#should I have written this when I could be working on my term papers?

[softguarnere]

Can I requests a oneshot with Ron Speirs x reader? everyone in easy thinks that big grumpy speirs holds a grudge against the reader bc he often gives her paperwork or smth but in reality he just wants to keep her around him out of protectiveness bc he likes her? But she doesn't know and thinks he doesn't like her either so shes kind of intimidated but also has a massive crush on him? But when he sees the reader with some other easy members he gets jealous and snaps so now he has to tell her that hes in love with her. Don't stress yourself, i just thought it could be interesting, thank youu

From Scratch

Ron Speirs x reader

Summary: No, what bothers you is that ever since he gained control of Easy Company, he’s done nothing but take opportunities away from you. You’re proud to be a lieutenant. But what’s the point of holding the rank if you never do any of the work that comes with it?

A/N: Thank you so much for the request, Anon! I swear I didn't forget about this - or the other prompts in my inbox. School has been keeping me busy this semester, so this took me a long time to write. But it's here now, and I hope you enjoy it! (This is written for the fictional depiction from the show - no disrespect to the real life veterans!) 💕🕊️

Warnings: mentions of war

“Uh oh!” Nixon singsongs when you step into the command post. “Looks like someone is in trouble.” He flashes you a broad grin as you make your way over to his desk and drop a stack of files with a heavy thwack! “What’d you do this time?”

Anger boils in your chest. Not towards Nixon. It’s not his fault. For his sake you try to keep your voice just as light and joking when you shrug and say, “Oh, you know, just the usual sort of thing. Got the scouting mission that I was supposed to lead taken from me and given to one of the sergeants.” You shrug. “No big deal.”

Except it is, and you both know it.

Nixon lets out a low whistle. “Damn. And might I inquire as to who arranged this?”

You roll your eyes. “Do you really need to ask?”

Speirs. It’s always Speirs.

Which seems unfair, somehow. You can still remember the first time you saw him, way back in Camp Toccoa, when he was in a different company, but already gaining a reputation for himself as one of the best runners. One time you passed him as you were going up the mountain and he was going down. He had nodded at you as he passed, and something about the niceness of the gesture made your heart jolt so fiercely that you almost tripped as you started on the switchback.

Then he went on to distinguish himself in other ways – the ever present whispers of rumors and stories that follow him like a cape made out of mystery – and suddenly, after he was put in charge of Easy Company, he didn’t seem so nice anymore. The rumors have never bothered you; Ron is a good leader, and you trust that he’s making whatever choices he needs to in order to keep the company safe.

No, what bothers you is that ever since he gained control of Easy Company, he’s done nothing but take opportunities away from you. You’re proud to be a lieutenant. But what’s the point of holding the rank if you never do any of the work that comes with it? (Well, besides paperwork, that is.)

The most frustrating part of it is that as angry as you are with him, you still feel your heart begin to hammer away in your chest whenever he enters a room – or race into triple time if you think he’s looking at you. How dare your own heart still feel so fondly towards him when your eyes can clearly see the obvious fact laid before you?

The fact being: Ronald Speirs dislikes you. Which kind of makes it feel as if someone is crushing your heart under their shoe, like a cigarette being ground out on the sidewalk, when you think about it.

You push the thought – and the feelings – aside. Or try to, anyway.

“I hate paperwork,” you mutter as you take a seat across from the intelligence officer. “Almost as much as he hates me.”

“I don’t think Speirs hates you.” When you fix him with an incredulous look, Lewis holds up his hands in surrender. “I mean, he might hold some sort of grudge against you, maybe, but hate you? If that were true, I think you’d be dead by now, (Y/N).”

You roll your eyes; it’s a conversation you’ve had before, and one that never fails to fill you with the smallest shred of hope that maybe Nixon is right about Speirs not completely hating you. “Well, now I hold a grudge against him for making me do all this paperwork.”

“You sound like somebody else I know. Ah, and if you speak of the devil, then he shall appear!”

Quick, confident footsteps approach the desk from behind you. Neither you or Nixon can stop the smiles that spread across your faces when Dick appears. Even something as simple as his presence has always been able to lighten the mood, and today is no exception.

He returns the smile as he pulls up a chair from a nearby desk to join you, but not before glancing over both shoulders, searching.

“The devil?” He huffs a laugh. “Weird. You were already here, Nix.”

“Oh ha ha,” Nixon deadpans. He props his feet up on the desk and leans back in his chair.

Dick gently pushes his friend’s feet off the desk, which makes Nixon sit upright. For his part, though, Nixon doesn’t seem to mind it. Or mind that Dick sets more paperwork in front of him. Well, at least someone seems okay with filling out forms. Maybe if you’re extra nice, you can trick him into doing all the work that Speirs assigned to you.

Just as you’re trying to sneak your stack of files in with Nixon’s, Dick raises an eyebrow at you.

“There a reason that you’re stuck inside again, Lieutenant?”

You shrug. “Oh, you know how I just can’t stay away from office work. And how much I love to be bombarded with company gossip by Nix.”

Lewis puts a hand over his heart and gasps. “What?! You mean to tell me that you don’t hang around here because you enjoy my witty banter and winning personality?”

“Actually, I would rather – “

You’re cut off by the sound of someone clearing their throat behind you.

Slowly, you turn to see Speirs standing a few feet away from where the three of you sit. Upon first glance, he looks a bit like a child standing on the fringes of a friend group on the first day of school, nervously waiting to see if he’s going to be invited to join in. But when the shock clears off, it’s impossible to miss the look in his eyes – there’s a darkness lurking beneath the surface that suddenly makes it so easy to see why every rumor thrown his direction sticks to him like he’s covered in paste. It makes your heart drop.

“Good afternoon, Captain,” Dick says, leading the charge bravely, as always.

After a nod and a brief salute, Speirs turns his attention to you. “Lieutenant (Y/L/N), I forgot to give you this.”

Your heart sinks when you realize that he’s holding yet another file full of paperwork. It’s such a setback that your heart can’t even bring itself to run wild when your hands briefly brush his as he hands it to you.

“Oh.” The words feel rough as sandpaper as you force them out. “Thank you.”

When you manage to meet his eye, Speirs has furrowed his eyebrows, which makes him look thoroughly annoyed. Standing so close, it’s easy to see the striking features of his face – like a marble bust of a Greek hero. He’s so handsome, even with the lines between his eyebrows and the frown tugging at his lips. It makes you want to reach up and smooth them away, let him lean into your touch so you can soften his features, molding them like clay into the gentle man that you imagine he might be under his tough exterior and the cold armor of rumors that make every line so harsh and so jagged to everyone else.

But you can’t do that. Instead, you’re separated from him by his armor, just like everyone else. You hate that you’ve caused him to look this way – to look at you this way.

“You know,” Speirs says, his voice quiet and as cold as the look he’s giving you. “it’s a lot safer here than it is on the line.” He glances back at Nixon and Winters before looking you up and down. “Get to work, Lieutenant.”

Then, just as quickly and as silently as he appeared, he’s gone.

It’s so cold, so impersonal. Your stomach turns to a block of ice.

Behind you, Nixon lets out a low whistle. “Well then.”

Get to work. Part of you wants to scoff, brush it off, and go back to your friends. The other part of you is chasing after him, trying to figure out where it all went wrong. Instead, you’re stuck standing there, staring after him, looking forlorn.

No, you decide. You can’t carry on like this.

The file falls unceremoniously onto the desk in front of Nixon as you toss it at him. “Finish this for me, will ya?”

Dick can’t contain the small laugh that escapes him when he sees the surprised look on Nixon’s face. You’re out the door before either of them can offer a proper response.

Outside, you don’t make it far. The door clicks shut behind you, and when you look up, you see him. Ron is a few feet away, coming towards you, closing the distance between you. Unlike a few moments before, he doesn’t look mad. The hard edges of his expression have softened into something like concern.

You stop in front of each other, each waiting for the other to say something.

“Can we talk?” You ask at the same time that Ron blurts out, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

You blink. “You’re what?”

Voices fill the air as a small group of officers approaches the command post. Ron gently takes your elbow and guides you aside so that they can pass, not seeming to notice or care what it does to your poor heart.

He lowers his voice as the group passes. “Can we talk? Privately?”

The Ronald Speirs wants to talk, alone, with you. There’s no question about it – you follow him.

He leads the two of you into one of the remnants of a building that soldiers have been quartering in. The skeletal remains of the structure probably provide no protection for whatever words he wants to exchange, but at least you can be away from prying eyes.

Alone, his dark eyes look you over. The motion isn’t as harsh as it was back in the command post. No, this is . . . gentle. Like he’s studying you.

You find yourself nervous under his gaze. Clearing your throat, you try to find your words. “You wanted to talk?”

Ron looks unsure of himself – something that you never would have imagined was possible. He runs a hand through his hair and sighs, the sound filtering through the hollowed out room you stand in like it’s the building’s last raspy breath.

“I was an accountant, back before the war.”

Whatever you thought he was going to tell you, it certainly wasn’t that. You raise an eyebrow.

“Oh?”

He nods. “I’m good with numbers; that’s my strong suit. Words . . . don’t work themselves out as easily. Some people mistake quietness for cruelness.” The dim light casts shadows on his face as he tilts his head. “You’ve heard the rumors, just like everyone else?”

Who hasn’t heard the rumors, the stories? Speirs can’t walk through a room without turning heads and leaving a trail of whispers in his wake.

“Yes,” your voice comes out as a whisper. Are they true? you stop yourself from asking, because with his sudden openness, you’re starting to question everything that you’ve ever known about Ron Speirs – everything you’ve thought you’ve known. Who is this man, really?

“I . . . didn’t mean to snap at you,” Ron admits, his voice as soft as the look that he’s giving you. “And I’m sorry about all the paperwork. I don’t have a grudge against you.”

You cringe. So he did overhear that part.

He wets his lips, not quite meeting your eyes. “I try to keep you off the line so that you’ll be safe. There’s no grudge or dislike or . . . I just wanted to keep you safe because – “ He cuts himself off with a deep breath.

With the quiet all around you, the frantic beating of your heart fills the silence. “You want to keep me safe?”

“Yes. If you’ll let me.”

Being in the same room as him felt impossible a few minutes ago. Now though, some inexplicable force draws the two of you together. You both step forward so that there’s hardly any space left between you. Something in the back of your mind wonders how things have changed so quickly. What else have you been wrong about?

“Who are you, Ronald Speirs?”

So close to him, you can see the smile tugging at the edge of his mouth when he replies, “There’s your answer: Ronald C Speirs. That’s all that I am.”

An accountant. Someone’s son, brother, friend who got drafted into the war. A man. The rumors and myths that shroud him fall away until someone you don’t know stands before you. You want to get to know him.

“Well, Ron, it’s nice to meet you. I’m (Y/N).” You smile at him, and it feels natural when he returns the gesture. “Can we maybe start over?”

Ron lets out a laugh and you could swear it was the sweetest sound in the entire world. “I would like that very much.”

[whorediaries-09]

I’ve been thinking alotttt about rivals! Remy where him and r have been hooking up but the r starts gaining feelings for rem and distants herself but rem is just like “what the hell?” And then they like admit their feelings when rem corners her one day curious😩

i'm sorry this took so long, but i hope you like this!!

friends;

pairing- remus lupin x reader warning(s)- cigarettes, alludes to sex, hurt/comfort. (let me know if i should add more) a/n- academic rivals to lovers is so precious to me you don't understand.

little train

' girl, I'm not with it, I'm way too far gone i'm not ready, eyes heavy now,'

'i can't believe i've to work with your pathetic ass,' he rolled his eyes, running his fingers through his hair. your eyes wandered over to the burn marks on them, probably from all the joints he smoked. you could hear his friends laughing behind his back. even peter, the quietest and the most tolerable of the lot, was laughing. you scowled, tilting your head to meet his eyes,

'i don't remember you saying that last night. you said i've a perfect ass. maybe you have a problem of short term memory loss?' in an instant, you saw his cheeks reddening and eyes widening comically when he registered your words. his hand slapped upon your mouth, trying to shut you up.

he received a flying paper ball on his head. he turned his head around to find sirius waving his index finger at him

'not in class, moony.' he said, as peter tried not to laugh. he was measuring the ingredients written on the blackboard.

'hello my lovely students!' slughorn's overly cheery voice rang throughout the classroom. the class sang him a dull good morning. it was winter after all, most of the students wanted nothing but to snuggle up in bed within the folds of their cozy blankets drinking hot chocolate. the only energetic person was sirius, and he sang,

'good morning sluggy!' slughorn knitted his eyebrows together at the nickname but didn't say anything.

'good morning, mr. black. i see you've preferred to follow the rules for once and sit on the desk assigned to you.' sirius shrugged his shoulders, batting his eyelashes.

'you and i, we're the best matchmakers, mr. slughorn. we're a team,' what he meant, the saints knew. perhaps that would be taking a step too far, because by the slight smirk on slughorn's face, he knew what sirius meant.

'mr. black, i prefer the student and professor dynamics between us better,' he replied, scratching his eyebrow with his fingernail. sirius groaned mockingly.

'okay class, settle down. we're making amortentia today.' raising your hand, you questioned,

'the love potion?'

'yes, exactly the love potion. of course no magic is as powerful to be able to imitate real love. however, it does create a powerful infatuation, with the person who gave it to the drinker. the scent varies based on what the person likes. it's a very complicated potion to make, but anyone who makes the perf-'

his speech was interrupted by a famished lily evans who was as red as her hair and a grinning james potter. her tie was loose, dangling off her collar and his hair was ruffled. lily's usually nicely ironed uniform was full of wrinkles.

'oh wow! head boy and head girl late to class!' slughorn scowled. by the look on his face, however, he was regretting his choice to let the ever infatuated james potter and the stubborn lily evans sit together.

'just sit down the both of you!' he scolded and they entered the classroom, lily's bag almost spilling parchment and ink bottles. slughorn coughed and continued,

'so as i was saying, who ever makes the perfect love potion gets-' he put his hand into his pocket, pulling out a little bottle full of a clear liquid. '-this. can anyone tell me what this is?'

