#Why didn't I pick a job where I can just sit at a computer all day and not have to talk to anyone

[leah-lover]

Second chances.

Alexia putellas x coach!reader.

Part 1. Part 2

Summary : what happened that night.

4 years ago 

“ stop staring at me and focus on the meeting.” you subtly text your girlfriend from across the room. You were sitting behind the computer so that you can control the slides and she was sitting with the rest of the team. You shoot each other a quick smile and redirect your focus towards the presentation. Once the meeting is over you grab your laptop and head towards the entrance. You were then stopped by Jorge vilda. “ As a part of my coaching staff I expect you to be present at my meetings not just with your body but also with your mind.” you look at him confused. “ giggling and smiling at your phone while I was talking is not acceptable.” 

“ sir it was just one text.” you try to justify yourself. “ Well tell your boyfriend that while you are in camp this team is your number 1 priority.” you didn't have a chance to say anythiçng because he left as soon as he finished talking. You brush off his comments and text your girlfriend about her whereabouts. You then head to her room as she instructed you. When you enter you put your laptop on the table and find your usual place next to her body. You nuzzle on her chest and just lay there as she strokes your hair. 

“ tough day?” she asked alexia. 

“ something like that.” you respond. You then turn around so that you can face her. 

“ Your free kicks were amazing today at practice. You might even be the number 1 in the upcoming games. your reaction time is also over the charts. It's near perfect.” 

“ This is becoming my favorite thing in camp.” 

“ what me telling you about how good you are?” 

“ no, you sharing the bed with me.” 

“ You know I can't stay for long. If he finds out about us we both are out of jobs.” 

“ how would he know? Please just tonight and I won't ask you again. I really need you.” Once alexia asked something of you you couldn't say no. Besides, you really missed her. “ okay but just for tonight.” you then kiss her and cuddle with her for the rest of the night. *

Since you didn't come back to your room your phone died. So as soon as you sneaked out of alexia’s room, headed to yours and plugged it in. Once you got out of the shower you unlocked it to find 10 missed calls, and 6 messages from none other than vilda. You panic as you open the messages. 

Why are you not answering? Why are you not in your room? Where are you? I can't keep looking for you all night? Fine if you don't answer i will go look for answers myself? 

Your heartbeat was faster than it had ever been.  You take a deep breath change out of your robe and pick up your phone to call him. 

“ conference room now.” he says as soon as he picks up leaving you no room for debate. 

Once you go to the conference room in which you were alone with him. He pointed to a chair so you sit there he doesn't though he kept standing. You found yourself speechless. 

“ I employ you with my team because I trust you. I think you have good judgment. But you failed me.” you feel a lump form in your through. “ You failed  me not only with your choice of lifestyle but also who you choose to corrupt and involve with you in this messed up situation. .” you close your eyes so that you won't cry while he still stands in front of you. “ I gave you a job, a   good one. I thought you were my right hand and that you would replace me when i decide to leave. But forming an indecent relationship  with one of my players is off limits.” you feel a knife jam in your heart and a tear leaves your eye. “ Your relationship is wrong and shouldnt have happened. You are lucky I like you so I am gonna give you a chance to change. Break up with her and apologize to me and you can keep your job and she won't be called up anymore. 

His last sentences changed your stance from scared to angry. 

“ Who the hell do you think you are?” you snap. 

“ I am the one who gave you two jobs and I am the one who can take it away from you. Plus I am trying to correct your choice of lifestyle because it is wrong.” 

“ choice of lifestyle. You have to be fucking kidding me. I love alexia putellas, i love a woman. Does it bother you that I love her?  Well go fuck yourself because nothing will tear us apart. And if you take this job away from me I will sue you even if it's the last thing I will do in life.” you were angry and furious. 

“ Nobody wants you here. The players feel uncomfortable because of your new relationship as confessed by the captain last night. So sue me if you want you won't win. Now hand over your badge, get your stuff and leave. You are fired." His blast words left you lifeless. “ as confessed by the captain last night” last night you were sleeping with alexia so it had to irene. You move on autopilot and almost break her door as you knock so hard. Once she stood in front of you you didn't find it in you to scream or fight. 

“ why?” you ask, sounding defeated. 

“ He asked me where you were and he threatened to kick me out of the team.” she said calmly. 

“ So you rat me and your friend out. You couldn't have told him I went for a run. We are friend irene. I didn't think you would betray me like that. I trusted you with the thing I love most in life and you took it away from me so that you could protect yourself. You could have lied.” you say crying. 

“ It was all bound to be exposed with time.” 

“ Is that what you are going to tell yourself so that you can sleep at night? You didn't have to tell him that my relationship made you uncomfortable. You didn't have to tell him anything.   You ruined my life irene. I lost my job because of you. I will never forgive you for that. never. “ you turned your back and left. You went to Alexia's room after. Once she saw your red eyes she took you in for a hug. In her warmth you cried. You cried because of Irene's betrayal. You cried because you lost your job. You cried because you lost everything. 

“ I love you. I love so much amor.” the way alexia said it felt weird to you so you got out of her hold and looked at her. She wiped the tears from your cheeks and took your lips for a searing kiss. She kissed you with so much passion and hunger it left your lips red. 

“ Alexia, what's wrong?” you ask concerned. 

“ He talked to me and asked me to choose between you and the team and I chose the team.” she said with tears in her eyes. 

“ why is it that everybody say things so calmly like its nothing? Is my love for you worth  nothing?” 

“ My whole family, my father’s legacy, everyone depends on me to make them proud. I need to stay in the team for them.” 

“ And what about me? Is everything we dreamt about gone in the wind?”

“ This is more painful than I could have ever imagined. I never thought we would have to leave each other. But my family comes first.” 

Her words cut through your heart and left nothing behind. You kiss her again for the last time; go to your room, collect your things and leave the hotel without talking to anyone. You felt your heart turn to stone as you saw the hotel in your rearview mirror. That day you lost your job, your life, your dream, your purpose, your love and also your heart. That day destroyed you without mercy. 

[writtenbyan-aries]

Summary: anon request - "can you write a smut for johnnie guilbert??"

Prompt: Johnnie and reader get into an argument which leads to make up sex.

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, arguing, hair pulling, pet names (dirty and cute), oral (m rec), unprotected rough makeup sex, filth

Word count: 2.6k | not edited

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

Johnnie has been working on editing his and Jake's video all day.

You think, no. You knew he forgot about them.

It wouldn't be as big of a deal if this was only the first time, maybe even the second or third - But it wasn't.

Over the last few weeks, you've had to either cancel or forget about plans because of Johnnie putting majority of his time into his computer screen rather than you.

You didn't really talk to anyone about it, or say anything to Johnnie, mainly because this is his job and you didn't think you had any room to bitch.

You checked your phone, sighing at the time - twenty minutes past reservation.

You used to remind him, then after the thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth time, you decided that he should be able to put down the computer for an hour or two on his own, so you decided to just let things go.

You never really blamed him, sometimes it was because he actually had deadlines to make, or a video he and Jake were doing ran long.

But when that wasn't the case, you used yourself as an excuse - not feeling well, didn't sleep good the night before, something simple yet believable.

You rise up from the couch, walking towards Johnnie's room. You pass Jake in the hallway and he makes a joke you're in no mood for, "Fix your face, you look pissed."

His laughter is silenced when you roll your eyes, "I am."

"Uh oh."  Jake puts his hands on his hips, shifting his weight onto his right leg, "What did Johnnie do?"

You shake your head and cross your arms, looking away from him because you didn't want him to see the frustrated tears in your eyes.

"Am I going to hear yelling?" He asks and you nod, laughing slightly, "Probably."

"Shit." He sighs, "Well if you need backup, just yell- ooh. We should have a code word."

You stare at him, trying not to laugh as he taps his chin, "Hippopotamus."

"Hippop- Jake. Really?" You laugh and he shrugs, "Well yeah, if you just scream hippopotamus, that will for sure throw him off even more, then I can come in with an open can of whoop ass."

He moves his hands in front of him, a serious look on his face that you just cannot take serious, "Okay. I don't think I'll need it, but I appreciate the support."

You pat his shoulder, watching him walk away before taking a deep breath, returning to what you were originally doing.

You stop in front of Johnnie's door, composing yourself so you don't go in, already lit like a fire cracker.

You know twice before opening the door, "Hey."

Johnnie has his headphones on, so he probably didn't hear you. You walk in, closing the door behind you. You walk over to him, gently tapping him on the shoulder.

"Jesus fu-" he jumps and looks up at you, "Jesus Christ, babe." He sighs, "Scared the fucking shit out of me."

"Sorry." You smile slightly and sit on the bed, "Whatcha doin'?"

He pulls his headphones down around his neck, "Just working on getting this video out."

You nod, "Cool. Cool.”

You look around his room, picking at your nails as you try and figure out how to calmly start the conversation.

"What's wrong?" Johnnie asks turning his chair towards you. You look over at him and shrug, "We just.." you laugh slightly, "It's not really funny, but we missed our dinner reservation."

He looks in the corner of his computer, "Oh fuck. I'm sorry." He looks up, "Why didn't you tell me?"

You scoff, raising your brows as you lower your voice, "I shouldn't have to."

"What? Sorry. I didn't quite hear you clearly." Johnnie closes his lap top and sets it on the desk.

You roll your eyes, lying back with a groan, "I'm not arguing with you Johnnie."

"I'm sorry, I must missed the part where I said we were?" He takes his headphones from around his neck,  setting them on top of his closed computer.

You sit up, letting out a sigh, "I said, I shouldn't have to tell you when we have plans, Johnnie." You let your hands fall into your lap with a slap, "I let it go for a while, only because I didn't think I have a right to be mad, but you constantly editing and this or that is effecting us."

"So what.. are you saying?" He stares at you with a solid look, "You're going to leave? All because I'm doing my fucking job?"

"No." Your words come out louder than you intended, "I never fucking said I was leaving, Johnnie. All I said was that I shouldn't have to fucking remind you time and time again that we have plans for us. You and me. Boyfriend and fucking girlfriend!"

"Other than right now, name one fucking time me doing this made us miss out on something." He motions for you to take the floor and you sigh.

"Sam and Colby were throwing a party, I told them you had a deadline to make so we wouldn't make it. Tara was throwing a party, I told her I didn't feel good because you stayed up all night and half the day working on a video. Last week we missed out on dinner, again, because you didn't pay attention to the time. Two weeks ago, Jake wanted us to go with him to one of his other friend's parties, but you decided to get on and stream. Do you want me to keep going?" You raise your brows and lean forward slightly, "Because I can."

Johnnie laughs, "So.. you're telling me that you couldn't just come to me an hour or so before and tell me to get off? You're just blaming me for every time you missed out on going when you could have just gone yourself?"

"You want me to go to dinner, for two..  alone?" You tilt your head back, "You are being so unbelievable right now."

You stand up and Johnnie's eyes follow you. Your hands go to your hips as you pace back and forth, "I'm trying to get you to understand that I want- I need time with you, too Johnnie."

"You get time with me, y/n. I don't understand why you're so worked up over me d-"

"Because it's all you fucking do Johnnie. You're always filming a video. Editing a video. Uploading a video. Something with a stupid video." You turn to face him, "I want to go out to dinner, enjoy time with just us. Do you think I want to go to parties alone? It's no fun when I don't have you there."

He sighs, looking down, "So.." he looks up at you, "You waited until it was what, twenty minutes or so after our reservation time to come in here and make a huge scene that could have been avoided?"

You laugh, mouth dropped open as you stare at him, "Are you ever going to actually listen to what I'm saying or am I just wasting my breath being a broken record?"

"I am listening, you're just not getting what I'm saying, y/n."

"No. Trust me. I get it. Loud and clear." You motion to his computer, "I'll just leave you to it then."

You turn to walk towards the door, reaching to open it but Johnnie's hand stops you, "Don't."

"Don't what? Leave so I can sit here in silence while you continue to do what got us here in the first place?" You turn your head to look at him and he shakes his head, "No."

He grabs your wrist, pulling you towards the bed, "Were done talking about this."

"No.. I don't think we a-"

He cuts you off with his lips on yours. His hands pull your waist into him, "We're done talking for right now."

"You can't ju-"

"Don't run your mouth anymore, and I won't run mine anymore." He kisses down your neck, "We can talk after we get all of this frustration out."

A smile creeps into your lips, even though you're still mad. But, no worries. Johnnie will take care of that for you right away.

"Fine." You give in, sitting down on the bed. You pull him with you, his body hovering over yours, "Shut me up."

He smirks, tilting his head, "Gladly." He sits up on his knees, taking off his shirt. His hands move to his belt and you sit up to replace his hands with your own.

You glance up at him as you undo his jeans, biting your lip as you anticipate what's about to happen.

He nods towards the floor and you pull your legs out from in between his and move, dropping to the floor as he stands up.

He pushes his jeans down, and you move over to him, pulling down his boxers before he sits down on the edge of the bed.

He leans back, holding his weight up with his hands as he watches you move in between his legs. He sucks in a sharp breath as you wrap your hand around his cock.

His eyes following you as you lean in, sticking your tongue out to lap at the head of it. He groans lowly, balling up the blanket in his fists, "Fuck."

You work him into your mouth, coating him with your spit as his jaw hangs slack, "That's it."

You lift your head, moving your hand up and down to coat him fully before leaning back in to bob your head up and down.

His eyes flutter shut as a moan escapes quietly.

You look up at him, dragging your tongue up the underside of his cock as you tilt your head back.

"All the way in, babe." Johnnie places a hand on the back of your head, gently nudging you to come back for more.

You lick your lips, leaning in to take his cock back into your mouth. You bob your head, working further and further down, until you can feel him in your throat.

He groans, stroking the back of your head as you hold yourself there. You squeeze your eyes shut, digging your nails into his thighs before you pop back off, glancing up at him before going back in.

You lift your head, bobbing your head slowly as your tongue flattens against his cock.

"Fuck. Why didn't we just do this first.." He gasps as you sink your head all the way onto him, groaning as bucks his hips slightly, "Fuck okay. Okay."

He lifts your head, cupping your cheeks as he nods to the bed, "Get undressed then lay down."

You move to your feet quickly, pulling your shirt over your head before fumbling to undo your pants. You kick them off, getting ready to climb onto the bed when Johnnie stops you.

"Ah, ah. Panties too, sweetheart."

You nod, pushing them down and kicking them off before finally climbing onto the bed. You turn, facing him as you sit down.

He moves up in front of you, leaning in to kiss your neck. He pushes your body back as he moves his over yours.

He kisses down your chest and over to your boob, taking your nipple between his teeth. You gasp as he bites down, hands moving to his hair to mess it up more, "J-Johnnie.."

You whine, slightly moving your hips, "Please."

He kisses back up, to your lips, moving to lay beside you. He rolls you over so you're laying on your side, hand sliding under your thigh to lift up your leg.

You bite your lip as his hand slides down your body, stopping at your clit to rub small circles onto it.

You arch your back away from his chest, "P-please."

He rests his chin against your head as he slides his fingers down to dip them inside of you, “We don’t need to argue.” His voice is light, quiet, “We should always just fuck it out..”

He slowly moves his fingers in and out, “And then talk. Doesn’t that sound much better?”

You nod, “Y-yeah. So much better.”

“That my girl.” He kisses your head and moves his hand to grab his cock, rubbing it against your pussy a few times before slowly slipping in, “Fuck.”

His arm slides over your waist, hold you to him as he pushes in. You tilt your head back and his lips meet your neck, sucking a spot which earns an even louder moan from you.

“Fuck..” you breathe out, “Johnnie..”

He groans lowly, tightening his grip as he starts to thrust. Your foot rests on his leg as you keep your leg raised, moaning with each of his thrusts.

You lay your hand on his arm, digging your nails in as his thrusts grow harder.

“F-fuck.” You whimper, “Keep going.”

He moans, digging his fingers into your skin, “You feel so fucking good.” He pulls you closer to him as you push your hips back, dragging your nails down his arm , “Yes, yes, yes!”

