#and when i got to the front they confirmed the order and then sent someone to put it together

[babsaros]

went to a real dispensary and got real weed like a big kid today

[avocado-writing]

hi!! I read your fics and I love your writing style! I was wondering if you could do something with a human reader, maybe she works in a bookshop or she’s a teacher? And it’s all cute because he finds her genuine??? Maybe some angst because she finds herself in danger? Idk sorry I’m rambling I just wanted something with a human reader 🧍🏻‍♀️💐

the place where the pages meet

logan howlett x bookseller!reader

4k words, rated explicit.

cocky!logan; awkward!reader; excessive book references; threat of physical violence (quickly averted); anti-mutant language & sentiments; smut (oral - reader receiving, penetrative sex). minors dni. thank you @saradika-graphics for dividers!

The sky is heavy with the promise of rain, and you suck your breath in through your teeth. It’s fifty-fifty on days like these: either people will seek shelter in your little store, or they’ll scurry away with the fear any purchases they make will get soaked and ruined.

God damn it, what kind of fool opens an independent book shop in New York?

You’re the kind of fool, apparently. Still, it’s your home, both figuratively between all the old paperbacks and literally with your tiny apartment on the top floor. Barely more than a studio, but enough for you. A piece for yourself carved out of this world. 

Outside it starts to pour. You sigh. Well, at least you know you’ll get one visitor today.

Charles, your dear friend and long-time financial supporter of your store, had called earlier to let you know that the usual face wouldn’t be coming to grab his order. It’s a shame, you like Ororo, enjoy sitting and sharing a pot of oolong with her on quiet days. Also she could have chased away this terrible weather for you. Ah well. 

“Who can I expect?” you’d asked. 

Charles had laughed, a warm and friendly sound. 

“Ahh, you’ll know Logan when you see him.”

You don’t know what you’d do without Charles. Between orders of rare books for his personal collections and en-masse copies of classics for the kids, he pretty much keeps this place running for you. Bless that man, honestly, because you’re not sure where you’d be without him. 

The sound of someone pulling up outside has you putting down your book and turning towards the shop window. 

A pickup truck parks up by the kerbside and you watch the man in the driver’s seat emerge into the rain. He cuts a fine figure, tall and strong, but you don’t get a good look at him until he walks through the front door. 

Oh no, you think, he’s handsome. 

Leather jacket now pocked with raindrops, very obvious white vest beneath it showing off his broad chest. He shakes like a dog to get the moisture out of his hair as he stamps his boots on the doormat, pausing only briefly to scrutinise its no admittance expect on party business slogan. 

“Logan?” you ask. He looks up and when his eyes first meet yours? Oh, a fire is sent down your spine. 

“Yeah,” he confirms, looking around to take in the place. You can’t tell if he’s impressed or not. He has a remarkably neutral face, careful, the sort of man who doesn’t want to give anything away about himself. 

“You’re… here for Charles’ books?”

He’s sauntering over to the counter now. Cocks an eyebrow. It goes right through you. Fuck. 

“That’d be me.” There’s a beat. “Why, you think someone’d try and steal them?”

“People can steal books!” you say, defensively. 

“People named Logan who you’re clearly expecting?”

You bristle, because he’s got you. Something flickers over his face for a second: a smile. 

Oh no, you think, he’s handsome and he’s an asshole.

Huffing, you fish the box out from under the desk and groan with effort as you lift it up. Logan takes it from your grasp as if it weighs nothing at all. Your fingers touch as you do. You try to ignore it.

“Thanks,” he says, easily.

“Mm. Mind the rain. It’d be a shame if you slipped.”

A proper smile crosses his face then, but he turns away too quickly for you to let it sink in. The bell on the door chimes as he heads back out into the rain.

Well, you hope you never see him again.

By the same time next week, you’re really hoping you see him again.

You’ve sort of not been able to get him out of your mind. He was kinda prickly, sure, but a welcome break from the mundanity of your life, and pretty good looking to boot. It’s probably just a pipe dream. You’re sure it’ll be Ororo again, and you can go back to the easy pattern of seeing your dear friend. That’s okay. You’re fine with it. Who needs a handsome man? You have your books, you have your store, you’re happy.

Yeah. You’re happy. 

Imagine your surprise, then, when you hear a motorbike outside your shop.

You must be blessed with street parking, because Logan pulls up right outside again. Same jacket, same well-worn jeans. He catches your eye through the window and you’re sure they glisten. You pretend to be engrossed in your book but it’s not fooling anyone, the words swim into soup on the page as you see him approach.

The door goes; he approaches the counter. Closer this time, you can smell him. Tobacco and leather. Fuck it’s good.

“You should wear a helmet,” you say, trying to be flippant. Logan lets out a single, solitary note of a chuckle from deep in his chest.

“I’ll be fine. Thanks for your concern, though.”

You feel your cheeks heat up and try to hide it by looking for Charles’ order again. It’s a single book, a first edition you had to go through the backwater book depositories to hunt down. You’re the best at what you do, though, so it was no real problem. It’s why he always comes to you.

“Here you go. Let him know I’ll try and find the sequel if he’s interested, too.”

“Sure.”

Once again your fingers touch as you hand the book to Logan. No. No, this is too quick! You want to keep him here for a little while longer. He looks so out of place between the wonky shelves and hanging plants, it’s just perfect.

Your mouth tries to say two things at once: can you tell Charles I’ll have his other order ready same time next week, and, do you like to read often? 

Instead what comes out is, “can you read?”

You must wince when you ask the question, because Logan stands there transfixed. Baffled, just for a second.

“Can I… read?” he repeats slowly. 

I’ve failed you, I’m so fucking sorry I didn’t stop your mouth in time, says your brain.

“I didn’t mean… of course you read… I just… I didn’t want to assume… maybe you didn’t like books… erm…”

“Yeah, I read,” he says softly, as if you are an old dog and he is putting you out of your misery. You fucking wish he would. Jesus Christ, it’s like you’ve never spoken to another person before.

You can’t find a way to recover this. Your cheeks are on fire. You’re going to explode and burn down your store. Oh authors, you are so sorry for using all these works as kindling.

You expect Logan to turn on his heel and walk out but he… doesn’t. Instead he takes a step back so that he can look at the shelf nearest to the desk. Runs his fingers across the spines before picking one. It’s slim, no more than the width of his finger; he puts it on the counter and fishes his wallet out of his pocket.

In the Miso Soup by Ryū Murakami. You ring him up, punching the price into your old cash register, give him his change. His palm is soft as you drop coins into it. 

“See you next week,” he says, stashing both his book and Charles’ inside his jacket. 

“Okay,” you say, amazed you’re able to get any words out, and watch him walk away again.

He does see you next week.

The sun’s out, so he’s sans jacket, and oh fuck you can see how his arms are like treetrunks. The way this man has you reacting is unhealthy. You try and focus on the hardback in your hands but all you can picture is those veins which are bulging on his biceps, begging you to come and get to know them better.

“You’re always reading huh?” 

His voice makes you jump a little, you’re not expecting him to be so close. You look up. He slides his sunglasses up into his hair. Fuck it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Would you trust a bookstore owner who didn’t read?” you ask, bristling with the need to defend this little shop and your place in it. He holds his hands up in the universal sign of peace.

“Not an insult, just an observation.”

You sink back from attack mode, walls still a little high, but definitely coming down.

“How did you get on with the Murakami last week?”

Logan takes a moment to consider this, trying to piece his answer together in a way which won’t offend you.

“I liked it until the last chapter.”

You sit up in your chair. 

“Yes! A lot of people say that. It feels like it ends sort of abruptly, but if you just appreciate it for what it is, it’s a good book.”

He smiles a little as you speak. You fucking love talking about books, to a degree some people find absurd. You don’t want to babble though, so you force yourself to end your observations there.

Logan nods at the book in your hands.

“What are you reading now?”

You lift up your book so he can see the cover: A. S. Byatt’s The Djinn in the Nightingale’s Eye. 

“It’s very good! Byatt has such a wonderful way of writing. I love fairy tales and there’s such a wonderful voice in this one. They made the titular story into a movie a couple of years back, it’s quite good actually, it has Tilda Swinton in it.” You’re floundering. Don’t stray too far from the normal lines of conversation. Mouth, for fuck’s sake stay on course, begs your brain. It doesn’t. Instead you ask, “do you… like Tilda Swinton?”

Logan raises an eyebrow and you know this is a man who has never once had to consider the question of whether or not he likes the actress Tilda Swinton. 

Mouth still talking. MOUTH STILL TALKING, your brain screams. It’s true. It is. You were too busy being horrified to notice.

What your mouth says while being unchaperoned is, “There’s a little single-screen theatre nearby doing a showing of it this week, actually, do you wanna come with?”

DID YOU JUST ASK HIM OUT. DID YOU JUST ASK HIM OUT?!

Logan doesn’t seem to know what to make of that. He seems just as shocked that you’ve asked as you are. But then, just as you want to cast yourself into the street so that a passing garbage truck might take pity on you and sweep you away, he smiles. It’s slow, but it makes him look so much hotter.

“Sure, why not.”

Oh mouth you genius. I shall never doubt you again.

“Oh, okay, great! Uhh, are you free Friday?”

“I can be. What time’s the screening?”

“Seven. Meet me here at six-thirty?”

“It’s a date.”

Fuck, it is a date, isn’t it. It’s a date!

Logan stands there, awaiting something. You’re confused for a beat, then go up on your tiptoes, aiming your mouth towards his.

“As much as I appreciate the gesture… Charles’ book, honey.”

Hmmm, okay. Still time for the earth to just swallow you whole then, actually.

You sort of don’t expect him to turn up. You wouldn’t go on a date with you, all awkward edges and uncomfortable words. And he’s… the coolest fucking guy you’ve ever seen. 

Of course he won’t turn up. Of course he won’t. 

He turns up. 

He’s waiting for you outside the store, leaning against a lamppost, dressed in flannel and smelling like subtle cologne. You can’t help lighting up when you see him and hope you’re dressed suitably - your nicest pair of dungarees and a tight-fitting jumper. 

“Hey! You made it,” you say. 

“‘Course I did,” he replies with a little smile. Oh, you’re giddy. 

“C’mon, it’s not a long walk. It’s a nice night too.”

He lets you chatter as the two of you make the brief journey, content to have you talk his ear off about business and books. He’s happy to answer any questions you ask him about himself: what he does for a living, how he knows Charles, if he’s got anything else on his to-read list. The two of you skirt around the most obvious thing: if he lives at the mansion, he’s definitely a mutant. You can’t quite get the courage to ask him about it. Seems easier to just let it lie, so you do. It’s not that important anyway, you think, you like Logan, with or without any extra bits. 

When you arrive at the little hole-in-the-wall cinema, he gets the tickets and the popcorn and the drinks. You do your best not to feel absolutely pathetic by his side. Surely everyone here knows you’re punching above your weight with this absolute grade A specimen of a man? You’re so busy looking around the foyer to make sure nobody is staring that you almost don’t realise when he takes your hand in his.

“You with me, honey?” he asks, soft, low. You swallow thickly and nod because for once, you can’t find the words.

It’s not a very full screening, which is just fine, because you’re happy to be alone with Logan in the dark. You share a bucket of popcorn and a secret little thrill runs up your spine every time your fingers brush together. When that’s finished, he puts his arm around the back of your chair and you snuggle up against his side, cursing the damn plastic cupholder in the middle forcing you to keep a distance. 

One hundred and eight minutes. They’re not enough. You want to be here forever. But eventually the credits roll, the lights come up, and Logan has to pull his arm back; you hope the reluctance in the withdrawal of the gesture isn’t just your imagination. 

“What did you think?” you ask, standing up and stretching. Logan follows suit, mulling over the question. 

“It was… cute,” he decides. “I can see why you like it.” 

You beam. 

“I can lend you the book if you want. It goes into way more detail about the main character’s life at the start, it’s very stream-of-consciousness but I really enjoy it? It’s different to the other stories before it but definitely worth reading. I think that…”

You’re outside now, under the streetlights, fingers tangled easily with his, and when he stills you’re pulled to a stop too. 

“Hmm?”

He drops his grip on your hand so that he can put one under your jaw, tilting your head to get a better look at you. Your heart beats violently. He can definitely feel it. He knows. You don’t care. Fuck, he’s so near. 

“You talk a lot, huh?” he asks. It’s not unkind, the smile on his face is one of fondness, and all of your skeleton turns to jelly as you fucking melt under the affection in his gaze. 

“Please shut me up,” your beg comes out as a whisper, and he does. 

His lips are rough against yours, guiding, but sweet. The hair on his face tickles your cheeks. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and bring him down to kiss him with more enthusiasm. This is not a public-appropriate display of affection, and someone honks their car horn at you both, but it just serves to make you laugh against his mouth and keep going. His hands slide onto your hips and hold you tight against him. Possessive. Wanting. Covetous. 

“You know,” he says when he pulls back for air, still running his lips along the line of your jaw to the hinge beneath your ear, “when Charles told me I should go and get those books, he said I’d like the person who runs the store. Didn’t expect you to be such a gorgeous little thing, though.”

You, gorgeous! Logan thinks you’re gorgeous! You could do a fucking cartwheel in celebration. You don’t though, you’d probably give yourself a concussion. 

His hand goes to his pocket and his brow furrows and, for a second, you panic. Has he started regretting kissing you already? Another quick kiss calms that down though, settling the simmer of worry in your stomach. 

“I think I left my wallet in the theatre. Hold on, I’ll grab it, then I’ll walk you home?”

“Only if you come in with me,” you breathe, and once again your mouth has taken the reins on that one. Logan huffs a laugh, a little incredulous, but mostly pleased at your gumption. 

“Okay, sweetheart. Okay.”

He leaves you standing there, feeling all tingly. This is happening. It’s fucking happening! Sometimes the stars align for a book nerd and a handsome guy wants to come up to their studio apartment. You thank Jesus, Buddha, Arthur C. Clarke - whoever is listening, they fucking deserve it. 

“You gonna fuck that mutant?”

The voice sends a chill down your throat. 

The trio of guys standing behind you do not look friendly. The biggest one, the one standing in the middle, sneers at your panic, crossing thick arms over a broad chest.

“Well? I asked you a question.”

You screw your courage to the sticking place, puffing up a little. 

“Don’t see how that’s any of your business,” you spit back, hoping that vitriol will deter them. It does not. Instead, they close in, hyenas around a cadaver. 

“Never had a human dick you down good enough, huh? Need a little help? C’mon baby, we’ll show you.”

He reaches out to grab your arm. You let out a noise of panic. 

At the same time, Logan’s fist collides with his face. 

The guy is sent stumbling back, spitting out a globule of blood. His friends step away with panic in their eyes. Logan moves in front of you, his bulk your shield, three metal claws extending from between his knuckles. 

Yeah. Mutant, huh?

“I think you were just leaving, pal,” says Logan in a voice which doesn’t bear messing with. The man bares his reddened teeth. 

“The fuck do you think you are, mutant scum--?!”

He lunges for Logan and the breath is sucked from your lungs when you see he’s pulling out a fucking knife, but another punch sends him flat on his ass. The blade clatters across the street and into the gutter. His friends grab either one of his arms and half stand him up, half drag him away.

“Shit, it’s not worth it—!” is their conclusion as they disappear into the night, shouting back expletives, blood trailing from their leader. Logan shakes out his fist, flexes his fingers; claws retract. He turns to you, slowly. 

“You okay?” he asks, hurriedly checking you over. You nod. 

“Y…yeah. Shaken.” you confess. 

“C'mon. Let’s get you home,” he sighs, and from the cadence of his voice you can tell he’s worried the night has been ruined. You place your hand on his bicep. 

“Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you still… will you still come up?”

He softens. 

“If it’ll make you feel safer, sweetheart.”

It does. 

And that’s how you find him sitting on your well-loved couch in between your needlepoint pillows, looking around your tiny home as you make a pot of coffee to share. 

“Jesus, you’ve got more books in here than in the store,” he mutters. 

“Well, some of them I couldn’t part with. I like them too much. And, as you pointed out, I am always reading.”

You look around at the shelves stuffed into your flat, the dozens of them holding hundreds of novels, plays, poems. You love them all dearly. They all hold a special piece of your heart, you can remember where you were when you read most of them. (Downstairs while manning the desk is often the answer). 

“Oh, even this?”

You can hear the smile in Logan’s voice. He’s holding up a copy of Fifty Shades. You scoff, rolling your eyes. 

“Christ, I read that as a professional courtesy to the art of bookselling. Got it for fifty cents at a thrift store. It’s crap. If you want some good erotica I can recommend…”

The sentence lingers unfinished. Logan raises his eyebrows. 

“You can recommend what, huh?”

The coffee is ready. You can smell its rich scent enveloping your little apartment. An idea forms. Creates a heavy anticipation on your tongue. Your brain screams at you. 

Locked. Loaded. Fire, mouth, fire!

“… then I’d recommend you take me to bed,” you say.

Logan stares, eyes wide. You’ve had an immediate effect on him. His pupils dilate. 

“I… honey, after earlier, I’m not sure if you should…”

You cross the room and sit on his lap, an easy feat when his legs are so thick and inviting. His sentence stops as you press your mouth to the pulse in his neck. Kiss. 

“I’m a consenting adult,” a kiss on his cheek, “who’s invited you into their home,” a kiss on his brow, “and is asking you to take them across their painfully tiny apartment and fuck them. If you don’t want to, that’s okay, but Logan? I’ve been game ever since you first walked in from the rain.”

He looks up at you to double check that you’re telling the truth, then kisses you with such ferocity that you squeak. 

You do not make it to the bed. 

He undresses you there on the sofa in the middle of your bookshelves, between Brontë and Austen, beside Carter and Rushdie. Your clothes end up in a messy little pile on the coffee table. It gets kicked and the pile of literary magazines slide to the floor as Logan moves to take off his shoes, letting you drag his jeans down and off of him, cupping his cock in his boxers.

Fuck. Thick, heavy, large, you want all of it. All of him. 

He leans you back against your kitschy little pillows with book quotes on them and pulls your dungarees off, an act both ridiculous and endearing. He catches your knee in his hand and begins to kiss up your thigh towards your underwear.

