#3675

[honjitsuno1mai]

#3675 ＠ 神奈川県横浜市中区山下町

[cyvonix]

J. J. Who the fuck is J. Do we know a J? I can't think of a J. (Besides Jack but even with Homestuck's level of time bullshit I feel pretty confident in saying he is Not Jade's grandson who wants to be friends with John) So it's...... Probably nobody we've met so far?? But really who's to even say

[vanillastopbath]

3675 Chicago, IL 01/23/2024

[exotic-indians]

[thomine]

sincere sins & serious schemes : thoma

pair: thoma x reader info: teen & up, corruption, manipulation, homicide, bad parenting, brief mention of starvation, emotional manipulation, power imbalance, ambiguous ending, not proofread

summary: you cover up your brother’s crime to repay what he did for you many years back. it comes back to bite you in an innocent request for a date.

word count: 2.8k words series: day 13 of au august 2023 / prompt: noir links: work tag

You’ve explored less travelled paths of Inazuma City with Thoma while on the hunt for criminals, sticking closer than peas in a pod for it was easier to deal with danger than imagine the other out of sight.

He’s the first person you seek after successfully connecting clues all night, knocking on his door at ungodly hours. You’ve lost count how many times he’s apologised for his small apartment. He says he should be a gentleman to send you home, but he never does and replaces your toothbrush in his washroom every three months.

Your close relationship with him is a common topic of discussion during lunch in Inazuma Detective Agency as your distant colleagues make bets like little kids while giggling to themselves. They have lots say when justifying that you and Thoma might cross that line, but they forget to factor your division in their judgements.

“Kamisato Ayato, Sir,” you greet as your leader steps out of the board meeting. Thoma—the closest you can describe their complicated relationship is that he is Ayato’s secretary—follows tightly behind, and he smiles at you as if he wasn’t trapped in a room for 3 hours. “What was the conclusion of the case?”

Your leader clicks his tongue. What scares you is how his quaint smile is present on his handsome features. If you didn’t catch his flash of annoyance, Ayato’s disdained tone when he replies can cause a whiplash.

“They’re doing this on purpose.” His eyes gloss over the group of men that came out of the room with him. They cluster at the exit, eager to go home. Ayato pulls his bangs back, resolution burning in his eyes. You lower your gaze just to reduce clashing with his.

With a sigh, hands falling to his sides, he adds, “They’re certain the recently arrested man is the culprit and will be imprisoning him without a hearing. There are details I want to iron out, so I’ll postpone the briefing. I won’t let this rest.”

Ayato’s voice is dangerously soft. You give him a minute to ruminate in his thoughts—nothing more and nothing less.

“It should be expected. They hold the power to label someone guilty, not evidence,” you quip, torso bent in a subtle bow out of respect but also from freshly acquired fear. Ayato is not someone to mess with, and this topic of the recent culprit you captured…

“I know that look,” Thoma butts into the conversation, an accusatory finger pointing at Ayato. “You’re going to lock yourself in your office again. Won’t your sister be disappointed?”

It is at this moment their squabble fades to background noise. There are more pressing matters to think about than eavesdrop on the private life of your boss.

Tonight, you’ll be meeting your brother. The plan was to get your hands on the brief so you can discuss things with him. Now that you don’t know the specifics, you aren’t sure how to proceed. At least there is hope that—

“Besides,” Ayato’s voice cuts through your thoughts. You raise your head to give him respectful eye contact since he sounds like he’s addressing you, but he’s focused on Thoma instead. “I don’t want to hold anyone back. The day is ending, and I’m sure there are things both of you—” he finally glances at you “—have to do just as I have work to finish. A new case was brought to my attention, and I don’t want those corrupted officials to get their hands on it before I crack it open.”

The clock ticks.

You have 2 and a half hours before you meet with your brother. 2 and a half hours to run through everything and calculate how you might have underestimated the danger Ayato brings to the situation.

You bow when your boss leaves, and you thought Thoma will say goodbye. Perhaps berate his boss like childhood friends do on the importance of self-care before he does, but you find yourself caught in his sight instead.

“Is there something on my face?” you ask.

“No,” he replies, looking away for a second.  “I do have something to ask.”

“If it’s about the drug seller that just got apprehended, I think it is best to ask Ayato. You know better than anyone this case was a burden for me. I just… want to rest.”

“Then…” he rubs his neck. You cross your arms. Hesitant Thoma is a new side of him you’ve never saw in the years you work with him. “If you’d like to rest, may I propose going out for dinner with me?”

“Where is this coming from?” Your head spins. You’ve cracked complicated cases that were top headline news, yet you cannot wrap your head around his question. “Are you going to discuss the new case Ayato brought up? We aren’t supposed to talk about it before an official assignment… not like the others.”

If there were no cases, there would be no opportunity to walk around Inazuma City with Thoma. If there were no clues, you would not find yourself sleeping on his old couch. Determined to build Ayato’s hopeful vision of the city, Thoma and you dance at the edges of that line.

“Can’t I make a personal request?” He gives you a cheeky smile, hands in his pockets and even for his tall stature he looks like a small, shy boy in front of you. “You… don’t see me as only a work partner, do you?”

You blink, straightening your back before slouching and staring at the ground.

Do you?

But you have your brother to meet.

“How about another day—”

“There’s a discount at Uyuu restaurant. 10% off selected meals and your favourite so happens to be part of that list.”

When you don’t reply, he chips in, “Since it’s a date, I’ll pay.”

A date.

“Does… Ayato know of…” you awkwardly gesture between you and him, “… this?”

“Well… That… would I do something he wouldn’t agree with?”

There’s a thin layer of red on his cheeks as he gives a sheepish smile. His touch is something you’re so used to that you didn’t notice him holding your hands until you feel resistance trying to scratch your cheek.

You never thought of Thoma being anything more due to the sheer impossibility of it among other reasons. This feels like a dead lead, but it doesn’t mean you aren’t heating up at the way he takes a few steps forward with those pleading puppy green eyes.

Why does everything have to always be thought out so carefully? You think, exhausted, defeated, and surrendering to the tiny voice in your heart.

“Now?” You ask.

“Now.”

“I’m not the best dressed though…”

“I’ve seen you in the ugliest pyjamas. Does wearing your best erase that memory from my mind?”

You attempt to hit him but fail because of his hands holding yours, and he laughs. It’s a moment of happiness, you suppose, but his grip is strong and tight.