He pushed your body forward, sitting up and getting on his knees behind you. He pulls your hips up, quickly placing his cock back into you.

Your cheek rests against the bed as you moan, pulling the blanket as his thrusts go right back to being rough.

Your eyes roll back, a string of moans leaving your lips in a constant loudness.

You yelp out as his hand makes contact with your ass with a hard smack. He brings his leg up, giving his cock a new angle that drives you absolutely crazy.

“Such a good fucking girl.” He groans out as he tilts his head back. He brushes his hair from his face before reaching up to grab a handful of your hair.

You tilt your head back, lifting your self up onto your elbows, “F-fuck. Fuck.”

“Wait for me, baby.” Johnnie moans, “Almost there.”

He tugs your hair, pushing his cock all the way, pausing for a second before continuing to thrust, “Shit.”

He lets go of your hair, gripping your hips. You moan, trying hard not to cum like he wants. You push your hips back, whining out as he makes it harder, “P-please.”

Johnnie’s thrusts grow sloppy, “Cum for me.”

Not even the end of his words and you’ve already let go, becoming a whimpering, moaning mess under him as you squeeze his cock repeatedly.

A few seconds later, he pulls out, spilling his cum onto your lover back and ass.

“Fuck.” He strokes himself a few times before falling back and sitting down. You lay down, trying to control your breathing and he lays a hand on your thigh, “I’m sorry for not listening to you.”

“I’m sorry for coming off bitchy.” You laugh slightly, “I was just..” you pause for a second and sigh, “I let my frustration get the best of me.”

“I don’t blame you. I haven’t been fully with us lately, and I promise that..” he taps your leg with each word, “..right now, you have my attention whenever you want it.”

You turn your head to look at him, “You promise?” You hold out your pinky and he smiles as he wraps his around yours, “I promise.”

As Johnnie gets up to get something to wipe off with, Jake yells from the other side of door, “y/n? Do you need a hippopotamus?”

Johnnie looks at you super confused and you can’t help but laugh, “I’ll explain then.”

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

This is my first ever Johnnie one shot, so please let me know how you liked it! I’m interested to hear what you have to say!

Thank you for reading! Love you all! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[my-great-big-book-of-fan-fiction]

L x Reader pt. 3: The Billionaire and the Prostitute

Hope you enjoy, and this is a friendly reminder that you can also find my works on Ao3! all my works are much easier to look through there, and the chapters are in one spot :)

getting ready were such a chore.

It was part of the job, to get all pretty, and you enjoyed it most of the time, but sometimes it felt so tedious. Pick out lingerie, put it on, pick out a dress, put it on, pick a makeup look, beat your face, pick a hairstyle, spend an hour on it. at least you looked hot at the end.

Just as you put the finishing touches on your lip stain, your computer dinged. You were about to leave, was it worth answering? You checked the clock, and found there was still some time before you had to go. You opened your email, and saw it was L himself.

I have sent someone to pick you up. No need for a taxi. Please be outside by 10:30.

-L

The protocol he had designed stated you needed a taxi...but if he was offering, why not. It was safer for you that way, fewer strangers to deal with. You didn't respond, he'd know you read it when you got there. By 10:29 you were standing outside, and at 10:30 sharp a black limo came to collect you. It was driven by the same man who had driven you last time, the old guy with the mustache. You got in the back, and once you were settled he took off.

"...must suck that he makes you drive so late, huh?"

"For L, It's a pleasure."

Well shit. Small talk was not your thing, why you tried you'll never know.

When you arrive at the hotel an hour later, you hurry out. the ride had enough tension to cut with a knife, no way you were staying longer. By the time you made it to L's penthouse, you were more than happy to get to business, to give you something other than your awkward conversation to focus on. You knocked three times, and he called to you.

"Come in," he said, just as before, with that same patient tone.

You walked in, a little more comfortable now, and went straight to the living room. He was sitting there, just barely settled in. That same crouch...kinda like a frog. He looked up at you, two plates in front of him.

"sit."

You obliged and sat across from him, just like last time. The plates, now that you could see better, had slices of cherry pie. It looked warm, fresh...a dollop of whipped cream topping each, with a scoop of vanilla bean ice cream on the side. "You said you liked cherry pie."

You did, didn't you? In that email you sent back. You were glad you chose to be honest, instead of lying for the sake of ease like you considered doing. "Thanks," you nod, taking a plate. There were silver forks by them, and you took one. He watched you, not yet touching his own. You stuck the fork in the pie, and the flakey crust easily gave way as the thick compote of the cherries oozed out of the sides. You brought the bite up to your lips, and he leaned forward slightly.

"What, is it poisoned," you tease, a smile on your face.

"No," he answers simply.

You sigh, amused, and take the bite. After some thoughtful chewing, you nod in approval. "Now that is good pie," You say, pointing at it with the fork. L smiles, just a little, his eyes brightening at your praise. "I'm glad it's up to your expectations," he says, moving to eat his own slice.

You eat for a few minutes in comfortable silence, before you speak again. "where did you get this?"

"Watari made it," he responds between bites.

"Watari?"

"Your driver. He's my...personal assistant."

The guy you made that comment to. Double shit.

"You work him hard then," you state. Might as well get ahead of whatever watari has to say later.

"He enjoys it," L assures, scraping the cherry compote off of his nearly clean plate. he was a fast eater.

"Right," you scoff, laughing a little. You cut off a particularly large bite, and just as you bring it to your lips, it falls off the fork and onto your chest. "damn," you huff, looking down at yourself. You pick up the piece and put it in your mouth, not intending to waste it, and scoop up the syrup on your skin with two fingers. As you bring it to your lips to lick it, you look up. L is staring. It's different staring. For once, and only far behind his eyes, you see...lust. Not interest, or curiosity, or calculation. Hungry, heavy lust. He really did like sweets.

You hold that eye contact, and when your fingers find your lips, you slowly lick the juice from your fingers. You drag your middle finger over your bottom lip, the crimson, gel-like substance smearing across it.

"Come here," you say softly.

It was time to work.

He doesn't hesitate, but he does take his time padding over, his steps slow and careful. He sits beside you, his eyes locked on your lips as he pulls his legs into a huddled up ball.

you wait for a moment, before speaking. "You want to kiss me," you state, as if you were speaking of the weather.

He glances up to your eyes, before leaning in. His hand finds your cheek, his positioning imitating what you had done last time. He had his thumb on your cheekbone and his fingers cupping your jaw, holding you still as he leaned in for a kiss.

You immediately fell into a rhythm, his lips meeting yours again and again as he chased the flavor of the pie. His tongue darted out to taste you, searching your mouth for more. He was slow, gentle, but relentless. He didn't come up for air, he only wanted to feel as he felt the first time.

Your hand slid down his chest, to his abdomen, your fingers trailing lightly across his skin through the fabric of his shirt. Again, he was surprisingly muscular. It wasn't visible, but you could feel it as you touched him, the lean strength hiding beneath.

abs, abs, abs, hip, leg...bingo. He was hard. Much quicker than last time, you liked the efficiency. Your hand gently stroked what it could grab, and he shuddered. Only then did he pull away, though his face stayed close enough for his nose to rest against yours. "I'd...like to move to the bedroom."

"Ooh, I get the bedroom now? I must be a lucky woman," you tease softly. You stand, and he quickly follows. He takes your hand and guides you to the bedroom, his steps sure. He had a one track mind.

The bedroom was simply designed, just as undecorated as the rest of the place. "Do you try to be boring, or does it come naturally," you laugh, sitting on the grey bed sheets.

He shrugs, sitting with you. "This is how it came. I'm not in here often."

"What about to sleep?" You reach back, unzipping your dress.

"I don't," he responds. "Not often." He leans back in for another kiss, and you reciprocate, just for a moment, until you speak again. "What do you mean? People need sleep," you laugh.

He sighs lightly. He wasn't a fan of this conversation, it bored him. "I'm not like most people," he murmured, kissing you again.

You decided it was best not to push it, it's not like it was your business...and it seemed like he was getting impatient. He brought his hand to your neck, holding the nape as he kissed you.

When you finally shimmied out of your dress, his hand slid down your back, searching for your bra.

"Uh, I should probably-" you start, but by the time your words reached him, he had easily unclasped the fabric. the lace fell from you, and you let it slide off of your arms. "How'd you do that," you giggle, tossing the bra away.

"It's a simple mechanism. You did it last time."

"You really are a fast learner," you murmur. He was full of surprises, wasn't he? At this point, you had nothing but your panties, and he was fully clothed. Hardly fair.

"Lift your arms," you order. He does so, and you remove his shirt, tossing it across the room. He gets the hint, and stands to take off his pants. He's less awkward than before, but it's clear he doesn't do this often.

"how rich are you," you scoff, sliding your panties down your legs.

his jeans hit the ground, then his boxers. "Immensely," he responds honestly. "Why?"

"Do you even dress yourself?"

He sits back down, this time farther to the center. "I have more important things to do. Now, I'd appreciate if you would do as you did last time."

You smile and grab his shoulders, steadying yourself as you straddle him. "It was that good last time?"

"I suppose so."

You roll your eyes, an amused grin on your face. His hands find your hips, just like last time, and he looks up at you expectantly.

Carefully, you hold his cock in place as you slowly lower, his eyes downturned to watch you suck him in.

His breathing staccatos as your hips meet his, and you can't help but enjoy how affected he sounds.

"Be quick," he murmurs, finally looking up at you with a new wave of ambition.

You, in no place to hold out or make him ask nicely, complied. You began to rock and bounce, taking a quick tempo as you rode him. Despite this, he appeared...bored. Or perhaps despondent. Or perhaps tired. Whatever it was he didn't seem too excited.

"What," you pant, looking down at him with slight contempt. What, was it not enough? Here you were, giving him your best efforts, and yet he had the gall to look unenthused.

He looked up to you, before slowly wrapping his arms around your waist. He pulled his torso forward until he could rest his chin on your chest, just as before. His eyes were inquisitive, searching, wanting to make sense of something. Then, amongst the sound of skin meeting skin, he spoke. "I have a hypothesis."

"Yeah," you ask, pursing your lips in focus.

He doesn't move at first, but after a moment, he takes your hips once more, and just like the other week, he re-angles you both.

He's hitting that spot once again, and you let out a low, needy groan. He let out a pleased sigh. "I see," he mused, pressing the top of his head into your chest.

You were going to ask, but you couldn't find the words between the desperate moaning and the light whimpering you heard from yourself. He doesn't let up, and in your endeavor for pleasure neither do you.

He can't help but look up at you, to watch your face contort into ecstasy, to watch your throat bob as you swallowed building saliva. So attractive, weren't you? He supposed that was part of your job, to be attractive, but you were very good at it. And you smelled nice. Like skin and florals. Was that perfume? Most likely. He wondered what you smelt like without it. And that makeup. He appreciated the effort, and you did look nice, but his curiosity was piqued. Another time.

You couldn't tell what he was thinking, but you could see he was focused. Just in case it wasn't on you, you comb your fingers through his hair, and when his eyes finally zeroed in on your face, you brought your lips to his. He seemed to come all the way back then, and at the realization of what was happening, that familiar whining returned to his throat. He was close, and the way it's going, so are you.

He was panting, holding you tight, his lashes fluttering. He finally let out a soft, quiet groan, his lips pressed in a tight line as he bucked up into you. The way he jerked and pumped, the intimacy, it had your own hips rolling as your orgasm came crashing down over you, your sounds admittedly just as desperate.

You sit there for a moment, panting between each other. After you regain your bearings, you gently dismount him. "Anything else?"

He was still just a little winded, simply staring at his own limp member, but he responds after some short breaths. "I...do have a request." He swung his head in your direction, a sloppy movement that managed to bring his eyes to yours. "I've been doing research."

"Research? What, like new positions," you ask curiously.

"among other things. I'd like to try missionary."

It was a little funny, the idea that his second position would be the most basic. "Sure. You should probably get some water first."

He nodded, but he didn't move. "Do you need water?"

You took a deep breath and sighed it out, considering his question. "I guess, if you're already getting it," you mumble. You didn't need water. It would just be nice to have.

He nodded once more, before standing and walking out of the bedroom.

You? Need water? Please. Although, it was kind of nice for him to offer.

He returned a few moments later, one water bottle in each hand. He handed you one, and returned to his seat beside you. It was silence as you both drank, before he finally spoke up. "What did you do today?"

You laugh a little. "You don't have to ask me that."

"If I didn't want to, I wouldn't have."

"..." What an annoyingly straightforward argument. "it's boring."

"I didn't ask you to entertain me. Not at the moment. I asked what you did today."

You sighed again. "I woke up, had some tea, did a little yoga, got ready, and came here. See? Boring."

"You do yoga?"

You took another sip of water and shrugged. "Keeps me flexible."

"Yes..." he mused. It was silent for a moment, awkwardly so. "I do capoeira," he relates.

"Oh? What's that," you ask absently, taking a gulp of water. It was that good, rich people water, that tasted pretty much the same. But, Y'know. Richer.

He looks to the ceiling in thought. "It's a form of martial arts, specializing in acrobatics and inverted kicks."

"Ah, so that's where that muscle came from," you hum, a sly smile on your face.

He's still and silent. "Yes," he finally answers, so softly you can barely tell he's addressing you. "I'd like to start now, if you're ready."

"I'm ready," you say quickly. It's not like you needed a break in the first place, he's the one who needed a break.

"Good," he says. "Lay down."

You move to the center of the bed, resting your head on the pillows. "You sure you're ready to do the work?"

He shifts to face you, his body nearer to yours now. "I don't do anything before I'm ready. I find the notion to be incredibly foolish."

"Mm, well excuse me for asking," you laugh, stretching your arms and legs out in preparation.

He doesn't say anything, opting instead to straddle you. He's in that crouch, sitting above you, examining your body from head to toe. Your legs pull from beneath him, raising to wrap around his waist. He slides his hand up your thigh, his fingers light and feathery. "have you done this before?"

You snort. "That was a dumb question," you tease. He gets that distant, contemplative look in his eyes, before returning and angling your hips in preparation. "I suppose it was." He brings his other hand to touch your side, gently caressing your stomach. It was so nice, you almost forgot what he was supposed to be doing. That is, until you felt him pressing at your entrance.

He was slow and gentle, his hands bracing against your hip and the pillow, giving you the same grace you always gave him. Not that you needed it.

He watched himself enter, just like always, and when he tired of that he settled his face in the side of your neck. his breath fanned across your skin, and as he finally bottomed out you could hear all of his little sounds. He was real cute, wasn't he?

You found your hands to be sliding up his narrow back, feeling the bone...the muscle...his skin was so smooth, so soft.

His lips grazed the area just beneath your ear, before he began to trail feather-light kisses down to your shoulder. He took his time, and in the process, he began to slowly rock his hips. All the way in, all the way out, slow, savory. He took his time, there was no rush.

"Don't you want to go faster," you giggle, your words as soft as his hands.

"Would you like me to go faster?" His words were almost taunting, as if he was asking for some sort of confession.

You scoffed. "I don't care, do what you want." You didn't care, really. It was your job, you did what he liked, and then you got paid after.

You couldn't see his face, but you could feel the slightest of smiles against your shoulder. He did speed up, just enough to make you moan instead of talk.

He found a rhythm, something to occupy his hips while he mouthed at your skin, slowly trailing his lips down to your chest. He laved over your nipple with his tongue, the hand that traveled as it pleased finding sanctuary at your other breast. The steady sliding in and out matched his tender kissing and his gentle hands, his conscious panting only intensifying the experience. It was so...reverent. Ginger. Even your moans were low and indulgent.

Before you could think, a particularly shocking sound came from you. "L..." you groan, your head tipping back, just for a moment, until it rolls forward once more to keep an eye on him. Did you really say his name without prompt? That was a first. A little embarrassing, honestly. Is this how people felt when they said your name? Weird.

