#gcses when i catch you

[zuuriell]

y’all better be ready for my epic return once exam season’s over

[radically-annoyed]

‘I love drawing!’ I say as I rip my notebook up because the eye was slightly off

[meanderingtext]

Just did three questions from an English language paper and I want to CRY

[astonmartinii]

forever and a day | oscar piastri social media au

pairing: oscar piastri x fem long distance reader

nothing can separate them, except maybe 9,000 miles and a couple of oceans.

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

oscarpiastri

liked by logansargeant, landonorris and 893,209 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: finally back in the homeland and reunited with my girl

view all comments

user1: oscary/n nation we are so back

user2: australia always does us so well

yourusername: can you convince mclaren that they should keep paying for our dates

oscarpiastri: i think we were technically working

yourusername: were we? it never feels like work being with you

oscarpiastri: you didn't notice all of the people around us and filming us?

yourusername: i only have eyes for you osc, we know this

oscarpiastri: hehehhehehehee

yourusername: also i have to completely commit you to memory before you fuck off for another couple of months

oscarpiastri: you could always just come with me

yourusername: let me get my degree first, one of us has to be educated osc

oscarpiastri: i have my a-levels? lando doesn't even have gcses

landonorris: why am i catching a stray?

yourusername: because my boyf is smart

landonorris: i've got street smarts ���

oscarpiastri: you've been catfished like five times already and nearly had your bank details stole?

landonorris: well ... i like to see the best in people?

user3: thank you mclaren for giving us the oscar and y/n content

user4: and the proof that love still exists

user5: terminally lonely girls block mclaren, oscar and y/n.- it's for your mental health

user6: or if you have commitment issues this is some good exposure therapy

logansargeant: oh who did you force to be your photographer this time?

yourusername: you never learnt reading comprehension in school?

logansargeant: i can read i just choose not to read the soppy shit you and oscar say to each other

oscarpiastri: leave us alone

yourusername: you have a problem with us no matter what 🤨

logansargeant: do NOT make me the bad guy for complaining about hearing your guys' sexy time

oscarpiastri: we spend A LOT of time away from each other

yourusername: and by the sounds of it, you could learn a lot

logansargeant: you know what WHATEVER

user7: they terrorise logan so much from opposite sides of the world, pray for him when she can travel with oscar

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 83,409 others

yourusername: i love any piece of you osc but the separation anxiety is kicking my ass

view all comments

user9: oscar gave y/n a plush of himself

user10: no cause he's literally such a black cat

yourusername: he blushes just like that as well

user11: oh really?

user12: want to share with the class

yourusername: that's for my eyes only

oscarpiastri: i'm glad he got to you safely

yourusername: i just about tackled the postman 😔

oscarpiastri: poor graham, we should get him a better christmas gift this year

yourusername: yeah sorry graham but you sprayed the kitty with your cologne and i can't be held responsible for my feral behaviour

user13: they get their postman christmas gifts?

user14: they have the same postman?

user15: yes, y/n lives with his family

user16: really?

yourusername: they can't get rid of me

oscarpiastri: they also love her as much as i do (literally, i have to fight my sisters to spend time with y/n)

landonorris: so this is why we were waiting so long for you at the airport

oscarpiastri: well, yes. it's very important i get y/n a souvenir

landonorris: i could've slept for like an hour longer?

yourusername: just because you don't understand true romance lando 🤨

landonorris: i know romance!

yourusername: maccies in a hotel room is not romance

landonorris: you guys are just freaks about each other that's not my fault

user17: y/n hanging out with oscar's sisters is so precious

user18: if they aren't married soon i will no longer believe in love

user19: they're 23?

user20: tbf i forget that because they've been together since they were like 15

logansargeant

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri and 351,904 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

logansargeant: oscar forced me to post this so y/n could 'remember how hot he is while he's away at war'

view all comments

user21: oh wow... thank you logan!

user22: this is not exactly what i was expecting when i opened instagram but alas i'm not complaining

yourusername: WOOF WOOF WOOF

oscarpiastri: 🤭🤭🤭

logansargeant: someone please remind me why i'm friends with you two

yourusername: because we're your only friends?

yourusername: wait sorry that was mean

yourusername: i just get protective

logansargeant: you're telling me 🤨

oscarpiastri: i'm swooning 🥰🩷

logansargeant: i give up

alexalbon: why am i a part of this oscar thirst trap? why are you posting a thirst trap of oscar?

yourusername: HE'S A GOOD FRIEND

alexalbon: i didn't consent to be part of your weird long distance lust

yourusername: oh girl ain't no one looking at you when oscar is there

alexalbon: you know what you're mean :( i want you to stay in australia

yourusername: i promise i'm a lot nicer when i'm with osc, the distance makes me cranky

alexalbon: i see, remind me to never take oscar out in a race

logansargeant: i think that's wise - i heard her yelling down the phone about carlos

yourusername: i had to block him to stop myself

user23: i am honestly so confused

user24: i think we just let them do it, we'll never understand

landonorris: do NOT ask me to do this @oscarpiastri

yourusername: booooooo you're such a debbie downer

oscarpiastri: he's just s fuckboy he doesn't understand

landonorris: i don't think i'll ever understand you two

yourusername

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri and 119,056 others

yourusername: one degree hotter xx

view all comments

user26: fucking finally now we can get y/n in the paddock every weekend

liked by oscarpiastri

user27: mclaren social media team seen celebrating just as much

oscarpiastri: and i didn't think it was possible for you to get any hotter

yourusername: maybe a piastri jersey?

oscarpiastri: and a ring?

yourusername: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

yourusername: you know i'll never say no to that

yourusername: do nOT propose through an instagram comment oscar - nicole

oscarpiastri: noted 😔

yourusername: but name the time and the place and i'll be there baby

user28: so we could defo get a y/noscar proposal this season

user29: i would be so insufferable it's unbelievable

user30: the way i just know it was killing oscar not being able to go

user31: did you guys see the kicked dog eyes in the paddock yesterday 😭😭😭

oscarpiastri: they had to force me on the plane

landonorris: no they legit were about to call mick or pato

user32: did y/n convince you to not run away to australia?

oscarpiastri: maybe ....

charles_leclerc: ummmmm who is this oscar? why hasn't your father been introduced?

yourusername: HI

oscarpiastri: y/n is the love of my life and you SHOULD be able to meet her next race weekend

yourusername: so have i also got another father-in-law?

charles_leclerc: you seem to terrorise the other drivers a lot so - yeah!

yourusername: at your service (unless it's you hitting oscar, then there's no MERCY)

charles_leclerc: okay you are kinda scary wtf

oscarpiastri

liked by alexalbon, yourusername and 1,203,677 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: unbelievably proud of you and everything you've done darling. i'm so sorry i couldn't be there to celebrate with you, but i'll make it up to you before you know it xx

view all comments

user33: oh to be loved like this

user34: they make me feel lonely like the world apart i can only imagine how insane it'll be when they're back together 24/7

yourusername: i love you so so so much osc. you've done more than you could know by supporting me through my education. we have the rest of our lives to be together, so don't beat yourself about it now

oscarpiastri: but i'm so proud of you and just wanted to be there to celebrate you :(

yourusername: osc i can feel you pouting through the screen baby

landonorris: he really is and it's kinda annoyingly cute

yourusername: of course it's cute it's oscar 🙄

landonorris: right so i'll take back my congratulations then

yourusername: FINE BY ME

user35: obsessed with how y/n and lando already have this weird sibling bond

user36: it's the weird relationship that you kind of love between your gf and friend

user37: it's all cute until they actually fight

yourusername: if he makes any wrong step against oscar i'll crush that loser

landonorris: ahhaaha funny joke

yourusername: you're a 5'5 twig, i could snap you in half

user38: i need them to recreate the last photo when oscar wins his first race

user39: i think pinterest would explode

yourusername: no but no joke, i love you so much osc and i can't wait to start the new chapter of our life

oscarpiastri: i love you too xx

oscarpiastri: sorry to my sisters but they're losing their live in stylist because you're never ever leaving me ever again

oscarpiastri: that makes me sound like a possessive asshole but i just have attachment issues

yourusername: no these years since you started in f3 have been actual hell without you and i never want to leave your side again

yourusername: i just love watching you do what you love

oscarpiastri: i'll always love you more

user40: who's chopping onions wtf

user41: i'm invoicing them for my therapy

mclarenf1

liked by fredvesti, arthurleclerc and 1,256,046 others

tagged: yourusername

mclarenf1: don't tell oscar but we've got a surprise guest for him 🤫

view all comments

user45: take me out back and shoot me please and thank you

user46: so real of you

landonorris: is this why his phone is currently hidden in my drivers room?

mclarenf1: maybe ...

landonorris: if he fights me for it that's on you guys

mclarenf1: wait admin has just realised you definitely shouldn't be on your phone

landonorris: LOL

user47: mclaren you better not fuck this race for oscar because i need my big rom com ending kiss in parc ferme

user48: omg romance writers do i have a plot for you

user49: the way this would seem so unrealistic if i read it in a book but these fools really have been together for like eight years and are unbelievably in love

yourusername: heheheheh thanks for flying me out on such late notice xx

mclarenf1: no worries queen

yourusername: you guys better be on top form, you can't hide from me in the garage

mclarenf1: hahahaha 😅😅😅

user50: is y/n the reincarnation of nicole scherzinger? like a wag that goes fucking mental

user51: and wears team merch with pride

yourusername: nicole is a queen (thank you for one direction queen) but you guys do not want me on the microphone

user52: you and oscar karaoke? please?

yourusername: we once did breaking free together but you'll have to bother logan for that video

user53: OSCAR PLEASE WIN AND DO DRUNK KARAOKE

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, yourusername and 1,556,308 others

tagged: yourusername

oscarpiastri: i told you she was my lucky charm. overjoyed to get my first win, it's a dream come true and to have the love of my life with me makes it even sweeter. y/n, i'll love you forever and a day x

view all comments

user54: CONGRATS OSCAR 🧡🧡🧡

user55: i'm having such a proud mum moment

user56: tears in my eyes

user57: not as much as y/n that girl was going THROUGH IT

user58: we need her mascara, cause that shit didn't budge

yourusername: I AM SO FUCKING PROUD OF YOU OSCAR

yourusername: I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

yourusername: AND THANK YOU FOR WAITING FOR ME TO BE AT A RACE TO WIN

oscarpiastri: i guess i just knew in my bones you were here and simply had to win

oscarpiastri: i just wanted to see you so bad that i drove the fastest to the finish line

yourusername: well tell them to hurry up and debrief so we can celebrate 👀

oscarpiastri: ON MY WAY

user59: maybe we will get that karaoke?

logansargeant: congrats bro! @landonorris i hope you brought some ear plugs, if not you might want to start drinking now

landonorris: SOMEONE GET ME A DRINK STAT

yourusername: i'll personally buy you a drink because i'm going to rock his world tonight

oscarpiastri: 😎😎😎

landonorris: and here i thought you were my little innocent teammate

yourusername: there's nothing little about him

landonorris: EWWWW GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FACE

yourusername: all celebrations aside, i'm so proud and i'll love you forever and always x

oscarpiastri: it's always been you and it will always be you

yourusername: i love you

oscarpiastri: i love you too

fin.

note: WOOOOOOOOOO OSCAR!!! (i'm ignoring everything else to do with the race, oscar is my king)

[starsjulia]

trick or treat! // alexia putellas

a/n ~ based on this request!!! also for some reason i decided my spanish gcse makes me qualified enough to write in some spanish? so bare with me if it’s absolute crap.

warnings ~ tiny bit suggestive, just loads of fluff!!

The crisp autumn night embraces you as you step out of the car with Alexia, who’s dressed as the White Rabbit from Alice in Wonderland. Her costume is charming and stylish: a white vest over a crisp shirt, a red bow tie, and bunny ears perched atop her head, with a toy pocket watch dangling from her waistcoat. You smile to yourself, already anticipating the comments from your teammates about the two of you arriving in matching costume.

As for you, you went all out with your Alice costume. The blue dress is snug, the neckline a little low, and the skirt ends dangerously high on your thighs. You paired it with knee-high socks and black heels, leaning into the ‘playful’ side of Halloween. When you catch Alexia’s gaze on you, you can tell she’s noticed. Her eyes narrow slightly, and she takes a slow step closer.

“¿Y esto?” she murmurs, her hand slipping around your waist and trailing down to the hem of your skirt. “¿No se supone que Alicia es más… inocente?” (“And this? Isn’t Alice supposed to be more… innocent?”)

You tilt your head, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips. “Well, maybe this Alice has grown up,” you tease, twirling a lock of your hair around your finger. “Besides, don’t you like it?” You give a little twirl, the skirt flaring out to show even more leg.

Alexia’s grip tightens on your waist as she pulls you closer, her voice low and playful. “Oh, I really like it,” she admits, glancing pointedly at the hem of your dress. “Pero no quiero que nadie más lo vea así.” (“But I don’t want anyone else to see it like this.”)

With a chuckle, you reach up to adjust her bunny ears, purposely brushing your fingers through her hair. “Then you’ll just have to keep an eye on me all night, won’t you, mi conejito?” you whisper, giving her a challenging look. “Think you can manage that?”

She grins, her eyes darkening with playful possessiveness. “No voy a dejarte sola ni un segundo,” she replies, her voice dripping with confidence. (“I’m not going to leave you alone for a second.”) She tugs at the skirt again, as if trying to pull it lower, then leans in closer, her breath warm against your ear. “Y si alguien se pasa de listo… bueno, ya veremos.” (“And if someone gets too bold… well, we’ll see about that.”)

——————

Inside the club, the atmosphere is electric. Music pumps through the speakers, and the crowd is alive with laughter and costumes that range from frightening to hilarious. You walk in hand-in-hand with Alexia, her hand resting possessively on your lower back, thumb grazing the fabric of your dress as if reminding you of how short it is.

You catch sight of Mapi and Patri, who are dressed as the Joker and a pirate, respectively. The moment they spot you, grins spread across their faces.