If you said no, would he let you go?

It is past 10 minutes from the time you promised to meet your brother, but you’re stuck between a wall and Thoma. He has his lips all over yours, and as much as you wish you can enjoy this apparent moment of bliss, anxieties pile up with each passing second.

You press against his chest a second time. He hesitates, and you take that opportunity to turn your head, unable to look at his eyes. This is not something you can enjoy—not when you hold a large secret.

To your luck, your phone chimes. You create more space between you and him so you can stand without the wall.

“Sorry, I…” you say, a hand reaching into your pocket for your phone. It must be your brother, waiting helplessly outside your apartment. If you aren’t going to tell him you’re held back by a clandestine kiss, you better start thinking of excuses. “I really have to go. It was… nice, i guess.”

Thoma rubs the nape of his neck, apologetic. He looks like a puppy, and you want to envelope him in a hug to reassure him that he’s not the one at fault here—in every sense of the word—but your phone chimes again and your brother barely double texts due to his limited credit.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” Thoma asks, green eyes staring at the ground. The guilt in you solidifies. Does he really like you that much?

Your throat tightens.

“Yes. And I guess we’ll… talk about this some other day?”

“Right,” Thoma flushes. “We’ll talk about it.”

Awkwardly, you make your way out of the alleyways. You expect something—he calls out your name or grabs your wrist—but you slip out of his grasp like water. Just seconds ago, he held you with a grip so firm that his gentleness was easy to forget and now it’s like all of it was for naught. There’s no time to piece this situation because your phone chimes again.

Brother: There’s someone lingering near your apartment. Claims she’s your neighbour—Momoyo—but something’s off about her. I didn’t think it’s safe for me to stay so I wandered for a while. I’ll let you know where to meet. Brother: Planning to go to the garden behind your apartment. Act normal. Brother: The pavilion on the outskirts of the north-west gate.

He’s more demanding than usual. The night is getting weirder. You just want to sleep, but in order to save your ass as well, this meeting is necessary.

You: On my way. Give me 5.

At the pavilion, your brother reads a book. When he sees you, he discards it and drops to his knees. The book was a front, and underneath, your brother hosts great grief. In seconds, his eyes are pooling with regret. He grabs your hands and you’re tired of being treated like an object, but at his plea, you have greater things to be concerned about.

“Someone found out.”

“What?” you ask, feeling blood seep from your body. You want to puke. “They found out. You mean…”

“No, not the drug case. Something else. I didn’t want to trouble you and planned to take this to my grave, but I need your help. Someone is going after me. They know that I killed—”

“You what?” You tear your hand out of his grasp, unbothered by the friction burns due to his strong clasp. It’s proven to be a mistake when your body grows light, and you stumble backwards. If not for the pavilion seats, you would have fallen to the floor. “Where is all this coming from? You could have started with something… more digestible?” You glare at him, but that only worsens the volume of his tears. “A drug case is already tough to manage. A murder is not something I can cover.”

He holds your hands again with both arms, pulling himself closer to you. Lower lips trembling, he barely squeaks out his reply.

“If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be here. I was the one who saved leftover food for you. I was the one who encouraged you to join the Detective Agency. You should repay me, shouldn’t you?”

“This was all part of your ploy, isn’t it? You wanted me to get this position so you could puppeteer me to your liking.” You take a deep breath and let it out in a held-back groan. “And here I thought it was worth repaying your faux kindness. You’re just like our parents. You don’t care about me.”

“You misunderstand. You managed to bribe them. Are you sure they stand for justice? You know very well that those bozos don’t care about us—about you. Do they even know you?”

Thoma flashes across your mind. Perhaps there is another reason why both of you can’t cross that line. The world of the personal heart, of broken childhoods and wretched upbringings, is too much of a burden to share. Thoma only knew the version you wanted him to know.

Would he still want to kiss you if he learned you’ve betrayed everything he stands for? You don’t understand him well enough to be confident you have a conclusion, but one thing is for certain: unlike your brother, the people you called family, he had a heart.

You hope you didn’t break it.

“Why else would I be in my pitiful state?” your brother adds. “Have you thought about that?”

His anguish has turned into anger, voice bordering on a shout if not for the soft chatter in the background, a reminder that even if the pavilion is secluded, there are still ears.

“After our parents died, I couldn’t get myself back on my feet,@ he says. “I may be the favoured one, but do they really have much to give? I had a fling shortly after their funeral. She wanted to keep the child, so we fought. It did not end well.”

He returns to his melancholic mien. A fool will believe his remorse. Unfortunately, you were a fool before. Give him an inch and he will demand a mile.

 “I kept the secret really well, but I’m afraid… not anymore.”

“If you are truly regretful of your actions, you’d go to jail. Willingly. Not drag me around.”

“But you see…” his voice is threateningly soft. “If I get caught… they’ll find out your crimes too. How you covered for my drug case by accusing an innocent man… would you really want that to happen?”

Your stomach churns.

Your voice is played on radio. It scratches and glitches at times, but your confession is clear, and so is Ayato’s disappointment.

Thoma stands at the far side of the room. Ayato is a man who takes his work seriously. He does intensive background checks on everyone who joins his team, and that is a double-edged sword. If he knew you had this characteristic, he would have found a way to silently discard you as if things just never aligned. You stayed in his team for 3 years.

When he approached Thoma and proposed a plan, he was shocked how you are part of this web of lies. He didn’t want to believe it, but the facts have been laid bare.

The kiss tastes sour in his mouth. He didn’t want to play with strings like that, but he knew Ayato needed someone to attach a voice recorder on you before they missed the chance, and you are always cautious even around someone who you’ve hung out with for years.

But you were completely unguarded when he kissed you.

Desperate times calls for desperate measures. He just hopes he did not break your heart that has already been tattered and torn if your conversation with your brother is anything to go by.

He twirls a pen between his fingers. When it flies out of his hand, he lets it roll on the ground. What’s done is done.

The conversation between you and your brother have long been in the back of his mind. He just needed you to admit that you resorted to dirty tricks and his job is done.

However, your voice pricks his attention. Your words are grounded, and it’s the first he’s heard you so resolute. You’ve always been sort of a push-over when it comes to people’s demands. Why else would you stay overnight in his house despite how often both of you agree it is best if you return?

“No.” The recorded glitches. “I’m not like you. I made a mistake, and you showed me that, so I’m going to own it. What was I thinking? Believing I had someone I could trust?” The record glitches again, but the crack in your voice resonances in Ayato’s private office.

