#i hate doing difficult things take me out coach!!!!!

[thepoisonroom]

really dangerous for me to learn the value of quitting right before starting grad school

[barcaatthemoon]

flatmates || alexia putellas x teen!reader ||

you get placed to live with alexia while you play abroad at barcelona.

"nena, wake up!" alexia yelled as she flicked the light on and off in your room. living with alexia putellas had sounded like a dream come true. you were playing at the club of your dreams with the best players in the world. everything should have been perfect, and for the most part it was, but you had no idea that living with alexia would prove to be so difficult.

it was a lot for a sixteen year old. you knew that you'd be better off in the end, but that didn't make it any easier in the moment. you hated the early wake ups, extra workouts and practice, and the extra schoolwork. alexia wanted you to be the best in absolutely everything, and that included the education she doubted that you'd need in the long run.

you drew a lot of comparisons to alexia on the field. off the field was a different story, but alexia pretended not to notice that part. some people thought you were a pet project for alexia, but she thought of you as so much more than that. she had told you before that you were like the little sister she always wanted, but you were almost certain it was mostly to piss off alba.

"five more minutes. better yet, another hour and i'll have patri pick me up," you tried. it was futile, however, because alexia wanted to personally see to it that you got a nutritious breakfast. she was really only looking out for you, but it got a little annoying for you when all you wanted was more sleep.

"you can take a nap after training." to alexia, that was the perfect compromise. you grumbled on and on about it for most of the morning, but you got up anyway. alexia helped you with breakfast, like she tried to with all of the meals that you cooked in the house. "that looks good. where did you see this one?"

"tiktok," you answered as you portioned out the food. "when will olga be back?"

"in two days, why?" alexia asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. you liked olga, but the two of you weren't exactly close. in fact, most of the time, you didn't really interact with olga around the house.

"because she doesn't let you wake me up before 6," you said as you glanced at the clock on the oven. alexia winced as she looked over to see how early it really was. "i could have had two more hours."

"lo siento nena, but think of all the things we can do with our extra time."

…

you were on an unbelievable run. this whole game had been one of your best. it felt like nothing in the world could have stopped you. two goals down, and you were going for your third whenever the challenge came in. immediately, you were tripped up and sent flying on the pitch. everyone around you immediately looked over at your body, which was unmoving as you laid out on the pitch.

everything hurt from the impact, but fortunately, your knee didn't seem to be a particularly problematic area. the idea of tearing your acl so young absolutely terrified you. you didn't think anything was wrong until you tried to push yourself up only to fall as your wrist completely gave out.

"stay still. try to take a couple deep breaths for me," alexia said softly as she knelt next to you. she was rubbing your back like she did on the few nights you crawled into her bed looking for comfort. sometimes alexia forgot that you were a kid, something that olga had to frequently remind her of. you weren't a baby, but you definitely were not an adult yet.

"my wrist hurts," you whined. alexia took one look at it and winced. "don't do that! don't wince like that!"

"lo siento nena," alexia apologized. she stayed with you even after the trainers took you off, making the coaches make two substitutions. your wrist was stabilized and you were rushed off to the hospital for x-rays and a cast. it was definitely broken, and a part of you wondered if you'd be sent back to your home country to live with your family. surely alexia wouldn't want you to stay if you weren't really playing for the team.

…

"alexia, don't you dare go wake up that girl!" olga hissed as she placed herself in front of your bedroom door.

"but she has to come to the game." olga almost couldn't believe her ears. alexia could be stubborn and demanding at times, but olga had never heard her whine like that before. it was almost laughable, but olga wanted you to get every bit of rest that you could. alexia had given you a couple of days to rest and just do your schoolwork at your own pace, but she wanted you to come back to practice and games with her again. "she missed the last one and we didn't win."

"i'll take her to the game myself if she wants to go. just go on your run already so you can get ready for the game," olga instructed. alexia pouted as she moved past your bedroom door. olga knew better than to just go back to sleep, instead waiting until alexia had been gone for five minutes. unbeknownst to her, you had woken up on your own and heard all of it from inside your room.

you smiled to yourself as you left your bedroom. alexia had started some coffee for herself before she left which you happily took and sipped as you sat on the couch. you couldn't play, but alexia had nabbed your game kit from the locker rooms a couple days ago at practice in case you wanted to wear it to the game anyway. it was sitting out on the coffee table neatly folded with a little note on it.

"oh, you're awake! you can shower while i eat if you want. i just have to get ready and then we can leave," alexia said as she moved past you towards the kitchen. she grabbed a couple of pre-made things for her breakfast and sat down, immediately taking a sip of the coffee. "ugh, disgusting. why drink my coffee if you're going to change everything about it?"

"to mess with you," you answered honestly. alexia rolled her eyes ad shoved you away playfully. you wrapped your cast up and took your shower, more than happy to go with alexia to the game. she hadn't been the only one to believe that you not coming with alexia to the game after breaking your wrist was bad luck. even alexia's practices had felt a little off since you stopped going.

it was funny to you that alexia saw you as a good luck charm. it didn't matter if you sat with the team or her family, alexia just wanted you there. you had never thought that you'd be so genuinely cared for in your teammate's home, but olga insisted that you were just as much a member of alexia's family as you were. everybody always made jokes that alexia probably wasn't going to give you up when you became old enough to live on your own.

"i got a pillow for your arm because i know the bench isn't very comfortable. oh, and i brought you an outfit for after the game too because we're going to mami's for dinner. i think what you're wearing is fine, but you know the rule, no kits at dinner," alexia rambled. you smiled to yourself, not often getting to see this side of her. you sometimes felt like you annoyed alexia when you'd talk to her or try to spend time with her, but if your week of staying in your room had taught you anything, it was that alexia needed the time with you just as much as you wanted to spend it with her.

[cottonlemonade]

hi!! I'm gonna take menu b with strawberry and matcha roll and im gonna sit next to tsuki!😊 thank you!!(⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡

Don’t Call Me That

request: fluffy, jealous crush Tsukki, as manager

Kei set up the net, caught in a conversation he wished he hadn’t started. Hinata was going on and on and on about a new technique he was dying to try, while Yamaguchi thankfully indulged him and asked questions, leaving Kei the opportunity to throw glances at the entrance of the gym.

Originally, he had meant to wait close to the door, just in case you needed help carrying something. He wouldn’t have offered his help readily, of course, but you were usually quick to ask one of the team members to jump in when things got too difficult to balance.

To be honest, he didn’t even know why he bothered. Sure, your smile made him think of a sunrise over a field of wildflowers in late summer - but god, you were annoying. Always bright, always prepared to build up the team with an inspirational speech that rivaled Takeda sensei, always eager to support wherever you could, as if this wasn’t just a stupid club.

The other first years started following you around like puppies after their initial introduction, while Nishinoya and Tanaka were extra protective of their fellow second year. You finally arrived, closely followed by Ennoshita and Narita. For quite some time now, Kei had tried to figure out if Narita was maybe more than a friend to you, but you were probably just being nice, right? He was too bland for you. But an image began building in his mind of the other middle blocker pulling you into an empty classroom, one hand on your plump hip, the other cupping your chubby cheek, leaning down to-

“Tsukki, are you there? You gotta pull the string to-“

“Don‘t call me that!“, Kei snapped at the idiot tangerine, but did as he was told, “How many times do I have to tell you I hate that nickname!“

“Geez, fine, calm down - Suckyshima.“, Hinata mumbled and ran away screaming a second later when Kei threw him a murderous glare.

A moment later the team was called to assemble for a pre-practice pep talk from the coach and Kei was actually much more interested in the way you played with your necklace than paying any attention. For a split second he wondered if it might have been a gift from a boyfriend, Narita or otherwise and his already sour mood turned even darker.

“So, that‘s our goal for today. Tsukishima and Hinata, are you ready to try this block?“, the coach asked and Kei did a double take upon being spoken to directly. Even though he had no idea what had been discussed, he nodded and turned to get started on the warm up when you said, “Good luck, Shoyo-kun! You too, Tsukki-kun!“

Kei froze for a second, then continued walking, feeling his legs beginning to wobble slightly.

“Hey, she called you “Tsukki”, Tsukki.“, Hinata said, catching up to him and bouncing along.

“Sharp as ever.“, Kei muttered.

“Why isn‘t she getting yelled at? You said you were going to make sure my bloodline ends with me if I called you “Tsukki“ again! Why isn‘t she getting threatened!? Hm? Tsukkiiii~“

a/n: Tsukki going for a girl older than him - scandalous! Thank you so much for the request 🌟 I hope you enjoyed it!

[starogeorgina]

Redemption

Warning: Swearing, oral sex

Pairing: Ivar × reader

1.02

“Once we lure them into position, I’ll give you the signal, then you’ll light the bastards up—Ivar stop,” you laugh, feeling his hands roam over your body. “I’m trying to help you plan a war.”

“I’m aware.”

“It’s difficult to concentrate when you do that.”

“Do what?” Ivar smirks, kissing your neck. He continues to squeeze at your breasts over your dress. His two favourite things were fucking and fighting, so talking battle strategies was hard for im. Ivar begins kissing your neck, leaving purple marks as a way of reminding others that you are his. “I’m not doing anything you don’t like.”

You turn your head and kiss him. Your lips linger as your mind begins to race with a thousand thoughts. It hadn’t been long since you lost your baby, and you hadn’t been intimate since.

Ivar rubs his finger along your cheek. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you say, kissing him again. “I want you, Ivar. I want you to do more things I like.”

He tilts his head to the side and gives you a small smile. Ivar smooths your hair out of your face, and the gaze in his eyes somehow brought you comfort; it was as if he was looking deep into your soul and knew what you were thinking. “I will not rush you, Drifa,” he says. “But I know something we can do, something we both like.”

Seeing the mischievous look on his face, you raise your brows and ask, “What's that?”

—

Ivar smirks in amusement as the sword in your hand rests at the top of his neck. He says, “You fight dirty; I’ve taught you well.”

You toss your sword to the side, pick up two axes, and hand one to Ivar. He told you that non-Viking armies didn’t see women as much of a threat; he wanted you to prove them all wrong. Ivar took great pride in coaching you in sword fighting, throwing spears, and aiming your bow and arrow.

“Perhaps one of my brothers will spar with you later.”

You pull a face and say, “Ubbe or Hvitserk. Last time I sparred with Sigurd, your mother was mad at me for hurting him.”

With a boyish smile on his face, Ivar says, “You knocked his front tooth out; it was a wonderful thing to witness.”

You’d always hated Sigurd and the way he treated Ivar and his mother. You think back to that day and how you and Sigurd got into a fight because he kept insulting your dead parents. At first, his brothers laughed until the first blood was drawn. You feel awful thinking about Hvitserk trying to separate you and accidentally backhanding him.