“Fuck,” you whisper as he presses a kiss to your sex over the fabric. He grins up at you from between your legs. 

“That was the plan.”

He fucks you with his mouth like a man starved, luxuriating in the little sounds you make for him, pressing fingers inside you without any effort at all. You cum all over his knuckles embarrassingly quickly. He looks sorta smug. 

“Baby, when was the last time someone took care of you…?” he asks, licking a stripe along your sex to taste what he’s done. You huff. 

“Too long. You gonna fix that?”

It’s a challenge and he takes it as one. You strip off his shirt, making sure to get a good feel of his muscles as you go, kissing his pectorals and abs just because you can. He slides inside you with one thrust, one of your legs in a crook at his hip; the other with its ankle resting on his shoulder. He starts moving and the couch shakes but all you can do is cling on for dear life to the crocheted blanket. 

“Holy shit… so fuckin’ tight… aren’t you just the most gorgeous thing…” he hisses. You reach up enough to tangle your fingers in his hair and drag him down for a kiss, sloppy and charged with heat. His hand moves in between your legs and you cum for the second time that night, hissing with satisfaction as he spills inside you. 

You collapse onto the sofa together, your heavy breaths harmonising. When he pulls back to kiss you this time it’s softer. With intention. With reference. 

“Uh, you know, they’re showing To Kill a Mockingbird next week. Maybe dinner beforehand, if you’re interested?”

He laughs affectionately and you can feel the rumble in his chest.

“Sounds good. You’ll have to lend me the book first.”

Fuck yeah. You’re never doubting your mouth again. 

Taglist: @falsewordz@malfoys-demigod@belilwen@mildly-salted@tvwebs@childeslegstrap@getmeoutofhell@s1eep-o@just-a-beatlemaniac69@yrthr@momopad@sugarplumz100@captainjinkx@madspads@acrosstheunivcrse@yeethaw13@na-is-salty@florduarte@hunterispunk@starfleetteddybear

[theuntoldstorythatneedsawriter]

Meet and greet 📫⚽️ pt.2

Alexia Putellas x reader

warning : fluffy 💭💗

pt. 1

summary :

After exchanging numbers at the meet-and-greet, you and Alexia finally meet for coffee, and what starts as a casual chat turns into something deeper.

The coffee shop Alexia suggested was tucked away in a quiet part of Barcelona, away from the usual crowds. When you walked inside, the warm scent of roasted coffee beans and freshly baked pastries filled the air, making you feel instantly at ease. But no amount of calming ambiance could quiet the butterflies in your stomach.

You were early, fifteen minutes early, to be exact. The nerves had gotten the best of you, and you had left home far too soon, anxious about the fact that you were meeting THE Alexia Putellas for coffee. As you sat at a small table by the window, you fidgeted with the sleeve of your jacket, trying to steady your racing heart.

This was real. Alexia had texted you yesterday to confirm the meet-up, and now, you were actually going to sit down with her. Not as a fan, not as someone in the stands, but as someone she wanted to get to know better. That thought alone sent a surge of excitement through you.

Just then, the door chimed, and you looked up. Your breath caught as Alexia walked in, wearing a simple but stylish outfit, jeans and a fitted black sweater, her hair loosely tied back. She looked effortlessly stunning, just as she did on the pitch. Her eyes scanned the room until they landed on you, and then she smiled, that warm, familiar smile that made your heart skip a beat.

“Hola” she greeted, walking over to your table. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

You shook your head quickly, standing up to greet her. “No, not at all. I got here a bit early.”

Alexia chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling as she sat down across from you. “Same. I just took a detour around the block to kill some time. I didn’t want to seem too eager.”

You laughed at her confession, feeling a wave of relief that she was just as human and down-to-earth as you had hoped. “Well, I’m glad I’m not the only one.”

Once she settled in, you both ordered your drinks, Alexia took a black coffee, while you went with your usual. As you waited for the coffees to arrive, there was a brief moment of silence, not awkward, but filled with a mix of excitement and nerves. You could feel her watching you, her gaze soft but focused.

“I’m really glad we’re doing this,” Alexia said, her voice genuine. “It’s not often I get to meet people like you. Outside of football, I mean.”

“People like me?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

She smiled, glancing down at her hands for a moment before looking back at you. “Yeah, people who see me beyond just a footballer. I could tell when we met that you really care about the game, and… I don’t know, I felt like we clicked.”

Her honesty caught you off guard. You had always admired her from a distance, but hearing that she had felt some sort of connection as well was something you hadn’t expected. “I’ve always admired you. Not just because you’re an incredible player, but because of who you are off the field too. You’re a leader, and it’s inspiring.”

Alexia’s cheeks tinted slightly pink at your words, and she smiled in a way that felt almost shy. “Thank you. That really means a lot coming from you.”

Before you could respond, the server arrived with your drinks, setting them down in front of you. You wrapped your hands around your cup, the warmth calming your nerves as you both settled into the conversation.

“So, tell me,” Alexia said, leaning forward slightly. “How did you get into football? You mentioned at the meet-and-greet that you’ve been watching us for a while.”

You smiled, thinking back to when your love for the sport began. “It started when I was a kid. I grew up playing football with my friends in the neighborhood. But it wasn’t until I watched Barça’s women’s team play for the first time that I really fell in love with it. And, well… you were a big part of that.”

Alexia chuckled softly, her eyes brightening. “I’m honored. That’s amazing to hear. I love knowing that we’ve been able to inspire people like you.”

You spent the next hour talking about everything. Football, travel, life outside of the sport. The conversation flowed effortlessly, as if you’d known each other for far longer than just a couple of meetings. Alexia listened intently whenever you spoke, asking questions and sharing stories of her own. It was easy to forget that you were sitting across from one of the best footballers in the world.

But every now and then, a small reminder would hit you, a flicker in her eyes, the way she smiled, or when she’d laugh at something you said. The ease with which you two connected felt surreal.

At one point, Alexia glanced down at her phone, checking the time, and sighed softly. “I hate to cut this short, but I have a team meeting in a bit.”

You nodded, though a part of you wished the afternoon could stretch on forever. “Of course. I wouldn’t want to keep you.”

She hesitated for a moment, then looked back up at you, her eyes soft. “But… I’d really like to do this again, if you’re up for it.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the invitation. “Yeah, I’d love that.”

You looked up at her, your face flushing with warmth, and Alexia gave you a small, playful smile. “See you soon" she said, standing up and giving you one last lingering look before she left.

As you sat there, a smile crept onto your face. You had come here expecting to get to know your football hero a little better, but now it felt like you were on the brink of something more. Something real.

Alexia Putellas wasn’t just your champion anymore. She was becoming a part of your life in ways you’d never imagined. And you couldn’t wait to see where it led next.

💕 @lovewomensfootball @wososapologist 💕

pt. 3

[olivia2arsenal]

Toxic || Alessia Russo x Reader

a/n: this will be short one. character is also my fictional character from my book ‘protector’

warnings: toxic

a/n: kai’s dialogue will be this font

alessia’s dialogue will be this font

———————

how do i describe kais and my relationship?

well i can say it’s loving, maybe too loving, caring, not perfect but not bad… oh yeah and toxic at times

kai before she met me was a player, basically used girls, so at the start i was wary of her possibly using me or cheating on me

she gained that trust from me, showed me that she would never do such a thing, even though sometimes i can’t help but slip back into the thoughts i had at the start of our relationship

i was warned by everyone to be careful with kai, not expected much from her

they just didn’t see the side of kai that i saw, didn’t see the soft and vulnerable side of kai

when kai would complain when i’ve let go off her to go and do something in the house, wanting to touch and have contact with me as much as possible, the way she always brought flowers to mine when she stayed over at mine, the way she would complain like a baby when i didn’t give her back starches, the way her hand would slip into mine when we were out in public pulling me into her body to protect me and how she opened her heart to me multiple times over and over again

this was what proved to me that kai was passed that stage in herself, that she had finally been able to settle and relax with me

or at least i thought.

leah: ‘you seen the new reports about kai’

leah had sent to me on a monday afternoon after we all had finished training for the day, kai going back to her own house

i replied to leah’s message saying no i hadn’t before checking it out for myself

‘Kai Duke spotted with a random girl in a club, weeks after going public with her girlfriend Alessia Russo’

was the first headline i saw, i clicked on the new article and sure enough there was a photo of kai and a women in a club- kais arms around her waist as she stood behind the mystery women

the photo was blurry but you could just make kai out in the photo

everyone was correct, i had fallen for her charm-like everyone said i would and ultimately got my heart broken

alessia: ‘fancy going out tonight?’

i sent to leah, who immediately replied and agreed to going out knowing we had a free day tomorrow

we both got ready, leah driving to mine before we got a taxi to a club

“forget about her lessi” leah shouted over the music as we ordered drinks

“i just don’t understand why she would be in the night club in the first place, she doesn’t drink” i said as i took a sip from my drink

“fuck knows mate” leah replied as she downed her drink and pulled me to the dance floor

leah quickly found someone to flirt with and had forgotten about me in less then 10 minutes

the girls friend seemed to be interested in me, and i was entertaining the idea since kai and i seemed nearly finished with

at some point in the night the girl and i had gotten closer, my back pressed against her front as we swayed with the music

“what the fuck!” i heard her voice shout, kais voice

she came storming over and pulled me away from the girl

“fuck off!” she said as she pushed the girl away and pulled me outside

“get off me kai” i said as i struggled to set myself free, once outside kai pushed my up against a near by wall

“who the fuck was she” kai said as steam practically came out of her ears

“no you don’t get to do this kai” i slurred out

“do what” she huffed

“i’ve seen you getting close to a random girl in a club but once i do it’s not okay” i shrugged as i stared at her

“less” she huffed out as she started to pace, basically confirming everything in my head

“i knew i should have believed them” i shook my head

“believed who” she said as she stood in front of me

“all the girls, warning me about you and your antics” i slurred

“i haven’t been near another fucking girl alessia” kai snapped

i laughed, hiccuping in the process

“i’ve seen the photos kai” i shook my head as she started to pace again

“yeah and that’s from years ago! i’ve got my fucking former teams club shirt on in the picture” she snapped, pulling out her phone and zooming in to show in fact that it wasn’t the arsenal kit and was her old clubs kit

it was silent for a few minutes, my drunken head trying to process it all while kai tried to calm down

“ i wanna go home, but i’m not leaving you out here so come on i’m taking you back home” kai said as she started to walk towards her car

“kai i’m-“ she cut me off

“not now alessia, i need to think before i say anything more” kai said as she pulled my phone out of my handbag and typing leah a message, letting her know that i was gone and going home

the car ride back to hers was silent, kai opting to take me back to hers so she could watch over me as i was drunk

“you have my bed and i’ll take the sofa” she said as we walked in

“kai we can share a bed” i huffed as she helped me take my heels off, my hand resting against her shoulder to keep my balance

“not right now we can’t” she whispered as she slipped my last heel off

we had a lot to sort out.

[1-ker0sene-1]

Never Just Two

Ghoap / Reader

(Wheelchair User Reader)

Chap1, Chap2, Chap3

"Not a Meet Cute"

Word Count: 1.3k

CW: Threats.

Inspired by this idea post

What started as a heated affair on what they thought was a suicide mission became much more than that. One night stashed away in a house, his Lieutenant was shot. Ordering Johnny to leave him. Over and over again the Sargeant defied his orders. It frustrated Simon to no end. He wanted to swing at Johnny. Scream at him. Push him away. He wanted him to go and live. But instead Simon ended up throwing down his mask and smashing his lips against Johnny's. The rest of the night was heavy breathing, shuddered groans, the sweat of skin.

Now it's been well over two years, they are inseparable. Others, including the rest of the 141 taskforce, simply considered them friends. Preferred work partners is all, they just trusted eachother. Oblivious to the nights Simon would slip into Johnny's room in the barracks, oblivious to the fact that they were wearing eachothers dog tags.

This mission they were on base a lot right now, on standby while the tech department got some restaffing. By department.. It was really just Laswell. She was on leave with her wife. They needed their info, but it was difficult given the circumstances. So now they were forced to wait on a replacement. That wasn't the hard part, they could be patient with that. What the struggle was- being patient enough to stay out of prying eyes. Simon could handle it most of the time. It was Johnny that was dragging him into closets, bathrooms, anywhere that he could to pull up Simons mask and kiss feverishly at his face.

Just like this. It was late, late enough that they were sure they were alone. Johnny gripped Simon by the vest, pulling him sloppily through the door into the common room. Snickering quietly as he pulls up his partners balaclava with his teeth, kissing on his jaw with an open mouth.

"C'mon L.T... all fuckin' day I needed this.."

Johnny mutters against his skin. Pulling off the mask the rest of the way.

"We should be back in the damn room not here- someones gonna wa-"

Simons words die in his throat instantly. Looking over Johnny's shoulder. Making Soap raise a brow.

"What is it-"

He turns, half laughing but stops immediately when seeing what his partner did. You.

You blink back at the Lieutenant and Sargeant with a stare of shock. Your face illuminated by the laptop in front of you. Sitting in your chair, you clear your throat and advert your eyes. Awkwardly closing your computer, pulling it off the table and into your lap.

"I think I'll give you guys the room..-"

You mutter. Pulling yourself back from the table and rolling towards the door.

Ghost is quick to pull on his mask again, stepping in front of your path. Blocking the door. Brown eyes are cold staring down at you. Not only did you see them. He doesn't recognize you. Not at all.

"You didn't see a fucking thing. Clear?"

He snarls. Eyes flicking over you.

You raise your hands lightly.

"Nothing. Saw nothing-"

You instantly confirm. Not really wanting to piss off the infamous Lieutenant. But your pretty sure the sight is already burned in your brain. You peek at the door again, hoping to leave.

Johnny eyes you wearily. Pushing his tongue against the inside of his cheek.

"Who the hell are ye?"

He snaps, crossing his arms. You blink between the two of them, sinking nervously into your chair as you ready for the interrogation they're seemingly preparing for you.

"New tech for your team? Laswell sent me. Look- was just doing some file research that's all- your business is your business. I just wanna go to the barracks."

You try to reason, a cautious frown on your face. Nervous. Probably scared. Johnny can see it, softening up his face a little. But Ghosts eyes narrow. Good. Be scared. He can't have you do anything stupid.

"You tell anyone. You're just another name on a missing persons list. It wouldn't be hard. Easy even. Understand?"

You swallow thickly at his threat, eyes falling to the floor with a nod. Sucking in a tight breath. You're holding onto the wheels of your chair with a shaky grip and white knuckles.

".. Yessir."

You utter.

Simon sidesteps out of your way, watching with a glare as you struggle a little opening the door with the laptop still in your arm. Until you slip out of the room and are out of sight. Johnny groans and rubs a hand down his own face.

"Fuck..."

He drags out the word. Looking at Simon.

"Ye really hadta threaten hir too? She tells, we'll be in a world of hurt."

"She tells. She's gone."

Johnny grunts and shakes his head, looking out the window of the common room to see you going down the hall.

"Little harsh. We aren't gonna kill hir."

Simon knows that. He won't. But she doesn't know that. And right now that might be the only thing keeping her from getting them separated.

The next morning Price comes in to the common room with an announcement. Said announcement- sitting in her wheelchair next to him, playing with her hands as the captain introduced her. Price crosses his arms.

"Men. We have a new member of the team. She'll be a new technician working with us, behind the scenes responsibilities. She's new to the base. Be respectful."

He says sternly, his elbow just barely nudges your shoulder- gesturing you to speak.

Clearing your throat you manage to sputter out your name. Trying to avoid the intense stares from the Lieutenant and Sargeant you met last night.

"Looking forward to working with you guys. Laswell recommended this team. I have no doubts about your work."

Oblivious to exactly what happened last night, Gaz was quick to step forward and shake your hand. Welcoming you into the team with a respectful clasp on your shoulder.

"Another addition can never be a bad thing yeah?"

He chuckles, you give him a friendly smile and nod.

Gaz pulls back, raising a brow at the silent two of the group. Sending a light shove to Soaps side. Making him clear his throat with a nod.

"Good to have ye.."

Simon watches in silence, only giving a confirming nod. But it's enough for the Captain. Who clasps his hands together.

"Right. Good. She'll get to work. The rest of you, keep up. Train, rest, get ready for our next run out of base. It'll be soon this week."

Price says sternly, before dismissing them.

You scratch your wrist nervously, left in the room when the Captain headed back to his office. Gaz seemed great, however the threat from the other two was still heavy on your mind. You swallowed and shrugged.

"There's not really an office yet so.. I'll be with my computer here in the common room."

This time you give fair warning.

The friendly Sargeant nods and moves past you politely, saying something about heading to the training room. Once again, leaving you with just the two. You suck in a tight awkward breath, all three of you tense. Johnny shifts uncomfortably, trying to relieve a little of the tension himself.

"About yesterday lass.."

You blink at him before shaking your head, putting your bag on the table. Fishing out your laptop and equipment. Shrugging, not even looking up from your work.

"Really not as big of a deal as you think sir."

You say, leaning on the armrest of your wheelchair.

"This line of business, it's not the first threat I've been given-"

Simon huffs, but goes to slip out of the room. He's not apologizing. Not anytime soon at least. Soap scowls in his direction, he'd talk to him about that later. He comes over to your chair, holding out a hand for you to shake. Apprehensively, you take it. He gives a lopsided smile.

"I doubt we'll have any issues."

However there's a strange glint in his eyes that makes your hand slightly tug back- but he keeps it in his grip.

"Cause I doubt you'll tell anyone."

He says in nearly a purr. Before letting go of your hand and walking out of the room. Leaving you to look down at your palm.

{I'll start this as a little series♥️ Chapters won't be super long, and they'll be like scenarios throughout your time getting to know eachother}

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Purchase Your Time (John Price x Escort!Reader)

Summary: Captain John Price ventures into unfamiliar territory by going on a blind date... with a sex worker.

AN: I've got a whole universe and timeline about these two in my head. But, instead of putting the pressure of writing a full-on series in chronological order, I want to have some more reader participation and write more of what you want to see!

If you want to suggest a scenario or a question about this universe, hit me up in my inbox or DMs and I'll write something in reply!

This is also an entry to the amazing @glitterypirateduck's writing challenge! I went for the "blind date" prompt with a twist.

