#it's clear that she recognizes what a big deal it is and hates that her friend has been put in this position

[pandapetals]

Mrs. Howlett

You get jealous of a student's mom trying to flirt with Logan.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - married couple, cute, fluff, banter, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor, jealously

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

divider credit: @enchanthings

You hated to admit it, but you could get a little jealous. Not that you ever had a real reason to be—Logan didn’t give other women a second glance, and he made it clear you were the only one he wanted. Most of the time, when someone flirted with him, you’d brush it off, secure in the knowledge that he was yours. Logan was usually too gruff, too uninterested, for anyone to make much headway with him anyway.

But today was different.

You were heading to his classroom to drop off some papers when you spotted him leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, a faint smirk on his face as he talked to a woman you didn’t recognize. She looked young—probably a little too young than some of the other student’s parents, with sleek hair and an outfit that was more stylish than practical. Beside her stood a teenage boy, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, clearly embarrassed.

But she? She was smiling up at Logan like he’d just hung the moon. Her hand even touched his arm briefly, a little too familiar, and you felt a flash of something hot and prickly ignite in your chest.

You tried to brush it off. It wasn’t a big deal. Logan didn’t even seem particularly invested in the conversation—just nodding along, probably humoring her because he had to be polite. And yet, the way she looked at him, hanging on his every word, had your jaw clenching before you realized it.

You took a breath, schooling your expression, but when you caught Logan’s eye over her shoulder, his smirk deepened, his gaze flicking to you with that glint of amusement he always got when he knew he had your attention. Oh, he’d noticed. Of course, he had.

Clearing your throat, you approached with an air of casual calm, though the jealousy simmering beneath the surface was anything but subtle.

“Oh, there you are, Logan,” you said, slipping your hand onto his arm with a bit more possessiveness than you’d planned. Your fingers tightened slightly, grounding yourself in the solid warmth of his bicep. “I was looking for you.”

The woman’s bright smile faltered for just a second, her gaze flicking down to your hand on his arm. She took a tiny step back, trying to recover her polite expression but with a hint of something else lurking in her eyes. “Oh, I didn’t realize… are you Miss… I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name?”

You felt Logan tense slightly, but you just smiled, leaning a little closer to him. “I’m Mrs. Howlett, actually.” Your voice was warm, but you let the words sink in, feeling a small thrill of satisfaction as you watched her face register the correction. Your fingers brushed up and down Logan’s arm in a slow, familiar rhythm, letting her know exactly where you stood. “And you are?”

She cleared her throat, glancing down at the teenage boy beside her. “I’m Liam’s mom,” she said, resting a hand on the boy’s shoulder as if to keep herself anchored. “Logan—Mr. Howlett—was just telling me about the upcoming history project. I thought it would be good to get a sense of what Liam would be working on.”

Logan’s smirk widened as he looked down at you, clearly enjoying the subtle show of jealousy you rarely let slip. His arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer in a way that made his claim on you unmistakable.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he drawled, voice a low, amused rumble that you felt through his chest. “She was just askin’ about the assignment.”

You looked up at him, arching an eyebrow as you played along. “Of course. Well, Liam’s a very brilliant student,” you said sweetly, turning to the woman with a smile that held just a hint of a challenge. “Logan says he’s a natural at history. Must be quite a proud mom moment for you.”

The woman’s smile became a bit too tight, her expression polite but strained. She straightened, giving a brisk nod. “Of course. Well, I think I have all the information I need for now. Come along, Liam.”

As she ushered her son down the hallway, Logan’s quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest, his arm still snugly wrapped around your waist. He waited until she was out of earshot before he leaned down, his lips brushing close to your ear.

“Didn’t know you could be the jealous type,” he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement. “Should I be flattered?”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t quite keep the blush from creeping up your cheeks. “I’m not jealous,” you replied, feigning nonchalance. “I just didn’t appreciate her… forgetting my name. I mean, it’s Mrs. Howlett, after all.”

Logan chuckled, his warm breath grazing your skin as his fingers traced lazy circles along your hip. “I gotta say, darlin’… I kinda liked seein’ you all protective and possessive. Not somethin’ I get to see often.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t quite keep the grin off your face. “Oh, don’t let it go to your head,” you shot back, trying to sound nonchalant. “But I guess I might get a little territorial when some random woman decides to ignore the fact that you’re taken.”

His smile softened, and he leaned down to press a kiss to your temple, lingering just long enough for his warmth to seep into you. “Relax, gorgeous,” he murmured, his voice low and fond. “You know you’re the only one I’d ever put up with.”

“Oh, really?” you challenged, raising an eyebrow with a playful spark in your eyes. “Maybe I’ll keep you on your toes more often, then. Just to see that little possessive streak of yours come out.”

Logan’s laugh rumbled through his chest, his hand drifting lower to give your hip a slow, teasing squeeze. “Be my guest,” he drawled, his lips curving into a smirk. “I don’t mind remindin’ everyone who I belong to.”

You tilted your head, your fingers tracing along his arm savoring the solid warmth beneath your touch. “Good,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper, “because I don’t plan on sharing.”

Logan leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss. His mouth was warm and unhurried, lingering as if he wanted to make sure you felt every word he hadn’t spoken. When he finally pulled back, you were left breathless, a soft heat blooming in your cheeks.

He looked down at you, the playful gleam in his eyes softening. His forehead rested against yours, and whispered, his voice rough but gentle, “You don’t have to, sweetheart. I’m all yours. Always have been, always will be.”

[nadvs]

Hey girl! I’m obsessed with basketball!rafe, your write him so well! On the night of readers first visit in basketball!rafes condo, you said they slept together. Can we have a blurb on that? I NEED to know how that went

thank you so much!! omg yessss. they’ve been long distance and it’s been hard but they miss each other so much so when she finally visits, it’s intense 🤭

based on this fic, mentioned in this blurb! 18+!

» au masterlist

at this point, they’ve been together for almost seven months. and a month and a half of that has been at a distance.

since rafe moved away, it feels like all they do is argue. most of their calls have been tense. they’ve gone days giving each other silent treatment too many times to count.

so when she’s stepping out of the airport gate that late afternoon, she’s more nervous than she is excited for her three-day stay, and she hates that she feels like that.

she finds rafe standing by a pillar, wearing a baseball hat and sunglasses. he’s gotten even bigger, his muscles bulging under his sleeveless shirt. now that he’s signed with the nba, he’s at practice every morning, hitting the gym twice a day, preparing for the season two months away. always busy. often too busy for her.

he doesn’t wait for her to reach him. he helps close the distance, meeting her in an open pocket in the crowd and wrapping her in his arms. he’s holding her so tightly that she can feel his heartbeat on her chest.

she didn’t know what to expect when he saw her, considering how rocky things have been. but this feels like the best possible way he could greet her. he seems happy. the chasm between them is still there, but it’s closing.

rafe nuzzles into her neck, smelling the mix of shampoo and perfume that makes her her, and is so overwhelmed that his throat feels thicker and tears start to form in his eyes. thank fuck he’s wearing shades.

“hey, baby,” he says, muffled.

“hi,” she says softly. “how are you?”

it’s a loaded question. he’s lonely. he didn’t realize how lonely until he held her. he’s stressed. he’s out of his depth. but he settles for, “not bad. you?”

“better now,” she says.

she knows her boyfriend’s life has changed. but it’s not until they’re walking out of the building and he gets stopped by a middle-aged man asking for a photo with him that she realizes just how much things have shifted. the man’s wife shakes her head, saying don’t bother them, but the man says please, it’ll be quick.

rafe obliges, once again grateful he’s wearing shades so nobody sees his teary eyes.

“you’ll take us to the final, won’t you?” the man says, clearly starstruck.

“i’ll try,” he replies. it’s clear to her that rafe’s a little uneasy, which surprises her. she thought he and his ego would love the attention.

“you’re like famous famous,” she teases once they walk far enough away.

“that’s only like, the second time that happened,” he says, not matching her playfulness.

she can tell that he’s trying to downplay it. but the season hasn’t even started and he’s already being recognized. it’s a big deal.

“is that why you’re all disguised?” she realizes.

“yeah,” he admits, seemingly embarrassed. he really didn’t want anyone to recognize him today.

they reach his car in an underground parking garage and she settles in the passenger seat as puts her suitcase in his backseat. he sits and starts the car.

“what have you done with my boyfriend?” she asks, trying to lighten the mood. “how are you not bragging about what just happened?”

“i don’t know,” he says. “you’re here. that’s what i’m focused on. and who knows… i could be one of those guys who gets one contract and then burns out. better not to get used to all that.”

her eyebrows knit together. he’s being short with her. and he’s never spoken like this. she’s seen him unsure about himself only a few times before. he was painfully nervous on draft night. but he never mentioned anything about his career burning out. this isn’t the man she knows.

“you’re a great player,” she tells him. “you won’t burn out.”

he nods unconvincingly and shifts the car into reverse, trying to avoid this heavy of a conversation right away. she knows him well enough to know what he’s doing. she puts her hand on his.

“hey,” she says softly. “wait a second.”

he sighs, his throat thickening again. he puts the car in park and turns it off.

“you good?” she asks.

he pinches the bridge of his nose. she realizes that his hand is trembling. he finally takes his sunglasses off and rubs his eyes, wiping at them.

“i’m tired,” he admits.

she stares at him through worried eyes.

“i’m sorry. we’ll take it easy tonight,” she tells him. “we can just order food and watch tv and go to bed early. it’s going to be okay.”

he nods, licking his lips nervously.

“it makes sense if you’re overwhelmed. it’s a lot of pressure. your life is so different now,” she says. “and i know i was part of the old one, but i want to be part of this new one, too, okay? i’m here for you.”

she’s not saying it solely to reassure him. she realizes she’s hoping he’ll reassure her back. things are still off between them. she can feel it. maybe it’s because she’s slowly drifting into the past to him. maybe he won’t carry her into his new life.

rafe is speechless. his chest hurts. he hates that she would insinuate that he doesn’t have a place for her. that she has any doubts at all. he’s the one who called her after their last big argument, following days of not talking to each other. he’s still bitter about it. he keeps putting up a fight, yet it’s like she thinks she’s the only one trying.

“the only way to fail is to give up, right?” she says.

rafe snorts.

“where’d you read that?” he says mockingly. cutting.

he regrets it immediately. she sits straighter, creating distance between them.

“i’m sorry,” he says. “i’m just... i want you here. i do. i’m already thinking about how you’re going to leave and it sucks. i’m just so… on edge.”

“so, your way to handle it is by being mean to me like, a minute after i get here?” she asks. his knee-jerk reaction to stress has always been to be rude and combative. it’s her least favorite thing about him.

“my head’s not right. i’m sorry.”

even though she’s hurt and bitter, she pushes past it and nods.

“let’s start over,” she says. “i can tell you all about my flight. real exciting stuff.”

he finally cracks a genuine smile.

when they make it to rafe’s penthouse, she’s shocked. she saw the view of the city through the floor-to-ceiling windows over their facetime calls, but the real thing doesn’t compare. it’s unreal, the way the setting sun is glistening over the skyline.

it’s crazy. she’s stayed right where she’s been since she met him, on the same campus doing the same things, but now he’s here. the stinging anxiety hits her again that maybe he’ll leave her in the past.

“this is really nice,” she says.

rafe gazes at her as she looks out the window. he’s felt out of place since he got here. the dynamic with his new team is nothing like it was back in college. this condo feels more like a hotel instead of his home.

but with her here, the most important piece of all he knows, the place doesn’t feel cold anymore.

he looks out at the view. it is nice. but it’s been hard to appreciate it since there’s been a weight living over him, blurring things.

“you can continue the tour now,” she says.

he offers her his hand. she takes it. his palm is rough and calloused from all his training.

as she paces through the condo, everything about the place is stunning. bare, but stunning.

“i can help you decorate if you want,” she offers as they travel down the hallway. “wanna go shopping tomorrow?”

“yeah,” he agrees. something as mundane as shopping for decor excites him simply because it’ll be with her.

they reach his bedroom. the california king bed is centered against the back wall. the room offers another beautiful view with a balcony.

“you ever sit out there in the morning? watch the sunrise?” she asks, stepping towards the open balcony door. she can hear the dull roar of cars zooming through the massive freeway laid out far below.

“nah, i go straight to practice,” rafe says. “and on days off, i just sleep in.”

“right,” she recalls. he gets up almost every morning before the sun rises. his schedule has been brutal. she feels guilty for fighting with him about how hard it’s been to schedule calls with him. she pictured him living a glamorous life, forgetting all about her. but he just seems isolated. exhausted.

she turns to face him again, gazing around the characterless room.

“would you want pictures in here? maybe some art on the walls?” she asks.

“i thought decorating started tomorrow?” rafe teases. she loves that he’s seeming to ease up a bit.

“can never be too prepared.” he smirks, looking down at her with a tired, but relaxed expression.

“i haven’t had time to do anything with the place,” he says. “and i wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“all good,” she says. “you stick to basketball, i’ll stick to making this place look like someone actually lives in it.”

“deal,” he says with a soft laugh.

she smiles. her eyes drift down, noticing faint white lines on his shoulders under his sleeveless shirt. she traces her fingers over the new stretch marks.

“they’re not working you too hard, are they?” she asks.

her tender touch makes rafe’s body go hot. she feels it immediately, how the tension between them has shifted.

“no,” he mumbles. “the trainer said i actually need to slow down on the lifting. i can’t get too heavy. i won’t be able to run as fast.”

“so, what i’m hearing is you need a few rest days,” she says with a cute shrug. “you need to relax. it’s for the good of your game.”

he chuckles. within minutes of getting home, his girl makes everything better.

“thank you for coming,” he says sincerely, his hands finding her hips. her heart feels ten times lighter.

“for getting on a flight you booked? in first class? to live in your penthouse?” she says. “you’re welcome. big sacrifice.”

rafe smirks at her again, leaning closer. their lips press in a slow, sweet, long kiss. he pulls back once he feels her hand on his cheek.

“you stressed out, baby?” she whispers. his eyes are still closed an he only nods, grimacing. she strokes his cheek with her thumb.

“you want me to help you relax?” she says. he leans lower, his forehead on hers. his stomach is numb. his boxers suddenly feel too tight.

“yeah.” rafe’s tone is low. needy.

“lie down,” she tells him. “i’ll make you feel better.”

his entire body is buzzing. once he’s on his back in his bed, they’re slowly pulling off each other’s clothes.

she thought when they’d inevitably get into bed, it’d be impatient and rushed, but every movement is careful. they want to savor each other. it’s so much better this way.

she leads him to lie on his pillow when he’s left in his boxers and she’s in her panties. she pulls down his boxers, watching him spring out, the coil in her body already tightened to its limit. she missed him so badly.

she holds him at his base, meeting his eyes as she slowly takes the tip in her mouth. she watches his toned body curve as he bucks his hips with a groan.

“fuck,” he whispers. “wait, wait.”

he shifts to his side, turning his nightstand lamp on so that he can see her better, instead of doing this in the dim of the sunset.

he lies back down, placing eager fingers at her roots, desperately guiding her back to where she was.

their eyes lock as she lowers again, her tongue hot against him, slowly sinking until she has all of him in her mouth. she softly gags and pulls back, leaving his length wet with her spit.

“you’ve been working so hard, hmm?” she asks, looking at him as she palms him slowly, dragging her hand over his slick hardness.

“yeah,” he says, voice strained. “fuck, i missed you so much.”

she feels better hearing his words. all the tension between them has dissipated, at least for now.

“i missed you, too,” she whispers. she wraps her lips around him again, feeling him twitch against the inside of her cheek.

rafe can’t take his eyes off of her. she moves slowly, carefully, her tongue flicking around him, her wrist twisting and stroking. his grip is tight at the roots of her hair as she starts to move faster.

he can feel himself getting closer. he doesn’t want to finish like this.

“come here,” he murmurs, cradling her head, leading her closer.

she obeys, hovering over him on her knees. his hands drag over her ass, running over the lace of her panties, squeezing hard as she lowers to press her lips on his.

they kiss hard and slow, over and over until she can’t anymore, breathless and grinding on him. his thumbs loop under the band of her underwear, pushing the fabric down.

she wriggles out of the lace and he grasps her waist to turn her onto her back, kissing her again, finding her wrists and pinning them tightly against his bed.

“i don’t think i’ll last long,” he rasps against her mouth.

“that’s okay,” she says. “i just want you to feel good.”

he so badly wants to tell her he loves her. but they’ve never taken that step, and if he does take it and she doesn’t follow, he might not survive the fall.

instead, he moves to rest his hand between her legs, inhaling sharply once he feels how wet she is.

“fucking dripping for me,” he praises. she spreads her legs wider and he trails up to her clit, starting to trace circles.

she arches her back, pushing against his hand, already getting close. her body is just as desperate and impatient for it as his is.

“i’m close,” she whispers within seconds, her eyes shut. he stares at her in awe, so damn pleased that he can do this to her and get her there so quickly.

“yeah? you gonna come on my hand?”

“yes, yes,” she breathes, her lips parted. “don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

rafe wants to kiss her, but seeing her pretty face twisting in pleasure is too good to miss. one hand keeps her wrist pinned above her head while the other works with fast, firm movements, bringing her closer.

“i can’t wait to be inside you,” he groans. “you’re all i think about, you know that?”

she dips her head back, a soft moan spilling out of her mouth as she unravels, her body weakening with her orgasm. it hits her so hard that she trembles more than ever before.

she takes a moment to collect herself, then finds the strength to sit up just enough to grip him, guiding him to press against her. he groans as he starts to sink in her and she links her legs around him, pulling him in.

she presses her free hand against the head of his bedframe to steady herself so he can slam into her without any recoil, promising him the best sensation she can give him.

with one hand on her jaw and the other on her palm, interlacing his fingers with hers, he bottoms out, grunting against her ear.

“as hard as you want,” she whispers. “you know i can take it.”

her words make him dizzy. he doesn’t build up to the pace. suddenly, their slow, patient movements are gone, and he starts to thrust in and out of her fast and rough, to the hilt every time because of the way she’s keeping herself anchored against his headboard.

it’s like he’s drowning in her. he doesn’t want to come up for air. his breaths grow more shallow, his skin gets clammier, his pulse speeds up.

his bed is shaking with every slam, hitting deep inside her, wrapped in her heat and never wanting it to end. he squeezes her hand, wishing she knew just how grateful he is for her. not just for this. for everything.

“you’re mine,” he rasps. she tightens her legs around him, looking up at him as his handsome, sharp features crease in pleasure. “you belong to me.”

“yes,” she whispers. “i do. i do.”

rafe leans down to kiss her, his body going tight. she feels him grow harder, the pressure outright perfect, and he groans into her mouth as he comes, filling her with his heat.

he collapses on her, heavier than he was the last time they slept together. but she keeps her legs linked around him, withstanding the weight, running her hand down the curve of his spine while the other stays interlaced with his.

he’s panting hard. and he can’t control it when tears sting his eyes. she notices him shuddering, and she squeezes him tighter, kissing his cheek over and over again, her heart breaking for him.

“you okay, baby?” she whispers.

“yeah,” he says, and for once, he’s being honest about it.

all of this has been so hard and discombobulating, but with her here, life feels easy. and finally, he’s confident in something again. he knows they’ll make it. there’s no way they can’t.

“yeah,” he repeats. “hungry.”

she softly laughs, moving to wrap both arms around him. he’s so big and hard and heavy, but she tries her best to hold him, to comfort him.

“let’s get dinner,” she says. she knows his diet has been strict. “cheat day?”

rafe smirks against her neck. he didn’t know how badly he needed a vacation, and that he didn’t even have to leave his house to feel like he’s on one. he just needs her.

[luvsellie]

PEOPLE WATCHING [j. maybank]

pairing jj maybank x fem!reader

summary jj ignoring one of his friends is strange. and off-putting. so when he does it to you, argument ensues and indifferent confessions toward one another begin to spill.

warnings rafe being an ass, mentions of abuse, semi based on s1 ep5 but also not?? don’t expect anything regarding the obx plot, reader is in a similar situation to sarah and kie’s social standing (kook-turned-pogue) !

wc 3.1k

note this song just SCREAMS jj i couldn’t not write something inspired by it! also this man is so ‘angsty-love-confession-in-the-rain’ coded why didn’t the obx writers take that chance when they had it >:(

you never thought you would see the day that jj deliberately ignored you. sure, he hated talking about his feelings, and he was too stubborn for his own good, but he had never once gone out of his way to avoid your presence. until now.

