#I LOVE setting little goals and going ham

[sanchoyo]

reread Ekleipsis bc I got some very nice comments on it and wanted to revisit it 2 years later and u know what?? I think it still holds up p well! There are slight typos and parts I wish I could’ve lengthened, foreshadowed more, or gotten Deep into the lore/characters abt, but considering I was busting out a chapter a day and had it done in a dang month I do think it’s pretty good as a lil story!! Would love to do more art for it or revisit the world in some way some day. Babies first real Big Original work 🥺 in my mind it’s still kind of the first draft version, but I’m still proud regardless… ❣️

[queen-of-reptiles]

𝚀𝚄𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂

description: in which kirsty smith and her chelsea player girlfriend have to go through several interviews before the London Derby

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kirsty smith x female reader

disclaimer: this is all fiction do not take any of this seriously !

warnings: cutenesssssssss, talks about previous injuries for the reader!

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y/n just posted on her story

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kirstysmith.11 just posted on her story

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Kirsty hummed lightly as she walked through the corridor leading to the interview room, she opened the door, smiling at her girlfriend who sat happily in her Chelsea shirt.

"There she is." y/n cooed, standing up as she ran at her girlfriend excitedly.

Kirsty chuckled catching the bouncing striker as she launched herself at her, pressing excited pecks to her cheek multiple times. The crew around laughed, finding the sweet nature of the two humorous.

"Hi Baby." Kirsty chuckled. "Can I put you down?" She then asked and y/n squeaked, as if realising she was still wrapped around her lover.

"Oh yeah, course." y/n grinned, unwrapping her legs from Kirsty and being set back on her feet. "Sorry." y/n apologised as Kirsty followed her to their seats.

The two competed in their London Derby tomorrow, Kirsty being a West Ham defender and y/n being a Chelsea striker. The two were a known couple in the WSL and an enjoyed one at that.

"Right, so y/n, of course we have to talk about it. You scored your 161st goal for Chelsea over the weekend. How did that feel?" The interviewer asked and y/n grinned.

"Oh fantastic! I mean Chelsea has been such a big part of my life, with me growing up in the academy and then coming into this team, but there is something so special about getting that number in the net." y/n smiles softly.

"And Kirsty, we saw you at the game of course, having played the day before, how did you feel?" The interviewer continued.

"Just so proud, I mean she isn't called the best striker in England for nothing. But I am still so proud because she's done so well and even though I hate the colour she does look good in Chelsea blue." Kirsty smiles.

y/n lets out a laugh at that, smiling at her lover kindly as she traces her face with her eyes, Kirsty's hand slips into y/n's under the table and her hand squeezes tightly, loving the way y/n squeezes back.

"And of course, your relationship is big among the fans how do you find that?" He asks.

"I mean, I love that they love us and have done for so long, but it can get a little intrusive at times, if they don't see us together the rumours can be so vicious and hurtful." Kirsty admits and y/n nods.

"People love to talk to, when it came out we were together, all they could talk about was the four year age gap and it was so annoying and upsetting." y/n agrees and the interviewer nods.

"And obviously this weekend you are playing against each other, how does that feel? How does it effect the relationship?" The interviewer asks.

"I don't think it does really." y/n hums, looking at her girlfriend who shakes her head in agreement.

"Yeah, like we are loyal to our teams but we would never put us on the line because of football." Kirsty nods.

"Do you think some fans may find that un-loyal?" He continues asking and y/n shrugs.

"They're welcome to. But at the end of the day, football is not forever in our lives, this relationship will be." y/n states and Kirsty's head moves so she can admire her lover.

A soft smile on the blondes face as she watches y/n answer the nest question her eyes filmed with warmth as she makes sure to also pay attention to the questions being asked.

"And Kirsty, do you find it hard to defend against her?" He asks and Kirsty looks back to the camera.

"Yeah, of course I do, she's fantastic." Kirsty says and y/n smiles softly, running her thumb over the skin of Kirsty's hand which is still intertwined with her own.

y/n lets Kirsty let go of her hand, the older blonde now placing it on y/n's thigh, squeezing at it as she continues to talk about how talented her lover is at the game.

"But then again, I know her, I know the way she thinks, the way she sees the game, and I know I can use that to try and help my team stop the little rascal." Kirsty says and y/n laughs.

"And y/n obviously you had tough time of it in 2020, with your ACL then a broken ankle, how good did it feel to get back on the pitch just before the Euros?" The interviewer asks.

"I can't quite describe it honestly." y/n admits, the pain and heartbreak flashing through her quickly as she remembers the months it took.

"Take your time." The interviewer nods kindly.

"Well, to get back after an ACL was fantastic, I knew I had time as I was only 23 when it happened. But then first game back to instantly get a broken ankle, goodness, it was just horrid." y/n admits.

The game had been rough, it was against Arsenal and in the 70th minute while they were 2-1 up, Leah Williamson, her captain of her international team, made a bad tackle and broker her ankle.

"It was worse seeing Leah as well, because I knew she felt so awful and I just wanted to hold her and promise her it was okay, but I was in so much pain." y/n continues.

Leah had almost been in tears, she knew how much y/n meant to the Lionesses and the fact the two had such a close relationship didn't help either.

"Kirsty was fantastic however, I mean, I don't think I would have stepped foot back on the pitch without the support system I had. Chelsea, the girls, and Kirsty." y/n says softly.

Kirsty smiles, squeezing y/n's thigh once more as she leans her other hand down and drags y/n's chair to connect to hers, kissing her forehead lovingly as the interviewer smiles.

"I was lucky really, because I had such history at Chelsea and lucky to have such a good fanbase because I had been in the senior team so long already. But it is something I would never wish or hope for anyone because it is very hard." y/n nods.

"Okay, thank you." The Interviewer nods kindly before sighing. "One last question, what's going to be the score?" He asks.

y/n lets out a light laugh, Kirsty following suit as y/n finds herself grateful for the interviewer's way of lightening up the mood which had become slightly sadder.

"Well, I guess they will have to watch Sunday to find out." y/n grins and the interviewer chuckles.

"I agree with that." He nods before the cameras stop rolling. "Thank you so much for that ladies, I really appreciate it." He tells them as they shake hands.

"Thank you, it was lovely to work with you." Kirsty smiles.

"Yeah, you're lovely, thank you." y/n adds and the man smiles before Kirsty and y/n head over to their bags.

"You okay baby?" Kirsty asks quietly as they put their coats on.

"Yeah, I just forget sometimes that it hurt so bad, you know?" y/n asks and Kirsty smiles kindly.

"I know baby." She promises, pressing a light peck to y/n's lips. "Come on, lets get you home pipsqueak." Kirsty adds as she offers her hand and y/n happily takes it.

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y/n sighed in relief as the whistle blew, her body flopping on the ground as the Chelsea fans cheered for their win around them. The 2-0 win was hard, y/n getting the first goal just before half time and Sam getting the second barley five minutes before the end of the match.

However, West Ham had put up such a good fight, they had kept close and tight to the Chelsea girls and even had some counter attacks which were nearly a problem.

y/n was kept almost silent by her lover during the match, and while she was coming away with a goal and an assist, she felt absolutely knackered from the game her lover had done.

"You okay down there Pip?" Sam asks, standing over her team-mate and friend.

"Yeah, good cheers." y/n nods.

The nickname pip had originated from Sophie Ingle nicknaming her 'pipsqueak', years ago when y/n first joined Chelsea senior, she was only 16 and eventually Sophie started to call her pipsqueak.

The team found the name hilarious and it seemed to stick once they realised the striker wasn't going to grow above her miraculous height of 5ft 1.

Eventually, pipsqueak was shortened to pip to make it easier and quicker to say, and it was usually said more by her team than her actual name.

"Come on up you get." Sam says offering her hand and pulling y/n to her feet. y/n sighs as she nods in thanks to Sam and goes to grab her water bottle, gulping it down and listening to Emma's talk.

Once they are dismissed, two familiar arms wrap around her middle, the familiar claret and blue colour meeting y/n's eyes as she turns around to face her lover.

"Hi baby." y/n hums, the crowds cheering getting louder at the sight of the couple.

"Hi my little superstar." Kirsty smiles pressing a kiss to her forehead which y/n accepts with a happy hum.

"Pip! Pip's girlfriend! You're up for interviews!" Emma's call rings and y/n groans.

"Emma, why can't you use my name?" y/n whines as she walks past her boss.

"I did!" Emma denies and Kirsty laughs as they get to the pitch-side interview and are handed their microphones and separate to their own interviewers.

"y/n congrats on the performance today, a good win or things to work on?" She is asked.

"Thank you. Look every win is a good win really, but definitely things to work on. We were late to all the second balls, we didn't close down quick enough and we missed some really good chances." y/n nods.

"Always looking for ways to improve right?" The interviewer asks.

"Completely. We always do look for ways to get better, because that is how you stay the best and today proves that we have got a lot to work on." y/n nods.

"Even so, a great goal from you. Did you think it was going to go in?" The interviewer asks.

y/n's first goal had been from about 40 yards out, she had recieved it from Sam and while being closed down by Hawa Cissoko decided to just have a go, hammering it into the top left hand side to everyone's shock and awe.

"Not at all." y/n says honestly which causes the interviewer to laugh.

"Well, I appreciate your honesty thank you." The interviewer nods.

"Of course, any other questions?" y/n asks her.

"I think one more." The interviewer nods, eyeline behind her and y/n turns around, microphone dropping on the floor as she looks at her girlfriend on one knee.

Sam is stood next to the interviewer, clearly having tossed Kirsty the ring when y/n wasn't looking and now the teams had crowded around as Kirsty tried to not cry.

"Marry me baby?" Kirsty asks, y/n wiping a few stray tears away.

"Of course Kirsty, it will always be a yes." y/n nods, Kirsty grinning as she jumps up and presses her lips to y/n's tightly, before sliding the ring on her finger as they pull away.

Suddenly both teams jump at them cheering and screaming as the video being recorded becomes a soon viral one at the show of love one simple question caused.

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kirstysmith.11 just posted

liked by samanthakerr20, westhamwomen and 308, 298 others

tagged y/n

kirstysmith.11 can't wait to spend the rest of our lives together ! xx

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END

a cute one for a cute woman ! xx

-

Queenie xo

[its-time-to-write]

Hiya! I would love to request a fic based on the scene in the last episode where the fans storm the field?? Like you’d be the first leading the crowd to get Jamie♥️

This one is a little short, but hopefully it’s what you’re looking for!

something to rely on

Honestly, you never cared about football more than when you started dating Jamie Tartt, and you don’t think you’ve ever cared as much as you do at the West Ham game. 

You’re fucking sweating.

You’re sandwiched in between Rebecca and Keeley and you are so goddamn stressed, especially because Jamie had been acting so weird and barely talked about it, to the point where pretty much your only interaction had been sitting on the couch or laying in bed, while he clung to you like he was afraid you’d disappear.

It was so, so weird and it’s giving you whiplash from the Jamie you met, the one who’s confident and cocky, and just a little bit of a prick but in a sexy way you like, not in a dickish way. At least not to you.

You knew it’s because of the fact that he was headed back to Manchester and the atmosphere toward him was… less than friendly, but you also knew that he had to be looking for his dad. Jamie’s always on edge if there’s the possibility of his dad showing up. 

He got it together though, with help from Ted, but you’re still nervous. West Ham is crushing Richmond at halftime, and you’re holding Rebecca’s arm like it’s a lifeline. It feels like everything they’ve worked for is slipping away until, from out of nowhere, the score is 2-2. You’re watching Jamie, completely surrounded, but Richmond gets a free kick and he grabs the ball to set it up. 

Keeley has a death grip on your knee and you’re fairly certain none of you are breathing. Jamie’s signaling for the ball, but Sam- Sam is completely open. He receives the ball, makes the goal, and you’re on your feet, going hoarse from screaming as the game is signaled to be at its end. 

Fans start to storm the pitch and you glance at Rebecca with a question on your face.

She rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Oh go on, then,” she says and then you’re clambering over her to zip down the stairs as fast as you possibly can. You hear Keeley ask, “Where the fuck’s she going?” but you honestly don’t even care.

You’re on the field frantically searching for Jamie and calling his name, when a couple fans move and you see him across the way. You’re sprinting toward each other and you launch yourself into his arms, spinning around till he puts you on the ground and dips you for a kiss.

It’s the best kiss of your life. 

You finally pull away, breathless and laughing. He presses his forehead to your and for a moment, you’re the only two on the pitch.

“Fucking knew you could do it,” you whisper. “Knew you were a great actor ever since Lust Conquers All.”

Jamie replies, “Oi, come off it,” but he’s staring at your lips with such a hungry look that you know he doesn’t mean it. 

You’re about to kiss him again when you hear a voice say, “I fucking knew it.”

You both jump to see Isaac two feet away.

“How the fuck?” Jamie asks. “We did so good at hiding it.”

“Body language, bruv,” Isaac responds. “You two act weird every time you’re in the same room.”

You shrug. Jamie’s hands are on your waist and your arms are still around his neck, but neither of you care. Screw secrecy; if there were ever a time to let people know you’re together, this is it. 

[laurfilijames]

Like My Dreams

Part 5

Intro Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Pairing: Pete Dunham x female reader

Words: 9.9k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Swearing. Alcohol consumption. Unprotected intercourse. Sex in a public place. Blood, cuts and bruises. Dressing of wounds. Cockwarming. Mention of stab wound and life-threatening injuries. Assault. Threat of rape.

Summary: Right when you and Pete seal the deal on your relationship, more car trouble and a visit from an ex stirs up drama and pops the blissful bubble you waited so long for.

A/N: 😅 this chapter really got away from me but I had the best time writing it!! I had an idea for part of it and pitched it to the wonderfully supportive @ramadiiiisme who encouraged me to go for it and helped me pull it off, so big thanks to you a million times more 💗 The scene with Mrs. Platt was inspired by a conversation with @stealfromthedevil about her dear grandmother who's cheeky words are included in the dialogue 💗💗

The linked song is one I've been listening to non-stop while writing this chapter and is just so lovely and fits in with all the fluffy bits of not only this chapter, but this series as a whole.

