#to be fair i have a few theories of why i like him so much

[reiding-writing]

AHHHHH UNSUB READERRRR such an elite concept, could I maybe request soccer calling her post transfer just to talk to her?? of maybe the team catching wind that he's been in contact with her after the case??

THE PHONE CALLS

spencer & gn!unsub!reader || 0.9k || bloodied roses event!!

WARNINGS: just morgan prying and getting absolutely nowhere with it

a/n — ik it was just a typo but calling spencer ‘soccer’ had me laughing for like five minutes thanks for making my day 😭🙏

main masterlist!! ⋆｡°✩ unsub!reader masterlist!!

Spencer had spent a lot of time on his phone recently.

An abnormally long amount of time for somebody who’s sworn off technology in favour of the more ‘traditional’ methods of doing things.

5PM. On the dot. Every single Wednesday. Rain or shine, office or case, Spencer Reid was talking to somebody over the phone.

There were a few theories floating around.

A hidden partner? Almost immediately shot down with how rigorously timed the calls were.

His mom? She had just as much of a hatred of phones as he did, and everyone knew he sent her letters every day anyway.

A doctor maybe? A therapist? A librarian from somewhere in rural Russia that had the singular print of some random piece of literature that Spencer was trying to get his hands on?

It was honestly anyone’s guess.

The fact that he was being oddly secretive about it wasn’t helping anything either.

It was like he was scared of the team finding out. What was there to be ‘scared’ of? They we’re practically family, he surely knew that they wouldn’t judge him for whatever it was, so why was he keeping everything under lock and key?

Hotch told people that they should just leave it, that he’s entitled to his privacy and doesn’t have to tell anyone anything that he doesn’t want to. But that doesn’t exactly fair too well when you’re talking to a group of people who analyse human behaviour for a living. And Hotch wasn’t even following his own advice.

And Hotch wasn’t even following his own advice.

“That’s good, that’s great news,”

Spencer wasn’t exactly quiet either.

He’d practically barricaded himself in the break room to be able to take the call privately, but his voice was still easily heard through the glass, and it wasn’t exactly helping to dim the over-active curiosity of his teammates.

“You know what I mean, it’s progress, it shows that they’re trusting you,”

His pacing also left something to be desired, rhythmic and almost mechanical like it was a way for Spencer to blow off whatever nervous tension had built up during the course of the phone call.

“Alright, yeah, I’ll speak to you next week okay?” A small pause. “Okay, bye,”

Most of the team scrambled to make themselves look busy as Spencer pocket his phone and emerged from behind his self-imposed glass wall, but there was always one who didn’t know how to follow a crowd.

“Alright, you’ve kept your secrets long enough, who is it genius?” Morgan’s voice wasn’t accusatory as it was curious, and he gestures outwards for Spencer’s answer. One that doesn’t come.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I talk to a lot of different people,” He re-takes his seat as his desk with a small shrug, lips awkwardly pressed into a line.

“You take the same phone call every single week at the same exact time, that’s not ‘a lot’ of people pretty boy, it’s one,” Morgan leans forward in his chair, elbows on the table. “So, who is it? A girlfriend?”

“No—” Spencer shakes his head almost too quickly.

“A boyfriend?”

“No it’s not—” Spencer sighs exaggeratedly. “It’s nothing like that, it’s just an acquaintance,”

“An acquaintance you talk to every single week no matter what, even when we’re in the middle of a case,”

“I like having a fit schedule,”

Morgan shakes his head with a laugh. “Nothing about this job is ‘scheduled’ Reid, you’re telling me you only keep a schedule when it comes to this specific acquaintance of yours?” His raises his eyebrow unbelievingly, but Spencer doesn’t back down from his stance.

“They have a much stricter schedule than I do, we talk when they’re available,”

Morgan gives a small breathy laugh and a slow, almost mocking nod. “Right, sure,”

“I’m telling you the truth, I don’t know what else you want,” Spencer shrugs again, this time with a small air of exasperation.

He wasn’t technically lying. You did have a strict schedule at the facility you’d been moved to, and you used the one phone call you had a week so that you could speak to him. He wouldn’t want you to waste it by him not picking up. That wouldn’t be fair.

“Whatever you say pretty boy,” Morgan fiddles with the pen in his hand before pointing it across the bullpen in Spencer’s direction. “But rest assured, I will find out who you’re talking to, even if it means having Garcia hack into your phone records,”

Spencer hopes for both of your sakes that Morgan doesn’t find out who he’s talking to.

Although the threat of Garcia didn’t really hold any value, not that Morgan knew that. All they would find was a psychiatric institute, and for all he could’ve been speaking to absolutely anyone there, patient or staff.

So for the time being, your weekly talks remained something kept held close to his chest, something that would hopefully stay that way indefinitely.

[jaemna]

jisung headcanons — random relationship things

warnings | not much, very fluffy! one mention of reader being smaller than him, one swear word, one tiny nsfw mention, g!n overall but reader is described as having hair long enough to tie up/braid and does their makeup

a.n | i need him :((

this cute lil mf i adore him

first of all he’s such a silly little goober

he’s shy so it takes him a while to get used to being completely authentic around you

but eventually he’ll relax when he knows for certain that you love him exactly how he is and he can be himself

he strikes me as the type to do the dumbest little things just so he can hear you laugh

a few examples:

sometimes when you’re kissing, out of nowhere he’ll blow air into your mouth to puff up your cheeks

he never does it during more serious and truly intimate moments (he can read the room)

but when he does it catches you off guard every time and it always sends you into a giggle fit because its just so stupid

you’ll go in to kiss him again but now you think he’s just gonna do it again even if he promises he won’t so you can’t continue without laughing

“i’m not even doing anything!” he pouts

but seeing you so giggly about something he did just makes him so happy (and proud)

if you’re sitting somewhere he’ll come over and just

sit on you

straight up knock the wind out of you and shuffle around, groaning like he can’t get comfortable

and act like he’s completely oblivious to the fact he’s literally using you as a cushion

he’ll pull out his phone and text you like “hey where are you :(“

and he pretends he can’t hear you if you try and talk to him

its already really hard for him to keep a straight face when he does this so all you have to do is tickle him

then he has to acknowledge you

“omg hi i didn’t even see you there!! :))”

in the same vein, he’ll come up to you while you’re standing and just flop his full weight onto you in a hug

if you clock it before it happens you’ll have to adjust your stance or grab onto something so you don’t fall over

but if you don’t then uh. good luck soldier

(just kidding he’ll catch you)

you do the same thing to him but he’s bigger and it doesn’t have the same effect on him

he loves it anyway though, he’ll drop anything he’s doing to wrap an arm around your waist

another thing he likes to do is use your hands to do things for him

like he’ll grab your hands and move them around, so really its still him doing it he’s just using your hands instead

mostly when he’s on his phone or if he’s playing a game

he holds your hand which holds his phone, and grabs your finger to scroll through his feed

or he’ll have you in front of him and gives you the game controller, reaching around you to puppet your hands

if you’re wearing a hoodie he shoves his arms through the sleeves with yours to make it easier

you’re more than likely wearing his hoodie anyway so he says its only fair that you share it

i’m a physical touch jisung truther if you couldn’t tell

he must always be touching you in some capacity

scientists have not proven why yet but the working theory is that jisung is a certified cutie

he just loves being close to you!! so physical affection is the best way to remind himself that you’re here with him :’)

canonically, jisung is a wanderer

he’ll trail around with no real destination in mind

he just has lots of thoughts in his head and likes to walk while he sorts them out

sometimes he’ll hold your hand and make you walk around with him if he’s feeling clingy (which is often)

other times he’ll just let you be

but he always kisses your cheek or your head when he passes by

absolutely the type to cling to you while you’re in the middle of a task and shuffle around the house with you

its just a little hard for him to sit still sometimes

even if he is sitting still, his hands are not

and i reiterate, he likes to be touching you in some way, so more often than not he’ll be playing with your fingers or your hair

jisung is also a canon rambler

mostly to himself

if you’re there he doesn’t expect a reply because really he’s just talking to himself

but if you have an opinion on the topic he’ll always listen

if he’s talking about something and you happen to fall asleep he keeps the conversation going by himself

once you told him that his talking made its way into your dream and you had a full blown rant about aliens with him while you were asleep

it was the cutest thing he’s ever heard

sometimes he’ll be so excited to say something that he’ll cut you off

he doesn’t mean to, it just comes out a little sooner than he means for it to, and he always apologizes

he gets better about that as time goes on

he has a habit of imitating things you say

not in the sense that he’s mocking you, he just likes the way it sounds when you say it so he tries to parrot it

he’ll do that with certain facial expressions you make too

jisung is a curious boy, and he loves to learn everything he can about the people he loves

he watches your favorite movies and shows with you, he takes the time to participate in your hobbies, he lets you take him to all of your favorite places

so he can get a glimpse into the aspects of your life that make you happy

his favorite thing though is watching you play your favorite video games

if you’re gaming he insists that you sit on his lap or between his legs so he can wrap his arms around you and rest his chin on your shoulder

he’s a little bit of a backseat gamer but you don’t really mind

its a bit annoying when he nags you about continuously losing a fight or dying on the same level (you know he means well)

but you love the input he gives on more slice of life type games, like decorating your animal crossing island or farming your crops in stardew valley

he did however just about have a heart attack when you showed him how many ways you knew how to kill a sim

co op games are one of his favorite ways to spend time with you as well

especially if one or both of you are absolutely shit at it (which if we’re being honest is like 95% of the time)

overcooked, however, is dangerous territory

too many soups burned

anyway, his curiosity doesn’t stop at just your hobbies and interests

even mundane things like daily habits and routines are things that jisung wants to know all about

along the way he’s picked up on such small things that you barely remember ever mentioning them

all of your preferences are filed away in his head

whenever you’re doing something like your hair or makeup or skincare, he’ll sit with you and ask what every aspect of it is or does

eventually he’ll ask if you can teach him how to do them for you

it definitely required a little.. practice

but no one is perfect the first time they try something new!!

(you had to tell him that, even he didn’t let you leave the house the first time he did your makeup)

he gets better though, especially doing your hair!

to the point that he got tired of doing simple ponytails and braids and took it upon himself to research new hairstyles to teach himself

you found it very endearing :’)

jisung loves to shower together

less in a sexual way (though he isn’t opposed) and more because it feels so intimate and domestic to him

and he adores when you wash his hair for him

feeling you gently massaging in the shampoo and scratching at his scalp is probably his favorite feeling in the whole world

in conclusion

jisung would be so sweet and clingy i love him to death :((

[bvidzsoo]

Stern, but sweet

✎ Teacher!San ✎

TW: nothing, just San being soft and hansome

Word count: 1.2k

A/N: Helleur, lovelies! As you can see, those pictures are from San's latest YouTube live, which means I was inspired by it (dies). Also, it's the first time San bias wrecked me and I sincerely hope it stays that way, I've already got 3 official wreckers (dies again). Idk what this is, but he gave me cute aggression and at the same time the need to crawl up a wall...how is that possible? Anyways, enjoy, feedback is always welcomed!

so, you had been working at this school for a year now and you absolutely loved your job

the kids are lovely and you happened to grow attached to them quite fast, wanting to ensure they got the adequate education

but when it comes to your colleagues, well, they are quite boring

most of them are well past the age of 40 and they prefer going straight home after work, most of times refusing your invitations for a dinner between co-workers

and it also doesn't help much that you're a lot younger than most, making you feel left out when you hear them conversing about topics that you're either not interested in or just simply don't understand, like: raising children and maintaining a family at home

but when one of the homeroom teacher moves away and the school is in a frenzy to find someone fit for the job, a man around your age seems to confidently accept the challenge

Choi San, is his name

and my lord, when I tell you he's absolutely ravishing with his sharp eyes and soft looking skin

he looks like someone who would discipline you at the slightest misbehavior, and you don't know how to feel about it at first

but then he smiles and those cute dimples in his cheeks make you absolutely swoon over him, his aura so warm and lovely

you've come to know that Choi San is a man with a colorful personality

in his own class, he's very authoritative and stern, he doesn't allow his students to slack, and he doesn't accept any excuses as to why they haven't done their math homework

but San is an amazing teacher, and despite his subject being math, which many students tend to hate, those who he teaches just simply can't wait for his class to come

despite being stern and quite serious, he always cracks harmless jokes while explaining the hardest equations and theories, lightening the mood, and also helping the students focus

they love San in and outside of the classroom

whenever they have a problem, they know they can go to him as he will listen, giving them smart advice instead of rolling his eyes at them and telling them to get lost (like their last homeroom teacher had done so many times)

when there's a conflict, he first listens to both sides and then comes up with a solution (or punishment) that is fair and doesn't favor a student (like their previous homeroom teacher had done quite often)

but San, with his positive and warm energy, seems to also light up your office, the grumpy older teachers laughing a bit more often, a lot more open-minded with San here now

and well, you're a simple woman and you can't really help yourself when you start swooning over him (of course, when he's not watching you or paying attention to you) about just how perfect, and dreamy, he actually is

San was the one to approach you, and you quite liked that as he talked to you freely as if you had known each other for ages

you feel your most authentic self around him, never having to worry that he'll judge you or make fun of you behind your back (like you have caught a few of your fellow co-workers doing so before)

and seriously, San is just so good with children, that you can't help yourself as you develop a crush on him rapidly

and you hope he doesn't notice the way you gaze at him longingly when he's explaining something thoroughly to his students, or pats them on the head as encouragement, or even brings them candy so he can give it as a reward when they excel on their tests

and you certainly hope he doesn't see the way you stare at him for minutes at a time when you're both in your office, your cubicles next to each other, him busy typing on his computer and you busy...well staring at San

and you definitely do not absolutely die when one Friday he asks if you're doing anything later that night, eager to go to the new Amusement Park, saying he was thinking of inviting a few other colleagues as well since he's on good terms with them

you hate Amusement Parks, but if San loves them, well...you might grow to dislike them a little less

and so you definitely do not dress up all cute and spend two hours on your makeup and hair just because San invited you (and your colleagues, but you tend to ignore that part) out

what the two of you absolutely do not expect is for your colleagues to bail on you last minute, all of them saying the same excuse, "something came up, but we should go next time"

and perhaps you die a little on the inside, because you suddenly realize just how of an awkward person the both of you are, blushing and quickly avoiding eye contact when you catch the other one already looking

you don't want to tell San that you're afraid of heights and anything that goes with high speed when he points excitedly at the large roller-coaster, telling you how he's been waiting all day to go on it

you say nothing, you suck it up, because you're an adult and this is your work crush, and perhaps because the way San has been paying attention to you all evening, keeping people away from your body in the crowd as you moved around, or how without touching you, would hold his arm out behind your back when someone walked too close, made you feel rather comfortable in his presence

so, you brace yourself for the ride and certainly don't tremble as San helps you inside the cabin, sitting down next to you

once you're tied up and secured inside of it, is when you start praying to all Gods to give you strength so that you don't lose your mind during the ride

what you don't expect is San noticing how nervous and pale you are, grabbing your hand and interlacing your fingers with his as the ride takes off, making you clutch onto his hand for dear life

and the ride is so much fun that you're surprised how much you're enjoying it, but perhaps it's also because San keeps making you laugh and keeps talking to you, holding onto you

what you don't expect, once again, is him not letting go of your hand once you get off the ride, and instead he pulls you towards a photobooth, saying he wants to commemorate tonight's 'date'

oh, and you certainly don't faint when San decides to press a kiss against your cheek as the camera goes off for the last photo

seems like your work crush was crushing back on you, huh?

(seems like all of your coworkers knew about it and cancelled last minute on purpose as they've been secretly shipping the two of you and making bets about when you'd finally start dating)

Masterlist

↳ Perm. taglist: @jjoongstar @tinyelfperson @thestarskiller

❀ complete the forms if you're interested! ^^

[massiveharmonytiger]

So I was rewatching Saltburn and I had an epiphany!

Farleigh is in love with Oliver.

Like, embarrassingly, stupidly, head over heels.

I mean, I knew he had a thing for Ollie, with the jealously telling Felix about him and Venetia, the Richard III would put in the work line followed by him being completely disarmed when Oliver suggests that he fucks him, and then the actual Oliver seducing him scene, but I only just realized the extent of it and how far back it goes.

First of all, Farleigh notices Oliver before Oliver sees Felix for the first time.

Yes, I got the script because I'm complete Saltburn trash at this point. So when Farleigh is introduced, the script describes him as beautiful and pansexual, walking among a group of alpha hotties. So in the film, he's with two hotties, a guy and a girl. He has his pick. There's no reason for him to point out Oliver or what he's wearing to them, unless he's trying to impress them, but why would Farleigh Start need to impress them? He's already the centre of that group. Sure the script also describes him as an imp with a cruel streak, but after rewatching I feel like that's a blatant misdirection. I mean, he got expelled for sucking off teachers. Nerdy prep is exactly his type.

He says, "Hey cool jacket," to Oliver. If you interpret that line as being delivered by the beautiful and pansexual Farleigh Start, not the impish and cruel Farleigh Start, it's pretty much a come on. I'm mixed race like Farleigh and it kind of reminds me of those back-handed compliments white people give you when they think you're hot or cute 'for a brown person.' It's kind of hilarious to see it subverted like this, but obviously Oliver is less amused. Why would he interpret it as anything other than more bullying? Which it kind of is, so fair enough. But it's the kind of bullying people do when they get a crush they don't know how to handle. A little boy pulling on a girls pigtails. And it's obviously worked for Farleigh before. Why would he need to try any harder than that?

After Farleigh's comment, Oliver sees Felix for the first time. Farleigh is also there, but Oliver's already smitten and doesn't really notice him beyond, "Oh, it's that jerk from earlier and he's next to Felix, where I should be." Then you get a few other bits that wreck me. Oliver ducking from the window when Felix looks up, Oliver trying to sit at Felix (and Farleigh)'s table at the mess hall, but being unable to, Michael causing the disruption, but it doesn't even interrupt Felix and Farleigh's conversation. (Which ties in nicely to my theory of how the original Oliver wouldn't have gotten Felix's attention even if he screamed, he had to mold himself into what Felix wanted just to get noticed, but one theory at a time).

