from a few travellers, how did that go again...?"

"En el condado del Carmen Miren lo que ha sucedido Muri�� el Cherife Mayor Quedando Román herido"

"Otro día por la mañana Cuando la gente llegó Unos a los otros dicen: 'No saben quien lo mató'"

“Se anduvieron...  anduvieron…” Miguel's voice faltered, the next line failing to show in his mind, his fingers stilling on the strings. For a moment he felt lost, that odd sense of utter confusion when something you should know escapes you for no reason - but then another voice rang out and yes, those were the right words.

"Se anduvieron informando Como tres horas después Supieron que el malhechor Era Gregorio Cortez!"

"Wha-- oh! Padre Ernesto!" Héctor exclaimed, quickly standing upright - he'd been leaning on a grave, which he wasn't supposed to be doing. Not that Padre Ernesto seemed to care.

"Brother Héctor. My apologies, I couldn't resist," he said brightly, leaning against the low dry stone between the cemetery and the path he must have been walking on.

“You can sing!” Miguel exclaimed in awe. They really had been sent the best possible priest. “I mean-- you sing so well!”

Ernesto smiled, looking almost giddy at the praise. "Gracias, niño. It’s been a while since last time I got to really sing. This is one of my favorites,” he said, climbing over the low wall to step in the cemetery. Miguel blinked up at him as he approached.

"You know this song?"

"Who doesn't? He-- er," Padre Ernesto paused, and seemed to hesitate, but then he shrugged and he was smiling again, like it was nothing. "It's a very popular song up north near the border, but it makes sense it's not heard as often here," he added, and glanced towards Chicharrón. "You’re the gravedigger, aren’t you? I don't believe we have me-- gah!"

With a sudden screech, Juanita threw himself at Padre Ernesto in a whirlwind of fury and feathers. Padre Ernesto hurriedly stepped back just as Héctor yelled - “No, Juanita!” - and launched himself to grab the rooster. Still sitting on his chair, Cheech raised an eyebrow.

“Juanita doesn’t like him,” he noted, sounding oddly solemn and ignoring the confused look Óscar and Felipe were exchanging. Miguel would have pointed out that the rooster didn’t seem to like anyone he didn’t know well, but his attention was taken by Héctor’s struggle to contain Juanita. He’d managed to grab the rooster, who didn’t seem pleased at all but wasn’t struggling as hard as Miguel knew he could to break free.

"Sorry! Juanita is not always like this. I mean, he's often like this. Just not always," Héctor was saying, causing Padre Ernesto to blink.

"Juanita?"

"Yes."

"But it's a roos--"

"We know. Cheech wouldn't change his mind, though," he added with a chuckle, and to Miguel's relief Padre Ernesto laughed, reaching up to smooth back his hair. There had been a lot of protests from people visiting the cemetery, claiming that Juanita had tried to attack them as they paid their respects. Padre Edmundo’s calming words were the only thing that had kept some of them from trying to turn Cheech’s pet into dinner. It was good to see the new parish priest wasn’t adding himself to the rooster’s long list of enemies.

“Cheech, this is Padre Ernesto,” Héctor said, thrusting Juanita in his arms a little more forcefully than it would have been necessary. The old man huffed, but reached to stroke his rooster’s head to calm him down before nodding towards the priest. He didn’t try to get up from the chair, but that could be excused due to his wooden leg… as long as you couldn’t guess that he simply didn’t want to stand up.

“Juanita doesn’t like you,” he repeated drily. A slightly annoyed expression crossed Padre Ernesto’s features just for a moment before he smiled and shrugged.

“Then it seems Juanito and I--”

“Juanita.”

“-- Shouldn’t come too close to each other for our mutual safety, then,” he said, his smile a little sharper, and turned his attention on the guitar in Miguel’s hands. “That’s a fine guitar.”

“Of course it is!” Felipe piped in, crossing his arms and puffing out his chest.

"We made it!" his brother echoed immediately.

"The best guitar we ever made!"

"Also the first guitar we ever made."

"Which still makes it the best, though."

“Right!”

Padre Ernesto laughed. “You did an impressive job, then. It sounded really good. And you’ve got some real talent there, muchacho,” he added, causing Miguel’s chest to swell with pride. Héctor had said that, too, but Héctor was always nice and encouraging to everyone even when they were terrible at things, and it made it hard to tell how real his praise was.

“Thank you! Can you teach me the rest of the song? I could only memorize the first part.”

“... You’re playing it by memory?” Padre Ernesto blurted out, blinking, and Héctor chuckled, reaching to ruffle Miguel’s hair.

“As you said, Padre, he’s got real talent,” he said. It was something he would have never said in front of Padre Edmundo, because he would have definitely muttered something on how he should be mindful not to feed a child’s pride, as it was a deadly sin and whatnot. Padre Ernesto, however, just nodded in agreement and held out a hand.

“Would you mind?” he asked, and Miguel’s eyes went huge. All fear that someone would take away his guitar seemed very far away; he knew, instinctively, what that was about.

“You can play, too?” Miguel asked, handing him the guitar. He took it with a wink.

“Some say it’s what I do best,” he said, and gave the guitar a strum. The sound put a smile back on his face. “Now, it’s been a while, but let me see. Brother Héctor, care to join…?”

***

Gustavo hated horses.

They stank, they tried to bite you or kick you or worse and they always, always made a mess; Padre Edmundo’s donkey had been so much easier to look after than the beast the new priest had come riding on. But looking after it now was among his duties, even though it was clear the horse wasn’t especially fond on him, either.

It followed that, as he walked back to the church, he wasn’t in a good mood. What did help, however, was hearing music and singing coming from the cemetery, because he recognized at least two the voices.

Insortaron a Cortez Por toditito el estado: "Vivo o muerto que se aprehenda Porque a varios ha matado!"

Well, now that was a good chance to knock Héctor down a notch or two.The darling of the parish, and the darling of the orphanage before then - who did he think he was? The cemetery wasn’t the right place to play music with that brat who kept following him around and the old gravedigger who kept refusing to die. Héctor was so clearly good for nothing, but Padre Edmundo had been entirely blind to that.