“¡Vaya, vaya! Look who showed up looking like a sexy fairytale,” Mapi calls out, her eyes twinkling as she takes in your outfit. “And Alexia, did you come as her bodyguard or something?”

Patri snickers, nudging Mapi. “I mean, you can’t blame her,” she says. “Someone’s gotta keep Alice from causing too much trouble, especially in that little outfit.”

You just laugh and wrap an arm around Alexia’s neck, leaning into her. “Don’t worry, girls,” you say playfully. “Alexia’s already taken the job of making sure I behave.”

Alexia smirks, squeezing your waist. “Eso es cierto,” she murmurs, glancing down at you with a glint in her eyes. “Y no voy a quitarte los ojos de encima, cariño.” (“That’s true. And I’m not taking my eyes off you, darling.”)

Throughout the night, every time you move a little too provocatively on the dance floor or your dress rides up when you sit down, Alexia is there to adjust it, keeping that possessive yet amused smile on her face. It’s clear she’s enjoying the game—acting protective in a way that’s both teasing and affectionate.

When you pull her onto the dance floor, you can feel the tension between you turn into a playful back-and-forth. You dance close, letting your hands trail up her chest to adjust her bow tie, and give her a coy smile. “What’s the matter, mi conejito?” you tease. “Jealous?”

Her fingers grip your waist a little tighter, pulling you against her. “No,” she replies with a smirk, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “Just reminding everyone who you belong to.”

—————

After the party, you and Alexia head back to her apartment. The Halloween festivities aren’t quite over yet, at least not for Alexia, who insists on a horror movie marathon. “It’s tradition,” she explains, setting up the first film as you settle on the couch with a blanket.

“You know I’m not a fan of scary movies,” you remind her, giving her a pout that you hope will soften her resolve.

Alexia smirks, sliding in beside you and pulling you into her side. “Pero es Halloween, cariño,” (“But it’s Halloween, darling,”) she says, wrapping an arm around you. “And it’s not that scary… I promise.” The mischievous glint in her eyes suggests otherwise, but you reluctantly agree, pressing closer to her for comfort.

As the movie starts, you try to focus on the plot, but the suspenseful music and creepy atmosphere immediately put you on edge. With every jump scare and sudden movement, you find yourself clinging tighter to Alexia. By the time a particularly gruesome scene appears on the screen, you’re practically buried in her shoulder, your hands gripping the fabric of her shirt.

“¡Dios mío!” you gasp, squeezing your eyes shut. “Why do people enjoy this?”

Alexia chuckles softly, her hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. “Tranquila, mi amor. I’m here,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You can hide all you want.”

When you peek up at her, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, she gives you a playful smile. “You know, if you’re going to jump on me like this, we might as well watch more horror movies.”

You roll your eyes and push her lightly, but you can’t help but snuggle closer. “Don’t get used to it. This is a one-night-only thing.”

She grins, wrapping both arms around you and letting you rest your head on her chest. “We’ll see,” she whispers, “but you’re cute, and i like it when you need me to protect you.”

The movie continues, but with Alexia’s arms around you, the scares seem a little less intense. Whenever you jump or tense up, she’s there to hold you tighter, letting you bury yourself in her embrace. Eventually, you start to feel sleepy, lulled by the comforting rhythm of her breathing and the warmth of her body.

“Are you falling asleep on me?” she asks, her voice soft as she feels your head droop.

“Maybe,” you mumble, half-asleep. “But only if you promise not to make me watch another horror movie.”

Alexia chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Está bien, princesa. We’ll watch something funny next,” she says. “Whatever you want.”

—————

The next day, you decide to do something a bit more light-hearted and far less terrifying: baking Halloween-themed cupcakes together. It’s an impulsive idea, sparked when you saw a cute cupcake recipe while scrolling through your phone.

You find yourself standing in Alexia’s kitchen, surrounded by ingredients and baking tools. You’re wearing one of her oversized Barça jerseys as an apron and a pair of cat-ear headbands left over from last night, to keep your hair out of your face, while Alexia has pulled her hair up into a messy bun and is already reading the recipe out loud.

“Okay, we need to mix the flour, sugar, and butter first,” she instructs, glancing up at you. “¿Estás lista?” (“Are you ready?”)

You grab a handful of flour and grin mischievously. “More than ready,” you reply, tossing a small pinch of flour in her direction. It lands lightly on her cheek, and she looks at you with mock disbelief.

“¿En serio?” (“Seriously?”) she says, smirking as she reaches for her own handful of flour.

Before you can react, she throws a cloud of flour back at you, and the kitchen quickly turns into a playful battlefield. You’re both giggling uncontrollably as you duck behind the counter for cover, trying to avoid her flour attacks while sneaking in a few of your own.

Eventually, you call a truce, both of you covered in flour, laughing and panting as you lean against the counter. “Okay, maybe we should actually bake now,” you suggest, wiping some flour off your cheek.

“Buena idea,” (“Good idea,”) Alexia agrees, grinning as she pulls you into a quick kiss. “But you started it, remember?”

You stick your tongue out at her before getting back to work, this time actually focusing on the recipe. The two of you mix the ingredients together, taking turns stirring the batter and stealing kisses in between tasks. When it’s time to pour the batter into the cupcake liners, you make a show of ‘accidentally’ licking a bit of the batter off your finger in a slow, teasing way.

Alexia raises an eyebrow, her gaze darkening slightly as she watches you. “Ten cuidado, princesa,” (“Be careful, princess,”) she warns, her voice low. “I don’t think I can resist you if you keep doing that.”

With a cheeky grin, you lean closer to her. “Who says you have to resist?”

She doesn’t need any more encouragement. In one swift movement, she wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you in for a kiss, tasting a bit of the sweetness still on your lips. When she finally pulls away, you’re both breathless and smiling like fools.

“Okay, okay, cupcakes first,” you laugh, playfully pushing her back. “Then more kisses.”

Alexia smirks but nods in agreement. “Deal.”

After the cupcakes finish baking, you work together to decorate them with Halloween-themed designs—some with little ghosts, some with pumpkin faces, and a few with sprinkles. You’re not professional bakers by any means, but the cupcakes turn out surprisingly cute, even if the icing is a bit messy.

As you finish, you steal a glance at Alexia, who is carefully adding the last sprinkle to a cupcake. “Thanks for doing this with me,” you say softly, your tone sincere. “I know it’s silly, but it means a lot.”

She looks up, her expression softening as she meets your gaze. “No es tonto,” (“It’s not silly,”) she replies, reaching out to brush a bit of flour from your hair. “I’ll do anything for you, you know.”

You lean in and kiss her once more, savoring the sweet taste of icing and the warmth of her lips. “I love you, Alexia,” you whisper against her mouth.

“Te amo más,” she murmurs back, wrapping her arms around you and pulling you close. “Always.”

You spend the rest of the afternoon in the kitchen, snacking on cupcakes and cleaning up the mess you made, with music playing softly in the background. There’s nothing extraordinary about it, but somehow, it’s perfect—just you and Alexia, sharing the simple joys of being together.

As the sun sets and you curl up on the couch to watch a much less scary movie, you think back on the last 24 hours. From the Halloween party to the horror movies and flour fights, it’s been a chaotic, laughter-filled celebration. But with Alexia by your side, you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

[joaosnovia]

heyyy, hope ur doing great! Soo I had this crazy and random idea about a cubarsi x reader, the reader is hector’s twin sister and lamine’s best friend. For the plot I was thinking that Hector and Pau have been playing a lot of matches but are also stressed cause their school exams are coming up and everything is a bit tense. And at some point the team and some of the wags organise a bqq and after they eat and have fun they sit around the outside fire pit and Cuba and hector who are sleep deprived fall asleep using the reader as a pillow, Pau’s head on her lap and hector’s on her shoulder, and lamine is staring at the two for a while and the rest of the teams asks him about it and he admits that he is worried about his best friends being so stressed but he is also proud because they both have been playing extremely well as defenders despite their age. Really pure fluff and Lamine being worried. Really appreciate ur work and talent keep up the great work ❤️❤️❤️

❦ - mis chicos.

warnings:: cussing I THINK..? angst if you squint and also comfort

pairings:: twin!hector x reader , situationship!pau x reader , friend!lamine x reader

writers notes:: sigh i’m posting this after my first gcse… english lit. i wanna SOB bro it was the worst but shoutout to macbeth ❤️. anywho! enjoy, this is rushed asf 💔.

tags:: @barcapix @n0vazsq @httpsdana @paucubarsisimp @universefcb @mariejuli

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

you’d been watching it happen for days.

hector walking through the house like a ghost, textbooks in one hand, his boots in the other. pau answering texts at 2am, the read receipts timestamped way too late for someone with morning training. both of them running on energy drinks and adrenaline, trying to balance being fc barcelona starters and passing their exams like their lives depended on it.

you’d tried to check in, multiple times.

‘bro,’ you said to hector one night, watching him eat cereal for dinner while reviewing anatomy flashcards. ‘maybe sleep? like just a lil nap?’

he’d barely looked up. ‘no time.’

pau was the same. texting you and lamine in the group chat like:

‘chemistry exam tmrw. if i fail i’m changing identities. wish me luck.’
‘also who has the notes from ethics. i think i was unconscious during that class.’

and lamine, bless him, was so worried. not in a loud way. but in a quiet, watching everything kind of way. you’d catch him frowning when pau forgot to tie his laces, or when hector stared blankly at his locker for two minutes straight.

so when one of the older players suggested a bbq to ‘clear the air’ after a rough week of training, everyone jumped on it. wags included. someone offered a garden, someone else offered food, and suddenly the group chat was on fire with emoji spam and location pins.

you were mostly excited for a moment to breathe. for all of them to relax.

especially your boys.

the bbq had been chaos, in the best way.

someone (you were 99% sure it was ferran) set off the smoke alarm twice, the playlist was full of early 2010s throwbacks, and someone brought water guns, which turned into a full war between the midfielders and the defenders.

and through it all, you’d been watching your boys.

hector had finally relaxed a little, laughing when someone made fun of his haircut and letting go of his notes for the first time in days. pau was smiling again, actually smiling, not the tight tired one he’d been faking all week.

and lamine? he was hovering. not in a weird way, just always near. watching, checking, protecting. it was kinda cute, honestly.

now the sun had dipped low, and everyone had migrated to the fire pit in the garden. blankets were thrown over laps, half-eaten marshmallows forgotten, the music soft now. just vibes. glowy and golden.

you were sitting in the middle of the bench seat, hoodie zipped up, legs pulled close.

pau had dropped beside you with a dramatic sigh, mumbling something about being so full he might explode, then somehow… just stayed there. head eventually resting in your lap, eyes fluttering shut mid convo.

hector followed not long after, yawning like a baby lion and flopping down with his head on your shoulder, mumbling ‘you smell like smoke and perfume’ before fully passing out.

you blinked down at them.

two fully grown, exhausted footballers using you as a human pillow. you were literally a cubarsí sandwich.

lamine plopped down on the ground across from you, a marshmallow stick still in his hand. he was staring at them, brows a little furrowed, lips pressed in that way he did when he was thinking hard.

you caught his eye. raised a brow.

‘what?’ you mouthed.

he hesitated… then the others noticed too.

iñigo leaned forward, voice low. ‘lamine. you good? you look like you’re watching a movie or something.’

lamine looked at the two boys, your brother and your maybe something (he wasn’t your boyfriend, but also… he was). then back at you.

‘they’ve just… been through a lot,’ he said finally, his voice softer than usual. ‘and no one really talks about it. how hard it is. being that young, playing at that level. then having to study for a physics exam like it’s nothing.’

you smiled gently, brushing your fingers through pau’s hair without thinking. ‘they’re trying so hard.’

‘yeah,’ lamine nodded. ‘and i’m so proud of them. i just don’t say it enough.’

the others went quiet for a moment. even the fire popped at the right time, like it knew this was something that needed to be said.

pure softness. pure love.

and as hector snored lightly against your shoulder and pau mumbled something in his sleep about ‘don’t forget the flashcards’, you leaned your head back, warm inside and out.

your boys were safe. lamine was watching over them. and for once, just for tonight, the world could slow down a little.

the fire had burned low, the air crisp with the last breaths of warmth from the embers. your legs were falling asleep under the weight of pau sprawled in your lap, and you couldn’t help but smile at how peaceful everything felt now.

hector, on the other hand, had been using your shoulder as his personal pillow for the last little while. his head was still resting there, and his breathing was steady until, of course, he shifted slightly and mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep.

‘mm… what time is it?’

you chuckled softly, adjusting yourself to make sure you weren’t crushing pau. ‘it’s late, i think. everyone else is inside by now.’

hector blinked up at you, looking a little groggy. his hand rubbed at his eyes, and his head flopped back onto your shoulder with a quiet sigh. ‘guess i really fell asleep on you, huh?’ he mumbled, voice muffled by your hoodie.

‘you’ve been running on empty for days,’ you teased, nudging his shoulder. ‘you needed it.’

hector grinned sleepily, his lips pulling into a lazy smile. ‘yeah, maybe... i’m just glad i have a sister like you to nap on.’

you laughed quietly, your hand brushing through his hair, trying not to wake pau. ‘well, someone has to be the pillow, right?’

hector’s smile softened, and for a moment, he just looked at you really looked at you, like he was seeing you for the first time in a while. the tiredness in his eyes was still there, but there was something else too. something softer. ‘you’ve been here for me through everything, huh?’ he said quietly. ‘even when i don’t deserve it.’

your heart swelled at the sound of his voice the vulnerability in it. ‘always, hector. you’re my brother. no matter how stressed you get or how many exams you have, i’m here. always.’

he smiled again, leaning his head into your shoulder once more. ‘i don’t say it enough, but i’m really glad you’re my twin.’

you rested your cheek on his head, laughing softly. ‘i’m glad you’re my twin too, idiot.’

just then, pau stirred in your lap. he groaned and rubbed his eyes, half awake. ‘are you two seriously having a moment while i’m stuck here?’ he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

you shot him a playful look. ‘you literally fell asleep in my lap, pau. don’t act like i’m the one being dramatic.’

pau just blinked at you, his head still a little groggy as he sat up. ‘fine, fine. i’m not complaining. you’re comfy,’ he grinned, looking at hector, then back at you.

hector chuckled, but before he could say anything, lamine approached the bench, standing a little behind you and observing the scene quietly.

you caught his gaze, and for a second, his eyes softened. he leaned against the back of the bench, his arms crossed, as he took in the sight of you, your twin, and pau.

