#i've never been gayer | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hyypnotix-writes · 8 months

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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.”

#woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #woso imagine #alexia putellas imagine

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lesbianphan · 7 months

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I'VE NEVER BEEN SAD NOT EVEN ONCE I'M CURED I'M HEALED MY CROPS ARE GROWING MY FAVVORITE YOUTUBE CHANNEL IS COMING BACK NOW GAYER

#dan and phil games #thank you so much i owe u guys my LIFE askjd wtf #dan and phil #phan #IT'S BACK BABYYYY #my comfort content

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stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale · 2 months

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Was Javier Garcia "not bisexual enough" in ANF?

I feel like everyone reading the title of this essay is going to say, "Well, yeah? Obviously? Javi didn't show any interest in men outside of that one optional moment of flirting with Jesus and then he was confirmed bisexual by one of the writers after the season ended. If they wanted to make him bi, they should've done more with it because that's not enough."

That's a commonly expressed opinion no matter where you look, and it's not like it's unfounded, either.

On a surface level, I agree. While I understand the excitement of learning a character is canonically bi, in the case of Javier Garcia it still feels like celebrating crumbs tossed to us by Telltale after they had their cake and ate it, too. They snuck in some bisexual representation at the last minute for queer audiences without it being explicit so the homophobes wouldn't throw a tantrum.

Stuff like that happens. Sometimes the representation is subtle or implied in the subtext. Or, the queerness is condensed into something digestible and sanitized for straight audiences. Or, it's stated after the fact with little to no actual evidence to support it in canon.

Hell, even if it is obvious, like with Clementine being bisexual in TFS, you still have biphobes who will die on the hill of denial. Even now, in the year 2024, we have people insisting "Clem being bi came out of nowhere! They should've showed it in earlier seasons if they wanted it to make sense. I'm not homophobic but here's my essay PROVING that violentine is bad and forced and that Clem isn't bi!" Or, on the other extreme, "Clementine is a lesbian to me, bisexuality isn't real :)"

But I've already talked about Clementine and what her bisexuality means to me. I want to talk about Javier now.

He's an interesting case, both in the way his queerness was handled and portrayed in the game, and how audiences received it... as in, a lot of people said, "That's great and all, but is it really representation when it's not actually present? It's not enough."

That. That right there: "It's not enough." That's what I want to break down and examine.

Is Javier Garcia not valid as a queer character because he didn't reach this concept of "enough" in the eyes of the player? But what would have been "enough" then? Do people really understand what they're asking for when they discuss what they think Telltale should've done? Does it actually matter if Javier is queer when it comes to the plot and his journey as the protagonist, and if it doesn't matter, is that okay?

Should we just accept these crumbs sprinkled in our hands?

I want to make it clear that I'm but one bisexual examining a bisexual character and doing an analysis. I've climbed out of my bog to write this because I want to discuss Javier and the writing as it pertains to his queerness, or lack thereof. I'm also aware that I'm not providing any irrefutable, concrete evidence here one way or the other; I'm speculating about Javier through a queer lens. I encourage any other bi, pan, or other queer person to add to these discussion points, whether in agreement or not.

Prior to TFS, the queer representation in TWDG wasn't great...

Though the games do get progressively gayer as the seasons go on. And some even get to live! Progress!

S1 had... uh, none? Wait, is that right? ...Yeah, no, I'm tuning my gay radio and it isn't picking up any signals, Captain. Nothing gay in these waters.

S2 had Walter and Matthew, who both died shortly after being introduced. There's some homoerotic undertones between Luke and Nick but nothing was ever confirmed. Also, they both died, so... not great.

The Michonne mini-series had Jonas and Zachary, but Zachary will always die no matter what. Jonas can die, too, but it's determinant. Paige was confirmed to be queer by the writers, though. Uh, progress? Kind of? Not really, it's never talked about and you only pick up on her feelings for Sam if you squint and pay close attention. But hey, at least she got to live!

Then, in ANF we have Javier, our playable protagonist, and Paul "Jesus" Monroe, a gay character who also showed up in the comics and TV show. Would'ja look at that, they both got to live! I should also mention nothing was ever confirmed about Ava but... c'mon, y'know? Captain, there's a faint signal on my radio; when you know, you know. Except she died, to, so... still not great.

Then came TFS, who really said, "Screw you, here's all the gay!"

They gave us bisexual Clementine with both of her romance routes. Violet, Minerva, James, mentions of his past boyfriend, Charlie... Aasim was planned to be bisexual and I don't see why we can't reclaim that for him, and one day I'll crawl out of my bog to write my analysis on the queer-coding/subtext of Louis' character because if I read "lmao Louis is such a Straight" one more time, I'm going to let the gators take a bite out of me just so that I can feel something other than irritation for once.

Sigh. It's so hard being a "Louis ain't straight" truther out here, so few understand.

My plights aside, there's no avoiding the queerness of TFS. Even if your Clementine doesn't romance anyone, or romances Louis, you can't avoid the fact that Violet and Minerva were girlfriends at one point. It's determinant if James will tell you about Charlie, but that doesn't change the fact that James is gay.

But it runs deeper than that. This is a story about these troubled youth who were abandoned by their families and teachers, the ones who were supposed to love and help them, because "something was wrong with them, they did something bad... they need fixing."

These young people have to fight against an oppressive group of adults looking to steal their autonomy, change them, mold them into what's expected to survive. Their identities don't matter to the raiders. All the raiders care about is erasing such identities so that they fall in line and obey, and if they don't comply, they die... or worse.

Yes, it's a story about Clementine and AJ finally finding a home, but no matter how you play, it's also a narrative steeped in queer themes and subtext. You can tell that the people who made it not only cared about these things and wanted them weaved throughout the story, but that some of them were queer themselves.

But where does that leave us with Javier?

With everything TFS did, it's easy to look back at ANF with a critical eye and pinpoint its flaws in every aspect. While I don't believe it's the worst game Telltale ever made [I mean, Minecraft Story Mode exists], in my opinion, it's the messiest game in the main series. It's not bad, but I'd much rather play S1 or TFS.

For all the criticism it received, most players did like Javier as the playable protagonist. Well, they did once they got over the fact that Clementine wouldn't be taking on that role again, and was instead relegated to only being playable in flashbacks.

Javi's personality can vary depending on player choices, but for the most part, he's a charismatic man who loves his family. He used to be a professional baseball player before he was booted from the league for gambling. He can be cocky and sarcastic, and it usually lands him in trouble. He tends to cope and deflect using humor. He has a past of being irresponsible and selfish; he wasn't even there when his father died, despite knowing he was dying of cancer. His relationship with David is complicated, only made messier if he and Kate end up together. He's trying his best... for the most part. Javi even ends up being a father figure to Gabe and Mariana after they all thought David was dead, and he's very open about his grief following Mariana's death.

But given everything we learn about him while playing ANF, how do we know Javi isn't straight? After all, his main love interest is Kate, a woman. He also has opportunities to flirt with Eleanor, another woman. He doesn't show any signs of being attracted to any of the men who are around... until Paul "Jesus" Monroe.

At the end of ep5, Javi and Jesus have a conversation where one of the dialogue options is, "I like you, Jesus." Granted, that doesn't have to mean "like-like;" you can say you like someone without any romantic intentions. Plus, Jesus IS a cool character. Players who picked that option likely weren't thinking of it in a romantic sense.

It's the way that Jesus responds to this option, though: a flirtatious smile, lidded eyes, the deep dip of his voice.

Javier: I gotta admit, man. You're a fucking badass! Jesus: You're a real charmer... You know that? Through and through.

It's not difficult to see Jesus is being flirtatious, and Javi sees it, too. How does he react?

Forgive me, but I'm about to over-analyze this six-second gif. I love his reaction so much. That subtle jump of his shoulders as if a jolt just ran through his gut at the way Jesus lowers his voice. Surprised, and then the movement of the brows, the slide of the eyes, and the little upturn of the mouth says to me "Oh… oh." Caught off guard, perhaps a little bashful.

Option 1: Javier: Oh, you know what they say. Takes one to know one. Jesus: That they do. Option 2: Javier: Are you really sure you don't want to stay? There's room. Jesus: Oh, uh... I'm sure there is, but... we got other people depending on us, Javi. Just the way it is. Option 3: Javier: Meant to tell you... That, uh, armor you got is great. Jesus: Oh... Oh, uh... Hmm... Well, uh... Thanks, um... It gets the job done.

Javi knows what Jesus is getting at regardless of your choice. He understands this is flirtatious, but is startled since he likely didn't consider that Jesus likes men, too. We the audience have a better chance at knowing if, especially those familiar with the character from the comics and the TV show. Javi wouldn't because why would he? It's not like Jesus is obvious and flaunting with the fact that he's gay.

What's funny about that is, given our topic of discussion, we could also argue that Jesus wasn't gay enough, couldn't we? If we're going to pick on Javier for not being more open about his sexuality, then it's only fair that we pick on other characters, no? Did Jesus need to be gayer? Would that improve ANF?

In fact, now that I think about, was James gay enough in TFS? Was one moment where he talks about his boyfriend, a scene that's determinant so not every player got it, enough? What about Minerva? We know she and Violet were girlfriends before Marlon traded her away, that's information that's unavoidable, but did she actually reach this apparent high standard of "enough" in the eyes of the audience?

Are we entitled to unequivocal evidence of queerness, and the heaping amount we deem necessary, otherwise it's not good enough and shouldn't be bothered with at all? Are more casual displays of queerness bad?

I can already hear people jumping to defend James and Minerva, and likely Jesus, against this because "it's totally different!"

Sure. Javier's situation is different from James, Jesus, and Minerva's respective situations. James actually uses the word boyfriend and he keeps a picture of him and Charlie in his pocket. Jesus appears in The Walking Dead universe outside of the game with more evidence of queerness. Minerva's past relationship with Violet is made clear even when you don't pursue Violet's route, not to mention the underlying metaphor of conversion with her being changed/brainwashed/traumatized by the raiders to be just like them.