Next up, we have the tutor session that Farleigh is late for. Before Farleigh gets there, Oliver is humiliated and belittled for completing the reading list, which dooms Farleigh even more when he shows up and the tutor starts fawning over him. Oliver doesn't know Farleigh and Felix are cousins yet. He's just the guy that was snide to Oliver when he first got there. The guy at Felix's side that Oliver keeps measuring himself against. So yeah, Oliver is pissed off before Farleigh gets there and that cute little knee touch isn't going to change anything.

Yes, Farleigh, I also count the amount of times my crush uses a word in their essay despite still being hungover from last night's party, just so that I have something to talk to him about… Oh wait, no, that's just you.

The way he looks up at Oliver with those big brown doe eyes when he says, "I counted". The way he keeps looking up to gauge his reaction to all his comments. The way he's looking at him, period.

And Oliver doesn't fall for his cuteness and charm because he's just convinced that the intent behind his words is malicious. Poor Farleigh. He must have been so confused. People usually fold but here's this guy, meeting him blow for blow. He's never had to "put in the work" like this. What the hell.

The tutor sessions with Oliver and Farleigh (where Farleigh is framed lower than Oliver) actually serve as a nice parallel to a lot of the scenes where Oliver and Felix are together (and Oliver is framed lower than Felix). We don't really see that when Farleigh and Felix are together. They're usually at a similar height in those scenes.

Then we have the scene in the bar where Felix calls Oliver over and Farleigh has that panicked, "Oh shit, my crush is here," look on his face before it settles into resignation as he realizes Oliver is, "another one of Felix's toys". Finally the mystery is solved. This is why Oliver didn't fall for his charms at the tutor sessions.

So, Oliver prefers Felix to him, huh. That's just fine. He'll deal with the rejection by giving Oliver a hard time about buying the next round. That should push him away from Felix…oh shit, it brings them closer together. And now he looks like the douchebag.

Then there's this bit where Farleigh is looking at Oliver and Felix (mostly Oliver, the prior shot establishes which side of the room he's on, which happens to be where Farleigh's looking) and his party hat horns mirror the minotaur/how Oliver looked when he confessed his love to Felix later on. Oliver, you need to see how much Farleigh fucking loves you. Look at him, Ollie. Just look at him. (He can't, he's too busy looking at Felix)

Anything to get Oliver to notice him. Anything.

Cut to Oliver's arrival at Saltburn, where Oliver joins the rest of them in the library and Farleigh loudly cuts off Elspeth gossiping about Oliver and his parents because hearing, "We were just talking about you" would be better than hearing whatever was going to come out of Elspeth's mouth next. And I mean, he's already the asshole. This is actually so sweet.

And we all remember this scene. This clearly made his day.

But then we get the encounter with Venetia and Felix and Farleigh both being equally pissed at the breakfast table. And yeah, everything goes downhill from there. It's the reason Oliver seduces him and gets him thrown out for what's literally just another desperate attempt to drive a wedge between Oliver and Felix.

No, Oliver, he's not going to behave. God, yes. Don't stop.

Farleigh was down so bad he literally got honeytrapped and framed. Twice.

Between Felix, Oliver and Farleigh, there are really no winners. They really all got wrecked by love, huh.

[hyperfixatedbastard]

one must grab the titty

Soft!Adam x AFAB!Reader

It's no surprise that Adam's big on physical touch, but you expected it to be - well, sexual. Turns out that this clingy, hypersexual douchebag actually likes innocent, nonsexual intimacy. Like holding your boobs just 'cause they're nice to hold.

Word Count: 926

WARNINGS: SFW (I think?), AFAB!Reader with gender neutral pronouns, mentions of sex, no sexual content, nonsexual intimacy

A/N: I kinda hate this but I'm tired of working on it, so here ya go! Apologies if you have no tits, but let's be honest, that wouldn't stop this bastard.

Dividers

Adam has some… odd habits, at least by Heavenly standards. Sometimes you wonder just how exactly he’s an angel, but you’ve learned to not question it. He may be a douchebag and an asshole, but he has his moments. He’s sweet with you, at least. You never expected him to be a doting, clingy boyfriend, but he certainly proved you wrong.

No matter where you are or what you’re doing, he’ll have an arm around your waist, or one of his wings loosely wrapped around you. Adam is a possessive guy (after hearing about the whole Lucifer debacle, you can’t really blame him), and he makes it clear with the way he interacts with you in public. And in private, he’s arguably worse—you’re lucky to sit down without him draping an arm over your shoulders to pull you in close, or practically pulling you into his lap. He’d never admit it, but you think he needs the reassurance that you’re still there, that you haven’t left him.

You’re not so sure about that theory once the touches go past cuddling.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

"Adam," you begin in a suspicious tone. "What are you doing?"

The angel in question blinks back at you owlishly. His mask and robes have been traded out for some sweatpants and a t-shirt that reads ‘I Got ADHD’ with the subtitle ‘A Damn Hard Dick.’ The two of you are cuddling on the couch in your shared apartment, with some shitty action movie playing on the TV as you sit wrapped up in his arms and wings with your back to his chest (you didn’t think that action movies would be allowed in Heaven considering the murder and whatnot, but once again, you don’t question it).

"Hm?" he hums innocently. "I'm watching the fuckin' movie, babe."

You glance down to where his hand is shamelessly groping your boob over your shirt. You debate whether or not to even confront him about it, considering he isn't actually doing anything other than just holding your tit, but you ask anyways.

"Why is your hand on my boob, then?" you prompt, your eyes shifting between his face and where his hand is idly groping your chest.

Adam chuckles and breaks out into a smug grin. "What? Can't a guy hold his partner's tits?" He gently squeezes your boob for emphasis.

Your face heats up at that, and your eyes narrow in confusion. "Why do you want to?" 

"Uh, because they're fucking great," he answers incredulously, like you're the weird one here. He then brings his free hand up to hold your other boob. He gives them both a gentle squeeze, but doesn't do anything more than that. The lack of a sexual innuendo, joke, or proposition doesn’t make sense to you—it feels out of character for Adam, even after learning about his love of cuddling.

You just look at him, confused. Sure, you've always known that he's a boob guy, but this doesn't strike you as Adam's usual horny antics. But if it’s not sexual (which you still find hard to believe), what the fuck is it? 

He seems to realize that his original explanation isn’t good enough. "Look, hot stuff, boobs are just nice to fuckin' hold, y'know? All soft n' squishy n' shit."

You raise a brow at that. It’s a fair point, you suppose. "So, what, my tits are like stress balls for you?"

Adam laughs—not that loud, boisterous laugh he does when pranking some poor soul, but that more genuine, softer one few people ever got to hear. "Yeah, pretty fuckin' much, babe. They're comforting!"

You roll your eyes at him, albeit fondly, as a smile pulled at your lips. "Whatever works for you, I guess."

His smirk grows, and he squeezes your boobs a little firmer this time. "Oh, these beauties are fucking workin' for me, sweet cheeks."

You scoff, albeit lightheartedly, and swat at his shoulder. "Shut up and watch your damn movie."

Adam doesn’t respond, but he pulls you a little closer and gives your tits one last good squeeze before returning his attention to the TV—for the most part, at least. His hands don’t leave your chest, but they don’t really do much either. They’re just resting there, occasionally groping or giving a light squeeze. Damn, this really isn’t a sex thing for him, is it?

You’d already been shocked when you’d first realized how clingy Adam is. You were even more surprised to discover that he’s a fan of nonsexual intimacy in general, like cuddling and hugging without it leading to something more. And here he is, surprising you once again by doing something that should surely be sexual in his mind, yet treating it casually and barely even making sex jokes about it. 

A few more minutes into the movie, you can’t hide your curiosity anymore. “This really isn’t a sexual thing for you?”

Adam’s eyebrows raise, and he looks puzzled at your question before breaking out into a smirk. “Why, do you want it to be?”

You scoff and shake your head. “No, I’m just… surprised, is all.”

“Hey! I can appreciate some nice boobs without it being sexual,” he protests, and he sounds at least partially serious.

“Okay, okay, I believe you,” you assure him with a soft laugh. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

“Good, ‘cause I fuckin' like this,” Adam remarks, once again squeezing your boobs for emphasis. You just fondly roll your eyes at him and go back to watching the movie.

Having a clingy boyfriend is pretty nice, actually.

Taglist: @3sire-777

[hyypnotix-writes]

Part 2

~ hiya! I'm really nervous about posting this, but I couldn't not at least try to give you a second part after the response the last one got! ~

~ I really appreciate everyone reading it and enjoying it as much as you did ..I hope this one doesn't ruin it for you! ~

~ I think this one's around 13k words. so again ..it's a long one, if you have nothing else to do! ~

~ there’s quite a lot of story before Alexia makes an appearance, sorry ..but she does eventually show up! ~

~ I promise to put more of her in the next part if any of you end up wanting one ~

~ I’m really worried this will disappoint a lot of you, but at least you still have the first part to go back to, if nothing else! ~

~ I really hope you're able to enjoy it even just a little bit, and thanks again for loving the first part so much! the response was very overwhelming and I've loved you all reaching out to tell me that you liked it ~

~ good luck! good bye xx ~

~ Part 1 ~

________________

One night.  

One perfect night.  

That’s all it took.  

One perfect night to throw your whole damn life into disarray.  

One perfect night, that’s lead to endless subsequent nights, spent tossing and turning on your own, replaying the memory over on a loop in your mind. It’s only been about a month, but it feels like an eternity.  

A never-ending, exhausting cycle of yearning and confusion.  

It was the most welcome distraction from your ex-boyfriend’s evil escapades, you’ve not really thought about him at all since. 

It should have set you free, broken you out of the chains of mundanity. It showed you a whole new world, a world of women. It gave you a new perspective on life. Unlocked a realm of brand-new possibilities all ready and waiting for you to venture, and yet, you don’t want to explore any of them.  

It's not that you haven’t tried.  

You’d have been an idiot to assume that it’s only her that can make you feel like this. That would be giving her an awful lot of credit. Yes, she was your first woman, but that didn’t mean that she needed to be your last. The way your mind and body reacted to her, maybe you could have been slightly gayer than you thought, but it doesn’t really look to be the case.  

A pair of lesbian sisters always seemed incredibly unlikely to you, and your sister’s already called dibs on the label. Maybe it’s the mere existence of your younger sister that eradicates the possibility of any real queerness in yourself. That’s probably how the handing out of sexualities works, right? 

It’s a working theory, and one that you seem to be proving the accuracy of.  

You’ve been to a few more clubs since your entanglement with the Spanish mystery. Only returning back to that specific one, once. It gave you a headache just stepping through the door. She was still everywhere in the room, her spirit living in the walls. You barely managed to stay inside for even a second before it became too much for you, sending your heart and mind racing.  

You took yourself back home, reminiscing every single kiss you’d shared with her on that fanciful journey back to her hotel together. Looking up at the floor she had been staying on, as you hastily walked past it on your own.  

Even the nightclubs that aren’t haunted by her ghost, haven’t yielded much greater success with you. 

You paid a visit to a smaller bar, a fair few nights after your perfect one, and had found a woman interested in you. More than interested. She was pretty, and friendly enough. She was flirty and bought you a few drinks. She didn’t try to play it weird by aiding you in your consumption of alcohol. There was no intriguing salt and lime foreplay. She was far more straightforward, far less irritating.  

Maybe that’s why it didn’t work. Maybe she was too plain. Maybe she was too simple and easy for you to understand. Or maybe it’s the fact that when she pressed herself against you in search of a kiss, an alarm bell rang out inside of your head. You suddenly found yourself all too aware that she was a woman, and you simply no longer wanted to follow through with your curiosities.  

It doesn’t help in your confusion, why the femininity of one woman can leave you feeling more certain of your straightness, while another’s femininity has you still helplessly pining after her.  

It’s not like you were under any illusion with the Spanish woman. You were entirely aware that she was also a woman, and it wasn’t off putting to you at all. You enjoyed her being a woman. She smelt nice, she tasted nice. Her body was beautiful, and her lips were soft, and it doesn’t make any sense that she’s allowed to put a yearning in you that no other woman is able to satisfy.  

That does seem very typical of her, though. She really was very cocky and frustrating.ﾠﾠ

Until she wasn’t, of course.  

Then, she was just sweet and considerate. Cautious and careful. Flirty and undemanding. She took you back to hers and she still had no expectations from you. She was still willing to let you walk away. Maybe you should have.ﾠﾠ

You knew even then that you should have.  

It was daft of you to follow after her. Foolish to lose yourself with her, spending the night together, giggling under the sheets. Sharing kisses as you drowned yourselves in each other. Learning her body, every mark, scar and freckle, and committing them all to your memory. Tracing her curves and her tattoos and discovering what it is that makes her tick.ﾠ

She was patient, and understanding, she wasn’t in a rush with you. She spent the whole night exploring with you. Studying your body, wanting to learn all the things you liked her doing, and the things you really liked her doing. She turned what could have been a terrifying, embarrassing, disaster of an experience, into the most incredible encounter of your life.  

She brought you more pleasure than your pathetic ex-boyfriend had ever managed to give you in your whole 5-year relationship, in less than 5 minutes of her having your clothes off. She had the most unholy of noises spilling from your lips with her fingers and tongue inside of you, and she wasn’t exactly quiet herself, in letting you know when you were doing the right thing with her.  

She was intoxicating, exhilarating. She was life-affirming.  

She’s a far more dangerous addiction to you than alcohol could ever manage to be. You’ve never been tempted by drugs before, but you can’t even imagine the high from them being able to compete against what she’s done to you.  

It was just one night.  

It was one perfect night.  

________________

Living back with your younger sister isn’t exactly where you saw yourself being at 26. Your London flat had started feeling a little too big for you, without a traitorous arsehole of a man invading your space. So, you invited her to move in with you, not wanting to have to give up your dream property just because he had decided to try ruining your life. You needed help with the rent, and she had gratefully accepted.  

You didn’t necessarily expect her to also invite her idiot new girlfriend into your home with her. That wasn’t really part of the deal, though you didn’t explicitly tell her that she couldn’t. You can’t really blame her. If you were able to spend every waking moment of your life with ‘A’ right beside you, you’d jump at the opportunity headfirst.   

It still doesn’t aid in the dispelling of your confusion. There’s no jealousy when you see them together. Her girlfriend does nothing for you, none of her girlfriends ever have. You both have decidedly different tastes in women. Your sister’s taste is entirely questionable, yours is perfection.  

You haven’t mentioned your Spanish predicament to your sister. She’d probably laugh at you for it, call you tragic, and embarrassing. Tell you everything you’ve already been telling yourself on repeat in your head. She wouldn’t be very helpful; she very rarely is. She’s your very annoying, smart-arse of a little sister, who couldn’t possibly give you any decent advice. She’s 2 years younger than you and she's an idiot.  

She’s not the one who’s still hung up on a stranger after over a month, though. It’s rarely taken her longer than 24 hours to get over someone she’s been with. She’s not the one who’s been questioning herself every night. She’s never questioned herself at all. You’re fairly certain her very first thought, straight out of the womb was about another woman.  

She didn’t really have to come out to the family at any point, she kissed her first girl when she was 8. Always been a bit of a Casanova, your sister. A walking stereotype of a lesbian. Short, brightly coloured, undercut hair, quite a few piercings, heavily tattooed. She’s obsessed with women’s football, always watching re-runs of ‘The L Word,’ and overwhelmingly insistent in trying to prove to you that Taylor Swift is also secretly gay.  

Your sister’s certainty in her own sexual identity isn’t something that’s ever irritated you before. Not when you were always so sure of yourself, too. You appreciated her confidence. It was admirable, given the way people can be with her. She’s your self-assured little sister, who isn’t great at confrontation. So, you support her whenever anyone tries to tear her down.  

Now, however, this too-late-in-life existential crisis you’re struggling with, has you wishing she’d try to be a little bit more questioning herself. Her surety and cockiness about her sexuality is suddenly the most prominent attribute of her personality, and it’s really starting to drive you up the wall.  

It’s a rare evening where it’s only the two of you at home together. You don’t really know where her girlfriend is, and you don’t much care. You only feel responsible for one annoying lesbian, the one who shares your surname.  

She’s being rather antisocial with you, playing video games alone in her bedroom, and you’ve just finished tidying up the dining table after sharing the dinner you cooked for you both. You’re not exactly sure how you’ve found yourself solo parenting your stroppy little sibling when you’re really not much older than her yourself, but there you go.  

Maybe you should try speaking to her. See what she can possibly offer you by way of sapphic guidance. If she’s going to continue having her nuisance girlfriend living here rent-free, she should at least try giving you something to make it worth your while.  

You walk straight through to her bedroom and collapse your head onto her stomach on the bed. Making sure to do so with just enough force behind it to ensure you manage to leave her winded and interrupt her gaming. She grunts under you, and you earn an overly aggressive smack to your shoulder for achieving your goal. As, whatever other little child she’s playing her game against, has just managed to score past her.  

“You’re a twat!” She scolds, and you backhand her face to shut her up. She raises her fist above your stomach, and you flinch, bracing for impact.  

“I have a question!” You shout, before she has chance to attack.  

She pauses her lifted fist above you, and reluctantly agrees to a truce, providing your question is of interest to her. “What?” She groans, and you fiddle with your fingers, trying to find the right wording.  

“Why do you like women?” You ask, your face grimacing as you await her response.  

It isn’t your smoothest ever phrasing, not your wittiest form of delivery. It’s honestly, rather annoyingly, not the most subtle line of questioning. Despite it not being entirely to the point, your sister isn’t stupid.  

“What?” 

Oh ..maybe she is! 

That’s not going to be super helpful with your impending interrogation.  

“Why not men?” You suggest, still trying not to be too blatant. “How did you know you liked women?” 

“I looked at one.” She tells you, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “Why?” 

“Do you find every woman attractive?” 

“No, but I find enough of them attractive to sense a pattern.” She explains. “Why?” 

“And you’ve never been attracted to a man? Not even tempted?” 