‘you alright?’ you asked him gently, feeling his concern without him having to say a word.

lamine hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering to hector, then back to you. ‘yeah. i’m just… thinking.’

‘about what?’ you asked, offering him a gentle smile.

he ran a hand through his hair, then shrugged. ‘about them. about hector and pau. they’re really putting so much into their games right now, but no one really talks about how stressed they are off the field. no one sees that part.’

you nodded slowly, understanding where he was coming from. ‘yeah, they’re both carrying a lot. i think they just don’t know how to stop pushing themselves.’

‘i see it,’ lamine said softly, his gaze now focused on hector, who was leaning into you with his eyes half closed. ‘and it makes me proud. they’re both playing so well despite everything. but it’s like... they’re too hard on themselves sometimes.’

you smiled, your heart warming at the thought of how much lamine cared about your brother and pau. ‘they don’t show it, but they appreciate you looking out for them.’

lamine’s eyes softened at that, and for a moment, you felt a deeper understanding pass between you two. it wasn’t just about being there for hector or pau; it was about the three of you watching out for each other.

just as the moment settled in, hector let out a small yawn, his head lifting slightly as he looked at lamine. ‘you good?’ he asked, still groggy but clearly aware of his best friend’s quiet mood.

lamine blinked and gave a small nod. ‘yeah, just making sure you’re both alright.’

you smiled at that. lamine’s loyalty to your brother was something you’d always admired, even if he was a little shy about showing it.

pau, now fully awake, stretched and groaned. ‘i need to get up before my back dies,’ he muttered, standing up and shaking his legs out.

hector gave him a lazy wave. ‘go ahead, old man. stretch it out.’

pau threw a playful glare his way, then nudged you as he started to walk inside. ‘you gonna leave them to be all cutetogether, or are you coming?’

you laughed softly, feeling the warmth of the fire on your skin. ‘in a minute.’

pau rolled his eyes but gave you a small smile before heading inside.

and as the fire died down even further, you sat there with lamine and hector, a quiet calm falling over the three of you. you didn’t need to say anything more, not right now.

you were all just together. and for the first time in a while, it felt like everything would be okay.

[samkerrworshipper]

have no fear

jordan nobbs x reader, leah williamson x reader, arsenal x reader

part 2 of beautiful girl series -> pt. 1 -> pt.3

warnings: drug addiction, drug use, angst, pain, mentions of sexual assault, little bit of fluff if you look really close

So with every last piece of strength that you had in your body, you pulled the door open.

“Hey chicky.”

You tried to smile at your ma, you did, but it was hard.

“Hey ma.”

You knew you had to look like a wreck, you hadn’t had time to look in a mirror on your way down, but you knew that you must look like a complete mess.

Jordan brought you into a hug before you could do anything about it her little arms squeezing your body as tightly as you thought she could manage.

She forced her way into the house before you could say anything about it, walking her way into the kitchen and leaving you close the door behind her.

“Le said you were out last night.”

You followed your ma into the kitchen, walking straight to the coffee pot.

“You want coffe?”

Jordan had always been the stricter of your two parents, probably because she saw you less, Leah was the one who had to do the hard yards, constantly fighting with you over the biggest and smallest things.

“Tea please, how late where you out till, who were you with?”

You turned the machine on, trying to hide your annoyance at the immediate interrogation.

“Did you come here to see me or question my choices?”

You pulled two mugs from the shelf, reaching for the kettle and pouring enough water in before reaching for a tea bag.

“I came here to see you chicky, and catch up with you, I want to hear about what’s been going on.”

You dropped the tea bag into the cup, reaching across the island to hand it to your ma.

“I was out with a few friends.”

You pulled your vape out of your pocket, hoping that it would help to soothe the insistent memory of the events of last night and push it from the forefront of your mind.

“What’s that?”

You looked up at Jordan curiously, one of your own eyebrows raising.

“What’s what?”

You looked back at the coffee machine, watching as your mug slowly began to fill up with the brown mixture.

“Since when do you vape?”

You pulled your mug out from the machine, setting down on the island so you were facing your ma.

“A couple of months, why?”

You reached for the sugar container, taking the spoon out of it and dropping two spoonfuls in.

“Does your mother know?”

The shock in Jordan’s voice was so obvious.

“Yup.”

It was all good and well for Jordan to judge Leah’s decisions with parenting you, but at the end of day she’d been the one to leave, refusing to take you with her, insisting that life in London was better for you and that passing you back and forth between Birmingham and London every week wouldn’t be fair, she left you.

“How’s football been?”

The pivot in conversation should have helped, but you knew that it wouldn’t as soon as the words had left her mouth.

“I stopped playing.”

Jordan frowned at you.

“Since when?”

You brought the coffee up to your lips, finding solace in the warm liquid.

“A while ago.”

You wished she’d drop the topic, she seemed to be becoming more disappointed by the minute.

“Why, you were great, you were one of the best a the academy.”

You were one of the best because Leah spent all of her afternoons coaching you, because she knew the coaches, because she knew what she had to do to make you better, not because you were naturally gifted or because it came easy to you.

“I didn’t want to.”

You ried to answer her with some finality, to make her drop it and move on.

“How about school, how are your gcse’s going?”

You wanted to lie to her and tell her it was good, that you were on track to get all A stars like you’d planned.

“I don’t think I’m going to do them, my attendance isn’t high enough.”

Jordan’s face plummeted, her jaw going slack as she looked at you.

“What? I thought you wanted to go to college, that you were planning on doing medicine or law or english lit.”

You hated that Jordan had this preconceived version of you in her head, from when she left, from when she used to travel every weekend to see you, when you were doing everything to try and be the perfect kid for the both of them.

“Plans change.”

You kept your eyes downcast, scared to look at her and absorb the disappointment.

“What do you plan to do, without an education and your football? Do you plan to just live with your mother forever? Do you plan to use her until she’s old and retired? You can’t just live your life like that chicky, you need a goal, a aspiration, something you want to do with your life.”

It was the same conversation Leah had tried to have with you, one you’d ignored.

“I know ma.”

Jordan looked at you with disapproval.

“It doesn’t seem like you do, what are your plans, what are you spending all of your time doing?”

Getting high, crying, regretting your existence.

“I don’t know Ma, look, you don’t get to come here for the first time in a month and try to act like you give a shit about what’s going on, Mom’s been through it and I’ve been trying to support her, I’ll figure it all out later.”

Jordan looked dismayed, to say the least, her finger twirling the teabag inside of her cup aimlessly.

“Lovey, your mom is in a lot of pain right now, she doesn’t deserve to be taken advantage of, I understand you might be going through your own pain but it’d be nice if you could try and be a bit better for her.”

You wanted to yell at jordan, tell her that you were hardly the fucking problem, but you couldn’t, not when everything that had happened in the last 24 hours was circulating non stop in your mind.

“Look, I understand that I’m not the kid you wanted, that I stopped playing football and I’m not doing what you wanted me to.”

Jordan stopped you before you could say much more.

“No it’s just that months ago you were fit, you were reading and writing and playing football, you were smiling and spending all of your spare time with your mom and now it’s like all of that’s changed and you’ve just become this person I don’t know anymore. Can you blame me for being surprised? This isn’t you, This isn’t my kid, this just isn’t you, chicky.”

You couldn’t look at Jordan, you just couldn’t.

“You have no fucking idea what’s going on, you’re never here, the only time you give a fuck about my life is when it’s convenient for you and when you get to judge it. I’m not your kid anymore, you don’t fucking love me, you haven’t wanted me for a long time.”

Jordan recoiled at your words.

“First of all, don’t swear at me, I hope you don’t talk to your mother that way. Secondly, that’s not true and not fair. I’m here as often as I can be. I love you chick, I just think you could be making better decisions. Where were you last night?”

You rolled your eyes, you felt frantic, you could feel your heart beating in your ear and the blood pumping through your veins.

“That’s such bullshit. Trips to Spain to see Lucy are more important then me, huh? Trips to Ibiza to hang out with Caitlin and Katie are more important than me? You criticise the decisions mom has made but you aren’t here, you don’t understand what it’s like.”

Your hands were shaking so badly you had to put your coffee down, the liquid having spilt slightly down onto the countertop.

“Where were you last night, lovey?”

The question made you feel like you needed to puke, and for a second you thought it was just a feeling, but then you felt the bile rising and you realised it wasn’t just a feeling, you were about to vomit.

You rushed from the kitchen as quickly as your weary body would allow, your legs shaking underneath you, threatening to give out, taunting you from below.

You made it to the toilet bowl just in time for your jaw to go slack and the bile that had been rising in your throat to splat against the porcelain. You didn’t look at it, you couldn’t, knowing that it was probably evidence of what had happened last night, the alcohol, him.

You didn’t need to see Jordan to know she was waiting at the door behind you. It was the last way you wanted to spend your couple of hours with her, but it didn’t really matter now you supposed.

You knew you were done when the pressure in your throat dissipated and you finally felt like you could breathe again. You pushed yourself up, flushing the toilet before turning around to look at Jordan.

Your Ma reached out for you first, her hand coming up to your face, gently pressing onto your cheek.

“It’s alright bubba, I’m here, you’re okay, I’m sorry.”

Jordan’s arms opened up and without hesitation you leaned in, seeking out comfort that you hadn’t felt in a long time. The hug didn’t provide the love you were yearning for, it didn’t soothe the part of you that was hurting, but it did patch a hole inside of you somewhere.

You were far taller than Jordan, but she somehow made you feel like a little kid again, your head coming to rest down on her shoulder.

“C’mon, let’s get you to the couch and we’ll talk, huh, one on one, no judgement.”

You felt eight again as Jordan lead you over to the same couch. You felt how you did when you were eight, when your moms sat you down and promised you that they would always be a safe space for you, that you could tell them anything about the past and they wouldn’t judge you and that they’d always be proud of you no matter what, you felt how you did at 12 when your moms sat you down to let you know that the academy had asked them if you wanted to play with them, you felt how you did at 14 when your moms sat you down to let you know that your teacher wanted to put you up a form at school. Except everything was different, it wasn’t your moms, there was nothing to be proud of, nothing for them to tell you you were doing good at.

Jordan sat you down, your head pressed to her shoulder.

“I’m sorry that I was rough on you, okay? I don’t know what’s going on, I’m not here as much as I should be. Can you tell me about last night, bubba, please?”

You didn’t get why she cared so much, your mom hardly cared what you did on your nights out as long as you were home by your curfew and stayed safe.

“I went to a party, okay? It’s no big deal.”

You heard Jordan exhale next to you.

“You didn’t do anything stupid?”

You wondered what Jordan would define as stupid.

“I drank a little, smoked a bit of pot, normal teenage shit.”

You wanted it to be the truth, desperately, but it wasn’t.

“That’s it?”

Jordan knew you were lying, she’d always been better at telling, Leah on the other hand wasn’t as practised in being able to detect when lies were falling freely from your lips.

“Yes, for fucks sakes.”

Jordan only tightened her embrace around you, bringing her as close to you as possible. Leah had stopped hugging you like this when she’d done her knee, it had become harder and she knew you were growing up, she didn’t think you needed her in that way anymore, she was so incredibly wrong.

“Okay, I’m sorry chicky, I’ll stop with the questions. Let’s just have a you and me day, huh? Like we used to. We can go to the cafe that you like and down to the beach, whatever you want, just a you and me day.”

You didn’t want any of that.

“Can’t we just stay on the couch.”

You heard jordan chuckle a little bit.

“How about we go and get breakfast and then we can have a movie day, or we can catch up on the episodes of Love Island, I haven’t gotten to watching the new season yet.”

You didn’t want to go anywhere, you wanted to stay in your safe space, up in your room on your windowsill.

“Do we have to.”

Jordan nodded from above you.

“Fresh air will be good for you. Plus, you want to get a mean hangover then that’s your own fault chicky, it’s best to learn the hard way. Head upstairs and get changed, I need to talk to your mom real quick.”

You wanted to stick around to hear what Jordan planned to tell your mom, but you didn’t want to wreck whatever you had going with her, so you just nodded your head and stood up, beginning the walk back up to your room.

You hated looking at yourself in the mirror.

Because you could act like you were fine, you could pretend you were put together and had your life together and fool yourself but as soon as you were forced to look at yourself it all was clear. There was truth in your eyes and the way they made your body look so vacant, so eerie, it was as if they were the sign that there was no life left inside of you.

You’d always felt out of place no matter where you were, like you never truly belonged. You’d always felt like you were one of those tragic people with no storyline, so you lived watching other people, living through them. To start with it had been your moms, watching how much they loved each other, how they looked at each other, how they spoe about each other, like you were a background character in their story. It worked for a long time, until it didn’t. Until they split up, until you were forced to heal all over again from the home that was breaking around you. All the things you’d been running from before them were back, and instead of feeling like you were safe you knew you weren’t, you knew that no matter how loved you’d felt for the longest time, you weren’;t anymore, you didn’t get to live vicariously through their love.

You scrubbed your face without any real care, scrubbing the makeup, mascara and tears from last night off of your face.

Once you were content that the were physically gone, even if it mentally didn’t feel that way, you stood up from the basin and dried your face, hoping the patting would somehow strip the pain that was painted across your skin, it didn’t.

You moved to your wardrobe next, picking out a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, as well as your thickest winter jacket. It was the same thing you wore every time your mom forced you out of the house to go on some stupid errand with her or some random appointment. You picked out a comfy enough pair of trainers before pushing your hair into a bun and walking back down the stairs.

Your Ma was talking hushedly into her phone, and put it down as soon as she spotted you descending the stairs.