Javier is different because that scene with Jesus is the only in-game evidence of his queerness, right? Then he had to be confirmed as bisexual by one of the writers once ANF ended.

Surely, they could've brought up the fact that Javier's bi earlier, right? Made mentions of a past boyfriend, or had a flashback about Javi coming out to his family? Why only let him flirt with Kate and Eleanor? Why wasn't there an option to flirt with Tripp, or some other male character? What about a darker turn where David didn't accept Javi for it? David's portrayed as an antagonist, anyway, why not toss a little homophobia into the mix? Why not reveal it if Javi rejects Kate? What if Kate was so hurt by the rejection that she asked him, "It's true, David was right. It's because you like men, isn't it?"

It feels like they decided at the last minute to just toss it in, like someone walked into Telltale one day and said, "Y'all, I just thought of the funniest thing- Javi should be bi so that we can make jokes about him swinging both ways!" And then everyone clapped.

Here's the deal: Something about this sits differently with me, and that's probably thanks to one of ANF's writers, Adam Esquenazi Douglas.

He's the one that confirmed Javier as bisexual.

Adam had his hand in writing for 4/5 episodes, and he said he wrote the scene where Javi can flirt back with Jesus, but it's that last line of his: "After all, they always say write what you know."

I don't know how many of you who are reading this are writers, or creators in general, but I assume many of you are. It doesn't matter if you write fanfiction, create fanart, write essay posts or headcanons or whatever. I have a firm belief that creative people pour so much of themselves into their work that, if given enough material and studied enough, you can get a glimpse of their soul. Even if done unintentionally, we project ourselves into these works; the characters, themes, conclusions, everything.

Am I suggesting that Adam was secretly a bisexual mastermind who threaded queerness throughout the entirety of ANF and we were all too blind to see it? No, and if he did, then he needs to step forward and tell me so that I can study ANF frame by frame to compile the secret evidence into a new essay.

...Actually, on second thought, maybe don't do that to me, Adam.

My point is, yes, it's true that it's likely Javi being bi was added in at the last minute... but can we really dismiss Javier as "not bisexual enough" when Adam had influence over Javi's character throughout the whole season? And I ask again: is the casual queerness of Javier bad?

Time to speculate and answer some of those questions about Javier

Let's talk about Kate for a minute. She is Javier's main love interest, whether you choose to accept her feelings or not, so she can give us a good point of reference for what Javi looks for in a partner.

Kate and Javi share a similar sense of humor that bounces well between the two. Kate wants to travel, Javi's well traveled from his time as a profession baseball player. They both exist in this space of "we're kind of the family screw up." Granted, Javi's more in it than Kate is, but you can see parts of her that come through where she's a little rebellious, a little not good enough [ironically]. They both feel trapped in their situations; Kate in her marriage, Javi in a slow downward spiral of not knowing what to do with himself now that he's booted from his career. They have complicated relationships with David, and together, they've raised Gabe and Mariana through the years after they believed David was dead.

They're a lot alike in many ways, so this is hardly an opposites attract type of romance.

What's interesting is if you then look at Jesus, he has some similar qualities to Kate; a sense of humor even when things are looking bleak, they to help and protect people, are willing to throw themselves in danger to save Richmond. Then if you add Eleanor, the other person Javi has some flirtatious dialogue with, you can apply those qualities to her, as well... though the big difference with her is Eleanor sells the group out because she wants to stay.

With the little information we have, we can speculate on Javi's preferences. He prefers someone more similar to him. I know, I know, everyone loves a good opposites attract tale, they're so different but similar at their cores, they fill in each other's gaps, yada yada... except not everyone is like that, obviously.

My working theory is that a partner who would act as the opposite of Javi would be someone who acts like David... and does Javi really want to date someone like his brother? Though that then opens up a whole can of worms since if Javi and Kate are so similar, and David married Kate... this isn't an essay about David, but that's certainly a thing to chew on.

With that, I suppose we can answer the question, "But if Javi's bi, why didn't he flirt with any men prior to Jesus?"

What men?

No, seriously, where are all these men Javi's supposed to flirt with? Are they hiding? I know you hid them in the game, Adam, where are they?

Wait, do you mean Tripp?

I don't want to step on the toes of any Javi/Tripp shippers out there, but let's actually think about this. When we meet Tripp, Javi's just been separated from his family. He was knocked out and tied up by these assholes who caught him siphoning their gas, then this teenager cut down a tree which resulted in him getting into a car accident. Said teenager then tried to rob him before agreeing to escort him back to his family but first, they gotta go to Prescott. I wouldn't say Javier's in the flirtatious mood by the time he meets Tripp.

But he can flirt with Eleanor, right?

So, why not Tripp?

Because Tripp is a man and he has feelings for Eleanor. That's made quite clear from ep1. He told Javi that he and Eleanor had a thing once. Sure, Javi could still harmlessly flirt with him, but have we stopped to consider that Javi isn't as confident with openly flirting with men like he is women? After all, who initiated the actual flirting between him and Jesus in ep5? That would be Jesus, and it happens after the danger is over and Javi doesn't have to worry about dying for a little bit.

Listen, I understand that Tripp is big. He's built like the lumberjack of our dreams. He has a nice beard. He's not afraid to talk about his feelings even when he fumbles all over them. He's strong and caring and brave. He could easily toss me over his shoulder like I'm a sack of flour and then throw me across the room... what's not to love? Surely, if Javi actually liked men, he would've made a move on Tripp at some point.

Except, would he? Is Tripp even Javi's type? Because I'm pressing X to doubt.

Also, why does he need to?

This is where I question why some people think Javi has to flirt with a bunch of men to "prove" he's bisexual? I'm sorry, do you believe there's a quota all bisexuals have to meet to maintain their membership card? You have to flirt with this many genders a month otherwise they'll revoke your premium status?

Sometimes I wonder if people unintentionally lean into the "promiscuous bisexual" stereotype, or if they do genuinely believe that bisexuals have to express interest in multiple people of different genders in order to prove themselves queer enough.

Did we ever stop to think that Javi's just not like that? An open flirt, I mean. Yeah he's charismatic and funny and all that, but Kate, Eleanor, and Jesus all initiate the romantic dialogue with him first; Kate tells him she needs to get laid hint hint, Eleanor calls him pretty, and Jesus calls him a real charmer.

Tripp never gives him any indication that he's interested or that he even likes men, so why would Javi make a move?

As for any other man? Again, what men? Max? Dr. Lingard? Clint? Conrad? And forget adding a new character to ANF; it could barely handle the characters it already had and you want to add a new one just for Javier? Let's face it, Tripp was the best option and that's just it, he wasn't an option.

"But my Javi WOULD flirt with Tripp and the game didn't give me the option!"

And there it is.

Javier isn't your OC

ANF isn't a massive RPG where starting a new game brings you to a character creation menu, and you get to decide every factor about the character you want to play.

ANF is an episodic, point-and-click Telltale game, and Javier isn't your OC. Like with Lee and Clementine, there are some things you just don't get a say in, and I think that gets to the player sometimes.

When I sit down to play a Dragon Age game, I go into it knowing that my character is mine, I get to decide who they are and who they're interested in. DA as an RPG has the capacity to give me a bunch of romantic options both in and out of my party that shape who my character is.

When I sit down to play TWDG, I go into it knowing that while I have my own Lee, Clementine, and Javi, I didn't create them but I am influencing who they become. I know it's a Telltale game, and that means limitations.

These games have always had the "illusion of choice" criticism chucked at them from the beginning. Usually that pertains to the choices you make that affect the overall story, but ultimately don't matter in the end.

For example, it doesn't matter if you save Carley or Doug because no matter what, they both die. My counter-argument for this has always been that the choice does matter in the way that it shapes your playable character, and how if affects the characters around you. A Lee who saved Doug over Carley had reasons for making that choice, and in turn, has a different experience going forward than a player who chose to save Carley.

Does it matter who shoots Duck in the woods after he's bitten? Or if he's left to turn? No matter what, he's going to die, so is that the illusion of choice? I don't believe so, because it does matter. It affects player experience.

That being said, I believe players who become invested in this series, especially those who engage in fandom, develop a warped sense of what should've been, forgetting the nature of a Telltale game. I know this because that's the foundation my blog was built on.

Javier Garcia isn't a blank slate. You didn't create him. He had a life before the start of the game, he has a personality that you didn't choose for him, and there are things you have no control over. If anything, we act as an influence over the TWDG playable protagonists. Most every option given is something that could reasonably play into their character. I say "most" because we all remember that [GLASS HIM] moment where Javi tells David that Kate's going to leave him and we were all like "THAT'S NOT WHAT I THOUGHT THAT OPTION WAS!" and it felt out of character.

Anyway, you don't dictate who these characters are but you get sway over the direction they take.

Javi can be a real prick to everyone, but that plays into the selfish and entitled part established with his character from the beginning. You can play him as genuine, trying to step up and do better for the sake of his family, another thing brought up from the very beginning.

"But why couldn't I make Javi flirt with Trip!?"

Because it's not an option. I don't know what else to tell you. I don't know what you want me to tell you.

ANF is a Telltale game that centers about Javier Garcia. It's a story about a man who, prior to the outbreak, screwed up and was wasting his life away. His relationship to his family sat upon a rocky foundation, crumbled by his own hands. He wasn't even there when his father died. We follow this man through a story of a family trying to survive, we watch him reunite with his brother and risk losing everything that kept him grounded and going. He experiences grief and anger and sorrow and happiness. In the end, he comes out of it all a different man, for better or worse.

That man just also happened to be bisexual.