'felix felicis.' sirius said. further words conversation wasn't recorded by your mind when remus bent down, whispering in your ear,

'do you think they hooked up?' you eyes widened as you looked at him. your eyes unconsciously travelled down to his chapped lips. the taste still remained on your tongue.

'do you like- actually think before speaking? james potter and lily evans hooking up! lily would rather die, he hates the guy.' remus shrugged his shoulder, a small smirk on his lips.

'i mean, look at us, we hate each other but the other day you wouldn't let me stop eating you out-'

'oh please shut up! just get the fucking ingredients!' he smiled, as you try to hide your face with you hair, suddenly very intrigued by your book.

'okay madam,' he said, mock saluting.

*-

after a lot of banter and distractions you ended up with a potion which only looked seconds away from an explosion. there was certainly no 'mother of pearl' sheen or any rising steam in a characteristic spiral. even pearl dust couldn't save the disaster of a potion.

'oh god why did i have to work with you!' you gripped your hair with your fingers, almost pulling them off as you sat down on the chair, chewing on your lip.

'my grades will go down!' you snapped. he turned around, a wince on his face.

'so will mine. this shit is team work and if your grades go down, so will mine.' he stated. you rolled your eyes as he sat down beside you, his palm on your shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze.

'i shouldn't be comforting my academic rival but guess if you low, i go lower.' your ears perked up at the term. 'academic rival.' he didn't even consider you a friend. that's all you were to him, an academic rival, a benchmark to cross, a quick fuck when he was tired. you gulped slowly. suddenly, your throat felt very dry. you stared into his eyes, trying to decipher something, but trust god to give remus lupin the most dead eyes known to mankind.

'ohhh! we have a winner!' slughorn's voice pulled you from your thoughts. your head snapped to the source of commotion, expecting to find lily to be the winner- but it was sirius.

'mr. black, this felix felicis is yours,' he threw a charming grin to all the flushed young ladies and lads as his fingers wrapped around the little bottle. most of the girls and boys almost swooned at his antics, and some could be found a few seconds from fainting when he winked.

'get it padfoot!' james cheered. lily disapprovingly hit james' head with her book. james scowled.

'i want everybody to come and tell me what they smell in here. let's start with mr. black,' he smiled, staring at the eager faces of the young ladies and lads who surrounded him as if he was a trophy.

'i smell petrol, rain and my favorite tea. i can also smell..uh cherry flavored shampoo, and my cologne.' it was nothing very interesting. neither of them used cherry shampoo. and it wasn't just a flying rumor that sirius black rode a motorcycle.

'ah, good, good.' slughorn praised, patting his back. his eyes wandered about in the room before they stopped at your direction.

'okay yes, now you,' he said, instructing you to smell the potion. internally you called him an old cow. externally you smiled, a little more than actually required, and too fake to be a real smile. no comments were passed when you walked up to the front of the classroom, smelling the potion.

'ah- so i smell parchment, ink, coffee, vanilla....cigarettes and dark chocolate.' you stumbled upon your words when you found remus looking at you intently. you tried to ignore the burning gaze and how the blood rushed into your cheeks. slughorn coughed slightly,

'okay, now next student!' he clapped his hands together, trying to cut through the sudden tension in the room. you moved away from the smoking cauldron, walking towards your chair. sitting down, you pondered.

cigarettes? damn you, you hated cigarettes! you'd been reluctant to try one for the first time, but trust remus to roll you the perfect blunt and manipulate you to try it in the best way possible. you remembered coughing up the smoke onto his face.

dark chocolate? sure you enjoyed it here and there but it wasn't certainly something you loved. you wanted to rip out your hair.

the realization had been lingering upon your head from the last few weeks, but you didn't want to act upon it. a lot of people mistake lust for love. you were a teenager high on hormones, hooking up with remus lupin, your biggest academic rival- of course you were bound to mistake lust for life.

perhaps the heated kisses within the shadows of dark nights, the way his hands lingered upon your body, making you feel alive as he touched you down to your core, the heat crawling under your skin, dizzying your mind, the way he begged to touch you, to feel you meant more than just lust. perhaps it was closeted love. but it didn't mean good news. having a crush was fine, but falling for remus john lupin was bad news. it meant heartbreak, a new rumor for the nosy students of hogwarts.

so you did the best thing that came in your mind to maintain your feelings and keep your heart in control. it wouldn't be very effective, considering remus was your partner in potions for the year, but you'd try your best. no hooking up, just necessary conversations. all you had to do was ignore him. the less you saw him, the better.

*-

remus looked up to your face, his sweaty strands of hair sticking onto his forehead. his calloused hands gripped your waist as he thrust his hips upwards. you bent down, brushing his lips against yours. you held down his hands, pinning them above his head. he tried to crane his neck to kiss your lips, but you didn't allow him holding his hands tighter.

slowly, torturously slow you started rotating your hips. he arched his back, moaning your name, his fingers trying to grasp the fabric of the head board.

'god, you feel so fucking good,' he moaned. you smirked, your tongue swiping over your teeth.

'i know,'

suddenly, his face started to distort, and he started laughing at you. weird, that is not how you remembered that night. he was jerking you, before everything went hazy and your vision started blackening and you saw a tunnel of light. you tried to grasp onto the light, escaping the booming sound of his laughter.

it was a fucking dream. you rubbed your eyes, pushing your face into the pillow, silencing your scream, so as to not wake up the others. you hated how pathetic it made you feel. how did it happen?

within the spills of ink on parchment paper and a constant comparison, how could have your feelings changed like this. perhaps you thought of him too much. you were supposed to ignore him. in the typical sense you were, but your mind or heart wasn't ready to go.

you were standing on the edge of a fucking knife, wondering if remus lupin even considered you to be a friend. you hated yourself for falling for him. it wasn't supposed to be more than sex, a quick relief from the constant shambles of your lives, yet here you were, in the middle of the night thinking of the one you were supposed to hate.

slipping your feet into the cozy bunny slippers, you grabbed your thickest jumper. you couldn't sleep, so you might as well take a walk. james and lily were on duty, but you were sure they weren't being as responsible as they were supposed to be.

*-

it was cold. the snow that settled on the grounds was thick and milky white. the cold wind bit your skin, prickling it with goosebumps. you felt a lump in your throat thicken, and your eyes burn. you felt your heart drop. you blamed yourself for the situation you were in. it was your fault, utterly. you weren't supposed to fall for him.

even the stars couldn't calm you down with their serene rays. you dropped your head into your palms, letting the tears fall down your cheeks, sobbing silently.

'talking a walk alone at night now are we?' a voice quietly creeped up behind your back. you wiped your cheeks quickly, mentally preparing yourself to being caught by a prefect and getting your house points deducted. when you turned around, however, you were met with the amber eyes of the one you'd been thinking about. your tongue was tied in knots as you watched him drop james' invisibility cloak on the floor and walk towards you. you backed away, until your back hit the wall and there was nowhere to go.

'r-remus-' he raised an eyebrow, capturing you against the wall, his hand pressed against the wall. he leaned down, his finger crawling under your jaw and tilting your head to meet his burning amber like gaze.

'have you been crying?' he asked. you stared at him, tongue twisted in knots. but you knew it was no use lying to him. he could read you like a book.

'yes,' you nodded. he tilted an eyebrow.

'why?'

'why does it fucking matter remus? leave me alone- i'm not even your fucking friend.'

'then what are we? you've been ignoring me for the past few days, and now you're running away when i've finally got you alone.'

'nice try, lupin. you don't give a shit, so just let me go.'

'oh so you're going to decide whether i give a shit about you or not? what if i tell you i do?'

'you won't mean it.'

'i will. i've never lied to you,' he said. there was a bitter sadness in his eyes. you could see the darkness in his gaze, and even if he naturally had dead eyes, you could see a tiny ray of warmth in his gaze.

'please.' he said, letting you go. 'just tell me what's wrong. tell me what i've done. tell me how i can fix it. just...please don't ignore me.' he begged. slowly gulping, you pondered whether it was the correct moment to speak out your heart. perhaps it wasn't, but he could right through the lies. and while you had a lot of explanations hidden in your head, you could only whisper one line,

'i'm in love with you, remus,' he stared at you intently, letting your words hang before he could act upon them. you expected screaming, cussing...laughter. you didn't expect a soft gaze as he smiled at you. he slipped his finger under you jaw, tilting your head.

'i don't think you ignore the one's you're in love with,' you screwed your eyes shut, biting your lip. the blood warmly travelled to your cheeks,

'you don't feel the same, i was scared.'

'and how exactly do you know that?' you opened your eyes, to find him staring at you in utter glee.

'i've been yours before you touched me. all it took was spilled ink on my essay, sweetheart.'

********************************

taglist - @reggieisfit @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @jamespottergf @eternallybipanicking @fictional-magic @iamgayforyourmom1510

(if you want to be tagged please send a request through my inbox.)

[eamour]

all about techniques.

there are so so many techniques and methods that people have come up with to make manifesting easier and more entertaining. so, let’s talk about the most important points when practicing those techniques!

manifestation techniques.

a technique in terms of manifesting is a method to make you experience the satisfaction of your desire within your imagination. it does not only make manifesting easier and more enjoyable for you but it also helps you to shift your concept of self. you can use any technique to help you embody or identify with your desire.

techniques don’t manifest.

the problem with techniques in manifestation (such as visualisation, affirmations, sats, the "i am/void"-state) is that people tend to assign power to these techniques — more power than to themselves.

again, a method is supposed to HELP and ASSIST you. it’s not doing any of the creating-your-reality work, unlike you. YOU are indeed manifesting things into your reality, with or without a technique. remember. you are manifesting at all times, you are occupying all sorts of states throughout the day, making your current state of consciousness manifest. are you scripting for each state which you NATURALLY shift to? no matter what technique you do, its only purpose is to help you create experiences you would like to have mentally. that’s where all manifestations take place first — in the MIND. not because you have written it down on paper.

all techniques are equal.

when i say "equal", i'm not saying that each technique is the same in terms of what you're doing and how you're doing it. no, all techniques are equal because they all FUNCTION equally and guarantee the same results. no technique works better than the other. no technique is either superior, or inferior.

here's the thing: the reason why people say "this technique works so much better and faster for me!" is because they favour it. they enjoy doing it. doing the technique feels natural to them and doesn’t require a lot of effort. it’s not something that they have to bring themselves to do with force — they LIKE doing it. that’s because we are all different. i know people who could write a fucking novel with the scripts they have in mind. then i know people who love to affirm whenever they can because they think it’s convenient for them to do. and then there is me who loves to listen to music and visualise my desired scenes. what we have in common is that we do all these techniques because they suit us and we can choose to try any other technique whenever we want. we aren’t tied to one technique only. sometimes i end up writing a whole list of things that i want to have, accept it as mine, and go on with my day. works JUST as well as visualising.

please, do not …

... force it · for example, the scenes you could visualise when trying to fulfill yourself or let yourself experience a scenario you desire should come to you naturally. the affirmation you would like to use should feel natural to you. a technique is always something you choose to do voluntarily. it isn’t a rule you need to follow. you're not obligated to do this exact technique for this long and that many days, and so on.

... perfect it · when you do a technique, it’s not your goal to do it as perfect and as accurate as possible. you don’t have to visualise a picture perfect scene, nor will you fail to manifest if you miss to affirm the rest of your affirmations-list. you can forget details when scripting, be as detailed or vague in your visual scenes, or only affirm one single affirmation — that’s perfectly fine! your perfect scene in imagination or your affirmations aren’t what makes it perfect in the physical world, it’s the FEELING you get from it. if you can perfectly FULFILL yourself, then it will be perfectly reflected back to you in its physical form. inner acceptance is what creates fulfillment, not the perfection of a technique.

... complicate it · a technique cannot put you into a spiral and make you question your whole reality just because you think you haven’t done it "correctly". there is no right way to do a technique and no fixed way to practice it. do whatever you like and however you like it!

... follow others · now, you can definitely try a technique that seems interesting to you, that has been introduced to you by others or that you think will be enjoyable. nevertheless, a technique that feels normal and natural to others doesn’t have to feel normal and natural to you. don’t commit to doing something because you think or you've been told that this is the technique you need to do in order to manifest your desire.

no have to's, only want to's.

the premise of each and every technique is that you WANT to do it. there is no forcing, no pushing, no "need to" or "have to". it’s personal, it’s something YOU like doing, not what the bigger collective seems to be practicing. this is what i always remind myself of when practicing anything loa related: you cannot commit to something you dont love, you’ll cheat. meaning, you won’t be able to do a technique properly (as in, having and being), therefore won’t change self and remain the exact same.

if you like visualising, do it! if you like affirming all the time, do it! if you like counting your affirmations, do it! if you like scripting, do it! if you do the lullaby method before going to bed, do it! if you like rampaging after you wake up, do it! again, you are the creator and you choose which technique(s) suits you the best.

what to do.

when manifesting with the help of a technique, focus on inner acceptance. accept your desire as factual. make it a present, undeniable fact. because accepting your desire to be true means to identify with it in imagination, therefore you BE or HAVE it. that’s your goal, that’s your priority.

with love, ella.

[musings-of-a-college-dork]

An Odd Request

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Word count: roughly 1K

Steve’s wife goes to the gym and makes an odd request when she arrives home. 

Warnings: sorta NSFW (mdni), use of Y/N, terms of endearment (baby).

Author’s note: This is just fluffy Steve and was written directly after I got home from the gym needing this man and a very specific kind of cuddling so…here it is! Short and sweet and very silly. Hope y’all enjoy! 

It was a quiet Saturday morning in the Harrington household. Steve was the only one home, having a few hours on his own as Y/N went to meet her personal trainer. She had been seeing a trainer for a while as she, quote on quote, wanted “to be able to carry all the groceries in a single trip all by myself.” A noble and worthy cause in Steve’s eyes and yet as long as he was around, she’d never have to lift a finger. He was more than content to show off his own strength for her enjoyment…and yet wished to support her in any and all of her goals so off to the gym she had gone. As such, he had the home to himself for a few hours, a chance to get some work done. 