Lost in thought, you don’t notice Ivar talking to you until he places his hand on your waist. “What are you thinking about?"”

“The time I burst Hvitserk lip.”

“Hvitserk adores you.” Ivar throws his axe, which hits the mark on the tree. “So do Ubbe and Bjorn. As did my mother.” Ivar takes the other axe from your hand and repeats the action, hitting the mark perfectly again. “Sigurd is scared of you because he is weak and knows he cannot compete.”

“Have I told you recently how much I love you?”

Ivar blushes. “No, but I never tire of hearing it.”

You kiss him on the cheek before going to retrieve the axes so you can continue throwing them. You continue training until the sun begins to disappear behind the clouds and the sky quickly becomes dark as the weather changes quickly.

The rainfall is heavy, causing the mud to splash up onto Ivar’s face and neck while he dragged his body along the ground as you headed home. Seeing the pain in Ivar’s face, you suggest taking shelter from the rain underneath a large tree. You sink down beside Ivar and lean your head on his shoulder.

You sit in silence until Ivar lets out a deep breath and asks, “Why doesn’t it bother you?”

“What?”

“Being married to a cripple.”

You roll your eyes. Every time Ivar felt self-consciousness, he would question why anyone loved him. His insecurity became worse when his brother told him; nobody loved him, and everyone felt sorry for him. “I’ve told you to stop listening to Sigurd.”

“It’s true, though; I am a cripple. And my weaknesses are your weaknesses.”

“Your legs aren’t a weakness, Ivar. They are your greatest strength. People will always underestimate a cripple.”

Ivar opens his mouth to argue, but you cut him off with a kiss. You brush your nose against his as you straddle his lap, careful not to put too much pressure on him. The feral look in Ivar’s eyes sparks something inside you; all you wanted was for him to devour you. “You are Ivar the boneless, the strongest and most violent man I’ve ever met.”

Ivar grips your jaw with a devilish glint in his eyes. “You think I’m violent?”

“I think you're the most bloodthirsty Viking to ever exist.”

“Stand up.”

Following his order, you stand up. Seeing Ivar lower his trousers so his cock can spring free, you pull up the bottom of your dress. He grins, clasping his hands around your thighs. Ivar brings you in closer so he can put his mouth on your aching core. You let out a moan when you fell his warm tongue swipe over your folds before turning his attention to your clit.

“Mmmm.. Ivar, just like that,” you encouraged, “please don’t stop!”

He sucks and flicks his tongue on your abused clit, speeding up his actions until you cum, legs shaking around his head. When you come down from your high, you kneel down and twirl your tongue over the head of Ivar’s hard cock before taking him full into your mouth. He uses one hand to grip your hair, while Ivar uses the other to pinch your nipple, as Drool dribbles down your chin while you bob your head. Tears roll down your cheeks as you gag, feeling his cock start to jolt in your mouth. Ivar tightens his grip as spurts of hot cum shoot down your throat.

He grunts, “Swallow all of it like a good wife.”

Sitting up, you wipe the saliva away with the back of your hand. Ivar shuffles to put his cock back into his trousers. You kiss the palm of Ivar’s hand when he cups your face. “We should get back; it’s almost time for supper, and we both need to bathe.”

—

You take another mouthful of ale as your eyes jump between the brothers sitting around the table. There was a weird atmosphere, and you were trying to figure out why. Ubbe and Ivar feasted, laughed, and drank ale while Hvitserk looked nervous. He kept glancing at Sigurd, who had been smirking most of the night. When you returned, you had bathed and changed into a clean dress, while Ivar remained in the same mud-covered clothes. The only reason his hands were free from dirt was because he washed your back and hair.

Sigurd suddenly burst out laughing, gaining the attention of his brothers. “Do you all remember when Margrethe said Ivar couldn’t pleasure a woman? Well, today I found out that’s not true.”

You and Ivar look at each other and ask, “What?”

“Me and Hvitserk were coming back from a hunt and saw-”

“I did not look,” Hvitserk says quickly, not letting his brother finish his sentence. You patted the back of his hand; although he was a menace at times, Hvitserk was respectful and would never deliberately watch such a thing.

“Enough,” Ubbe says. “We will hear no more of this.”

Sigurd ignores his elder brother and continues talking. “I’m just sharing that I’m happy for Ivar. At least it can finally put the rumors of Drifa carrying another man’s child to rest.”

“It was you who told others that!”

He shrugs. “I stand corrected; I can tell others I know Ivar gets hard because I caught you with his dick in your mouth.”

Ubbe and Hvitserk stare at him, unimpressed.

Tears of embarrassment swell in your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. You glance at your husband to see his reaction to his brother's taunting. Ivar peels the last bit of meat from the bones of his meal off with his teeth, then tosses the bare animal bone onto the table. “What kind of man talks about his brother's wife in that way?”

The amused smile drops from Sigurd’s face, “I’m—”

“I swear to the gods that if I ever hear you talk about my beautiful Drifa in such a way again, brother, you’ll leave me no other choice but to kill you.”

The room falls silent as Ivar’s threat lingers in the air. Sigurd looks to his brothers, but when neither of them say anything, he storms off, leaving the rest of you to enjoy the remainder of your night.

[theamazingmaddyas]

So, I've been hyperfixating on Michael Yew as a character in general (No, I'm not okay, all the fanfictions have emotional destroyed me) and I've been going through everything Michael related, and recently have been looking at Michael fan art, and I've realized that almost every fanart where he's with someone else he's oddly tall? Like, this isn't hate towards the artists, they're out here doing the gods work drawing minor characters, but it leads me to wonder if people really realize how small Michael truly is.

Michael's described as being four foot six, and while one could technically try and argue that Percy is an unreliable narrator and is estimating Michael's height, there is quite a bit of evidence on the contrary. Michael is one of, if not the only person who Percy gives an exact height to; even Annabeth, Percy just describes as being tall, never giving the reader an exact height. Besides, Percy's description of Michael is as followed, "Michael stood four feet six, with another two feet of attitude." If Percy were estimating, or even exaggerating, he'd probably use a preposition in his sentence. So, it's safe to say that Percy is 100% certain of Michael's height (which does leave the question how Percy's so certain of this fact, but we'll never know that, as much as I wish we did.)

I know most countries don't use feet, and as someone who read the U.S. edition, I cannot be positive, but I'd assume if other dialects of English, or different languages, had their prints, it would be in what's common there (probably centimeters?) But if not, here's a conversion chart for everyone:

4ft 6in = 4.5 ft = 54 in = 137.16 cm = 1.37 m

Okay, so we all know how objectively small Michael is, but how does that compare to other people? It's difficult sometimes to make such comparisons between two characters, so I found a height comparision thing to show the height difference. As you, hopefully, can see, the first picture I put Michael (4'6" or 137.16cm) next to Percy (who's about 6' or 182.88 cm). And the second, Michael next to Coach Hedge (5') because his height is made explicit in heroes of olympus, while Percy's is just a guesstimate.

Michael doesn't even reach Percy's shoulder in height, despite the two being the same age, or Michael being older (which I genuinely believe: see my previous post about Michael). Even with Hedge, who people comment on how small he is, has a noticeable few inches on Michael, who reaches to probably about his nose or upper lip.

Now, mostly Michael is drawn with the other Apollo boys, and I've rarely see a fanart where Will's taller than him. Maybe it's because Will is explicitly a few years younger than him (at minimum, 2½, at maximum, 5ish), or maybe not, I'm not sure.

According to the wikipedia page, Will Solace is 6', but again, we take everything on the wikipedia page with a grain of salt, because Will is just described as tall in the books, specifically in Heroes of Olympus where Will would be about 14 or 15 (though, this is also a bit iffy. I could write a whole thesis on Will's age, specifically how I believe Apollo's description of Will's age is overexaggerated in THO, but that's for another post). Using this math, Will would have been approximately 13 to 14 when Michael kicked the bucket. The average height for a 13 year old boy is 5'1" to 5'5", meaning, if Will's height were truly above average, he'd be, at minimum, 11 inches taller than his brother in TLO, which is:

Even if the fanart is depicted a young Will like starting it camp, there is no plausable way for him to be taller than Michael.

Here's a chart for average heights of a white boy (while we do not know Michael's ethnicity, this chart is easiest to show). The red dot is Michael's height in The Last Olympian, if he were 16, and the yellow dot is Will's approximate height, at 13.

If you were to graph out Michael's height, it'll be pretty obvious that the only ages he's taller than Will is when he's really really young (I study neither biology nor math, so I couldn't be bothered to actually figure out the formula, but maybe I will someday) if Michael grew at an average rate. If his growth was normal until about ten and then was stunted, that would be a different story, but we, as readers, will never truly know the reason.

I might not be a bio or math major, but I do double major in creative writing and psychology, and that means I'm interested in why Michael is drawn taller in comparision to who he's with. And for this I have a few theories.

The first one, which I mentioned a bit ago in this post, is age. People percieve being taller as being older—though once you reach adulthood this becomes less infallible, though since they are kids that doesn't matter much—meaning if Michael were drawn his actual height, he'd be percieved as younger. While I'm not positive, I have an inkling this stems from ableism, but I have no proof to back up that claim.

My second theory is that, much like the fact that many people in the fandom say Connor and Travis are twins even though it is explicitly stated they are not, people genuinely forgot. Or one person said something, and it snowballed from there.

My third and final theory is that people just can't fully comprehend the height difference in their mind. I struggle with creating mental images, and it's possible that many other people do.

It's interesting to think about, really. And I'd really like to know if other people noticed this, or if I'm just overthinking everything again.

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

On thin ice (Hockey player! Miguel O’Hara x Figure skater! Fem! Reader)

A/N: has it been less then 24 hours? Yes. Am I still gonna upload this? Yes. Hehe. Don’t wanna spoil anything but y’all will enjoy the chapter. Haven’t been proofread so excuse any typos or grammar mistakes. Miguel might be ooc. Also I’ll probably take a day or 2 off from posting after this lol.

(Y/N)- Your name.

Cursing. Not anything else lol.

Word count: 1.5k

Series Masterlist

Chapter 8: ‘Cause there’s this tune I found, that makes me think of you somehow and I play it on repeat.

—

“Again.”

…

“Again.”

…

“Again. I’ll have you two keep going until you both freeze your limbs off, or you two are fully in sync. Again.”

Letting out an exhausted sigh, but following coach Kavinsky’s orders, you and Logan quickly got into the starting positions for the swan lake program you were doing for regionals, it’s the only thing you two have been practicing (apart from the usual stuff you went over every practice) since regionals were so close, deciding since it was the longer, more difficult program, it needed more fine tuning then the short one program you had to do. Lucky you had already perfected the short program, you and Logan were going to do a routine to Mia’s & Sebastian’s Theme from La La Land for the short program, and obviously you two practiced it everyday as well, but a majority of practice was focused on the Swan Lake routine.

