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samkerrworshipper · 7 months

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togetherness | pt.2

longawaited and has been sitting in my drafts for weeks now cause i wasn’t quite sure if i liked the direction it’s gone in… but highliting different issues n stuff so i hope y’all enjoy! again i’ve edited this on my phone whilst reading from my kindle lol so not going to lie i’m aware that the editing could be shocking… there’s a few more parts sitting in my drafts so lmk if y’all want more

warnings: child exploitation, themes of sexual assault of minors, just general hurt with protective n supportive tillies

“Now that we’ve settled that, is there anything, anything at all that you’d like to tell me that I could help you with?”

I gulped, there were about six things I could think of just off the top of my head. I was tentative though. I could feel tears starting to form in the back of my eyes as I tried to make the decision in my head.

“No judgement?”

Sam’s immediate nod in response was comforting and apparently enough to get me talking.

“It’s going to sound stupid and I don’t even know what you could do about it considering that I’m probably somewhere in the wrong with it as well.”

Sam looked like a mixture of intrigued and perplexed.

“Y/n, even if I can’t do anything about it, you look like you just need to get it off your chest, I can be that for you as well, just tell me what’s been bothering you so much.”

I sniffled and nodded at Sam, this situation was so abnormally vulnerable for me.

“You know that I was rough around the edges when I got here, I know you haven’t heard the whole story, to put it simply I went through a rough patch when I was 14 and 15, before I got here. I’d just had spine surgery, I thought that I was never going to walk again, let alone play football. I turned to a lot of things, drugs, alcohol, anything. I ran away when I was 14, I don’t remember much of it, just that when I returned home my parents had had enough and they sent me off to the AIS for Tony to train me. Anyways, I’m rambling. Somewhere along the road I sent some explicit videos, photos and texts to my ex boyfriend, graphic ones, there’s a lot of them. He’s been posting them on reddit and twitter and they haven’t gotten any attention yet but with all the media coverage and bad press I’ve had recently I’m worried they are going to be brought up and I don’t know what to do about it.”

Sam’s expression was one thing, completely deflated and shocked. She was typing furiously into her phone whilst she was listening to my story. It took a few minutes of silence for her to reply to me.

“First off I want to start off with telling you how grateful I am for you sharing that information with me, it can’t have been easy and you are incredibly brave for telling me. I’ve got some follow up questions that I need to ask, you don’t have to answer them, I’d just appreciate it if you could try your best, okay?”

I nodded quickly in reply to Sam.

“Okay. How old were you when you sent these videos and how old was your boyfriend at the time?”

“I was 14 or 15, he was in his mid twenties.”

“So that puts him in his late 20s or early 30s right now, if my maths is correct. Did you take these photos and videos or did someone else?”

“I took most of them but he took some.”

Sam nodded at me again.

“Okay based on that question I can tell you that this ex boyfriend of yours is legally in possession of child pornography, that’s an indictable crime. If you want this to well and truly stop then we can go up that path. I want us to talk about this with Tony, it’s ultimately your decision but I think it would be very sensible to take this up with him at the very least. Y/n, you have done absolutely nothing wrong, I need to stress to you how important it is that you understand that. No one is going to blame this on you, because it isn’t your fault, you are a victim of a crime. That isn’t something light. I promise you that I have your best interests in concern when I’m telling you this. I have to ask, have you talked to anyone else about this? Your family? A therapist? A friend? Leah?”

Leah Williamson, my arsenal team captain and my best friend/mom/girlfriend. I shook my head at Sam, I’d wanted to tell Leah, she was the only person I probably trusted enough to tell but I hadn’t seen her in weeks.

“Do you want to talk to someone about it?”

“I was going to talk to Lee about it, eventually. Just with her ACL and us being in different places it didn’t make much sense, plus this stuff is so fucking stupid I didn’t want to bother anyone with it, I’m sorry for bothering you with it, Ellie was right I’m being fucking selfish.”

Sam’s face was unreadable, it was clear she was pretty deep in thought. She sat across from me for a few minutes, in thought, before she stood up and walked around the table, sitting herself down beside me.

“Can I give you a hug?”

I nodded and relaxed a little bit as I felt Sam’s arm snake its way across my shoulders, inevitably bringing me closer to her and into her chest.

“Williamson would want you to tell her, she’ll probably be mad that you didn’t tell her earlier. You are not being a bother to anyone, you have human emotions and this situation you are in is a hard one. You aren't being selfish, you are asking for help, which is a very human thing and you very clearly need it right now, there is nothing wrong with that. Now, how about I call Williamson for you, I’ll see you if you can get down here? I’m going to call Tony down here, I’ll brief him and he’ll help, okay?”

“I don’t want to tell Tony, he’s going to be mad and he’ll probably tell me this kind of behaviour isn’t wanted on his team and then I’ll get sent home.”

I could feel the material of Sam’s jumper that she must have thrown on after training soaking up my tears, that was embarrassing.

“I know you don’t want to, and I can promise you that Tony is going to be nothing but supportive, you’ve done nothing wrong. There is nothing illegal about what you did, now or then. Tony is not going to send you home, I promise. Now, do I need to call Williamson or can you do it?”

Realistically I probably could have, but I really didn’t want to.

“Can you?”

Sam nodded at me immediately, which comforted me a little bit.

“I wouldn’t have offered it if I couldn’t. She should be in Sydney right now to watch the Lionesses play tomorrow night, yeah? I’ll talk to her and we’ll see what we can work out for you. I don’t have her number though, so can you call her on your phone and I’ll talk to her.”

I nodded quickly, shakingly pulling my phone out of my pocket and pushing it out onto the table. I very quickly pulled Leah's contact, I’d called her last night so it wasn’t hard to find. She was the only person in the world that I could talk to when I was at my lowest, the only person who actually cared about me. So last night, whilst I was mid panic attack, on Ellie's and I’s ensuite floor I called her and she’d talked me through it. I should have told her then, it probably would have saved me this whole interaction with Sam, but I hadn’t wanted to worry her anymore, so I blamed it on pressure of being selected to start this week and she’d accepted my answer.

We’d been texting most of the morning, her asking me if I’d gotten sleep and if I was feeling alright, I’d answered shortly with an array of 'yes', because I didn’t want to worry her anymore. I passed the phone over to Sam once I found her phone number and she clicked the call button before pressing the phone up to her ear and standing up from her seat, starting to pace between the seats.

“Hey Leah, this is Sam, Sam Kerr, from the Matildas. Look, I’m here at our Sydney training facility with Y/n, we’ve just had a pretty serious conversation with her about some problems that she’s had recently and I was wondering if you were around so you could be here for her.”

Sam pulled out her own phone again as I assumed she listened to Leah’s response. It amazed me as to how fast her fingers danced across her own screen, it was a different kind of multi tasking.

“Yup, Mmm. Alright, I’ll send you the address, it’s not far from you guys hotel from recollection. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you being able to do this for her, I’ll see you soon and we can talk about it then.”

I gulped as Sam said her farewells and then hung up the phone before walking back over to me.

“She’s coming down, should be here in fifteen or so. She sounded worried about you, mentioned something about you having a panic attack to her on the phone last night and that she was concerned about you. I’ve texted Tony, he’s finishing up with Ellie and then he’s going to be down here. I’m going to get Steph to meet Leah downstairs when she gets here and she’ll bring her up, Y/n, we’re all here to support you however you need, alright?”

Me and Sam stayed silent in the room until about ten minutes later there was a distinct knock against the door.

“Sam, it’s me, unlock the door.”

Steph’s voice was pretty distinct, even through the heavy door. Sam stood up almost immediately, walking to the door and unlocking it before a grumpy looking Steph and a flustered version of Leah made their way through the doorway before Sam had the opportunity to relock it. Leah’s eyes went straight to my own, her whole facial expression was very controlled, she could command an entire room with that face, I knew from experience.

“Are you okay?”

Her words were directed at me, and only me. I pressed my tongue against my front teeth and lip, trying to decide how to answer the question.

“There’s some stuff that’s been happening that I haven’t told you, I’m not in trouble, or at least that’s what Sam is telling me. It’s some stuff from my past, when I was a kid. Explicit images and photos, on the internet, from when I was a kid. They popped up a few weeks ago, starting when I was in Spain with you before we came here. I didn’t bring it up because I thought I was at fault for it as much as the person who has possession of them. Sam told me that it isn’t, that I’ve done nothing wrong. I’m sorry, I know it was fucking stupid and I should have told you about it or not done it, I don’t even remember taking any of the photos or videos, it just happened and now I don’t know what to do because I don’t want it getting out to the public and I just, I don’t know how to deal with it.”

Leah’s face relaxed a little bit as I progressively talked and rambled. Once I was done she walked over to my spot, seated on one of the chairs and wrapped her arms around me.

“Hey, it’s alright, we’re going to sort this out. She’s right, you didn’t do anything wrong and you should have told me earlier but I am so grateful that you are telling me now, yeah? You are so brave kiddo, that’s child exploitation and whoever has possession of those materials is the one who’s in the wrong, okay?”

I nodded into Leah, Steph and Sam were whispering between each other behind us.

“You have to take legal action though.”

Those words made me feel like I’d been stabbed and my guts had been ripped out of my body cavity.

Leah let go of me very gently and pursed her lips.

“Because this isn’t going to go away if you don’t, and I know that you are strong but you aren’t going to be able to live if you know that this person who has possession of these materials is still out there. You’ve been checked out for weeks now, since before Mallorca. You aren’t going to check back into your life until this goes, I know it. I need you checked in, I need you to be my girl, not the skeleton of your own body that you inhabit as a coping mechanism when something bad happens.”

I think Leah would have said more if it wasn’t for the incessant knocking against the door that came again. Sam was the one who went to the door again, letting Tony in. He looked flustered as well, and a little bit worried. I’d known the man since I was 15, he’d seen me in some pretty interesting situations. Sam intercepted him before he could say anything, pulling him aside and giving him what I assumed to be the rundown of the last hour.

“I don’t think I can handle this getting out, it will, if I take legal action this is going to get out and then I’m going to be Y/n Y/l/n, the Matilda’s exploitative rookie and I’ll never be back here. My career will be over, Jonas won’t want me back, everything I've worked for will be done.”

Leah took a deep breath before wrapping her arms around me and working her hands through my scalp and hair.

“If you take legal action you will be supported, I’ll make sure of it. We are a part of a community of women that uplift us for everything you do, this won’t be any different. There will be some who judge, there is always going to be someone there to judge you. Y/n, you need to do this for your sanity, I won’t lose you to your mental health again, not like last year. Kerr has done the right thing here, bringing this up, it shows me that she cares a lot more about you then you think, it also shows me that she knows what’s best for this team and you. She wouldn’t be doing this if she didn’t think this was the best course of action.”

I nodded into Leah, trying to convince myself that her words were correct. Eventually, after Sam had given Tony the full rundown he sat down across from me, exactly where Sam had been beforehand. Sam and Steph both stood behind me and Leah, Sam’s arms resting gently on my shoulders, it was grounding.

“Sam’s told me about what’s happening. First of all I want to say how sorry I am that you are going through this, it’s not something that anyone should have to deal with, ever. Second of all I want to let you know that this team, this whole nation is in support of you. Look, it’s too late for me to take any action now. I’m going to get the police to come down tomorrow morning, you aren’t in trouble. I just think that they are going to have a better understanding of this situation than any of us could. They’ll come down, we’ll have a talk about all of this, they’ll ask the questions they need to. We don’t need to make any decisions now, we’ll talk to them, Sam and I will be there to advocate for you. After that we can make decisions about taking legal action and whatnot. Otherwise I just wanted to tell you genuinely, from the bottom of my heart how much we all care about you and value you here, we are all going to be here for whatever you need in the future, you are a valued part of this team and family and we are all here to look out for your needs, okay?”

I gulped, I could feel fresh tears springing to my eyes again. I was petrified of the police, to say the least, but Tony’s voice was so reassuring. He was the father that I’d never had and when I was 15 and he’d met me I’d been in a bad place, I’d needed him to be that figure in my life and he had been. He gave me a routine, gave me something to wake up for every morning. I probably wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for Tony. He’d given me a chance when no one else had been prepared to and for that I would always be in debt to him for.

“Okay, I’ll get in contact with the police, we’ll get a constable down tomorrow morning and we can have an open conversation with them about it, you are not in trouble, nothing is going to happen that will end in consequences for you. I think though that you need to head back to the hotel and get some proper sleep, your body needs it. So head back, don’t worry about any of this, because I’m going to sort it out and we’ll talk about it in the morning with a clean slate and mindset, alright?”

I nodded at Tony, I didn’t really have much to say.

“Thank you Coach.”

He nodded at me, before standing up and walking around to the other side of the octoval table and giving me a pat on the back.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, don’t worry about this anymore, it’s going to be okay. Get back to the hotel, we’ve got an early wakeup tomorrow.”

I nodded at Coach, watching as he left the room just as quickly as he’d entered it.

“I’ve talked to Steph, her and I are rooming together so we’ll switch, she’ll stay with Ellie and you can come and room in with me, I think we’ll keep it that way for the rest of the tournament.”

I looked over at Sam, nodding along with what she was saying. Leah reached her arms around me, a big bear hug.

“And I am here, I expect you to check in with me, at least twice a day. When you guys head off to Melbourne or Brisbane I’m not going to be able to be there, so I need you to stay in contact with me, okay? Anybody does so much as look at you wrong I want to be the first to know, okay?”

I nodded at Leah, half in fear, half in adoration. She was the only person in the world that I actually trusted in. Our bond had been forced, when I’d moved to London to play for Arsenal I’d been moved into the spare room in her apartment and in a very short amount of time we’d created a bond that extended beyond the realm of friendship. I loved her, she was the first person besides Tony to give me a chance and he was obligated to give me on, Leah had chosen to fight for me and to stick by my side even when it wasn’t easy, she was a good person, better than I was sure I’d ever be.

“We’ll drop you back to your hotel on our way home Williamson, it’s the least we could do considering you got here so quickly, can you just give us five minutes to grab our things from the locker room?”

Sam’s voice held no room for argument, she was insisting on giving Leah a ride home and Leah didn’t try to object.

“Please, call me Leah and if it’s no trouble I would really appreciate it. I can meet you guys down in the foyer in about five, I need to go to the loo, so whilst I’m doing that how about you guys go and get your stuff together?”