“No. Not once. Why?” 

“Never ever?” 

“Y/N!” 

“I was just wondering.” You tell her quickly, drumming your fingers on top of your stomach.  

“About women?” She queries. 

“About ..why women. What it is about them.” 

“Aside from the obvious?” She snickers, nudging your arm.  

You quickly bounce your head back against her stomach winding her again.  

“Stop doing that!” 

“Stop being annoying!” You warn her. Your frustration at yourself getting the better of you.

She tries to push you off of her, but you mess with the analogue sticks on her controller, and she turns her focus back to salvaging her match. “You really are a twat! Get out!” 

“I need your help.” 

“I don’t care!” 

“..I’m sorry.” You mumble, and she scoffs at you, pushing you off of her bed unceremoniously.  

You can’t say you blame her, you’re a constant threat to her in that position, it’s too big of a risk. You enjoy bouncing your head and ruining her childish little game far too much.  

“Why do you like men?” She counters, and you find yourself stuck for words as you sit on her floor.  

It’s the question that’s been floating around your own head for a little while now. You’d never thought about it before. You just were. You had crushes on them all throughout your childhood, you’d had meaningless boyfriends in your teens, you met your bastard ex at university and figured that was it.  

You didn’t need to question why you were attracted to them, it just always made sense.  

“I don’t know.” You answer honestly, letting out a groan as you grab one of her pillows and bury your head into it.  

“What’s going on?” She asks, as she prods at your shoulder with her foot.  

“Nothing. I was just—” 

“Thinking about women?” 

“No!”  

It isn’t really a lie, you’re not thinking about women, just the one. The one woman who’s been invading all of your thoughts for the past 30 something days. The one who won’t let you sleep properly at night, who won’t let you focus completely at work.  

The one woman who refuses to leave your head for even a second just to let you rest, to let you breathe, to let you remember what life was like, prior to her entering it and recklessly setting fire to everything, before she ran away from you and disappeared into thin air.ﾠﾠ

“I kissed one.” You confess, trying to suffocate yourself with her pillow.  

This really does take her by surprise. You can hear her movements on top of the mattress as she turns her game off and pulls her pillow from you with a rather startling urgency. There’s great confusion on her face as she looks at you. She really must think you’re very boring if that’s enough to render her speechless. Imagine her reaction if you admitted to all the other things you did to the Spanish enigma.  

“You kissed a woman?” She asks, frowning at you.  

You’re not entirely sure why she looks quite so cross about it. You’re not trying to steal her thunder here. You’re not about to start trying to catch up with her numerous exploits of female companions.  

“Mhmm.” You mumble in reply, smoothing your hair back from over your face.  

“Why? For a man?” 

“No! I just wanted to ..I thought it’d be fun.” 

“..and ..was it?” 

“Mhmm.” 

She looks at you with a very distinct air of incredulity. It’s a rather annoying look, weirdly condescending. She doesn’t believe you. Why she thinks you’d bother lying about it, you really do not know. You’re not that desperate for a story to tell her.  

It’s almost offensive that she thinks you’re so incapable. You didn’t just kiss a woman. You went down on one, you had your fingers inside of her. You evoked moans from her, she scratched her nails down your back. You’re not some virginal prude. You’re not inept. It can’t be that shocking and inconceivable that you could share a single kiss with someone of the same sex.  

You were right, telling your sister was pointless. She’s offered you no assistance and no support. She’s a useless little waste of space and her horrible girlfriend is an advantage-taking little freeloader.  

“Thanks, very much! This was really helpful!”  

Your words are laced in sarcasm as you slide yourself up away from her bed with a sigh, throwing your middle finger up back in her direction as you exit the room, and slam her bedroom door shut behind you.   

You slam your own bedroom door shut behind you too, just in case she hadn’t picked up on how pissed off you are.  

You’re not really pissed off with her. She doesn’t know what’s going on inside of your head. You’re pissed off with yourself, for still being all entirely far too consumed with a woman whose name you do not know. Who wouldn’t even bother sharing her profession with you. It isn’t fair.  

You collapse headfirst onto your bed and let out a rather guttural groan into your duvet. You’re very frustrated. Your brain’s a mess, your sexuality’s up in the air, and you allowed yourself to picture, far too clearly, your memories of having sex with the gorgeous Spanish woman and now that ache that she’d put inside of you is back.  

There’s a knock at your door, and you’re not in the mood. You grab your duvet and burrito yourself in it down to the foot of your bed.  

“Y/N?”  

You don’t even grace your sister with a response. She doesn’t deserve it. She’s a swine.  

No, but she really is a swine, as you can hear her turning the doorknob and just walking right into your bedroom anyway. She’s really, unbelievably terrible at reading social cues.  

“Do you want to come to Spain with me next week?” 

See what I mean? What the hell?  

That’s a very serendipitous little offer, though. You didn’t even mention to her that the woman that you kissed was Spanish.  

Did you?  

She can’t have worked that out by herself. That would be insane. She’s already proved herself to not be the sharpest tool in the shed. That wouldn’t make any sense. What an intriguing little invitation.  

It’s very embarrassing that just the mention of the country sends a shiver down the back of your neck. All this instant adrenaline running through you, as if she’ll just be waiting for you there as soon as you land down in a random Spanish airport. Yeah, that seems likely!  

Spain’s not the biggest country in the world, but it certainly isn’t small. You’re not going to accidentally stumble into her again on the beach, or in a marketplace. She’s definitely not going to be staying in the same hotel that you’d be in.  

It shouldn’t have your heart racing like this. The chances of finding her again are so infinitesimally small, so extremely impossible, so overwhelmingly unlikely ..but you do stand a better chance, if you’re in the right country.  

“Next week?” You mumble under the sheets, playing it incredibly cool, as you try to ignore the way your heart’s started thumping at a thousand beats per minute.  

“Yeah.” 

“I thought you were going away with your girlfriend?” 

“..we broke up.” 

Shit. She would make this all about herself.  

You wiggle yourself free of your duvet cocoon and open up your arms for her to crash into you. She might be a useless little swine, but she’s your useless little swine. “Are you okay?”  

“Mhmm.” She grumbles, as she starfishes herself on top of you.  

“I’m sorry.” 

“No, you’re not. You never liked her.” 

“That’s not true.” You protest half-heartedly, kissing the side of her head.  

“I am fine ..I broke up with her.” 

“Well, thank fuck for that!” 

“See!” She laughs, rolling off the side of you. “You hated her!” 

“She was horrible!” 

“You could’ve said.” 

“You wouldn’t have left her if I told you to. You’d be getting bloody married to the girl. Twat.” She giggles defencelessly next to you on the bed, because you’re absolutely right. She has always been a contrarian little thing. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“Yeah. I’ll find someone else tomorrow.” 

“Unbelievable.” You chuckle, shaking your head as you push her away. “You can’t just give me her ticket. Did she not pay for it?” 

The embarrassed little look on your sister’s face is all the wordless response you need. Her girlfriend never paid for anything. She really was an advantage-taking little freeloader.  

“Where are you going in Spain?” 

“Barcelona.” 

“Why?” 

“Football.” 

“Oh! Give me a break!” You exclaim and roll down away from her back to the foot of the bed. “Why are you going all the way to Spain just to watch some football? You can bloody watch it here.” 

“It’s the Champions League!” She informs you excitedly, and you can’t even pretend to match her enthusiasm. “Chelsea’s playing Barcelona.” 

“Woo.” You respond flatly, rolling your eyes with a shake of your head. “You watched them play together today, didn’t you? Why are they so bloody obsessed with each other? Even I know there’s more teams than that.” 

“It’s the second leg..” She starts explaining, but none of it means anything to you, and you really just can’t bring yourself to care.  

Going all the way out to Spain to be stuck inside a stadium with thousands of screaming fans? What sort of holiday is that? You don’t care about Chelsea’s success or failure. Your sister’s dirty crush on their star-striker is just another one of her many celebrity infatuations that you can’t make any sense of.  

You don’t want to sit next to her as she gets herself all hot and bothered watching women run around a football pitch. You don’t even enjoy watching men do it, you have no interest in watching women.  

“No. I’m good, thanks.” You tell her, dismissively.  

“Please? We can do more than just watch the football.” She offers, pouting pathetically. “You have to come with me! I’ve just been dumped!”  

“No, you haven’t!” You remind her, laughing at her useless attempt at guilt tripping. “And you haven’t really left me much time to negotiate with work.” 

“You work too hard and you’re due some time off! Your boss isn’t going to refuse you, just bat your eyelashes at him. The filthy pervert.” 

“Hm.” You mumble, drumming your fingers over your stomach as you think.  

She isn’t wrong, about you working hard, at least. You do like to bury yourself in your work. You enjoy your job, and the harder you work, the more you earn. You haven’t had time off in a while, and your boss is unlikely to say no to you, you are his favourite employee. You don’t agree that it’s because he has a crush on you, you get good results for the company, and attract lucrative clientele.  

If batting your eyelashes could get you back in the arms of your Spanish one-night stand more easily, though, you’re not above flirting with him to get you there. You could take a few days of leave, go off to Spain, and possibly run into the woman who’s been living inside of your head.  

It’s such an incredibly remote possibility. An absolute stab in the dark chance of finding her. She probably isn’t even in Barcelona. You’re not cultured enough to be able to pin her accent to a specific city. She’s just Spanish. There’s much more places in Spain than just Barcelona. Barcelona isn’t even the capital. Maybe she’s in Madrid, Valencia, Marbella. She could be a party girl living on the island of Ibiza, you had originally found her in a bar. You don’t get a body like hers drinking yourself senseless every night, though.  

What if you do find her, and she wants nothing to do with you? There was only ever the promise of one night together. You already pushed your luck by spending the rest of the morning with each other, she doesn’t owe you anything more. It’s unlikely that she’s been spiralling quite as pathetically as you have. She’s not going to be fending off a sexuality migraine.  

You undoubtedly won’t have been the absolutely mind-blowing experience to her, that she was to you. She’ll have had sex with countless women. She definitely enjoyed herself with you, that much you’re certainly sure of. You can’t fake every bodily reaction to someone, but the rest of it could have been for show. The display of heartbreak afterwards.  

So, maybe she’s an actress, that would certainly make sense. It would explain why she had money, and why she had a company paying for her hotel. Maybe that was her little ‘business trip’. Perhaps she was in London promoting a Spanish movie. Maybe the entire thing was all a performance, and you fell for it. Hook, line, and sinker.  

Either way, stalking her in Spain would be far too pathetic. Even if she does want you to find her, it’s so desperate and needy of you to go all that way, and if she doesn’t want you to find her, you end up looking insane. Travelling to Spain, to possibly just show up right there on her doorstep? What a terrifying thing for you to do to the woman.  

But what if it’s a sign? 

Your clueless little sister, inviting you all the way to Spain, with absolutely no idea that the woman you’re harbouring all of these confusing emotions for, lives there? Maybe it’s fate. Maybe it’s the universe trying to get you back together. Maybe she didn’t fake it, she does feel the same, you’ll find her in Spain and spend the rest of your lives together.  

Please. Behave and be so goddamn serious with yourself. You sweet and simple, delusional little fool.  

“The woman I kissed was from Spain.” You inform your sister thoughtfully, and she sits herself up on your bed to frown at you.  

“You’re still going with that?” 

“Why don’t you believe me?” 

“You’re straight. Straight straight straight.” She points out, with such an incredibly annoying inflection to her voice, it makes you want to bang your head against the wall. “You’re also 26. You were in love with an ugly bastard for 5 years and you’ve never shown an interest in a woman before.” 

“I hadn’t met her before.” 

“Gayyy!” She giggles, and you give her an almighty clack on her arm with the back of your hand, to wipe the smug little smile from off her face.  

“Go with the woman you’re hooking up with tomorrow.” You instruct her. “I’d be a nightmare to watch football with, you’d have to keep explaining things to me.” 

“I don’t mind doing that.” 

“Do you have no other friends to go with you?” You laugh and she pouts dramatically again, shaking her head. “You’re a lonely little loser!” You tell her with a smile.  

“Is that a ‘yes’?” She asks, rolling her eyes at you.  

You take in a deep breath and let out a very heavy sigh. 

What’s the worst that can happen?  

She’s already completely upturned your life. It couldn’t make things any worse for you. Whether you’re able to bump into her or not. You’ll either find yourself some peace, lounging in the Spanish sun, or you’ll be left in exactly the same position you’re in now, but with a much healthier glow to your skin.  

You could even find yourself a Spanish man while you’re out there.  

Mm.  

It’s really not a good sign for your heterosexuality, that that’s no longer an appealing option to you.  

“If I can sort it with work,” you reason, “yes. I’ll come to Barcelona with you.”  

She lets out an embarrassingly girly squeal and crashes her head against your stomach, with just enough force behind it to manage to leave you winded.  

“Twat! I’m making no promises about going to the game, mind. I’m just coming for the tan.” 

“Maybe your ‘Spanish lesbian’ is also a fan of football.” She encourages  

“Mhmm. I’m pretty sure she is.” You admit contemplatively. “Is that an entry-level of requirement for lesbianism, then?” You ask, rolling your eyes. “Because if that’s the case, I really can stop questioning myself.” 

________________

Booking time off work really is as easy as your sister thought it would be. Maybe your boss does have an inappropriate crush on you like she suspects. 

She’s very excited about having you for company, and she tries to educate you on all of Chelsea’s history, the players’ statistics, and their personal lives, all before you go on your little trip together. It really does just go right in one ear, and straight back out of the other. You’re not fussed on the facts and figures; it’s not why you’re going.  

There’s not enough room in your brain to care about the ins and outs of Sam Kerr and Kristie Mewis’ relationship. You’re not interested in the fact that Chelsea currently have 6 WSL titles, and are going for their fifth-straight one, and you really aren’t bothered that the semifinal’s first leg match against Barcelona ended in a draw.  

That is a fair amount of information for you to have retained already despite not being interested. Your sister really has been going on at you, you’re almost a footballing expert.  

Touching down late in the morning in Barcelona, you can’t pretend there isn’t a tiny part of you that’s letting yourself get a little carried away with dreaming. You’ve played through enough countless scenarios in your head of running into the Spanish wonder again back in London, of course your mind’s racing with the possibilities in Spain.  

You drop your bags off at the hotel your sister’s booked for you both, with the intention of heading back out to explore the city together. It’s a peculiar looking building, bright red, oddly shaped. She really never has been one for subtlety, it’s the perfect sort of accommodation for her.  

She insists on wanting to have a look at the Olympic Stadium before the big match, as well as seeing the state of Camp Nou’s renovations, and you really can’t indulge her any more than you already have. You probably will end up joining her for the game tomorrow, but you’re absolutely not walking around the outside of football grounds for fun.  

You’ve seen the exterior of Stamford Bridge more than your fair share of times, Wembley, the Emirates. There’s not that much difference between the lot of them, and they’ve never really been your favourite form of modern architecture.  

So, you agree to go your separate ways for your first afternoon in the city, you’ll meet back up with each other tonight.  

Playing tourist around the streets of Barcelona on your own, is quite an exciting little experience for you. You’re not very worried about getting lost, despite not speaking too much Spanish beyond the basics. Your hotel’s a distinctive looking building, it’s not going to be super difficult to find your own way back to it.  

You get a taxi further into the main hub of town and you’re able to mosey about with a rather unrestrained confidence, turning down tight alleyways and strolling aimlessly along multiple cobbled streets. You manage to find yourself being comfortably led astray, by allowing nothing more than just the warm gentle breeze to guide you as it blows against your body.  

It turns into a more casual exploration of the more authentic side of Barcelona away from most of the tourist hotspots. You have no real idea where you are, and you’re quite enjoying the small rush of adventure.  

A coffee is what you start craving, and you’re not exactly limited by options. Every other building on the peacefully quiet backstreet you’ve found yourself on, seems to be a tiny café. You could start ip dip doo-ing all the individual offerings, but that’s putting far too much consideration into it. You decide to go for the smallest one, the most unassuming. The best coffees always come from the places that aren’t trying to market themselves to any foreign tourists.  

A little bell rings out as you step through the door and the barista almost jumps out of his skin at the sight of you, he clearly isn’t used to getting anyone other than his regular patrons. You offer up your friendliest of smiles and a quick ‘hola’ to show him that you mean no harm, and you tap your finger gently on the countertop as you inspect the board behind his head.  

Choosing the littlest coffee shop might have been a tiny mistake because absolutely everything on the menu is written in what you can only assume, is a rather confusing variation of Spanish. You can’t back out now, the barista already has an adorably excited look on his face at having someone new in his little shop, you can’t break his heart like that.  

You study the chalk written on the board for entirely far too long, in the hope that the words will slowly start translating themselves for you. It doesn’t work, obviously. So, you take a punt at a random one of them, with the rather daring assumption that you haven’t just ordered yourself a troubling batch of Spanish poison.  

“¡Dos, por favor!” Comes a call from behind you, from a woman you surely do not know. It’s recognisably ballsy of her, almost rude.

Her words echo in your ears, as time stands still around you. You’d recognise that voice anywhere, with that unmistakable, and entirely enchanting, cocky little tone to it.  

You can’t really have found her so easily. Life’s never been that kind.  

You can feel your heart clattering around in your chest instantly. Like it’s trying to escape from your ribs, to go off and say hello to hers, all by itself. Your chest’s rising and falling intensely as your breathing shallows and picks up pace.  

It can’t be her; it can’t be. This city’s just absolutely full of Spanish women.

She holds out her card right over you to pay, gently resting her arm down onto your shoulder, and you’ve definitely seen that tattoo before. The ‘11’ printed on her wrist.  

She’d refused to explain the meaning when you’d asked her about it. She wouldn’t give you the backstory behind any of her tattoos. It was too personal; you weren’t allowed to know.  

She thought you might have really fallen for each other if you both started sharing too much information about yourselves, and you only had the single night to spend together.  

“It would be too painful.” She had reasoned with you.

