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[samkerrworshipper]

never be the same again.

leah williamson x injured!reader

warnings: injury, knee injuries, angst, hurt/comfort

You’d never been a player who’d dealt with minor injuries. You never struggled with soreness, or cramps, or little niggles that kept you sidelined every once in a while. When your injuries came, they came full force, full out, full throttle. You figured that it was probably how your body worked, it all got pent up until you suffered a shattering injury.

When you were 16, it had been the complete rupture of all of your lateral ankle ligaments. When you were 19, it had been a compound fracture in your arm caused by a dutch U20’s player putting their studs through your arm. At 22 it had been a torn labrum in your hip.

You figured you were well overdue now at 25, almost 26, having been completely injury free for well over three years, you just hadn’t expected it to be so bad.

It was a normal day, or as normal as a day for you could get.

You’d woken up with sleep in your eyes and your hair splayed out everywhere, in a similar state to your girlfriend laying beside you. Your morning had been peaceful, the two of you simply co existing as you went about your usual routines, the both of you enjoying the normality of it all.

You’d driven the two of you to training, your hands creasing against the leather of the wheel as you navigated your way through North London.

Leah hummed along to whatever R&B radio station she’d tuned into for the morning, without failure she always pretended to be interested in whatever news the hosts would talk about, and without failure would forget all about it by lunch time. You entertained her interest anyways in whatever topic that she chose to trivialise for the morning ride, enjoying the way that Leah could talk so passionately about something as mundane as random news.

When you arrived at London Colney the two of you both went separate ways, Leah needing a little bit more of a intensive rehab from the physios after a game weekend. So she walked off in search of the ohysio room, whereas you headed straight towards the gym, knowing that all you needed on a normal day was a bit of a stretch out to get everything feeling activated.

Kyra and Lessi were both in the gym as you walked in, the two slightly younger players tolling out on the mats. You joined them, commenting here and there on whatever they were saying as your other teammates slowly trailed in from the physios or their cars.

Just as you were heading towards the weights, Leah walked in, her body automatically walking to find you, there was no need for the two of you to discuss spotting partners, it was a unspoken rule that the two of you always went together.

You weren’t sure if it was because of the natural competition that was created from the two of you playing opposing positions, or if it was just the competitive nature of your relationship, but Leah and you just pushed each other ten times harder. She had the guts to tell you when you needed to pusb more, when you could do better, and also when you needed to slow down. It was a balance between the two of you, of knowing how far to push the other, but also where the line was.

The two of you alternated with your sets, until you’d both worked through your programs and were ready to head out to the pitch.

You didn’t really get anxiety, but as soon as Leah and yourself walked towards the locker room, in search of your boots and training gear, you got a feeling inside of your stomach that you couldn’t shake. You’d played in champions league semi-finals, euro finals, world cup finals, and never had a single bit of anxiety, but as you fished your boots from your locker and laced them up you just couldn’t shake it.

You figured you were just coming down with something, the flu was going around, you were probably just becoming under the weather. You ignored the way that it spread across the surface of your chest, like there were sets of suction cups all over your stomach and chest.

It was probably nothing, it was most likely nothing.

You kept telling yourself that as Leah grabbed you by the shoulder and walked you out towards the field with the rest of the group, there wasn’t anything different about the day that would make you feel this way, so why should you worry about it.

Training started with normal warm ups, as it always did. The squad darting in and around polea and cones, dribbling through them, and no matter how far you dug yourself into the normality of the routine you were going through, you just couldn’t shake it.

As time went past it got more complex, your group working on shooting whilst the defenders worked off on a pitch to the side and the goalkeepers tried to keep your balls from sailing past them.

It was your bread and butter, the most basic of things you could do, yet it all felt wrong.

Somehow, it felt like you were disconnected from your own body, like you were somehow watching your life from your own perspective.

You continued on, you were probably just getting sick. It wasn’t a often occurrence for you, but when you did it was always bad.

You kept telling yourself that as you transitioned from practice drills to game scenarios. Lia was injured, and Kim was sitting out due to some hamstring soreness, which left you as the main midfielder, not a unwelcome spot but not exactly normal either. You alternated between the attacking mid and a striker/center forward, never really in the defensive side of the midfield though.

With Leah yelling at you from behind and your eyes focusing on Stina and Caitlin in front of you.

With Lotte and Steph as the opposing defence it was hard to know how and where to get to be able to slot the ball into a good position for your attackers.

It’s a lot, the feeling inside of you, everything happening around you.

You don’t normally crack under pressure, and this is probably the least pressured environment you’ve played in your whole entire life, but it feels like for the first time that you just can’t focus.

Leah’s yelling, Jonas is yelling, Stina is yelling, and even though the ball isn’t even at your feet it feels like they’re all yelling at you.

You don’t even have the ball at your feet, yet.

Yet when you push, chasing the ball that Lotte had sent at you down the wing, you twist, and rotate.

All you feel is pain, possibly the worst pain you’ve ever felt.

It feels like you’re lef has been hit by a lighting bolt, and you seriously consider that maybe it had been.

You know though, you’ve seen it happen so many times that you would be a fool to not know what this is. You’re pressed face down on the grass, unmoving, just trying to take it in.

The scent of freshly clipped grass and mud floods your senses. A hand sets itself down on your shoulder and you know your done, that this isn’t some sick dream, you are well and truly fucked.

As if your knee still radiating the worst pain you’ve ever experienced isn’t enough.

“Someone get the physios.”

You hear it yelled out about a hundred times, although none of it really gets absorbed in your brain, you’re in to much pain to think, let alone really absorb the magnitude of what that means.

“Hey mate, we’re going to turn you over okay.”

It’s Caitlin, the anxiety in her voice isn’t missed by you, your aussie teammates hands settling on your shoulders and gently, but quickly, flipping you over.

The sky is grey, and a little bit too bright.

You can’t speak, out of fear that you’ll start sobbing if you do, you don’t want to cry, even if it feels like your leg is actively being chopped off.

You keep your eyes clamped shut, unable to look at the faces of your peers that have crowded above you.

“Babe, talk to me, what’s wrong?”

You keep your mouth clamped shut, you can’t deal with Leah. She’s just gotten over her injury properly, she’s recovered, and yet here you are, in the same position she was just over a year ago.

“Everybody clear away, give her some space. For fucks sakes, somebody go find Rose or Gary.”

At the sound of your captains scottish voice, the crowd slowly started to breakaway, the sound of boots scuffing against the grass beside you slowly petering off.

You kept your eyes screwed shut, for your own safety.

You can’t move your leg, you try to wiggle your toes but even the attempt at getting your nerves to stimulate puts you in a whole other world of pain.

It’s too much pain.

So much pain.

Worse than you could have imagined.

“Babe, I need you to talk to me, what hurts?”

Leah’s voice, Leah’s slightly stressed voice.

“My knee, my fucking knee.”

The air that hits your lungs is cold as your mouth opens to reiterate what you’re going through. It forces you to breathe, to take a big deep breath and inhale.

You pull the neck of your singlet to your mouth within seconds, biting down on the material to stop any of the sounds of pain escaping.

You open your eyes, and you see the fear on Leah’s face, she knows, just as well as you know, exactly what is going on.

Just as she looks like she’s about to say more, the doctor and the physio crouch down beside you.

“Knee?”

All you did was nod your head, trying your very hardest to not start actually sobbing, even though there were tears dripping down your face.

“Alright, can you wiggle your toes for me?”

You tried your very hardest to try and move your foot, even just a centimetre, but you just couldn’t.

The doctor seemed to notice your aggravation, and shook his head.

“Alright, we’re going to get your leg stabilised and then get you onto the stretcher. We’ll assess in the locker room.”

You couldn’t do anything but keep your head on the grass, pointed at the sky, avoiding everything and anything that came into your line of sight.

You knew it was bad when they tried to push a board underneath your leg and even just that movement hurt more than anything.

You immediately cried out, the t-shirt in your mouth doing absolutely nothing to silence the pure pain that you were expressing.

Everyone around you cringed, normally, acls didn’t hurt this much after a couple of minutes, the initial pain was horrific, but it faded. For you, nothing was fading, and with every passing second it felt like you were closer to losing consciousness due to the sheer amount of agony that was coming from your leg.

The doctors tried to be as quick about it as they could, but it didn’t stop you from screaming as they slid the board completely under your leg and strapped different parts of your leg to the board to keep it still.

You wished you were dead.

Whatever this was, you would rather be dead.

“Alright, we’re going to get you onto the stretcher now, keep going with the deep breaths, we’ll find you some pain relief once we’re inside.”

You nodded your head, you just needed it to be over.

You felt a few people grab different parts of your body, lifting you up before gently setting you down inside of the orange plastic.

They left your knee last, at least three people working to try and lift it into the stretcher, it all hurt though.

You screamed, and you screamed, and you screamed again.

You wouldn’t be surprised if the bloody king could hear you considering how loud you were.

You kept repeating the same word.

Stop.

Stop.

Stop.

Stop.

You just needed it all to stop.

Please, lord, let it all stop.

When you were still in the stretcher, they began to lift you up, six different people taking hold of the stretcher and beginning to walk you back inside.

You couldn’t take your eyes off of Leah, who looked so horrified and mortified that it almost hurt as much as the pain in your knee.

“Lee, make it stop, please, make it stop.”

The pain wasn’t fading, it was everywhere, all over, covering every inch of your body.

“Baby, just take some deep breaths, it’s going to be okay, everything’s going to be alright.”

Even Leah didn’t seem like she believed her own words, she was trying her hardest but you could tell that even she was so unsure about what was happening.

“Leah, please, make it stop.”

Leah looked like she was lost, like she had sbolutely no idea what to do.

“I will baby, I promise, we’re almost inside.”

You shook your head, god you had no words for what this was.

The tears just kept flowing, your vision being clouded by the salty drops that had nowhere to go besides pooling in your eyes.

You were done, whatever this was, you were done, there was no coming back from this.

You closed your eyes again, trying to sink into your own head, trying to make it all disappear.

It worked for a few seconds, before you were jolted in the stretcher as you were brought inside, the pain resettling across your body.

You get placed on top of one of the physio beds, Leah and Kim helping to lift you out of the stretcher and onto the bed, even as you cried and thrashed, begging for it to stop.

For the first time, you got a proper look at your knee, and from the second you laid eyes on it you knee it was bad, your whole knee was swollen up like a balloon and there was a bump just below your knee cap, where all the pain was coming from.

The doctor got to work quickly, sending everybody else out of the room besides the physios as he began to remove your leg from the board and access it.

Somewhere along the way, one of the physios found a green whistle, shoving it into your hands and allowing you to have a smidge of relief as your leg was poked and prodded.

For the most part, it was silent, no noise besides the sound of your tears dripping down your face and the doctor typing up his reports onto his laptop after every test he conducted.

They left your knee on the table, your right lower extremity looking deflated as the doctor turned to finish typing up whatever report he was making.

“I can bring your girlfriend back in, if you’d like?”

You turned to the physio, rose, who looked as deflated as you knee did.

You weren’t really sure if you were ready to face Leah.

“Yes, please.”

Rose nodded and smiled, turning around to walk towards the door, opening it up and allowing Leah to walk in.

She stayed silent, walking over to take the seat beside you, her hand immediately finding yours.

She squeezed, and for a second you thought that maybe it was going to be fine, but then that second passed.

The doctor turned around to face both of you and you just knew, you knew that he was about to ruin your life.

“I’ve just called the surgeon, we’re going to need to get you in for scans and surgery tomorrow. You’ve ruptured your patellar tendon and it looks like you’ve also ruptured your meniscus and acl, I’m sorry.”

All of the oxygen in your lungs had been sucked out, you couldn’t say anything, you couldn’t speak.

You were done, tearing an acl was bad, tearing a meniscus was bad, tearing your patellar tendon was horrible.

Doing them all together, it was pretty much unheard of.

“It’s not a confirmed diagnosis, we’ll need scans but your at risk of dislocating your knee or worse if your patellar is torn, so we need to be urgent about this. How does scans at 8am tomorrow sound, and if it comes back torn then surgery around 12?”

God, this was so much worse than you could have ever imagined.

“Sounds good, thank you doctor.”

Leah’s voice said what it needed, a silent dismissal that you both needed your time.

The doctor smiled and nodded at Leah, before taking his leave, leaving just Leah and you sitting in the room by yourselves.

“Bubba, it’s going to be okay, we’ll figure this out.”

Your career was over, short lived and over.

“Leah, get out.”

You needed a minute, you needed your brain to kick into gear so you could begin to understand this.

“Babe, I did it, Beth did it, Viv did it, Laura did it, you’re going to be fine, we’re going to be fine.”

You shook your head.

“Leah, get the fuck out.”

Your voice was croaky, but you managed to get it to the level of a yell.

Leah’s hand slid out from your own.

“I’m sorry babe, I’m sorry about this, I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head.

“Leah, get out.”

She looked like she was at a mental crossroads, trying to figure out whether she should leave or not, ultimately she made rhe decision to nod her head, walking towards the door, stopping when her hand connected with the handle of the doorknob to send a sad smile your way.

“I’m going to go get our stuff together, I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

A couple of minutes, that should be enough, right?

The door closed behind Leah and you felt a whole different weight set itself down on your chest.

What were you supposed to do?

Your leg, your knee, was literally folding in on you, everything was over.

You were a starter, a co-captain, for both national and club teams, you weren’t the best, but you were up there, you were one of the best attacking midfielders in the world, and yet now, you were nothing.

You didn’t have anything besides football, football was your life, you’d given up everything for football, yet now, it felt like it was being pulled out from underneath you.

You didn’t know how you were going to survive this.

7 months later

You were being stupid.

You’d been told from the very minute you’d gone into recovery that you weren’t going to play again, simply, your knee wouldn’t ever be able to handle that kind of pressure again.

You didn’t think that you could prove your doctors wrong, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t want to try, you had nothing else to lose.

Leah hadn’t wanted to be an accomplice in your plan, in fact, she’d been quite the opposite, yelling at you as soon as you’d brought the idea up.

You’d lost a lot during your rehab, everything had changed, what you hadn’t lost though, was your ability to manipulate those blue eyes into doing whatever you wanted.

That’s how Leah and yourself had ended up here, the two of you standing on the grass of a local pitch, a ball at your feet.

For the first few months, you’d refused completely to go anywhere near a ball, knowing that football had done this to you.

As the seasons changed though and your life slowly started to come into perspective you changed, your body changed, everything around you changed.

Your life was different, but it wasn’t over. You still had things, you still had something to live for.

Leah looked about as unamused as you thought, you’d dragged her out of the house for your usual evening walk, funnily enough she didn’t even realise the change in route until you found yourselves out the front of the park.

It hadn’t taken a lot of convincing, or less than you’d thought.