“he won’t even look at me,” you hissed at kie, eyes glued to the blond who maneuvered around groups of people, the tray in his hands lacking drinks. he had a smile on his face regardless, making small quips at people as he passed them.

kie huffed, moving her body to block off your view of jj. her lilac dress shimmered in the orange light as she said, “just give him some time. he’ll come around. he always does.”

you chewed on the inside of your cheek, spinning the ring on your index finger as you continued to try and get a clear view of him. “yeah. i guess you’re right.” 

the girl in front of you grinned in a way that seemed to say i always am.

still mildly offset about jj’s attitude toward whatever it is that you had done to upset him, you took a step back from kie, situating yourself so you could comfortably watch him once again. as you did, you noticed his back was now to you, topper, kelce, and rafe appearing to slowly herd him toward the building. the trio of men wore smug smiles, and before you knew it jj had lost his tray and swung open one of the glass doors, sprinting in the direction of the restrooms.

your eyebrows knitted together in sudden urgency, hand already swatting at kiara’s bare shoulder. “kie. kie they’re chasing him-”

“who’s- oh. oh,” kie said aridly.

“we have to go,” you told her, already gathering the skirt of your sage-green dress in a hand.

kie grabbed your arm quickly. “and do what? stab them with the back of our heels?”

“if that’s what it takes,” you told her stubbornly, ripping your bicep from her grip. “stay here if you want, i don’t care, but i’m going to go help the best i can.”

you didn’t wait for her response as you started in the direction of the door, gait switching between an uneven combination of a speedwalk and a run. whether or not jj was mad at you, nothing was going to stop you from assisting him in any way possible, especially if he was severely outnumbered. rafe was practically psychotic, his solution to everything was always violence, and topper and kelce only egged him on.

the cool a/c brought goosebumps to your skin, a chill shivering its way down your spine as you swept past people and furniture. fortunately, you spotted the dark-colored bathroom door, the sound of disgruntled male voices seeping through the wood. when you recognized jj’s, you didn’t hesitate to push past the barrier, deciding the consequences could be left for future you to deal with.

middle-age men immediately protested to your appearance, but you ignored them as you hurried in the direction of the overlapped voices, and, sure enough, you found yourself walking into the midst of the kooks jumping jj.

none of the boys noticed your presence, too wrapped up in whatever they were doing to grow aware of their surroundings. 

your attention zoned in on your beat-up-looking friend, the sight of kelce retaining him in a jarring choke hold resulting in your sudden outburst of, “what the fuck is going on?”

“oh, look who’s decided to join us,” rafe leered, his grin growing twice as big. jj continued to struggle against kelce’s grasp, saying your name dryly as his eyes jumped from you to the oldest cameron sibling.

“the hell is wrong with all of you?” your glare turned to kelce, his eyes narrowed in vain. “let him go or i swear to god…”

rafe’s face only continued to dwell with enlightenment at your interruption. he stood up straight and took a long stride in your direction, forcing you to spin toward him. he put less than a foot between his body and yours. “or you’ll do what-”

the air stilled as you slapped the man across the cheek, your palm stinging from the impact. even though he towered over your smaller person, you still sneered up at him, gaze narrowed as if he were no more than the scum on the bottom of your shoe. “you’re not the only one in this town who has a powerful father, rafe cameron. yours just happens to have the worst reputation.”

rafe’s fingers ghosted the flushed skin where you had struck him, eyebrows beginning to knit together as his familiar rage started to surface. he barely had time to speak, “you fucking bitch-” before someone cut in.

the flickering lights caught everyone’s regard, and you watched stiffly as kelce instantly released jj and spun on his heels. “gentlemen. ma’am,” a security guard addressed, “is there a problem here?”

jj was quick to jump in, rushing to say, “pardon me, officer, i just…” his blue eyes caught yours, but they jumped back the man in the black tux before you could give him a warning glance. “we just- well, actually, yes, there is an issue. we have a criminal trespass in progress here.”

you knew he was just doing the best he could to get you both out of the situation, yet you didn’t mask your rather disgusted expression as he continued.

“beep! call it in, right?” the blond urged. “blatant disrespect for private property.”

the boys around you nodded, avoiding eye contact with the guard. multiple yeahs circled the room.

“we’re in violation of all kinds of shit, sir,” jj said, barely taking the motion to glance at you over his shoulder. he turned to kelce, plastering on a fake smile. he began to straighten the cyan-colored bow tie. “but these young gentlemen…” his hand was quickly swatted away. “...uh, caught us, sir, and they were about to take us away. which is what you should do; escort us out of here.”

you watched as jj offered up his wrists before looking back at you. his brows jumped to his hairline in a silent plea to just go along with the nonsense spewing out of his mouth. still mildly irritated at him and everything about whatever the fuck is going to happen as a repercussion, you exhaled sharply and took a few steps in his direction, sending a glare in rafe’s direction.

your arm brushed against jj’s as you mimicked his actions. “you caught us, officer.”

the man rolled his eyes, but reached behind you, hands roughly grabbing onto yours and jj’s biceps. “come on.”

but jj seemed to feel that he needed to add to the situation, his adhd never failing to shine in moments like these. he turned to kelce again as rafe moved closer, topper behind him. “fix that tie, son. oh, and you’re lookin’ quite spiffy too. you powerpuff girls have fun, alright?”

just as the guard was about to lead you both through the exit, rafe shouted your name. “you know you’re pretty hot for a ‘pogue!’”

jj spun before you could even react, already storming in the direction of the smirking boy. ‘mister security’ left you standing in the doorway as he trudged over to the beginnings of a fight and ripped your friend from the group. “let’s go,” he snuffed, shoving the blond harshly.

you avoided jj’s aggravated gaze as you locked eyes with rafe, still being pushed by the man. raising a hand, you flipped him off. “suck my dick, cameron.”

“knock it off,” the guard said, his fingers squeezing the flesh of your arm. his warning compelled you to turn away, huffing air through your nose in annoyance.

rafe scoffed a laugh from his spot, highly entertained by the sight before him. “hey, safe travels back to the cut, you two!”

“this shit ain’t over!” jj hollered, earning a harsh shove in the direction of the exit.

as the man directed you and jj out of the building, you made a point to not bother interacting with the boy, ignoring his existence entirely, just as he had done to you previously. talking to him at the moment would only result in yelling at each other, and the idea of that was rather repulsive.

finally pushing past one of the glass doors, you attempted to wrench your arm away. it only ended with the guard’s hands squeezing even tighter. “dude, i can walk by myself- let me go.”

jj tried the same thing as you passed a distressed-looking kiara. “yeah, we have legs. can’t you see that, daryl? and, hey, thanks for the ‘discretion.’ let us just walk out by ourselves, yeah?”

nearly stumbling on stairs because of your heels, you made a noise out of exasperation, eagerly pulling back. “give me- oh my god, just let us go!” as heads started to turn in your direction, you desperately hoped that one of your parents would show up, but as daryl continued to haul you and jj (who continuously made comments to the people he passed) away from everything, you made one last hopeless attempt to get him to let go.

“wait!” you said, this time actually tripping on your heels. faking a stumble, you very nearly successfully fell out of daryl’s grasp. “these shoes are killing my feet. let me at least take them off if you insist on dragging us through the mud.”

he rolled his eyes, but loosened his grip.

bending slightly, you raised your left foot off the ground, undoing the buckle of your heel. as you stepped out of the shoe, you went to do the other, stealing a glimpse at jj. this is too easy.

finally standing on the bare ground, you turned back to daryl, shoving your heels to his chest. “would you mind holding these for me? thanks.” using the best of your strength, you threw him off, jj happily doing the same, and began backing in the opposite direction just as your father appeared from behind mr. carrera. his face went from confusion to anger in the span of less than three seconds, and you knew you’d be in for the biggest lecture of your life when you confronted your parents later. but for now, all you wanted to do was get off the property.

and jj seemed to have a similar idea, as his fingers brushed against your left hand, gesturing with the jut of his chin when you made eye contact with him. “come on.”

unable to help the satisfied smile that pulled at the corners of your mouth, you turned away, quickly following jj into the darkness as kie called after you.

“okay, i think we’re far enough,” you huffed heavily, slowing to a walk beside jj.

he ran his fingers through his disheveled hair as he nodded. for once he had nothing to say, and it made you stop on the sidewalk.

“so that’s it?” you started, grabbing his elbow and forcing him to look at you. “you’re just going to go back to ignoring me? after everything that just happened back there? at least tell me what i did for you to treat me like this.”

his blue eyes averted your own as he chewed on his busted bottom lip.

“what did i do, jj?” you asked as your arm fell back to your side, annoyance slipping into despair. “just tell me.”

jj looked at you, and even in the strained moonlight could you just now see how badly his upper left cheek was bruising. he was fiddling with the hem of his white button-up shirt as he stood, stubbornly remaining quiet.

sighing, you took a step closer, the pavement cool under your bare feet. he flinched back when you went to raise a hand. you licked your lips. “did…did rafe and the others do this?”

stiffening, jj lifted his chin and looked down at you, his expression morphed into something between disgust and vacancy. “no,” was all he said.

“oh,” you breathed, your body running cold, even in the humid night air. of course. “maybe you should come back home with me. i can-”

“no,” jj repeated more firmly, shaking off your words. “no, i don’t need your pity right now. go back to midsummers. you and kie looked like you were having loads of fun.”

you scoffed in sudden disbelief, realizing what this was about—why he had been ignoring you for nearly a full day. “i’m not- i’m not offering to care for you out of pity,” you told him bitterly. “you’re my friend, jj, and i’ll always try and protect you when i can. i’m sorry that you’re too naive to realize and accept that.”

jj took a step back, his hands balling into fists as he shook his head. “i don’t need your protection. i don’t need your compassion, or whatever the hell you wanna call it,” he spat. “and i don’t need you.”

“you’re just saying that,” you protested quickly, swallowing down the crack in your voice and blinking back the sharp sting of tears.

shaking his head again, jj’s lips pressed into a thin line. “go back to that big, shiny house of yours.” he wasted no time in turning around, his back straight as he walked away, the clarity of his figure growing less and less as he retreated.

unable to process the moment, you ran a hand over your face, forcing yourself to keep your composure and not yell out to him. what the fuck just happened? you thought, panic beginning to set in as jj officially disappeared around the block.

what am i going to do?

the house was quiet when you entered, and after a quick call for your parents, you realized they were still partying away at the country club. it was somewhat of a relief.

feet sore and dirty, you began to rid yourself of your jewelry, unclasping the chains around your neck and picking off the rings on your fingers. you set them on your nightstand as you shut your bedroom door, immediately falling onto your bed.

lying back to stare at the beige ceiling, you inhaled deeply, running through the events that had taken place. and it had all ended in jj leaving you. for how long, you didn’t know—didn’t even want to think about it. so, with one last sigh, you stood from your mattress, stripped yourself down, and headed toward the bathroom, already thinking up a plan for tomorrow.

“look, i wasn’t trying to make a scene,” you explained over the phone, shrugging your shoulders even though your parents couldn’t see. “it just…happened, i guess. i’m sorry.” there was a tense pause, filled by the sound of your dad sighing on the other end of the line. “can i please go now? we can talk as soon as i get home later, i swear.”

you heard unintelligible whispers before your mom said, “you cannot keep blowing us off.”

“i know, i know.” you really did not want to have this conversation when you were nearly at jj’s house, the sky murky with dark clouds. “again, i’m sorry, but you know i don’t normally do stuff like this, so can you guys please ease off?” 

“fine. only for a few hours. i want you home soon, it’s supposed to storm today. we will talk later.” your dad said roughly, irritation laced in his voice.

shoulders visibly sagging, you couldn’t help but nod in relief. “yes, thank you. love you both.” with that, you impatiently clicked the red button on the screen as jj’s house appeared. pocketing your phone, you spotted the blond in his yard, squatting next to his red dirt bike. and for a split second, you were just happy to see him, the events circling last night forgotten.

you approached quietly, making just enough noise to let him know someone was walking over. as his head turned, your jaw went slack at the fresh bruise blooming along his jawline. you cleared your throat. “hi.”

“hey.” jj returned to his bike.

“i, uh…i came to talk.” thunder rumbled from somewhere above. “about last night. about us.”

the entire way here you rehearsed what you were going to say, switching things out or removing them completely, but now, when he stood and looked over at you with a somewhat pissed-off expression, you found your tongue to be dry and your mind blank.

“what’s there to talk about.” he said it more like a statement and less like a question. “there’s nothing to talk about.” 

you licked your lips as droplets started to wet your shoulders and scalp. “we both know that’s not true, jj.”

he wiped his hands on a cloth before tossing it into an open toolbox. shaking his head and sauntering forward, he said again, “there isn’t anything to talk about. you say you care about me, but you don’t. you don’t. do yourself a favor and stop lying to yourself. stop lying to me.”

“no, i do care, okay?” the raindrops began to fall harder, yet the only thing you were worried about was getting your point across. getting jj to understand. “i have cared about you for as long as i have known you. that first night at the chateau with the others…when you finally let me in…i didn’t know then, but i know now—i love you. a lot.”

jj scoffed and shook his head with an incredulous smile, his stare glued to the soaked grass, ignoring the weight of your confession. “you don’t know anything, alright? that night didn’t mean anything to anyone.”

“yes, it did!” you persisted loudly, frustrated with both him and yourself.

“no, it didn’t!” he snapped, reaching forward and grabbing the sides of your shoulders in exasperation. when you flinched at his yelling, a sudden wave of realization washed over him, and he released you with a step back, blinking rapidly against the rain. “nothing happened; nothing is happening.” he sounded more like he was trying to convince himself rather than you. “you’re a kook. and i’m a pogue. we belong on two very different sides of this island.”

“jj,” you said softly. he remained still, hair stuck to the sides of his face as you went to cup it, palms resting against his wet skin. “just give in. for one pathetic second just forget about the social economic standing of everything and give in to me. please.” you weren’t sure whether the wetness on your face was your tears or the rain. “i know you want to, but you aren’t letting yourself. nothing you say or do will push me away. you’re stuck with me, pogue or not.”

his gaze flickered vicariously between your eyes and mouth, internally fighting with his own feelings. but, ultimately, you could see that your words had struck deep enough—that as the chill of cold water drenched your clothes and hair, as his warm fingers wrapped delicately around your wrists, thumbs sliding against your skin, you had won.

© luvsellie 2023 | do not repost, republish, steal, or translate !!

[darcytaylor]

Nicola’s message is a reality check that everyone should listen to. We can - and need to - do better. (Harper Bazaar Woman of the Year Awards)

For a while now, I’ve been saying here on my blog: speculation is not fact. We don’t - and never will - know the ins and outs of anyone’s private life, especially when it comes to someone like Nicola Coughlan. Yet so many people see her holding hands with someone and jump to conclusions, acting like they’re gospel truth. Can we please take a moment to think about why holding hands with a guy is somehow “evidence” of a relationship, but when she holds hands with female friends, no one bats an eye? (and no this is not where I want you to go into detail about all of your reasonings why she is dating someone, the point is WE DON'T KNOW - because we don't actually know her! And if someone says otherwise, they are lying!)

Even if Nicola is in a relationship, let’s remember that we don’t actually know anything about it, which is exactly how it should be. And for those hinting about pregnancy, even if they’re trying to be subtle with terms like “delicate position” - it’s beyond invasive, and it’s honestly FUCKED UP! People know exactly what you're suggesting, and Nicola called that behaviour out directly in her speech. If you’re focusing on her body rather than her work, you’re part of the problem. (You can read my pinned post where I go into more detail why speculating on pregnancy is fucked)

If Nicola doesn't like the way the media is portraying her, it's unlikely she would appreciate fans doing the same thing. Sometimes, people try to justify their actions by separating the media from fan behaviour, but the impact on her is the same. We need to remember that our assumptions, even if you think they are innocent, can be damaging.

What fans talk about often drives what the media focuses on, because they’re chasing clicks. If people weren’t feeding into it, the media wouldn’t have as much to go off.

What the fans talk about and what the media produces, go hand-in-hand, and ignoring that is a big part of the problem. Trying to justify it doesn’t change the fact that it can still affect Nicola - especially if she’s made it clear she’s uncomfortable and hates these narratives.

Nicola’s speech was a call out to reconsider how people engage with her personal life. I know I’ve been working on doing better, and I think everyone else in this fandom could stand to do the same. Instead of spinning theories about her relationships or appearance, maybe we could all step back, respect her boundaries, and celebrate her for what she wants to be recognized for: her achievements and her talent. Let's try not to make her whole personality about a guy.

Nicola took a stand on the insane focus on things like her relationship status, age, or dress size - topics that constantly overshadow her career and accomplishments. You can tell it's exhausting for her to be boxed into these labels, and she deserves better.

One of the best parts of her speech last night, for me, was when she praised her longtime inspiration, Victoria Beckham, who was right there in the audience. Nicola talked about how much Victoria meant to her growing up, especially for how she handled herself through nonstop scrutiny. Both women have had to deal with some of the same pressures -where fans and the media feel entitled to critique and dissect every aspect of their lives.

Nicola made it clear she’s tired of being defined by these things. People are more interested in latching onto rumours about her relationship status (even though we have zero confirmation of who she’s dating) or making guesses about her body, including potential pregnancy, all because of how she looks on any given day. This rush to define her identity based on whether she’s seen with someone or holding hands? It’s reductive and invasive.

Honestly, Nicola’s message is a reality check that everyone should listen to. We can - and need to - do better.

To the bigger creators: you especially have to do better because I can see some of you fuelling everything that Nicola hates. (I actually don’t think it’s the people who ship Luke and Nicola because that is part of her job, that is part of Bridgerton and her work, it’s a testament to how good of a job both her and Luke did, Nicola understands that). But the people who are shipping her with people outside of her work? DO BETTER!

And yes, I am also putting myself in the category of doing better. I think it’s imperative to look at past behaviours and strive to do better and be better.

EDIT: THIS PICTURE IS GORGEOUS! The flowers, the lighting, the vibe. It's perfect!

[4drianaaaa]

| fall with you' | Hamzahthefantastic

+fem reader, sub hamzah, nsfw!

🍂 it was a quiet, cold, autumn morning in the middle of November. Gentle rain soothingly patterned the window right beside me. The crunch of the orange leaves from outside as the other students rushed to their next class. All of the noises around me created a peaceful harmony which caused me to go into a deep slumber. Usually my boring English teacher had managed to make me sleep like I was under in some sort of spell.

I was 19 when a new English teacher had started at my school which was a relief to hear as the previous one hated my guts and ensured I was lambasted each lesson, from accusing me of plagiarism to blatantly calling me out for packing up when multiple other students had done the same. She was like my personal bully, as if my friends weren't doing that job perfectly fine. It had been weeks since I had some proper sleep, I stayed awake most nights thinking of my so-called besties ignoring my existence every day even though we all promised to stick together at our new school.