At the sound of his name leaving your lips, he looked up at you. You locked eyes, his tongue still teasing your nipple, before he began to get a little more frantic. He was still as calculating as usual, but there was that undertone of desperation in the way he moved. The sharp snapping of his hips, the skillful kneading of your breast in his hand...he was close.

Your hands slid up and down his back, catching in his hair, your gasps growing in eagerness as he stared with that expectant gaze. You gave up on watching, allowing your head to fall back just as it did earlier, only this time it stayed. You couldn't see him behind your closed eyes, but you could feel his slight shuddering as he jerked just a few times more. Unlike before, he didn't look down at himself. He stayed watching you. You know he did, because his hair was still beneath your hand, and of course, you could feel his staring.

With a stifled, half groan, his hips stuttered, and he grasped desperately at your thighs to hold you flush against him. Not like you could go anywhere, but whatever. Your own body tensed and shivered, your sounds catching in your throat as your nails clawed at his back in pulsating pleasure. He managed to get you so worked up so easily, a natural.

L rolled against you, chasing and extending the last waves of crashing pleasure. He stayed atop your body for a while longer than you usually did to him, but it was all to regain his bearings. To bask in the afterglow. He could get used to this, the lasting clarity was astounding.

Soon after, he did rise, gently removing himself from you and sliding out of bed. "I can call your car," he states plainly, gathering his clothes. He seemed so...unbothered. As if nothing had happened.

"Thanks..." you pant, slowly sitting up. He glances over his shoulder at you, examining your disheveled appearance.

"...If you'd like to stay and recuperate, you're welcome to," he says, just a little more gentle than before.

You? Recuperate? He has sex three times and all of a sudden he's an expert, huh? "No, I'm alright," you huff, a tad sharp, and stand from the bed. You don't waste your time with your bra or panties, instead gathering them in your hand and sliding your dress on. When you finished, you look at L. His shirt is caught on his head, and with his elbow angled to the ceiling he uses his hand to feel around for the collar. He looked stretched out, his back unusually straight and his thin waist on display in the gap between his jeans and his hiked up shirt.

You let out an airy snicker, before walking around the bed and yanking the shirt into place. He looks down at you with a hint of surprise, before slouching back into his usual stance, now face to face with you. "Thank you," he says coolly.

"Don't mention it," you shrug. You turn around, and with no apprehension you walk out the bedroom door. It was time to go, you didn't like staying with a client for longer than necessary. Not his fault, of course, it was just best to stick to what was professional.

You didn't look back, not even when you heard the bedroom door creak open as you grab your clutch off of the couch. You just walk to the hall, yell out a quick "Bye!" and leave.

The ride home is silent, just like last time, but the tension is worth it when Watari hands you that big fat envelope. Just two sessions with L, and you were well on your way to a brand new house.

It feels like you're smacked in the face with fatigue by the time you walk into your apartment. You needed to shower, do your skincare, probably get dinner...god, you just wanted to lay down. Oh, well. Lethargy was a small price to pay for wealth.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

just a girl 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as possible cheating, low self-esteem, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you move in with your sister when your luck turns for the worst.

Characters: Walter Marshall, possible Andy Barber

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

It isn't your proudest moment. You don't have many of those. There is little remarkable about, nothing of note, nothing admirable. You might stand a bit taller than most but it's rarely given as a good thing. 

You never expected much of life. You resigned yourself to living in the shadows. In particular, you knew you would always bet outshone by your sister's light. You can't hate her for it; it's your own shortcoming. Besides, no one can hate Riannon, she's just that nice. 

You are dark smear on the family name. It's why you didn't even think to ask your parents for help. You didn't even ask your sister, she offered, insisted really. You could never deny her and in this instant, you couldn't afford any other option. 

It’s just for a while, you keep telling yourself. You’ll find a new job and a place soon. For now, you’ll just stay out of the way. It isn’t very hard; you take up much more room than your few possessions. 

You keep yourself holed in the guestroom as you settle into your second day. You have your laptop on your thighs as you scroll the job boards. You have the experience but you expect your reference would be any good. You didn’t exactly end on cordial terms. Starting from square one, though the industry isn’t exactly even ground for men and women alike. 

You hunker down to search through the various postings within your purview. Every classification is ticked off, even the years, it’s just that little note about contacting your previous employers that makes you nervous. Well, you at least have to try. 

A knock comes at the door as you edit your cover letter once again. You sit up and close the computer. You slide it aside and get up. You cross the room and crack the door open. You sister smiles from the other side. 

“Am I making too much noise?” You ask as your music plays music from its tiny speaker. 

“No, no, not at all. Um, so you know Andy is out of town for the day so it’s just us,” she rocks, “and there’s a barbecue down the street so... I thought you could get to know the neighbourhood.” 

You look down at her, the offer catching you off guard. You were prepared to spend the whole day hidden away and poring over job listings. Even when you had your own place, you tended to spend most of your own time inside. 

Still, she is doing you a huge favour and it would be rude to say no. You shrug, “okay.” 

“Great, I have some potato salad I'm bringing,” she chirps.  

“Uh,” you look at her blue checkered capris and pristine white blouse, “should I change?” 

“It’s up to you. I'm just going to get packed up. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.” 

Her excitement is palpable. She probably expected you to say no. You don’t want to let her down again. You’re tired of that feeling. 

You close the door as she bounces away and you retreat to search through your still unpacked suitcase. Your clothes hang over the sides. You pick out a band shirt and a pair of dark grey jeans. You don’t have any shorts and you know your repertoire of dark colours only draws in the sun’s fury, and like of the vaunted HOA, but you don’t have many options. 

You emerge with a pair of converse in hand and head into the kitchen. Rhiannon snaps the lid onto a big bowl as she beams up at you. You don’t understand how you share the same blood, she’s so different than you. Where you’re tall and gangly, she’s small and dainty; where your dour and reticent, she’s bright and bubbly. Your parents even kidded that you must’ve been switched at the hospital. 

“Ready?” She asks. 

You nod and look down at yourself. 

“If you want to borrow a skirt or something, it’s pretty hot out.” 

“It’s fine.” 

You don’t take her offer as any comment on your choice, only genuine concern. If it was your mom, you would know it was more than that. To be fair, your mother is very direct with her critiques. Besides, even if her clothes would fit you, you don’t want to risk ruining any of her things. 

“Alrighty, well, Marge will kill me if I’m late again,” she sings and sweeps around with the bowl. “It’ll be nice to get out, huh?” 

“Mhmm,” you grumble and follow her down the hall to the front door. 

She steps into her wedged sandals as you sit to pull on your converse and lace them up. You stand and get the door for her as she prances towards it. She thanks you and you trail her out. The sun hits you like fire. It’s so hot, though you think some of the heat comes from your own self-consciousness. 

As you catch up to your sister at the bottom of the steps, you slow down to keep from outpacing her shorter legs. Even with her platformed soles, she’s still ahead shorter than you. You turn down the sidewalk as you shy away from the strange faces headed in the same direction. 

“You want me to carry that?” You offer. 

“Hey, I might be small but I can handle a salad,” she chirps. 

“I know, I wasn’t--” 

“I’m teasing. It’s fine, I got it,” she assures you as she hugs the bowl to her stomach, “I just want you to have a good day. Don’t think about everything else, okay?” 

“Mm, okay,” you keep your head down as you slink next to her jouncing steps, “sorry, I'll try not to be too grim.” 

“Whatever, you’re awesome,” she nudges you with her elbow, “you just be yourself and I know you’ll find some good friends around here.” 

You try to smile but it hurts. She always sees the best in others, even when it’s not there. You keep pace with her and turn up another curated lawn. The walk is perfectly laid and the blossom tree sways overhead. 

Rhiannon is welcomed through the open gate by one of those blonde women she has her book club with and you shuffle in with your hands in your pockets. You feel the woman’s harsh gaze and peek up. She looks at you the same way your mother does. Her name is Marge and her friend is Callie and there are dozens of the Stepford-like figures posted throughout the yard. 

“Come, let’s put your salad out,” Marge insists. 

Rhiannon looks at you and you chew your cheek, “go, I'll be fine.” 

She looks reluctant but you’re already walking away. You ignore the smell of sausage and beef rising from the barbeque and the splash and laughter of children from the pool. You aren’t going to find any friends here. That much is clear. Housewives and little kids, you don’t really fit the bill. 

You find your way to the far end of the lawn and stand by a tree you might just blend into. Or maybe you might bury yourself in the rose bushes. You pull your hands from your pockets and hook your fingers into your belt loops, swaying as you watch a bumble bee hover over the grass. 

“Foo Fighters, huh?” A low drawl brings your head up as a man approaches with a beer bottle in hand. 

“Um, yeah,” you look down at your shirt, tugging on the hem. 

“You go to a show?” He asks as he stops near you, drinking from the bottle as he waits for your answer. 

“Never been to one,” you cross your arms, “but I listen to them.” 

“Ah, yeah, well, they put on a hell of a show,” he wiggles the bottle as he talks, “lot more fun than these things.” 

You look up the yard towards the mingling of voices and sound. Despite your efforts to hide in a corner, you must have stuck out like a sore thumb. Shoot, maybe he thinks you’re trespassing. 

“I came with my sister,” you point and shift towards the party, “sorry, um, Rhiannon. I didn’t... I was just looking at the roses.” 

“Not my party,” he scoffs, “I don’t care.” 

“Oh,” you blink and look at him. He's about your height, dark curly hair, and vibrant blue eyes. His dark beard is thick and stubble prickles along his neck. He wears a plain white shirt and jeans; the bare minimum. “Right, er, well...” 

“Not a bad idea, hiding behind a tree,” he remarks, “but you're missing the key ingredient.” 

He stops and stares, crooking a brow as if you should know what he means. 

“Alcohol,” he raises his bottle, “they got a keg even. Probably the only good part about these bull—these things.” 

“I don’t drink,” you mutter, “but thanks.” 

You put your head down and stare at the grass around his shoes. You don’t know why he’s bothering you if it isn’t to make you leave. Obviously, you don’t belong. 

“Never too late to start,” he snorts and stays as he is. 

You don’t know how to make him leave you alone so you say nothing. The bee dips into a tulip’s mouth and you turn to watch it. Maybe he’ll take your silence as a hint. 

[dutifullyscreechingdragon]

Tim Stoker X Archival Assistant!reader

Summary: here you go, some headcanons for our Tim and how your relationship would start, enjoy:)

You first met Tim as an archival Assistant. Your first day on the job.

You were joining a bit later than all the others. You still had some things left to finish at your previous position at the Institute and you do not leave things half done.

Tim's first reaction to you was to flirt. To flirt shamelessly:

"Hey gorgeous, what brings you down to our dark, creepy archives?"

It only escalated from here

You were positively flustered (Tim can have that effect even on the most confident of people. No one stands a chance if Tim uses 100% of his charms)

And eventually, you were rescued by a laughing Sasha:

"Come on, Tim! Leave the girl alone! You don't want to scare away a new Archival Assistant"

"Me? I am positively delightful!" Tim put his had on the heart, pretending to be mortaly wounded by Sasha's statement.

"I can't imagine a universe where I'd be scaring away a girl... Especially this charming" he'd finish winking at you, prompting you to laugh lightly.

"So, an Archival Assistant, eh?" Tim continued in a suave tone

"Starting today, yeah" you replied.

"Alas, my prayers have been answered" Tim raised his arms toward the ceiling "I have been graced with seeing your pretty face each morning!"

His flirting didn't stop. In fact, it escalated exponentially over time

The next morning he would greet you with a pick up line. And then the next morning and the next...

He seemed to have an endless supply of them.

Somehow he managed to not repeat a single one.

Definitely uses cute nicknames on you: sweetheart, darling, babe.

Will sometimes try cringy ones just to get a rise out of you.

You knew Tim's reputation, so took all his flirting attempts with a grain of salt.

"You can't have me seriously believing that Tim, 'I can charm a copier if I put my mind to it' Stoker, actually has feelings for me" you laughed.

Sasha sighed. She has just finished listening to Tim's 'Why cant she believe I have feelings for her? I have been so open and genuine about them' rant.

Tim definitely tries distracting you from your work, preventing you from doing anything productive. Any chance he gets:

You were currently sitting at your desk, trying to find any trace online regarding the statement of the week. You were pulled out of your thoughts by wheels skidding on the floor. Looking up you saw Tim on a wheely chair, sliding up next to you.

"Did you know that..."

or another time:

Your peaceful work was interrupted by a paper airplane hitting the side of you head. You looked up and saw a grinning Tim Stoker. He waved at you and motioned for you to unfold the paper. Once you did, you saw a cutesy doodle of you and him holding hands and a bunch of hearts around. You simply raised an eyebrow and put the drawing aside.

Tim was, however, pleasantly surprised, seeing it taped to the side of you computer screen the next day.

Did I mention flirting? I feel like I should mention it again, for good measure. Flirting Lot's of flirting. Lot's of shameless flirting

Sasha definitely notices Tim's feelings for you. Almost instantly.

And she would tease him. Mercilessly. Relentlessly.

She would also take on the role of your biggest shipper. Whenever you and Tim talk, you better believe she is making heart shapes at both of you from a safe distance.

She also uses her amazing computer skills to make cute and embarrassing edits of you two.

Sasha is also, coincidentally, the most amazing wing-woman ever (probably because she had to take action after seeing you and Tim pine for each other relentlessly).

You would be sorting through the statements when she would approach you and ask sneakily:

"So, Tim took you out on a date, yet?"

"No" you'd say and add quietly "Unfortunately"

This wouldn't slip past Sasha's keen ears:

"Unfortunately? So you do want to go on a date with him!"

You'd splutter to deny it, only prompting her to laugh more.

"Maybe if you sent him some more... Positive feedback to his flirting attempts and maybe told him a simple 'yes' to his countless attempts to invite you out... Maybe then, you'd already be smooching and planning your wedding..." Sasha said pointedly and the added more wistfully "and maybe then I wouldn't have to listen to his rants about you"

After quite a restless night you decided to give it a shot. "Why not?" You reasoned. What's the worst thing that can happen? An awkward break up when he realises he doesn't like you that much and having to work with him for at least another year? You decided not to dwell on that much.

Obviously Tim was low-key surprised when instead of shutting down his flirting attempts you flirted back. He was even more surprised when you agreed to go on a date with him.

He nearly lost his composure, but once he finally processed what happened, he beamed at you and tripled his flirting.

Throughout the day he was very hyper and becoming a bit too much to his colleagues and you

But can you blame him? He finally got the green light form you. Of course he's going to rant about it to Sasha. Of course he is going to make small doodles on the margins of his paperwork that he is later to hand in to Jon.

Tim DEFINITELY took you kayaking on you first date:)

It's a great opportunity to flex his muscles and have great fun at the lake.

Chances are you ended up falling into the water:

You were rowing in perfect harmony while exchanging some quips back and forth. It was great. Until Tim said something along the lines of:

"Sure, you're right. Can't argue with that cuteness. You could probably say that the Earth is flat and I'd believe you" he briefly took his hand off the oar to ruffle your hair.

"Hey! If I ever tell you nonsense like that, I expect you to correct me" you turn to smack him with your oar. Tim ducks out of the way, making your kayak rock from side to side.

"Don't do that! We're gonna flip the boat" You say gripping the side of the kayak for balance.

Tim grins wickedly before shifting to the other side, making the kayak careen dangerously "Don't do what? This?" he suddenly goes to the other side.

"Yes! Don't-" you're cut off as the kayak predictably flipped over and you both ended up in the slightly chilly water.

Tim laughed. You prepared to give him an angry tirade, but couldn't help laughing with him.

You got out of the water at some point... Completely soaked through.

You pulled off your shirt and put it to dry, huddling in a blanket, which, by some miracle, wasn't completely wet.

"You sh-should take off your shirt to dry" you told Tim, chattering your teeth.

"Woah! If you wanted to see me shirtless, you didn't have to flip the kayak" Tim said, taking his shirt off "You could've just asked" he smirked at you. Prompting an eye roll.