“We’re gonna die here.” Logan whispered to you as you both skated into starting positions, partly joking, partly serious. You attempt to suppress a snort, knowing if you let it out while coach Kavinsky was getting irritated from your session today then she might as well cut your head off with how angry she becomes. Once in position, the music starts and we begin the routine.

—

“Alright… that was an, improvement…” Coach mumbled as Logan and you hit the final marks, and although her words said one thing, her tone was obviously still not impressed. “Go take 20 for water and a breather.” She added with a sigh before walking away, you checked the time as you and Logan moved to the edge of the rink, putting your guards on before stepping off the ice.

“Ima go to the bathroom.” You say to Logan who just nodded in response before making your way to the girls locker room, after about 5 minutes, you came out and were making your way back down the hall. Right when you were about to turn the corner, you felt a hand grab your wrist and pulled you into a random, empty, dark dance room. You let out a yelp when you were pulled into the room, and you were preparing to scream in hopes someone will hear and get you away from the random person who pulled you into the room when you hear the click of the door lock, but stopped when the people turned on the lights. Your eyes narrowed as you spoke, voice dripping with venom. “You.”

“(Y/N).” He stared down at you, returning your tone as you two began a stare off. Your hands landing on your hips as his arms cross in front of his chest. After a few moments of silence, Miguel finally spoke. “We need to talk.” His voice was hard and his face was stern.

“Yeah, we do.” You quipped, your brows furrowed in annoyance, “but I only have 15 more minutes until my break is over, so we have to do this late-“

“No.” He interrupted, his arms dropped his side as he took a step closer to you, causing you to take one back, finding yourself against the door as you stared up at him, but other than taking the step back, your confidence didn’t waver. “We’re gonna talk right now.”

You let out an annoyed huff as you rolled your eyes, “Fine, let’s make this quick.” You grumble, “and I’ll go first, I just want to let you know, I hate you Miguel O’Hara, I despise you with every fiber of my being.” You declared, you had to hate him, why else would you feel your whole body heat up whenever you were around him. Especially when you two were in a locked room together, which was happening more often than you would like.

Miguel rolled his eyes at your words, his tongue pointed at the inside of his cheek as an annoyed smirk appeared on his lips, he let out a dry, unamused chuckle escaped his plump lips as he lightly shook his head. “God you are so insufficient.” He groaned, “ You think your words can hurt me? Because they can’t. You know why (Y/N)? Because I hate you too.” He finished as he took another step closer to you.

You scoffed at his words, your arms moving up to cross over your chest, “You’re a horrible liar.” You hissed, “if you hated me so much why did you try to kiss me at the party last week?” You asked, but your tone comes more off as you proving a point to him rather than asking a question.

“If you hate me so much why didn’t you stop me?” He countered, and even though his eyes and voice held irritation, you couldn’t help but notice it felt like he was… challenging you almost…. So of course, you wanted to see how far you could push it. You know what they said about curiosity, and right now, you were one curious kitty.

“If you hated me then why try it in the first place?” He took another step towards you as you asked the question, he was in arm’s reach now, and although him being this close, with his current demeanor would scare anyone else, but not you, for some reason, it excited you.

“Maybe I wanted to see if you’d do something about it, see if you’d let me have my way with you, or if you actually hate me.” He shrugged as he stared down at you, his eyes burning into yours, his tone calm and steady as he spoke. “I wanted to see if you’d stop me from kissing you, or if you wanted me to.”

“And if I did?” You asked, and for a few seconds, you felt like you fucked up by saying that sentence, his response though was what made your stomach drop.

“God… I hate you (Y/N)…”. He muttered quietly, and it seemed so genuine, so full of disgust that it made your heart ache. You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could utter a word, his hands quickly made their way to the back of your head and the nap of your neck, before pulling you into him, and slamming his lips against yours.

It almost didn’t feel real, it didn’t process in your head for a few seconds, but once your mind caught up, you melted into his touch. Your eyes fluttered shut and your hands went up to rest on his chest, slowly sliding up to go around his neck to deepen the kiss, a small moan escaped from your mouth as his hands started to travel down, stopping at your hips, his fingers squeezing them lightly before pulling pulling your body closer to his. Your head was swimming, your body hot all over, your knees felt weak, and your heart was pounding in your ears. He was so intoxicating. He’s lips, his touch, the was he groaned against your mouth as you brought your hands up to run your fingers through his dark brown hair. In that moment, you finally understand that the reason you felt like your body was on fire anytime you were around him wasn't because you hated or disliked him, you realized it was actually because you really did have some sort of misplaced feeling for him. After all, there is a very thin line between love and hate.

You felt like you could be like this forever, Miguel felt the same way, but, unfortunately, you were still human, so you found yourself pulling away to gasp for oxygen. Both your chest were heaving, Miguel’s pupils were blown, and you had to wipe some drool from the corner of your lips. A silence engulfed you too for a few seconds as you both attempt to catch your breath and slow down your heart rates. After a minute or two, Miguel’s lips pulled up into a smirk, and you internally groaned and forced yourself not to roll your eyes, because you knew he was gonna say some stupid shit to ruin the moment.

“Still hate me?” Oh. My. God. This time you let your eyes roll and the groan escape your lips, Miguel just chuckled at your reaction, before pulling you close once again and leaving a lingering kiss on your lips once more. But this time the kiss was different, unlike the last one, that was ruff and messy and full of lust. This kiss was more caring, more sweet, loving almost. This only made your heart burst more.

“I should go… my break is almost up…” you say in a low whisper as soon as he breaks the kiss, you’re faces still close together as you stare up at him. You’re words made his smile fall a bit.

“We should talk about-“ He started and you already knew what he was going to say before he had time to finish the sentence.

“We will.” You swiftly cut him off. “Just not right now okay?” You asked him, and after a second of hesitation, he sighs but begrudgingly nodded his head, and you noticed how he was nervously chewing on his bottom lip. “Cute…” You thought as felt your lips pull up into a small smile. “I’ll see you around.” You finished before unlocking the door and leaving the room to go back to the ice.

—

“What’s got you smiling so much?” Logan asked with a raised brow as you both stepped back on the ice.

“Nothing important.”

—

Taglist: @tayleighuh @cowboylikeevie @coralineyouareinterribledanger @jukioku @loser-alert @migueloharaspookiebear @serpentstarr @littlexscarletxwitch @darksidescorner @patchesofwork

[pollymorgan]

Coach Negan Part 2

Warnings: Negan beeing Negan, hot table sex

Okay, I did it again! Have fun with the second part! 🤭

When I wake up, I briefly think I had a pretty intense dream. But when I see the phone lying next to me on the pillow, I realize that unfortunately, it was real.

Oh man, I've started some pretty weird actions lately. Somehow, my life seems to have gone a little off track. But phone sex with my daughter's hated gym teacher pretty much tops it all.

At least I didn't oversleep, not even once this week! Who knows, maybe I'll still be "Mother of the Year."

Feeling a bit off-kilter, I shuffle to the bathroom to freshen up.

With the toothbrush in hand, I let my thoughts wander. Okay, the whole phone call was a bit sexy. Well, actually, pretty hot. My cheeks start to flush as I think about Negan's voice and how dominant he was.

Damn, the whole thing was more erotic than anything I've experienced in the last 5 years. At least! Although that's not saying much....

Suddenly Negan's last words come to mind.

"Okay, I'll expect you tomorrow at 3:30 pm for a parent-teacher meeting at the school, and without panties.. Good night!"

Fuck! My ex-husband is picking up the kids today. At least, that's the last I heard. From experience, I can say that can change at any time. Anyway, I absolutely must not run into Negan at this time, preferably never again. But that will probably be a bit difficult...

The morning goes by thankfully without any major catastrophes. A few arguments, two forgotten homework assignments, and spilled milk later, I've dropped off my three kids at kindergarten and school on time.

Feeling somewhat relieved, I return home. There's chaos in every room, but it's quiet in the house. After calmly drinking a coffee, I decide it's really time to start filling my social media channel with content again. After all, it's become my job, albeit somewhat involuntarily. I'll make a post about a nutritious, quick meal for stressed out mothers. At least I don't have to go shopping again. I have all the necessary ingredients in the fridge, and it's not too time-consuming.

Just as I'm preparing everything, my phone vibrates. Assuming it's a message from my ex, canceling the meeting with his kids for some flimsy reason, I open the message annoyed.

"Be on time today, otherwise it's detention! 😉 Negan."

Oh God, I had hoped this whole thing would just fizzle out. Feeling a bit nervous, I set the phone aside and try to focus on what I actually had planned. But that's not so easy! I keep staring at my phone, afraid of receiving the next text or out of desire? I can't even define it myself.

Screw it! I was married for 19 years and I've based my whole life on this man. Taken care of the kids and the household and always put myself last. Only to be left. So, what's wrong with having a bit of fun?

I quickly grab my phone and reply.

"Just detention? 😯 I expected a more creative punishment! 🙈"

I hesitate for a moment, but then I send the text. My heart pounds wildly in my chest as I see the two checkmarks next to the message. It only takes a few seconds before I receive a reply.

"You naughty girl, don't challenge me ...".

I can't help but grin.

Quickly I type, "As they say, 'Good girls go to heaven, bad girls go on the teacher's desk' or something like that ...😉"

"I can't wait ... Room 319, in the big gymnasium," I receive as a reply.

I look at the clock. It's just after 12 pm. I quickly finish my Instagram post to have enough time to get ready.

After a thorough shower, I stand somewhat desperate in front of my closet. I absolutely must not show up too sexy at Peggy's school. But my obligatory gray jeans and a plain t-shirt that has been my wardrobe staple lately won't do either.

I'm as excited as before a first date, and in a very strange way, that's what it is.

In the depths of my closet, I find a royal blue knee-length pencil skirt and a matching white blouse with large dots in the same color, with the price tag still attached. I put it on and critically examine myself in the mirror. I've always been slim, but the impending divorce has cost me at least another five kilos.

I loosely tie up my hair and apply light makeup. Then I put on my favorite scent, a mix of vanilla and cherry that I've worn far too rarely lately, afraid the bottle might run out.

Now there's no time for doubts. Determined, I go to the car, start the engine, take a quick look in the rearview mirror to remove mascara smudges under my eyes, and head towards the school.

There are only a few students left on the grounds. Most have already finished, just like my daughter. Thankfully! He actually managed to pick her up. Miracles do happen after all!

I have the terrible feeling that everyone is watching me and knows exactly what I'm up to, although that's obviously nonsense.

Feeling a bit nervous and with a pretty strong flutter in my stomach, I go to the big gymnasium. Disoriented, I roam the narrow corridors and then stop in front of room 319. Okay, so I'm really going to go through with this.

The door isn't closed, just ajar. I take a deep breath and then push it open further. Negan is sitting at the desk, focused, with some papers in hand, and suddenly startles. As he catches sight of me, he begins to grin, his perfect teeth shining through.