He had spent most of the morning thus far drinking his coffee and sketching up new basketball drills and formations for the middle school team he coached. He finally understood exactly what Hopper had meant all those years ago about “coffee and contemplation” finding more and more that the man’s wisdom was never ending the older he got. We’ve gotta tighten up their current formations, he thought as the TV played some mindless sitcom in the background while he chewed on the end of his pencil. His mind looked over the squiggles on the paper in front of him trying to decide how to fix this. It had been weeks since they had won a game and morale was dropping fast. Jamie has to pass more but Donovan can’t really shoot…maybe if we move Paul to center and then swap Jordan and Cole we could-

The man wasn’t given another moment to think as he heard the front door open and close with a loud slam, the sound of feet padding their way down the entry hallway. 

“Hey, baby!” Steve called as he continued to focus on the squiggles, drawing a few more lines before erasing them with equally as much vigor, “How was the gym?” A loud groan was all he received in reply as his wife dropped her bag to the ground and kicked off her tennis shoes, not even bothering to put them in the basket where she knew they belonged. The same basket she insisted his shoes lived in but rules didn’t apply to her, at least not right now. I’ll tease her about it later. “That good huh?” He called with a low chuckle as he ran a hand through his hair, “Well your protein shake is in the fridge. Should be cold enough since I put it in when you left.” Oddly enough, the man received no response. He waited a moment before he called again, looking up from his work.

“Bab-” And just like that she was in front of him. He jumped and let out a quiet swear as he clutched a hand to his chest. He hadn’t seen her before she had left and found himself taking a sharp inhale as he looked her up and down. She looked so fucking gorgeous in those tight black leggings that fit her just right, a simple white workout top, hugging her every curve, and the expensive black workout jacket he had saved up to get her for Christmas that she never left for the gym without. Not to mention the way her hair looked post-workout and the glow of sweat that radiated off of her. He was about to open his mouth to make some lewd remark he hoped she’d find charming but-

“Hold my tits.” The man blinked once, then again, his mouth open and gaping like a fish. 

“W-what?” 

“I want your hands on my tits,” Y/N repeated, holding his gaze with complete and utter seriousness, “Please.” 

“Like…you want my…”

“Your hands. On my tits. Now.” When the man continued not to move his wife let out a deep sigh and took the pencil from his hand, laying it down next to his sketch as she replaced it with something much better. She led his large palm gently to her breast, letting out a sigh of relief as she encouraged him to give a little squeeze. Again, Steve didn’t even know what to do, never having seen her like this. Sure, she was usually a little more cuddly and blissed out after the gym as the endorphins ran through her body but this was…new. A good kind of new. 

“So I take it you had a good time at the gym?” The man teased breathlessly as he ushered her around the coffee table to sit beside him on the couch. The woman let out a hum in confirmation as she laid down so they were pressed together, her back to his front, and wrapped his arms around her so his hands could live right where she needed them to. Another chuckle came from Steve as he buried his face into her hair finding-

“Did you put on perfume?” 

“After working out,” she whispered as her eyes closed shut in complete and utter satisfaction, being held just the way she needed to be right now, “Didn’t want to come home smelling only like sweat.”

“I don’t mind,” Steve used his nose to brush the hair from the side of her neck, making her giggle as he pressed mindless kisses there, “I smell like sweat all the time and you still love me.” 

“I do,” Y/N titled her head so he could press a kiss to her lips, one she returned eagerly before laying her head back down on the couch, “Fuck, I’m never doing the Stairmaster ever again.” 

“Y/N, baby, if this,” Steve gave her tits a little squeeze to punctuate his thought, “is what happens after you’re on the Stairmaster, by all means, keep doing it. Any excuse to cuddle with my pretty little wife and hold her boobies is more than fine by me.” 

“Don’t call them that,” Y/N scrunched her nose with a chuckle as she pressed her ass more into him to fit them closer together. 

“What?” The man teased giving another squeeze, “Boobies?” 

“STEVE!” The couple dissolved into a communal fit of giggles as they lay there together, all stress and strain completely forgotten as calm domesticity filled their hearts and home. 

[probablysimpledreams]

Brat, You Belong to Me

(Crocodile x reader: NSFW)

a/n: Hello hello One Piece nation!! I am here with some nsfw Crocodile for yall<3 This is set when he's still a Warlord and in Alabasta just for some context!

cw: Very possessive Croco here. A little usage of his hook, uses the term "pet" (the relationship the reader and him have is more of a toy/item than relationship bro is not nice just hot and possessive), hints of overstimulation, begging, masturbation being watched, umm that should be all. The reader is written gender neutral but with female parts. OH and a Doflamingo appearance!

word count: a tad over 1.4k

The ride to the World Government headquarters felt longer than ever this time. You often accompanied Crocodile to his Warlord meetings, finding joy knowing it was another place he could show you off. You loved being his accessory, having such a powerful man's attention turned you on like crazy.

However, lately too many things have been stealing that attention away from you. He never disclosed his work to you, and honestly that's not what you cared about. What was bothering was that he was too focused on his work. This past month he has been in meeting after meeting, phone after phone call locked away in his office. The only time he has spent with you was so he could get off, needing to release stress in between meetings, calls, reports, you name it. You knew he wasn't a kind man, but this was the first time he did not take your pleasure into consideration. It was pissing you off to no end. What was so much more appealing than you these days?

You sigh loudly as you lay your head on the large man. You flutter your eyelashes as you look up at him, a frown forming as he does not even bat an eye. He continues reading the newspaper as you move closer to him, ignoring any personal space in the car. You abruptly pull away, laying down on the seats on the limousine as you throw your legs across his. You always made sure to wear something revealing to these meetings, per Crocodile's request. You extend your right leg in the air, skin brushing against the newspaper Crocodile is buried into you.

"Control yourself _______," he mumbled while turning the page of the paper. He still not even glance up to look at you. His response invoked even more rage within you. As you sit up and turn away from him, a plan to get his attention forms in your head.

------

You smile as you enter the meeting room, looking around at the familiar faces. It had been a while since the last Warlord meeting, but you knew exactly who to target to get under Crocodile's skin.

"So nice of you to join us, Gator boy," a tall man smirks as he approaches the two of you. "And your little Birdy joined us as well." He winked as he took your hand into his. "How are you beautiful?"

"Oh you know," you smile up at the man. "Can't complain." You glance at Crocodile as Doflamingo presses a kiss on your hand. Despite Crocodile showing no reaction, you knew how he felt about Doflamingo, especially when it came to him flirting with you. You always obey his rule of not interacting with Doflamingo's moves, but it was time to play dirty.

"Darling, I saved you a seat," Doflamingo escorts you over to the table where the rest of the Warlords sat. You thanked him as you sat in the chair between him and Crocodile. A small smirk formed on your face as you noticed Crocodile's attention was finally on you, even if it was just from the corner of his eye. Keeping up with your plan, you turn to ask Doflamingo a question. As the two of you talked you could feel a strong, piercing set of eyes watching you.

"Fufufufu, finally giving up on the old man huh Birdy?" Doflamingo leans closer into you. "You know my offer never expires," his hand starts trailing down to your exposed thighs.

"I might have to take you up on that Doffy," you giggle. "Ya know, Crocodile has been so busy lately, it's made me-" you were cut off by a hook creating a barrier between you and Doflamingo.

"That's enough," Crocodile huffs. "Both of you." Though he keeps a calm composure, you can sense the anger from his tone. The energy of the entire room shifts. His gold hook graces your skin as he pulls it back to himself, giving you a final glare before turning around.

"Oh? Protective, are we now?" Doflamingo chuckles amusingly. Before he's able to push Crocodile's buttons any further, the individuals who called for the meeting enter the room and begin speaking.

----------

Similar to the ride there, the ride back was silent. However, a winning smirk graced your face as he kept a hand latched on your thigh. His composure was slowly breaking as the ride continued. You impatiently rub your thighs together, causing Crocodile to tighten his grip on you. The car finally pulled into the Rain Dinners casino, and Crocodile dragged you all the way inside into his office. Using his hook, he quickly pushes everything off his desk and throws you onto the desk.

"Is this what you wanted so badly?" he asks, sliding the back of his hook against your clothed sex. You whine, yet he's not amused. "Answer me damn it."

"I-I want you!" you whine, unable to hide any desire. You've been so horny all month and can not take any teasing. His free hand slides your underwear off, then he presses the back of his hook against you again. You cry as the cold gold meets your skin. He gives a disgusted look as he pulls away, wiping the sticky wetness off the hook.

"Show me," he takes a seat down at the desk. "You put on a great show for Domflamingo earlier. Where's mine?"

You whine, but decide not to resist his demands. You quickly move your hand down your body, fingers swirling circles on your clit. Crocodile watches intensely as you get to work on yourself, moans leaving your lips. You could tell he was not going to give you what you needed yet though.

"C-Crocodile," you cry as you slide two fingers inside yourself. A smirk appears on his face as he continues to watch you intensely. You pick up the pace, pumping your fingers in and out of yourself at a quick pace. You continue to squirm on the table, moans crying for Crocodile to touch you and how you need him. Just as you're about to reach your climax, a hand reaches out and forces you to stop. You whine and fight to get out of his grip, but are unsuccessful as your hand is now pinned above your head.

"Such a good pet," he praises as he hovers over you. You swallow as he releases your hand, wrist throbbing from the tight grip. "Well, are you going to get what you've been begging for?" he motions to his harden cock trying to burst from his slacks. "Or should I make you wait even longer?" You eyes widen as you shake your head, causing him to chuckle as you quickly undo his belt and slide his pants off. "That's what I thought." Your legs wrap around his waist as he positions himself, tip barely inside you.

"Please Crocodile!" your impatience past its limit. "Fuck me already!"

"You don't make the demands here," he slams his cock roughly into you. "You got that?"

"Y-yes sir," you choke, tears forming in your eyes from the pleasurable pain.

"That's more like it," he smirks. He moves his hips to fuck you at a steady pace, starting slowly to make sure you feel every second of it. You cry as he pulls himself all the way out, seconds later sliding himself all the way back into you. Crocodile was clearly no small man, and neither was his dick. You still remember the first time he had fucked you, leaving you breathless and bleeding. You were sure you were bleeding again as it felt like he was ripping your inside apart with every thrust. This is exactly what you wanted. After a full month of being deprived your mind and body were ecstatic from finally receiving pleasure. It was all so overwhelmingly pleasuring, pushing you to your climax quicker than usual. Crocodile began thrusting faster and faster as you claw at his back. You know he will be mad if you ruin the silk button down he's still wearing, but you don't care. In this moment all you can focus on is your own pleasure.

"C-Crocodile," you moan as you tighten around him, causing him to let out a low growl. "I-I....Crocodile!!" you scream his name as the pleasure takes over you, vision going fuzzy as you reach your climax. You continues fucking you through it which causes you to squirm and cry out more.

You pant as you come down from the high of it all, sweat sliding down your face. You wince as Crocodile does not stop nor slow down. You reach out to put a hand on his chest, sweaty hands gripping his shirt.

"You're a fool if you think that's all," an evil smirk spreads across his face, eyes deeply looking into yours. "I'm going to make sure you never question who you belong to again."

[fluffysucker]

2. Everything is blue

A/N: Written in Third POV. No use of Y/N. However, the reader is referred to as a female.

Angst train still going. I promise there is a plot and you will get more Bucky. In the meantime, please share your thoughts and how do you think it's gonna play out.

Likes, comments, reblogs are very highly appreciated

Feel free to correct me if you find any mistakes

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

It was rough. That's all you could think about. However, when anybody asked you, you never said it out loud. You didn't know why. You felt that maybe if you said it was a mutual decision, then things would be easier. It would make a bit of sense. But a part of you knew everybody saw right through your lies. How could it ever be easy?

Some time has passed since you signed the paper, making you officially divorced. Since there wasn't any big fallout between you and Bucky, you were able to settle everything without going to court. Bucky was already offering everything. He would be the one to move out, so you and the kids would stay in the house. And he was paying more than enough child support. The kids would spend the weekends with him as well. As said, there were no conflicts or arguments in the divorce except for your crushed feelings.

The arrangement was working. On weekdays, you had the kids. Bucky would call them daily. Then came the weekends when Bucky would have them. You were still adjusting. You never thought you would be a single parent. It's taking a lot from you to come to terms with your life now. You didn't have the luxury of time. You were a full-time mother along with your job. Your two children counted on you. They needed their mom to be focused and present. And you knew if you let yourself be, you wouldn't even leave the bed. So you bottled it up, kept it all in, acted as if you weren't dying every single day, and kept going on.

But seeing the man who broke your heart weekly wasn't making it any easier. You expected that it would only last for a while, and then Bucky would forget about the three of you. You were preparing for this. However, it never happened. He remained very present in the kids' lives. He kept in touch and knew everything about Lily and Theo. He even put so much effort into reminding the kids of his unceasing love for them.

He was still the best father you could have ever asked for your kids to have. He just couldn't be your husband anymore.

You were cutting the fruits into star shapes, just like they liked it. Then, add them to the bowl next to the crackers and the cheese. Lily and Theo were always hungry when they got back from school. You were expecting them any second now. Bucky volunteered to pick them up today. Both of you had to stay in very close contact for the sake of your young kids. Even if it was so painful to see him, you were willing to go the extra mile. Because your kids were your top priority.

You heard the door opening and your children's voices speaking thousands of words a second. You already knew they would be so happy that Bucky was the one to pick them up. With him away five days a week, the kids were always missing him.

It's a mutual decision to let Bucky keep his key to the house. All decisions regarding the kids were mutual. Other than that, you weren't sure.

"How was your day, sweeties?" You asked aloud as both of them ran to you and hugged your waist.

"It was great. Miss Sally really liked my project." Lily couldn't hide her happiness. She had been putting her heart and soul into this project for sometimes now.

"I knew she would. I'm so proud of you, baby." You pressed a big kiss to her hair. Then you turned to your son to ask about his day.

"It was good. But Karl's mom wouldn't leave us to come home when she saw Daddy." Theo told you as you gave him a kiss on the cheek as well.