Well, now the parish was under new management. What an unwise move, letting himself be caught; it would make for a rather bad first impression with the new priest. Certainly Padre Ernesto would see things his way.

Decía Gregorio Cortez Con su pistola en la mano: "No siento haberlo matado Al que siento es a mi hermano"

Almost giddy with anticipation, Gustavo walked the few steps that separated him from the stone wall and leaned on it with a sneer. “Giving spectacle in the cemetery, brother Héctor, really? I wonder what Padre Ernesto is going to sa-- Padre Ernesto?”

Under his stunned gaze, Padre Ernesto looked back at him in mild confusion, a white guitar still in his arms, pausing mid-twirl. At either side of him, the little brat and Héctor - who was holding that old guitar made out of scraps - stared at him like hares before a coyote. The old man was scoffing, the the two boys whose names he kept forgetting snickered.

“Oh, Gustavo! Care to join in?” Padre Ernesto smiled.

Gustavo opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Ignored the way Miguel was beginning to smirk, ignored the smile beginning to tug at the corners of Héctor’s mouth, and took a step back. His eyes kept shifting from the priest to the guitar in his hands, and then back to him.

“No, I. Er. I was just here to… to…” A bell rang, and Gustavo recoiled. “To remind you that the afternoon mass will be in a hour,” he blurted out.

The smile on Padre Ernesto’s face faded like a blown-out candle. “Ah,” he said. “About… about that--”

“We need to go and get ready!” Miguel - who, for some reason, was the main altar boy despite being nothing but trouble - exclaimed, and took the white guitar from Padre Ernesto to hand it to Chicharrón before he took off running. “Come on, Héctor! See you in church, Padre!”

No running in the cemetery, Gustavo should have yelled, and he normally would have, but now he couldn’t quite find his voice. He just stared at their retreating backs, speechless, and didn’t notice Padre Ernesto glancing at the church as though staring at a hangman’s noose.

***

Everything was going fine.

Mass was about to begin, he barely remembered how it was supposed to start off, the purple robe for la Cuaresma was uncomfortably tight - "We'll get Ceci to fix it up," Miguel had said, like Ernesto would know who the hell that was - he generally had no idea what he was doing, and he was rather sure he was about to throw up. But other than that, all was well.

All right, all right. No need to panic. I've got this. I can do it.

"... Are you all right, Padre Ernesto?"

Ernesto looked at Miguel, all prim and proper in his altar boy clothing, and smiled brightly.

Oh God I can't do this.

“Never been better,” he said, and he sounded like he meant it. “Where’s Brother Héctor?”

“Oh, he plays the organ. He’s really good, hear that?”

He did, yes; he could hear the organ playing, and a chant he recognized - the entrance chant. So, time to go out there. Ernesto drew in a deep breath, nodded at Miguel, and stepped out of the sacristy. Just as he did, everyone stood.

The damn place was crowded despite it being a Saturday afternoon mass, likely because that entire damn town wanted to have a look at their new priest; in different circumstances, Ernesto would have appreciated being at the center of attention. Now he could only focus on moving towards the altar, trying to look at no one at all, and the short walk seemed to last hours as he tried to remember what the priest always did at the beginning of mass.

He bowed to the altar, right? Right. And kissed it. And I think he incensed it and the cross. Miguel has incense, that has got to be it. All right. I got this.

He went through the motions mechanically, very nearly spilling the burning incense on the altar and on the Bible - in Latin, so entirely useless to him - but thankfully completing the task without incidents. He handed it back to Miguel, stared up at the cross, and swallowed. What was it that the priest always did no-- oh, wait. Right. He remembered that, at least.

Slowly, Ernesto crossed himself, knowing that behind him everyone else was doing the same. He spoke staring at the cross, trying to keep his voice firm. It came surprisingly easy, considering that he was beginning to regret not letting the army hang him.

"In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti," he said loudly.

"Amen," everyone spoke as one behind him. So far, so good. Shame that he had absolutely no clue how to go on. He should have paid attention at Sunday school.

Ernesto looked down at the Bible, hoping to find a clue there, but absolutely not a single word made the slightest amount of sense to him. He uselessly scanned the pages, and he let his expression slip into panic for a moment, forgetting that he had his back turned to most of those present, yes, but not to all of them - and he completely missed the wide-eyed look Miguel was giving him. In the end, he set his jaw. What the hell, he would just do it his way, and hope for the best. Worst case scenario, he’d run for the back door.

“Brothers and sisters,” he said, turning and putting on his best smile. “Let me say it is a honor to be here with you all."

His words caused the parishioners to recoil, clearly taken aback. It was not how a mass was supposed to go - the priest, Ernesto knew, babbled in Latin with his back turned to everyone else almost all the time, turned around to administer the Eucharist, and then went back staring at the cross and babbling in Latin until it was over. Hopefully, they’d enjoy a change.

"I would like to once again extend my condolences for the loss of Padre Edmundo," he went on. His gaze wandered left, past a group of slightly confused nuns to Héctor, who still sat at the organ. "Let's... let's have a minute of silence to pray for him, sí?" Ernesto added, and bowed his head, hands joined. He shot a quick glance around to see that everyone was doing the same, a couple of people on the front rows wiping their eyes before doing so.

The change of pace had probably taken them aback, but if he played his cards right he could make it through that without raising too much suspicion - just a young, new priest from out of town breaking the mold for his very first mass there. They could think him eccentric, perhaps, but that wouldn’t be a problem, at least in the short term… and he had no intention to stay any longer than he had to.

With a deep breath Ernesto looked up, unclasped his hands, smiled, and began talking. And kept talking. He was good at it, and no one interrupted him, no one argued. Little by little, he found he didn’t have to fake confidence anymore. All was well.

As long as no one saw through his act, he’d be fine.

***

For several moments, Miguel could only stare at Padre Ernesto in stunned silence.

He was talking about God now, suggesting that they had the choir sing again because ‘he who sings prays twice’ - a quote from a saint, though now Miguel couldn’t remember which one - and he sounded really confident, convincing, and charming. Everyone in the church was listening intently, clearly surprised by the change from the usual liturgy but going along because, well, the priest would know.