Oh man, has he always looked so damn good? He's wearing a khaki jacket over his jeans shirt and glasses with a dark rim. Determinedly, he stands up and walks directly towards me, while I remain rooted to the spot, staring at him.

He stops right in front of me and leans against the door frame with one arm. I have to look up at him because he easily towers over me. The woody, masculine scent of his cologne envelops me and literally clouds my senses.

"Never heard of knocking?" he smiles at me and then lightly licks his lower lip with his tongue.

Finally, I find my words again. "Well, I seem to be a really naughty girl, but at least I'm on time...".

Dramatically, he looks at his golden wristwatch. "Right on time..." he states curtly and gestures for me to come in, before immediately locking the door. At the sound of the lock, my heart gives another heavy thump.

So, I'm really here now.

I quickly glance around the room, feeling his eyes on me the whole time.

"Sit down!" he commands and goes back to his desk. Just as I'm about to take a seat on one of the two chairs in front of it, he protests.

"No, here..." He taps the table clearly and sits on his chair, never taking his eyes off me. After a brief hesitation, I sit down, as ordered, directly opposite him on the table, crossing my legs. As confidently as possible, I look down at him. When our eyes meet, small electric shocks run through my entire body, seemingly converging in my lower abdomen. His gaze continues to roam over my body, to my legs and back up. We remain silent for a moment, but then he breaks the silence with the sentence, "And did you remember not to wear any panties?".

My cheeks blush even more intensely, I have to swallow hard before I can respond. "Yes."

"Okay, then show me..."

Slightly confused, I try to think. This man hasn't even touched me, let alone kissed me yet, and I'm supposed to present my most intimate parts on a desk to him?

"Come on, don't be shy..." he adds demandingly, noticing my hesitation.

As if on command, I jump off the table in one go, pulling up my tight skirt until it barely covers my butt. I then brace myself on the desk with both hands, ready to jump up and slightly spread my legs in front of him. Negan leans further forward and stares unabashedly at me. He grasps my knees to open my legs a little more.

It's the first time I feel his warm hands on my bare skin.

"And shaved just for me, that wasn't necessary..." he states, satisfied and self-assured.

His hands slowly continue to my thighs, then he lightly rests on them and positions himself directly between my legs. His face is only a few centimeters away from mine, and I feel his breath just as heavy as mine. I examine every pore and every small scar thoroughly until my gaze falls on his lips. Without thinking further, my arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to me.

Finally, our lips meet. The kiss is immediately wild and without any restraint. Full of desire, our lips press against each other, and our tongues immediately explore each other.

All I can think about is how good all of this - how good he - feels.

Negan firmly grips my butt with both hands and dominantly pushes my pelvis closer to him. The fabric of his jeans presses against my bare skin. I feel how hard and big he already is. I can clearly feel him, right at the spot that yearns for him the most. I softly moan into the kiss.

"Damn, that's the sound I wanted to hear! I haven't been able to think of anything else since last night..." he exclaims excitedly.

Then he swiftly takes off his jacket and starts to slowly unbutton my blouse. My black lace bra is revealed. Before he kisses me again, he looks down at me.

"Fuck, look at you...you're so incredibly beautiful," he says softly.

My hands move confidently to his pants, feeling for his belt.

"Not so fast...first, I want to taste you...every damn inch of your perfect body!"

He grins at me, and I immediately do nothing but eagerly wait to see what he has in store next.

Negan slowly takes off my unbuttoned blouse and skillfully unclasps my bra. He immediately grasps my breasts firmly with his large, warm hands and plants delicate kisses on my sternum. His beard scratches against my delicate skin, giving me goosebumps. His mouth moves to my right breast, and I let my head fall back. I thoroughly enjoy the feeling of his tongue on my sensitive nipple. His hand firmly grips my left shoulder and pushes me down. Now I'm completely lying on the desk, while his kisses travel deeper and deeper.

Without hesitation, he grabs my knees and presses my legs firmly against my body. Then I feel his warm breath on my wet vulva. Automatically, I press my pelvis further towards him, and he starts kissing along my inner thighs, while I eagerly await feeling his lips on my pulsating clitoris finally.

My whole body is tense as he continues to tease me, his mouth gently returning to my thigh.

Impatiently, I slide back and forth on the desk.

He releases his firm grip from my knees and gives me a light slap on the butt.

"Damn, it's sexy how turned on you are... I could continue like this all day..." he remarks with a grin, unbuttoning his jeans shirt as his dark chest hair is revealed. I prop myself up on my forearms, looking at him expectantly.

"Okay, okay... Who can resist such a look and such a sweet pussy..." he says, leaning back between my legs to finally touch me where I need it the most.

Skillfully, his tongue wanders to my most sensitive spots, applying just the right pressure and perfect tempo.

I moan in relief and lean back again. He softly sucks on my swollen clit, and my legs start to tremble. I grab his hair and hold onto it tightly because I feel like I need that support. The orgasm hits me unexpectedly. I never thought I could reach the peak so quickly.

Negan grabs my wrists and swiftly pulls my upper body back up. Breathing heavily and utterly exhausted, I look at him, and he smiles contentedly, his lips moistened with my wetness.

"Wow, okay..." he says.

"Wow, okay..." I reply and pull him closer to kiss him.

"Now I want to fuck that perfect pussy..." he whispers in a deep voice into my ear, opening his pants with one hand. Then he briefly separates from me to open the drawer of his desk and retrieve a condom.

I watch him, and suddenly I seem to be able to think clearly again. At least, I can imagine how many times he has done this before. How many lonely, abandoned mothers he has already screwed on this desk, that he even keeps condoms in his drawer.

Without saying anything, he seems to notice my gaze very precisely and knows how to interpret it.

He grabs my chin between his index finger and thumb and turns my head decisively towards him.

"Hey, don't even think about it, okay? ...I only placed it there today, in the slight hope that you would seriously consider my nice offer..."

He lets me go to put on the condom without breaking eye contact.

My eyes wander between his dark ones, and I get lost in them.

I nod hesitantly and flinch slightly as I feel his tip pressing against my entrance.

Negan runs his thumb over my mouth. My lips feel dry and sensitive.

"Don't close your eyes now, look at me as I enter you..." he says unequivocally.

I already feel him slowly pushing deeper and deeper into me. When he is all the way in, he places his burning hot forehead against mine. His mouth is slightly open, and his breath is heavy. I enclose his lower lip with my lips. It is an incredibly intense feeling to be so full. I feel my lower abdomen contract repeatedly as he slowly starts moving inside me. It doesn't take long for his thrusts to become faster and harder. I realize he is close to coming.

"Sit on the chair, I want to be on top of you!" I say, trying to gain some control and at least once have the upper hand.

"Okay, whatever you want... really anything!" he says, breathing heavily, and sits back on the chair behind him.

He looks incredibly sexy. With those piercing eyes, his slightly swollen lips from the intense kisses, the unbuttoned shirt revealing his slim hairy chest, and his large hard penis that I immediately want inside me again.

I jump off the table and climb onto his lap. With my right hand, I grasp his pulsating cock and let him glide into me. Negan holds onto my hips, and I place my hands on his shoulders to support myself. Slowly, I begin to move, and he penetrates deeper into me.

"Damn, you're finding spots in me that I didn't even know..." I smile and then bite my lower lip in concentration. I mean it literally. I have never felt anything like this before. My movements become faster, and I feel the tension running through Negan's body.

"Let's come together..." I whisper softly to him.

"Okay, baby..." he says decisively, and his hand moves purposefully between my legs. Quickly and with quite a bit of pressure, he circles my hypersensitive clit with his thumb.

I feel like I can hardly breathe from excitement. My lower abdomen almost cramps painfully.

I manage to groan "Now..." just before another intense orgasm floods my body. But not only me, I also feel how Negan is coming intensely. Exhausted, I collapse on his lap. His arms embrace me and press me firmly against his bare chest. For a moment, all you can hear is our exhausted breathing, then he whispers softly while still deeply inside me.

"That was insane. When can we do this again?"

I grin at him contentedly. "I have the whole weekend free from the kids... so I'd be happy to do it again tomorrow..."

Then I kiss a bead of sweat off his forehead.

He pouts, "Why wait until tomorrow? ...How about tonight and then the whole night... Believe me, I want to explore a few other spots in you..."

[unmotivated-writer]

Platonic yandere Vile Faculty:

Countess Cleo:

For The Countess to take notice of you and to start to care for you, you would probably have to be a somewhat classy and reserved student. She likes the students who don’t interrupt or ask too many questions during her lectures, after all it is very rude to interrupt someone who’s talking. If you do that and try your best in her classes you will certainly gain her favor (and favoritism).

Her signs of affection may start of small, things like a small but genuine smile when you answer correctly, asking you to stay after class and to your surprise offering you some tea and biscuits while the two of you talk, helping you discreetly when you're having trouble figuring out the answer.

If someone were to call her out on this behavior she would scoff at them and deny it until the very end. ‘Me playing favorites? Oh don’t be ridiculous!’ She would say angrily as she storms off to have some tea/wine with you while she rants about the “foolish” claims that are being said about her.

As things go by you will start to receive hand sewn clothes of the most expensive material known to man sewn and put together by the countess herself as well as a bunch of stolen jewelry regardless of your gender.

She also invites you to all her expensive dinner parties with ‘the rich and famous’ where you’ll be seated right next to her. If you ever were to decline an invitation no matter how politely she would act like you’d just told her that you hate her and that she can fuck of and die.

Coach Brunt:

Good fucking luck with her no matter what she says anyone can see that she is definitely NOT over Black Sheep. She is so overprotective and paranoid that you might leave like Black Sheep did. Expect a lot of smothering and attention from her, she will helicopter parent you to death and infantilize you. Although not intentionally she fully believes that what she is doing is normal and necessary. Trying to protest or argue with her over this will be waived off as nothing but ‘a fuzzy child tantrum’. There’s no way to argue with this woman and most people don’t try for that long since her patience is far from long. Since she is basically a PE teacher she has a habit of keeping an eye on your diet and somehow always thinks that you’re eating too little or that you're malnourished, she will force feed you if she sees fit.

Unlike Countess Cleo she plays favorites a lot and doesn’t try to hide it at all. Why would she? After all you’re the perfect little child and student (doesn’t matter how old you are she still sees you as a kid). Just don’t try to leave Vile and go along with what she wants and you’ll be fine but if you don’t then well…Don’t act surprised when you wake up in a room with cameras all around and your ankle chained to a bed with Brunt crying next to you asking what she did that would make you want to leave. Well no matter cause you’ll never get that chance ever again. Sucks to be you I guess.