You should have expected that. Everyone knew about you and Bucky's divorce by now. By no competition, Bucky was every woman's crush. All the mothers and teachers never even tried to hide their crush on the man. And nobody could blame them. Along with his attractive looks and killer body, Bucky was incredible with Lily and Theo, a true hands-on father. He was also very successful at his job. He was the whole package. But he was yours. And you used to make it clear that you didn't take well to flirting with your husband.

Now, he's not your husband anymore. So you should know that women would be throwing themselves at him. Especially those who already liked him, like Karl's mother. You hadn't thought of this yet. The fact that Bucky is single now He could go out with any woman he desired. He could touch, kiss, sleep with, and even love any woman. Any woman but you.

You shook the idea out of your head quickly. You were in enough pain. You didn't need an addition. You sent the kids upstairs to change, and then they can have their snacks. You turned to look at Bucky, who was standing by the kitchen door in all his glory. It was clear he left to get the kids straight away from work. You always used to tell him how formal attire fitted him and brought out his best features. You frowned when you saw the look on his face. What was it?

"I have bad news." You tried to control your breathing. You weren't ready for any more blows to your face.

"Tony and Pepper are in town, and they want to meet up." You groaned in annoyance. It was better than you thought, but still bad.

Tony Stark and his then assistant, now wife, Pepper, were friends of yours. Not as close as others, but still friends. Tony was one of Bucky's most important business partners. You really liked them. They were good people. However, They were the most extravagant couple you had ever met. Not only were they inseparable, they always had a story to tell. An overtop story for sure. And if they wanted to meet, you would have to meet.

Which was exactly what led you to your current situation.

Sitting in the café, which was clearly Bucky's choice, and you were thankful for that. But you weren't thankful for anything else. Tony and Pepper had been talking nonstop; you couldn't remember for how long. There were so many stories about their work, their new big house, their dates, their trips, and the new intern, whom they clearly were adopting. The list didn't end.

You tried to pay attention; you really did. But you couldn't when you had only one thing in mind. The way Tony had been holding Pepper's hand ever since they got her, drawing circles on it Along with the glimpse you got from their stories, you couldn't help yourself.

Tony held the same reputation that Bucky once did. A ladies man A playboy. A man nobody thought would settle down. However, when Tony did settle down, no one questioned him, and no one warned Pepper about him. Nobody doubted them. You couldn't say the same for yourselves.

"So what about you, guys?" Pepper's voice broke your train of thought. You looked at her with a fake smile.

"Anything interesting?. An amazing trip? Maybe another baby?" You could feel the tears forming in your eyes and the pain rushing through your body at Pepper's question. You quickly got a grip on yourself and managed to look normal again.

"Actually." You turned to Bucky, hoping he would be the one to tell them.

"We got divorced." And he did.

In any other situation, Pepper's loud gasp and Tony spitting his drink on you would be very funny, but not when you were on the receiving end of it.

Bucky moved quickly to hand you tissues as Tony apologised profoundly, which you reassured him was okay.

"When did this happen?" Pepper asked as the shock wore off.

"About a month ago." You let Bucky do all the taking, not trusting your voice to speak.

Another loud gasp escaped the couple. Their reaction had to be the funniest of all the people to whom you told the news.

"We thought it wasn't going to happen." Pepper's quiet voice didn't miss you, giving her a questioning look.

"I mean, we all thought it would happen eventually, but after Theo, we thought that was it. You guys were in for life."

"Yeah. It was kind of really expected early on, but not anymore."

"We used to place bets on whether you were even going to get married or not. We all lost them when he proposed."

You were putting all your efforts into controlling your breathing and stopping the panic from taking over. And Bucky's lack of answer wasn't helping. Did he always have this in mind? To leave you?

You were thankful that Pepper changed the subject. It's better to hear about their overbearing stories than how everybody doubted your relationship from the start. How was it doomed from the beginning?

Did Bucky have answers to all of these questions? You couldn't tell. You weren't able to read the man sitting next to you anymore.

With all this on your mind, before you knew it, you were leaving with a promise to meet again. You and Bucky got in his car together. You kept a little conversation going between the two of you. However, you avoided Tony and Pepper's comments like the plague. And you didn't know if you liked it or not. Would it be better if you knew more?

You've reached your house. You thanked Bucky for the ride and got into the house. You found the house better than expected. Uncle Steve and Aunt Sharon kept things in order. You went to your babies and kissed their cheeks as they were all watching TV.

"Get ready, sweeties. Daddy wants to take you out." Of course, that is why Bucky dropped you off. He wanted to see the kids.

Your kids' very excited squeals were the only source of peace you had lately. They put on their shoes and left right away for Daddy, who was waiting outside.

"How were Tony and Pepper?" Sharon came to help you as you started tidying the living room.

"Great. Did you know Tony got Pepper a huge bunny for Christmas?" You laughed as you recalled one of the many bizarre stories they shared.

"As a matter of fact, I did." Sharon replied as she finished putting the toys in their box.

"We all did." Steve joined the two of you.

"Then you must have known that mine and Bucky's divorce was coming. Apparently, you all did." You didn't mean for it to be bitter. You didn't mean for it to come out at all. It just slipped. Your act cracking a bit.

Steve and Sharon shared a look. They didn't know what they could say. What could they tell you? That they all expected it. But not now. Not anymore. That the timing was the surprise, but not the split. However,was it worth making you feel like a fool who believed in the love of her life? It wasn't.

You quickly recovered and changed the subject. Anything they would say wouldn't make it better. And you weren't looking for answers from them. They stayed, and you chatted for a bit. Nothing too serious. Just filling time instead of being alone.

However, after saying your goodbye as they were about to leave, Steve called your name.

Would it ever stop hurting? Was this really the end to yours and Bucky's story?

"Whatever happened. I want you to know that you saved Bucky's life. You gave him a purpose."

You had to bite your lip to stop the breakdown. You couldn't decide whether Steve's words were enough condolences or if they were only fuel for your fire. All you could do was give him a small smile.

Taglist: @lethallyprotected @almosttoopizza @ragingrainbowshipl @dexter99 @xdarkcreaturex

[joshslater]

Delayed Graduation

Repost of an old story that was previously flagged as too risqué for tumblr. Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

- We might have a solution of sorts for you.

I barely registered principal Johnston talking. My world had been shattered, without warning. It all felt unreal, and most of all unfair. I knew I hadn’t done anything wrong, but there were no witnesses, just my word against hers. She wouldn’t press charges, Johnston had explained. I was almost demanding that she did, so I could clear my name, but thought better of it. If it went to trial all outcomes would be bad, to varying degrees. This way I would just be expelled. I guess I could use the term “drop out” to soften it further. It’s not like the job market is stellar even if you have a degree, but this would firmly pigeon hole me as manual labor.

- What? - I said we might have an arrangement that could interest you.

He pulled out a stack of papers from his manila folder and placed them in front of me, and continued.

- We have a little trial project we would like to push ahead with, to see what the full potential is. Coach Andrews would personally take charge of your training to see how far he can take you in a year. Similar to what he managed to do for Shane O’Brian. Since you will be heavily supervised, fully scheduled and not share any classes with your former class mates, she has agreed to allow you complete your studies under these conditions. It’s not that many months until she graduates anyway. Your graduation obviously will have to wait until next year.

Shane of course was the star of the basket team. He was two years below me, so I didn’t know him, but I heard he had basically never touched a ball before he met coach. He must have been active in something else though, with that body. The girls were swooning like crazy. Some of the boys too, as rumor had it.

- Sir, I’m really grateful for this opportunity, but I’m not really made for sports. Just look at me. Tall and thin. Not much track and field around here. - We are not asking for any miracles. Just follow all instructions given and do your best. That’s all we’re asking.

I started to flip through the papers. I was bored just looking at the page numbers.

- Should I bring this home to my parents? - This is a bit time sensitive, so I’d prefer if you make your decision already today. You’re 18. You get to decide this on your own. Why don’t I leave you for a bit? You can have a read through, and then decide what you want to do.

As he left the room I started to go read through the contract properly. Why do they make things so complicated? The contract really just said that I assumed responsibility for the “infraction”, but the school would not disclose it to anyone unless the contract was breached. I would agree to participate in the athletic education study for one year. In return the school would allow me to graduate next year. But written over 26 pages.

I didn’t feel like I had many options. Initials on every page and signature on the last. Then repeated on the second copy of the contract. I was about to leave and find principal Johnston when he returned, followed by coach Andrews.

- Have you made up your mind, or would you like Mr. Andrews to explain it in more detail. - I’ve already signed the papers. - Oh, well then. I’m so happy we could work something out.

Coach Andrews opened the gym bag he was carrying and pulled out a blue singlet and ear guards, and held them for me to take.

- Let’s try this on right away. - Now? Here?

Johnston opened a door to a side room of his office.

- You can change in the conference room here. - But wrestling?! Have you seen me? - As I said, follow all instructions and do your best is all we ask.

It was the first time I even held a singlet in my hands. I’ve never even thought of how to put one on. It wasn’t hard, just step in them like some shorts and then pull the straps over your shoulders, but I never imagined doing it.

I looked ridiculous. I guess size isn’t as important when the fabric is stretchy, but this sure wasn’t my size. The taut straps pulled the fabric in the groin, while at the same time my thin legs didn’t fill out the legs of the singlet. What a mess. I walked back into the office, naked apart from this one single piece of clothing.

- Should I put on the ear guards as well. - No, that isn’t necessary. Here.

Coach opened a small, brown, glass bottle and poured its contents into a white plastic cup from the water cooler, and handed it to me.

- This is the time sensitive part. Drink up.

This day was going from horrendously bad to confusing to weird. I emptied the cup. The liquid tasted like cough syrup. Sickly sweet and with bitter herbs.

- What is.. *cough* *cough* - Here. Take a seat.

It felt like drinking really hot cocoa when you are frozen. It kind of spreads from the chest to the rest of the body. All of me was getting warm, and an uncomfortable feeling or pressure. Everything was off, like I was drunk, or high or something. It was over in a minute, though it is quite possible my mind was playing tricks and it really was longer than that.

- Stand up against the wall, so I can take a photo.

Bewildered, and with unsteady steps, I did as told. He snapped a few pictures with his phone, and then showed me one.

- Don’t tell me this isn’t a great starting point.

I couldn’t believe what I saw. It was definitely me in the photo, but it was like the aspect ratio was wrong. I must be several inches shorter, but everything, arms, legs, chest, shoulders, neck, was wider. Even my face was altered, if ever so slightly. Where just minutes before, or whatever, I was a lanky gamer, I now was a hunk of muscle.

- How is this... - Don’t worry about the details. We must work quickly now while you are fresh, to get the wrestling technique right. Meet me in my office tomorrow at 7 am.

With that he slapped me on the shoulder and left. Just as he was about to exit the office, he pulled out a pair of shoes from the bag and placed them at a table.

- Oh, I almost forgot these. Your new size. See you tomorrow!

My head was spinning. What had just happened to me, to my body? Starting point? Principal Johnston had his distinct “anything else?” look.

- What about my studies?

My voice was lower than before, I think.

- You’ll be placed in the athlete’s reduced curriculum class. We just need to retest your proficiency levels first. - Why? I don’t understand. - My point exactly.

He didn’t make any sense. I felt tired, slow and almost dizzy trying to understand him.

- What about this body? What happens when I graduate? - You graduate with the body you have, like everyone else. It’s not like we can change it by magic or anything.

He smiled and chuckled to himself.

- Take your old clothes with you as you leave. Something might still fit.

Nothing did.

[riddles-n-games]

Why do you think avery and Jameson’s characters/Jameson’s story felt off? It feels off for me, too, but I can't put my finger on it.

Hoo boy, where to start? This feels like peeling wet paper from wet paper. Also, sorry this took so long to make. I was constantly putting it off because I felt like I kept not knowing how to continue this review at times so I really hope this doesn't disappoint.

Spoiler Warning: The Brothers Hawthorne Discussion

Plot-wise, first off, it felt like we spent a lot of time with the set up to get to the Game and usually JLB spends a very minimal amount on that before we jump into the riddles, puzzle-solving, clue finding portion of the story as shown in the last three books. Then when we get to the actual portion of the plot which is dedicated to the Game itself, the running around Vantage feels like it was all so quick and you don't even get to take it in because we're already at another part with a new clue that by the time you feel settled in, the Game is done and Jameson is the winner. So, I think the concern with the story on that front is the fact that she wanted us to have an element from the old books that we're comfortable with so we can continue experiencing that thrill we're used to, just from Jameson's perspective because this suits him to a T. And she's right. This is the Hawthorne brother we've come to associate with all these high risks, high stakes, riddles, puzzles, complex games, etc., etc. It's just her approach didn't feel right; she spent more time on one thing than the other, the set up vs the climax as a result of said set up were disproportionate and this would probably be as a result of the dual pov. We never had a dual pov before in the series so where one story feels completed, the other didn't. Had Jamie's story been one whole book on its own, she likely could have made everything in the plot more evened out, especially the part we're anticipating most: the Game.

Also, from what I can see, Grayson's plotline does serve as the typical storyline we see in TIG, THL, and TFG in terms of set up and execution of actions after the build up. But it also must have been thought out better because there was pressure from the fans to redeem Grayson after the events of the last book. To be fair, JLB may have also planned it out that way in the first place. It's just disappointing to read through a book with the one brother I wanted to see in his best element because he fit this script the most having his storyline cut off seemingly abruptly. I know it's easier for her to come up with stuff for Grayson because he's still underdeveloped but she should have taken more care of Jameson since he is already developed. It causes inconsistency and on her part, looks like lazy writing and that she didn't even want to write his story. Most complex story she's written, my ass. If she wanted to just write Grayson's story then she could have done that, it would be believable enough that she just wanted to leave Jameson untouched because of the work she put into him rather than taking back all the good stuff we've seen come out of him by the end of TFG.