“Ready to go?”

You nodded, one of your eyebrows up in questioning as you stared at your Ma’s phone.

“I was just checking in with your mom, she says they should be back around lunch time.”

Then Jordan would leave, like she always did.

“I’m not a chore, if you don’t want to hangout with me then you don’t have to be here, I can be left alone for a couple of hours.”

Jordan exhaled, deep enough for a few seconds to linger.

“That’s not fair, I’m here kiddo, I want to spend some time with you.”

You pulled your vape out of your pocket, Jordan could tell when you were lying and you could tell when she was.

“No, you have to spend time with me until mom is back, there is a difference.”

In the beginning, Jordan would come down every weekend, no matter where her game was, just to spend time with her little chicky, as the months and year had passed though, her time with you had become shorter and shorter until you’d only see her if she had a game in London.

“I don’t care, I get it, you’re busy with your new life, it’s whatever. Let’s just get this over and done with.”

Jordan looked like she wanted to say something, but the frown you sent her must have been enough of a silencer.

The two of you walked out the front door silent, down the street silent, all the way to the cafe, completely silent, the only sound to be heard was the cars going by, the sounds of your breathing and the repetitive puff of your lips as you pressed the vape to your lips. If you couldn’t have drugs then it was going to have to do.

When you got to the cafe you had enough courtesy to shove it in your pocket, focusing your attention on your Ma as much as you hated it.

She ordered you your normal, you were surprised she remembered.

“How’d the game go last night?”

You hadn’t tuned into either games, you’d had other things on your mind.

“We drew, it was a good game though.”

You nodded, it didn’t matter much in the scheme of things, Aston Villa weren’t in a title race, weren’t in contention for a trophy of any kind but also weren’t at any real risk of relegation, they were just mid.

“How about mom?”

Leah wasn’t playing, but a part of you still cared about how her team had gone.

“They won, 1-2 to man city.”

You nodded, that was something.

Your food arrived which was a good enough distraction, both you and Jordan focusing your attention on the meals in front of you. A couple of years ago, all of your sunday mornings had been spent here with your two moms, nowadays if you went, which was rare, it was by yourself.

The meal went on in awkward silence, the both of you clearly unsure how to deal with the pent up awkwardness that had been developing since you’d left the house.

The meal dragged on until the two of you couldn’t pretend any longer and called it done, the two of you standing up and leaving in the same silence you’d entered.

You didn’t mind the silence, it hurt, but not in the same way that it normally did, you were less alone than normal, you felt less out of place then normal.

You were silently praying that your mom got home earlier than expected, to give you the same normal, painful consistency that you were used to instead of this, instead of whatever it is that Jordan was pulling out of you.

The two of you walked back to the house in silence, once upon a time Blu would have been walking in front of you, her little legs patting across the concrete, nowadays though Blu stayed in Birmingham, with Jordan. Leah claimed she didn’t have time for a dog, it had always been Jordan’s thing though.

When you got back to the house, you collapsed down onto the sofa, flicking on a episode of love island before opening up your phone and starting to answer the multiple texts which you’d been leaving on delivered.

First, you replied to your friends, letting them know you were fine and just needed to be home before your curfew, then your mom, letting her know you were fine. Once you were finished updating all of your people, you moved onto aimlessly scrolling, flicking through different social media posts.

Jordan eventually joined you on the couch, her attention on the episode.

You didn’t miss the way her eyes would stray towards you every few seconds, darting away from the tv screen to look at you. It seemed like she was hesitating to say something, like there words on the tip of tongue that she was too scared to say. Jordan was always the silent one, even as you watched your moms relationship die out, she was always the quiet one, Leah on the other hand was always the loud one, always trying to fix problems that were unfixable.

You wanted to prompt her, ask her what her apparent problem was, but you stayed silent, muzzling yourself for the good of keeping whatever peace there was between the two of you.

PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD SEND ME YOUR PART THREE IDEAS, KEEPING IN MIND THAT LEAH POTENTIALLY FINDS OUT ABOUT RS WEED USAGE AND CONFRONTS HER ABOUT IT BUT DOESN'T KNOW ABOUT THE DRUGS

[pankowcrumbs]

Tasked with Falling X Will Poulter

MasterList

Will Poulter Masterlist

The Taskmaster throne loomed above us as Greg Davies leaned forward, a wicked glint in his eye.

"Well, well, well," he said, smirking at me and Will. "If it isn’t the nation’s favourite flirtfest."

I nearly choked on my water.

Will spluttered beside me, cheeks flushing pink.

"I... what? No!" I protested, voice far too high to sound convincing.

Greg gave me a look. "Oh, come off it. I’ve seen less chemistry in GCSE science labs."

The audience howled with laughter.

Beside me, Will shook his head, grinning helplessly as he bumped his knee against mine.

"Maybe we’re just excellent at group tasks," he offered, innocently.

"Right," Greg said, deadpan. "Because when I think 'teamwork,' I think long lingering looks and unnecessary physical contact."

I buried my face in my hands, laughing.

It wasn’t like we meant to be this obvious.

It just… happened.

Earlier - the filming of the group task.

We stood side by side, squinting at a large contraption made of pipes, buckets, and a precarious stack of oranges.

"Your task," Alex Horne handed me the task.

I read "Your task is to transfer all the oranges from the blue bucket to the red bucket using only the items provided."

There was a dramatic pause.

"You may not touch the oranges with your hands."

Will glanced sideways at me, grinning.

"Teamwork makes the dream work?"

I smirked.

"Only if you do exactly as I say."

"Oh, it’s like that, is it?" he teased, nudging me lightly with his shoulder.

We spent the next frantic ten minutes fashioning the world’s worst orange catapult, Will holding a bent bit of guttering while I launched fruit across the lawn, missing the bucket spectacularly almost every time.

"You're meant to catch them!" I shouted, laughing as yet another orange thudded pathetically onto the grass.

"I’m trying, you maniac!" he shouted back, tears of laughter streaming down his face.

At one point, he dove dramatically to save a rogue orange, landing flat on his back with a loud oof. I immediately collapsed beside him, laughing until my stomach hurt.

"New plan," he panted. "We just... eat the oranges."

"Strong plan," I agreed, breathless.

It was a disaster. It was glorious.

In the studio- watching it back.

Greg shook his head as footage of Will sprawled dramatically on the lawn played behind him.

"If I’d known this was going to happen, I’d have given you two a room."

More laughter.

Will turned to me, eyes crinkling with amusement. "You see what I had to deal with?"

I grinned, nudging his knee again under the desk.

"Poor you."

Greg’s eyebrows shot up.

"Right, we’re moving swiftly on before this turns into Love Island."

One of my solo tasks-

I stood in the middle of a dark room, blindfolded, a table of random objects somewhere in front of me.

"Identify these items using only your mouth," Alex’s voice echoed cheerfully.

I pulled a face.

"Brilliant. This is what my career’s come to."

I stumbled forward, tongue tentatively poking out.

At one point, I accidentally licked what turned out to be a Wellington boot, gagged loudly, and swore enough that they’d definitely have to bleep it for broadcast.

in the studio, Greg wiped tears from his eyes.

"I have never," he gasped, "seen someone more betrayed by a piece of footwear."

Will leaned in close, whispering, "You alright, love? Or are you still tasting rubber?"

I elbowed him in the ribs, laughing.

One of Will’s solo tasks-

Will, wearing a ridiculous inflatable sumo suit, had to herd a dozen ducks into a tiny pen using only interpretative dance.

It was majestic. It was tragic. It was art.

He flailed wildly across the garden, ducks scattering in every direction.

At one point, he performed an oddly graceful pirouette and promptly fell flat on his arse.

I laughed so hard in the studio I nearly fell off my chair.

Greg roared.

"If that doesn’t go in the Tate Modern, I’m staging a protest."

Will bowed dramatically, cheeks pink, and shot me a look.

"Reckon I could teach you some moves later?"

I raised an eyebrow, biting back a grin.

"Careful, Poulter. I’m very impressionable."

Greg pretended to retch.

"Good God, get a room."

Another group task-

This one was simple: build the tallest tower using only cooked spaghetti and marshmallows.

Simple, except that Will decided he should hold the base steady while I climbed precariously onto a chair to place the final marshmallow.

He held my waist firmly, steadying me, his touch warm even through my jumper.

"Got you," he murmured, voice low.

I glanced down at him and promptly dropped the marshmallow onto his face.

He blinked up at me, cross-eyed, marshmallow stuck to his forehead.

We both burst into helpless giggles.

Footage of me nearly falling into Will's arms replayed behind us.

Greg stared, utterly incredulous.

"That wasn’t a tower. That was foreplay."

The audience shrieked with laughter.

I buried my flaming face in my hands.

Will just shook his head, smiling.

"What can I say?" he said, shrugging. "We’re... supportive."

"You’re something, mate," Greg said, cackling. "Honestly, it’s like watching two Labradors trying to flirt."

I gasped, offended "Labradors are very dignified!"

Greg arched a sceptical eyebrow.

The next clip showed me tossing a marshmallow at Will’s head while he caught it effortlessly in his mouth, both of us laughing so hard we couldn’t breathe.

I slumped onto the desk, defeated.

"Fair enough."

Live studio task-

"Right," Greg said, grinning evilly, "for the final task, you’ll be working in pairs."

The moment our names were called together, the audience whooped.

Will grinned, reaching out to tug playfully at my sleeve as we stood side by side.

The task - Paint a portrait of your partner using only your non-dominant hand... on their actual face.

"You have five minutes," Alex said, setting a timer.

Immediately, Will dipped a brush into bright blue paint and dabbed it gently onto my nose.

I squeaked.

"Rude."

He chuckled, smoothing more paint across my cheekbone with surprising tenderness.

I retaliated by streaking a wild line of green across his jaw.

It descended into chaos and colour very quickly.

By the time the buzzer sounded, we were both splattered in ridiculous patterns, giggling like children.

Greg stared at us when we turned to face him, dripping with paint, grinning at each other like idiots.

He sighed dramatically.

"Honestly. Just snog and put us all out of our misery."

The audience roared.

I clapped a hand over my mouth, laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe.

Will was pink to the ears but smiling, glancing at me like he couldn’t quite believe any of it either.

Greg leaned back on his throne, shaking his head.

"This is supposed to be Taskmaster, not The Notebook."

As we waited for the final scores to be tallied, Will leaned in, voice low and warm in my ear.

"You know," he said, nudging me with his elbow, "we are a pretty good team."

I smiled up at him, heart hammering.

"Yeah," I said quietly. "We are."

He bumped his shoulder against mine, grinning.

"And for the record, I would’ve caught every single orange. If you’d aimed better."

I laughed, shoving him lightly.

"Oi! My aim was perfect!"

Greg glanced over at us, catching the tail end of our bickering.

"God’s sake," he muttered into his mic, to the audience’s delight. "Just date already."

Will caught my eye and grinned.

And for the first time all day, neither of us looked away.

[lt-banks]

Showcase

"Catching live grenades was easier than this."

Angsty little drabble about Holly and her sister. No tag warnings other than I guess parental death mentioned briefly!

The M50 was a disaster. A 5 car pileup just outside Kempsey meant Holly’s original estimation of a 1 hour 35 minute drive from Hereford to Birmingham turned into 3 hours of her leg bouncing irritably to the same slog of radio pop slop. She’d sworn so loud when the ETA on her directions app jumped from 6:15 to 7:02, the family in the car next to her were able to hear her and glared.

The showcase started at 6.

The plan was simple. Take the afternoon off, drive to Birmingham, attend her sisters GCSE final art show. She’d allowed plenty of time for her to shower back at her apartment. Sort her hair out. Put something nice on. She was supposed to have been there early with her sisters favourite ice latte from Starbucks (what was it with teenagers and shit coffee chains?) and a gift card to Hobbycraft. “Get yourself more art shite you like.” Was supposed to be a laugh. A moment together where she could tell Charlotte that she was proud of everything she achieved.

Instead, she was still in her army fatigues, mucky from training and general wear and tear. Knuckles still bloody from a prior mission yesterday. Rushing. Frazzled.

She jumped out of the car, grabbing the gift card. At least she had that sorted. She’d had to settle for a petrol station bottled ice latte. Thank god they had gift bags. Best sister ever...

Her braids swung as she turned the corners of her old school. It had been a good ten plus years since she’d been here. Where the hell was the main hall again..?

With shaky breath, she stepped into the hall, easels and sculptures illuminated by fairy lights, proud parents and family in button ups and dresses. She looked down her body. Out of place. Oh well. Better to be present than not here at all. She paused, finally clocking Charlotte with her art pieces. A breath she had been holding since the M50 finally escaped her lips, her foot moving forward to go see her—

Only to be stopped by a hand on her shoulder.

“Excuse me,” An irritated teacher, Holly assumed, holding a clipboard interrupted her. “Can I help you?”

Holly blinked, head tilting. “Sorry?”

“I asked who you are. We have a guestlist.” A pointed glance at her knuckles. “… Are you meant to be here?”

Holly inhaled, sharply, feigning a pleasant smile. “Holly Banks. My sister is Charlotte Banks.” She gestured to the list, not really looking at it. “I’m on your little list, guarantee it.”

“Oh. The soldier.”

She paused. She knew the look all too well. ‘Don’t cause trouble in my school.’

“Yep. That’s me! Guess the camo gave it away!” She gave her a thumbs up, the sarcasm laced in her voice not going unnoticed as she shook her head, walking toward Charlotte finally.

But Charlotte was done and was already walking toward Holly.

“You’re bleeding.”

“No… Well, I was, yesterday. It’s just a scrape, don’t worry about it—”

“You couldn’t even change? You look rough.” Charlotte hissed, looking around her at the prim and proper state of everyone else’s guests.

Holly sighed. “I left so early Lottie, there was a five care pileup on the M50, I didn’t want to miss the show—”

“But you did. You missed the individual presentations. When it was just about me and my work and for once I wasn’t just the classmate in foster care with dead parents and a psycho older sister.”

“Don’t say that—”

“I looked for you in the crowd and you weren’t there. You’re never there.”