Sam, Steph and I all walked back down to the change rooms in a comfortable silence. It was when we actually made it back to the rooms that I realised I still had my boots on, the cleats that were spotless from not even getting any wear at training. The cleats that a few hours ago had seemed impossible to tie up. I made quick business of pulling them off of my feet, throwing them into my kit bag and pulling out the pair of Nike dunks that I’d worn in earlier when we’d all come down here for our match analysis. Sam and Steph both made quick work off slipping out of their training kits and changing into sweat pant duos that matched with me. After they’d gotten changed and refreshed we all grabbed our bags and whatever other things we had lying around before making our way down to the foyer.

Leah was waiting for us, tapping her foot violently against the marble floors. When she spotted the three of us out of the corner of her eye her stress ceased almost immediately. I’d learnt a lot about Leah in the amount of time I’d known her. One thing about England’s captain was that she was not as fearless as everyone credited her as being, she put on a brave face, a bloody good one, but she was just as human as everyone else and sometimes it showed, especially when she felt uncomfortable in a situation or she didn’t think she deserved to be where she was. I’d moved in with her initially just before she'd led the Lionesses to their victory at the euro’s, and at the time Leah had been a basket case to be nice. I think that was how we’d bonded, through our similar insecurities of not being good enough to fill the shoes that had been passed down to us.

“C’mon cap, let’s get going.”

Leah smiled at me and nodded. We’d been keeping our relationship under wraps for a few months now. Neither of us were insecure in our situation and we were happy to enjoy our private, happy and blessed life together. Plus we hadn’t really seen much of each other in the past month or so, being caught up with our obligations to our national teams. Leah was also very committed to her rehab and I couldn’t be there for every step of that so we’d spent some time apart. We’d both agreed when the new Arsenal season rolled around that we’d tell the team, but still keep it under wraps from the public for as long as we could. Neither of us were worried about the public finding out, I was out, had been since I was 14. Leah wasn’t officially but she’d also never dated a man and in the eyes of the female soccer world that pretty much means you're gay. It would come out when it did and we were prepared for that to happen.

We walked out to Steph’s car, piling all of our bags in the boot before Sam and Steph slid into the passenger and drivers seats whilst Leah and I both took seats in the backseat. Somewhere along in the drive her hand made its way to my own, resting gently on top of my knee cap. I interlocked our fingers and smiled up at her, this was the part of a secret relationship that I liked, getting moments just between the two of you that only the two of you understood. The sweet nothings. I felt my heart plummet a little bit as we arrived out the front of Leah’s hotel and I realised that I was going to have to say goodbye, potentially for a few more weeks. That was the suckish part of being a professional athlete messing around with another professional athlete, there wasn’t always a timeline on when you’d see each other next, sometimes it was just situational.

I made the call to walk Leah to the door of the hotel, when we got to the doors I gave her a hug, a big, long hug. She hugged me back, tightly. Leah was good at hugs. When we finally had to come apart I looked up at her, with my big green eyes and apparently she couldn’t resist because she reached down and honoured me with a peck. It was nothing more, a small gesture but to me it was everything.

“I love you okay, be safe, text me, call me. I am always here for you, don’t keep me in the dark on things that you think are going to burden me, they aren’t, call your therapist, please.”

I nodded at Leah, she was using her captain's voice with me that she knew I couldn’t refuse.

“When you get back to the hotel I expect you to eat some proper food, not of those bloody granola bars that you insist are nutritional, proper food. Hydrate, at least a litre of water. Sleep, you deserve to sleep, let yourself sleep. Call me in the morning and tell me how you are feeling, okay?”

I gulped and nodded at Leah, an action that I was becoming aware I might have done too much of tonight.

“Love you too, thank you for being here for me.”

“Anytime, I’m only ever one call away, now go home.”

I gave Leah one final look before walking back to the car, closing the door behind me only to be bombarded with googly eyes from the two co captains sitting in the front of the car.

“You and Williamson?”

Sam’s voice was the first one to break the sound barrier, it scared me a little bit.

“Yeah.”

I made it sound like it was a non fact, like every person on the planet knew that I was in the bed sheets of the Lionesses Captain.

“Fuck, I knew it, McCabe owes me fifty quid.”

Steph’s voice was steadier and surprised me a little bit.

“We all had bets, how long have you guys been together?”

“We’ve been dating for 6 or 8 months, fucking around with each other since I joined Arsenal so about a year or so.”

Steph’s eyebrows rose to the top of her forrid, obviously very surprised by my answer.

“You're trying to tell me that you and Lee have just casually been hiding a relationship behind closed doors for months.”

“I mean we’re roommates, it wasn’t that hard to hide, plus we just aren’t rabbits who need to fuck on every surface unlike Sam and fucking Kristie, I’m never going to be able to mentally burn the image of you two getting at it on the pool table after the olympics, that was fucking traumatic.”

Sam’s face had flushed, we constantly brought it up with her. After our bronze loss to the US in the olympics a lot of the team had gone out in celebration with the Americans, what I hadn’t expected to find that night when I’d walked into the room that I thought was the bathroom was Sam eating her secret girlfriend out on the table. It had messed with my brain permanently.

“Hey you're the one who’s always bringing it up, maybe you were secretly into it, secret fantasy between you and Williamson.”

I loudly gagged from my spot in the backseat, extremely displeased by Sam’s imaginative imagery.

“Nobody thinks that Sam, it’s just you and all of your lost brain cells.”

There was something so comfortable about the dynamic between Sam and Steph, something so sisterly and bonded. They were like family, they messed around with each other and pushed each other but they loved each other and the both of them knew that at the end of the day. They might not have been the closest on the team, they weren’t each other's best friends but they were family and that was all that mattered.

“Whatever you say Stephy.”

#woso #woso community #leah williamson #marry me rn #sam kerr #leah williamson x reader #matildas x reader #matildas #tillies #samantha may #sam kerr x reader #tears for fears #crying lil bit #i’m sleep deprived #it’s 12am #idek #idek anymore #idek what to tag this

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strawberrystepmom · 9 months

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old flame, same glow

pairing: sex worker toji fushiguro x f!reader

word count: 6.1k

about: old feelings spur you on a wild journey of paying for sex with your high school crush but you find out in the process that maybe those feelings aren't as long forgotten as you thought.

contents: nsfw - mdni. no curses au, reader and toji are similar in age (i imagine reader to be late 20s/early 30s and toji to be early/mid 30s), oral sex (f receiving), lots and lots and lots of pining from reader, reader is very pathetic it's very sad but she's my most special meow meow.

notes: this is a repost of the sex worker toji au on my old blog - full and final, with pretty extensive edits to make it flow better. i was personally asked to repost and who am i to say no? be warned tho, for being a fic about sex work this is surprisingly sexless and for that i apologize but i wanted to focus more on the feelings rather than the smut.

thank you for your support and for reading and i hope you enjoy it!!!

dividers are thanks to @/saradika

“Is it because I’ll never be him?”

The words your now ex-fiance spit at you during that fateful last fight echo in your mind as you splash cool water over your face, the strap of your purse sagging over your shoulder. A sigh escapes as the droplets run down your nose and lips.

Him. Toji. The man became a constant issue in your relationship that never seemed to reach resolution the moment you admitted to a one-sided crush you had on him years and years ago, long before your fiance entered the picture. You hadn’t spoken to him since before his first marriage and only knew about his life through social media and occasionally running into each other at the grocery store but your ex took exception after a single cursory glance through Fushiguro’s photo sharing app feed, each picture one of him with his shirt either lifted at the bottom or so tight you can make out each and every divot of his defined core.

Exhaling out of your mouth, droplets go flying against the surface of the bathroom mirror and you fight the urge to scream or cry or maybe both looking at your soggy reflection. You’ve never felt more pathetic in your life and now the outside matches the inside.

The memory couldn’t have surfaced at a worse time and it forced you to excuse yourself from the polite man sitting across from you in a crowded restaurant, shifting through the too small gaps between tables and refusing to make eye contact with anyone else currently sitting in the restaurant as he watched you retreat.

He was introduced to you by a coworker who spent most of the week wondering why you haven’t put yourself back out there after a year of single life, but you regret saying yes. Not because you don’t enjoy his company - he’s smart, quick witted, and handsome which are all things regularly you’d be enchanted by.

Truthfully, you know it’s because he isn’t him either.

Digging your phone out of the pocket of your dress, you sigh and open your most recent conversation thread. The bold letters of his name stare back at you, an F in a circle above his last name. Fushiguro.

Free later?

Toji texted you earlier today, while you were still at work, and you opted to ignore him in preparation for tonight. The intention was to clear your mind of distractions or any entanglements you may have lingering, even those with almost unimaginably broad shoulders and green eyes that twinkle mischievously with every salacious wink and smirk he tosses your direction but you didn’t realize you’d fail your mission before 9 pm.

The sun has only barely set and here you stand in the bathroom of one of the nicest restaurants on this side of the city planning to meet up with your high school crush to pay him for sex.

Perhaps pathetic is too light of a word for how you feel but you don’t make eye contact with yourself in the mirror for long enough to think about it, gaze darting back down to the backlit screen in your palms.

Your thumbs begin to work before your mind can catch them and you stop yourself, brows furrowed as you press down to highlight the text and delete it altogether. Rubbing your free hand over your face, you sigh and glance down at the text bubble indicating he’s typing on the screen.

You know I can see you typing and deleting?

A knock on the bathroom door makes you yelp as you look over the message, dropping your phone in the still damp porcelain sink with a clatter while uttering low curses under your breath. You hear your name from the other side of the door and in your rush to grab and dry off your phone, you slip the droplet covered device back into your pocket and rush toward the door to see the waitress assigned to your table standing there.

“Uh, he asked me to come let you know that he paid the tab and you can go.”

Panic rises in your chest and your stomach turns as you gaze around her shoulder and look around the restaurant, spotting the table you were just sitting at with its unoccupied chairs.

“Fuck,” you spit before gnawing on your lower lip and the waitress watches you as one would witness a slow motion car crash - incredulously, as if this is something she has never seen before. Part of you wonders if she hasn’t ever seen a woman struggling this close to her, the youthful round of her cheeks convincing you she can’t be old enough to have a lot of life under her belt.

You shoot her an apologetic glance and she nods curtly.

“I’m sorry you had to do this,” your voice is muffled by your own shoulder while you dig through the purse and pinch out a banknote with enough zeroes to make her happy. You think it’s a 10,000 yen note but you can’t be certain and the embarrassment of the evening is carrying your feet toward the door too quickly to verify.

The door spits you out into a balmy evening but you don’t notice, filling your lungs to the brim with fresh air that feels restorative despite the heat. Patting around your body, you ground yourself with the knowledge that your phone is in your pocket. Pulling it out, you click your tongue at the new notification alert on the left side of your screen and exit your conversation with Toji to look at it.

The number isn’t saved in your phone but the words make you hiss as you look over them, shame making your face heat in a way that a warm summer night cannot even begin to replicate.

Hope dating gets simpler for you. Have a good night.

Sighing, you dawdle for a moment wondering how to respond, shifting your weight from foot to foot. People pass you on the street and you worry they’re going to start to wonder why you’ve been standing in front of the restaurant door for so long, dejectedly staring at the glowing screen in your palms.

Taking a few steps, you begin to walk in the direction of the train station and exit out of the conversation with your date, opening Toji’s contact info and holding down on his number until you hear your phone dialing him.

“Was wondering when you’d get back to me,” he doesn’t hesitate to speak as soon as he picks up the phone and you feel a flurry of butterflies erupt in your gut the moment you hear him. This is so bad, you contemplate with the click of each of your steps. So so bad. “Where you at?”

Humiliated, you dare to feel almost a little comforted by how happy he sounds to hear from you. You’re certain that this is how he sounds with all of his clients, everyone who hires him for a good time, but you want to believe so badly it’s just for you. The lilt at the end of his sentences that you know mean he’s smirking, one corner of his mouth turned up.

“Do you want to hear the truth or to hear a carefully made up lie?”

He chuckles on the other end of the phone and you wish you could listen to no other sound for the rest of your life.

“Tell me the truth. You’ve never been a great liar.”

A deep exhale deflates your posture and your gaze snaps to your feet as you make your way off to the farthest part of the sidewalk, your voice lowering to keep some shred of your dignity intact. It’s bad enough you’re venting your frustration to the man you pay for sex, you don’t want to think about how mortifying it would be to have a stranger overhear your woes.

“Well, I was on a date and got walked out on so now I’m heading toward the train station.”

A sympathetic hum and shuffling come from the other end of the line, Toji absentmindedly flicking the lighter he keeps in his pocket while you speak. The silence, no matter how momentary, makes you feel awkward and your brain leaps to overcompensate.

“Did you still want to meet? I don’t have a ton of cash but I do have time.”

Another chuckle. You hate that you feel like it’s directed at you rather than to be shared with you and the hot flush of embarrassment makes you reach for your sleeve with your free hand uncomfortably. It was too hot to wear this dress. It was a stupid idea to even come out but his voice keeps your rapt attention, his next words making you genuinely smile for the first time in hours.

“I can’t make you pay full price after getting walked out on. Come over, we’ll work it out.”

Thanking your lucky stars, you shut your eyes tightly and use every ounce of willpower inside of you to keep yourself from crying. Moisture pools at your lashline and you choose to ignore it, relaxing your jaw as you respond.

“You mean it?”

He hums affirmatively and you feel the butterflies in your stomach travel further south at the sound.

“Wouldn’t offer if I didn’t. See you in thirty.”

The call drops from the other end, your phone beeping to signify the ending but you can’t keep a giddy smile from creeping across your face as you press your phone against your chest and open your eyes. Looking up at the twinkling stars above, embarrassment gives way to something you haven’t felt in so long outside of these meetings with Toji that you wonder if you’re about to have a heart attack or something equally disturbing - the familiar flush of affectionate love.

The unimpressed gaze of your coworker follows you all the way to your desk as you make your way through the rows of desktops on Monday morning. You shrink beneath the weight of it, the wool of your pencil skirt suddenly itching more than it ever has while brushing against your legs with each step.

She must have heard about how well your date went.

The text message sent from the man still sits, unanswered, in your phone. Shame sits like a brick in your stomach and you keep your head down, even as you sit and the hydraulics of your chair squish beneath you with a “whoosh”. Bouncing back up, you refuse to make eye contact as you get settled, logging in.

“I am never setting you up again,” she spits in a hushed whisper as soon as you sit down next to her, pulling her can of coffee away from you and setting it on the opposite side of her keyboard.

“If you weren’t ready you should have just said so.”

It’s not like you can defend yourself. You weren’t and remain unready to see anyone else yet it didn’t stop you from immediately stuffing bills in Toji’s hand, legs still shaking while he helped you button your pants and sealed your goodbye with a wink and a kiss on the forehead.