"You do remember that you were the one who flipped it, right?" You deadpanned raising an eyebrow.

"Hmm...." He pretends to think "Maybe I wanted you to see me shirtless" Tim shrugged and said "Details"

You could only shake your head and laugh.

And of course the only logical solution was to cuddle. For warmth. And because it felt nice

Tim wrapped his arms around your torso and snuggled into your neck, while you fried some marshmallows for s'mores on a campfire.

When you came the next day holding hands, Sasha was extatic.

She might or might not have started planning your wedding.

A/n: anyway, that concludes the headcanons, I hope you like it:) I'm definitely writing headcanons for Dating!! Tim

[atlasscrumpit]

Platonic Miguel x Reader

(A fic where you’re Miguel’s daughter from another reality)

Miguel was exhausted, he sat next to his computer in the spider society, trying his best to not fall asleep.

“Hello?” He heard a voice call out, it sounded like the voice of a child.

He quickly got up and jumped down to see a small girl clutching a teddy with a bandage covering half of her face.

It took him a moment before he realised something.

“Y/N.” He whispered as you looked up at him, he could see absolute fear in your eyes.

“D-Daddy…I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to go wandering, I don’t know how I ended up here, I’m sorry.” You whispered as you began to sob.

Miguel knelt down and looked at you sadly. He knew you weren’t his daughter technically and somehow you’d ended up here in his reality.

“Hey, it’s okay, little one. Do you know how you ended up here?” He asked as you looked at him in confusion.

“I don’t understand, daddy. Why are you wearing a costume?” You asked making him smile a little.

“I know this is confusing, but I’m not your actual daddy. Somehow you’ve ended up in my reality.” He tried to explain, not really knowing how to explain this to a child.

“I don’t understand.” You cried out as Miguel looked at you sadly.

“Here, come with me and I’ll show you something.” He said reaching forward, he noticed you stepped back and clutched your teddy tighter.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.” He whispered reassuringly as you slowly stepped forward and let him pick you up.

You held onto him and your teddy as he looked down at you.

"Hold on tight, okay?" He said as you nodded, suddenly he lifted into the air and you held on for dear life.

He landed and slowly placed you down on a chair, you looked around seeing high tech computers surrounding you.

"What is all this stuff?" You muttered, looking around in amazement.

"Well, it helps me with my job. My job is to protect reality." He said as you looked up at him.

"That's so cool... My daddy is an accountant." You muttered making him chuckle softly.

"Can you tell me what happened to your face?" He asked as he knelt down to face where you were sitting.

"Daddy got angry at me and he told me to never tell anyone... But, he has a weird disease that makes him angry and makes his eyes go red and makes him have claws when he's mad. I did something bad and his claws came out and he got me by accident." You explained, looking away from him.

"Is that the first time he's hurt you?" He asked as you looked at him and shook your head a little.

"He's just sad... When Mommy passed away he got really angry." You muttered as Miguel looked at you sadly.

Here he was praying everyday he could have his daughter back and here you were with your father alive that didn't even care for you.

But, he couldn't do anything.

He spent his life making sure stuff like this stayed in order.

"He shouldn't be hurting you like that, little one. He's supposed to love you and take care of you. I wish I could keep you here... With all my heart I wish I could keep you safe for the rest of your life. But, I can't. I have to take you back to your father." He whispered sadly as you looked at him and nodded.

"Okay..." You muttered sadly, practically breaking his heart.

He picked you up in his arms once more before opening a portal back to your world.

He stepped inside and found himself in your room before he tucked you into bed.

"Thank you for helping me." You whispered as he knelt beside your bed.

He brushed his hand through your hair and smiled.

"That's okay, sweetheart. You be good and don't tell anyone about this, okay?" He whispered before kissing your forehead.

"Don't worry, I'll keep it a secret." You said as he looked down at you and smiled softly.

"Goodnight, Y/N." He whispered before he crept out of your room.

He peaked in to see the Miguel in this universe completely asleep.

After a bit of quiet rummaging he found a picture of his deceased wife and placed it on the bedside table of Miguel.

He could interfere but maybe if the him from this universe remembered who he used to be, he would stop the abuse.

But, maybe the was just wishful thinking.

"Please... Please, take care of her."

[umlewis]

The Real Deal

Silverstone, 11 June 2006. With England in the grip of World Cup fever, the crowd for the British Grand Prix is expected to be down on recent years. There is little likelihood of any home success in the main event. Still, the stands and spectator banks are starting to fill up slowly as the GP2 race starts at 9 AM. Lewis Hamilton has started down in eighth place, but he is working his way through the field with characteristic aggressive driving. He is soon closing on the squabble for second place. Brazil's Nelson Piquet, Jr. and the Monegasque driver Clivio Piccione go through Copse side by side at around 140 mph, but, as they accelerate out of the corner, they are suddenly three wide as Hamilton draws alongside. Into the five sweeping bends that make up the daunting Becketts complex they go, with Piquet on the inside. Hamilton carries huge momentum around the outside of the first left-hander to claim the racing line and second place as the road goes right then left again; Piquet drives straight through a temporary advertising hoarding. The cheers from the crowd are by far the loudest of the weekend as the young driver, then known only to hardcore petrolheads, picks off the leader and cruises to victory. Unknown he no longer is: 'Lewis Hamilton + Silverstone' is now one of the most popular searches on YouTube. Had Britain's latest sporting hero-in-waiting heard the excitement of the crowd? "I didn't, no," he said afterwards. "It all went silent at that point because we were so close, and I don't know if my body was preparing for something. You know when, if you're going to crash, your body gets ready to protect itself? I felt my body and the adrenaline all building up ready for something, and when I came out it all relaxed, kind of saying, "Phew, thank God for that.'" "I'm working my arse off," he continued, "not only to do the best job possible, but also to get that seat at McLaren. I really want that. It's an opportunity not many people get. If I can get that seat then I think - and I feel very confident - that I can make best use of it.'

A little under a year later, Hamilton not only has that seat at McLaren but, when we meet soon after his second place in the Spanish Grand Prix in Barcelona, he is leading the Formula One drivers' championship. Today, however, he is back doing the unseen graft of testing. Along with the other 10 teams that contest the world championship, McLaren have moved on from Barcelona to the Paul Ricard circuit near Marseille in the south of France. The former home of the French Grand Prix is now simply a test track, albeit about the most sophisticated in the world - as you would expect from a facility owned by Bernie Ecclestone, the billionaire ringmaster of Formula One. Everything is of the highest standard and, just as the proprietor would like, the team vehicles are lined up so precisely they would do justice to the contents of David Beckham's fridge.

At the back of a grey McLaren bus, sheltered from the warm Mistral wind, sits Lewis Hamilton. It is 12 hours since testing began and he has driven 98 laps, posted the fastest time by more than a second and been through a two-and-a-half-hour debrief with his engineers. For a short while he is alone, staring at a computer screen with a diagram of the circuit and a screed of data on it. Not all his work is at 190mph and in front of 140,000 people.

After the excitement of a grand prix, testing must seem like a chore. Does it make him a better racer?

'I don't think so,' he says, preparing to close the laptop. 'You get that crafting from karting, the wheel-to-wheel racing you have there.' Karting is where most successful racing drivers first turn a wheel in anger; the competition is ferocious.

'The more racing you do the more you learn,' Hamilton continues. 'I'm a racer naturally, so that's why I believe I'm good in the races. In the race it's all about consistency, and to get consistency you need to learn about the car and that comes from testing. But the test is mainly to build your awareness of what is around you, that you are understanding the car and to fine tune the car and yourself. Sometimes I don't make any changes to the car and I find half a second in myself. Some people find it really difficult, like the engineers, they say, "What can we do?" and I say, "Don't do anything. I quite like the car as it is, I just need to improve myself."'

Hamilton is seeking to improve skills that have seen him make a record-breaking start to his F1 career. He finished third in his first race, the Australian Grand Prix, then second in Malaysia and Bahrain - a record run on the podium for a rookie, which he extended in Spain to become the youngest driver to lead the world championship.

At last Sunday's Monaco Grand Prix, Hamilton finished second yet again, this time behind his McLaren team-mate, double world champion Fernando Alonso. But there were signs of frustration from the young Englishman at a victory missed, as he slipped to second in the title race. Hamilton was called in for his first pit stop earlier than he expected, just as he was preparing to put in some really quick laps to extend his advantage over Alonso, who had already stopped.

'I was actually quite surprised because I was fuelled to do five laps, maybe six laps, longer than Fernando and they stopped me with three laps to go,' Hamilton said after the race. 'There wasn't much time to pull out a gap or improve my time; I wasn't really given much time for it. I came in two or three laps after him [Alonso]. That was unfortunate, but that's the way it goes. I've got number two on my car, I am the number two driver, it is something I have to live with.'

McLaren's team principal, Ron Dennis, rebutted allegations of team orders and race manipulation, strictly against F1 rules since 2002 when Ferrari instructed Rubens Barrichello to allow Michael Schumacher past to win the Austrian Grand Prix. 'We are scrupulously fair at all times in how we run this grand prix team,' he said. 'We will never favour one driver, no matter who it is. We don't have team orders, we had a strategy to win this race. There will be places where they will be absolutely free to race, but this isn't one of them.'

That last line attracted the attention of the FIA, the sport's governing body, who started investigating 'incidents' concerning the McLaren team during the race.

Since his debut in Melbourne on 18 March, Hamilton has transformed the popularity of grand-prix racing, not least because he is young, British, good looking and thrillingly fast. He is also mixed race in a sport that is overwhelmingly white; inevitably, he has been compared with Tiger Woods. 'I've never seen a rookie as good as him,' says Damon Hill. 'Nobody has. He's coped with everything he's faced. He's been superb.'

Triple world champion Sir Jackie Stewart is equally impressed. 'I think Lewis is going to rewrite the book,' he said recently. 'We'll see a new generation of what I call properly prepared, professional racing drivers. I'm talking about fully rounded; [Michael] Schumacher became that, but even Schumacher wasn't as good as he should have been, not in terms of the driving but the total package. I believe Lewis will create the benchmark for a whole generation of drivers. Niki Lauda and James Hunt changed the culture of racing drivers, but they weren't role models. They said nothing, didn't give a damn. Lewis Hamilton can become a role model.'

Even the unflappable Bernie Ecclestone is excited by Hamilton. 'He's got a lot of talent,' he says. 'The guy's a winner. It became clear pretty quickly that he will win a grand prix some time - sooner rather than later. He'll win the championship - but I don't think this year. It would be asking a bit much and be a lot of pressure to expect that. It would be fantastic if he did, but I don't think we should talk about that at this stage.'

It is impossible when meeting Hamilton not <to be impressed or struck by just how young and fresh-faced he is, even when dressed up in McLaren T-shirt and jacket. He is courteous, intelligent, engaged and never loses eye contact, even if you sense that, as we talk, he would rather be getting on with some hardcore data analysis. He speaks of his time on the practice circuit with relish. 'It is quite satisfying when you go out and you know that you needed to brake 10 metres later … building up the courage to brake those 10 metres later, not lock up the tyres, and really pull it off. Sometimes you go into a corner and you think, "I'm not going to make it," but you say, "OK, we're going to do it." And you do it and you think, "Shoot, what was the big fuss in the first place," but you think about the advantage you've gained when you exit the corner - you're like, "Yeah, that was good." It's an amazing feeling.'

A grand-prix team can take more than 100 personnel to a race and that doesn't include the test team who work away from the public gaze. Hamilton is eager to acknowledge that there are others who contribute to his success. 'Sometimes you don't even notice the changes the engineer has made,' he says. 'My engineer is so smart and he understands what I say and the way I communicate - that's a great feeling. When someone understands what you're talking about and is able to translate that into your car, it runs better.'

Hamilton has been supported by McLaren since Ron Dennis recruited him into the team's driver development programme as a 13-year-old in 1998. The team contributed as much as £5m to his career, and offered technical support and advice as he worked his way up to the junior formulas. He graduated to racing cars in 2001 and has won the championship in every series he has driven. The step to F1 was a natural progression and everything was done - including keeping him distant from the media - to ensure that Hamilton was as prepared as possible. He has appeared at the obligatory press conferences, but has never before done an interview.

'I am amazed and proud to be here,' he says now, 'and I'm learning all the time. As soon as I signed for the team they sent a steering wheel round to my house so I could learn all the controls and the sequences for the start. I just kept it in my lap. When I got to the first race, I wasn't nervous about the start because I knew everything.'

McLaren made sure Hamilton was physically prepared and it is hard to imagine anyone looking fitter. Countless trips to the gym ensured that he would develop the strength and stamina to cope with the rigours of racing an F1 car for up to two hours in extreme heat.

'It was extremely exciting to do all the training,' Hamilton says. 'There was a point where we were doing all the same things over and over again, but then we started changing things and it became exciting again. You wouldn't believe what it's like in the car, the forces that are on you. I finish every race with a black …' - he pauses, half smiles and then continues - ' …a darker line down my side where I've been pushed against the seat. But the race is the most exciting part, the first corner, the first pit stop. I am just going to get stronger and stronger. I'm not yet at my best.'

Hamilton, who was born on 7 January 1985 in Stevenage, Hertfordshire, has been immersed in motor racing since the age of eight. His parents, Carmen and Anthony, separated when he was two, and he lived with his mother until he was 10, before moving in with his father and stepmother Linda. A day out with his dad to Rye House kart track, a few miles south of Stevenage, changed the path of his life. He had already been karting and proved to be a natural, soon lapping his father, but now he decided that racing was what he wanted to do. A deal was struck between father and son: if Lewis worked hard at school, Anthony would support his son's karting.

Anthony was working as an IT manager as Lewis began making a name for himself on the kart circuit. Taking time off became a problem as his son's racing and testing took him all over the country and overseas. Eventually Anthony took redundancy so he could spend more time at the track. He did contract work and was sometimes doing two or three jobs at a time, including putting up estate agents' signs. In time, he set up his own computer company, which now employs 25 people, but his main role in life is working as his son's manager on a daily basis.

This article is more than 17 years old The real deal This article is more than 17 years old Oliver Owen Sat 2 Jun 2007 19.08 EDT

Silverstone, 11 June 2006. With England in the grip of World Cup fever, the crowd for the British Grand Prix is expected to be down on recent years. There is little likelihood of any home success in the main event. Still, the stands and spectator banks are starting to fill up slowly as the GP2 race starts at 9am. Lewis Hamilton has started down in eighth place, but he is working his way through the field, with characteristic aggressive driving.

He is soon closing on the squabble for second place. Brazil's Nelson Piquet Junior and the Monegasque driver Clivio Piccione go through Copse side by side at around 140mph, but, as they accelerate out of the corner, they are suddenly three wide as Hamilton draws alongside. Into the five sweeping bends that make up the daunting Becketts complex they go, with Piquet on the inside. Hamilton carries huge momentum around the outside of the first left-hander to claim the racing line and second place as the road goes right then left again; Piquet drives straight through a temporary advertising hoarding. The cheers from the crowd are by far the loudest of the weekend as the young driver, then known only to hardcore petrolheads, picks off the leader and cruises to victory. Unknown he no longer is: 'Lewis Hamilton + Silverstone' is now one of the most popular searches on YouTube.

Had Britain's latest sporting hero-in-waiting heard the excitement of the crowd?

'I didn't, no,' he said afterwards. 'It all went silent at that point because we were so close, and I don't know if my body was preparing for something. You know when, if you're going to crash, your body gets ready to protect itself? I felt my body and the adrenaline all building up ready for something, and when I came out it all relaxed, kind of saying, "Phew, thank God for that".

'I'm working my arse off,' he continued, 'not only to do the best job possible, but also to get that seat at McLaren. I really want that. It's an opportunity not many people get. If I can get that seat then I think - and I feel very confident - that I can make best use of it.'