“I should have known,” you continue after a loud thud. Ayato’s back faces Thoma. His posture has not changed. His head rests on his tented fingers. “If you truly cared for me, you wouldn’t have roped me in this situation in the first place. You want an upper hand, and I’m not giving it to you.”

There is crunch of dirt followed by the distant call of your brother’s voice. Ayato turns the radio down. He’s smiling.

“Did you…” Thoma starts, picking up the pen on the floor. “You knew this would happen.”

“It was a risk,” Ayato admits. “The tip Momoyo gave of the killer for the lady and the child was weak, and I didn’t expect to get this much information on it… I guess it was a risk worth taking.”

Ayato gets up from his chair and takes out the thumb drive. He hands it over to Thoma.

“What will happen to… my partner?”

Ayato only glances at Thoma before he walks out.

In the silence, Thoma confirms three things.

One: Ayato will give further instructions once you make your move. Two: Ayato’s impressions towards you are mixed after your betrayal of the division’s values… but, and lastly, there is hope for your return.

He did not comment on Thoma calling you his partner—although whether it remains as work partners is an answer Ayato cannot give.

author's note: normally a kiss scene would elevate a fic from ambiguous (indicated by x) to romantic (indicated by /), but i feel the scene is not as straightforward, so there's leeway of interpretation. also, in the spirit of noir, i wrote this fic with a darker undertone in mine, even if the ending is slightly hopeful (depending on how you read it). do check out the author's commentary for more of my thought process!

[drrafaelcm]

Supremo suspende cobrança de R$ 768 milhões de dívida previdenciária de Alagoas

A ministra Cármen Lúcia observou que, antes da conclusão do processo administrativo fiscal, não é possível cobrar dívida nem incluir estado em cadastros de inadimplentes. Continue reading Supremo suspende cobrança de R$ 768 milhões de dívida previdenciária de Alagoas

[lokerluarnegerimalaysianadya]

Job taiwan perawat/panti jompo

[funshines-world]

Pants on fire

[ir-dr]

Day 3675 - 16 October 2024

🎮

.//projectTiGER

[the-scp-files]

SCP-3675 │ The Void Called │

Object Class: KETER

Disruption Class: EKHI

Risk Class: DANGER

By: Modulum

See their author page here:

[pensat-i-fet]

His very own real princess (Pedri x Reader)

**I'm back with another imagine! This one was requested many moons ago and the anon who sent it might have forgotten about it so sorry 😕 but I got the inspiration for it and so I wanted to share it! I'm not so used to writing short format anymore so I feel everything could be a series. Let me know if you'd like this concept to be one! ☺️ And enjoy! ❤️**

Word count: 3675

Masterlist

Wattpad

Being famous was not as great as people made it up to be. For Pedri, it meant leaving the house was too much sometimes. He had to deal with people following him and even getting in front of his car just to get his attention. He was asked to sign autographs and to take photos every couple of minutes. While he loved his fans, it could be a bit much. Especially when he could tell they were filming him so they could post the video on TikTok for a couple hundred likes. So, one day, he tried to avoid those people by going to a park. He could probably lose them there. There were so many trees and dogs that made it harder to move quickly around the area.

For you, it had been a bit different. Growing up your family wanted to keep you a secret almost. For security reasons…or so they said. So, naturally, you wanted to rebel against them and do the complete opposite. Still, it wasn’t until you turned 18 that you started to show up at official events. And now you were 20, you realised maybe your parents had been right all along. But you weren’t going to tell them that. Of course. So while some paparazzi were chasing you, you spotted a park and thought you could hide there for a bit. Maybe even call your chauffeur so he could pick you up and save you from the vultures.

“Oh! Sorry”.

Pedri turned to look at the girl who was apologising to him. You had bumped into each other and he hit you in the head with his shoulder without meaning to. He hadn’t even seen you there.

“No, I’m the one who’s sorry. Are you alright?”

And then, it happened. You looked up to see his face and you couldn’t believe who it was that you were talking to.

“Oh my God…oh my God”, was all you could say.

“I take it you know who I am”.

“Yeah, who doesn’t?”

Pedri chuckled. “I guess there are some lucky folks out there who don’t. But really, are you ok?”

“Yes, it’s fine. Just more shocked to see you here than anything else”.

Pedri smiled at you and you were trying hard not to swoon. Being hidden from the public eye meant you hadn’t been around a lot of famous people before. Your second cousins were way more used to this and always told you famous people were just normal people. To them…not to you. To you, famous people were…fascinating.

“I was planning on hiding here for a bit”, you said.

“Me too, but I don’t want to ruin your plan so I could leave…”.

Pedri started to look around, getting ready to leave so you stopped him. “You don't know who I am so that makes you good company. Perfect company actually. So you can stay. Also, you got here first”.

“Should I know who you are?”

“I guess not”, you shrugged. Not everyone followed your family. Thankfully.

“Are you a singer?

“Babies cry when I sing”.

“Actress?”

“Nope”.

“Influencer”.

“I only influence how much money there is left in my dad's bank account”.

You thought it was really cute how he concentrated, trying to guess. “Then…a model?”

“No, but I appreciate the compliment”.

“What compliment?”

“If you think I could be a model, then you think I'm pretty”.

“Well”, he started. “I like to invite pretty girls to eat or have a drink so…which one is it going to be?”

“There is an ice cream ban there…if you dare approach it”.

It made you laugh how Pedri looked around the area, making sure no one who could know him was there and then he turned to look at you again.

“What flavour?”

“One ball of coffee and one of vanilla, please”.

“Sounds sophisticated”.

“I guess you’re getting closer to my identity”, you laughed.

“What are you? A princess?”

“Nah, the princesses are my cousins”.

Pedri laughed before going to the ban to get the ice cream. The funny thing about being part of the Royal family was that it was so weird that many thought you were joking when you said that. But you weren’t. Not many people knew your parents but they still were part of the family so…they got attention. And now, you got the attention too.

“Here is your ice cream, your Majesty”.

“Thank you, Golden boy”, you joked back.

“Does that make me royalty too?”

“I guess. Football royalty so less hated than real royalty”. “Less hated? You clearly aren’t on Twitter”.

No, you weren’t. No amount of therapy would heal you after reading what people wrote about you or your family there.

Sitting down on the grass and eating an ice cream while chatting with Pedri was something that healed your mood. It was so nice to be with someone who didn’t know who you were but that also understood how you felt. Even if he didn’t know it yet.