Content warning: Sexual references, reader is a sex worker, so minors DNI/18+ only. 5k word count. Reader is gender neutral and no use of Y/N.

You could tell that your client was uneasy, despite the façade of seeming relaxed on his expression. The notches in his broad back beneath that suit jacket were taut like rope. Head on an axis, he was constantly checking the windows. You could see his eyes but no lower down his face as he did so, view blocked by the perspective of the booths. No doubt he’d spied your car by now and was waiting for you to step into the restaurant. Yet still you waited and watched from the seat of your car for anything else that would tip you off to what kind of man you were meeting for dinner. He scrubbed up well for a man wearing a basic navy suit. That photo he sent you – the selfie from an angle that was a classic indicator of a man who seldom opened the front camera – wasn’t a lie. He was very cute.

When you could no longer put off the date in favour of recon, you shot off a message to your friend to confirm your arrival and stepped out of your vehicle.

By the time you arrived at the podium where the hostess greeted you warmly, he was looking at you. Not quite staring, certainly not discourteous, he seemed more intrigued. There wasn’t much doubt as to why.

The hostess guided you over to the booth. Fun choice, since it would just be the two of you. He likely wanted to ensure no one would eavesdrop or be spotted by someone he knew. Many of your clients were the exact same.

“John Price?” You inquired, already knowing the answer.

“Yes,” He was already scooting towards the end of the cushioned seat – something else your clients didn’t consider. There was no graceful way to enter and exit a booth.

Once he was on his feet, you offered your hand to him and your name. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Worn and warm skin enclosed your hand, and immediately you noted the lack of a wedding ring. So he was either single or had the peace of mind to remove it prior to your meeting. Your brief handshake allowed you to take in the uncommon style of his facial hair, his close-lipped smile, the crinkles by his eyes that you could now tell were blue, and it all added to a beautiful portrait of a man you would be happy to entertain. Not that you were shallow enough to deny a potential client based on looks, but you were certainly enjoying the benefits of this man being a delight to look at.

“Can I get you anything?” John asked, looking once between yourself and the waitress who’d guided you to the table.

Ice cubes in his own drink were shrinking into the amber swirls of the crystal tumbler. You gave her your own order before you tucked yourself beside him, enough distance that you could reach out and touch his bicep in an act of reassurance should he need it. By the time you were comfortable, the appropriate time for the wait-staff to be out of earshot had elapsed, and you began your lackadaisical interrogation.

“How are you?”

“I’m well, yes. Thank you. Yourself?”

“Can’t complain.” Your hands folded on your lap as you twisted to face him a bit more openly,“So, the purpose of us meeting today is to see if this is something you want to pursue with me, if we suit each other. Nothing is going to happen today, and not until we’re both certain that this arrangement is going to be beneficial. I take it this is your first time doing something like this.”

Already, you’d made him smile. Not out of nerves, he’d shown no usual signs as such. It wasn’t with a hunger that couldn’t be sated by anything on the menu. No, this man was feeling some relief, the corners of his mouth creasing and quickly disappearing. You hoped it wasn’t triggered by some kind of saviour complex, preparing to get you out of “this lifestyle” – you’d find out sooner or later if so.

“Am I that easy to read?” John asked before sipping his drink.

“Perhaps. Am I right?”

“You are,” He admitted, though it wasn’t a self-conscious confession, “This is… completely new to me.”

“That’s why I like to discuss our options first. It irons out any wrinkles, soothes any first-time nerves. Plus you seem like the kind of man who can appreciate being as prepared as possible.”

“I take pride in it.” Ah, a large hint of his perceived worth.

Your drink arrived at the table, your fingertips delicately leaving prints in the condensation of the glass. As you turned back to John after thanking the waitress, you caught him staring at your thighs. You pretended you hadn’t so as not to dissuade him. This allowed him to collect his own drink and raise it close to you.

You both gave cheers to your meeting, glasses tapping together in a clear single note that sang until your lips pursed against the rim.

“Tell me about yourself then, John.”

In that deep gravel his register rested in, John spoke about the unpredictability of his work-life. Nothing in actual detail was given about what he did, but you gathered it was high intensity, high risk, high reward. Regardless of the wall of cement he was putting up with his vague details, the pride in his work showed through. You stored up all this knowledge to note down on revision cards later. Just a little something so that you could remember what was important to your potential client.

The third time it happened, you decided to track how often he touched his Windsor knot, and it didn’t take long to figure out that it wasn’t a tell of his lying. Otherwise, he would’ve told you more details - fabricated. Clearly, this man’s occupation was not a CEO of any kind; he worked without a suit (enough to not be used to it) and without visible security guards to check your pockets.

“Why don’t you take that off?” You extended your hand to touch the space on the table between you two, “It seems to be bothering you. I want you comfortable, John.”

As if he’d been waiting for permission, John Price ripped off the tie (it wasn’t a clip on) and stuffed it in his suit pocket, undoing his top button for good measure.

“Not the biggest fan of them, if I’m honest.” Double whammy: he’d confirmed your theory and revealed a few dark hairs on his chest in one go.

“I like honesty,” You replied. That seemed to spark something in his eyes.

“I can’t always be completely honest. My job doesn’t allow for it, or value it, mind.”

“I could tell.”

“But I will be transparent – as much as I can be – about when I’ll be away, how long that’ll be for. I think that’s only fair to you.”

You agreed just as your waitress returned to take your food order. Thank God John didn’t try to order for you. As per your own personal guidelines, you let him go first, matching your order with the price of his own. While passing over the menu, he asked about you with the self-deprecating comment that you were probably sick of hearing about him. You gave your standard issue reassurance before meeting him with similar defences that he would likely recognise: very little given away in terms of personal details but all reliable information that would help.

Concluding your latest hobby – an acceptable one for small talk - you asked. “What do you like to do with your downtime then?”

John blinked at you twice, “I watch football.”

“What team?”

“Liverpool. You?”

“Never played, never watched.”

“Well, I’m going to have to do something about that,” and he smiled.

At last, he was cracking jokes. You basked in the joy of getting him to loosen up – a challenge, unlike some men who came out the gate, blasting misogynistic quips. At least that came with the favour of being about to ditch their company as soon as you were safe to do so. This was not the case with John, despite the several times now you’d spied him catching glimpses at your legs.

Another surprise arrived just after your food was served. You’d planned to begin edging towards the real reason most of your clients contacted you in the first place. However, John beat you to the punch after you’d shared the typical services you offered.

“And you’d be willing to…” He seemed to struggle with his words, though he could blame it on a tough bit of the steak if he wanted to.

You didn’t give him the easy way out, offering instead a raised eyebrow you’re your glass, “Yes?”

Realising you were gonna make him say it, John put on a sheepish smile, laughing at his own awkwardness before asking with a little more confidence, “Have sex?”

“If that’s something you wanted. Is it?”

His Adam’s apple gulped down a morsel from his fork – which remained poised in place the moment his lips touched the silver tines. There was a smouldering confidence hiding behind his eyes. You thought about why he might pretend to be nervous and act as such when he realised you caught him.

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested.”

This is key to your vetting process. If your professionalism wasn’t reflected back by the potential client, too lost in their horny desperate disposition to consider boundaries, then they were struck from your list and forwarded to your friends so they could avoid them too. Handsome ones tended to throw the biggest tantrums over this. They wielded their wealth or insisted you not “spoil” the mood with talks of hard limits. 

You maintained your composure, and, now that he’d gotten over that first hurdle of awkwardness, John resumed his own. You could tell, by the way his pupils blew out and his lips parted, he was definitely hooked. Naturally, you didn’t feel his polished shoe creeping closer to yours though. He’d never come across as that kind of man. Keeping you at that distance with his walls up meant discussing your hard limits and no-go’s was less awkward than it had been for other potential clients. Still, you sought to knock him off his balance again to see what he might do. 

“Is it mainly sex that you’re seeking?” You asked as casually as you always did. 

John’s head jerked to face you head on in mild but abject shock, “No. No, it’s not.”

“It’s ok if you are,” You said, still smiling calmingly.

Waiting for his reply, you watched John hover his drink in front of his lips before the last droplets slid down his throat.

Swallowing again, John gave his reasoning, “As I’m sure you’ve gathered, my job makes it difficult to maintain a relationship. I’m not able to… provide stability or consistency a lot of the time.”

Nodding sympathetically, you said, “I can imagine.”

“Also, there are… certain measures I’d want you to take for when we meet that aren’t really attractive to anyone, let alone a long-term partner.”

“That must be difficult for you.” You slipped your hand over his that was planted firmly on the table, feeling it tense then slack beneath your touch. Easily, you could empathise with the fact that he wanted to replicate the kind of life he couldn’t have. “Tell me about these measures. I’ve a few of my own.”

“You don’t tell anyone my name. You need to make sure you’re not being followed. If you are, tell me. Do you have your own driver?”

“It was a cab today.”

“I’d like to order your cars from now on.”

“Awfully protective of me already.”

Your blithe smile cut off at John’s reply, “Those are my terms and they’re necessary if I’m going to be using your services.”

There was not an inch of room in that statement for a joke. If you were naïve, you’d say he was taking this too seriously. But the balance you’d found within John and the tidbits of his life that he’d laid out for you sounded the alarm that these precautions might just keep you alive. Your job was also a precarious one; adding another layer on top of it might be beyond your comfort levels.

Then John asked you, with the same earnestness, “What about your safety measures?”

His question checked a hidden box in your head.

“Mine is that I’m available to be in contact with a colleague at all times. They’ll check in regularly to keep me safe when we’re together. I’ll tell them where and when we’re meeting and for how long.”

John nodded along, mirroring your body language as you leant just a little closer and continued:

“I also have a policy on mandatory aftercare for myself and my clients - so you. If this is going to work, we need to take care of each other and that courtesy extends until we’ve parted ways.”

“I understand.”

“And do you accept them?”

“I do,” and John lowered his voice a tad more as he implored for your answer “Do you accept mine?”

Your thumb rubbed over the hairs on the back of his hand once more before releasing him, “I do. I’ll add your terms to our contract and we can discuss any further details once it’s drafted.”

John raised his eyebrows, “Contract?”

“Of course,” You said, a hint of coyness slipping into the professionality, “Get it in writing, make it official and keep us both protected.”

“So that means you’d let me see you again?” The corner of John’s mouth betrayed him as it struggled not to smile.

“I would, John, I really would.”

With that decided, the pair of you clinked your newly topped-up drinks together.

Though you both decided against pudding, you stayed for another half an hour after your plates were cleared and escorted back to the kitchen. Of course John paid the bill too, left a tip, helped you into your coat and all, whilst you ordered a new cab to take you home – you insisted. John may want precautions.

“I’ll send you my details tonight so that we can arrange to get the contract drawn up and signed. Then the ball’s in your park to arrange our next meeting,” You adjusted your coat collar before cupping his elbow innocuously. “Thank you for dinner, John.”

“Thank you for meeting me,” He said

“My pleasure.” And, just as you were about to close the door, you added, “Look forward to hearing from you.”

-------------

While he did get back to you within the minute you sent across your further details, and even faster in drawing up and signing your contract , it would take John Price a month to request an official meeting.

“I’d like to book us a room and spend some time together.” That was what his newest message said.

Perhaps he’d been taken away by that busy, busy schedule. Perhaps he was just shy. Despite being able to read his surface level emotions, you found the man was like a safe inside a vault inside a sealed bunker when texting you. It was when you got this text that you realised everything you’d learnt on your date was likely a deliberate choice from John. Rehearsed and ready, just like you. 

“Would you like me to stay the night?” You replied.

Unlike his previous messages, John took some time to respond with quite a short message: “Yes please.”

“Any requests for what you’d like me to wear?” You asked once he’d sent you the date and location.

You managed to complete a swift clean of your kitchen and make yourself a drink by the time you received your next text.

“Something that makes you feel good.”

Not a common request.

Even so, on the night of, you took extensive measures of preparation. Your outfit, to the untrained eye (so men), would seem like you’d just thrown on an outfit and effortlessly looked ethereal – and it was still something you picked based on what you thought John would like. Trousers and shirt cuddled your skin, neatly ironed even though it was likely to end up creased on a bedroom floor within the next hour.

He had sent two cars to pick you up and an encrypted, preplanned journey. One vehicle dropped you off at a random location that was noted with a giant red pin on the map; the second scooped you up precisely four minutes later. Nothing new, you’d been a mistress before and that came with similar routines.

A key was awaiting for you at the front desk once you had been delivered and the code word was shared.

You had the decency to knock three times before you slid the key card into the slot. Despite that minimal warning, the door jerked open with John at the handle.

“Hi,” He said. Hair damp and sticking up at the back like he’d used his hands instead of a brush to collect it into some order, he’d clearly just finished trimming his beard – based on the occasional trimming on his white t-shirt. Jogging bottoms hid his lower half.

“Hello,” You smiled.

John looked you in the eye, then adjusted his gaze to look down at your outfit. Perhaps he didn’t like that you had hidden your legs beneath flared trouser because he stepped aside quickly and held the door for you to enter.

It was a cosy suite, boasting a quiet immodest comfort. Poncy art still hung on the walls, and it had all the hallmarks of a usual hotel room – little kettle, stack of teabags and coffee – were hidden behind a sliding cabinet door. You saw a duffel bag poking out the entrance of the wardrobe. Hanging above it across the railing were several dry cleaning bags. Had he even gone to his home yet?

“How’ve you been, John?”

“I’m good. How are you?”

“Well, thank you.” And you dropped your overstay bag beside his.

Followed your agreement to the letter, handing you a wad of cash that he didn’t mind you counting upfront. The total sum left you expecting this would probably be an eventful evening and you tucked it into your coat pocket for safe keeping.

“What would you like to do, John?” You pulled off your coat to hang it up.

When you returned to face him, you found John unable to break away from looking at your waistband, specifically the side of your shirt that you’d made the conscious choice to leave untucked. Whatever, you’d seen it somewhere and it looked good on the model so you tried it. The doubt that it just made you look a bit lazy left your head as John pinched the hem of it, his thumb rubbing the material.

“Could you…” John sighed as soon as he paused. His voice was still that low and sustained register. You wondered what he might sound like while you were taking care of him. 

He’d said, when adding the fine print to your contract, that he was ok with you initiating touch. So, you were a tad surprised (though you hid it well) when he seemed unnerved at your hand finding purchase over his heart, fingers tracing over a large fold line in the fabric, that had been ironed in from a nap presumably – he seemed the type to know how to fold a shirt properly. 

Your voice dropped to a hushed timbre, as if you were letting him in on some workplace gossip around the water cooler, enticing him to join you in this little game, “You can tell me, John. What do you want to do?”

How John’s eyelids twitched, you could tell it was working. A moth to a flame, you drew him in, but you saw how John’s frustration brewed in his tight jaw over how his words didn’t seem to want to climb out of his mouth. The first hurdle was always the toughest; once he got over this embarrassment, he’d be fine. You just had to coax him a little further, lead him closer to the water until he took the initiative to drink it.

Measured breathing took hold of his body again and he looked you directly in the eye, “Could you hold me? In the bed, please?”

“Of course,” You said in the same calming tone, taking his hands in yours to give a reassuring squeeze. This allowed him, spurred him perhaps, to lead you over to the Queen-sized bed, where the only blemish in its immaculate sheets was a dip on the edge that you could picture John taking up as he waited for you to arrive.

When you leant in that same spot he had and began to take off your shoes, John reached his hand out as if to stop your hand. It hovered for a split second before gesturing at you.

“Clothes stay on. Please,” He said in the same voice.  

Both times he’d asked you for something, his manners seemed like an after-thought. You were reminded that his job likely meant he wasn’t used to having to be polite. Though it was the bare minimum, you appreciated it nonetheless. That confidence you’d spotted him hiding last time wasn’t unfounded. Here, it just was clearer that he found himself floundering and being uncomfortable with the very fact that he wasn’t able to sail smoothly through this interaction. You reminded yourself that he had wanted something akin to a romantic relationship, but you didn’t expect him to struggle with it this much. You’d have to be a lot more merciful with him then. 

With your shoes off, but socks still on, you knelt in the centre of the shockingly plush mattress and reached out for him. Your coy smile warmed him up, his own sheepish one growing as he took your hands again. Balancing carefully, you pivoted your legs out from under you and lay back in the mountain of pillows. Your descent encouraged John to follow you, tuck himself up into you, rest his head atop your chest as you curved your arms to accommodate his giant frame. The instant he finally ceased fidgeting, you heard – and felt through the thread of your shirt – John taking a deep breath right where your collarbones kissed. The tension down his spine started to slouch its way out. You made a mental note to wear this scent around him more.

“Do you want to watch anything?” he asked, already holding the remote control.

“I’m not fussed,” You replied. It emerged as a half-whisper. 

“I don’t know any of these, d’you?”

“All a bit rubbish, to be honest. Just gotta find you your type of rubbish.”

“Don’t have the energy right now, love. What’s your type of rubbish?”

You let him flick through the categories, none of these sparking hope. At last, the cursor landed on a safe option, a no-man’s-land of a TV show.

“There, that’ll do,” You said, pointing and wagging your hand over when John accidentally skipped past it, “It’s not mind-blowing, but it passes the time.”

“Good enough for me.”

And it was for you too. Quite a nice paycheck, all things considered. Not once did John’s hands stray down your body; one arm was tucked into his front between the two of you and the other crossed over your chest. Your shirt creased where his cheek pressed against your chest. He was like a heated, weighted blanket that smelt incredible and would occasionally make scathing commentary on the programme, making you chuckle. Among his other noises, he let out grunts of approval whenever your nails scratched up where his skull met his neck. The third was a little snore he let out whilst dozing – a few snorts pushing out his nose until he either woke himself back up or disappeared into deeper sleep. You yourself fell victim to the Sandman shortly after, but not before texting your friend that you were safe and sound with your burly customer as good as a lamb.

-------------

Beneath a throw blanket, you woke up at half past seven. There was no doubt in your mind that John had been awake for some time; he was sitting up beside you, pretending to watch the TV still, wearing the same clothes but evidently a lot less groggy than you were.