Professor Maelstrom:

Maelstrom would be a very tricky and difficult platonic yandere to have on your tail. Nobody, not even himself, could explain why he started taking an interest in you either way he is aware of his obsession and accepts it wholeheartedly. He is a very secretive and manipulative man who can and will twist and warp your perception of the world or yourself. He somehow seems to know all of your inner workings and feelings. You could tell him that you like apples and he would go into detail on how that is connected to your childhood trauma/other issues, and the worst part is that he gets almost if not everything right about you. That of course creeps you the fuck out, which he notices and becomes absolutely delighted by.

This man is the inventor of gaslighting and manipulation if you ever even think about wanting to leave Vile he will know and gaslight the fuck out of you, imagine Mother Gothel from tangled but ten times worse. My thoughts and prayers are with you, you're going to need them when dealing with him as a platonic yandere .

Dr Bellum:

Saira would love a chaotic but smart student, all it takes is a few conversations and she’s already decided ‘Yep this is now my child I will teach them all about explosives and biological war crimes’. You and her would be an absolute force to be reckoned with and when you're not planning the most diabolical evil shit ever she’s showing you a bunch of funny videos of cats. She’s like a mom coming up to you and showing you facebook memes of minions but it’s cats instead.

She isn’t too obvious in her favoritism but she doesn’t try to hide it at all. If someone were to ask her if she had any favorite students she would say yes and then tell them all about how brilliant you are without any shame or hesitation. In her eyes there’s nothing wrong with playing favorites.

She no doubt has at least one drone following you around at all times just to keep an eye on you or she’s watching you from the security cameras all over campus. If you were to ask her about it she would lie and say that she’s working on a behavioral study but would refuse to give you any more details.

Please comment if you would like for me to write about having them all as platonic yanderes at the same time or if you would like for me to write about some other characters!

[mari-writes]

🦉🐈‍⬛

“Are you sure about this? You know I’ll support you not matter what. But dude, you’re definitely good enough to go pro!”

Kuroo glances at Bokuto, seated next to him at the bar. His friend is looking down into his drink, brow furrowed, shoulders drooping slightly. He sighs. “Yes, I’m sure. I have other things I want to do.”

Bokuto nods silently, still looking a bit dejected. And Kuroo understands. He really does. Their final university tournament is fast approaching. After that series of games, they’ll be focused on exams, job interviews, and preparing to move out.

The two of them had shared a university, including a bunch of classes, a volleyball team, and even a living space for the past few years. Their lives had intertwined so much so that Bokuto became more than just a “second best friend.”

He’s more like a brother now.

But their futures are finally heading in opposite directions, and Kuroo can admit—it’s a bit daunting. Emotions are running high. “It’s not like I won’t be involved in volleyball,” he adds. “I couldn’t stay away even if I tried. But I think I want to work from behind the scenes from now on.”

Bokuto’s mouth twitches into a smile. “You DO have a lot of options, don’t you?” Kuroo had double majored in Biology and Marketing & Communications, all while maintaining his spot on the team. He had been unanimously voted captain in his final year, of course choosing Bokuto as his vice. College had been crazy, but a good kind of crazy, for the most part.

“I want to keep ‘lowering the net,’” Kuroo says. “I want to get as many people interested in volleyball as I can.”

Bokuto’s grin turns toothy. He leans in to clank their glasses together. “Now THAT’S what I’m talking about!" They both take a long swig. The liquor burns Kuroo’s throat briefly before a warm, fuzzy feeling settles into his chest.

“You know, I’m really glad we were here together.” Bokuto’s voice is lowered, just loud enough to be heard over the din. Kuroo shifts on his stool, but stays silent, allowing his friend to continue. “It was… hard to accept that Keiji wouldn’t be continuing volleyball after high school. And even harder when he chose a different college.”

Kuroo nods in understanding. While it hadn’t been a surprise that Kenma announced he’d be choosing another path, it was still difficult to accept.

“I don’t think I could’ve done it without you here, Kuroo!”

Frowning, Kuroo reaches to punch his friend lightly in the arm. “Oi!” He tuts. “Stop that. Or else I’m gonna tell on you to your boyfriend. I know for a fact that Akaashi hates when you cut yourself down!” Bokuto just shrugs. “C’mon, Bo. You would’ve been fine. Great, even. I mean, aside from maybe Chibi-chan, you’re the best at making friends. You make your biggest rivals want to cheer for you!”

“Hey, Hinata’s not so ‘Chibi’ anymore!” Bokuto chuckles. “Have you seen his latest photos from Brazil? My disciple is turning into an absolute beast!”

They both laugh, and Kuroo relaxes. He’d been pretty worried about telling Bokuto about his plans. But now that it’s done, he finally feels at peace. “You’re going to go far with volleyball,” he declares, raising his glass once again. “I just know it. But someday you might want to put that Education degree to use, too. Hit me up when that happens, okay?”

Bokuto’s smile is blinding. “Yeah!” He nods enthusiastically. “We could coach at a school, or put a volleyball camp together or something!”

Kuroo winks. “Now THAT sounds like a solid plan.”

//

I’ve been thinking about Kuroo and Bo’s friendship a lot lately, especially since I saw that leaked sketch of them leading a kids' volleyball camp together. It’s just so special to me. 🥺❤️ Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, please comment and share!

[ravenbloodshot]

Yuzuru Hanyu (Figure Skater)- Mini Personality + Divorce Reading

Personality

I heard the word "fraud." I was already getting vibes that he may be a compulsive liar or the type to manipulate the truth. He may also make himself seem a certain away. The thing is, I'm not picking up a reason for why he lies. So it could be that he finds it easier to lie/passive others than he does being direct and potentially coming off as aggressive to ppl.

I don't know if he has some type of coach/mentor (its likely he does), this prominent person has been someone who's advised and guided Yuzuru through the most difficult aspects of his athletic career. Yuzuru may hold a lot of respect for this person as well. He listens to this person and accepts their guidance. He's someone that receives information really well (idk how to explain this but, I'm a boxing fan and I've been particularly watching Claressa Shields boxing matches, I remember her coach and even her fans saying what made her such a great boxer was her ability to take critique well and actually listen, then follow what was said to her. To give more context to my point, during one of her matches, her coach would yell out things to her like, "Keep your head up, Claressa, make sure to step back some." And she would literally follow the coach's exact words even adding a bit of her own jazz to it.) This is the energy Yuzuru gives me, an athlete that listens well to his coaching. May have something to do with the Japanese social/age hierarchy culture, in which people have to show a deeper respect to those older/more experienced.

He may have a fear of losing his wealth, understandably so, since I believe he has retired and now will have to live off of the money he's made over his athletic career. But this fear of his may cause him to not make smart financial choices. Like, instead of investing his money and trying to go through other avenues of gaining and ultimately maintaining his wealth, he may just start being more frugal. (Idk if he supports his family but I'm getting a vibe of him taking away gifts, for an example if he bought his mom a lavish car, he may have taken it back and gotten a cheaper one).

I feel like he has a weird mentality when it comes to fixing issues. It's like he has a traditional mindset of "This way of handling this issue didn't work, so I'm gonna just go back to doing it the way I used to." I don't think he's very smart, if I'm being honest. He's probably better at doing what he's told than to actually think for himself

Divorce

Well, this is simple. Whomever he married was too insecure and controlling. The type to put a tracker on his phone and still demand that he tells her his location.

Like I alluded above, Yuzuru is more passive and honestly not that smart. So he could have put up with a lot of her demands and shenanigans, may have even thought the behavior was cute during the dating stage until it wasn't.

Yuzuru's fans could have had a part to play in why it ended. Harrassing the couple and just made life hard for both of them, especially her. Not saying Yuzuru can control his fans, but I'm getting a vibe that he didn't exactly try to control them either. He kind of just let shit happen. Even when they were shit talking her online or sending hate her way, he never stepped in.

But overall, he married someone who wanted to be more of a dictator than a partner, someone who was not mentally stable.

La La La by Naughty Boy is a song that fits this reading's energy

[mollyolikeme]

Thoughts as I read TSC: A Stream of Conciousness Part Two!

Filthy Spoils!

classic kevin.

LOL keep saying i see how much you bench as if thats an indicator of someones ability to kickass

HA! i always forget about the sixteen hour days shit, i cannot, i find it too fucking funny it's fucking impossible. mfs would be DECEASED. like DEAD.

they are so hardcore this fantastical has me CACKLING every time

like a ken doll!

BLONDE.

ill advised thoughts....

uh oh jean, your crazy is showing.

goddamn. to hate but need. complicated and absolutely screwed up relationship dynamics are fascinating.

okay, i like to rag on our beloved kevin (because its fun and easy) but like props where props are due. i know we didn't get to see his transition from raven to fox but i honestly think the boy would have handled it a lot better than jean jean morose over here. boy isssssss messed up.

foreshadowwwwww SWIM SHORTS!

dangerously low? dangerous for who jean?

do not be slut shaming, lucas. thats fucking gross of you and i'm not even gonna mention the nonconsensual factor...........

oh. my. word. its not funny but i feel the morbid sense to laugh at the ravens dropping like flies.

bad therapist. you cant force it. where is Dobson?

OMG LOL i summoned her!

dont you worry about kevin babe, the foxes got him

thats two hands on chin! thats two!

he's got a big dick! lololololololol boys not tryna be gayyyy

oh the heat! the HEAT! yes jeremyyyyyyyy

fear of water.

what happens when he losses his grip......i want to see you lose control......... hi familiar phrasing and trauma, i ADORE you.

in my head, jean has a very french tsk of his tongue reaction to almost everything people do around him.

yesssss the foxes ARE synchronized.

you tell him jeremy! none of his raven intentionally injuring people bullshit

omg were gonna get a little kevin trip to cali! reunion of the abused buds! (again gotta take the morbid hilarity into account for my health)

LOL wheel throwing! Patrick Swayze where are you?!

not the self flagellating notebooks he kept.....

oooooo intense. it all comes to the surface. the truth will always come out.

this is clever, gives just enough info about the ravens without explaining the crime side of things. go nora.

okay damn lucas.... issues buddy. dont be comin after jean jean. you'll regret it.

chin grab number 3! this time by jeremy 🤩

omg cuuuuuuuute little motorcycle ride and seashell gifty

again. uh oh jean. your crazy is showing to the coaches now. this truth is really spilling out the cracks

pause.......... guys my sanity........ my INsanity upon reading this........... im losin it! ......... okay resume.

morbid laughing morbid laughing morbid laughing fuck fuck fuck

yo. to somehow make me feel like neilio's story is a positive tale................

wow lucas. doubling down are we. his character does have a very difficult truth to come to terms with. its fuckin rough and a hella interesting arc.

you should call dobsonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn

OH SHIT! neil's here! Thats not good news for you jean!

fy faen neil. you're kind of a gangster babe!

oh. dead sister. so sad. (typing it out like that looks sarcastic. It's not.)

yaaaaasssss thats the smart mouth we know and love! telling an agent he parked illegally!!! ahhhhh lolololololoolol

OMG Neil!!!! sweetheart! you care so much! awwwwwwwww wow nora seriously, what. a. treat! he cares about his buddy jean.

jeremy...... you got it so bad hun. always with the 'what do you need?' like just promise yourself to him forever and ever.