---

It had been a couple of hours since Pete had gone home to shower and clean up after the friendly game with the lads, now sitting in his favourite seat at their table watching the Hammers struggle to get a lead against Chelsea, the match currently tied at 1-1. He would normally care a bit more about it, but knowing you were on your way to meet him there had taken all his focus and energy, feeling more excited to see you than bothered that his team might end the game in a draw, or worse.

He slouched against the old chair with his arm over the back, taking a long sip of his beer before setting it back down and licking his lips.

“Oh, come on! Fucking unbelievable!” he muttered at the screen, the referee pulling an outrageous call against West Ham.

Whatever happened next in the game no longer mattered to him all that much, seeing you walk in the door and through the crowd of people standing between you, his smile growing as he watched you tug your scarf out from around your neck and head over to the bar where you stopped to say hello to Terry and order a drink.

Pete stood and walked over slowly, admiring you from across the room as you chatted with Terry for a moment, your smile making his heart nearly stop when you turned and directed it at him as he reached you.

He said nothing, his grin too large to control any words to come through it, instead opting for a greeting he had been waiting all night to give.

Grabbing your cheeks, he leaned in and kissed you, inhaling with a low moan as he felt you melt into him and release your breath, your hands landing limply on his biceps.

A few people cheered around you, making both of you smile again after you parted from each other, but the need to get you alone was quickly becoming a priority in the realization of how many people were preventing him from doing all the things he wanted to do right then and there.

“Hi, love,” he said warmly, the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes making desire stir inside you.

“Hi,” you sighed with a love-drunk smile, the single word a breathy whisper.

Pete bit his lip as he reached for both of your drinks off the bar, nodding in the direction of their table in the corner.

“Come on, gorgeous, we’re over here.”

You were greeted warmly as usual, the spirits of everyone high after the Hammers scored a goal, and with all members of the GSE and their respective partners present to watch the match, little room was available at the booth.

Ned and Ike shifted over to make a spot for you beside Clair and Dave, leaving a space that was too large for your liking between you and where Pete sat in his designated chair, his hands folded together with his elbows resting on the arms of it as he looked fondly at you mixed in with his favourite people.

As much as you loved being at The Abbey enjoying conversations that made your cheeks and stomach hurt from laughing so much, the company that Pete kept people you now couldn’t imagine your life without, it was difficult for you to focus tonight, your mind constantly wandering to how the night was going to turn out just as much as your eyes continued to find Pete’s automatically.

It was like he knew everything you were thinking, his blue eyes glowing with a telling want and his looks loaded with insinuation, every swipe of his tongue over his lips or the way he rolled the toothpick that hung out of his mouth teasing you and driving you mad.

You squirmed in your seat, your fingers toying with the soggy coaster that had been spilled on too many times, forcing yourself to peel your eyes away from him whenever you felt the heat inside you becoming too much, only to steal another glance a moment later, finding him still looking at you hungrily.

The game was coming to an end, and with the Hammers still holding onto their lead, Pete was more than happy to miss the rest of it in exchange for seeing something he had wanted to all day, and as you slowly trailed your hand down your neck to your chest before reaching for the drink you had nursed most of the night, he knew he couldn’t wait any longer.

Waiting for you to glance over at him again, he watched you intently, imagining your bare form beneath him, pressing his lips against every single inch of you.

Finally, you met his gaze, a sultry look weighing in your eyes, and with a subtle nod toward the door, Pete silently told you it was time to go.

You smiled almost sheepishly, your face seeming to glow in a mix of embarrassment and excitement as you rushed through your goodbyes, your friends all shouting teasing jeers at you in knowing the reason behind your early exit.

Pete winked at you as he shrugged into his tan trench coat, adjusting the collar and tugging it up at the back so it covered his neck, flicking the toothpick he still had in his mouth onto the table.

He took your hand and lead you through the pub with a pride that didn’t go unnoticed by those you passed, finding yourself bashful in thinking that everyone knew what was about to happen based on the look on your face, having to bite your lip to stop yourself from grinning and cast your eyes down at the worn carpet as you made your way out.

The door hadn’t even shut behind you before Pete had you up against the brick wall, his hands holding your waist with a claiming grip as he leaned into you and kissed you breathless, his want for you inarguable.

“Let’s go home,” he said with surety, his smile lighting up his eyes when he stepped away from you, pulling you with him with his hand clasped around yours again confidently.

The walk to Pete’s wasn’t long, but was made longer tonight by how often the two of you stopped to kiss, unable to keep off of each other for the duration it took to land at his door.

There was thankfully no sign of Mrs. Platt hanging around to make comments, the time it took for Pete to fish out his keys and unlock the deadbolt incredibly delayed due to interrupting the process in favour of kissing, your bodies now pressing together more closely and your hands becoming bolder where they roamed.

Pete finally opened the door and walked through it, and after tossing his keys onto the table, turned to grin at you and take your hand, pulling you inside with him.

“Get in here,” he said through his smirk, the playful tone of his voice undisguisable despite how much lust showed in his eyes.

He brought you in against him, his lips teasing yours as he whispered, “I need you.”

You smoothed your hands up the back of his neck as you kissed him, melting when he moaned into your mouth as the sensation of your fingers raking through his hair made him desperate for more, the intensity of the kiss increasing quickly.

Within moments you stood naked in his room, holding each other close while playful kisses were shared and hands began their worship, the excitement and anticipation that had slowly built up to this moment stirring within you.

It was clear that Pete felt the same, his smile unable to be wiped from his face each time you parted to look at each other, and as he moved closer to the bed with you, he tucked his bottom lip in his teeth to try to restrict it.

You sat on the mattress, leaning back on your elbows where he followed closely, crawling over you as you fully laid down in his bedding that lingered with the scents of him and you. His smile turned into a sweet chuckle as you giggled too, having him settle between your legs and laying on top of you making you feel unbelievably elated, the sensation of his readied cock resting against your core solidifying the fact that you couldn’t possibly wait another night.

His expression turned serious for a moment as he peered down at you, a soft groan coming out of his mouth as his cock rubbed against you when he shifted slightly.

“You sure you’re ready?” he asked, his voice somewhat shaky with restraint.

You nodded, and spoke with as much certainty as you could have in a moment where you felt on the border of being totally consumed by lust and longing, “Fuck me, Pete.”

He didn’t hesitate, pushing into you with a confident drive of his hips, your head tilting back as you cried out, the stretch of him filling you bare without a doubt the best thing you had ever felt.

Together, you quickly found a pace that suited you both, his thrusts slow and rolling but purposeful, his kisses growing more desperate on the skin of your neck and chest as each minute ticked on.

It took hardly any time at all for your climax to fire up within you, the anticipation of sex with Pete having let the intensity of it lay in dormancy right under the surface only to bring it forth faster than ever, his body linked with yours igniting and awakening every part of you.

You clawed at his back in a signal of your oncoming pleasure as well as a silent plea for more, half of you wanting to experience it immediately while the other half begged to prolong it all.

Clenching around his cock, you couldn’t ward it off any longer, moaning into his mouth as he continued to slam into you in a tempo that sent you to the edge but you could tell was beginning to falter as his climax took him in its clutches.

Your orgasm came through you hard and fast, shattering every inch of you as he followed right along with you, feeling him pulse and swell inside your walls, soaking him at the same time he filled you.

Pete kissed you almost frantically as he slowed his movements in you, savouring every second of being inside you while seemingly starving for more, your whines quieting out in his mouth as his breathing worked to calm to normal.

Emotion overcame him at the thought of never being able to experience this with you, the reality of him almost dying without ever having kissed you or touched you or loved you made his eyes burn, and closing them tight as he parted from your lips, he held your face in his hand and brought his forehead to rest against yours, his thumb moving to pull down your lower lip as you shared more laboured breaths.

You made love again and again through the night, resting between rounds only long enough to recharge, the addiction you had to each other increasing each time.

It was well after three in the morning when you had finally fallen asleep, exhaustion eventually taking over the nagging need for more, the cold comfort of the open window and your bodies wrapped together truly feeling like heaven.

The sound of rain and Pete stirring against you woke you up, making you scoot back against him to get closer to him, his arm that was wrapped around your waist tightening its hold and pulling you in.

He hummed in your hair, his body beginning to wake before his mind fully did, feeling him harden against your bum while his lips lazily kissed down the back of your neck.

A long moan sounded from you as you indulged in the blissful sensation, wriggling against him until his cock was firmly pressed between your cheeks, beginning to rock your hips languidly back and forth until his sleepy kisses turned to warning nips.

“Babe…” his sleepy voice purred in your ear, his lips pulling your lobe between them before his tongue swept along its shell.

“Pete…I need you.” His name fell from your lips in a whimper as your hand took hold of his and guided it between your legs, his fingertips gently stroking your clit until he had you begging for more.

Pete sat up and guided you onto all fours, positioning himself behind you where he gripped your cheeks with his hands to part them while he stroked your folds with the head of his cock.

Despite feeling how wet you were, he was aware how you would likely be sore from the amount of times he’d fucked you already, reaching over for the bottle of lube on the nightstand where he squeezed some out and coated his length until he hissed from the sensation of his own hand and slowly guided himself inside your tight walls.

He watched your hands grip the sheets as he filled you, your fingers relaxing slightly as he pulled back out, only to grip them harder and cry out when he pushed in again.

“Fuck, you take me so well,” he muttered, keeping a slow tempo even though he was tempted to quicken it and destroy you.

He heard your soft hum of appreciation for his praise over the pouring rain, everything you did adding up to drive him insane and make him fall more in love with you, suddenly feeling as if being buried inside you wasn’t enough to appease his heart.

Pete wrapped his arm around you so his hand splayed out over your stomach, applying pressure to guide you to sit up and onto his lap, careful to keep himself locked in your cunt.

Spreading the remaining lube onto your clit with his fingers, Pete began to steadily work you, his other hand holding you up while also squeezing and massaging your breasts, his mouth worshiping the space between your shoulder and ear in an intoxicating way that had your head lulling back onto his shoulder.

Goosebumps erupted over your skin as a brisk gust blew in through the window, adding to the over-stimulation that assaulted every part of you, doing your best to focus on the fullness of Pete driving inside you as you rocked yourself on his lap.

You reached your arm up and around his head, stroking his hair and gripping at him as you rode him, feeling yourself beginning to lose all control but placing all your trust in him to take care of you just how you needed.

Still holding you firmly against him, he continued to strum between your legs, knowing how close he was getting you from how you subtly tried to escape his grasp and your body convulsed to his touch, feeling your hands tighten on his head and forearm that was wrapped around you to keep you in place.

“That’s it. Come for me,” he panted in your ear, feeling you angle your hips against his hand in order to gain more friction on your clit, chasing your end as he increased the power behind his hammering thrusts.

Quiet whimpers grew at a steady pace as they spilled from your mouth, your whines of pleasure drowned out in your own ears as you focused on the sound of Pete’s heavy breathing and the praises he was showering you with, the pouring rain tapping furiously against the glass panes.

You unraveled together, the way your body tightly coiled before turning limp milking out his climax at the same time, his breath fanning out over your dewy skin as he rested his parted lips on your shoulder and stilled inside you.

Lifting yourself off his lap, you sank onto the mattress on your stomach, closing your eyes as exhaustion completely took over you, a faint smile tugging at your lips when you felt Pete follow, kissing up along your back until he collapsed half on top of you.

He took hold of your hand and brought it to rest between your bodies, kissing your knuckles softly until his breathing began to turn shallow as sleep quickly dragged him into its grasp.

These were the moments you knew you couldn’t live without, willing to sacrifice sleep night after night in order to love and be loved like this, the gratitude that filled you at being the one laying beside him as he slept outweighing any desire to close your eyes and miss even a second of it.

You knocked twice on the door before opening it anyway, letting yourself in just as Pete had told you to whenever you came over, the urgency you felt to get inside and out of the hallway too much to handle even if you weren’t allowed to walk in as you pleased.

Pete gave you an amused look, one of his eyebrows hooking high on his forehead as he placed the pen he had been holding in his mouth and reached for another paper to grade off the coffee table, your laughter sparking his curiosity.

“What?” he asked, letting out his own chuckle at your flustered state as you leaned against the door and ran your hand over your head.

“I was just stopped by Mrs. Platt. She told me she can hear us and to keep it down!”

Pete burst out laughing, shifting on the settee so his arm rested on the back of it to face you more.

“It’s not funny!” you argued, even though you were still laughing yourself, shaking your head in disbelief at the conversation you had just had with the crotchety woman in her eighties.

“Oh, it is!”

“Pete!” you urged, as if saying his name would scold him into not making fun of the situation, walking through to the living area where you plopped your bag down on one of the chairs as you passed.

“She actually said, ‘It’s not my place, but do you two ever sleep? All I hear night after night is that bed banging against the flaming wall!’”

Pete only laughed harder, hanging his head back over the sofa where you stood behind it and leaned down to grab hold of his face, begging him to stop laughing before kissing him in order to try to shut him up when he didn’t.

He was still chuckling when you pulled away from him, prompting you to smack his chest as you cursed at him.

“I can’t keep being stopped in the hallway to listen to this poor old woman make comments about hearing us have sex!”

“Ah, she’s just winding you up!”

You turned to walk into the kitchen only to be stopped by Pete’s arm wrapping around your waist to pull you back to the couch that he leaned over the back of, looking at you with mischief in his eyes that made you melt and suddenly not worry about anyone hearing the things you did together.

“Come on, love,” he purred. “She ain’t heard nothing yet.”

“Is that a promise, or a threat?” you asked, smirking as you freed yourself from his grip and made it into the kitchen, filling up the kettle.

“Both!” he replied, sitting back down on the sofa where he resumed marking his student’s homework.

“I need to take my car back to the mechanic,” you explained, shifting the conversation to something ordinary after a couple minutes of comfortable silence while placing a tea bag into your respective mugs.

“Yeah?” Pete asked somewhat distractedly as he focused on his task.

“Yeah, it's been making a funny noise whenever I accelerate, and it sort of jolts when I shift gear. Hopefully it’s nothing major or expensive, they were meant to be the best mechanic…”

“When are you taking it in?”

“Tomorrow morning. My sister’s going to meet me there and take me to work after.”

“I can do it if you want,” he offered, glancing over at you.

“Nah you’re off the hook,” you smiled, “she’s got some holiday time so I’m off duty being Jack’s chauffeur for a week!”