A little under a year later, Hamilton not only has that seat at McLaren but, when we meet soon after his second place in the Spanish Grand Prix in Barcelona, he is leading the Formula One drivers' championship. Today, however, he is back doing the unseen graft of testing. Along with the other 10 teams that contest the world championship, McLaren have moved on from Barcelona to the Paul Ricard circuit near Marseille in the south of France. The former home of the French Grand Prix is now simply a test track, albeit about the most sophisticated in the world - as you would expect from a facility owned by Bernie Ecclestone, the billionaire ringmaster of Formula One. Everything is of the highest standard and, just as the proprietor would like, the team vehicles are lined up so precisely they would do justice to the contents of David Beckham's fridge.

At the back of a grey McLaren bus, sheltered from the warm Mistral wind, sits Lewis Hamilton. It is 12 hours since testing began and he has driven 98 laps, posted the fastest time by more than a second and been through a two-and-a-half-hour debrief with his engineers. For a short while he is alone, staring at a computer screen with a diagram of the circuit and a screed of data on it. Not all his work is at 190mph and in front of 140,000 people.

After the excitement of a grand prix, testing must seem like a chore. Does it make him a better racer?

'I don't think so,' he says, preparing to close the laptop. 'You get that crafting from karting, the wheel-to-wheel racing you have there.' Karting is where most successful racing drivers first turn a wheel in anger; the competition is ferocious.

'The more racing you do the more you learn,' Hamilton continues. 'I'm a racer naturally, so that's why I believe I'm good in the races. In the race it's all about consistency, and to get consistency you need to learn about the car and that comes from testing. But the test is mainly to build your awareness of what is around you, that you are understanding the car and to fine tune the car and yourself. Sometimes I don't make any changes to the car and I find half a second in myself. Some people find it really difficult, like the engineers, they say, "What can we do?" and I say, "Don't do anything. I quite like the car as it is, I just need to improve myself."'

Hamilton is seeking to improve skills that have seen him make a record-breaking start to his F1 career. He finished third in his first race, the Australian Grand Prix, then second in Malaysia and Bahrain - a record run on the podium for a rookie, which he extended in Spain to become the youngest driver to lead the world championship.

At last Sunday's Monaco Grand Prix, Hamilton finished second yet again, this time behind his McLaren team-mate, double world champion Fernando Alonso. But there were signs of frustration from the young Englishman at a victory missed, as he slipped to second in the title race. Hamilton was called in for his first pit stop earlier than he expected, just as he was preparing to put in some really quick laps to extend his advantage over Alonso, who had already stopped.

'I was actually quite surprised because I was fuelled to do five laps, maybe six laps, longer than Fernando and they stopped me with three laps to go,' Hamilton said after the race. 'There wasn't much time to pull out a gap or improve my time; I wasn't really given much time for it. I came in two or three laps after him [Alonso]. That was unfortunate, but that's the way it goes. I've got number two on my car, I am the number two driver, it is something I have to live with.'

McLaren's team principal, Ron Dennis, rebutted allegations of team orders and race manipulation, strictly against F1 rules since 2002 when Ferrari instructed Rubens Barrichello to allow Michael Schumacher past to win the Austrian Grand Prix. 'We are scrupulously fair at all times in how we run this grand prix team,' he said. 'We will never favour one driver, no matter who it is. We don't have team orders, we had a strategy to win this race. There will be places where they will be absolutely free to race, but this isn't one of them.'

That last line attracted the attention of the FIA, the sport's governing body, who started investigating 'incidents' concerning the McLaren team during the race.

Since his debut in Melbourne on 18 March, Hamilton has transformed the popularity of grand-prix racing, not least because he is young, British, good looking and thrillingly fast. He is also mixed race in a sport that is overwhelmingly white; inevitably, he has been compared with Tiger Woods. 'I've never seen a rookie as good as him,' says Damon Hill. 'Nobody has. He's coped with everything he's faced. He's been superb.'

Triple world champion Sir Jackie Stewart is equally impressed. 'I think Lewis is going to rewrite the book,' he said recently. 'We'll see a new generation of what I call properly prepared, professional racing drivers. I'm talking about fully rounded; [Michael] Schumacher became that, but even Schumacher wasn't as good as he should have been, not in terms of the driving but the total package. I believe Lewis will create the benchmark for a whole generation of drivers. Niki Lauda and James Hunt changed the culture of racing drivers, but they weren't role models. They said nothing, didn't give a damn. Lewis Hamilton can become a role model.'

Even the unflappable Bernie Ecclestone is excited by Hamilton. 'He's got a lot of talent,' he says. 'The guy's a winner. It became clear pretty quickly that he will win a grand prix some time - sooner rather than later. He'll win the championship - but I don't think this year. It would be asking a bit much and be a lot of pressure to expect that. It would be fantastic if he did, but I don't think we should talk about that at this stage.'

It is impossible when meeting Hamilton not <to be impressed or struck by just how young and fresh-faced he is, even when dressed up in McLaren T-shirt and jacket. He is courteous, intelligent, engaged and never loses eye contact, even if you sense that, as we talk, he would rather be getting on with some hardcore data analysis. He speaks of his time on the practice circuit with relish. 'It is quite satisfying when you go out and you know that you needed to brake 10 metres later … building up the courage to brake those 10 metres later, not lock up the tyres, and really pull it off. Sometimes you go into a corner and you think, "I'm not going to make it," but you say, "OK, we're going to do it." And you do it and you think, "Shoot, what was the big fuss in the first place," but you think about the advantage you've gained when you exit the corner - you're like, "Yeah, that was good." It's an amazing feeling.'

A grand-prix team can take more than 100 personnel to a race and that doesn't include the test team who work away from the public gaze. Hamilton is eager to acknowledge that there are others who contribute to his success. 'Sometimes you don't even notice the changes the engineer has made,' he says. 'My engineer is so smart and he understands what I say and the way I communicate - that's a great feeling. When someone understands what you're talking about and is able to translate that into your car, it runs better.'

Hamilton has been supported by McLaren since Ron Dennis recruited him into the team's driver development programme as a 13-year-old in 1998. The team contributed as much as £5m to his career, and offered technical support and advice as he worked his way up to the junior formulas. He graduated to racing cars in 2001 and has won the championship in every series he has driven. The step to F1 was a natural progression and everything was done - including keeping him distant from the media - to ensure that Hamilton was as prepared as possible. He has appeared at the obligatory press conferences, but has never before done an interview.

'I am amazed and proud to be here,' he says now, 'and I'm learning all the time. As soon as I signed for the team they sent a steering wheel round to my house so I could learn all the controls and the sequences for the start. I just kept it in my lap. When I got to the first race, I wasn't nervous about the start because I knew everything.'

McLaren made sure Hamilton was physically prepared and it is hard to imagine anyone looking fitter. Countless trips to the gym ensured that he would develop the strength and stamina to cope with the rigours of racing an F1 car for up to two hours in extreme heat.

'It was extremely exciting to do all the training,' Hamilton says. 'There was a point where we were doing all the same things over and over again, but then we started changing things and it became exciting again. You wouldn't believe what it's like in the car, the forces that are on you. I finish every race with a black …' - he pauses, half smiles and then continues - ' …a darker line down my side where I've been pushed against the seat. But the race is the most exciting part, the first corner, the first pit stop. I am just going to get stronger and stronger. I'm not yet at my best.'

Hamilton, who was born on 7 January 1985 in Stevenage, Hertfordshire, has been immersed in motor racing since the age of eight. His parents, Carmen and Anthony, separated when he was two, and he lived with his mother until he was 10, before moving in with his father and stepmother Linda. A day out with his dad to Rye House kart track, a few miles south of Stevenage, changed the path of his life. He had already been karting and proved to be a natural, soon lapping his father, but now he decided that racing was what he wanted to do. A deal was struck between father and son: if Lewis worked hard at school, Anthony would support his son's karting.

Anthony was working as an IT manager as Lewis began making a name for himself on the kart circuit. Taking time off became a problem as his son's racing and testing took him all over the country and overseas. Eventually Anthony took redundancy so he could spend more time at the track. He did contract work and was sometimes doing two or three jobs at a time, including putting up estate agents' signs. In time, he set up his own computer company, which now employs 25 people, but his main role in life is working as his son's manager on a daily basis.

'If I didn't love it, I'm sure I wouldn't be as good as I am today because I'd have put half the effort in and just have done the races,' Lewis says, recalling the time he spent testing in his early karting days. 'I think you find drivers who just rely on their racing ability and don't do the hard yards. When you're young you don't really understand that philosophy: work hard and see the result. You think, "I can't be bothered to work hard now," and when you get there you struggle and complain. But if you really put the effort in you see the result. Even if you don't do well you know you've done the work, so next time you can improve on it.'

As soon as Hamilton started competing, the results were spectacular. Adam Jones, a journalist and ex-racer who now runs 100ccPR, an agency that deals in public relations for kart racers, remembers meeting Hamilton in 1994. 'Martin Howell, who owned the Playscape indoor kart track in Clapham, introduced us. He said, "Adam, this is Lewis - he's going to be a Formula One world champion." I shook his hand and said, "You're going to be a grand-prix champion, eh?" and Lewis looked at me and said, "Yes, I am." I thought, "Yeah, right." What struck me wasn't Lewis's steely determination but Martin's tone. He wasn't patronising Lewis or me; he meant what he said. Every magazine or newspaper article about Lewis mentions his karting background, but what they fail to say is just how good he was back in those days. Lewis hasn't just suddenly arrived; he's been around a long time.'

Michael Eboda is editor of the New Nation, the newspaper aimed at Britain's black community. He recalls arriving at Buckmore Park kart track in Kent to interview Hamilton and his father for The Observer in 1997. 'I got there and asked someone where I could find Lewis Hamilton. They said, "He's the only black kid here and he'll be about three laps ahead of everyone else." He was.' Eboda remembers the 12-year-old Hamilton as being polite and assured as they chatted in the back of a beaten-up old Peugeot hire car. He didn't want his father with him as they talked, but Eboda was more than a little surprised by the answer when he asked how Hamilton drives a kart so fast. 'I don't know why I'm so quick,' Lewis had said. 'When I come to a corner the answer just comes. I take what the answer says and it makes me take it as quickly as possible.'

He has always gone as quickly as possible. Kieran Crawley is boss of M-Sport, one of Britain's leading kart teams, and worked with the Hamiltons as Lewis made his way up through the karting levels. He remembers a race in Belgium, when Lewis was competing in the Junior Intercontinental A class, that proved just how quick he could be. 'Lewis was always stalling the kart, but you were allowed to wait by the side of the track with an engine starter. As they rolled on to the grid I could see Lewis looking for me. I thought, "Oh no, he's stalled it." I got the starter into the side pod just as the lights went to green. Lewis went off from the back of the grid and was already half a lap down. He caught the pack and went through it to finish fourth. He was up against some very good drivers - including Robert Kubica, the Pole who is now an F1 driver for BMW - and beat them. In F1 we haven't seen him come from the back, but that's when he's at his most dangerous. When he makes mistakes, just watch him go. I want to see him make some mistakes - then you'll see just how good he is.'

Does Hamilton relish the thought of charging through from the back after a mistake? It must happen one day soon in F1, as it did in Istanbul last year, in GP2, when he spun and worked his way up from 16th to second.

'I rarely make mistakes in races,' he says. 'In Istanbul that was one of the few mistakes I've ever made.'

But surely it was worth it?

'It was,' he says, smiling. 'It was great, but I was struggling in the car. The rear end was not right. Straight after that [the spin] I somehow extracted a little bit more from the tyres and I had this boost and everything's right, the car was great and things need to be …'

Momentarily he is lost in the memory of that epic drive. 'Look at Kimi [Raikkonen] in Japan in 2005, when he came from the back. Everything was right, the car was fantastic and he got out of trouble when he did some of the most amazing moves you've ever seen. He was buzzing, he enjoyed it and he won. I love those experiences. I love coming from the back.'

Hamilton's physical gifts don't just belong behind the wheel of a racing car. He took up karate after he caught the eye of the school bully. By the age of 12, he was a black belt. He was also a more-than-useful footballer at John Henry Newman School in Stevenage and played in the same team there as Ashley Young, the England under-21 midfielder who joined Aston Villa from Watford in January for £9.65m. 'I was quicker than Ashley Young, stronger than him, so I had that with me. But he was very skilled and very neat and would dribble the ball round people very nicely. I was very powerful in the team, I was always a midfielder and in my team I was the fittest by far because of my racing and the training I did. I'd run up and down and up and down and if someone tackled me I'd get them back. I'd always get them back because I never gave up, whereas a lot of people would get tackled then just leave it for the next stage of the game. I'd never let that happen.'

Like all top sportsmen, Hamilton is hugely competitive, whether in a racing car or out ten-pin bowling with his mother. Do all the fun things in life involve keeping score?

'I think at a young age everything I did competitively I wanted to win, and I hated not being the best at any sport I did. When I competed against anyone I thought, "I've got to win." But I've got to a point now that I play golf and I lose, and I can deal with it. It's not a negative energy, I can control that energy.'

So does he let his mother win at bowling?

'I don't ever let anyone win if I'm honest,' he says. 'I should let my brother win at some things, but it's very hard for me to do that.'

He is referring to his half-brother, Nicholas, who is 15 and has cerebral palsy. The two are extremely close. 'I always wanted a brother and I remember when my parents [as he always refers to his father and step-mother] first told me they were going to have a boy, I was well excited. It's quite a cool feeling to watch someone grow up, to see the difficulties and troubles he's had, the experience he's had. To go through them with him and see how he pulls out of them. I think he's just an amazing lad and I really love to do things for him. This weekend we're going racing remote-control cars. We bought him a new one, then I bought one so we can race together. I've been a couple of times and I get hassled a little bit now, but I had my dad to take me and he doesn't have time, so when I do have time I love to just take my brother down to the track. He loves a challenge and he's got a lot steeper challenges.'

The future for Lewis Hamilton has limitless possibilities. He will win many grands prix and world championships, perhaps even more than the seven titles that Michael Schumacher won before he retired at the end of 2006. He will very soon be improbably wealthy, even if, for now, his salary is reported to be £500,000 a season (team-mate Fernando Alonso is rumoured to earn 20 times as much). Dominic Curran, a director of Karen Earl Sponsorship, believes Hamilton has the potential to earn hundreds of millions of pounds. 'He has arrived with about as big a bang as possible,' Curran says. 'He's got something different - he's the first black F1 driver - which opens up a whole new market for him. Plus, he has charisma and star quality, he's a good-looking guy who speaks well, which is attractive to sponsors. And he's clean-cut.'

What does Hamilton think of all this? How does he see himself in the future? 'I think when I'm done I'd just like to go back to living a normal life and have a family and no worries,' he says. 'Just enjoy doing things with my brother. There's a lot of experiences in life which I haven't had yet, and doing that with him and doing that with my friends and not having the worries, just enjoying. It's such an important thing.'

How does he account for being so calm and grounded?

'It comes from my parents, yeah, and being taught to appreciate things. I was like every kid, you know. You get in trouble … I liked living life on the edge but I was always taught to appreciate things and say "thank you". I got that from my dad but also from my mum. A lot of my personality comes from my mum. It's a real half and half.'

At McLaren there is nothing but praise for their record-breaking recruit. 'I could launch into a whole range of eulogies,' says Ron Dennis. 'You just need to look at the history of F1 to see how his debut compares. How could anyone expect a start like this? And it's not just what he does on the track but it's what he says and how he says it. You have the impression that here is a guy who will keep his feet on the ground. He has enough Brownie points to avoid criticism if something goes wrong - which it will. It's inevitable for any driver. But you have the feeling that Lewis will be able to cope with that too.'

The team's chief executive, Martin Whitmarsh, knows exactly just how good Hamilton is. 'Since I joined McLaren in 1989, I've worked with a lot of great drivers, including [Alain] Prost, [Ayrton] Senna, Mika Hakkinen and now Fernando Alonso. It's pretty clear that Lewis ticks all the necessary boxes. It's too early to analyse, but if the trend continues there is no reason why he could not become the greatest driver ever.'