This time, though, was the first time the two of you kissed outside of sex and you’re still reeling. Head fuzzy as you recall the way his scar felt brushing against you for more than immediate sexual gratification. Soft lips, firm flesh, warmth. You swear you feel a ghost of the kiss itself as you sit, surrounded by buzzing overhead fluorescent lights.

The two of you have had sex a dozen times now, once a month your usual schedule, but this time felt different. Maybe it’s the fact that you paid less than usual, maybe it’s the tender way he placed kisses from the underside of your breast clear down to your mound, watching your every move with those glimmering peridot eyes.

“Are you going to say anything?”

The accusatory voice of your coworker interrupts your reverie and you blink before turning in your direction with your head bowed. Words stick in your throat and you aren’t able to swallow so you mumble a simple “sorry” with nothing further. She scoffs and turns back toward her computer, typing loudly to indicate her annoyance as you click around your desktop.

“He walked out on me, to be fair,” you finally come up with after falling short on a near infinite amount of apologies in your head and she turns once again to stare at you. Her gaze burns and you shift in your seat, the same shame you felt at the restaurant weighing your limbs and keeping you pinned in place.

“He left because you were in the bathroom for 15 minutes with no explanation.”

She scoffs and shakes her head, typing away for a moment before turning toward you again, still unfinished with her thorough lecture about the wrongs you’ve committed. Your body still feels heavy, frozen with embarrassment of your own making, but you manage to sigh and fold your arms over your chest unenthusiastically.

“I was hoping you’d at least tell me you had an accident or something.”

Without thinking, you laugh the hardest you have in awhile and several heads peek above their desktops to glance at your unusual display. They probably think you’re losing your mind and if you were to be frank with yourself, you aren’t convinced that isn’t exactly what’s happening.

You are fantasizing during work about a man you pay to have sex with, pretending you’re anything more than a client with a little cash to blow and he’s a man with a lot of free time and a natural gift for cunnilingus.

Hiccuping, your laughter subsides and your unimpressed coworkers return to their tasks, the one sitting next to you still eyeing in a way that is borderline venomous at this point. You don't blame her, though. You fucked up and can't bring yourself to own up to it when your head is too wrapped up in remembering every peak of Toji's arms wrapped around you.

How the fuck did this happen?

She says nothing further, instead turning to her computer and leaving you to sit staring at the blinking cursor on the screen in front of you. You can unpack every single choice you've made since 16 right now and it still wouldn't lend any clarity as to why you are willing to fuck up every relationship around you for the sake of sleeping with a man who you mean nothing to.

Of course, you don't know that, but it's a safe enough assumption given the dynamic itself.

You swallow thickly, pride sliding down your throat like something you may choke on, and turn your chair toward your coworker.

"I handled it poorly and I shouldn't have. I'm sorry I embarrassed you."

She scoffs, dipping her head low.

"The only person who should be embarrassed here is you."

Accepting the criticism, the truth, you plaster a smile across your face and nod once. Any argument you may have tied together at another point in your life dies and you instead turn back to your work, looking at the little clock on the bottom corner of your screen.

9:15 am.

So many hours left for shame to simmer between your ribs, a molten pool of your own failure to swim around in until you drown.

The lewd pop of Toji releasing your clit from between his lips and your panting are the soundtrack playing through his otherwise quiet apartment. Darkness envelopes both of you, so insatiable by the time you made it back here there wasn’t time to turn on the overhead lights.

I need to stop, you think in the afterglow of another orgasm delivered by the impressively skilled mouth of the man whose green eyes are fixed on your face. You take in the sight of him, chin and lips soaked from your last release that drenched him.

“Never seen ya do that before,” Toji remarks from between your thighs. Your muscles twitch on either side of his face and you giggle weakly, tired from being thoroughly fucked and devoured. He places a kiss on your inner thigh, eyes fluttering shut briefly as he does so.

You want to reach out and stroke his cheek, softening with every ounce of care he gives; the way his thumbs assuredly massage the outside of your thighs. It’s all so…tender. It feels like it's meant for a lover, someone you wanna fall asleep beside and rise with in the morning.

Something meant for you and someone else.

If you weren’t so tired you’d already be gone. Instead you groan softly as he rubs a final pair of circles on your skin and sits up, wiping his face across his bicep. He stands and he feels you looking at him, scoping out every nude sculpted inch of him. How is it fair that he not only fucks like a god but looks like one too?

Truly, some people get all the luck.

“Somethin’ on your mind?”

Shrugging flippantly, you let yourself melt into the comfort of his bedding, getting too used to feeling it beneath you at this point. You've increased your visits from once a month to once a week, twice if you're particularly stressed, and he certainly will never turn down a chance to make some good money.

"How many clients do you have?"

The question leaves your lips before you can really think about the implication of what you're asking but he chuckles, pulling a pair of athletic shorts and nothing else over his softening cock. You can still make out the print of it clear as day and it makes your face heat, looking away and feigning interest in the peeling skin around your unkempt cuticles.

"I'm sorry, that was intrusive," you clarify, gaze flicking up from your nail beds to where he fills two glasses of water from a pitcher on the bedside table. You dare to indulge yourself by continuing to look at him rather than away, his hair falling in his face.

For the briefest moment, you think you'd like to be the person to brush it off his forehead forever but he turns to you with a smirk and holds out a glass of water before you can go any further into the delusional fantasies your mind keeps providing to you without asking.

"Why are you asking?" He drinks after asking, finishing his glass in one gulp and setting it back down next to the pitcher. You take the glass extended in your direction, sipping to try and wash down the lump in your throat before it can fully form. "You like me or something?"

Immediately you shoot up, hauling the blanket over your naked form ready to explain away your questioning and he sits down on the edge of the bed with a smile, reaching out and grabbing your covered thigh with one of his hands.

"I was just kidding, don't get jumpy."

Fighting the urge to fidget, you stay sitting up and sip from the water cautiously again, small mouthfuls at a time to keep from feeling overwhelmed. You're so anxious despite having cum so many times you truly lost track and Toji wishes he didn't find it so amusing that after all these years you still manage to be as neurotic as he remembers.

You were a good girl back then, scared of getting caught running around with the delinquent, but you still puffed each time he'd hold the cigarette to your lips. You still tagged along when he would skip class.

He wondered what happened to you when the two of you lost touch. Figured you'd ended up married with a kid or two like him, waiting for the next day and getting through it to the best of your ability.

He was shocked when you messaged him from your social media profile, the photos displayed on your page less than interesting. You standing in front of a shrine on vacation, you smiling next to your family on your grandma's birthday, you looking lonely with a smile that never reached your eyes in photo after photo.

The rest is history, as they say, and you rush to fill the silence.

"Curiosity got the best of me, that's all."

"Five."

You look up, reaching across the bed to slide the water onto the table beside it and he keeps his gaze fixed on you.

"Four occasionals, one regular."

Eyes widening at his words, you point to yourself.

"I'm your regular?"

He hums and nods and you take a moment to process the information for what it is. A surprise, certainly, and you can't quite figure out how you feel about knowing he sees four other women even if it is just occasionally. Logic smacks you in the face as you realize you hardly have the right to feel jealous over him doing his job but you let that feeling turn in your head for a moment, wondering what he'd do if you admitted how you felt to him.

Would he stop seeing his other clients? Would he let you take their occasional spots, making sure he's making the same amount of money regardless if it's all coming from you?

"My occasionals don't live in the city so we only meet up when they're in town."

Why he feels the need to explain himself is as lost on him as it is you, your head tilted to the side in confusion. Can he tell this is what you need to hear to quell your own wandering mind or is he simply indulging you to ensure that his regular stays a regular? You hate to think the worst of him, knowing he's a good man beneath the antics he has always managed to get wrapped up in, but the ever shifting boundaries between the two of you get less and less comfortable with every session.

"How about you?" He asks while you slide your knees up and tuck them into your chest, his hand falling to the side in the process. "You paying anyone else for sex?"

Giggling, you shake your head. It's embarrassing to even be asked, your desperation as apparent as your skin itself, but you feel like if there's anyone you can joke about it with it's the man whose face is still sticky with your release.

"Nope, one is plenty. I'm not rich, you know."

He quirks a brow and crawls onto the bed, making his way to hover above you with a smirk and that same hair hanging over his eyes the way you always seem to see it in your daydreams.

Without thinking, you reach up and brush it off of his forehead, your fingers gliding across the sweat slicked skin of his face. You look at him for a moment, the way he looms above you, and your stomach turns.

This is too much. Your fingers tremble gently as you trace them over the bridge of his nose while dragging them off of his face, hand flopping down at your side while you struggle to shift from beneath him to get out of the bed.

"You alright?"

You nod and he backs away, sitting across the bed rather than lingering over the top of you. Sliding your legs off of the bed, you stand and feel him looking at your back as you bend and scramble to grab your clothes.

"Yeah, just realized it's super late."

Hurriedly pulling your pants up over your legs, you stop when you realize he hasn’t stopped staring at you since the moment you left his bed. His gaze burns and you wither beneath it, burning out like a shooting star as you stand still as a statue.

“Just stay,” he offers as if it isn’t the most self destructive option you could possibly choose. Stay and what? Chew on your nails the entire night until the sun finally rises and you can blissfully leave? Watch morning cast a warm glow over his sleeping body while birds chirp outside?

A persistent echo of the word idiot dances through your head as you briefly consider his suggestion, wondering if it would truly be so terrible to bury your head against his side and sleep soundly for the first time in months.

You can’t do this. The night feels suffocating, like it’s smothering you rather than enveloping you gently, and you pull your pants all the way up and fasten them while throwing your shirt over your head and pulling it on in a surprisingly fluid motion.

“I gotta go. Thank you for everything.”

Bustling out of his apartment, Toji watches your back head toward the door and can’t help but feel as if that was your final goodbye, gone in a flash the same way you returned to him.

Hey stranger, what's up?

The latest in a series of ignored messages pops onto your screen before you can close out the notification, today marking 21 days since the fateful night you cried in the back of an overpriced car the entire way back to your apartment leaving Toji’s behind you.

The messages are all the same - nonchalant and non committal, unspoken business proposals - but you scroll up through them anyway with a broken sniffle. How you’re still managing to cry over this three weeks later is beyond your own understanding but your fingers reach out to brush the screen of your phone regardless, just as they did the smooth skin of his forehead that fateful night.

Life has been normal without him, you reason. You go to work, keep your head down, come home and fall asleep in front of the TV. You’ve been too depressed to even masturbate but you’ve tried, crying through the measly two orgasms you’ve managed to pull out of yourself halfheartedly.

Part of you wishes you’d just die and end this misery once and for all, the other wants to die thinking of how someone would feel looking at your browser history. “Green eyed guy big dick”, “big dick DILF” , “toji big dick”, the terms thay would haunt you enough you worry they’d emblazon them on your headstone if you were to perish.

It’s dramatic, sure, your world has imploded in on itself more than once already but this hurts with the intensity of three broken engagements. Your heart feels like it could give out at any moment and it nearly does when your phone begins to vibrate and ring. Dropping it to the floor below, you sniffle again and feel another round of sobs bubble up in your throat at the name on the screen.

Toji Fushiguro. Clear as day.

You let it ring and ring until you know your voicemail will pick up and you’ll delete it. Fuck, you should really delete his number as a whole but even that feels too permanent.

How did it hurt less when you left your old apartment with an empty ring finger and a few boxes full of your meager belongings than it does to ignore a man you paid for sex?

Truthfully, you know it was never about the sex and you were treading in deep dangerous waters from the start.

You love him.

You loved him back in high school when he was a bad influence, you loved him when you’d open your hidden photos folder to stare at pictures you screen captured from his social media as soon as your fiancé rolled over to fall asleep, you loved him hovering above you with moonlight illuminating every shadow of his face.

This is the worst thing that has ever happened to you and through a flood of hot tears, you close out the open adult website on your phone and pull up a search tab, typing the words that will lead you to listings for apartments for rent as far away from here as you can possibly get.

Your time here is done and you know it, the ding echoing from your phone letting you know you have a voicemail almost sounding exactly like a timer would but you look at the notification anyway.

It's curious he left you a voicemail but you watch as your screen loads from the browser to the one unopened message in your mailbox. Taking a deep breath, you press play and hear his voice drifting through the speakers.

"Hey, uhh...I dunno what I did to piss you off but maybe we should talk about it. I'll be at the usual spot tonight if you wanna meet. Hope to see ya."

It ends as unceremoniously as it started and you cry harder, rewinding to start it over again. Listening to his voice, you trace your fingers along the screen of your phone a final time before deciding to take him up on his offer.

Closure will only help this process, you think, ending it all and closing this chapter for good.

“Look who it is.”

You recognize the voice coming from behind you but refuse to turn in your chair to greet its owner, instead sipping from your cocktail before tossing your napkin down unceremoniously.

This isn’t your first time at this less than reputable establishment but you hope it will be your last, ready to get away from the shit in this city you wished you would’ve left behind a long time ago. Him included.

“Toji,” you toss from over your shoulder and the man himself enters your peripheral vision. Refusing to give him the smug satisfaction of turning to look at him, you simply nod and begin to tear the napkin you tossed down into little pieces. You’ve always loved how easy it is to transform things with your hands, from whole to broken and back again. It reminds you of yourself in a strange way.

“I could make some time for you,” Toji sucks his teeth and you roll your eyes at the sound. “If you want.”

A shake of your head is all you offer as you continue to throw bits of paper in front of you, a small pile of bits, all that remains of what once was whole. The metaphor dies as you think about it and you sit quietly as he settles in beside you.

“What would it cost me this time?”

Toji shrugs, the already clinging fabric of his short sleeved shirt gripping him tighter with the motion. You swallow thickly seeing the muscles move from the corner of your eye. He’s gorgeous and you hate it, reminding yourself that loneliness is what led you in his direction in the first place. Or at least you’re still trying to convince yourself of that.

You wish you could have stuck to your guns when you promised yourself you’d stop seeing him.

“I can make a deal for my favorite even if she has been avoiding me lately.”

A laugh escapes before you can stop it and you turn to look at him, taking in the deep jade color of his eyes and the dark lashes that frame them.

What point did you start looking for the mischievous little sparkle that lives inside of those irises? What point did this become more than transactional?

You always have and it never was.

You sigh, tipping your head back to look at the dim modern-attempt-at-vintage overhead lighting and he sweeps his large hand across the bartop to sweep your bits of napkin into his palm.

“No charge, actually.”

Making a show of considering his offer, you squirm uncomfortably at the boundary that has been firmly broken by it. He has given you discounts, sure, but to offer a completely free no strings attached session is almost more than you can reasonably deny. You have been suffering in his absence, self imposed exile keeping you locked inside of your apartment when you aren’t at work. You aren’t dating, you aren’t fucking, you’re just trying to exist as simply as possible.