You’d been shooting on your own for a couple of weeks, short range, no movement besides the motion. You’d started jogging a month ago, which was about as good as your recovery was going to get.

“C’mon, defend me properly.”

Leah looked at unease, the Euro’s were due to start in a couple of weeks and your fiance was ready to lead the reigning champs to hopefully another win, hopefully.

Leah took a step towards you, still keeping a few feet distance.

“I’m defending you, can you just take a shot so we can leave?”

Leah had been patient, a lot more patient then you’d been during her rehab, she’d dealt with all your dramatics, all the shit you’d put her through.

“Leah, c’mon, defend me properly, I’m not going to collapse.”

Leah looked at you like you were stupid.

She did take a step closer though, her toe pushing the ball towards yours.

“Put a ball past me, put a ball past the best centre-back in the world, go ahead.”

One of the best, you’d been one of the best once upon a time as well.

You looked down at the ball, beginning to dribble it a few steps forward, Leah followed, as you got to the top of the goal square, you knew you needed to cross it over from your right to your left, from your bad leg to your good one.

Knees were stupid.

You managed to cross the ball, but as you lunged off of your bad leg, it all went downhill.

You were on the ground in seconds, your body collapsing.

It wasn’t the same, you kept telling yourself that, that it wasn’t the same pain, it wasn’t the same agony.

Leah’s hands were on you immediately, rolling you over so that you were looking at each other.

“You just had to be a fucking idiot, what hurts, where does it hurt?”

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, before you started laughing.

Leah looked like she was going to strangle you.

“I’m okay Le, just stupid, okay, stupid that I thought that somehow it would all fucking click and that it would all somehow be fine.”

Leah’s face fell, and she collapsed down onto the ground besides you, one of her arms wrapping around your shoulder, bringing you closer to her.

“It sucks, but you need to come to terms with it baby, you have so many options, commentating, journalism, working with the team. I know it’s the end of your dream, and it fucking sucks, but it’s not worth hurting yourself more in the process. You’re my idiot, and I love you, but you need to find something else.”

You hated that you were being forced to find something else, that it wasn’t your choice, it had all just…. happened.

“I know.”

Leah nodded.

“C’mon, let’s get you home.”

2 years later

“Y/n, you’ve got the best perspective on this, what do you think it means for Arsenal to win the league like this?”

You’d watched your wife, win the league, win the triple this year, from the sidelines.

Commentating, reporting, it was all fun, but it wasn’t the same, if anything it was a stab in the heart.

“Well as everyone knows, as a Arsenal homegrown girl, this has been a long time coming, and I couldn’t be more proud of the girls, they’ve had a season of all seasons, I don’t think it could have been a better year for them.”

You looked backwards, at your wife, as the team stood on the stage ready to lift the trophy.

With every bone in your body you wished you were with them, but you couldn’t be.

“And to their captain, what do you think this means?”

You looked at Leah, how happy she looked.

“Well, considering Leah and I have been the same amount of time, put in all of the years and sweat and tears I can’t imagine that this couldn’t be the pinnacle of her career. It’s great to win things with country, but this is fulfillment, winning something like the league is something else because it means that all of the hardwork over a season is done, and you get to relax.”

You struggled to keep the tears at bay.

You wished you could know the true feeling, coaching, commentating, it didn’t do the same, it didn’t have the same kind of meaning behind it.

“Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go and celebrate with my wife. This is y/n williamson signing off, I’ll see you next season.”

You pulled out your in ear and put your microphone back down on the stand, turning around and beginning to walk onto the pitch.

Leah caught your eyes quickly, it wasn’t hard considering the arsenal red suit you were wearing, and the slight staggered limp that you held as you walked towards her.

Leah smiled at you, big and bright.

Your lives weren’t over, in fact they were just beginning.

She hnaded the trophy over to Lia, before walking your way, running towards you and bringing you into her arms immediately.

“There’s my lucky charms.”

She looked down at your stomach and you couldn’t help but slap her.

It was your best kept secret, your career had been ended by your knee, but you’d chosen to start a new life, a better one.

“We wouldn’t have gotten here without you baby, off and on the pitch.”

You kept your blush to a minimum, unable to ignore the fact that the pinkness was rising up your neck.

“Alright softy, go and celebrate with the team, I’ll be here watching.”

Leah pouted, but nodded, pressing a kiss to your forehead before beginning to walk off.

Life wasn’t the same and it wasn’t how you wanted it, but it wasn’t over.

————————————

ngl i hate the end of this but we move

[angel5ofp0rn]

♡ part nine ♡

ExHusband!Price x f!reader

You and John have been pretty distant during the past two months, basically just coparenting in the same house.

You decided that depending on how this goes, how John and his ex wife interact, how the kids all get along, that's how you’ll decide the next step for the two of to get back together.

On the train from London to Bath, John holds your youngest in his lap and listen to her ooh's and ah's about being in a new country.

Meanwhile, you listen to every little question your oldest asks you about the new country, about the plane ride, about why everyone here “talks like daddy”.

After a while the train finally arrives at the station. John takes the lead out the door, carrying your oldest on his back as you carry the youngest on your hip.

The two of you are pretty silent, only talking to the children rather than each other.

The kids go crazy, suddenly getting a burst of energy as they explore the rental John booked for this trip.

They’re clearly more interested in the temporary house than anything else.

"So," you look at John as the kids giggle and wrestle on the floor. "When do we meet them?"

John takes a deep breath before he speaks. "Tomorrow morning. I thought the four of us could get breakfast and then head out to Nadia's house." He speaks carefully as if he’s trying not to say something that might upset you.

You just nod, turning your attention back to the kids.

He doesn’t say it, but he’s just as nervous as you. He doesn’t know what it’ll be like tomorrow, if the kids will all get along, if you and his other ex-wife will get along.

The kids definitely don’t sense any tension, that's for sure.

•••

You and John tucked the kids into bed in the larger room of the house, letting them share the king bed. It’s just John and you in the second room, separate beds, as had become the norm for the two of you.

John's quiet in his bed simply staring at the ceiling, his mind filled with thoughts of the following day.

"John..?" You sit up in your bed and look over at him.

John turns his head, a tiny bit surprised to see that you're still awake. He just gives you a small smile.

"Can't sleep?"

You shake your head. You’d been trying to sleep for the last two hours but the anxiety isn't letting you.

"Yeah... Neither can I..." John rubs his face and lets out a small sigh. He lifts his covers. "C'mon, love."

You should put your foot down or tell him off... But you don’t.

He has you. Divorce, secret family and all.

You slowly get out of your bed and crawl into his, instantly cuddling up to his warm body.

John wraps his arms around you, pulling you to his chest. He closes his eyes, savoring this moment with you.

You're in his arms, and although things between you two are still tense, you're at least here with each other.

Things are okay as long as you two are together, he thinks to himself before slowly starting to drift off to sleep.

•••

After breakfast the four of you head off. You have John park your rental car down the block hoping that the fresh air would help calm your nerves…

Or maybe you were just stalling.

John's leading the way, carrying your youngest in one arm and holding the oldest’s hand with the other.

The kids are both pretty excited to meet Theo. They took the news that their father has another child very well… That wasn’t surprising, as they're just kids and don't fully understand.

You, on the other hand, are a nervous wreck. You thought of what would happen if Nadia hates you, since John meeting you made him leave her, or what if Theo wants nothing to do with your kids, his half-siblings.

What if Nadia and John still have feelings for each other?

John looks over at you, noticing the slight panic and anxiety on your face even though you're trying to hide it from the kids. He keeps his expression calm, even when his heart feels like it's pounding out of his chest.

He knows you're going to have questions and feelings about this no matter what, but he just hopes the two of you can get through his visit with his other family without any more damage.

The four of you continue walking, the house that Nadia and Theo live in coming into full view. John's grip on your oldest’s hand tightens slightly, you could notice. He lets go of the five-year-old’s hand once you're all at the front door and he rings the doorbell.

After a moment Nadia stands in the doorway, her blonde hair pulled back in a claw clip, a small smile on her face...

Damn it, she's gorgeous.

She's older than you, John's age, with these gorgeous green eyes and the prettiest long eyelashes and full lips… She even has the cutest dimples in her cheeks.

You felt like couldn't even blame John if he decided today that he wants to go back to her.

John didn't really think much about Nadia's appearance. To him she was just an old flame of the past. She was beautiful, sure, but he had moved on years ago.

She was just his son’s mother.

But, seeing how you looked at her caused John a bit of pain. He knew it was bothering you. He wanted to assure you that there was nothing to worry about between the two of them, but he didn’t have a chance to do so just yet.

Instead, John smiles a bit as he starts to introduce you all.

"Nadia... Uh, this is Gabriel, my son.” Your oldest, just excited to see his older brother soon, waves a bit, "and this is Linnie, my little girl.” Your youngest, feeling shy around the stranger, buries her face into John’s chest.

John then gestures to you, turning his head towards you then glances back over at Nadia. "And this is Y/N... My, erm..."

"Ex-wife." You offer, blushing a bit. No need to complicate it. "It's really nice to meet you, Nadia. Thank you for letting us all be here."

Nadia smiles, genuinely. "Of course. I'm glad this is all finally happening. Come in, come in. Tea's on."

You follow behind John as we walk into Nadia's house, holding Gabriel's hand tightly.

John walks in with you and the kids, a lot of nervous energy still adiating from him. You sit at the table with everyone, holding your youngest in your lap now as your oldest sits between John and yourself.

"Where's my brother?" Your oldest whispers to John as Nadia sets tea in front of John and you, then herself as she sits across.

John looks down at your son and smiles, his nervousness temporarily gone when asked about Theo. "I'm sure he'll be out of his room in a moment."

Nadia just seems to be staring at John for a moment, her expression hard to read, before she smiles and gestures to the children. "These two are adorable."

"Thank you,” you laugh a bit. "They're a couple of little monkeys."

Nadia laughs as well, finding your description of your children funny. She takes a drink of her tea as she sets her cup down on the table. "They're beautiful. They really look like Theo when he was their ages."

As if on cue, Theo walks into the dining room.

Of course he’s gorgeous.

He looks like ten year old John.

He see's his dad and immediately runs up to him and hugs him tightly. You watch as John smiles widely, hugging his oldest son tightly.

Your oldest, upon seeing that John is now hugging his big brother, starts to get excited. He hops out of his seat and goes running towards Theo as well.

“Big brother!" The five year old’s arms immediately wrap around Theo and hugs him tightly as well. Theo hugs him back, unfazed, as if he's know him his entire life instead of this being their first time meeting.

"Oh my God…” You smile, the sight warming my heart.

Nadia seems to be having a similar reaction to you, grinning broadly as the two boys hug each other. She turns to look at your daughter for a moment, who just watches intently, taking in the sight of her brothers. She seems excited too, wiggling around in your lap to see them better.

"Do you want to meet Theo as well, little one?" Nadia asked her gently.

Your youngest nods shyly.

You put her on her feet, and the oldest child kneels down, anticipating a hug from the toddler.

Instead, the little one runs to Nadia and climbs into her lap for a hug instead. You and John both laugh, surprised by this.

Nadia smiles and wraps her arms around Linnie, hugging her tightly. Her embrace is comforting and reassuring to the bashful little one.

"It's nice to meet you, Theo." You finally smile at John and Nadia's son. "I'm Y/N."

Theo's smile grows as he sees you, his bright blue eyes studying you carefully almost like he's trying to memorize your appearance. "It's nice to meet you, too.”

"Can we play?!" Your oldest asked John’s oldest, then looked back to John for permission as well.

John nods quickly, giving him permission to play with his older brother. Nadia, meanwhile, just smiles and nods as well. "Theo has loads of Legos in his room. Go ahead. Get to know one another as well."

Your oldest smiles widely before following his “new” big brother to his room. Linnie just clings to Nadia's chest, looking between the two of you, trying to take everything in.

"I might just keep this little one." Nadia teased, hugging her a bit closer.

You can't help but smile. This isn't at all how you thought this would go.

It's so much better.

The boys are now playing in the room, building Legos and just enjoying each other's company. Your daughter seems content to be with Nadia, who's holding her in her lap, stroking her hair softly with her fingers and talking quietly with her.

You feel John take your hand under the table, squeezing it a bit as he sips his tea.

John leans in closely, whispering to you as Nadia speaks with your youngest. "Everything's goin’ well... right?"

You nod with a small smile, then sip at your tea as well. You watch as Nadia gets your little one to open up a bit, getting her to talk and giggle.

It only takes a few minutes before Nadia convinces the two year old to go into Theo's room and play with her big brothers, and to get to know Theo a bit. Now it's just her, John and you at the table.

John looks around and seems to sigh in relief, leaning back in his seat as he continues to squeeze your hand.

Nadia and you finally get a chance to have a proper conversation as the two of you continue to talk and sip on your tea.

Everything has gone so smoothly; especially now when Gabriel and Linnie seem to have just bonded with Theo like the three have known each other for years rather than just having met today.

John sighs a bit, smiling over at Nadia and you as she holds a conversation with you, seeming more than happy that things are working out.

For the first time in a long time, today he feels at ease, like everything's going just like it's supposed to go.

After spending the entire day together, You decide it's time to get the kiddos back to the rental and get them into bed.

John helps Nadia with the dishes after dinner while you help the kids clean up Theo's room after playing.

•••

You and John finish bathing the children after their long day and tuck them into the king bed once again.

John follows you into the other bedroom, shutting the door behind him as he goes over and sits on the edge of his bed. He just takes a deep breath in there, sighing as he rubs his face.

Today went well, sure. But that doesn’t exactly change anything between the two of you just yet.

You sit on John's lap, his arms instantly wrapping around your waist. It was just natural.

John just exhales. Your warmth against his chest helped him to feel at ease for a moment.

"Nadia is gorgeous." You sigh. "You didn't tell me that part."

John chuckles softly. "Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

"How can I not be?"

John rubs his thumb over the top of your thigh. "She's my past, love... We don't have... We've never had what you and I have."

You look at him, meeting his eyes. You try to find even a tiny hint of dishonestly.

That makes the next part harder.

“I don’t understand how you could have done that to them.” You start slowly. “The man I married isn’t a man that would just abandon his family for some random girl at a bar.”

You could feel John tense at your words. You stand up off of his lap now, pacing the room a bit.

“I didn’t abandon them-“

“You left your wife and child in a different country. What would you call that?” You retort.

“You don’t understand how things were between Nadia and I before I met you.” John insists. “It’s not like I left a happy marriage.”

“You still left your child.” You shake your head. “If you visit fucking Italy right now and meet a younger woman, would you leave Gabe and Linnie back in the states and only see them once a month? I always thought, ‘maybe John and I aren’t a good match, but at least he’s a good dad’… But I don’t know if I believe that anymore.”

“I’m a damn good dad. To all of them.” John defends himself through gritted teeth.