He was 22, Handsome with big brown doe eyes and a maze of voluptuous curls which complimented his tan skin that was full of acne blemishes which resembled stars. His eyes lingered on mine a little longer than what others would consider innocent. I stared back. The tension filled the air only to be broken by him clearing his throat. Damn, I thought I've already got this man fumbling. His voice echoed in my ears as he droned on about some poem, I didn't care to hear the name of. My mind was full of racy thoughts about him and I. How good he would be in the bedroom just by his appearance. I don't know what happened to me. I used to love English, but here I am day dreaming about my teacher. 30 long minutes went by until I had given in it to my drowsiness, I felt like I had just closed my eyes when suddenly I felt the light graze of my ring on my hand. I jolted awake from the cold sensation and was met with big brown eyes in my face, his awkward lips moments away from my own. My heart thumped as though it would burst right out of my chest. "Are you okay?" he prompted. I hadn't ever gotten his name yet but just the idea that he was worried about me made my brain fuzzy. I rapidly blinked and cleared my throat from the coarse sleeping voice that had clouded over me. I tried to speak but the words would not. I instead rushed for my bag when I noticed the pool of drool that had gathered on my notebook. My cheeks were flushed as I tried to rush out of there as fast as I could until I suddenly tipped on his foot. I fell forward and felt my skirt ride up which exposed my black laced panties. I couldn't believe I ate shit in front of the teacher as well as completely flashing him. I wish I was dead right then and there. He shifted quickly to help me up and I took the opportunity to sprint my way out of his classroom. It's so typical for me to embarrass myself. I hated it. He probably thought I was such a weirdo and a loner he must deal with for another 2 years.

| hamzah's pov

It was my first day at this new school. A teacher was recently fired for misconduct and not to take pleasure in another's misfortune, but I was so glad I could finally teach. My dreams are slowly inching closer to completion. My first lesson was on poetry, a simple introduction to the classics which I ensured I revised timelessly during the weekend, nothing was going to bring my mood down today. The class was full of girls, as expected, the boys aren't much for contemplation. 30 minutes in and I noticed a girl with short curly hair holed up in a corner of the classroom with her head on her desk and a faint noise of rhythmic breathing which turned into soft snores. I recognize her as the girl who seemed to be paying attention to me, and I didn't expect her to be the type to sleep during the class so I was surprised but didn't want to seem like a stickler as I understand some kids need extra support, I chalked it up to just a small chat after class. Just like that the lesson ended and everybody had emptied the classroom within seconds. I slowly approached her desk and saw her name was y/n as written on her notebook. I accidentally grazed her hand with mine and noticed a scrunch between her eyebrows before she jumped awake. I asked her if she was okay but she didn't respond and suddenly turned bright red. She started to get her bag and was able to walk off until she tripped and was exposed. I quickly closed my eyes and tried to help her up. She refused my hand and instead ran out of the classroom. "I was so confused martin!" "I bet" he giggled "poor girl she must've been so embarrassed" "I know but she could've talked to me at least?!" I retorted "Dude, she doesn't even know you why would she? Honestly, I'd react the same way" Mandy chimed in. My friends both seemed to understand y/n, and I started to think about how I could help her.

| y/n's pov

I had English once more and was dreading seeing him, surprisingly though I was able to sleep today which reassured me that I wouldn't embarrass my self again. I scampered to my seat with my head hung low, so I wasn't recognized. Nobody else was in class yet and I was ushered to the front by the teacher who I now know was Mr. Al-Emad. "Y/n what's going on with you why were you asleep last lesson?" he questioned "Uh, nothing sir I was just tired. I'm sorry it won't happen again" I said. "Don't worry I'm not upset or anything I just want to make sure you're not missing out on vital study sessions" "okay thanks sir" "matter of fact how would you feel about some extra tuition I'm having a look at your grades here and you were doing so well, I'm sure with an extra push you can start getting A's again" he prompted. "I'm sorry sir I don't have enough money for that" I said embarrassed "Who said anything about money? I wouldn't charge a student, so what do you say?" "Um sur-" I was interrupted by a bunch of students entering the class which made me rush back to my own seat. I was alert during the whole lesson thinking about what our tuition sessions would look like, him with his suit on and me with my shortest skirt. My mind was racing with disgustingly sexual thoughts till I remembered the ring. THE RING? I was felt with a sharp twang of jealousy which was interrupted by the bell. Before I left the classroom, he called me to his desk and gave me his email to message him about when I'm free for lessons. So romantic.

Back home I imagined what his house looked like and Imagined his scent filling the air. I mean a teacher like him? His house was bound to be small, intimate even. I started writing an email, settling for an evening lesson on Saturday. More of an chance for him to feel open to a relationship with a student or even a fling. I don't care, If I can taste him, It's a win, wife or not. He emailed back almost immediately with an enthusiastic yes and some details about where we'd be meeting. A public library? Ugh he's not easy to say the least. I decided to go for a walk to get some coffee, do some reading, and most importantly do some digging on my new fixation in the privacy of a park. The foggy, autumn air was so crisp I couldn't help but start smoking. I know I should quit but it's been a source of comfort for me ever since my life turned into a literal hell. I walked 7 blocks away from my house when I saw a shadowy figure approach me. I halted and was about to walk away until I saw a familiar set of curls. Sir? What is he doing here? I quickly discarded my cigarette, but it was too late. "Smoking kills y'know?" he smirks as he pulls out his own. I shrug awkwardly, "Sorry sir" "There you go apologizing again, don't apologize" he demanded. "Oh okay sor-" I caught myself. "What are you doing around here?" I blurted out trying to divert his attention from my mistake. "Just on a walk to clear my head" "what about your wife?" your deep down flaring jealousy caused you to say that, "You should take her too" I said without a single thought, I must be dying for him to know I want him. "She's too tired today. We had a long night" he took another drag at his cigarette. "oh" I said awkwardly. "I mean she's a teacher too and we both were up late doing some lesson planning and marking" he murmured embarrassed. That was definitely not the reason. I sure know how to make things awkward. It was getting dark and I was getting ready to start walking home. "Enjoy your walk sir, see you at the library" "wait, I'll walk you home. It's not safe to walk alone" We walked together quietly, enjoying each other's company till we reached my home and said our goodbye's.

Meanwhile getting ready for bed, I wondered what really happened between him and his wife. Maybe they had a big disagreement. I mean he was In my business, why not be in his? My mind raced on the many scenarios that could happen tomorrow. Those lustful scenarios sent me to a hard slumber.

The next day, I threw on a white mini skirt and a oversized knitted sweater pairing them perfectly with some boots. I decided to walk as it was my favorite way of transportation through out this time of year. The crunchy soothing leaves I'd step on making a soothing crunch and the brisk air that felt perfect on my face. The closer I was to my destination I felt a hard grip on my shoulder as I whipped my head back to see him In his regular black suit on just what I imagined "Sir, I'm sorry I was a tad late-" "There you go apologizing." he laughed as I looked around awkwardly "I noticed the library was a little busy, your welcome to study at my house. If that's alright with you of course" his soft smile warmed my cheeks as I licked my lips trying to not fight the urge to jump up and down. "Sure."

I noticed there being only one car in the driveway as I wondered where his wife was still trying to answer my question I have had since last night. "Please make yourself at home." he nodded as the quiet of his home was odd but cozy In a way. I noticed how there wasn't any evidence of his wife. He pulled a chair out for me as I grinned at him "I have a few things we can work on like-" "where is your wife?" His face looked pale after I asked that as if he'd seen the worst thing ever. He adjusted his glasses as he cleared his throat. "I- uh. She cheated on me" he murmured as I raised my eyebrows in shock. Why would she do that when she's married to HIM? Matter fact why would I even ask him? "I'm sorry- I should have never asked" I swallowed my guilt "It's fine. I was gonna tell you but I probably shouldn't be telling my students my business. Let alone be in my house but I trust you" he patted my hand as a soft grin formed on his face. His hand gently grazed upon mine as his hands were warm as veins faded through out his whole arm. I crossed my legs because of his comment, I arched my back as I noticed how the skirt I was wearing was the one I wore when we first interacted. The one where I completely flashed him. My face grew hotter as his eyes were locked on my lips. "Geez- I um so what do you have" he cleared his throat once more shaking his head back into his conscious as he looked down at my paper as his finger traced along it. I imagined his finger in other places than the paper, I couldn't process how bad I wanted this teacher. The way he would care about me by just teasing me turned me on to be completely honest. "Do you at least understand what's going on in my class? Because other than that, your a good student in all of your other classes" he flipped through some notes on his book as he licked his index finger "Or should I set some kind of punishment whenever you doze off in my class?" he teased as rolled I eyes In the playful way. "I don't know, what would the punishment be?" I snickered as the tension in the room grew, as well as his pants. I bit the bottom of my lip as his big brown does eyes that I adored rested once more on my lips as they met my eyes once again. The urge to just grab him and crash him to my lips was desperate "what sir?" I questioned as he scoffed "Enough with 'sir'" he said turning red as I noticed how he had been slowly getting worked up. Without hesitation as I followed my tuition, my lips connected with his as he groaned in shock. His hand rested on my thigh as his thumb traced perfectly round circles. His lips vibrated against mine as It satisfied me to the fullest. His tongue found its way in between my lips as my eyebrows knitted together. I gently rocked my hips as his hands traveled more up my waist beneath my sweater. His warm hands sent me into a state of satisfaction “is that okay?” He murmured lowly as I nodded in return, he nodded as his kiss became more intense and lustful than before indulging into my mouth once more.

He barged into his room as his hands were still on my waist pulling me on top of his lap sitting on his bed. “I’ve always wanted to tell you how beautiful you are” he panted as his praises made my heat grow. I circled around his curls as I felt the cold air hit my thighs. I’d never thought I’d be swapping spit with a teacher in his room but here I am making the most of it

“your completely okay with this again right y/n?” His voice sounded whiny and inpatient - “yes sir” “Hamzah” he replied in the span of a millisecond “Hamzah” his name rolled off my lips satisfyingly as I began riding his thigh as he kissed at my exposed neck. His hands fiddled with the bottom of my sweater as I removed it revealing my laced bra. His eyes sparkled as if his view was impeccable. My breath hitched as his wet lips kissed around my hard nipples. His knee was met with my heated cunt as a soft moan escaped my lips from the friction. He smirked as he threw his jacket somewhere in the cold room as he rode up his hand higher up my skirt “I love this skirt on you” he stated as the same black panties peeked out grabbing his attention. I bit my lip as he scoffed, he shuffled with the button on his pants as he was able to slide them off to his ankles as well as his boxers. He revealed what appeared to be 7 inches as I looked at him in awe as I slid my panties off as well he groaned as his member leaked with pre-cum. I began tugging on skirt as he easily grabbed my wrist “skirt stays on please!” he whined as I nodded. I pumped his hard cock as he whined under my touch. I caressed the tip as he bucked his hips obviously indicating me to stop teasing. I propped my self on his member as I felt his size stretch me out making me whine in his ear. His hands glued to the sides of my waist as I took all of him in. His eyes rolled back to his skull from my tight grip. I began grinding on him as he whimpered under me.

“oh fuck y/n” he panted as I slowly bounced on his cock taking all of him in. His length did magic in me as I already felt my self reaching my climax. His hands easily unclipped my lacy bra as he wasted no time into swirling his tongue around my nipples. His moans vibrated onto my sensitive tits making me reach my high even quicker. He began taking control as he thrusted into me quicker than before as my legs began shaking in satisfaction. His crave for me was stronger than ever as he whispered small praises in my ear. I felt myself come un-done.

“Can I cum in you- y/n!” he panted as I nodded in desperation. I felt his warm seed sprout into me as I laid my head on his shoulder as he rubbed my back. “your so fucking good y/n, fuck” he panted as my legs shook due to the overstimulation. I looked over at him as sweat beads covered his forehead as his curls look perfectly messy on top of his head. He was quick to offer clothes and water. I wondered if fucking a teacher would be something I would take to my grave.

| 🍂

I GIVE FULL CREDIT TO THE PERSON WHO GAVE ME BASICALLY HALF OF THIS PLOT I APPRECIATE U SM TYSM I LOVE U! I hope you all aren’t getting sick of the fall fics, I can’t help it 🥲

(not spellchecked i apologize for any grammar mistakes)

[liedownquisition]

Jason Todd's timeline and "Age"

So, there's a lot of discussion of Jason Todd's age esp as relative to other sidekick vigilantes, particularly Tim and Mia. I believe the exact words are usually something about a "grown ass man beating up/trying to kill teenagers."

DISCLAIMER: This particular post is specifically regarding the "grown ass man vs teenagers" statement, I have posts regarding the "tried to kill them" portion and other stuff like "seriously Jason Todd is like being shot by a marshmallow gun compared to what goes on directly before and after him in these incidents, also you don't bitch about the right stuff, also a lot of you prop up characters who are Objectively Worse, and no that's not hate on your fave it's just me calling out hypocrisy". It just takes time to find digital copies of the panels I'm using. NOTE I AM NOT JUSTIFYING HIS ACTIONS. I'm just saying y'all blow it out of proportion for petty character hate. Like, shit, they're superheroes. Jason's soooo fuckin' tame. He's not even framed as a big deal to the teens it's only the adults that think it's that much of a problem.

Courtesy readmore post cut:

Now, to start off, we all know Jason died at 15 & a few months off from 16 (if you want me to dig up panels, sure, but I figured at this point that wasn't in question). Tim at this point is somewhere between 12-13, and we have this panel in Lonely Place of Dying which takes place a few months later:

So that's a ballpark of 2-3 years between Jason and Tim.

But Tim's age is really fucky and they keep de-aging him tbh. We can extrapolate that his confrontation with Jason was between the ages of 16-17 bcs it's after the arc where he has his incredibly shitty 16th birthday in Robin Vol2 #116 and before Red Robin where he's stated to be 17. This would put Jason between 18-19 at the time. (If you really want me to find panel sources for Tim's birthday and his age in RR then, sure, but I don't think they're necessary. I used it more as a guidepost for Jason's age, since we have a clear idea of what the age gap is.)

At least, on paper.

Mia for her part I've had a hard time finding like, on panel mentions of her age and if anyone can direct me to it being explicitly stated I'd love that. I'm rereading old comics but it's a LOT of comics to hunt down & dig through. To my understanding she was fifteen when Ollie first met her, and there's at Minimum of about a year and a half between that to her meeting Red Hood, more likely at least two? because there's at least few months between that and her joining the Titans, the Doctor Light stuff, then One Year Later, and then returned to Star some 3 months after Ollie came back to run for mayor? And then Jason not too long after. So, two years feels safe. Puts her at 17-ish, Jason at 19-20

Once again, I specify: on paper.

People would happily point out at this point that the upward stretch of a 4 year age gap is a "huge gap in maturity." And yeah, under normal circumstances, I'd agree.

But, and this is going to get contradictory bcs I found Two different timelines (BOTH written by Winick, lmao), and depending on how you read it it could be up to three different possibilities. Let's Start with Batman Annual #25: Daedalus & Icarus.

Timestamp before Jason's resurrection, which is pretty well known at this point:

Next, him waking up from a coma afterwards, when he escapes the hospital:

Now the above could be interpreted as either 1 year after he died if we're assuming that it's using the same "start" point to count as the resurrection (unlikely), or one year after he came back (more likely).

Next, the timestamp right before a guy recognizes him and sells him out:

And, finally, the timestamp before being put in the Pit:

That is, count it up, between 3-3 1/2 years where Jason was dead, in a coma, or otherwise not particularly... cognizant of the world around him. His ass is NOT developing emotionally, socially, or mentally like this, which pretty handily bridges the gaps there. Taken at face value, Jason's maturity level is going to be, unironically, younger than Tim's in the wake of these setbacks.

Now, if we go to Lost Days issue 1, it doesn't specify how long he was dead, nor how long he was in a coma, so we'll just carry those two over, what we DO have is this from just after Talia brought him home:

This puts him as being on the streets for five months, so we're at just shy of two years so far. And then we have this:

Which is right before Talia puts him in the Pit.

So, in summary: 6 months dead, 1 year coma, 5 months on the street, and something like 1-1 1/2 years with the League which...

Actually puts us on almost the exact same timeframe either way. 3 to 3 1/2 years. It just changes whether Jason was on the streets or with the League for longer.

And is utterly incomprehensible because comic timelines are a freaking nightmare.

If we're being generous, then that would put Jason at a minimum of 19, maybe toeing the line of 20 for UTRH, again, on paper, because like hell are you convincing me he did less than a year's worth of training abroad throughout Lost Days. Yeah maybe they trained him in fighting while he was catatonic, muscle memory and all that. But the other teachers that we KNOW of? The bombs, guns, probably something to get him up to date on handling all that tech we see him using, Egon, potentially arguably All-Caste if you want to draw from n52...

but you'd have to knock at least a year and a half off of his internal/personal development from death & coma, at minimum. Maybe you could argue he was somewhat developing while in his "the lights are on, but nobody's home" phase, you can't say it's at the same level as a normal person might when going about their day to day life, and it's difficult to measure. But he's not hitting the kind of milestones that he should be for his age. I wouldn't put him at anything less than two years behind. So if we use our upper estimates on Jason, and lower estimates on both the developmental setbacks and Tim/Mia's ages that gives us:

Jason toeing 20, mentally 18, fighting Tim at 16. 2 year gap, kind of stretching the physical age gap if we assume Tim had just barely turned 13 when he showed up to be Robin. - OR LESS

Jason maybe 21, mentally 19, fighting Mia at 17, two year age gap again. Honestly, still not that big of a difference - OR LESS

And, to be frank, that's not even counting the mental development issues that come from the intense physical trauma from dying - and I swear to fuck don't give me the "He's not the only one who died he's not special" speech.

HOW MANY OF THE OTHERS YOU'RE USING AS A GOTCHA LOST, *GESTURING AGGRESSIVELY ABOVE*, LITERALLY MULTIPLE YEARS OF THEIR LIFE.

Not counting adults, of course. Barry lost years, Hal lost years, Ollie I think also lost a couple years? but A) they came back still adults, bodies pretty much the same. B) While Jason's body didn't go through a magic growth spurt in canon, it did still grow esp while with the League.

I'll eventually get around to Titan's Tower & GA#72 (tbh, there are other people who've already done Titan's Tower and it'd probably be better than what I do, so I'm more going to focus on the latter, but there IS a specific part of the former that drives me nuts that I don't see brought up a lot), and maybe if we're feeling spicy all my issues with UTRH starting with how Winick is just as guilty of retroactively writing Jason as being inherently a bad penny since his Robin days as any of the other "modern" writers. Like, bud, Severe enough Head Trauma is legitimately enough to change someone's personality, not to mention trauma. It wouldn't hurt your narrative for that eerie difference, the Shade of What Once Was if you're really going for RH being Like that.

Final addition: I swear to god if you use my post to start up some kind of petty-ass ship war or flame other characters I will immediately turn off reblogs and replies I am Not Dealing With That Shit, please and thank you.

Anyways, @glitter-stained, your interest made me decide to actually put the work in now to pull it up rather than passively gather stuff to dump whenever discourse pushes me over the edge so, here ya are. Looks like you did have it closer on the mark than I did.

[lyssala]

I was trying to figure out They are stuck in my mind at all times and when I was thinking, I realized oh OH they're the same picture. So really I apparently just have a trope hierarchy to which if you resemble Roy/Riza in anyway you skyrocket to the top of my list.

Some ramblings about Clorinde/Wriothesley under the cut because I have no where else to do it. I'm sorry to all the people who've been my followers for years and I literally just come here once a year to drop a ship fixation LOL Here's my big dose of copium I guess 🤣

(For the record, I have nothing against the popular pairings for either of them; I multiship just fine. There isn't an ounce of ship bashing in this because 1. that's rude lol 2. discrediting canonical relationships because they threaten the chances of my pair being on top defeats the purpose of analyzing characters)

(Updated: 8/25 just to acknowledge a few other various things before the end of the Fontaine era)

Roy & Wriothesley: fight using their hands (in different ways but still; fire and ice though); masks their true goals behind a facade (whether staged like Roy or Wriothesley just letting people believe what they want about him); most people don't know their true personality/history; hold a position of power in what most people assume is ambition but really they just want to do good to those who need it.

Riza & Clorinde: observant/quiet personality; the world's best shot; the best poker face; straight faced humor; tough as nails; sass and teasing is a love language; recognized as the top of their respective fields and respected by many.

It's uncanny right??

1. Familiar With One Another

It's so clear they have history together. This is not their first mission, first interaction. They can read the lines between what is being said to understand something more, that is the definition of knowing and understanding how someone operates. It means some kind of history.

Between her greeting upon walking in the room (Clorinde: What's that look on your face? I thought I made good time on the way back.) and her knowing how he is about tea (Wriothesley: Want some tea? Clorinde: Not particularly. If you want to drink some that badly, just say so.) Those are not things you would know/say if you don't know a person. She knows he's giving her a weird look, or a look she wasn't expecting. He offers tea, and instead of saying no thank you, she's just no, but I know you do and you don't need me as an excuse 🤣

Even when he clarifies for her that he does want tea, he asks her again, maybe knowing she does actually like it but only if he's already making it - which I do all the time to Ren LOL (Wriothesley: Fine, I'd like to get some tea. Want me to get you a cup too, since I've already made it?) and that time she agrees (Clorinde: Eh, might as well then, I suppose.)

Idk like these are people who know each other. They know their quirks and their mannerisms. They talk to each other as equals (he doesn't question when she's telling the Duke wtf are you looking at me like that I'm right on time, and he's just like I know you're right on time you always are) I just think that's a big deal??