“Good morning, I wanted to order breakfast,” He indicated the menu he was reading, “Didn’t know what you wanted though. Didn’t wanna wake you either.”

Your elbow propped you up to say, “That’s so sweet of you.”

Clearly not used to a flattering remark, John turned his attention back to the screen with rosy cheeks, the menu held out to you, “Let me know what you want.”

How ironic, for a man who dictated the entire scenario but was still unable to confess outside of a legal setting that he wanted to fuck you, to ask you if how you’d like your eggs. Eggs you would not be ordering because of the awful breath it would give you.

You pushed up to sit beside him against the scarlet cushioned headboard. A few stretches resulted in a satisfied groan against the clicks of your back and you handed back the menu with your order.

Just like last night, John seemed to have trouble getting out his requests, which you interpreted as him wanting to ask you to shower with him. Instead, he offered it to you first, which you graciously accepted.

In your reflection, an imprint of a button winked faintly at you from your chest, right where John had rested his head. You touched over the impression before you set your shower up for a quick scrub. Yet you lingered in the stall for a few minutes longer, the water pressure and temperature pacifying the stiffness in your back.

Steam rolled out like fog over a lake when you opened the shower door. A complimentary robe transitioned you from your towel and kept you cosy as you began massaging lotion into your face, skin staying soothed in the circle you cleared of condensation in the mirror.

A chill reached your shoulder blades as John let himself into the bathroom, still in his clothes from yesterday.

“Breakfast will be here in about ten minutes,” He perched on the toilet seat.

“Thank you.” Continuing to make odd faces to ensure your lotion reached every pore, you took note of the intrigue with which he observed your routine.

You offered your hand out, two fingers wielding a healthy dollop of face cream. “Want some?”

Price looked down at it, instinctively leaning back an inch to decline, “No, thank you. You’re alright.”

You didn’t push it – his freckled skin seemed fine without your products – so you just let him watch you from his spot in the steam. In the reflection, you caught him smiling wistfully at you, though never initiating eye contact. Having gone off assumptions of contentedness when you cuddled him last night, you were glad that you could actually see John smile again.

Still, that wall, for your “safety” as he’d phrased it, was up.John sprang for the polite rapping at the door and was blocking you from the view of the visitor with both doors plus his own body. From that alone, he was clearly capable of taking charge in any situation. So why not this one? Why was he so obviously nervous when he’d been able to hide it in the restaurant? You wanted to find out. You wanted to break that wall down to see his reasons why.

Maybe next time you were together, once this routine became a little closer to his comfort zone, he’d be a bit more alright with asking for more.   

As you exited the bathroom, you caught John and found him guilty of reorganising the trays, removing all signs of hotel logos from the plated food. Maybe it was to aid the pretence that he’d made you breakfast, an attempt to add to the domesticity of this rendezvous. Maybe he was just picky. Regardless, he met your eye with no shame of being found out.

You made use of the tiny iron (why did hotels always have such tiny irons?) to neaten up your clothes whilst tactfully ignoring the packet of condoms poking out of John’s bag. He must’ve noticed you noticing them however; he carefully nudged them deeper into his bag whilst retrieving a clean jumper.

His desires from your dinner still ringing in your ears, you tested the waters again and pointed to the smallest of creases at the cuff of the jumper, “Want me to press it quickly?” 

For a split second, John looked at you with pupils blown and a firm grip on his clothing. Then he scoffed light-heartedly, “You’re not my maid.”

“I know. I’m offering.”

Though his smirk twisted into an appreciative smile, John still denied your request and disappeared to change in the bathroom. Yet his choice still quietly confirmed how your new client would veer more towards the domestic clauses in your contract.

Based on his reactions over the past twelve hours, you deduced he was not quite at the stage where you do his coat buttons up for him or adjust his beanie. You’d get there eventually. But he did let you do the little zip up on his jumper when it came time to part ways. 

“I had a lot of fun, John.”

“You don’t have to lie just because I’m paying you,” He said, in such an earnest way that you knew instantly he wasn’t saying it to fish for compliments. Still, that underlying insult stung you.

Not wanting to let this become a habit, you forced him to face your stare with a hand on his cheek to keep him locked in place, “Do you really think I’m lying to you, just because you’ve given me money?”

How he observed you, his eyes travelling along where bones and tissue connected, over the valleys of blood vessels and stretch marks, you felt a slight chill. John was not scanning you to total your physical worth to him but genuinely deciding based on your behaviours, body language, if you were lying. Your morbidly curious mind leaned into the darkness of what might happen if he landed on a false conclusion and how often he came to those.

Remaining to be seen, John shook his head once, “No.”

“So, don’t be rude. I enjoy your company and it’d be a shame to ruin that with your assumptions,” You said, playfully whilst hoping he inferred your warning.

An exhale through the nose, John’s shoulders shrugged his body with a warm smile, “Sorry.”

“I forgive you.” Again, you spoke with a teasing tone over the layer of seriousness. It persisted as you wondered if he’d like a kiss goodbye. He was still letting you thumb over where his dimples were hiding from the daylight. If he wanted a kiss, would he want one on the cheek? The lips? The corner of his mouth to hide and save for his greatest adventure?

Not even the J.M. Barrie connection could soften your disbelief (which you really should’ve been adjusted to with this slow-release enigma of a man). John who opened up about wanting sex and more was the same man who wouldn’t even initiate a kiss. So your hand slipped down from his face and squeezed on his bicep instead, a tip at the end of your bill as you absorbed the strength he was capable of. John’s already straight posture adjusted underneath your gesture.

“See you again soon?” You prompted as you let go of him.

John confirmed, “I’ll let you know as soon as I do.”

[boyfiejay]

omg the jungwon soulmate au was so cute 😔 i was wondering if you could do one for sunoo?? <3

Thank you for sending an ask! This took me so long, im so sorry. Love you <3

Soulmate AU

PAIRING : Sunoo x gn Reader

GENRE : Soulmate au, fated to be

Warning : mention of drink(no names), almost road accident, reader calls him pretty like 10 times

Word Count : 1.1k

Author's note : lowk wrote this in a hurry so it isn't the best :((

Jungwon version

Working in a café in your junior year of high school was probably the dumbest decision you've made. Well, in your defence, last year when you started working, it was a nice distraction. The cafe wasn't very popular, the same few faces greeting you everyday.

But a couple months ago, a local influencer made a post about the cafe and the once silent and comforting cafe was constantly bombarded with people.

You were happy for the raise, but not for the increased work.

The only reason your parents haven't asked you to quit yet is because this job makes you meet new people everyday. 'Parents and their obsession with soulmates' you thought, and continued wiping the table.

Yeah, soulmates. When you turned 10 you were presented with a bracelet with a pretty charm, your soulmate has a bracelet with similar or identical charm on it. You remember being excited to meet yoir soulmate just like your parents. When you meet your soulmate, the charms link together and let go whenever they please.

When you meet your soulmate, you feel like you've known them forever and suddenly feel so much adoration for them, yada yada (you've heard this for years)

Now that you're older, you aren't as much excited, all because you remember seeing people all over each other, practically eating each other's faces throughout your high school days.

Today was one of the few days that it was actually peaceful, only a handful of people coming in. It had been over half an hour since no one came and you were honestly getting tired of wiping the same floor and same tables.

Just then the bell attached to the door chimed as someone made their presence known. The person stood in front of the counter looking at the menu and wondering what to order, but all you could think about was how pretty this guy is.

His beauty could single handedly defeat all of your past crushes, combined.

Before you literally start drooling at him, he opened his mouth to place his order and started taking out the money for it. God even his voice was pretty, were you going to get a crush on a random stranger you probably would never meet.

Taking your eyes off his breathtaking form, you hurried to make his drink. In record time the drink was in front of him, even he looked surprised as to how you made it so fast.

He handed you the money, something shiny on his wrist caught your eye. You returned his change and observed his wrist.

It looked too much like yours.

Before you could be out of your trance and open your mouth, he had thanked you with the prettiest smile and was hurrying out the door.

For the next week you couldn't get the pretty stranger out of your mind. All your thoughts circled back to whether his charm was really similar to yours. To be fair, a lot of people had similar looking charms, just enough difference that you wouldn't catch in a hurry. Sure his must have been different.

But you couldn't shake off this feeling that there was more to it, you just wanted to run to him and confirm it yourself. But where would you go? You didn't know his name, or his age, or which school (or uni) he went to.

Today was one of the worst days you've had this whole month. Firstly your teacher suddenly announced that you needed to submit a lengthy assignment tomorrow, then your locker door won't open and you were late to class. It seemed that you had pissed your teacher a lot considering you were sent to detention, and then your regular bus had missed.

After waiting about 20 minutes, the next bus arrived, you got on and walked to the very back of the bus to sit. You almost cursed out loud when you saw who was sitting in the row beside yours, almost.

It was the guy from the café! He had his earphones plugged in as he was hurriedly typing on his phone. The charm on his bracelet caught your attention, it really did look like yours.

Again, before you could speak up, thr bus had stopped and he was walking towards the door. He was going to get off!

You weighed your options for 2 seconds before you were also walking out.

He was walking away still immersed in texting, his whole attention on his screen. God what kind of tea did he get to have that much attention on texting.

Just then you saw a car speeding on the road, the road this guy was going to walk on!! You ran towards him, pulling his shirt collar just in time as the car zoomed past. You pulled him far away from the road.

He began coughing due to the pressure on his neck as you panted from the running. He threw a confused look towards you and before he could open his mouth you said, "A car was speeding, you would've gotten run over."

He probably didn't notice anything due to the earphones still plugged in. Noticing his neck slightly turn red you apologised. But he was quick to brush it and thank you for saving him.

It was awkward for a moment, till he noticed your gaze on his wrist. In turn he looked at yours, immediately softly grabbing your wrist to inspect your bracelet.

"You're.. We are.." he muttered, not being able to finish his thoughts.

"Yeah. Yeah we are." you nodded.

He hesitantly brought up his wrist to link your charms together. Although you already knew that you were soulmates, this was a process that made your bond stronger.

As the charms linked together, he looked up to meet your eyes. God even his eyes were pretty, long lashes and everything. This man was perfection, and he was your soulmate?

"I'm Sunoo, Kim Sunoo. Are you free right now? I mean, we don't really have a choice since this will not let go just now." he said, although borderline rambling, his voice remained soft and soothing.

You couldn't stop the smile on your face as it was finally dawning upon you that you found your soulmate. You nodded at him as he gave you one of his smiles that might even put the sun to shame.

"Let's go then! I'll show you my favourite places and you show me yours." he said, his voice more high pitched as he became excited. A slight bounce in his step as he grasped your hand, his fingers weaving through yours.

[nicoathogwarts]

(Prev)

Nico had to stay in the hospital wing for several days until he was nearly solid. When he blinked awake everything was far too bright, if it weren't for the silence he would've assumed he was back in the infirmary with Will hovering nearby to make sure his vitals were normal.

Some people had left cards and small gifts for when he got better. A surprisingly nice gesture, maybe it meant that he wouldn't have to explain anything to anyone. The gods weren't that kind, he'd just lie and let Dumbledore make his own assumptions.

Once he was fully solid and able to walk up to the Headmasters office he did, guided by Snape who seemed even more displeased then usual. If he hadn't been around for a while Nico would've suspected he were a monster in disguise. Maybe he was playing the long game. "Lemon Sherbert." As the eagle twisted to expose a spiral staircase Snape gave Nico one last sneer. "If Dumbledor had any sense you'd be expelled with the rest of Potter and his friends. Fortunately you were not part of his antics, simply an unfortunate side effect of his little escape. Him and his friends sent you to the hospital wing after being hit with multiple unknown hexes and curses."

Nico nodded and went up. He'd figure out what all of that was about later. He sat down in front of Dumbledore's desk. "Professor."

"Mr. di Angelo it's good to see you well again, you gave Madame Pomfrey quite the scare. I don't believe she's seen anything quite like it before." He chuckled to himself. "It was very noble to go against your house and aid Harry, who knows what may have happened if you hadn't been there to apparate everyone to safety."

"Yeah, I mean I wasn't really thinking about when it, it just happened. What happened after I passed out? No one's told me anything other then to see you."

"Harry went after Voldemort with some of the Order members while Sirius Black stayed with you and the rest of your friends until help could come. Minister Fudge saw Voldemort alive for himself and it has been confirmed that he has returned. Unfortunately, he and his followers fled the Ministry soon after."

Nico nodded along "And everyone else is ok? No casualties?"

"Everyone else is fine. Now off you go, I hear your housemates have been very worried about you."

Nico made his way down to the Slytherin common room where he immediately took one of the nice armchairs stationed in front of the fireplace. When the bell rang signaling the end of class he hardly had time to breathe before his housemates were surrounding him and demanding answers.

After many "I don't remember who hexed me with what" and "I don't know why they did it" they finally backed off. It took another twenty minutes to make them agree not to get revenge in his behalf, if only because he swore to do it himself.

"Hey."

Ginny jumped and looked around the empty common room. "How'd you get in?"

Nico stepped out of the shadows. "I waited until I overheard someone say the password. But that's not why I'm here, I can't be seen with anyone outside of Slytherin. My standing isn't that great as it is, and it'd be a lot worse if people knew I'd gone with you to the ministry."

"I get it. Do you know what happened after you apparated?"

Nico shrugged "nope. I'm going to go before I'm missed. If you see any coins laying around don't touch them."

[marvelstars]

Anakin´s politics

After reading many takes in fandom of Anakin´s politics as well as many fics, I believe Anakin´s political leanings are often reduced or misunderstood, in part because Lucas didn´t delve too much into them, because Padme and Obi-Wan kind of dimiss htem and also in part because we have two different ideologies, Anakin´s political ideology pre Vader and Anakin´s political ideology post Vader which are similar but not the same.

Early Vader/Just fallen to the darkside Anakin asked Padme to become his Empress but given that at the time he was in a deep, deep breakdown and practically out of his mind deep into darkside force energies which Lucas has compared to a drug, I personally don´t believe even Vader "post dark side high" would have exactly the same idea.

Vader in general was of the mind that the galaxy needed order, that there was a role the Emperor had to play but given Leia´s and Vader´s whole conversation about the Sentate in ANH where Leia accuses Vader of acting outside the Senate approval to which Vader answers that she was a confirmed traitor to the Empire at this point, so her ship could not longer be considered a diplomatic vessel unlike all those other times Vader let her go to do her "mercy missions" which he knew were a front for her pro-rebellion missions, all this means Vader also was often around seeing Sente proceedings, right allong with his military meetings.

Vader he doesn´t care as much about the type of goverment there is in the galaxy as long as it´s effective and less corrupt than the Old Republic was. "Lest bring Order to the galaxy"

Anakin is a different matter, as a child he just knew he wanted to free all the slaves on Tatooine and do his part to support a more equal and fair galaxy "the biggest problem in the galaxy is that no one helps each other".

As a Jedi padawan, when he was talking to Padme about how the system didn´t work, precisely because Padme told him that it was hard for the senate to do anything because they almost never agreed, he suggested someone to "make them agree" "someone wise" and in that way fix the problem of the current system, Padme was talking about the issues of the working system and Anakin suggested a way to fix those inconsistencies.

Here we can already see Palpatine´s hand in Anakin´s political perception but I believe we often forget there is another important body that influenced Anakin political pov´s in his younger years, when Anakin talked about "Someone wise should make them agree" he pretty much was describing Master Yoda and Windu role in most decisions of the Jedi Council when the Council didn´t agree on something.

So my guess is that Anakin was suggesting someone like Yoda and Palpatine supported this idea because it would make it easier to make the change from Yoda to himself.

Here Padme sees it as a dictatorship but I believe here Lucas didn´t really thought things too deeply, because there are Hereditary Monarchies in the Republic and her own role as Queen of Naboo had an almost absolute authority but well I disgress.

Anakin didn´t believe the the Senate needed to be taken down, in fact in ROTS he gets mad at Padme precisely because she was asking him to ask Palpatine to leave his emergency powers and Anakin believed that was something that had to be taken to the Senate instead of using Anakin´s apparent influence over Palpatine, which was non-existent but neither of them knew that.

My point is that Anakin himself wasn´t suggesting to take down the Senate or the Republic, his pov was that the system itself didn´t work as a system that actually got things done for the benefice of the people of the Republic. Anakin´s priority is to fix the system to get things done, not hold an ambigous ideal that only exists for some people.

Lest remember Shmi´s words in TPM "The Republic doens´t exist out there, we have to take care of ourselves"

This was Anakin´s early relationship to the republic and all those diplomatic missions as a jedi in which he mostly helped the elite of each planet didn´t serve to convince him the republic was good for something other than serving the elite.

So while Padme and Obi-Wan saw the Republic as an ideal that could be fixed with time if only because that´s what they had to work with, Anakin thought that it´s alright to hold republican values, in fact he went to war for the whole "keeping the republic together" but this republic "Is functional?" "It works for what it says it works?" and the answer is no, the system is broken, something Padme found out in the first movie, when she saw how the occupation on her planet by the Federation could be ignored because of their influence and it would take months if not years to do something about it while the Senate discussed it but Padme as a Senator hoped to help fix it but then they were at war and there wasn´t time.

So in short, Padme and Obi-Wan see the Republic as something worth fighting for on itself on principle even when they knew the politicians of the senate often were trash while Anakin sees the republic as something that could be fixed but isn´t worth fighting for on itself if it really doesn´t seek to serve the people outside of a few elites. This is something that he understood because he was directly wronged by the dysfunction of the republic.

It isn´t coincidence Anakin as a general in the clone wars tried to serve not only the needs of official Republic allies but also citizens that just happened to be in the crossfire and didn´t have the means to defend themselves but also weren´t anyone´s priority. (Example: The farmers, Saw Guerrera, the slaves who were not allies of the republic trapped on Zigeria, etc) and on this Anakin showed he prefered the people, citizens to take matters into their own hands instead of having to depend of the Republic, Senate or Jedi to act. Just give them the tools to do it themselves.

Vader is the opposite, no longer trust the people to make the best choice but he believes of having order for everybody.

This is interesting because I don´t believe Padme or Obi-Wan ever took seriously Anakin´s political ideology and so they didn´t discuss it with him, they just expected him to support them because they were his wife and master respectively but they didn´t ask for his pov either and Anakin didn´t try to talk about this with them, only Palpatine seemed interested in his political ideas and so Anakin didn´t want to create conflict with people he considered family, it was easier to go along with them than fighting with them over the details.