“Ah, look at you!”

“I know, right? She’s even taking him to practice this week.”

“That means I won’t get to see you there then, nothing good to look at on the sidelines and distract me,” he pouted, making you roll your eyes before pouring the hot water into your mugs.

“I reckon you’ll live.”

“Ah, then Mrs. Platt will just get to hear an even better show than normal when I get back home to you,” Pete laughed, ducking when you threw the tea towel at him.

The drive to Millwall took longer than normal due to rush-hour traffic, but it didn’t bother you as much as it typically would knowing you had a late start to your day that had been approved by your boss.

You pulled into the open bay door of the garage, parking your car and stepping out, giving a friendly smile to the mechanic who had helped you before.

“Giving you some grief, then eh?” he asked through a grin, nodding to your car as he wiped his hands on a rag.

“Yeah, as I said on the phone it’s kind of clunking when I’m shifting and the sound it makes when I accelerate worries me a bit…”

“We’ll put ‘er right, not to worry!” he beamed at you, extending his oil-stained hand to take your keys that you held out for him.

He stared at you for a moment, making you avert your gaze slightly, feeling somewhat uneasy.

“Say, you don’t happen to know the Dunham’s do you?” he asked, his question making your head whip up again in surprise. “Steve and Pete? They’re brothers.”

You tilted your head, your curiosity somewhat guarded, “I do, as it happens…”

The way his smile changed and the shift in his eyes put you on edge and raised your suspicions, but you did your best to remain confident, interested as to why he was asking and how he knew who they were.

“I thought as much,” he nodded.

His response took you back, and you blinked quickly, trying to wrap your head around this whole inquiry.

“Sorry, how exactly do you know them?”

He hesitated, staring you down for a few seconds before answering, almost as if he was being careful to formulate a proper response or like he was unsure how much to tell you.

“...We’re old mates,” he said slowly, his smile not leaving his thin lips.

You nodded, glancing down at the embroidered name tag on the chest of his overalls, the name ‘Martin’ one you wouldn’t forget.

“Right,” he broke the silence, his tone more cheerful in disrupting the somewhat tense air. “We’ll have a look at it and likely get it back to you at the start of next week…give ya a ring when we know what it needs and what the damage is.”

“Ta,” you thanked him, giving him one last look before turning and walking out of the garage, heading to your sister’s car where she was parked on the road out front.

You pulled the handle on the door and sat down into the passenger seat, looking out the window into the shop where Martin stood with another man of equal stature, both of them glancing out in your direction.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Hm? Nothing, it’s fine,” you assured her, smiling at her as you put your seatbelt on. “Can we stop for a coffee on the way?”

It was a typical Thursday night at The Abbey, everyone gathering at the table one by one as they flowed in from work, a pint and some laughs with mates seeming to be of the same priority for each hardworking hooligan alike as the week started to take its toll and winded down to an end.

“Where’s Pete?” Ike asked, sitting down beside you with his fresh pint.

“Oh, he’s coaching tonight,” you explained, spinning what was left of your gin and tonic in its glass. “He should be here in an hour or so.”

Ike nodded in confirmation as he took a long sip of his beer, both of you drawing your attention to the Bjorno’s as they walked in with a cheerful greeting.

Dave planted a kiss on Clair’s lips as he stopped at the bar to get the drinks in, letting her continue on to the table where she sat down with a sigh.

“Long shift?” you asked, catching the weary look that she couldn’t easily hide.

She glanced at you exasperatedly, “Oh, don’t even get me started!”

“Here you go, my love,” Dave said while leaning down to place her drink in front of her, kissing the top of her head as he did.

You found it difficult to focus on the conversations happening around you, your attention glued to the small group of women standing at the far side of the bar, the looks they kept shooting your way making you feel uneasy.

“Hey, do you know who they are?” you asked Clair, subtly nodding in their direction as they leaned in over the bar to get closer to Vicky, the barmaid, before all staring back at you again.

“Those tarts?” Clair began. “Yeah, they’re mates of Vicky’s. Bunch of slags.”

You nodded, taking it in but still not having an answer as to why they seemed so interested in you, thinking of all the times you had nice enough conversations with Vicky, or so you thought.

“Pete used to have it off with the blonde one,” Bovver piped up, blowing the smoke from his freshly lit cigarette in your direction as he spoke.

Your eyebrows raised high on your forehead as you took in the information, finally having some clarity as to why these women you had never seen before were obviously unhappy with your presence.

“Fucked like crazy for a few months…” he continued, the iciness of his blue eyes holding something of a threat as he told you.

“Oi! Don’t be like that,” Dave scolded him, shoving his arm. “Why do you have to say it like that?”

“It’s true!” Bov scowled, his loyalty to his relations with Vicky clearly extending to her friends over you.

You sighed, trying not to let it bother you, reminding yourself that everyone, including you, had a past, and hoped that whatever issue she had with you would pass soon.

“Right, I need another,” you stated, shaking your empty glass in your hand as you stood.

Just as you anticipated, the daggers coming from across the bar dug into your back, still doing your best to ignore them while waiting for Terry to fix your drink, but that became impossible when the blonde who was apparently an ex of Pete’s slunk over to you and stood far closer to you than you would’ve liked.

“I didn’t think it was true, but here you are,” she began, her accent sloppy from the drinks she had tossed back already, her breath smelling of stale fags and the tartness of the cranberry juice she mixed with her vodka.

“What’s true?” you asked, giving her no more than a sideways glance as you fished the change from your pocket to pay for your drink.

“That Pete is dating a plain, old slag.”

“I’m sorry, and who might you be?”

“I was you only a few months back,” she grinned, her smile vicious and proud in her admission that she had been Pete’s at one time.

You huffed as you smiled, taking your drink from Terry who eyed you up as if offering his help, turning to go back to the table. The thought of him being with someone as vile as her made your stomach lurch, and not wanting to give it any further attention, you ignored her.

“I’m not done talking to you, you soppy cow!” she shouted, her lack of couth on full display to everyone around as a hush fell over the pub.

When you continued on your way over to the group, all of them watching with bated breath to see what would happen next, the satisfaction on Bovver’s face boiling your blood more than she was, her shrill voice sounded out again, making you pause.

“He said I was the best he’s ever had, and I’ll be right here to remind him of that.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, the adrenaline making you feel shaky and on the verge of doing something stupid, but instead you neglected to give her the drama she sought and took your seat again, praying that Pete would get there soon.

“Don’t let her get to you,” Dave assured, leaning over Clair who had already offered to fight her twice. “It wasn’t that serious…”

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” you assured, hoping it sounded genuine or at least believable.

“I mean, they were at it together for a few months…” Keith added in, earning a scolding from both Dave and Swill, making you swallow thickly.

You took a long sip of your drink as you tried to tune out the sound of the lads bickering and the jeers still coming in your direction from across the bar, your eyes closing as you tried to slow your breathing.

After a couple more minutes, you stood and made your way through the bar to the loo, praying no one would follow you, your newfound enemies calling you names as you passed.

Pete finally made it to the pub, strutting through the crowd and desperate for a beer after a long day at work and then coaching out in the cold rain, the sight of his ex leaning what she thought was invitingly against the bar making him scowl as he passed.

When there was no sight of you at the table, he did a quick glance around, distractingly returning everyone’s greetings as he shrugged out of his jacket and sat.

“Oi, what’s she doing here?” he asked Dave, nodding over in the direction of the bar where they continued to stare over at him.

Dave shook his head, “They’ve been causing trouble, pal.”

Seeing Pete’s face fall into worry as he looked around for you again, Dave continued. “She’s in the toilets, she seemed a bit upset…”

“For fuck’s sake,” Pete muttered, standing and going through the pub in quick strides, not giving his ex even a glimpse as he passed.

He pushed open the door to the ladies room more aggressively than he intended, his anger at the situation and that cheap tart upsetting you getting to him, his anger quickly turning to surprise when he saw you standing in front of the tarnished mirror reapplying your lip gloss, appearing fine and unbothered.

“Can I help you?” you grinned, watching him in the mirror with unhidden amusement at his presence.

His head tilted a bit to the side, walking toward you slowly while still assessing you, his concern still creasing his features even though he was smiling back at you.

“They said you were upset…”

You laughed and shook your head, screwing the cap back on your lip gloss before sticking it in your pocket, turning to look at him directly instead of in the mirror, your bum sitting on the edge of the sink.

“Upset? Over those twats? Come on…” you shrugged, trying your best to play it cool even though it had bothered you more than you were letting on.

Pete closed the space between you and leaned his forehead against yours, still searching your eyes for any hints of you being hurt or shaken up.

You let your eyelids close, instantly feeling relaxed from him being close to you, breathing in deeply when he brought his hands up to hold your face.

“We all have a past, Pete,” you whispered, saying it more for your own conviction than his, the frustrated exhale he let out at his past involving that awful slag fanning over your lips.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his lips moving against yours as they hovered there, teasing a kiss.

“Don’t be sorry,” you answered, your hands trailing up his chest where you took hold of the collar of his jumper and slid the material through your fingers, his body moving closer to yours. “Just kiss me, Pete.”

He did, crashing into you so hard your head was forced back but stopped by his hands still gripping your face, his tongue delving into your mouth hungrily and greedily where you didn’t hesitate to match his fervor.

Everything was rough and desperate, kissing with a need to prove that each other’s lips were the only ones ever worth kissing, your hands pawing and groping in a crazed act of passion.

Pete’s fingers tore at the button and zipper of your jeans before diving his hand inside them, his long fingers stroking through your folds until your wet coated them, your moans reverberating in his mouth as you continued to kiss, your lips moving against each other sloppily and hastily.

After a minute, he withdrew from you, roughly tugging your jeans and panties down your thighs, his steely eyes staring at your exposed cunt as he quickly unfastened his own jeans and pulled out his hard cock before crashing against you again.

You spread your legs as wide as you were able to, giving him enough access to your core where he guided his leaking head, smearing his precum on your clit a few times until you were moaning and begging him to fill you.

Pete happily obliged, pushing inside your tight walls where he paused once he couldn’t go any deeper, kissing you frantically and groaning into your mouth from how good you felt.

Like he lost all sense of control, he slammed in and out of you, fucking you hard and fast while his mouth hung open and panted against yours in his efforts, the sink creaking precariously as you rocked your hips in time with his brutal thrusts, your fingers digging into the back of his neck and shoulders as you held on tight.

You were both so entranced in each other that neither of you noticed the door opening, his ex standing in the doorway in shock of the scene she walked into, scoffing as she turned and left.

“Fuck, babe,” he growled, pulling his face away from yours slightly where he watched his cock slide in and out of you, the sight encouraging him to move even more furiously within you, your cries growing louder as your climax quickly built up.

“Pete!” you bellowed, a desperation in your voice that told him you were on the brink, and knowing you were at risk of screaming as you came, he covered your mouth with his and proceeded to pound you mercilessly, swallowing your noises of unbridled pleasure as you clenched and shuddered on his cock.

Only seconds behind you, Pete bucked into your soaked cunt until he pumped you full of his hot spend, feeling it leak out of you as he continued to slowly thrust, drawing out every moment of your highs that he could.

You laughed as you comprehended what just happened, smoothing your hand over your head as your chest rose and fell sharply, Pete chuckling as a mischievous and prideful look dressed his flushed features.

“It’s impossible to get enough of you,” he admitted, his eyes flickering over your face as he leaned his arms against the sink, caging you in.

You hummed appreciatively, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer, kissing him long and slow and in a way you hoped conveyed everything you felt for him.

“You sure you’re alright?” he asked when your kiss slowed to a pause, the blue of his eyes more vibrant and full of emotion.

“Yeah,” you nodded, smiling at him softly while your finger traced the crease beside his mouth.

“Okay, darling,” he cooed, nuzzling his nose against your cheek as he inhaled deeply, his face moving into the side of your neck where he pressed kisses into the sensitive skin and made you squirm and giggle.

Stopping, he brought his face back up to look at you, his expression serious again, his hand finding yours where he laced your fingers together and gave it three gentle squeezes.

“You know you’re the only one I want, yeah?”

You nodded, squeezing his hand back three times, smiling bigger as his own grew.

“I do, though I wouldn’t mind you showing me again…”

“Careful what you wish for!” he laughed burying his face into your neck again where he nipped and sucked at your skin, your laughter echoing against the tiled walls.

Pete walked out of the bathroom with you confidently after cleaning up and composing yourselves, even happier to see that his ex and the rest of Vicky’s horrible friends had left, the expressions on everyone’s faces as you sat back down at the table telling you they knew exactly what you had been up to.

“Oi, that colour suits you, mate,” Ned commented, pointing to his lips as he stared at Pete’s that were tinted from your lip gloss.

“Yeah? It’d suit yours too,” Pete said, leaning over and planting a kiss on Ned’s cheek quickly before he pushed him away, cursing and wiping his cheek dramatically.

Pete laughed as he took his seat, downing his pint that had been waiting for him to return to, leaning back in his chair where he pulled you onto his lap to have you proudly perch, the atmosphere more relaxed and as it normally was.

Red dripped into the sink one drop at a time, flowing steadily from so many places on his hands and face he wasn’t even sure where it was all coming from.

Pete tugged more tissues out of the box, bunching them up and holding them to what he thought was the deepest cut on his chin with as much pressure as he could, the ache in his hand preventing him from doing a sufficient job. He didn’t think he’d cracked on that Zulu cunt as hard as he did, but his knuckles proved otherwise, split open what felt like to the bone.

Any effects the pints in his bloodstream had provided him had definitely worn off now, his head pounding and every cut on him stinging and burning like mad, the severity of each fresh injury hard to determine as he looked at himself in the mirror through one good eye, the dark, puffy welt spreading up to his other from his cheek.

He stood with a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, his blood and sweat-stained clothes discarded in a heap on the floor, his reflection revealing bruises on his side and abdomen that refused to be ignored when he had lifted his jumper over his head.

It was late, and as quiet as he tried to be, Pete knew better than to think you wouldn’t have heard him come home, your inability to stay asleep for long without him something he secretly loved and made him swell, always feeling equally as eager to get back home and in bed with you.

“Hiya, love,” he muttered, smirking at you in the mirror when you appeared in the doorway, your sleepy face quickly changing to shock when you saw the state of him.