CHIN!!!!!!!!!! FOUR TIMES NOW.

woah Jer.

i like that jean actually doesn't like exy. such a good contrast to neils pov obsession.

im curious where this whole 'its not freedom its a pretty cage' thing is gonna go. like, yea i dont think you'll ever be 'free' free jean. but honestly this is pretty damn close. professional athletes lives are very straight forward. and if youre that good, fuckin easy.

[fairsexynasty]

—DIFFICULT THINGS

jamie tartt x lasso!reader

ONE. TOWNIE

summary: lucy moves to richmond with a memory that doesn’t quite forget what her dad did to her. however, ted is as happy as a goldfish.

warnings: cursing, unlikeable female protagonist, father issues, abandonment issues, resentment

a/n: welcome to this very new series i WILL finish. my love for this show has overtaken my time and i am very excited to be writing this. this chapter is set during “two aces.”

——————

Leonard Cohen once said, “There’s a crack in everything; that’s how the light gets in.” But my world has been infused with the darkest of shadows. Everywhere I search is covered by a dark spot. It seeps into my life from my dreams, nightmares, and memories. I don’t think I was delivered by the hand of God, nor will I be expecting any blessing in the near future. It’s the hope that kills you.

I had that epiphany when I turned seven. No one had ever seen a child so jaded, so self-aware. When I learned that the father I wished for wasn’t that interested in fully being in my life, I accepted it entirely, for what it was worth. He’s popped in and out, coming in as quickly as he leaves, only sticking around for moments he deemed essential to me.

And the worse part is that he’s a good man—a good man with a daughter who felt evil.

I used to wish something terrible would happen to me. A broken collarbone. A car accident. Cancer. If something like that happened to me, I thought he’d return and stay for good.

But those things never happened. I’ve never broken any bones. I’ve never crashed my car into a tree. I’m perfectly healthy. And after all this time, Dad has moved on.

I have a half-brother. Thirteen or fourteen years my junior, it’s disgusting how I’m not too sure about the gap. I’ve never met him, nor do I want to meet him. I envy a child who cannot understand the weight of the word ‘father’ because he’ll always take it for granted.

When I crawl through my memories, I can see Dad crystal clear. He showed up to every one of my birthdays until age sixteen. That’s probably because my brother was old enough to ask and understand why Dad was leaving him. Dad came to my first dance, a father-daughter dance. It was one of the nights I honestly felt pretty. He and I danced the night away, stuffing our faces with candy and desserts and drinking our weight’s worth of soda pop. Dad taught me how to ride a bike. Although it ended with scraping my knees, he helped me up, cleaned my knees, and kissed each one. Dad drove me to my first day of high school. The morning went by quickly, but I can still remember the smile on his face as I waved goodbye to him and walked through the school doors.

I want to be thankful for what I’ve gotten from my dad. But he could have done so much more. Am I not worth the effort?

And it hurts to hate my mother as much as I do.

She could clean up her act for Dad, but once he was on his way home, she’d finally ease into consciousness. We would fight. She’d accuse me of not appreciating her. She’d belittle me and never congratulated me on my accomplishments. She’s manipulative. Controlling. Narcissistic. Evil. I know I’m no good, either. But women like that love confrontation. And she got the best of me every single time.

But I’m a grown woman now. I’m twenty. I have a life. A freedom I’ve never known. I’m trying to be honest, to prove I am everything Mom never thought I’d be. I’m trying to make Dad proud of me. Because everyone else is sure as hell proud of him, he’s Ted Lasso: a simple man with a simple plan who was pulled to spread his kindness in Richmond, England, by coaching their god-awful team. I watched the news with a frown as soon as they announced his new endeavor. If he got a new beginning, why can’t I?

And that’s why I decided to pack up my things and move to England.

I’ve been here before. My mother and I moved around due to her line of work. Whether it was Shanghai, Princeton, Kuala Lumpur, or Rome, I could never call those places home. I feel like Richmond is going to be different. I’m not hopeful. Just curious.

——

The park seems comforting. There appears to be a rhythm that compliments the people. Kids playing soccer, and shops opening for the day.

I sit and watch the world awaken. People pass me by as I sit on the bench, not one of them stopping their routine for me, except one.

lHis greetings were met with responses of “Wanker,” a word I found oddly endearing. He continued down the park trail, saying ‘good morning’ to me mindlessly.

I replied with a deadpan “Wanker,” which surprised him, given my American accent. He turned back, his eyes lighting up in recognition.

“Oh, my lordy-lord,” he muttered, smiling as he said my name, “Lucy.” He looks at me as if I’m a fucking unicorn. His eyes soften, and the smile that always reaches his eyes is suddenly on his face. “ Lucy !” he breathes out as if he’s too scared to say it louder like I’ll run away and leave.

“Hi, Dad.” He pulls me from my seat on the bench and envelops me into the biggest bear hug I’ve ever gotten from him. And those hugs are grizzly and unrelenting.

He lifts me off my feet and holds my head to his shoulder. “Oh, how I love you, Lucy girl. I can’t believe it!”

I groan, feeling slightly embarrassed. "Dad, please put me down. I'm not as tiny as Henry is," I say with a laugh. He puts me down with a smile, but there’s a flash of a solemn look on his face. I guess my mention of Henry has filled him with some semblance of guilt. I can’t tell if that satisfies me or not. "I think you're wondering why I'm here," I say, the false smile still on my face. "And the only reason is because I wanted to see you, Dad. I missed you," I add, trying to perfect the role of the doting daughter, even though it doesn't come naturally.

“Oh, I missed you too, Pumpkin. I’m glad you’re here.” He spots my luggage standing against the bench. “Looks like you’re gonna be visiting for a while, huh?”

I nod slowly, my gaze briefly shifting away. "Yeah, I am. Needed a change of scenery for a while," I admit, hoping he won't probe further into my true reasons for being here.

Dad nods, but I spot him scanning my face for any information I won’t outwardly tell him. Perhaps it’s a parently instinct, or maybe it’s just a Ted Lasso thing. The smile on my face doesn’t falter.

“So, how’s your mom?”

The question hangs in the air, and I can sense the curiosity in his eyes. I clench my jaw and roll my eyes in annoyance. "I really don't want to talk about her right now," I say firmly, hoping to steer the conversation away from a topic I'd rather avoid.

Dad gives me one of those fatherly smiles, understanding my need for privacy but also indicating he'll inquire about it later. "Alright then. How about we get you settled into my place? Don't care if you've found one already. I got you here with me, and you're not going anywhere, missy. I hope that's alright with you," he adds, his face hopeful as he waits for my response.

I acquiesce to his requests. It’s the least I can do. “Sure, Dad. I’d love to.”

He cheers with a fist pump, then wrangles me into yet another bear hug before I tell him he’s crushing my ribs, and he dramatically lets me go with a pout on his face.

I follow him down the streets to his apartment door. We enter, and it’s pretty lovely, yet it feels so hollow. There’s an opened jar of peanut butter on the island. I can tell he radiates joy as we unpack my things into an extra bedroom. I wonder how lonely he’s been without his son and wife.

Yeah. This is the least I can do.

——

After unpacking and settling in, Dad practically begs me to come to Nelson Road with him, and since I’m already feeling a bit guilty, I come along with him.

Upon entering, some guy with a full beard and eyebrows that make him look perpetually constipated looks at me. Well, it’s more of a glare. He walks up to Dad and me, not once taking his eyes off me. I narrow my eyes in response, shooting him a cold glare of my own. “Who the fuck is this? Don’t tell me Rebecca hired another fucking American.” His voice is deep and rumbling and full of snark.

"Seriously, do all British guys walk around with a stick up their ass?" I quip, but my remark falls on deaf ears. I catch the man clenching his jaw at my question. Ah, it seems he doesn't take kindly to being disrespected. One jab at his masculinity, and he's ready to go to war without a second thought.

"Roy Kent, meet my daughter, Lucille," Dad introduces, but I quickly interject, "Lucy to you." I emphasize my preference, not one to stand on formality. "Who the fuck are you, Roy Kent?" I ask, gauging his reaction as he looks between me and my dad, clearly trying to figure something out. I decide to clear the air, "Yeah, my mom isn't Michelle," I clarify, hoping to put any confusion to rest.

Roy's response is a simple "Oh," followed by a grunt as he exits the scene. My dad remains unfazed and carries on, guiding me towards the locker room with his arm casually draped around my shoulder.

"Coach Beard! We've got a new cast member!" Dad announces to the room as we walk out together, seemingly excited to introduce me to his colleagues.

A man with a book and a golf hat turns his chair around and observes us. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the fussbudget,” he says. “Hello, Lucy. I’m Coach Beard. I’ve heard all about you.”

I can't help but snort at the situation. "That's impossible," I retort with a snarky tone. Coach Beard finds my reaction amusing, letting out a chuckle, while my dad gives a slight frown, but I know a few jabs won't easily rattle him.

Suddenly, a strong voice breaks the chatter, announcing, "Ayo, the gaffer's got another kid!" The rest of the men turn their attention to me, their eyes filled with wonder and intrigue. They excitedly chat, asking if they saw what they think they did.

Exiting the office, we step into the open room where my dad proudly introduces me to the team. "Fellas, I'd like to introduce you to my daughter. This is Lucy, everyone."

The players greet me with waves and hellos, except for one guy sitting on the bench, engrossed in his phone, occasionally laughing. I point him out, asking, "Who's that?"

"Jamie Tartt. Hey, Beard, what's the deal with Jamie?" my dad inquires, and seemingly out of nowhere, Jamie appears beside us without making a sound.

Beard responds, "Says he can't practice today. Says he's hurt."

I observe my dad's face dropping with disappointment as he turns to walk out the door and over to Jamie, concern etched across his features.

The whole situation was intense, and I couldn't recall ever seeing my father this angry before. It seemed like there had never been an opportunity for him to get this worked up until now. Watching him unleash his frustration on Jamie reminded me of my mom, who had her share of heated moments. While my dad appeared to be justified in his outburst, Jamie's disrespectful behavior only reinforced my 'British men suck shit' theory.

Feeling overwhelmed, a tingling sensation crept into my head, and my heart raced with the familiar signs of an impending panic attack. I needed to escape, so I swiftly turned on my heel and walked out of the office, trying to distract myself by fiddling with the rings on my fingers.

Wandering aimlessly down the halls, I searched for a private space to catch my breath and calm down. Passing a laughing man, a short guy carrying a laundry bag, and a stunning blonde woman who seemed out of place here, I stopped in my tracks when I heard my dad's name mentioned in a hushed conversation.