Now, with Jameson's character development, I think that the problem was the dilemma he was facing with his mind being "ordinary" compared to that of his brothers. I don't think I minded that part that much but when I review how he acted in the original trilogy versus how he was in this one, this problem kind of abruptly seems to show up, even with the flashbacks where this was demonstrated to be a topic of interest. Maybe JLB should have created some kind of set up for his character having this problem in the first books like she did with his lack of father figures issue which clearly makes him sensitive and his desperate need to win. These were things that had an origin and were portrayed appropriately in the book with a somewhat satisfying conclusion. This one just felt like it was there and the issue was quite quickly resolved so it kind of just makes itself appear as something that could have been easily ignored. He also falls short on sounding like a human being because she has made his mentality and personality so one dimensional and basic that a robot has more complexity than him. We get it, he's hungry for more almost all the time! But that's not all there is to him. And as a Jameson girlie, I feel like she made it so much harder for us fans of him as a character and the chosen love interest for Avery to give reasons as to why we liked him. I mean, back in 2022 and throughout 2023, I don't know how many little analyses and rants I came across that projected the goodness of his character. Now what am I supposed to justify? I was hoping we'd get that deserved deep dive to see what else drove him besides the obvious and what did we get? Just an endless loop of what we already know and have seen.

On the topic of Avery and Jameson as a couple in this book, uh, I think that JLB could have done a better representation of it from Jamie's perspective than the way she did in TBH. They had some pretty great moments like their problem-solving sequences, the getting ready scene before the opera, the little stuff like their hand symbols to signal to each other, Avery comforting Jameson, and Jameson confiding in her the secret of what happened in Prague. However, I found the way that JLB described Jameson's thoughts towards Avery a little too out of character. I get it, there's nothing wrong with him being physically attracted to his own girlfriend, that's definitely part of it but it felt too lusty and not the way he seemed to view her from what we saw in the last three books. I mean, even Avery wasn't quite so lusty towards him. The flirtatious components weren't what I was hoping to see especially after his many swoon-worthy moments from THL and TFG. Honestly, regarding my opinion on this, there's a recent post by @elif-in-wonderland that summarizes my thoughts for me perfectly.

There, that concludes my current thoughts on the book regarding Jameson's side. If I do end up having more opinions to share, I will be sure to make a continuation to this in a follow up post. Thanks for the ask!

[agendabymooner]

gorgeous ! max v. x ofc (hearth sister!ofc)

"i'm so furious at you for making me feel this way, but what can i say?"

summary: sylvie edson ford officially signed with red bull after making christian horner (her employer) own up to his mistakes at the spanish grand prix. max verstappen continued to prove his worth as a friend (or frenemy) by dropping off his 'office-warming' gifts, needless to say, she was slowly liking him even more. (1)(2)(3)

content warning: use of explicit language, mentions maltreatment in the workplace environment, sylvie disliking max's outfit

note: y'all thought i'm done for the day? wrong. shout out to tim hortons iced coffee, you really make my heart beat fast ✨✨ anyway, enjoy this part xx

masterlist

The worst that could happen would be that you would end up crying your heart out in the middle of the room and everyone would pity you. 

But Sylvie didn’t think that something worse than that could even happen on the same day she signed her contract with Red Bull.

The headquarters of Red Bull in Milton Keynes wasn’t that much different than the Mercedes AMG office in Brackley— she knew that; she frequented the place whenever Toto would work in the office just to pester him and his staff. 

The difference between the two, however, had something to do with the sense of comfort that she lacked as she stood in front of the Wall of Fame, her eyes staring directly at the images of Christian Klien and David Coulthard. Her figure felt so tense, anybody with a sharp object could cut her easily. 

Her sister, Tilly, had been an owner of this team for two years now, yet she felt like this place didn’t even belong to her family. Sylvie couldn’t even claim that she was proud of being a part of the Red Bull group— she didn’t even know jack shit inside this office. She knew how much she disliked Christian Horner, but that’s the only Red Bull headquarters related thing that remained in her brain. 

Then came her contract. She sat down next to Stevie and Tilly as she continued to skim through the terms and conditions of her contract. It was dead silent, and she disliked every single bit of it. Should she have an office in this place, she’d definitely blast some songs to get away from bullshit. 

Sylvie barely finished reading the last section when she heard Christian speak and clear his throat. She stared at him, hand still holding onto the papers as he stated, “I know that we’ve come across one another in a rather negative manner so I would like to personally apologize to you.” She raised a brow at him, telling herself that it was time for him to own up to what he did or rather what he didn’t do. 

The youngest in the room bit back quietly, “For what?” Stevie coughed next to her, obviously trying not to laugh at her sister’s sassiness as she knew what would happen after Sylvie slipped those two words out. The Hearth sisters knew a lot and one of them was that Sylvie would always make sure that the others would have hell to pay. She was self-aware of the things that she deserved - and she knew that equal respect and dignity were two of those things. 

Christian stared at her for a moment, confusion written all over his face. Sylvie leaned against the chair she sat in and crossed her arms, papers still on her hand as she said, “I don’t know what you are specifically apologizing for, so for what?” 

The Red Bull team principal sighed exasperatedly. Tilly looked over and gave Stevie a wag of her brows, liking the situation that was happening in front of them. 

“You sound like you don’t mean it, Horner,” Sylvie pointed out with a mutter. 

“I apologize for not finding a way to make you feel comfortable in your own working environment,” he spoke like he was a robot who was only coded to speak those words. “I could have done so much better and tried to help you adapt to that situation. But it was a busy weekend—“

“And so will the rest of the race weekends ahead of us,” Sylvie snarked. To say that she wasn’t scared of her future employer was an understatement; Christian just had his own ass handed back to him by making him admit to what he’s done wrong. Now she continued to test him as she said, “I am not saying that I won’t be working hard to continually improve the image of the team, but some support will be sufficient. I like the thought of fending for myself, but that would just mess up my performance as a team player.” 

She was still hurt about what happened a month ago, of course. Being left out like a lost puppy in her workplace environment gave her the anxiety that she never thought would ever come back. The boys from her past definitely made it worse. Being yelled at by Christian about her performance that weekend only put the cherry on top. She couldn’t really cooperate with the team if they left her out to figure shit out on her own. 

So it was only rightful of her to blast him with endless words that could hopefully make them realize that they needed to correct their mistakes as the seniors and veterans of the team. She didn’t care if it could tick him off; she didn’t deserve to be treated poorly on her first weekend. If that was how rookies were treated then she sure as hell would address that matter— nobody deserves to be treated like such.

“I acknowledge your frustration over what had happened in the span of a weekend. As I said, I could have done so much more than berate you in front of other people,” Christian told her calmly, “and as your superior, I’ll gladly work with you to figure out what could possibly work best as you delegate with your peers.” 

“You should have thought of that before,” Sylvie rolled her eyes, grabbing a pen laid out on his desk and signed the contract, not even looking at him in the eyes while she did it. 

She found herself looking around once more, now disappointed that her sisters had left after the meeting. She toured the headquarters with Daniel Haas— some communications officer who happened to be a year or two older than her— leading the way. She had seen the place before she even attended her meeting, so listening to him had no point as she continued to look at him and nod. 

Daniel stopped in front of a door that sat at the very end of the media and communications hall, waiting for her to turn at the door. 

“This is your office,” he told her with a grin before opening it with a key, handing it to her after he swung the door open and turned on the light. 

The office was quite decent, sure. The L-shaped desk took up a quarter of the space, then at the back were empty shelves. A couch sat right in front of the big desk and beside it was a small table with F1 related magazines. 

She could definitely do so much with this office. She wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to decorate her office— one that she would occupy should she have time away from the runway. 

Her phone was the best friend she had that day. She’d been scrolling through Twitter, thinking about her first task to follow. She wasn’t told what to do just yet. 

A knock interrupted her thoughts and a murmur of ‘come in’ slipped out of her mouth, her bright eyes peering up to see Max Verstappen enter her office with questions written all over his face. 

She hated to admit it, but Max looked handsome that day— no matter how much she hated seeing him in his white shirt and skinny jeans— and those running shoes. So fucking atrocious, his outfit was.

“You’d think that being a professional racer would help you afford nicer clothes,” Sylvie’s voice echoed in the office, making him scowl in confusion as she continued, “even Adam Sandler can get away with his basketball shorts.” The silence in the room went away as she chuckled humourlessly. Max only laughed quietly with a shake of his head. 

“My favourite fashion critique,” he huffed, “oh have I missed you.” 

“You need better habits,” she replied, “like dressing nicely. Otherwise I wouldn’t be handing your own ass back to you for looking so horrendous.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” He teased as he walked towards her desk. “I wouldn’t see the Wild Blue Mustang in her prime, otherwise. I got to make some sacrifices, you know?”

She watched him as he placed something on her desk, making her lean over. He stood there patiently, watching as she examined the stuff on her table. 

A box of a mini orange Cadillac figure sat on her desk and a framed picture of them as five year olds. Alongside that would be plaques to place in her door and on her desk. 

“Sylvie Edson Ford Hearth

Community Outreach and Public Relations Coordinator”

The Red Bull Racing logo was engraved on the gold plaque next to her name. Talk about official.

“Thanks,” she said quietly before looking up at him, “did Christian make you act like his personal messenger instead of having someone else pass these to me?”

“Nope,” he shook his head, beaming in happiness as he said, “I wanted to give the plaques myself.”

“And why do I have a toy Cadillac? I don’t recall Red Bull making a Cadillac.”

“This is your first office move-in day ever,” he shrugged nonchalantly, “I’d hate to not be a part of it. You’ve got an adult job now. I missed a couple of your achievements. So… yeah, I got you a Cadillac. Me.”

“You need to stop weaseling your way into the little stuff, Verstappen,” she sassed. “It’s unbecoming.”

“Never,” he cheekily smiled, “besides, it’s easier for me to barge into your life now. Your office is right here! And we work together, too. Talk about advantages.”

Sylvie sighed heavily, rubbing her temples before looking up at Max. “Don’t you have other people to annoy?”

“You’re my top one,” Max laughed heartily, “but I’ll go. I wanted to welcome you to Red Bull. Officially. That’s why I’m here. I’m going to go to my meeting with Christian. So— bye!” 

Hearing the door slam shut, she leaned back against her chair. She thought that the worst case scenario of today was that she could have cried in the middle of Horner’s office. Then she pondered what just happened, and decided that her nightmare had something to do with liking Max, one way or another. 

She really didn’t like it when her demons won and continued to gravitate towards him. She wanted to continue to despise his own being, but loathing could only do so much.

[kio-may]

after the flowers wilt

---------

summary: what happens after you leave? what if both of you were meant to meet, no matter which world? the new student in your class seems so oddly familiar. What memory are you trying to revive?

A/n: this is basically self indulgence for me after twst is over after watching the ch 7 trailer and realizing the main story will end soon </3 this is also inspired by like. the intro page of twst where they ask u to choose someones hand n grab it tight. i thoroughly believe its connected to the ending so yargh. reader basically picked Vil in this one. can u guys guess who my bias is.

Words: about 2.7k, this is a one-shot <3

Content warnings and Labels: Vil x reader (reader is gn), Angst, reader has amnesia, mentions of being in a long term coma, feelings of nostalgia and melancholy, mentions of grief. you get the gist, I hope.

Suggested: listen to this mbira video while reading. The only thing i was listening to while writing this. hope it captured the mood well.

---------

The headmaster chose to spare everyone of the grief.

It was a few weeks, you'd been in a coma apparently. Your family rejoiced when you finally woke up. You swore you weren’t here before, but you couldn’t remember anything else. You didn’t know where else you could have been. You chose to push it to the back of your mind, after enough brushing off from your family and friends.

You recovered in no time, and started going back to school. You climbed the same stairs as you always did, your locker remained in the same place. You found out your place had been changed and you sat beside someone else now, your friends at a faraway corner. 

You half expected them to snicker and throw a paper ball at you and..

Wait, why would they do that?

You kept looking at the back of their heads. They were focused on what your teacher was saying.

Why wouldn’t they?

A tiny voice. Brushed aside.

The ceiling of your room looked so familiar and so distant. A tiny glow in the dark sticker painted over with the color of your walls. A vase full of roses and a small stack of "Get well soon!" Cards on your bedside. The open window blew in slight dust and a small dandelion seed. You wanted to catch it, but couldnt find the energy to get up. You watched it slowly trickle down onto your bedside and stay motionless.

Don’t forget us, idiot.

You shot up.

You remembered.

No, wait.. you didn’t.

A flash of a memory.

Was it really yours?

The flash went by as quickly as it came. What were you trying to remember?

Your eyes zoned in on your desk. A small perfume bottle and a neatly written letter from a distant relative. You could smell the faint, sweet smell of apples and a forgone summer.

Why did you feel so.. lonely?

What are you trying to remember in the first place?

What did you lose in the first place, that you are so desperately trying to remember?

You fell back on your bed with a soft thump.

Your phone cast beside you started to buzz. It was your friend. They asked you about the homework assigned.

You got to work.

–

Riddle was not the best at suppressing emotions, but where did they come from?

He stared at the tea in the cup, and let the warmth dissipate in his hands. The party was perfect. All the roses were red, there was no chestnut tart, and the only cat allowed was Grim. 

Even Ace, Deuce and Grim were not quite snarky, and seemed much more tame than how they usually were.

.

Leona was smart. He knew something was missing long ago. He didn’t know where this came from, but he didn’t bother. Another order for Ruggie, a different sandwich and another day in his passing life with a predetermined fate. What should he worry about?

Ruggie stood under a tree, and contemplated an empty feeling, without a word. A few moments off from his rushed, ever so busy life. He listened to the silent bristling of the leaves and glanced at silver, who also seemed to be confused about this feeling. No words were shared. The rustling sound of a plastic bag and distanced footsteps were heard.

-

The lounge was much more empty than Azul would have liked. A sign of less profit was of less noise, and less noise meant he was alone with his thoughts. The paperwork was drab today aswell, which did not help much. It kept him busy, though.

Jade and Floyd didn’t seem too ecstatic about working either. Floyd was especially slumped, but didn’t whine or complain. Jade was similar, the only difference being he would do whatever was required (at a more lethargic rate, but it was work nonetheless).