That was very clever thinking on her part. She absolutely managed to prevent you from having an awful lot of heartache and suffering about the whole thing, by letting you know absolutely nothing about her..ﾠ

You still can’t bring yourself to turn around and look. Even though you know it must be her. It can’t be likely that there’s multiple Spanish women that have branded themselves with that specific number on that specific part of their body. Surely to god.  

“..gracias.” You manage to choke out very shakily, in little more than a whisper, still facing forward.  

You have to turn around at some point. You can’t very well drink your coffee on the tiny little counter right in front of the barista when you can’t even have a conversation with him. Just staring at him, silently, neither of you able to speak each other’s language? That would freak him out! You’ll find yourself back on a plane headed for England before you know it, with a restraining order hanging over your head.  

Grow up and turn around. Just turn around.  

It’s her. It has to be her.  

The barista accepts the woman’s payment method with a familiar little smile back at her, and she carefully retracts her arm from over your shoulder slowly. You can smell her perfume on her wrist as it wafts back past the side your face. You recognise the scent, and you find yourself following it round you like a lost little puppy, your knees almost giving way beneath you.  

You didn’t accidentally stumble upon her at the beach. It’s not a Spanish marketplace. She definitely isn’t staying at the same hotel that you’re in.  

You’ve found her, while getting yourself lost. In the tiniest little café, on an unnamed, tumbleweed backstreet, right in the very heart of Barcelona.  

There’s a wide smile of disbelief on her face. Which is hopefully an indication, that she isn’t terrified of you being here, she hadn’t faked her feelings, and she, much like you are with her, is a little overwhelmed to see you.  

“Hi.” Is all that drops out of your mouth, as your mind goes blank at the sight of her.  

“Hi.” She says back, with the exact same breathlessness as you, her voice cracking ever so slightly.  

“….Hi.” 

“You’ve already said that.” She reminds you, and she’s clearly able to bring herself back to her senses far more quickly than you are, because there’s that charming little smirk tugging at the corner of her lips again.  

You’re not really sure which one of you instigated it, you both just sort of ended up colliding into each other, gripping at the material of each other’s clothes. It’s a very desperate hug. Even more so than the one you shared outside of the hotel elevator. You melt into each other, merging yourselves together like two corresponding puzzle pieces.  

It’s an embrace, holding not just the 12 hours of curious devotion between you, but over 30 days' worth of frenzied yearning. It has you both clinging to each other with everything you have, as it defies everything you came to accept as truly achievable, that heartbreaking belief in you, that this reunion would never really happen.  

It’s an impossible hug, and it’s one that neither of you want to pull away from. 

“What are you doing here?” You mumble against her, clinging to her shirt as she buries her head in the crook of your neck.  

“I think it should be me asking that question.” She tells you, chuckling. “I have far more right to be in Barcelona than you do.” 

“This is where you live?” You ask. “You’re from Barcelona?” 

“Mhmm.” She murmurs. “Mollet del Vallès.” 

There’s really no reason for that to be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard. It’s only a place name. It’s a good job she didn’t spend much time speaking Spanish to you back in London, you really would have been like putty in her hands.  

“What are you doing here?” She questions.  

“I thought you might want your sweatshirt back.” You joke casually, and she loosens her grip on you slightly so she can face you.  

“Do you not want it anymore?” She asks, furrowing her brow as she studies your face. 

There’s a clear look of uncertainty in her eyes, a small sense of worry, and you do feel mildly guilty for teasing her. “I was hoping ..maybe I could swap it for another.” You smile. “It doesn’t really smell like you anymore.”

She doesn’t allow you to feel guilty for too long. That small air of arrogance that’s always threatening to escape her, does so, in a predictable little smirk at the implication.  

“You’ve been wearing it that much?” She asks you proudly, and you push your tongue against the inside of your mouth as you roll your eyes at her typical display of cockiness. She carefully closes the small distance between you both again, gently pressing herself flush against you. “Does it smell of you?” She whispers in your ear, sending a ripple of goosebumps down the side of your neck. 

“Mhmm.” 

“Mm. Maybe I could be persuaded to make a trade, then.” 

She’s impossible for you to resist when she’s like this. It’s still an intriguing talent she has, evoking such a physical reaction from you, by doing hardly anything at all. A quiet little whisper in your ear and your body’s immediately burning up next to her? You’re still so incredibly tragic.  

You might no longer be certain of your sexuality, but maybe it really doesn’t matter. Why do you need to understand it? Why does it need an explanation? No one else in the world is important at all when she’s standing here in front of you. No one else would ever really stand a chance. How could you ever be interested in anyone else, when you know that this woman right here exists? How could any other person ever truly compare? 

There’s a desire in you that’s clearly also felt in her, when she moves herself to look at you. It’s written all over her face, the twinkle in her beautiful eyes, and the fact that her lips are so incredibly close to yours.  

You lean in, and so does she, but it’s like something quickly shoots through her body, as though she’s suddenly being brought back into the room. She does a quick scan of the café, and she collects herself before she lets you both get carried away.  

“We can’t kiss in here.” She tells you quietly, and you frown at her as you pull yourself back.  

“Why not?” You ask, doing your own quick search to try and find what she saw to put her off.  

No one seems too interested in you, though there’s admittedly a couple of people discreetly watching her. She is very beautiful, so it’s not surprising, but you do sort of wish they’d stop their gawking. This gorgeous woman is here with you, and you’re not really in the mood for sharing.

“There’s not another bloody homophobe about, is there?” 

“No!” She laughs, shaking her head. “Well, I don’t know, actually. I haven’t asked around, but we just ..can’t kiss in here.” 

It’s curious. She didn’t have any issues kissing you in front of people before. Spanish people are very famously more physically affectionate with each other than British people are. So, it seems unlikely that the two of you would turn too many heads just by kissing.  

“Okay..” you accept reluctantly, pouting a little at the rejection, “so ..should we just quickly nip outside to do it then, or?” You joke cheekily, pointing to the door with your thumb.

She chuckles with you, resting her forehead to your shoulder. “You’re still as straight as ever!” She grins, as she wraps you back up in her arms.  

It’s quite nice just losing yourself in her embrace. Burying your head in her neck and holding her tight against you. Having her arms back around you, her perfume overwhelming your senses. The rest of the coffee shop fades into a blur with her in your arms. She’s comforting, reassuring. She’s real, and she’s here.  

“Ale!” Is called out by the barista not a minute later, and you’d have very happily paid it no attention at all. The immediate flinch from the woman that you’re holding, in response to it, however, tells you that you might have just found out a very valuable piece of information indeed.  

You repeat it under your breath, as she pulls away from you and goes to collect your coffees from the counter.  

She says a quiet ‘moltes gràcies’ to the barista, and she narrows her eyes with a small grimace as she returns to you. There’s still a clear reluctance in her to give too much away, she’s not entirely grateful to her little coffee friend for unknowingly revealing slightly more to you than just her first initial.  

Ale. It must still be short for something, you figure. You start reeling off name possibilities at her in quick succession. Alessia, Alex, Alexis, Alexa. You’re like a dog with a bone, because she makes it clear that you’re getting closer, but she still shakes her head at every guess.  

It’s very frustrating, as she offers you absolutely no assistance with your guessing, but it can’t be as convoluted a mission as trying to discover Rumpelstiltskin’s ridiculous name. Thankfully, it isn’t. It’s on only your 5th attempt that you cause the same small flinch in her, and she smiles softly at you before looking down very quickly. You’ve struck gold.  

Alexia. 

It’s a beautiful name. Your favourite name, you’ve decided. It rolls off your tongue with so much ease, you want to repeat it again and again. 

“Now you know too much.” She sighs whimsically, handing you your coffee as she walks past you to collect her bag from the table she was previously sitting at.  

She gestures for you to follow her and leads you to a quieter area away from the other customers right at the back of the shop. She pulls out your chair for you to sit down, and you can’t not smile at the tiny act of chivalry. She really is very sweet. It’s a shame that she won’t let you kiss her.  

You reveal your own name to her, as she joins you on the other side of the table and she repeats it back to you quietly. Whether it’s the sexy Spanish accent, or just the fact that it’s her saying it to you for the first time, you’re not entirely sure, but your heart skips a few beats after hearing it. 

“Now we both know too much.” She tells you, and she takes a small sip of her coffee.  

There’s the tiniest level of nervousness, that blankets itself over you both as you sit together. It’s a little absurd, you’ve seen this woman naked. She’s seen you naked. It isn’t technically a first date between you, neither of you asked the other to be here, but you both clearly have the little jitters of being on one, coursing through your bodies.  

You find yourself just watching her a few times as you talk over your drinks together. You still can’t really believe you found her so quickly. So, you don’t want to risk taking your eyes off of her for too long, in case she just disappears into thin air while you’re not looking.  

She’s also the most beautiful sight in the café. So, why would you want to waste your time looking at anything else? 

You’re not being very discreet about your staring at all, and neither is she, really. You keep exchanging shy smiles over your cups as you catch each other looking. Both of you blushing and quickly averting your eyes as they meet, and then gradually repeating the whole thing all over again. You’ve definitely caught her gazing a few more times than she’s caught you. So, maybe she’s even more tragic than you are.  

The little coffee you ordered by chance, is Alexia’s usual order, so she tells you. It’s not the most life-changing piece of information for her to share with you, but it’s something else for you to know about her, and you’re absolutely sure to make a note of it. It probably keeps you on an even tally too, she already knows that you enjoy drinking a tequila.  

You’re still not allowed to kiss each other, for whatever obscure reason, but she has reached for you hand under the table. Interlacing your fingers together isn’t a new thing between you both, and neither are those tingles that immediately shoot up through your arm at even the most innocent of touches from her. She really does have an incredible effect on you, it should probably be more terrifying to you than it is.

“Why are you really here?” She asks after a moment, as she strokes her thumb over your knuckles.  

“My sister dragged me here.” You answer. “It’s a very important football match tomorrow, apparently.” 

“The one against Chelsea?” She asks, with an unmistakable look of interest in her eyes, that has you rolling your own lightly back at her.  

“I think she’d say against Barcelona,” you point out with a sigh, “but yeah, that one.” 

You had managed to work out that Alexia was probably a bit of a football fan. She has a little stick figure tattoo of a footballer on her leg, the outline of a baby being given a ball on her back, and you have exceptional detective skills. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.  

So, it isn’t a surprise that she’d be excited by your footballing interests, but it is unfortunate that you really don’t share the same passion for it as her.  

“Unless you’re a very daring rebel,” you start, “I assume you’ll be supporting Barcelona tomorrow?” 

“Mhmm,” she murmurs, with a small twinkle in her eye, “and you’ll be supporting Chelsea?” 

“Not emphatically,” you admit with a smile, “but I’ll be in that section of the crowd, yeah.”  

“You don’t really care about football at all, do you?” She asks knowingly, with an edge to her smirk that’s intriguing, as you shake your head at her in apology. “Maybe you should introduce me to your sister instead, then!” She winks, and you very quickly remove your hand back out of her hold.  

“Don’t.” You tell her. “Please. Don’t even joke about it.” 

It’s admittedly a little cute that she finds herself quite so hilarious for her disgusting little joke, but you are very unamused by the idea. If the childish look of mischief on her face wasn’t so entirely endearing to you, you may very well have got up and left her right then and there.  

She rests the back of her hand on your thigh with her palm outstretched, and you roll your eyes at her before placing your own hand back into it. She raises it to her lips to place a lingering kiss to your fingers, leaving you with the faintest of blushes across your cheeks. So, maybe you can find it in yourself to forgive her just this once.  

“I have a sister.” She reveals. “Her name's Alba. She’s a few years younger than me. I’m the older sibling, like you are.”  

“Uh oh!” 

“What?” 

“Well, now I really do know too much.” You tell her with a wink.

“My sister’s Emily.” You inform her rebalancing the tally of facts you keep sharing with each other. “Though she’d kill you for calling her that. I think she’d change her name completely if she didn’t think it would upset our Dad so much. She just goes by Em these days ..so ..she probably would have enjoyed your silly little initial idea, actually,” you admit thoughtfully, frowning a little at the realisation, “maybe I really should introduce you to her instead..” 

“Por favor.” She says quietly, quickly shaking her head at you and raising your hand to her lips once again. “Don’t even joke about it.” 

“Will you be going to the game tomorrow?” You ask, a not-so-subtle attempt at finding out if you might be getting to see each other again so soon. “We’d be like star-crossed lovers in the stands. Very Romeo and Juliet of us!” 

“I don’t know that we want to be comparing ourselves to those two! I don’t remember it ending very well for them.” She reminds you, narrowing her eyes at you as her intriguing little smirk returns to her face. “And no. I’m working tomorrow, I won’t be in the stands.” 

“Boo. You can’t be that big of a fan, then!” You tut in disappointment. “I’ve come all this way to support my team!” 

“Your team!” She chuckles. “Will you be there in a Chelsea shirt?” 

“Absolutely not. I’ll be in very neutral colours.” 

She smiles, nibbling at the inside of her mouth as she lowers her eyes to look at the table. She knocks her hand gently on it a few times before turning her attention back to you. It’s impossible to know what she’s thinking, but she’s definitely debating something silently in her head.  

“I could give you a Barcelona one?” She suggests a little cautiously, and you have to smile at the idea. Your sister would certainly disown you if you took one of those back home with you. It’d be worth it, just to see the look on her face.

“You have a very weird habit of offering me your clothes.” You tell her slyly.  

“Mhmm. I really like seeing you in them.” She admits sultrily, and your breath catches as her eyes darken looking at you. “I think I have one in my bag, if you want it.” 

It’s a surprisingly sexy little offer, and you do quite like having her clothes on your body. It’s hard not to laugh at her peculiarity, though, even your sister isn’t that crazy of a football fan.  

“You just ..carry it around with you at all times?” You ask, furrowing your brow as you chuckle at her. “That’s really weird of you! Do you sell them? You go round offering them to unsuspecting tourists? Is that your job? Is it a fake? Are yo—”

“You need to stop trying to know things about me.” She interrupts softly, shaking her head as she chuckles.  

“And just ..blindly accept that you always have a football shirt on you?” 

“Mhmm.” She giggles, and you narrow your eyes at her.

She really is very curious.  

She pulls it out from her little duffle bag from under the table and hands it to you with a gleam in her eye as you take it from her. You push your empty coffee cup to the side and spread the shirt out over the table to study it.  

They’re not exactly your colours, but you can probably make them work. You hold it up against you to check that it will suit, and she bites her lip as she watches you. There’s a name printed on the back of it, you realise, and you smile a little as you read it in your head.  

“Don’t most adults keep it blank? Or just go for their favourite player?” You ask smirking. You turn the shirt around and rest it over yourself, and she gently bites at the skin around her fingernail as you trace the lettering over your chest. “I thought it was just little kids that got their own name on the back. Do you quite like pretending you’re also on the team?” 

“Mhmm ..maybe.” She mumbles, stifling a giggle as she rests her head in her hand. She smiles at you fondly, as she continues gazing at your little shirt inspection.  

“That’s really very cute of you.” You tell her, placing the shirt back on the table and leaning over it as you trace your fingers over the number. “Why ‘11’?” 

“Hm?” 

“11. You have it tattooed on you. You’ve chosen it for your shirt.” You point out. “Is it your birthday? You were born on the 11th? You were born in November? Born on New Year’s Day? Is it just your lucky number? Is it—” 

“Stop, trying to know things about me.” She interrupts again quietly, reaching for your hand and meeting you across the table to rest her forehead to yours.  

“But I want to know things about you.” You whisper. “I want to know when your birthday is. I’d like to know your surname. I want to know what you do for a living, how you got those scars on your knee, how much you weighed when you were born. The name of your first crush, where you went to school, the meaning behind your tattoos. I want to know each and every incredible milestone you’ve ever achieved, and all the unfathomably boring things that you got up to in between each of them. I want to know every single detail about you, and your life, Alexia. I really, really want to know you.”   

It’s quite the thing for you to confess to the poor woman after only meeting her on two separate occasions, but the way her grip on your hand kept tightening as you spoke, the slight clenching of her jaw, and the fact that her lips are dangerously close to yours once again, probably means you haven’t just completely scared her off with it.  

“We’d have to spend a lifetime together, trying to learn all of that about each other.” She whispers to you, her lips lightly brushing against yours.  

“Is that a proposal?” You chuckle, gently bumping your nose to hers. Your eyes trail to her lips, and it’s really very hard to not act on your impulses. “Am I really not allowed to kiss you in h—“ 

It seems that you are allowed to kiss her in here, when it’s right at the back where no one’s watching. Or she’s allowed to kiss you, at least, because there's no doubt which one of you instigated this. Her lips move against yours, and your pulse reacts to her immediately.

It's a kiss harbouring an awful lot of emotion, for two people who still hardly know each other. It's slow, passionate, careful, and every confusing little worry that's been plaguing your brain since the last time you kissed, instantly melts away into nothing as her tongue slips back into your mouth. You're the only two people in the world when her hand's pulling you in by the back of your neck, and you’re tugging her closer by grabbing at her shirt.

It’s probably a good job she did decide to take you further away from everybody else, because it doesn’t stay an entirely family-friendly kiss for very long. It’s not wildly inappropriate, you’re not animals, and the bastard table’s in the way of you doing too much with each other. Thank goodness it is, because it’s been over a month, after all, and you’re both clearly quite a bit needy. You really can’t be doing that in public.  

“I’ve missed you.” She murmurs against your lips, pulling you impossibly further into her.  

“I really missed you too.” 

Hours feel like minutes, in Alexia’s company, as you spend the afternoon roaming Barcelona together. She still refuses to tell you everything about herself. You don’t learn her surname, and she still won’t tell you what she does for a living, but you do both share other things about yourselves with each other. 

It doesn’t matter how insignificant any of the details probably are. Every single one of them still feels important to you, because it’s another little glimpse into her. Every single fact, story and secret that she shares, is what makes Alexia, who she is, and she was absolutely right, you do find yourself falling more for her, with all of the little things you keep discovering.  

She eventually agrees to tell you her birthday. Which makes the whole ‘11’ obsession even more intriguing to you, because the 4th of February ’94 does absolutely nothing to clear that little mystery up. It does tell you that the man in his twenties that you were looking for the night you first met, didn’t even turn out to be a woman in her twenties at all. She turned 30 nearly 3 months ago. She’s absolutely decrepit! 