“There are a lot of kids and parents around now. I feel no one will even look at us while we leave”.

You looked around and agreed with his assessment. “Ok, where should we go?”

“I don’t know. Wanna go walk near the beach? It’s usually where I end up when I go out. It’s not often I do but it’s nice to go there”.

“I like the beach”.

“Where are you from?”

“Well…it’s a funny question that one”, you sighed.

“How so?” “I was born in The Netherlands, then lived in Madrid for a bit, went to school in Switzerland and Wales and now I’m back in Spain. I go to different cities all the time. I like travelling”.

“Wow, that’s a lot. Was it a boarding school you went to?”

“Yeah”.

“Maybe you are a princess after all”.

You giggled and looked down to hide your blush. Yes, your life sounded very much like that of a princess. Even if about 40 family members needed to die for you to become one for real.

“I love this”, you said, looking around and feeling so…normal.

“Yeah? That’s good”.

Pedri smiled at you and you realised maybe it wasn’t so normal what was going on. Sure, you were on a walk like a normal person but you were walking with a very famous footballer. That didn’t happen every day. At least not to you.

“And I see pizza there. Do you want a slice?”

“I probably shouldn’t…”.

“But Pedri! Today everything is possible! You’re not a football player but just Pedro from Tenerife. And I’m not a princess”.

“What are you then?”, he asked, smirking.

“I’m just a girl standing in front of a boy…asking him to get some pizza”.

The excitement of the crazy afternoon made you lose a bit of the control you usually had and you grabbed Pedri’s arm to take him to the pizza ban. It wasn’t like holding hands but…once the physical contact started, you were both very aware of it. But pretended it was all normal.

After buying the pizza slices, you didn’t wait a second to start eating. You were so hungry and it wasn’t often you got to eat greasy pizza with your hands.

“That burns!”, you complained, opening your mouth and using your hand as a fan.

“Maybe wait a little to eat”.

“I was hungry”, you pouted and that made Pedri stare at your lips.

“You got some sauce on your mouth”.

“I think I have a mirror on my bag…”.

But before you had time to find it, Pedri used one of his napkins to clean your face. When you looked up at him, you noticed he seemed to have done that without even realising.

“Sorry”.

“No, don’t be. Thank you for not letting me look dirty while we walked”.

“Princesses have to always look perfect”.

“Exactly”, you told him, laughing.

But good things had to come to an end and soon Pedri started to notice people looking at him. That meant it was time to go home.

“I’m sorry. It just…that’s my life”.

“I get it”, you told him, wanting to explain to him how much you actually got it. “It was fun to spend some time with you though”.

“Would you like to do it again?”

“I would. But maybe somewhere more private”.

“Do you have Instagram? So you can follow me and we can talk about meeting”.

That made you pause. You had an official account controlled by people hired by your family but also a private one. So maybe you could use that one to follow him.

“Yeah. I’ll follow you later and send you a message”.

“Cool. See you…soon?”

You nodded, not knowing what to do. Should you hug him? But then all the people ready to surround him showed you that no, a hug wouldn’t be a good idea. So you said goodbye and left.

Pedri was entering the dressing room a couple of days after you met, not really looking at his teammates but at his phone. You two had been texting ever since you separated. And he was constantly checking to see if you had sent him a new message.

“Hello, your Majesty”, said one of Pedri’s teammates and it took him a second to notice he was looking at him.

“Sorry?”

“I just said hi to your Majesty. Would you like us to find a throne for you to sit on?”

“What are you on about?”

“Haven't seen the cover of the magazine yet?”, asked Frenkie.

“I haven't done any covers lately…”.

“The gossip magazine”, pointed out Lamine. “It’s all everyone is talking about”.

“I don’t get it. I haven’t done anything to be in one of those magazines”.

“How about going out with a pretty girl the other day? Paparazzi are everywhere. You should know that by now”.

So people had seen him when he was hanging out with you. Great. You didn’t seem like someone who’d enjoy the attention. But why make such a big deal out of him being seen with someone unknown?

“You also chose the wrong girl to date”.

“I’m not dating her but she's just a normal girl…”.

“Who's related to the Royal family. And here we were worrying about Gavi being the one who could become king”.

“I would have made a great king”, said Gavi, raising his chin proudly.

“You would have made a terrible king”, told him Fermín, shaking his head.

“What do you mean Royal family?”

Pedri was about to start freaking out. You joked about being a princess but…was it not a joke? What? He knew the princesses! Leonor, Sofía, Victoria, …none of them were you. So what the heck was going on?

“She’s like a second or third cousin of the real princesses but the media has been trying to find out everything about her in the last few years”, explained Pau.

“How do you know so much about that?”

“My mum loves the Royals. I live with her and she talks about it”, shrugged the youngster.

The jokes continued but Pedri didn’t care. He just kept thinking about how you had lied to him. And he got it in a way. It couldn’t be easy to be in your position but…you had spent two days talking to each other about a lot of personal stuff. Didn’t you trust him enough to tell him the truth?

When he finished training and picked up his phone again, he saw a text from you saying “I’m sorry”. A part of him wanted to ignore it but you didn’t deserve that kind of treatment despite your lies. So he asked you to meet instead. But you were in Madrid for a couple of days so it’d have to wait. You apologized multiple times and Pedri told you it was ok but…you weren’t so sure.

“What’s wrong?”, asked your cousin Sofía, who was a real princess.

“You saw the magazines, right?”

“Yes. Wanna talk about it?”

“I…we bumped into each other randomly and it was so good to meet someone who didn’t know who I was. You get it, Sof. If someone gets it, it’ll be you”.

“I do. Is he mad at you for lying?”

“Not really”, you said, frowning. “I expected him to be but he seems to understand why I lied. He also gets it”.

“I bet he does. So, what are you going to do?”

“We’ll meet when I get back to Barcelona in a few days”.

Sofía laughed looking at you. “That smile…someone is smitten!”

“How could I not be? Have you seen him? And he’s super nice too, not just handsome. But I fear I’ve ruined it”.

“Don’t be so negative. Let’s just get ready for the match and forget about your Barça boy for a couple of hours”.

It wasn’t a secret that the king of Spain supported Atlético de Madrid and a lot of people suspected his daughter Sofía did as well. However, it was very hard for her to attend matches without people noticing but she had become a bit of a pro at it. And now she was taking you to the match too.