So while I think he sometimes disliked Padme´s role as a senator for the time it took from them as a couple, he knew it was important for her and he wanted to be supportive, he definitely resented the republic and it´s politicians hypocrisy.

Now Vader is perfectly capable of discussing and getting mad with Palpatine over political issues, the main problem is that he is pretty much broken emotionally and so isn´t so willing anymore to try to make changes, just fix what little he sees he can fix but his perspective is a lot more authoritharian than it was when he was young. He belives if he had to fight some rebels to expand the Empire towards the outer rim, take down governments and give them a similar way of life to the core system, including education and work, he is totally going to do that. The end justifies the means for Vader

[the12thnightproject]

Chapter 34 - Dereliction of Duty: Maybe Mitsunari and Okatsu should have let someone know where they were, before Hideyoshi got worri... Too late.

Mitsunari x OC; Nobunaga x Mai

Previous Chapter

Logline -  In order to protect a political alliance, Katusko and Mitsunari must pretend an engagement. But this “all business” arrangement is threatened by a coup against Nobunaga… and by feelings.

From the Military Notes of Ishida Mitsunari…

Okatsu is asleep. Not the restless sleep that plagued her when we were in Genba castle – she appears relaxed. She curls up into me the way Kitty does (I hope this will not cause a problem with Kitty when we return to Azuchi, as I intend to continue sleeping with Okatsu). I believe she is happy.

I am certain I am… this happiness is something I never expected for myself. In fact, I did not realize that people could experience this depth of feeling.

She says that I don’t need to be more than I was… but that doesn’t matter. I already am.

We are-

She is awake.

Wait… who is at the doo-?

I’m not sure what woke me up. It might have been the sun, slanting through the window at an angle far too high to be morning. It might have been Mitsunari’s fingers as he traced a line from my cheek to the corner of my mouth.

It might have been the sound of running feet and angry voices…

Whatever it was, by the time the door slid open and-

Hideyoshi…

Mitsuhide…

Nobunaga…

and Mai piled into the room…

I was awake.

“Where the hell have you two been?” Hideyoshi yelped it over Mai’s apologetic, “I tried to stop them.”

“Oh my.” Mitsuhide leaned against the wall. “There was no need to take your fake engagement all the way into a fake honeymoon.” He sent a mocking look toward the pile of disheveled bedding that was mostly covering us up. “That is rather going far and above the call of duty.”

I refused to cower in front of either Hideyoshi’s disapproval or Mitsuhide’s teasing. At least Nobunaga seemed to be taking things calmly – ok, well, he seemed amused at Hideyoshi’s bristling and Mitsuhide’s sarcasm… so… calmly amused.

With perhaps a slight bit of bravado, I rearranged the blanket to confirm that the important bits were covered, then said, with equal bravado, “If you believe anything here was faked, you don’t know Mitsunari as well as you think.”

That, at least got smiles from Mai and Nobunaga, the expected scowl from Hideyoshi, and well, no response at all from Mitsuhide.

“During your activities,” Hideyoshi sounded like he was choking on the word, “did it occur to either one of you that we might be concerned over your well-being? At least once in the past ten days, you might have considered sending word of your safety.”

Mitsunari froze, although he had grabbed my hand and did not let it go. “I am sorry, Lord Hideyoshi. I did not realize so much time had passed.”

Mai actually snort-laughed at that.

As I didn’t want Mitsunari to get into any trouble (any more trouble), I turned to Mai and Nobunaga who, hopefully, would understand the subtext of my explanation. “For the majority of the time we were unaccounted for, we were in a situation where it was not possible to send a message.” And… probably best to gloss over the past three days since we had arrived at this Inn.

The two of them spent a moment in silent communication. “Understood.” Nobunaga nodded to himself. “Make yourselves presentable, after which we will discuss current matters- not the least of which will be to commend your performance in repelling Iekane’s forces.”

Put like that, it sounded like we had successfully pitched a project to a client, rather than, almost singlehandedly holding off an insurrection for three days… but, details.

Then Nobunaga turned, and more or less propelled Hideyoshi out of the room. Mai winked at us and followed. Mitsuhide paused at the door then asked, “I take it you were searching for Akihira.”

“Yes, sir.” Even naked, Mitsunari hadn’t dropped his formality. Of course, it was possible that Mitsunari had forgotten he was naked. “Unfortunately, even his more regular contacts were not able to locate him.”

Mitsuhide rubbed his chin and looked at me. “That suggests that you might be in need of a new master.”

“Okatsu has no need to employment.” Mitsunari pulled me closer to him so quickly I almost didn’t have time to pull the blanket with me (yeah, he had forgotten that we were naked). “I am able to take care of her.”

Oh dear.

It seemed that we did still have a few issues to work out. None of which were worth discussing while Mitsuhide was in the room.

Why was he still here?

“I believe I heard Nobunaga calling for you, Lord Mitsuhide.” Blatant lie, but I should get credit for saying it with a completely blank face.

“You must have excellent hearing.” Great. Trust Mitsuhide to want to stick around to tease us both.

“I do, in fact.” I looked around for something to throw at him, but came up empty handed. “Perhaps any discussion of future employment should wait for Nobunaga as he did make a prior offer.”

Go away.

Besides which, I doubted I could work full time for Mitsuhide without wanting to kill him – and I would be surprised if he didn’t say the same thing about me.

“If you wish me to leave, Brat, you need only to ask.” He made a show of looking at his nails as if to suggest that he was only sticking around because he had yet to be dismissed.

Beside me, I sensed Mitsunari about to object to the term, ‘brat,’ so I imitated Mitsuhide’s bored tone. “Lord Mitsuhide, you have permission to take your leave of us.”

“As you wish.” He bowed and left.

“Okatsu-”

I placed my fingers on Mitsunari’s lips, until I was certain Mitsuhide had left and was not lurking in the corridor as he had when… Wait- what was I remembering? I was suddenly hit with two blurry flashes of memories. In one, I ran into a corridor carrying a bundle of clothing and nearly collided with Mitsuhide. Before I could sort though that, it was replaced by another image, another corridor, this one red and black, garish almost, that spun dizzily around while Mitsuhide scooped me up and said something about a head injury…

Neither of these things had happened.

Had I just gotten a flash of Katsuko’s memories? Of Kayten’s? Or of another of the so-called alternate’s?

I rubbed my eyes, trying to push away the invading pictures. Was this what Kayten had to deal with all the time? No wonder she was so… difficult.

“Okatsu?” Mitsunari looked at me with concern. “You appeared to be … in pain.”

Oh, he was so, so much better at understanding my emotions these days. Of course we had just spend the last seventy-two hours exploring each other physically and emotionally – basically it had been a love language immersion class. “I’m fine. Just remembering a … weird dream.”

Maybe it would be good idea to think of the other Katsukos’ lives as a dream. Otherwise, I might end driving myself crazy for real. Had any of the other (sigh) alternates gotten flashes of my life? If so, I hoped they had enjoyed the last three days.

I know I certainly had.

Keeping my smile (and probably leer) hidden, I watched as Mitsunari got up and gathered the clothing that was scattered around the room. Oh. He did have a nice butt. Not quite Captain America level, but, darned close. Oooh. I can now objectify my fake fiancée!

Hm… was our engagement still fake?

Mitsunari turned around and caught me staring. “Okatsu, I love you, but I do not wish to keep Hideyoshi waiting. If you continue to look at me like that, that is certainly what will happen.”

“Understood. My apologies.” I needed to get dressed too, of course. At least for me, I had a change of clothing that I had grabbed before leaving Genba. Poor Mitsunari was stuck in the clothing that had gotten rained on.

Aside from a couple of corner of my eye glances at my maybe-not-fake fiancé, I managed to get up and get dressed, without pulling Mitsunari back to bed for round twelve.

Once I was dressed in Katsu-the-messenger’s clothing, I noticed Mitsunari was regarding me with a frown. “What’s wrong? Does this hakama make me look fat?”

“Fat? You are perfect, no matter what you are wearing.” He pulled me in for a quick kiss. “It is only that when you dress this way, I remember your work can be dangerous.”

Oh right. We do still need to settle this first (sorry Hideyoshi). “It can be, but I can take care of myself.” I put my hand up to stop his automatic protest. “Yes, I know you can take care of me as well. But I like what I do. As much as I love you, I wouldn’t be me if I sat around all day and did nothing.”

And then, because he still hadn’t responded, I hugged him tighter. “Anyway, I don’t even know who I will be working for. Nobunaga may want me to work as a translator.” But hopefully not all the time. It could get pretty boring to be stuck inside with papers and such. “As for Mitsuhide, I don’t think he would really ask me to do anything dangerous – he has his own spies and Kyubei for that.”

“I hope you are correct.” He kissed the top of my head. He was still holding on tightly, so I don’t know how much of that had gotten through.

“We have time to figure it out.” That was the best perk – since I had arrived in this era, I had been in a sort of limbo, while I searched for Toshiie and a way home. But now, I was home, and I knew where Toshiie was. If I could only figure out what had happened to Aki, it would be perfect. Although at least I knew that there were other people looking for him too… other versions of me looking for him. And since the other versions had also been trained by Aki, surely one of us would find him.

“Where are your sandals?” That was the first question from Hideyoshi once we had all crowded into Nobunaga’s rooms for a debriefing session.

Mitsunari looked down at his feet, as if he hadn’t realized they were bare (quite possibly he hadn’t). “I seem to have misplaced… oh.” At the last minute, he finally must have remembered they were now a pile of ash.

“We tried to dry them off after they got soaked in the rain, and they fell in the firepit.” I kept my smile as innocent as possible. Hideyoshi seemed satisfied with the explanation, but Mitsuhide gave me a look that suggested he knew what we had been doing while the shoes went up in smoke.

“Something will be found for you to wear before we return to Azuchi.” Nobunaga waved his hand in the air as if such a problem was beneath his notice. “If we can find nothing that fits, perhaps Mai can help.”

“Of course. Also,” Mai turned to me with a frown. “Shohime said she would pack up all your things and bring them to Azuchi.” There was a note of hurt in her voice.

Right. When I left, I had abandoned the clothing she had made. I hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings, but obviously I had. “I’m sorry. I would have loved to have taken them with me, but I thought I was returning to a life where they would not have been used.” Not a lot of call for formal kimonos in modern Japan. I mean, I could have worn one on special occasions, if I had been a special occasion kind of girl. But. I wasn’t. “I did take the blue-green one with me. I couldn’t bear to part with it, even if it would have been impractical back in our village.”

Mai continued to look a bit pouty, but she didn’t say anything more. Looks like I had my work cut out for me to repair that relationship.

Nobunaga gently stroked her arm before moving the conversation along. “I am given to understand that your former employer went missing after the Battle of Genba?”

“Yes… my father, in fact.” No use hiding it at this point, especially since Hikosane had already told Mitsuhide. To conceal it from Nobunaga after that would be disingenuous. “My intention was to look for him near our home in case he had somehow made his way back there. However the place was deserted – even his chatelaine was gone.” And where was Fume anyway? Another thing I would need to investigate. I mean, I didn’t like her, the feeling was mutual, but I hoped she was ok at least. “Our search led to a location where communication was impossible. Once we exhausted the search, we came here and intended to send you a message today.”

Hopefully they would never discover that we had arrived on-

“The innkeeper noted that you and Mitsunari have been here for three days.” Hideyoshi delivered that tidbit in the tone of an outraged parent… a.k.a his normal voice.

Thank Okitane. See if I send you a Christmas card this year.

“I am sorry, Lord Hideyoshi.” Mitsunari punctuated that statement by bowing low to the floor. Should I do that too? “This was solely my responsibility, as Okatsu is not used to having people concerned about her.”

The objection to this characterization of myself as a lost, orphaned waif (though ‘orphaned’ might be technically true) froze on my lips when Hideyoshi turned and gave me a gentle smile. “Okatsu, from now on, please understand that there are people who will worry if you are late or missing.” Then he… patted me on the head.

!

I must have looked surprised at the gesture, for Mai turned and stage whispered, “You’ll get used to that.”

“Monkey is correct.” Monkey? Nobunaga nodded at Hideyoshi. “You were instrumental in the Battle of Genba, and we will continue to consider you a Princess of the Oda, if that is your desire.”

Well, I could do without the Princess designation, but now wasn’t the time to protest. “I would like to continue living in Azuchi, in whichever capacity you would find useful. Thank you, Lord Nobunaga.” Because it seemed like the proper protocol at this moment, I followed that up with a respectful bow.

“Excellent. I am certain your knowledge of the Nanban language will be useful indeed.” He nodded to himself and I had a dark visions of a future filled with paperwork and official diplomatic functions.

That was fine. If I could be with Mitsunari, I’d eventually figure out how to arrange my days to my satisfaction (my nights, clearly, would be very satisfying). “As you wish, sir.”

“It’s settled then.” Nobunaga waved us out of the room. As I made my escape, I heard Nobunaga and Mai making plans to visit the Inn’s onsen.

I managed to avoid turning around to advise them that it was worth it to wait until night, when the stars over the vista of the mountains spread across the horizon like a velvet blanket. Nobody needed to know exactly how Mitsunari had spent our second night here.

It wasn’t… completely settled.

Hideyoshi wanted to talk to me. Hopefully this wouldn’t be an ‘offer I can’t refuse.’ Mitsunari had been willing to stay for moral support, but I turned him down. If the conversation grew uncomfortable, I didn’t want him stuck between myself and his lord.

I accompanied Hideyoshi into what was at some point going to be a very nice garden, though at the moment it was just a jumble of rocks and mud. We walked quietly for a little while, picking our way to the driest points. He’d called this meeting, he could begin it when he was ready.

“You were originally planning to return to your home with your brother – what made you change your plan?” Hideyoshi brushed some invisible dust off a large stone and gestured for me to sit.

I sat.

Of course, now, he was looming over me. “Mitsunari asked me if I would be permitted to come back and visit him – and I realized that if I left, there was no guarantee that I could return. My village is … not very accessible.”

“You come from the same place as Mai. She mentioned that.” As always, Hideyoshi’s voice softened when he said Mai’s name, and I, in my newfound happiness, was reminded to step very carefully. It wasn’t only the physical path that was full of obstacles.

Nor was I sure that he knew exactly where, or more specifically, when we were from. “Mai and I discovered we came from the same place, but my brother and I had to leave it seven years ago, so she and I had never met before.”

To be honest, I believed that Mai and Nobunaga really ought to bring Hideyoshi (and Mitsuhide at least) into our confidence, or we would continually having these awkward conversations. “My brother decided to return home and originally I intended to go too. But when Mitsunari told me how he felt… I couldn’t leave him.”

Even the memory of his touch on my cheek brought back that warmth, and the expression he had had on his face would be etched into my mind forever. Without my permission, a smile invaded my face. Feeling embarrassed, I turned away from Hideyoshi.

“I’ve never seen you smile… not like that.” Hideyoshi’s voice sounded strained. “I believe your feelings for Mitsunari are honest.”

“They are… but isn’t that Mitsunari’s business?” I understood that Hideyoshi felt somewhat parental toward Mitsunari – pretty much everyone in Azuchi did as well. But my feelings were mine. Mitsunari’s were his. What we chose to share with each other were ours.

Hideyoshi hesitated, and I could almost see the gears grinding in his head. “I only want to… Mitsunari … he’s … not… experienced.”

Well, he was more experienced now than he was three days ago… but I was curious to see where this was going and in any case, I wasn’t going to volunteer any information about my sex life with Hideyoshi (or anyone else, not even Mai, although I was certain she would eventually ask).

“He’s always been brilliant, but in certain ways he’s very young.” Hideyoshi seemed to be dancing around some extremely annoying ableist language here, and once again, just like that first day in the garden of Azuchi, I found myself annoyed on Mitsunari’s behalf.

“Inexperience and ignorance isn’t the same as stupid. Mitsunari is a genius, he is kind, and he makes me want to be-” I stole Mitsunari’s phrasing, “More than I was. He may appear to be unfocussed and absentminded, but he takes everything in and saves it until he needs it. Stop treating him like a toddler… he’s not… he’s a man, and the best one I have ever met.”

Whoops. Did not know that had been building up. Sorry Hidemama.

He turned red, then almost purple, at my impoliteness before the words eventually sunk in. When he finally spoke again, he sounded very very tired. “You. … Are correct.  I beg your pardon. I only wanted to reassure myself that you won’t break his heart.”

“I know that, Lord Hideyoshi. That is why I didn’t stab you with this fan.” I indicated the war fan that would be carried with me everywhere from now on.

“But perhaps that was simply the story I told myself.” He got that far off look in his eyes again, and I wondered if what he was really afraid of was an empty nest. Then he shook himself out of it and looked at the fan and sighed. “A war fan? I suppose it’s better than you wandering around with a sword stuck in your obi and an arsenal strapped around your legs.”

Well, still had all three knives on me, but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. “It was a gift from Mitsunari, so I’m not giving it up without a fight.”

“It was? It seems he knows you better than I thought.” He laughed, finally. “I suppose we’ll need to train you how to use it.”

“Sure. I look forward to that.” Being allowed to continue all my training was important to me. “I honestly don’t want to be any trouble. I have every intention of being useful.”

He nodded. “I am aware of that.” He turned us back toward the Inn. “I suppose I should help find Mitsunari a pair of sandals… er, do I want to know what really happened to them?”

“You… really do not.” I fought back the impulse to be embarrassed about that by concentrating on the feeling of cold wet feet.

Apparently he was able to figure it out anyway, because that response prompted a courtesy cough. “Well. Then. Why don’t you pack your things – I’d like to get us all back to Azuchi before Keiji accidentally knocks it down with that cannon that he stole.”

Ooof yeah. Good idea.

He turned back to me. “When you pack, put the wet things on the bottom of your bag so the damp won’t get everything else wet.”

I know. “Yes, sir.”

He turned. And then back again. “Check the room twice before you leave – Mitsunari often forgets things.”

Sigh. “I will, Lord Hideyoshi.”