“I’m fine!” he stressed, knowing what your next words were going to be, the worry on your face breaking his heart a little.

“Pete…” you whispered, not in an accusatory or scolding way, but out of sheer love and care, your hands cupping his cheeks gently despite getting blood on them, your eyes searching his for truth in his claim of being okay.

“Fucking Zulu’s…” he trailed off, a small laugh blowing out of his lungs.

Never once had you asked him to stop fighting, and he knew you wouldn’t now, taking the aftermath of his hobby on the chin just like he did multiple times tonight, his love and appreciation for you making him feel a bit emotional as he watched you open the cupboard and get out the first aid kit to tend to his wounds.

He blinked back the moisture that had quickly accumulated in his eyes before you were facing him again, closing them when you pressed a careful kiss to his bloody lips, letting out a long sigh when you pulled away.

“Sit so I can see better,” you instructed, your voice soft and soothing to his ears.

Pete turned and stepped toward the tub, perching on the edge of it so he faced the sink for you to work, watching the deep red spots staining it dilute into a rusty colour as water ran from the tap and washed his blood off the porcelain.

Carefully, and for as long as it would take, you gently cleaned all of his wounds, wiping the blood that had dried and stuck in his blond stubble and dabbing the cuts that still oozed, your touch becoming lighter whenever you noticed a wince that involuntarily snuck past his attempts to hide them.

Luckily, nothing needed stitches, and even though Pete knew you were done cleaning and disinfecting each cut he’d sustained, you continued to linger, admiring his bruised and battered features.

Wrapping his arms around your waist, he pulled you close to him, letting his face lean into your stomach, breathing deeply as you raked your fingers up his bare back and through his hair. His shoulders relaxed, letting go of the tension held in them from taking the painful sting of peroxide seeping into his cuts over and over, his hands smoothing up your bare thighs and your bum.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” you whispered, your lips pressing against his scalp.

He hummed, pulling his face away from the warmth of your body in his sweater.

“Yeah. C’mere,” he offered, shifting slightly so your legs had room to straddle him.

You seated yourself on his lap, smiling when his own broke out on his damaged face, your back arching into him when he placed his hands under his sweater that you had now worn more times than him to card up your back.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, admiring you for a moment before kissing you softly, his nose moving back and forth on yours a couple of times before nudging your cheek, resting his face against it while he closed his eyes and breathed slowly.

“You’re welcome, love,” you cooed, your fingers ghosting over the back of his neck, making him melt into you even more.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he spoke, mostly to himself, still finding it hard to believe that he had been lucky enough to survive his injuries and then have you walk into his classroom that one morning.

Pete kissed your cheek once, then again, each press to your soft skin urging him to add another and then more after that, eventually meeting your lips with his until minutes had passed with you lost in the haze created by your slow kisses.

His hands held your back firmly, keeping you close to him and preventing you from falling back as he moved his head away from yours and looked at you in a way that made you want to show him that the love you had for him existed like no other.

“I love you,” he professed, as if he had stolen the words right out of your mouth. Those three words were spoken with a calm surety that held such truth there was no way you could deny or question it, your fingers trembling against his cheek as you trailed them along the crease that flanked his lips.

“I love you, too, Pete.”

The taste of blood transferred onto your tongue again as he crashed into you, kissing you with more ardor than ever before, the relevancy of the cuts on his lips no longer a concern to either of you.

Your hands slipped around the back of his neck, pulling him into you even more to deepen your kiss, your hips rolling against his just enough that you could feel his cock hardening, your bare core grinding on the somewhat rough material of the towel separating you.

Pete moaned into your mouth, and without stopping kissing you, leaned back enough to unwrap the fold of the towel from his waist, letting it fall open under him.

His hands slid under your thighs, guiding you to lift your hips in order to get on top of his cock, breaking your kiss to watch your face as you sank down on his length.

Before you even had the chance to start riding him, Pete ran his battered hands over your hair, his eyes holding as much softness as his voice did.

“Just be still for me, yeah?” he asked, wanting to savour the intimacy of being inside you unmoving.

You nodded, drawing in a deep, shaky breath, closing your eyes as his nose brushed against yours before capturing your lips again, your hand resting on his chest where you could feel his heart beating wildly.

You would have been kidding yourself if you said you weren’t feeling a bit uneasy about going to pick up your car alone, the conversation you had had with the mechanic, Martin, when you dropped it off still fresh in your mind.

Pete was unable to take you, having to coach a practice after work, and your sister was taking Jack to it and staying to watch since she always missed so many, leaving you to take the tube over to Millwall to deal with it on your own.

You assured yourself over and over that it would be fine and that you were probably reading into things too much, but still the way he had mentioned knowing Steve and Pete and claiming to be old mates with them wasn’t sitting right with you. With work being so busy this week, you had completely forgotten to mention it to Pete, and you cursed yourself for failing to bring it up when you had checked with him again that morning if he was sure he couldn’t get someone else to coach for him.

As the stops to Millwall grew closer and closer, you did your best not to dwell, reading the book you brought with you while your leg bounced up and down unconsciously, your eyes scanning over the same paragraph again and again without being able to absorb the words.

“Alright, good job, lads!” Pete shouted after blowing his whistle, signaling the end of their practice.

He held the bag open for them to toss their soiled jerseys in, laughing at all their comments to each other and how supportive they all were of their teammates.

“Eh, Jack, will you help me gather up the pylons?” he asked when your nephew had made it over to him in the queue of rowdy boys.

As Pete knew he would, Jack happily jogged around the pitch and collected the majority of them, saving Pete and his leg the trouble of going to do it all himself.

“Cheers, mate,” Pete thanked him, ruffling his hair as he walked with him over to where his mum stood waiting.

“Great practice, love!” She praised her son, then smiled at Pete as Jack worked at untying his cleats and taking off his shin guards. “Reckon she’ll be back from Millwall soon, then?” she said, glancing at the watch on her wrist.

“Millwall?” Pete asked, his face screwed up at the mention of his rivaled district.

“Yeah, that’s where the mechanic is she took her car to.”

“What’s the garage called?” he questioned, an urgency present in his voice as he reached in the pocket of his jacket for his phone.

“I don’t know, I didn’t look when I had dropped her off and she never mentioned it…is everything okay?”

“Hmm, yeah,” Pete lied, trying to settle the rising panic he felt inside him at the thought of the garage you took your car to for repairs being Tommy fucking Hatcher’s.

He hit the button to dial your number and held it up to his ear, pacing as he listened to ring after ring before the sound of your voice came through, his heart falling when it was only your voicemail picking up.

“Fuck-” he hissed, hanging up before redialling, praying you would pick up and tell him you weren’t alone at Tommy’s garage.

The bell that chimed when the door opened sounded ominous tonight as you stepped through it, the smell of oil and exhaust fumes hitting your nose heavily, the distant sound of the radio and tools clanking against metal filling the otherwise quiet shop.

Your car was parked out front, seemingly ready to drive off in, and you hoped to settle the bill and get your keys quickly so you could make your way back to see Pete, wanting this day and especially this exchange to be over and done with.

Glancing through the window that looked into the garage from where the little waiting area was, you could see Martin bent over the bonnet of a car, and behind him, a small office where who you assumed was the owner sat at his desk.

When neither man noticed your presence, you stepped through into the bay, careful your heels didn’t slip on the greasy floor.

The man in his office finally caught sight of you, grinning with a somewhat villainous smile that split his hardened features, and you thought no matter how friendly he tried to appear, there was something about him that seemed impossible to soften.

“Hello, love,” he greeted, his voice matching his looks.

“Hi, sorry,” you stammered, “I’m just here to get my car.” You hooked your thumb and pointed over your shoulder in the direction of where it sat outside, planting your feet firmly on the cement floor while doing your best to stand tall and confident.

“Yeah, not a problem, I’ve got the paperwork all here for ya,” he explained, standing from his chair and turning to reach for some papers from the filing cabinet behind him.

Martin nodded as you walked past him to enter the office, giving you a curt ‘Evening,’ as you smiled weakly in return.

The man seemed to fill the entire space of his office, his form tall and broad, his personality giving off a powerful air that made you feel somewhat suffocated.

There were empty beer bottles on his desk, and scattered across the walls and cabinets that took up nearly every square inch of the small room were various pieces of Millwall F.C. paraphernalia.

“You a fan?” he asked, catching you looking at the poster of the crest hung on the wall beside him.

“Erm, no, I don’t really pay attention to football all that much,” you lied, the realization that this man was clearly a huge supporter of the club that was Pete’s sworn enemy making you want to avoid the topic altogether.

“No?” he questioned, his head tilting to the side as another vicious smile revealed his teeth. “Not even a fan of the mighty Hammers?”

The way he said it made your blood turn cold, and you swallowed thickly, thinking how Martin must have discussed your affiliation to West Ham United through knowing Pete and Steve, and you wondered if these men were members of Millwall’s infamous firm.

You shook your head and huffed out a false laugh, reaching into your purse for your wallet.

“No,” you repeated, hoping he didn’t press his inquiry any further.

Clearing your throat to ensure your words came out properly, you started filing through the stack of notes you had taken out of the bank that morning, counting out what you had been told the total was going to be for the repairs.

“It was £450, wasn’t it?”

“That’s right,” he confirmed, watching as you placed the money on his desk, folding his arms across his chest.

“You sure you aren’t running about and singing along to ‘Forever Blowing fucking Bubbles’ then?”

You scoffed, trying your best to look like you hadn’t heard or even sang that song more times than you could count since meeting Pete.

“Ah, I see,” he said, slowly. “So you’re going to lie right to my face and tell me you’re not Pete Dunham’s missus, are ya?”

You almost choked, words unable to form on your tongue that felt too big for your mouth, the air in your lungs feeling trapped while everything around you started to distort as a dizziness overcame you.

“How…how do you know that?”

He pointed his finger at you, his lips still curled into a smile. “See, I knew you were lying to me, you little slag.”

You stepped back as he walked around his desk, his blue eyes icy with an evil you had never seen before.

“Don’t you think you’re going anywhere anytime soon, love,” he grinned, sitting on the edge of his desk as he nodded behind you. “Martin there hates your little boy toy just as much as I do, so he won’t be letting you run past him too easily either.”

You kept still, taking in as deep a breath as you could, closing your eyes briefly to gain some courage as you thought of which of the many questions racing through your mind to ask next.

“How do you know who I am?” your voice squeaked out, unable to hide your fear.

He shrugged his shoulders and frowned, “I get people to find things out for me.”

“Right, I’d just like to get my keys and leave, I don’t want any trouble-”

“You’re missing the fucking point, here!” he shouted, cutting you off. “Didn’t little Petey warn you about me?”

You shook your head again, confused as to who this man even was to Pete. “No, I-”

“Was he too afraid to come with you, not man enough to protect you?”

He stood from his desk, walking closer to you until you were face to face and your back was pressed against a cabinet, leaving you nowhere to escape.

“Is the taste of death still too fresh for him?” he laughed, clearly amused in seeing you put it all together.

“You’re-”

“Yeah, that’s right, darling,” he cooed, his face so close to yours you could smell the stale beer and smoke on his putrid breath. “I’m Tommy Hatcher. The man who nearly wiped out the Dunham name.”

He seemed so proud of it, like the memory was something he revisited often, and you felt sick knowing you were standing vulnerable at the hands of the man who almost killed the one you couldn’t live without.

“It’s funny, innit? That out of all the garages in London to get your car fixed, you came to mine.”

His finger jabbed into your chest with each word, making you recoil to try to make space between you, only to press yourself harder into the cabinet.

“You’re vile,” you spat, shoving your arm against his chest to push him away from you, only to have him come back stronger and closer than before.

He gripped your chin with his meaty hand, his fingers digging into your skin so hard it made you yelp.

“I’ve been watching you for weeks now. You should really pay more attention to your surroundings, love,” he warned, the pleasure he took in this written all over his grisly face. “How’s that nephew of yours, by the way?”

Bile rose up your throat at the idea of him getting to Jack and causing him harm, the lengths this horrible, soulless man would go to to make anyone he hated suffer having no limit.

“He seems like a good lad,” he whispered, his mouth hovering beside your ear where his hot breath made your skin crawl and you squirm in his grasp. “It’d be a fucking shame if he didn’t make it past his twelfth birthday just like my son didn’t.”

“You wouldn’t!” you cried, trying to move your legs enough to kick him, only to have his body lean harder into yours to stop you.

“See, you’re forgetting what I’m capable of. How easy it was to drive that bottle into Stevie’s neck and how much fucking joy I got breaking Petey’s body until he was lifeless on the ground.”

His grip tightened on your face as his eyes scanned over you, and despite your efforts to not let it happen, tears sprang from your eyes at the description of him trying to kill Pete.

“Don’t think it wouldn’t be hard to do the same thing to you or that little boy.”

With all the strength you had, you pushed against him, hitting him as hard as you could in his stomach while stomping hard on his foot, but Tommy was too strong, slamming you back into the cabinet so the handle drove into your ribs and all the air in your lungs was knocked out of you.

He laughed in your face, locking his forearm across your neck to keep you in place, your struggle to breathe seeming to satisfy him.

“I could do anything I wanted to you right now and no one would know or be able to stop me,” he bragged, growing more aroused with the power he held over you.

He ground himself against you, making you feel his hardness through his trousers, the possibility of you actually being sick between that and the lack of oxygen becoming more and more likely.

“It’s funny, you've got the same look of terror in your eyes as he did right before I smashed his fucking face in!” he pointed out, his laughter ringing through the room like you had just shared a joke together.

Within a split second his demeanor changed again, glaring at you seriously as his voice quieted and turned calm.

“See, I could rape you, ruin you so he’d never want to touch you again...”

You let out a broken sob, your eyes screwing shut when you felt his other hand travel slowly down your waist until he reached your thighs, stopping when he spoke again.

“But it’s lucky for you I’m a changed man.”

Tommy loosened the force of his arm against your neck, backing away from you slightly, and ran a hand over his hair to regain some composure.

“Don’t wanna be stuck in the nick again over someone as pitiful as you and your precious Petey!” he barked, adjusting himself in his pants crudely while you shook against the cold, metal cabinet.

He reached for something on his desk, turning around and quickly throwing your keys at your face where they missed and hit you hard in the chest, making you jump and cry out which only made him howl a maniacal laugh.