-

The ever so cheerful Kalim, for the first time, seemed calmer than usual. Smiling brightly at his dormmates and the repeated, "its a slow day today!" With a smile. It was starting to get easy to tell he was getting tired of it. A followed laugh that trailed off and a smile that stopped reaching the eyes.

Jamil was harder to figure on the surface. Ever so cool and composed. His hood seemed to cover his face further than usual. A thoughtful and foggy look in his eyes. Someone always sat beside him, but it wasn’t any of the dormmates. The hot air gently blew in. The smell of a water fountain and something that waited to be remembered.

-

Vil was an actor, a model, and a professional at both. He knew how to keep mild troubles buried. He's used to it.

There’s that photoshoot he has to prepare for, and the new makeup kit he has to try. He needs to help the Special Effects team in his club and there’s also a new skin serum he has to try, and then..

He swore there was a perfume bottle on his vanity, and he could still faintly smell it. But he couldn’t remember how it looked like. What brand was it, really? He scolded himself for not remembering. The mirror reflected his face. The reflection felt unfulfilling.

Rook knew deep and well that Vil was troubled. But it was something he couldn’t quite help him with. And if anything, he might make it worse. He knew when to be honest and when to keep quiet. Even as a confident figure, he seemed to be quieter than usual. 

Epel wasn’t an idiot. So he kept quiet. Rook didn’t have to tell him anything. He spent enough time around him to understand from a single glance at one another. No words were exchanged, but understanding was universal between the three, and a nonverbal agreement to keep quiet. The faint smell of dust, despite the halls being cleaned spotless almost everyday.

-

Idia swore the character Ortho's been mentioning doesn’t exist in any of the fandoms he knew. He found foreign things in his memory card, but it was all corrupted. It wasn’t anything important, and easy to delete.

Why was he hesitating? Its not important.

Although.. maybe he should keep it. Ortho insisted the character was there, and was so adamant until he asked him to describe the character. Maybe he’s hoping something will happen. He left ortho to his own devices for a while.

-

Malleus was familiar to this feeling of loneliness. But the smell of dust, a blurred memory of a night walk, and discarded tickets, all seemed like something just within his reach. But when he reached out, his fingers felt the fog of an unknown memory. Were the years starting to strain on him?

Lilia was very aware of what malleus felt, but not about what he felt about. He simply smiled and continued on, assuring the dorm students.

Sebek was not bothered, and accompanied Malleus just as frequently. He seemed to go about his own more easily, however. Silent bouts became uncommon but not rare anymore. Silent training and a faraway expectation.

-----

{real world - pov}

You took your usual place in class, and 2 acquaintances came around your desk, simply discussing what happened in the last class and lightly joking. You wanted to join in, but hesitated, simply opting to smile politely. They mentioned someone wouldn't be coming today, and one of them claimed another desk was newly added. You blinked in confusion for a while. It was evident you were the last one to know.

You opened your textbook and spun a pencil in your hand, your eyes drifting to the empty desk across the class.

He never gave back your pencil.

You blinked.

Another memory. It wasnt yours. You brushed it off.

Everyone settled in and the atmosphere turned quiet. There was slight mumbling outside the door, before the teacher came in and asked for everyone's attention. 

A new student was joining the class. As far as the teacher told the class, he was supposed to be here last year but due to issues, he had to join a different year.

The door opened and a tall blonde boy came in. You swear you’ve seen him before, and you slightly gaped as you kept looking at him. His eyes simply wandered and lingered around the class until he looked at you. His gaze fitted you for only a while longer before he blinked and introduced himself.

His name felt familiar.

He took the empty seat across the class, and the person sitting there would be moved next to you. You watched him settle into his newly assigned desk and other classmates around him welcome him.

You were able to pay more attention to your lessons nowadays, and some kind of fog started to lift. But from time to time you'd look up at the teacher ,when she turned to the black board and flit your eyes to him, where you'd catch him looking back at you. You shifted and quickly averted your gaze back to your notebook. You felt his stare linger on you for a while before he turned around.

Vil was certain this feeling was nothing but a simple bump in the road. His conscience felt clear (or rather, he got better at ignoring and tucking this feeling away for good), and he was able to get back into rhythm again. Rook and Epel took notice, and didn't comment as he subtly expected. He was lively again.

–

[other world]

And it was disappointing for him to see his neighbor was absent, leaving an empty desk to his right. 

His mornings had started to feel lighter and better. The club had finally started to make better progress on the project they'd been working on, Epel finally got over a learning curve and Rook had been as praising as usual. His schedule was set and he made enough time for himself to relax for an hour, after roughly a solid month of feeling disconnected and still pushing through. 

Oh, and there's that one student.

They became the hottest topic at NRC, even Epel couldn't help but mention it during his lessons and Rook even chittered with delight about them.

Due to.. complications, their entrance into NRC as a student was delayed a year, and had finally returned. They hadn't been sorted into any of the dorms as their arrival had been very recent.

Vil didn't quite care more or less about it, but still bothered to listen to the information.

Getting into NRC was one thing, and having your entrance delayed was another.

-

[other world]

You were anxious to say the least. Happy or sad, you couldn't decide. But anxious? Almost all the time with the new developments in place. Well, most of the time. 

Your friends cheered upon hearing the news, and encouraged you greatly despite the fact you'd have to wait another year and continue in a different school for the time being. You decided it was better to wait. Good things come to people who wait, you suppose.

And it was strange enough as-is, having to put on the dark grey-ish black vest, with the uniform the school had provided. The headmaster assured you it could be replaced in no time with the dorm you'd be assigned to later that day, and you saw multiple students simply choosing not to wear one. It was still weird.

You walked into class just as the professor was about to introduce you to the class and explain tiny, small details in a summarized form. He asked you to sit down in the front row.

You didn’t notice before, slightly fretting over taking out your materials and keeping up with the professor, but midway during the lesson you glanced at your sides. A window to your left, and a blonde man to your side.

You knew who he was of course; but you couldn’t shake the feeling of familiarity off. 

You kept glancing to your right, trying to figure out just why he seemed so familiar. It wasn’t because you’d seen him on that commercial before, but it felt like something else. You couldn’t name it. And everytime you glanced, it seemed he decided to glance at you too. Both of you made accidental eye contact a few times before you pushed down the urge to look and focused on the lesson. You felt him looking at you and, maybe his gaze lingered longer than usual.

Your last class ended, and as the teacher left, most people started packing up and leaving for the day. Some started chatting with the new blonde boy, while you jotted down some extra notes and started packing things yourself.

–

{real world}

You weren’t far off from the class in the corridors when he called out for you.

"Excuse me", he tapped your shoulder. He caught up to you quite easily.

"Hm?" You stopped in your tracks and turned to face him.

He took a hesitant moment, before he asked you, "have we met before? You seem familiar."

You took a few seconds of pondering before saying, "I thought so too but er, I don’t think we have. You seem very familiar too." 

You swear you’ve seen him somewhere before. The faint smell of lavender and apples felt so nostalgic, but what memory were you trying to remember?

Both of you started talking, and surprisingly there was smooth conversation. Both of you seemed to get along well, and it was evidently shocking to some of your other classmates who caught glimpses of you in the hallway. 

He introduced himself and you did too. He decided to switch seats in the back so he sat next to you, and people even started texting you.

"Getting cozy huh?" Or something similar were the usual messages. Some of them made you laugh, but you brushed it off. The feeling of nostalgia remained, but it felt as though there was no more of a need to remember something. As if everything was fondly in place.

Sometimes both of you would talk about vague nostalgia once again. It confused both of you greatly, but the topic started to be forgotten the more he made newer memories with you.

You’ll hold onto the strange feeling, but you’ll start living once again, you suppose.

He smiled. Soft and rare. The smell of crackers and blurred sounds of celebration in the background, the beginning of a new year.

Vil wasn’t quite sure how to start conversation with you. You most likely knew who he was, but both of you didn’t know anything about each other personally.

–

[other world]

Vil asked you for an eraser, which helped him start something. It wasn’t what he exactly wanted, but it was something.

He started conversation there. He asked you simple questions, and started to ease into a conversation. Before both of you knew it ー something clicked and both of you started talking as though you’d known each other long before even having come to NRC.

Vil himself was quite surprised with such an outcome; he didn’t expect such a smooth conversation at all. He made up his mind about inviting you over to Pomefiore if you were free, and approached after class.

That’s when you mentioned, he seemed so familiar. He knew you meant as though both of you had known each other personally, and not simply as having seen him on billboards and magazines.

It wasn't long before you started coming over much more frequently to Pomefiore. Rook welcomed you graciously and even Epel seemed happier around you. It was as though something fell into place; a distant memory clicked.

 He knew what you meant, but decided not to tell you.

"I see. Do you mind telling me more?”

There you were, so what else did he have to worry about?

He took your hand gently and applied the nail polish.

"I keep messing up", you’d laugh.

The revived memory of a distant summer. He might never get sick of your laugh. He smiled to himself.

"Of course you did. Let me help.”

—-----

To make the grief easier for everyone to handle, headmaster Crowley was able to erase their memories of you. Or at the very least, blur them to an extreme degree, so no one would grieve of your absence. He promised you would be exempt from this pain aswell. "You will remember when you need to", he told you.

"Farewell, then."

A hand reached out, and you grabbed it tightly. "Don't let go", a distant voice told you.

[i-bring-crack]

But- but- @julyarya hear me out hear me out! @soulintheskies you too I need yalls to hear my freak out at 3am.

Woo Jin Chul arranged marriage to the Western Emperor Liu Zhigang.

O-omegaverse uwu

Okay no seriously, Woo Jin-Chul puts work above everything in his life, so of course Jin-Chul would accept an arrangement marriage when it means the kingdom would prosper and the heavy tensions between the Empires would be fine. He doesn't want any wars, and his little Empire despite being very strong and having a well structured culture, isn't as big and influential as the Liu Kingdom so granted, before a big fight dooms his citizens, Jin-Chul steps up for a marriage.

He expected to at least marry a lady of noble court you know as one does. But instead the next day he received a letter FROM THE EMPEROR HIMSELF asking if he would be a concubine of his harem.

"The Emperor is bloody beast, he will likely kill you and we can't another war just for you. Although King Gun Hee and everyone here would." Says the first commander of the army, and advises him to at least tell the Emperor to kindly fuck off if he thinks the son of the Emperor of the East would step so low as to become a mere concubine.

Much to the prince's hesitance, he send it, and adds that he will be happy to marry someone else of low court but would never become a mere concubine among many.

The Emperor replied back that he accepts the arrange marriage, and he agrees with the terms the prince has laid out for him.

So Woo Jin-Chul had now become the Empress!

"You carriage will come in the next full moon."

"Shit. Do you think he knows?"

"How could he know that you are an omega?" The first in command raises an eyebrow.

"Please don't say it so loud."

"Well your guards and I know about it. It's obvious."

"I know but what if someone hears."

"They will answer to my sword your majesty :)" The general puts the paper aside. "That being said, you are right, the Emperor might have known that you are an omega, but I wonder where he got that information? Hmm, did your pheromones stick to the letter you sent?"

He remembers writing on that letter at two in the morning, and then waking up to his face stuck to the paper. He did all he could to polish it as good as possible, luckily there was no drool or spilled ink in there.... but he did sleep over it...

"Ah..."

"I'll take that as a yes."

He didn't look back at the general who sighed at the outcome.

"Well, even so your sex was bound to come to light if your partner was an omega. And even he didn't know you were an omega, he probably thought to you as a beta, which still meant there was a choice for you to pop out some babies you know."

"But I had just had to be born an omega."

"No can do about thay. Anyways we should get you ready for your future wedding your Majesty. I've already contacted Lady Ju-Hee and Lord Jong-In to create the perfect gowns for your body—"

"Say, how did your partner hide all the hormones before he met you? Do you think he could recommend me something so that the Emperor avoids me as much as possible?"

The general moved her head with an "oh" written all over her face. "Jin Woo-ah just got physically strong that everyone thought he was an alpha at first. I know omegas get treated badly for not being strong, but when I met him, he told me he wanted to be just as strong as me." A smile appeared on him. "And he was so nice at that time I couldn't deny his request so I trained him until the very end. To this day we still spar but now he has even beaten me in terms of strenght :)"

"You don't mind that at all? That your omega could overpower you or something?"

"Alpha, beta, omega, girl or boy, I think anyone can become as strong or intelligent as they want to be and find their perfect partner who will love them no matter what. Who knows maybe this Emperor might be more reasonable than we think." She grabbed her sword "Although if he isn't. I'm not afraid to cut down his territory until we get you back :)"

"Miss Hae-In.... thank you..."

Right he shouldn't worry about this kind of stuff, his kingdom is even allied with the one in the south, a far more powerful country than the two of them. He still can't help but tug a little at his heart and think if this will really turn out well or not?

And then he has an epiphany.

He doesn't need to stay in that marriage for long right?

He can divorce him when the time is right, and the mean time he will just enjoy the luxuries of that palace and being treated like an empress until the Emperor gets bored of him, he can call off the marriage before the Emperor and then bam! Gets to live a happy and divorced life!

He doesn't mind it either way too, he isn't some kind of lovestruck prince trying to find love, for the most part he has never felt any kind of romantic feelings with anyone.

But then that changed the day of his wedding.

[monochromefilms]

Yuu’s deal

This is a Twisted Wonderland x Creepypasta!Yuu Ms.Kismet! Yuu. Ms. Kismet is from Better Films that can be found on Creepypasta and also on the wiki. I suggest reading it if you like detailed gore. 

This was not pre read and also a long chapter. :D

there may also be a better one written in the future.

TW: Gore, Blood, Paranoia, Filming on Human Mutations, Bodily mutilations, bodily scars, Bodily harm, Self-harm, Traumatizing a canon character, dead doves(?) idk if that’s used here…

Yuu always carried a camera. The pomefiore third years noticed that. Everyone noticed that. But it wasn’t a phone, it was a hand held. Yuu never let it go either. Cater tried to get them to use their phone to film but instead they kept on using their camera.