And for once Holly had nothing to say. Because it was true. Holly was never there. Not physically anyway.

“That’s not fair, Lottie.”

“Isn’t it?” They were in a stare off, two sets of near-identical green eyes glaring at the other. Hurt and broken. Charlotte eventually broke the stand-off, grasping the bracelet on her wrist and plucking it from her wrist - The one that said “HOLLY” to match the one Holly wore that said “LOTTIE”. The ones they made together a few years ago whilst Holly was visiting her foster home. The bracelet was thrown at Holly’s chest, landing in her hands as Charlotte stormed away.

Catching live grenades was easier than this. This just hurt. She stood there for a moment, in front of Charlottes artwork. She should be proud. Selfishly, she just stood there, wallowing in her own self pity, motionless, small and so severely out of place.

Holly tucked the bracelet in the gift bag, turning to leave. She didn’t say goodbye. Had no clue where Charlotte had ran off to. Just got back in her Nissan and drove back to Hereford, inevitably getting stuck in traffic again, just to rub salt in the wounds upon her knuckles.

It must have been 10:12 when she got back, pulling into the car park behind the barracks. The drive had been silent, save for the low volume of the radio and Charlottes words playing in a perfect word-for-word repeat in Holly's head.

Holly sat there for a moment, vacantly gazing out of the front window, a floodlight illuminating the training field in the distance, calling out to her. Run. Run till you're sick again.

She grabbed her phone and opened up their messages. The last text exchange had been lighthearted sisterly fun. A joke at Hollys expense about her fake tan addiction, followed by a joke about Charlotte being a little emo git.

Fingers flew across the screen.

I really am sorry, Lottie. The M50—

Delete. Don't make excuses.

I'm so proud of you and everything you achieved. Always. Mum and Dad would be too, I know it.

Delete. Too much.

I'm sorry. Love you. x

Sent.

Seen. The read receipt was almost instant. No reply followed.

Holly turned the car off, resting her forehead against the wheel in complete and utter darkness. For one small, unguarded moment, she let herself break. Just this once.

[manicrouge]

Episode One: A Deal Set in Stone

[𝙹𝚘𝚑𝚗 𝙿𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛] || [𝙰𝚄: 𝙿𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚢 𝙱𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜] || 𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

[𝙳𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝙿𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍]: 13/01/24

[𝙰𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝]: Tensions between Price's and Fisher's gangs are seemingly settled upon a deal made between the two leaders. After a brief celebration alone, Price is informed that there is a new detective in town looking to put a stop to the cities Communist Revolutionaries.

[𝙲𝚠]: mild threats (nothing too extreme), brief mentions of religion.

[𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝]: 6.7k

[𝙰/𝙽]: Hi !! This is the first part of what is going to be a series. As a pre-warning, the first few parts will be there to build relationships so this series will be a slowburn romance. Also, I have rewrote history a little here for the sake of plot, so please excuse that (I'm hoping my history GCSE and A level will make it somewhat coherent).

ENJOY!!

Comments are always appreciated !!

SERIES MASTERLIST

Please don't post my work anywhere else without my permission !!

There's an illness in the air, a sickly disease running through the men surrounding the table.

They keep their heads raised, not daring to look down as they stare down their noses to the man sitting opposite to him.

A shadow is cast over his eyes, sockets and pupils disguised by the flat hat on the top of his head as he pulls his cigar from between his lips, a grey cloud of spoke escaping from out of his mouth.

Sitting across from him is a man, his hair lathered in hair gel, slicked back. A stray strand of ink back hair curls forward, pressing against his forehead as he offers the latter a tight-lipped smile. A thin moustache sits atop his upper lip, appearing as though the few fine hairs have been drawn on with a pen, and his blue eyes pierce through his soul as he assesses him.

As he shifts, dipping his hand in his pocket, he hears the shift of something behind him and then the clink of metal. 

Such response in the sudden movement results in the men crowded behind the man sitting on the other side of the table to dip their hands into the inside of their blazer pockets, a gleam of metal greeting his eye. Only, such is resolved as the man holds up his hand, offering the view of a box of cigarettes.

Turning his head to the side, he catches the man with a mohawk standing behind him holding his pistol firmly aimed at the man's head. With a gentle sigh, he grabs his wrist with his hand, 'not now, Johnny,' he utters, looking at the man. Even in the dingy light of the room, he notes the red flush on the man's face, though, he doesn't elaborate on such a sight as his hold tightens on the man's wrist.

Johnny looks down at him and with a reluctant shrug, he puts his gun back into his holster, his arms falling back down to his side.

He’s got a good heart about him, wanting to protect him- did the very same thing during the war, and he feels his own heart ache slightly when he requests he does so. Nothing more than a stern father in that regard, though, when he turns his attention back to the group on the other side of the table, he's assured in his decision.

Can't fuck this up. Not now.

'A man can't even smoke wit' y'ur men,' snarls the man from the other side of the table, his voice notably pitchy as he strikes his match, holding it to the end of his cigarette. 

Holding his arm out to the side, he waves his hand in the air quickly to extinguish the flame, tossing the match over his shoulder. ‘Is it a crime to smoke 'round here now, John?'

'Not at all,' he answers bluntly, 'sure you'd know it was though; it's a struggle to keep your nose out of my business, isn't it, Irving?' he asks with a smile forming on his face as he clears his throat, tapping his cigar, ash sprinkling into the ashtray beside him.

Drawn out laughter graces his ears as Irving leans back into his chair, elbow staying firmly placed against the table with his cigarette between his fingers.

'Very funny man, you are, Price,' he responds with a scoff, 'when I hear about the things you're doin' it is my business,' he states, 'never heard of your family until you came back from the war, I suppose that has something to do with the woman running the business while you boys were away, ey?'

The air freezes, none of them even muster up the courage to laugh at the man, instead, he narrows his eyes and takes another drag from his cigar.

There's a noise behind him, fortunately, for the sake of the deal, it isn't a gun this time. 

'Not like you'd know that is it?' a voice from behind him emerges in a bitter tone. 

The man sitting opposite to them stops laughing, looking through John to the man behind him.

'No, 'cause you didn't fight for your country, just stayed here at home sitting on your ass,' he continues, resting his hand at the back of Price’s chair.

His lip twitches at the comment, the wrinkles on the man's forehead being so telling of the mental turmoil in his mind, he reserves the pestering feeling to laugh for when they're free from the room.

'I was exempt, more honourable than what happened with your old Cap'n here, isn't it, Gaz?’ he asks, pointing his cigarette in his direction. 'Really ruined your chances of wanting to be a Captain, hey? And for what?’

In his veins, his blood grows hotter by the second, the disrespect directed towards him causing his throat to tighten. It’s as though he has a noose around his neck, each comment made in passing being said with the intent to pull the noose tighter until his neck eventually snaps from the pressure. It’s the oldest trick in the book, truly it is. If he snaps now, he knows he will carry the regret til his last breath. So, he takes a breath to calm his temper, shaking off the urge to reach for his pistol to put a bullet between the eyes of the smug faced prick sitting before him.

'We're not here to discuss that,’ he smoothly states.

Sinking further into his chair, Irving rubs the stubble on his chin with puckered lips as his eyes scan John. It's supposedly demeaning, the type of look a wolf gives to a defenceless lamb. It's a real shame that this wolf never gets blood on his own pristine coat; if such was not the case, he very well would have shuddered in his view.

'Please proceed then, Price,' he says briefly, 'you fought hard to get this meeting with me so I hope whatever it is you have to suggest is worth your efforts and my time.'

'I want you to rig the race in our favour,' he simply says.

'Rig the race in your favour?' snorts Irving, 'in your fucking dreams.'

'We've seen a 200% in increase in bets over the course of this week,' he simply says, 'people are votin' for the magical horse we've got and they commies are sneaking payments under the table to us to make sure they have a chance of the money if the horse does win.'

Rolling the cigarette between his fingers, he looks back to the men sitting behind him. There’s a look of amusement etched into his feature, although, the look on his face was as flattering as the sight of a name of a relative carved into a grave tone. 

'And why would I do that for you?' he asks, ‘y’ haven't given me a single good reason why I should do something of convenience to you considering you've been nothing but an inconvenience to me since you returned from the war.'

Rubbing his mouth with his hands, he attempts to quell the brewing heat bubbling in the pit of his stomach. He's a difficult man to please, and had he been elsewhere, he very well would have succumb to the temptation wrecking his mind.

One shot and he’d be gone.

Yet, a man who is not trigger happy is much more of a man than one who goes around killing whoever. Killing with intent is what makes you a true threat.

'We've been tiring resources tryin' to get back at each other, you're missing out on making money and so am I... besides, with the communists, it's getting harder and harder for you to fund these events—'

'That's not true,' he cuts off, 'we have plenty of people investing in our horses.'

'Not what I've seen,' a gruff voice from behind John answers.

Irving sneers in the direction of the group. It's unflattering- the way his top lip lifts to exposes his yellow teeth, how the muscles in the face dent his appearance. Truly, all his charm is to be found in his money. 

Had he been a poor man, Price is convinced he would die alone.

'You need us,' John says, 'I'm willing to put aside our differences, I'm willing to help you make money- besides, with the way the Adams' have been acting recently, you need us to make sure your business stays intact.'

'I have other people who are offering me a handsome sum of money for my services,’ he says with a smile, ‘and I can deal with the Adams’ anyway, they’re not a threat to me nor my business.’

'Can you?' John asks, 'you've been promising to kill him for months and he's still walkin' around actin' like he runs shit,' he scoffs, leaning further over the desk. 'I'm offering to pay you out of my pocket to ensure we keep making money and you're going to get share of that; more business for me means more business for you.'

The cogs are turning in his thick skull as he turns his head to the side, looking at a man standing at the front of the group surrounding him.

Circular glasses sit on the edge of his protruding nose, his thin lips pressing together as the man before him looks at him. Small dots for eyes grow wide from the shift of attention as John also looks to the man. His boney fingers clench around the leather book in his hands as he steps forward.

'How much will you be making Mr. Fisher?' he asks, his tone coming explicitly from his nose.

John hears Johnny snicker behind him, followed by a small 'oof' as fabric shifts.

'Three hundred guineas,' he answers, 'and if we continue to work together, that amount will only go up.'

The man looks down at the book in his hand, flipping it open with a short 'hm'. His fist clenches at the sight, though he busies himself with the changing look on the wrinkled brow of the man.

'You can sink the Adams' if you do this,' prompts another voice from behind him.

Good lad, Simon.

Pursing his lips, he pulls out his chair, standing up. For a moment, Price feels his heart sink at the very sight of the man preparing to leave the room, yet, such doubt is salvaged as the man places his hands against the table, leaning forward.

'Speak with my lawyer,' he says, 'if I do this for you, I want all the men you have working under me gone; I know you have some snooping around in business that does not concern them.’

Price smiles.

'Only if you do the same for me.’

Irving’s bottom lips tighten as he sneers at Price.

'Fine,' he exhales sharply, 'you go against your word, Price, I'll have all of you hanged on the leashes you need to keep your men on.'

'Been through this hundreds of times before, y' don't have to tell me twice,' he answers with a smile.

Irving takes a moment to look at the man before pulling away, straightening his posture. As though he's a stroppy toddler, he juts out his bottom lip at his words, turning his nose up upwards while pressing his arms against his torso. Without another word, he walks out of the room, three men following behind him, leaving the lawyer shakily sitting down in the chair alongside two men standing behind him.

Placing the book in his hands down, he opens his mouth and lets out a short breath. Sweat gathers on his brow as he turns his attention towards Price.

'You promise no foul play, right?' gulps the man, 'c- cause if you do something that messes everything up, then you're risking—'

'No foul play,' calmly answers the latter, 'you're safe; we're not gonna do anything, are we boys?' he asks, lifting his head up, motioning towards the three standing behind him.

'Nae,' Johnny confirms, 'got no reason t' risk a decent deal.’

'See?' Price asks, holding his arms out either side of him, causing the man sitting in front of him to flinch. 'Y' can trust us. Men of our word, we are.'

Pulling a pen from out of the front pocket of his blazer, he gulps, flicking through pages in his notepad. John watches with narrow eyes, lifting his hand to grab the edge of the flat cap sitting on his head. Tugging it down, the tips of his fingers ghost the metal sewed into the hat, and when he look back to the man sitting in front of him, he offers him a tight-lipped smile.

'So lets talk business, ey?'

─

Smoke pours from the chimneys of the homes and factories in the street as he travels down the road. The smoke billowing from his cigar in his mouth mixes with the spouts of smog blowing in the breeze.

Houses tightly-knitted either side of him contain the laughter of children, the calling of working men, and the conversations of the women passing by. Yet, their talk is muted as they cup their hands around their mouths. Such secrecy does not contain the content of what they’re discussing as Price catches them occasionally glancing at him as he walk. He’s not disheartened by such, in fact welcomes them.

Besides, secrecy only got as far as a shilling does.

It’s a noose around the neck of the speaking user by the time that shilling is tucked in a pocket of the Peeping Tom; that's simply how the business works, and of course he knows that.

He has to considering some of the eyes on him.

Fortunately, that's where he likes to be; had he been someone who disliked the eyes on someone else, then he definitely chose the wrong career to pursue.

Pulling the cigar from out of his mouth, he tugs on his waistcoat, jacket trailing behind him as he walks down the main street, flames from the blacksmiths firing back as the ting of a shovel hitting the pile of coal sitting on the street fills his ears.

Its been a while since he's seen the sun, and his dull mind aches as he attempts to figure out the last time he's seen the glowing orb in the sky. Perhaps it might have been last week, though, he never really looks up, only downward.

'Mornin', Mr. Price,' calls a voice brightly.

Lifting his head up, he looks at the man adorned in the uniform of the law and he watches as he holds the tip of his helmet, tilting it in his direction. A smile beckons upon his lips, though he doesn't let it show as he exhales a mouthful of smoke, giving a short nod in the direction of the man.

Coppa's were blind, a quids enough to make them forget whatever they saw, sweep it under the table and into a grave.