Except that the man standing before him - the man who had saved him from drowning, agreed not to tell as much to anyone else and just taught him a song - was not a priest. He simply couldn’t be. No one else knew because they hadn’t stood where he stood now, they hadn’t seen the look on his face as he stared at the Bible... but Miguel had. He knew.

‘Padre’ Ernesto could swim, he could ride, he could sing and play and who knew what else, but he didn’t know a single word of Latin.

***

Father John Johnson found himself staring at the mass - no, the mess - unfolding before his eyes, speechless.

It had been a long journey to Santa Cecilia, as he'd been warned, but with God at his side he'd made it there unscathed. Tired, yes, and hungry and thirsty and burned by the sun, but he accepted it all gladly - especially on Lent. Jesus Christ had suffered far worse while fasting forty days in the desert; he could endure some discomfort as he carried out his mission to teach those people proper Catholicism, to free them of their ridiculous superstition and stomp out the pagan... rites they kept trying to mix with the Church's teachings.

He'd been travelling for the better part of a year now, going from town to town, from parish to parish, to that end. He wasn't always welcomed, but then again neither was Christ. He would endure, preach to those who’d listen, and carry on as every Jesuit should - prove he was worthy of the cloth he wore.

He was in the right. He could not be led astray, or frightened into giving up his mission; he wasn’t afraid of putting his life on the line. Salvation does not come for free, after all, and he would pay the highest price if need be.

Todo modo para buscar la voluntad divina.

When he'd arrived in town, there had been few people in the streets. Most were in church for the first mass by their new parish priest, a man had told him while glancing curiously at his blond hair and pale complexion; that was how John had learned that the priest he'd written to and was supposed to meet, Father Edmund, had died, and that one Father Ernest had just arrived to replace him. John had nodded, and murmured a silent prayer for him before he'd continued towards the church, following the directions.

Even though he usually stuck out like a sore thumb, his arrival had gone unnoticed; when he’d silently stepped inside the church to go stand in a corner, not one head had turned towards him. Everyone was staring, as though transfixed, at the priest… who was currently giving his back to the cross. And leaning on the altar with one elbow as though he was simply having a pleasant chat about God. Which, really, was exactly what he was doing.

In Spanish.

Good God, that was worse than any other place he’d visited. Even though those people kept insisting on mixing paganism with Catholicism in the most distasteful ways, at least the other parishes had known how to hold a proper mass. It seemed that he’d arrived just on time to help the people in that town; God had been wise to guide him there. There would be a lot of work to do, but all well worth it and desperately needed.

As that mockery of a function continued, John tiredly closed his eyes and allowed himself a long sigh, a hand reaching beneath his cassock where, in an internal pocket, he kept his Bible. He brushed his thumb on the worn-out cover, tilted back his head and opened his eyes, staring at a painting of Jesus Christ ascending to Heaven right behind the altar.

Lend me strength, he thought, not knowing just how many times he'd find himself repeating that plea in the weeks to come.

***

[Back to Part 2]

[On to Part 4]

[1kook]

85 questions

rules: answer 85 questions about myself then tag 20 people

i was tagged by @teapical aka the sweetest blog i follow, thank you!!

last

1. drink - water

2. phone call - my friend bc i missed him!

3. text message - my best friend!!

4. song you listened to - nonstop by drake

5. time you cried - uhhh like 2 years ago lol whew...the pent up emotions😷

ever

6. dated someone twice? - nay sir

7. kissed someone and regretted it - my first kiss yes

8. been cheated on - no, bless

9. lost someone special - yes

10. been depressed - tbh no 

11. gotten drunk and thrown up - sadly 😔

fave colours

12. yellow!! all of the shades!!

13. soft pink like beige pink (??)

14. black

in the last year have you…

15. made new friends - yes ma'am!

16. fallen out of love - I've never even been in love I'm like 3 years old

17. laughed until you cried - probably

18. found out someone was talking about you - yeah 

19. met someone who changed you - nah

20. found out who your friends are - nah

21. kissed someone on your facebook friends list - nope

general

22. how many of your facebook friends do you know irl - like 85% of them

23. do you have any pets - nah I'm not a fan of pets lol sorry 

24. do you want to change your name - no! i love my name its pretty 

25. what did you do for your last birthday - i was sick :(

26. what time did you wake up today - 5:15 AM bc it was my first day back to school yikes

27. what were you doing at midnight last night - trying to fuckin sleep and fix my sleeping schedule! 

28. what is something you can’t wait for - graduation!!!

30. what are you listening to right now - the A/C lol

31. have you ever talked to a person named tom - no surprisingly? 

32. something that gets on your nerves - y'all gone be like wtf but its annoying when someone acts ‘too tumblr’ irl if you know what i mean lol

33. most visited website - thesimsresource LMAO

34. hair color - brown 

35. long or short hair - LOOOONG it reaches my buttcrack, thats like 2.5 feet lol

36. do you have a crush on someone - pcy 😔

37. what do you like about yourself - my smile!! i had braces for four years i woulda sued them if i didn't like it 

38. want any piercings? - i want an industrial in my right ear but i go to catholic school and whew....the dress code sis

39. blood type - tbh i can't remember lol

40. nicknames - yambo, yam

41. relationship status - single

42. zodiac - im a virgo and I'm gonna be honest i really don't understand any other astrology stuff lol help 

43. pronouns - she/her

44. fave tv shows - adventure time! la reyna del sur if u know that show girl....🤧

45. tattoos - tbh i never thought about getting one but maybe in the future??

46. right or left handed - I'm ambidextrous actually!

47. ever had surgery - nay

48. piercings - i have the simplest ones aka one on each ear 

49. sport - i run track & field (i do the same events as the person who tagged me!) and play soccer 

50. vacation -  i wanna go to mexico sooooo bad lol

51. trainers - i wear a lot of vans tbh they're just so comfortable 

more general

52. eating - chicken! big fan 

53. drinking - water sometimes lemonade 

54. i’m about to watch - another pcy comp probably lmao 

55. waiting for - nct china !!!!!