Some students would make fun of Yuu for carrying it like a doll and being attached to it. They even went as far as to take it from Yuu when they weren’t looking. But that all eventually stopped when they appeared with scars a few days later when they took the camera. Shaking and getting afraid even at the sight of Yuu.

Nonetheless, Yuu filmed absolutely everything everywhere. The flowers, people, bugs, dead birds- wait… dead birds?

“I’m sorry Jade, but is this information correct?” Azul placed the paper down slightly showing it to the rest of the people in the room. “Yes, it is.” Jade answered stiffly he was shaking slightly yet he kept a calm face and demeanor.

Yuu also filmed dead animals at times. 

Yuu was always quite quiet and always kept to their own group of friends. (Ace, Deuce, and Grim) They never wore anything that had short sleeves and always wore formal attire at every occasion, in or out of school, all outfits worn always had some shade of red.

“Yuu seems useful. say, isn’t there an assignment to use a camera?”…

…

Yuu tilted their to the side, “What would you like me to do?” They were confused at the gesture or the terms of the deal Azul had placed before them.

“Since I helped you with rebuilding ramshackle, in return, could you show me how you make your films?”

This was mainly to gather notes, Azul doesn’t know much on filming and the internet could go so far. Vil wouldn’t even speak to him either.

“But… you didn’t help me rebuild Ramshackle… my friends helped me… You only blueprinted some…” Yuu pointed out in their gravelly voice. 

Azul had to improvise on this.

“Are we not friends? You and me? I should have known this…” he looks to the side slightly not noticing Yuu’s stone cold eyes. “Oh, what you say is true… It’s fine. I’ll just ask Vil to help me. He already hates me anyways, why not make him find me annoying.” He says with a dramatic sigh. “Well… If we can negotiate…” Yuu only started speaking but Azul already has a smirk on his face.

“You do something for me, and I will give you a full notes copy for you to distribute. Would that sound nice?”

“And what would you ask from me?” Ironically, Azul wanted to be careful on this deal.

“Just one night with you.” The Cecelian blushed  at the wording of such a phrase.  “Um, Yuu- I-“ Yuu interrupts him, “I know how it may sound weird, Just hear me. I want you to help me paint an image. Grim and the ghosts won’t be home so it’s the best time to work on it. That is all.”

He was hesitant and nervous for an unknown reason. Was it the wording? Was it because they were to be alone together with only Yuu? “Deal?” “Deal.”

A few minutes after Yuu leaves, Azul notices a business card on his desk.

A messy drawing of a smiling face with the words “BETTER FILMS”.

“huh, ‘Better Films for a Better Audience’.”

——Time skips———

The night Azul arrived at the ran down building was very quiet. Almost too quiet.

He knocked his knuckles against the wooden door to which it answered with a quick, “Enter.”

Ramshackle’s interior was fairly dark. The living room only had one working lamp which illuminated where Yuu sat.

They sat as if they were waiting for something. It seemed a bit creepy to Azul. The lamp casted a shadow over their face only leaving one wide eye and a mouth. 

Azul brushed off the unnerving feeling as Yuu only wanting to wait for Azul. They did have a paint brush and pallet next to them. Everything was laid out already. The wall was lined as well.

But with Yuu being Yuu, they had a camera set up.

Azul closed the door behind him as Yuu started to get the pallets and camera set.

“I wanted to film this and later edit it. “ They began to explain, “I like seeing a full process. I hope you don’t mind being in the camera a bit.”

Azul thought of it to be a bit weird but didn’t say anything of it. “ It’s fine.“ he really hopes no one sees it. “Can you start the camera?” Yuu asked as they turned around and checked over the pallets once again.

“It’s the red button that has a tape icon.”

Doing as asked, he started the camera.

“ Yuu, I appreciate you being able to take all of your notes to help the film students. But even if there are already pallets and brushes… I don’t really see any paint.”

Here isn’t any paint. Not one bucket in sight. Yet Yuu ignored this detail. Instead they just told him to: “Just keep filming. No matter what.”

The room began to tense a bit.

“We’ll be using a different paint.” Yuu began to stand up. Yuu turned to the camera, revealing the paint spatula in hand.

Except it was made of metal. And was sharp…

Yuu stuck the spatula into their own hand causing Azul to step back slightly in horror. Blood spilled onto the paint pallet. Yuu moved the spatula around and harsher into the bleeding wound. Smiling as it made a wider hole in their palm. Azul swears he could hear the squelching of flesh as a few chunks begin to fall from Yuu’s hand.

Yuu begins to slide it down their arm, cutting each vein until they reached their shoulder. Only then did they stop. But that wasn’t the end of it. Yuu began to cute diagonal slices on their already wounded arm, cutting each piece of flesh into squares before throwing the utensil to the side and using their own hands to strain it like a towel for more blood to come out.

As it all happened Azul could only look wide eyed and horrified.“Yuu! Stop! Yuu! Please stop!” He screamed out. But Yuu didn’t answer or even look up at him. Metallic smells engulfed the room.

“We have enough paint…” Yuu’s face was shadowed by the lamp. Only a glowing eye laid behind the shadow. Their face was lifeless. “Please…” their voice began to crack. “Save me. SAVE ME! BRING ME BACK HOME!”

And that was it. 

Azul ran for it.

He didn’t appear at NRC for the next couple of days. Too afraid to face Yuu. Too afraid to face anyone else.

Until he was forced to come back by Crowley. Azul avoided meeting Yuu’s cold gaze. Even at the sight of their red ribbon made him run the other way. Floyd could tell not to say anything as did Jade.

He was finally forced to see Yuu. For his end of the bargain.

“Here’s the notes.” Yuu was wearing a sleeveless turtle neck with shorts. Their grey jacket was tied around their waist as all of their scars were displayed. Bandages wrapped tightly and securely around their cut arm from the night. It was a sight for sore eyes.

“They were a bit messy so I rewrote a few of them the best I could.” And the camera. The great seven’s forsaken camera they forced him to film from hanged from the side pouch.

“Yes.” His mind went back to that night. “Th-th-thank you…”

:) ——————————————————————————————————

A/n: I am very sorry for adding a traumatized octopus. But Azul just reminded me of the brother a bit. Also! Better Films does not belong to me! I am using the Wiki fandom pastas to make these! There most likely to be a Russian Sleep Experiment!Yuu next or one of the classics or popular pastas!

[miss-beep-beep]

Not the First Time

Meeting up again?

Pairing: Carmen “Carmy” Berzatto x bookstore!reader

Notes: I actually written out a scene for this blurb and saved it right after posting Sharpie Pens, but I was hesitant on continuing it because I didn’t know how this would fit within the story I had in mind in terms of pacing and whatnot. If I make any mistakes, please let me know so I can correct them. But other than that, enjoy this blurb! 

✅ Part 1 - Part 2

Part 3 -> Part 4

It is about noon on a Monday. You are in a state of blandness: a mental smoothie of “the Mondays”, waking up earlier than your usual shift due to a co-worker calling in sick today, and your stomach weeping in hunger.

Fortunately Marin went to pick-up the food at a new place she ordered from. Unfortunately you were left to watch the bookstore as your boss left to get her own lunch.

And thus here you are, hungry and suddenly remembering--

You were walking down to The Beef to meet a date set up through a dating app. The meeting spot was chosen by the date, let’s call them Bob, but around five minutes before the time to meet up, they decided on something new.

Bob: Hey, sorry to text you last minute but something came up. Rain check?

You stopped at a corner where you could see the sign across the street.

You: Oh okay. Let me know when you want to meet up.

Bob: Yeah, does next Saturday work? Same time and place?

You: Yeah, that works. 

The next week, it was rescheduled due to a work meeting.

You: You work at 8 pm?

Bob: Yeah sorry. Very last minute. Rain check?

You: Yeah.

The week after that, something new came up.

You were in bed resting when you saw your phone light up in the dark. You unlocked your phone to see what

Bob: Hey, sorry to bother you at like midnight but I think we should see other people. It’s not you. It’s me. It was nice chatting with you though.

That was the last text you read of his before you chucked your phone against your blanket and groaned loudly in your pillow.

And that was that. It felt like an experiment to see what would happen to you. Disappointed is what happen. But now isn’t the time to think about failed “dates”, it’s food o’clock and your stomach is rumbling.

You pulled out your phone to pull up Marin’s number. Just centimeters from reaching the call button on the contact card, Marin comes strolling at the door. The door jingles as it opens.

“I’ve come bearing gifts!” Marin shouts triumphantly.

You jump up and clap rapidly with cheers. “Yay! Thank you, Marin!”

“Oh don’t thank me, my dear compatriot,” she said.

She unzipped her bag while staring with wide unblinking eyes. “Or should I say DITTO?” She shouts the name at me while waving a receipt at my face.

You grab the paper from her hand before reading what was written on the order receipt with black Sharpie. “Hi. Can you come by tomorrow during lunch? Carmy.”

“You have a lot of explaining to do,” she gleams with twinkling eyes and a Cheshire smile.

[nanowrimo]

What Books To Read at Each Stage of Writing Your Novel

Have you ever wondered what books to read while writing your novel? In this article, Ph.D. and NaNo writer Ursula Saqui offers books to read at every stage of your novel.

With all the craft books available, you might ask yourself, "Should I save a cat, outline using the snowflake method, or take advice from Stephen King?"

The question is also what book to read when. For example, read about subplots when you start writing, and you might get so overwhelmed that you stop altogether. Or, if you draft your story without knowing genre expectations, you'll have to make significant revisions later.

The following are a few of my favorite books and where they best fit into the writing process.

Before you start writing 

The books you read before writing should deconstruct common myths (e.g., suffering is necessary for good writing) that could distract you while also getting you into an optimistic (yet realistic) mindset about the work ahead.

Big Magic by Elizabeth Gilbert is the answer to gut-punching questions like "Who am I to be writing this?" that arise in the gap between having an idea and getting it onto paper. Gilbert offers advice on serious topics such as courage, permission, and persistence while playing the role of your adventurous friend tugging at your sleeve, saying, "Let's go. It will be fun." You will finish this book with a plan to handle fear, rejections, and slumps.

Next, Anne Lamott's Bird by Bird will help you get your pen ready with chapters about the necessity of writing "Shitty First Drafts" and how to focus on writing what you care about ("The Moral Point of View"). By taking Lamott's advice, you will get your intuition back and start trusting yourself even on the first draft.

While you are writing 

Now you have confidence, strategies for dealing with roadblocks, and some words written. But, whether you are a pantser or a plotter, you will get stuck and need to fix gaps and edit.

If you want a clear explanation of terms such as "plot point" and "inciting incident," the mechanics of story arcs, and an easy structure for writing scenes, then James Scott Bell's Plot & Structure is the best reference. With 14 chapters on technique, writing exercises, and a checklist of critical points, this book offers advice that you can immediately implement and improve your writing.

Matt Bell's Refuse to be Done also offers concrete advice about things such as creating characters and reusing settings in Section One. However, the biggest benefits come in Sections Two and Three. Section Two guides your first draft to a structurally sound second draft through re-outlining and rewriting. Section Three takes your second draft through multiple editing passes to get you to a final draft that is agent-ready.

After you are done writing 

When your book is nearly ready for publication, Courtney Maum's Before and After the Book Deal will be a must-read. She answers such practical questions as how authors get paid and how to survive book tours and trickier ones such as how to handle resentment when other authors don't write a blurb for your book and what to do when you hate your book cover.

Finally, whether or not you end up with a book deal, The Way of the Writer by Charles Johnson will be an excellent read after you finish your novel. It takes you out of the frenzy and reminds you about the fundamentals: the call to write, devotion to the craft, and the pleasure of words. His longevity as a writer and teacher is inspiring and reminds us that we are writers beyond any one work, published or not, as long as we keep putting words to the page.

Ursula Saqui, Ph.D., is a consultant and researcher by day and creative writer by night with works in The Daily Drunk and Multiplicity Magazine. Her current novel in progress is a thriller, The Mancari Murders, which she started during NaNoWriMo 2021. When she is not drinking tea, writing, or hiking, she is shooing any one of their four cats off her desk. You can find her on Twitter at @UrsulaSaqui.

[goldenpinof]

Wait what’s the situation with Oxford and Cambridge? I know the dates had to be moved because they were outside of term time for the unis there so no point doing it when there were no students but… isn’t that Dan’s teams fault?? Not the promoters?? Im not sure how it works so please explain to me because surely there’s a bit of collective responsibility there. Like multiple, interconnecting failures have occurred over the course of the tour

considering how small Dan's team was (3 managers that actually could make decisions, but also had other clients as well (correct me if i'm wrong though!)) i'm almost sure booking was on promoters. also because they were the ones who suggested moving the shows to February and "they've decided to do this" in the beginning of September. even if Dan's managers were involved in making calls (reaching out to the venues) and signing papers, etc., etc, it's kinda promoter's job to look at the list of dates and think about how you as a promoter are gonna handle each show for them to sell out. and if you see that something isn't adding up (September and uni terms) you have to stop this at the stage of development and NOT after everything is already approved, printed, and went to sales, and after people started complaining. it's not Dan's job to look at the calendar and think what months are better for what shows. he is paying others to do that. anyways.

my main problem was the time it was told and how it was told. Dan told us about it on Sept 4th, in a liveshow. the Oxford show was initially booked for Sept 13th, Cambridge for Sept 22th. so 8-9 days to change your plans, basically. it got worse though. people had to wait for official emails for another 2 days, and those emails didn't even have the text written correctly ("the show has been rescheduled to Saturday 11th 2023" Saturday 11th of what, bro?). and i'm 99% sure it's not AXS providing texts for the emails they send. so it's either the promoter (AEG) or Dan's managers were taking so long and still fucked up. and i'd bet on promoters, otherwise why are they even getting paid? there's a chain of people these things should go through to be approved and posted/sent. and promoters are 100% involved in these approvals. but for some reason there's always something done wrong in communication and in marketing. the promoter communicates with people (us) and makes decisions related to the shows, we saw that clearly during the Auckland show. so they are very much responsible for rescheduled and therefore booked shows. and for cancelled shows. i'm not saying Dan's managers were innocent during the tour, far from it. but why would Dan need promoters if his managers could do the job? bruh.