Flicking the cigar onto the street, he holds his arms up, pushing open the wooden doors to the pub, the faint smell of booze greeting him before he even steps foot through the door.

It's difficult to breathe in the Hindsight; the air is pumped with the hot breath of the generous patrons and the smoke from the cigarettes in the hands of them. It’s not something he would change about it though; the burn in his lungs was simply just a reminder that he's indeed alive, away from Flanders Fields and home.

Pushing open the door to the pub, all heads in the surrounding area snap around to see him. 

It's silent as he walks in, the chatter and laughter he heard while standing outside the doors of the pub being nothing but a flaking memory. They look at him with doe eyes, even the wrinkled skin of the weathered men he recalls seeing on the battlefield look to him with the same fear he spies in the eyes of the women.

Without a word, he moves up to the bar, the talking resuming, though, no longer to the level it had been prior to his arrival.

Digging his hand into the pocket of his coat, he pulls out one coin, as the man behind the bar quickly approaches him with worn sunk in eyes looking at him with a bated breath. 'What can I get you today, Mr. Price?' he sweetly asks, his voice wobbling as he looks at him.

'Scotch,' Price answers.

'Yes, right away, on the house as always,' he says with a nod, though, when he turns his back to retrieve the bottle from behind him, Price settling a coin down onto the counter. 

Placing the glass down, he pops off the diamond lid on the bottle, pouring some into the glass he grabbed from under the bar.

'I was readin' the paper this morning,' begins the man, grabbing the glass one the stream of liquor stops. 'Saw you've been looking for a barmaid in here.'

'Yeah... with the constant freak outs from Blake, Melissa didn't want to stay after he hit her,' he confesses, 'can't blame the girl not wantin' to be here, but I doubt she'll find a man to marry her; she was a barmaid for a reason,' he stiffly explains, busying himself with cleaning an unmarked glass. 'What had you readin' the paper?'

'Looking at the races,' he says, 'business as usual.'

'You see the thing in the paper about the States?' asks the man, leaning in closer, lowering his tone, 'there's a rumour that Mr. Churchill is in a deal with them; one of the reporters spoke on their close relations. Can you believe that? The government are doing this, even after we've refused to give 'em the money back from the First World War.'

He finds a smile meeting his face as he looks down at the glass in his hand, bringing it to his mouth, pouring the contents of the drink down. A warmth spreads through his chest as he places it down, all for it to be refilled immediately, the man nearly shattering the glass in his hand as he fumbled to pick the bottle back up.

'Wouldn't put it past 'em,' answers the other, 'the Americans were like bumbling idiots in the fuckin' trenches.'

Memories crop up from his time in the war, the difference of the Yanks to the Brits and the French. He recalls how his skin was branded with thick clumps of congealed blood and dirt, how his feet were sore and cut up from the thick mud from the flooded trenches. They enjoyed to call out for mercy, to point their fingers and make demands when they weren't even in the thick of it.

They didn't know war.

They weren't soldiers.

'I remember them being like that- came into war prim and proper they did while we rotted in those fucking trenches for years before they even bothered to join the fight,' he scoffs, placing the bottle down, 'and they have the cheek to tell us that we owe them money? It's because of our fuckin' fight that they're still allowed to be the oh so great country they are,' he snarls.

'Never lost yourself in those trenches, did you, James?' he asks with a smile, 'good to see y' still got that fight in you.'

'Only because of you, Cap'n,' he answers with a small nod of his head as Price drinks some more of his drink. 'Say, John, don't suppose you could do me a favour, ey?' he asks, dipping his hands into the front of his dirty white apron, pulling out a coin, 'I'm workin' til late all week so I won't be able to put money down for the races, could you pick a horse for me?'

Holding his hand out, the coin is dropped in his palm and he looks down at it, 'what horse?' he asks, looking at him.

'Heard Johnny's gonna have a spell cast on Midnight Willow, that true?' he asks, 'horse is supposed to be blessed if that happens, I heard. Never thought a witch would be one for dealing blessings, but I suppose I might as well not judge a book by its cover.'

Pressing his thumb down onto the coin, his tongue trailed on the back of his teeth as he takes a deep breath. 'Yeah, it is,' he says, nodding his head, 'she's gonna be the fastest horse in the race,' he says so with a grin.

The doors behind him creak with the force of which they're pushed open, and the chatter falls quiet as footsteps fill his ears. 

Picking up his glass, he brings it to his mouth once again. His eyebrows raise as he catches sight of the same flat cap on his own head as the man approaches him, leaning against the countertop.

'Kyle, can I get you something to drink?' the man behind the bar promptly asks.

'No; not staying long,' responds Kyle with a small smile, 'thanks though,' he adds, looking at Price.

'What's wrong?'

'Kate wants to see you; she said it's urgent,' he promptly says.

Standing up, he tilts his head back as he finishes the rest of his drink, placing the glass against the counter. Offering a short nod to the man, the pair of them begin to head towards the exit of the pub.

'She say what she wants?'

'No, but she sounds pissed. What have you done?' he asks with an amused smile on his face.

Tucking his hands into his pockets, he takes a moment to ponder the possibilities of what could have the woman in such a foul mood, although, as he thinks of recent events, he struggles to think about what exactly he could have done to antagonise her.

'Nothing I can think of; she was more than happy with the peace deal between us and Irving,' he says, 'never know with her though; sticks her nose into all sorts, goes where she has no business going.’

Kyle raises an eyebrow.

'You saying you've done something you don't want her to know about recently?'

His expression remains stoic as they continue through the street. Flames from the iron works fan against them, and he lifts his head upwards as the sound of cheers fill his ears. Kyle scoffs, dipping his hand into his blazer, grabbing a box of cigarettes.

'Fuckin' commies,' he snarls, opening the box of cigarettes in his hands. 'They've been gettin' worse too; they trashed a cart in the train station the other week.'

'I saw it in the news,' answers the other with a prompt nod of his head, 'causin' more trouble than we are.'

'I don't know why they even bother,' Kyle says.

‘They're angry,' John answers, 'not surprised; fought to keep the country a float and the reward the common man gets is a cut in wages.’

Kyle laughs.

'Should go and get a sign and join the crowd if that's how you feel about them.’

'I'm not an idiot,' he retorts, 'nothings gonna change no matter how much paint and ply wood they use.'

As the crowd progresses down the street, the pair of them move from off of the road onto the pathway. Kyle lights his cigarette, placing it between his lips, taking a drag. People on the path move quickly out of the pairs way as they turn towards a house, moving up a step.

Pushing the door open, Kyle takes another drag from the cigarette in his hand, holding the door for a moment for John to follow in behind. Progressing through the cramped living room, John watches for a moment as he closes the door behind him.

Despite the small space, there's a thudding from beyond the room which translates to many footsteps and he 's bemused at the thought of the business happening beyond the tiny living room.

Shrugging his jacket off of his shoulders, he placed it on the clothes rack, progressing further through the house, following the scent of the lit cigarette with ease. He tucks his hands into the pocket of his blazer as he rounds the corner into the dining room, seeing the doors against the far wall of the living room have been opened.

A busy bustling strikes him as a knife would, wounding him with a weeping wound of pride as he lifts his head, lazily trotting into the room with a smug smile on his face. Kyle stands in the middle of the busy room, his hand placed on the shoulder of a blonde haired woman who turns her head upwards to Price as he enters.

Her lips are pressed firmly against one another as her brows furrow before she looks back at Kyle positioned behind her. As far as he can see, the look on her face doesn't shift- instead, it stays the same as she slowly starts to raise from the chair. Moving past the crowds of men, parting them as Moses did the red sea, she crosses her arms, her black boots clunking against the ground as she approaches him.

'Took your time,' she comments, 'thought you would have come right back here after making that deal with Irving.'

'Wasn't in the mood for a verbal beating,' he confesses, pulling his hat from off of his head, 'went to the Hindsight instead.'

She rolls her eyes.

'Kyle said you have something important to tell me.'

'I do,' she confirms, nodding her head. She pauses for a moment as she raises her hand, the sleeve of her black cardigan falling down her arm as she brushed her hands through his hair, taking a short moment to look at him before shortly nodding. 'I wouldn't call a meeting for no reason,' she adds, pulling her hand away from him.

'Alright!' he calls, addressing the room of people. 

The ticking of the typewriters and the low chatter all comes to a sudden stop and it's as though he has frozen time. Beady eyes look to him and Kate standing at the front of the room, all aside from one man standing in the corner of the room, far too focused on the knife in his hand.

'Everyone take twenty, got something important to discuss with the lady,' he sharply states.

The air thickens as people quickly pick up their belongings. Fortunately, they're smart enough to know who he expects too stay and who he expects to leave, and as the crowd files through the doors, Kate moves past him, closing the door behind the last worker who leaves.

It closes with a click and the emptiness of the room is notable as he finds only three men standing. Walking further in, he rests against one of the desks, looking at the blonde-haired woman.

'You have the floor,' he says, motioning to her, ‘go on.’

'I got news from the boys working in London,' she begins, walking back into the room, her hands dipping into the pocket of her skirt, pulling out a carton of cigarettes. 'Apparently, they're sending a detective here to look for something- boy's heard something about it having something to do with the communists.'

His eyebrows raise.

'And this concerns us because?'

'The detective they're sending is from the States, John,' she confirms, 'got a familiar name, I've read about him in the papers when I visited home after the war... infamous detective when it comes to crushing crime and commies.'

A small 'hm' escapes his mouth as he raises his hand to rub the scruff of his beard, tilting his head to the side as he watches the woman light her cigarette.

'How'd he treat the gangs back home?' asks the man stationed in the corner of the room, pushing himself off of the desk. 'He cruel to them?'

'From what I know,' she begins, pulling her cigarette from her mouth, 'he's had a lot of people put behind bars. Although, supposedly, he's here to deal with the raising threat of the communists; you know how it's been recently, the governments scared to do anything about them in case they upset Russia.'

'So, they're sendin' a random guy from the States to sort it out?' asks Simon, 'bit odd.'

Keeping her eyes trained on John, the man shifts under her view, turning his attention to behind him to Johnny. The man chews on his bottom lip.

'Y' sure he's not coming here for us?' Johnny asks.

Kate simply looks at him with a raised eyebrow before turning to John, 'what have you done?' she asks with narrow eyes.

A prompt smile appears on the man's face as he shrugs his shoulders, looking at the woman. 'What?' he says politely.

'Boys, do you mind giving us some space?' Kate says, though, all of them know she is not asking them to leave, rather, telling them. At the very least, she can't get tripped on her attitude, and fortunately for themselves, they know better than to question her judgement as the three of them are quick to leave the room.

John watches as they move through the room, and as they step through the same door as all of the other workers, the door closes with a click.

Immediately, her eyes are back on him, the look similar to one he was familiar with in his prime years of youth before he cared to sort his act out. Ironically, he found that the older he grew, the more he found himself falling back into the same habits he had had during his teenage years, only, this time, the police didn't attempt to trip him up on his petty crimes.

Lessened the blow of the more serious ones too.

'What have you done?' she cautiously asks, 'clearly, you've done something; I can see it in your eyes.'

'Read me like a fuckin' book don't you?' he snorts, placing his hands against the edge of the table he was leaning against, not daring to have his eyes leave hers. Her smugness is elegant, frankly a tad disturbing too as he knows the brewing anger in her stomach is sure to be boiling the impending vitriol bubbling in her throat. 

'A robbery went wrong- nothin' I can't handle by myself.'

'What?' she asks, 'John—'

'Told my men to steal me four bikes,' he begins, pushing himself up from off of the table, plucking the cigarette out of her hand and placing it in his mouth. 'Y'know, the yard that Dean owns in London, gets loads of shipments every day and I had them tracking a shipment of bikes; thought it'd be better than them havin' to take my car everywhere—'

'What happened?'

'They stole the wrong thing,' he answers quickly, 'got the shipment, moved it to Alex's scrapyard, and when they opened it, they didn't find bikes, no,' he laughs, taking another drag from the cigarette, 'instead of the bikes, inside the shipment we found twenty-five Lewis machine guns, ten-thousand rounds of ammunition, fifty semi-automatic rifles, and two-hundred pistols with shells.’

The words leave his mouth as a mouthful of bile would, though, he doesn't flinch at his confession. Kate's face pales as she stares at him while he busies himself with putting the cigarette out in the ashtray. 

'Christ, John,' she exhales.

'All bound for here- England. They were sent by someone, probably something concerning government officials; you know what they're like, y' can't trust anythin' they say.'

'You stupid boy,' she scolds, catching the edge of his blazer in her hand, balling his fist around the fabric, 'tell me you threw them into the dock.'

He pauses.

‘We put them back in the factory to keep them out of the rain- they hadn't even been greased yet.'

Her grip on his blazer falls loose as she raises her hand, slapping his chest harshly. 

Instead of catching her wrists, he allows her to do so, simply standing and taking every blow she delivers to him. After a short while, she relents, turning her back to him, brushing her hand through her blonde hair, huffing. She pauses, looking over her shoulder at him.

'So that's why they're sending a cop from the States?' she asks, 'to get the missing shipment of guns back?'

'Maybe, maybe not; the crate was unmarked, whoever was sending the guns clearly didn't wanna be known. They were in London, so, whoever was getting the shipment is there- I don't know anything else.'

'John,' she lowly says, 'you're going to make unnecessary enemies- do you even know who they belong to?' she asks, 'they could be anyones- what if that shipment was for the Corallo's? Or even worse, what if they are meant for the government? Then what?' Her voice swells in her throat as she paces back and forward, rubbing her hands together. ‘You have lost enough through stupid actions, I'm not going to let you ruin the business I managed while you were away at war.'

'I'm not going to,' he reassures softly, although, with the tone she was carrying (had it been anyone else), he would have fancied cutting her tongue out of her mouth for just a short period of silence. 'I'll get rid of them after everything with Fisher has been sorted. I'll drop them in the dock n' no one will have to worry about them.'