The match was fun and Atleti won so Sofía was very happy. And you didn’t get spotted by anyone…or so you thought.

“Pepi!”, called Ferran when Pedri was entering the dressing room in the morning.

“What?”

“Your princess is a traitor, she doesn't even support you”.

“What are you talking about?”

“She was at the Atleti match yesterday with Princess Sofía. But I bet you can turn her into a Barça fan”.

Ferran’s wink didn’t stop Pedri from feeling so weird about this whole situation. Or more like jealous. What if you had your eye on an Atleti player?

But he could only stare at the photos in the article. After your meeting, he had only the memory of how you looked that day. Your private Instagram only had a handful of photos and a few were of your dogs. The official Instagram only had a few official photos and…even though that was you too, it wasn’t the you Pedri knew. The girl in the photos from the Atleti match was you. Laughing with your cousin and looking so happy.

The article…he didn’t like as much. After the photos of what the press called “a date” were published, they just assumed you were seeing Pedri. So what were you doing watching a rival team? It wasn’t as if you went to see a Real Madrid match, God forbid. But still…shouldn’t you be supporting “your boyfriend”?

“Hi”.

A few days later, you were back in Barcelona and Pedri invited you to have lunch with him. Finding a place where no one would see you was hard, but your family knew a few tricks to achieve that.

“Hey. It’s good to see you again”.

This time, you did hug as a greeting. Even if you had spoken only via texts, it still felt like you knew each other so well now. So a hug seemed like the right thing to do.

“I’m sorry about everything that happened. I just…I don’t know, Pedri. Being with you made me forget who I was for a second and I didn’t think about how this could affect you”.

“It’s ok. You know I get it. It’s the same for me. My every move is overanalysed. Though I guess being a princess is a bit more important”.

“Not this again”, you shook your head, laughing. “I’m not a princess. I’m a nobody, really. But the press was waiting for a moment like this. A scandal or whatever”.

“Eating pizza in public is very scandalous. I don’t know how your reputation will recover”.

You laughed at Pedri’s joke but also remembered what you had been told. “It’s not so much what I did but who I did it with”.

“Oh…ok”.

When the photos were published, your parents talked to you about all the reasons why you should stay away from Pedri. Before you even had time to say nothing was going on…at least not yet.

“It’s stupid. I told you I’m a nobody. But family connections dictate this or that…I don’t want to date a politician or another royal just because it’s what I’m supposed to do. I don’t have it as bad as my cousins. You know, the real princesses. But still…it’s boring. I want to be able to make my own decisions”.

“You don’t want to date a politician…but would you like to date me?”

Being so annoyed with your family and their restrictions, you didn’t realise Pedri wasn’t stupid and could easily read between the lines.

“You’re better than a politician so…”.

“Look”, said Pedri, grabbing your hand to hold it. “No relationship was going to be easy for me. I knew that. So…this doesn’t scare me”.

“Really? I was actually worried it would”.

“I could see it in your face”.

“Can you read minds now? Is that how you know where to shoot the ball?”

“No, that’s because I’m a generational talent”, joked Pedri, making you laugh. “But I mean it. I’m not scared. Are you?”

“Not as much as I probably should”.

“But…are you an Atleti fan? These are the important conversations we need to have before trying to date”.

“That’s my cousin. I don’t really have a team. So I might let you convince me to become a Barça fan. I already support Spain so…”.

“Even against The Netherlands?”, he asked. Your mum was Dutch so it was a fair question.

“Only if you play for Spain that day”.

And so you both forgot about what people would say, what people would demand from each of you and started to date. There was no need to hide since there were photos of your first date online already. Even if back then you didn’t want to admit it was a date.

Being together compensated for any comments or insults…but Pedri was starting to get a bit tired of his teammates curtsying in front of him and calling him Majesty. They did it with you too, which only made you laugh.

“I told you, guys. I’m not a princess”.

“No. Not officially”, told you Pedri. “But you are my very own princess. My queen even”.

Your blush made everyone laughed. It was so obvious to everyone how in love you both were.

However, the media was going to try to find anything that could make it sound like your lovely love story wasn’t so lovely.

Something your family always had to do was attend charity events. It was probably one of the few things you liked doing, since many of those events raised money for great causes. So when you were invited to one to raise money for cancer research, you said yes immediately. It being organised by the Atlético de Madrid foundation didn’t matter to you. But for the press…it was a different story.

“Hi, it’s nice meeting you”.

You turned to see it was Álvaro Morata, the player who presided the event, saying hello to you.

“Thank you, it’s nice meeting you too”.

“I heard about you and Pedri…sorry if it’s too informal of me to say this”. “It’s ok, don’t worry”.

“So…you two are really together?”

“Yes”, you said, blushing.

“Good. He’s a good guy. I’ll see you around the Spain matches then”.

“You will”.

Other players were there too and you were introduced to all of them. Mario Hermoso, Marcos Llorente, …they were all very nice to you. But it was a younger player you had to sit next to at your table. One that you hadn’t met before but that introduced himself as Rodrigo Riquelme. However, that wasn’t what his teammates called him.

“Should I call you Rodrigo or Roro?”

“I feel I can’t ask someone of your station to call me such a nickname”.

You laughed seeing the Atleti player blushing. “I don’t mind. I’m not really that important”.

“You are the most important person here”.

“Depends on who you asked”, you shrugged.

It was lovely having someone young to chat with at such an event. You were usually surrounded by old politicians and entrepreneurs who bored you to death with their conversations. So you had a great time…Pedri didn’t have as much fun seeing all the posts on social media talking about how his girlfriend was being too friendly with another player.

He knew it was stupid. You were just chatting with Riquelme. Pedri knew you now and realised that was how you talked to his friends too. That was how you talked to Ferran, for example. It was nothing like how you talked to Pedri.

But still…it wasn’t nice to see so many people doubting your relationship. And, what was worse, insulting you.

“You look unhappy”, you said when you met him again in Barcelona. “Is it because of the articles? Nothing happened with Riquelme. I swear”.

“I know”, he sighed, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your forehead. “I just hate how people will try to find any excuse to try and hurt us”.

“We knew it was going to happen…”.

“It’s not nice anyway”.

“But we’re fine?”, you asked, worried.

“We’re fine. I missed you a lot”.

“I know. I missed you too”.

Knowing Pedri trusted you was so important and you felt you needed to prove you were worth that trust. So, even though you knew you were likely to get in trouble, you forgot about protocol and attended his match wearing his shirt.