“Go on, you shitcunt,” he spat, “go home to Petey and cry all about it to him!”

You stooped and grabbed your keys off the grimy floor with a trembling hand, bolting out the door as fast as your legs would carry you, the sound of his and Martin’s laughter chasing you out of the building where you pressed the button to unlock your car as quickly as possible.

The tears didn’t come until you were out of the lot and onto the road, the lights from passing cars blurry and blinding as you finally let out wracking sobs, unaware of how fast you were going or which roads you were turning down, getting as far away from Tommy Hatcher as you could the only thing on your mind.

---

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[princesssarisa]

I think I've noticed a slight trend in the evolution of feminist fairy tale retellings. In the '90s, 2000s, and earlier 20-teens, we had retellings which obviously had feminist themes, but weren't explicitly about "women's issues." The conflicts the heroines faced were relevant to feminism, but not exclusively caused by sexism. Yet more recent re-imaginings of the same stories have been much more explicitly (and a bit ham-fistedly) about battling sexism.

The movie Ever After is obviously a "feminist" Cinderella, with Danielle portrayed as a feisty and clever action heroine, and with a contrast between her tomboyish ways and the ladylike refinement of her stepmother and stepsisters. But the conflict Danielle faces revolves much more around social class than around gender.

Then there's Betsy Cornwell's 2015 YA novel Mechanica, a steampunk Cinderella where the heroine is an inventor. This is obviously a feminist retelling too, because Nick excels in a traditionally masculine field, because she uses her inventions to take herself to the ball without the need for a Fairy Godmother, and because she has a concrete goal of freeing herself from her stepfamily by opening her own shop. In this way, she's very much like the "girlboss Cinderella" of the 2021 Sony/Amazon musical. Yet if I remember correctly, her struggles have little to do with gender. She isn't blocked from achieving her business goal because she's a woman; the problem is simply that she's trapped in an abusive home with no money or resources of her own.

Yet the 2021 musical, with its Cinderella who similarly wants to go to the ball to find a patron and start her own business, makes the whole conflict ham-fistedly about sexism. To a slightly ridiculous degree, because this Cinderella isn't an inventor of mechanics, she's a dressmaker! Weren't most 19th century dressmaking shops run by women? Yet the entire conflict is framed as "Ella's goal of a career outside the home is frowned on because she's a woman."

Then there are the two screen versions of Disney's Beauty and the Beast: 1991 vs. 2017. In the original film, apart from Gaston's claim in passing that "It's not right for a woman to read!" Belle's misfit status is framed in a gender-neutral way. Her dreamy, adventurous spirit, of which her love of books is one aspect, sets her apart from the village's simple workaday culture. Of course there's a feminist element, since she wants more from life than what's expected of her and doesn't want to be the "little wife" of a man who doesn't respect her, but the villagers would still consider her odd if she were a man. Yet the 2017 remake had to explicitly add gender issues. Here, the villagers disapprove of women being educated; only boys go to school, Belle's neighbors dislike the fact that she even knows how to read, and they bully her for teaching a little girl to read too.

It's just a little trend I've noticed.

[new-berry]

I never should have gone to bed!

Mikel / Granit NSFW work of fiction etc etc not edited. No warnings :)

Happy early birthday @longeyelashedtragedy unless you hate it, then hold out for Frank and Jamie Jamie Jamie.

Or just type “I hated it” no matter what and pride will compel me to finish Frank and Jamie (there’s magic)

Mistaken for Strangers

As long as you know Mikel loves Granit, and Granit loves Mikel, you know all the important things. There is nothing else you need to know going into this.

You can switch any of the lesser facts to something you understand better or like more. That’s fine. It doesn’t change anything really if they were rugby players instead. It’s just a forty minute half instead of forty-five. Should still work though. Both ball sports.

You don’t need to know the offside rule. You don’t need to have memorised the top goal scorers by season. They don’t even have to be sportsmen, if you don’t want.

It also ends. In every telling it ends. You have to know that as well. The weeks have run out of days.

I want to assure you: You don’t have to know anything else about them to understand this story.

It might be better not knowing some things. For example: it might be better if you didn't know that Mikel was Granit’s boss.

Mikel has dark hair and dark eyes. He ages slowly, he has a scar on his knee that hurts when it rains or when he stands for too long. He’s vain.

Mikel can easily be a blonde though. He could be Michael and have an arm injury that would make typing difficult for long periods, if you’d prefer. He’d still be Granit’s boss. Even if they worked in an office. Even if they were architects.

He’s Spanish. He could be French though, if you think that accent is sexier. (It’s not, but it’s fine if you think that.)

Granit has a temper. Mikel looks like he has one. Mikel looks hot blooded and impetuous. (He might be better as a redhead than a blonde. If he is ‘Michael’ that is.)

He isn’t. Hot blooded or impetuous. He is impatient and slightly arrogant. But he’s quite handsome so he can carry it off. Granit is though, both hot blooded and handsome. (You could make him a little more handsome. You could make his teeth a tiny bit smaller and his chin slightly less prominent.)

Granit is also married. You can skip that, but, It’s important. But it’s fine to pretend.

Mikel is married too. (That isn’t the most important thing through. What is the most important is Mikel loves Granit and Granit loves Mikel and you already know that this ends).

Granit has daughters that he loves. He wouldn’t mind a son, so it’s okay if you give him one instead. Or as well.

They are both dog people, but cats are acceptable. They meet because of football. Fairly important. If you keep this story in London it should be football. And if it is going to stay football in London it should be Arsenal. Along with love, Arsenal is non-negotiable.

Love and Arsenal and endings. This could potentially happen at Chelsea. Definitely not at Spurs. Fundamentally not a West Ham story. This could never have happened at Fulham.

This is a love story where the lovers come second. There was a chance, once, this could have happened at Spurs. But that player never slammed his hand down on that manager's desk. That player never leaned over and sneered in his manager's face. That player never spread his legs wide and sat his ass down on the corner of that manger’s desk with his chin lifted up like “try me.” Maybe he should have.

If you hate England (fair) this could also be Athletico Madrid. If you want them to be drinking beer the night before Granit leaves you can set this in Germany. But it would have to be Dortmund if you did.

Look: I don’t make the rules for love and love and Arsenal and endings. Contracts run out of seasons. I hope you like bees if you move this to Germany. I hope you like the colour yellow.

Mikel is shorter than Granit and he has to press up on his toes to kiss him. Mikel is Spanish (or French) and Granit is Swiss (and Albanian. Or Swedish and Croatian, that could also work).

You can say: the Spaniard pressed up on his toes to kiss the taller Swiss man. You shouldn’t, not because it isn’t true, it’s very true. You just… shouldn’t say things like that.

However, you’ll have to keep that bit now. Not just for the aesthetic, the beauty of how it looks, Mikel the boss, (or the gaffer or the mister) but it also informs the ending. This always ends. It does end with a kiss. But first it ends with Granit turning his head away when Mikel presses up to kiss him.

There are ten years between them and that is perfectly acceptable. They didn’t meet when Granit was young. There isn’t the messiness of say, fifteen year old Granit meeting nearly twenty six year old Mikel.

This isn’t that kind of story. If you wanted it to, it could be. Granit knew about twenty six year old Mikel. If not football - could be Paul Maurice or something he could coach the Panthers - Mikel is still well known.

You could scooch the ages up and down a bit if you like. Granit thirty to Mikel’s forty becoming thirty-one to thirty-nine. Thirty two to thirty eight.

I want you to know, Granit loves Mikel. And Mikel loves Granit. And they both love Arsenal. Eventually.

Sometimes football is just a job, a stopwatch that runs out of seconds. Before Mikel, Arsenal was just a job. So it could be any job. Could be a coffee shop or a call centre.

Granit isn’t the kind of person to just go through the motions but he needed to learn to feel it the right way.

Mikel’s hands are always soft at first and Granit had to learn that first, how to receive softness.

I don’t want to dwell on the ending, even though it’s inevitable. The beginning was beautiful. Cold. Cold like winter and cold like losing. Cold like your own fans turning on you.

Granit sitting on the edge of Mikel’s desk leaning back. Like it was his office, like it was his desk. Mikel stepping between his legs. Like this, Granit leaned back, they are closer in height. Mikel stays off his toes and Granit is caught flat footed. A shy man running out of bravado, a lover running out of bluff.

Desks and offices aren’t made for first times. Too many hard angles, too many corners. Mikel and Granit half stripped, grinding against each other, hands grabbing then trailing away just to grab something else.

Too fast, too awkward, after a ringing threatening silence. A timer running out of time. Then the glossy soft sound of them kissing again.

It didn’t have to be an office. Granit could have stormed into Mikel’s kitchen if he was a cook. Could have slammed his hand down next to the precisely diced onions. Could have fronded each other against a stainless steel bench being careful of the knives.

Or if they were mechanics- they are very good at their jobs if they were mechanics they would be formula one - maybe they would have kissed that first time next to a car jacked up with one tire constantly, lazily rotating. Kissed until the car ran out of racetrack. Until the wheel ran out spins.

There will always be a middle. There will always be a redemption.

Always Granit- Swiss /Albanian - possibly Swedish / Croatian - going from villain to hero. Always eventually accepting the cheers of the crowd.

Granit would always have called Mikel to hear him breath down the line when it could have been a text. Mikel will always slide his fingers into Granit’s hair with its soft curls (or glide his fingers through his long flaxen locks, or smooth his hands across Granit’s shaved head for preference). This will always happen with eternal gentleness.

Even the times they are angry and fuck. Even when Granit is drunk and raging. Even the time when the title has been awarded and they can’t look at each other and they can’t stay away from each other.

Ifyou don’t already know, they didn’t win that title. Even though this is a love story and a redemption story this isn’t a fairy tale. (So it couldn’t have happened at Spurs then).

Mikel will always touch Granit’s hair softly first. They will always break the law to see each other. It might be Covid protocols. It might not be wearing a mask when they are near each other. (Hardly worth a mask is it? When they are breathing messily into each other's mouths and blowing each other in the office in Mikel’s garden.)

If it were some other crime, an elaborate Las Vegas heist when they maybe would have stolen a golden statue and had sex, with it sitting on a side table in a dingy hotel room with a “welcome to fabulous Las Vegas” cap covering the top of it.

If they were in the Mafia perhaps they would have killed someone and gone home to have grim terrified -exhilarated sex with the smell of blood still in the air. If they had committed actual crimes , not just the moral failings, Mikel would still press up on his toes and slide his hands behind Granit’s ears into the softness of his hair.

There is a part before the ending. A part before the race ran out of racers. When it was almost like they could have it all. When they had a trophy almost on their fingertips, and their wives were clueless, and when Granit had looked down in wonderment, his hands planted on the bed next to Mikel’s head. The distant thump of their bodies together, the counterpoint of the headboard. A song running out of beats.

Granit caught in only a sort-of lie. Where was he? With Mikel (cook, mechanic, late night TV host).

What were they doing? Talking about football (menus, wrenches, the Supreme Court).

Why so late? (The season is teetering on the brink, the restaurant is teetering on the brink, democracy is teetering on the brink.) In no universe does Granit consider telling the truth.

‘We made love on the couch. We kissed all the way through. Mikel fucked me, and before he did he used his fingers to make it easier and becuase it feels amazing. Also the season is on the brink and democracy is fading.’

A comedian will run out of jokes. A drunk will run out of excuses. A husband will not run out of wife.

They come second, Arsenal not the wife. And in the early summer Mikel presses up on his toes and Granit turns his head to the side. He gets a new job, he moves to head office, “spends more time with his family”.

I’m sorry. It turns out there is no other story. There is only this Mikel. There is only this Granit. There is only their story. And it ends.

[jellyfish-grave]

okok. Self aware anon here.

Mishima should get apeshit rights. Let that boy go HAM. Personally, he will NOT be letting that slide, thank you. Boss music privileges, even.

Persona or not, there is a line that can be crossed and I wanna see him just *GLASS SHATTER SFX* you know???? He's such a cute little scrunkly who's been mistreated all this time and JUST LET HIM HIT THAT LIMIT. LET HIM LOOSE.

Hdbdjx during the end of the royal arc he's basically inducted into the Replacement Phantom Thieves squad bec the pts are currently not doing so hot at that point and his entire fighting style is just "GET YO FUCKIN DOG BITCH"

Idk I think that's just an interesting avenue to go down, you feel me? In the context of the self aware au he DOES go a little crazy to protect Player but it's also a bit of a sense of "holy shit. I did that??? Me???" that contrasts so hard with his past feelings of powerlessness and inadequacy that is just 😙👌 muah chef's kiss. And having him PROTECT someone? After the battle's over he's seeing that they're safe because of HIM? And also he don't treat Mishima like canon does in this house, he gets APPRECIATED and THANKED and SOUGHT OUT FOR SAFETY?? Makes him 404 a little to be honest.

You're just my designated Mishima Person™️ now ig. Also sorry if the ask abt his design was too long or too much

Funny you bring that up, actually! I was writing my Mishima fic and was making a scene about him yelling at others! He loses his shit after someone repeatedly disrespected his boundaries that he very clearly set and explained out lodu to everyone. The goal here was to show he's not getting stepped over by anyone again, and he finally speaks up for any toxic/abusive behavior.

I really love the idea of it,,, like a bit held back 3rd sem Goro

Also I absolutely NEED Player to come up to Mishima like "You saved me!!" And mishima crumbling on the ground like jelly

"Mmme?? Saved someone??? smsbcmnemznm"

Im honored to be your Mishima person tm

Also the reason i didnt answer the design ask is because I was sketching stuff related to it :]

[satancopilotsmytardis]

7, 9, and 17!

7. What is your deepest joy about writing?

I like just being able to make something entirely with words! Whole worlds, histories, feelings! Just made out of strings of letters. I have always been a person who like making things, so writing is a wonderful way of doing so for me.

9. Do you believe in ghosts? This isn’t about writing I just wanna know

I believe that the energy of living things must be changed in some fundamental way when it leaves the body and I believe that people may not fully understand that process. (I have no fucking clue but sometimes places do be 'spooky' in strange imperceptible ways and I'm open to the possibility that ghosts are the cause.)

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.

I have. NINE current WIPS. Thankfully I can group up a good number of them.