During the wrap-up of the main story quest, when talking to Charlotte when Clorinde is dodging interview attempts and Charlotte guesses how Clorinde knew Charlotte had an interview at Meropide (Clorinde: In truth, all Monsieur Neuvillette asked me was "When did the Fortress become so friendly towards the media?" I told him that it was best not to speak too soon — there's no guarantee that Wriothesley will make a personal appearance). It's likely that Clorinde was in the room when Neuvillette spoke the question aloud, but I also like him going up to her just to ask her like she'd know the answer to what Wriothesley was doing. I mean, she did still know the answer: that just because Charlotte had an interview, Wriothesley probably wouldn't show up. She knows he hates publicity as much as Clorinde does - I do have to imagine its because they've talked about it, they're friends.

In that same scene, Clorinde says to Navia that she seems interested in the Fortress, and Navia says duh, but that man gave me a headache (Navia: Of course! Ugh, that Wriothesley... I still remember going down to the Fortress to grill him for information on my father's case. Boy, did he take me for a ride... without telling me anything, of course). Clorinde then is like, yeah, but he invited you to tea, and it was good, right? (Clorinde: But he did invite you to tea, didn't he? Navia: Two large pots of it, in fact — it was good tea, though. Clorinde: I have to agree. The tea there is very good). My girl, how much time do you spend down there to know he'll habitually ask and that it's always good. Also, lol, the fact that she gave him such a hard time saying no, I don't want any tea, but if you want it, I'll have it, but then to Navia, Clorinde is much more straightforward about how good his tea is because she isn't teasing Navia.

Then of course their bets. (Wriothesley: I win this bet. You owe me a present. Clorinde: Very well, it was indeed just as you said.) This is a thing they do and apparently have done before. She literally talks about how much he gets into it, implying she's learned to go along with it because she knows he enjoys it.

My girl MY GIRL how do you know what kind of gifts he likes, or that he enjoys it all if you haven't done this a million times (Clorinde: Wriothesley gets really invested in that sort of thing. But he couldn't care less about what he wins in the end. Clorinde: You could give him mint plants that you plucked from the side of the road, and he wouldn't even mind). I also have to wonder if the reason he doesn't set a stipulation on what he wants, is because he likes to see what she comes up with, what reminds her of him and that's why he's so happy with anything - that's a little too me with the ship colored glasses on but still (the only other time we see him given a gift he's appreciative, but poor sweet Neuvillette has to explain it first so I can't judge Wriothesley's reaction in comparison).

A smaller thing is Navia always complaining about how hard it is to talk to Wriothesley while Clorinde just bubbles about calling the Duke by his first name and how he likes making bet and loves gifts 🤣 (Navia: If only he was that easygoing when it came to talking business...) I know it's because Wriothesley intentionally avoids Navia due to whatever promise he made with her father. Still, the image of Navia's best friend being super chill with the Duke of Meropide while Navia is exhausted by the thought of talking to him is so superb. Chefs kiss on that dynamic, Hoyo (also can we talk about how the trio of Wrio, Clorinde, and Navia doesn't get nearly enough love and I'm genuinely saddened over that).

I guess one last thing for this section because I don't know where else to fit it, with Wriothesley, to everyone else Clorinde is Miss Clorinde, including to her when they're in public but when Wriothesley is talking to Neuvillette when he's delivering all the gifts, she's just Clorinde (Wriothesley: I have to hand it to Clorinde. Just a simple gift delivery, and she has the great and mighty Iudex at her beck and call.) possibly because Neuvillette would be one of the few people to know they have a relationship outside of work? Though Clorinde is just like oh yeah Wriothesley is just like that in front of a whole slew of people LOL so maybe it's an on work time/off work time thing 🤣 I don't necessarily have a clear analysis but I 💯 noticed it still.

2. Familiar With The Fortress

Moreso for Clorinde since obviously Wriothesley is familiar with it. I think the most clear indication there is for Clorinde spending time down there is through Sigewinne. The official livestream announcement image being a lovely example.

Okay, I know it's because her and Sigewinne were the two new characters and like I said Sigewinne doesn't leave Meropide all too often. Still there were plenty ways to promote them: in the infirmary, in Neuvillette's office (like they did later for her demo/trailer), at the dining hall in Meropide, streets of Fontaine, even no place at all. A choice was made to have them sitting in Wriothesley's office.

I mean Clorinde has to spend a decent amount of time down there??Sigewinne has her drink meaning either Clorinde was comfortable enough to brew Wriothesley's tea or he brewed it for her/them. It's his teas set that sits in his office in game. Again these were choices that were made LOL Clorinde is reading so she's clearly not there for business, just hanging out in his office with Sigewinne.

Also, Clorinde's little smile 🥹 Another is the dolphin (whale? looks dolphin to me) sticker on her book, meaning that Sigewinne made a sticker of Clorinde (like she did with Wriothesley and Neuvillette). Most of all implying that Clorinde is close enough to Sigewinne to get that honor and the fact it's on Clorinde's book, that she spends enough time in Meropide that Sigewinne also likes to stick stickers on Clorinde's things like Sigewinne does to Wriothesley.

Another small thing, was Clorinde in Sigewinne's character trailer. Navia was about to guzzle that tea when Clorinde stopped her like, no, girl, wait. She's 100% had Sigewinne's drink creations before there would be no reason for Clorinde to otherwise stop Navia. And even Clorinde's little cough compare to Navia's big wide eyes of shock lol Clorinde has been through it.

One last thing with Sigewinne is her voiceline about Clorinde and that she's been around Clorinde enough to try to learn how to read her (Sigewinne: Miss Clorinde doesn't make a lot of facial expressions when she talks. It's pretty difficult to tell what mood she's in from what her face is doing...She used the lipstick I gave her? Really? Hee-hee, I'm so glad she likes it! I knew that color would go great on her!). But, Sigewinne also knows her enough to give her gifts - and vice versa (Clorinde: And some tea-flavored hard candies. They're for Sigewinne) - because they're also friends. That can literally only happen if Clorinde has spent time there longer than what we've seen/were told.

Another thing I found so cute about Clorinde's connection to Meropide, was in Clorinde's story quest, when they went to the Meropide set (Clorinde: I admire the work put into the set. Still, it's obvious the script writer has never paid a visit to the Fortress of Meropide). Yes, yes, we know, you're apparently so familiar with it you can tell when details are missing, okay, girl.

A little more of a stretch with some ship goggles on but I can't help but laugh at the image of Clorinde smiling at the prospect of getting to throw her players in Meropide and as GM getting to play Wriothesley's job (Furina: So this set... is going to be a part of the script? Clorinde: Unfortunately, that is something I can neither confirm nor deny. Paimon: Um, anyone think Clorinde's smile is starting to look kinda scary...?). Still sort of unrelated but also Paimon's line in that scene was adorable too - if only there were snacks in prison...oh, there are if the Duke likes you LOL (Paimon: If only there were desserts and tea in real prison... Oh, wait, guess that's kind of how the Fortress of Meropide works if you're lucky.)

3. Same Sense of Humor

Their humor too omg they have like the same brand of humor and it's fantastic and because it's so dry; poor Neuvillette is always just like and you what now? LOL (Clorinde: He already has tons of tea in his office. I'm thinking about a set of legal codices. Wriothesley: That wouldn't happen to be a dig at my lack of legal awareness, would it... Clorinde: I'm sure His Grace doesn't consider the Fortress to be outside the law.)

Which she brings up again in her voiceline (Clorinde: I highly suspect that he keeps quiet about some of the methods he uses, but there's no way we can know) teasing again that he operates outside the law. The other thing about this line (though I don't put it very high, it could be a translation thing) but that she switches from I highly suspect to no way we can know. Why she didn't just say no way I can know, is probably because she does know or she knows she could know if she asked LOL

One of my favorite examples is from his character stories because omg I feel like it's the definition of their humor and it makes me laugh so much ("Why does it feel like you have even more free time than me? Your title wasn’t bought, was it?"

"One moment, please."

So saying, Wriothesley rifled through three drawers before producing several thick documents with a flourish. "Now, let me see... 'excellent management'... 'leading tax contributor'... 'specially granted this title...' Well, what do you know? Good guess, that's pretty much what happened after all.") I just feel like she's not afraid to challenge him with jabs as jokes and he's perfectly fine to take it. But I also think that's saying something because who else knows that they can poke fun at him like that, she knows because she knows him.

4. Work Life Together

I just wish Hoyo would tell us more about it 😩 like is it just because he hires her to do stuff for him? How did that start? Why? Even in the character story above, it's said it was over a business transaction what does that meaaaan? There's no way he, woke up one way and went, you know what time to hire this one Champion Duelist (she's the best but she's still not the only one) to do some secret missions.

When asked, he said it's because she's an independent party (Wriothesley: As a Champion Duelist, Miss Clorinde can be considered to be an independent party. I needed to find an exceptionally capable person to help me get through the impending crisis) but I mean she works for the court idk how that makes her independent? He does say "crisis" so it's likely she knew about a lot of the things going on ahead of time but I don't think he would have ever just hired someone just because of their station. Mainly because in doing so, he trusted her to be in his inner circle of the plan with Sigewinne - who Clorinde also has a relationship with as I went through already - and Neuvillette, two people we know Wriothesley does have canonical history with.

I saw someone say that Clorinde was already staying down there at the time already working with Wriothesley on the mission, so it was easy for her to get Freminet, but I couldn't ever find what in canon pointed to that. She was staying after at least, she was eating dinner there but they weren't expecting the gate to blow that night. You'd assume she'd leave after she told him everything he needed to know. But no it's like middle of the night/early morning and she's right down there with him. So part of the crisis he referred to is letting her in on one of the biggest secrets of Meropide because she knew exactly what to do and was ready and willing to do it.

I also really love Navia's voice line about him because it says that Clorinde knows what the arraignment he had with Callas was otherwise she wouldn't have told Navia it was okay (Navia: Trying to discuss anything with that guy is an exhausting process. Clorinde says I needn't have any reservations about collaborating with him in the scope of our preexisting agreement, but I still shouldn't trust everything that comes out of his mouth.) I imagine Clorinde bullying it out of him to make sure if was a safe arraignment for Navia (and maybe upon learning what it was and how it came about could've been the early steps in how Clorinde learned to trust him too because it's mutual - she's not a mercenary, she takes jobs with him because she also trusts him and what he does). But I also imagine that bit about not trusting a word that comes from his mouth (since Wriothesley hasn't ever lied that I recall, he hides things very well and doesn't clarify to make things appear certain ways, but I don't recall him flat out being deceitful) is either 1. Clorinde teasing him to Navia without her even knowing but it gives Clorinde a little amusement 2. She knows that man is gonna run his mouth one day to tease her and she's laying the foundations now so Navia won't listen to him 🤣

Or Clorinde is helping him keep his mysterious and bad boy persona because she knows he's actually a big softie - all wins to me lol because I genuinely can't see her believing he's untrustworthy; she literally risked her life to stay with him while they waited for Neuvillette, that doesn't sound like a person you didn't trust. Because again as far as I know a Champion Duelist is still not a mercenary.

5. Battle Couple

Which leads me back into my original Roy and Riza comparison, the way they fight together (Wriothesley: Clorinde is the best Champion Duelist you can find. Her combat prowess is already the stuff of legend. I've never fought her myself, but that's because there's never been a need for it.) I saw someone point out how does he know this when he'd likely have to make a special trip just to see her fight. I imagine some is word of mouth considering the phrasing of stuff of legend. Regardless of how he knew initially, he knows now because they've fought together before. He's never fought her, like he said, but they're fought side by side.

They had to. I'm sorry, this is not the delulu brain worms, you cannot tell me they didn't.

They likely had some sort of plan otherwise idk how she would know to shoot the door controls, but she's watching him from a distance, sees his signal of a simple nod and proceeds (she nods back to him but I couldn't find a gif that included it). I say because they didn't know what was going to happen; the plan was probably if it looks bad, shoot the controls I don't care where I am. I don't think it was as specific as I'll just give you a nod it's fine. He could've shouted, made a bigger motion, lots of things really - he didn't because he was literally running for his life and he knew she was watching, she'd see him and know what to do that's why I bring it up. That's why I refuse to believe they've never fought/worked side by side before, you don't just read people like that; you don't just trust people like that, especially two people who it's in their job description to be sus and careful with who you trust. You read faces, eyes, subtle signals from people you know and trust.

It reminded me so much of Roy and Riza in this scene when she can't speak from her injury and he is about to lose his mind and all she needs to do is move her eyes and he gets it.

(I mean, Roy and Riza have literally a lifetime of history, experience, and love for one another, I don't think Wriothesley and Clorinde have known each other as long or have that rich a history, but all I'm saying is I keep seeing them in each other, okay? Okay).

6. Similarities in Story and Interests

I threw this one down at the bottom because I’m not sure if they’re aware of their own similarities. It’s more meta in the sense I see the similarities without having canon to tell me that they know how similar they are. The first being the most obvious in that they were both orphaned as babies, and then were raised with foster parents/guardians until Clorinde was 10 and Wriothesley was a teen (Clorinde at least getting the better deal in that her Master who took her in was unconventional but seemingly cared for Clorinde unlike Wriothesley who had the rug ripped out from under him to see the truth of his family). Clorinde then presumably was looked after by Callas and Wriothesley grew up in Meropide. Both don’t talk about their personal lives often, but in both they’re story quests, they talk about their past pretty openly. So its possible they know, but because Hoyo is too afraid to put them in the same room again, I can’t say.

They also both hate newspapers and paparazzi. Clorinde talks about why she likes Charlotte by alluding to what other journalists put Clorinde through (Clorinde: Unlike some, [Charlotte] doesn't ambush me with her Kamera on my way to work, or follow me to the coffee shop to report on what I'm drinking today... And most commendably of all, she is well aware that I do not do interviews and doesn't nag me about it continuously). Wriothesley we know also turns down interviews frequently (Charlotte: And that's exactly why I'd like you to come conduct interviews with me. You're the best incubators of news, if you haven't noticed — and also, with you around, I'm sure I'll get to see that Duke. Paimon: Are you sure? Hasn't he turned you down several times already?). I imagine its because both have been victims of the journalists turning on them for a front page story (I’m sure everything with Callas was sensationalized, same with Wriothesley when he was a teen and also probably just how criminals are depicted in journalism to begin with).

The last bit comes from the Fontaine Tour Group video since so far the only two playable characters who have displayed knowledge on Remuria. Wriothesley both in the Archon Quests and his Friendship stories (Wriothesley: Then maybe you haven't heard of the story of ancient Remuria. To give you a quick rundown, Fontaine used to be ruled by the Remurian Dynasty) and Clorinde in the Fontaine Tour Group video (Clorinde: …oh, they have a Conch Harp here? Navia: Something wrong? Clorinde: It’s nothing. Probably dates back to the days of Remuria, that’s all). In the video, Navia clearly had listened to Clorinde talk about it because she remembered the connection but she also couldn’t even remember the name after Clorinde just said it, so it’s clearly not common knowledge. I imagine Clorinde was taught about it with her Master due to the ties to the Marechaussee Hunters and Clorinde’s clear love of history. But I also can’t imagine that Clorinde and Wriothesley never discussed both having interests/knowledge in the same niche era of Fontaine’s history. We know that she knew about the splice gate, so I also imagine she knew about the Winglet and therefore they absolutely would’ve talked about Fontaine history and folklore together.

And So

One thing I've seen a lot in this fandom, when others are trying to discredit a ship they try to give proof of pairs that are "more canon" and I didn't do this to try and say they have more canon standing. They aren't seen together all that often, and sometimes we just have to pull the crumbs out of our own analysis and that's okay. I don't like the phrase "more canon" because its canon or its not lol Being in more scenes together doesn't make a pairing more canon unless they're in the scene confessing their love verbally or physically. It just means they have a relationship, whether that's friendship, familial or romantic. How you see a relationship is up to you and you aren't wrong (because there is no right answer - n o s h i p i s c a n o n).

When it comes to Clorinde and Wriothesley, I don't know if Hoyo will ever put them in the same room together again (though they gave me enough crumbs that I need to now clarify pictured/interacting in the same room lol). They're just gonna give us a Character like Wriothesley and just leave him down there to never interact with people 😭 Clorinde's story quest didn't even touch on her being a Champion Duelist. I still have so many questions.

I’m a little peeved with Hoyo to be honest which is a whole other conversation I’ll have on how we went from some of the best storytelling and some of the best characters into some of the blandest storytelling and complete wasted potential. Nothing will make me stop loving what I loved about Fontaine, but it’s incredibly frustrating also feeling like I was lied to my face only because Hoyo caved to fanservice (which is how it looks), completely erasing character stories and relationships they established in the first place.

ALAS, with the new region on the horizon, maybe we’ll finally see some peace as the fandom moves on to a new region. We’ll just have to speculate and answer the questions for ourselves <3

In any regard, I wrote up all this to (cope because I adore them and I run out of content to satisfy my intake on a daily basis) hopefully make someone else also feel better that no, no one was crazy for thinking these two had that good fucking chemistry, because it radiated off the goddamn screen. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise 💙 Also, oh my fucking god I thought that after being in with Genshin since version 1.3 I already had my hyperfixation period back in Liyue nope the fucking prison warden and trial by combat champion decided to ruin my life.

[astarlightkindagirl]

✮⋆˙Guilty, Guilty, Pleasure ✮⋆˙ | Vi x Reader ✮⋆˙

Chapter 1

Hi! before we jump in I just want to state that this is my first fic that I've written in a while- so please be graceful! Im trying my best to get back into the swing of things but its a lot different than writing lyrics. Also this fic is very self indulgent because I cant find any long Vi fics!

You had never really been one for parties. Not that you were “not like the other girls.” Trust me, you enjoyed going out and being a freak just as much as the next person, but parties? It's not really your thing, which is why it was so confusing to be at a raging house party. They said it was a celebration of the football team's big win, but honestly, it was just an excuse to throw a rager. You kept yourself tucked into the corners, away from most people, and definitely away from the punch. You were really just here for your boyfriend, “celebrating” his win, and because you didn't want to deal with the argument that came later had you missed this “celebration”. From your corner, you could vaguely see him through the sliding glass doors of some poor sods house, but what told you even more that he was out there were the increasing chants of “chug! Chug! Chug!”, because why would a college frat boy be normal about anything including alcohol? 

Okay, maybe you were a little salty, just maybe. Just maybe you were a little annoyed that you'd been dragged along to some B-rate rager when you could've stayed home, gotten some assignments done, and overall could've had a very not-salty time. You could feel your face scrunch up, you can't really help it, but the longer you spend in that corner the more your face twists into one of “I wish to go home!” annoyance just twinging at your lips. 

That is until you feel somebody lean against the wall next to you, ripping you away from your less-than-content thoughts. Turning to look at them, you immediately recognized the pink-haired girl. You’d known Vi since senior year of high school, but you'd fallen out of touch since then, “Who's left you all alone starlight?” She asks with Sauve, and honestly, I bet it worked on other girls, other girls who didn't know Vi, “Who do you think?” You replied with a bite, annoyance ebbed into your tone of voice. Despite the dim lighting, you could actually get a good look at her- she was pretty, you'd never admit it but she was super pretty, messy freckles dotted her nose and cheeks, and from there you let your gaze followed the lines of her face to the scar on her lip, all her rough aspects came together to form an art piece. She smirked at your comment, “he doesnt seem like much of a boyfriend, you're standing here alone.” she reminded me with clear sarcasm, “an astute observation” I replied a bit annoyed, “don’t snap at me starlight, id never leave you here on your own” she replied with the same sauve, you hated to admit that caused butterflies in your stomach.  

Vi was the school's local lesbian fuckboy, if you wanted a good time you sought her out. It's a part of what pushed you away from her, her smirk widened at your lack of response, “you know, we could get out of here” She said, a dangerous glint in her eyes, one that made you curious, and worst of all, not saying no. 

[linkspooky]

WIP WEDNESDAY

I wanted to try something new to interact with my followers more, so here's a big chunk of the next chapter of the Azulaang fic I'm working on.

Aang was suddenly forced to bear witness to a naked truth. Azula was a girl. A fleeting thought passed his mind, she was beautiful, and that was all it took there was no going back from that. Not only was she a girl, she was a beautiful girl. Until now, Azula was only an enemy soldier he gazed at across a battle field, hard and made of steel like a machine of war with a fire burning inside her. One small glance was all it took for him to notice she was flesh and bone. He should have realized it sooner, but he was stupid. 