It wasn’t even the most important match but when it ended, you went as close to the pitch as you could and called Pedri so he could go meet you. Every one of his teammates that walked past curtsied and called you two “your Majesties”. But you didn’t care. You looked around, noticing the cameras were all pointed at you, and kissed Pedri.

“Making sure everyone knows you’re just my princess?”, he whispered.

“Yes. And while we’re at it, everyone can also learn you’re my prince”.

[every-day-i-draw-the-titanic]

3675 - March 1, 2025

#Titanic #EDIDtT

[scav-gifs-daily]

ooo could you do 3675 and 4369? also 4933 is silly goofy i think people will like them

ID : 3675

ID : 4369

ID : 4933

you're starting to realise there isn't a limit to how many scavs i will do for these aren't you... also, that is an insanely blue scav. and a very pretty red one

[theroseceleste]

Pilot Miguel - Part 1 - Pilot

You're a member of cabin crew for AracnAir, a commercial airliner and today is Miguel's first day as Captain. Will it be a soaring success? Or will it crash and burn - his first day - not the plane...

Buy me a coffee! (And gain access to my discord)

Word count - 3675

I don't think there is any potential triggering content in this chapter.

This fic will have smut, but not in this chapter. Minors DNI

Enjoy! xx

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

If you enjoy this fic, please consider liking, commenting or re-blogging. Many thanks xx

You sit in your car looking into your flip down mirror as you check your makeup. It’s immaculate - it has to be. No single strand of hair out of place, pulled into a tight, neat bun. You look perfect, just how a member of an airliner’s cabin crew should; clean, presentable and stunning. You practise a bright white smile before slamming the sun-shade back up against the ceiling of your car. Then you open your door and slide out.

As you lock your car, you spot a group of other cabin crew across the car park. They too, are wearing the same uniform. A regal purple smart jacket, with the same colour pencil skirt or trousers. They could well be on the same flight as you.

Your purple heels click across the carpark as you drag your small travel case behind you. You’ll be flying for about eight hours today to Acapulco, Mexico and you’ll be staying over for two days before flying back. This is one of the many perks of being part of a cabin crew; seeing the world and being paid for it. This job does come with its challenges however…

After signing up to join AracnAir, you underwent intense and serious training; learning every emergency procedure and then performing them under extremely realistic scenarios. You have had to put out a real fire in a training fuselage, and activate the large exit chutes that become life rafts if the plane has to ditch into water and stage an evacuation suspended over a giant swimming pool.

You don’t just fly in one type of plane either, so your training included learning the ins and outs of every model that is in the airliner’s fleet. Learning the differences isn’t enough, you’re tested, yearly. Making sure you’re up to scratch and on the ball. If you fail the test, back to training you go.

Nueva York airport is a clean but bustling, expansive building. Long queues are forming before the check-in desks, snaking their way back towards the entrance. Bright white lights shine down and reflect off of the polished tiled floor.

The group of purple jackets are still ahead of you, as you follow them to your designated check-in area. In the small queue, you hear a couple of girls in front of you gossiping excitedly. A new pilot is to be flying with AracnAir today. New to the company, but a highly experienced flyer.

“He’s due to be piloting a flight this morning, I hear he’s handsome. I hope he’s on my flight.”

You silently scoff behind them, rolling your eyes in the process. It’s funny how excited they are considering that if he was on their flight they’ll hardly see him.

The queue inches further forward at a reasonable pace. You have your passport at the ready. With no large suitcases to check-in, you go through towards security rather quickly.

This is all fairly routine stuff. You put your hand luggage into a little crate on the rollers, along with your handbag, cellphone and shoes. No alarm goes off as you step through the metal detector and you’re able to pick up your cleared luggage on the other side.

After security, you walk through the duty free section. You’re greeted with a path winding all the way around the different stalls crammed with expensive perfume and colognes, oversized chocolate bars, trinkets and souvenirs, sunglasses, hats, you name it, it’s probably there.

Before getting onto the flight, you have to meet with your assigned crew and answer a couple of questions about the plane you’ll be working on. Once arriving at the staff lounge, you discover those girls who were in front of you in the queue are not on your flight. You wonder if they have got what they wished for and have the new pilot be their captain.

Your supervisor for the flight begins her usual pre-flight spiel. Today you’re flying on a Boeing-747. Presented with a technical question, you answer it correctly proving your readiness to fly.

“Oh and the Captain and co-pilot for today’s flight are Captain O’Hara and First Officer Parker,” your supervisor mentions as two suited men enter the staff lounge.

Before seeing them, you smile as you’re fond of Peter, the First Officer. He’s been on several of your flights and is a very cheeky, spirited human being. But the name O’Hara, that’s a new one. No… is he the new Captain?

Your eyes glance up immediately at the thought, just to see if this guy really is as good looking as they say. Oh my… He’s tall - very tall, dark and certainly, incredibly handsome.

Unlike Peter, he’s wearing a stern expression on his face. Could it be first day nerves? Nah… He looks more… annoyed than nervous. Immediately you sense that both Captain O’Hara and First Officer Parker are totally on the opposite ends of the spectrum. Grumpy and serious versus light-hearted and fun.

His pilot’s hat hides most of his dark hair, but you see his stunningly tanned skin. You try not to, but it’s hard to resist dropping your jaw at the sight of his facial features. Cheekbones that could cut diamond, dark brown eyes that’ll melt anyone’s heart, and those plump lips… your mind begins to run wild at the thought of what they could do. Looking around, you see several of your crewmates doing the same. Lucky for all of you, the Captain doesn’t seem to notice.

It’s time to enter the plane and get things set up. You’re usually stationed in first class, and today is no different. After stowing your little hand luggage case and handbag away in a locker, you get to business pouring glasses of champagne and begin preparing bags of snacks and goodies for the first class passengers.

The main theme for AracnAir is purple, hence the colour of your uniform. Within the plane, there are purple curtains that separate the different classes from one another and purple cushions and blankets are laid out neatly on each seat.

You’re in the zone, you have a nice routine that you stick to at the beginning of each flight. Opening various cupboards, you check the stock of different items in the galley. Everything looks to be in order. You stand up after crouching down, looking into one of the lower cupboards. Your back bumps into something big and the sound of a grunt follows.

“Oh!” you give out a little surprised yelp before turning round to see who you just inadvertently backed into.