And that's the thing: This isn't a story about Javier's sexuality. He isn't going around making moves on these elusive men that mastermind Adam Esquenazi Douglas maybe hid in the game somewhere because the game isn't about Javi liking men.

It's a game about his complicated relationships with Kate and David made messy by Kate being in love with him, and whether or not Javi loves her, too.

It's about Javi helping Clementine back on her path after she's been alone and bitter for so long. It's about them fighting to take down a group of people doing really shitty things to other communities. It's about losing Mariana and avenging her by killing the man who shot her. It's about Gabe feeling conflicted about his father, a man he always wanted to be just like, after realizing that David isn't this idealized figure Gabe thought he was.

It's about the promise Javi made to his father.

The fact that Javi happens to be bi doesn't matter in the grand scheme of the plot. It's just something that's apart of who he is, but because it's a small detail we feel was added in at the last minute, we decide it's not enough.

But what if it is enough? Do we even truly know what this concept of "enough" is?

Throughout writing this piece, I've found myself in a loop.

I'm happy Javier is bisexual. -> But should I be? -> We shouldn't settle for crumbs, we deserve more explicit representation. -> But is there really anything wrong with casual representation where the story doesn't focus on sexuality? It doesn't take away from other stories that do. -> I'm happy Javier is bisexual. -> But should I be?

Lather, rinse, repeat.

Queer stories are important and our voices need to be heard. We need stories that don't shy away from experiences that are hard to stomach. We need queer stories told by queer people. We need stories that are unapologetic, that aren't afraid to face their audience with pride. Stories that don't say "yeah but we have to bend a little to the bigots to maximize our profits." We need these stories that inspire us, hurt us, make us cry and piss us off. We need queer stories with happy endings that give us hope, that push us to seek a better future so that new generations of queer people don't feel alone in their struggles. We need queer stories that make us feel heard, seen.

Do stories with casual representation of queer characters fit in there somewhere, too? I think they do, because TFS is a casual representation story.

Clementine is bi and it isn't a big deal; she never has a moment where she's openly questioning, she doesn't have this big coming-out scene, there's no tears shed or anything. She isn't stomping around with her bi pride flag and announcing who she is with a heartwarming speech.

She just is.

Same thing with Violet. She never comes out to Clementine as a lesbian, no one ever calls her that, she just is.

Clementine's romance with Violet is treated just as it is with Louis, sincere and normal. No one questions her or Violet because to the Ericson crew, it is normal. They knew Violet and Minerva were together before but no one has any quips about it, positive or negative.

If you romance Violet but then save Louis, he makes mention that Clementine and Violet are close so why save him? But Louis, for as much as people side eye him for making jokes and never taking anything seriously, doesn't say anything more. He could've made a joke, "Ah, you like girls, I guess I never stood a chance then, haha." He doesn't, because it's not something out of the ordinary for him and it's not something he feels the need to pry over.

If you go fishing with Violet and Brody, you find the carved heart with Violet and Minerva's initials and AJ asks what it means. Clementine can tell him they were girlfriends, and AJ doesn't go, "Oh, that's weird," or "Huh, I didn't know girls could like each other." He just goes, "Oh. Love." and moves on because he grew up differently, it isn't a big deal to.

Even the antagonists aren't out here spewing homophobia, at least that I recall.

The Ericson crew are a generation that understands and accepts. Where Clementine could end up with either Louis or Violet and no one will raise a brow, or even feel compelled to signal their alliance like, "Ah, yes, I am accepting of you and your choice, good for you, I am an ally, I'm making this about me."

The Final Season of TWDG is great, and it proves that the writers at Telltale at the time wanted to explore these topics earnestly. It wasn't pandering or trying to score "woke points" with the LGBTQ+ community like some bigots will insist. If it were, it would've been way more obvious about it, I think.

Casual queer stories or serious stories that tackle the hardships of being gay?

Like the bisexual I am, I like both and everything in between.

Clementine didn't need to prove her bisexuality as "enough" in TFS, but since the circumstances were different, did Javier?

I'm going to take the potentially controversial road and say no. I understand why we wish they did more, and I understand why people have frustrations over creators dropping that information without actually having to commit in their work... but I also have some appreciation for the casual reveal of Javi being bi, regardless of why it was dropped.

Javier is valid. He didn't need to "prove" anything.

In a way, I believe we do have some control over the portrayal of Javier, and that's by engaging in fandom. If you were disappointed that Javi's queerness wasn't explored in game, then find a fic that does explore that side of him, or write your own. Engage with other people and their work about it. Comment on fanart, fics, and thought pieces. Write brain dumps. Find other Javi/Tripp shippers and prove me wrong, prove that Tripp is indeed Javi's type and have fun while doing it.

Telltale gave us the crumbs, so let that inspire us to bake a cake.

I don't think this concept of "not enough" is the most productive way we could go about discussing topics like this. Not everyone has the same level or standard, and every work is a unique case. But I think it is fun and productive to share ideas of what we would've done differently so that it may inspire us.

ANF, for all of its flaws, could be a tool used to teach us where our priorities are in storytelling, and influence what we want to create ourselves.

In conclusion: Javier Garcia is enough to me.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to crawl back to my bog and begin research into the meaning and metaphors behind walkers and their existence.

But before that, I want to give a big thank you to @pi-creates for making the Javi gif used in this essay, as well as for listening to all my bullshit during the writing process.

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cha-melodius · 6 months

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Five Ten Under 500

There have been a bunch of open tags on this one but @three-drink-amy tagged me directly so here goes. To start I have to say it's wild to me, as someone coming from small or quiet fandoms, and who joined the RWRB community well before the movie, that netting under 500 kudos is now considered a lower number in this fandom. A couple of years ago it meant a lot to me to hit 500 kudos for the first time on a fic. Anyway.

I've loved seeing everyone's lists (so many new fics added to my tbr!), but they've also reminded me that there is a definite recency bias, especially among fics that didn't already have a good number of kudos. So, all of my choices are fics that were released before the movie came out. Even with that, I couldn't stick with only five, so you get five more under the cut (and I still had to leave out a lot of fics I loved, including others from the same authors listed here).

Culper Ring, 1778–1783 by @historicallysam This is a series of 10 vignettes set during the American revolution and not one of these fics has over 100 kudos, which is a crime. So well-written and researched, and full of intrigue and feelings, I will always champion this series of fics.

Why Do We Even HAVE That Curse? by @cricketnationrise The Mummy AU. Who doesn't love The Mummy?? I might be biased because I betaed this one but if you love action and adventure and romance, you must read this!

The Way You Seemed by @orchidscript 1950s High School AU—think Grease but gayer. I think this might be one of the first Cora fics I read, and it bowled me over. The vibes, the romance, the historical accuracy, it's so so excellent.

Red, White, & Royal Ballet by @tintagel-or-cockleshells Ballet AU. Everything you want out of an enemies/rivals to lovers arc, and so much excellent ballet. Includes videos!

Love and Hate at the Farmers' Market by @myheartalivewrites Farmers market vendors AU. This is soooooo adorable and about to be very seasonable! Never get tired of Alex being mad about Henry's very existence.

El Chico Del Apartamento 512 by @14carrotghoul A cute little enemies-to-lovers neighbors AU and an absolute riot!

Soli by @cheesecurdsgravyandfries Orchestra AU! As an oboist, Henry as principle oboe owns my entire heart. This is so sweet and lovely!

make the yuletide gay by @dumbpeachjuice The concept behind this one is absolutely unhinged, but it's just as hilarious as you would expect from our dear peaches. Put it on your list for reading this holiday season!

a pillar i am, upright by inmoonlightigetseasick Surprise surprise, another historical AU. Medieval knight/prince, together at the front of war. Really wonderful development of their relationship and truly excellent vibes.

and if you'll forgive me the self-promotion...

The Spirit of Giving by yours truly Also for the holidays, a neighbors AU that leans heavily on the food as a metaphor for love trope.

#fic recs #rwrb fic recs #rwrb #red white and royal blue #firstprince #firstprince fic recs

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bettyshoweduptotheparty · 8 months

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Welcome to my blog We're all 🌈🌈🌈 here!

I have so many new followers, it seems an introduction is in order:

Hello lovely people! So I rejoined tumblr in 2023 after 6 years of absence, mostly because it seemed a good place to silently lurk and read people's queer interpretations of Taylor Swift songs. Never thought I'd be back here in my 30s but here we are, and it's definitely gayer than I remember it 😉. Back in my 2010s tumblr days, you'd still get largely yelled at for suggesting Taylor writes gay lyrics, but now in the post folkmore and midnights era, there seems to be an ever growing number of us Gaylors and I love our little community on here! So much so that I started contributing and actually making content myself and it's wild to me that some of you awesome people have actually started following me so BIG HUG and a warm welcome to you all! I studied literature and (queer) history at university, so I'm a big geek when it comes to lyrical and historic analysis.

My original theories/ TS analysis

Anti Hero/Matilda (part 1 & part 2)

Burning the Lover House

Midnights to Daylight

Midnights Duality: The tale of two Taylors (Part 1 & Part 2)

You’re Losing Me Lyrical Analysis

1989 - The story of two muses

My tears ricochet/ hoax/happiness parallels

Warning: I'm a Kaylor

If the images haven't given you the hint already, let me say it loud and clear, I'm a massive simp for Taylor and Karlie as a couple. The love these two have for each other changed my outlook on life back in 2014 and I've been rooting for them ever since. So if you're going to be rude about the belief that Karlie and Taylor were, or are, in a romantic relationship, then this isn't for you and you should jog on. And yes, I do believe they are still together now in 2023 based on Taylor’s music and artistic choices that still make reference to Karlie to this day. ☺️☺️

(And I didn't think it needed saying, but apparently it does. I am not a 'shipper', I don't write fanfiction about any real people, I don't invade anyone's privacy by tracking planes or sharing real time information, and I don't call any of the men they are linked with any names. I'm just here to enjoy and be inspired by glimpses of a love that is really flipping rare these days, so no need to shit on that. Thanks)

Be kind and constructive when commenting folks, haters will be deleted/blocked.