I have a bunch of installments in the Mishap series that I'm working on which while looking like nothing more than PWPs, are actually a fun way of exploring emotional intimacy as much as physical intimacy because one of my favorite things to do is discuss the idea of BDSM as a way of exploring vulnerabilities that it might be uncomfortable or frightening to do in other settings.

There's also Bonded, which I am really struggling with. I started writing the series just because I was having fun playing with a lot of silly ideas, but Shattered is much more serious in tone and while I usually love that, and I have a full outline of Shattered as well as outlines for the next two installments as well, I just haven't found the joy in it that I did in the beginning. I really like how chapter 6 wraps up, and it's been torture trying to move on to chapter 7. I don't know when I'll get over that hump, but it's been 3 months and I still haven't managed it yet.

Tumblr prompts, going well enough. Taking this as an opportunity to just write fast(ish) snippets. I often really want to linger and show how relationships develop thoroughly because (and especially with ShigaDabiHawks) I need a believable progression to show how those character could have possibly ended up together when they're at odds with each other's goals. However, for these I'm just going ham and that's a nice little change of pace.

Stalling out on the original piece (shigadabi with the serial numbers filed off because I wanted to use an original fantasy setting I've used for other OC work). Having trouble balancing how to progress the plot without losing the spark between the two characters after a... disagreement.

The Hanahaki piece is my fucking baby right now. Feeling as good about this one as I did about Honeytrap and Grey Area. It's so achingly tender and I love it to absolute bits. I have one area that I'm still trying to make a decision on and thought that the tumblr prompts would be a good way to step back and give it some breathing room after banging out 27k for it in two days. I'm very excited about this one.

And last but not least, the Time Travel fic! I'm enjoying this one too but I'm thinking about it logistically right now and trying to decide if I'm going to make it a multi-chapter or not. I usually don't like to do that because I write very differently for a multi-chap than I do for a one-shot and I much prefer the style of writing for an insanely long one-shot than a multi-chap (yes this may be why Shattered is fucking me up so badly, also why I really hated Playing Favorites by the end), but I'm not sure if it would be too jarring to go from Hawks' POV to Dabi's after minimum of 12K in Hawks' POV, but I need some scenes to be from Dabi's so eeehhhh. I'll figure it out. I like this one, alternate timelines are always fun to play around with and the butterfly effect here is so fucking strong.

I think I'm going to be finishing the Tumblr prompts before going back to the Hanahaki fic, but we'll see! And this is all dependent on me not starting any more pieces in the meantime. Which. Oof.

Thanks for asking!

[inkovert]

Editing Update: 10.30.22

So the two goals that I set for myself last time was to:

reverse outline at least 10 more chapters in my WIP

strengthen and figure out the first/second plot points and pinch points

I'm happy to say I've finished reverse outlining all chapters of my WIP (thank god), although the quality of the later parts of the outline drastically declined...but there are words on the page that I can refer back to and that's all that matters!

As for figuring out the first/second plot points and pinch points. I had a little more trouble with this than I expected, but I did successfully complete the outline of my story structure. What made this part difficult for me was the fact that I write lit fic. I was trying to find some huge conflict or disaster to throw into the mix but nothing really came to mind. Then I referred back to my reverse outline and tried to find the elements I was looking for there, and they were there but weren't obvious to find in the moment (which is how it should be honestly). So I figured out the plot points and pinch points which I can't share for spoiler reasons but the "turning point" of my novel is quite subtle so it took me a moment to realize it/be content with it.

My protagonist at the start of the story is very closed off/untrusting and believes that letting people close to you means giving them the power to hurt you. So naturally the turning point - the point where my protagonist shifts from "reaction" to "action" - is when she realizes that she's gained all these people in her life that she wants to keep. And so she takes action to do that by any means necessary. So yeah, not a big omg! or aha! moment that you'd get in a plot-driven novel but it's what makes sense for my novel and my characters.

So now that I've got the story structure figured out, the next thing I'm trying to do, while simultaneously outlining my scenes, is to write down all my subplots and find and fill all the plot holes within them. Essentially this looks like:

I have a character who was in an abusive relationship in their past and that influences a lot of their behaviors and overall character arc throughout the story. So I start by jotting down the subplot. Then just go ham with questions that I don't - but should - know the answers too. And I start brainstorming and coming up with solutions. I do this for every subplot that wasn't well fleshed out in my first draft, or for subplots that I didn't like the way I fleshed them out in the first draft (bc I didn't give them enough thought since I was still figuring out the backbone of my whole story) and try to rework them with more attention to detail. By doing this before I start writing, I avoid any glaring plotholes. As much as I'd love to take credit for this method, I got it from this resource (that post in particular is part of a series about how to outline for NaNo so may be generally useful for those participating next month).

So I'm going to continue with this. And then find a way to weave my subplots into my overall story structure/scene outline. Overall my goal with this second draft is to give my story more structure, which it was sorely lacking in the first draft. This way I can also trim down the unnecessary parts and exclude things I know don't contribute to the overall story.

I told myself I was going to participate in NaNo this year to help motivate my editing process 😅. I was hoping to be done with all the outlining/brainstorming parts by now. So either I will: somehow manage to finish this all in two days (unlikely) or spend the first week of NaNo finalizing this part. I'm not really trying to reach any word count/goal with NaNo or "win" NaNo per se, I just wanted to use it to fast-track working on my second draft.

Goals for next week:

Finish outlining/brainstorming subplots

Add subplots to scene outline (as of now I have the scenes of Act I outlined)

Until next time!

[littlemisstpk]

So after my pathfinder gm addressed me as "oh great goddess of sports anime" in a DM back in 2020, that kinda lit a fire under my ass and hit on my completionist tendencies. It only took me 4 years to get the idea to write down my thoughts.

I'm going to start with a combo: Shoot! Goal to the Future and Aoki Densetsu Shoot!, kept colour coded throughout to make things a little more clear.

Under the cut because of heavy spoilers.

I started this with the spin off, Shoot! And I very nearly dropped it because of the childhood friend and his incessant nickname with his high pitched voice. I'm glad I didn't, because the show itself was so bad it became extra entertaining. But in there, it was abundantly clear that there were more than a few references to the original show that are there for the few older fans who remember it and aren't in a nursing home.

Because Aoki Densetsu Shoot is a product of its time (1993), it has a lot of the relics that require a hefty suspension of disbelief, and the ability to roll with it. Even then, it wasn't too far fetched, was paced decently, and it even had a B plot of exploring the effect the death of a star player has on not only the school, but to the district which sets it apart from most soccer anime. I actually quite enjoyed it, almost as much as I did the behemoth Slam Dunk which came out the same year. I will be talking about that one later.

But Shoot came out almost thirty years after its predecessor, and audience's tastes have changed in the meantime. When examined in the context of Aoki Densetsu Shoot, Shoot is actually not far off in tone. What makes it not work as well is that they packed the same amount of drama in Shoot's 13 eps that the original series put into 58. Drama needs a little bit of room to set in to avoid feeling overly melodramatic, which is difficult in a 13 episode cours.

What I liked about the shows: Shoot was hamming it up from beginning to end. As long as you expect cheese and a healthy dose of annoying childhood friend, it's one that you can turn your brain off to enjoy. As for the original, because of the 58 ep run, it really got to dig deep into what losing a key team member actually was like in a way we don't get to see nowadays. Plus, the kinds of stuff that they got away with onscreen was wild. At one point Toshi's best friend Kenji, who happens to be in love with Toshi's older sister, leaves the room where Toshi and his sister are, and it's clear that he's dealing with his feelings for her. When our very dense protagonist questions what is happening, his sister effectively says "you'll learn when you're older". Jump cut later, and you find Kenji with a nosebleed. I'm still giggling over that, and I finished this a while ago.

What I didn't like: the pacing in Aoki Densetsu Shoot felt organic--Shoot felt very rushed. Some of the things put in to heighten tension in the follow-up, were very contrived, such as discount Hiramatsu and his whole jealousy arc.

The fun Haikyuu connection: The seiyuu that voices the annoying childhood friend is also the voice of Goshiki. The earnestness makes it clear.

[spinelesswrites]

i've been having a lot of new writing ideas lately (which really is out of the ordinary for me) so i'm working on incorporating writing daily back into my life. lucky for me camp nanowrimo starts tomorrow and i really loved nanowrimo so it's a great opportunity and motivator and i'll be able to track my consistency

nanowrimo did a number on me physically because i was really going through it, so i'm looking forward to taking it a little easier. i do a lot of the early stages by hand and there's always a lingering guilt that it doesn't really "count" because there's no little number that goes up on a word counter screen, and i still feel this way even though i've always been like this! so i think i'll aim for a soft 25k over all across all my projects, which seems like a reasonable and productive number that also won't kill me

my main goal is to write almost everyday, either with ink and paper or typing, which is also why i'm setting the word count goal low(ish). and i'm not gonna give myself "i have to write EVERY day or else" anxiety because i took days off during nanowrimo and tbh i think that's why i was able to do so well! in part anyway

i've been going through old notebooks from years ago and i've been feeling both inspired and a little melancholy. i used to write, like, A LOT a lot and it just hasn't been there in so long. but the gears are still turning. i'm excited to try new things and, well to be honest. go ham

[roadkiii]

Entry 1.5.2-1 - Security System

Welcome to my blog. I’m not tagging anything but entry #, so sorry if my unrelated mess somehow ends up in your search.

I actually spent a bit longer in 1.4 before downloading the next update, so have these screenshots <3

church got demo'd because of the road, kinda sad since I wanted me first ever cake to stay on the world forever, but I'll make the cake my trophy for all advancements, that'll be my new PermaCake™

I also wanted to put my wool to use and flex a little bit

(also oh my god can we talk about the iron golem holding a rose? i miss this so much)

This is Baby Boy, my pokemon Go Best Buddy <3 I think he should be allowed to go ham in origin form even if Go disagrees. Eventually I want to remake it entirely out of like. obsidian and diamond blocks instead of the wool but for now I'll consider this my "wool" creation. I've added goals to construct statues of different materials of different pokemon that I love and possess/would like to possess. Added to my goals list.

Okay, now that I'm actually in 1.5, let me go to the nether to get some quartz, I haven't explored any farther than the two fortresses (i think it actually could be three) next to my portal so hopefully I won't have to go far.

Also, cool. my achievements reset again. Hopefully my advancements don't do that later on.

i'm turning on peaceful because its My World and i dont want to Stress.

had to use up a couple of stacks of blocks to cross a lava lake but i think i spy some newly generated chunks

I think I'll just grab a handful and head back.

Every gate that can have this does (so all but the southern one, which is open to water)

The maps are being weird but here's old

vs new, ft this guy

Most of my development has been within and around the walls, but I will eventually do more on those two southern maps.

Now that the gates are done (I didn't expect it to be difficult, this is just a redstone update) the real hard part is trying to minimize as many spawning locations as possible. It'll be like 10 updates until it takes LOW darkness to spawn hostile mobs, so I think I'll be fighting this for a while.

I'm going to limit it to a couple of layers of torches (in ground/camo'd) around the wall and farm, just far enough to keep them away from any villagers.

I think I've fully illuminated the area inside and around the village (maybe I should actually name this place, maybe that's a task for next update)

I've been bone mealing around the ground as well to conceal the light better.

I also have this little bridge area behind my garden heading toward the desert now.

Onward to 1.6!

The easiest goal will be to get one of each color block of terracotta, but I'm not going to a mesa biome for it. I'll just cook clay for it and dye to get some chests set up. In 1.8 I plan on making a statue with my colors, but I'll need time (and perhaps 1.8's duplication glitch) to get enough resources.

My harder goal will be to get two donkeys and two horses. I'll be constructing a stable for them, and there will also be space for llamas, though those won't be added yet.

next (1.6.4-1)

[thetiniestteaparty]

So yesterday I technically started, but I didn't make the concrete set up until today.

There's certain allowances I have to make before I can go full ham. I remember what it was like the first time around. If I drop too many calories I'm eating too quick I'll pass out or dizzy. And with my promotion I can't afford to do that.

Yesterday was breakfast being a tiny serving of cubed porkchops and green beans. Lunch was sugar free redbull and coffee, and half a fruit can. Dinner I waited several hours for to get used to the hunger pangs and ate 2 fish sticks. My boyfriend wanted me to have a scoop of icecream with him, which I wasn't happy about, but I did anyway to keep him off suspicion. He knows its my favori5e. So a scoop of raspberry icecream.

Today he woke up and didnt want to eat too much for breakfast (my lucky ass boyfriend getting full after eating half a roll) so he handed me half of one. It was 50 calories. So I'm not angry. Because It's breakfast Im also having a small potato with salt.

Until I get paid I'm not going to be able to afford safe foods, so for now I have to keep eating the same things just smallest portions.

And water. Water is super important.

I'm gonna try to hold myself to this to keep on track. It might be hard but I definitely can. I have before after all.

I decided I have three goal weights.

1. 165

2. 155

3. 145

I want to first be smaller than I have been. Then I want to reach what I thought I couldnt.

And then. The last is being light enough for him to carry me.

I will be his little princess in his arms soon. I just hope he doesn't notice what I'm doing. He'd be upset and worried. And I'd hear all about how this is bad, how it can damage me, how he loves me as I am.

And I don't need that.

I'll also have to be careful at work. The last time I went months eating nothing, my manager noticed. She's really cool and looks out for everyone, so of course she noticed.

When I'd stopped eating nothing, she said, of course jokingly, that if I tried that again she'd throw hands. Not at all against her, but its easy for her to say, being so big and beautiful in it. While my bigness is just a lardy sack around me.

I appreciate her anyway. I appreciate that I have so many people who do care about me enough to notice, when I know a lot of people don't.

But I need them to be a little less attentive now.

I want to fit into my old bathing suit again. And then make it too big.

[0mellow-marsh0]

Chinese Zodiac Legacy Challenge

The most widespread theory behind the Chinese Zodiac focuses on the Jade Emperor’s banquet. He is said to have invited all of the world’s animals but only 12 showed up. He decided to honor those 12 animals by dedicating one year to each animal in the order in which they showed up.

Hi! This is my first sims challenge ever. I’ve been wanting to do an animal-themed challenge but I couldn’t figure out what kind of theme I wanted to use until now! I had a lot of fun making this and I tried to be as thorough as possible so if you’re someone who appreciates specificity, like myself, this challenge is for you!