Hamilton's influence is extending far beyond the insular world of F1. Michael Eboda, of New Nation, can already see the impact he is having on black Britons. 'He's incredibly popular and, for the want of a better expression, he's a fantastic role model, as is his dad. It sends out a message to people that that is the way to bring up a kid.'

McLaren are excessively protective of their new star, in a manner reminiscent of how Alex Ferguson once chaperoned the young Ryan Giggs at Manchester United. This interview took many months to negotiate, and there were many stipulations on what I could and could not ask Hamilton - such as about race and ethnicity or indeed whether he intended, like most F1 drivers, to become a tax exile. At the Spanish Grand Prix meeting last month Hamilton had mentioned that he might one day have to move to Switzerland for tax reasons, but his father quickly killed the story.

McLaren need not worry excessively, because Hamilton will not let the team down. He has not been fazed by what he has achieved so far in his career, let alone in F1, where he has placed the superstars, including his team-mate, the double world champion Fernando Alonso, under intense pressure. The Lewis Hamilton story is much nearer the beginning than the end and the world is still waking up to just what is possible.

Is this what worries McLaren then, that they fear their new superstar might start to feel and act like one?

Perhaps Hamilton should answer that for himself. 'I've never read about something I've said, because I know what I've said,' he says before we part. 'My parents might say, "There's a good piece in the paper, do you want to read it?", but I won't read it. It's a good way of keeping your feet on the ground because when you read stuff like that you think, "Wow, it's great," and you feel yourself floating. As I don't read the stuff about me, I don't feel like a superstar. I don't understand people who do have that mentality, "I'm a superstar!" It's just a job. It's a fantastic job, and people just perceive you for some reason as a superstar, but at the end of the day I'm just Lewis. I've always been Lewis, and it's important to me to stay like that because people will take me like that.'

[perseyhandmaiden]

Feeling angry after an unpleasant and aggravating conversation, it's not the best timing for the welcome wagon to arrive. Nova doesn't want to turn them away, so hopefully she can cool off or this will be a very short visit. No pun intended.

10:49am Enter neighbors Penny Pizzazz, Miko Ojo & Akira Kibo "I'll try to chat with Akira, he seems interesting." N: Hey, Akira. I'm new to the neighborhood. Is there any places you know of around here to get good coffee? A: No, but I do know a festival where you can get some antiques!

N: So, I actually just got a new job at Rainy Day Entertainment. I start on Tuesday. I'm pretty excited since it's what I studied. There's just one problem… A: Why don't we talk about it over lunch, I made.. P: Don't eat anything Akira cooks, it's not his best skill and will probably make you sick. M: I brought fruitcake! I left it in the kitchen. The recipe is a family heirloom. By the way, do you have games on your computer?

N: Yeah, I was just writing some code, but you can play BlicBlock Anyway, this new job is great. I got an advance so I was able to furnish the place. Thanks for coming over by the way. P: Of course, we are always happy to Welcome the New Tenants. Akira, did you see the wares at the last Flea Market? I got some amazing pieces…

N: The flea market is for broke parents who need cribs for their babies, and a couch that doesn't matter if it gets destroyed! "So much for calming down"

P: gasp! I don't even know what to say right now.

Penny has a deep-seated grudge against Nova. It's hard to forget or forgive the past, which may make being around Nova feel very unpleasant for Penny.

"I need to calm down a bit, I'll turn on some Electronica Music. That should help." That's my Jam! Nova is all about Electronica Music.

A: Hey I see you have a gaming system, let's play MySims Racing. What do you say? N: Hah, beating you will be as easy as grilled cheese. A: Ahhh ahhaha. P: mocking oh it's like grilled cheeeese mleehh. Mysims Racing is a trash game, it's all about R.E.F.U.G.E.

A: Yeah, well MySims Racing is a multiplayer game, so no one has to sit out. Join us if you want to, or not.

"Sitting to play video games is having a positive affect on my mood."

N: Great suggestion Akira! Nova is in her element and because she is doing something she prefers, she gains more Fun!

After a while, even Penny joins in. It's the music keeping everyone in a good mood. In the end, it's Nova who ends up with the high score, helping her feel energized, and suppressing her anger just a little more.

Race Master! From Winning MySims Racing Way to leave the competition in the dust.

M: Don't forget, I brought cake! N: Yes, lets get some from the kitchen. "Argh I'm angry all over again coming in the kitchen, I wish I had a coffee maker."

A: You were moved in nicely, Nova. Decoration is lovely in this main room. N: Thanks! I picked most of it myself, some things came with the apartment. Decorated: From Good environment: Having decorations around makes for happy environs. Favorite Colours: Grey Green White Black Enjoying the decor adds to Nova's mood helping her to feel energized again.

Also, Nova finds the fruitcake is delicious. A Fruity Delicacy! Was there really any fruit in that cake? Doesn't matter, it was delicious!

Nova cleans up the dishes and turns on the dishwasher. It hasn't been such a horrible visit. There was only that one tiny outburst which didn't last long.

[lyfedda]

NOT AN OPEN RP

CW: MILD DESCRIPTIONS OF GORE, YOG-SOTHOTH BEING WEIRD AND GROSS WITH LYF.

Enjoy!

“Love, I'd really prefer if you weren't here,” Lyf said as they slipped on the amulet. “This could be dangerous and I could hurt you.”

“All the more reason for me to stay here,” Marius said, sitting beside them on the bed. Someone needs to be here to make sure you wake up. I don't want you trapped in your own mind with Yog-Sothoth.”

Lyf took Marius’ hand and squeezed, kissing him. “I'm not going to get trapped there. I'm ending this. He's ruined enough lives. He needs to go and I don't know anyone else who can do this.”

There was a pause. Marius nodded, knowing that there was no talking Lyf out of it regardless. He would trust that his lover knew what they were doing. “I’ll give you time. If something seems to be going wrong, I’m waking you up.”

Nodding, Lyf gave Marius another kiss. Just in case. “I love you,” they said as they laid down. The amulet was in place and they took several deep breaths before falling into a peaceful rest.

—

It was warm. Very warm. Lyfrassir groaned softly, not yet picking up their head. They felt like they hadn’t slept in ages. It was warm and they were comfortable. They hadn’t been so warm since-

“Edda!” Someone said, shoving their shoulders, which caused them to sit up hastily. “Cosmos, you’re sleeping on the job again? There was a laugh and Lyf had to rub their eyes, looking over to the source of the voice. Wait… was that..?

“Razler?” Lyf asked and brought a hand to their mouth. Yggdrasilian? They hadn’t spoken that so naturally in such a long time. What the fuck was going on?

“Who else?” Razler asked, scoffing a laugh and pushing them playfully. “If Onya sees you sleeping again, ez’s going to throw a fit,” he said, turning back to his computer. “And I don’t feel like hearing zer mouth.”

Lyf rubbed their head. They.. woke up from a dream? That was the only logical explanation. clearing their throat, they ran their hand down their face. “Please don't tell Onya, it's been a long couple of days.” Wasn't it? What did they even do? Why didn't they remember clearly. They rubbed their forehead, groaning. “What… Comos. I'm exhausted.”

The train arrived, hadn't it? They were on the case, so. It made sense why they were tired.

“I keep telling you to take care of yourself,” Razler said, standing from his chair and walking over to Lyf, starting to massage their shoulders gently. “Look at you! You're all tense and you're holding it all right here.”

There was a moment they imagined someone else. They couldn't think of a face, but… someone else had done that. Recently, too. Why couldn't they remember? “Where's the Black Box?”

“The what?” Razler asked, his grasp on Lyf's shoulders getting a little tighter. The massage getting harder.

“The Black Box. From the train. It should be here on my desk, but- ow.” Lyf shrugged his hands off of them, turning in their chair to look up at Razler. He seemed… different for a moment. “It… should be right here, but it's not.”

Razler put his hands right back on Lyf's shoulders, turning them back to the monitor. “The train? What are you talking about?” He laughed, hands getting closer to their neck. “You really have been working too hard. You're starting to confuse reality with your dreams, my friend.”

‘Lyf,’ a voice whispered and Lyf looked around. ‘Lyf, don't be tricked. Focus.’

A hand was on Lyf's neck and they looked up, staring at Razler. No, it wasn't Razler. He was changing. His hand wrapped around Lyf’s throat tightly. They gasped softly, eyes widening.

Everything came back to them.

“Let go,” Lyf said, grabbing his hand and pulling at it. “Let go!”

"You realized this was fake much quicker than I anticipated." The hand became cold. Long. Like a tendril... it was exactly that. "You're not afraid anymore."

Lyf gritted their teeth. "I've seen everything you have to offer. What more can you show me? Why should I be afraid?"

Yog-Sothoth tightened his hold, his tendril stroking their cheek. "You think this is everything? Hardly." He laughed and his tendril slide across their lips, causing them to grimace and try to pull away, but Yog-Sothoth wrapped it tightly along their mouth to keep them from speaking.

Lyf squeezed their eyes closed, cursing Yog-Sothoth. They were having a hard time breathing. Their head was forced back, tendril sliding over their body. Restricting their arms and legs and- they needed to act. They needed to do something or they'd be consumed by him. They couldn't let that happen. They needed to get home.

'Lyf!' That voice came back. They recognized it. They knew who it was. 'Lyf, wake up!"

Not yet.

Lyf opened their mouth and bit. They bit down on that tendril and heard Yog-Sothoth's cry of pain as blood filled their mouth and covered their face. Lyf tore off a piece of his flesh and was freed as Yog-Sothoth let go with a cry of pain. Lyf took the opportunity to get up, spitting the piece of flesh out and turned to face him. There was no fear. There was only anger.

"You are dying today, Yog-Sothoth!" Lyf yelled, rushing at him.

A portal opened right as Lyf got to him and they were unable to stop themself from running through it. They stumbled and fell on to the tracks.

The Bifrost...

Lyf cursed and got on their feet. Yog-Sothoth was right behind them and shoved them back to the ground, his form changing, shifting. Bones cracked and broke as Razler's form was torn away, hot blood splattering across the tracks and over Lyf. Yog-Sothoth's many eyes stared at them, anger and distain clear them. One tendril shot out and pierced Lyf's chest.

"I've grown tired of your existence. I'm going to kill you, Lyfrassir." His tendril grasped around their heart and squeezed, reveling in the sound of their screams.

"Your sacrifice will be remembered for generations. Be happy. Your death will start the cleansing of this world."

"No!" Lyf yelled, gasping in pain, grasping the tendril.

'Lyf,' a new voice echoed in their brain. 'What's in your hand?'

Their hand? Their... the gripped the knife Sinclair gave them long ago and stabbed the tendril in their chest, letting out a cry of anger.

Yog-Sothoth howled in anguish, but couldn't pull away fast enough. Lyf cut the tendril clean off. "Wake me up!" They called out, eyes widened as Yog-Sothoth thrashed about. "Marius!"

------

Lyf shot up in bed, gasping and putting a hand over their chest, where dried blood stuck to their shirt.

"Lyf!" Marius threw himself at them, hugging them tight. "Cosmos, what happened?! I tried waking you, but you- and you started to bleed and scream and-"

"It's okay," Lyf said, panting. "It's okay... we can hurt him. He bleeds and he feels pain. Which means he can die."

Marius pulled back, staring at Lyf with worry. "But... how?"

Lyf was silent for a moment, thinking. "I need to talk to Raphaella."

[early20sfailingplenty]

I was genuinely brave today and I wanna tell the Sinclairs about it but I can't so I'm telling all of you🥹🥹🥹

Okay so yesterday when I was grocery shopping, my work senior texted me to ask if I wanted to drop one of my shifts so I would have more time for uni. That WOULD help me out BUT financially I cannot afford to lose £2-300 a month. It was just sprung on me and instead of making a snap decision I asked if I could have time to think on it and promised to tell her my decision tomorrow (today). So I think on it, I got upset and angry (still haven't quite figured out yet why I got defensive but I think it's because the way she asked me, made me feel like she was saying I'm incapable of working four days a week and doing a degree. That's NOT what she was saying, but that was my snap emotional response. Obviously I didn't act on it and just asked her for thinking time). I do all my numbers once I'm home and yes, I canNOT afford to lose that money but yes it would help me academically. So time or money, which is it?? I picked money, I had to. Mum agreed, dad disapproved last night but this morning told me he agreed with me. So, fine, it's decided. So then today, I go into work, and half hour before the end of my shift, my work senior comes up to me and says, are you ready? I say yes, we find a quiet room.

HERE'S WHERE I WAS BRAVE.

Okay so she asked me again if I wanted to drop a shift to make uni easy on me and I said no thank you, financially I can't afford it but also I just REALLY love my job and I wanna stay on my four days a week. I didn't hesitate, and I didn't hold back. I was truthful and honest and I was as polite as possible given how angry I was yesterday. She then said that she loves having me on her team and doesn't want me to lose any hours either but she's just thinking about me and my mental health because she doesn't want to find out that I've been awake for 32 hours between work and uni EVER again because I'm one of her girls and if that's happening then she isn't doing her job to take care of us properly. So then I pulled out my notebook and showed her what needs to be revised between now and October and what this year will be like (see below pictures. This is the PREP WORK alongside learning an entire computer software programme we will use regularly AND six online labs to complete).

And she sat and thought for a moment because I refuse to compromise on my job not only because I'm stubborn but also because I just genuinely can't afford losing that kinda money and then she asked for all of my assignment deadline dates, all my lecture dates, etc etc and I gave them to her (I don't have lecture dates or group project dates yet because I get them in mid September) and she wrote them in her diary and said that she's gonna make sure that I have at least two days off in a row for all of those weeks so I can fully concentrate on my assignments and she asked that when I get the other info, that I give them to her so she can pencil me in as needing a day off. She also said that when I get my textbooks and the platform opens up, to bring my laptop into work and she's gonna sit down with me and work out a day by day plan for the first week and then I can copy that for all the other weeks so that I have time for my job AND uni AND free time without sacrificing one or the other.

I'm so so happy, I was expecting to be forced to give up one shift a week and I expected to be forced into what I didn't want but she listened and was so lovely and accommodating and good to me.😭😭😭 AND THEN SHE DROVE ME HOME BECAUSE MY KNEE STILL ISN'T FULLY HEALED BUT IT ALMOST IS😭😭😭😭😭honestly she was so kind it genuinely stunned me and I feel like I'm waiting for the shoe to drop...

And I just.... Proud Sinclairs because I'm getting braver and more vocal and confident???? Please have I earned Bo's smirk and Vincent's approving "mmf" and Lester's sunshine smile???😭😭😭😭

I'm getting so much braver now and saying no more often and pushing back and finding the spine my abusers took from me almost a decade ago. I'm doing it I'm doing itttt and now I just gotta keep good on my promise and make it work and not lose myself in the process...

[sadwinning]

Devlog 1 (1/25/24): Why This Is Pointless

In my intro post, I mentioned how it would be much easier to map the 12 chromatic notes of Western music to the 3 action buttons and 8 directions of Undertale, and how I won't be doing that for purely aesthetic reasons. I also want to mention why everything I'm doing to my violin is completely stupid.

If you want to follow in my footsteps, you shouldn't do it the way I'm doing it. You probably can't.

My violin is a Yamaha EV-205 five-string electric from the late aughts/early 10's. I recently learned that this violin is no longer in production, so there's no way your standard Joe Schmoe can pick up this tutorial, nor would they want to if they were in the market for an electric violin, because they already sell electric violins that are MIDI controller enabled. You should buy that and follow the software specs of CZR drums and their MIDI-to-controller software partner/whatever. I simply do not want to spend more money on an electric violin when I already have one with the right hardware (individual pickups for each of the five strings). So I will be voiding the warranty that likely no longer exists and busting open my violin to see what I can patch together.