“You’ve been lying to my kids their whole lives!”

“Your kids?” John quirked an eyebrow at that.

“My kids.” You double down, arms crossed.

“I don’t wanna fight.” John sighs finally, rubbing his eyes. “Can we talk about this in the morning?”

“Fine.” You exit the room, going back to where the kids slept, leaving John alone.

<< prev next >>

[keravnous]

bathroom b!tch; tangerine/fem!reader (smut; 18+)

part two | part three | part four

playlist: train quickie with tangerine

Tangerine meets you in one of the bathrooms on the bullet train. He just wants to clean up after his tussle with Ladybug and get rid of the blood, but he could use you to blow off some steam as well. You know: he has to take it if he sees it.

word count: 5,9k

warnings: mirror sex, bathroom sex, semi public, fingering, oral (female receiving), blood (it's tangerine's), squirting, dry humping, rather rough sex, unprotected sex, light choking, confined spaces, dirty talk, name calling, kinda a quickie?, tangerine's a little rude but surprisingly gentle too idk he's just like that, he just needs to fuck the adrenaline outta himself, i have very strong feelings about this angry man

title is from the song of the same name, bathroom bitch by holychild

also thank you v for a) helping me out with Japanese and b) by telling me what being a passenger on a bullet train feels like

You knew it was a bad idea.

Starring at yourself in the impressively clean mirror of the small bathroom, you try your best to hold back any fresh tears.

You knew that a long-distance relationship wouldn't work. You fucking knew it and yet you accepted your fiancés pleas to Just try it. Maybe, it indeed would've worked out if he wasn't fucking his bloody secretary.

You regret leaving London. You miss your home.

You're not even that heartbroken, you just feel exhausted, like you wasted an awful lot of time.

You take a long, good look at yourself. Bloodshot eyes and a sad hue resting over your pupils, turning the colour dark and deep. The dress, that you bought for your anniversary brunch – a surprise, quite as much as the one he gave you, when you walked in on him, balls deep in his secretary – now looks oddly strange, out of place on you. You feel overdressed and ashamed, foolish.

But there’s something else, too: the loneliness that followed suite after your screaming, after fighting with him - after breaking up with him. It's been there since you boarded the train to Nagoya but now it rolls over you like a wave of-

Thump, thump.

"What the fuck", you mutter, taking a ragged breath, before yelling out, "Occupied!"

You just want to be left at fucking peace, not being watched by other passengers as you're bawling your eyes out. All you want is to get off that train and burn some of that fucker’s money on a spontaneous vacation. All you want is for the remaining days in Japan to be good ones.

Another sharp knock follows. This one rattles the door.

It takes a moment for you to scramble for the right words, the ones you have picked up when visiting your fiancé before. "Shiyouchu!"

Another knock. And another.

Motherfucker.

You clench your teeth - saying goodbye to the precious moments of crying in silence for the year you've lost to the most useless relationship of all fucking mankind - and wipe away the wetness below your eyes to open the door. "I said-"

Oh.

Oh shit.

There's a very handsome man waiting outside the door. He is towering over you, impatience plastered on his face and seeping through his every movement, with the way he's leaning against the door frame.

He's hot.

Also, he's dripping in blood.

His light blue shirt, once crisp and clean, is now disshelved and just as stained as his expensive looking dark-blue vest.

"Jesus, fuck, are you alright?", you blurt out.

The man's raising an eyebrow. "Could be asking you the same, love. Now, would you please get the fuck outta there."

He's moving towards you, closing in the last few inches separating the two of you. Your gaze is focused on the nasty cut on his arm.

"You're bleeding", you say dumbly.

His eyes shoot up at you and for a split-second you feel like you are face to face with a predator. The anxiety, that the blood and his rude behaviour sparked in your chest, sends adrenaline pumping through your veins and has the muscles your legs preparing for fight or flight. He blinks.

"I know", he says and his lips curl up to something, that you're convinced is supposed to be a smile, "Now, if ya'd be so kind?"

He gestures behind you, towards the empty bathroom.

"No?", you say, voice shooting up a little, which immediately has him cautiously throwing a glance down the hall to his right, "No, I won't! You need help, how the fuck -- what the fuck happened?"

"You're starting to really get on my fuckin’ tits, pretty thing. Would y'just let me the fuck inside?", he growls, tilting his head towards you. His tone has the hairs on your arms rising, as he is starring you into the ground.

You back up, colliding unpleasantly with the doorframe, that nearly drills itself into your left shoulder.

"Thank you, Lady", he's squeezing past you and then turns around again, giving you a quick one-over. You are unable to move, mesmerized by the way he's looking at you.

The corners of his mouth tilt up again and one of his hands, a little sticky and red with his own blood, comes up to his face, straightening his moustache, as his gaze runs over your body once more. You should leave, you should run - clearly, something is awfully and so not right but you just can't, being glued to the spot by his eyes.

It shouldn't make your loins grow hot, but you can't help it. You feel your belly tingle, shooting sparks down down down between your legs. He is very attractive and the aura of pure fucking danger that wafts around him doesn’t do what it normally should do – instead, it pulls you in. Oh, aren’t you just fucked.

"What were y'saying about help, again?", the man murmurs, gaze locking with yours.

"Uuuh", it's a very stupid sound you make and his eyes spark up at that, lips giving room to flash some teeth, "I-I just said you look like you might need some help?"

"Well, maybe I do."

He licks his lower lip and you blink, gaze following the movement.

This is very stupid. This is risky, dangerous, and most likely something you are going to regret.

It's not only the situation, it's him, too. He seems dangerous. It's not only the blood, mind you. It’s the way he moves, how his eyes dart through the room, over your body. It’s the aggression in his voice that he’s trying to hide, cover up but ultimately fails, something that seeps through every pore of him.

But he's also just ridiculously hot, walking with his crotch first, heavy northern British accent swirling the words around his tongue and, fuck, it's mostly the way he's looking at you.

And you're just so fucking full of anger and grief and your life feels strangely directed and determined by your shitty-ass fiancé and there's so much rage and sadness -

You take a step into the bathroom and the door slides shut behind you.

"Good", he hums, "Because you do look, like you could also use some help."

The door locks behind you and take another step forward, approaching him. "You have no fucking idea", revenge sex is a very stupid concept but now, it seems very tempting. It's exciting and makes you feel oddly alive.

"Did'ya get dumped?", and you don't know why you trust him with that information but you can hear yourself say: "Cheated on. Fiancé of twelve months." There is a hand sneaking around your waist, pulling you in closer. You can smell him now, the blood on his skin and clothes, the heavy scent of his perfume – it’s warm and thick, vanilla and fruit, like an orange grove.

"Allow me the comment - that's one bloody stupid bastard."

You look up at him and blink. That man's insanely pretty and you swallow as he pulls you in even closer, your hand connecting with his chest. It is firm and warm and your fingers get a little sticky with the fresh blood on his shirt. They splay out, feeling the firm muscle flex beneath the expensive fabric.

"How much time d'we have, sugar?", he hums, runs his thumb across your lower lip.

"I have to get off in Nagoya."

"Gonna get you off alright now, sweetie", you roll your eyes at that and he chuckles, "Bit more than half'n hour I'd say. Think we can manage that?"

You nod while biting your lip, adrenaline thick and heavy in your veins, pumping your blood down south and making you wet wet wet, and he laughs at that, runs his tongue along his bright, bright teeth.

It's sheer excitement that has your belly tingle and you lock your eyes with his, the darkening blueish green pulling you in and then he leans down, locks his lips with yours.

They are soft and warm and his moustache tingles a little. You hum against his lips, one hand fisting his vest as the other sneaks up his muscular arm, runs over and through the blood, up up up next to the cut and comes a halt on his neck. The hand on your waist holds you close, fingers spread out delicately as he starts to feel you up.

His tongue darts out and licks over your lips and you gladly give him more room, parting your lips slightly. He's pushing in, licking into your mouth. You hum deep in your throat, pressing against him, tasting the cigarette smoke on his lips.

You can feel the bulge in his pants, his dick pressing hotly against your lower belly. It ignites your loins, pleasure shooting through your abdomen.

You moan into his mouth and he responds by pushing you back, heaving you up the small sink, deepening the kiss. Your back presses against the mirror as you clutch onto him, hand running up his neck and into his hair, slick with product and a little sticky with sweat. Your knees hit his hipbones and the man starts to roll his hips into yours, having his hard dick rubbing against your crotch and your eyelids flutter with the feeling. He's rock-hard and so so hot through his dress pants and you can't fucking wait to get to it.

He eventually breaks the kiss, breath ragged as his eyes roam over your face, hands feeling your thighs up. You decide that you need more of him and thus, your free hand roams over his chest, fingers making quick work of his vest. As soon as you pop the last button, he hastily tears it off of himself, throws it to the ground where it lands with a quiet thud.

"C'mon sweetheart, I know you clammin' to touch me", he says, voice deep and raspy and you do - like you're on fucking autopilot. Your hands dart out, roaming over his defined chest. He feels nice and firm and makes you want him more, want to feel all of him, all at once.

He hums quietly, as you open a few buttons of his shirt and run your hands over the sweaty, warm skin, through the dust of fine chest hair, making his chain rustle. He feels nice and it makes you want him.

The man looks up from your hands and you don't know what has come over you as your hand glides up further, cupping his neck, thumb on his jawline. "Fuck me", you breathe, "Fuck me 'til I can't walk."

He grins and leans in even closer, his clothed and hard dick pressing against your wet panties, as he's kissing a wet trail from your jaw to your ear. "Who would've thought - such a naugh'y lil'mouth on such a pretty woman."

You hook one leg around his waist, tugging lightly at the hair that's curling in his neck as he starts to suck on your neck. The slight pain ignites your lust, has arousal blooming and wetness pooling between your legs. You want to tell him to stop, before he marks you up for good as --

"Name's Tangerine", he suddenly rasps, as his tongue rubs over the spot he has been sucking on and you're pretty damn sure that he just gave you a hickey.

"Like the-"

"The fucking fruit, yeah. 'M gonna burst you more like something of a cherry, though", he rumbles, quietly laughing to himself with his fingers digging into your hips.

Your breath hitches in your throat as he presses himself flush against you - all firm muscles, perfume, and hot skin - tongue licking over your throat like the hot blade of a knife, dancing over your jaw.

It's most likely not his real name and that should really, really alert you. But it doesn't - instead you surrender yourself to him, letting your head fall back and parting your legs, inviting him in.

And the man -Tangerine - follows suite and shoves your dress up up up, runs his hands over your now exposed thighs. You lean forward a little, until your lips brush over his. "Name's Y/N", you whisper and his eyes glint a little at that, "Pleasure to meet you."

"Oh, you gon' be a fun one", he grins and you do too, before leaning in and kissing him again. He is less gentle now, keen on getting you hot, his kisses turn sloppy quickly, biting your lower lip and licking into your mouth until you lack air. The thumbs on your legs dive in deeper, until they connect with your crotch. And then, one of them gently runs over your soaked panties.

Tangerine breaks the kiss, wet lips brushing over the corner of your mouth, only to inhale sharply - keeps his cheeks puffed theatrically for a short moment, then exhales just as sharply, eyeing you up and down. "Jesus Christ, that pussy of yours s'fucking wet, innit?", he rumbles and two of his fingers run over the wet fabric once more, slowly starting to rub your clit.

You gasp, hips bucking a little and you watch the way his hand vanishes under the hem of your dress. "Fuck", you moan quietly as he quickly finds the spot that makes your thighs clench. He rubs you through your panties, soft lace turning wet wet wet and dampening his skin. Your mouth falls agape seeing his wrist twitching between your legs and the way he's looking down at it, a little mesmerized, makes your head swim. Then, he stops.

"Yeah, let's get those off", he mutters, more to himself than to you and then he's tugging at the straps of your panties, riiips the lace and tears them apart. "Oh-", you gasp unintelligently as he carelessly drops them to the ground and you really don't fucking mind at all.

It's the first time in a long time that you feel wanted, like someone's actually hungry, greedy for you. And it turns you on. A lot. It is like Tangerine has flipped a switch and you want him just as much as he seems to want you. And you want it now.

You blink at him through your lashes. "You gonna touch me now?"

"Easy, love", he chuckles, genuinely amused and then his fingers are slooowly creeping back over your legs, until his index finger finally touches your exposed cunt. The touch is cold, but not unpleasant and you suck in a sharp breath, one that hitches in your throat.

He watches you, as he runs it over your pussy, quickly joined by a second, digits running up and down, spreading your slick. You hum, pleasure building up in your abdomen and then, finally, his fingers return to your clit.

Slow, wide circles spread your lips apart, making you moan and throwing your head back in pleasure. His bracelet clinks as he quickly picks up a faster rhythm, keen on seeing you coming loose, circles growing smaller.

"Oh shit, yes that's fucking it", you can feel arousal building in your stomach, shooting through your body. Tangerine laughs under his breath and his lips are onto you again, licking and sucking over your straightened neck. You don't give a fuck anymore, the slight pain of him bruising your skin makes your hips buck and rolling against his digits.

"Such a good girl, ain't ya?, he groans against your neck and it sends shivers down your spine as you're moaning and gasping, nodding frantically.

Your body feels like it has been ignited, with the way his fingers rub your clit, teasing your pussy and then there's one finger circling your hole and fuck, you really fucking need it. You spread your legs farther and Tangerine puuushes in, sinks one rather cold finger in your hole, your hot hot skin meeting the cold gold of his ring.

Tangerine starts to fuck you slowly, finger pushing in and out of you, until you're loose enough to take a second one. His rings thrust against your hole every time he pushes them back inside and the sensation has you whining, his lips still glued to your neck, occasionally moving down down down to you cleavage, licking fat stripes over your warm, sweaty skin.

A flood of very good, very dangerous emotions has one of your hands abandoning the sink, instead running up his arm, splaying across his shoulder. You can feel the muscles working slightly beneath the light blue fabric, a little dampened by his sweat. "Fuck, you make me so hot, shit, that feels so good", you whimper quietly, gasping as his fingers push even deeper. It seems to kick Tangerine off, moustache grazing your skin as he’s picking up an even faster rhythm - rubbing, circling your clit faster, adding more pressure - obscene squelching sounds filling the air of the small bathroom. You moan as pleasure shoots up your spine, has you rocking on and against his fingers.

You can feel your walls clenching around his fingers, hole fluttering against the cold, golden rings and then --

He breaks from your throat and whistles lowly as fresh wetness pools around his fingers, your squirt dampening his golden bracelet and the cuff of his shirt.

Tangerine pulls his fingers out of you slowly, slick with your juices and looks at them for a few seconds, the way your wetness is glistening on his skin in the dim lights. He brings them up up up, gaze connecting with yours and then -

They go past his lips, as his tongue darts out and licks them clean. You blink - once, twice. "Fuck", you breathe, and he chuckles.