She gives you a tiny tour on your stroll together, bringing some clarity to the Catalonian streets you’ve been carelessly walking down. Explaining the extra confusing writing on the menu board, and casually revealing to you that she can speak 3 different languages. So, your drunken boast about your GCSE level German, probably wasn’t very impressive to her at all.  

You’re both approached a fair few times by people asking for directions. You can never understand what it is that they’re saying, and you're not really of much use to them just standing there being awkward. So, you hang off a little to the side taking in your surroundings, waiting for her to help them out, before she excitedly returns back to you. You’re not at all bothered by the interruptions. Your patience with it keeps earning you a quick discreet kiss from her as she wraps her arms around your waist, and you return the same display of affection, for her unrelenting kindness to strangers.

Alexia insists that she isn’t a tour-guide, and she’s also not an actress. So, you are very slowly whittling down the options of what it is she could possibly do for a living. She asks you about your own career, which is incredibly cheeky of her, considering. So, you simply refuse to tell her.

Maybe it’s that competitive streak in you, but if she wants to play it secretive, you can absolutely match her for it. You only agree to give her the corresponding facts to the one’s she’s willing to give to you. That way, if she’s falling for you with each new piece of information the same way that you’re doing for her, at least you’re both crashing down for each other, at exactly the same speed.

There’s slightly less careless abandon with being too physical with each other, walking hand in hand around Barcelona. It’s arguably tame compared to how you both were back in London. Whether it’s the lack of alcohol that’s keeping her more reserved, or maybe just because it isn’t yet nighttime, you’re not entirely sure.  

You’re still stealing kisses as you waltz along the streets, but you’re not pushing each other up against the walls of buildings out in the open. Maybe that would be a little indecent of you both. You’re pulling each other down quiet alleyways, instead, pressing yourselves together in secret coves.  

It doesn’t feel entirely necessary, the streets you’re exploring aren’t particularly packed with people, but you don’t question it too much. You’ve really just missed having her lips on yours, and whatever capacity she feels comfortable doing it in, you’re more than willing to oblige.  

You couldn’t really care less who sees you kissing her. You all but forget that they exist when she's pulling you into her and leaving her mark on you. It is arguably far more exciting, however, trying to be sneaky about it with each other. You're both almost actively searching for places that you're unlikely to get caught in. Finding hidden areas and seeing how much you can get away with together.

Your hands find their way under her shirt on more than one occasion. She really does have the most beautiful body. She jokingly reprimands you for it each time, but she doesn’t really discourage you from doing it. She does continually tease you, for your ever-decreasing signs of straightness, though.

Each newly shared kiss with Alexia, is somehow even better than the last. Whether she’s passionately throwing caution to the wind with you, by kissing down your neck, or trapping your bottom lip between her teeth. Even when she’s just being painfully frustrating, by giving you the quickest of pecks before skipping away. Every single one of them still sets your soul on fire, and they still manage to pull all the air right out from your lungs, every single time.

Alexia waits with you, as it turns to evening, on a bench by the road for your taxi back to your hotel. You try not to let the mild burning in your eyes ruin your final moments with her, but you can feel yourself starting to break.

She pulls out the football shirt from her bag again and holds it out for you to take with a shy smile. “I really hope you enjoy the game tomorrow.” She says, and you try to allow yourself to chuckle a little while nodding your head. 

“Mhmm. Thank you, I’ll try.” You tell her, throwing her shirt over your shoulder and quickly rubbing the corner of your eyes. “I’ll have to get Em’s permission to wear this, first. She’ll be very unimpressed with me.” 

“Just don’t let her burn it!”  

“I won't.” You promise, interlacing your fingers with hers and placing a kiss to the back of her hand. “The other fans might throw tomatoes at it, mind!” 

She chuckles, pressing a kiss to your temple, and there’s that familiar sense of dread in your stomach, as you watch the road, knowing your time together is quickly running out again.

You catch her gazing at you as you turn to her, and maybe there’s a little butterfly or two in your stomach as well, at the way her eyes are watching over you. “Are you okay?” You ask.

“Mhmm. You haven’t even gone yet,” she tells you smiling, tucking your hair back behind your ear, “and I already can’t wait to see you again.” 

“You’re really that certain that you will? You’re still sure you don’t want us to swap numbers?”  

“We’ve already bumped into each other a couple of times now. I have no doubt we’ll manage it again.”

It’s nowhere near as reassuring to you as it seems to be to her, but there’s a certain level of romance in her conviction in fortuity. Maybe you are beginning to believe in the possible existence of fate, though you're not completely enamoured by continuing to leave your encounters with Alexia, entirely up to chance. She cradles your head in her hands and gently wipes the tears that are threatening to spill from your eyes with her thumbs.

"I'll never forgive you," you warn her weakly, "if this ends up being it for us."

"Trust me." Is all she asks of you, and she pulls you back into her, resting her head against yours as she runs her fingers over your back.

It feels like an unspoken promise from her, to keep at least trying to find you, and there's a power in her certainty that has you desperate to believe in it too.

It’s still a little hard for you both to say goodbye to each other, but she’s already told you she has a busy day tomorrow, and you can’t really bring her back to your hotel when your sister’s already sharing the bed with you. You share another long hug, and a few more secret kisses before your taxi pulls up, and you finally hesitantly agree to part ways. She places a kiss to your cheek, by way of goodbye as you clamber yourself into the back of the car, setting off without her once again.  

You try to reassure yourself, on the taxi ride back to your hotel. You've ran into each other twice, in two separate countries, by pure dumb luck. It can't be impossible for it to happen again. Maybe there’s something connecting you both, an invisible string, an intangible little bungee cord, that's making sure that neither of you is ever able to truly stray too far away from the other. Alexia has ‘no doubt’ that you’ll manage another meeting again, and you take some comfort in knowing, that you still have 2 days left in the city, to do exactly that.

________________

Collapsing back down to lay on the bed in your hotel room, you have a sneaking suspicion, that you’ll have a far better night’s sleep than you’ve managed to have in a long time, tonight. Your mind isn’t spiralling with confusion anymore, and there’s no longer a gaping hole inside of your chest.  

There’s an excitement in you, a warmth. An encouraging little hope that you really have found something special. Someone special. That once-in-a-lifetime connection with another person who’s also trapped in this world along with you.  

It definitely isn’t the someone you expected to intertwine your soul with. Any younger version of yourself would be very confused about where she’s ended up. It isn’t a connection you want to keep questioning either. It’s not one you really have any doubts on the existence of at all. She’s just it for you, and maybe it’s okay that that’s all you can say to justify it.   

You don’t need to be attracted to other women; you don’t really care about your weakening attraction to men. It just makes sense when you’re together with her. There’s no confusion, no uncertainty, there’s no warning alarms ringing out in your head. There’s just Alexia, and the existence of anything and anybody else, will always pale in comparison to her. 

Your sister arrives a little after you, plodding back into the hotel room, clearly wiped from whatever individual Spanish adventure she got up to today, and she flops herself into one of the armchairs with a very heavy sigh.  

“Long day?” You ask. 

“Mhmm.” She mumbles, frowning at you suspiciously. “You look very happy?” 

“I am very happy!” You tell her with a smile. You excitedly roll over and reach down the side of the bed to retrieve your souvenir of the day from its hiding spot. You launch it right into your sister’s face and she grunts a little under the impact. “Will you hate me, if I wear that tomorrow?” You ask, trying to contain your newfound enthusiasm. 

She pulls it off from where it’s wrapped itself around her head, and she gives you a very unimpressed look. “You bought a Barcelona shirt?” She asks, clearly disgusted with your choice of fashion.  

“I was given it.” 

“By?” 

“..a woman.” You tell her, gently biting your bottom lip as you smile up at the ceiling.  

“Mm.” She mutters with a sigh, moving to join you over on the bed. She thwacks the shirt down over your stomach and lets out a huff next to you. “Well, at least she has good taste.” She tells you. “Or she’s just a bit basic.” 

That’s a little rude ..and very confusing.  

“What do you mean?” 

“Going for the best player on the team.” 

That’s less rude ..but even more confusing.  

“..What do you mean?” 

“Are you joking?” She asks, with a very clear tone of annoyance to her voice. She grabs the shirt and thwacks you with it again. “A woman gives you a shirt with a name on the back, and you don’t even care enough to ask who the bloody player is?”   

Maybe your head is racing again. That’s incredibly confusing. It really doesn’t make any sense. It’s her name, not a player’s name. Maybe they just share a name. It’s not an incredibly rare name, that’s not impossible. 

Your Alexia has a mild interest in football, she’s not playing it professionally. Who would keep that a secret? She’s reticent with sharing information, that’s for certain, but she’s not a bloody liar, and she told you she wouldn’t even be there tomorrow.  

No.  

She said that she was working tomorrow, and that she wouldn’t be in the stands with you. 

Your mind has started racing, and so has your little heart.  

“What. do. you. mean?” You repeat slowly, trying to keep yourself calm.  

“Alexia Putellas.” She tells you, very nonchalantly, and your brain all but short circuits at the name.  

“Who is Alexia Putellas?” 

She thwacks you again with your shirt in dismay, and you’ve really had just about enough of being treated like a piñata. You sit up, pull it from her hands and thwack it across her face as you ask her to explain herself.  

“She’s a footballer, for fuck’s sake!” She shouts, rubbing the palm of her hand against her eyelid. “She’s Spanish. She plays for Barcelona!” She pulls out her phone, to search for her Instagram and bonks you on the head with it. “That’s Alexia Putellas, you twat.” 

You look at the profile, and the hotel room blurs around you. You can feel your heart thumping in your chest, hear the blood pumping around in your ears.  

Your Alexia, is Alexia Putellas.  

She doesn’t sell shirts for a living, she’s not an actress nor a tour-guide, she really isn’t even a spy. Though she’d probably make a pretty good one, the way she never gave this piece of information away.  

Your unexplainable connection with another human being, and she plays football for a living? Clearly very well too, as 2 of her pinned photos have her holding a massive award for it right next to her face. Every other post on her page is about football. She’s Barcelona, through and through.  

She’s verified, she has over 3 million followers. She’s been out here, existing on the world’s stage, all this time, without you ever knowing. Your own sister’s been privy to more information about her than you have.  

She was in London a month ago for football, according to her Instagram posts. The cryptic little ‘business trip’ she was on, was a quarter-final match against Arsenal. An embarrassingly easy win for Barcelona, she must have been out celebrating it when she found you in that club.  

She was back in London again last week for football. You could have seen her then. You missed a chance at an earlier reunion with her, because you refused to go with your little sister to watch her in the first leg against Chelsea.  

Your breathing’s very shallow as you scroll through the endless stream of photos. Your mind is absolutely spinning. It’s all a bit much to take in. You lock your sister’s phone and place it back on her chest as you try to collect yourself. You really don’t want to risk learning too much about her. You want her to tell you everything, you don’t want to find it all out behind her back.  

You’ve been waiting with bated breath all afternoon, savouring every little piece of information she’s given you, and your smart-arse little sister could probably tell you loads about her if you asked. Lots of the details you’re so desperate to know about Alexia are probably only a quick google search away, but you feel guilty enough just knowing her surname without her having been the one to tell it to you.  

She hadn’t been super willing to even give you her first, and no wonder! It’s the single name that’s plastered on her shirt, it’s the name she’s known mononymously as. She’s women’s football’s answer to Beyoncé, Adele. 

Of course, she didn’t want to kiss you in front of people in the café, out there on the streets. It’ll be why she only kissed your cheek in front of the taxi driver. She probably is a little liar, because she almost certainly wasn’t giving directions to people when they approached you both. She presumably isn’t old friends with the two men who wanted a photo with her. They all just know who she is. The whole damn city of Barcelona knows exactly who she is.  

Maybe she was testing you, waiting for you to crack, to confess to knowing everything about her. How couldn’t you know about her? How unbelievably rude of you.  

She’s a celebrity footballer, and you’ve treated her like she’s one of the most normal people in the world. You’ve flirted with her, teased her, kissed her, slept with her, and she’s welcomed it all with that adorable little smirk.  

So, maybe she’s liked that you didn’t know, that you really had no idea about who she was at all. You can’t have had any preconceived thoughts about the woman when you’ve had no prior knowledge about her. Perhaps it’s been part of the fun for her, just being with someone who really couldn’t care about the noise surrounding her. Maybe that’s the reason she didn’t really want you knowing about it. Her fame could have changed things, pushed you away.  

It wouldn’t have. She’d have to do something intrinsically evil to frighten you off. Especially now, after the afternoon you’ve just spent together, learning more, and falling deeper for her. She’s still just the woman that baffled you with a lime in a nightclub, wound you up by kissing someone else. Rescued you from a night of undeniable regret, and turned it into the start of something magical.

She’s your once-in-a-lifetime connection, your confusing, and frustrating, perfect one-night stand companion. She’s the woman that's turned your whole world on its head, and it just turns out, that she quite likes to kick a ball around, with a bunch of other women for a living, and people from all over the world, have been watching her excel at it for years.

She has to know that you’ll have found out already, you’ve told her your sister’s football obsessed. Even if your sister didn’t know who she is, there’s bound to be other people wearing her name on their backs tomorrow. Probably not many of them were given their shirts by the woman herself. There’ll be even less of them with one of her sweatshirts in their bag.  

Maybe she’s excited for you to connect all the pieces together. Giving you her shirt was far too bold a move for her to still not want you to know. She’d have just talked you out of going to the game, if that was the case.  

She wants you there, being a very daring rebel, with her name boldly resting between your shoulder blades, rooting for her and Barcelona, right in the middle of the Chelsea fans. You’ll probably stand out like a sore thumb with your red stripes in the sea of blue you’ll be standing in, and maybe that’s exactly what she’s hoping for. She had ‘no doubt’ that you'd see each other again, after all. 

“She’s the best player on the team?” You ask your sister dreamily, collapsing back down on the bed and clinging to the shirt in your hand as you hold it against your body.  

“Mhmm. Best in the world.” She tells you, and there’s that exhilarating little thrill shooting right up through your body.  

“Oof. I’ll tell Sam Kerr you said that!”  

She scoffs to the side of you and flicks your forehead playfully. You lift Alexia’s shirt, holding it out in between your fingers to study her name again in disbelief.  

You're falling in love, with the ‘best in the world,’ and she seems to be falling for you, too. A little nobody from London, who’s spent the past month pining after who she thought, was a little nobody from Spain. She’s once again turned your whole damn world on its head.  

She really is absolutely everything.  

“I will hate you if you wear that thing tomorrow.” Your sister warns you, as she hits the shirt with the back of her hand. “I offered you a Chelsea shirt and you gagged at it!” 

“I’ve not gagged at this one.” You point out with a grin. “It’s a shame you won’t be friends with me tomorrow.” You tell her, resting the shirt back out over your torso.  

“You can’t wear it!” 

“I bloody can, and I very much will.” You inform her. “You should rethink wearing a Chelsea shirt. You’ll be very disappointed when we beat you tomorrow.” 

“‘We?’ You really are a twat. You’re Barcelona’s biggest fan all of a sudden?” 

“Too bloody right, I am!” You tell her decidedly, hugging the shirt against you. “I’ve always loved football, me.” 

[shima-draws]

Okay so a few things about the ending to the DLC. Spoilers below obviously

-Really REALLY disappointed they didn’t go with the whole toxic possession arc thing with Kieran and the new mythical (Pecharunt?) TO BE FAIR that was more of a fan theory than anything but it was one that made a lot of sense and had a lot of evidence to back it up. I guess I got too attached to the idea and was inevitably let down when the game didn’t go in that direction. Still it would have made more sense to give that extra edge as to why Kieran’s treating everyone so awfully,, and having him finally break free of that control during the final fight VS Terapagos would have been SO sick. Either that or before we even get to Terapagos Carmine calls Kieran out and that’s when he finally fucking explodes and rages and vents about his inferiority complex—and THAT is what summons Pecharunt, those negative feelings that it probably feeds off of or smth idk. Then we’d get a split second of Kieran finally being back in control and begging for help. And then Carmine realizing her brother has been under the influence of this Pokemon the entire time and. Okay I’m getting off track into AU territory now lmao sorry moving on

-Switching back to the Terapagos fight, I really enjoyed it! It wasn’t too long of a fight to be drawn out, but it was just long enough that it didn’t feel anticlimactic (also the MUSIC? STELLAR. Pun intended). ALSO ARGHFHH the five stages of grief Kieran goes through in that fight to finally accepting that he’s been going about this the wrong way and has been an awful friend and the way the LIGHT COMES BACK INTO HIS EYES I ALMOST CRIED. This is 10000x more emotional and powerful if you choose to bring Ogerpon with you and fight with her bc that really just. Hammers in the fact that despite all the bad blood and bitterness, Kieran still chooses to fight alongside you and the Pokemon he coveted so much…AND he even processes things enough to fully let go of all his hatred and anger and allows you to catch Terapagos because he KNOWS you’ll take good care of it and after all this time he still trusts you even though he’d probably hate to admit it. #GOOD WRITING

-Something really scary I realized. Kieran brought a Master Ball with him to catch Terapagos. 1. Where did homie even get that. 2. The fact that he was READY and didn’t even give Terapagos a chance to react, that he was essentially catching it against its will (which probably led to its power going out of control), that he was enforcing his own twisted desires and beliefs onto it and not considering its feelings (sound familiar? Looks at Ogerpon). BOY. 3. We’ve only ever seen ONE other person use Master Balls in SV. The AI Professor. I don’t know if this is significant in any way but if the Pecharunt theory WAS true that would make them so so similar and that’s eerie to me. Two characters controlled by something greater than them that they can’t fight…can you imagine how INSANE the dynamics would be listen to me

-Another thing I was kinda disappointed about was Briar? I guess I was just picking up on the vibes that she was actually a villain and would try to steal Terapagos from the player, but I probably gave Nintendo too much credit on that one lol. I do like that she’s not inherently evil, she’s just too absorbed and obsessed with her research to really pay attention to what’s going on around her. BUT. They should have pushed that WAY further. Either commit and do the full villain arc where she snatches Terapagos from Kieran right after he catches it to use it for her own purposes, or pressure him into Terastallizing it so much that it makes him uncomfortable. I want to see Lusamine levels of unhinged obsession. What she had was just a little bit too excited about Area Zero, not a full blown unhealthy and dangerous thing that puts everyone around her in danger.