Even the most upright girl needs to have a little fun sometimes, though, you think. Especially since this will be the last time before you go and leave him to his life. You have no place in his world and he no place in yours, two paths that intersected briefly but have to diverge eventually the most the two of you will ever be.

Despite your better judgment, you look at him with a bittersweet smile and he finds the look puzzling. There’s still the ever present softness you hold for him deep in that gaze but there’s something else he hasn’t seen before.

His heavy stare makes you interrupt with a question.

“What did I do to deserve a free one?”

He shrugs, dropping your bits of napkin into your drained lowball glass where they soak up what’s left of the water. The cycle into something new begins again.

“Feelin’ generous. You in or not?”

Dragging it out for a moment longer, you wonder if you should tell him this will be the last time. You’ve known him for such a long time there’s an element of obligation but you shrug it off and rise from the barstool, smoothing down the fabric of your pants.

“Fuck it. Let’s go.”

Toji doesn’t bother to hide his smug half smile, tossing down a few bills to cover your drink.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you start and he cuts you off as the two of you walk so close your shoulders brush. “Told you I’m feelin’ generous, quit making me regret it.”

He’s teasing but you flinch a bit at his words despite yourself.

What if he regrets this? What if it hasn’t been as mutually beneficial as you originally thought, you’re just another face with disposable income that wants to see what it feels like to fuck a man with reckless abandon? Isn’t this why you walked away in the first place?

The what ifs will drive you crazy if you keep it up so you let the cool night air clear your mind, gasping as he pushes you against the driver side door of your car.

“Toji,” you warn but his hands glide up your sides and you lift your chin to expose your neck, his lips and teeth easily finding the column of your throat. The vibrations of your voice feel good against his mouth and you yelp as he scrapes at your skin using his front teeth. “Someone could see us.”

He scoffs and lifts his face away from your neck, lips mere inches away from yours.

“Would that be so bad?” You nod emphatically and he rolls his eyes, dark brows knit together as he considers what you’re saying. “Ashamed to be seen with me?” Your shoulders slump and he presses his lips against yours so quickly you wonder if you imagined it and you sigh. “No, I’m not. Just would rather people not know I’m paying some dude I used to go to high school with to fuck me.”

There’s too much truth to your words for him to argue so he simply leans in against, pressing his lips against yours for a moment longer than he previously did. You feel the corner of his lip rise, a little smirk, and you wonder what’s on his mind.

“Don’t seem so ashamed when you’re screamin’ about how you can feel me in your….” he feigns thought for a moment and you feel your face heat, knowing what he’s about to say next. “What is it you always say? Ah, yeah…tummy.” His lips press against yours again and you kiss him back this time, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and wrapping his dark hair around your fingers. The two of you separate before the dry humping starts, catching your breath as you wipe remnants of chapstick and saliva from your lips.

“Get your ass in the car before I change my mind, Fushiguro.”

He smiles at the sound of his name on your pretty lips. There’s no going back now and he knows it as he squeezes your ass once before rounding your car to enter the passenger side. A glance up at the night sky allows you a moment to clear your mind before you enter the vehicle yourself, shutting the door behind you as you fire up the engine.

Something new begins again, the night revealing thing you know to be true.

You love him too much for this to be the last time.

#toji fushiguro x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #kendall writes

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cowpokeomens · 5 months

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Passenger Mag: Your One-Stop Shop to stay up to date with the latest from your favorite bands! This month’s edition (albeit a day late) features Bad Omens, a pretty okay band! Come with us as we catch up with frontman Noah Sebastian, and scroll through to see YOUR top picks for fanfics this month!

Okay but really, here’s a silly little thing I made inspired by the Tiger Beat magazines I saw in grocery stores when I was 12. There’s a few pages missing because of the photo limit (biphobic methinks) but I hope you enjoy looking at it nonetheless :-) thank you to the fic authors who let me include their works; if you haven’t read them, go do that right now! Happy New Year y’all!

#bad omens fic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens x reader #bad omens smut #bad omens head canon #bad omens head canons #bad omens headcanons #bad omens rpf #passengermag

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magicfootballstuff · 1 year

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Strictly Unprofessional - part 2 (alexia putellas x reader)

Summary: You’ve just landed your dream job as a photographer at FC Barcelona Femení. The only problem? You hooked up with the captain five years ago and haven’t seen her since.

Part 2/9

Read other parts here.

———

It doesn’t take long to settle into your new routine at the club. On a typical training day, you spend your mornings outside taking photos of the players on the pitch and your afternoons in the media office editing and sorting through the photos on your computer.

Occasionally there’s something a bit different to do - you have to do photoshoots with a couple of new signings towards the end of the transfer window, plus some work for the club website and shop. You even get to stand in for one of the videographers when he’s off sick and while you’re not as familiar with film work as you are with still shoots, you enjoy the experience. Plus, it’s an entertaining day filming silly challenges with a few of the players for social media.

Your interactions with Alexia are limited and entirely professional. You still haven’t reminded her of the fact you met five years ago in Ibiza, and by now it’s far too late. You keep waiting for her to remember and confront you about it, but she never does.

When the season starts in September, you get to experience your very first away trip as everyone travels to Tenerife for the team’s second game of the new season. Some of the other backroom staff grumble a little bit, especially the older ones who don’t like having to leave their families for the weekend. But you’re young, single, and the closest thing you have to commitments in Barcelona are the houseplants that will surely survive for the two days you’ll be gone. The Barcelona team is starting to feel like a little family to you and a weekend away with them, especially one in sunny Tenerife, doesn’t really seem like work.

But before you get there, you take photos of the players getting on the bus, photos of them getting off the bus, getting on the plane, getting off the plane… and so it goes on. Every moment of the journey is documented and only a fraction of the pictures you’ve taken will ever see the light of day, but the players must be used to it because they hardly seem bothered by the presence of the cameras.

It’s only when you finish your final shoot of the day - the players arriving at the hotel - that you get to relax.

“So, your first away trip, huh?” Mapi asks you, as she stands behind you in the queue in the hotel’s dining hall that evening. She’s one of many players who has been friendly since you started this job. “How are you finding it?”

“Tiring,” you admit, because you’ve been on your feet all day with barely a moment to rest. “But good. I got some cute photos of you and Ingrid on the plane.”

“I don’t remember seeing you taking any.”

“That’s because you were asleep.”

“No!” Mapi pouts. “You paparazzi’d me?”

“It’s my job,” you grin at her with a shrug.

“Can I at least see?”

“I’ll show you in a bit.”

You load your tray up with food, then as you start to walk towards a table where some of the other staff are sitting, Mapi catches your elbow with her hand.

“Come and sit with us,” she says, steering you towards a table where a few of the players are already eating. “We’re allowed to mix.”

Mapi sits down in an empty chair next to Ingrid and you take the seat opposite, more than aware of Alexia’s presence at the other end of the table, though she’s deep in conversation with Patri and Aitana and doesn’t seem to notice you.

“Show me the pictures then,” Mapi says, almost as soon as you’re sitting down.

Your camera bag is still slung across your body and you unzip it to take out the camera, loading up the photos you took today and scrolling through until you reach the ones you took on the plane.

“Here,” you say, angling the camera to show Mapi the photos.

There are a few of her and Ingrid, all with Mapi’s eyes closed and her head resting on Ingrid’s shoulder. In the later photos, Ingrid has spotted the camera and poses with a smile and a peace sign while Mapi sleeps through.

“Oh, those are cute,” Ingrid says, leaning over to look at the camera screen.

“Do I always sleep with my mouth open?” Mapi asks Ingrid.

“Sometimes.”

Mapi’s complaints have caught the attention of the rest of the girls at the table, Alexia included, and soon they’re all asking to see the photos.

“See, Mapi, this is why you should never fall asleep when there are cameras around,” interjects Alexia.

Mapi rolls her eyes as she gives your camera back and says, “Little Miss Media Training over there is always camera ready.”

“Oh, I’ve probably got some bad ones of her too,” you grin, sparing a glance at Alexia to test her reaction.

“Really?” Alexia asks, her eyes going wide.

“Show me!” Mapi says gleefully.

You scroll through the hundreds of photos you took today until you get to some of Alexia waiting to get on the bus from the airport to the hotel and click through them more slowly.

“She looks perfect,” Mapi comments as you show her each photo in turn. “Perfect, perfect. Come on, there has to be one bad photo of Alexia - aha!”

Mapi’s triumphant cry comes when she sees a picture of Alexia with her mouth twisting upwards as if she’s about to laugh, but you move onto the next picture which is the real gem. Alexia is about to get on the bus with Patri but both girls are laughing, Alexia with her eyes closed and cheeks half-puffed out as she struggles to contain her laughter.

“Let me see!” Alexia says, getting to her feet and circling the table until she’s standing beside you to get a better look. You angle to screen of your camera so she can see and she lets out a groan, before saying, “You have to delete it.”

“But only after sending me a copy,” interjects Mapi, still full of glee.

“Relax,” you reassure Alexia. “It’s not going on social media. Anyway, I don’t think it’s a bad photo.”

“Easy for you to say,” Alexia says, as she returns to her seat with a pout. “It’s not a picture of you.”

“It’s a picture of two friends sharing a joke,” you say. “It’s so fleeting and so human and it’s immortalised on film.”

“That’s very poetic, but please send me that photo,” Mapi grins at you.

You glance back over at Alexia, who is back in her seat but has a curious expression on her face as she looks straight back at you, head tilted to one side as if she’s trying to read into your soul. Your cheeks flush, remembering that in theory Alexia knows you far better than anybody else at this table, even if she doesn’t remember it herself, and you put your camera away to continue eating your dinner.

———

Later that night, when you’re in bed in your hotel room, having one final scroll through your phone before going to sleep, an Instagram notification pops up at the top of the screen.

alexiaputellas is now following you

You almost drop your phone in surprise.

Somewhere in this hotel, Alexia is in an identical room to this one, probably on her phone too, and one of her last thoughts before going to bed is you and your Instagram account.

That thought makes you feel a certain kind of way, though you don’t think you describe it exactly.

You open up the app and tap the notification to get to Alexia’s profile. You don’t follow her yet - you thought about it years ago when you got back from Ibiza and did a little internet stalking but chose not to, then you also haven’t followed her since starting your new job, not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention to yourself to remind her that she met you before.

Does she remember? She’s mentioned before that she thinks she recognises you - what if the Instagram follow is her way of confirming that she’s finally put the pieces together? Or maybe it’s just a complete coincidence. Maybe she’s following you purely for your photography.

It keeps you up for longer than you planned, and when you finally fall asleep, you dream of Ibiza.

———

You like matchdays. You get to sit in the sun and watch a game of football, even if you see most of it through the lens of your camera. And it’s where the players are most able to be themselves, showing all their emotions out on the pitch, the passion, the frustration. It delivers some beautiful opportunities for the perfect photo.

Barcelona wins the game comfortably to continue their perfect start to the season. A photo that you took of Alexia after scoring her second and Barcelona’s third goal is picked to go out on all the social media channels to announce the final result, a shot of her screaming in passion as Pina jumps on her back with a few of the other players out of focus in the background as they chase after her.

There’s not much time to celebrate after the match as the buses will be heading directly to the airport to take the team back to Barcelona. You get straight on your laptop as you sit near the front of one of the buses while waiting for the players to shower and change, but as you’re sorting through photos, a shadow falls over the screen of your computer.

“Is this seat taken?”

You look up and see Alexia standing in the aisle of the bus.

“No,” you say, moving the strap of your camera bag out of the way to clear the seat.

Alexia stows her bag and coat above the seat, then drops into the seat beside yours. There’s an unspoken rule that further towards the back of the bus you get, the noisier it is, especially after a match, and you don’t say anything to Alexia, unsure if she’s sitting here to keep you company or if she just wants a break from the celebrations taking place at the back of the bus.

In the end Alexia is the one who breaks the silence.

“I’m glad I’ve got the chance to speak to you,” she says. “There’s something I wanted to talk about.”

You know what Alexia is going to say before she even opens her mouth.

“I remembered where I know you from,” she continues. “Ibiza, right?”

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #woso imagine #woso x reader #strictly unprofessional

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princessdimondheart · 11 months

Text

Sea of Cortéz | Price x Daughter! Reader | Ch.2

Pairing: Price + Daughter! Reader, Reader x OC, TF-141 x Platonic! Reader

Warnings: 🔪- blood mentions

Edited: No

A/N: The suspense. That’s all I’ll say. NCIS is mentioned here! Hopefully as the chapters progress the word count increases. It’s 5am and I haven’t slept :/

Masterlist

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 [Here] | Ch. 3

Character banner ©️ Me

“… So, this Gunny is going to become a Medal of Honor recipient?” Price stood from the bench.

Laswell nodded her head. “Yes… he will. It’s practically guaranteed that in a few weeks the proposal will be on the President’s desk and signed.” She sighed. “Let’s talk more in private.”

She led them to a small room that usually held debriefings but was now converted into a storage room. The projector and computer monitors were still up and covered in dust.

“Tell us more about the Gunny, Laswell.” Gaz looked at her and then to his Captain in worry. They both sat in the old chairs, arms resting on the light gray table.

Laswell sat across from them. “Well, he went through a lot in the last few years. Put his poor wife through lots of heartache with his recovery and all…”

“Wife?” Both Gaz and Price questioned. John shook his head. Was the Gunny cheating?

“Yes? They’ve been married for several years now. I’ve collaborated on several occasions with her.” Kate leaned forward. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Kate, this man knows my daughter.” John stuffed his hand into his pocket and pulled out the skimpy photo of his little girl, now grown woman.

Laswell’s eyes widened, but then her expression changed to an awkward grin. “That’s his wife. Y/N Cortéz, that’s your daughter?”

“You know her by name? How do you know my daughter?” But instead of saying Price after her name, she said Cortéz. John was becoming more confused by the second. His knee was bouncing slightly and his hand was messing with his beard. It took him a moment to process all of her words. “Wait-, you said Cortéz? She… she’s never told me that she was seeing anyone let alone married to them. What the hell is going on here, Kate?”

“I-I don’t know what to say, John. She’s never mentioned her side of the family before. Just her in-laws and their kid.”

“Kid?” Price stood up, palms slamming on the table. “Do you mean to tell me that I have a grandchild out there?”

Kate put a hand to her mouth in shock. “My god… you didn’t know.” Her eyes wandered off to the wall, contemplating. “You don’t know what the life of your daughter has been for… years now?”