"You taste like a fuckin' dream, love", his hands push your legs further apart and before you know it, he sinks down to his knees. You blink at him, as he lifts the hem of your dress up, "Might wanna hold that f'me", and you do, pulling the fabric as high up as you can, exposing yourself to him further.

Tangerine tsks as he takes the sight in and you can feel your cheeks growing hot, burning red, as his fingers dance over your pussy.

"Don't ya just have the prettiest cunt?", he hums, running his fingers through your folds, "'M gonna fuck ya so good."

"Jesus, Tangerine", you huff out, legs shaking a little as his thumb carefully rubs over your clit.

Tangerine looks up at you, smirking a little and then he's leaning in, hands coming to rest on your thighs, forcing your legs apart. He's not breaking eye contact, keeps your gazes chained together, as he dives in and licks a long, fat stripe from your hole upwards to your clit.

You fucking mewl, as his moustache rubs over your sensitive skin, tongue circling your clit for a short moment. His eyes gleam up at you, watching your reaction as his tongue swipes down, over your folds to your hole, teasing it. It has your legs kicking a little and you grab the sink with both your hands, as your thighs give a quick shake.

You can hear him chuckle deep in his throat and it makes you hot hot hot all over, with the way his tongue crawls back up, lips grazing your cunt and then he's onto your clit once more, gently lapping at it, placing soft kisses on the sensitive skin.

A strangled noise escapes your throat as arousal rushes through your abdomen and up up up your whole body, has your chest heaving with a ragged breath and rolling your hips forward. It's so so good, but not enough - you just need more.

"Don't ya move, love", Tangerine rasps and one of his hands grabs your hips forcefully, dress sliding up to your navel as he's holding you in place. The other crawls up your lower leg and thigh, teasing your folds and then one finger presses against your hole, pushes in roughly.

You moan as he immediately starts to fuck you with it, pumping your wetness in and out of you with a rather merciless rhythm, keen on having you come for him, having you squirt once more.

His eyelids flutter, long and dark lashes against his pale skin as his tongue licks over your folds, tasting your wetness and taking your scent in. You're tasting so so sweet to him, like a fucking forbidden fruit that he's going to devour anyways, because he can and he will and because fuck the rules he had set himself for this job.

He closes his eyes as he pushes a second finger into you, pumping them in and out of you, while his tongue laps at your cunt, lips closing in around your folds, gently sucking. His fingers are fucking you fast now, pushing you further and further.

"Oh god", you gasp, one hand still holding your own weight, the other now fisting his hair, pulling it. It seems to spur him on, hooking one of your legs over his shoulder and placing wet, open-mouthed kisses on your cunt, gently nibbling at the soft skin as his finger pumps into you. It's even better than before, with his beard scratching you and his tongue and lips gliding over your cunt as if it were a riddle he's going to solve without his hands. The heel of your shoe digs into his back - desperate for any leverage, to just feel him - as you are nearing your release.

"Shit, fuck fuck fuck", your voice sounds strange in your ears, high-pitched and far far away, between the squelching sounds that his rapidly moving fingers pull out of your pussy, "I'm gonna-"

He hums and then, after a short moment, pulls his digits out of you and grabs your hips hard, holding you in place, not stopping his tongue from rubbing over your cunt hard.

It tips you over the edge, has you breaking loose. You gasp loudly, throwing your head back against the mirror, incoherent rambling leaving your lips as you come - riding your orgasm out on his face as he licks you through your orgasm, your hips bucking wildly with it.

As your orgasm rolls over you, you already know that this isn't over. Usually, you would be spent for now, calm and a little tired but right now - you're not at all, lust still rolling over you, fresh wetness pooling between your legs again. "Mhm, shit", you breathe, feet kicking a little as Tangerine's tongue continues to flick over your clit. You are still wet, already desperate for more, more of him.

All you can think about is his hard dick, that you've felt earlier pressing against your crotch and pure want tingles in your stomach. Tangerine's lips close in around your throbbing clit, overstimulation making your head swim.

"Please, fuck, please", your hip bucks against his iron grip that holds you steadily against the sink. Tangerine looks up at you again and let’s go of your clit with an obscene pop. His moustache is dampened by your wetness as he grins up at you. "Please please", he mocks your high-pitched whines and then smirks, "Wan'it that bad, love?"

"Need you - ah, fuck - inside me. Oh, shit", you whine, as your hole clenches around nothing, desperate for more than his fingers. You are so turned on by this stranger, lust crashing over your body like waves - you can feel its tingle in your chest, your legs, feeling your pussy desperate for another touch.

Tangerine blinks for a moment and you're sure, that you saw his eye twitch and then he, very dramatically, takes a deep breath, closes his eyes. "Shit, love, you make me feel all sorts o'things", he says quietly and then quickly gets up, wipes his lips with the back of his hand.

He leans in and his lips lock with yours again and you can taste yourself on his tongue, as he licks into your mouth, grinning against your lips, damp stache rubbing over your upper lip. He licks over it, groans deep in his throat, while his hands brush over your legs, before he commands, whispers against your lips: "Bend over the sink f'me.”

"What?", you blink, words not really reaching you through the lustful haze that has wrapped your brain in like cotton candy. All you can do is look at him, at this very handsome stranger with the very fake name and he has your head swimming, brain giving in and surrendering to lust once more.

You take the hand he offers you as he helps you down the sink, your legs a little wobbly. "Alright c'mon now, girl, don't keep me waitin'", Tangerine gives you a light pat on the cheek, rings barely connecting with your skin - a patronizing gesture that has your knees going ever weaker for a moment as you try to turn around, hands gripping the edges of the sink.

You watch him in the mirror, as he makes quick work of his belt and the fly of his trousers. As he pulls his dick out, your mouth waters. It's long and big and has just the right girth, a drop of precum glistening on its tip. You'd really like to suck that cock, like right motherfucking now.

Tangerine looks at you. "Got all hungry fo'it?", and you nod - breathing out Fuck yeah - arching your back for him, "Alright love, just a minute."

He spits in his hand and rubs the saliva over his dick, giving himself one, two strokes. You arch your back, keeping your eyes on him as he grabs your hips hard, lines himself up, head of his dick resting against your hole - all hot and hard - and then he finally, finally pushes himself in. The stretch is nice and has you squirming a little with the dull pain, excitement lighting your nerves up.

"Jesus Christ", his head falls forward a little, "You're so fuckin' tight."

He bottoms out, forcing himself in deep, holding still. You can feel his dick twitching inside of you, but he doesn't move and you can see his chest heaving, hear him grunt. His hand roams over your bare ass, shoving the dress even higher, until your back is partly exposed and his hand creeps around your body, over your stomach and under the dress, slips beneath your bra and cups one of your tits.

Tangerine squeezes it, feels you up and then pulls his dick back out only to quickly push himself back in. The sound that leaves your throat is nothing but desperate and your hand grips the sink harder, knuckles slowly turning white. His jaw is going a little slack as he rolls his hips into you, fucking you slowly.

"Ah shit", he groans, a deep and coarse sound, that makes you shiver, "Doesn't that just feel lovely?"

He watches the way his dick pumps into your pussy, eyebrows drawn together, lips slightly agape - until his gaze meets yours in the mirror once more and there it is - a shadow that dances over his eyes, turning the mesmerizing blue and green dark dark dark. One of his hands suddenly darts forward, rings glimmering in the dim light, only to roughly grab your chin, forcefully holding your head in place. It hurts a little, but the pain feels good, the way it stretches your back and intensifies the arch of it, forces you to look at him and yourself. Your mascara is pooling beneath your eyes, pupils blown wide and cheeks reddened.

"Would'ya just look at yourself", Tangerine groans, "Ya might be the hottest fucking thing I've seen in a long fuckin' time --" He groans again, thumb catching your lower lip and you moan as you watch his face coming a little loose with pleasure.

Tangerine picks up a faster rhythm, thrusting into you and you push your hips back, meeting him - desperate for more more more. He grins at you in the mirror and his hand creeps a little lower, until it rest riiight below your jawline and then -

Then he squeezes.

It has you gasping, choking a little at the sudden loss of air and the feeling of your windpipe being closed. Your hip bucks against his and he licks his lips.

The lack of air has adrenaline rushing through your veins once more, as his dick pushes against your spongy hot walls and you feel your body surrendering to him fully, the small voice in the back of your head remembering you that You are at his mercy has you growing even wetter.

The hand lets go off your throat, now gently holding your head in place and you suck in a few deep breaths, gasping, greedily sucking in the air, as --

There must be a bump on the rails, as the wagon suddenly lifts a little and has you thrown forward towards the mirror, shoves his dick deeper into you. You moan, instinctively catching his eyes in the mirror.

His lips are slightly parted, eyes darkened by lust and his fingers dig into the flesh of your hips. The train speeds up just as he leans forward, throws his chest against your back. His body is so so hot against yours and your walls flutter around his dick, as his scent wraps you in once more.

Tangerine lowers his head, until his forehead rests on your shoulder, cock twitching inside of you. "Ya have no bloody idea what'cha doin' to me, Lady", he says, voice coarse and dark and your eyelids flutter, "'M gonna ruin ya."

He lifts his head a little and your gazes connect in the mirror once more. A shiver runs down your spine - he means it.

And you feel it, too, as he thrusts into you once, knocks the air out of your lungs with the sheer force of it. The tip of his dick hits the spot perfectly and you nearly cry out in pleasure, hands gripping the sink tightly. There are small lines forming around his eyes as he's grinning against your shoulder, pulls out a little only to force himself back in, even deeper this time. The hand that was toying with your tit leaves, crawls back down and his arm wraps itself around your waist, holds you close.

Your legs shake as Tangerine picks up a faster rhythm, starts pounding in to you like a starved man, like an animal gone wild. It's in his eyes, hunger hunger hunger and you feel pleasure shooting through your body, pooling in your abdomen. You squirt against his dick, wetting the trimmed pubic hair as his balls slap against your wet skin.

You suck in a sharp breath, a strangled high pitched whiny moan escaping your lips, as he hits your walls again, tip of his dick brushing over your g-spot, having you seeing stars. Your eyelids flutter, gasps escaping your mouth with every one of his thrusts.  

"Be fuckin' loud, you lil'slut, I don't care - one - bit", he says through gritted teeth, each word one thrust, "If they come knockin'. I’ll kill’em."

It shouldn’t – really, it shouldn’t – but it has your head swimming, rocking back against him, obscene sounds filling the small bathroom and you moan loudly. His jewellery rustles and clinks as he ruts into you, huffing against your shoulder. The force of his thrusts has your body moving back and forth like a ragdoll, hipbones bouncing against the sink, one of your hands coming loose and pressing flat against the mirror, desperate for any sort of leverage.

You can feel yourself clenching around him, white hot pleasure building on the edges of your brain, until there's nothing left but him him him.

"Fuck", you cry out, "I'm gonna fucking cum, shit shit shit", lips falling agape with pure pleasure. It’s too much and you can feel your muscles tensing.  

The hand around your throat tightens a bit more and that’s all you need – has your eyes falling shut, your second orgasm rolling over you. It knocks the air straight out of your lungs, has you going limp, while the muscles in your thighs and abdomen clench, holding and squeezing his dick inside of you.

You can hear him moan deeply, sounding far far away and then his cum hits your walls, paints it as he buries himself deep deep inside of you. You gasp, desperate for air and he lets go off your throat.

You suck in a few breaths and feel him doing the same, chest heaving against your back. "Fuck", he says and slowly straightens back up, looking at you in the mirror.

"Y'good over there, love?"

"Uh-huh", you hum, unable to speak, and blink at him. His hair's a mess and his cheeks are a little reddened, glistening with sweat.

Tangerine fucking winks at you and then slooowly, very carefully pulls out of you. You inhale sharply as you feel some of his cum following suite, dripping down your legs. You want to straighten up, too, clean it up, but he's quicker, taking one of the disposable towels and gently sweeps along your cunt.

"'S good, I can do that too, y'know", you say and take it from him, cleaning yourself up. For a long moment, while you can hear him putting himself back in his pants, there's silence between the two of you. Only, as you carefully put your dress back in place, does he look at you again.

"Be careful tonight, sweetheart", he says nonchalantly while tugging his shirt back into his slacks. He says it like it's nothing but it has the hairs on your body standing up.

I’ll kill’em. I’ll kill’em. I’ll kill’em. You look on the slight stains that his blood left on your fingers, that soaked his shirt.

"Make you sure you get out of that train in Nagoya, y'hear me?", his gaze is soft as it lands upon you. Your brain goes numb with anxiety.

"Y-yeah, yeah sure. I'm meeting a friend there, wouldn't miss her for the world."

He smiles at that. A genuine, warm smile. It does something funny to your stomach. "Alright love, gotta dash", he's straightening his vest and giving himself a glance in the mirror, running his hands through his hair, "There's this chap I gotta get rid of. Gimme a call, when you're in London, would'ya?"

You just nod and take the slim, white card he hands you. The numbers on it are orange.

"Very fucking funny", you huff and he grins, leans down towards you, and places his lips on your cheek. The kiss is feather-light but it'll haunt you late at night in the weeks, months to come after the story of the crashed bullet train breaks the international news. But right now, it makes your chest tingle in all the right ways.

"Tis'a good girl, eh?", Tangerine whispers and then, throwing one last look at you, struts out of the door.

[seliasvault]

I don't write often but this au has just been sitting in my brain ever since i watched an ep about border security and i need to get it out.

nsfw below, mdni

airportsecurity!ghost + airportsecurity!price x reader

tw: abuse of power, non-con elements, /f!reader/ 18+

It was standard procedure, any sort of suspicious activity needed to be investigated, and it just so happens that was the very flight you were on. Boarding was easy, and the flight was surprisingly pleasant too, a contrast to the intense anxiety you’d felt before the trip, so really everything after that should be a breeze.

Walking into Heathrow Airport gave you a sense of excitement, the trip to London that you had been thinking about finally coming to a reality. 

With your carry-on behind you, you made the walk toward the exit, thinking about the trip to the hotel and where you’d eat lunch. As you made your way toward the walkway however multiple TSA agents were blocking the way, the passengers ahead of you already being questioned with their passports in hand. 

You let out a quick breath, steading your nerves, this is unusual but then again what do you know about London and their security measures? Trying to suppress the number of anxiety-inducing thoughts, you make your way to one of the available officers. Dressed in a black outfit, name tag reading Riley, in all caps, you look up to meet his eyes. He speaks first.

“Just need to see your passport, and ask a couple of questions.” 

“Yeah, no problem! Just give me a second.” You quickly reply, hoping to not raise any suspicion, you really had no reason for him to be suspicious at all but a situation like this left you even more anxious than normal. 