Once again he turned… and then back. Of course. “See if one of the tea maids can help you put your hair into a more… tamed… style.”

Yes. Yes. “Will do, sir” Yeesh could we leave this Inn and spread out so that we aren’t all on top of each other? The trip back would be excruciating with Hideyoshi micromanag…

Oh.

Hell.

Mitsunari lived in Hideyoshi’s manor.

If I moved into his quarters, I would effectively be living with my mother-in-law.

@bestbryn @katriniac @lyds323 @briars7 @lorei-writes

[ben-marco]

feel free to delete or not answer, i dont expect a therapy session in response to this ask and i definitely dont ask with hopes of getting a free diagnosis of ramcoa trauma online

do you have any tips for trying not to feel like im lying to myself whenever flashbacks and memories / emotions / etc of possible ramcoa trauma pop up? theres no external confirmation about anything, like our parent/s not remembering us going away for a couple days for example despite us remembering being away from them for days at a time and i feel like im going bonkers 💀

This is a tough one for many survivors of OEA (and for many survivors of abuse in general, honestly). Know that you are certainly not the only one.

What helped me was knowing that when memories like that bubble up, it's likely because a part felt safe to share them with me. If I had entrusted someone with such sensitive information, it would be very upsetting to me if they responded with "That's not real, you must be lying!" But...it can often be easier to respond with disbelief than it is to respond with patience and comfort. I get it.

When memories come up, even if I as a host/ANP don't necessarily immediately believe them, I try my best to keep my kneejerk disbelief to myself. I thank the part for sharing them ("I understand this must have been very difficult for you to share with me. That must have taken a lot of courage. Thank you for sharing" or some variation) and then, if I'm in a position to do so, I try to engage in something that's grounding or stabilizing, and I ask inside if anyone needs anything or if they would like to join me in getting grounded together. Sometimes I get a response (sometimes the response is from the part who shared the memory) and sometimes I don't, but either way I try to take a moment to do something that makes me feel grounded and safe and present. And just like I thanked the part, I also tell them that we are safe now, and things are different these days.

What matters here, in the moment, is not necessarily whether a memory is true, false, or anything in-between. What matters is that a part has entrusted you with that memory and needs to feel safe. Sorting out what's true or false can come later, and a trauma-informed professional may even tell you that it doesn't matter as much whether it's true or false as much as it matters that you are suffering from it. Whether a distressing memory is "real" or not, you still remember it and you still experience distress from it. That is what matters.

I know it's difficult and painful to deal with being handed these memories but really the most important thing you can do is take a deep breath, thank that part for sharing, and then do something that reinforces the fact that you are safe now.

In the front of my journal, I've written down a few communication questions that I like to use during flashbacks or when I'm "sent" memories by EPs or traumaholders. I am not always able to use them, but I've found them helpful for the events when I can use them. I'll leave them, and some other resources, under the cut.

Communication questions for flashbacks. When asking these, I find it's important not to take an interrogatory tone-- remember, you don't want the part to think they're in trouble for sharing with you. If I can't ask these questions in the moment, I also find it helpful to reflect on them after the fact.

"Is there a reason I'm being shown this flashback? Is someone sending this to me?"

"What are you trying to communicate?"

Is someone else in a flashback and got close to front?" (If so, grounding is extra important here)

"Do you feel unsafe about something else happening in our life?"

"Is this your way of reminding me we aren't supposed to tell anyone?"

"Are you trying to keep me from doing something? Why are you afraid of me doing that?"

"Did something trigger you that I don't know about?"

"Did someone inside order you to share this memory with me? You are not in trouble. I want to talk to them, not you."

"Are you feeling ignored? Are there other ways you could get my attention without re-traumatizing me?"

"Are you oriented to the present? I know it's 2024 (or the present year), but do you? How can we work on getting grounded together?"

"Am I being reprimanded? Can it be shared with me what I did wrong? Let's talk this over."

Of course these can be added to or changed as you see fit. They are from this article by Beauty After Bruises and I've been copying them into my journals for years. You may find other parts of the article helpful as well, as it discusses grounding techniques and other flashback coping tools.

The CTAD Clinic's YouTube channel might also be helpful, and if you'd like to make a grounding box or learn about making one, MultiplicityAndMe has a wonderful video about that.

[elisysd]

17. I was tame, I was gentle til the circus life made me mean

Masterlist - Previously - Next

Chapter soundtrack: Who's Afraid of Little Old Me? - Taylor Swift

It hadn’t been easy to contact Jean without you knowing, but he had managed. That’s the reason why he was sitting at the terrace of a parisian cafe, waiting for your colleague and mentor to appear. It didn’t take long before the man with glasses that he had seen countless of times before, finally showed up in front of him. 

“I can’t say I’m surprised to hear from you,” Jean said, taking place in front of him while a waiter appeared to take his order. 

“So I suppose you know why I asked if we could meet.”

“It’s about Y/N, right?”

“She doesn’t admit it but she misses working with you.”

“And she is missed by the whole team. She was doing an amazing job but it’s not that easy, believe me. We tried to talk to our boss, we tried to contact the trade union to see if there was something we could do, we negotiated… but it is out of our hands. From what I gathered, the sport service would be ready to have her back and pushed in that direction but it is the higher ups who don’t want to hear anything. They are scared for the reputation of the channel,” Jean explained as Charles huffed. 

“Bullshit. Complete bullshit. So they have no intention to give her job back despite what they told her?” Jean’s face dropped down and Charles instantly knew there was something that he wasn’t saying. “What?” he asked. 

“I know they sent an official contract termination letter to her. She is going to receive it anytime.”

“She moved out, she lives at my place now.”

“Yeah, she communicated the address change. Congratulations, by the way. Treat her well, she needs you. Now more than ever,” Jean sadly smiled, patting Charles’ back as he got up and prepared himself to leave. Charles just nodded, unsure of what to add. The only thing he knew was that you would be devastated once you would get the letter. 

He arrived in a silenced apartment, curtains closed and without any sound that could lead him to you. He checked his phone twice, in case he had missed a text from you, but nothing. He called your name but only silence answered him. He tried to call your phone and finally heard a distant buzzing coming from his office and a voice, your voice, swearing, followed by muffled sounds. His feet carried him to the door where he attempted to open it, without any success. You had barricaded yourself inside, which worried him. 

“Y/N… baby, open please, I know you’re in here.”

It took him a few minutes to convince you to unlock the office but when he saw your glossy eyes, he knew. And the letter lying on the floor only confirmed his instincts. 

“They… they fi… fired… me,” you stuttered in disbelief.

“Come here,” Charles opened his arms wide, letting you fall into them as he pulled you strongly against his chest. “I’m here. I’m right there.”

Your sobs broke his heart as you broke down and soaked his shirt. 

“So, this is all over, then? With a letter? Something so… informal. I mean, I don’t know what I was expecting. It’s just… I don’t know.”

“You’re in shock.”

“All my blood, sweat and literal tears went into this job. For Luc, my grandpa…me. And for what? Look where I end up. With nothing besides broken dreams and shattered hopes,” you nervously laughed and Charles fidgeted. He was scared to ask but he had to.

“Does.. it change anything… for us?”

“What do you mean?”

“Listen, I want you happy, I want you thriving and if I’m holding you back… no matter how much I love you, I don’t want to stand between your dreams and yourself.”

You stared at him and sighed. 

“You’re the only constant in my life, right now. The only light in my life. If you leave me…  I don’t know what I will do. I love you. You’re my happiness,” you reassured him, putting a hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at you. He nodded, shyly.

“Maybe… I could offer you something. I need someone who knows the media inside out to help me build my brand. And listen to me fully before you turn it down. You could work from home, you wouldn’t have to follow me everywhere. You could have your own office. And Lorenzo is working with me on this and he, we, could use your input. You would be a great asset.”

“I’m not sure mixing business with pleasure is a good idea.”

“Think it through before giving me an answer, alright?”

“Would you hate me if I wasn’t following you for the next races? I need to sort everything out. And I need to think it through.”

After Monza, Singapore came rather quickly and Charles would never admit it out loud, but he hated the distance between you. At least physical because if the timezone and his schedule would allow it, he was finding himself chatting and texting on the phone with you. It had earned him a few jokes here and there from his team and from Pierre, but he had just shrugged them off. You seemed to be fine which, instead of reassuring him, was worrying him. He started to know you well by now and he knew you were one to keep everything for yourself because that’s how you had always moved through your life. You weren’t used to having someone to rely on and it would keep on taking a little more time for you to finally understand that it was okay to lean on him when times were rough. But you would get there, Charles was sure of it. 

Meanwhile on the other side of the world, in Monaco, you hadn’t taken a day off despite being currently unemployed. You had wrapped up any loose ends you still had in Paris and made sure your whole life had been transferred to Monaco. Sure, it seemed precocious to take such a big step in your very new relationship with the Ferrari driver but it felt right. And you always trusted your gut feeling. If it seemed right, then it was right. As for your work situation, it was a simple conversation with your best friend that had struck a new frightening but oh so exciting idea. 

“And what are you going to do, now? You’ve never been one to stay on the sideline,” she had asked you. 

“I don’t know… to be honest, I’m lost at the moment. My whole life is in shambles and just the idea of trying to think of the next step is giving me anxiety attacks.”

“So… that means no more motorsport action for you, then? As a media person, I mean.”

“I don’t want to give up on that but I don’t know how to go back to it,” you had admitted.

“Freelance journalist? I know it doesn’t pay much but at least you could choose for whom you would work…”

You had stayed silent, completely frozen for what seemed to be minutes for your best friend, as the wheels started to turn in your mind and a newly found excitement made its way in the pit of your stomach.

“You’re a genius, you know that?” you had smirked. 

“That’s what people usually say of me. But seriously, what are you thinking of?”

“Something big.”

Following the conversation you had worked on your plan, on your own, without talking about it to anyone. You wanted it to be bulletproof before starting any conversations. So you had kept it to yourself until it was finally ready to be talked about. You knew Singapore was a busy weekend for everyone and it would have been the GP you had been the most excited about to cover. But you weren’t there and you had to deal with it. Charles had a lot of work and your exchanges were fewer and fewer, both of you being busy. So the only person you contacted ahead of the weekend to have an opinion on your project was Jean. 

“Y/N… what a surprise. How are you holding up?” he asked.

“Good. Better than I imagined I would be. I’m not calling for chit-chatting.”

“I thought so. What do you need?” you could hear the smile in his voice.

“I have an idea, a project. But I don’t know where to begin to make it happen. I thought you could help me.”

“I have a few minutes to spare. Lance Stroll canceled our interview last minute.”

“It’s always fun,” you sarcastically commented. “I wanna launch an independent media. More like, I want to interview people from behind the scene in motorsport. I was thinking of people like Hannah Schmitz or Susie Wolff. Not drivers. People that make the sport. I was thinking of a podcast. Something independent. Something that is me. I know that I could sell the idea to some media and maybe some of them would be willing to pay me for broadcasting it but I don’t want to work under someone anymore. If working alongside people like you and Marion, if dating Charles taught me something, it’s that I’m more than just capable of doing my job. I’m good at what I do, I have ideas,  have experience, I have passion. I’m just not sure where to begin,” you explained in one breath until the line was silent, making you wonder if Jean was still here. 

“Where do I sign up for this?” Jean finally said. 

You smiled. It was all you needed to confirm that you were on the right path. 

If all seemed to go well for you, it wasn’t the case for Charles. Singapore had been a mess. He was happy for Ferrari but it was a bittersweet feeling. He had tremendously helped Carlos to win and if he wasn’t expecting from his teammate a profusion of gratitude, he was still expecting at least a word from him. Instead, he had been thrown to the wolves as soon as the race had ended and the comments about him being a washed up driver hurt. Especially when his teammate wasn’t saying anything to try to appease the situation. 

The only thing that made him feel slightly better was hearing your voice, filled with anger, when he came back to his room, completely exhausted. 

“If he won it’s because you decided to sacrifice your race! You made the call! Ferrari’s strategists weren’t smart enough to think about it! And you only missed the podium because they fucked up your pitstop! Again. If they hadn’t, it would have been a 1-2 for Ferrari. And the fact that Carlos prefers to praise Lando… it pisses me off! Lando isn’t his teammate. He should go back to McLaren if he prefers to work with him, then. Seriously. You don’t know how much self-control it takes me to not hop on the platforms and tell people who insult you to go fuck themselves. I’m proud of you, for what it is worth. And I love you. And I miss you.”

“You know it is sexy when you defend me like that.”

You laughed. 

“You’re delirious.”

“Maybe a little. I’m exhausted and hot. But I do know that I have a sexy and brave and smart girlfriend. I'm very serious and clear-minded when it comes to this topic. Enough about me, I want to forget this race. How have you been?  We haven't talked much lately.”

“Well… I’ve been busy.”

“Busy with?”

“Creating my own media.” you stated, proud of yourself. 

“Oh… wow… well. You haven’t told me, I didn’t know that was something you had in mind.”

“ I wanted to plan everything first and go through the administrative documentation. What do you think?”

“I think that I support you at one hundred percent. If you need anything, just tell me.”

“Thanks Charles. You know, it’s you who gives me the strength to achieve that. If I hadn’t met you, I don’t think I would have ever been brave enough to try something like that.”

“You would have been. You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re amazing and I don’t think there is anything you can’t do.”

“There is one thing I can’t do and that I need you for.” you chuckled, always feeling a little awkward when he was putting you on a pedestal you didn’t think you were deserving. 

“Ask away.”

“Do you think I could come with you for the Austin GP and stay until the end of the season?”

Author's note: I wish I could have managed to release this chapter sooner but I went to see The Eras Tour in Wembley (and it was amazing omg take me back) and then spent some time with my boyfriend so I yeah, writing has not really been possible and I'm so sorry. Bu the good thing is, I have so many ideas for this story and I'm very excited to write and share them. So it means that updates should be more frequent now!!!

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. Besides the fact that I absolutely love to read you, it helps a lot for the story to find its audience. I also have a taglist for this story, so if you want to be added so you never miss a chapter, let me know.

If you wanna be part of the taglist, let me know.

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos @thirstylion @cmleitora @charizznorizz @sltwins @boherahpsody @herondalism @roseamongthorns13 @aundercover @snowflakesfluff @fictional-l0v3r @queensassybitchsworld @jehun @reengard @valntynebaby

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[huitzilinthebudgie3]

Nuestra Flor

Summary : Marc had a shitty day…and suddenly there's a Baby waiting at his doorstep………

What's Marc gonna do ? What's a guy to do ?

Notes : I know it's kinda out of order but , my minds kinda like a squirrel and this is kinda theraputic for me. I hope you guys like it , because it's not really what is seen in Para ti Papa..this is just a bit into how i think Marc , Steven and possibly Jake would've handled raising a baby girl.

And i know it's not mentioned but , it is not as canon to the show as it should be…i caught it and Steven and Marc know about eachother….but Jake is still hidden.

So it'll be interesting …..

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Marc was having a shitty day , he was getting home from work. He had to make dinner before Layla got home …he had laundry…a room and bed to clean ….he sighed slumping down onto the couch down and someone was ringing the doorbell. He frowned and sighed walking over to said door as he opened it glancing around to find it empty. Before he was met with small coos…he blinked at the small bundle wrapped in a bright red soft blanket that was wrapped with a teal and gold quilt that supported the baby in the carrier. The baby was blowing raspberries and cooing to itself as it stared at him with a curious look before giggling and kicking it’s small plush toy out of the carrier. 

Marc frowned, leaning down to read the note on the baby’s lap, as the baby babbled at him reaching out to touch him as he shrunk back and read the note that had a birth certificate. Social Security and all the paperwork that a baby its age would need to travel.

The note made Marc glance from the note back to the baby as he repeated the action twice before sighing deeply “There is no way , your mine” he murmured before flipping to the next page with a full blown paternity test confirming that he was indeed the father of said baby.

He sighed as he shut the door and getting ready to call the cops to take the baby as he threw the papers down. Well as soon as the door closed , the speed and sound of the old heavy door was enough to make a loud slamming noise that apparently startled the baby as it began wailing at the top of their lungs. 

His already shitty day was much worse as it didn’t stop after 5 minutes..nor 10 mins or 15..and at 20 it did stop but , he was curious so sue him. He opened the door to find the baby sniffling as it whined for the small plush. The baby according to her birth certificate was around 4 months old , and according to the note…sent to him as a last resort. To let the little one to get to know her father, as her mother apparently (Shitty mother in Marc’s opinion) couldn’t keep her and knew she deserved better. 

So he sighed grabbing his keys to at the very least leave her at the Fire Station. Give her a chance to live a normal life with whichever family member was written on the letter. 

And he was mind made up , on the steps of the fire station when the baby babbled softly reaching out with big wide brown eyes touching his hand before giggling at his attention and fixed him with a toothy smile (as much as a 4 month old could manage). 

 Fate has a really crazy way of throwing you hurdles…for Marc it was Steven fronting as soon as the baby touched his hand. Emotionally he couldn’t handle the idea of his blood in the broken system possibly suffering just as much as he did to someone not related to her or even getting dealt a worse hand as he sighed mentally letting Steven take the reigns. So he decided to take her to a family member and ensure she was safe with said family member. 

*2 weeks later*

It was interesting that the baby had appropriate traveling documents , as he stared at the baby . He’d purchased a set of clothes for it according to age and food, it didn’t like the car. He was currently in a diner eating breakfast as the baby cooed happily in his direction …so far other than being car-sick or teething it seemed , it wasn’t a very cry crybaby. 

“Aww she’s cute , how old is she ?” Marc quirked a brow “4 months ?” he said as the waitress hummed “Oh i’ll just wait for your mama , pumpkin” she smiled booping her nose as the baby yawned stretching out to bat at her toys hanging from the handle “Oh just us , we’re heading to visit mama” he explained. 

The waitress nodded, taking his order as he stared at the baby again “Don’t go getting attached , half-pint. You're going straight back to your mom or whoever's at this address” he said firmly as the baby giggled and kicked in excitement. She babbled in excitement but not yet having the articulation to quite form cohort sentences. 

Steven was strongly against taking the baby back to her other family members or back to her own mother. He also called the baby by its name clearly looking to get attached in his opinion. 