“No. Which makes no bloody sense since I talk to her every chance I get!” His voice rose in frustration. Kyle felt like he was in some poor written soap opera that his aunties would watch when he was younger and had stayed with them. On second thought, it was every time he saw them.

“John, Y/N works with me in CIA. She’s a Special Agent in the counterterrorism division.” Price sat back down heavily. “Umm, I have resources in the Naval Criminal Investigative Service that could lend a helping hand on this situation. I’ll give them a call, since the Gunny is a Marine and Y/N is a dependent so she falls under their jurisdiction.”

“Thank you, Kate.” John paused. “I hope they can set everything straight.”

With that Kate left the room. She couldn’t believe that the girl whose office was only a few doors down from hers was the daughter of her best task force Captain. Kate shook her head as theories ran through her mind. Pulling out her phone she dialed a number. She hoped that the late hour in Washington wouldn’t be a bother to the person on the other line.

“Sorry it’s so late, Jethro.”

~~~~~

Price stayed where he was for a moment just staring off into space. Only startled by Kyle placing his hand on his shoulder. “Maybe we should head back to the med tent and see if there are any updates on the Gunny?”

Price looked at the younger man and then rose to his feet. “Yeah, there’s no use just sitting here.”

They soon found themselves in their previous position on that old bench. Waiting for any news. An hour passed by when a doctor, presumably the surgeon who operated on Cortéz, exited the OR and came up to them.

“My guess is that you guys were the ones who found Gunny Cortéz?” She looked at them attentively.

“Yes, we found ‘im.” Both John and Kyle stood up. John continued, “He’s still alive, right? No complications?”

“Yes, he’s been taken care of. Lots of bleeding so he needed a few blood transfusions. No head trauma, but he’ll be in and out of consciousness for a while. He might need another surgery if we find anymore bullet fragments.” She looked between the two of them. “He’ll be moved to a different room in just a few moments. Next of kin will be notified of his condition and efforts will be made to get him back to the states.”

Price thanked the doctor and shook her hand. He had a lot to think about and he was definitely going to send a rather strong message to his daughter about the situation.

Dad: I know about your husband.

Seen

Dad: Hey, Y/N, I know you’ve seen this. Answer

Seen

Dad: Hello? Y/N

Seen

Dad: Hey! What’s going on? Answer me Y/N!

Delivered

Dad: Y/N? Are you okay? Please

Not Delivered

🔖 Taglist:

@rand0m--fangirl @starre-eyes

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3terna15unshin3 · 6 months

Note

I NEED MATTY PROPOSING TO ESTE AND/OR THEIR WEDDING I BEG 🙏🙏

Dedication

The proposal

1420 words

—

a/n: thank u sm for this request bc i loved dreaming this up !!! also slightly inspired by charli and george’s little tea tray bc that broke my heart. wedding blurb may come in the future but for now here's the proposal :))) anyway sorry if this is bad i haven’t written in like over a month😭😭 but i kind of love it so enjoy lmfao love u

Read the main fic here!

—

It’s late in the evening, the summer sun is dim and almost hidden by the horizon. An orange and pink and lilac sky surrounds the mosquitoes that buzz about. Este sits at the small table in their backyard and lights a citronella candle to stop them from nipping at her. It makes the air smell like fond August memories.

She can hear Matty shuffling around the kitchen as he makes the two of them cups of tea. He’s been out at the studio most of the evening, so they ate dinner separately. On nights like these, they almost always share sweet and lazy conversations over a brew afterwards, to make up for that missed time. Their sometimes foggy minds or tense muscles need a way to find solace before resting each night—and Matty and Este find that in each other.

The glass doors reopen to reveal Matty and the two mugs. He had a book tucked under his arm, too.

“Thank you, love,” Este says after he sets hers down. The table is small and round and flush against the concrete wall, so he sits on the left and her on the right. They lean against the house with their teas between them and peer at the sunset, taking leisurely sips.

He hums in response to say ‘you’re welcome’ wordlessly. Then, he hands the book over to Este. “Got you something while I was out.”

Once it’s in her hands, she recognises it to be a copy of And Our Faces, My Heart, Brief as Photos by John Berger. It makes her smile since it’s a favourite of hers. Este had never seen the cover design before.

“Is this a new edition?” She asks, admiring its colours and typography and the way they perfectly align with her taste.

Her eyes break contact with the book to look up at Matty, who gives a nonchalant shrug.

“Not sure,” He says, “Maybe the inside cover will say.”

Matty’s right; the publication information is typically listed within the first few pages. She has to flip and find it quite often for work. Este likes his suggestion, a smile still pinned on her face from the nice surprise as she opens it up to feel its pages. They feel thick and durable and have rough, haphazard edges.

She drags her fingers over them to appreciate their character, then flips past the first page that reads its title, and sets her eyes onto the small text on the opposite side. Before they find any answers Este is looking for, they settle on another—much more important—spectacle. It makes her heart stop. The dedication. She stares at it in shock.

The book is one she’s reread plenty of times, so she remembers John Berger’s small blurb that formally thanks some institutions and few people who helped him put together the prose to follow. But it doesn’t say that. Instead, it reads,

For my Este. I’d like to make you my wife if you’ll let me.

Matty’s knee shakes from the other side of the table. He watches her mouth fall agape and smiles nervously. He isn’t sure why the nerves are there, since he’s never been so sure of anything in his life. But they race through Matty’s body as he waits for her to say something.

He slides the ring in an open velvet box across the table to her when she finally looks up.

“Are you fucking joking?” Este’s voice quivers.

She can tell there are words threatening to spill from his tongue and every emotion possible washes over her when she imagines how beautiful the words will be. She has to stop herself from jumping out of her seat and tackling him in excitement and pure adoration.

Tears well up in the corner of her eyes at the expense of those thoughts swirling in her mind and Matty reaches over to wipe one away when it escapes. He does the same to his own when they eventually fall. More rush down her cheek when Este realises that he’s crying too, but of course he is.

“Course I’m not joking,” he starts, voice equally as weak. “There are a million ways I could explain how much I love you and why I am so desperate to marry you, but one that feels so authentic to us is with this. This book is so special. Not only because I know how much you love it—that’s the reason I read it in the first place—but also because it sort of changed me,”

Este reaches across the table to set her hand over his and rub her thumb back and forth against his skin.

“When I was falling in love with you, so much of that time was spent away from you. It was the busiest year of my life. And in moments—not in doubt, but just in fear of tainting how significant your love was to me—I considered that to be an opportunity for weakness to grow. That maybe one day, that distance could wedge between us. But when I read this, it showed me just how important every aspect of those times are. The far and close. It says,”

‘When you are away, you are nevertheless present for me. This presence is multiform: it consists of countless images, passages, meanings, things known, landmarks, yet the whole remains marked by your absence, in that it is diffuse. It is as if your person becomes a place, your contoured horizons. I live in you then like living in a country. You are everywhere.

In the country which is you I know your gestures, the intonations of your voice, the shape of every part of your body. What changes when you are there before my eyes is that you become unpredictable. What you are about to do is unbeknown to me. I follow you. You act. And with what you do, I fall in love again.’

“And yes, I did memorise that for the purpose of reciting it back to you,” They both laugh. “But it wasn’t hard, because it felt so true. You are everywhere, Este. Even when we aren’t face-to-face, everything I know of this world is through what it means to love you. And all I want for the rest of my life is for you to keep doing and for me to keep falling in love with it.”

By now, the neckline of his t-shirt is dampened with the tears. Matty gets up from his chair to kneel between her legs and hold Este’s waist. The rise and fall of her breathing is unsteady from all the crying but it still calms him. She cups his face like it’s the last time she’ll ever have the chance to.

“Marry me, please,” She utters desperately and brings his face up to kiss him. Matty’s lips taste of salt and English Breakfast tea. They can feel each other’s grins.

“I think I'm supposed to say that,” he argues, leaning his forehead against Este’s.

“Took too long.” She jokes. Matty stands and lifts her into an embrace. Her legs wrap around him and he spins with joy, then sets her down.

“Was the speech too cheesy?” asks Matty, half-serious.

Este shakes her head. “You are everywhere, Matty.”

They stand and stare, wiping the last of the tears off of each other’s faces. He turns to reach for the ring and she lets him slip it onto her finger. She admires its chunky bezel and the way she hadn't seen an engagement ring quite like it before. Este kisses him once more, and studies his hysteric smile. His eyes are squinty.

And then, they go about their evening. They sit back down, each in their usual chair; and though their teas are a bit cold now, it doesn’t bother them.

Matty explains that he found a local Manchester book binder to design a cover for And Our Faces specifically for her, and to bind the proposal into its dedication. He even chose the font, paper, and roughed edges that he thought she'd like the best. Este expresses how perfectly loving the gesture is and grips the book—now the most prized in her collection—with passion.

Excited discussions of a ceremony (its venue and her dress and his suit and how soon they can do it) are exchanged over their now empty mugs as what's left of the orange summer sun washes over them with charisma.

Somehow it can’t make the moment any more beautiful than it already is.

#tbsg #meste blurb #ask #matty healy #the 1975 #matty healy fanfiction #the 1975 fanfiction #matty healy x oc #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy fluff #fluff #fanfiction

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redactahoe · 3 months

Text

old friends die hard pt. 1

A/N: heeey so ive been working on this for awhile and am so glad the first part is done.

summary: for the past 6 months treasure has been… off. Porter didn’t know how to describe it but something was going on with his favorite human and he didn’t know how to help. The last time they talked was 3 weeks ago and since then they haven’t been answering his call. So porter decided the next best thing was to drop by unannounced.

Tw//: talk of missing memories and nighmares (kinda), porter is so soft for them its not even funny, this is also in the not so distant future where porter and treasure is an establish relationship, cussing, treasure yells like once

codes: (T/N) = treasure's name and (D/N) = darlin's name

The first but last thing Porter had expected to see when entering his human’s apartment was the living room to be void of all light save for the glow of his treasures laptop screen. Open and set in their lap as they sat on the couch, a weighted blanket resting on their shoulders as the skrunkly little cat they found on the street a month ago slept behind them on the back of the couch. a forgotten bowl of what he can assume is some form of soup sitting on the coffee table along with a half empty mug of tea in front of them.

Glancing at his watch as he walked closer to the couch, it read 3:30 AM. his gaze lifts back up to get a better look at treasure's face. Their usual dark circles under their eyes somehow had gotten darker since the last time he had seen them. Their eyebrows were scrunched up in a mix of frustration and concentration, lips pressed into a deep frown.

“Treasure, when's the last time you've actually gone to sleep and had a proper meal?” Porter asked, having a feeling that the answer wasn’t going to be anything he liked.

“I don’t need to sleep right now.” they frustratedly almost angrily mumbled out.

“(T/N) im being serious…” Porter came closer, leaning over the couch and careful no to disturb the sleeping feline. He noticed that There were several pictures strewn across the couch and coffee table, some were in frames and some weren’t.

The picture propped up against treasure’s computer was of a tiny 10 year old treasure, In the front yard of what could be assumed to be their childhood home. They were lying on top and wrestling with another kid, pulling a smile onto the kids cheeks as they tried to push (T/N) off of them, clearly enjoying themselves. Porter immediately recognized that kid as (D/N) or Tank, Sam's mate and the wolf from the Shaw pack.

Porter picked up the picture to get a closer look “did you know them, treasure?”

“I DON’T KNOW!” treasured screamed out and through their hands up in exasperation before dropping them to bury their face in them, digging their palms into their sockets. They were both silent for a minute before (T/N) finally spoke up in a quiet and defeated tone.

“.... I'm sorry i yelled at you, it's just- I've been so stressed and so confused lately. It's been driving me nuts!” their hand moved to hold the side of their hand while the other stayed to rub the exhaustion out of their eyes.

“What's going on my love?” Porter's voice dropped to a low concern as he rubbed his treasures shoulders trying to sooth them as best as he could.

“Sigh, recently I've started to have these…. I don’t know how to describe it but every time i close my eyes I see them” treasure waving their hand in the vague direction of the childhood photo.

“But there's always something wrong with them, with their voice, with their face.” “Their face is always blurred out and their voice is always distorted.” “It feels more like someone tried editing them and everything related to them out of my head more than me just forgetting them or not knowing them.”

“How long has this been happening?” Now the porter was really concerned, It sounded like a memory wipe done by the department was wearing off. He’s heard of it before, it was a rare phenomenon that happened to the unempowered that were wiped but re-exposed to the empowered. It didn't happen often but when it didn’t it never ended well for the unempowered in this situation, in the three recorded cases the department has published it always ended in insanity and a trip to and a permanent stay to grippy sock land or the psych ward for those who are boring out there.

“Ever since I met you”

“What was that?”

Treasure threw their head back in exasperation “ever since i met you.” they said a little louder, they didn’t want Porter to think that he was at fault for their dilemma. It wasn’t, it never was, it's just that ever since they've known him their memory started acting up. It's like he jumped started buried memories to start resurfacing.

“But if it's been happening for that long then why is it now becoming a problem?” Porter on the other hand was more concerned about the fact this has been happening for a better part of a year now and (T/N) hasn’t said anything about up until now.

“ because only recently have the faces started to clear up, only recently have I've been able to make out any sort of facial features! And when I was able to see a face it sparked even more memory and caused me to rip apart my closet to find these pictures to make sure I wasn't going crazy.” “I can recognize the faces as someone i knew, someone i cared about but their voice and more importantly their name i can't get down, so I've been trying to find a solution but i keep running into dead ends.” (T/N) gestures to the laptop for Porter to take a look and well.. It was nothing but some Pseudoscience bullshit about crystals and shit that would most definitely wouldn’t help.

“Okay, your-” porter stops speaking for a second to shut the laptop before continuing “-going to get up and go shower while I am going to clean up and make you something proper to eat.”

“But-”

“No buts, go.” This was not something porter was going to debate with the human at all.

So with the end of that ‘argument’ (T/N) got up, stretched(much like a cat, porter would like to add) and padded off to their apartment's shower, their fluffy companion following soon after.

As soon as his treasure was out of ear shot, porter pulled out his phone to call the only person he knew who could possibly help.

#redacted asmr #redactedverse #redacted audio #redacted darlin #redacted fanfiction #redacted porter #redacted treasure #redacted verse #redactedaudio #redactedasmr #redacted solaire clan #redacted shaw pack

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daddymilker691 · 7 months

Text