Fishing through the handbag, you were thankful for keeping your passport handy, hastily pulling it out, to not waste any more of his time, you hand it over to him. 

“Thank you.” He flips it open, glancing at your picture, date of birth, and other information

You silently cringe at the almost 3-year photo old, you haven’t quite mastered the art of government pictures yet. 

“And where’ya headed love” 

“Just out to London.” You keep your voice steady, trying to keep a sense of calm. 

“Alright, you here on business? What’s the reason for your visit?” He glances up at you this time, handing your passport back to you. 

You slide it back in your bag while giving him your answer. 

“Just here to visit, always wanted to see London.” You say, letting out a nervous laugh at the end of that. 

He nods his head. “Are you meeting anyone?” He asks tilting his head. 

“Uh yeah, my dad, he flew in earlier, a couple of days ago.” 

You respond hoping that this little interaction would be over soon, you weren’t sure how much longer you could chat with a man that looked like him while maintaining composure. Sure he was an officer, but by god was he a good-looking one, you internally scolded yourself for that remark, he’s just doing his job, and thinking about him like that is very wrong. Besides these are highly trained men, so the chances of him knowing you're attracted to him are higher than normal. Of course, normal people probably can't tell.

“A couple of days ago, separate flights?” He questioned. 

“Oh yeah. he got a really good deal for the 7th and I was supposed to be on that flight with him but I couldn’t get my time off for that date, hence why, the later meeting.” You gave him a timid smile, gesturing slightly with your hands, hoping that answers any of his questions. You were truthful and didn’t say anything to raise suspicion, so really you should be able to go so you could then blush profusely at the close contact and his accent. 

He glanced back at what seemed to be his superior officer, receiving a nod from him you assume you’re in the clear. That was until he opened his mouth.

“Okay, I’m just gonna ‘ave you come back with me, for a couple more questions.” 

Your heart dropped, swallowing you gave him a an awkward smile. 

“Yeah, yeah no problem.”

“Follow me this way.”

You followed him as he led the way, the nervous thoughts that had so far remained in check started to spring loose. What if they falsely accuse you of something and you can’t prove you didn't do it? God, you had just watched a documentary of a man who spent 30 years in prison for something he didn’t do, what if the next movie’s about you? Cringing internally, you shove everything away, focusing on remaining as calm and composed as possible. 

//

Simon knew they had already apprehended the suspect, they received a tip from the JFK airport that there may have been someone smuggling some form of narcotics, and it was their job to search for them. Stopping passengers was not a common practice but Simon’s done his fair share. Ask the usual questions, confirm their passport, and look for any details that may give anything away. 

When you approached him, the only free officer, he felt something stir in his stomach. A young thing, innocent looking, fresh off the plane. He knew you were most definitely not the suspect they were looking for, nonetheless, he proceeded with the standard procedure. 

After hearing the first words come out of your mouth, he immediately turned to glance at Price. Both sharing the same look he went back to the task at hand. Pre Deciding they couldn’t just let a pretty thing like you escape from their grasp. He listened to every word you said, a small smirk playing at his lips from the nervousness that lightly dripped from your voice. Poor girl, all alone, being stopped in an unknown country, he could feel the anxiety rolling off of you no matter how much you tried to hide it. 

So when he knew he was just about done and ready to take you back, he gave Price one last look, a sly smile tugging on his face, and a nod following. Nothing felt as good as watching you slowly pale after he told you he’d need to bring you back for questioning.

//

Sitting in the chair opposite to, what looked to be one of the two officers' desks, you bounced your leg up and down. Your luggage tucked in the corner, your phone in hand as you waited for either of them to arrive. You unlock your phone sending a quick text to your Dad, telling him you were caught up with security and they just had some questions to ask you. In return you receive the classic Dad response, a single thumbs up followed by a: “Don’t worry, you’ll be out soon.” Your Dad, ever so helpful. 

When the door opened you stilled glancing back to see both men enter, the previous officer, Riley, and a man who looked just slightly older than him, name tag reading Price.

You mentally sighed and cursed at your luck, not only were you stopped for extra questioning but of course as fate would have it both officers had to be stupidly good-looking.

If your underwear started to gain a slight wetness to it, it definitely has nothing to do with them.

Officer Riley locked the door behind him, going to stand in the corner as his superior moved to sit behind the desk. 

“I’m Officer Price, we just ‘ave a couple o’ questions to ask ya.” He clears his throat, his demeanor straight to the point.

You glance at his hands, folded on the table, we you wait to answer anything he throws at you. 

"You said you were meeting your Dad?" He waits for confirmation looking back down at the paper.

“Yes, He flew a couple days ago.” He shifts.

“Alright, now ma’am, I’m going to be honest here, we were alerted by JFK that there was someone who was potentially smuggling drugs.” He glances up at you before returning his gaze to whatever was on his paper. All the while Officer Riley’s eyes burn holes through you. Your eyes momentarily flicker to his before you return your gaze to the man sitting in front of you. 

A small “Oh” was all you could manage, if your heart could drop any further, it did. Your heart rate slowly rises, you know you didn’t smuggle anything, but the thought of being put away for something you didn’t do sat heavy on your mind. 

A cute little thing you were, sat fidgeting in front of Price, each word coming out of his mouth made you shrink. He could practically feel the anxiousness oozing off of you. No fret, you’ll feel better soon. He knew that none of this was necessary, all for show so he and Simon could have their way with you. If they were on their own personal lunch break you wouldn't know, he continued, explaining what would happen next. 

“I’m just going to have Officer Riley here search your bag if that’s alright.” He voices, he looks down at the same sheet of paper, and then raises it back up to look at you.

“Yeah! That-That’s no problem.” You sit in your seat as you watch Officer Riley move to grab your luggage, mentally going through anything in there that could raise concerns. 

He lifts the suitcase, setting it down on the metal table tucked in the corner. Unzipping it, he opens it, revealing your clothes and the various little bags you made to separate your toiletries. He goes through the clothes, sifting through each, one by one, unfolding and rearranging. He lifts a pair of your black lace underwear, holding it up and inspecting it. 

Your cheeks burn, your face hot in embarrassment.

Once he’s satisfied with the extent he’s searched, he closes the bag, zipping it back and placing it on the floor. 

“No issues detected Sir.” 

“Good, alright following protocol were gonna ‘ave to search ya.” His scouse accent trickling through. 

You felt another wave of heat and embarrassment and hint of wetness flooding you. Rendered a little you speechless, you nod. Answering finally,

“I-okay, you-okay.”

Officer Riley from his position in the corner.  

“ Need ya t’a spread your arms for me, move those legs apart too-yeah just like tha'.” 

He really had no reason to sound so sexual for something as tame as a search. You did as told though, following his orders. His hands roaming across your body patting down any areas “necessary”, you chalked off the extra time he spent on your breasts and crotch to another ‘simply doing his job’. Once the search was over he straightened up, telling his superior that it was all clear. You finally let out a breath, hoping to be let free.

“Last step and we’ll send you out, I’ll be conducting a strip search.”

At this point whatever forces that were out there were torturing you, you could no longer hide the wetness pooling inside your underwear. And the shock running through your body made sure you were unable to form words. You gave a nod in replacement to the stuttering alternative.

He walked you over to the table where your luggage had just been, bending you at the waist. As your heart rate picked up, you then open your mouth. 

“I’m sorry-but is this really necessary, I mean I’ve never committed any crime, like ever, and my suitcase is clear I-”

“Just do as you're told, if you have nothing to hide you should have no issues.” 

You quickly close your mouth as his hands pull your pants down roughly, pooling at your feet. Your underwear clinging to you, the wetness apparent. He continues his “search”, pulling at your underwear, letting it fall alongside your pants. 

You squeak out a sound of embarrassment, eyes filling with humiliation. He presses up against you, fingers moving up and down your slit. The faintest groan could be heard, from who, you weren’t sure. 

“Fucking dripping.” He lets out a chuckle, as you go to protest. Before you can get anything out however he shoves a finger inside. 

Your eyes screw shut, as he thrusts his finger into you, adding a second to join in. 

“Part of the procedure, sweetheart.” 

You let out small breaths, the faintest whines following after, as you tried to conceal your noises. He hits a spot inside you causing you to choke out a gasp. Price lets out a noise of approval, choosing to then continuously hit that spot. 

“You-” you let out a small moan, as he rubs around your g-spot, your brain short-circuiting. 

“What’s that? You gonna ‘ave to speak up love.” He taunts, relishing in your embarrassment. 

He continues his ministrations, his other hand coming to roughly rub at your clit. You can’t help the small moans that leave your mouth, as you try to hold them back.

“Oh fuck-”

You hear Officer Riley move toward you, manhandling your body so your splayed at the corner, backside facing Price while, face level with his crotch. He crouches down slowly to meet your eyes. 

“Be as loud as you want lovie, no one can hear ya.” He probe his finger in your mouth, as you keep it clasped shut.

“Have t’a search it, part of the procedure.” 

Price hits that spot inside you harder, causing you to let out another moan, mouth opening for him. 

“Perfect.” He groans out, fingers pushing your tongue down. 

“Where ‘ave they been hiding ya?” He smirks, standing to unbutton his pants, a noise of surprise is let out by you, muffled by his fingers. 

Left hand singularly undoing his belt. Shoving his pants down, stopping at his knees.

His cock springs out, thick and large, your eyes widening at the sight.

Price behind you pulls his fingers out abruptly, helping you regain some consciousness you open your mouth to protest at the man infront of you.

Your actions however, are interrupted by the thick length being shoved inside you from the man at your backside.

“Have to be thorough.” He lets out a laugh, dark eyes feeding off the sight of you. 

You choke a sound of surprise, as he almost immediately starts a brutal pace. The man in front of you speaks.

“You're gonna be a good girl for me, open up nice and wide.” He clicks his tongue.

You shake your head until Price drives into you especially hard. Mouth opening in surprise.

“That’s it, good girl.” You gasp around his length, being fucked into by the pair of them. 

Price chimes in from behind.

“Look at you, such a good girl letting two officers fuck you, making sure she’s not causing any trouble.” He reaches over to rub at your clit, fingers moving in quick circular motions. Both of them rocking into you at a brutal pace. 

You feel yourself approaching your climax, with muffled moans and cries. 

“Can you feel clenching around me sweetheart, be a good girl, come on my cock, that's it.” He groans, his pace speeding up as the other approaches his climax as well. 

After a harsh rub to your clit you come, body shaking as tears leak from your eyes. Price continues his thrusts, as you inadvertently suck him in, the little whines vibrating around Simons's cock. They both finally come with a low groan, thick salty liquid coating your tongue and insides as you struggle to swallow. 

“Fuckin’ hell.” The man in front of you moans out. 

They both slowly slide out, leaving you boneless on the table, as you whine out at the movement.

“Quite the mess.” Price comments, a dark laugh following from the man in front of you. 

You make an exhausted noise in response. Quite the mess indeed. 

[toomuchracket]

have you seen the video that’s going round of matty in disneyland in the famous blue glassjaw hoodie? gave me an idea that i feel like would be flatmate - matty never letting ANYONE wear that hoodie like not even girlfriends have ever been allowed to borrow it, and one day girlie is having a rough day and is miserable and cold so he lets her wear it and she’s like ??? really ??? and he’s like yeah :D cuz anything to make her feel better ofc

this is kinda canon!! in the bonfire night fic, the one where you and matty go to his mum's for the first time after you get together, he lets you wear the hoodie and you are SO surprised by that because honestly on more than one occasion at house parties you had to hold his face and be like "hey. HEY. stop it. it's alright" if anyone touched the hoodie (because he was stupid and left it out trying to impress you lmfao); i do think he leaves it at his mum's so it won't get damaged in the move to london, but thinking about the two of you being collectively home for christmas with your families and hanging out at his one day because a) the two of you have separation anxiety and b) you wanted to see his family, who already love you and think you should be a couple... something about being back in manchester reminds you of the not so nice things about your life, as well as the good ones, and that combined with your period leaves you feeling a bit crap the day you take the train to wilmslow to hang out with your best friend. just being around matty and his family helps, but he knows something's up - when you're chilling in the lounge watching louis play guitar hero, matty whispers "you're feeling weird, aren't you?", and you fib and say "just feeling under the weather, you know. m'alright though", and he smiles his sneaky smile and says "wait here. i can help with that" and runs off somewhere. he's back five minutes later, time you spent yapping with louis (who actually you love like your own brother and are emotional about watching grow up), face stretched into a grin and hiding something behind his back; before you can even ask what, he launches the hoodie at your head and laughs as he sits down and you screech "matthew! my hair!", but of course you soften when you see it's the glassjaw hoodie. you're like "you serious? i can WEAR this?", and matty's like "well, you're cold, aren't you?", and you just nod and slide it on like "thank you. s'cosy" - he just nods in response like "s'alright. glad it's helping" and snuggles into you, and honestly you don't discuss it anymore. his family all do behind your backs, though; they know how important that hoodie is to matty, and honestly it's the first real confirmation to them that he's in love with you 🥺🥺 poor denise having to wait another 8-10 months for that "mum... we're together" facetime call lmfao. yeah, love this <3

[finalfrontierpublishing]

Ulysses by @girlbookwrm

Ok so my next chaparral_crown bind is pending bookboard for a cutout design, so that's on the back burner till bookboard arrives! Did this in the interim, since I've leapt onto the 00q train pretty hard! They're my new favourite ship and I love the fic dynamics!

Statistics:

89,065 words || 294 pages

Chapter titling: Brigmore Thin

Body text: Liberation Serif

Accents: Petrona

My initial plans for this bind was to do a ship-shaped cutout from chiyogami paper - to which my cricut blade said f-no and proceeded to shred my very precious paper. So back to the drawing board and to the tried and tested method of HTV I went.

Boy, did I have trouble with colour for this bind - I am ridiculously bad at colour, my friends, I am one of those people who can maybe match 2 colours but ask me to pick a contrasting one to match and I'll go fjrbdidsmfbejsnbxks how does one do such sorcery. Again, Manda my sounding board who is excellent at colour matching contrasting colours had to listen to 3 different separate colour rants/panic attacks, not that I actually listened to them because I am an absolute wuss when it comes to colour.

Ugh I had so much fun with the typesetting. I actually found this font - Brigmore Thin, which the background decor for the font was London Bridge and I went yup, that's the font I want. As per the fic, I included parts of the Ulysses poem by Tennyson, which corresponded to chapter titles.

The main cover title page is less striking then I had wanted - curse my lack of colour printing and inability to colour the middle of the target sight red.

Also did my best to include a black and white spread of that image of the meet infront of The Fighting Temeraire. Absolutely iconic. My printer wasn't very up to it, but it tried.

Anyway, so- endbands!!! I had a good time making them, this is my first attempt that isn't a trial book, and I have fallen in love with capricious capricious silk. It just looks so good, even though it's slippery as hell.