And transphobes get lost!! 🖕🏼

#gaylor #kaylor #queer love #wlw #lgbtq #gay lesbian #lgbtq pride #taylor and karlie #welcome to my blog

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luna-rainbow · 1 year

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(I've seen a couple of Peggy posts turn up today and please note I'm not trying to be contrary, just want to discuss things from a different perspective)

I've talked about this in another post before, but the MCU movies need to be examined in the context of the genre convention of superhero movies. From a writing perspective, CATFA (and all the Cap movies) needed to center on Steve Rogers (which is why CACW and TFATWS were failures in their primary story). All the other characters are meant to be support -- Bucky was the main foil, but so were Sam and Nat - Nat as the deceptive spy to Steve's blunt soldier, Sam as the modern parallel of Steve's traumas. By and large, CA1 and CA2 managed this balance well. Bucky Stans may not like me saying this, but as much as it would be nice to see more of Bucky's inner voice about his horrific experiences, that was not the point of those movies. The point of the movies was to focus on Steve, and Bucky's part - as lean as it was - fulfilled his narrative purpose. Of course it could've been gayer better, but it was good enough (** CA3 should have dealt with Bucky's recovery because that would have been important to Steve's recovery).

So now we come to the awkward subject of the Carters. We can argue about "better" female representation until our voices dry (that representation was given to Nat, by the way), but the two Carters were written as pure love interests in the movies. That was the first part of how the writing failed them. There was no narrative acknowledgement of how the Carter's experiences might mirror or contrast Steve's - and there were many! The first conversation between Steve and Peggy in the army - instead of drawing parallel between a man struggling against ableism and a woman struggling against misogyny, it simply plays up Steve as an incel and Peggy as the disinterested trophy. Instead of comparing how difficult it was for Steve and Peggy to get into the army, instead of discussing their respective reasons for wanting to join, the only parallel it draws between them is both are waiting "for the right partner" (i.e. a romantic connection only)....which it then reneges in CATWS when Steve talks about "someone with shared experiences" and does not include Peggy in that mix.

As the movies continue, more and more contrast is shown in Peggy's and Steve's experiences -- Steve, who laments of feeling lost and uncertain, and Peggy, laughingly dismissing him as "always so dramatic"; Peggy, who has lived a full life without him, and Steve, who still struggles to extract himself from the past; Peggy, who has used Steve's fame to set up SHIELD and thanks Steve for "finding" her husband, and Steve, who has to contend with the legacy of what Peggy has created and what her role might have been for "finding" Bucky; Peggy, who was willing to compromise with Nazis for whatever war she intended to win, and Steve, who stared Fury in the eye and said "SHIELD, Hydra, it all goes."

But the stories never have the self-awareness for these contrasts, as they do - and they do, the CATWS writers knew exactly what they were doing - with Bucky and Nat and Sam. The poignancy of Bucky's narrative/moral connections (and Nat's and Sam's) with Steve are intentional, but for Peggy, accidental.

She was written as a sexy lamp - which, while annoying, is part of the genre convention that I can ignore - with multiple moral failings, who continually demonstrates an inability to connect with Steve on an ethical or emotional level.

But since Endgame, Disney keeps insisting that she's the female equivalent of Steve. And that's where my dislike of the character comes from.

#like i don't dislike characters just because they're bad people #cos they're fictional and it's okay to play with concepts #but when someone take a morally bad person and insist they're morally good #that's when you gotta start asking questions #anti peggy carter

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sapphim · 2 months

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I would enjoy to see your playlists 👉👈

I've got sooooooo many lmao but ok here are some of my most "these are in a state I'm pleased with" and maybe some of them will land! 👉👈

I've got great big playlists of music that "sounds like" a particular decade to me. hands down my nineties playlist is my favorite, very grungy alt rock with splashes of house and trip hop. the eighties playlist is also good, very new wave. the thing is, I do still need to add more 80s/90s hip-hop and 80s funk than they have currently, but I'm largely happy with them.

I've also been experimenting with making playlists that sound like a certain time of year. so here's muggy folk music for hot summer nights and my not-a-christmas-playlist of wintry midcentury jazz standards.

more general mood music here are some chill tracks that are perfect to me. here's some trashy indie rock and electro pop that's like millenial catnip to me. here's a playlist where I was trying to capture that same sound but it's specifically about queer women partying hard and fucking nasty. here is a disco/glam/dance punk playlist where after I finished it I was like "wow that's gayer than I expected" but I don't know why bc the songs I based the sound on were scissor sisters, mika, and elton john?!? I may be stupid. and here's my official bleaching my hair in my bathroom playlist. it's about women.

more conceptually here's a playlist about being stuck in a time loop and also maybe stuck in the 60s or 70s. and here's my thesis about how water is woman-coded. and here's "what if the fey realm were an abandoned mall with a roller disco." and here's a technogoth vampire night club for an urban shadows campaign I'll never get to run

fandomwise here's a playlist for kendall roy sucks session that I will maybe one day update for the latest season. and here's a folk/americana fanmix for magnus archives the buried. maybe one day I will finish the others. then there's my current Ravenloft Problem. there's the ravenloft megamix and the ravenloft pre-y2k throwback mix, and then there's the strahd von zarovich aggression mix, the seduction mix, and the angst mix. and then there's the angst mix's opposing pov, the tatyana mix.

generally speaking if a playlist is meant to be consumed shuffled or played in order it will say 🔀 or ▶️ in the description. otherwise follow your heart.

#I officially feel self-conscious about this but I've also put too much effort in to not hit post lol

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beanghostprincess · 2 months

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I'm only just on Zou so I've never read this chapter 1082 until just now because somebody asked about it. But just wow. Oda going "I'm not going to include romance in One Piece" and then giving Shanks and Buggy a dramatic "totally platonic" crying breakup in the rain ripped out of a romance drama.

I think Oda may have been telling a bit of a porkie.

The way I know the anime is going to make them gayer,,, I need it for yesterday,,, Biggest lie in OP history is Oda saying he can't write romance when Shanks and Buggy are right there

#it's so funny bc shuggy isn't even the reason why i love the chapter #but it certainly is one of the reasons yeah #i love that chapter so much can you tell-#one piece #buggy the clown #red haired shanks #shuggy

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the--highlanders · 2 months

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I hope you don't mind me asking but what are your favourite Jamie EU stories?

oh my god not at all, I never mind being asked about my favourite little guy <33

I'm gonna break this down by media type, but there's some parts of the eu like comics that I'm not super familiar with, so if anyone wants to add some of those on (or any other eu stories) then go ahead!!

putting this under a cut because it got LONG rip

big finish

the jigsaw war

jamie is trapped inside a puzzle, experiencing events out of order, and has to figure out how to escape. this is THE audio for me in terms of like. recognising that jamie isn't stupid just because he comes from the eighteenth century. he really gets to shine on his own rather than being relegated to 'dumb exposition prompter' (which I feel like some audios can be kinda guilty of.....) also the fact that two and jamie canonically have a strong enough connection to form a psychic link over long distances makes me chew through glass. this audio GETS it in a way some others just don't.

the glorious revolution

two, jamie, and zoe travel back to the time of the glorious revolution, the event that set the jacobite cause in motion, and jamie grapples with not being able to change the past. if you saw that audio snippet going around a couple days ago you'll have an idea of why I'm reccing this one. it has been a while since I've listened to it & I do really want to relisten and check it out for historical accuracy. but regardless it's another one that gives jamie some of the depth he deserves, this time in terms of emotional depth and his feelings about his backstory.

the selachian gambit

two, jamie, ben, and polly get caught in the middle of an alien bank heist. this one is pretty focused on ben, polly, and jamie as a trio - they're largely taking on the action while two keeps the detective work of the plot chugging along. jamie doesn't hugely stand out here in terms of the audio really adding something to his character, but it does show his dynamic with ben and polly pretty well. in particular there's some great scenes with him and ben working together, and I love their friendship a lot so that's always a good time.

honourable mentions: helicon prime (I do feel this one underutilises jamie a bit and undersells him in some weird ways, but if you're looking for two/jamie content you can't get much gayer than this. plus it's the origin of the whole 'jamie and kirsty get married' thing which I hate on principle & am obsessed with in practice), the phantom piper (it's got so much more potential than it gives imo but the tidbits that we get are so good. jamie's relationship with his grandparents.... his best friend taking a bullet for him and dying in his arms...... I just wish I could explain to the author that there's no such thing as a bedroom door in a blackhouse)

novels

the roundheads

two, jamie, ben, and polly travel back to the 1600s, and get largely split up by events unfolding around them. this is a pure historical and it delights in that. if you're after ben and polly content, the roundheads delivers on that too - but it really is some great early twojamie content. (whatever way you choose to read them - it's definitely a shippable book if you're into that). they spend the majority of the book together, both for plot reasons and just hanging out (they go to a frost fair!! two buys jamie treats and then makes himself a flower crown!!) and you get a great sense of jamie figuring two out early into his travels, and how he's far more interested in the doctor as a person than some other companions - he's the only one to show interest in susan when the doctor namedrops her, for instance. this is the best two-era book to me.

the wheel of ice

two, jamie, and zoe visit a space station built a little before zoe's time, and find that not everything is as it seems. again, this is a great one for zoe content as well as anything else, and for some very sweet moments with zoe and two. I don't necessarily feel this one always nails two and jamie's dynamic, but they don't spend a massive amount of time together here, so it's not too jarring. really I'm reccing this because of the scenes where jamie falls in with a bunch of teenagers from the space station, and finds himself kind of responsible for them. it's just nicely done and gives a good sense of jamie as a caretaker character and someone who feels a drive to be responsible for other people.