56. want - girl idek what i want to eat rn so

57. get married - preferably 

58. career - undecided but i wanna study kinesiology !

which is better

59. hugs or kisses - both bye 

60. lips or eyes - lips 

61. shorter or taller - taller

62. older or younger - older

63. nice arms or stomach - mm idk both i guess??

64. hookup or relationship - relationship duh

65. troublemaker or hesitant - I've dated both and i hate both bye but if i must then i guess troublemaker 

have you ever

66. kissed a stranger - hell nah

67. drank hard liquor - yeah

68. lost glasses - they're literally lost right now 

69. turned someone down - yeah.... yikes

70. sex on first date - no thanks

71. broken someone’s heart - yeah lmao 

72. had your heart broken - nah

73. been arrested - nah

74. cried when someone died - yeah

75. fallen for a friend - ......yes 

do you believe in

76. yourself - I'm my biggest fan 

77. miracles - i believe in miracles where its a result of hardwork lol

78. love at first sight - nah 

79. santa claus - nah

80. kiss on a first date - mm maybe

81. angels - sometimes

other

82. best friend’s name - id rather not lol

83. eye color - brown but super dark 

84. fave movie - UGH ..... COCO 

85. fave actor - tbh i don't really follow actors/actresses like that so ill just say michael b jordan cuz he was in the last movie i saw lol (it was fruitvale station)

-

idk many people so I'm just gonna tag blogs i like/remember a lot lol, sorry if you’ve already been tagged by someone else/have already one this!!

@seokbyuns @glossyjongin @automqtic @88swife @byunberries

[whimsymuse]

🌻85 TRUTHS TAG🌻

— rules: answer these 85 statements about yourself, then tag 20 people.

Thank you @notsoguiltykpop for tagging me in this. I’m sorry this took my so long, I wanted to answer sooner, but I didn’t have time and then it completely slipped my mind and stayed as a draft.

 I’ll tag @zigzagkyung, @jinsbangtan and @ibangtanthings if you guys want to do this. I wadded an 85th question because there wasn’t one and I wanted to know more stuff. :P

• Last:

1. Drink - Some creamsoda sodastream concoction

2. Phone call - My friend so that we could freaek out about something

3. Text message - My sister. We texting eachother after my mom yelled at her after someone else almost hit us with their car while my sister was backing out of a parking space.

4. Song you listened to - Don’t leave me ~ BTS

5. Time you cried - A few weeks ago I think, when I watched Coco with my sis

• Ever:

6. Dated someone twice - Nope (what is date???)

7. Kissed someone and regretted it - Yes. I kissed one person and I regret that being my first kiss.

8. Been cheated on - No, Ihaven’t dated sooo. People have cheated on my tests before. (If I wasn’t already nerdy enough)

9. Lost someone special - Yes

10. Been depressed - Yeah

11. Gotten drunk and thrown up - No

• Fave colours:

12. A deep cerulean

13. Maroon

14. Peachy pink

• In the last year have you…

15. Made new friends - Yes

16. Fallen out of love - Yes, I think? Not sure if what i felt was love but ://

17. Laughed until you cried - Definitely

18. Found out someone was talking about you - Yes

9. Met someone who changed you - For sure

20. Found out who your true friends are - Yes

21. Kissed someone on your facebook friends list - Nope

• General:

22. How many of your Facebook friends do you know irl - Almost all of them, they’re all my family and friends.

23. Do you have any pets - No , but I have many plants

24. Do you want to change your name - Yes! My parents did this thing where they gave me two names and called me by my second name and I din;t know I had a first first name until I was 8 and it started mesing up my school files. I live both of my names, but now that people are calling me by both, I feel so detached from both names.

25. What did you do for your last birthday - Went to a board game cafe with some freinds. Let’s just say I will not be eating cake again anytime soon and that I am just as clumsy as my bias.

26. What time did you wake up today - 7:40 and its a weekend =.=

27. What were you doing at midnight last night - Reading fics probably.

28. What is something you can’t wait for - For me to be done all of these exams!!

30. What are you listening to right now - Distant cars driving down the highway and my fingers type on my laptop.

31. Have you ever talked to a person named Tom - I spoke to a Tomas. I don’t think I met a Tom, but odds are I have.

32. Something that’s getting on your nerves - When people dragg metal across metal, or glass. Omlll I’m cringing just thinking about the sound.

33. Most visited website - Instagram or Tumblr I think

34. Hair colour - Dark brown with some lighter brown around the bottom

35. Long or short hair - Medium. I recently cut it myself for the first time beace I was bored.

36. Do you have a crush on someone - Nopee

37. What do you like about yourself - My ability to see the bright side of situations and people. It just makes life simpler and happier imo.

38. Want any piercings? - Yess! I want a couple small ones on my left earlobe and maybe a cartillage piecing.

39. Blood type - A+ (my parents asked why it doesn’t show in my math marks)

40. Nicknames - Bittah bittah, Caramel Macchiato, Brokoro, Half of the full moon (the better half)

41. Relationship status: Single

42. Zodiac - Aries

43. Pronouns - she/her

44. Fave tv shows - Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, Avater the Last Airbender and Game of Thrones

45. Tattoos - No my parents would skin me alive

46. Right or left-handed - Right

47. Ever had surgery - No, though considering the amount of times i’ve hurt myself I should have by now.

48. Piercings - One in each ear, but I’m hoping to get more!

49. Sport - Yes! I used to by on my school’s volleyball team, until people got good and I couldn’t play at all in high school. I ADORE dodgeball (with the soft foam balls cause I refuse to whip the big rubber ones at people).

50. Vacation - I’m going to Europe for the first time this summer!

51. Trainers - No

• More general

52. Eating - Nothing, but now I’m hungry

53. Drinking - Nothing

54. I’m about to watch - My computer turn off casue I’m too lazy to get the charger

55. Waiting for- My exams to be over so that I can finally relax.

56. Want - To pass my exams and BTS tickets

57. Get married - Hopefully in the future. I want a family, but I also want to explore the world first, so we’ll see how things go.

58. Career - I want to work in something pertaining to international relations. I adore learning about and encountering different cultures and I reallyy want to help as many people as I can around the world.