More underneath the cut. Look forward to the finished chapter soon!

The full fic is located here, by the way. If you haven't read it you probably won't understand what's going on so go read it if you're curious.

Aang followed Li’s advice and went right to the Karazakov residence. Though he’d be lying if he said his rushed exit by jumping right out of the window was because he wanted to finish this avatar business as quickly as possible. No, he’d been unable to stand the tension in the room between Zuko, and Katara and Li. 

Aang knew the airbenders preached detachment, and he knew the avatar was supposed to remain neutral, but he sometimes hated those teachings. Then he felt guilty for disagreeing with the elders. The long dead elders of his long dead culture who’d done their best to raise him in the airbender ways. Then he felt more guilt because he was failing his duty as the avatar by wanting to pick sides. That he, a child not fit to be called the avatar, was letting his personal emotions get in the way. That he was being selfish and not thinking of everyone. Then, he hated himself for watching someone suffer and doing nothing about it. Why was he given all this power, if not to help? He didn’t want to deal with any of those feelings so he ran away. That’s what airbenders did, they ducked, they dodged, they avoided. He ran from place to place, and like Toph said he never stood his ground. 

(Aang’s friends were very smart, and Aang was quite dumb, which was why he trusted their judgement over his. He was nothing without them, he’d be just a boy floating in an iceberg). 

He ran all the way to the Karazakov manner, then tried to justify himself by saying his duty as the avatar came first. He was the only bridge between the world of spirits and humans. Of course, Aang didn’t believe the lies he was trying to tell himself at all. Whenever he made excuses like this, he didn’t feel any better, and he didn’t believe them, he just felt more ashamed of himself. Yet, when Aang arrived at the doorstep he smiled. There might be a storm brewing inside the airbender but he wasn’t going to let it show. The world’s problems were Aang’s problems, but his problems weren’t the world’s problems. 

He arrived at the mansion trying and failing to clear his head of doubts (they never went away, they never would no matter how many people he helped, no matter how powerful he became it wouldn’t be enough). Aang stopped looking within and looked right in front of him, seeing the main gate was shut tight. He knew Li’s family was nobility, but he was surprised to see just how massive this place was. The mansion sat on a high hill overlooking the city, giving the Karazakov a view of everything they controlled. The grounds alone rivaled the size of the Bei Fong estate. Including the forest behind it was nearly triple in size. Surrounding the perimeter was a wall of trees and a long fence preventing outsiders from peering inside.  

The entrance at the main gate was closed turning away those who would seek entry. So, Aang rode the wind and jumped right over it. Sometimes it was good to be an airbender. 

He made his way along a gently sloped path deeper into the grounds. The walkway was surrounded by tall trees. He recognized them, they were cherry peach blossom trees, but they were out of season. With winter fast approaching the trees were barren. He reached the Karazakov mansion, with great white walls standing at attention. They had rejected traditional fire nation architecture in favor of modernity. A sigh escaped his lips, a combination of wonder and resignation. In the end, it was just a big fancy house. As an airbender he found it hard to appreciate such an ostentatious display of wealth. He wondered briefly what it was like for Li and Lio growing up all alone in a house this big. Perhaps that was why their bond was so strong, they still clung to each other after years of separation. (He wished Azula and Zuko could get along like that. He wished they could both be happy, but in the end the love between siblings wasn’t something he could understand).

He knocked on the door. He was met with heavy silence for a few seconds, and then hurried footsteps from the other side of the doors. On the other side of the door was one of the strangest people Aang had ever seen. 

He had all white hair without a single strand of black. His skin was nearly colorless, but his eyes and clothing were pitch black, making his skin glow even more by contrast. That pale skin radiated an air of purity, but was stained in several places by burns. On his face. On his chest. On his upper arms. 

There was probably a story there, but Aang didn’t feel like he was allowed to ask. “Sorry,” the stranger spoke first, “My big sister said I’m not allowed to let anyone in. We’re hiding big brother Lio until big sister can convince Zuko to repeal his banishment.” 

“...Lio is here?” “Yes. Big sister said it would be fine. “Zuko’s just being stupid. I’m going to tell him how stupid he’s being. He’ll see that I’m right. Why do people think they can argue with me? I’m always right in the end’. That’s what she said.” 

That didn’t sound like the same girl who bowed her head in front of the man who broke her legs to beg for her brother’s forgiveness, but Aang guessed people were complex, and he was pretty stupid when it came to people. 

Aang explained that Li had sent him here to look at her family’s records of dealing with spirits in the past. The stumbling, fumbling boy in front of him suddenly gained a lot of self confidence. He explained that before his family could help Aang in dealing with spirits, he would need to purify himself at their hot springs. (This place was so massive it had a hot spring - ?)

Luckily as a monk, Aang was familiar with bathing to purify the body. The fact that the fire nation had a similar cultural idea of communal bathing, made him somewhat happy that their two cultures had something in common. The white haired boy pointed him in the direction of the hot springs, and then mumbled a few more things that Aang didn’t quite catch. (Brother…Lio… girl…) Lio was bathing right now, well communal bathing was fine, and Aang wanted to apologize to Lio if he had the chance. At the time he didn’t try to understand Lio’s perspective and he regretted that. Aang followed the little footpath of smooth, colorful pebbles under the luxuriant canopy of flowering wisteria blossoms until he found the entrance to the bath. A low shelf carved from the bluestone had been placed to hold the bather’s clothes. Aang took off his clothing, glad that monks chose to dress simply. He left his clothes in a wooden washtumb, and after lifting the thin hemp curtain with one hand strode inside. 

Stream drifted through the air, it gently unfurled out from the pool, drifting slowly, filling every corner and crevice  blurring her vision. With that and the dim moonlight a person needed to get very close to one another to see their face. Flowers bloomed along the borders of the pool, flower petals floated on the surface, and there was a small waterfall at the end of the pond for rinsing. 

It was pleasantly warm. Aang ouldn’t help the soft sigh of content that escaped him. Heloose for a moment), extending his slender limbs and swimming all the way to the waterfall with a splash. 

He had only just risen from the water and wiped his face, when she suddenly noticed someone very close to her, showering in the surging waterfall with their back turned.

Lio seemed to be speaking, but the waterfall was so loud it drowned out the noise. Aang knew he should announce his presence, but something had arrested his gaze and he could not look away. 

They stopped to watch Lio’s back as if possessed by some kind of spell. Their back was held tall and straight, the contours sharp and defined. But, under the illumination of the stars, Aang saw their back was covered in whip marks, scars, and patches of discolored burns, it was almost impossible to find a piece of untouched flesh. There was no need to mention how much those wounds should hurt. 

The water cascaded over their body, rivulets gathering into the stream down the wide expansive of their powerful muscular back. Some of the spring water splashed off, but more seemed infatuated with their body, clinging to them in a light stream loathe to part. 

Lio turned halfway, their eyes meeting Aang’s. Aang’s face had turned red, but he’d like to think it was from the rising steam, not from seeing another man/woman naked. His culture taught him that nudity wasn’t inherently sexual after all. “Hey, Aangie, have you come to do some naked male bonding?” 

Lio greeted Aang like they were old friends. The smoothness of their voice was unbelievable. They didn’t seem to notice the tension in the atmosphere. Why would they notice the tension, communal bathing was completely normal in the fire nation. 

“Your back…” 

“Ah, it’s nice and shapely isn’t it? I think my back and my buttocks are tied with my breasts for my most handsome feature. My body’s pretty good, as long as you don’t look at my face.” 

Lio was avoiding talking about the scars. To think, they’d always been this scarred, but they didn’t complain about the pain. They were broken almost as badly as Li. 

“I mean yes, you are very traditionally attractive. I am looking at you respectfully though, because I don’t want to make this weird. Communal bathing is normal in your culture, and I respect other people’s cultures, and I respect you so I’m definitely not ogling you like a sex object.” Aang noticed he was rambling, “But uh… what happened toy our back?” 

“Oh, I was naughty boy, so I was whipped as soon as I came home.” “What?” “Why are you so worried? It’s not like we’re friends. Oh, let me guess you saw my naked body and fell in love with me at first sight.” Lio smiled, but their smile didn’t reach their eyes. Their eyes told a different story, those black eyes were like a pair of open wounds on their face, from which darkness was seeping out. “It’s nothing… compared to the pain Li and my family went through it’s absolutely nothing.” 

“Your pain isn’t nothing.” “Haha, what pretty words. Did the airbenders teach you to talk that way, or are you just that cheesy naturally?” 

Aang was taken aback, Lio was like Katara in a way, soft and soothing in one moment, and in the next they surged like a river. 

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m a bad, rude man, I just don’t like the way you’re looking at me like some poor ugly pathetic thing.” Lio’ s shoulder’s rose and fell, as they heaved a sigh. Aang suddenly found that he couldn’t breathe. He could see the perfect curve of Lio’s shoulders, the lean strength in those lines, of a bow pulled taut, tension ready to be unleashed. He could see Lio’s shoulder blades, strong and massive, moving beneath the scarred skin. “I might be ugly on the inside, but I’d like to think my good looks make up for my bad personality.” They didn’t have a bad personality at all, Aang thought. He didn’t like how easily Lio insulted themselves, but if he said anything, Lio would suffer pity from him like acid flung on his skin. 

Lio suddenly stumbled and nearly lost their balance. Did they slip on the smooth stones underneath their feet. “I’m sorry, Aangie can we continue this conversation later? I thought we could bond in our nakedness but human relationships are really complicated and…” 

The entire time Lio had been standing with their back turned to Aang both hands pressed against the wall. At first Aang thought they were too shy to talk face to face, but nothing about Lio was shy. Now that he thought about it, Lio was unnaturally tall, over six shuka despite only being younger than Zuko, and with a broad back. It would be easy to hide someone behind that shapely back - Lio was suddenly pushed back into the water. Aang caught sight of a feminine figure through the steam, who hastily turned to leave. OH.

Li mentioned that Lio wanted to return home and introduce their new bride to their family. Had Aang walked in on Lio bathing together with his betrothed? 

Aang considered just sticking his head underneath the water and drowning himself, because he’d never recover from his embarrassment. 

That feminine figure only made it a few steps though. Because under normal circumstances, that girl would never do something as ungraceful as stumbling and falling face first into the pool, sending a spray of water into the air. 

When she didn’t surface right away Aang became worried she was actually going to drown. However, Lio moved faster than Aang as usual. That person never hesitated to help, and they weren’t even the avatar. They weren’t cosmically chosen to help save the world. 

“Cough, cough.” Azula inadvertently swallowed a mouthful of water in her panic. When she remembered that it was technically bathwater, she became so indignant and disgusted that she discarded all appearance of calm composure, scrambling and flailing as she tried to find her footing. 

Caught in her panic, and with no dignity left to speak of, suddenly a strong, shapely hand pulled her from the streaming water.  WAIT A SECOND.

Aang had recognized her right away, but his brain refused to process the image until he was exposed to a full frontal view of her, coughing and leaning against Lio for support. 

Aang was suddenly forced to bear witness to a naked truth. Azula was a girl.

A fleeting thought passed his mind, she was beautiful, and that was all it took there was no going back from that.

Not only was she a girl, she was a beautiful girl.

Until now, Azula was only an enemy soldier he gazed at across a battle field, hard and made of steel like a machine of war with a fire burning inside her. One small glance was all it took for him to notice she was flesh and bone. He should have realized it sooner, but he was stupid.  She wasn’t physically attractive like Lio. In fact, if he wasn’t so caught off guard by the realization of her beauty he would be concerned. Her skin was discolored and bruised in several places (training scars), where it wasn’t bruised it was pale. There was almost no fat on her body, the princess looked like a pauper begging for food in the streets. That all combined to make her look easily breakable, the same girl who had once terrified him more than her father. People used ‘beautiful’ to describe so many things it was practically meaningless, which was why Aang used it sparingly. The monks had taught him the impernanece of life when he was young. When he was a little older, he saw the rotted corpses the fire nation had left behind. After that, it was hard to easily call things beautiful, when he saw how easily beauty faded. In fact he hadn’t even meant to say it, it just slipped out of his mouth, “You’re beautiful.”  It was an incredibly stupid thing to say.  He should not have said it. He should not have acknowledged that feeling. A simple skipped heartbeat, and now there were feelings he couldn’t take back. Feelings he shouldn’t feel, because Azula was… well, Azula. 

He expected to hear her laugh, to be embarrassed, to call him out for not averting her eyes and giving her the dignity she was owed, as a woman, as a princess, for ogling her like an object, but Azula just crossed her arms in front of her chest. 

“What is it…? Speak clearly, don’t mumble, and look into the eyes of the person you’re talking to.” “You… you… beautiful…” “Is your mouth broken? Oh no, I believe I broke the avatar. Again.” He confessed again. To his clumsy confession, You’re beautiful she responded. “You’re right, I am beautiful. I guess your eyes aren’t broken.” She was… She was definitely still Azula. Whatever had happened in the three months since he last saw her hadn’t changed her fundamental “Azula-Ness.” “Lazuli, watch your step.” One hand around Azula’s arm, Lio supported her from behind. The difference in their heights was such that their breath puffed against Azula’s ear as they lowered their head to speak, “If you’re not careful you might just fall for me.” They smoothly positioned themselves once again so their back was obstructing most of Aang’s view of Azula. Unlike Aang, they didn’t seem to notice or even be bothered by the closeness of their bodies. The easy intimacy both of them shared bothered him for some reason. 

Aang had been completely caught off guard of the sight of Azula, it didn’t click until just now that Azula shouldn’t be here. Yes, Azula and Lio had disappeared together that day in the forest, but she was supposed to be lost and all alone somewhere cold and dark and lonely not bathing in a hot spring in the middle of the fire nation. Of course, it was Azula, so if she wanted to return home she’d think of some way. 

“Why are you here with Lio? Not that it’s any of my business. I’m definitely not having dirty thoughts right now. My heart is pure, I promise, I was just curious really…” “It’s fine. Mixed bathing is normal in our culture, and besides I’m also a woman so Lazuli is totally safe bathing with me.” 

That’s right, mixed bathing was normal in fire nation culture Aang reminded himself for the thousandth time. 

Bathing under the stars. Girls and boys together. No tension there whatsoever. Nope, not at all. 

“Stop staring, Avatar. I’m flattered, really, but it just wouldn’t work between us.” Aang really hoped she was joking, because she was entering dangerous territory. “Really, there’s nothing untoward about bathing with my betrothed.” “...Your betrothed.” “Yes.” “You’re getting married?” “Yes.” “To who?” “To Lio.” “You’re getting married to Lio.” “You don’t seem to be hearing me right, is there something wrong with those big ears of yours?”

“Are my ears too big? Why didn’t anyone tell me? Were they just trying to be nice?” He was suddenly, very self conscious about the size of his ears but that was besides the point. “Why are you getting married to Lio?” “I fail to see how it’s any business of yours.” That’s right it wasn’t any business of his. 

So, why did he care? 

[goldessia]

megumi fushiguro was my best friend. but, sometimes, he would lose his temper.

i would never tell him, but, some part of me has feelings for him. in fear of losing our friendship i cherished so dearly, i’ve kept my mouth shut for years.

yet, we both sort of had an unspoken understanding that while we were still friends, relationships with other people were out of the question.

he made that clear, and i did, too.

sometimes, this confused me. especially after a club night out with our friends.

gods know how many shots ive taken. with college exams coming soon, this was the only night i could truly let loose until i’m strapped to my desk all week studying. so, i had a little fun.

megumi’s friend, nobara, whom i made quick friends with, was equally as wasted as me.

the room was spinning, and my head felt light. she and i decided it was the perfect time for karaoke, which is what we did.

truthfully, i didn’t know what i was singing. for all i know, i’m probably just mumbling the lyrics, which is the best my mind could handle.

i feel someone grab my arm.

“y/n, what the hell are you doing?”

a voice says, yet the words are like an echo in the back of my mind.

i turn my head, laughter bubbling in my chest as my vision focuses on what i recognized to be megumi.

“‘gumi!” i laughed, losing my footing and falling atop of him. he inhaled a breath and steadied me. “we’re— we’re singing! come on, join!”

“you’re barely able to make sentences.” he yells over the loud music, “how much did you drink?”

i hiccup. “i don’t.. i don’t know, why doessit matter?”

“i brought you here to meet my friends, not to get blackout fucking wasted!”

my brows furrow. “megumi..”

“fuck—“ his hand rips off of me, “i can’t leave you alone for one second. why do you always do this?”

nobara’s arm wraps around my shoulders, “hey, stop yelling at my new girlfriend here!”

“what are you talking about, ‘girlfriend’?”

she laughs, resting her weight atop of me. “of course.” she presses a dramatic, loud kiss on my lips.

i laugh loudly, nearly falling backwards before nobara’s hand steadied me.

“what the fuck—“ megumi pushes nobara off of me. “what the fuck are you doing?!”

“calm down, fushiguro! just girls being girls—“

“you’re fucking wasted! go find itadori. y/n, we’re leaving—“

“but i’m hic i’m having fun!”

“stop with this bullshit.”

he grabbed my arm. hard.

“we’re leaving. now. and we’re sobering you up.”

and despite my protests, and my hand slapping his shoulder, he successfully dragged me outside the club.

“let go of me!” i screeched, pushing him away from me. “calm the fuck down. why are you being like this?”

“god, you’re so stupid sometimes.” he says under his breath, grabbing his keys from his pocket, “let’s go, we’re going home.”

“i’m not going anywhere with you.”

my head bangs.

“yes,” he inhaled, “yes, you are.”

“you’re being such a dick!” i scoff, “i was having fun, bonding with your friends like you wanted me to!”

“itadori was off making out with some girl. you were singing like a fucking idiot, and you go and kiss nobara? you call that bonding?”

“that was a joke. a fucking joke, megumi! you’re make a big deal about nothing—“

“just, shut up! you’re drunk, and you would have never done that if you weren’t so drunk you could barely stand.”

“don’t talk to me like that.” i frown. i feel my vision going blurry.

god, i hate being such an emotional drunk.

he turns away, a soft chuckle leaving his lips. his hands run through his hair as he starts pacing away from me.

“why do you even care that i kissed her?”

he stops. turns. “you— i don’t.”

“you obviously fucking do! look at how you’re reacting.” i slap my hands on my thighs. “what, do you have a crush on me or something? are you jealous?”

his face changes. anger, to confusion. confusion, to sadness. then, back to anger.

“don’t be stupid.”

“well, apparently that’s all i am, isn’t it? that’s all you can say i am right now.”

he paces toward me till he is standing right in front of me. his eyes scan my face.

“i’m not jealous. i don’t have a crush on you. you’re only saying that because you’re drunk— i’d never have a crush on you. are you dense?”

and i say.. nothing.

i look down to my hands. i can barely see the shaking image of them, until i clench my fists.

“is it that putrid of an idea for you? the idea of a relationship with me is disgusting?”

“you know that’s not what i said.”

“do i?”

he stares. i stare. eyes piercing into eachothers soul. maybe it’s the alcohol, but i don’t think my heart has ever hurt more then it did before this moment.

and that’s when i break.

tears flow before i can stop them.

i nearly damn crumble to my knees— all feeling in my body gone, numb.

“y/n?”

“fuck— you— god!” my voice cracks as i speak, a sob breaking through my body.

“shit.” he whispers. “shit, shit, shit. c’mere.” he pulls me into his arms. i want to push away, but i can’t. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry.”

he shushes me. and i shouldn’t feel comfort, since his words were the ones that brought me pain, but i do.

“i didn’t— i didn’t mean what i said.” he says next to my ear as a hand runs over my hair, “i’m sorry. i’m sorry, y/n, i’m—“

he sighs.

i cry, and i cry until i can’t anymore. slowly, i inhale a breath.

“you know..” i start, voice scratchy. “we would make a horrible couple.”

he stills.

“y/n, you know i—..” he stops. “i didn’t mean what i said. any of it. i..”

i pull away, looking to see his expression. he’s distraught, and almost panicked.

“you’re..” he huffs. “you’re probably right.”

i give a faint smile.

why, why did i say that?

my heart burns. i want to reach out and tell him it wasn’t true, that i was willing to try even if we argued like this everyday. that i didn’t care, that i was willing to if it meant we belonged to eachother.

instead, i say,

“yeah. yeah, um.. i just— we wouldn’t.. i don’t think we would ever—“

“i understand.” he nods. he gives a small smile, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. “we’re probably better off as friends.

no, no— that isn’t what i think.