honourable mention: the episode novelisations (these are a lot of fun, especially if you have particular episodes you enjoy. they often add in extra details, background for side characters, or just little things from the episodes that were cut from the script. I really like them for adding a bit more depth and life to existing stories, and just little things that make you go 'yeah I'll add that to my belief system').

short stories

the time eater/across silent seas

two and jamie give a massive time-eating creature a funeral, and save a space whale from being turned into a weapon. both from the compilation destination prague. literally nobody gets me like the destination prague stories get me I'm not even kidding. these are THE eu two stories to me. both of these are arguably 6b, and they really work in that position - both in showing two and jamie with a very settled, devoted dynamic and in their themes and subject matter. the time eater is a story with no villain, and even the incidental threat of the dying creature causing havoc in time is secondary to the emotional keystone of jamie helping two accept death rather than running away. across silent seas has jamie nearly being aged to death and two absolutely losing it. they're both really about age and death and loss, which hits hard for 6b, with jamie's determination to stay with two forever and two's growing realisation that even if jamie doesn't choose to leave or survives their adventures, his lifespan is still going to be far shorter.

the age of ambition

two, jamie, and victoria land at the house of one of victoria's father's friends, only to find he has been trying to reanimate the dead. from the compilation life sciences. this is really a victoria story, probably the defining victoria story for me. it's got backstory, it's got gothic horror/victorian scientific ambition vibes in a similar way to evil of the daleks, it's got victoria character moments. but it's also a really crucial story for jamie, to me. as a character, I don't think jamie never quite forms into the brawny action man stereotype he was originally drafted as - and that's one of the things I love most about him. again he's too much of a caretaker, he's a piper rather than a soldier. he's rarely truly angry, even when he fights he never seems out to cause much actual harm, and you get the sense his protectiveness over his friends wars with this almost inability to do harm. the age of ambition GETS that and pushes it to the extreme, with jamie being unable to fire a killing shot to save his friends, to the point where victoria has to do it herself. it's such a compelling character moment for both of them and their dynamic.

on a pedestal

two, jamie, and victoria travel back to meet william wallace, who jamie idolises. from the compilation the quality of leadership. this is another one that really gets and hones in on a particular nuance of jamie's character - in this case, the strength and rigidity of his morals and sense of responsibility, and his dislike of people who fall short of that. he's faced with the fact that someone he admires was once careless, lax about taking responsibility for their actions even when other people are at risk, and just a bit childish. it shakes him, and he spends much of the story grappling with that. it's such a good look into the qualities that jamie admires versus the ones that he can't stand. but that's balanced out with some very sweet moments (the whole scene with two, jamie, and william wallace going fishing is very fun and again gives a nice little snapshot of two and jamie having this very settled, secure dynamic). AND jamie gets recognised as a basically supernaturally gifted piper which. love to see jamie actually getting to be a musician, love to see him piping without it being the butt of a 'bagpipes suck and everyone hates them' joke.

honourable mentions: that which went away (this is the 'jamie turns into a bear' story I'm always talking about. I do think it has some major issues in terms of weird primitivism, both in terms of the side characters and how it treats jamie, but also. jamie turns into a bear. and two begging him to come back to him is just *chefs kiss*), undercurrents (two vanishes from the tardis and another man mysteriously appears. jamie believes this newcomer has done something to harm two, and very nearly kills him for it. this is one of the few moments where jamie gets really, properly angry and is willing to actually cause harm and I LOVE to see him pushed past the breaking point of his usual moral code), the slave war (two, jamie, ben, and polly in the roman empire. also really good for ben and polly content, but there's some interesting stuff with jamie grappling with the idea of becoming involved in another rebellion, but ending up getting involved anyway)

#replies #anonymous #the tl;dr of this is that there's a lot out there!#but not all of it uses jamie's character well or understands that he's nuanced and not just stupid/the brawn of the team/etc etc etc #anything that DOES understand he's an interesting character in his own right is probably going to pique my interest #& as you can tell the short stories are my favourite bit of eu media gkjfd. probably because they're so character-focused #and many of them do give jamie the interest and dimension he deserves

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snowangeldotmp3 · 3 months

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mean girls (2024)

fine. FINE. it is time to discuss mean girls (2024) bc i can't stop thinking about it and i had a severe mean girls the musical phase in 2018 and 2020 two separate times. and also i took notes watching the movie last night. so now you are all subject to hearing them. spoilers, obvi. (under the cut, of course)

i think it should be noted here that i also have Thoughts and Feelings on the bway musical. so if anyone wants to know those... moving on.

it's a movie-musical adapted from the stage musical adapted from the 2004 movie adapted from a BOOK called Queen Bees and Wannabes released in 2002. now that that's out of the way:

the good:

the sets are so much fun in the movie. the musical is like. a few desks and tables and a bed that all move and then. screens. i missed real sets. so much

opening the musical with janis and damien recording the video in the garage and having their narration work like that worked sooooo well. and then of course ending in the garage was very fun.

speaking of janis and damien, these are my favorite versions of janis and damien. auli'i and jaquel KILL IT as janis and damien.

angourie's cady (acting-wise) is really good. really cute and naïve and it feels authentic as a transition from new kid cady to plastic cady.

i also don't mind the changes to apex predator. i think auli'i and jaquel killed it and i think it works! i like the choreo too where everyone is acting animalistic (re: this is Girl World in the og movie) except regina.

avantika and bebe wood are also really great as gretchen and karen. this might be my favorite version of karen. ily karen shetty.

LOVE this version of someone gets hurt. i love regina controlling the atmospehere around her and literally becoming the apex predator. the partygoers don't move unless she allows it, and even planning cady's reaction (which is. gayer than expected) is so good.

CONTROVERSIAL TAKE? i prefer the story behind the pyro-lez thing. i never liked the space dyke story in the musical and i thought it was weird (though i prefer them calling her a space dyke because it's supposed to be mean. ya know)

im saving this for this bullet point bc every other bullet point would've been about but i've been a fan of renee's regina for forever now, so being able to see it outside of broadway and outside of shaky bootlegs is a blessing.

after regina eats shit at the talent show, during the social media montage, you can briefly hear the intrumental version of world burn, and i think thats cool.

SOMEONE GETS HURT (REPRISE) you will always be famous. i am so sorry they didn't put you on the soundtrack

damien on the jazzy will forever be funny. it's better than the og movie. i will stand by this.

also the background/looming beat of world burn like a second after janis gets done singing + the looming threat of regina's revenge is very cool.

OH world burn is very awesome in this bc. duh. of course it is. but what really stands out to me is that it's like apex predator again where everyone is acting like animals and reginas above it all (bc she did this lmao). another thing is the transition between one of the high notes to regina fake crying in mr duvalls office. that was so slay.

the reginald joke is my fave in the whole musical and im so glad they kept it. it makes me giggle every time.

canon lesbian janis imi'ike i love you.

the bad:

i miss all of the songs. give me back It Roars, Where Do You Belong, the entirety of Meet the Plastics, the What's Wrong with Me reprise, FEARLESS! and Whose House is This, More is Better, and Do This Thing!! GIVE THEM BACK TO ME!!! PLEASE!!! OH my god and Stop. jaquel would've blown this out of the water i just know it.

i miss the jokes about mrs george and her boob job. that shit was hilarious.

i don't care for cady's pov in revenge party in this one. those who have seen it Know.

i also miss the "NO! THEY'RE BOTH IN THE COSTUME!" that shit killed me. absolutely hilarious.

the musical (bway edition) actually did cut some of the iconic scenes from the movie, but i think this movie would've benefitted from adding them back in. give me the "we should totally just stab caesar!" line.

i hate Rockin Around The Pole. so fucking much. i hate it in the broadway version and i hated it in this. i hate this song so fucking much.

chris briney. that's all. he's got about as much personality as a wet piece of paper. get a different aaron.

even the broadway musical is like, actually mean. it still pales in comparison to the og movie. this movie could have done a little more to stand out from the actual musical and the og movie. idk. it could've said something. but if you walked into this movie and expected it to say something then that's on you. sorry.

this isn't something that needs to be categorized but i miss cady's inner monologue. it's very obvious in the movie but she's even got these cute little asides in the musical that i WISH they would've kept. like: "it seems kinda bad to spy on someone, but they're the first friends i've got, and i don't want to have none." is so much fun and gives cady so much character and i love it so much. erika henningsen is my favorite variation of cady. she's believable as both nerdy cady and plastic cady. also she's so, so funny. (honestly i think they should've brought her back for cady's songs in this musical. sawry. i don't think they should've replaced angourie bc i really like her cady But.)

another cute and quirky thing that i like from the musical that isn't in the movie (because it would be really hard to pull off) is that mrs heron/mrs george/mrs norbury are all played by the same actress.

anyway that's all i have to say about mean girls (2024). in my (completely unprofessional) opinion, they should've literally just adapted the actual musical script if they wanted to make this so bad. or released a pro-shot with renee as regina and this cast or something. they should've gone all out campy musical with this one instead of trying to market it as a remake bc it's not Really a remake. like it Is but it's Not.

if u read this whole thing thank you. if you saw this post and went "jesus christ" im sorry. i wish i could stop thinking about it, too.

#mean girls #mean girls 2024 #mean girls 2024 spoilers #just my 2 cents.#i didn't include the touring production changes bc i did not like the touring production changes. they changed a part of It Roars #and Fearless and i did Not care for that shit at all #next week's category: beetlejuice the musical #just kidding #but yeah. there's my thoughts on that. sorry everyone.#for more thoughts on things you don't care about please feel free to follow my letterboxd <3

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thehollowwriter · 3 months

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Summary: A customer in Mostro Lounge experiences something... strange

(Pls reblog and leave a comment ❤)

"Did You Hear That?"