I took two tries at this textblock because I overtrimmed the first one. Still thinking of what to do with it- it's actually fine, and readable, the page numbers still exist but it's just got such a thin margin I went eugh no and had to make a second copy.

Despite my general anxiety regarding this bind, it didn't turn out too badly.

I'm starting to prep for binderary so I'm overwhelmingly excited about that. My goal is officially 3-4 in February but I've planned for 6-7. Unsure if it will happen but I'm hopeful as I do have some leave then.

[burtonsdoodles]

Here we are on the 16th of April, the day of the last newsies performance with the OG cast and as I journey towards the theatre I’m thinking - I have a load of random (probably unfinished) notes I’ve made from the different performances I’ve seen since the very first show and I’ve never actually posted them… so guess what I’ll be posting today…

Like I said above - random - unfinished - and totally my personal interpretations based on that specific performance of the day… enjoy…

(29th Nov - the very first preview - sat in FLUSHING AA01)

Ryan as Davey is incredible - he felt like a merging of film and Broadway (the whole show feels like that which I love SO MUCH!) - the moment I realised how incredible his portrayal actually was was in seize the day - specifically when he starts seize the day… with the Broadway version it’s Jack who spurs him on - almost passing the baton to see if he can rally the troops… here Jack is about to call on davey but gets cut off by davey starting to sing - when it happened I thought they’d messed up the timings (and who knows - maybe they did and played it out well - I will find out tomorrow) but I don’t think they did (they must have because for me it’s never happened since) - davey sees how things are falling apart, jacks losing control and makes his position heard - he believes in this cause and he is going to make his position know - he doesn’t need Jack to convince him to help - he takes his moment and his courage, his voice is what successfully rally’s the troops. His boldness even catches Jack off guard - this shows davey taking charge - just like he does in the film.

Love having the Newsies playing in the balconies before the show started (something that also never happened again!) and then having race be the one who essentially starts the show - calling the other Newsies to order - it was really cool. This race doesn’t have the youngsters energy Ben cook has in the Broadway version, he’s very much alike with 92sies race - has his own sense of authority amongst the newsies that’s separate from Jack.

(30th nov - MANHATTAN)

While sat in Manhattan I was able to notice crutchie sat hiding in one of the side spaces during the snyder entrance - when the scene started I did notice him being there but then didn’t think anything of it and watched the scene taking place on the stage - it wasn’t until all the commotion starts with Snyders arrival that I realised crutchie was still there and reacting to the drama on stage… as snyder shouts his threats to jack, you can see crutchie curling up in the corner he’s sat in looking utterly terrified - the dread in his face is heartbreaking to see and visually establishes crutchies fear of snyder and the refuge. This choice of staging is such an interesting inclusion which adds so much to crutchies character - it continues to establish this anxiety within him that’s always growing with each day he isn’t in the refuge - he’s never free from his belief that he’s gonna end up in the refuge and it terrifies him. Beyond that it’s interesting because there’s no acknowledgement or emphasis made to it - other than there being light on him so he can be seen - but that part of the performance space isn’t even visible below a certain point of Manhattan seating - so most don’t even know he’s there - including Jack and crew. In this moment we see (or for those who do actually see him) how isolated he is - whilst Jack, davey and les bond and interact and are watching out for each other when trouble arises, crutchie is totally alone and unnoticed but still hearing and reacting to everything that’s going on over on the main stage. I really love it as a detail!

(Unspecified dates - MANHATTAN)

When the bulls join the fight and knock down one of the newsies (splasher? ( it is in fact splashed)) crutchie’s there trying to help with some of the others - they fight off the cop but everything is heating up - Crutchie is still trying to help but Albert is there and takes responsibility for the fallen Newsies Splasher, he tells crutchie - “I‘ll take care of him, you get out of here crutchie!” Albert leaves with the newsie splasher but crutchie stays amongst the fighting - and we all know how that ends. Albert looking out for crutchie is one of my favourite things to see in the show!

There’s just something really interesting with Tommy boy - he’s the one I’m kinda obsessed with watching and wanna know more about. He’s always isolated from everyone else prior to the scab situation… (a lot more on him later…)

TBC… as the train is now in London…

[phanfictioncatalogue]

2023!Phan Masterlist

A Piece of Me (ao3) - Sinninghowlter

Summary: Dan is obsessed with Polaroids. Phil loves kissing Dan.

a six to a nine (ao3) - danhoweiis

Summary: phil has some doubts about his new haircut but dan helps to reassure him in his own way

a snapshot (ao3) - yonpote

Summary: phil takes a photo

birthday cake (ao3) - possumdnp

Summary: Dan is back home from tour just in time for Phil’s birthday.

And it just wouldn’t be a birthday without a slightly questionable cake.

fallow & blossom (ao3) - indistinct_echo

Summary: He’s half-drunk and laughing in the hotel room with these people that he loves and knows that this, this is living.

Finding my way back to you (ao3) - alltears_noricochet

Summary: Dan has a strange feeling something's going to happen. At first, it's nothing, until it's not. Will Dan and Phil make it home to each other safely after being separated?

fools before april (ao3) - okaydoomer

Summary: April fools day 2023 was in a few weeks and Dan and Phil still weren't sure what they wanted to do.

You know what they ended up doing, so here's a short fic about how it might have happened.

home (ao3) - SylvesterLester

Summary: Dan comes home to find things have changed.

In another life you still would’ve turned my head (ao3) - natigail

Summary: Dan comes across old black and white photos of two queer men messing around, one playing with the other's hair, just like he did in a recent video with Phil. He gets caught up in the emotions that he would have fallen in love with Phil in any universe. He crawls into Phil's lap and tells him exactly that.

“Is that really what you think?” (ao3) - yikesola

Summary: Phil is laying in the center of the bed, which is how Dan knows his head is bothering him today.

A ficlet about heads and humans.

japhan 3.0 (ao3) - danhoweiis

Summary: snapshots of the japhan trip 2023

keep quiet (ao3) - calvinahobbes

Summary: This feels indulgent in a way he hasn’t felt in a while. He’s tired after a night of being social, tallying up points and arguing with Phil and their friends about which countries had the best Eurovision songs, booing and complaining when their favorite didn’t win. And he’s sweaty from sleeping in close quarters. But he can’t bring himself to stop the building arousal between them.

pink + white (ao3) - maestronomy

Summary: dan and phil in japan, sharing bites of a dango whilst thinking about their enticing future together ahead - and forever.

safe like spring time (ao3) - danhoweiis

Summary: phil reflects on his teenage self

Say The Word, Back To You (ao3) - cafephan

Summary: During their third Japan trip, Dan and Phil reflect on a notebook of things to complete together, written in 2009.

so tell me i’m a rainbow (it makes me feel alright) (ao3) - natigail

Summary: Dan wanted to go to London Pride this year, but doubt and anxiety creeps up on him and he can’t make himself go. It’s okay.

third times the charm (ao3) - jestbee

Summary: Phil doesn't get sick in Japan, Dan worries anyway.

too soft for all of it (ao3) - theloveofbees

Summary: phil loves dan, and he loves dan's hair.

loosely based on phil's tweet on 26 march 2023.

We balance each other out on the seesaw of life (ao3) - natigail

Summary: Phil had dragged Dan to Isle of Man after his return home from tour. The sea air would do him good (even if it gave him hobbit hair) and he could be surrounded by Phil's family (who were his family too). He hadn’t actively planned to drag him onto a seesaw on a playground but it turned out to be a precious moment all the same.

would it be okay if i came home to you: part 2 (ao3) - danhoweiis

Summary: dan comes home after the final tour date

you can see it with the lights out (ao3) - calvinahobbes

Summary: Somehow it’s taken Dan until he got to Japan, but here it’s caught up with him, hit him like a freight train. Phil keeps laughing at him, showing him pictures on his phone of Dan’s face softened by it, posture loosened by it.

[doctorstethoscope]

Tis the Damn Season

hiii besties! I haven't been posting as much will/mac content on here because there's less of an appetite for it, but I am really proud of this one and wanted to share <3. Merry Christmas, here's a thanksgiving fic. everyone say ty @hotchs-bitch for betaing

18+ content, minors DNI

contains: angst, sad sex, taylor swift references

wordcount: 2.2k

Mackenzie’s abdomen smarts as she stands outside the door of Will’s apartment. Or, at least, she hopes it’s still Will’s apartment. 

She rubs at the tender spot, and even though she knows exactly why she’s hurting, she’s still surprised to find the skin there puckered, jagged against her fingertips, sewn back together. She wonders if she’ll ever get used to that. She wonders if any of this will ever be okay. 

The door swings open and the discomfort in her stomach suddenly doubles– pain and anxiety mingling together in a terrible sort of aching waltz. She’s holding her breath. He’s really there. 

“Will,” she breathes out, mostly to convince herself that this isn’t another iteration of the dream she’s been having since the last time she crossed the threshold of this apartment.

“Mackenzie,” Will says, and he sounds more sure than she does. Surprised, yes, and with no notes of warmth; she hadn’t expected any. But there was a lack of the coldness she had been expecting, too.

“Can I come in?” She asks, and Will can see in her face that she has no expectation that he’ll say yes. Even after all this time. Even after she almost died. He steps to the side and lets her in.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, not unkindly, as he follows her to his kitchen, where she sits uneasily in a barstool. 

“I wanted to come home for the holidays,” she tells him, looking down at her folded hands in her lap to avoid his gaze. She says it like he should know, like it’s the easiest thing in the world, like she wasn’t in critical condition in a military hospital a month ago. 

“I thought you were home. With your parents, in London,” he says, leaning back against the countertop on the other side of the kitchen, letting the island separate them. He can feel the tension rolling throughout the gulf of space.

She thanks her training from reporting in Afghanistan and Pakistan for the fact that her eyebrows don’t jump to her hairline; he’d been keeping tabs on her. He knew what had happened. Maybe he cared– he cared enough to Google her every once in a while, at least. Or maybe she– what had happened to her, she corrects herself. She is not her stabbing, her hospitalization, and her subsequent firing– maybe what had happened to her had shown up in a news alert, ended up in a pitch meeting or a rundown. She didn’t make it to his broadcast, she knew that much. He allowed her that piece of dignity. Or he didn’t care enough to think it reportable. 

“I’m American,” she reminds him. 

“I didn’t mean to imply—”

She knows. He was always the first person to defend her stateship when people would poke fun at her accent. “Brits don’t celebrate Thanksgiving,” she tells him plainly.

“No, they don’t,” he sighs. 

“Will—”

“Why are you here?” He asks, more urgently this time.

“Well, I kind of just booked a flight. And I was going to go to Molly’s, but she’s gone to her family’s in Maryland for the holiday, and—”

“You’re rambling.” Will cuts her off. She doesn’t say anything else. “Tell me you didn’t come here because you think the magic of Christmas is going to fix anything between us,” he snarls.  

“I don’t think that. I’m not stupid,” she defends. 

“I still don’t know why you came here.” 

“I don’t know if I can explain it, either,” she admits.

“Listen, Mac, I’m really not—”

“I know that nothing’s fixed. I know that,” she interrupts, desperate to say something, anything of value before he kicks her out.  “But I just… I came close to dying and I hated the thought that I’d die and the last time I saw you… would have been the last time I saw you. And that’s selfish. But you get to be a little selfish after you get stabbed,” she makes a feeble attempt at a joke.

“You got to be a little selfish before you went and got stabbed, too,” Will huffs.

“I deserved that,” Mac shrugs. 

Will’s head picks up at that. “No,” he disagrees. “Seeing as how we’ve passed the stone ages, I don’t think the penance for infidelity is a rusted knife to the kidney.”

“Just missed my kidney, actually,” Mac lets out a humorless noise, somewhere between a chuckle and a sigh. “I meant– I meant the comment,” Mac stammers. “But sometimes I’m pretty sure I deserved all of it.”

“Mac,” he sighs. 

“You don’t have to forgive me,” Mackenzie insists, jumping in the middle of his thought again. “You don’t have to forgive me, and I know that you probably never will. But can you pretend for one night? Can we just… turn back the clock? To before I fucked everything up?” She begs. “I’ll never bother you again. I’ll go back. There’ll be an ocean between us. You won’t hear from me.”  

“Back to London?” He asks, making sure she doesn’t mean Pakistan.

‘Yeah,” she sighs. “Some literary agent that my dad knows out there thinks I can write a book about what happ– about what I saw,” she spits out.

Will straightens out, pushes off the counter and takes quick, purposeful steps towards Mackenzie, reaching him with his hands first– one in her hair and the other cradling her cheek as he angles her jaw upwards to kiss her. She reacts in kind, bringing one hand to his back as she steps out of the chair without separating from him. 

If they were truly turning back the clock, they would be louder. Mackenzie was always particularly vocal, but she says nothing as Will wraps his arms around her waist and draws her in closer, pressing hot, wet kisses to her mouth and her jaw and her neck, peppering in forceful little jabs of his teeth against the tender flesh beneath him. She’s tense, worrying that one wrong sound or movement will make Will realize what he’s doing and kick her out. 

Mack’s still wearing her coat, Will realizes as he feels her fingernails scrape down his back in the way that’s always driven him crazy. It’s not fair, he was practically in his pajamas, and she’s fully dressed. He can’t get enough of her, not like this. He paws clumsily at the buttons of her peacoat until she helps him along, pushing the coat to the ground, and her scarf with it. The sweater she’s wearing underneath exposes a new bit of skin around her collarbone and her chest and he leans back in to press kisses there as well. She drags her fingernails over his scalp and he can’t help but groan. 

“Bedroom,” he mutters, with no intention of stopping; he’s just trying to get her to comply as he starts to move them in that direction. 

She can feel him growing harder against her hip and she snakes her hand in between them to palm at him.

“Don’t tease,” he grunts as he opens the door to the bedroom, guiding her to the mattress and letting her collide into it, falling backwards towards the pillows. 

Mackenzie props herself on her elbows as Will climbs over her, reaching for the button of his pants as she does so. She has half a mind to slink off the mattress and take him in her mouth, but he always liked to watch, and she worries he might realize he still hates her if he looks at her for too long. She tosses his jeans across the room and tries to throw the thought with them.

Will pulls at the hem of Mackenzie’s sweater, leaving her in her bra, prone on the mattress– he looks over the expanse of her, the dip of her collarbone, the swell of her breasts. He’s struck by the scar. He should have known, he did know, logically, but, then again, it wasn’t exactly his logical brain that was working right about now. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Will implores Mac, looking her in the eye for the first time all evening. 

She shifts her eyes away from him nervously– it hurts too much, to be seen by him now, like this. “It’s healed. You won’t– you won’t hurt me, it won’t reopen.”