“yeah.. friends.”

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Something There (Chapter 2)

7.1k words Roy Kent x Reader Warnings: Language, enemies-to-lovers, some sexual references, Roy still not being excited about women's sports, childish arguments between adults who clearly want each other

Series Masterlist

Roy threw his bag over his shoulder with a loud groan. Much to his annoyance, he had to start his day by parking on the far side of the lot; there were way more cars than he was used to, especially this early, and he didn’t recognize any of them. Whatever. Maybe Rebecca had some publicity event he’d forgotten about. Wouldn’t be the first time.

He walked into the Dog Track, only vaguely aware of the palatable excitement buzzing in the air as he went down the hall. It wasn’t unusual for him to only nod to people as he passed by instead of stopping to say hello, so that’s what he did, a bit creeped out by the wide smiles on people’s faces as they chattered in hushed tones. Weird.

The reason for the cars and the excitement finally smacked him in the face when he walked opened the door the changing room and found it full of women in sports bras, most of whom only offered him passing glances as they chattered animatedly to one another.

“Oh shit.”

Roy picked up his pace and hurried into his office, noticing its closed blinds and Nate very intentionally focusing on the white board by Roy’s desk. Without quite knowing why, Roy kept walking until he found himself standing in the Whippets’ office.

The American manager, dressed today in leggings and a Whippets jacket (still looking stupidly pretty, which Roy did his best to ignore), looked up from her heavy conversation with Lucas, eyebrow arched. “What’s up with you?”

Roy made a face, not enjoying the mocking tone in her voice. Or the fact that she was speaking to him at all. “Fuck d’you mean?”

Clearly stifling a giggle, she shrugged. “Well, you just charged into my office looking so red in the face it’s almost concerning. Do I need to call you a doctor or something?”

His eyebrows furrowed further. “There’s women changing in the- in the-”

“Changing room,” she finished for him, nodding emphatically. “That’s kind of what it’s for.”

“But it’s women.” Roy knew he sounded stupid as soon as the words left his mouth.

Her amused eyes darted to Lucas before refocusing on Roy. “Well, yeah. I manage a women’s team. Sorry if that wasn’t clear,” she snarked.

He blinked a few times, the warmth in his face growing from annoyance. “Well, you guys should fucking tell us when your team is using shit. Make a schedule or some shit. That way we know what the fuck’s going on.”

She stared at him coolly. “There is a schedule. Coach Beard made it.” Condescension dripped from her voice, letting Roy know she really didn’t have the patience for him.

Right. Roy had gotten a group email from Beard and had, of course, ignored it. He really needed to get his shit together.

When Roy didn’t respond, she continued, her expression completely icy now. “Huh. Every coach I’ve ever known has always made sure they knew what was going on in their club.” She turned to Lucas. “Is this a British thing?”

The assistant coach shrugged and pretended to start typing on his computer. He was staying the fuck out of whatever this was. Smart man.

Roy cleared his throat, feeling like he was losing a game he hadn’t signed up for. ““Well, I mean, I don’t want them to be uncom-”

 “Coach Kent, I have had mostly male coaches for most of my career. Wearing a sports bra in front of men is not a big deal to any of these women. Just like being shirtless in front of me isn’t a big deal to your guys.” She spoke slowly, as if to a child.

He fucking hated it. “Just don’t want my guys making them uncomfortable,” he mumbled, no longer able to look her in the eye.

Her eyes narrowed as she brought herself to her full height and closed the space between them, bringing her face close to his, so close that if he leaned forward just a centimeter their noses would touch. “If they’re planning on making my team uncomfortable, then that’s a Roy Kent problem. If you can’t keep your team in check and make sure they act right, then you need to figure your shit out. Lucas, you’ve shared changing rooms with women’s teams before. Ever seen it be a problem?”

The coach, who was clearly listening with great interest, kept his eyes on the computer screen. “Nope.”

“Didn’t think so.” She turned back to Roy. “I’ll go ahead and assume you weren’t the one who left the lovely little notes in the lockers for us then.”

“That was Isaac’s idea.” Coach Beard appeared in the door that led out to the hall. The door Roy wished he’d used that morning.

“Good morning, Coach,” she greeted, her voice suddenly pleasant. “Isaac… McAdoo, right? He’s your captain?”

Beard nodded. “He thought it would be nice to leave a little something, let the ladies know they’re very welcome here at Nelson Road.” He gave Roy a pointed look before continuing. “They stayed after practice yesterday to write the notes and tidy up the lockers. It was Sam’s idea to get the water bottles.”

The way her face lit up made Roy’s stupid heart skip a beat. “Oh! Those are great. Make sure to thank the guys for us.” She turned to Roy, all friendliness gone. “Your players got these for us.” She pointed to the blue water bottle on her desk, the Whippets’ logo prominent. “They’re pretty nice guys. Must’ve learned from Nate and Beard.”

Ouch. With a scoff, Roy rolled his eyes. “Well-”

She looked at the nonexistent watch on her wrist. “Oop, would you look at that. Time for the W.F.C. Richmond’s first ever practice.” She glared at Roy. “Excuse me, gentlemen.”

Roy had to forcibly stop himself from watching her as she sauntered out of the offices, calling for her team to head out to the pitch.

Coach Lucas patted Roy on the shoulder as he followed suit. “There’s no winning against her once she gets going. Trust me,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

Roy grunted, mouth in a straight line, pretending like he wasn’t focusing on getting his heartrate back to normal. Coach Beard looked thoroughly amused as Roy stayed still as a statue, waiting to hear total silence from the changing room before sulking back to his own office, where Nate quickly pretended to look busy and not like he’d been eavesdropping.

Beard’s eyes remained on Roy. “Boy, she knows how to push your buttons,” he mused.

“Does not,” Roy grumbled, feeling a bit like a schoolboy being badgered by his friends. He dropped into his chair, giving it a little spin from side to side, arms crossed stubbornly. “I don’t have fucking buttons.”

~

Lucas and I stood shoulder to shoulder as we watched the Whippets scrimmage. Under my sunglasses, my eyes were wide with joy. They were good, so good. When we signed these women, we knew there was going to be a lot of talent on this squad. But we could only dream of the chemistry we were already seeing on day one.

“Shit, can you imagine once they’re actually used to each other?” As always, Lucas was reading my mind.

I nodded. “Un. Fucking. Stoppable.” We bumped fists and knocked our hips into each other, a gesture we’d started doing when he was my coach in college. A gesture I knew we’d be making a lot this season.

“Oi!”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out who was shouting and who they were shouting at. With a groan, I turned around. Sure enough, Roy Kent was heading towards Lucas and I, looking ready for a fight. At this point, I wasn’t sure his face was capable of any other expression.

“Yeah, Coach Kent?” I pulled down my sunglasses, glaring at him from over the top, not giving a shit about professionalism or sharing or any of the other things I had promised Rebecca I’d be totally capable of.

Now standing in front of us, he nodded towards my scrimmage. “We need the pitch.”                                   

I glanced at my phone. Sure enough, it was just past time for us to give up the field so the men could use it. Dammit.

Now, if it was Beard or Nate who had come out and asked us to give up the pitch, I would have gladly done so, and would have easily apologized. But because it was Roy Kent who was demanding that we move, my heels dug in all on their own.

“We’re almost done,” I answered breezily, as if he really didn’t matter to me. Which he didn’t.

“Oh no.” He stared at me indignantly. “You made a big fucking deal about there being a fucking schedule. I’m just following it.” He turned to the pitch, where my players continued their scrimmage. “Whistle!” A few women stopped, their faces perplexed. “Get off the fucking pitch!”

My vision went red. “Hey!” I grabbed his shoulder and turned him to face me. “You don’t fucking tell my team what to do!” I blew my whistle. “Keep going!” When play resumed, I looked back at Roy, whose face was nearly purple. “Roy Kent, don’t you ever tell my squad what to do, you fucking hear me?” My hands were balled into fists at my side. “If I were a man-”

Roy rolled his eyes. “Oh, fuck that. You and I both know that this has nothing to do with you being a woman and has everything to do with us needing the fucking pitch. So, knock off with your feminism for a fucking minute.”

He was right. I knew deep down that he was right. But something about the way he looked at me just lit a fire that I didn’t know if I could control. There was no way I could let him win.

I folded my arms and blew some loose hair out of my face. “You could try please,” I grumbled, knowing I looked like a pouting teenager and not a professional soccer coach.

His eyebrows flew up. “I’m sorry? You want me to say please? When it’s my turn on the pitch? Are you fucking joking?”

“Beard and Nate would have said please.”

His eyes narrowed, an unwilling acknowledgement that I was completely correct. “Fine.” He gritted his teeth. “Please.”

Every ounce of coldness returned to my body. “There, was that so hard?” I purred mockingly.

Before Roy could respond- probably something involving the word fuck- Lucas brought his whistle to his lips and blew it hard. “Alright ladies, let’s go! Bring it in!” He looked at the two of us, eyebrows raised. “If you two are still flirting, I’m going to take these gals to the weight room, cool?”

“Fuck off,” Roy and I scoffed in unison.

Once Lucas stopped laughing his ass off, we headed to the weight room and got our players started on their workouts. Finally, I turned to Lucas, who was still grinning.

“We weren’t flirting.” My tone was flat, blunt.

Lucas snorted. “Oh, you were totally flirting. So was he, to be fair.” He shrugged. “You could definitely do worse than Roy Kent, I’ll give you that. Man’s a legend. And still pretty hot.”

“Can’t stand that man,” I mumbled, wondering if I was trying to convince Lucas or myself. “He’s the fucking worst.”

“Then have some really passionate hate sex,” Lucas suggested, waggling his eyebrows. “Do something to take care of that tension between you two.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You know, in some cultures, this is sexual harassment.”

“And in some cultures,” Lucas countered, “the way you look at Roy Kent would mean you have to marry him.”

~

Roy sighed as he leaned back in the chair in Doctor Sharon’s office. It had been a full week of sharing Nelson Road with the fucking Whippets. Of sharing it with her. And Roy felt like he’d aged an entire decade in that time.

They glared at each other in place of a greeting. They had shouting matches on the pitch. They muttered swear words at each other in the weight room. They rolled their eyes whenever the other was mentioned. And on more than one occasion, they got in each other’s faces, noses almost touching, lips way too close for Roy’s comfort.

He knew better. He fucking knew better. He hadn’t spent all that time with Ronald fucking McDonald for nothing. He’d grown and changed and become a better man. He’d learned to control the rage that thundered in his chest and to use it constructively. He’d become friends with Jamie Tartt of all people. Fuck, he even met with Dr. Sharon once a month. And yet here was this Yank, with her leggings and red lipstick and cocky grin, coming in and undoing all of it.

Roy closed his eyes as he listened to Doctor Sharon settle at her desk after closing the door. There was no way she hadn’t heard about what was going on between the two managers; everyone at the Dog Track knew what was happening, despite the assistant coaches’ combined efforts to keep things under control. He was surprised they hadn’t gotten called into Rebecca’s office to be properly shouted at like the children they were.

“You seem tired, Roy.” Doctor Sharon’s gentle voice made his eyes snap open. “Everything alright?”

He grunted, crossing his arms. No use dancing around things. “It’s the new women’s team,” he grumbled. “Their manager and I….” He glanced up at the ceiling, as if it held the right words to describe the white-hot rage he felt every time he looked at her. “…. Don’t get along.”

Doctor Sharon nodded. “I’ve heard.”

She didn’t say anything else, so Roy went on. “She’s just really fucking infuriating, y’know? All cocky and full of herself. Acts entitled to the pitch and the weight room and the changing room. And of course, Beard and fucking Nate like her and the fellas all act like she’s God’s gift to football. Just because she’s won a couple of trophies.”

“Was all of this your first impression of her?” Doctor Sharon asked after a moment.

Roy squirmed a little. “Well, I mean I met her at a club actually,” he admitted. “Right before she started working here. And I didn’t know who she was. And I made a comment implying that she wanted to flirt with me for attention, because I’m, well, me.” Fuck, he felt insufferable saying that part out loud. “And then I came into work and- fuck- there she is. Fucking stuck up as hell.” He shrugged. “And she’s shit at sharing,” he mumbled.

“Hmm.” Doctor Sharon looked thoughtful for a moment. “Have you thought about what it’s like for her right now?”

Her voice always calmed him down. “How d’you mean?”

She looked him straight in the eye. He liked that about her. “Well, she’s just given up her entire life to move here, where she knows literally one person, and she’s got a lot of responsibility on her shoulders to lead a football team that doesn’t know her yet. Sounds a bit like someone else we know, hmm?”

Roy shook his head. “No. She’s nothing like him. She’s arrogant and conceited and cocky and-”

“That sounds like the way you describe yourself at that age,” Doctor Sharon mused. Roy simply grunted, so she continued. “And, like her, you know what it’s like to suddenly be away from home and everyone you love, don’t you?”

He thought way back, to when he was a child, his grandad dropping him off with his blankie. “I was a fucking kid,” he argued. “That was different.”

Doctor Sharon shook her head. “We don’t compare baggage, remember?”

Roy nodded in defeat. “Fuck. Sorry. I know.” He fiddled with the zipper on his jacket. “’m just really fucking annoyed about sharing Nelson Road,” he mumbled, hoping to change the topic a little.

Apparently, Doctor Sharon was going to let him. “Why is that?”

“Because it’s ours,” he said simply. “We finally got into a rhythm, you know? Lasso came in and turned everything upside down, turns me upside down, then he fucking left. And then Rebecca decides to put me in charge.” Roy shook his head. “And I get one fucking year to figure out how to be a manager before she brings in an entirely new team? It’s just a lot.”

Doctor Sharon nodded sympathetically. “That is a lot of change in a short time,” she affirmed. “How can we deal with that?”

Roy felt good as he walked out of Doctor Sharon’s office at the end of their hour. They’d discussed how Roy could cope with all the stress, about the things he could control to feel like he wasn’t helpless against all this change, and even some conflict resolution strategies she wanted him to try. Maybe he didn’t have to be an absolute prick about all this.

Of course, those thoughts went out the window when Roy turned a corner and saw George Willows. Everyone thought Roy had hated Trent Crimm, but George Willows was a whole other story. He was Roy’s least favorite journalist, to the point where the man didn’t even come to the Greyhounds’ press conferences due to the high chances of being screamed at.

And who should Willows be chatting with in a particularly friendly-looking manner, looking more like two flirting teenagers than professionals?

“Oi.” Roy furrowed his brow, keeping his eye on George, avoiding looking at a certain pretty American. “Fuck are you doing here?”

“We have an interview,” Coach Buck pipped up, scowling at Roy. “Did you need something, Coach Kent?”

She always sounded like she was spitting out his name.

Roy nodded. “Yeah. I need this prick-” He pointed to George. “-to get the fuck out of here before I escort him out myself.”

Before she could retort, George put his hands in front of himself defensively. “Hey, I’m not here for the Greyhounds, Roy. Just a little fluff piece on the Whippets and their new coach.” He smiled down at the manager when he mentioned her. “Help the people of Richmond know just how lucky they are to have her.”

The beaming smile on her face, aimed completely at George Willows, made Roy’s chest go painfully tight.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh fuck off,” he groaned. “Honestly, they couldn’t have sent literally anyone else? What, it’s so hard to find someone to yammer off questions and hold a fucking tape recorder?”

“They use phones now, Grandad,” Jamie Tartt teased as he passed by, hair still damp from his shower. He saluted. “G’night, Coach Buck.”

“Night, Jamie!” she called, smiling at the striker. Apparently, she had a smile for everyone but Roy. Indeed, it disappeared when she glared at him. “Coach Kent, can I help you with something?”

Roy’s mouth went dry. Why the fuck did he let this woman get to him?

Since Roy wasn’t talking, she turned to George Willows. “Why don’t you head on into my office? I’ll be there in a moment.” She pointed the way to her office, all friendliness. Her frown reappeared once he was gone. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“That guy fucking sucks,” Roy said plainly. “Seriously. All of the press sucks, that guy might actually be the fucking devil.”

Her eyeroll rivalled the ones Roy was known for. “Well, if Roy Kent hates him, he must be a lovely person. Maybe even the second coming of Jesus Christ. If there’s nothing else you need to bitch about, I’d love it if you kindly fucked off, Coach Kent. I have an interview.” With that, she turned and swaggered off, with Roy trying his best to avoid watching her receding figure and ignoring the warmth in his cheeks when he failed.

~

We were coming close to the start of the season, and I felt multitudes calmer than I thought I would. My team was fantastic, and they seemed to like me as much as I liked them. Lucas and I had been working hard on our plays and were constantly trying to figure out who our captain would be; with so many strong leaders, it was a fun problem to have.

“Excellent job today, ladies!” I called out as I strolled through the locker room. “See you all in the morning!”

The players called out their goodnights as they headed to their lockers or to the showers. I smiled when I walked into the offices and saw Nate and Beard at their desks.

Coach Beard had done a good job with the schedule, no matter how much Roy Kent bitched about it; each day, the teams rotated between either starting practice an hour early or ending an hour later, so we didn’t have too much overlap in the showers and locker room. Today was our day to end late. Rebecca had said this was temporary, that hopefully she’d eventually build us our own training facility and just use Nelson Road for games, but I didn’t mind the sharing. Not with the Greyhounds, who were gracious and kind and made sure my team felt welcome. Not with Beard and Nate, who were friendly and always offering help with anything we needed as our first match quickly approached. The only problem was- well, I didn’t need to think about him right now.

“Hello, Greyhounds,” I greeted politely. “You guys all done for the day?”

Nate smiled. “Yes, all done. And you guys? Er, gals?” He paused for a moment, his face scrunched in thought. “Ladies?”

I laughed. “Gals and ladies both work just fine,” I assured him. “And yeah, we’re wrapped up.” I paused, looking at Nate thoughtfully. “Hey, could I have Lucas run some plays by you? I’ve heard you’re something of a whiz with plays and strategy.” I shot a wink in Beard’s direction. “Some people told me you’re a real wonder kid.”

Nate’s smile widened. “Oh, yes, absolutely, I’d love to help.”

Beard gave me a nod of approval as Nate jumped up to go find Lucas in our office. “That was very nice of you.”

I shrugged, taking Roy’s empty chair, not caring if he walked in and saw me in it. “Nice has nothing to do with it. We’ll take any help we can get. If Nate’s as good as you’ve said- which I’m sure he is- I hope you all don’t mind sharing that brain of his from time to time.”

“I’m fine with it. And Nate would be thrilled to help you out. Just don’t let Roy hear about it,” Beard teased. “He’s not one for sharing.”

“Especially not with me,” I hummed with an eyeroll. I wondered if I was damaging my eyesight from doing that so much lately. “Has he always been like this?”

Coach Beard looked thoughtful for a moment. “Roy… is a tough cookie,” he said carefully. “He didn’t exactly love Ted and me when we first got here. But we broke through those walls, and honestly, we’re pretty close now. He was the best man at my wedding.” He tapped his pen against his desk. “I actually thought he’d have an easier time with this whole women’s team thing, if I’m being honest.”

“Great, so it’s me he hates, not women’s sports,” I joked, earning a sympathetic half-smile from Beard. My eyes landed on a photo hanging on the wall, one of the three Greyhound coaches and another mustached man, one I knew immediately even if we’d never met. “Bet you all miss him a lot,” I mused.

A small sigh escaped Beard’s lips. “You have no idea.” His voice was the softest I’d heard it. “He’d get you and Roy all sorted out, that’s for sure.”

The tip of my nose went warm, thinking about all the shit the other coaches had dealt with over the past few weeks. “I’m really sorry about-”

Beard shook his head. “Growing pains,” he said simply. “You’re both good coaches. Both passionate about the sport. Which makes you both a little hardheaded. You’ll figure it out.” He paused. “Or Rebecca’ll fire you both.”

Despite his serious face, I laughed. “Guess that’s a good motivation to stop calling him a fucking asshole in the hallways, huh?”

Coach Beard’s smile matched mine. “Whatever works.” His phone pinged, calling his attention to it. “Gotta head out. My wife made sushi for dinner for the first time so I should probably grab some stomach medicine.” He looked at me thoughtfully. “We’ll have you over sometime. If we invite Roy, we can have a four-way screaming contest.”