Dark brown eyes glare down at you, they squint slightly as if he’s trying to control his temper. A low growl rumbles from deep within the Captain’s chest. Seeing him before getting onboard you knew he was tall, but up close, it’s a wonder how he can still stand up straight in the plane. His giant-like frame looms over you.

“I- I’m s- sorry Captain…” you stutter as your face instantly heats up.

You’re not really known to stutter but his intensity in that moment made your brain short circuit, and not in a good way.

A pale hand grasps around what looks like an incredibly large bicep underneath the Captain’s jacket.

“Come on big guy,” Peter encourages Captain O’Hara to move forward.

“Don’t worry (Y/N), he’s too big for his own good,” he whispers, but still loud enough for him to hear.

An unimpressed grumble comes from the larger pilot as Peter pushes him forward. “Come on, this way to the cockpit, I’m sure you know where that is…”

You giggle at First Officer Parker’s joke as he turns his head back to you and gives you a cheeky wink.

“Not funny, Parker.”

“What? (Y/N) found it funny…”

You don’t hear the rest of the conversation, as they turn left into the narrow alley before entering the cockpit.

People are starting to come on board. You grab the first tray of champagne glasses and get ready to greet first class. It’s showtime, and you break out your trusty smile and say hello to the first passenger you see. But in the back of your mind, those dark brown eyes remain burned into your memory…

Once in the cockpit, the Captain takes his hat and jacket off and hangs them up. Then, he awkwardly situates himself in his chair on the left-hand side of the cockpit. His chair clicks into place after he pushes it as far back as he can to make room for his long, muscular legs.

Peter flumps into his seat on the right and sighs as he also re-arranges his seating position.

“Man, I gotta stop eating those burgers in the terminal,” he pauses as he pats his tummy.

“Starting to rock the ‘dad-bod’ look. Although, I hear that’s now a thing that the ladies like…”

The Captain doesn’t respond as he searches for the plane’s flight log, to check previous flights, any reported issues and its history of maintenance.

“Have you given your controls the ‘once over’ yet, Parker?” he asks in hope that’ll keep his First Officer occupied and quiet.

Peter sits up straighter in his chair and obediently does his checks. He may be a bit of a clown, but he understands that safety is important.

Leafing through the pages of the log book, the Captain seems satisfied with the plane’s history. All seems to be in good working order - it is a relatively new aircraft afterall. He puts the book down in the slot next to his chair and begins his own checks on his controls.

The silence between the two pilots makes Peter feel uncomfortable. He’s more of a chatty person and likes to joke around while he works. To fill the awkward silence, he begins talking again.

“There’s a spot on a beach with my name on it in Acap-”

“Do we have a weather report?” Captain O’Hara interrupts, his sweet moment of silence ended far too soon.

“Oh, yeah - here.”

Peter leans forward and passes a print out of today’s weather report for the flight.

Silence fills the cockpit once again as the Captain inspects the report. The forecast looks decent for smooth flying for the next seven to eight hours. He puts the A4 printout next to the log book.

“Begin pre-flight checks,” he instructs his co-pilot sternly as he places his headset on and grabs his checklist.

Peter also dons his headset and waits for Miguel to begin.

“Parking Brake…”

“Set.”

“Throttle…”

“Idle.”

“Fuel Flow…”

“Cutoff.”

The back and forth continues as the Captain ticks off the pre-flight checks until he is satisfied with the plane’s readiness.

Every first class passenger has been offered a free glass of champagne and are happily sitting comfortably in their pricey seats.

After stowing away the used glasses in the galley, you hear an announcement from the cockpit.

“All cabin crew prepare for take-off.”

That’s the Captain’s voice, it’s certainly not Peter’s. You find yourself liking the sound of him even if he is direct and to the point.

Your pre-flight preparations begin with making sure your passengers in first class are seated and have their seat belts fastened. You patrol the small section of the fuselage as your head turns left and right, eyes low, checking for buckled seat belts and that the chairs are in an upright position.

Once your passenger checks are done, you gather the flight safety demonstration equipment and stand at the front of one aisle. A screen unfolds from the ceiling and begins to play a video. Cheesy but cheerful music plays as a woman’s voice starts talking about how there should be no smoking on board and the evacuation procedure should the plane need to make an emergency landing.

Now it’s your turn. You point out the emergency exits for first class, place the life-jacket over your head and around your neck, tie it around your waist and fasten the buckle. As the demonstration takes place, the plane rumbles its way along the tarmac as it taxies to the runway. You’re so well practised at this that the soft bumps don’t bother you anymore as the aircraft navigates its way through the maze of tarmac.

The demonstration ends and you swiftly put away your safety instruction equipment before finding your jumpseat and strapping yourself in. Facing the passengers in front of you, you watch them all carefully as the plane begins its final turn before reaching the long stretch of tarmac lit up with lights.

All four engines whirr healthily away as the aircraft is about to make its final turn onto the runway.

“Set flaps to twenty,” the Captain instructs.

After Peter turns a dial, a mechanical noise vibrates through the fuselage as the flaps on the wings begin to move to their set position.

Captain O’Hara switches landing and strobe lights on and enables the autothrottle, while Peter locks in the final settings before takeoff.

Air traffic control gives the all clear to take off, and the pilots begin to push the throttles forward slowly. The aircraft starts its roll forward along the tarmac, gradually building up speed as the engines roar, increasing thrust.

The aircraft rattles and rumbles loudly as it screams down the runway. The Captain watches the equipment on his console and keeps the plane steady.

At the right time, Captain O’Hara pulls the yoke back, causing the nose of the plane to rise, its large wings catching the rushing air.

Eventually the back landing gear lifts from the ground too, making the plane totally airborne. Everyone feels the dipping sensation in their stomachs as the plane’s thrust pulls them down into their seats.

Once at a certain altitude, the Captain presses a button to bring in the landing gear, stowing the wheels into the plane’s underbelly.

“Nice one Captain,” Peter congratulates his new colleague, but he’s met with no response.

“Climb to forty thousand feet and maintain altitude in a southwesterly direction until you are advised to change,” a woman from the air traffic control tower at the airport they had just departed from speaks over the radio.

“Understood. Climbing to forty thousand feet and maintaining altitude in the southwest direction,” Captain O’Hara responds in a confident but stern tone.

The plane remains nose up for quite a while as it gradually climbs in altitude. Passing the first layer of large fluffy white clouds.