Marc sighed distracted by his ringing phone that had Layla’s contact…ringing and eventually stopping as another voicemail found it’s way into his contacts. In the grand age of 2008 , this baby couldn’t have chosen a worse time to make their presence known. He glared wondering exactly where this baby came from , Steven had no recollection of being with someone or even getting intimate…which Marc confirmed …as Steven ..had yet to get a girlfriend. 

And Marc had only been with Layla for months…except the kidnapped…and drunken portion of the…past few months before Layla had saved him. 

…..

…..

…..

… And suddenly this small being before him made sense…clearly he’d been with someone..he’d put that together a few days ago……………..

But how the hell was he going to explain that one ? To his wife , when it’d been his fault to begin with that he’d taken and more so that ….*sigh* he didn’t have time for this.

The small little being was cute..he had to give her credit for that “Flora..what kinda name is that ?” he murmured as the baby cooed at that reaching out for him “Flora…you look more like a y/n …but i’m not keeping ya..so thats that” he sighed drinking the black coffee as she blew a raspberry his way. 

*2 months later*

He finally found the mother of the baby , he was currently trying to talk her into keeping the baby….but she ignored him and kept walking. Refusing to acknowledge him before he set the baby down “Hey i returned her ! I’m married , you psycho !” the woman quirked a brow…she was beautiful in way that was different to Marc.And it hurt Marc…for some unknown reason…well at the time…that he could see how torn she was as she squated down and caressed the baby's cheek. Cooing words of love and affection as the baby giggled , knowing the face and kindness of her mother as she reached out ..probably craving it from a lack of it in a month. He could tell that her soul was hurting as she glared at him “I can’t keep her…she’s your responsibility now.” she said firmly “You must swear that she must never been an avatar” she said softly as Marc snorted “I’m an avatar smart ass” the woman rolled her eyes “Pues si pendejo ! I’m talking about Khonshu…Khonshu has a soft spot. He has no relation to her outside of her being your daughter. My deity is related distantly …and unlike Khonshu…she will never be able to be free of mine. I do not give her to you lightly!” the woman yelled as the baby cried out at that as the woman sighed deeply. 

Her anger melting away as she picked her up briefly rocking her gently muttering a small lullaby , Marc presumed as she walked over to him “I can’t have her live my life. And i can tell her soul and heart will be kind…she will be unable to deny her birthright” she sighed softly “And as much i want to keep her and see the person she grows into…i can’t…she can’t be tied to me . I fear he’ll be able to claim her” she said softly “So take , my sweet little flor. And grow her into the strong little rose bush that she will be” she said softly as tears dripped down her cheeks “Because i know my father will , and if you want he can help..but as the current avatar until i have a child or i die..i’ll be the avatar of my god” she sniffled setting the baby into his arms. 

Marc hadn’t even realized that he was crying until the woman kissed their daughter cheek and left apologizing once again. 

*2 months later*

Marc sighed as he sat in his and Steven’s shared apartment …he let Steven front over…and so far so good. He helped from time to time…and they had the baby and were going to try and get used to her and the idea of her before bringing Layla into this…because it was a pretty fucked situation no matter how you spun it…….

And the baby just barfed on herself…sigh…whelp enough journaling for today. 

Talk to you soon , Baby Girl. 

I hope you know I love you , and even if i’m not around…and if our start together wasn’t the greatest…i love you , bud…

….My Y/n

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End Notes :

Thank you again for reading , let me know if you like it.

Here's a link to my AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huitzilinthebudgie

And have a wonderful day or night :)

[jeanniebug623]

🕸️🕷️ Weaving the Web 🕷️🕸️

Chapter 16: Me, Myself, & I

“Why can’t I go too?”, Spider asked for the umpteenth time in the last 24 hours, ever since learning the squad was being sent out on a mission but he would be staying behind. He ignored Quaritch sigh from the other end of the couch from where he sat. Even though the recom took him to the forest the day before, just the two of them to repaint his stripes and break the news, he mostly covered them up with an oversized black t-shirt and matching thin, baggy sweatpants. It was almost all or nothing for the kid. Either he was wearing his native loincloth or clothes far too big for him. 

“Spider.” Quaritch said firmly before softening his tone, “You’re gonna be ok.” 

They both knew it wasn’t so much the mission that had Spider nervous, though anything the RDA ordered was a contentious discussion since the kid only expected fire and brimstone. But General Ardmore was sending the recoms out on surveillance to a recently identified Na’vi settlement to confirm if it was a hostile gathering. Spider was afraid for the Na’vi, but also because ALL of the recoms were being sent out. He would be alone at Bridgehead. 

“Are you going to kill anyone?” Spider asked, continuing to pout and stare away from Quaritch. He was sitting with his arms propped on his knees. It wasn’t as guarded as when MJ was practically curled up in a ball when he hugged his knees in, but it was still a shield. 

“Our goal is to avoid contact altogether. Just watchin’.” Quaritch said, trying to sound as neutral as possible. Going into the forest when he found Spider and the Sully kids was supposed to just be testing the immune response for the recoms and look where that got them... 

“Then I should go.” Spider said forcefully, “I could tell you the difference between hunters and a war party in a heartbeat.” 

It was a good argument and would make the mission go much faster, but Ardmore made her orders clear. Until Spider’s response to the Na’vi could be witnessed in a controlled environment, he was to remain on base when a mission called for close encounters or potential contact. Quaritch hated to agree with her on it, but her argument was just as valid. Spider hadn’t seen any Na’vi since being captured. Would he stay the same or would someone else, maybe someone new, take over? 

“Kid, I want to believe that there wouldn’t be any issues.” Quaritch said as he walked over and crouched in front of Spider. He could keep looking away all he wanted but the colonel kept talking, “But we just don’t know. It could be dangerous for you or the squad or even the Na’vi.” 

“The RDA is what’s dangerous for the Na’vi.” Spider grumbled quietly, “Just look at me.” 

Quaritch pursed his lips together and cleared his throat at the jab. He didn’t have time to keep coddling the boy’s mood swing. He was trying to remember that this would be Spider’s first time alone in Bridgehead that wasn’t in a cell. 

“Spider, you listen to me.” Quaritch started and his ears pinned back before continuing, “And look at me when I’m talkin’ to you, boy.” He waited for Spider to roll his eyes back to him then nodded approvingly despite the attitude. “No one’s gonna get killed and you have everything you need in this apartment. Lyle made sure to stock the kitchen with everything a teenager could want. You have access to the mess, recom barracks, and fitness center.” 

“Yea, with a babysitter...” Spider said with another eye roll in reference to the two human soldiers that would be always outside the apartment. 

“That’s not a surprise and you know it, tiger.” Quaritch said bluntly. Yes, the boy did know. 

“So, I get a bigger cell.” Spider remarked sarcastically. 

“Practically royalty.” the colonel responded with a smirk and just as sarcastic. 

The teen frowned and let his knees drop so he could cross his legs then crossed his arms over his chest, looking away again. 

“You are going to be okay, Spider.” Quaritch said slowly, reiterating that he knew the real reason Spider didn’t want to be left behind. 

Spider relented and sighed, closing his eyes tightly and asked, “What if I’m not?” 

The colonel sighed. He had the same fears as Spider, he was just better at hiding it. Quaritch reached forward and put a hand on the kid’s broad shoulder that looked small in his hand. This caused Spider to open his eyes and the sass was gone. It was replaced by eyebrows pinching together and genuine concern in his brown eyes. Quaritch would give anything to stay behind to quell the boy’s fears. Or any of the recoms; someone he trusted. But this was more than a surveillance mission... 

General Ardmore was testing the colonel. A serious contingency with taking custody of Spider relied on his condition not interfering with Quaritch’s mission. If he’d tried to negotiate any part of the mission, from someone staying behind to arguing Spider should go, it would prove her right. That Spider was more important than the mission... 

“If you have any concerns, the infirmary is on speed dial.” Quaritch said reassuringly. 

Spider sighed. It didn’t matter what he said; Quaritch wasn’t going to stay for him. He understood the “test” the general was dishing out too. If there was one thing the recom was good at, it was being honest with him. And not the honesty he was used to, which was usually laced with annoyance or straight up hatred. He explained that Ardmore was waiting for them to screw up this arrangement so she could lock him up and throw away the key...but not before squeezing every bit of information out of him by any means necessary. 

The door slid open with swoosh and Wainfleet entered, a smile on his face. 

“Morning, champ, you going to miss us?” the corporal asked, knowing he was going to see one grumpy teenager even before he walked in the room. 

“Everyone but you...” Spider said, tightening his crossed arms around his chest. 

“Whaaat?” Wainfleet said, placing his hand over his heart in feigned offense, “After everything I did to make this place a teenage paradise?” 

Wainfleet had done a lot to make sure Spider was comfortable while they were gone. Instead of just a coffee maker, he convinced the others to help him commandeer other appliances like an electric kettle and small convection oven. The cabinets and small fridge were stocked with plenty of food and drinks, including some Pandoran fruit gathered from the botany unit’s greenhouse. Ja insisted on not shocking Spider’s system too much with only Earth food as well as healthy options, not just junk. 

“And don’t forget the tablet, my man, it’s got access to all kinds of stuff. Including an archive of over 10,000 comic books!” Wainfleet said, sounding more excited than Spider looked. The kid still didn’t know how the recoms knew he read comics when he was younger. No one had enlightened him about the experience with MJ and he doubted Miles was chummy enough with them to talk about something like that. 

“Mmhmm.” was all the teen said in response, looking at the floor. 

“Be back as soon as possible. Be good, tiger.” Quaritch said with a ruffle of Spider’s hair, stood up to retrieve his pack, and was gone. 

Spider sat in the silence of the apartment for a while. He really didn’t know what to do, if he was being honest with himself. He didn’t want to deal with the soldiers. Instead, the teen turned on the tablet and started looking through Wainfleet’s coveted comic book collection. Lots of Spider-Man...that had to be intentional. He wanted to be upset, thinking they were making fun of his chosen name, but........he really did like Spider-Man so he looked for the first introduction of Miles Morales. His favorite. 

The first day wasn’t bad. Granted, Spider had lost all concept of time reading comics. He only got off the couch to use the bathroom or raid the kitchen. Before he knew it, it was dark outside but kept flipping through the virtual pages until he fell asleep in the middle of a fight between the forces of good and evil that only superheroes could provide. 

Halfway through the next day, reading comics wasn’t keeping Spider’s attention. He really wanted to go outside but knew that wasn’t allowed. Maybe he could check out the fitness center? He needed to burn off the cabin fever somehow. He rolled off the couch and went over to the door. It opened automatically and the two human soldiers looked at him in unison. The normal thumbprint access had been temporarily turned off so Spider couldn’t lock himself in there. 

“What do you need, kid?” asked one of the guards. Quaritch had handpicked the security detail himself. 

“I’m just...bored.” Spider said, looking between the two men, “Thought I’d check out the gym...” 

The one who spoke nodded to the other and they started walking with Spider in tow. He’d never been to the gym before. He knew how to get to the mess, recom barracks, and hospital wing. He hadn’t been anywhere else enough times to remember, even forgetting the route to the prison. Well, that was a memory Spider didn’t need so he’d take that as a plus... 

Spider remembered the gym at Hell’s Gate but it was nothing like what he walked into. It was massive! Lined with exercise machines, sparring mats, and combat equipment like dummies and punching bags. Through one long wall of windows, he could see a large pool and, after craning his head, could see people running on an open track a level up around the room. 

“How do I get up there?” Spider said, pointing up at the track. 

“You just want to run?” one of the guards asked. It was no hidden secret to anyone who saw him that the kid was built like a Greek statue. Even in the baggy clothes, he still looked muscular and more fit than most of the soldiers on Pandora. 

“Yea, I just want to run...” Spider answered with a nod. It was no precariously linked roots between floating mountains or weaving obstacle course of moss-covered branches, but he liked running. If anything, he’d just be able to run faster at the man-made track even though the thought of a perfectly flat surface had always been strange and unnatural to him. Even after growing up in Hell’s Gate. 

“You want sneakers or something...?” the other guard asked as they led him up a flight of stairs and out onto the balcony-like track. 

“No, why?” Spider asked as his nose wrinkled at the unpleasant smell of chemicals emanating from the pool water to keep it clean. He watched a few people go by then took off his shirt to toss it on a bench. He wasn’t sure exactly what the “etiquette” was, so he started jogging at a slow pace before picking up speed when he could hear a couple people hazing each other into a challenge. Running in a circle was boring as hell after a few laps, but quicker and deeper breaths he took was a growing familiarity he loved. As he picked up speed, he blocked out the sound of voices and feet stomping on the metal track covered by a thin layer of spongy material. He focused onto the sounds he could pretend was something else, like the air vents recycling the air was a natural breeze or the sound of people in the pool was splashing in a swimming hole he’d go to with his friends. 

Spider wasn’t sure how long he ran or when he picked up speed to be more than sprinting. Nor did he realize the track clearing as people watched the blue-painted teen with dreadlocks flying wildly behind him as he dominated each painted checkpoint like it was a single stride. When he did notice, he came to an abrupt stop and scanned the room. His heart pounded in his chest differently seeing all these eyes on him... 

“Damn!” came a jovial voice and Spider whipped his head around to a dark-skinned man pressing a button on his watch then looking up with gray eyes and a big smile, “Kid did a 3 min 17.65!” 

The teen was completely taken out of it and tilted his head, “...what? I did a what?” 

“Oh, sorry.” said the man as he walked over. Other than required personal, this was the first person to approach Spider without an official reason. “I was timing you. You dominated this track, man. You ran a mile in 3 minutes and 17.65 seconds.” 

Spider had no idea why that was so exciting, but he went along with it. Anyone who looked at or talked to him like a person was a welcome change. But he still didn’t understand the thrill of being able to run fast... 

“Good?” Spider said awkwardly. 

“Better than good, fastest I’ve seen recorded on two planets.” the man said with a laugh. 

“I know you.” the teen said and pointed at the other man, “You’re the blood guy.” 

The dark-skinned man laughed again and held out his hand, “The name’s Devin, my man. But yea. I’m the phlebotomist who’s assigned to your medical team.” He wasn’t sure if he’d insulted Spider by offering to shake his hand then course-corrected by drawing his fingers down from his forehead. 

Pleasantly surprised by the Na’vi greeting, Spider smiled and returned the gesture as he introduced himself, “Spider.” 

“Ah, good to officially meet you without a needle in my hand.” Devin joked. 

“Yea, this is better.” Spider joked right back. 

“You’re my first human patient on Pandora. I’m part of the Blue Diamonds.” Devin explained, but Spider’s confused look told him that the title meant nothing. “We’re an anthropology team that studies the Na’vi. We came out to Pandora with the recombinants to make sure their activation went smoothly.” 

“Activation?” Spider asked, raising a brow at the term, “Like you turned on a machine?” 

“Something like that.” Devin said with a shrug. 

“How come you’re assigned to me if you work with the recoms? Not exactly the same anatomy...” Spider asked curiously. 

“I was assigned after the, uh...first incident in the med bay.” Devin said while clearing his throat, trying not focus on what Miles had done to land Spider in restraints. 

“Oh...” Spider said with a sigh. So, Devin was just another RDA lackey following orders. “After I ripped some guy’s face off...sorry you gotta deal with me...” 

“Hey, Spider, you got nothing to apologize for.” Devin said. The honesty in his voice drew Spider’s surprised attention. Other than Quaritch, no one had said that to him. He was even more surprised when the man leaned in closer and said quietly, “What happened to you? Insane...” 

Spider was taken aback that the man dared to get this close to him and sound genuinely concerned. 

“You have no idea...” he responded quietly. 

A high-pitched whistle interrupted them and they looked over Spider’s escort waving him over. 

“End of shift, kid, need to get you back!” one of the guards yelled over. Not embarrassing for a sixteen-year-old at all... 

“Hey, I’ll catch you later.” Devin said with a light clap on Spider’s shoulder, “Maybe get you down to the lab or something for a change of scenery.” 

“Thanks, blood guy.” Spider said with a smirk as the man jogged off to the people he’d left. He immediately showed them his watch to prove the time Spider ran a mile was true. Sky people were so weird sometimes... 

Spider felt revitalized for those few hours he spent running the track and decided to just eat dinner in the apartment again after a quick shower. His stripes were still vibrant after the hot shower as he toweled off in the steamy ensuite between the two bedrooms. After squeezing most of the water out of his locs, Spider flipped his hair back and turned to the mirror to leave the room. 

But he froze. His brown eyes stared at his reflection, obscured by words he couldn’t see until after the steam revealed: 

‘DON'T TRUST THEM’ 

[make-me-your-animal]

Strawberries

Summary: some Euphoria Era phil smut. If it sucks I'm blaming it on the fact i haven't written much in a hot minute.

Special thanks to the two little devils on my shoulders. You know who you are. See you in hell, besties!

Warning: swearing, smut, mild choking, mild bondage, praising, mild spanking. I think that's all I got for you.

Phil was drenched with sweat when he stumbled off the stage high on adrenaline. The crowd was still screaming when he handed his guitar off to his tech. Someone threw him a towel, which he used to half dry his chest before tossing it back in the direction it came from. Then his eyes were on her.

He had seen her dancing in the crowd, the backstage pass swaying left and right. She was right infront of his mic looking up at him with her best ‘please fuck me’ eyes. Now she sat on a road case her long legs on full display in the barely there shorts she was wearing. She wore a bright red bralette that made Phil absolutely positive every man in the room had checked her out. Didn't matter though she was there for him. Between her lips rested a lollipop of the exact same shade of red as the bralette. He caught her eye, making her eyes light up. She beckoned him towards her with a curl of her finger. she grinned around her candy as phil did have to think twice about crossing the crowded space to get to her.

It was the same routine every tour since hysteria when they met under the stage one night. Within the first couple shows in America, she would show up backstage. After that, she would stick with him until the end of the tour, and then she would disappear without a trace. Well, almost. Phils mind went to the black lace panties tucked in his guitar case.

He had finally broken through the crowd, stepping up to her. She parted her legs for him to stand between. His hands instantly went to her thighs. He let his pointer fingers slip under the edge of the black denim. “I was starting to think you wouldn't show,” Phil said slowly. Taking in her pretty face.