She looks at him with a weary glint in her eyes, something he can only liken to a frightened small animal. It's a rarity to see genuine uneasiness in her eyes; he's become far too acquainted with the familiarity of her stoic, cold gaze. Only time ‘er eyes ever light up is when she sees her missus.

But this time, it's different; she's scared.

'I'll get rid of them, Kate, you have my word,' he says firmly, resting his hand against her should in an attempt to comfort her. 'Don't tell any of the boys f'r me, eh? Don't need to make it any harder than it has to be.'

There's trouble brewing behind her eyes, the brewing acid of an argument lingering on her mouth as she trails her tongue across her bottom lip, wetting it with saliva before pressing her lips firmly together. The tension in her brow remains as she eyes him.

'Three days time,' she says, 'I want them gone in three days; you're a capable man, John, you're not a fool and I don't want you to do something that could cause more trouble than it's worth.'

Of course, she's right, and his preemptive interest falls short at the sound of her voice.

'I won't,' he says, 'keep it a secret for me, eh?'

'Three days, and if they're not gone, I'm telling the boys,' she warns sharply, turning on her heel towards the door. 'Keep your head down with this detective coming as well; if he's here for the communists make sure you don’t change his aim.'

He watches as she walks away, her black skirt swaying as she marches towards the door. Pushing himself up off of the table, he exhales, crossing his arms. 'Did they say the name of the detective?'

'Phillip Graves,' she calls, not bothering to turn her head as she walks out of the door.

His brow creases upon hearing the name of the man leaving her mouth. It met his ears as an old friend meets another for a drink, sitting comfortably, acting as though time never passed them by.

'Phillip Graves,' he utters to himself, narrowing his eyes as he follows after Kate.

─

You sit on a park bench, your hands pressed against your knees, a navy blue hat atop your head as you look forward. When a figure moves to sit beside you, you don't flinch, instead, you busy yourself with the view of the ducks in the pond before you, only shifting to cross your legs.

The fabric of his suit settles as he lets out a sharp breath, spreading his legs a little. Leaning forward, he rests his forearms against his thighs, keeping his eyes glued in the same direction as yours, only, you're sure he has very little concern for the ducks in the pond.

'Nice to finally meet ya in person,' he utters, 'though, I suppose we could have met in some other way,' he says quietly under his breath.

'As far as people are concerned, we're not working together,' you respond.

'I know, just... British intelligence shit goes over my head; we usually just go in guns blazin’ and hope for the best,' he admits.

'Can't do that- not if you're right about who has the guns.'

You don't miss the chuckle that escapes his mouth. It's demeaning, one that states that he knows better than you do. 

He doesn’t.

'Oh, I'm right, doll,' he firmly says, 'John Price.'

He speaks his name with an unflattering tone, the words falling from is mouth as phlegm would. There's very little you really know about this man, and, had you not been informed by past police reports and various individuals, you very much would have been fooled by the mans outward appearance.

You recall the picture in the file you were handed during the meeting you attended with the Prime Minister and Mr. Churchill, how the man passed you the item and while they had been talking, you spent all your time reading through the notes on what they kept on him. Even then, in the eyes of those who ran the country, you commend his ability to keep the truth in the shadows.

Besides, he’s a war hero.

His photo was charming, though you know well the man has most definitely changed from the youthful boy who stared up at you from the page. He was a 'young juvenile' Churchill had remarked, always getting into trouble, until he joined the military.

But now he's back to his troublesome ways, striking a match without the true knowledge of how big the flame could be.

'Remember what we agreed on. He frequents the pub by his home address- so do the people in his group,' he explains, 'they're lookin' for a barmaid and, fortunately, you're looking for a job.'

Clutching the fabric of your blue skirt, you nod your head, watching as the Mallards in the water fight. Two males. The female watches idly, uninterested in their fight, opting to swim away from the chaos.

'I know,' you say firmly, 'don't get too close to the fire,' you warn, standing up from off of the bench.

You turn to him for a short moment, catching the grin on his face as he nods his head. 

‘You're the one going into the monsters den, doll,' he says, 'fortunately, if it gets too hot, you've got me to fan the flame,' he says, offering a wink as you turn your head, grabbing your bag off of the bench with a sigh.

You say nothing else to him as you turn to follow the same path you used to get to the pond in the first place, leaving the grinning man to watch you as you walk away.

The smile on his face doesn't fade as you leave and he doesn't move from where he is sitting. Instead he leans further into the bench, tugging down his black tie with a small sigh, the straps of the holster holding his gun under his arm tightening as he moves his arms backwards to stretch.

There's a heat brewing in his chest, causing his heart to tighten and an exciting nausea to strike him like a blade. It's an odd feeling which causes sweat to pour from his pores, though, he's not fearful in the eyes of duty, and, when you're but a dot in the distance, he tugs at the hat on his head. It presses firmly against his forehead, a shadow cast over his eyes as he stands up and turns his back to the sun, walking in the opposite direction to which you went.

‘Duty calls,’ he utters with a smile, his eyes narrowing as he heads further and further away from the sun.

𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

TAGS: (If you would like to be added to the tag list let me know!) @forever-twenty-two-years-old @iizx7y @phantomreadsandreblogs @talooolaaloolla

[stingraystudiess]

Good morning…

⬆️Some morning ABBA never does me wrong (volume up)

Where is sting?:

Travelling up north to spend a night on a family friend’s estate ⛲️

To do:?

Catch up from yesterday (who’s surprised, not me)

Corbett 5 a day

Spanish verb learning

History of medicine reading+q’s

English literature practice

Physics electricity q’s

Flashcards

Maths functions practice

Mood for today?:

You can’t get distracted if your in the car for 5 hours :P

Hello my lovely jublies! I am so excited for this trip yet GCSE doom is approaching and I can’t help but feel as if I have done nothing.

Anyways, the best time to start is now, so I will do what I can on the car journey (mostly reading+self quizzing) and then some more stuff when I get there.

Yet again, so excited, they also have a golf course so I’m hoping to play! Happy near Easter everyone. :))

Signing off~

StingrayStudies

[theshiftingwitch]

hello!! this is my third or fourth time asking you questions here and your advice has been greatly helping me and i appreciate that, could i be 🫐 anon from now on? thank you! once again, i am in need of some advice.

for the past few days, i have been robotically affirming a lot during my days with the same one affirmation “i have all of my desires in my script”, i made a list of all of my desires that i am manifesting right now, and i also made a board on pinterest divided into sections on my new life as a way of scripting and a vision board, and now i feel like some things are going in the opposite way, and i know that this happens to some people, but it’s still stumping me a little.

one of the things im manifesting is wealth for me and my family, i added those things to my script yesterday and today i tried to buy something cheap and my card declined, i got over £200 on my birthday in july and have been buying things freely since then, and the day after i added wealth to my script my card declines.

i am also manifesting a close bond with my father, the last time i saw my dad i was 12, i am now 16, and the only time we interact over text message is during birthdays or christmas, and whenever he asks to meet up, i don’t reply out of anxiety of seeing him. in my script i go into detail about how we are very close and i still see him regularly, and i am also revising the fact that i didn’t see or talk to him for years, and two days ago i randomly had a thought of him and my step-mum having a baby together, and this morning while i was sleeping he text me for the first time in months to tell me that they were having a baby, so i think i accidentally manifested that, but i also am scared that he’s going to forget about me and focus on his new baby, when im trying to manifest a good relationship between us.

i am also manifesting for my brother to start behaving better and my mum to become a good parent, they are still the same, a few minutes ago my brother was misbehaving as usual, but at least my mum said he needs to start behaving, but that’s nothing… i know i should keep persisting, but it’s doubting and gets harder to keep my faith in the 4D during these circumstances and situations, but i am trying.

i also have some concerns over the speed of my manifestations. i know that with the law of assumption, whatever you assume is true, and that includes how quickly you manifest, but i don’t even know myself how long im assuming it will take. i see people say “time isn’t real” but i also don’t get that. i know that it’s meant to be motivating and relieving, but all i am experiencing is that time is in fact very much real. ive been having issues with school for years, and haven’t been in for a single school day for 3 years, and didn’t been do my GCSE’s, i was meant to be going to a specific type of college at the beginning of this month, but i don’t even know what’s happening with that at this point, but they could call at any time and tell me i have to be there, and im manifesting against that. in my new reality, i am also revising that i never missed out on school, i just went to a new school and instead of going straight to college, i want to do sixth form. the problem with this is that while im currently manifesting my new reality as quick as possible, it’s worrying that i will be pushed into these unwanted circumstances like college before i have manifested my new reality where i was always in school, and am happily in sixth form instead. i can’t understand that “time isn’t real”, because it is. there are so many time limits and i have to manifest these things before certain times (like college) that come catching up to me.

i need help, im scared. how isn’t time real? and how do i speed up my manifestations, really, im trying to shift to a whole new reality.

thank you!!!!!! — 🫐

Hello 🫐 !

First, I'm so happy that my posts are helpful, thank you for coming back with more questions! I'm always happy to dissect the law with you!

Now let's get to your "problems":

Reading through your question, I have noticed that you're worrying about a whole lot of things that are not yours to worry about. You told me that you started scripting recently, and you chose one umbrella affirmation along with vision boards to manifest your desires, which I have to say is a wonderful method so good job on that and I want you to stick with it because it will work.

Now your first issue is that your 3D reality is not reflecting your script and your vision board back to you just yet. Here's the thing though, you have only started this method according to you a few days ago, but you have been living in this 3D reality for 16 years. Through those years you have lived through trauma, limiting beliefs, and unfavorable circumstances that have shaped the way your subconscious mind works and reacts to the world around you. So as of right now, the 3D reality is still reflecting back to you what you have assumed to be true your entire life up until this point, including your relationship with your father, your brother's behavior, your mother's personality, and your struggles with school. These things have all been happening for a great chunk of time, that doesn't mean that they will continue to happen forever. The more you keep affirming, the sooner it will happen because like I said in a previous post: robotic affirmation creates new neural pathways in your brain and those new neural pathways will create the new future that you are trying to manifest.

Now, what do we mean when we say that time isn't real? It is a spiritual and philosophical idea that suggests that time was man-made. Calendars, clocks, days, weeks, months, years, were all made by people who needed to make sense of the world around them. How does this relate to your manifestations? All we have is now. The past no longer exists, it is gone forever, that is why we are able to revise it and essentially rewrite history because the past is over. The future doesn't exist just yet, there are endless possibilities, endless realities, and endless futures that you can experience and the only way to to know for sure which one you're going to experience is by manifesting your desired life. So all you have right now is this moment, all that exists, all that ever existed, and all that ever will exist is right now. That is why we tell you to decide on what you want right now and stick with that story because you're not creating your reality, everything that could possibly exist already does. You're choosing what reality you want to live and your reaffirming that choice in your brain by your various methods of manifestations. Think of it like a catalog, you have a magazine in your hands and you are picking and choosing which future you want to have. When you order something online, do you sit by your window and watch for the delivery driver that is going to deliver your package to you every second of every day until that package gets to your door? No, you click order, and you sit back and wait because you know with a 100% certainty that your package is going to come to you. That's exactly what manifestation is, you pick your desired reality, you hit order by affirming, and you wait for the universe to deliver your package to you.

What's standing in your way right now is your lack of trust. And I understand, because as of right now you think that everything is going exactly against everything you're manifesting. You are not seeing the results, you're only seeing the opposite of what you want, and to that I will say this: ignore, ignore, ignore. If the 3D is showing you unfavorable circumstances and old stories, ignore it, turn around, close your eyes, and imagine what you want coming to you. Affirm, visualize, decide, and let go because there is no other choice, you will get your manifestations, that is how the law works. it's not a game of chance, it is reality.

If I tell you that the only way your manifestations will not come to you is if you let your fear of time and unfavorable circumstances hold you back from getting everything you want, will you still be afraid? That is how you need to look at things, you have all the power, you have endless possibilities, and your potential is unimaginable. You are the universe, stop doubting yourself, stop doubting your power, but most of all stop doubting the universe because it always has your back. It always gives you what you ask it, you want money? the universe says yes. you want love ?the universe says yes. you want a good relationship with your parents ? the universe says yes. you want fame and glory and a lot of friends ? the universe says yes! all you have to do is let it bring what you want to you, that is all.

Relax, stop being so afraid, stop throwing a temper tantrum every time you see something that does not align with your new story and let things flow to you because trust me when I say this, they are flowing to you as we speak. Do not go back and forth between the old story and the new story, you're only confusing yourself and delaying your manifestations. You have already decided on what you wanted, now let it come to you. The more you convince yourself by affirming and reaffirming the faster it will come that is all you have to do.

Happy manifesting ❤️

[georgies-ftts]

my genuine thoughts and reactions watching One Piece as someone who has never consumed a different piece of One Piece media before

spoilers… obviously…

Episode 1:

thick glaswegian accent straight away you’ve won me over

this guys moustache is immaculate kinda looks like every version of captain hook ever mushed into one

i recognise the scottish guy

random guy #374’s sideburns are… definitely there

slay drop a bomb before you’re executed horribly

cracker opening theme actually 9/10 should’ve been longer

fourth wall break?

nope he’s talking to a bird

okay funky trouser man you shout into the abyss

this birds got better drip than me

‘Mutiny’ funny actually

he’s not having a good time

what the actual fuck is that ship

aldiva? love of my life?

Koby needs a fresh trim… probably… idk

love me some cheeky windmills

i recognise red hair hat man too

that kids fully gonna die

luffy is fuckin nuts

is he eating… raw??? steak???

australian pink haired harrypotter is about to shit himself

dudes about to get his shit rocked

funky hat man??? is fucking??? elastic

rope burn doesn’t exist in this universe

elastic head is genuinely fuckin horrific

but also slay

think i’m gonna like depressed green hair man

Mr 7 is wearing two ruffs….