At last the aircraft has levelled out flying at roughly six hundred miles an hour. The flight path takes them over the southern parts of the USA and across Mexico to the popular holiday destination.

The seat belt signs switch off with an audible ‘bing’ and the cabin crew rise from their seats to begin their regular flight duties.

Soon, they will have to prepare lunch to be served to the passengers. But first, Duty-Free booklets and headphones are handed out for everyone to peruse or enjoy the inflight entertainment system.

In the galley, you begin organising food for first class when your supervisor pokes her head into the tiny kitchen-like area.

“Sweety, can you ask the boys what they want for lunch, then come and let me know?” she asks, jerking her head towards the cockpit when she mentioned ‘the boys’.

“Yeah, sure,” you reply.

You knock on the cockpit door and enter a security code to unlock and open it.

“Ah! (Y/N) is it lunchtime already?” First Officer Parker asks hopefully turning in his seat to see you.

You give him a sweet smile.

“Of course. What would you both like? Beef or vegetarian?”

Captain O’Hara never turns to look at who came into the room but feels two sets of eyes looking at him.

“Beef,” he manages to grunt out eventually.

Flight Officer Parker grimaces - he wants beef; but pilots can’t eat the same meals, in case there is something in it that makes them both sick.

“I guess I’m having vegetarian then,” replies Peter.

You give Peter a sympathetic smile and turn to leave the cockpit.

“So, uh, you’re a man of few words,” the First Officer comments as he keeps his gaze forward, watching the bubbly clouds pass below them.

No response, the awkwardness between the two deepens. The First Officer bites his lip and starts to ask another question.

“First day nerves?”

“Parker, I have over five thousand flight hours with this type of plane. I am not nervous. I just don’t like meaningless chit chat.”

Silence descends upon the both of them again - apart from the constant roar of engines. The lack of conversation is perfect for the Captain but absolute hell for the First Officer.

With the 747 on autopilot, the two pilots can relax a little more. They’re not due to check in with the next air traffic control tower for another thirty minutes.

The Captain occasionally casts a keen eye over the apparatus, looking at the artificial horizon, checking wind speed and altitude, everything perfectly normal.

His mind goes back to how you bumped into him earlier before takeoff. Even though he said nothing to you, he feels like perhaps he was an asshole for just glaring at you. It was an accident after all. He remembers the smell of your sweet and floral perfume filling his nostrils in the galley. He likes that smell-

A sudden shake of his head snaps him out of that mindset. He can’t be thinking like that…

The relative silence is interrupted again as you return, knocking on the door and entering.

“Here you go boys. Vegetarian for you.” You hand Peter his meal first as you watch him lick his lips - beef or no beef, he’s hungry.

“And beef for you, Captain.”

There’s that enchanting smell again. He wasn’t exactly listening to you speak when you entered, but your perfume alerts him to your presence.

Slowly he turns his head, peeling his unblinking gaze from the horizon and looking at you. Then his eyes land on the meal you are holding out for him.

“Thanks.”

His hand takes the tray gently from you but then he turns away quickly after without uttering another word.

“Mmm, this is so good…” Peter mumbles with a mouthful, taking your attention from the pensive Captain.

“Peter, I’m certain you’re the only person in the world who likes plane food,” you comment with a playful grin.

“Hey - it’s food! Course I’m gonna like it. Oh, by the way, if there’s any spare packs of biscuits, I wouldn’t mind one - or two.”

Raising an eyebrow and smirking up a storm, you produce two packets of biscuits from your jacket pocket, as if by magic.

“Ahh, you’re an angel!” he gasps in surprise.

“I knew you’d ask for one.”

Peter reaches out, his fingers try to grip both packets.

“Nah, ah… one for you.”

You hand Peter one packet.

“And one for you.”

You lean over the Captain and place the pack on his food tray. Your scent fills his nostrils more. He flinches slightly at your sudden unexpected space invasion but he soon relaxes when he sees what you’re doing.

“A peace offering for earlier.”

The stern look in his eyes wavers slightly, but unseen by you. In reality, you didn’t need to do that. It should really be him apologising, but right now he doesn’t really want to talk.

“Gracias,” (thank you) he mutters quietly.

Peter looks at you like you have betrayed him.

“But I usually get two packets!”

Honestly, it’s like dealing with a child when you’re with Peter, you roll your eyes and chuckle.

“You’ll get another one later, how’s that?” you ask.

The Flight Officer is easily swayed, especially where food is concerned. He gives a happy shrug and continues to eat his meal.

With a smile spread across your face, you leave the cockpit. The Captain’s word of thanks lingers in your mind. ‘Gracias’...

The rest of the flight is fairly uneventful; little to no turbulence, passengers are happy and not too demanding. You occasionally visit the cockpit to check on the pilots to see if they need refreshments. Whilst they both drink plenty of water, the Captain also seems to be a huge coffee fan.

Peter looks as though he’s dying of boredom. He usually enjoys talking while flying but his colleague is essentially a brick wall. Your visits to the cockpit brightens him up even if it is for a brief amount of time.

Landing is perfect and purely textbook. No hard bump as the landing gear connects with the tarmac and no ‘kangarooing’; bouncing the plane down the runway.

Now at a complete stop, parked next to the terminal, cabin crew say goodbye to disembarking passengers, wishing them a pleasant time in Acapulco, while Captain O’Hara and Flight Officer Parker finish the final checklist.

You and the rest of the cabin crew step off of the plane, greeted by the exotic mid afternoon heat as you walk through the tunnel leading into the main building. It immediately feels stuffy under your thick, shoulder-padded jacket. You can’t wait to check into your hotel and relax by the pool or on the beach.

Some of the other cabin crew members make plans for partying hard that evening as they line up in front of you at customs. You’re not really into that kind of thing, although you might enjoy the bar, just a little bit tonight. Peter will be there, he’s always good company. Then you think about the Captain. Your heart thuds slightly at the thought. You wonder what he’ll be doing…

Joining at the end of the queue at customs, Peter and Captain O’Hara arrive, dragging their own small cases behind them. They stand behind you, in silence. That is until Peter knows it’s you in front and steps forward to talk to you instead.

The sound of talking is drowned out as the Captain checks his phone. A frown grows across his face as he sees several emails come into his inbox. It seems impossible but his already crappy mood plummets even further.

I hope you enjoy the Pilot chapter of Pilot Miguel - see what I did there? Tee hee.

Buy me a coffee! (And gain access to my discord)

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[exotic-indians]