                                             !!!DISCLAIMERS!!!

I’m aware that the Chinese Zodiac utilizes elements like metal, water, etc., but due to the nature of this challenge I will focus on the general descriptions

Some expansion pack elements will be used in this challenge! I don’t have all of the expansion packs anyway so I’ll try to make it a majority of base game stuff but all of these can easily be compromised. Alternatives will be in italics

GENERAL RULES:

Give your sim a specific item in CAS for each generation (ex. glasses, jewelry, socks?!, etc.). Everything else is free reign! 

Try to incorporate at least one lucky color from each generation whether it’s in CAS or while customizing your home. If you find a way to use all the colors go ham!

If you have a trait from a pack and think it will be a better fit for the description given use it! You’re only allowed to substitute one trait

Start the first generation with $50,000. (NO OTHER MONEY CHEATS ALLOWED). Then go into CAS, temporarily choose a different aspiration, then choose the Fabulously Wealthy aspiration again. That resets the progress of the aspiration so it gives you a chance to actually play and earn the money yourself.

You can’t cheat skill levels or career levels

Lifespan can be set to whatever you want but aging must stay on

Occult sims are allowed

Next generation will begin when the heir is a YA but you can get a head start by leveling their skills up until then

Generation One: The Rat

Lucky colors: Gold, Blue, Green 

“ A Rats characteristics tend to be more quick-witted with keen observation and foresight; which is why it was first to the emperor’s banquet! Rats also have bright and optimistic personalities which make them adapt to changes in any environment and easily get help from others. However, though Rats are ambitious in their careers, they may not be qualified to become great leaders due to their stubbornness and lack of empathy and humility.”

You are the very definition of progress, the perfect person to create and define your legacy.

Traits: Ambitious, Genius, Snob Aspiration: Fabulously Wealthy Career: Doctor/Business (Management Branch)

Live to the city/start a new life in Newcrest

Must marry a coworker (You work too much to find love any other way)

Max out your career

Max Logic skill and two other skills of your choice

Have triplets (Cheats can be used for this)

Complete aspiration

Generation Two: The Ox

Lucky Colors: Red, Blue, Purple

“Like the ox, people born in the Year of the Ox are industrious, cautious, less talkative, hold their faith firmly, and are always glad to offer help. It is said that Ox ranks second among the Chinese zodiacs because it helped the Rat but was later tricked by it. They have the talents to be leaders and are good at managing, but maybe a little strict. Oxen like routines and respects traditional ideas, doing things step by step. The persistence makes most of them become tireless workers.”

You’re extremely loyal to a fault. Just like your predecessor you are stubborn and hard-working. You run a conservative household but you are fair to everyone in it.

Toddler Trait: Independent Child Aspiration: Social Butterfly YA Traits: Active, Perfectionist, Neat YA Aspiration: Neighborhood Confidante Career: Salaryman/Business (Investor Branch)

Goals:

Must live in Willow Creek

Marry someone older than you (must be your first and only partner)

Get cheated on by a lover but stay with them

Have only 2 children, one boy and one girl (cheats can be used)

Max Charisma skill

Must complete aspiration

Host a party every two weeks

Generation Three: The Tiger

Lucky Colors: Gray, Blue, White, Orange

“ The Tiger are natural leaders and they can always bravely put brilliant ideas into practice. They are also generous, passionate, and hold a strong sense of justice. When meeting the weak or seeing anything unfair, the Tigers stand up and offer help. They are adventurous, ambitious, and have a strong sense of justice, but maybe also a little arrogant and impetuous.”

You are a natural-born leader who is strong and stubborn yet possess a soft heart. Just like your parent, you pride yourself on looking out for others but strive for a more relaxed household. You embody kindness and appreciate the outdoors.

Toddler Trait: Independent Child Aspiration: Rambunctious Scamp YA Traits: Loves Outdoors, Self-Assured, Outgoing YA Aspiration: Friend of the World Career: Politician (Politician Branch)

Goals:

Have only 1 child you love dearly

Live in Sulani/Oasis Springs

Start a garden and grow four different fruits and four different vegetables

Max the Charisma and Logic Skill

Max out your Career

Complete at least 1/2 of your aspiration

Generation Four: The Rabbit

Lucky Colors: Red, Blue, Pink, Purple

“Generally, the Rabbits are positive, gentle, and elegant. They love freedom, but once set goals, they just march forward for it without distractions. They are also self-disciplined, the typical kind of people who are strict with themselves but tolerant of others. Though looking mild and soft, the Rabbits in fact are alert to strangers and outsiders. They don’t trust others easily, unlikely to be fooled by others.”

You are the very definition of beauty and elegance, yet a little emotionally unstable under the surface. You struggle to find your place in the world but you fake it until you make it!

Toddler Trait: Angelic Child Aspiration: Social Butterfly YA Traits: Erratic, Family-Oriented, Paranoid/Gloomy YA Aspiration: Big Happy Family Career: Education

Goals:

Move at least 2 times (Final destination must be Henford-on-Bagely/Willow Creek)

Date at least 1 other person before getting married

Have at least 4 children

Master the Writing and Parenting skill

Must have a flower garden

Complete at least 3/4 of aspiration

Generation Five: Dragon

Lucky Colors: Gold, Silver, Hoary (grayish-white)

“The Dragon is full of fighting spirit and strength. The Dragons may look indifferent, however, they actually are chivalrous and always think of others.  They are charismatic, attracting a lot of followers and their talented leadership skills naturally convince every subordinate. But the Dragon’s pride may bring prejudice, and it is also a little hard for them to have the force of will to follow through. If they want to achieve excellence and get great success, then honing the willpower is indispensable.”

Growing up in a big family you always aimed to be the center of attention. You have no problem making friends and often find yourself surrounded by people who worship you.

Toddler Trait: Charmer Child Aspiration: Social Butterfly YA Traits: Goofball, Outgoing, Self-Assured YA Aspiration: World Famous Celebrity/Friend of the World Career: Social Media (Internet Personality Branch)/Style Influencer (Trend Setter Branch)

Goals:

Live in Del Sol Valley/Oasis Springs

Marry someone famous/rich

Have as many children as you want

Max Charisma Skill

Never turn down an invite to a party unless you’re working

Complete your aspiration

Generation Six: The Snake

Lucky Colors: Red, Light Yellow, Black

“The Snake easily attracts others for their mysterious character and graceful behaviors. They are calm and thorough and can always carry out a plan from the beginning to the end.  The Snakes are typically deep thinkers who are perceptive and skeptical about everything. In the love aspect, the Snakes are devoted lovers who will not fall in love with someone else.”

You are mysterious, attractive, and calm with a sensitive side. You have any interests and have no problem making friends. Growing up around extravagance you learned to appreciate the little things.

Toddler Trait: Clingy Child Aspiration: Artistic Prodigy YA Traits: Bookworm, Creative, Family-Oriented YA Aspiration: Soulmate Career: Painter (Patron of the Arts Branch)

Goals:

Stay in the same neighborhood as your parents

Marry your childhood best friend

Max Painting skill

If you have Get to Work, open your own retail store by the time you are an elder and sell your paintings/if not sell your paintings regularly

Max out your career

Have only one child

Generation Seven: The Horse

Lucky Colors: Brown Yellow, Purple

“The Horse is lively, energetic, courageous, and enthusiastic about people and life. However, they are not good at hiding emotions and their feelings will be easily shown on their face. Most of them are fond of joining social activities. They have a keen eye and display strong logical thinking, which makes them easily discover the essence of the phenomena and be considerate enough to take care of other people’s emotions.”

Unlike The Snake, you are extremely expressive. You love partying and getting to know others. You’ve never had a never had a negative relationship.

Toddler Trait: Silly Child Aspiration: Social Butterfly YA Traits: Bro, Cheerful, Outgoing YA Aspiration: Party Animal Career: Actor/Entertainer (Comedian Branch)

Goals:

Live in the city/Willow Creek

If in the city, your apartment must have the Lively Neighbors trait

Marry someone you met at a party

Throw/attend a party every weekend

Have one child but struggle to maintain a relationship with them

Complete your aspiration

Generation Eight: The Goat

Lucky Colors: Green, Red, Purple

“Goats care about others’ feelings and never intend to hurt people. Their upright personality also makes them sympathetic enough to understand other people’s problems from various perspectives, especially for their friends and loved ones. However, sometimes they can be very passive and tend to be a pessimist to see bad aspects of things, which means that they need strong support and enough understanding from their friends. Also, they keep alert when strangers step into their domains.”

Growing up without a lot of support from your parents made you sensitive to the things around you. You are very in tune with others but struggle to find stability in yourself.

Toddler Trait: Clingy Child Aspiration: Social Butterfly YA Traits: Gloomy, Good, Jealous YA Aspiration: Musical Genius Career: Entertainer (Musician Branch)

Goals:

Struggle academically throughout your school years

Marry your high school sweetheart

Have no more than 3 children

Build your own home office for music creation

Complete aspiration

Have at least $40,000 in your household fund, get a part-time job if needed

Generation Nine: The Monkey

Lucky Colors: White, Gold, Blue

“The monkey is intelligent, smart, and always appreciated by teachers and parents throughout adolescence. They also have strong bodies, all of they perform well in an organization and they tend to be excellent leaders compared to anyone else. In life, they are helpful and humorous enough to be favored by people. However, boasting may hinder them to make great success and they need more patience.”

Living with soft parents helped you get away with a lot. Though you excelled in school, you were very mischievous, and a little irresponsible.

Toddler Trait: Wild Child Aspiration: Rambunctious Scamp YA Traits: Athletic, Cheerful, Goofball YA Aspiration: Chief of Mischief Career: Athlete

Goals:

Maintain A’s in school

Once you reach level 5 in your career quit your job and getting married

Marry someone with the Mischief trait and become partners in crime

Have an elaborate wedding

Have only one child

Build an expensive home gym

Generation Ten: The Rooster

Lucky Colors: Gold, Brown, Yellow

“Roosters are good at making friends and adjusting themselves to new environments. Whenever there is a tricky problem, they wont give up easily and try every means to solve it. Since they cannot stand lagging behind others, self-improving is an important part of their life. However, as the name implies, Rooster people tend to be cocky or even arrogant sometimes. Their craving for attention may make others feel uncomfortable. The lack of patience could be another problem.”

You gained The Monkey’s smarts but unlike them, you decide to utilize your intelligence to the fullest. You obsess over excellence and only accept the best. Your daily activities include going to work and coming home.

Toddler Trait: Independent Child Aspiration: Whiz Kid YA Traits: Ambitious, Genius, Snob YA Aspiration: Nerd Brain Career: Astronaut (Space Ranger Branch)

Goals:

Live in Strangerville/Oasis Springs

Reach level 5 of your career before getting married

Marry someone that works for a service (firefighter, food delivery person, mail carrier, etc.). You fall in love with them unexpectedly

Have 2 children but place most of the responsibility for raising your children on your partner due to your studies

Complete your aspiration

Build a backyard shed or basement for science equipment

Generation Eleven: The Dog

Lucky Colors: Green, Red, Purple

“Dog people are cautious by nature, which means it may take a comparably long time for Dogs to accept new friends. However, once Dogs accept a friend, they will be very loyal to the friend and always be supportive. Dogs are loyal friends, honest lovers, and reliable families. Though being just and honest, Dogs are also very critical and sometimes make a sharp criticism. They are not good at taking in the whole picture to consider things, which may lead to misunderstanding and blaming their own mistakes on others.”

Despite not spending a lot of time with The Rooster, you are a lot like them. That’s probably why you butted heads so much as a child.

Toddler Trait: Independent Child Aspiration: Whiz Kid YA Traits: Bro, Hot-Headed, Loyal/Bro YA Aspiration: The Curator Career: Critic (Food Critic Branch)

Goals:

Live in Bridleton Bay/Newcrest

Go for a jog at least 4 times a week

Marry the first person you date

Have 3 kids and be an extremely active parent in the household

If you have the Dogs and Cats pack, adopt a cat (Oh the irony!)/if not, keep a pet fish

Max the Cooking skill and make every meal for your household

Generation Twelve: The Pig

Lucky Colors: Yellow, Gray, Brown, Gold

“Pigs are always diligent and upright and never to be pretentious. Thus Pigs are easy to get others’ trust. Their compassionate and genuine personality makes them glad to offer others a hand at any time, which results in getting a lot of good friends. They are called upon when sincere advice is needed and will always give a helping hand. Pigs may be a little realistic and emotional, and it is hard for them to detect lies and thus easily be fooled by bad people.”

You are the final generation. You are kind-hearted and loved by many. Although you had the perfect family as a child, you decided against having children. You choose to live your days focusing on your career, your personal growth, and your partner.

Toddler Trait: Inquisitive Child Aspiration: Social Butterfly YA Traits: Clumsy, Glutton, Outgoing YA Aspiration: Freelance Botanist Career: Law (Public Attorney Branch)/Gardener (Botanist Branch)

Goals:

Live in Sulani/Willow Creek

Max Charisma skill

Complete at least 1/2 of your aspiration

Marry someone with the romantic trait

Have your partner cook every meal for you (Out of love, not obligation!!)

Retire as soon as you are an Elder and live out the rest of your days tending to your garden

If you do decide to have children, you must have twins (Use cheats)

[tommyspeakycap]

I’m gutted about Andy’s red card so can you please cheer me up with some fluff about you caring for the graze on his cheek? <3 thank you xxx

i’m so gutted too :((( dw i got u on this one love. sorry it’s short n probs a bit rubbish but enjoy <33

disgruntled

andy’s infuriated but it’s your job to look after him

The goal was fantastic, sending you and the other back room staff leaping for joy in the technical area. Even Klopp had his arms around you at some point. It made you absolutely ecstatic. Just about everybody in the Liverpool camp and even further afield, all the way back in Scotland, knew that Andy is probably your favourite person in the world. That’s the reason you were still bouncing on the balls of your feet, absolutely buzzed when Andy made that tackle that stopped the game. When they started pushing, shoving and trying to fight with him, the fourth official got in your way accidentally - but luckily - before you could make a scene.

And then the referee produced a red card.