"Rebecca, I don't think Coach Lasso will be too thrilled about you trading Jamie away.”

“Higgins, listen to me. I don't care if Lasso is trying to get through to Jamie or if he begs him to come back. Jamie is not returning, and that's precisely what I need," she asserts before abruptly changing the subject, "Now, let me go hunt down my biscuits. They're late."

Realization hits me like a ton of bricks. Dad is being sabotaged. All this time, I believed he was here to make a positive impact on the team, but it turns out they see him as nothing more than a joke. Stepping away from the door, I attempt to make a quick exit, only to collide with a statuesque woman who towers over me.

She glances down at me, exuding power through her stature and fashion, but I'm not intimidated. "Why, hello there, whoever you are. Are you lost?" she inquires.

Ah, this must be Rebecca. The woman who plans to screw my father over. I can't help but roll my eyes at her. "No. Just looking for the bathroom," I retort.

Rebecca gestures towards the sign, displaying her passive-aggressiveness. "Well, it's just around the corner. Right where the 'bathroom' sign is," she points out.

"Cool," I respond nonchalantly, not letting her faze me. "Oh, and by the way, my name's Lucy. Thanks for hiring my dad to coach!"

I catch a flicker of terror in Rebecca's eyes before I walk away, grinning to myself. Drama seems to follow me wherever I go, even in Richmond. Old habits die hard, I suppose.

——

After my quick trip to the loo, I wander over to the dog track, where Dad and Beard stand, closely observing the team's training session. I can't help but chuckle at Jamie's predicament as he wears a penny and sets up cones.

Dad notices my arrival and playfully calls out, "Oh, there you are, Waldo! What were you doing?"

His attempts at humor fail to catch me off guard. While I understand his references, I refuse to engage in the corniness. "Nothing, just using the bathroom," I reply with a mischievous grin, not willing to spill the beans about Rebecca's scheming ways. "Oh, and I met Rebecca. She seems nice," I lie sarcastically, well aware of her conniving nature.

Before Dad can respond, a rather handsome player approaches us gracefully. "Hello there. Sorry, Coach Lasso, but I couldn't continue practice without introducing myself to our guest," he says with a charming smile. "My name is Sam Obisanya. It's a pleasure to meet you, Lucy. The other players and I were wondering if you'd care to join us on the field for a few minutes. We'd like to have some fun at Jamie's expense. Is that alright?"

I return Sam's smile and reply, "Uh, sure. But I haven't played in years, dude. Not sure I'll be any good among you professionals.”

Sam brushes off my concerns, reassuring me, "Oh, that's alright, Lucy. I'm sure Thierry will let you score a couple of goals. Come on!" With that, he guides me towards the field, announcing to the team, "She said yes, you guys!" Their enthusiastic cheers fill the air.

As we assemble for a quick game, a guy with a buzzed fade named Isaac addresses me, confirming my name, "Alright, Lucy, is it?" I nod, and he explains the teams, "We're gonna split into five and five, and you're gonna play with the lads who ain't got a kit on."

"Sounds good," I respond with enthusiasm. I turn to the guys without kits, and each extends a hand for a handshake. I go down the line, shaking hands with each one. There's a short man with curly hair, Bumbercatch, followed by a tall fellow with a broad smile, Jan Maas. Then, a highly energetic man named Dani Rojas greets me, not wasting any time to exclaim, "Football is life!" right in front of me. The last guy, a mousey brunette named Colin, completes the line-up.

Quickly getting into formation with my newfound teammates, they place me front and center for the play. I'm facing off with Sam, who gives me a friendly smile. At the sound of the whistle, we both dash for the ball, but I swiftly take control and dribble it down the field. Roy Kent charges towards me, determined to tackle the ball away, but I outmaneuver him with a quick juke, causing him to land on his ass. The guys react with astonishment, and suddenly, the game shifts from Sam's gentle start to full intensity.

Isaac rushes towards me, sporting a determined expression, but I pass the ball to Dani Rojas, who's open and ready. Dani drives it down the field, but as soon as he spots an opportunity, he passes it back to me. With precision, I shoot the ball into the goal, leaving the goalkeeper stunned as it whizzes past him.

The entire team stands in complete silence, including my dad and Coach Beard, who are both staring at me with their mouths agape. The momentary hush is broken by Jamie Tartt, who teasingly remarks, "Ay, wanker's kid just got you real good, lads." He winks at me, provoking a gag from me followed by a flip-off.

Isaac can't contain his excitement, exclaiming, "Shit, bruv! You just broke Roy Kent's ankles!"

Roy growls behind me, clearly not pleased with being outplayed. "You got fucking lucky, kid," he grumbles.

I don't back down, confidently replying, "Luck's got nothing to do with it. Either you're cursed or you just ate shit, Kent."

I have to admit, Richmond has exceeded my expectations thus far, but I won't let it get the best of me just yet.

[onboardsorasora]

had an aggravating afternoon and decided to make Daniel and Lewis fuck about it. Or rather, sexual tension about it

Daniel glared at his screen, hoping the scorching of the fires of a thousand suns would be felt by the person on the other side of the email exchange. 

He loved his job, truly. It was fulfilling and rewarding and all the other things people said when they liked their job. And it paid him a bitchload of money.

He loved his job, but he hated this client. Lewis Hamilton was the bane of his existence. He hated dealing with him, he hated needing to request things from him. He hated seeing his email address at the top of his inbox. He hated him and his love of ‘per my last email’. If your email was clear, then there would be no follow up for clarification, now would there be? He was such a prick.

With a braying groan, Daniel shot up from his desk to pace the hallway. Lando looked out from his cubicle knowingly.

“Lewis again?”

“Mate, I hate that fucker so much.” Daniel grumbled. His detestation for Lewis was widely known in the office. Every month there was a betting pool about how quickly Lewis would annoy Daniel. Max won every time, he knew that Daniel waited until the last possible moment to email Lewis, claiming he was waiting for Lewis to email first. He rarely did. And Daniel would wait until the third business day at 10am. Lewis wouldn’t respond until the day after at earliest. It was like clockwork at this point.

“Hey Seb.” Daniel muttered on his second pass.

“Just who I wanted to see, we have a lunch meeting tomorrow, so please wear clothes that aren’t sweats.” Seb turned to leave.

“Who are we meeting?”

“MERC”

Daniel stood glaring at his back as he got into the lift. “I quit!” he yelled and Seb laughed.

“See you tomorrow Danny!”

“Fuckin hell.” Daniel muttered stomping back down the hall and into his office, there at the top of his email was a meeting invite from Lewis Hamilton. Daniel hoped he didn’t embarrass Seb by lunging over the table and punching the man in the face.

— - —

Daniel glared at his plate as he speared his salad with his fork. Lewis Hamilton was honestly just as frustrating in person as he was online. And unfortunately, he was fucking hot. 

Seb and Toto were knee deep in conversation and Lewis was texting. Daniel wondered if he got up and left if anyone would notice. 

He stifled a groan when a sauce covered brussel sprout fell on his shirt. Lovely. With a muttered ‘excuse me’ that went unanswered, he stood and wandered to the toilets. 

He grabbed up a wad of hand towels and wet a spot before dabbing it at the greasy stain. He didn’t notice when the door opened or closed behind him.

“So this is the face of my favourite client.” A velvety voice sounded to his left and Daniel narrowed his eyes at Lewis leaning on the stray column. He looked hot in the low warm light, it made his skin glow. 

“Favourite? You flatter me.” Daniel knew marketing was just a circle jerk of ass kissing and he wasn’t immune. As much as he hated the man, he made them a lot of money. And they in turn made him a lot of money.

“I know I can be a bit…difficult. But I appreciate you.” 

Daniel snorted before he could even think to bite it back, Lewis lifted an eyebrow at him.

“You disagree?” Lewis challenged. “I can take coaching, tell me.” 

“Mate, I have nothing to say. No notes.” Daniel raised his hands in a passive gesture before chucking his paper towels in the bin. 

“C’mon Mr Seeking Clarification.” Lewis goaded with a smirk and Daniel felt his eye twitch. He took a deep breath and put a smile on his face, he wasn’t doing this. 

“I’m not doing this.” He moved past Lewis to the door, he would not be goaded into whatever the fuck this was. He liked his job and insulting one of his best clients wouldn’t be a good look.

Lewis however, didn’t get the memo Daniel was mentally reading because he grabbed him by the arm and pressed him against the other side of the column. Daniel looked at him with wide eyes.

“Mate, what the fuck?”

“A little birdie told you me you ‘fucking hate my guts’.” Lewis was smirking and Daniel felt his the bottom of his stomach give way. “And I figured, we could hash it out.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Lando really has no filter when he drinks, did you know that?”

Daniel knew his eyes were dinner plate wide, because Lewis’ smile was stretched across his face. His dimples were cute, Daniel thought idly.

“And how do you know Lando?” Daniel croaked.

“He’s friends with Toto’s son George. But we’re getting distracted.” Lewis flicked at one of the buttons on Daniel’s navy shirt. Daniel grabbed his tattooed wrist. 

“Look, I don’t care what Lando’s told you or George. I can be professional.” Because that’s how Daniel saw this. He could be professional, and like walk into traffic or off of a building. But like, professionally.

“Or,” Lewis said, “maybe we could fuck about it.” He said it like he was negotiating a new rate or budget and Daniel glared at him.

“Listen mate–” 

Lewis cut him off with a kiss, pressing their lips together and licking into Daniel’s mouth. It was sloppy and dirty and Daniel clenched Lewis’ wrist that he still held.

Lewis pulled back first, smirking spit wet lips at the dazed look in Daniel’s eyes.

“You’re very annoying, you know that?” Daniel muttered, licking his swollen lips.

“Go on.” Lewis pressed his hips against Daniel’s breathing out a groan.

“And you use a lot of words to say nothing. If you’re sending over actionable shit, just be direct about it.” Daniel groaned when Lewis pinched his nipple. 

“Be direct huh?” 

“Mhm.”

“Fine then, I want you to fuck me. Make me feel it.” Challenging chocolate met horny honey and Lewis licked Daniel’s lips.

“Yeah? Alright. Your place or mine?”