“It doesn’t look healed,” he remarks dubiously, tracing a featherlight finger over it; she can’t feel it anyways, the trauma had done too much damage to the nerves in that area.

“Yeah, well, Pakistani extremists don’t care much for clean margins,” she snaps back. “It will get better over time. Supposedly. That’s what the doctors say, anyway,” she adds more gently.

Will doesn’t say anything, doesn’t take the bait of her bid for an argument, just bites his lip as he reaches behind her and unclasps her bra, tossing it aside and continuing to mouth at her chest, bringing a hand up to brush over her sensitive nipples, causing them to stiffen. Mac arches her back at the contact, rubbing against Will deliciously. The contact reminds him that she’s still wearing her pants and he works hastily to remove them. As if on instinct, he slots his knee in between her thighs once he’s gotten rid of them, and grabs a hold of her hips to roll her roughly over the muscle there. She gasps out, and he smiles. “There she is,” he whispers, more to himself than to her. “I still make you feel good. So good you can’t deny it,” he insists as she rocks herself against him, feeling the burn of pleasure spread throughout her chest. “So good you can’t keep quiet.”

“Shit, Billy,” she whimpers as she grinds down against him, leaning against his chest to nip at the juncture between his neck and shoulder. 

The nickname does him in. He takes the waistband of her panties in his hands at each hip and drags them down her legs, tantalizingly slowly, kissing and licking and sucking harshly at each inch of leg as he passes over them. Once they’re around her ankles, he tosses them aside for later, stretching back to place himself at the apex of her thighs and diving in. 

Mack’s body writhes from the sensation, and Will brings a hand up to her hip, holding her in place as he mouths her, his tongue teasing her most sensitive parts in the way she always loved. She thinks she may actually die here, in his bed, that he’ll bring her to orgasm like this and her heart will give out and she actually won’t mind, because she died deluding herself into thinking that the man she loved might just love her back, in spite of everything. Her fingers curl in the sheets as she prepares herself to go. 

The world stops for a moment when he brings her to orgasm. She cries out, and it almost sounds like it’s coming from someone else; It’s not unlike being stabbed, the knowledge that something has happened, that something has changed you irrevocably, without the ability to realize logically what it is yet. After a moment she notices that she’s still breathing, that she hasn’t died, that she’s still in his bed. She reaches for his hand and he lets her take it, squeezing it as he comes to tower over her. 

“D’you need a minute?” He whispers in her ear, and she shakes her head, reaching to pull his t-shirt off of him. 

“No. Please, Billy,” she begs, reaching between their bodies to guide him inside her, but finding his boxers in the way. She shoves them past his hips and he helps her remove them the rest of the way. 

He sinks inside her and she throws her head back, arching her back and trying to take impossibly more of him. She touches him everywhere– stroking his back, kissing his chest, combing through his hair, hooking a leg around his hip. Her teeth sink down into his chest as she muffles a groan of pleasure, and he lets out a sharp exhale that nearly brings her to the edge all over again. She does everything she can to be closer to him, to meet him thrust for thrust, to hold as much of his body as she can while she still has the privilege. She presses a kiss to the space below his ear before taking the lobe in her mouth and biting down gently. 

“You first, Billy. I want you to go first,” she whispers, and he sputters, clearly affected by her words.

“Keep talking,” he implores her. 

She panics– what could she possibly say to him? “You made me feel so good, Billy,” she starts, somewhat tentative. “It’s your turn. It’s your turn to feel good,” she tells him, and she can feel him getting closer and closer to the edge as she does so. She wants so badly to make this happen for him. “Go ahead, Billy. I love you,” she confesses without thinking, and he tumbles over the edge, taking her along with him as he ruts into her desperately. He rolls off of her and the two of them are silent for a few moments, save for the heaving breaths they each are taking.

“Mac,” Will starts.

“I won’t be here when you wake up,” Mac tells him. 

He grimaces, although she’s not looking at him to see. She can’t risk looking at him now. ‘Thank you.” 

[liberamenti]

Unveiling the Healing Journey: Narcissistic Abuse Therapy

Navigating the aftermath of narcissistic abuse can be an arduous journey, leaving victims grappling with emotional scars that often run deep. Narcissistic Abuse Therapy London emerges as a beacon of hope, providing individuals with a roadmap to healing and reclaiming their lives. In this blog, we will explore the intricacies of narcissistic abuse, shed light on the therapeutic process, and discuss the transformative power of healing.

Understanding Narcissistic Abuse:

Narcissistic abuse is a form of psychological and emotional manipulation perpetrated by individuals with narcissistic traits or narcissistic personality disorder. Victims often find themselves trapped in a web of gaslighting, manipulation, and emotional exploitation. The aftermath of such abuse can result in anxiety, depression, low self-esteem, and a range of other emotional and psychological challenges.

The Therapeutic Approach:

Narcissistic Abuse Therapy is a specialized form of therapy designed to address the unique challenges faced by survivors. Therapists trained in this area employ a variety of therapeutic modalities to help clients process their experiences and regain a sense of self-worth. Here are key elements of the therapeutic approach:

Validation and Empathy:

One of the first steps in therapy involves validating the survivor's experiences. Many victims of narcissistic abuse struggle with self-doubt and feelings of inadequacy. Therapists create a safe space where survivors feel heard and understood.

Education and Awareness:

Knowledge is power. Therapists provide education about narcissistic personality traits, abusive dynamics, and the impact on victims. Understanding the patterns of abuse empowers survivors to break free from the cycle.

Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy (CBT):

CBT is often employed to challenge and reframe negative thought patterns. Survivors learn to identify distorted beliefs about themselves and the world, replacing them with healthier perspectives.

Trauma-Informed Care:

Recognizing the trauma resulting from narcissistic abuse, therapists approach treatment with a trauma-informed lens. This involves acknowledging the impact of trauma on the brain and incorporating strategies to promote healing.

Empowerment and Boundaries:

Therapy focuses on rebuilding a sense of empowerment and establishing healthy boundaries. Survivors learn to prioritize self-care, set limits, and cultivate relationships that support their well-being.

The Transformative Power of Healing:

As survivors progress through Narcissistic Abuse Therapy, they often experience profound transformations:

Self-Discovery:

Therapy provides a platform for self-discovery. Survivors reconnect with their authentic selves, separate from the distorted image imposed by the narcissist.

Rebuilding Self-Esteem:

Through targeted interventions, survivors gradually rebuild their self-esteem. They learn to appreciate their strengths and accomplishments, breaking free from the cycle of self-doubt.

Breaking the Cycle:

Therapeutic interventions empower survivors to recognize and break free from toxic relationship patterns. They develop skills to navigate future relationships more effectively.

Post-Traumatic Growth:

The healing journey often leads to post-traumatic growth. Survivors emerge stronger, more resilient, and equipped with tools to face life's challenges.

Conclusion:

Narcissistic Abuse Therapy is a powerful tool in the journey toward healing and recovery. By addressing the unique challenges posed by narcissistic abuse, therapists guide survivors toward a path of self-discovery, empowerment, and resilience. As awareness grows, so does the potential for survivors to reclaim their lives and forge a brighter, healthier future. If you or someone you know is a survivor of narcissistic abuse, remember that help is available, and healing is possible.

[sydswccn]

we do and it's sort of inevitable, isn't it? pets are babies forever, no matter how big or old they get. at least, us pet owners will always see them like that! oh gosh, that's the sweetest thing ever. he's a ball of energy and just loves to run around and play all day. i feel like he'll be one of those dogs that always have puppy energy, even as they get older. training him might not be a bad idea at all. maybe that way he can cope with separation anxiety in better ways, right? it's so hard to leave them behind. i always try to take tank with me, but it's not possible to do so every time. hopefully she learns to support my cooking at a distance -- and if not, i can make some doggie cupcakes for her. oh, i get you -- some judges can be way too harsh when saying certain things. i know that they do so because they want people to learn, but things that are obvious to chefs might not be so obvious for contestants. exactly, being single has got many perks -- plus, as you said, you can always invite friends over. i'll remember it, then! next time i'm in london, expect me to knock on your door so i can join you for dinner or for a baking session. i was going to say red velvet! i love red velvet cake, so i imagine it'll be as good in a cupcake version. so far, the cupcake making has been fun. if i ever get tired of making them, i can always give it a rest and do something else. thank you! i'll tell tank about all the compliments you gave her. oh my gosh, is that bach? he's huge! he's adorable and i'm lowkey in love with him -- i want to cuddle him so badly! i'm sure tank and bach would definitely get along -- we'll have to wait and see. can't say i'm in london that often, but next time i'm there i'll definitely let you know. that way, you can give me a bit of a london tour! @josephafq

it's alright, love, i think we all break that rule once or twice when it comes to our pets, yeah? he is such a baby! a big baby at that -- but a baby! and right? it's like endless energy and sometimes i just want to lay down, and boy is still running around like he's losing his mind. i've been thinking about taking him to training classes since i'm utterly useless at training him, that way he can stop eating my shoes and my hats. which i don't get mad at him about, i can understand the stress of separation anxiety and all of that especially when i'm filming and he can't come onto set with me. that's exactly what i was thinking -- tank is your number one fan of your cupcakes and that's what matters, yeah? but i hope for your sake next time she just supports your cupcakes from a distance! maybe make her some treats as well, that way she won't be tempted to eat the human ones. oh, i'd be awful at celebrity masterchef because the minute one of those blokes yelled at me, i'd just walk off. you're not wrong, eating as much as i like is pretty much a perk when it comes to being single. and honestly, i've got enough mates that will happily come over and let me feed them too -- which is why you're always welcome for dinner. now you've got me picturing you trying to break in, when all you've got to do is use the door, love, i'll letcha in. now you've got me curious what the top flavors of cupcakes would you like to make? and can i make suggestions? because i'm a sucker for red velvet! and hopefully, you don't get tired of making them, especially if you have fun making them! oh my goodness, tank is gorgeous! she is a big girl, but she's also the prettiest girl and i can tell just from the look of her that she's an angel. i'm up for dogsitting her whenever you need, you're just making me want to be in la more just so i can sit for her! and since you've shown me your girl, here is bach and this was taken just today, so this is what size he is right now. and i'll remind you, he's not even a year old yet! and bach could use some more dog friends, right now the only dog friend he has is my best mate jamie's girlfriend's dog, and honestly, i would love for him to have more dogs to play with! how often are you in london? || @sydswccn

[nayelichang]

The Benefits of Daily Movement

In the 1640s, French philosopher Rene Descartes introduced what came to be known as Cartesian dualism, or the idea that although materially connected, the mind and body are separate entities. This thinking dominated for more than 350 years. It wasn't until the turn of the twenty-first century that scientists began to prove that Descartes was mistaken: we do not have a distinct mind and body. Rather, we are an integrated mind-body system.

The bacteria in our guts and the proteins secreted by our muscles affect our moods. The neurochemicals in our brains affect how much pain we feel in our backs and how fast our hearts beat. When we move our bodies regularly we do a better job of controlling our emotions, we think more creatively, and we retain more information.

Numerous studies have demonstrated that exercise improves not only physical health but also mental health. A 2019 analysis out of King's College in London examined more than 40 studies that collectively followed 267,000 people to explore the connection between exercise and depression. The researchers found that regular physical activity reduced the chances that someone would experience depression by between 17 and 41 percent, a substantial effect that was observed regardless of age and gender, and that held true across various types of movement, from running to lifting weights. Other research has found similar effects for anxiety.

Movement doesn't just help prevent mental illness; it can also treat it. In addition to their large study on prevention, the King's College researchers conducted a review of 25 studies that surveyed a total of 1,487 people who were currently experiencing depression. They found that between 40 and 50 percent of people with depression respond positively to exercise, with an effect that, on a scale of small, medium, or large, is considered large. Researchers from the University of Limerick in Ireland conducted their own analysis that included 922 participants and found a similar response rate for anxiety. These rates are on par with psychotherapy and medication.

What Daily Movement Can Do For You Acceptance When I began training for marathons, a more experienced runner offered some words of wisdom: I would need to learn how to get comfortable with being uncomfortable. This skill is every bit as helpful off the road as it is on it.

It's not just me, and it's not just running. Ask anyone whose day regularly includes pushing their bodies and they'll likely tell you the same: a difficult conversation doesn't seem so difficult anymore. A tight deadline, not so intimidating. Relationship problems, not so problematic. While it's plausible to think that exercise simply makes you too tired to care, that's not the case. Research shows that if anything, physical activity has the opposite effect, boosting brain function and energy. The more likely scenario is that pushing your body teaches you to experience pain, discomfort, and fatigue and accept it instead of immediately reacting to it or resisting it.

Evelyn Stevens, the women's record holder for most miles cycled in an hour (29.81), says that during her hardest training intervals, "instead of thinking 'I want this to be over,' I try to feel and sit with the pain. Heck, I even try to embrace it." Physical activity teaches you how to accept something for what it is, see it clearly, and then decide what to do next.

Students who ran twice a week showed more favorable heart-rate variability. Their bodies literally were not as stressed during tests.

But this doesn't just apply to elite athletes. A study published in the British Journal of Health Psychology found that college students who went from not exercising at all to even a modest program of two to three gym visits per week reported a decrease in stress, smoking, and alcohol and caffeine consumption, plus an increase in healthy eating, better spending practices, and improved study habits. In addition to these real-life improvements, after two months of regular exercise, the students also performed better on laboratory tests of self-control. This led the researchers to speculate that exercise had a powerful impact on the students' "capacity for self-regulation."

Another study, this one published in the European Journal of Applied Physiology, evaluated how exercise changes our physiological response to stress. Researchers at the Karlsruhe Institute of Technology, in Germany, divided students into two groups at the beginning of the semester and instructed half to run twice a week for 20 weeks. At the end of the 20 weeks, which coincided with a particularly stressful time for the students--exams--the researchers had them wear monitors throughout their day-to-day activities to measure their heart-rate variability, which is a common indicator of physiological stress. As you might expect, the students who were enrolled in the running program showed more favorable heart-rate variability. Their bodies literally were not as stressed during tests.

What's encouraging about these studies is that the subjects weren't exercising at crazy intensities or volumes. They were simply doing something that was physically challenging for them--going from no exercise to some exercise.

Presence A common way for people to experience flow is through physical activity. The heightened sensations in your body provide an anchor for your awareness, and the increased arousal helps channel your mind. For this to occur, however, you need to leave the digital devices behind (or at least turn them on airplane mode if you are going to use them for music). For exercisers to experience flow, they must "keep their minds into what they are doing," writes Prikko Markula, a professor of physical activity at the University of Alberta in Canada.