When I busted this component (pictured above) open I immediately found a not-so-complex PCB where I could locate each of the individual string inputs. I have yet to see whether those ports will give me the inputs I need - golly, I have yet to learn how to solder enough to access those ports!! - but the visibility gives me hope. it doesn't look hard, especially for someone who has been low-key interested in soldering for like 15 years (since my Pokemon Gold copy's battery died and I learned the ways to replace it) but I can't say I know exactly what data flows through that part of the circuit and how easy it would be to extract and manipulate.

I've done a lot of research into what I would need to take analog audio signal(s) and transform them into MIDI or some other binary/digital data. The first thing I found was an Arduino library, so I knew this wouldn't be hard. I only have one Arduino (knock-off) and I didn't like the idea of buying four more (one for each string) to get the MIDI values when I would probably be connected to a computer the whole time no matter what.

This led me to where I'm sitting pretty right now, at a Python library (Python being my favorite language) that uses its GitHub .md file to explain why Markov chains are important. Reader, do you know how much I love Markov chains? Did you know that in my sophomore year of college I created a musical AI by programming Markov chains in Python??? How is it that all of my interests loop in upon each other in the same way that my first and only job out of college involved natural language processing in Python just like my senior project where I did language analysis on okcupid profiles???? Is time in fact a flat circle? I don't have time to think about this because I want to program violin to play undertale pleas

Where I'll be starting is with this library and with monophonic input (one note at a time rather than interpreting multiple notes at once e.g. multiple strings played simultaneously) to make a controller of any kind work. But I have a lot of reading to do to see how Markov chains are involved. With it being both Python and linear algebra, I have the capacity to adjust the code to do whatever I want it to do. Given this insane opportunity I can't not do all the research possible to finetune things to my precise desires. If I were satisfied with "good enough", I would be playing monophonic input the whole way through. Let's go insane, boys.

[marvel-and-chicago-fan]

Happy Meals And Hotels

Matildas age: 4

Pretty small one, this is one of my favorite ones ive written, although it dosent stand where i want it and the writting is off i still like it

Jays pov

Today, Me, Matilda and Will are heading up to our cabin for winter break. Currently I'm going to pick up matilda earlier from school than we had originally planned. The forecast says for heavy snow, even though me and Will can drive through the snow, we decided that we didn't want to go through it with Matilda in the car because of how young she is. 

I walk up to the receptionist so I can check Matilda out.

“Mr. Halstead, Will dropped off Matilda 2 hours ago. Your usual pick up times not for another 3 hours” She said while typing on her computer

“Yeah, I was supposed to pick her up in an hour but with the forecast we wanted to get ahead of the storm so we can head up to the cabin for the holidays.” I replied

“Ah, I see. I’ll call Mrs. Norris to bring her up.” She says with a smile while picking up the phone

“Hi, This is Cora from the front desk. Do you think you can send one of your assistants down to bring up Matilda Halstead? She's getting checked out for the day.”

She puts down the phone and looks back at me “She’ll be down in a minute.”

“Thank you so much” I say with a smile

I go to sit down while I wait for Matilda. I hear a little voice that I love to hear every single day. “JJ, I missed you!” She says while she runs up to hug me

“I missed you too Mattie bug” 

“Why are you picking me up early, JJ?” She looks up to me

“Me and will have a huge surprise for you”

“Really?”

“Really, So let's hurry up and get in the car

I buckle Matilda in her carseat and start driving to wills

***

Wills pov

“Hey will, the snow is coming down really hard and I don't think we should keep going. There's a hotel down the road” He says

“Yeah i was about to call you to say the same thing, Matties asleep and i can she thats shes uncomfortable in the car seat.” I say adjust my mirror so i can see Mattie better

“Ok, I'll call ahead to see if they have any available rooms. Make sure you get all your stuff because im not sharing any of my stuff with you” 

“Whatever will, keep your eyes on the road” He jokes

“Yeah yeah bye, jay”

“Bye will”

I pull up at the hotel Jay sent me and I call them. “Hi, do you have any rooms available for 3 people?”

“Yes but we don't have any regular rooms available, We only have suites available”  The man said

“That's fine, can you hold that room for Will Halstead, I’ll pay when we get to the front desk.” I tell the man

“Sure, The room will be on hold for two hours and then it will be up for whoever wants it”

“Thank you” I click the hang up button

Just then Mattie wakes up

“Willy, are we there yet?” She tiredly 

“No Mattie were gonna stop at a hotel for the night”

“but i wanted to play with my toys at the house” She complains

“You have some toys in your bag, you can play with those in the hotel room. I promise to buy you a new toy when we get back home.”

“Ok”

We sit in silence while pulling up to the hotel then she breaks the silence “Willy i'm hungry”

“Did you finish all your snacks?” I question how a 4 year old can eat that many snacks in a few hours.

“No JJ ate some of them and then dey fell on the ground when he put me in my chair” 

“We're gonna have some words with Jay on how he shouldn't eat your snacks aren't we?” I chuckle

“Of course willy” She laughs

“And its they not dey Mattie” I correct her

“They?” 

“Good job”

***

jays pov

“Jay shes 4 you can’t just not feed her” will sighs

“Well i'm not just gonna run out to mcdonalds to get her some food”

“Please JJ I'm really really hungry and I want a happy meal.” She gives me that puppy dog face

I finally cave in because who can't say no to that face. “Fine, Will you want the usual?”

“Sure, i just want a coke instead of a sprite this time” He responds

“Gottach, I’ll be back in like 35ish minutes”

***

Gosh, it's so cold. If I drop this food now Matildas going to have a tantrum at one in the morning and will give me that look when he wakes up in the morning because he got no sleep because a toddler cried all night. 

I walk into the hotel to see people begging for rooms and others yelling because they prioritize families with young children. If I need to intervene then I will but for now I don't need everyone knowing that there's a detective here with a small child.

As the elevator closes I can hear a lady arguing that I was allowed to go through and she wasn't.

***

Jays pov

“Alright, i got her an extra large fries that she can snack on and eat with her food so she doesn't eat ours.” I Say while taking out the food from the bag “I got the container that the pancakes come in so she can put her food on a plate.”

“Wait- where is mattie?: I look around the room for her nowhere to be seen

“She's in the closet” Will says as he points to the door

“Why”

“She got mad because i left the ipad charger in the car when her ipad died, then when she asked for my work computer i said for her to wait and let me set it up. She had a tantrum about wanting it now then ran into the closet.”

“She’ll get over it, she's probably just cranky.  She's been in the car seat for 10 hours and she hasn't eaten anything. Oh and can you grab a mug a and wash it in the sink so i can heat up some milk”

***

“Thank you for the food JJ.” I smiled

“Your welcome mattie.” He said with smile

“Ok off the bed, it's almost 2 in the morning and we’ll leave at 12 if possible.” Will said, cleaning up all the food that I threw on the floor.

***

“Is she finally asleep?” jay asked me

“Yep, I looked at the weather and it looks like we’ll be here for another day or two. So i’ll drive down to the store that a couple blocks from here and get some stuff”

“Alright, night will” he mumbled

“Night jay” I said switching the lights off

Now that ive read it i kinda hate it compared to my new story :l

[x3zerochanx3]

Over 18 + story nothing for minors

Prologue

Chapter 1

Y/N parked her bright red Chevrolet K10 in front of the building. She had an appointment with her father's lawyer and best friend to discuss the next steps. She reached beside her and picked up her hat

from the passenger seat and put it on as she got out. She walked purposefully into the building. She knew exactly where she had to go. Nothing had really changed here in all these years. People had simply grown older and were still doing their jobs until they really couldn't anymore. Her long hair flew back and forth a little in the warm wind as she walked across to the other side of the street. Occasionally, people looked at her a little skeptically, but she didn't care. She just wanted to get to Frank Campbell's office. “How can I help you?” she was greeted directly at reception by an older lady in her 50s, who was sitting at a computer typing something. “Good afternoon. I've been told to contact Frank. I'm Y/N Tillerson,” she introduced herself. “Um...Mr. Campbell is not receiving any visitors today honey. Try again tomorrow,” the lady said kindly. Y/N gave an annoyed sigh. She would hardly be there if he wasn't waiting for her. “Listen. He told me on the phone last night that I should drop by this morning. It's about my father, Simon Reed,” she tried her luck again. “No. I'm sorry,” the woman remained stubborn and continued typing on the keyboard. Y/N had no choice but to take her cell phone out of her pocket and call Frank, who appeared in the room a short time later. Frank was wearing a light blue designer suit, a matching blue tie and a blue cloth hat. He looked sourly at his employee. “I told them I was waiting for Y/N. Why didn't you let them see me?” he asked her tensely, walking towards Y/N. “Y/N. It's so good to see you, little girl, even if the circumstances aren't good. Come up to the office with me, then we can talk about it in peace,” he took her in his arms. She followed the man up a staircase with gray carpeting to the second floor. There were exactly three doors at the top of the corridor, and they took the last one. Frank closed the door behind her. The room itself was painted a normal white, with old wooden furniture and piles of files and papers on the desk. It was immediately clear to Y/N that the lawyer had more than enough to do. He himself was considered not only the oldest, but the best lawyer in the area, but nothing was above his friendship with Simon. “Sit down, little one. I'm just going to get the documents,” he went straight to one of the filing cabinets, picked up a red folder and placed it on the table in front of her. She just nodded to him and sat down on a chair in front of the desk, while the older man sat down directly behind it. “You're in luck. Your father already took care of everything regarding the funeral before the accident. You don't have to worry about anything else. The only thing you have to do is set a date, he's already done everything else.” Y/N looked at the man in front of him in surprise. She hadn't assumed that her father had planned this far in advance, but nodded to Frank. “I think the priest will get in touch with you, or you can go to the church later and talk to him yourself. As for the range, you'd best talk to Scott. Your father left the administration and everything else to him because he knew you weren't really interested in it and as for your brother...no one could reach him or find him,” he continued, which didn't surprise her. Her older brother had broken off contact with them shortly after their mother's death and, according to rumors, had probably emigrated to Europe. “Scott Miller?” she asked him. “Yes, that's him,” Frank grinned and opened the underwear folder. “Holy shit,” she mumbled under her breath. Scott and Y/N had their own past. They'd hooked up at some party and had spent their first time and a night or two together in one of the barns. They'd gone out a few more times until Rhett had come between them and she'd chosen her best friend, which Scott wasn't thrilled about. But that had all been a very, very long time ago. As far as she knew, he was now married himself.

Y/N took the folder and skimmed through the documents. Her father had really recorded everything about how he wanted to be buried. Even his coffin, his place and everything else had already been paid for. All the family possessions and accounts had also been transferred to her, as if her father's accident had been no accident. “Please be honest with me. Dad didn't have a normal car accident, did he? There's more to it than that, isn't there?” Her eyes looked at him seriously. “Your father was driving drunk, went off the road and crashed into the big oak tree on the driveway,” he told her, scrutinizing her. ”Your father would never have given up on himself Y/N, just because he knew how much Wayne wanted to take everything away from him. He knew he wasn't the youngest anymore and he also knew you'd come back here eventually.”

She left the office with a heavy head. Everything was just too much for her at the moment. She still had so much to take care of. Fortunately, she didn't have to worry about her finances and had some time to prepare. She put the folder with the copies of the documents on the passenger seat and went to the local store to fill the fridge at home with food. “Y/N is that you?” she heard a woman's voice next to her. “Yes?” she replied, turning around and looking into the face of Cecilia, who rushed straight up to her and simply hugged her without a second thought. “It's good to see you again, little girl. It's been ages since I've seen you. Look at how beautiful you've become. How about joining us for dinner today? I'm sure you've got a lot to do and haven't had a decent meal for a long time,” Abbott let her go and stroked her shoulder a little when she saw her old best friend's daughter in front of her. “Nice to meet you too Cece. I don't want to put you to any trouble, but nothing can beat your food,” she gave the older woman a quick hug and smiled at her.

“Very nice. It's best if you come by in two hours. I still need a bit of time to pick up the boys. I'll see you later kiddo,” she hugged Y/N again before she went to do the shopping herself.

Y/N was looking forward to the food. Cecilia had always been able to make the best food out of the simplest things. She also realized that she couldn't show up there without a gift, which Cece would refuse again, but she didn't care.

She went through the shelves and filled her cart with food for the next few days. Her eyes wandered through the shelves, looking for the right gift, but she couldn't find anything suitable. Her best bet was to just get her some flowers and some of her father's moonshine from the cellar, which was damn good and strong.

About two hours later, she was standing in front of the Abboots' old house with a bouquet of flowers and the moonshine. She knocked on the door and waited for it to be opened, even though she knew that the door was usually open at the time when someone was in the house. Through the knocking on the door, she heard the loud barking of the dogs before the door opened a moment later. “Hello, how can I help you?” she was greeted warmly by a girl she immediately recognized as Amy. “Hey. I'm Y/N. Your grandma invited me over for dinner. Will you let me in?” she said kindly herself and Amy nodded to her. Amy closed the front door. Y/N took off her boots, put them in the hallway and made her way to the kitchen. It already smelled extremely delicious and her stomach growled right away. Amy went straight back upstairs to her room. She was immediately embraced again by Cecilia, who was delighted that she had actually come. The two of them were alone in the kitchen and immediately started talking about what had happened here and how proud Abbott was that Y/N didn't put up with her ex. It felt good to vent to her and for a moment it felt like she had never really left. Both women laughed about an old story when they heard noise from the hallway.

“What time is it?” they both heard a male voice humming. Y/N turned to the voice. Her pulse immediately quickened as she realized who was standing in front of her, half-asleep and wearing only shorts. He had grown considerably wider, his muscles were clearly defined, his hair had grown longer and she hadn't known he was tattooed until now. She immediately realized why it wasn't difficult for him to keep his bed cold. He looked damn good and she could well imagine how he would do between her thighs. However, his hair was so tousled and his lips a little sore that she could also imagine that he wasn't alone in his room.

Tired and completely hungover, Rhett made his way down to the kitchen. Last night had been far too long and the beer had tasted far too good to come home early. Sleep-drenched, he went into the kitchen. He just wanted to get a drink, eat something and wake up. It was relatively rare that his mom had visitors, so he was all the more surprised to see a woman...no...it wasn't just any woman. It was clearly Y/N sitting at the kitchen table with his mother. His blue eyes looked at her penetratingly. He knew that her father had been found dead a few days ago, but that she would be sitting in their home a few days later, he wasn't prepared for that. Before he or she could say anything, the front door banged open. “Damn it Rhett. How many times do I have to tell you to get dressed when you come downstairs, especially when we're not home alone,” Royal grumbled sourly as he saw his son standing there like that and slapped him flat on the back of the head. “It's too late for that,” the mother took it a little easier and greeted her husband.

Y/N couldn't help giggling. She was actually glad that Royal had pulled her out of her thoughts. He also greeted her with a quick hug, while Rhett had gone straight back upstairs to get dressed and freshen up. Some things really wouldn't change that quickly.

[sparks-and-wires]

Doctors & Nurses - 2P Axis

It's bad enough to be sick, but the fact your partner has to work all day doesn't make you feel any better at all. Your fever ends up spiking too high, you start to feel really lightheaded, and soon you're in a familiar waiting room, waiting for you name to be called by a nurse.

It's a blur between your mom taking you to the hospital to being put in your partner's care. All you remember is their surprise when they come in and your mom chastising them for letting you get this way in the first place. They just curse before checking on your dazed state.

"You know I'm not even supposed to treat my other half. It's company policy." You hear him make that off handed comment to your mother who's fuming beside you. You flinch with his cold hand to your head before leaning into it.

"But to hell with policy. What they don't know isn't my problem."

Luciano Vargas - 'Seasoned' Doctor

----

"All I want to know is how you got this bad seemingly overnight. You seemed like you were managing yourself just fine yesterday." Your darling partner ends up poking and prodding at your neck.

"If you have strep, I'm going to give my brother hell for that last party we were at. You started getting sick right after that."

"......" You just glare at your partner for that.

"What? I'm not the one who got you sick in the first place."

He's professional, but verbally affectionate. It's clear that you being as sick as you are makes him upset so he takes a throat swab real quick. He cringes when you gag on the swab stick.