• Which is better

59. Hugs or kisses - Hugs!

60. Lips or eyes - Eyes

61. Shorter or taller - I’ve fallen for both, so I don’t think that matters to me.

62. Older or younger - Older, but again, not a big deal to me. As long as you’re sweet and we’re both mentally on the same maturity level.

63. Nice arms or stomach - Arms. I see abs and the first thing I think is, ‘this person watches what they eat... Idk if we’ll do we’ll together’

64. Hookup or relationship - Relationship.

65. Troublemaker or hesitant - Troublemaker, but i keep falling for hesitant people.

• Have you ever

66. Kissed a stranger - No

67. Drank hard liquor - Yes?

68. Lost glasses - No

69. Turned someone down - Okay, so quick story time: A guy approached me in the store while I was listening to my music with both earbuds on. I only realized he was talking to me and managed to take out my earbuds when he was already half done what he was trying to say and all I caught was, “very beautiful, and I just wanted to know if you were single.” And me being the awkward egg that I stuttered out a ‘s-sorry no’ and I wanted to just casually say that I’m not interested, but immediately after he said ‘oh you’re not single’ and stupid me said “N-no, I’m not interested.” GODDD it’s been a week and I still feel so bad!!!

70. Sex on the first date - No

71. Broken someone’s heart - Doubt it

72. Had your heart broken - Yes

73. Been arrested - No

74. Cried when someone died - Yes, it was for my grandma when I was 4, but I barely knew her so I was only crying becasue my mom was.

75. Fallen for a friend - Everyone I fall for starts off as a close friend (With one exception)

• Do you believe in

76. Yourself - Most of the time

77. Miracles - Yes

78. Love at first sight - I believe in profound attraction, but I think love is only felt after seeing someone at the best and worst and then caring for them so deeply regardless.

79. Santa Claus - Of course! My presents are on the line

80. Kiss on a first date - If I really like the person, sure. But I’m so awkward so probably not.

81. Angels - Sometimes. I’d like tot hink someone is watching over me.

• Other

82. Best friend’s name - Abby, Sharon and Sharu

83. Eye colour - Dark rown

84. Fave movie - Princess and the Frog/Tangled (I’m a child, but a child with taste)

85. Anything you recommend to check out? So I’m a huge nerd and recently got into dnd. If you’re into that, I’d check out The Adventure Zone podcast. If you’re into crazy medical history I’d recommed the Sawbones podcast!

[myhalloweendreams]

gtkm 🌙

tagged by the lovely @honeyedmilks​ <3

(sorry it took me so long to answer ... I suck)

how tall are you: 5′6 ? i think ? (i converted it but i don’t really get how it works  so i’m not sure if it’s right or not !! but 171cm)

what colour are your eyes: I have boring brown eyes.... I wish i had black eyes they’re awesome or blue they are beautiful

do you wear contacts and/or glasses: glasses ... I suck at putting contacts so I only use them when going out for free and spontaneous peer pressure

do you wear braces: nope, never had to... but I still have a milk-tooth that I had to cover

what is your fashion style: i don’t have money enough to buy nice things style + my mom is very controlling and will vet things and if you buy it anyway she will throw it out of the window style - but I normally dress like: I don’t like to show skin, I don’t fell comfortable in dresses or skirts and I don’t use bright colors or patterns or anything that draws attention to me... so you’ll find mostly in black jeans and plain or simple stamp dark shirt (probably black) bonus points if it’s long enough to end under my butt and something over it (like a  sweater or jacket or something ....probably has something to do with my need of not showing skin) and my favorite short boots. There isn’t much for my mom complain and it doesn’t show skin and mostly is comfortable  (when it isn’t too hot... i suffer a little when it’s) so it’s what I normally go with

when were you born:  may 28th

how old are you: old !! how i say since i was  little kid(and i’m talking about my five years old self) i was born a 60 years old person and i’m just growing older from there (I don’t only was a kid who had an easier time communicating with adults, but I never wanted to play with the other kids, I have back problems, I would take everything serious and be responsible, I nagged even the adults about wrong and right and so on... I was born old)

do you have any siblings: hm yes . one brother (younger) ...he’s awful ... next question

what school/ college do you go went to: interior design 

what kind of student are you: I have always been a good student, but I talked a lot in class... but now that I think about it I had to teach myself everything because I couldn’t concentrate enough, but I was always an overachiever and the teacher’s favorite, but never the best student (I made a conscious effort to not be the best - second is always better than first as it’s be the second in command in any group, never the leader... you’re good enough to be heard but the attention is not on you... I can’t handle attention).... I was always the one to assemble the power points and group’s essays, because that way I would know that it would be done(I’m always freaking out so I couldn’t handle not know if the others weren’t doing their part or if it wasn’t going to be finished) and I would always research everyone’s part so I knew that it wouldn’t lack one part if that person didn’t do its part, but I would always include the information they researched in the essay, but in that way I at least would know that I wasn’t writing nonsense on the essay when they gave me their part and it would be a tool to help the ones that had a hard time finding their part (I liked to be prepared and I liked to be able to help who needed and I liked to know all the subject being researched, normally a lot more profoundly than needed to do the essay ... as I said overachiever)

what are your favorite subjects: arts, math, statistics and I do love history, but not the school subject (I had a mix of bad and not interested teachers in this one)

what are your favorite movies: i have no idea !! you ask my favorite movie and all movies that I ever watched just vanishes from my mind. I can try to think in a few that I like (but probably not my favorite) I guess...

The Mummy 1 & 2 (that Sofia cited)

Zombie ones (like Dawn of the Dead, Shaun of the Dead, World War Z, Train to Busan, etc)

i love animated movies (some of them: Shrek 2, Coco, How to Train Your Dragon, Coraline, Mulan, Anastasia, The Nightmare Before Christmas... I could keep citing animated movies for a long time here)

Grinch

The Covenant

Pride and Prejudice

The A-Team

Hero movies (even the bad ones)

Rom-coms (but I can’t think in any rn)

Silly comedies (i’m saying silly like the mummy ones and not over-sexual and stupid like american pie... i hate that kind of movie)

That’s all that I can think of rn :X

what are your favorite pastimes: I live from one distraction to another... Sooo, there’s a few...