Sleep. Please. I just want to sleep. Please.

Aurelia Atra was slumped over at the bar table at Mostro Lounge, head hurting and eyes clenched shut. The sigh that left his lips was heavy and sad. Tired. He was so so tired.

I want to get into the bed and go to sleep. Please.

"What's the matter?" Asked his friend, Will, concern lilting in his voice. "You've shut up for once."

Aurelia cracked a smile at the jab, though it was quick to fade. "Tired." He murmured. "So so tired."

"Again? Man, you really need to get some sleep before you pass out."

"I know." Aurelia mumbled. "I've been trying."

He thought of kicking Will and maybe telling him to stop spewing stuff he already knew, when his brain suddenly reminded him that Will was supposed to be at camp right now.

Aurelia's head shot up and he looked around, confused and a little freaked out. He wondered if Will told him was going on camp just to prank him, but the chairs on either side of him and the sleely, nearly empty restaurant around him was very much vacant of his mischevious friend.

"Hmm?"

Aurelia swivelled his head forward again to find the bartender polishing a glass and peering at him in what seemed like confusion.

"Did you hear that?" Aurelia asked, turning his head again to check if he had somehow missed something. "Someone was was talking to me."

It sounded exactly like Will. But Will wasn't there. He turned to look at the bartender to wait for an answer.

"No one was talking to you," The green haired Octavinelle student said slowly. His voice was soft and gentle, like a flowing river. "You were talking to yourself. You said you were very tired, have you been getting enough sleep?"

Aurelia squinted at the bartender and his blurry vision struggled to focus on the chubby face staring down at him in concern.

Had he lost his mind? He clearly heard Will's voice right there. What the hell was going on? Was this some sort of prank? Was the sleep deprivation finally getting worse?

"Can't sleep." He mumbled sluggishly after a few minutes. ""Can never sleep. S'like insomnia, but I don't have a diagnosis. Tired. I'm so tired."

"Oh my, that must be awful." A brief pause. "The dorm leader is very skilled at potions. Perhaps there ie one that can help you sleep, and he can make it for you? ...Ah, nevermind that. I won't get your hopes up."

The drink Aurelia had ordered slid across the table towards him and he happily took a sip, using the time to rotate the bartender's words in his brain and process them.

After a minute or so, he stared into the bartender's eyes. He wanted to enquire about the potion, he really did, but like the bartender said: he didn't want to get his hopes up.

Still rattled by the strange experience and becoming just a little freaked out by the intensity of the bartender's amethyst gaze, Aurelia looked back at his drink.

"I see."

***

Long after closing, the owner of Mostro Lounge smirked to himself as he went through the large stack of meeting requests, a large collection of poor unfortunate souls desperate for a benevolent saviour.

The owner paused in his movement when he took notice of the bartender approaching him.

The bartender, smiling a small mysterious smile, leaned close to the owner's ear and raised a hand to keep his words sheltered.

As he spoke in a voice so soft it was completely unintelligible to someone only a few inches away, the owner grinned in a way that showed off far too many teeth.

"Aurelia Atra, is it?"

......................................

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this short poorly made story! Idk I felt like writing experiencing bartender Finn from a student's perspective

Tagging: @distant-velleity @krenenbaker @theleechyskrunkly @jovieinramshackle @twisted-wonderland-but-gayer @cynthinesia @officialdaydreamer00 @kitwasnothere @casp1an-sea

@poisoned-pearls

#azul ashengrotto #finn clearcove #octavinelle #aurelia atra #twisted wonderland #writing #twst oc

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coyotes-rules-of-change · 2 years

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A Blessing for the Cursed

I’m notorious for making little changes to the lives of those I pass on the street, but those changes always come with just a hint of chaos. This isn't as much the nature of my abilities as it is an indulgence of mine. In cases like this one, I demonstrate an occasional soft spot where there's an itty-bitty, minuscule, trance amount of a chance that I am capable of something resembling altruism.

Charlie, on the right, caught my attention at a school a few years ago. I'm always looking to take a jock down a peg or two so I'm known to frequent these places. Instead I found his sorry ass crying in the bathroom, and I couldn't—in my current form as an average student—get him to talk. Obviously I followed him home and dug around until I got answers—y'all, I'm not perfect. Anyways, I found out he was closeted and simultaneously being bullied by a number of students. Despite my sleuthing, I couldn't get names, so I couldn't rectify the situation through punishment.

Charlie became the recipient of a spell I normally cast as a curse, but in this case I re-worked it into more of a... blessing?—I'm not used to blessings. Don't get used to it. —Anyways, my classic curse for a homophobe: every time you demonstrate harm on anyone in the queer community, you change to become a member—shifting first in body, then in mind until you are everything you hate. In this case I inverted the trigger so that Charlie would get a bit gayer every time he received abuse or harm for being gay.

The most unusual part of this situation for me is that I've continued to check in on Charlie as he's grown into adulthood. The first time I checked in with him, six months after I placed the curse, the changes were significant. Charlie had come out and become a prominent member of his student body, starting a thriving GSA club and making a cohort close friends who would help him stand up to his bullies. He went from an unassuming kid at the back of the class to someone who kept up with the latest trends and fashions. He started eating a bit healthier and being more active—stopping just short of fully working out—and caring more about his appearance. I couldn't help but notice he had a few guys and girls looking his way. Despite all the physical changes, the most notable change I saw was that he was happy.

That might have been the biggest shift I've seen over the years. I think the upgrades largely kept the bullies at bay and thus kept the changes over time much more gradual. I know he's kept up one hell of a sex life through college, but now he's got his first long term boyfriend. Unfortunately being openly in a same sex relationship in public for basically the first time in his life has opened up Charlie and his new boyfriend Danny to more homophobia. Turns out, Charlie's curse kicked into overdrive. Danny, the quiet theater kid he was dating has become a hot muscular hunk who's on the brink of becoming a moderately successful movie star.

At this point, they're never going to be completely free of the judgement and discrimination of the ignorant, but they don't care. Charlie and his fiancee are out and proud and happier than ever, plus it seems the curse I placed on Charlie will guarantee he and his fiancee will always be hot and rich in spite of what the haters try to do to them.

#male tf #male transformation #blessing #gay #tf story #transformation story

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magicxc · 29 days

Text

Give Me A Try

Pairings: Carol Danvers x OC!Reader x Steve Rogers

Word Count: 4898

Warnings: a lil nipple action, exhibitionism, fingering, praise kink, overstimulation, slight dom Carol, cunnilingus, pussy slapping

A/N: This request has been 2 years in the making lmfaoo but I'm truly proud of how this turned out. It was supposed to be a one and done but the plot started PLOTTING and my ass just HAD to keep adding more. Unfortunately I simply cannot write really long one shots for I tire easily, so this will be broken up into a few parts. It's the spur of the moment fics like this that really are my *chef's kiss* 🤌🏾 so by all means, please enjoy!!

Chapter 1

Masterlist

An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of a cure. That idiom is what my mother would constantly sing throughout the house, a hint of a warning attached to it no doubt. But it wasn’t until I was old enough to really understand the meaning did her words resonate with me in regard to my adventurous childhood.

This was often stressed to me in particular situations such as sneaking around a bees nest in hopes of tasting authentic honey, sliding down the house stairs with a snow sled, jumping off high walls in order to swing from a powerline - all acts fueled by my unlimited curiosity. However my mother was adamant that she didn't know where the hospital was until it was time to go to work, as she was a trauma nurse after all. Although I'm sure she would never let me suffer in agony, she wasn’t too keen on being at work if she wasn’t on the clock.

These days though I've come to view that idiom with a different set of lens. Freshly graduated from high school, I slowly realised that having all the time in the world to choose a career was quite literally a lie. Time seemed sluggish yet instant all the same and soon enough senior year was passing me by. At first I dabbled with the idea of a gap year and spent many community service hours experimenting with different career fields to get a good sense of what I’d like to do forever. Soon enough I landed on dentistry, initially out of job security but eventually because I enjoyed it.

As someone who donned braces in middle school that confidence boost is something I wish for everyone, plus the salary and flexibility seemed nice. All in all the more I delve into the field, the comfier it felt, like sinking into a fluffy futon that gradually swallows you whole. Unfortunately the path to dentistry was riddled with bullshit pre-reqs. And while I almost had my fuck it moment, I figured this would lead to a more lucrative outcome than the tik tok influencer route that I originally planned; seeing as this way I would have something reliable to fall back on. It seems ma was right after all in the sense that an ounce of prevention is indeed worth a pound of a cure.

“Considering sexuality is a spectrum, that means there has to be exactly one person out there who is the gayest.”

“Carol what the fuck are you on about?” I giggled.

“Hear me out, a leather skirt with the platform boots to match? It doesn't get gayer than that babe.”

“It’s called fashion, thank you.”

“There is literally a picture of Cara Delevigne on your shirt,” she pointed out. "Not to mention those fishnet stockings and that tight ass corset."

“I’m not about to do this with you.”

"Listen sweetness, I don’t mind,” she winked. “You can be gayer than me any day.”

“GOODBYE Carol!”

“I love youuuu,” she sang as we separated down the halls.

“Yeah yeah, I love you too,” I yelled over my shoulder.

Introductory to College Success is a great starter class for those unsure of what life holds for them, however it’s a money grab for others that are. Riddled with hypothetical questions, life goals, and career fields, the class offers a good outlook on the possibilities of life after highschool, but not for $350 per credit hour. Too bad it’s mandatory for all freshman students. The upside of it all is the easy A that this class is supposed to guarantee. Stepping into the threshold, I settle into the seat closest to the back, more comfortable with the idea of not being seen and certainly not being called on.

“Good morning class, I’m Professor Rogers and before we get started I need y’all to give me like 10 stars on that rate my professor app.”