[calistrae]

pillow talk. richarlison

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

pairing: richarlison x gn!reader

warnings: very slightly suggestive if you blink (just in case: minors dni!)

notes: i went to check my inbox and there were like five requests for richarlison and i kind of feel bad for not posting anything for him earlier lmao but here you are loves <3 hope it's worth the VERY long wait! and tysm for 300 followers, i really appreciate it!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

as late hours of the night ticked away, you found yourself in bed, snuggled up under multiple blankets as the air in london was getting colder with each passing day. your boyfriend had left for training over three hours ago and you couldn't wait for him to return.

every minute of your day up until now had been rough - being on your feet all day and finally you were in the comfort of your soft, cloud-like bed. the only thing that would make this moment better would be his arms around you, keeping you close and drawing you into him. he couldn't be away for much longer, right? it had already been so long but time only seemed to pass slower. maybe it was your despair causing you to feel this way.

you had barely seen each other before he was headed out to training, the most you got was a gentle peck on the lips that promised to be back as soon as possible. it felt like an eternity away from the current moment but as if angels had answered your prayers, you heard the slam of your front door. not an aggressive one, just a slam. you heard him shuffle his jacket and boots off and it didn't take long until he was upstairs.

neither of you wanted to do anything but be in one another's arms, you could see that from the way he plopped down onto the matress, not even bothering to remove any of his clothes. "hi" you simply muttered as he wrapped his firm frame around your body, his head resting in the crook of your neck. "meu amor, you can't even imagine how hectic today has been."

"i've been running around all day as well, my feet are killing me." you admitted and he nodded lightly, which caused his hair to rub up against your skin and you couldn't help but chuckle a little. at this, his smile grew and he took a quick glance at your face "for someone that had a rough day, you still look awfully beautiful." he hummed and adjusted himself so he leaned above you, his hands supporting himself but he couldn't hold himself up for much longer as his arms gave out in less than half a minute.

"rough session?" you questioned with a small smile and kissed his cheek to which he nodded and sighed "coach was trying to kill us, i swear." you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, drawing him closer as if there was any space left between the two of you. just by touching him, you could feel the tension in his muscles and hadn't you been so tired, you would've given him a massage. instead, you opted for giving him gentle kisses on his cheeks and temples.

"i feel like my boss hates me. they're always giving me a hundred different tasks and i have to get them done by the end of the day even if they're not things that don't technically have to be rushed." you ranted and groaned quietly, looking over at him every few seconds to make sure he was still listening. and he was, his eyes on you as he slowly nodded along. sometimes this was all you needed, you didn't need him to say anything but you had reassurance that he was listening. your relationship had always been turbulent, so moments like this were so important.

just the two of you in each other's embrace, talking about your days while snuggling up underneath the cushions. nothing in the whole world could disturb how at peace and relaxed you felt.

"missed you so much too. really didn't help with the stress." you added as you were finally finished with rambling on about how difficult your day had been. "oh, amor. i missed you too. so much." he whispered and you felt him place his palm on your cheek, carefully pulling you in before he placed a kiss on your lips.

you weren't sure how long you had been laying there by now. you were now facing each other as your boyfriend's hand gingerly dragged across your features, a tired smile on his lips. "you are so beautiful." you couldn't help but blush, turning your face into the pillow beneath your head "you keep repeating that and it's making me blush!" you accused, which made him laugh.

"well, yes, meu amor. that's my job. but i can do way more than just make you blush." he pointed out with a mischievous smile and god, that grin looked so stupid. his comment made you roll your eyes and lightly, you swung your hand at his arm, giving it a gentle swat.

"if you keep doing that, i'll show you what i can do!" he 'threatened' as he pinned himself above you once again, caging you between his arms as he stared at you with a smirk dancing on his lips.

"mhm, and if you keep teasing, i'll show you my own skills and we all know you can't resist" you countered and matched his expression. in response, you heard a whine before all of his weight laid on top of you "don't tease. i'm way too tired for this." he groaned.

"you started it! and get off me, you're like a bag of rocks" you argued but went quiet when you heard a quiet snore.

oh boy.

[prydainroyals]

Dear Alice: Part 3

(Continued from here.)

---

"There's also Commander Murray, who likes it when we call him 'James' while not on duty. I'm almost certain the man is as tall as a tree. He's a brilliant fitness coach. Bit of a hardass, but he still manages to make it fun. He just won't let you be miserable unless you really need to take a break."

"And he's basically the base's Mum? He fusses over us and I'd wager he volunteers to be a sort of Morale Officer when he's stationed here. He loves organising group activities, which drives me bonkers sometimes, but at the end of the day, I'm really grateful. We have a spare storage room in the bunker part of the base he turned into a makeshift cinema, with a big sheet, a projector, fairy lights and everything."

"He's given me advice on things too. Not just about the Navy, but about life in general. I worry about being out of touch with actual, real people... but he's about as real as they come. Kind as he is, the Commander won't sugarcoat things. He'll tell you off if you need telling off, and he actually listens to you. As in, YOU, not... your position or titles or whatever, though he takes stock of those too. I dunno how he does it. I wonder who he talks to when he needs someone to listen? Maybe he gets something out of talking to all of us. It's not my business, I know, but I can't help but marvel at what sort of person has the strength to keep on giving like that. He and Harry are a lot alike in that regard."

"I imagine they're the sort of people who lean on each other. I'd hate to think they do so much for everyone while they go it alone."

"...and aaaaall across the field, speckled like diamonds, Harry... Oh, you would never believe it, lad..."

"What? What was it? You have me in suspense!"

"Toilets. Toilets everywhere."

Harry snorted and laughed in that good-mannered but knowing way of his. That way that said he knew someone was full of it, but he wasn't actually offended.

"Oh come off it!" he smiled. "There's no possible way you could have unbolted fifty toilets, transported them to the pitch, and strewn them all over without being caught," he pointed out.

"Certainly not without flooding the school in the process," Harry added.

"Of course not! We were keen enough to pay off the custodial staff with the money we'd pooled together. You have to remember: Mother Superior Florence was a terrible woman. It was a group effort. The younger Sisters stood by us, even."

Harry snorted again at such a fantastical story, and James sat back, his expression glowing with pride at a well-spun yarn.

"Alright, fine, enough with my silly stories," James relented, eyes still twinkling. "Tell me how you're getting on with Henry. How's he been?"

Harry's look of amused incredulity softened, his smile grew until it crinkled at the corners of his deep, dark eyes. He adored and missed his fiance, but wasn't always sure when it was the right time to talk about him.

"O-oh! He's well, thank you for asking," Harry bashfully answered. "We're well, actually. It can be difficult, having a relationship long-distance like this, but... we're managing, I think," he explained.

"I won't be up here forever, and much as I love assisting with the research and medical needs of this outpost... I do want to go home."

James gave a serious nod in response. "I know how hard it can be, trying to maintain a relationship across a tundra and at least one ocean. If you ever need to talk about anything, Harry, you can come to me about it. Alright?"

Harry's eyes looked so tired, but so grateful.

"Of course. And... and you can talk to me, James. I know you must miss Ethan terribly."

James blinked in surprise at the mention of his late husband, having honestly forgotten he'd confided in Harry about the anniversary of Ethan's death over a year ago. His posture slumped a little in resigned defeat, but his own smile softened, his bravado melting away to express gratitude of his own.

"... yeah. Yeah, every day. I'll be keeping that in mind. Thank you, Harry."

---

—

Interlude continued.

Happy Pride Month. <3

Fun fact: Commander Murray is a distant cousin of Arthur's, through Arthur's mother's family.

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[stephofromcabin12]

What are your thoughts on a Dionysus kid who’s opposite or slightly opposite of a stereotypical Dionysus kid? Don’t get me wrong, they’re cool, and I like it, but imagine the dynamic it would be.

One who hates alcohol, parties, and loud noises who prefers literature, plays, and being alone.

My OC… wouldn’t hate alcohol(except she’s underage anyway) and parties, but definitely loves literature and plays and likes to be alone sometimes. But when she gets excited over something, she’s all in. All energy, and it’s hard to keep up with her. But she also has a temper, which usually includes shouting and pure rage that scares the crap out of people. She’ll act calm for a second, then go off.

But I do like the opposite traits thing, but I’m not sure how to put more of that into my character. Ideas? Please? if you don’t want to it’s okay:D

I have a whole thing with demigods who don’t fit their cabin’s stereotypes, bc statistically it’s bound to happen that a cabin 7 camper rocks up and is completely tone deaf, or a great musician but has zero aim (literally someone make a blind apollo kid who’s like freaking Beethoven but for obvious reasons cant be an archer)

Similarly we have (and I promise I’ll get to cabin 12)

- Hades kid who’s terrified of death. Absolutely horrified of the idea of skeletons and dark spaces and hates coldness. Best of luck with the existential crisis. Also just Hades kids who don’t dress in black, don’t avoid the sun and generally don’t subscribe to the whole “child of death” thing — cause they’re not dead. Heck. Their dad isn’t dead— he’s like the ceo of death. It would be like if their dad ran nasa and they walked around in merch 24/7.

- Ares kid with zero strength. Also refuses to gain strength, absolutely not. Coaches don’t play. Except they dont even want to coach, they just wanna do other stuff. Also Ares kid who used to have anger issues but got therapy and now don’t really respond to the adrenaline rush of it all. Even better; somehow was raised in a pacifist household and finds their brawling, jock siblings repulsive and barbaric.

- Demeter kid who loves meat and processed snacks and doesn’t like vegetables. It’s bound to happen. Also can’t keep a houseplant alive if they were paid a million drachmas. Pollen allergies.

- Aphrodite kid who wears the same clothes constantly. Allergic to make-up/has sensory issues around it. Same with perfume (since the cabin canonically smells perfumed which is my personal nightmare but nevermind that). Also aro/ace cabin 10 kids. Cabin 10 kids that take after the spartan Aphrodite Areia, who everyone assumed were Ares kids until they were claimed.

- Hephaestus kid that’s clumsy and has hand tremors. Hephaestus kid that cannot sit still long enough to make stuff. Hephaestus kid with the inability to imagine things, which makes ideating difficult.

- Hermes kids who are lawful goods. Hermes kids who are homebodies. Hermes kids who are also clumsy and can’t be stealthy. Hermes kids who only use their sleight of hand to do magic tricks. No not the cool kind. They can do the quarter thing and some card tricks. That’s it.

And finally:

- Dionysus kids who are teetotalers. No, they didn’t “overdo it” and reform. They just never liked alcohol. Dionysus kids who can’t tolerate alcohol even if they wanted to. Dionysus kids who are not social, and shy. Dionysus kids who don’t like to eat. Worst nightmares include social gatherings and festive get-togethers. The words “mixed seating arrangements” gives them cold shivers. Dionysus kids who are dog people. Dionysus kids who don’t like grape flavored stuff. Health nuts. Hates movies and doesn’t really watch tv. They’ve never set foot in a theatre. Couldn’t name a play if someone held a gun to their head. “Who’s Josh Groban?”

The rest of cabin 12 and a few cabin 7 kids, in unison: “‘Who’s Josh Groban?’ Kill yourself!”

(That’s from glee, clarifying bc glee is now an old show and I’m not sure how many younger people have seen it/remember it)

I think it’s a good idea! I think there’s a million ways a person could turn out in each cabin, and Dionysus’ cabin is no exception. Sky’s the limit when you’re writing, esp with fanfic; do whatever you feel is cool!