You huffed, but you knew you had to calm down immediately so that you could hurry in down the tunnel to start getting your kit ready to fix up his face that he declined having treatment for right after the goal. He was going to be aggravated and really he had every right to be. You need to be calm for him. It’s your job actually, and it’s your job in your friendship. You balance him out, bring the same energy he has but then calm him down when he needs it - especially in situations like this.

“Fucking hell!” You hear his voice booming through the tunnel. “Calm down Robbo.” Someone says, “It’s done now.” That doesn’t seem to calm him at all, instead only making him scoff loudly. “One rule for us and another for them!” He yells back, storming through the changing room while he chucks off his shirt.

You stand in the doorway, slightly skittish like a kitten sheepishly holding a first aid kit in your hands. “Need a hand?” You offer softly. Andy’s head snaps towards you, angry eyes softening as they meet yours. It seems like it’s only now that he seems to notice the blood trickling down the side of his face, raising his hand to investigate before he lets out a heavy sigh. “It’s okay.” He grumbles slightly, turning his back to you again. A large part of him was ashamed firstly about that fact you’d heard him shouting like that, another part of him embarrassed thinking about what you think of him. If you think he’s an idiot for making the stupid tackle. Andy’s continues to race.

“It’s not okay. You’re bleeding.” You state firmly, a frown set in your features. “Come with me, i’ll patch you up.” Andy huffs, but follows you despite that.

“Does it hurt?” You ask him firstly as he trudged into the little medical room. Andy slides himself onto the bed, dangling his legs over the side as you rummage in one of the drawers for whatever it is you need. “Fuck i cant find any gloves.” You mutter, scolding yourself for not stocking properly. “Just a bit, and don’t worry. It’s fine, you don’t need them.” Andy shrugs, not liking the way you frown clearly in displeasure at yourself for not being prepared. “Honestly.” He affirms, his stomach unsettled by the idea of you being anything other than as happy and excited as you usually are.

You sit down on your little wheely chair, loving yourself to sit in front of him and raising the height of the chair a little so you can reach his face. “Sorry, this might sting a little.” You hum in concentration, eyes focussed solely on the chunk of skin missing from his face that you’re about to start cleaning. “No worries.” Andy replies, slouching slightly to allow you to reach his face better.

While you work intently on cleaning out the wound, it does indeed sting rather fiercely, but the only thing he can think about is your proximity to him. Your elbows lean on his thighs, face inches from his with the tip of your tongue peaking out from between your lips pursed in concentration. His heart is hamming in his chest violently. He can’t take his eyes off of you at all, drifting down to your lips that look so abundantly kissable in that moment. “I’m sorry.” Andy says suddenly, seemingly out of the blue.

Your eyebrows furrow slightly as you drop the cotton swap into the waste bin and swivel away from him to peel open a butterfly closure strip for his face. “What for?” You enquire confusedly, turning back to him. Your hand grips his chin to turn his head slightly away from you so you can get the best look at where to stick the closure strip. “For letting everyone down. Mostly for letting you down. It was a stupid tackle, I know I fucked up. Just wish it didn’t effect so many people.” He shrugs, trying to keep his voice for wavering and showing how upset he truly was at the prospect of disappointing you, one of the most important people in his life right now. Andy has been absolutely enthralled by you from the day you started working here. You carpool to work together most days now too and because you play the same role for the Scotland National Team as you do the Liverpool team, you always travel together to Scotland for the international breaks. He’s been on the knives edge of telling you that he finds you a literal wonder of the world for months now.

“Eh?” You gawp, “You haven’t let anyone down! Least of all me. I’m proud of you for everything you do Andy, i thought you knew that.” You finally turn to meet his eyes after sticking the strip over his cut. “You’re literally the definition of working your way to the top. Everyone is so proud of you Andy, this doesn’t change that. Especially not for me.”

He hears the sincerity behind your words, seeing the truthfulness in your eyes that are locked into his. His hand raises to cup your cheek, so gentle, so careful as he ducks down to press his lips against yours softly. You weren’t expecting it, but it was absolutely everything you could have ever wished for and dreamt of.

“I think i’m in love with you.” He breathes against your lips. You smile into the motion, “Well thank god for that,” you hum, “Otherwise this was about to become very awkward.”

Andy quirks an eyebrow, wondering what on earth you were talking about only for mere milliseconds before you lean forward and press your lips down onto his.

Miraculously, he had suddenly forgotten all about why he was so mad.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Mind the Gap: Two

Shang- Chi woke up alone in your narrow bed and lay there for a long moment looking at the ceiling. There are plastic stars and dozens upon dozens painstakingly handwritten lines of poetry and little quotes. He wondered how you’d gotten them up there. And he wondered if you kept them because they comforted you. Or inspired you.

It was… weird seeing the parts of yourself you’d tried to hide for so long. The instruments, the books, the crystals. The way the room was flooded with colored light as the sun hit the stained glass. He thoughts of your drab little apartment. The orderliness of it. How minimalist it was. This felt better. Somehow all the missing pieces that gave him any doubts at all made more sense.

He looked at the photos. Little, frozen, out of context moments. People he didn’t recognize. Until he got to the end. Kai in Uniform and holding you, smiling while your chubby dimpled hands cover your mouth. You couldn’t have been more than 5 or 6. All puppy fat and big smiles. That made him feel warm. It was nice knowing that you hadn’t just sprung up somewhere fully formed. And that Kai, for all his unbothered attitude really did love you.

Behind him, he heard footsteps and whirled around to face the door. He wasn’t sure if it was you or not. But. He didn’t want to be caught snooping. So when Katy stuck her head around the door, he exhaled slowly. “There’s breakfast downstairs,” she said quietly, “You okay?”

“Better,” he said after a long second. “I just-”

“I know,” she said. “Her Godmother said she almost died and then-”

“And then she woke up,” he finished.

“And heard someone talking in her head, which- what?”

Shang-Chi made a soft noise that even he didn’t know the meaning of. Last night, he still hadn’t pressed on you for answers. You’d been so disoriented and tired that it didn’t seem quite fair to probe something that obviously caused that much pain. Even as he held you, you’d cried in your sleep, your hands fisted around handfuls of his shirt. And now he didn’t wonder why he frequently found you either awake and working or asleep somewhere else. You talked. Alternating between defiance and begging. It hurt. It tore at him like sharp pointed teeth. It still hurt even in the bright light of day. And he wondered if you couldn’t remember or if- if the Archive wouldn’t let you remember.

“Let’s go eat,” Katy prompted, linking her arm through his. “Lea said Y/N may not be back for hours… Something about everything being a little “off” after she loses a day or two of time.”

He nodded and reluctantly allowed himself to be dragged away from the pictures. His stomach making most of the decision for him. He wasn’t sure what food was down there but it smelled amazing. And he realized that he’d not eaten anything since breakfast the previous day.

In the kitchen, he pauses for a second to take in all the details he hadn’t noticed before. Too worried about you being alone in the bedroom in the attic. Bundles of herbs are hanging to dry. Everything is copper and scrubbed oak work surfaces. The windows are open and the smells from the garden and wet earth from the rain the day before mingle pleasantly with all the pastry smells and warm coffee. It’s comfortable in a way that isn’t manufactured for the house guests. It’s a working room. One that operates the same way year round. And Shang-Chi wondered what happened to keep you away.

Even as your Godmother, Grandmother and assorted cousins quickly ply them all with breakfast and hospitality, he can’t help but feel a little… Overwhelmed. Everyone is just so friendly and warm. No one questions them. No one is apprehensive. And as the talk flies around the table, it’s quickly apparent that you come by your humor and broody tendencies honestly. Your grandmother likes to fuss and she likes guests. She especially likes having ALL of her grandkids at home which he’s given to understand is rare.

Outside there’s the sound of horses and incoherent masculine whooping sounds after a while and She smiles, “I wondered if they’d be back before lunch.”

Shang-Chi watched out the window over her shoulder and she chuckled, “I don’t know how neither of them has never broken their necks jumping that back fence… It used to take years off my life watching them do it when they were small.”

“Daredevils, huh?”

She half shrugged, “It was almost impossible to keep either of them in the house… Wild things.” But there was more fondness than heat in her voice even as she shook her head. “Though their father being what he is, it’s no small wonder.”

He’s only half listening now as he watched you dismount from the horse you’d been riding. Your hair is messy and windblown and there’s color in your face and the careless half smile. There’s a warmth that spreads through his chest, even as his heart skips a beat.

You pause in the kitchen, looking surprised to find people there and glance at the clock frowning before checking your watch. Almost like you aren’t sure which one to believe. “Sit, Eat,” Lea scolds, pressing a mug into your hands and gesturing at an empty chair.

“I don’t think I can,” you say hesitantly.

The taller woman cradles your face in her hands for a second and turns your head to the side to inspect the still fading bruises, “Is it better or worse than it was?”

“It depends on how long I’m out for,” you say after a moment. “It still takes at least a day. But sometimes a week or more.”

“And everything else?”

“The only thing that feels right is being outside.”

Shang-Chi watches Lea and Kai trade worried looks while you studiously look at the mug in your hands after Lea lets you go and deposits you in a chair. “Try any way,” she said softly, setting a plate down in front of you gently. There’s not much on it. A little fruit, some fresh bread and some ham. But even from where he’s standing Shang-Chi can see some of the color leave your face.

“I should call the Aunts and tell them we’re going to cancel the party…” your grandmother said after watching you try to pick at the fruit before giving up and trying a bit of bread.

“I’ll be fine,” you sigh, “It’s just some nausea from getting smacked in the head hell knows how many times and the usual disorientation from not being in the same timezone as everyone else.”

“Smacked in the head?” Katy asked over her mug.

“I made my phone call. The last thing I remember is getting pistol whipped before I was yanked out of the driver’s seat… You would think, given that the Archive lives in my head it would do more to prevent head trauma but… Nah. Who needs grey matter?”

“Driver’s seat?” she asked, wincing.

“It the easiest way I’ve ever found to explain it. This is a meat mech and I don’t always get to drive… The Archive has two main objectives. Protecting the vessel that houses it AND protecting the balance of the universe by preserving knowledge… Anything that interferes with those goals is typically dealt with with extreme prejudice.”

“Typically?” This time it was Wenwu who asked and you half turn that direction and shrug, honestly grateful to not have to pretend to eat.

“Archives have never had their own physical body. By their own account and every corroborating account I’ve ever found they’re… spirits for lack of a better word. A manifestation of desperation. Probably resulting from things like the destruction of the Library of Alexandria and so forth… So they don’t really have any moral quandaries. Not the way a physical entity might.” You sigh and tilt your head, popping your neck to try and relieve some of the discomfort.

“So how-”

“I was the most powerful person in the room when a previous vessel died,” you say exhaling slowly.

“You were a kid,” Shang-Chi said taking the vacant seat on your right.

“It’s- Atypical- according to the Archive for them to inhabit children… Their ability to complete their task can be hindered somewhat by the physical ability of a vessel. But. I had the potential, I guess. So here we are.”

“That was a very coherent explanation,” Kai said mildly.

“Getting out for a while helped make some space to think,” you say shrugging again, “And i did promise an explanation.”

“Space?” Katy asked, frowning.

“Imagine putting all my books into Shang-Chi’s apartment then trying to find something,” you snort. “It takes effort. And a little time. And some shuffling around.”

“Hey!” he protested, throwing one arm over the back of your chair to tug you closer.

“It’s not my fault you live in a literal shoebox.”

“It’s not my fault you’re a nerd,” he chuckles, kissing the side of your head gently.

_________________

You stand on the dock watching the sunlight on the water and sink gratefully onto the warm wood. For a person as introverted as you are, being bombarded on all sides all the time is… Overwhelming. You can hear the people in the distance. The talking and laughing and general ruckus. It’s familiar. But right now you’d kill for silence.

And you aren’t sure but, you think that the Archive might have similar feelings. That in itself is a blessing. You’re tired. Your body is sore. And all you want is to crawl back into your bed.

“You okay?”

You half turn to look up at Shang- Chi and smile a little. “Just tired,” you assure him.

“Are you always… this way?” He doesn’t really know how to put it. Or if you really want company. But, he settles behind you and pulls you against his chest.

“Tired? Yeah. The Archive doesn’t sleep. It interferes with the mission. Which means I’m more often than not awake the entire time… Unless it affects the performance of the vessel. Then I can sleep.”

He doesn’t really know what to say to that. So he doesn’t say anything. Gratified when you don’t pull away he pulls you a little closer and kisses the side of your head.

And not for the first time, you thank whatever gods might be listening for people who understand silence.

Shang-chi isn’t sure when you fall asleep. But when he hears the quiet little snores from your head being in a slightly weird angle, he smiles a little and adjusts you carefully to be laying more securely against his chest. It gives him some time to think.

For the years that he spent dancing around you as you started as a friend of Katy’s, he’d felt a pain. A sense that something was too raw to touch. It had made you feel familiar. It made you feel like a kindred spirit. A twin flame. Even as you both tried to hold back, to love people without letting them see the ugly things you kept hidden. Even as you’d tried to build a relationship on secrets. But now? This moment sitting in the sunshine on the dock with you snoring on his shoulder, it feels more intimate than any time he’d ever managed to get you naked. For you to be this comfortable with him… Not to belittle the sanctity of a drunk make out after a duet at karaoke but… It felt like progress. Real progress. He could see the person you were under all the secrets and little white lies. And somehow, it wasn’t very far from what he already knew.

Footsteps on the dock behind him make him half turn, careful not to jostle you awake. He’s not surprised to see Kai standing there. “Is she asleep?”

He nodded, reluctant to talk in case you weren’t as deeply asleep as you seemed.

“Good,” Kai said relaxing a little. “Listen, Grandma is going to turn this into a party… It’s Charity season and Y/N hasn’t been home for anything in… a while. So the aunts and subsequently all the kids are on their way. If you can I’d carry her into the house and put her back to bed. Once the kids learn she’s here there’s not going to be any more sleeping.”

When Kai noticed him frowning the other man smiled a little. “She means well. After… Everything happened Grandma just didn’t want her to be treated like a leper.” You stir sleepily and both men wince reflexively, “Can you-”

“I got her,” Shang-Chi answered, reluctant to let you go. Not even to Kai.

And to his credit, Shang-Chi thought, Kai let him go past without much more than a nod.