A little perplexed by what he meant by that, I nodded. “Sure, Coach. Enjoy your food poisoning. Maybe tell the missus that you had some weird English food for lunch so you can blame that.”

He tapped his head. “Smart. Love it.” With a wave, he turned and went through my office, offering quick goodbyes to Nate and Lucas.

After heaving myself out of Roy’s chair, I peeked into my office. Nate and Lucas were poring over our playbook, discussing how to adjust a particular play we’d been struggling with. Both men looked up at me expectantly.

“Hey Luke, I’m going to do some running before I head home. Need to start forming good habits again. Don’t worry about me if you guys finish, I’ll just take a cab home if you’re gone.”

Lucas nodded. “No problem. See you tomorrow, Bucky.”

“Goodnight, Coach!” Nate added, his smile wide.

I walked across the room to grab my workout bag. “Later, guys!” I hollered, waving over my shoulder as I left the office.

Once I’d changed into some shorts and sports bra, I whistled as I walked to the weight room. It was well past quitting time, with most offices empty and closed up, my remaining players straggling out of the locker room to head home for the night. As I approached the weight room, I grabbed my keys to unlock it, something Rebecca had assured me I was more than welcome to do anytime, but I found the door was already cracked open.

My eyes instinctively narrowed as I looked inside. The universe was truly cruel; a shirtless Roy Kent was on one of the two treadmills, gazing at the television on the wall above him, watching… Lust Conquers All? Jamie had mentioned the show to me, bashfully explaining that he’d been on it a few seasons back. Not what I expected to see the Greyhound’s manager watching as he jogged.

Deciding not to use my voice to alert him to my presence, I let the door close loudly behind me. Roy glanced over his shoulder, grunting when he saw me. Taking that as his way of saying he wasn’t interested in a fight, I continued into the room, heading towards the lone treadmill next to his. I quickly dropped my Whippets water bottle into the cupholder and jumped onto the treadmill, setting it to a light pace.

For a while, the only sounds in the room were our feet on the treadmills and the obnoxious voices of the Lust Conquers All contestants onscreen. Not knowing what came over me, I glanced to my left at Roy. I shouldn’t have been surprised to see that he had kept in shape post-retirement; after all, wasn’t I on the treadmill trying to do the same thing? But wow, the man looked good. My eyes couldn’t resist lingering on the thick hair covering his chest. It reminded me a bit of Sean Connery in the old James Bond movies my parents used watch; those movies had given me a great appreciation for views like the one before me. Some quiet voice in the back of my head considered that, if this man didn’t drive me crazy, I’d probably be into him.

Shaking my head to clear out the ridiculous intrusive thoughts that were quickly becoming steamy, I turned my eyes back to the screen, trying to figure out which contestant was trying to sleep with which. It was weirdly comforting to see that, even across an ocean, reality trash still remained. Over the past weeks, I had clung to anything that reminded me of home; maybe I’d have to start watching Lust Conquers All as a weird way to cope with homesickness. Lucas would surely get a kick out of that. Heck, I could probably get him to join me.

When the show went to commercial break, I felt the hair on my neck prickle, as if I were being watched. Sure enough, out of the corner of my eye, I could see Roy’s gaze on me, trailing slowly down my body as I jogged on the treadmill. A flush covered every inch of my skin where his eyes dawdled, my heart going faster than it normally did when I ran. There was something eerily familiar about the way he shook his head and looked back up at the television, as if a phone commercial was the most interesting thing in the world.

We ran in silence until the show ended. Once the trailer for the next episode began, Roy turned off his treadmill and climbed down. Our eyes met for a brief moment, the contact taking place of any cheerful “goodnights” most people would have exchanged. After he grabbed his own things, he silently placed the television remote on my treadmill, not quite looking at me.

The only other thing I heard was the sound of the door clicking closed behind him as he left.

~

“Hi Roy!”

Roy paused and turned around, hand poised to open the driver’s side door. “Keeley,” he greeted, letting his hand drop to his side.

The blonde practically skipped over to him looking particularly happy. “How’s it going?”

“Fine.” He frowned. He liked Keeley; they were friends, he’d venture to say good friends, bordering on best friends. But something glinted in her eye that made Roy uneasy. “You?”

“Great, great.” She paused a moment, swaying from side to side. “I have something really fun that I’ve been working on,” Keeley hummed.

Roy felt his antenna go up in suspicion. “Uh huh.”

Keeley’s expression was that of someone who was up to something. “And I could really use your help with it, Roy.”

There it was.

“Keeley,” he growled, raising his eyebrows at her. “Can you just tell me what you need?”

She offered Roy her best don’t-you-love-me smile, as if trying to remind him that they were friends. “A photoshoot. Featuring our fabulous Richmond coaches!”

Roy threw his head back. Keeley knew better. Roy hated this kind of shit. There was no way she’d ever ask if he wanted to- oh.

“I don’t have a fucking choice, do I?” he groaned.

Wrinkling her nose, Keeley shook her head. “D’you really think I’d ask you if you didn’t have to do it?” She shrugged. “Sorry, Roy. Rebecca’s orders. So come in tomorrow looking camera-ready, alright?”

Roy took “camera-ready” pretty loosely. He came in the next morning looking like himself, just a bit dressier: black button-down shirt, black slacks, beard, scowl. Keeley didn’t look too surprised when she saw him, just smiled and dragged him to the makeup artist. As he sat in the chair, begrudgingly letting the girl put exactly one layer of mascara on him, he coughed to get Keeley’s attention.

“Where’s Nate? Beard? Or are they pretty enough without makeup?”

“What?” Keeley looked up from her phone and shook her head. “Oh, no, they’re not doing this.” She bit her lip, the fear in her eyes telling Roy she did not want to say the next words that came out of her mouth. “It’s, er, just the managers.” Her voice became itty bitty. “So, you know, just you and Coach Bucky.”

Roy threw his head back so quickly he almost got poked in the eye with the mascara. “Fuuuuuuuuuuck,” he hissed. “So not only am I missing training, not only do I have to do a fucking photoshoot, but I have to do it with her?”

As if summoned like the demon she was, the American bounded into the office Keeley had commandeered as a staging room. Roy’s breath caught in his throat; he’d been working his ass off to get so many images out of his head: the little black dress she’d been wearing at the club, the red smirk she sported in her first press conference, the shorts she wore on the treadmill. But this had to be the fucking worst.

Not only was she wearing that red lipstick that he realized was probably her signature look at this point, but her hair was down- something he’d yet to see- and wavy and framing her face in that way Roy thought only models could accomplish. She was wearing full makeup, a natural look that accentuated her attractive features. Worse, she was wearing a fucking dress, one that hugged her curves and showed off her athletic figure. Roy hated the way his heart was pounding at the sight of her.

“Fuck you look sexy as hell!” Keeley squealed, giving the coach a once-over. “Doesn’t she look great, Roy?”

Before Roy could figure out an evasive response, laughter hit his ears.

“Oh, trust me. Coach Kent probably thinks I look like some young thing trying to trick him into dancing with me. Isn’t that right, Coach?”

Giggling, Keeley shoved the far-too-pretty manager. “Oh, leave him alone. Today’s rough enough for Roy. He doesn’t love this kind of thing.”

“Is it because vampires don’t show up on camera?”

“Oi!” Roy stood up, teeth bared. “Just because you love being the center of attention and having cameras on you and getting prickish journalists to giggle at your stupid jokes doesn’t mean everyone does. Not all of us have your fucking ego that needs to be fed constantly.”

Keeley cleared her throat. “Alright you two, why don’t we take this energy out to the pitch, hmm? Time to take some pretty pictures.”

The two managers grumbled in agreement and followed Keeley out of the room, avoiding looking at each other until they were outside. In the back of his head, Roy wondered if this was Buck’s first time on the main pitch; of course, he didn’t ask. That would require actually giving a shit.

Instead, he did his best to listen as Keeley introduced to two managers to the photographer, explaining that she and Rebecca thought these promo photos would be a great way to garner more interest in the Whippets and show the Greyhounds’ support for the women’s team, and that, if these came out well, they’d do photos of both teams as well.

“Right.” The photographer, an older man Roy had met against his will a handful of times, snapped his gum and studied the managers. “Let’s do this.”

Under Keeley’s anxious supervision, the photographer directed the two gaffers onto the grass, posing them as if they were dolls and clicking away before shifting poses, a pattern Roy knew well and hated. Roy’s stomach was in knots when the photographer instructed him to look down at the pretty, pretty coach.

“Like you admire her,” he suggested.

The American snorted. “Good luck with that one,” she mumbled.

Roy sucked in a breath through his teeth. This was already a long fucking day. This wasn’t the kind of shit he’d signed up for when he came back to Richmond after his retirement. But he reminded himself that this was for Keeley and Rebecca; he’d have to do his fucking best.

So, for once, he did as he was told. Roy knew the photographer meant admiration in a professional way, as a fellow coach. But instead, Roy let himself look at her the way he’d been avoiding since her first day at Nelson Road. He took in the sight of her unabashedly, resentfully admitting to himself that the view from up close was fucking nice when he wasn’t being screamed at.

When her eyes met his, Roy felt his brain fizz out and shut down. She was too close, too pretty, too annoying, too perfect.

“Great,” the photographer called, his camera clicking away. “Think you could get a smidge closer?”

Hating the stupid knots in his stupid stomach, Roy took a step away. “Really? Want me to hold her like we’re going to a fucking dance?” he barked.

“Roy,” Keeley warned gently, eyebrows raised.

“Just take the fucking photos, Kent,” came a grumbling voice from next to him.

Roy scoffed. “Yeah, you’d love that wouldn’t you?”

A sigh escaped those red lips. “And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

He dug himself deeper, desperate to just be done with this shit already. “Just that you must be really fucking excited to have your pretty picture taken, yeah?”

Her eyes narrowed. “That is the second time you’ve said shit like that to me today. Tell me what the fuck you mean by that.”

Their voices were rising as Keeley watched in utter frustration. She’d told Rebecca that this wasn’t the best idea. But the Amazon of a woman had insisted that the two would be able to put their issues aside for something as simple as a fucking photoshoot.

“Oi!” Keeley shook her head at the two red-faced managers. “Go to Rebecca’s office. I’m done with you two and whatever weird sexual thing you’ve got happening here.” She turned to the photographer. “I’m so sorry. Let me to grab a couple players, we can get some shots for the website or something.” She looked at the frozen coaches. “Fucking go!”

~

I’d been sent to the principal’s office plenty of times as a kid. Mostly for fighting with the boys when they refused to let me play with them, or when told me I played “like a girl” (as if it were an insult), or the time a particularly stupid classmate threw mud all over my Mia Hamm jersey and I decided to give him a bloody nose. Getting in trouble for fighting with idiots was nothing new to me.

But Rebecca Welton wasn’t going to give me a detention and call my parents.

“I am not losing this job because of you,” I informed Roy as we trudged through the hallways. “I was just trying to get things over with. But oh no, you with your fucking comments about me and pictures.” I shook my head. “It’s part of the job, Kent. You might not know this, what with playing for fucking Chelsea, but publicity matters for a new club. Especially a women’s club.”I stopped and faced Roy, who mirrored my pause. “So yeah, I had more to gain from that shoot than you did. But don’t you dare fucking judge me for that. You will never understand-”

“Oi!” Rebecca’s presence filled the hallway. “Lovebirds. In my office, now.”

Hoping Roy felt as childish as I did, I looked down as I walked into Rebecca’s office. She towered over her desk and pointed silently to the chairs, ordering us to sit down without a word. We did as we were told, both of us looking defeated with our shoulders slumped and heads down.

Roy tried first. “Rebecca, I-”

“Nope.” Rebecca crossed her arms, staring firmly at the two of us.

My turn. “We are so sor-”

Rebecca shook her head. “Don’t want to hear that either.” She rubbed her temples gingerly. “I don’t want to hear sorry, or it’s not my fault, or we’ll be better, or any of it.” She sighed. “I knew it would be an adjustment, starting a new team and having to share the Dog Track, but what the actual fuck, you two?” She threw her arms in the air. “What? Do we need to throw you in a boxing ring? Or get you a fucking hotel room?” She pointed at me. “You are a fucking Olympic champion. You think Mia fucking Hamm acts like this? You think this is what I hired you for? To set this example to the team and all the little girls who’ll be watching you?” She turned on Roy. “And you? Jesus Christ, Roy. I am trusting you with the most important thing in my life, with my family.” Her voice cracked. “Do not make me lose another manager,” she whispered.

Roy and I exchanged shamed glances, neither of us sure what to say.

Rebecca went on. “You are both incredible coaches. I see you on that pitch. When you’re not biting each other’s heads off, you’re doing great things with your teams. Your assistant coaches adore you when they’re not having to manage whatever-” She gestured between us in exasperation. “-this is. And I really think both of our teams can have a successful season, if we can get the two of you focused.”

We both nodded earnestly; fuck, I’d marry Roy Kent if it meant making Rebecca happy.

“So, pack your bags, make sure your pets are fed, because next weekend we are all going on a team-building retreat. Whippets and Greyhounds, first annual weekend of figuring out how to fucking get along and act like adults.”

There was panic in Roy Kent’s eyes as he leaned forward. “Rebecca, we are this fucking close to the start of the season, if we’re going to win our first match-”

Rebecca raised a cool eyebrow at him. “Roy Kent, you full well this team’s philosophy about where winning lands on our list of priorities.” Roy sat back, grumbling something about Ronald McDonald. “Your teams will have opportunities to train while we’re there. I do like having a winning team, after all,” she added quickly. Rebecca raised an eyebrow, waiting for us to protest some more. “Any more questions?”

We both shook our heads like obedient children.

“Right. I’ll have Higgins send you the details and you can let your teams know.” She put on a mocking smile. “It’ll be a grand old time. You, me, the teams, the woods, and conflict-resolution training.”

“I don’t think the Greyhounds and Whippets need much of that,” I found myself saying. “They get along great.”

Rebecca’s tight grin remained. “Oh, I know. I’m hoping the two of you can learn something from them.” She gestured towards the door. “Off with you then.”

Dismissed, Roy and I stood and made our way out the door, away from Rebecca’s scrutinizing gaze. Once we were far enough away that Rebecca wouldn’t hear us, we looked at each other, all anger gone for once.

“Going to be a miserable fucking weekend,” Roy mumbled.

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

Taglist: @callmecasey81 @ladygrey03 @puckyou-forpuckssake @royalestrellas @optimisticsandwichgladiator @reading-blogs @shineforever19 @rae4725 @burnafter-reading @her-fandom-sanctum @infinetlyforgotten @giggling-sewer-ginger @whataloadofmalarkey @agentstarkid @kingleahhh @tortilla-maria1 @geekgirl1996 @amatswimming @meg-ro @spicyraccoonlordking @spaghetti-dad187 @needlesthreadandbuttons @elissaaa @imsoluckyeverythingworksoutforme @reverieisaway @djskakakaksjsj-blog @thatonedogwithablog @allthetroubleiveseen @sunderland-6 @netflix-addict @paranormal-is-my-life @jill2629-blog @itsbuzzfeedbitch @pretzelactivist @amieinghigh @kashee-h

[brutal-nemesis]

big question!! dude can we please see a scene in the AU where castys has his tongue cut off and he has to deal with that? like man, the shock and the pain and the fuckin grief? and neteri just being herself ofc

anyway the latest erebus chapter was heartbreaking you’re so good at being awful to these lads (i can’t stop reading)

Thank you I try,,,,,

Okay strap in fellas I think this is banger as hell I had a great time and let me know if you have any other requests for the AU!

Castys & Terror AU Masterlist - Castys Masterlist - Next→

Ingredients: shockingly, tongue gets cut off! some suffocation as well

Castys wasn’t great at sitting in chairs normally, something his parents had always reprimanded him for, but, hey, they’d never taken it as far as to fucking tie him to one, and Castys was grateful. This shit was uncomfortable. Like, yeah, the rough ropes around his wrists and ankles were tight and itchy, but also the position just sucked. Not that he’d rather be standing or something-

“You must be Castys!” The door had swung open, and now this little lady with a white coat on was walking up to him. 

“Yes, I’m Castys,” he said flatly as she scurried behind him before coming back without her bag. And then she just…stared at him. Castys wasn’t sure what she was looking at, since there really wasn’t much to see, just, like, him. Eventually her eyes wandered up to his, and she jumped in place a bit.

“Oh, right, I’m Neteri.” She stuck her hand out like she expected him to shake it.

“You know I’m tied up, right?”

“Ah. Yeah.” Her skin was dark enough that it wasn’t immediately obvious that she was blushing, but Castys was pretty sure she was. She ended up awkwardly grabbing his right hand and shaking it a bit. “I, um, I’ll be preparing you for this afternoon. Sorry, I’m just a bit nervous.”

“Well, you’re not tied to a chair so I think you’ll be okay.”

She laughed. “You’re right, you’re right, but I’m just…I think I’m going to do something I’m not supposed to do.”

Castys raised an eyebrow. “Let me go because I’m funny?”

Neteri rolled her eyes, but she was smiling, so clearly she did think he was funny. “No, you’re staying put, sorry bud. But I think I’m going to keep you. You’re kind of perfect.” She tried to cup his cheek in her hand, but Castys leaned away, staring at her with wide eyes.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” His mouth was really dry all of a sudden, he wasn’t perfect, he was a fuck-up, a useless heir, that had been his goal, he wasn’t good at anything he was supposed to be good at, he wasn’t well-mannered or polite, he had a huge fucking scar on his face and a lopsided smile because of it, he was filthy and vulgar and didn’t have any interest in getting married he was absolutely anything but perfect. So why the hell did she want him?

“It’s not important right now. You’ve got a big day ahead of you!” She clapped her hands, dismissing the subject entirely. He wanted to press her further, but after seeing the lovely object she pulled out of her pocket, everything else was forgotten.

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Aw, what are you gonna do about it, Castys? I thought you were tied to a chair!” Great, now it was his turn to feel his face grow hot, because, yeah, what the fuck was he gonna do?

Normally, he doubted he’d immediately recognize it for what it was, but today, right now, after just being told this lady wanted to keep him, it was instantly clear. And Neteri was right, he was only able to squirm uselessly and lean away as she wrapped the collar around his neck without much trouble. His first swallow after she’d sealed it shut felt horrible, and he absolutely did not want to get used to it.

“See, it’s not so bad. It looks cute on you!” She ruffled his hair, which only made Castys more uncomfortable.

“I don’t want to be cute. I’m not a fucking dog.” He wasn’t sure whether the collar was part of Neteri’s weird desires or just to humiliate him, but either way he hated it.

“No, you’re not, but you’re also not a prince anymore, and you’re the property of the Xernan Empire, and this is a good reminder of that,” Neteri said as she walked around behind him, probably to her bag. Castys rolled his eyes. He didn’t need to be reminded that he wasn’t a prince, since it was his favorite new development in all of this. Unless…unless it wasn’t just a reminder for him, but for everyone else, too…He really, really hoped there wasn’t going to be some sort of public display, but given how Neteri’d said he had a “big day” ahead…fuck, that was probably the case, huh?

“Now, I’m going to…oh, I might get in so much trouble for this,” Neteri muttered as she stared at the floor, standing in front of him once again. She had leather gloves on, which would have been nice earlier when she was touching him, and she was holding…a pair of shears? He didn’t think she’d put on gloves if she was just going to cut his hair, and given that she thought she might get in trouble for it, it seemed like she was going to…maim him somehow. Castys curled his hands into fists as Neteri slapped her cheeks with her palms, still talking to herself. “No, I’m going to do this. I deserve it. It’s not that far off from what the emperor wants. Okay,” she held the shears up and gave Castys a concerningly bright smile. “Any last words?”

For once, Castys didn’t take the opportunity to speak.

Instead, he locked his jaw shut tight, teeth clenched so hard it hurt, lips pressed together, walls of protection around his tongue. 

That’s what she wanted, wasn’t it?

Neteri cocked her head, watching him. “Nothing to say all of a sudden? No jokes?” Her smile disappeared as her eyes narrowed. “You figured it out, didn’t you, Castys? What I’m going to do to you.”

He didn’t bother nodding.

Neteri stepped up to him, her knee on the chair in between his legs, leaning over him, her face right above his as he craned back to avoid her. “You’re going to have to get used to obeying me, Castys.” The cold metal of the shears rested on his cheek. “So open your mouth.”