-Following up on that. Drayton. I kept expecting him to also go villain arc IDK LOL I guess I want everyone to be gay do crime in this DLC 😂 But I seriously kept thinking he was just using the player to knock Kieran off his throne so he could take it right back from us. But no he actually genuinely cared about Kieran and kept pressuring us to beat the Elite Four so WE could knock some sense into him since Drayton wasn’t strong enough to do it himself. Which is a very sweet sentiment, I think :’) But am I the only one who was like bro calm down right after the fight where he was getting up in Kieran’s face and calling him ex-champion…..either he’s way too honest and doesn’t realize he was being cruel OR he was doing it on purpose to be a silly goober (but everyone else was like DUDE. LOW blow.)

-I still have questions. HELLO. HELLO. The notes in Area Zero mentioned the professor meeting a child with a white(?) book? Is that the Scarlet/Violet book? We still don’t know how the whole time travel paradox happened and why Heath talked about meeting Paradox Pokemon DECADES before the professor even brought them to Area Zero through the time machine? What is with the weird ass crystal tree sitting in the middle of a lake in the depths? Is there any significance to the Crystal Pool in Kitakami being connected to terastallizing and Area Zero? I’M JUST. AGHHH. I’m fairly certain we’re getting more content, maybe an epilogue to the DLCs but I’m going CRAZY I NEED TO KNOW NOWWW

-Also isn’t Area Zero like. Top secret hush hush. Why did Geeta let Briar publish a whole ass book about the HIDDEN SECRET of Area Zero that was miles under a closed off SECRET lab. I thought they were denying Briar access to Area Zero for YEARS, probably because they didn’t want her blabbing to the public. Idk. Maybe my memory is fuzzy on that one. Just feels very contradictory fhhdd

-The small little subtleties of Kieran regaining his regular personality as we went down….I ADORED that. His little smiles and him unable to contain his childish excitement and Carmine smiling at him with a knowing look bc after all this time her brother is FINALLY acting more like himself. And Kieran trying to brush it off like “wh-whatever” like he’s some sort of edgy teenager pretending he doesn’t care. GAHHHH it was so cute I wanted to cry 😭

ALL IN ALL it didn’t QUITE meet my expectations but it was still really good, especially considering this was all DLC content. Nothing will ever EVER top the main story of SV but the entirety of TTM and TID came pretty darn close. Kieran my sweet baby boy my blorbo I’m so glad you got your redemption arc and that you finally came to terms with your perception of strength and how it affects others. Baller DLC Nintendo do it again 👏

[cbrownjc]

Theory: Why this second 'Interview' is happening

So a few weeks ago, Rolin Jones said that there was a reason the second interview had to happen, which will be revealed this season. And we would learn the reason why one character needed it to happen in ep 2x05; then we would learn why another character needed it to happen in 2x08 (the season finale).

Now the person we will learn needs the second interview to happen in episode 2x05 will, IMO, be Louis. For now, he seems the most clear as being one of the two people IMO. For, as we saw in ep 2x01 Louis knows he hasn't been remembering everything correctly, but that he really wants to. At the moment, Louis has been (deliberately) sidetracked from thinking/wondering if anything else he remembers might not be fully correct but, by ep 2x05, he'll start questioning that again IMO.

Plus, for some reason, Louis is very insistent on this interview taking place and happening no matter what. Because just thinking over everything that has happened storywise up to this point? I actually don't think Louis is in any way fully aware of just how off his memories are. I think he knows something feels off or wrong but he can't quite fully place what that is.

So yes, IMO, Louis is the first character who needed the second interview to happen.

But who is the second character who needed the second interview to happen? Well, this theory very much includes book spoilers (that IMO the show is very much hinting at) to talk about, so I'm giving fair warning right now: this theory very deeply goes into something from the books, as well as tying into another theory I have for what might happen at the end of the season. So, just to be safe, I'm going to place this next part under a spoiler cut:

The character who, IMO, will be revealed as needing this second interview to happen, which we will learn in ep 2x08, will be Claudia.

Yep. IMO Claudia is the one who needed the second interview to happen. Or, more importantly, her spirit/ghost does.

And what clicked this for me is remembering something Delainey herself noted in an interview before the season started which was -- yes, Claudia's journals are there but even they can't give you a full and accurate picture of Claudia and her story. So how can Claudia speak and tell her story?

And that is where this second interview comes in. Because, if you know the book, Merrick, then you know that book contained what was thought to be an appearance of Claudia's ghost/spirit. But that wasn't the only book where we see Claudia's ghost/spirit. We also see her in Tale of the Body Theif . . . or, at least Lestat sees her.

And who was the main antagonist of TotBT? Raglan James. Who, hell, even if Justin Kirk really isn't Raglan James (and is actually Marius or someone else) still works IMO -- in the context of hinting toward that storyline that had Lestat haunted by memories of Claudia and dealing with seeing her "spirit" talking to him.

Because yes, I do think very much that Louis is seeing Claudia's spirit right now, in some way. Just like he did in the book Merrick.

And it's from seeing her spirit and just feeling that something is wrong wrt all of what's going on about it, that has Louis so insistent that this second interview has to happen.

And it's why four other people have come to do this same thing Daniel is doing and either ended up dead . . . or undead.

Hell because again, if you know the story in Merrick then you know Merrick Mayfair herself is the one Louis enlisted to help him summon and speak to Claudia's spirit in the first place; and she ended up putting Louis under a spell to make him turn her into a vampire.

Maybe that comment from Raglan James was a hint about that having already happened to the show's version of Merrick Mayfair. Who's maybe already been there to help summon Claudia's spirit in the first place?

Anyway . . .

IMO, Claudia's ghost/spirit is not only around, but IMO she wants what really happened to her to be known; the truth of not only why Louis and Lestat created her, but how she was failed by them and, most of all, the full truth of not only how she felt about both of them about it all, but also the truth surrounding her death (The Frankenstein Experiment) to not just be revealed but understood . . . mainly understood by Louis and Lestat.

And no, the reason Claudia's spirit wants this isn't benevolent. Just as the spirit of Claudia in the books wasn't benevolent when Lestat and Louis encountered her in them. What she wants, I think most of all, is for them both to face the truth of their actions and what that makes them (in her eyes).

I don't think Louis knows all this of course. I think he just knows Claudia's spirit is still around for some reason and that he thinks going over everything that happened wrt his life will help him figure that reason out.

And after four previously failed attempts Daniel was brought in for the simple reason that, unlike maybe three of the first four, Armand won't kill Daniel to stop this whole thing. (And, you know, if Merrick Mayfair was the first of those four, Daniel can't steal either of their blood to try and make himself a vampire.)

And can I just say, if this theory is correct, then I don't think Claudia's spirit is going to rest after she convinces Louis to do in the show what her spirit in the book convinced him to do. Because again, Lestat also got haunted by the spirit of Claudia in TotBT. And while I'm not sure he'd see her spirit in Season 3 when he begins to tell his story and POV of things (and so when we see Claudia it will be when she's alive during flashback sequences) I do think the show would be setting up for her spirit to do so going forward after that.

Because spirit entities do play a major role in what is to come in the overall story I think the show is heading to (which I and others think will be a combination of the Akasha and Amel threats in Queen of the Damned and Prince Lestat). Starting off by showing Claudia as a spirit entity can be used to begin to ease non-book readers into this concept IMO.

And all of this fits very much with why Armand not only doesn't want this interview to happen but still reluctantly let it happen. Because, if you know his backstory, Armand very much can see spirits and ghosts unaided. That is how strong his Mind Gift abilities are. So if Claudia's spirit/ghost is around in the Dubai penthouse, Armand would very well know that. And so would very much not want her spirit hanging around anymore if at all possible. Because of what Claudia's spirit could, at some point, communicate about him. ("My name is in some of those pages.")

Because I do think that while Louis does know about the role Armand played in Claudia's death, IMO Louis doesn't know about The Frankenstein Experiment. Because, in the books, nobody knew about that -- least of all Louis and Lestat -- until Armand himself revealed it over a century later in The Vampire Armand.

And the show is very much not cutting that moment out but, instead, has been hinting and foreshadowing about it.

I said in another post that I think Armand is, for lack of a better metaphor, like a little kid who wet the bed and now is trying to hide the sheets when it specifically comes to this. This is why he's against the interview happening because it being revealed will crumble the contented life he feels he's built with Louis in Dubai. Because Armand just craves love and being loved so much and not being alone . . . and is fearful he very much will be if this all goes in the direction it could.

One of Armand's major faults is that, when he loves someone, he tends to go way, way, WAY overboard in trying to either secure that person's love . . . or to keep it. If you know the book TVL, Armand did that with Lestat, (forcing himself into Lestat's mind and drinking Lestat's blood without permission), and that is the reason Lestat, in the end, could never trust Armand enough to be companions with him.

And Armand repeated that same pattern with Louis in Paris in allowing Claudia to be killed when, as coven master, he very well could have prevented it.

And now Armand is doing something way overboard, once again, in Dubai, in trying to hide the one thing regarding Claudia in Paris that Louis doesn't know about -- as well as keep Louis safe from doing something extreme if Louis remembers everything the real way it happened . . . as well as hiding the one thing about it all -- regarding Armand's own role in Claudia's fate that Louis still doesn't know about (and in the book Armand says he kept closely hidden until this moment).

Many book readers have always wondered about that Frankenstein reveal because, once Armand reveals it, it's never brought up again. We never hear how Louis and Lestat felt about learning about it. However, I think the show is very much going to give Louis and Lestat both a reaction to and about it when they learn of it. (And no, they are not going to kill Armand for it. But Armand might just be right to worry that Louis learning about it very well might cause his life with Louis in Dubai to be destroyed.)

So yeah, IMO, the second character that Rolin said would be revealed to be wanting this second interview in ep 2x08 is Claudia. And, IMO, this theory also fits with what Jacob said about this being Claudia's season more than anyone else's.

[uriekukistan]

alright i've been seeing so much megumi hate recently, and especially after the new chapter (not on here, mostly twitter youtube and tiktok), so as president of the megumi defense squad, here is my dissertation defending him against the bum allegations.

i've seen a lot of people comparing megumi's situation to yuuji in shibuya, and saying that megumi should be able to "just get up and keep fighting," so i'm going to tell you why this is not a fair comparison, and give some context on yuuji's "recovery" from shibuya that i feel people are missing when they say this. this is quite lengthy, sorry in advance

i. fundamental differences in the ways in which yuuji & megumi view saving people

yuuji wants to save everyone. he wants to save as many people as he can because of what his grandfather said to him on his deathbed. this is what kickstarted the events of jjk. if yuuji hadn't felt this way, he never would have eaten that finger to say some guy he met an hour ago, which is another point. yuuji cares for people easily. he threw his life on the line to save megumi immediately after meeting him. he mourned junpei, who he spent all of a few hours with in total like he had known him for years.

this is very different from megumi, who both does not get attached to people easily, and does not care to save everyone. he only cares to save people he deems worthy, and as far as we know, this list consists of only tsumiki and yuuji. its even unclear if he feels this way about nobara or gojo, despite them also being relatively important in his life. as you can see, when he thinks about saving people by his conscience, the only two characters shown are tsumiki and yuuji.

this is why he sometimes gets some criticism for not doing a half-assed job as a sorcerer, but i think its important to remember that he does not actually want to be a sorcerer, only doing it out of necessity to keep tsumiki from the zen'in clan. the times where we do see him taking things seriously are when yuuji and/or tsumiki's lives are what's at stake.

so in shibuya, after watching his own hands slaughter innocent people, and watching nanami and nobara die, yuuji is able to keep going because there are still more people who need to be saved, and he wants to save everyone. in contrast, megumi has watched his own hands kill one of the two people that he cares about saving, and severely maim the other one, so what is there to keep fighting for, given the way he views the world?

and i think it's also important to note that megumi has not been aware of his surroundings since sukuna v yorozu, so saying that he should get up now to save yuuji is not reasonable because he doesn't even know yuuji is there.

ii. the environment yuuji was in in shibuya vs the environment megumi is in right now

now none of that is to say that yuuji did not also break down and want to give up in shibuya, because he absolutely did (actually, im not sure if this is canon or just my theory, but the reason he did not switch back with sukuna at the detention center was because he wanted to give up), but the circumstances were way different

within minutes of watching nanami and nobara die, todo & nitta were there to encourage him and get him back on his feet (most of that was due to todo, but nitta was also telling yuuji not to lose hope).

meanwhile, megumi has been alone for over a month now, save the few seconds in 251 where i'm pretty sure he didn't even know yuuji was there, with nothing but his own misery to keep him company. sukuna took over his body and killed tsumiki with megumi's technique on november 16th. the shinjuku showdown takes place on december 24th. that's over a month stewing in guilt and mourning with no one to support him at all. that makes it a lot more difficult to bounce back quickly like that.

iii. more context on yuuji

even after todo's little pep talk that gave him the strength to get up and finish mahito off, yuuji didn't just "bounce back" and stand up to keep fighting in the way people think he did. in the days following the shibuya incident, he was really directionless, probably a bit reckless, because he genuinely didn't know what to do with himself, and didn't know if he even deserved to be alive. in my personal interpretation of yuuji immediately post-shibuya, if it weren't for choso, he would have likely lost his life, as he just showed a lack of self-regard in those days following. just one example:

it's not until megumi shows up again that yuuji finds a direction to go, and even then, he's operating with the mindset that once everything is over, megumi and tsumiki are safe, and gojo is unsealed, he will die and stop causing trouble for everyone.

so again, i think the megumi/yuuji comparison as a way to hate on megumi is not fair, both because there are important differences in the way they think and their situations, and because yuuji's reaction post shibuya isn't quite as resolved and strong as people make it out to be. this is not to say that yuuji is not strong! he absolutely is, just to point out that he, like megumi, was/is also lacking the will to live, and there's nothing wrong with that! wanting to give up is a completely reasonable reaction to being in this situation as an ADULT, let alone at 15 years old.

if you've made it this far, thank you for listening to me ramble 🙏 pls let me know any of your thoughts as well, i'd love to chat about this!

[sarshles-cheescake-li]

Why's Lu Guang's hair white?

It has occurred to me that a lot of people on the English side of the fandom aren't aware of the Lu Guang white hair theory.

It's a very popular theory/headcanon on the Chinese side (I'd say maybe 30% of people believe in it?) of the situation. I have no idea who in the English fandom have talked about it and who haven't, so I'll just provide what I know of it. Full disclaimer that I wasn't the first one to make this observation.

The theory is based on this scene right here, episode 12 of season 2. Here, Qiao Ling has a singular white hair after receiving Xixi’s powers (and seemingly activating them for the first time). This can be either interpreted as her spontaneously gaining a white hair, or as just an effect of the lighting.

Lu Guang has (presumably) received and activated Cheng Xiaoshi’s powers before.

Lu Guang’s hair is white.

Are you picking up what I’m putting down?

It doesn’t help that his eyebrows are a different colour. In pretty much every piece of official media, they’re a grey a bit lighter than his eyes. Except for in the phone ad for OPPO (I think that’s what that was…?) where his eyebrows are largely black, except for one shot where they’re their normal grey, so I’m fairly certain that’s just a mistake in animation. I could’ve sworn to God there was one piece of media where his eyebrows were white, but I can’t find said piece, so I guess that was a fever dream.

Quite a few people have wondered how a naturally white-haired person would have darker-coloured eyebrows. Based on that, the argument is that Lu Guang’s natural hair colour is darker, and his hair turned white later in life. Of course, from an artistic standpoint, this evidence is… hard to work with. Characters with a light hair colour paired with a light skin colour often are drawn with their eyelashes and eyebrows being a darker colour for the purpose of contrast. It’s not rare for a white-haired character with fair skin to end up with grey eyebrows, since it makes their eyebrows more easily visible while still looking lighter. The problem?

Ouyang Bubai (how does the English fandom refer to him…? Do I use pinyin for him? Jyutping? Cantonese Yale? Is his Chinese name written in simplified or traditional???) has almost the exact same hair colour as Lu Guang. His eyebrows are white.

Paint tool sai version 2 colour picker (and visual examination) tells me his eyebrows are a slightly different colour than his hair, being a bit warmer and a smidgeon darker, but the point stands. Compared to Lu Guang’s eyebrows, you can definitely tell they’re drawn differently.

Other light haired characters like the Li siblings receive the same treatment as Ouyang Bubai, having pink eyebrows. It’s just Lu Guang who has his situation.

And no, it’s not a matter of convenience. Link Click’s eyebrows are always drawn with black lineart and a solid fill, usually one matching the character’s hair colour. Lu Guang’s eyebrows match neither his eyes nor his hair, something that would theoretically make drawing him more inconvenient because now you’ve got one extra colour in the pallet.

But if the point was that Lu Guang’s hair isn’t supposed to be white, then why make his eyebrows so light? Because now, what is potentially foreshadowing looks like artistic liberty. Was it for the sake of visual cohesion? To throw theorists off? Is it something about the character design process and Inplick?

Anyway, a few possibilities emerging from this theory.

How many times has Lu Guang went back in time for Cheng Xiaoshi if all his hair is white? Or does the process speed up the more you use another person’s powers?

Does his hair turn white all at once whenever he goes back in time, or is it gradual? Like, was there ever an attempt where Cheng Xiaoshi went to bed, woke up, and went “woah Lu Guang that was one mean mental breakdown you had last night if you bleached half your hair”

Does using another person’s powers affect you negatively in other ways? Is that why Lu Guang has limited attempts – not because he’s running out of photos, but because he’s running out of time himself? And, my personal favourite:

The white hair isn’t because of power usage. It’s because of stress. Lu Guang is just a lot more stressed than Qiao Ling is.