When I work with coaching clients on incorporating movement into their lives, we explicitly use it as an opportunity to experience distraction-free time. Many realize a big reason why they've come to enjoy exercising is precisely because they aren't constantly being pinged by calls, emails, or texts. The more they have this kind of distraction-free experience, the more they start to prioritize and protect presence in other areas of their lives. This parallels a theory put forth by the author and habit expert Charles Duhigg: movement is a "keystone habit," or positive practice in one area of life that brings about positive changes in others.

Movement also develops presence because it demands you pay close attention to the signals your body is sending. Do I speed up or slow down? Is this merely the pain of arduous exertion, or is this the pain of a looming injury? Since you receive rather concrete feedback on these decisions, you can continually refine your process. Keep doing this and your ability to pay close attention--not just as it relates to your body, but to all of life--improves.

Patience I've had the privilege of getting to know some of the top athletes in the world. What's interesting is that they all use different strategies to build fitness. Some follow a high-intensity, low-volume approach; others, the opposite. Some train using heart-rate zones, while others use perceived exertion. And yet they've all told me that the key to training success isn't so much the plan, but whether or not they stick to it.

The key to improving physical fitness lies in adhering to a concept called progressive overload. You work a specific muscle or function in a specific manner, progressively adding intensity and duration over time. Hard days are followed by easy days. Prolonged periods of intensity are followed by periods of recovery. Repetition and consistency are key. Results don't occur overnight but after months, and even years. If you rush the process or try to do too much too soon, your chances of injury and overtraining increase. There is no escaping or denying this. Your body simply lets you know. You learn patience viscerally, in your tendons and bones.

"Today, everyone desires novelty and endless stimulation," explains Vern Gambetta, a world-renowned, "old-timer" athletic development coach who has trained hundreds of elite athletes, including members of the New York Mets and Chicago Bulls, as well as numerous Olympians. "Running around and constantly switching what you are doing from one day to the next is in vogue." But if what you're after is long-term growth and development, he says, speed and switching just don't work. Physical progress requires playing the long game.

A regular movement practice teaches you that breakthroughs do not happen overnight. They result from consistent effort applied over a long duration, from gradually pounding the stone in a smart and controlled manner until one day it breaks. Improvement in fitness requires being patient and present in the process, stopping one rep short today so that you can pick up where you left off tomorrow.

Vulnerability If you choose to challenge yourself in any kind of physical practice, there will be occasions when you fail. Trying to run or walk faster, lift more weight, or cycle farther than you ever have before can be at least mildly intimidating. You are facing all sorts of unknowns. How much discomfort will this cause? Will I be able to push through? Will I quit too early? Will I succeed or fail?

Whenever I attempt a big lift in the gym, sensing my fear, my training partner Justin often utters the words "brave new world." Regardless of the outcome, I am practicing the art of facing vulnerabilities with courage, of learning to trust myself in challenging situations. And when I fail, sometimes in front of other people, I learn to be OK with that, too. A regular movement practice exposes where you are weak and teaches you not to run away from those areas but to turn toward them instead. The more you confront your weaknesses the stronger and more integrated you become, in the most literal sense.

In the weight room it is just you and the bar. You either make the lift or you don't. If you make it, great. If not, you train more and try again. Some days it goes well; other days it doesn't. But over time, it becomes clear that what you get out of yourself is proportional to the effort you put in, and to your willingness to expose yourself to ever-increasing trials and sometimes come up short. It's as simple and as hard as that. You develop a kind of vulnerability, straightforwardness, and self-reliance that gives rise to a quiet and secure confidence. You learn to trust yourself and take risks in the presence of others, which is precisely how you forge more intimate bonds in your movement community.

Community A growing body of research shows that exercising with other people promotes connection and belonging, or what we've been calling deep community. In her book The Joy of Movement, health psychologist and Stanford lecturer Kelly McGonigal details the many reasons this is the case. There is the collective joy our species is hardwired to feel when we move in synchrony with others, a phenomenon that at first was an evolutionary advantage that promoted cooperation during hunting. There is the release of neurochemicals such as endorphins and oxytocin, which promote affection and bonding. There is the ritualistic nature intrinsic to many exercise programs, leading to a sensation scientists call identity fusion--feeling connected to and part of something larger than oneself. And there is the shared confidence, vulnerability, and trust that emerges from undertaking physical challenges with others.

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"We crave this feeling of connection," says McGonigal, "and synchronized movement is one of the most powerful ways to experience it." She writes that outsiders often fail to understand the social effects of movement. "Like any nature-harnessing phenomenon, it doesn't make sense until you're in the middle of it. Then suddenly, endorphins flowing and heart pounding, you find [the kind of belonging that exercise gives rise to] the most reasonable thing in the world."

I've come to know this firsthand. Rarely have I regretted the additional effort it takes to coordinate schedules in order to run, hike, or lift weights with others. The short-term effect is that I always feel better afterward. The long-term effect is that some of my best friends are people whom I first met in the gym or on the trail.

[yandereaffections]

I'd like to request A,B,E,L,V with Grell, if that's ok?!

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

On an average day grell has you physically held like her prisoner up till she gets dragged back to her duties as a reaper, there's no escaping the love attack when she goes so long without getting to be with you. Of course there are times you can shake grell off you though at the very least she requires her hand to be held

Grell tends to have her own understanding of when she shouldn't add on to how she smothers you, worse case scenario you'll have your whole neck and chest covered in bite marks and hickey's while trapped underneath her weight cuddling into you. Intensity purely depends on how long she's been without you and whether your harmed or not, she's basically a dog with separation anxiety

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

When taunted grell becomes the least stable person in the area, no restraint once so ever she will shred into the rival with her trusty chainsaw in seconds, destroying and slicing through whatever gets in her way, needless to say you shouldn't have to question if she's ever willing to get messy for you.

Grell isn't particularly the best at hiding things from you but good chance you don't know about those she's counted as rivals already meeting their fate, and if you ask her about their death that's mentioned in the news paper she'll simply say she was assigned to retrieve their soul, nothing personal at all.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

It starts off with her being a lil goof for a few months, enjoying your company and simply having fun with maybe a comment on her past life scattered here and there. You can encourage grell that she can tell you anything, and she will,, eventually.

She doesn't think you'll see her in a different light or anything, it's nothing that will change her personality, grell simply doesn't live that life anymore and it's far from gone. Letting you know what turned her to this is quite a story she wants you to know, to be vulnerable with her darling, be patient surely she'll finally take that step

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Grells first interaction with her human interest is acting as gentlemanly as possible while presenting herself as a butler in training, of course when she messes that bit up she'll come back to you as her gloriously red reaper self, not bothering for the formalities of the British anymore and simply being herself around you, as abnormal as that can be.

You can't get rid of her even if you wanted to, a living being catching the eye of a reaper is quite rare and comes with the consequences of not being able to hold any human law against them. She breaks into your home simple to catch up on how your day's been and rant out her frustrations as if you two were always close friends, and when you try to report a break in no one can say they know the person you're talking about. You're stuck with the monster but thankfully she doesn't make it hard to get used to her, especially since she enjoys your company

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

If you plan it out well you could just run away, move to another location far away from the streets of London while she's out doing her usual reaper stuff. You'll be safe and sound for maybe a day or two before he catches hints on where you might be from people's cinematic records, she'll snatch you back to London in due time dear

[upsettingandunfortunateclasshate]

One of the most bewildering things I’ve come across as an adult immigrant to the UK, after the price of train tickets and separate hot and cold water taps, is how people talk about class. British people from well-off backgrounds will drop, quite unprompted, into conversation that they went to private school but that it was a “cheap” one. Or that they went to a well-known private school but were not as wealthy as the other students, because their parents couldn’t afford skiing holidays. Or that they went to Oxbridge but did so from a comprehensive school and had parents with “normal” jobs. Once, someone gave me (unrequested) their class history, in which they described going from a charmed home life, to private school in London, to Oxbridge and then a job in the media, “but my parents gave me nothing”. I have frequently and desperately wanted to ask, “Why are you telling me this?”

It took me a while living in this country to figure out what was going on. It wasn’t class oversharing, but class discounting – a way for people to establish that their status, whatever it was, was earned and not bequeathed. Britain is a country of enormous wealth, much of it inherited. In fact, inherited family wealth is fast becoming, according to the Institute for Fiscal Studies, the most important determinant of how well-off a person will be later in life. Britain is also a place where the alumni of a small number of expensive schools and exclusive universities hold a wildly disproportionate share of the nation’s power, wealth and top jobs.

The result is a privileged class anxiety. For the one in 10 UK adults born in the 1980s who will inherit from their parents more than half as much money as the average person earns in a lifetime, there is a constant need to pre-empt any impression that they are part of an entitled clique with the sort of money and connections that smooth their passage through life. Research conducted by the LSE last year looked into why almost half of people in middle-class professional jobs identified themselves as working class, even when a quarter of them had parents who had done similar jobs. The study identified a “grandparent effect”, by which people from privileged backgrounds over-emphasised the working-class credentials of extended family members, even though they have little impact on an individual’s life chances

[warmaidensrevenge]

Tom loses it.

Tom Grant x Plus size reader

If you want to read my other work you can find it HERE

I shall end this fic here. I would like to keep going but I have some others I would like to start on. So thanks for reading. I know it's short but I want to get back to end my vamp series. So apologies for the lazy writing.

Warning: sexual implications, arguing and fluff not proof read and no word

Summary: at a party things get out of hand.

Part 9

🖤🤍

So the plan was to move to London after the season. You had spent most of spring training the new person taking over the kitchen. All Tom knew was the new employee was named Kit. He never saw him because you guys didn't eat in the dining hall anymore. And you never really talked about him. So Tom just shrugged it off. He spent a lot of time fixing as much as he could before you guys moved. Showing the new guy what regularly needed maintenance and showed him when everything was.

It was one day he was walking with the new handyman through the dining hall to introduce you to him. That's when he saw a woman holding on to your bicep. Laughing and rubbing it. You didn't seem to be uncomfortable with what was going on. But Tom definitely was.

You saw him and waved. He gave you a quick smile before waving you over. You came after a few seconds.

After introductions, you and Tom headed back to the camper. You were in the shower when Tom stood in the small doorway.

" Who was that?"

"Who?"

" That woman you were talking to in the kitchen."

" Oh that's Kit. I told you about her."

" You didn't mention she was a woman."

" Really? Huh. I'm sorry. Yes kit has a vagina."

You turned of the water and Tom handed you a towel.

" Thanks babes."

Tom looked you up and down.

" What?" You questioned him.

" Nothing love. You're just beautiful."

" Not tonight ok. I'm tired. But first thing in the morning. I'll wake you up with something special." You winked at him

He gave you a kiss before he went to get you some clothes. He pulled out a shirt that's he never seen before. It was a college shirt that he never heard of. You didn't go to college. And he went in London. So who's was this?

You came behind him and kissed the slope of his neck.

" Where did this come from?"

" Oh that's Kits. I accidentally spilled some gravy all over me. She had a spare shirt in her room so instead of coming back here I changed there. I meant to give it back. But I guess I forgot."

You took it out of his hands and folded it neatly and put it on the kitchen counter.

Thoughts of you shirtless in another woman's room brought all the feelings he had after Ruth. His anxiety was making him shake.

You came back in and kissed his cheek and grabbed a shirt and panties. Tom change as well and laid down. He watched you brush your hair and put it in a loose braid before you came to lay with him.

" You ok Thomas. You seem kinda out of it."

" No I'm fine Love. Just tired."

" Did you see the house I booked marked on Zillow?"

" Yes I did. It's small. We need at least a 3 bedroom."

" Yeah right. Sorry. I'll look for something bigger tomorrow."

" Something with a huge backyard for the children."

" Of course babes." You kissed him and turned off you light.

Just like that his worries went away. You loved him. We are moving to London and we are getting married. Planned on having as many babies as you could. He pulled you into his chest like always and kissed the top of your head.

" I can't wait until you're my wife."

" Me too. Love you sweetie.

" Love you too"

...

Season was finally over and you guys were getting ready for an engagement/farewell party the others were throwing for you two. You guys were hand in hand when you walking into the dance hall.

You guys made your way through the small crowd saying your hellos and thanks. You and Tom danced the night away.

" Are you ready love?"

" mmm Thomas let's say our goodbyes."

He nodded and you guys separated. Tom and some of the guys were hauling the gifts you guys got to a truck. When Tom came back he saw you talking to Kit. She had a hand on your arm. You guys were laughing and what looked like to Tom. Flirting....

When Tom saw her give you a kiss, he was boiling mad. He waited for kit to leave when he approached you.

" What the hell was that?!"

You looked at him confused.

" umm what do you mean? Why are you yelling?"

" She kissed you!"

" Thomas she kissed me on the cheek. She was just saying goodbye."

" I don't fucking care what she was doing. Why would you let her do that?!"

You looked and everyone was watching you two. You held out your hand and gave them a silent apology.

" Well?!"

" Thomas please. Don't ruin this night. Let's go back to the camper and we will talk about this in private."

"NO!"

" Fine. If this is what you want I'm not dealing with this. It is embarrassing. And when you calm down. Come find me. I'll be at home. Packing for London."

Tom watched you walk away and apologize to the others before you left. Frank approached Tom.

" Son what's going on?"

" It's that woman. She's after my lady mate."

Frank laughed. " Kit's married Tom. And last time I check you were on your way down the isle too."

" That hasn't stopped anyone before."

"Tom you are not a child anymore. Talked to y/n. I'm sure that she could tell you what is actually going on."

Tom agreed and went home.

...

He stood outside for a minute trying to come up with an apology. When he finally went in you were packing up the kitchen.

" Love?"

You didn't look at him you just pointed at a book on the counter. He went to it and saw a picture of you two on the front. With the words ' so it begins ' on the front. He flipped through the album. It was a time line of pictures when you guys started to date. Toward the end was the date of the wedding.

"Kit made that for us."

He felt like a complete ass. You turned to him.

" Thomas I get your insecurities about other women. But have I ever done anything to make you question my loyalty to you?"

"No love."

" Ok then. Just remember I'm not Ruth. I love you and I want to spend the rest of life with you."

He nodded and went to hug you.

"Love I'm so sorry. I promise if I have any doubts. I will talk to you."

" Please do. Because without trust or communication we are gonna have some real problems."

" of course. No problems. Just love."

...

Tom was so nervous sitting in the obstetrician office. He watched the doctor moving the instrument around your belly. He heard the heart beat. After 4 long years you had finally got pregnant. He had his doubts at first. But now you guys were there watching your baby on the monitor.

" Looks like triplets." The doctor said.

You looked at him with wide eyes.

" Three? There are three? Three babies?" Tom was in complete shock.

" Yes." The doctor pointed out three little peanuts.

"Oh my god Thomas. Three little babies"

Tom kissed you and met your forehead with his after. He started to cry tears of happiness.

He chuckled. "Three little ones."

"Hope your mom is willing to help us."

" Are you joking? She's been waiting a long time for this."

" Us too."

...