Well my revered readers of Londons most bohemian and relentlessly sought after newspaper The Daily Milker we are back of course a recent bout of Covid has I’m afraid put rather a damper on things and not wanting to pass it on to my wonderful Co Editor Dawn Green we closed our Holborn studios for the week still feeling the after effects somewhat it really has a way of kicking the old proverbial bottom as our American so eloquently put it anyway so we opened up our studios yesterday darlings to our wonderful page five stars there are now so many it’s almost impossible to put them all in one edition but I shall strive to appease both our hungry readers appetites for these wonderful stars⭐️ and their own desires to be a page five ⭐️ , it’s been a dim and rainy day here in Holborn and actually in London as a whole indeed Dawns had to put the heating on I did suggest Dawn put on a fur coat but from the back room came the reply I don’t get paid enough well enough of the sauntering monologue I hear you say get on with it ok so here goes first off as always the wonderful Dawn Green our Co Editor wearing that in winter it’s no wonder you get cold Dawn next we were visited by the very lovely Petra no stranger to the Daily Milker but it’s been a while and as always in fine form and looking fabulous after the delightful photo shoot Petra caught the bus back to Wandsworth with a big smile and a page five ⭐️ badge , next was the one and only Jodie Hot Sauce who has sent me many get well soon messages what a lovely thing to do thanks Jodie your a staple star ⭐️ of the Daily Milker and we here all love you next after I’d had a coffee and a bit of a rest Dawn sipped on a cocktail only to inform me that Happy Little Lucy had just arrived at Heathrow and was in a Taxi on way to our studio all the way from Canada probably one of the only places colder than London what a Canadiandoll a vision in Polka Dots we made Lucy feel very welcome and took great delight in warming her up , we are hoping Lucy becomes a regular here , next the lovely leggy and fun Cindy Lace arrived you could have knocked me down with a feather when I heard Cindy say trick or treat I said get in for heavens sake before you catch a cold Dawn set up a Haloween themed background and Cindy showed me a trick and I got quite a treat ( ouch Dawn ) , next was the lovely Sandra Clapham who was somewhat late and then I noticed Dawn wasn’t about I thought to myself I know what’s happened and sure enough found them in the Queens legs discussing the different deniers of stockings Sandra showing Dawn a new suspenders belt I joined them both for a quick pint before we departed back to the studio as a brand new page five star only Monica , only I thought under my breath I congratulated Monica on the forethought of bringing an umbrella as it was pouring but did somewhat doubt of how much rain it would keep off, next was the lovely sweet Sue all the way from Manchester rather tired but given time to relax of course in our very special green room looking amazing and left with a smile lastly it was lovely to have Madison back . Before I finish the post I’d like to thank all you page five stars and the wonderful Dawn Green and if you haven’t made it on this issue please don’t think you won’t on the next we would have done a double if was feeling more up to it love and peace and thanks to all who follow the Milker ( never be nasty when you can be nice ) xxx

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beabeemu · 11 months

Text

More than this

Gojo satoru!!

Kind of a word dump hehehe, mentions of death. slight crossover of naruto (mentioned 1 character) fushi-gojo family heheheh angst oops divorced parents kinda not edited

MASTER LIST ; Taglist Form

Despite you and Gojo breaking up 3 months ago, Megumi and tsumiki still asked to see you. Whenever Gojo was late to pick them up the other, they would simply request Gojo to have you pick them up instead, knowing that you always pick them up on time. As much as Gojo wanted to avoid interacting with you, he couldn’t deny that the kids both love you. More than they love gojo. He just makes sure to let you know that it was the kids that wanted to see you, not him. Definitely not him.

Swiping the green button on your phone, you answered the call of the man whose heart you broke.

“What is it gojo”

The name stung, but putting that aside, he went back to the issue at hand.

“Wow so no hello?”

“Hello gojo, what do you need? I’m kind of busy” You said as you skimmed the document your assistant handed you. Also while typing on your computer.

Your breakup was a mutual decision, a heart-clenching decision for both of you. But that was 3 months ago, you two have moved on, right? Well Y/N most certainly did. She did initiate the argument first. Gojo was just fighting in a game where you had already won.

“I was gonna ask you if you can have Megumi and tsumiki sleepover? I have an overnight trip tonight, but I’ll be back tomorrow. They’re in school right now, so can you pick them up also? I kind of need to go after lunch. I know it’s kind of a lot to ask bu-”

“Yeah sure, anything else?”

“-oh, well nothing else, I guess.”

“Good, bye”

Then you hung up.

Sometimes Gojo just wished that you two hadn’t broken up, he hated the situation you two were in. And the conversation you two had still haunts him at night.

Gojo had felt the tension of your relationship, the brittleness of its holds to each other. And the bridge you two built was burning. And there was nothing he could’ve done to prevent it. The love you two had was something different from the others, but nothing could compare to him.

Nothing compared to th strong feeling you clearly held for your ex. Your dead ex. Gojo knew what he had involved himself in when you two got together. But his feelings for you overpowered all his worries and doubts, and that was what he regretted most.

Despite being together with him, he can’t help but think

‘what if you're seeing him instead of me?’

You couldn’t love him the way he needed to be loved. And you couldn’t give him that kind of love. Couldn’t give him that special place for him, but instead keeping it on hold for someone who wasn’t gonna come back.

“You deserve so much better toru”

“No. please, I’ll do better I promise, please” Holding onto you, on his knees not wanting to let you go. In your apartment, with Megumi and tsumiki waiting in the car, waiting for gojo.

“I can’t, it’s not you. I promise its not you… I shouldn’t have entered a relationship knowing that I haven’t moved on from my ex.”

Shaking his head, as if that would make it all disappear. You closed your laptop and looked at the picture frames that decorated your desk. One was Megumi and tsumiki, they were holding a cake that said ‘Happy valentines Day!’

The Second was a picture of Gojo and Megumi. Megumi was on Gojo’s shoulders

The third was much harder to look at.

It was a wedding photo, of you and your husband, Itachi. Looking at the photo and recalling all the memories, accidentally caressing the ring that adorned your finger. Even when you were together with Gojo, you didn’t take it off. You were a cruel, cruel person to be in a relationship with. Which is why, you broke up with him. He may be hurting now. But he will hurt even more when he realized that when nights come and you’re crying trying to call out to your dead husband.

The only reason that you were only keeping in contact with him (again, cruel) was because of the kids, Megumi and tsumiki. And you knew it was wrong, so you left, but not far enough for them to feel abandoned again.

Reblogs and likes are always appreciated

might do a part 2 lololoolo

#satoru gojo x reader #anime #satoru gojo #gojo saturo #jjk #gojo angst #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x reader fluff #gojo sensei #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro tsumiki #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #naruto #itachi uchiha

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moondustpugh · 18 days

Text

Written in the Stars

Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: You are a believer in fate but after getting your heart broken, you had stopped believing it. Until you met Joe. Suddenly, it got you questioning if fate is real or not.

Author's Note: Part 7! You know I have re-edited these next two chapters but I kept forgetting to upload them. Sorry!

Wordcount: 3.6K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five - part six - part seven - part eight - part nine - part ten - epilogue

Two months.

Two months since Joe had flown back to London to finish filming his movie. Two months since the incident at the bookshop. Two months since you have been staying in the office late every night just so you could finish the extra projects that you decided to handle in the company. You were exhausted, but you were never tired of trying your best to make sure that you and Sara were going to be okay. Sara had been busy too. Cole still hasn’t been caught and the only bright side of it was that the bookshop has been steadily busy, so she was at least making a little more money than usual.

“Hey, Nicola.” You popped your head above Nicola’s cubicle. “Did you submit the papers I left on your desk this morning?”

“Yes, everything is all set.” Nicola replied with a smile.

“Okay, thank you.” You smiled and walked away.

“Wait!” She got up from her chair and followed you down the hall to where your office was.

You stopped in your tracks as you turned to see Nicola speed walking towards you.

“A couple of us are going out tonight for drinks. I was wondering if you’d like to join.”

You gave Nicola a smile and said, “Thank you, but I have to stay a little bit over tonight.”

“Again?” Nicola raised her brow.

“Yes. I hope you guys have fun though.” You touched Nicola’s arm lightly, giving her a small smile before walking inside your office.

Nicola sighed and followed behind you, closing the door behind her and said, “I was going to wait and ask you this later but since you’re not coming, then I might as well just ask you this now.”

You sat behind your desk and leaned on it, waiting for what Nicola was going to say.

“Is your boyfriend still in London?” She asked.

You let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head. You knew dating an actor came with consequences, and you knew that some people in the office had been talking about you and your relationship with Joe. You just didn’t expect Nicola, one of the people you trusted, to also gossip about you.

“Are we really going to talk about my personal life right now?” You asked.

Nicola sighed and played with her phone in her hands. “It’s just that… I care about you, and I hate when people gossip about you in the office, but I saw the photos, and I don’t know if you knew.”

You raised your brow, confused as to what Nicola was talking about. When you didn’t say anything, Nicola handed you her phone and on the screen, it was Joe with one of his female co-stars. You knew about her, and you have seen some pictures lurking around the internet lately. Though, these pictures were new.

“If he said he’s in London then he’s lying, I’m sorry.” Nicola murmured.

You scrolled through the article and it said that Joe was spotted in Paris with her this weekend. You didn’t know about that because you haven’t heard from Joe in two weeks. Usually, you would let this subject go because you knew he wasn’t going to do anything to jeopardize your trust for him. Handing Nicola’s phone back to her, you gave her a small reassuring smile.

“Yeah, I knew about that. Don’t worry about it. It’s the media. They like to twist words.” You said, your attention back to your laptop now.

“Okay. That’s good to hear.” Nicola said, staring at you for a moment with worried eyes before walking out the door.

As soon as Nicola left your office, you let out a deep breath and leaned back on your chair. You got to admit. It has been difficult. You felt that distance between you and Joe lately. At the beginning, you thought it was working well. You thought that him being in London for a few months wasn’t really going to affect your relationship because he’s Joe. Your Joe. You knew he wouldn’t do anything to make you feel doubtful towards him because he promised that, remember? He promised that he wanted to take away all your fears and disappointments. But how come you have been sitting in the dark lately, wondering if your fears and disappointments have really been taken away by Joe or has it just been added even more?

Two months now where Joe had barely called you. You tried to understand that because some of his days were really long days of filming, and he could be exhausted. You understood when you had opened up Instagram and the first thing you saw was a photo of him out and about with his co-stars.

He needed to have fun too. That was what you told yourself.

You told yourself that Joe had the right to go out and hang with his co-stars. He had the right to go and relax and have fun.

You understood all of that.

But how come when he finally had the time to call you, it was him running around his hotel room, changing before he went to set? Or when he called, he was on his bed, barely awake and would tell you he missed you before he finally crashed and fell asleep? There were nights where you couldn’t fall asleep and you would sit by the window and just stare out into the city, wishing you had his arms around you at that moment. Moments where you wished everything that you were carrying on your shoulders right now could be taken away by just one hug by him.

But that wasn’t the case was it? Because now, you were here sitting alone in your office, making sure this project goes through and hoping that you could just take away one ounce of guilt that you felt for what happened with Sara.

You turned your chair and sighed, staring out into the big glass window, biting your nails and watching the city lights flickered in front of you. It was snowing tonight and the thought of having to walk to the subway station in the cold was making you feel lazy.

Maybe you should just sleep here in the office.

Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard your phone ring. Turning back to face your desk, you looked down to see who was calling you and saw Joe’s caller ID. He wanted to facetime.

“Hey.” You put on a smile on your face as you answered his video call.

“Hi, love. How are you?” You watched Joe lay on his bed, his hair still wet from the shower. “Sorry, long night. I actually just got back from the airport.”

“Yeah, I saw the photos.” You replied.

Joe pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, “I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you that my co-stars and I went to Paris for the weekend. We wanted to just go somewhere. I didn’t want you to hear about it through the internet.”

“It’s alright. Did you have fun?”

“Yeah, kinda tired though.” He yawned through the screen and squinted his eyes on you. “Are… Are you still in the office?”

You looked back at the window and realized he probably noticed your familiar office. “Yeah, I was just staying a little over, but I’m going home now.”

Joe yawned again. “Well, I hope you’re not overworking yourself, darling. You need rest too.”

“I’m okay.” You gave him a small smile.

“Oh, by the way, I think I won’t be going home in another two months. We have to stay for some re-shoots.”

You felt your stomach drop as you nodded your head in understanding. “Okay. I hope you’re doing okay.”

You watched as Joe tried to keep his eyes open as he gave you a smile and yawned again.

“I am.”

“I should let you rest. I have to go anyway.”

“Alright, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You watched as Joe gave you a kiss through the screen, and you did the same thing before he hung up the call.

Same phone call, different day.

Putting your phone down on your desk, you exhaled sharply and started packing your things. It was almost 11pm when you had arrived back home and as soon as you entered your apartment, everything was dark except for the light illuminating from the television and the noise coming from it in a low volume.

As soon as you entered your living room, you saw Wes sitting on the sofa, holding a bottle of beer and eating some snacks. His feet were laid on top of the coffee table, and he was watching some kind of late night show.

“Hey.” You murmured, setting down all your things on the dining table along with the brown Mcdonalds paper bag.

“You’re coming home later than usual.” Wes commented.

You slid your coat off your body, brushing the snow that was on it and hung it in the small hall closet near the front door. Grabbing the Mcdonalds paper bag, you flopped yourself on the sofa next to Wes.

You grunted and sighed. “Yeah, there was a lot to do.”

You looked around for a moment and noticed the absent presence of Sara. You weren’t surprised to see Wes in your apartment anymore since the man was basically living there already, but you didn’t blame him because you knew he was there for Sara no matter what, especially after that incident.

“Sara’s asleep?” You asked, crossing your legs in front of you and opening up the Mcdonalds paper bag.

Wes nodded his head and yawned. “Couldn’t sleep, so I decided to watch some TV.” He turned to face you and raised his brow. “Fucking Mcdonalds, really?”

You rolled your eyes at Wes’ judgment. “It was the only thing open and easy to get.”

You shoved some fries in your mouth. You haven’t eaten since lunch, and you were really hungry. You handed some to Wes and said, “Fries?”

Wes shrugged and grabbed some as he ate it with you.

“Talked to Joe yet?” Wes asked.

You nodded your head and said, “First time in two weeks.”

Wes glanced at you and saw the expression on your face even though you were trying so hard to hide it.

“He’s been a tad bit busy, huh?”

Wes watched and waited for your expression, but you just nodded your head again and took a big bite of your burger. You were too occupied with your food, but Wes wasn’t stupid either.

He has seen you.