[thestrangesthell]

"Let's get married on your favourite holiday."

"Will you marry me on Halloween?"

"That's in two days!"

I re-watched Beetlejuice Beetlejuice (casually, this time) and ended up slowly descending down another theory stairwell.

Rory's pathetic proposal uncovers a previously-unknown (though unsurprising) fact about Lydia:

Halloween is her favourite holiday.

While this detail comes as a shock to absolutely no one, it triggered a brand-new headcanon to emergency land straight into my brain.

Beetlejuice Beetlejuice could have been set at literally any time of year. The season has very little impact on the plot (with the exception of adding to the overall atmosphere and aesthetic). The main driving force is a few comedic gags with the Shrink Heads, Trick-or-Treaters and sets up the plot device for Astrid to fall head-first into Jeremy's trap.

Why does that matter?

Well, let's talk "psychic" connections.

Now, whether you believe Betelgeuse truly has a "psychic connection" with Lydia or not, it's fair to say the man is 100% spying on her.

Black and white motifs appear throughout the movie, insinuating a persistent presence of Betelgeuse. The first time we see this is during the Ghost House footage. A painting can be seen on the back wall and, in the night-vision camera, appears to be black and white stripes (or wiggles - if we're going to get really specific).

Again, we see black and white stripes on the man in the audience (whom Lydia "mistakes" for Betelgeuse) and later with the clown costume kid at Astrid's school.

Lydia also outrightly says:

"I feel this [his] presence."

There's not much more I can say here to convince you that Betelgeuse is an omni-present false protagonist.

The long and short of this point is that Betelgeuse is constantly checking up on Lydia. Whether it's to make her see him, sense him, miss him - it's all a part of his plan. The key thing is that he is able to do it.

Now, let's jump back to Rory's shit attempt at a proposal.

In this scene, Rory specifies Halloween is Lydia's favourite holiday. If we consider that fact that Betelgeuse is omni-present, he learns this too (although I'd place a lot of money on the fact he already knew and/or assumed this).

Now, let's jump in the line again, but this time, to the scene where Lydia summons Betelgeuse.

"I can't believe I'm doing this..."

After confirming that Lydia's daughter "is screwed," Betelgeuse bargains with Lydia for something in return in exchange for his help.

No where in this scene does Betelgeuse suggest or directly insinuate marriage. He simply asks for a way "to get away from her [Delores] permanently."

This could range from any number of things from Lydia's help putting a stop to Delores' plans to an outright exorcism.

It's Lydia who assumes that marriage is what he is after.

But look at him. He isn't going to complain. The man is delighted.

Anyway.

My point is that Betelgeuse must know that Lydia is engaged. Rather than make it awkward for her, he lets her make the call as to whether or not marriage is on the table.

Although I'm sure he also knows she's not exactly enthralled by the prospect of marrying Rory.

Now, let's cut to the wedding itself.

"If I don't do it now, I'm never gonna do it!"

I can't help but wonder, was Lydia talking about marriage in general, her marriage to Rory, or her marriage to Betelgeuse here.

(Side note: I headcanon that Lydia never got married. Not even to Richard. But that's a post for another day...)

After making make Rory make a fool of himself (say that three times fast), Betelgeuse sets the scene. He knows time isn't on their side, (yet still sings 90% of MacArthur Park like a lovesick idiot) and does some very specific things that round off my entire point:

He changes Lydia's original dress to something more of Lydia's taste. We know he was present while Lydia and Rory talked wedding plans in Charle's study, so we can assume he also saw what Rory ordered in from Soho.

He pulls out a lipsynch/floatation number à la Jump In The Line (which Lydia begs the Maitlands to do in the 1988 movie).

He gives her his literal heart.

And (most important to my point), he "crashes" Lydia and Rory's wedding to make sure it still takes place on her favourite holiday.

The wedding in Beetlejuice (1988) is as romantic as it is slow and steadily paced. That is to say, it's a complete shit show.

Betelgeuse is a manic mess of pleaseletmeoutintothelivingworldpleasepleaseplease and rushes everything in order to get his freedom. The idiot even forgets to have a ring at hand...or, ya know...finger.

Another sidenote: While I (personally) DO believe he has some type of strong feeling for Lydia in the first movie, he clearly wants his freedom more than a wife. He's been hurt by love before and literally snorts at the idea that he has to get married in order to get out "for good."

So...why is Halloween so important?

It's a day that's special and meaningful to Lydia.

And Betelgeuse is trying to make the wedding special and meaningful to her.

With a dress she would love, a song, floating in the air with her, calling her "one of the loves of my [his] life", taking it slow, throwing in a cheeky head spin to keep it strange and unusual - doing it all on Halloween.

He pulls out every single stop to make it as perfect as he possibly can.

Plus, if my headcanon that Lydia has never gotten married is true, the least Betelgeuse can do is embarrass Rory even further and make his attempt look even more pathetic.

So...yeah. Halloween was more than just a spooky setting. In my heart, anyway.

Happy Halloween 🎃

[slackerlifewhere]

random thought #5: clothes

I only noticed this after remembering what he went through as Kim Rok Soo but I think Cale actually likes or prefers to wear dark-colored clothes. That, or there's another reason why he wears them.

It's not as obvious in the manhwa because the artist probably wants him to have bright colored clothes (fair) but it's been mentioned a few times in the beginning of the novel.

Cale, who used to enjoy wearing fancy clothes and showing off until just two years ago, was suddenly only wearing dark clothes, and had a completely different demeanor about him.

Chapter 43: Somehow

I'm not completely sure if he likes the color (shade?) but I remembered seeing Kim Rok Soo wearing them behind Cale Henituse in a cover.

[SPOILERS for the first part of TCF👇]

Dark clothes could mean a person wants to look cool and stylish or it could mean a person is boring. And in some ways, the person wearing black is grieving.

I looked it up because I wasn't too sure (and I don't want to offend anyone) but Koreans apparently wear black clothes at funerals.

And knowing his past, it could be that he never stopped grieving even as Cale Henituse.

Like I've mentioned before, and what most readers know about him after reading the novel, there are a lot of funerals back in Korea and he attended some of them.

People die everyday in his world and some of them don't have anyone to grieve for them. It's why he's the one who showed up in Lee Soo Hyuk and Choi Jung Soo's funeral.

One of the things that changed the most was the funeral tradition. The reason was simple.

Too many people had died.

And even more continued to die every day and will die in the future.

- Chapter 719

Him constantly grieving for those he lost could appear in what he's wearing.

Yes, there are moments when he wears them to look intimidating in front of the nobles or his enemies but there was this one scene after the Plaza Terror Incident when he actually wears dark clothes, albeit more luxurious.

“It is a beautiful day today. Probably because we are here to respect the fallen.”

Cale’s red hair fluttered in the wind and created a stark comparison to his black outfit.

- Chapter 48: Somehow

It's a sad thing to think about if this is actually the reason why he wears them.

Another preference that was briefly mentioned before is him liking simple clothes. It could mean several things for him.

Simple clothes could mean he's lazy (which is debatable but probably true). Simple clothes could mean he's a guy with simple tastes (also debatable). Simple clothes could mean he was poor or doesn't have the more luxurious type of clothes. Or simple clothes could mean he's used to wearing them in a world where the apocalypse is real and he needs to move comfortably to survive.

I'm thinking he's so used to getting too injured, he never allows himself to wear something different. Like if you're gonna get cuts all over your body after using an ability, I doubt you'll bother wearing something nice.

It's intriguing how a simple mention of his clothes can mean several things.

I really didn't consider the possibility of something more by judging what he wears.

From his words, to his actions, and even to his clothes, you can make different opinions and theories about him and that's why I'm having so much fun reading this novel.

[misasimagines]

happy birthday Jiro!!! conspiracy time.

Okay, I don’t have any fics or hcs for Jiro’s birthday, but I do have a theory. I don’t think Yuri actually wants Jiro to get healthier and might actually prefer it if he stays unhealthy and dependent on Yuri. Theory below! This is long... If I missed anything or got anything wrong or if anyone has additional information to submit, PLEASE!!! Share!!!!

I also wrote this frantically to post before midnight lmao please go easy on me...

To start, we should look into what we know about Yuri:

He’s a transfer from Frostheim for reasons that have left him on very very very bad terms with Jin and Frostheim as a whole. He’s referred to as having run away to hide in Mortkranken. Whether he is the friend who betrayed Jin or not, I can’t say, but it’s very possible he was involved in something that left Jin and co upset with him to the point of basically exiling him. 

He’s afraid of Romeo, so Sinostra is another out for him by default. Why is he afraid, again, I can’t say, but this leaves him without possible support from two big possible financial backers. Since he is very serious about the budget and how Mortkranken looks, this is a bad thing for him and one he is assuredly very aware of. Remember, Yuri is obsessed with his own legacy, his own image. Mortkranken’s success is Yuri’s success. Mortkranken looking poor and having no accolades reflects poorly on him and he cannot separate himself from this.

He can’t fight, either by choice or lack of ability, and relies on Jiro to protect him. This is something they both acknowledge and is a feature of the Mortkranken chapter. It makes sense, as his stigma is not particularly combat focused and he complains about exercise.

And he has no allies or friends currently, at least publicly. Everyone who references him does so with a bit of distaste or distance, and when he is trying to convince his own Mortkranken students to help him and the MC carry up the vat of acid, he has to bribe them. He cannot appeal to their loyalty to him as their captain, their respect, their friendship- no, he has to pay them to help him.

Mortkranken as a whole operates on a laissez-faire foundation, where Yuri isn’t even aware of what the gen admission students are researching or who is interning at Darkwick General. Within his own house, the one he is the captain of, he is still an outsider and isolated from his peers.

If you go through Yuri’s home screen lines, he refers to Jiro A LOT, and like… no one else. Dude can’t do anything without having Jiro do it for him or with him. Their dynamic is very much Yuri ordering Jiro around and Jiro obeying (with complaints here and there, but mostly he just goes through with it all). There’s even a suggestion that Jiro might be the most effective impulse control that Yuri has. After failing to cure the MC’s cure with his new ibuprofen knockoff, he wants to jump right into shooting her up with anomaly blood without acknowledging the danger this could put her in. Jiro has to comment that there’s no reason to do this hastily, as it could kill her. Only then does Yuri back down and seem to recognize he was being too impulsive in his desire to hide his perceived failure. 

From all of this, we can see that Yuri does have a vested interest in keeping Jiro by his side. Jiro is smart, strong, seems to have few qualms with putting himself in danger, and is pragmatic enough as to acknowledge that he needs Yuri to survive. Why would Yuri pick Jiro, though, if he could have reasonably recruited someone else to protect him or be his assistant? There are physically stronger and more healthy ghouls, like Alan, or he could have tried to bond with someone more amenable like Rui (however, it seems like Rui might not be the biggest Yuri fan…more on that later) Well…

Jiro also… He’s not completely clear about his memory issues: 

For someone who is so straightforward, this seems VERY unclear and peculiar to me. He doesn’t say he doesn’t remember, he says his memories are vague and that there’s no evidence either way. If he is a suspect or if he did commit the murder and he DOES remember, then here’s another way Yuri could buy his alliance: corroborate Jiro having amnesia as a symptom of his sickness, or even worse, cause amnesia. After the graveyard, inter-house mission chapter and Jiro’s reaction to the crying ghost child, it’s not unfounded to say Jiro himself might have wanted to get rid of unpleasant memories.

Also note that the Vagastrom student says “kid” from Ultio, and Jiro’s negative reaction is to a ghost child. 

Now that we have that out of the way, what are some reasons how Yuri would potentially keep Jiro unhealthy and therefore reliant on him? The voiceline that started this theory is Jiro’s affinity 22 home screen voice line:

I’m not a medical student or a doctor or particularly versed in any of this, but from a little bit of research, my understanding is that simple interrupted sutures are used on shallower, more surgical cuts and could potentially leave lasting marks, while deep dermal sutures are done on a deeper layer of the flesh, more effective on larger wounds, and are generally meant to be used with suture materials that can be absorbed by the body once the wound has closed. Given that Jiro is noted to not heal very well, and Yuri frequently has to redress his wounds, it seems like maybe the shallower stitches aren’t holding up. Additionally, it doesn’t look like Jiro’s wounds are all exclusively surgical. Let’s take a minute to look at Jiro shirtless for conspiracy reasons, not lust reasons (okay, maybe some lust reasons):

Most of the cuts on his back and arms look like claw marks. They’re more jagged, asymmetric, and inconsistent. The scar down his chest is pretty strange given the star shapes, so that’s likely related to Yuri’s surgical incisions, but that’s not what Yuri is treating here. He’s treating the claw marked shaped wounds. Jiro is also NOT stupid, so the fact that he’s suggesting this is not to be overlooked. Yuri chooses not to listen, maybe because it would be more effective, and then he’d rely on Yuri less.

Then there are these moments:

The first one is a blatant lie, as Jiro is the one who does most of the shot-administering. He does the MC’s checkups, including bloodwork and giving her the dosage of Yuri’s liquid tylenol. The only time he falters in this is when his illness acts up and makes him shaky. So no, he doesn’t have a lack of expertise that keeps him from administering his own shots unless there’s something currently unknown (or I’m missing).

For the second screenshot, this is during the conversation between Yuri and Jiro where Jiro has presumably come back from Frostheim and is lying or experiencing memory problems when relaying his whereabouts to Yuri. He’s experiencing what they refer to as “cyanosis” which is low oxygen in the blood, causing extremities to change color in purple/blue (something you can see on his hands in his Halloween look, so it’s likely a recurring or constant condition). 

Yuri gives him an adrenaline shot, which, again, not in the medical field, but this seems fine? Adrenaline would speed up his heart which would encourage blood and oxygen flow to his extremities which would likely help. 

Jiro then requests metoclopramide hydrochloride which is a medication taken by people with gastrointestinal issues generally related to diabetes and acid reflux. It’s supposed to help with nausea and vomiting, both symptoms that pop up a lot for him. If he was in a coma for a long time and admits to not being able to eat anything, then this request of his makes sense. His stomach lining and esophagus were likely damaged by intubation and stomach acid, and any related surgery or medication could only add to this damage. 

Yuri responds just by giving him a glucose shot instead which Jiro allows, but it seems like this would only work if he had low blood sugar and not a wealth of other issues that he definitely has. I’m sure low blood sugar is something he experiences as well due to his inability to eat anything, but I don’t see anything that says this would treat his nausea. Curious that Yuri might be intentionally leaving Jiro to experience negative side effects!

And then there is, ultimately, Jiro lying or having memory issues when he claims to have been to Obscuary but returns to Mortkranken with snowflakes in his hair and he’s borderline hypothermic. Jiro is very blunt and straightforward, which could lead you to believe he doesn’t lie, but I don’t think that’s necessarily the correct position to take. He’s smart, he’s crazy smart when it comes to the medical field to the point that he’s making major discoveries with little acknowledgment from himself because he sees them as minor. Anything that Yuri does to him that isn’t 100% going to help him heal? He knows. And who else knows?

Rui.

Rui can watch things going on without anyone knowing he’s there, and he just so happens to interrupt a conversation where Tohma is CLEARLY trying to use leading questions on the MC to get her to reveal some information that would implicate a Mortkranken student, likely Jiro, as being a suspect in whoever interrogated and potentially killed a Frostheim student. Rui shows up and gives him an alibi. Why? Not sure, I have no clue what Rui’s relationship is to Jiro or if this interaction was purely to spite Tohma or if it was in opposition to Yuri somehow, but it’s suspicious nonetheless how this plays out.

So, basically, I don’t trust that Yuri has Jiro’s best interests at heart. I don’t mean to say in any of this that Yuri is evil, but I think he’s afraid and he’s clinging to a method of preserving his safety and that method is Jiro. As long as Jiro is reliant upon Yuri for medical care, Yuri can throw him at his problems and use him as an assistant and bodyguard. I also really hope to see how Rui is involved, if at all, and I have a general vibe that Rui, reaper as he is, might be able to see and/or hear Zenji... But that's just a vibe, I don't have evidence for that one :)

[oc-character-development]

Alright so I’ve been mostly quiet about the Ghosts front on here but it’s still my favourite comedy program (other than red dwarf) because I’ve been mourning and obsessing (much to my friends who haven’t seen the show’s annoyance) over the show’s last season and end.

Anyway I was reading the Ghosts companion for the 50th time since October and I realised a few things (sorry for the essay in advance)

1) the Captain’s death day is either the day before, on or just after the day Julian was born (Julian was canonically born the day after VE Day in 1945, The Captain died either on or just after VE Day, the 8th May 1945)

But more importantly,

2) this fucking thing:

So we all know who this is right? Of course we do, it’s Lieutenant/Major Anthony P Havers, the love of The Captain’s life (it’s probably fair to say that isn’t it). Well, look at the description- ‘Photograph of an unknown soldier found in the Commanding Officer’s belongings after Button House was decommissioned at the end of the Second World War. ’ Now there are two things that don’t seem right about the description to me:

1) Havers is referred to as an unknown soldier.

2) Found in the CO’s belongings upon the decommissioning of Button House.

Let’s tackle the first thing first, as it’s pretty easy, there’s a likely chance that it’s been enough years that the people who made the ‘home fires: records from the British front’ records that Alison is printing in the book doesn’t know who Havers was and couldn’t find any information about the person in photo. Perhaps because there weren’t any records and photos beyond that matching Havers or sometimes there just aren’t any records of the soldiers. There is another option, a sadder option is the reason why they couldn’t find information on Havers is because he may have died young. We know he didn’t die in the war but there’s a chance he died soon afterwards, perhaps in a ‘disgraceful’ way, but I guess we’ll never know.

The second thing, the Captain wasn’t there at Button House when it was decommissioned. He was in Weymouth from the end of ‘44, and the next time he was at Button House was the day he died, and he didn’t have a bag on him or anything so….how was this photo from his belongings in Button House after the war?

My theory is that the photo either fell out of The Captain’s pocket when he climbed in through the kitchen window or was found in his personal effects at Weymouth after the war when Button House was decommissioned.