If there’s one thing Castys was good at, it was disobeying orders.

After a few moments of neither of them moving, Neteri pinched Castys’s nose shut with her free hand, not saying a word. Fine, he could play that game. Hold on as the pressure in his chest built, as his head started to spin, as his vision started to darken, every fiber of his being screaming at him to just give in to the inevitable and take a breath. He could do it quick, a little gasp, fast enough that she wouldn’t be able to do anything. Okay, three, two…

The exhale was shaky, but it was fine, just a quick inhale as he snapped his mouth shut-

His teeth scraped against metal, the sensation sending shivers down his spine.

Neteri stared at him with a detached coldness as she rotated the shears, forcing his jaw open wide, wide enough for her to stick her hand in and grab his tongue, pulling it out despite his attempts to pull it back, turning the shears to the side now, opening them up, the cold blades-

Snip.

Castys’s mouth was hot it was burning he was choking the smell of blood was so strong he was suffocating on it her hand was still in his mouth her fingers pressed against his wound magic piercing through his jaw he’d scream if he had the air and then that was it her hand was gone he lurched forward coughing and spitting blood and saliva all down the front of the threadbare shirt he’d been given and once he saw the discarded little piece of pink flesh on the floor he couldn’t look at anything else he couldn’t believe that was it it was gone it wasn’t in his mouth his mouth was empty there was only the blood still dripping out and when Neteri laid a hand on his back he wanted to growl at her not to touch him but he couldn’t he couldn’t say anything anymore he was quiet nothing to say no thoughts or opinions of his own just how his parents had wanted him-

“It’s alright, Castys, just breathe. It was a little more difficult than it needed to be, but you did it.” And why did it need to be at all? “Just two more things left today and then you can rest. And then hopefully…” Her hand slid up, resting on the back of his neck, on that awful collar, and Castys wanted to scream. He never, ever wanted to belong to her.

But what he wanted didn’t matter anymore.

Castys was dragged out and whipped and branded and left out on display, brought back and patched up by Neteri and given soup that he couldn’t taste, and when the door slammed shut behind her, he finally allowed himself to cry.

His back and chest hurt, of course, the wounds aggravated no matter how he moved or what position he laid in, but he could deal with it. It was nothing compared to what he’d lost, the little pocket of empty space inside his mouth.

Words were all he’d ever have to really fight back, complaining when he was forced to do things he didn’t want to, scaring off all the suitors his parents picked out, jokes keeping him calm when he was scared or upset, even when he couldn’t do anything he could still say something, make sure everyone knew how he felt, and now he was more helpless than ever before and he couldn’t say a single fucking thing. 

He didn’t even know where he was going to end up, either sold off to some asshole or left in Neteri’s clutches, and no matter what, he wasn’t going to be treated like a person. The collar made it pretty clear. He was less than human now, a pet, a lab rat, property, something that didn’t need to have thoughts or opinions anymore. 

He’d rather be a prince after all.

Castys Cult: @as-a-matter-of-whump​ @blackrosesandwhump​ @fanmanga1357-blog​​ @thehopelessopus​ @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@hearse-song​ @muddy-swamp-bitch @whumpasaurus101 @yet-another-heathen​​ @galaxywhump 

@starnight-whump​ @his-unspoken-words​ @misspelledwitch @suspicious-whumping-egg​ @pumpkin-spice-whump​ 

@painsandconfusion @i-can-even-burn-salad @befuddled-calico-whump​ @whumpinggrounds​ @whump-queen​

@whumpedydump

[archivalofsins]

I love when people try to discuss Kotoko, saying she wasn't persecuted by like-

Being sorta ableist and conflating persecution to trauma. Subtly pushing forward this idea that normal people don't turn out like her. Come on, now. Just listen to what's being said for a second.

Firstly, everyone has trauma. Like literally everyone, there is no such thing as a person devoid of trauma. Regardless of how big or small another person may believe someone else's trauma to be, no one goes through life without dealing with some distressing or disturbing events.

So, anyone who truly on some level believes having trauma can be used as an excuse/justification for her acting the way she does or only people with certain sorts of trauma who went through certain sorts of things that possibly have certain types of diagnoses are the only one's who would behave like she does...

May want to start tackling their own internalized ableism before they fall into stereotyping. People using Kotoko's answer about persecution to highlight that she herself has no issue admitting she's never received what the fuck she dishes out and her having trauma are two seperate things. I don't even know how they ended up being connected to begin with.

Sure a person can have trauma from being persecuted, but being persecuted isn't the source of all trauma. That's why they're two different words.

That's why the question was phrased like this.

Q.18 Have you ever personally been persecuted in the past?

Kotoko: I haven’t. But are you trying to say that if you haven’t had those experiences you can’t hate evildoers?

Because it was asking about whether Kotoko experienced the same persecution she put others through. Her answer was no. Where exactly does trauma come in here? This is a bad faith reading of this situation, but I can't view this talking point as anything other than people attempting to consistently show off that they think/believe people who have experienced incredibly traumatic things are not normal and therefore are the only people who would end up like Kotoko. Causing me to consider that the only reason people want Kotoko to be traumatized is so they can point at that trauma and say she can't be like me I can't end up like her because she's fundamentally different from the average person. An average person wouldn't be like this.

I think this because no one, not even the question discussed, ever brought trauma into this.

Now, I have personally stated to people who claim Kotoko must have trauma to be the way she is, that she admits to not being persecuted. To state why I personally doubt she has trauma to the extent that others want her to have it for some reason. Because she explains what she views as evil in her first voice drama, the persecution of the weak and innocent, bullying, torture. The translation I saw which is on YouTube, specifies bullying and torture. For her to state she has not been persecuted directly after stating what she defines as persecution in her first voice drama paints a pretty clear picture.

Along with the fact that she literally gets defensive about stating she hasn't been persecuted. Literally stating,

"But are you trying to say that if you haven't had those experiences, you can't hate evildoers?"

So, it's clearly a sore spot for her. She didn't go, "No, I'd never be a victim." She literally went, "Oh, are you saying I can't hate evil because I haven't personally been persecuted by it? Is that what you're getting at? I know an evildoer when I see one."

That's a weird way to lie. It's weird to lie about not having something done to you and then in the same sentence point out and attempt to combat how that may be weaponized against you. Because if she recognizes it could be used to imply that she isn't fit to do the things she's doing due to the fact she has no firsthand experience with being persecuted then she honestly could have and should have lied. Because that's exactly what saying this highlights and she not only knows but calls that it to attention herself in the same answer.

So, why would I not believe she's being honest? She highlights exactly how this won't benefit her while answering.

Well, but- See Gunsli you brought trauma into it just now! You're admitting that right here and continuing to debate it. Yes, because I don't fundamentally believe a person has to have certain types of trauma to behave the way Kotoko does. She is a very normal person.

I say I don't think she has trauma to people who say she must because I recognize that it is ableist to assert she must simply because of how she is, and it does nothing to benefit her narrative to me. The reason I use this question to highlight that is because people who have trouble discerning ableism will instead be tripped up by the question than ever ask if being persecuted and having trauma are the same thing.

Even if Kotoko's lying here and she has heaps of persecution and there are people slandering her name every day and judging her for what she did-

Q.10 What were you called online?

Kotoko: A lot of things. Cause there were people who supported me, and then there were also morons who just didn’t understand.

That would not equate to trauma, and given her first written interrogation, she does not consider what she just stated here a form of persecution.

Even though it is having a ton of people discuss you negatively in spaces that you can see would count as the second definition of persecution,

Persistent annoyance or harassment.

To annoy with persistent or urgent approaches (such as attacks, pleas, or importunities): Pester.

Though the public to our current knowledge didn't know of Kotoko by name. She still had to experience the exact same thing Futa did at the end of Bring It On. That is people online judging her for what she'd done. Something I would count as persecution, but again, Kotoko doesn't and did not count that when asked last trial. Because her definition involves active bullying and torture. It involves physically injuring someone.

She personally does not view herself or any of the experiences in her life as facing the same persecution as the weaklings she claims she wants to protect. Full stop, that's what her answering in that way means. Anyone can claim she's putting up a tough front, but that's what saying that means when placed alongside everything else.

We know nothing about Kotoko's home life. It isn't shown in any of her videos. Barring some massive change in trial three, I don't see it having much to do with her crime. She's with the child from the warehouse more than we see her with her family, which isn't a hard bar to pass because her family doesn't show up at all.

Hell, maybe since we saw Amane's trauma after she was voted, Guilty Kotoko enjoyers who are interested in her trauma should just vote her guilty. Apparently, being guilty will unlock that trauma real quick. Still, even if in the end we find out Kotoko has heaps of persecution and oodles of trauma.

Having trauma alone does not make anyone more likely to turn out how Kotoko did or like any of the prisoners, for that matter. They made the choices that got them here and have continually said so. Kotoko's main thing is jumping people she is the sole instigator of every conflict we've seen her in. She could have called the cops and told them this guy's whereabouts. She could have chosen not to jump that other man on the street. She could've been in law school. Instead, she chose to drop out or go on leave in favor of prioritizing tastelessly larping as Jason Todd from the fucking Batman comics.

So put the trauma strawman back in the cornfield where it belongs. Actually read that question and really analyze how having trauma would change anything about Kotoko's narrative. Ask why some people would like others to believe having trauma in this case is a get out of jail free card a reasonable justification and explaination of her behavior. Is it really about adding depth or making others feel bad for Kotoko.

Really recognize how behaving in a way that indicates one believes only individuals who have gone through trauma can do the things Kotoko has done actually comes off to people who have experienced trauma. People who may simply not project on this character as many others do. People who, due to their trauma, may recognize that even at their worst moments, they didn't do the things that any of the prisoners in Milgram decided to do. That due to that recognition even if Kotoko did have trauma even if she has gone through a lot there would still be some people who'd say that's no excuse.

Just like with Amane. People saw her trauma on screen in Purge March and dismissed it. She has one of the closest verdicts of trial two. So will having trauma really help Kotoko or make her look like more of a lost cause. Have people considered what they're asking for fully?

Most of the prisoners have said they've had normal lives in some capacity. Yet no one has said that means any of them have not had trauma. Because again, having a normal life and having trauma is a given. These are two things that exist together. No one lives a life that's trauma free. Distressing and disturbing things happen on every level even when someone is well off.

It's the specific sort of trauma people are trying to put on Kotoko, why, and how they're going about doing that, which makes it gross to me. Literally Kotoko could go, I have a normal family and the audience will go we're gonna have to pull another Yuno don't listen to Kotoko she doesn't know about her own fucking life. Despite her life and childhood not really being connected to her crime. It's not like she was jumping family or classmates. She only knew about these people from news outlets.

Her songs don't show her complaining about her upbringing or life circumstances at all. They do allude to jer not having the best self-esteem. Through her covers being Anti Beat, Streaming Heart, the lyric about laughing and being able to like herself, how she begins to visualize herself over the course of Deep Cover.

I'm not going to argue about if she had trauma outside of asking what exactly changes if she does? Because I don't give a damn if she has trauma. Everybody does. Her feelings aren't her fault but how she acts on them are her fucking responsibility. Stop insisting that only the wrong sort of person ends up in Milgram. People ended up in Milgram. Whatever trauma they may have is not an excuse for killing people.

End of story. But Amane Gunsli but Amane-

20/06/13

Amane: ……what’s wrong, Shidou-san? Your hand has stopped marking. This is mathematics, so there’s no questions about the answers. If I got something wrong, please mark it with an X.

Shidou: I…… I just don’t understand. If everything about MILGRAM is true…… why did a child like you have to become a murderer? Just imagining what sort of circumstances must have led to that, it makes me so sad……

Amane: ……*sigh*. Is that right. I don’t think I’m going to get along with you, Shidou-san. I don’t agree with the fact you refuse to acknowledge that-

I have my own free will, and that I should be held accountable for my actions, just because I’m a child. I may have only been alive for 12 years, but all the choices I’ve made, even if they weren’t the best ones, were entirely my own. What point is there in you getting sad when I have no regrets myself?

……please give me back my test. It seems you don’t have the concentration levels required to be my teacher. I’m going to get Kotoko-san to teach me instead.

Shidou: Amane…… I don’t think that’s true. However smart you may be…… you’re still just a child.

I once again ask why so many in this fandom are comfortable with treating the child like an adult but keep treating these full ass adults like children? To the point that the child we judge understands accountability better than any of us! Amane has never used her trauma as an excuse for her behavior. She won't even use her age because she already knows what she did was not the best decision and has said so from the start. What has Kotoko said?

Oh, but if we just don't believe anything that Kotoko says ever or pick and choose when we do, we can all just build a better Kotoko. Man, I really can't wait to see how that turns out since we've already got a character who has been treated like that.

[likeadevils]

Most people refuse to see how important matty was to her. He was truly his best friend, his twin flame and soulmate. She makes it really clear in TTPD. People dont want to hear about it bc they like joe more and matty is an antagonist. But at the end of the day, matty was important to her. He was significant and left a mark on her. She was willing to ruin everything just to be with him. That’s the type of love she craves and what she had with matty. Joe breakup was not as important because the one with matty left her not wanting to leave bed. Hes the loss of her life because at a certain point, he was the love of her life. And thats the main takeaway from ttpd that most people refuse to see

alright im gonna take this line by line

Most people refuse to see how important matty was to her

i've seen plenty of people talk about how important matty was to her, albeit not until after ttpd came out. but i think after ttpd people recognize matty was a big deal to her

He was truly his best friend, his twin flame and soulmate.

i think this is complicated-- like, they did have a year or so where it seems she was close with him. but i also think taylor's own words after she removed herself from the situation does complicate things: Which explains my plea here today / of temporary insanity [...] “In summation, it was not a love affair!” I screamed while bringing my fists [...] It was a mutual manic phase. / It was self harm.

People dont want to hear about it bc they like joe more and matty is an antagonist.

i think it is important to remember that people 'like joe more' because matty likes to be racist for attention and then cover it up by saying 'it was a joke you're all taking me too seriously boohoo i'm just a little sensitive artist birthday boy' which is like. yknow it's not because he's a bit of a dick it's cause he's a racist dick

She was willing to ruin everything just to be with him.

she was also willing to be with him because she wanted to destroy everything (above quote, i hate it here, florida, guilty as sin? tortured poets department)

That’s the type of love she craves and what she had with matty.

type of love she craved. hence the plea of temporary insanity

Joe breakup was not as important because the one with matty left her not wanting to leave bed.

she wrote "love left me like this and i don't want to exist" while dating matty. really just the entirety of florida speaks to what was going on with her even while her and matty were good.

He's the loss of her life because at a certain point, he was the love of her life.

i think it's notable that she never says he's the love of her life in this song. if she wanted to make that point she would've. instead, she sings about how loving him felt like destruction, or how she was putting in all this work to save him while he ignored her. i think it's also notable that losing him reinforces what she lost with joe.

[mrhaitch]

Good morning Mr.Haitch (I’m assuming it’s morning)

How was your weekend? Mine flew by, and I’m still feeling burnt out from the all-nighters I pulled to finish all my assignments.

Onwards to the questions

1) would you rather eat the same thing for the rest of your life (but it’s something you hate) or dress up in the same outfit for the rest of your life (but it’s a fashion atrocity that you committed during your teens)

2) what is your least favorite thing about being an academic?

3) can you draw/ sketch?

4) I don’t know how I never asked this before but do you also have tattoos? And if you don’t, do you see yourself getting one in the future?

5) Have your kids ever said/ done something, that amazed you to some degree?

6) what’s the worst shenanigans your kids have gotten up to?

Sorry for bombarding you with questions so early in the day.

(Also if that academic-anon is reading this, I wanted to say I see you and I feel you. Believe me, performing exceptionally in your exams doesn’t equate to happiness, and this is coming from someone who has gotten straight As all her life. Burn out, depression, constant sense of anxiety doesn’t simply go away if you scored better. Agreed, that you would feel a momentary sense of accomplishment, but like I said, it would be temporary.

I understand your need to perform better than your siblings, to be recognized as someone who has achieved something. Those are things that would help you respect yourself. Do you respect yourself? Because other’s opinion doesn’t matter until you respect the efforts you put into your work. So what if you’re not performing how you want right now, atleast acknowledge the hard work that went into it. Pat yourself on the back for these little victories. You woke up, you faced another day, and one day when you look back, you would surely be proud that you persisted.

You did good. You tried. And that’s what matters 🫂)

It is morning. The weekend was busy as usual, but we spent some time with Haitch's family which was nice.

1) Well my most embarrassing teenage outfit was oversized t-shirts, combat camo cargo trousers, and trainers that were falling apart - which was awful, but very comfortable. It'd have to be that one.

2) It would have to be the insane workload and level of expectation from managers. Teaching, research, pastoral care, administration, supporting with open days, applicant days, working shifts on the clearing phone lines, graduation, exam invigilating, assessing, public appearances, conferences, social media, dealing with the press. It's an endless horror show where, in the UK, you could STILL do all that and still be made redundant so the university can renovate their sports hall.

3) Hah. No.

4) I do not. I've got some ideas, which Haitch and I have talked over. I'd like to memorialise my PhD with a plague doctor tattoo somewhere (PhD during COVID = plague doctor, no one can take that title away from me).

5) I remember our oldest saying sarcophagus without any hesitation or errors once. To be honest, though, when your kids learn to speak it's an endless series of amazing and surprising moments - especially when their personality begins to coalesce.

6) A couple of years ago we went to Disneyland Paris for my 30th birthday. Big family thing - my parents and youngest brother came along. We'd gone somewhere for lunch and our eldest was kicking off, just bored and overstimulated, so I took him for a walk around the corner. We passed a staff member who smiled and waved, I smiled and waved back, but then I saw her face pivot to shock, and then she covered her mouth to suppress a laugh. When I looked around at my son, I discovered he was flipping her off from behind my back. I picked him up under my arm, mumbled a barely comprehensible apology in french, and took him away for a bollocking.

I'd also like to add that I agree with everything you've said for academic-anon, couldn't have said it better myself. I'm not very emotionally articulate first thing in the morning.

[absolutspace]

@inawildflower

the air is crisp, it’s cold enough to sting hajoon’s lungs at the first inhale. tufted clouds are sprinkled across the sky but they are no obstacle for the sun, its rays providing an inkling of warmth amidst the cold. it’s his favorite kind of weather. cold, yet sunny. the type of weather to give you hope that there is an end to everything, the good and the bad. that the sun will rise earlier and set later eventually, an invitation by the universe to leave the winter blues behind for just an afternoon. his hands slide into his black leather gloves, earmuffs already sitting snug to prevent his ears from hurting. although his journey can be cut short with a singular bus ride, he decides to walk, soak up the little bit of vitamin d he can get. the gusts passig through ansong over the past few days have turned the trees bare, streets already swept clean by tireless workers. hajoon bewared of letting this task get to his head. sending someone who has cracked the thirty mark to strike a deal instead of a nineteen year old is a no-brainer — hajoon made sure to not chalk it up to any potential business skills he could possess. who knows, maybe he would choke when asking for a better price or delivery conditions, perhaps the brazen attitude of a nineteen year old could actually be useful. he wonders what kind of owner he is about to run into. a slightly esoteric middle aged lady perhaps who’s better judgment has been clouded by paint fumes or a young rugged guy who is determined his art and sculptures will change the world. hajoon isn’t entirely sure if his composed nature is one to handle and mingle with artistic people, but after all he’s here for a business partnership. who hates money? a bright, pleasant bell sound chimes as he pushes the door open. he is immediately enveloped by warmth, the cold air only a distant memory as his cheeks and nose also start to warm up. he sheds his gloves and pushes them into his coat pocket, curiously looking around the unfamiliar place but he barely has times to take in the new environment. hurried steps approach and a face appears around the corner, long dark hair whipping in the motion. despite the warmth, hajoon freezes. he wonders if it’s too late to leave, just turn on his heels and let the bell chime again. but the idea is thrown overboard as quickly as it approached. he hadn’t completed his motion of stuffing away his gloves yet, so he finally pulls his hands out of his pockets and greets her with a small bow. “hello, sorry for disturbing you,” he says and clears his throat after hearing his rough voice. he wonders if she recognizes him too. he should assume that she doesn’t. that she didn’t put as much meaning into their fleeting encounters as much as he did. even encounter is too big of a word. transaction? ”i come from the sweet bean café. i was wondering if i could speak to the owner perhaps. it won't be long."