He has seen you when you had a long day at work and all you wanted was to talk to Joe and not think about anything else, but he hasn’t called you at all. He had seen you exiting your room in the middle of the night to get a glass of water, sniffing away the tears that you cried over in your bedroom. He knew because he’d also be up in the middle of the night because he couldn’t sleep due to the fact that he was too worried about Sara. It was the constant thing you and Wes had done lately. Bumping into each other in the living room in the middle of the night because both of your minds were too loud for you two to be able to sleep. It was almost like you two understood each other’s situations.

“You know he loves you, right?” Wes added.

You let out a chuckle and said, “Did he tell you to make sure you remind me of that?”

Wes shrugged. “Just wanting to make sure you know that.”

“I know.”

“Never seen the lad like this even when he was with Rue.” Wes murmured, making you slowly grin at his comment.

“How are you and Sara?” You finally asked that one question you have been dying to ask Wes for a while now.

It was no secret either that you have seen how Wes and Sara’s relationship was also slowly ripping apart. You were seeing it before your eyes and sometimes, you wished you could do something about it, but it wasn’t your business either.

Ever since the incident, Sara had been distant. Not just to Wes, but to you too. You couldn’t remember the last time you two had a good conversation and just laughed like there was nothing wrong with the world. Part of it was also because you both have been so busy, and the guilty feeling of the incident that was eating you up inside wasn’t helping either.

You watched as Wes took a sip of his beer and shrugged. He didn’t say one word as his eyes were laser focused on the television in front of him.

You tilted your head and asked, “Wes? What’s going on?”

“I don’t know.” He lets out a sigh. “She has been so distant lately. I know she’s stressed, I understand that but I don’t know what to do to be able to help her or be there for her.”

“Yeah, I know.” You nodded in understanding. “I’ve seen how much she changed in the span of two months.”

“I just want to be there for her and let her know that I’m here. We are here for her if she wants to talk about it.”

“Do you want me to talk to her for you?”

Wes shook his head as he took another sip of his beer. “No, it’s alright. I’ll talk to her. I just don’t want to add any more stress than what she already has.”

“It’ll be okay.” You patted his forearm, giving him a reassuring smile. “We’ll get through this.”

Did you really believe that?

Because somehow, you knew you weren’t too sure if what you said to Wes was true. Sure, you believe Wes and Sara would get through this because they’re Wes and Sara. Sara and Wes. But how about you and Joe? How long were you going to sit in your room in the dark and look out the window as the thick air in your room filled with indecision and confusion.

The next few weeks were the same routine. No phone calls from Joe, new pictures of him emerged with the same co-star out in London, you’re busy in the office, and spending time in the bookshop during the weekends. Everything was just starting to get really heavy inside of you, but you needed to keep trying.

You needed to keep going.

When you arrived at the bookshop one Saturday morning, you watched Wes storming out of the bookshop just as you were entering.

“Hey Wes—” Your eyes followed him as he murmured a small "hey” before shaking his head and walking down the street without saying anything else.

You entered the bookshop and saw Sara by one of the bookshelves as she picked up the books that were on the floor. Sara’s expression said it all that she and Wes just had another argument. You walked over to her and helped her pick up the books.

“Hey, what happened?” You asked.

Sara sighed and set the books on the cart next to her. “We just had a little argument.”

Again?

“That has been constant lately. Are you guys okay?” You knitted your brows together worriedly.

“We’re fine.” She shook her head, stocking the bookshelves again. “He’s just been on my case lately. He keeps constantly asking me the same thing over and over again. I’m fine.”

“Not that I’m defending Wes, but I think he’s just worried about you.” You said, hoping that it wouldn’t offend her.

“I’m fine.” Sara’s voice raised.

“Sara, you haven’t talked to us since that night. You know that you could talk to us right? Especially me. You know I’m always here for you. You don’t have to carry it all on your own.”

You stepped a little closer to her as you tried to touch her forearm, but she moved her arm away and turned her back to you.

“There’s nothing wrong!” She exclaimed and sighed, her head hung low. “I… I just want to be left alone. Can you please just give me space right now?”

You bit your lower lip and nodded your head. “I’ll be at the coffee bar if you need anything.”

You didn’t know what else to do. You didn’t know how to talk to Sara anymore. You didn’t know how to talk to Joe either. You spent half of your day at the coffee bar and then for the rest of the day, you were just stocking and organizing the shelves. You didn’t hear from Wes at all nor had he come back to the bookshop. Though, your day didn’t just end there once the bookshop closed because while you were cooking dinner for you and Sara that night, you heard the front door open and Sara’s voice echoed through the hall.

“Wes, just please!” She exclaimed. “You don't understand how much that will cost me!”

“It's just a couple of days, Sara! It’s not going to hurt. You know you need this!” Wes argued as Sara shook her head.

You watched the both of them walk past you and entered Sara’s room before you jumped from the slam of her door. The argument was now just a muffled sound from her room as you turned off the stove and sighed.

Your appetite was gone.

You grabbed the pair of headphones that was sitting on the dining table and slid it on your ears. You laid on the couch and stared at the ceiling. You just wanted to scream. For the first time in your life, you just wanted to go somewhere and disappear for a little while. Just leave and have some peace without anyone else around you. You closed your eyes for a moment and just drifted your mind somewhere else as you listened to the music.

You didn’t know how long you were like that until you felt the sofa move and a heavy weight suddenly was on top of you. Immediately, you pried your eyes open to see who it was and on top of you, you saw Joe. His head was set comfortably on your chest as you stared at him for a moment, sliding your headphones away from your ears. You couldn’t help but wrap your arms around him and stayed like that for a while without saying a word.

“I thought you said you won’t be home in two months?” You finally murmured after a few minutes.

“I lied.” Joe said. “I wanted to surprise you.” His fingers slid your shirt up a little bit and drew circles on your side before pressing a soft kiss on the spot.

His soft lips sent shivers down your spine as it touched your skin. It has been so long since you have felt his touch. Joe finally gazed up at you, his chocolate button eyes staring at yours. He moved himself up as he smiled and towered over you before leaning down to kiss you deeply. You smiled through the kiss as his lips moved down, tracing your jawline and down your neck.

God, you missed him so much.

A small gasp escaped your lips as Joe licked and nibbled on your neck before pulling away and looking down at you.

“I miss you so much.” He muttered.

He kissed you again deeply and this time, his fingers slid your shirt up all the way to your chest as he kissed down your stomach. You arched your back from the hot kisses that he was trailing down your skin before Joe went up to you again and kissed you passionately as you wrapped your arms around his neck. A small moan escaped your lips when he bit your lower lip gently.

“Well, now I know how you felt before.”

The both of you immediately pulled away when you heard Wes’ voice. You pulled your shirt down, fixing yourself as you both got up from the couch. Your eyes lingered at Wes and Sara’s fingers that were intertwined together. It looks like they both made up.

“How… How are you guys?” You asked, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“I was suggesting to Sara that we should go on a holiday. Just for a couple of days.” Wes said. “And since Joe is back, I thought it would be nice for the four of us to go. I know you two girls have been stressed.”

You saw the hesitation in Sara’s eyes, knowing she didn’t seem to agree because that meant spending money, and she was short on that right now. You didn’t want to push Sara nor pressure her about this because the last time you had suggested something to her, it turned into a disaster.

“How do you feel about this?” You asked Sara.

She sighed and said. “Honestly, I don’t want to because I’m just short of money, but I think Wes is right too. We need a vacation.”

“I could help pay, babe.” Wes looked down at her.

“No, it’s okay, really.”

You turned to glance at Joe, and he only had a neutral expression on his face.

“Where are you thinking of going?” Joe asked.

“Canada?” Wes answered. “Maybe a little cabin we can rent and little play in the snow?”

“I’m down if everyone is. I don’t want to go if not everyone agrees.” You said.

You watched everyone nod their heads in agreement as you took a deep breath and agreed with the rest of them. A couple days of vacation wasn’t going to hurt, right?

**********

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#Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader #Joe Quinn x Fem!Reader #Joseph Quinn Fanfic #Joe Quinn Fanfic #Joseph Quinn Fics #Joe Quinn Fics #Joseph Quinn rpf #Joe Quinn rpf #written in the stars #part 7 #moondustpugh

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ghostoffuturespast · 5 months

Text

Works In Progress 2023: A Cyberpunk 2077 Year In Review

I thought for a hot minute about doing one of those snazzy templates that’s been going around, but editing photos just ain’t my MO and rather than going by month I picked 12 favs that I’ve posted in 2023. Some of them were popular, some of them weren't. Overall, I think I did pretty good for just doing vanilla photomode on console.

You might be wondering why there's a picture of a sticky note. I don't remember when I started doing this, and I'm horribly inconsistent as you can see by the dates, but I'll jot down my word count for my wip chapter and then jot it down again when I remember to later.

I write slow. A lot of times I sit down to write and it feels like the wheels are spinning in place. My minutes and hours don't stretch very far, typically don't add up to much. But days, weeks, months. That's when I can at least measure the progress.

Fic: So It Goes 40/44 - 438,946 words

My V x River Ward and tinfoil hat conspiracy theory long fic. I've spent way more hours on this then I have on any of my VP.

I got tagged by @just-a-cybercroissant @therealnightcity and @wanderingaldecaldo to do some WIP Whenevers. I post my VP pretty regularly, so it’s always seemed silly to do work in progress posts for them, and I don’t know when I’ll have any new writing to share since in between work and the holidays, I haven’t had much time to sit down with anything since my last chapter update. And I've been feeling very... stingy, lately. Especially when it comes to mine and other people's writing. So take this WIP/Year In Review as my offering. Both these series, as am I, are all very much still works in progress.

I confined my reflections for this year below the cut. If you don’t want to read my long-ass essays, you can admire the pictures, maybe check out my fic, or just move along and have yourself a lovely day.

We’ll start with the easy one.

After at least a year of multiple playthroughs (I’ve played all the lifepaths, done all the endings), it only occurred to me at the beginning of this year to start taking VP. Part of the reason I never did before was because I didn’t realize it was a thing and then by the time I did, I figured I didn’t have much to offer. I play on PS5 and only have access to vanilla photomode, so seeing everyone else’s high-fidelity, ultra ray-tracing, modded, posed, full on virtual photo shoot photos, I was like there’s no way. (Not that I’m hating on PC modders, it’s just not everyone has access to mods or a PC capable of running the game, and I’m all for making art and creative endeavors accessible.) On top of that, all I’d ever heard from most other folks was how much vanilla photomode sucked. In the glamorous world of VP, I didn’t think there was any room for me.

But I started snapping pics anyway. And sure, there are a lot of limitations with vanilla photomode. But what that really translates to is opportunities to get creative. I am also a hoe for subverting people’s expectations, and very much believe when there’s a will, there’s a way.

Environmental and landscape shots were my first subjects before I started branching out into portraits and then capturing story moments. Through VP I found an entirely new way to enjoy a game that I’d already played a ridiculous number of times along with also finally being brave enough to share my V with other people too. I’d always worried about that before, if people would like her. Granted, I know Grandpa’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but whether you like her or not, I certainly think she’s made a name for herself over the past few months. Even if most people haven’t really gotten to know her the way I’d hoped.

I’ve taken hundreds of photos this past year. Most of which I’ll never share. There’s a lot of flops, a lot of weird experiments, ones that didn’t quite turn out the way I’d hoped, but I’ve learned something from every single one of them. I know how to spot good lighting, frame shots to create optical illusions, get a very limited toolkit to work in my favor, parkoured on all of the things, and heck, I even figured out how to make Grandpa smooch other NPCs. I’ve done atmospheric, mundane, down right goofy, as well as things that most people probably thought weren’t fucking possible.

I can’t say how long I’ll keep doing this, I’m sure I’ll move on at some point, but for now I’m still enjoying myself. There's a lot to explore in this game and I just can’t stop digging Night City.

Now, for the more complicated thing.

Writing

So It Goes… My peace, my war, my greedy and most ravenous of ghosts.

I’m operating under the assumption that most people following me here probably haven't read my fic or aren’t all that interested in reading it to begin with. It’s fine. But you need to understand this fic, my writing, is the main thing that brought me here. This is also Grandpa V’s story. Most of you have met her, but unless you've been reading, most of you do not know her.

I wrote around 185,000 words and posted 10 chapters this year. 2022 was about 253,000 words and 30 chapters, along with several unrelated one shots. However, I don’t think I’ve done a single chapter this year that was less then 10k, and my longest managed to hit 27k. As of the last update I posted, the fic is currently sitting at around 439k words, 40 chapters, and still isn’t done.

I have four more chapters to write. I have written a metric shit ton of words. This is, by far, the longest and most intense creative project I’ve ever endeavored to complete.

When I started writing, I was expecting this fic to be around 100-150k. That seemed to be the average for most long fics. I did not plan on being an outlier. I'm not sure you can ever really plan for that, but I guess I enjoy subverting my own expectations too.

For those of you who are reading my fic, it is my sincerest hope that it shatters every expectation of where you think it’s going. It’s not a joke that I tagged my fic “#an ode to my tinfoil hat”. An ode it has turned out to be. I’ve been sitting on this theory for two years. I have told no one about it. I hope it sticks the landing and hits the way I want it to. I don't know if it will. But fuck, I just want to be done with it so I can move on with my life, take a break, and give myself the opportunity to make and focus on other things before I have to get back on the damn horse.

I wrote less this past year then I did in 2022. I had a lot of life changes, most of which were good, but with times of change come times of adjustment. Along with some realizations that maybe you don’t understand as much as you thought you did. Looking back, I’ve been in a state of unsettled, kuzushi, for a really long time. Which is not a good place to be. It’s how your ass ends up on the ground with a knee knocking out all your teeth. I thought I knew better. Thought I had enough practice to get away from it. But bad habits have good memories.

I think given the circumstances, I accomplished a lot with my writing this year. I don’t know if my writing is exactly where I want it to be. I doubt it every will be, but it’s evolved, grown, and I wrote a pretty hefty stack of words considering I started working full-time again, bought a house with my partner, moved, and have been dealing with the millions of other beans that life tends to throw one’s way. That being said, and for full disclosure, I’ve also been dealing with some of the worst cases of jealousy and envy I’ve had since I was a teenager.

Frankly, it sucks. They walk with me every fucking where I go, hold my hands to whisper back all my doubts. Try to persuade me to my baser instincts, to be cruel and lash out. But that's not aikido. Luckily, I’m not 16 anymore so it’s at least been easier for me to identify the problem. Though I’m still coming up short in terms of actually being able to do anything about it, and will be for at least a few months more.

Yeah, I keep talking about it because I don’t know how many people know that I've been feeling this way. And I’m tired of not talking about it in a room full of creatives, because yeah, I know I’m not the only one that feels this way. And not talking about it just makes all that pent up resentment worse for everyone.