‘My favourite is number 1’ fuck him up emotionally i like it

and then fuck him physically this is going grand actually

sword fights that are choreographed immaculately and with fluid camera movements truly do hold a very special place in my heart

oh wait is the luffy kid funky straw hat man

“your mug” yes get that slang in there

wait but luffy has a steady american accent with no twangs

purple orb i’d eat it

oh so would he apparently

what the fuck it’s green

who the fuck is red haired hat man i can’t be bothered to pull up imdb

don’t kill shanks he treats the bar staff with respect

he was in ‘fresh meat’ i found him

he’s so gonna die

i’d slap man bun guy so fuckin hard

luffy needs to like… have a nap or something

woah luffy straight in there with the insults

he had a munch and now he’s a bit bendy

now i recognise koby jesus christ

didn’t need to slap the poor guy jesus

koby is cute i like them

ginger woman floating in the sea

“sweetheart” fucking get rid of them

is she gonna fuck em up

slay queen found a new love of my life and she’s wearing funky socks

‘where’s my face?’ bruvva i could squish your cheeks like a toddler that wall is not for you

it’s green haired sword guy love him

“one for my friend” dude that is a body. in a sack.

it’s ginger sock girl, marry me

blonde british man is gonna catch these fists, sir that is a child leave her alone

lucious malfoy looking ass

yes Zoro (the subtitles are the only reason i know what’s goi-)

did he just eat that off the floor.

blonde british man is fucking terrifying

another sword fight???????

kolby you are me actually

fuck them up fuck them up fuck them up

i’m a lesbian but i do think green haired man just turned me bisexual

“my father” jesus fuckin christ they hired draco malfoy

like the rum???

jesus christ daddy’s boy needs a fuckin gag or some shit

i want Zoro’s earrings please

why does this man have a metal plate bolted into his face

“where does it even go” i think you know

koby realising not everything that’s made out to be ‘good’ is always good slay, we love a little bit of depth

i love a cgi sewer pipe

jesus chrrriiiiiiist draco malfoy is back

kick him in the balls

“when i get down” dude you are literally half on the floor already….

my wife ginger socks girl is back everything is good

she’s gone again, devastated

luffy kinda has the percy jackson cockiness yknow?

luffy 10/10 would do a phycology gcse

fucking english bastards ruining everything

it’s fine she fucked em up again

what is the grand line may i ask

her eyes are stunning

i think she just shat herself

draco malfoy needs to go what the-

that’s his bare arse

chop his dick off

please

i beg you

i think luffy just wants some friends

she’s a pickpocket too holy fuck-

“i’m never joining” yuh huh sure

why’s she searching the papers on the desk surely they would be in a draw or some shit or like a secret message or something

win for luffy

153rd marines really doesn’t sound all that threatening

so he’s like… hench as fuck too?

protect the hat luffy as you should

green haired man’s just pitched up c’mon

slay, literally and figuratively

is he wearing zebra trousers?

not where i thought the sword went…

yeaaahhh fuck him up

that kick was fucking immaculate

so green man is also fuckin hench???

oi listen to the queen

HA MALFOYS HAIR REMINDS ME OF MY WEIRD BARBIE

zoro smiled that’s it life is good

KOBY MY SON

koby no don’t

okay koby you slay love you

you keep them massive fuck off glasses safe

do they meet again? please tell my they meet again and they both live and are happy i will cry-

ooo action music my favourite kind of tv music

what the fuck is that snail and why is it also a phone

SCOTTISH MAN IS BACK

they took your mum actually

a pirate in a straw hat who’s skin is made of rubber thankyou

ooo new emo green haired man

they infact we’re not planning anything ever

that’s that one guy from agents of shield

jesus he’s fuckin creepy

oh that’s terrifying actually

FUCKIN TUNE

[allmyocsarebritish]

Kiss, Maime, Kill - Chapter 4: A Splendid Evening

Pairing: Alastor X killer! F Reader

Warnings!!!: Not really many on this one actually :0, bit of fluff as calm before the storm

Sorry for a late update, got the flu kicking my ass as well as GCSE exams lololol

Word count: 0.73k

1932

Louisiana, New Orleans

"And I do not care how complicated this gets. I still want you. I always will, Cher."

He opened his arm to you, and you slotted underneath, basking in his warm embrace.

"I love with my soul instead of my heart or mind, in case my mind forgets or my heart stops. But my soul will forever be yours, Mon cœur."

And he kept to his word. The past two years both of you were practically glued at the hip, partners in crime. Literally.

Unsurprisingly it wasn't long before the courtship gave way to marriage.

The stale smell of alcohol permeated the atmosphere. Stains of the liquids splashed over plush couches and barstools, the countertops clean yet permanently discoloured. Clinking of glasses echoed through the bar, accompanied by intoxicated laughter. Your own glass was smooth and clear, barely filled with a golden, shiny liquid and topped off with oversized ice cubes. The alcohol was fiery, scorching your throat as it rushed down, molten like magma. You winced at the harsh sting, coughing and spluttering at the way you knocked back half the glass in one sitting.

A gentle hand patted your back as you regained composure. "Are you alright, Cher?" He asked, a miniscule hint of concern seeping into his voice. Alastor's high tolerance to alcohol left him practically unaffected, even despite the smoldering sensation.

"Yes.. yes I'm fine, Al. Thank you." You squeezed your husband's hand. (hehheeheh)

After that you stuck to nursing your drinks, continuing for another couple of rounds before deciding to call it a night.

"Best of luck, Chums!" Alastor called out to the rest of the bar as you left, arm extended behind him. Some of the patrons hummed in acknowledgement, others were too intoxicated to care or comprehend the dismissal.

The streets of New Orleans were dark and cold, a stark contrast to the warm, fuzzy, golden ambience of the rather scruffy little bar. Cozy, yet not fully safe. Yet even the dingiest alleyway was nothing to fear for prolific serial killers, especially not when you knew Alastor was with you.

Long, drawn out shadows were cast by the moon, darkness enthralling the path you walked on. Yellow street lamps allowed for a slight rest bite in the night, and the crescent moon itself illuminated the inky sky. Night may have been full of secrets and terror for the ordinary person, but for you it was comforting and normal. The whole world slept and slowed as you watched. The monsters lurking in the shadows were yourselves, personified and human.

However, as winter drew in, the evening came with a sharp, chilling bite. You shivered slightly, pulling your thin jacket closer around your body.

"Cold?" Alastor asked, noticing you faulter.

"Only slightly." You breathed out in response, not that he believed that. No, he was already shrugging off his own coat, and, before you knew it, the material was wrapped around your shoulders, engulfing you in his warmth and scent. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it, my dear." You shared a smile before continuing on your way back home.

"The world is brighter with you in it."

"What a shame. I should hope my presence brings dreariness and discomfort to those around me." Alastor joked, raising a hand to his forehead in mock distress, drawing a snort from you. You stopped and turned to face him, causing him to do the same.

"Well, I can guarantee it does to some, my love. Particularly those we bump off I'd expect."

"Splendid!" You shook your head in exasperation as he took off, leaving you jogging to catch up to such an unreasonably fast pace. "You're such a goof." His stride lengthened further in challenge and before you knew it, the two of you were practically racing down the path.

By the time you reached home, it was particularly late, 2 in the morning to be exact.

"It's growing rather late." You acknowledged, kicking off your shoes by the door.

"Quite." Alastor agreed, holding out his hand to you before leading the way to your shared bedroom. He tossed you some more comfortable nightwear, leaving you to change. Waves of exhaustion engulfed you, your mind clouded with the alcohol. The last thing you remembered before sleep claimed you was a warm embrace and soft, comforting bedsheets tucked beneath your chin.

A splendid evening, all in all.

Part 5!!

[candy8448]

GCSE ADVISE FOR CLASS OF 2025/current year 10s

This is a copy and paste from a group chat i have with some yr 10 friends so if there are teacher names from my school, ignore them

Website, resources and youtube channel names will be highlighted in orange

More subject specific advise on my GCSE rambles masterlist

------

1. you should seriously start revising from now

At the start of the year i didnt care about revision so i didnt do anything till our first mocks rolled around and then tried to cram an entire year and few months of content for every subject in 2 weeks and i didnt get it in time. And during the easter holidays i spent so much time revising to catch up before gcses that i fell into a depressive episode so start revising slowly from now and over the summer holiday to save your emotions later

2. Rest is gonna be more important than revision at times

Especially towards the lead up to your real gcses if you need a break, savrifice revision for having a break or sleep it will do you better, but make sure you have/will do enough revision in time

3. Your first mocks will be this year's gcse papers but don't cheat and look up the questions, especially for english because that will do you no good because the mocks are meant to help you practice analysis on the spot in total exam conditions

4. Do practice papers, especially for science and maths this will help you the most. Do it in english as well if you are not so good at analysis or essay writing. If ur bad at essay writingf, practice writing and give it to the teachers, if youre bad at on the spot analysis, then juust bring up a bunch of practice quuestions and just play your essay. Dont write the essay, just keep planning a bunch so you develop that skill better

5. Gcses really aren't too bad. Sure they are a bit stressful when you are doing the exams that you need for a levels, but they are still not as bad as people might say. Also dont let your mocks make you worry. My mocks were a TON harder than the real thing. Dunno if that is cuuz i got better or what but dont fret about what you got in your mocks and just use it to know what to revise next

6. I dont know what order hiistory is going to be taught in, but ask mr millen or mr crozier what unit you are going to study last and during your breaks, try to study that unit yourself. We didnt have time to cover elizabeth and only covered one enquiry of content out of three so i had to spend the entire weekend teaching myself the unit from scratch so maybe try studying that unit yourself throughout the year so you dont run out of time and have to cram a ton of new content in 2 days

@Cognito is a great channel for science revision. Ive used the "entire [bio/chem/phys] paper [1/2] in 30 mins" videos so much for revision. Its efficient and labels triple and combined topics so you know which bits to ignore and such. They also have other exam boards and not just aqa

@freesciencelessons ive heard is really good but ii hardly used it, but its good for going into detail for certain topics

Also for science, make revision cards during or closely after your science lesson to save yourself time. Makig the revision cards took so much time and took away time fron actually revising from them so if you make them during school hours then you have time to revise from them.

Also getting a bunch of questions or opening a textbook and makig questions up about it to ask your friends helps both of you revise really well, especially as last minute reviisiion.

Questions like "what iis the name of the instrumental method for the flame test" (that is paper 2 so you wouldnt have pearned iit yet but questions like that)

Litcharts is the best for english revision, it has detailed notes for every single english text you would have ever done and the poems. Its also layed out in a really good way, especially best on desktop.

You dont need to pay the subscription because the things it gives for free are more than enough. I mainly used this website for the poems

@Mr salles has good videos for english. I used this channel a lot because he gives very nuanced ideas that work so well as well as advise that helps a lot with general essay writing and such.

Ive also heard tgat @everythingenglish and @mrbruff are super good. Ive used mrbruff for last minute poetry revision the day before our lit paper 2 because he has really good analysis of each poem in five minutes which i used for all the poems i was not confident in at all

Also for english, learn how the mark scheme works. If you know exactly what the examiners want, that is basically half of your marks.

One key advise i try to remember is to analyse the form and structure of the text or poems. That will get you many more marks and very quickly push you to the top bands withiut being too dificult. Just talk about the way the paragraohs are done, or ciclical structure

MME, This website is very good for maths revision. I despise maths and do worst in maths so this helped me learn entire topics in a few minutes when i couldnt in a few weeks of lessons.

What i did was go through all of my old books since yr 8 or yr 9 and just write down a list of every topic i wasnt 100% confident in. And then went through one by one and learned them again, and made revision cards on them

Also for revisioncards to save time, i litterally just tore out some bits from my maths book tgat had the information layed out well.

Also dont fret if there are one or two topics you just cannot understand. If you cannot do completing the square for the life of you, then just screw it, at most it will be 5 marks on one of the papers. Dont do this for too many subjects but if tgere are one or two you just cannot do, thhen ignore it.

Also if you are aiming for a grade 6, all you need to do is get 100% on the first 13 questions on each of the 3 papers. That will get you ceazy close to grade 6, and then complete the rest of the paper and you've probably gotten it

I HATE CGP's books, they judt never work for me cuz i hate how they are layed out buut for hostory it is tge one textbook that actually worrks from them. Ive found this text book so helpful, more than youtube videos. Mr millen gave all of our yeargroup one of these for free but i dont know if he will for your year. Ask him, but dont buy it if you find out he is just gonna give you one

I think that's about it. I dont have anything for frnech because i honestly just winged it and did no revision, but you should probably practice it for good measure

There is a perfect amount of stress where you will work the best. Too little stress and you wont do as well, too much stress and you wont work as well. First mocks i was fretting, but second mocks i went into each exam calmly and did much better, and same with the real thing.

I did slack off on the last history exam and physics exam because those were my last two exams, but i wish i did work a bit more on those instead of just give up

You will never feel more comradery with the entire country of year 11s than you will when you finally sit those real exams

Good luck next year!

[takethemick]

I'm catching up on last week.

That episode on Wednesday was good. Loved Ruby realising what she'd done when the body was dredged.

The pacing and plotting was on point. Loved that we got a really grounded story in Eric, a gritty story in April, and a high octane (slightly nonsensical) story with Ruby.

Good stuff. Perhaps my one criticism is that after so long without April it was a bit weird seeing her randomly pop up but it was fine. I really liked that they were talking about how you can take a year to sort yourself out and get your GCSEs done later. It's not the end of the world to take a mental health break. Sometimes I know kids get in their heads that their entire life is ruined if they screw up and that's really unhealthy.

And I share some of the concerns people have with Joe seemingly being rehabilitated by the show but I can tolerate it for the moment. My big disappointment is that the whodunnit went out like a wet fart. It should have been Billy or someone else at Caleb or Ruby's instigation. Those two are great when they're scheming.

I also like that there are quite a lot of storylines going on that all work in parallel. We've got shady business storylines with Mack/Ross/Lewis and Kammy/Sarah, a personal health storyline with Eric, April's storyline, the Aaron/John/Robert triangle, John's manipulations, and the Miligans dealing with the fallout for Anthony. Plus Cain, Moira, Chas, and Charity being useful background characters, which I think suits them well.

It's pretty action-packed right now. Nice.