I listen to music, a lot, while doing everything (I shouldn’t be let alone with my thoughts... ever); I read as much as my concentration and motivation let me; I watch stuff (like tv shows, dramas, movies and not so often: youtube videos); I draw sometimes when my motivation let me(... can I still say that after all this time? there is probably more than a year that I don’t draw anything), I blog and scroll down in the blue hell a lot; I look through and save pins on my Pinterest; I do some diy projects, i really like it but it’s linked to my motivation too so I do less and less stuff as the time passes; there were a time where I would play on my phone but it’s memory it’s too small and I can’t have games anymore; I used to play videogame too but I kind of linked it to my father so I don’t do that anymore; I create stupid stories or scenarios in my head; I really like to play around with photoshop; and I like to learn new things or tricks in things that I already know how to use/do

so you have any regrets: I have only regrets

what is your dream job: i dunno... you have to want to have a future for want to do something in the future i guess

would you like to get married: nope

do you want kids? how many if so: nope... i love kids but nope. Pregnancy is a terrifying thing and everyone painting it as a beautiful full of flowers and rainbows experience is lying. But even if it (pregnancy) wasn’t a problem put another person in this world would not only hypocrite of me, but a really mean thing to do. The world sucks every day more and bring an innocent life to this hell would be mean. Well, if I ever find any will to live I could adopt I guess... the kid is already here and I could at least love her/him, protect and give them the best I can, i guess.... No, I’m too afraid to become my mom, I don’t think I can do that. :(

how many countries have you visited: i can’t even say that i have visited mine... i know like three cities of it. I wish I had ever went to another country.

what was your scariest dream: i dunno... maybe the one where i was in this big ass house that i don’t know and i was running away and i could feel something hunting me  and keep entering in different rooms or not being able to open doors and never finding a way out, and i started to run slower  and i was terrified and then a very graphic version of the hunter of the left 4 dead that my brain created jumped in front of me and then in my face. Maybe not the worse since I have had several nightmares through my life but pretty terrifying and I remember it know..... and what kind of question is that?! who wants to think about that D:

do you have a boyfriend/ girlfriend/ significant other: nope... i’m asexual 

put your playlist on shuffle and without skipping the first 15 songs:

almost gave myself a heart attack since I forgot to check the volume~

(I got my old ipod for the last five of the list, because I still listen to it... but it haven’t see a new music for like seven years)

Perfect Man - BTS (cover)

Ciao Adios - Anne-Marie

Often - The Weeknd (i didn’t even knew i was listening to a remix)

Play Hard - Krewella

The Edge - Tonight Alive

I Hate Everything About You - Three Days Grace 

Pocketful Of Sunshine - Natasha Bedingfield

Fight Song - Rachel Platten

Now I'm That Bitch - Livvi Franc ft. Pitbull

The Outsider - Black Veil Brides

Tea Party - Kerli

Call Me When You’re Sober - Evanescence

C’est Moi - Marie-Mai

Papa Don’t Preach - Kelly Osbourne (cover)

Blue Suede Shoes - Elvis Presley

Bonus: Until the Day I Die - Story of the Year (because I forgot its existence until it start as the next in this shuffled list)

[wsmith215]

On Behind The Racquet, Noah Rubin brings tennis players’ mental, emotional struggles into focus

“This sport has a way of making you feel irrelevant while at the same time giving you this sense of entitlement … Chances are if you were once ‘talk of the town,’ that will quickly diminish over time.” — Noah Rubin, Behind The Racquet

AS THE CLOCK crept toward midnight and the winds blew off the Mediterranean and into the Puente Romano Tennis Club, Noah Rubin hunted for an escape. It was March 2018. Rubin had just lost his fifth straight professional tennis match, a disappointing two-and-a-half-hour roller-coaster ride that was a microcosm of his career.

The grounds of the chic club, founded by Bjorn Borg on the Spanish Riviera in 1979, had long ago emptied. Groundskeepers had switched off all the lights except for the ones for the court where Rubin had just lost. Security closed and locked up the café. Rubin, more than 3,500 miles from his New York home, gathered his belongings and headed into the darkness. Four courts away, he found a set of empty cement stairs. He sat down. And began to cry.

Fifteen months earlier, there had been another walk, onto the famous blue court of Melbourne’s Rod Laver Arena for a second-round Australian Open match against Roger Federer. Rubin threw everything he had at Federer that sweltering January afternoon. After breaking Federer’s serve in the third set, he instinctively pumped his fist and screamed “Come on!” The outburst irked the tennis great, and Federer stared through Rubin during the subsequent break.

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“I was like, ‘I pissed off Roger Federer,'” Rubin said. “How amazing is that?”

Rubin lost in three sets that day but won the belief he belonged. A little more than a year later, after this first-round qualifying loss on the ATP Challenger Tour, tennis’ version of the minor leagues, the swagger was gone, replaced by anger, embarrassment and a plummeting sense of self-worth.

“I just didn’t feel I was worth anyone’s time,” Rubin said.

The story is a common one in tennis. Young star tastes the big time but struggles to escape the clutches of the game’s proving grounds. It’s a grueling climb, one athletes rarely discuss publicly until it’s over. Their competitive shield is too thick, the fear of vulnerability too strong. Rubin believed he had the talent — and work ethic — to be a top-50 player and build a comfortable life playing the game he loved. But he couldn’t crack the top 150 and was barely breaking even.

“I could just sort of feel my soul slipping away,” he said of that night in Spain. “I just sat there thinking, ‘What am I doing that I’m so upset and so miserable on the tennis court?’ It was my lowest point. It was also a beginning.”

“People forget we aren’t robots. People see this fantasy world and guess that everything is kind of perfect. There are true struggles that each and every player deal with that are far more important than winning or losing.” — James Blake, Behind The Racquet

NINE MONTHS AFTER the disappointment in Spain, Rubin sat in his childhood bedroom in Long Island, jet-lagged from his most recent trip to the Australian Open. It had been another up-and-down stretch for Rubin. He temporarily numbed the pain of six straight losses with an August 2018 upset of fellow American and then-No. 9 John Isner. But he then began 2019 with a second-round qualifying loss in Melbourne.