Sorry for this bad unnecessary essay but what I’m trying to say is that I think there definitely was more tragedy surrounding the Captain that he maybe didn’t witness himself after he died beyond Havers grieving for him.

[missmarveledsblog]

It's the middle ( Joel miller x reader)

Summary: the town had their own theories to why y/n shell suddenly was opening more , only some took it as invitations and after she sets an asshole straight in the bar for his words on her and Ellie she is attacked . Some things are reveal and a darkness is coming back from the past

Warning: attempted sa , sort of heavy part not gonna lie

This is part two of its a start

They wondered how he did it , how the usually non social butterfly Joel miller got the surprisingly worse no social y/n well to talk . it wasn’t like she was new towns personality or anything but she was saying hello and actually answering people. They heard her voice albeit at first was almost a whisper but it was far from the short nods of acknowledgements which to be fair were also far and few inbetween . ellie also stop swearing keeping her word for a whole ten minutes before her mouth caught that missed out time up. But in the end they all wondered how he done it.

Something that didn’t end with the world was the gossip , each having their on theories of the matter from something bad happening she it was like a life is too short sort of thing to not so pg remarks that joel fucked her so hard she went into a factory reset those ones made him roll his eyes and scoff. She on other hand didn’t take notice of the rumours , ignored whispers about her as she walked learning to be open again was taking up more head space then grown adults acting like teenage girls. Which the little social interaction now open she notice men her age and older started talking to her some took her saying no as it was , some added weak jokes but again took her word and other well they didn’t take it so well like the very existence of her rejection was a threat to their male centred egos . she didn’t give them time of day which only made them more pissed like she was” little miss high and mighty” in their words. One in particular didn’t like it as much as the others , thought his shit didn’t stink and she was lucky to even have his attention .

Nigel Baker , he was attractive she’d give him that but it was everything else that was so ugly about him . the man was selfish , expected the best when he gave the bare minimum and serial womaniser . He bragged about how he took down a hoard of infected with just his hunting knife yet seemly everytime it was time for him to go on patrol he would have some form of injury that would make him useless for the task but for some reason or other he thought he desired everything he wanted and that included y/n .

“ he’s staring at you again , creepy fuck” ellie rolled her eyes as two sat at the bar of tipsy bison.

“ let him i ain’t bothered man like that is a child at best” she chuckled taking sip of her whiskey as ellie drank her water although she did try persuade them give her a glass of the “ hard stuff” .

“ i mean joel and tommy should be here soon , he usually stops when their around , going back to his fake ass tales” she snorted.

“ fake ass tales who would that be?” the sniffling voice asked behind them .

“ oh you know some kids and their tales , it’s cute but you can tell real one mile away” y/n barely looked at the man who was too well self absorbed to pick up the slight dig in her words.

“ ain’t it truth , they ain’t like us baby huh? Real survivors ” he took seat beside her.

“ why you talking like that aren’t you from chicago or something” ellie snorted at fake southern drawl he kept putting on .

“ ain’t you too young to be here , seems as though the miller bitches need to be taught their place, is that what you need baby , i mean fix her might make that one like men again huh? ” he shot back .

“Hey hey , so you fought off a hoard right that must of been scary when you do that” she asked batting her lashes fake smile like she wasn’t biting her tongue .

“ oh like six month ago easily” the smirk on his face one she seen in so many before him a mask of a monster, was the best way to describe it.

“ do you have it” she asked sweetly as ellie head watched in amusement , she may of not heard y/n speaking long but it was long enough to know she was playing with the man before her.

“ course ya can , see this is the one that did it” he held it up, anyone with weapons experience could tell it was a phoney ,thing wasn’t cutting anything but possibly the air. She took it from his hands and let out a loud laugh , louder than anyone possibly ever heard before including ellie.

“ this ain’t fighting anything but a hoard of butterflies never mind infected , i mean it’s good but it’s faker than your accent which could use a little work just saying” she snorted.

“ clearly don’t know anything about knives baby because look at it clearly been through it ” he scoffed although the blush on his face told a different story.

“ i know it a faux metal made probably what six months ago rust and pattern on knives ain't like that this ones got green flecks not the rust of the older ones would get , see it don’t even mark the wood so nigel my fake ass cowboy infected annihilator why the bullshit because my daddy used to make um before all this told me how to spot cheap ones from the real ones , i can see now why you don’t go on patrol wouldn’t want to break the show piece… oh and cowboy wanna be ain’t nothing needs to fixed with ellie just pissed she get more women than you do ” she laughed watching his smirk fall , that look in his eyes .

“ you’d wanna shut your mouth girl , just cause your joel millers plaything doesn’t mean i won’t put you in your place” he growled.

“ go ahead and you’ll see what a real knife is” she smiled holding it in her hand and his fake in her other . “ now leave before we have real problems” she handed it over .

“ watch yerself sweetheart old man can protect you all time” he hissed.

“ i can protect myself little man” she waved watching him storm out .

“ that was bad ass, the rust really go green ?” ellie chuckled .

“ the metal has a chemical reaction over time only thing that knife could do is spread butter on my toast i mean could take down one but even at that it would break easily” she shrugged.

“ hey there’s dina i’ll tell her to wait here til joel gets here incase he’s outside ” ellie smiled excitedly.

“ nah go ahead joel will show up he knows we’re here and bastard knows his place go on lover girl ” she smiled taking another swig .

“ ok tell him i’ll be home for curfew” she had a bashful smile while heading to the girl ones she’s expressed her interest in the last while seen as it wasn’t one side and two were close. Of course y/n wanted that , she wanted it with a man she could never have well in her mind could never have .

It was hours she sat waiting only too give up thinking maybe the meeting was in over time or joel already went home either way she was getting tired and her bed was definitely calling , a few good men offered to walk her home but she waved them off knowing it was a five minute walk back plus air was getting cooler hoping to catch the first of snowfall one tradition she always kept from her old life , the life of her family . ones who wanted her to be must of a child as she could be in a world falling apart. She stood out it was perfect sort of weather , her eyes on the sky watching waiting as she walked through the darkening streets of jackson . like on cue the first flake floated down from the sky as she smiled softly catching it on her finger tips , then another and then another. So concentrated on the connection to memories she didn’t register the figure sneaking up behind her til his hand was around her mouth and other dragging her off into the makeshift ally of the stores. Kicking and pushing trying to break the grip to no avail , being tired and drinks in her system didn’t have her as precise as before . she felt herself being slammed into the walls hitting her head against the brick but she could tell even in her daze vision she knew exactly who it was.

“ fucking bitch , what you gonna be a nasty little slut for , what is it i’m too young fer ya , like em old” nigel spat pinning her front to the cold wall . “ i’ll get you liking em you age again put manners on ya , stop you running your mouth” he laughed as she felt his hand going to her jean only for her to pull the knife out she could feel the blood heading into her eye . she felt his hand going for the button only for her knife to hit the skin cutting him making him get off of her with a hiss when she pushed him away . she ran yelling , screaming loudly as could hoping someone would hear her. She felt the arms wrapping around her making her slap and hit the person away.

“ darling stop it’s me , calm down” his voice , the man she wanted the panic setting as his scent hit her know . his voice calming that fight only for her to break in his arms it reminded him of the night she first let those walls come down . “ what happened” he asked softly.

“ nigel he tried to … tried”she said before crying again what she didn’t know was the men heard the commotion , was heading way as tommy and couple others headed to the alley .

“ take er home we’re going to pack his bags” tommy called as the men held nigel in their grips probably for his own safety from the look on joel’s face .

“ come on darling we get you home and cleaned up” joel lifted her up a her hang clung to him terrified like some how her mind made up the fact he was there and if she let go he would disappear. “ i cut him” she sniffled head buried in his neck. “ i hurt him to get away”.

“ only protecting yourself darling s’okay “ .

“ i pissed him off , provoked him joel i made everyone laugh at him i just wanted him leave me alone” she began crying again he could see it her torn clothes blood on her face the bruise on her cheek , the way she shook in his arms . it killed him , killed him to see her like this hell if she didn’t need him so much the bastard be dead before tommy and other even got the chance but she needed him and he promised her he always got him on her side.

He brought her to cleaned her up , gave her some clothes and gave her his bed for the night .

Ellie was late but moment she stepped in door she knew something was wrong, she could see he was tense more so than usual , she could see the bloody cloth and yet not scratch on him .

“ Y/N was attacked tommy and couple other taking him out of town , she’s sleep upstairs so be quiet” he said too tired mental and physically hating if wasn’t so close what the outcome would of been.

“ let me guess nigel” she asked .

“ yeah she told me about the bar man waited til she wasn’t looking , took her off guard cause prick knew she would of done worse if he confronted her straight on” he spatted hands gripping the chair knuckles bone white . “ lucky i ain’t out there now , she thought she done wrong , said she provoked him , she hurt him you believe that her heads busted open and bruised cheek and she thinks she done wrong i don’t care if she punched him in that bar a man don’t do that” he growled ready to grab his coat.

“ hey pretty girl you ok” ellie called looking to the stair snapping joel from rushing out the door.

“ i’m ok really urm i think i should get home” she smiled weakly.

“ yeah not happening in fact i’m putting you on house arrest til breakfast tomorrow” she joked hugging her tightly . “ i should of stayed” she could feel the shake in girls voice.

“ nah i already told him i’d show him real knife i got it don’t worry” she kissed her head softly probably only other person to have the affection from y/n . “ it’s no ones fault ellie he deserved what he got in the bar after what he said nothings more fragile than a monsters ego” she pulled back .

“ what he say in the bar?” joel asked.

“ bragging , said ellie needed fix , i was your plaything i mean lists goes on” she rolled her eyes yet winced at the sting in her cheek. “ i was biting my tongue and then he started with that so i well probably pushed too far but i’d do it again” she sat on sofa .

“ go get bed kid let you off this time coming home late” joel nodded his head at stair .

“ you better be here is morning , night you two” she called heading up the stairs .

“ i’ll take sofa” she looked up at him a smile on her face but he could tell it was put on , he could see it didn’t reach her eyes or did it convince anyone before he could say anything a knock was heard at door making her jump .

“ it probably tommy relax i’ll tell him come back in morning” he patted her shoulder hating how she tensed under he touch but he didn’t take it personal . he was right minute door open it was his brother only he didn’t wait for joel to speak letting himself in straight over to where y/n .

“ hey firecracker you ok” he asked going to reach out touch her face only she moved back . “ sorry sweetheart , you cracked him in the nose and his hand is fucked so good job” he smiled weakly .

“ i didn’t know i just swung and ran” she laughed dryly wishing she done worse .

“ he gone?” joel asked .

“ we had bring him to doc but guys are bringing him out now” he nodded . “ you ok though? He didn’t…hurt you?” tommy asked feeling guilty for not getting rid of the prick sooner.

“ he only got to touch my jeans before i sliced his hand” her voice cracked looking down at the sweats .

“ ok ok good he won’t bother you again i promise you that , couple of guys will double check in morning too but tonight it best you stay here ok ” .

“She is now let er rest , come back tomorrow” joel huffed holding door open .

“ yeah right sorry it’s late just needed to..” he said only to hugged her tightly. “ i’m glad your ok” he smiled pulling back heading out the door.

“ Course I am I not alone anymore I got you guys” she Called out .

“ ok ok hallmark you need rest I'll see you tomorrow And so will maria bring proper shit to cover the wound “ he chuckled calling Back .

she sat looking at her hand , she hated she let herself Get distracted it could of been so much worse and yet joel proved her right He was there when she needed him , she wasn't facing things alone .

“ come on go take my bed no one needs to take watch"he huffed sitting beside her keeping his distance but still being close.

“ I can sleep every time my eyes close I feel the wall , I can feel his breathe on my skin “ she sighed head falling back hating She felt so vulnerable It wasn't a emotion she'd felt in years and one she thought she never Feel again .

“ I can sit with you talk So you won't hear him , you hear me , hold yer hand so you can feel me whatever you need I got you I promised you that and I don't break those not to You” he said softly watching the way she relaxed to his words , how when he touched her hand she didn't tense or freak out. She held on tighter like she was afraid it was all part of her dream , joel would be gone And Nigel Would come back .

“ could You stay with me all night?” It was so low almost a whisper But even he heard her like not matter What he'd always Hear Her. He didn't say much just a nod of his head and keeping hold of her Hand bringing her up the stairs making sure to keep his promise.

The towns Men all glared as he was dragged towards the gate . Each one Of them wanted to hit the bastards Since some had women In their life some had daughters some had sister , some had experience of men Like him . Nigel knew he fucked up moment She ran and they showed up . He seen it on all their Faces like they Took it personal but the bitch needed manners , needed to be taught A lesson . He pleaded Said he'd make it up some how but was only told me like that don't changed . Bag on his back And out the gate he went .

“ I'll bring um out” mark called dragging him roughly along other probably sensing a beating coming But for a man like him , shit happened with wave of their hands stood waiting.

“ come on you” he growled as The other man gulped. Wondering if he could make some Sort of break for it.

“ just play along asshole” mark hissed. “ I'm helping you out here” those words Melt his fear away following man out dragging his steps to make it look good .

Once they were out of the hearing range mark let him go pulling a knife and gun out Handing them over. “ there's a camp couple Miles east leader is jonah , tell Him mark sent you from jackson And whatever you have on y/n and jackson , he'll set you up , don't tell um you touched er though he'll kill you on spot” mark spoke Quietly.

“ why y/n why should I believe All this?” Nigel eyes widened .

“ because jonah. Wants his wife back sent me here To do it but i needed get on their good side” he explain hastily . “ just tell him soon” he handed over gun and knife . Headed back into town as other waited . “ he’s gone , wont see that scum again” he smirked to the men and headed off to his house. Yeah he needed to get y/n back soon and now with nigel might be sooner than he thought lets hope the dipshit made it.

Part three

[abdy-18]

If I could write fanfics I would write a one-shot of the theory that [redacted]'s family was the ostanian version of the op strix, the mission ended and although we can't know if Twilight's father still loved his wife or not, I'm sure he did love his son only that he normalized violence in his education due to the time in which they lived ( [redacted] must have been a child around the 40s).

This is very long, I over thought again.

The "ostanian op strix" ended and here are three options:

He knew that Luwen was going to be bombed shortly and still decided to leave [redacted] and his mom behind knowing that they would probably die or be seriously injured

or he didn't know and went to Ostania thinking that they would be much better without him, since he was aware that he fought a lot with his wife and that his son preferred his mother over him, only to later learn that Luwen was bombed, that there is a record of his wife's body but that his son, like other children, is missing.

Or he had planned to leave Westalis, but not yet. Maybe that "work trip" he had was actually a spy mission that was going to take a few days, His plan was to finish that mission, return to Luwen, spend a few last days with his family and that is why he promised [redacted] that when he returned he would take him to the fair, then finally he would return to Ostania thinking that they're going to be better without him.Unfortunately his plan failed and he never got to say goodbye to [redacted] because he never got to return to Luwen.

In either case, he assumed that [redacted] had died because from his point of view, what chance did a little boy as weak and cowardly as his son have of surviving in a war without the care of an adult? If he didn't die from one of the bombs, then he must have starved to death.

When he arrived in Ostania, he burned his things from his previous identity (like Twilight when he was no longer Robert), but before throwing away his old wallet with westalian money and fake documents, he opened it for a moment and realized that it still had a small picture of his son, he immediately regretted opening it because he is very conscious that he has to get rid of ALL the things from his life in Westalis, but now he simply cannot burn the picture of the little boy.

He folded the photo and since then, he never saw it again, (he hid it more than Twilight hides his spy equipment in the Forger house lmao), but suddenly one day, by fate, he sees a ghost on the street, a blond man too similar to his deceased son to be coincidence, although he is trained and knows his memory is perfect, he tries to chalk it up to bad memory since it's been over 20 years since he saw the boy.

(I think Yuri did tell his boss about his sister's husband, so he knows the “ f***ing Loid Forger” by name, but he doesn't know what he looks like since Yuri only has pictures of his sister and if he has any pictures of his sister where there's Loid he probably cropped him out of the picture XD).

He doesn't interact with the man, he only saw him in the distance for a few seconds, but he still finds himself unsettled by the creepy similarity, so, for the first time in 20 years, he pulls out the box in which he's had hidden the only reminder that he ever had a family, the photo was bent, torn, crumpled, dusty and generally in very bad condition, yet he can still see the boy's features in it and although the ink on the lettering is smudged and almost fading, he can still read “[redacted] - 19xx” on the back.

Now, here I use a plot convenience to create some scenario where for some reason he lose that photo and for some reason Yuri finds it and realizes it belongs to his boss, he would see the photo and say something like “hey he looks a bit like the bastard Lotty” but I don't think he would suspect anything immediately since:

[redacted] was very young in that picture.

The kid's name is on the picture

It belongs to his boss, and I don't think he would question his superior.

So dismiss the similarity as a curious coincidence.

I'd have to think of a scenario where this makes sense, but let's imagine that Yuri keeps that photo in his coat with the intention of returning it to his boss the next day but he has an accident like I don't know, gets hit by another truck XD but this time he gets badly hurt so he has to go to the hospital.

They call Yor to go see his brother, but seeing her so worried and crying, Loid decides to accompany her for the mission™.

When they arrive, they hand Yor her brother's belongings in a bag, she puts it on her lap and asks the nurse if she can go see him, she says yes to which Yor quickly gets up and drops the bag on the floor, but she is in such a hurry that she runs away and doesn't notice.

Loid is left alone in the living room waiting for his wife, he notices that Yuri's things are on the floor and decides to pick them up, then he notices the small paper that came out of his jacket, so he takes, and when he sees the photo he sees the boy he hasn't seen in his reflection for years.

And naturally he almost fainted.

Because regardless of the identity of his father, Twilight would not be happy that he is alive, he would see him as a threat because naturally his father knows many things about him, the worst thing for a spy.

----_-

If someone for some reason is inspired by this and wants to write something, be my guest, because I seriously can't write 🥲

Thanks to anyone who has read all this jsjsj

(My first language is not English, sorry is there's mistakes🫢)