Don’t get me wrong, I love writing. But with the way I work and think, it’s a slow, tedious, and incredibly time-consuming art. With how much my fic has snowballed over the course of writing, it’s left very little room for the other hobbies in my life. And as my fellow writers probably already know, writing is an incredibly insular craft. And unlike a picture or an image, which only requires a glance, reading a bunch of words requires time and commitment.

So, when you put yourself out there and share what you wrote, it’s a lonely feeling not knowing whether or not anyone connected with what you put on the page. Especially, when the people who do read aren’t compelled to voice anything and when the people you’d hope would read don’t. And then you're stuck in the dark, not knowing, because neither of us says a goddamn thing.

I started writing this fic prior to actually joining the CP2077 fandom. And I joined the fandom because I felt alone. I’ve been here a while now, albeit in a few different places, and that feeling still hasn’t gone away. I’m still trying to find camaraderie with my fellow writers and carve out something that kinda sort of resembles a home or a sense of community. I watch my peers around me as they seem to build that with each other, except me.

I’m envious of the things that people make and jealous of the relationships those have created and fostered between said people, because for the life of me, it’s been a struggle to cultivate that since I got here. I know it’s selfish, but I also don’t know what about me makes people so hesitant. There have been a handful of strangers that have shown up for me regularly, but as far as people I call friends in this fandom that have shown up and actually stuck around, I can only name one right now. (I know we're all busy. And I acknowledge my writing's not for everyone. I know maybe some of you are quiet, or shy, or probably a thousand other things. I get it. But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt any less. People will never know unless you say. Never know unless you take the time to interact or engage. Be brave. And that's true for a lot of things.)

The propensity is for the negative to outweigh the positive. I've got a lot of numbers on my fic, so you would think things would be fine, but at this point they just feel empty. They don't bring me any comfort or real satisfaction. And I hate feeling like the people I know don’t care and that most of you are just talking around me. That I’m some kind of annoyance not fit to interact with. Which may or may not be the case. I don’t know. Again, most of you have never said anything. And maybe I need to accept the fact that most of you never will.

But this is me trying to start conversation.

It’s really shitty, knowing that the thing I want the most is also the thing holding me back. I know how to work on it too, not that it’s any guarantee. The problem is I’m still writing and in a needy state of greed. And because I’m slow, I don’t have the time or the energy to be generous. I can only take right now. I can’t give.

Relationships require both.

I can’t bring myself to read other people’s writing. I can’t comment, or like, or share if I haven’t read anything. I'm desperate for conversation, but I also don't have the time or assurance to facilitate it with other people right now. And for some reason people never seem to want to talk to me, especially when it comes to writing. I want to be part of conversations, talk deeply with other people. But I can’t speak right now, I'm not in a place to offer generosity without someone first giving it to me.

And generosity and grace is what we all need.

Four more chapters and I hope my ghosts will finally let me read in peace.

#cyberpunk 2077 #2023 year in review #year in review #virtual photography #writing #from the top #fic: so it goes #long post #i can't guarantee a safe space but i can guarantee a brave space #if anyone's been feeling similarly and wants to talk about it my dms are open #the door's always open

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seabeck · 2 months

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So I haven’t really been doing much of photography lately since I’ve been really into embroidery and I’m still trying to get that work life balance with my new job, but today I finally found some motivation and I am importing all the photos that were just sitting on my camera waiting to be edited

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hazzabeeforlou · 4 months

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Hi all. Small life ramble, I know I’m barely here, as per the last couple years. I’m insanely busy. And by that I mean it feels like walking on coals to constantly keep up with the music I have to learn and travel I have to do at the insane pace I’ve been doing it. And it’s nice to have work *but at what cost* (note: my sanity) anyways. I was reminded of my late friend tonight so went back and read a little of PITS, which I haven’t looked at in a year or so, with the thought that I’d really like to finish a final edit and self publish at the end of this summer. And I was reading through it and just… damn. Who wrote that? Someone so much younger. And more hopeful. And more naive. And I know we’re never the same person we were yesterday but I hardly remembered the verbose highly metaphoric love sick 16 year old I wrote. It struck me that while editing I’ll have to make sure and not chance that voice; resist the urge to adultify and sophisticate it, or make it less sugar coated or hungry than it is. How do you slip back into the skin of a former self? How do you remember who you were and how precious it felt to discover an emotion you’d never before understood? Idk I just wanted to say, write your stories. Now. They’ll change as you do otherwise, and sometimes that’s good, but sometimes? You’ll want a record of who you were and what you felt and reading it will be like looking in a photo album and remembering a time before you had that wrinkle on your forehead. And you’ll wish you had taken more photos instead of ducking out of the picture. You know? Love you all. Hope life is treating everyone okay ❤️

#just a little hello from Toni

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hellcheer-heaven · 1 year

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Budding - 90s Pregnant Hellcheer

Beard Eddie photo by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple Click here for the post Thanks for giving me the okay for using your photo edit.

Thank you @a-strange-inkling for proofreading the beginning stages of this short fic. Also please check out both creators listed here.

Waking up early in the morning came naturally to Eddie, it was pretty much a part of himself like the curly locks on his head; and currently the dark hairs sprouting from his face. He looked over at the sleeping woman, hair draped along her shoulders and face so at peace. Chrissy has been getting some much needed rest lately for the sake of her health and for the developing little one in her womb. There was a lovely sort of glow that surrounded her no matter where she went. Even on the days when she felt and proclaimed that she looked like a terrible mess, Eddie reassured her that nothing would dull her sparkle.

It was another quiet, lazy Saturday in their neighborhood. Most of their neighbors were still asleep, say for a few early birds that wanted to get their steps in before breakfast. Eddie occupied himself with whisking raw eggs and adding just a bit of milk to give it that fluffy texture that Chrissy liked. He practically tore open the entire package of bacon, nearly loosing a few stragglers, but thankfully his lightening fast reflexes caught the flying pork. The coffee maker bubbled as he placed the large glass container beneath the dispenser. Before he could turn on the stove, Chrissy’s sudden gasp caused him to rush to the room.

“PleasebeokayPleasebeokayPleasebeokay!” His mind begged. Eddie nearly lost his balance as he ran down the carpeted hallway before catching himself, firmly planting his feet onto the ground. “Chrissy? Baby? Are you okay? Do you need to go to the emergency room?!”

Chrissy’s back faced him, her blue eyes gazing into the mirror with quite the wide eyed stare. “Eddie… I…”

Eddie was afraid something absolutely terrible must have happened, but he had to take a deep breath. “Y-Yes? What is it?”

She slowly turned around, something was quite different with her. Aside from her bump, there was also the newly developed pair of breasts protruding out from Eddie’s nice dress shirt.

She kept herself covered, feeling incredibly embarrassed at how much skin was showing, “Eddie my boobs got bigger!”

He gulped, his mind heavily chastising him for the thoughts that were appearing. He had to think of something, anything to say to his beloved wife.

His face felt so hot and red, “Y-Yeah… yeah they did.”

It’s not like they haven’t seen each other semi to fully nude before. In her current state, this was vastly different than what she or he were used to. They both stared, flabbergasted at the single or possible double cup size increase.

Eddie hurried to readjust his vision, “How do you feel Chrissy?”

Her fingers gently felt along her budding skin, “I feel weird.”

“Do you have to go to the hospital?”

She gave him a reassuring smile, it gave him some relief of his anxiety. “No I’m fine. I just… never really thought they would grow that much.” She faced her reflection, shrugging off the shirt to get a closer look. “It’s just, I look so different.”

Eddie placed a loving hand to her shoulder, she held onto it sweetly. He pecked the top of her head, “Good different or bad different?”

She sighed, “I don’t know. I just… never really imagined that I would actually get big breasts.” Chrissy winced slightly when she held up the tender bundles.

They felt and appeared so oddly shaped to her. Then again having her abdomen sticking out from her small frame was still so unusual to see. Chrissy was always so used to having the body that she had always had: Petite with muscle and a bit of body fat. Nothing out of the ordinary for some people, but the things that her mother said did a number on her self esteem, self image, and self worth. Always making her believe that she was ugly and unattractive in her childhood and especially during adolescence.

Fat pig, string bean, baby face, rabbit teeth, body of a child, too quiet, not lady like, and so much more.

Even when her body began to naturally change during puberty and now during pregnancy, her mother still made it her mission to make her life hell. It’s no wonder Chrissy and her darling husband found a house of their own some towns away from Hawkins.

Eddie moved a lock of her hair behind her ear, “Do they hurt?”

“A little bit.”

He nuzzled into her neck, his voice filled with concern, “Only a little?”

She carefully placed them back down, really considering how she truly felt, “Well, more than a little. They feel sensitive and sore. It’s like I’m going through puberty again, but now I have these and my stomach is…”

Eddie cradled her pretty belly, his warm palms tracing her lovely stretch marks. “You look beautiful Chrissy.”

The lump in her throat started to grow even more, “But I feel like a fat cow.” She shut her eyes tightly, “And I look like one too!”

Eddie just wanted to hug her as tightly as he could, but all he could do was gently wrap his arms around her, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “You’re beautiful Chrissy, no matter what your brain tries to tell you. You’re the most courageous, amazing, and beautiful woman in the whole world.”

She swiped her teary eyes with the backs of her hands, “I wish I could believe that Eddie!”

Eddie turned her around and pecked her face, sweetly and generously giving her as many pecks he could give her until the tiniest smile pulled at her cotton candy colored lips. She softly cooed his name, her tears forming from self loathing to affectionate. She couldn’t prevent her giggles from tumbling out, the scruff tickling her neck as he bent down. Chrissy nibbled her lower lip, watching the way his bubblegum pink mouth planted more and more upon her body. Slowly and earnestly along her breasts, looking up to gauge her reaction: Chrissy was all smiles, batting her eyelashes at him.

She ran her fingers through his curls, “Eddie, that feels really nice. It kinda tickles a little.”

He closed his eyes, his hands caressing the sides of her body as his lips followed the shape of her torso. Wanting to follow every stretch mark with his fingers and tongue, but she was vulnerable and that wouldn’t be fair to her. Instead he placed the side of his face along her bump, breathing lightly as the warm flesh heated his cheek. Eddie looked up and still could see the sunshine smile of his Spring Goddess, her flower bed and fruits growing healthily.

Chrissy cradled his sweet, hairy face, rubbing the apples of his cheeks with her thumbs. His lips proceeded to return back up until their mouths collided, that’s when he heard it again: Laughter. Her laughter was the most wonderful melody that he could ever hear. No amount of string bending, shredding, or tapping would ever compare. They walked over to the bed, and he helped her onto her back, making sure that her pillows were aligned the way they were supposed to be for both support and comfort.

Chrissy curled her pointer finger, wanting a little more love; boy did he deliver. Kisses, kisses, and more kisses. She then began to whimper, the sensitive sensation returning to her breasts once more. Eddie was careful to not put any kind of weight on her, laying next to her and kissing her hand.

“Is there anything I can do to help you?”

She thought for a moment, tapping her fingers upon the mattress to find her answer. What did the moms back in Hawkins suggest during this time? A gentle massage with massage oil was the way to go according to them. He smiled, soon returning with a jar of oil that Mrs. Sinclair, Wheeler, Byers, and Henderson swore by. Thank god for their wisdom and experience, because the last person Chrissy would ever turn to regarding motherhood was her own mom.

They sat there for a moment, the two of them looking back and forth at the jar and her chest.

He gulped nervously, “So… um…”

“I guess you can start,” Chrissy mentioned, still a bit weirded out as well; honestly that makes two of them.

He swallowed, “Y-Yeah. Yup, I’m gonna massage your ti- breasts.” He sighed slowly through his nostrils, “Holy shit her tits are huge. So fucking soft and squishy. Our baby is so lucky.”

She nodded, gulping down as well, “Yeah, you’re gonna touch them.” She proceeded to open the dress shirt, blushing a bit at the sight. “God I feel like a cow! Jesus my tits look like someone sewed cantaloupes in me. Please don’t turn into watermelons! Please!”

Eddie broke the silence, it was probably the stupidest thing he’s said in a while, but he really needed to know. “So I’m not going to squeeze all of your milk out, right?”

Chrissy held his hand, showing him a wonderful grin and a warm chuckle, “No Eddie, my milk isn’t going to come out.”

“I just don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart.”

She held his worried face, “You won’t hurt me, you never have.”

Eddie grinned, moving his face to kiss her palm before warming up the oil in his hands. He could feel the more immature part of his brain telling him to do things to her chest. The rest of his mind continued to scold him before locking up that area. With all distractions put aside, he could then focus on her needs. His tattooed hands and fingers slowly touched the heaping bundles of flesh, following the shape in precise circles. Starting with both and then transitioning to each one individually with his talented hands. Chrissy observed how those inked appendages motioned along her breasts, gazing through her lashes and following the way he very gently sculpted her.

She giggled, “Eddie, I really like that. Ooh, you’re so gentle. I love how sweet you are.”

He gave her a playful wink, “Sweet as honey baby girl.” He stopped momentarily when she softly gasped, his worrying thoughts returning in a flash, “Are you okay?”

“Mmhm, that just felt really, really good.”

His eyes looked between her face and body, “Are you gonna… you know?”

Her brows rose up, nodding slowly and waiting patiently for him to continue. She knew the word, but still wanted to hear it from him, “Am I going to what?”

His fingers started to slowly release her, his bashful smile evidently displayed, “Squirt milk?”

Close enough.

He couldn’t help but hide his face when she started to laugh, very loudly actually. When her giggle fit was over, Chrissy moved his hands aside and pecked the thorn surrounded rose tattoo on the back of one hand.

She placed a curly lock behind his ear, “I’m sorry Eddie, that was just really funny. It’s lactate, baby. That’s the word you’re looking for.” Chrissy held up her bosoms, giving them a gentle squeeze, “And no the doctor said it’ll be a while before that happens. Actually they could end up getting larger.”

“Really?” He sounded a little hopeful, something that Chrissy slyly smirked at to which Eddie changed his tone. “I mean… um… that sucks.”

“Pun intended Eddie?”

He gave her a cute pout before smirking himself, “Geez Chrissy, you’re really putting me between a rock and a hard place.”

Chrissy snickered, “Well I’m sure resting your head on something soft might ease the tension.”

Was she being serious or just joking? Either way he was pleased knowing that she was happy, comfortable, and safe. They hardly said anything for the remainder of the morning as he commenced with massaging her. Nothing much had to be said, their smiles were enough. The gentle touches were enough. Their kisses were enough.

They were enough.

#hellcheer #eddissy #munningham #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #chrissy x eddie #eddie x chrissy #pregnant hellcheer headcanon #pregnant hellcheer #pregnant #hellcheer fic #hellcheer fanfic

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