Yeahhh this about to be the easiest A I’ve ever gotten cause aint no way.

|~~

“Cam, say sike right the fuck now!!” Carol squealed. “And what did you do after that?”

“I gave him a 5 star rating, what you mean?”

Head thrown back, I watched as Carol bursted at the seams at the retelling of my first day of class. She couldn’t believe it and neither could I if I’m being honest - shock still at the forefront of my mind that Professor Rogers isn’t as mythical as people made him out to be. He’s chill, assigns easy ass work, and has a 100% pass rate with his students. If only all my pre-req professors worked that way.

Word around town is that Mr. Rogers is somewhat of a nepo baby, this job being a direct offer from the college president seeing as Mr. Stark is like an uncle of sorts. Whether he qualifies or not is none of my business so long as I pass his class, and by the looks of it, it’s off to a pretty good start.

Legs softly brushing against Carols underneath the table of the quaint coffee shop, the loud whiz of the blender fades into the background as I listen intently to her first day of college chronicles. Distant chatter helps fill the noisy atmosphere while the doorbell chimes with each new customer. A quick peek out the window has me noticing that the leaves are beginning to turn and I want so badly to savor the last bit of warmth before fall becomes full fledged.

Snaking her hand in mine, I kiss along her warm skin, a request in between each peck of us finishing this conversation outside. Thankfully it doesn’t take her long to accept, that same hand reaching around my face to twist her fingers through my curls. Wrapping up the last bits of our coffee we leave the coffee shop, fingers interlocked in lieu of our next mission.

|~~

“Ohhh, one of my professors mentioned a popular lake nearby that’s supposed to be really scenic,” she quipped over the steering wheel.

“Is it isolated? Cause you know I don’t get down like that Carol, that's the type of shit that’ll have us end up on the ID channel.”

“Relax, it’s like 5 minutes off the main road and it’s actually known to be a lovers paradise."

Eyeing the cell phone mounted on the dash for directions, one hand on the wheel while the other cradles the back of my headrest, she makes a particularly tricky maneuver; her tongue darting between pink lips as it hangs on the corner in concentration. Fingers reaching into my hair, I gently twirl them around, entranced at how she manages to make the mundane look hot.

As racy as my thoughts get rolling for Carol, it's truly the little things she does that warms my insides - like how during the winter she puts my towel in the dryer so it’s extra warm when I get out the shower or making me a pottery mug just for tea after learning that I’d drink it almost every day. She usually takes the world for what it is and views it with a small sense of naivety, choosing instead to see the good in all; and sometimes I wish, if only for a second, that I could see things through her lens - with such light and curiosity.

“Now I see why the lake is named Shady Depths," she said pulling into the bushes.

“Now Carol-”

“I know, I know, trust me I had the same idea; but apparently it garnered its name from the many cheating scandals that took place there.”

“Girl, not you taking me to a place where relationships meet their end.”

Tossing a bottle cap at me, Carol goes on to mention how we can be the reason the lake gains another type of reputation and also that our relationship shouldn’t be built around superstition.

“Mhmm, are you sure that’s the ONLY reason it’s called Shady Depths?”

“Don’t tell me you’re getting scared?” she feigns surprise.

“Being scared and aware are two very different things.”

“As someone majoring in dentistry I’m pretty sure you can handle a few minutes at this lake.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” I asked, slurping the last bits of coffee, the hallow noise of the straw a clear indication that the sticky goodness was finished.

“Cam, the human mouth is terrifying. I saw what my niece's looked like before the silver teeth and let's just say I was never the same.”

At that I choked on my spit, a haughty combination of laughter and hacking the result of my carelessness. But I can’t help being so care-free around Carol, her authentic nature comforting enough to bring out my kooky personality.

It’s been about two years since we’ve made things official. We’d met sophomore year at our highschools trivia night - a game night dedicated to all the social club participants to celebrate the end of the school year. Chocked full of snacks, fun music, and fierce competition it was typically the highlight of the final semester for all involved. At some point during the games, Carol and I had found ourselves on opposing teams, making it to the final round three different times, and what started out as initial frustration soon blossomed into genuine curiosity.

Shortly after, the familiar face that I’d pass by in the hallways began accompanying me to after school hangouts, study sessions, and the occasional sleep over. A soft brushing of the hands here and prolonged eye lingering there, we’d come to realise that there was something between the two of us and while Carol had always been so sure of herself, it was me that had to work up the courage to be at the same level of comfort. All it took was one rainy night and a promise to see where things would take us that led to this very moment - pulling into what feels like a page out of a magazine book.

While secluded areas aren't typically my thing, this lake does bring a soothing sense of familiarity to it as if I, too, had spent some fun nights out here. There’s a dock at the edge of the shore that extends about 100 feet into the water, with a pool ladder that dips into what looks to be no more than five steps beneath the chilling surface. As the sun sets beneath the horizon its golden rays spread across each ripple of water, glimmering with the last remnants of the physical representation of the day. Although inviting, I know the water is far from warm, the sun providing only a source of light rather than heat; however it can be a relief on a hot sunny day as opposed to the cooling 70° that drifts through the autumn air. There’s chairs scattered near the dock, remains of what looks to be a bonfire littered around, and deep into the corners are a pair of hammocks tied to the trees. This is definitely a place I can see myself visiting if not for the scenery, then certainly the serenity that it brings.

Cutting the engine, Carol shifts toward me, her eyes gleaming with mischief, an I told you so on the tip of her tongue as she clocked the way that I admired the area.

“I don’t wanna hear it. You ate that lil one thing or whatever.”

“I did what?” she asked, hand cupping her ear.

“You did your big one Carol damn,” I chuckled. “This lake is actually really quaint.”

“Mhmm yeah, some of the locals were talking about it earlier and I just had to see for myself what all the hype was about.” “I genuinely wouldn’t mind coming out here with some snacks next time or even just to do some homework,” I commented, gaze lingering over the small waves.

“I’m looking at a snack right now,” Carol chirped, tongue darting out of her mouth and swiping across her lips.

Leaning across the console, just low enough for my breasts to peek over the neckline of my shirt, I reach over and slid my tongue against hers; the feel of it moist and thick as she looped it around mine, mouth opening to accept me entirely. The bitter taste of coffee greets my taste buds and I delve deeper into the kiss, nose brushing against Carols as I gladly accept the remnants of her earlier refreshment.

Tracing over the hem of my shirt, Carols expert hands trail upward, her nimble finger tips rolling each nipple through the fabric with her thumb and forefinger until I cry out into the kiss.

Mouth swallowing my mewls, Carol releases me with a slippery pop, suggesting that we take this party outside, preferably on the hood of the car.

“Are you serious?” I screeched, eyes bulging from their sockets.

“C’mon, I thought you’ve always wanted to try a little exhibitionism.”

“Yeah, back then when I was young and dumb.”

“You’re still young and dumb,” she teased.

A few playful slaps land on her arm at the remark, her insistence becoming more convincing by the minute. After all, we were the only ones here and the place echoed loud enough to hear any approaching tires against the gravel, which would give us just enough time to collect ourselves.

“Carol you have until sunset, so you better make it quick,” I urged.

“By the looks of it that’s in 15 minutes, 20 tops,” she replied. “It’s all good though cause I’ve made you cum in less.”

Heat rising to the surface of my cheeks, I have to look away, her aura and down right naughty words too much for me to physically handle at this point. Using her fingers, she redirects my face toward hers, pecking my lips while lightly dragging hers to the side of my jaw, effectively ordering me to get out of the car and onto the hood.

Pulling away and stepping out, I gently shut the door close, trying my best to keep quiet in the off chance that lingering ears are close by. We both saunter to the front of the car, my hand reaching over the steel to get a feel of if I can comfortably sit there. Palm pressed flatly against the surface, Carol stands behind me, her face in my neck as her palm sits parallel to mine.

“Feels *kiss* about *kiss* right *kiss* to *kiss* me.”

“Are you sure this won’t burn me? I have very sensitive thighs,” I nervously admitted, bottom lip caught between my teeth.

“I’ve seen you shower in water hotter than this sweetness, but if it gets too much just let me know and we’ll stop, mhmkay.”

Nose crinkling at the thought that we’re actually going through with this, I gently hop on top of the car and carefully scoot my way up to the middle of the hood.

“God I’m so glad that you wore a skirt today.”

It was primarily a fashion choice. Had I known that it’d be serving other purposes, I would’ve opted for a softer material rather than this sticky leather.

Lips harshly colliding with mine, Carol's eagerness is on full display, teeth clashing in the mix of our spit swapping kiss. Her hands hike my skirt up as I lift my hips to help with the process. Sliding my panties to the side, she wastes no time in shoving her fingers inside me, twisting them around to get an idea of just how much moisture needs to be added to the equation, if any.

“What a slut,” she taunts. “Five minutes in and you’re already wet enough to end the water crisis.”

“Carol,” I whimpered, annoyed that she can find the time to talk while her fingers have come to a standstill.

“Nuh uh you want it so bad, come show me just how you want my fingers to feel.”

‘Wha- huh? I don’t understand.”

“Ride my fingers and if you do it well enough, I may just use them.”

“Ca-”

“Ride them,” she demanded.

Legs spread apart, I dig my heels in the bumper of the car for balance, hips rising ever so slightly as I begin to carefully drive them towards Carols fingers. Slowly sliding down I start a slight bouncing movement, shifting down and then back up again as Carol intentionally keeps her fingers still.

“That’s it,” she coos. “Just keep going like that and you’ll find your groove.”

And just like that I went, feet planted onto the car as I did my best to glide down her slender fingers. My palms dig into the hood, its warmth radiating heat to my already hot body. And thankfully it starts to feel good, good enough for me to inch my way further down each time, careful not to slip entirely.