“He was down on himself and struggling, big-time,” said Tallen Todorovich, Rubin’s agent. “He was this blue-chip recruit who thought he would show up and have immediate success.”

Noah Rubin defeated Frances Tiafoe and Taylor Fritz, among others, on his way to the 2014 boys title at Wimbledon. Kevin C. Cox/Getty Images

As the clock pushed past 3 a.m., Rubin scrolled through Instagram while watching “Inst@famous,” a Netflix documentary about social media influencers. He thought about “Humans of New York,” the social media project turned New York Times bestselling book profiling random New Yorkers blurred in the shuffle of the largest city in America. He wondered about applying a similar concept to tennis players lost in the pursuit of their on-court dreams.

The idea was simple, combining his passion for tennis, photography and journalism. Athletes would pose for a picture hiding their faces behind the strings of their racket. Then, in their own words, they would reveal the human struggles behind chasing greatness. Within an hour he had a name, “Behind The Racquet.” He quickly registered Instagram and Gmail accounts and purchased the URL https://bit.ly/2LKyq8l for $750.

On Jan. 19, 2019, Rubin posted the first picture for the project. It was a shot of himself, his face slightly blurred by the lime green strings of his racket. Below the photo, he revealed his greatest fear: letting down the people closest to him. It was an emotion he felt from an early age in a tennis-loving family. Rubin’s grandfather, a self-taught tennis star, passed the game on to Noah’s father, who put a racket in Noah’s crib when he was 1.

Noah’s dad was his coach early on, and Noah saw him lose work after his boss would give him an ultimatum about choosing the boy’s tennis tournaments over his work commitments. He saw his mom, who worked in education, sacrifice her summers to work at a local sports facility so Noah and his sister could receive free lessons. Then he saw his parents’ marriage fall apart. They divorced when he was 12.

“I always felt this yearning to pay my parents back,” said Rubin, now 24. “I would ask myself, ‘Am I doing enough for all their time and effort? Is all this worth it for them?’ Tennis is one of the most financially grueling sports. We were not wealthy. We were fine. But they used basically hundreds of thousands of dollars to pay for this. That’s tough.”

To the outside world, it all seemed worth it. By the age of 7, Rubin was beating kids five years older. By 12 he was competing internationally as one of the top-ranked players his age. Then at 18, with his dad watching from the stands, Rubin won the Wimbledon boys’ championship. Lawrence Kleger, the director of the John McEnroe Tennis Academy, tagged Rubin the best player to come out of New York since McEnroe himself.

It all led to a young man growing up fast. A young man sitting in his childhood bedroom on that January night in 2019 still trying to process it all. His place. His purpose. An understanding of what happiness and contentment actually looked like. Why was the game he loved making him so miserable? He’d begin to find answers through sharing the struggles of others.

“Throughout my life, I was always the youngest to do things, which added hype that I didn’t want. … I was just lost. I was confused and overthinking if this was what I wanted or what others did. It took many moments sitting, thinking and crying.” — Coco Gauff, Behind The Racquet

IN THE 16 months since launching Behind The Racquet, Rubin has shared more than 135 stories while building a following of more than 40,000 people on social media. The posts have shown the human side of sport, shining a spotlight on everything from eating disorders and speech impediments to the death of a parent and battles with depression and anxiety.

“These are humans. They have pitfalls,” says retired American tennis star James Blake, who has contributed to the site. “It’s great for young players to get that perspective. In the past, it was all kept secret. But this will help so many realize they’re not alone. It’s OK. And it’s a positive to get help.” Blake believes the pressure in tennis and other individual sports is unlike any other.

“That’s why some of the best talent isn’t always the best performer,” he said. “Every tennis player can tell you about a guy who beat them in practice but couldn’t put together the results when it came time to perform.”

Rubin does the interviews for most of the posts, then paraphrases those conversations into the subject’s voice. In one of his early interviews with his friend Darian King from Barbados, Rubin discovered that King had lost his mom in 2010 to pancreatic cancer, which he did not previously know.

“I stopped the interview,” Rubin said. “I just felt so sorry. I felt like an awful friend. But it wasn’t on him or me. It was on everybody. There just isn’t a platform to feel comfortable talking about things like that.”

Noah Rubin has featured Coco Gauff, Madison Keys, Petra Kvitova and other stars on Behind The Racquet. Cameron Spencer/Getty Images

In early 2019, Rubin connected with Jolene Watanabe, who upset Jennifer Capriati in the 1997 Australian Open. Watanabe was fighting appendix cancer and wanted to spread a message of hope and resilience. Rubin planned to run the post a few weeks later. But then he received a message from Watanabe’s husband, Sylvain Elie. The couple had just returned from the Mayo Clinic, and the news was not good. Doctors told Watanabe she had two weeks to live. She was saying her final goodbyes. Elie asked Rubin whether he could put her on Behind The Racquet before she died.

“She was basically bedridden,” Elie said. “She wasn’t using her phone that much. I told her you might want to check Behind The Racquet. She was emotional about it. It meant a lot to her.”

Added Rubin: “Here’s this dumb idea I had jet-lagged, and it becomes one of someone’s final wishes. I can’t even compute and articulate what that means. If anything, it just shows I have to keep doing this.”

In April, L’Equipe, the daily French sports newspaper, included Rubin as one of six active players in its list of the 20 most influential people in tennis. The other five: Federer, Novak Djokovic, Andy Murray, Rafael Nadal and Serena Williams. The paper referred to Rubin as a “lanceur d’alerte,” a whistleblower.

There’s now a Behind The Racquet podcast, merchandise and long-term talks of a docuseries and a tabletop book. Rubin hopes to share the stories of athletes in other sports while also connecting with Talkspace, an online therapy platform, and developing mental health camps through the National Alliance on Mental Illness.

“It’s grown into something far bigger than I could have imagined,” Rubin said.