"It's done, no more sticks." He lets out a sigh as he writes a script for an antiviral after the flu test came back in. If it wasn't for you being sick, it'd be like a routine check up.

"You do have the flu, so I wrote a script for Tamiflu. You'll be fine within a week. Script should come in later today. Now, if you excuse me, I have to smack some sense into my P.A." You knew he meant his brother and you can't help but be amused by it.

"Try to get some sleep, I'll be home at five thirty." And he's out the door to yell at his older brother.

Flavio Vargas - PA (Physician Assistant)

----

He's going through the typical routine as usual like nothing's different. You think it's funny that he ended up working at the same clinic as his younger brother. At least both of them seem to take their jobs seriously.

"Alright, so any nausea?" He just almost goes through a mental checklist as he types out things on the computer. Headache, chills, high fever, lightheadedness, he could easily clock it as the flu.

"You too?" You look at him confused. You didn't get a word out before he continued.

"Fratello's partner also has the flu." You deadpan.

"You've got to be kidding me. I was around them a lot at that party you had a few days ago." You just sigh and he seems pretty sure of himself to the point where he's writing a script.

"Inhaler or pills? Either way it'd be in by tomorrow. I can pick it up since I'm not working."

"I don't care." You're tired, he knows that.

He just writes a script and gets you out the door so you could go home and sleep. It's safe to say the whole villa would be getting a flu shot before it could happen next year.

Kuro Honda - Doctor w/ his own firm

----

"This is exactly why I told you to wear a face mask when you're going out. You never listen to me."

"I thought you were just being a germaphobe!" Your hoarse voice has him flinching further. He just groans in irritation at that, you always have to be so stubborn.

He's good at his job, but he makes the whole thing impersonable and as quick as possible since he's pretty sure he knows what's wrong with you. It's flu season after all, so he has to do the swab you always choke on. At least he makes it quick for you. The test comes back negative which pisses him off, he likes simple cases. He's just sitting there staring at the computer for a few minutes.

"How long have you been like this?"

"A week?" He knows you're only guessing at this point, you're too tired to remember straight. Your mom commented that the fever spiking was the only new change with you for the last few days outside of the lightheadedness getting worse.

"....Sounds like a sinus infection." He actually checks your throat and ears with that. Looked about right to him. A simple case. "I'll write a script for a nasal spray but you better use the damn thing this time. I don't care that you hate it, it works faster than pills." You just grumble at that.

"Wear the mask next time, I don't need you sick for another month just because of the smoke in this district." He almost chastises you, before ruffling your hair and leaving the room. He'd be back home to make sure you're getting your rest later.

Klaus Beilschmidt - Doctor w/ his own firm

----

"......" He's just going through the motions while entirely silent outside of the initial questions he needed to ask to clock what the issue was. Nausea, intense headache, high fever, the lightheadedness might just be fatigue, he knows you can't tell the difference sometimes.

He's quick with a fast strep test, and a flu test just to make sure. The uncomfortable feeling of the cotton swab makes you gag but it's over before you could really complain about it. He comes back after ten minutes handing you a medical mask like he's wearing.

"You have strep and you're still contagious. Your mom might want to be tested before I'm done writing the script for antibiotics. I'm pretty sure I know who you caught it from so I'm going to have to have to bar Luther from coming over for a while. Him and his partner are always getting you sick." You know Klaus is really rather irritated despite his even tone. He takes the test for your mother while he's at it too just to make sure. He'd feel bad if he did.

"She's fine. I'll pick up the script on my way home. Just try to get some sleep before I get home, and gargle salt water. It should help with the pain." Very professional, it's a shame he can't be your permanent doctor.

Luther Beilschmidt - NP (Nurse Practitioner)

----

He's just sort of wasting more time than necessary since he's so attached to you. Your own mother has to clear her throat to make him take it seriously. It's not great that his office is limited in staff already due to the flu going around, it was between him and Klaus. You would think Luther would take this seriously.

"Sorry, I got distracted." He's awkwardly laughing about it as he actually goes back to doing his job. He's too affectionate, it's getting in the way of his job.

"Remind me what the symptoms are?" Your mother cuts in and reminds him out the lightheadedness and the fever. You just stay quiet while he's examining you. Ears, eyes, throat, all standard stuff.

"You nauseated? Headache? Have difficulty swallowing?"

"Yeah, all of that." Then he gets out a swap test that everyone hated. You cringe and move away from the stick.

"I'll make it quick." He says that but you still gag on the stick. It's enough to use for a rapid strep test. In ten minutes he comes back.

"Good news! I know what's wrong with you." He seems proud of himself. "Bad news is that you have strep and you're still contagious." You watch him mess around with the computer for a few minutes before he looks over to you.

"Wrote a script for Amoxil for you, you're not allergic to that right?" Did he even look at your online charts at all? You just sigh and wave him off.

"Ok then, shouldn't take more than a week for you to start feeling like yourself again."

"Shouldn't you get tested too? You sleep next to me. You could get other people sick." He takes a moment to think about that.

"Probably... I'll wear a mask for the rest of shift just in case." He more or less hurried you two out of the room so it could be prepared for the next patient. You know you'll ask for someone else next time. To think he isn't taking proper precautions even with knowing you were sick beforehand. Hopefully he doesn't get sued.

[xwonderfuldeath]

.o| It's a small world : XVIII |o.

Warnings : Violence, injury, graphic depictions, sex

Please, consider supporting me on Ko-Fi ! ♥

« - When I got old enough to understand what I wanted out of life, my parents didn't fully understand why men would be what I wanted in a sexual life partner, and so they simply kicked me out. »  

Alone, lost, without a single penny in my pocket, I had to wander from street to street, house to house, and season to season. I was lost, broken, I didn't fully understand what was happening to me, I wanted to go home, but I couldn't. So I had to do what I had to do. So I had to do what anyone would do to survive. Stealing, I did petty shoplifting, jewelry, phones, computers. Whatever passers-by left lying around ended up in the only thing that really belonged to me, my school bag. I'd sell it back for a small price, enough to eat a bit, take showers, get new clothes. It was the hardest year of my life, and very often I thought of death coming for me, clutching at my throat. And I refused to give up, my petty thefts turned into a full-time job, I stole everything I could, going after very rich men. And when I met them, I still don't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing. Not everything is black and white after all. 

« - Hey kid, what you got there? 

- Nothing mister, I don't know what you're talking about.

- The kid's messing with me, I saw you took something out of my buddy's jacket. »  

Min Yoongi and Jung Hoseok entered my life like a hurricane, I'd made a mistake, I hadn't seen Hoseok behind my back, and I felt safe. I had stolen Yoongi's wallet without thinking, seeing only the profit of the money that was sure to fill it. But they didn't take it that way, and I found myself dragged along behind them to join their bosses, wanting to know what could obviously be done with a simple thief like me. Kim Namjoon was someone who scared the hell out of me at the time, terrifyingly cold and self-assured. His eyes pierced my soul and I knew that my life had just taken a turn, like a hurricane in the rainy season, I had understood why my life had been hell up to now. 

« - What took you so long? Who's this guy? 

- A kid who thought it was funny to steal from Yoongi. 

- Did he see something wrong? 

- Maybe we should get rid of him? »   

The coldness of the handgun against my temple had frozen me, death was back taunting me, dancing before my eyes, taking the form of three men staring at me like prey, I didn't know where my courage to speak had come from. I didn't beg for my life, I didn't have the means, but I didn't want everything to end as easily as a simple bullet between my eyes. 

« - Wait! I can be useful to you! »   

Namjoon's hand rose, and the spying eyes became questioning, for several short seconds, seeming to be several eternities blending together, I took deep breaths, before beginning my plea, hoping to convince them to let me live and why not join their company. I saw in them the right to take back my life, get off the streets and resume a normal sixteen-year-old life. 

« - We're listening. How can you help us? 

- I'm good at stealing. Or even getting people to believe in me. Let me help you, redeem myself. Give me something to show I'm useful, and you won't regret it. »   

There was silence again, as everyone seemed to be weighing up the pros, and a new face appeared with a petty laugh. Kim Seokjin had arrived like a rose petal, his eyes shining with mischief and laughter, he applauded without anyone quite understanding why, before sitting down on the desk, and despite Namjoon's presence, even he lowered his gaze to face the oldest of the bunch. 

« - You're really going to shoot a kid because Yoongi doesn't know how to be careful? He managed to pick the pocket of one of our own. If Hoseok hadn't been there, would you have stopped him? 

- But Jin...

- We'll keep him. I don't want to know Namjoonie. He looks lost, he needs help. Not a bullet. Me alive, no gun's gonna do anything to him. Am I clear? »   

No need for words, everyone was silent, but approved. I was free again, without really being free. But at least I had a roof over my head, something to eat, and I even went back to school, fully financed by their group of thugs. All of them had had, at some point, something that had brought them down to earth: Yoongi's parents had died, Hoseok had had to flee violence, Namjoon and Seokjin were wanted criminals for their eating habits, forced by their respective parents. No one ever asked questions, learning from each other's scars without having to speak up, it was more a matter of guessing than anything else anyway, some things never deceived. Life went on like this for two long years, as the group grew in size and power, shaking the city to its core. This put us in the spotlight of bigger, stronger, bigger bands. Heisukei Damarro's group came upon us one spring, finding our base with disconcerting ease. 

« - Here are the little larvae who are taking over my strip. Do you know how much you've cost me in two years? Your miserable little lives won't even be enough to make you pay back a tenth. 

- Are we responsible for your decline, when you leave your business in ruins? 

- Abandoned? I've had some... problems, sure. But abandoned? »   

To be honest, I hated Damarro, full of himself, sure of himself, it seemed like every time he talked to someone, he always thought he was more important than they were. But he was stronger, more present, so Namjoon had no choice but to accept his proposal: work for an abject man like him or die. I would have chosen death, if I'd had the choice. But it was the group or no one, so I took my place in the great Heisuke Damarro's hierarchy, and if we were thugs, he was a mixture of all that was worst in the human species. A monster in a suit, who didn't hesitate for a second to test children, using them as tools, mere toys for his terrible purpose. His companion was sterile, and he would tell us so whenever he had the chance, but he needed a perfect child, something of his own blood. So he began to experiment, more and more despicable. Harder and harder. And Kiyeon came into my life. I held him there, a baby, a tiny little thing in my arms, his big black eyes looking at me, his adorable little cheeks and his smile. It was all too much for me, and we fled with the boys, wanting to get out of this hell, and save this child doomed to death by his genetics. 

« - We had gained power thanks to Heisukei, so it wasn't long before we made a powerful name for ourselves and earned enough to live more than humbly. »   

Silence reverberated in the large bedroom. Taehyung had followed what Jungkook had asked of him, he hadn't spoken, hadn't cut sentences, letting the man express himself. He'd stopped breathing, how could someone like him have such a terrible, lopsided life. Jungkook hadn't cried, but he'd felt tears welling up in his eyes, flowing in a flood of emotions that had overwhelmed him. With one hand against his mouth, he tried not to let the sadness shake him until it shook his soul, and the younger man couldn't help but come to comfort him. 

« - I'm sorry... If I'd known I...

- Shh, it's nothing. I didn't tell you all this to make you feel bad, or to make you feel sorry for me. I just want you to understand what it means to be with Jeon Jungkook. 

- And I accept that. I want to be with you through the bad times, as well as the good. But I don't want lies, I only want the truth. Jungkook, I couldn't bear my life without you. But I also couldn't bear it if you lied to me again. »   

A slight smile passes Jungkook's lips, and he caresses the moist cheeks of the man he loves, coming to embrace him in a kiss first tender, then increasingly hot, torrid. Light moans pass Taehyung's lips, and he lets himself lie back in bed, before hearing the little mouth noise, drawing a growl of frustration from Jungkook, and a genuine laugh from Taehyung. 

« - Are you playing leapfrog? Can I join you? Does this mean I've got a new daddy?! 

- Kiyeon... Come if you like. »   

[the-firebird69]

There's a whole bunch of different colleges in California this is at a famous One most of them are famous but this is a famous campus. It's because my husband used to go there and it's in LA and it's near the downtown area where he works and that was more or less koreatown at the time I need to go near it to the mall to eat and take a break from a Liam place it was very lame. But it's a job and he went over it and went to the campus once and it was University of California Los Angeles he's been there before because he visited his brother I didn't realize how close he was to it and walked around the whole campus with his brother we just looked at it a few times when he was there and he didn't like it. A lot of people don't like the place it's like here it's crazy people think they're right by being crazy. So he left the company and it was some bad terms and it's angry and he should be and they got excited about it they got excited about it and they shouldn't they're the ones who are doing it and they're all like bothering him for stuff the whole time and the commute was a disaster so you got another job but you guys were doing that to him a lot and you really need to pay you're so stupid people owe him tons of money too he's trying to take tons of stuff losers as well worth it it sucks losers you hardly noticed. Now we're going to take a ton of stuff and he sees it too you going up to Chicago and that area and it's still there and it's still plants and things like that I'll crammed in and you're moving stuff to LA a lot of it you're flying out and you're forcing it out and you're threatening my husband so we're going to start taking that stuff just threatening him for you you're going to lose it

Hera

A lot of you are deaf but it's in writing so you can read it over and over

Zues

I'm going to do this work and get it done and take their stuff and sitting there taunting us and they're fighting Mac over the hardware and parts and part hardware and all the machines and you can see the patterns of the ocean that goes east and sometimes West and sometimes it's full West of the California coast and we can imitate almost any of you and take it so stick it up your ass

Thor Freya

So sick of you and your dumb mouth bja. Recently we discovered something her son's system is working he has this idea and it's greatness and it is really nice to have you build stuff and he says it's Thor and Freya and he does it too but they actually spearheaded this movement and kind of going he's trying to do it and he's working on it and yeah he did start it and he kind of got lost in it and it's trying to run two or three of them and has nothing to write down on no desk no computer and we picked up a few door fraya pushed it through and Thor and really Hera picked it up and I don't know what happened but that kicked the whole thing off it was with Barbie and it became just an overnight sensation with that Corvette and now the Rolls-Royce and the other Corvette and then several other cars a few of them are Asian and people are painting their cars pink it's crazy right now we have millions of orders in for the Rolls-Royce and it's more than that but there's other people making them total number of orders is very huge but we don't want to say it it's a lot and granted we have chassis too and people are buying those and we're going to be sending them out shortly we are having a little difficulty where's the cone is not drinking but we still managed to ship them out because everyone else is and it's moving out shortly a huge loads of new cars too and new trucks are going to the lots all over the world and if they don't want in Florida that's fine that's not the case Mac is bringing them in and some others are bringing them in not a huge amount but they are and it's working tonight there's going to be a huge disturbance because people are seeing why they're bringing the vehicles and stuff let me find each other but it's normal. You have some issues here and we're going to help out with them they don't seem to be getting fixed in any way and we need them fixed

Olympus

We have a plan for the septic and it's going to work we just need to get it going it's kind of dangerous for him to be there while the work's going on and it says it you can leave for a half a day and pull it out and put a tank in and buried and that's no big deal we're doing it out back then we have to do it out front and it is dangerous I would rather have them out of there so people don't try and wreck the building and we know how to do that too it's not a big deal so we're going to head with the plan

Stan

It's about time old man everybody's giving us so much s***

Dan

Yeah and it makes sense and that's one reason why we're fighting you

Trump

Okay so I get it but still it's going to get done and it's a real pain in the ass this stupid stuff has to be moved out and people have to be able to poop and piss when a pain in the ass it's very gross too this dumb freaking system it says it's really the sand is the water gets up there if it jams a little and the sand goes down and hype a little and I know it is cuz I was pulling it out and I was showing him it won't take much to fix it when we have to do it temporarily I want to pay the ass it's every time it's a huge chore just to get someone to do it I'm kind of sick of this s***

Stan it's not funny but he's laughing like giddy cuz nobody wants to do it I'm going to take a s*** and piss it's horrible we have to do this