“Good girl,” she praises. “Look at you, deep in concentration just for a taste of my fingers.”

My thighs begin to burn at the balance I have to maintain, forehead moist at the workout I find myself in. But still I continue, deliberate in my ministrations, this time reaching for the base of her knuckles.

At that she pulls back, making my goal post further than it needs to be, frustration etched onto my features.

“That’s cheating,” I huffed.

“Yeah well, I can’t make it too easy for you,” she chirped.

“This isn’t easy at all.”

“Nothing in life ever is, now do it again.”

“I’ll drop if I-”

At that she thrusts her fingers into my core, quick enough to surprise me and deep enough to cause a little discomfort, my retort effectively cut off.

“You’ll what, you'll drop? When have I ever dropped you?” she questioned. “When did you stop trusting me huh?”

Reaching forward she drags my bottom lip forward with her teeth, burying them into the soft flesh until my whines crescendoed. She eventually lets it go, pulling back only to scold me further.

“Did you actually think me so careless that I’d let you hurt yourself? That I can’t see past my own lust?”

Was it annoyance or anger? I couldn’t really tell. Carol’s fingers never slowed down enough for my mind to catch up with her words. Insistent on pumping them inside of me, all I could do was sit there and wail, her digits now curled upward as she continued thrusting them.

“And do you really think that I should let you cum?”

Now that I caught. Caught it quick enough to realise that my hips were pushing against her fingers, meeting them each time her hand pulled back in a desperate attempt to hit my peak. But the implication that I may not, had my eyes glossy with tears, irritated that Carol could even think to deprive me after all those hoops she's so excitedly make me jump through.

“Don’t even worry, cause I’m about to give you all that and more.”

Thumb placed on the pearl of my clit, she vigorously circles it, her fingers continuing their come hither motion as my hips bounced against her knuckles. Belly caved in, chest tight, and head numb, I couldn’t help the tears that brimmed over and cascaded down my cheeks, head thrown back as I felt the water works slide down my ass.

My brain was so foggy, it didn’t register that Carol never stopped. It took me coming again to notice that she intended to work my body past the confines of comfort and on any other day I truly wouldn’t mind the challenge. But here, in this secluded ass wilderness, with darkness just around the corner had me calling a timeout.

Gathering the little energy I have left, both arms shot out and locked around her dominant one, slowing her skilled movements in a pathetic plea to slow down or stop altogether; begging for which I truly couldn't tell.

“I don't know, it wouldn’t seem fair to cheat you out of feeling so good,” she feigns concern.

“Carol please don’t.”

“Silly me, I forgot just how much of a hands on learner you are, like when you learned just how many times you could cum.”

Truth be told I still don’t know as I lost count after the eighth. Tales from the straights had me nervous about being able to make it to the finish line, let alone being able to do it more than once in a single setting. However, questioning Carol on such a fact did give me the answers I needed, just not in the way I expected as I passed out that night.

Carol has a way of telling me what I want, but to the extreme. This is her weird way of building trust and proving that actions do speak louder than words, so the next time she asks me to ride her fingers, I'm gonna do that shit with no hands to see just how good those reflexes are when put to the test.

“Besides, what happened to the whole sunset thing?” she quipped.

“The deal was you could make me cum before it sets,” I panted. “Now lets see what I could do with the six minutes of light we have left.”

Eyebrows arched, a challenging grin meets my tired one, Carols competitive urge no doubt itching to stop her in her tracks so that it gets the chance to shine. Slowly removing her fingers from inside me, she coaxes my mouth open for me to clean them, rolling each digit over my tongue as she drives them forward in a rocking type motion.

“You have exactly five minutes to show me how this wouldn’t be a complete waste of time,” she cautioned, diving in for a soft kiss.

Helping me off the car, Carol mounts herself atop the hood in my place, watching through hooded eyes as I fixed my clothing. Skirt straightened and shirt tucked, I look up to see that Carol already assumed the position, her legs spread wide with her clothed pussy on full display.

“I see you get a kick out of being a little dominatrix,” I teased, referring to the damp spot in the middle of her underwear.

“Oh trust me there isn’t anything little about me, and you have four minutes left before I get down there and show you.”

She always has to one up me, but I’m gonna take a page out of her book and let my actions do the talking. I wanna see just how smart that mouth is when she gets to whimpering like a bitch in heat.

Wasting no time, I attach my lips to her pussy through the underwear, her sharp intake of breath just waiting to let loose at the inevitable contact of skin on skin; and as much as I want to hold out, as much as I want to drag out this feeling, the sun won't last too much longer.

Slipping my fingers inside the fabric she finally lets loose, blowing out the sweet release that lets me know that I'm on the right track. Tongue darting past my lips, I lick a trail up the center, making sure to stop at her dripping heat before diving inside and twisting it around. Carols sticky excitement gets smeared across my chin in the process of it all and I gently scrape my teeth across her lips to keep her feisty ass on edge.

Glancing above, we lock eyes but mine can’t help focusing on the sky behind her which seems to be darkening by the second and so I drag my face upward, tongue noisily sliding across her slick pussy until it reaches her shy bud peeking through the hood.

“Even in sex you manage to be challenging,” I taunted, palm rising up to land on her core.

Her hips jump forward and I have to physically hide the smile that threatens to creep up, my hand once more connecting with her skin in attempt to see just how flustered she’d get.

thwack

“There she is, she’s just a little shy huh?” I cooed, thumb coming up to circle the now fully protruded bud. “Talk to me Carol, why you so quiet all of a sudden mhmm?”

“I’m just waiting -”

Before she could finish, I clamped my mouth to her clit, squeezing and sucking until I knew for sure any fiery remark was effectively doused. It’s such a turn on for me, watching my strong girl get so weak in the knees, watching intently as she ate her fucking words every time.

She can’t help but buck those slutty hips toward my face, unintentionally chasing the high I’d so gladly give her, but its the closing of her legs that has my face upturned. Thighs locking around my neck, I use both my hands to pin them to the cooling hood, my lips now a vacuum as it harshly suctions against her glistening pearl. She settles for aimlessly thrashing about, the steel of the car bending in ways Im not entirely sure we can fix.

“You have tw- two minutes lef- uhhh ahhh,” she screeches.

She never misses a chance to talk her shit and I'll never miss a opportunity to turn down a challenge, adding my two fingers to the mix to help speed things along.

The car shakes viciously, her thighs struggling underneath my hand, my fingers no doubt leaving behind an imprint of just how good this night will end for her. Soon enough Carol’s fingernails graze my scalp, her hands pulling at my hair in all sorts of gratifying ways; a heavy hum of approval slipping past my lips and sending direct shock waves to her insides.

The driving of my fingers never cease, and it's the way she clenches her hips, lifting them ever so slightly that lets me know just how dangerously close she is. Thirsty seconds left on the clock and I all but power speed through the final seconds, my mouth no doubt borderline painful on her now swollen clit.

In the knick of time I feel the dam of Carols walls break down, overflowing with her sticky essence as a result of probably the hardest work I’ve put in. She lies flatly on the car, her chest heavily panting as she takes a minute to rejoin me back on earth.

“Talk to me nice or don’t talk to me twice. FIVE MINUTES? Who the fuck could ever get you going in such a short time?” I bragged.

“You did your big one Cam damn,” she mimicked from earlier today, lengthy breaths puffing past her mouth as she struggles to catch herself.

“Yeah that’s right, now come put those lips on mine and see just how fucking delectable you taste.”

Smiling, she raises up off the hood of the car, grunting at the effort it took and slid down ever so slightly until her mouth met mine; soft kisses at first, that soon turned passionate; her hands coming up to cup my cheeks for an easier maneuver.

Splashing from the water breaks the kiss, both of us craning our necks to see where the source is coming from, but all that greets us is how beautifully the moon kisses the rippling water, it’s pale reflection sitting atop the never ending tide. All remnants of the day is gone, the darkness swallowing the area whole and now adding a eerie vibe to the once peaceful scene.

“C’mon C, let's head out,” I suggested. “I don’t care what that sound was and I’m not sticking around to find out.

“It’s probably just a tree branch or a small animal taking a nightly dive,” she chuckled.

“Again, I’m sticking around to find out.”

Laughing, she jumps from the hood, her wobbly footing almost sending her crashing to the ground. Helping with her stance, we fix her dress and head inside the car for some relief from the cooling breeze.

“Whadya say, think we can buff out those dents?” Carol teases, revving the engine.

“Girl that’s tomorrow's problem. All I care about right now is a shower and some food.”

“Yes ma’am,” she concedes, her hand finding a permanent place on my thigh. “How are you feeling? I wasn’t too rough was I?”

“No, just mean,” I confess.

“I’m sorry sweetness, sometimes I can go a little overboard. But all you gotta do is say the word and I’ll stop right in my tracks, knuckles deep and all.”

Palm slapped across my mouth, I fell into a fit of giggles at Carol's refusal to mince her words. Thankfully she’s never gotten too rough with me and was always right there with the perfect amount of aftercare to make sure that things never made me feel degraded.

Carol’s rough is borderline dominatrix whereas my rough is just me talking my shit. We both switch depending on our immediate moods, sex between us a combination of dom and sub behaviours from both parties, but at the end of it all is where we come together to make sure that everyone is on one accord.

“Im gonna run us a bath when we get back to the apartment and we can order from that Thai place down the street?” she offers.

“Thats only if I don't fall asleep right away.”

“Oh sweetness, I won’t let that happen. Cause you still owe me two more rounds and I’ll be damned if I don’t get them.”

#Emmy Writes #Emmy Tries #Marvel Fanfic #Marvel Imagines #Marvel Cinematic Universe #mcu #marvel mcu #College AU #Request Me Please #original story and characters #original characters #Carol Danvers #Captain Marvel #marvel x oc #carol danvers x female reader #they're GAYYYY #captain marvel x reader

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