She smiled again, pulling the lollipop out of her mouth slowly. Phil was close enough to hear the soft pop as it left her pretty red lips.The sound instantly sent his blood rushing south. “Had some things to get in order before disappearing for a few months” she shrugged her free hand, tracing the muscles in his stomach and chest. He had definitely gained some muscle since the last time she had seen him, she noted.

Phil nodded in understanding, looking down to watch her fingers run along the waistband of his jeans . “Dressing Room?” he suggested.

“Of course”

Phil stepped back so she could hop off the road case. He wrapped his arm around her waist, escorting her towards the dressing rooms. He looked over his shoulder to see Joe checking her out.

He stopped in front of a door with his name on a sign taped to the door. He opened it, quickly ushering her inside.

“Miss me” she asked, twirling the candy between her fingers as Phil shut and locked the door.

“Always do” phil confirmed, turning back around, looking her up and down. Not much had changed. She was still as beautiful as ever, even if it had been a few years. She stepped across the room so they were standing chest to chest.

“What flavor?”

Confusion crossed her features. Phil watched in amusement when realization dawned on her. She glanced down at the almost forgotten candy. “Wanna find out?” she asked, licking her lips.

Phil didn't answer, only pushed her swiftly against the nearest wall, shoving his lips against hers in a searing kiss. She moaned softly into his mouth, her hands instantly moving to his shoulders to stabilize herself as her knees turned to jelly.

They kissed like lovers. Like they did it every day. Phil licked into her mouth, and she happily let him. After a minute or so, the need for oxygen became too much, and Phil pulled away panting slightly. “Strawberry,” he murmured.

She nodded slowly, breathing just as hard. Her hands laid flat against his chest.

One of his hands trailed up from her waist to rest against her throat. Not applying pressure, not yet, at least, just resting it there like a collar.

“Safeword?”

Mischief twinked in her eyes as she looked up at him. “Strawberry”

Phil huffed a quick laugh, pressing a quick kiss to her lips before pulling away completely. “Get undressed darling” he commanded, turning away from her, knowing very well she would. Tour was hectic and usually completely out of his control. But not her. He got to control her.

He dug through his wardrobe, finding a silky black scarf. When he turned back around, she stood naked in front of him waiting. He took a minute to look her over. He thought she was absolutely beautiful.

“Come’re” he groaned, watching her hips swing as she walked towards him. “Turn around”

She did as instructed, letting Phil gather her wrists at the small of her back.he quickly winded the scarf around them, tying a knot. “Too tight?”

She shook her head.

“Words darling”

“No not too tight”

“Good girl” he praised, sweeping her hair to the side before kissing her neck softly. He trailed his hand down across her neck to her breasts, flicking one of her nipples before continuing south. “Did you watch the show?” he purred, letting a single finger slide through her folds. He hummed softly at the feeling of her wetness.

“I did” her voice was barely there as Phil took his time kissing and sucking at her pulse point. She tilted her head to give him more space. She gasped as his pointer finger swirled around her clit. Then whined as he pulled away completely. His hand and mouth disappeared from her body.

“Is that what made you so wet? Watching me play?”

She nodded.

She regretted it instantly as his hand came down on her ass in a sharp slap, making her back arch and a hiss to escape her lips. “Use your words. I won't tell you again.”

“Yes Phil watching you play made me wet” she looked to her left, looking in the mirror in phil roadcase just in time to watch him lick his pointer finger that was still slick with her arousal.

He spun her around quickly so they were face to face again.

“On your knees” he said while pushing her shoulders down so she was at level with the bulge in his too tight blue jeans. She looked up at him, waiting for instruction. Phil just smirked down at her. “Gotta work for your prize darling”

That adorable confused look appeared again as she looked at Phil's zipper like a puzzle she had to solve. “I can't phil my hands are tied” she whispered after a second.

“Hmmm that mouth of yours is pretty talented, darling. I'm sure you can manage,”. His hands buried themselves in her hair, urging her closer.

She relented, leaning forward awkwardly tugging at the fabric with her teeth. She tried a couple of times with little success, but when she added her tongue to the picture, she managed to pop the button open. Then, it was just a matter of pulling the zipper down with her teeth.

“Good girl” Phil took a step back, pushing his jeans and boxers down in one go. He stepped out of them and kicked them to the side. “Good girls get rewards”

She was much more eager now that he was completely nude. She surged forward, licking a long strip from base to tip, causing Phil to groan.

“Thats it darling” he hissed as she sucked as much as she could into her mouth, bobbing her head at the same time. She knew how Phil liked it. Sloppy and dirty, so that's what she gave. She alternated between taking him as deep into her mouth as possible and pulling away completely just to trace the veins with her tongue. She pressed her tongue where the head met the shaft, making Phil throw his head back and moan. Tugging on her hair like it was a lifeline, in turn making her moan as well. He was getting close embarrassingly quickly, and he had to slow things down before it ended much faster than he would like, so he pulled her off his dick.

She pouted up at him, but he only helped her up to her feet. He reached around her, untying the knot quickly freeing her wrists that instantly found their way to the back of his neck, pulling him into a heated kiss. He let her back them up slowly until her knees hit the couch and buckled. He shoved her back, making her hit the couch with a huff.

Phil crawled over her, stopping only to kiss her hip bone before continuing his journey upwards. She spread her legs so he could settle between them.

“I need you to fuck me” she whispered her nails raking through his hair. So much shorter than it was when they met.

“Still on the pill?”

“Yes please phil i need you” she begged.

“Mmm you sound so pretty when you beg”

“Phil please”

He nodded, kissing her gently before lining himself up. With one steady push, he was nestled completely inside of her. “Fuck phil” she moaned her nails raking down his back as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

“Such a dirty mouth” he murmured, pulling back pausing briefly and then pushing back in. teasing her.

“Phil?”

“Hmm?”

“Fuck me” she pouted.

How could he say no to that face? He pulled out almost all the way before snapping his hips forward with more force, causing her to cry out.

He set a steady rhythm holding himself up with one arm as he trailed his other hand all over her body.

“You're so beautiful, you know that?” he cooed as his hand settled around her neck once more. Actually, I am applying pressure this time.

Her eyes rolled back, and she whined, wiggling her hips meeting every downward thrust with her own upward one. “Phil”

“I know, baby. You feel so good. Fuck”

“I'm close,” she whimpered.

“same. "Phil groaned. “Fuck, darling touch yourself”

She didn't hesitate to slip her hand down between their body’s rubbing tight fast circles against her clit. It didn't take long for her thighs to start to shake and her moans and cries to get louder.

“Good girl. Fuck, cum for me darling”

That's all it took, and her entire body locked up. Her back arched off the couch, her hands scratched down Phil's back as she let out her whimpers and moans. Phil fucked her through her orgasm trying his best to hold off a little longer but then she moaned his name in her broken voice and it was all over.

“Fuck fuck fuck” he collapsed on top of her panting.

They came down from their highs together. She rubbed his back gently as he pressed gentle kisses against her neck and chest.

“So” she said after a minute. “ Where did you get the inspiration for All Night?” she giggled.

“That will forever remain a mystery,” Phil jokes, lifting his head to press a soft kiss to her lips. “We better get up. We both need a shower before the bus call”

She nodded, looking to the side. She gasped dramatically, making Phil jump.

“What's wrong?” he asked, following her gaze to the lollipop pop that was now embedded into the rug.

“My candy” she muttered, a pout forming on her lips.

Phil chuckled and shook his head. “I'll get you all the candy you want”

[luvblack1207]

The "downfall" of little miss perfect part 1

Intro for OC

Inside the unwelcoming and quiet office of the principal, Aina stared at her untouched tea as she suddenly opened up her mouth. "Apologies for being frank principal, but since this does have to do with me, I must speak my mind." Aina said as the principal calmly nodded.

"In order to avoid an unnecessary law suit that while the school could win, would drag out and cause the school money, you are bringing me, the technical victim down to E class for the final school year? Well, that is the public news, yes? The truth is that this is a good cover up to bring me down to E class in order to grab all the kids who know of the monster's existance to kill him, correct?" She asked with a dignified and unfazed look as the princiapl affirmed her frank and blunt question.

"Yes, that is regrettably the truth. Although I have no doubt that with your testimony and support, we could win the lawsuit, I must, as the principal, think of the school itself, and the offender could cause further harrassment. We made a deal that with your acceptance that I am trying to obtain currently, is that if the offender causes another problem anywhere in the school, you would be pardoned and put back into your original class." He explained.

"Well, that is the cover up claim at least. Until Koro sensei is killed, anything that he does will be either ignored or covered up. I hope you understand Fujiwara san." The principal added with an eery smile.

Aina returned his smile with a more friendly one as she said, "Well, since I am in my final year of this school, as long as you explain to both my high school and future colleges why I was suddenly put in E class, I will accept this offer."

The principal's smile turned more gentle as he thanked Aina for her sacrifice. "Thank you for your understanding and of course we will do that." He added. Aina took a sip of her tea before she stood up and bowed slightly at the principal, with a request of a formal notice to her family with specific rules that she will be required to follow.

She was then handed a few weapons specifically for Koro sensei before she was sent off to enjoy her last day at her A classes.

Aina gently put the weapons into her front pocket of her backpack and opened the door before leaving and closing it and headng off to her classes.

Much to everyone's surprise, Aina wasn't mad. I mean, wouldn't anyone be mad to be in the End class even with a guaranteed future? All the respect the school had for her, was going to be erased within just a day! People were going to ignore her even with their admiration towards her, so what the hell?

Aina smiled as she recognized the common view of the students' most likely beliefs. Bad treatment? Who cares? She's got a planet to save and grades to keep up while at that. Even with the disrespect Aina was likely to receive by some of the students, she didn't care at all.

After all, Aina planned to be downgraded to E class from the start.

After noticing how inhumane the E class's main teacher looked and how unprofessional the new English teacher looked to be hired by someone as much of a perfectionist as the principal, Aina had done some small digging. The way the E class's teacher talked, how he seemingly teleported from one place to another, the way everyone seemed used to it, it all confused Aina.

But still, shouldn't those kind of traits be something that is shared with aliens? Perhaps the creature that destroyed the moon had the same features. And one day, Aina had that hypothesis confirmed.

When walking by, Aina had heard something she shouldn't have. A group of students from the E class had talked about how Koro sensei is so hard to kill, before another student quickly shushed them up and scolded them for saying it in public.

Who would force students to kill a teacher? Well that was easy to know, the government. It's always the damn government. Well, if the said teacher was an inhumane alien that destroyed the moon, then she supposed it would be fine.

After that, the principal found out, much to her dismay of him following her expectations. She assumed that the most logical thing he would do is find or make a reason for her to move down to E class. Wanting to at least save her carefully crafted reputation, she made the choice for him, by at least going down with grace.

Aina gave a mirthful smirk before it changed into a gentle smile. She entered her class as the girl she had saved for her plan had ran up to her. Aina's smile turned a bit sorrow to mask her true expression as she was thanked profusely by the girl. Aina would have helped the girl even without her plan. However, her problem with the guys that harrassed her made it extremely easier for her to just fight them on purpose instead of reporting it anonymously to the police. She smiled at the girl as she told her that she did what anyone else would do, gaining her another smidge of respect from the bystanders.

She sat down at her designated seat with calmness that didn't belong with someone that was about to be outcasted by the entirety of her school as she brought out her notebook and pencil case to study. She held herself up in a regard that gathered admiration from her fellow classmates as she clicked open her pen to write.

Asano, then approached her with a gentle and perfect smile as he greeted her with a slightly noticeable change in his tone, as it changed from calm and grounded to excited and kind.

"Good morning, Fujimine san." He greeted as he sat next to her, in his designated seat. The class stared through the corners of their eyes as they saw Kunugigaoka Junior High School's picture perfect couple, well not exactly a couple, but a relationship straight out of a romance novel.

"Ah, morning, Asano san. How are you doing today?" Aina continued their conversation without much thought and with denseness as Asano smiled at her once more.

"I'm doing great. By the way, what is the meeting you made today with the class for?" Asano asked with mild curiosity laced in his tone. "Just a small announcement to the class. I have some news I want to give to the class before they hear it from someone else." Aina answered spiking Asano's curiosity further. Much to his upcoming despair, it was about her departure from.. well everything school related.

Aina smiled at him before going back to her work as the teacher entered the room to start teaching.

"And since the equation that we are getting is m-yx=37 with the-" The teacher began doing his job as all the students began working hard. Aina kept her smile as she continued her work, fully aware of the fact that today was the last day of the school year she was getting this princess treatment of teaching.

The class ended by the time she realized and she walked with everyone in the A class to the council room where she stood in front of everyone.

Her smile blindsided the class of her sudden departure as she straightened her posture with the intent of leaving her classes while maintaining most of their respect that she already had.

"As most of you know," She began as the others stared at her with their full attention. "I helped Hina san from a person attempting to harrass her a while ago." She announced as the gazes turned to Hina who nodded with happiness and gratuity.

"However" She added as the attention headed back to her with worry filled in everyone's eyes. Asano stared at her with his face wrinkledi n confusion as she continued, "Due to a possbile lawsuit that may or may not head toward the school because of my actions greatly offending the offender and his family, I will be forced to move down to E class." She announced with a smile, seconds before a total disaster of questions and anger.

As she expected, the class erupted into chaos as questions were thrown around and accusations with threats to sue to offender arose.

Asano stared at her in complete shock as he suddenly lost the ability to speak.

"There is not a single reason for you to waste your time doing such a thing. Although I will be forced out of the student council and all of my clubs, I will still be able to go to my chosen high school after graduation, and we all know that if the offender actually made the lawsuit happen, they will drag the school's name through the mud. Our school already has people with disatisfaction from our blatant favoritism and the lawsuit will cause more problems for the school than if I go down quietly. The agreement between the family and the principal also forbids the offender from acting out of line at all anywhere. The moment he is found doing such a disgusting thing again, I will return to A class. Other than the loss of my place at my clubs, and walking down the mountain to go to assemblies and other activities, I see no problem with anything else. Poor education will not be a problem for me since I have tutors, and poor treatment is something I am sure that my classmates won't give to me." Aina said with a reassuring tone with hidden threats over the last line.

The classmates stared at her with conflicting emotions, all directed towards her. She was right. How could they make fun of her when she was the best in the class? "End class" was made fun of for their failures, but Aina was anything but a failure.

"I need everyone to say nothing about this. Nothing will stop me from going to the high school I want or the college I want for the school will provide a full explanation of my sudden downgrade in classes. If you guys talk about this, then everything that I am trying to protect by sacrificing will all be in vain. I have no problem with going to E class, so please don't say anything about this." Aina said calmly with confidence as the others all began quietly sitting down and nodding to her request.

They stared at her with some what of an uncomfortable atmosphere as people began asking questions. "Is the principal seriously not doing anything about this?" A student asked. "He tried to firmly say no but that wasn't possible since the offender's family *cough* I mean the.. person's, family had connections with a lot of the school's higher ups. He sincerely apologized and promised a compensation for me." Aina explained.

The students calmed down as dozens of them suddenly began casting their gaze onto a certain vice president of the student council. Before Asano could say anything, Aina suddenly smiled at him in reassurance before announcing another fact. "Asano san, since we have a lot of clubs that we share together, you are naturally becoming the president for all of the clubs, like the volunteering club, math club, debate club, and obviously, the student council. I've already talked to your father about this by the way." She said as Asano stiffly nodded in disbelief, unable to snap out of the daze he was in.

Aina then answered more questions as the confused and angry looks on the students turned into a more pitiful and sympathzing look with a healthy dose of respect and admiration.

The meeting ended early with Aina walking out the council room with grace and Asano screaming her name before running toward her a minute after with the other students staring and staying silent in order to not disturb the two.

Loud footsteps overtook the silent hallway. Aina stared as she silently thanked god for making sure there was no one else in the hallway.

Silence followed as Asano looked at Aina with a guilty look. "Are you alright Asano sa-" "I'm sorry..!" He interrupted with a bow. Aina blinked as she lowered herself in order to drag Asano back up. "Asano san? What do you mean?" She asked as she lightly forced Asano up.

"I-I believe my father might have done something to do with your transfer! No, I know it! My father must have done this to get rid of you so I would look better, or maybe-" Asano began muttering.

"Asano san, there are cameras here." Aina whispered causing Asano to snap his head back up. "I am fine Asano san. I would explain further but my main points are the same as the one I showed back a few minutes ago." Aina said with a slightly pitiful look.

Minutes passed in silence. Asano then regained his composure, albeit with a sad and angry look in his eyes, before his frown turned into a perfect smile even if a little empty. "I.. wish you the best, Fujimine san." He muttered softly as Aina smiled and thanked him before the bell rang, making everyone head out of their classroom for lunch.

The A class either avoided Aina like the plague or stared at her with pity and admiration as she ate her food. She took small bites without much appetite as others avoided sitting next to her in fear of making her angry or bothering her.

Then, her phone buzzed with the contact 'mother' coming up on her screen. She got up and threw away her lunch before heading out of the class to answer her phone.

"I am going to assume without permission that you heard of my transfer?" She greeted with an evident change in her tone.

"How about a hello, young lady? That is no way to- Oh never mind. The mail said that due to a lawsuit, you are moving down to E class. What did the high schools say?" Her mother asked after giving up on lecturing her daughter.

"They are still willing to give me a full scholarship and no one has withdrawn their offers. For my colleges, the principal will explain to them the reason of my sudden transfer. May I go now?" Aina responded with bluntness as there was an audible sigh from the phone.

"You are forced to drop out of your clubs, yes?" Her father joined the call, also without a greeting. "Yes, but the principal will vouch for me and so will all of the teachers." She answered.

"..Fine." She heard her father say before she abruptly hung up the call much to her parents' dismay. She violently shoved her phone back into her bag before she re-entered the cafeteria while ignoring the people's stares as she always did. More people that she did not recognize began whispering as if she did not hear them as she concluded the rumor must be everywhere now.

'Within this day, people should know about everything. Well, maybe except E class since they are not here right now but some people might tell them.' She added as she sat back in her seat.

She opened up her book and lifted her bookmark to continue on reading while people's whispers grew more loud and confident with her continued ignorance.

'...'

'....Everything is so loud.' Aina thought.