“It always affects me when people judge without any thought. It is one thing to argue but to think your opinion is the best never makes sense.” — Daniil Medvedev, Behind The Racquet

IF THERE’S ONE thing all professional athletes know, it’s that everyone has an opinion. For Rubin, it started with the passive-aggressive comments of neighborhood parents when he would miss a birthday or bar mitzvah for a tennis tournament. As a professional, it’s become the gamblers, who Rubin says reach out on social media with everything from “Your mom should die in hell” to “Hitler should have killed your people.” “The most racist, homophobic, sexist, anti-Semitic comments you can imagine,” he says. “It’s incredible.” Now the topic is Behind The Racquet. There are those who insist Rubin is complaining because he is not good at tennis, others who suggest Behind The Racquet is a distraction getting in the way of his tennis potential, and still others who insist just the opposite, that tennis is getting in the way of Behind The Racquet and his mental health work.

“Everything changes depending how I played that day,” he said. “I’m always like, ‘Just pick one, people.'”

Ignoring some fans’ wishes, Rubin intends to continue pursuing both his tennis passion and his work in mental health awareness. Barrington Coombs/Getty Images

For now, Rubin’s plan is to pursue both lanes. It’s become normal for Rubin to compete at a tournament and have a competitor tell him that he appreciates the site or that he’s thought about how he would share his own story.

“On the most basic of levels, it’s gotten people to think about these things, maybe even speak to others about them,” he said.

Rubin has spent the coronavirus pandemic back in New York with his girlfriend, practicing on the streets while using his free time to focus even more on Behind The Racquet. He says he has more than 30 interviews in his queue.

On a personal level, he has finally found a balance of happiness and contentment. His game is as strong as it’s been, he insists. And even when he does inevitably struggle, he has learned how to handle it better.

“It’s become an extreme form of therapy,” he said. “You have these deep conversations and begin to understand there is more to life than tennis. There’s more to tennis than tennis. And you can’t give up your happiness to get to the top.”

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[engenuity]

OH LOOK IT’S ME :D

(I’m so sorry for doing this late, I postponed doing it because, well, I can’t think of anything to write in here that’s interesting and when I finally thought I have enough, school started and I’m drowning in requirements)

Now, I am currently procrastinating so another yay :D but here we go !!

Thank you for the tag @fullsunsunoo​ 

Ps. You are such an amazing human being and in the future I would like to visit that castle !!! I can’t also help but admire you with your career path (s) and I pray for your success ! <3

and now I shall write 5 facts about myself

;D

1. I am currently attending a Science High School in my country. It’s like a special school where we get stipends, or like we get paid for studying. You need to pass an entrance examination and beat a lot of competition in order to get in. Up until now it’s still a mystery to me how I got in ?? And I’m not even in the waiting list ?? I still remember that I didn’t study or prepare for the test and the night before I was supposed to take the examination, I was just basically chilling and watching cartoons. I have a lot of questions to my past self, and I’ll probably give her a pat in the back too. 

2. My family is really really traditional and religious. My father is a Pastor, and my mother used to sing in a church (I think that’s how they met). Now, I attend youth services and is also part of a church.

3. BTS was the reason why I got into Kpop in the first place. I clearly remember the day lmao. I was doing my assignments at that time, (I was in sixth grade) and I was playing an Ed Sheeran song in youtube. Then in the recommendations, there was BTS’ performance of Blood, Sweat & Tears so I clicked it not knowing exactly what I’m expecting (No one in my family knows or acknowledges Kpop at that time). I watched it the first time, then the second, up until countless times and then that summer I found myself watching Run episodes etc. 

4. As much as I want to be that certain someone who’s always calm, composed, graceful, etc. if you ask my friends to describe me their first response would most probably be a crackhead. If you get to know me and I get to be so so comfortable with you I’ll start being really perky and talkative. I’ll most probably randomly sing lines of a song, or  tell you about my day, or the plot of the book, etc. I’m a very open person. 

5. One thing I’m most aware of myself is about how emotional I am. I feel deeply about a lot of things. I laugh easily, I cry easily. I remember in seventh grade we watched Miracle in Cell Number 7 in our english class and I was like loudly sobbing during the most heartbreaking scenes. We watched Coco in eight grade for our last subject, and I remember wanting to cry even when I’m already inside the car and was about to go home. In the tenth grade we watched Les Miserable in the school’s auditorium and I was crying the whole way back to our classroom. The whole 6 months I’m locked inside my own home, I cried more than ten times probably because of the things I watch. For this same reason, I can’t really watch any horror movie because, well, I scream a lot and there will be a lot of tears as well. I like extreme rides in amusement parks though <3

And it’s done !! I had a really fun time typing and sharing these information :D Now I’m tagging @soft-black-teabag​ @heeseungsteeth​ @moonxscribbles​ @sunoo-luvs​ and @artzyyangel​ and anyone else who sees this and would love to share something as well <3

I got tagged by the lovely @weuschoiceheart to write 5 facts about myself. Thank you 💕

1. I used to work in an early 12th century castle (best job ever by the way) and one time my manager thought I had left and consequently I got locked in. I accidentally triggered the motion alarm so wasn't in there too long. Also my sister is 100% convinced that it was haunted because of a phone call we had one time while I was at work. Please enjoy some low quality pics of my former place of work:

2. I love tattoos! I currently have 10 and am booked in for another. I got my first when I was 16 (perfectly legal with parenteral consent at the time) and have designed ones for my two sisters.

3. I can be extremely superstitious; I guess that mostly goes hand in hand with where I grew up and the culture here. But yeah, I'll always greet a single magpie and I'll NEVER step into a fairy ring - you get the gist of it.

4. The Irish are known mostly for their love of drink (and bread) but I'm both gluten and alcohol intolerant. It's a rather sad state of affairs. It's not to the point that I can't have either but I'll definitely be in a lot of pain and have a blocked nose after dinner and drinks.

5. I went to university to study English Literature and Linguistics with Creative and Professional writing and I'd really love to get published some day. Either my poetry or I'd also love to delve into sports journalism, specifically for either ice hockey or rugby!

Tagging: @ilovekpopiconswaytoomuch @cactushyogi @newdayslinguine @lifeisamuffin @everely @moonxscribbles and anyone else who would like to do it and say that I tagged them!