[the12thnightproject]

Chapter 49: Buttons - Katsu, Shingen, & Sasuke continue to piece together the multiverse; Katsu and Shingen make up for lost time.

Shingen x OC; Kenshin x MC (Mai)

Previous Chapter: Here

Logline - Disguised as a boy, Katsuko finds herself working for Shingen, but her dangerous masquerade becomes difficult to sustain when she falls for the man with a fatal secret.

Warnings - this is very much a Minors DNI chapter.

“Shingen, do you remember the name of the boy who fell into the river?” I had helped myself to the hotel stationery and was writing down everything I could remember about my trip into the alternate timeline. Not to poke around in it as I imagined Sasuke was doing (he’d been typing like a madman on his tablet all afternoon), but because I still had a Sengoku era puzzle to solve. I thought I remembered the boy’s name, but Shingen had spent more time talking to the boy’s father than I had.

He looked up from his drawing pad (he claimed to be trying to figure out how to rig a flushable toilet in his castle). “Are you asking me if I remember, over a year later, a name I only heard once, after two sleepless nights, during a day that contained multiple events, one of which was witnessing your near-drowning?”

Well, I wouldn’t have put it like that, but... “Yes. Do you?” I had a theory and didn’t want to skew the results by putting it out there too soon.

“I do not.” He tugged on my hair. “Though I am flattered you credit me with that sort of memory.”

Hm. “And the other Sasuke… he told you that I was trying to save the boy who will be named later?”

Sasuke looked up at the sound of his name, alert to the potential of an interesting conversation. “Did he… I mean, did I…. er, my alternate tell you that Katsuko had fallen in?”

“No – that hadn’t happened yet. I had the luck to witness that for myself. You said that a child had fallen into the river, and then when I asked where, you told me that Katsuko had gone after him.” Shingen paused for a moment, then looked back at me. “Hiro. The boy’s name may have been Hiro.”

Close enough. “Or. Hiko?” I tapped my pen on the page.

“Yes. Or that.” He closed his eyes. “Yes. Later his father called him ‘Hikosane’.”

“He told me he was pushed.” I looked down at the paper where I had written the phrases, I handed her the note, but it’s possible Mitsunari recognized me followed by hopefully, they will take the message seriously and protect Hikosane. “In another timeline, there are some people, one of whom is named Mitsunari, who were given a message by, um… I think, to use Sasuke’s term, “alternate” me … to protect someone named Hikosane.”

“Ishida Mitsunari?” Shingen alerted at the name and glanced over my shoulder to read my notes.

“No idea. Do you know him?” I had encountered a Mitsunari when I was ‘observing’ Azuchi, but he had not struck me as capable of protecting anyone else, unless the someone else was carrying an armload of books. No. Not even then. He’d rescue the books first.

“Not well. He works for Nobunaga, and therefore my limited experience with him has been across the battlefield. He’s a brilliant strategist. If I could have found a way to arrange it, I would have lured him to Kasugayama.” As always, when talking about Nobunaga, Shingen’s posture grew tense and his voice harsh. “Mitsunari is not at all ambitious or acquisitive, but unfortunately for me, what he is, is loyal to the Oda.”

“Eidetic memory.” That non-sequitur came from Sasuke, who looked up for a moment before resuming his note taking.

I puzzled over his comment for a moment before realizing that Sasuke was describing Mitsunari. “I suppose it doesn’t matter which Mitsunari she was talking… but apparently Hikosane is so important, that alternate Sasuke risked interfering with our timeline to make sure he didn’t drown, and alternate Katsuko risked the same in a different timeline to make sure he was protected. When we get back to our time, we should try to find-”

“It’s far more difficult to locate a peasant than it is to spy on a warlord,” Shingen said, as he pulled me closer to him. “But I will see what my spies can do.”

Sasuke stood up and stretched. “I believe I’ll go back to the observatory tonight, simply to confirm when the next wormholes will open.”

“You’re not going to work on how to do the lateral jumps are you?” Even though he had said he wouldn’t, I figured the multiverse would prove to be an undeniable temptation for him.

He picked up his phone and tapped in a quick text to someone. I heard Shingen’s phone chime a moment afterward. “No. I am simply seizing upon a logical excuse to leave the hotel room for the night so that the two of you can have some privacy.”

He blinked at us a couple times, then grabbed his jacket. “Ker-vanish,” he said before slipping out of the suite.

I turned to Shingen, who was looking at his phone. “He sent you another eggplant, didn’t he?”

“The modern invention I missed more than anything else was the shower,” I told Shingen a little while later, as I emerged from the bathroom happily clean and dry. I figured I’d better stock up on showering while I could, even though Sasuke had said it would be three or four months before the wormhole reopened.

“I have very fond memories of a lake that contained a certain moon Goddess.” Shingen was sitting on the bed reading a book on – I eyed the cover – civil engineering. The combination of that academic looking text against his strong work-roughened hands was incredibly sexy. Brains and bod. “I believe I could construct an outdoor shower, of sorts, for use in the summer – the sun would warm up the water, which would, ahm, need to be stored in a large wineskin.” He flipped the book upside down on his chest. “I suppose I ought to ask. You do want to go back, right? Now that you’ve returned to the modern conveniences you grew up with, does the future tempt you at all?”

“I want to go back.” I crawled under the crisp sheets. “I felt like I had a purpose there – I never felt that here. Not to mention, I have a nephew who really needs to be shown how to climb a tree.” If I left that task to Toshiie, Nao would never learn. I turned the question back to him. “Now that you’ve seen the future, does anything make you want to stay here?”

He gestured to his book before setting it on the nightstand. “All of these books, medicines, electricity, technology, transportation, and buttons are wonderful.”

Buttons?

“But this is not my time, and there are things I need to do for the people of Kai.” He reached over and turned out the lamp, although the city lights outside kept the room bright enough to see his face. “I’m looking forward to finally meeting your brother.”

I flipped over on my side and rested my head on my arm. “Don’t be offended if he goes all big brother protective.”

His voice took on the authority he used when he was giving Katsu a lecture.I had missed his lectures. “As he should.”

Ok, maybe I hadn’t missed them that much. He might currently look like a modern man, in one of those Henley shirts he seemed to favor, lounging against the headboard of the bed, but his mind still held some old-fashioned values. Still, it wasn’t like anything he and Toshiie said to each other would impact any of my plans, so might as well let them think they were taking care of things. “If you say so.”

“I don’t trust your tone of voice at all.” That amused look in his eyes indicated he didn’t mind, though. “Come closer. We have a year to make up for.” Without waiting for me to move, he pulled me to him and nipped at the hollow of my throat, that spot that always drove every rational thought out of my mind. “The only good thing I can say about a year of separation, is that I get to rediscover all the things I can do that make you squeal.”

Squeal? Seriously? I would never.

“Squeal? I’m not that girlie. When we were ten Toshiie put a mouse in my boot, and I calmly carried it outside and set it free.” Squeal. Honestly. “And when a spider went down my kimono…” I trailed off. There was a picture in my mind of a room full of books, and a spider disappearing under the folds of a pale pink kimono. But I didn’t own a pink kimono. Must have been a dream, I mentally concluded as Shingen’s actions in the present distracted me.

“That sounds like a challenge to me.” He continued his attentions on my throat, pressing slow sensuous kisses across the skin until I was squirming with anticipation.

“It wasn’t meant to be. I just want you to –ah!” I bit my lip to make sure that didn’t come out as a squeal when he sucked at the side of my neck, his tongue making tiny circles on the increasingly sensitive flesh.

“To what?” He gazed  into my eyes.

This time I had no trouble at all telling him the truth. “Love me. The way I love you.”

“I plan to. Thoroughly.” He kissed my forehead. “And I do. I love every version of you, Katsuko – the messenger, the boy, the liar, the Goddess, the Devil. I even love the you that falls out of trees.”

“I didn’t fall.” Are we going to be debating this for the rest of our lives? Ok… wow… we could be having this debate for the rest of our lives.

Shingen’s thoughts, apparently had taken the same direction as my own. “We’ll be having this discussion until we’re old and grey.” Shingen smiled at me. “I will also tell you how much I love you every day too.”

Hm. I could possibly deal with the tree thing if it was followed up by a daily dose of ILY. (#priorities). I brushed back that lock of hair that always dipped over his eye. As usual, it immediately sprang into place. “So will I.” Might as well start right now. “I love you.” Then, because it was still making me curious, I asked. “Buttons?”

“What?” Shingen murmured directly into my ear, and even that question was asked in come-hither tones, right before he fastened his teeth around my earlobe.

“Mmmm. You said… um … that you would miss buttons.” It was getting hard to concentrate on my thoughts while my body was telling my brain, just go rest, I’ll take care of this. “Why buttons and not electricity?”

He hooked one finger around the top button of the sleep shirt I wore. Then, so slowly that it felt like time stopped - then flowed backward, he undid the button, letting his finger glide across the skin revealed below. “Does that answer your question?”

“I’m… still not sure. Maybe further demonstration would be in order.” I couldn’t pull off a saucy wink, so I gazed at him from under my eyelashes.

He laughed, then pulled me on top of him, so I was straddling his waist. The sudden change in position pulled me off balance and I quickly braced my hands on his shoulders. “Something about undoing these one… at… a… time… adds to the anticipation. I can feel your heartbeat under my touch.” He pressed his index finger to the base of my throat, and in response, my pulse raced through my veins.

I took a deep breath, when once again, he leisurely unfastened another button – the one securing the shirt across my breasts. I didn’t realize I was holding that breath until the soft snick of the button’s release was echoed in my quick intake of air. His fingers brushed across my skin, following the curve of my breasts, but never venturing past the territory still covered by the shirt.

“Your purchase of this shirt was inspired.” I closed my eyes for a moment to enjoy the play of his warm hands and the cool air against my newly bared skin. He paused on the next button, hovering, unmoving… tantilizing.

“You looked rather worried before you opened that bag.” Snap. Another button was freed. Shingen inched my shirt down and kissed my shoulder, his lips and tongue lingering on my collarbone.

It took me a moment to remember. “Oh. Well, I imagine you noticed some of the other outfits in that store.” Presuming Sasuke’s escapades hadn’t completely distracted him. “I was afraid it would be something that would be an uncomfortable mess of lace and straps. Something only worn about five minutes before it’s ripped away – which always seemed to me like a waste.”

There was only one button left holding my shirt together – Shingen trailed his finger along the v of the shirt, down one side, then the other, but did not seem to be in any hurry to undo it. “Not only a waste of fabric, but I wouldn’t treat you that roughly.”

No, he hadn’t, even in the aftermath of our fight in the training room the night Iekane had forced my unmasking. Even now, those hands that had looked so sensuous holding a book were reverently cupping my breasts, thumbs brushing across the nipples, lightly teasing their hardened peaks. “I know that. Though if you wanted to be a little less gentle… I would be ok with that.”

For him it had been a year, and yet here he was, patiently taking the time to worship me. But I didn’t need him to hold back. I didn’t want him to hold back.

He froze underneath me. “Devil, exactly what are you saying? I can't imagine you want to be restrained.”

I leaned forward to hug him close. “No, not bondage.”

“No, you wouldn’t enjoy that,” he said just as I continued, “I don’t think I would like that.”

No, I would not want to be tied up and abandoned, unable to leave. Ugh, issues. I moved on quickly. “Although, a blindfold I might be fun… someday. When you blindfolded me the day of the archery exhibition, I nearly lost my concentration completely.”

Ah. There was his wicked grin. “That was not my intent, and you recovered quickly. But as to the topic at hand-” he caressed my breasts again, “if you have a fantasy, I want to know it. I will do my best to make it come true.”

Which… was so not my point. “You’re always taking care of me first and while I love that you are so generous… sometimes I want you to take care of yourself first. However fast or hard that may be.”

I wanted to be able to look at his face when he let go and be able to think, I did that.

Shingen was quiet a long moment, but those eyes darkened and smoldered with something hot and wicked. “You are a treasure.”

That final button was ripped off with his teeth-

I found myself flipped onto my back –

--his hands pinning mine over my head –

--his body hard against mine-

--my heart roaring in my ears-

He stared into my eyes, intent, fierce. “You will let me know if I’m too demanding.”

“I promise.” He knew me well enough to know that although I’m a liar, I never made a promise I did not intend to keep.

“The thing is, Devil,” he said. “It makes me incredibly, stupidly happy when I am able to satisfy you. Therefore, what I’m going to demand is that you enjoy this, because I intend to thoroughly pleasure every inch of your body.” Then his teeth raked across my shoulder, deeper and more urgently than ever before.

“I’m… good with that,” I managed to say, before his sweet and sharp attentions clouded my mind with desire, his lips and teeth igniting a trail of fire across my throat. I wanted him to touch me everywhere.

His tongue plunged into my mouth, and he released my hands to pull me closer, his body sliding across mine. Somehow, clothes were discarded, blanket and sheet kicked to the foot of the bed as we devoured each other.

Yes. This. I wanted this tumult, this passion, this--

My hips rose to meet his, only to be stopped by his hands firmly pressing me into the bed. “Hold on, Devil, I want to be sure you’re ready for-”

I’m going to kill him. I punched his shoulder. “I’m ready. I’m beyond ready. Even if I weren’t. I. Don’t. Care.” This was for him.

He touched the valley between my legs, fingers dipping inside me, drawing out my wetness like a spoon from a jar of honey. “Ah, so you are.”

Just for that, I licked his chest, then fastened my mouth on his nipple, batting at it with my tongue. Would that do to him what it did to me?

He groaned.

Empowered, I ground my hips against his, pulling him closer. He grew harder in response.

“Now. I need you right now. Gentle can wait until later.” I had thought I was pushing for this for him… but it was for me too. I wanted… I wanted…

“You win, Devil.” Without any further fanfare he rocked into me, filling me fully, completing the intense connection. I wrapped my legs around his back, driving him deeper, hanging on to his shoulders mindlessly as he pulled back, then pushed into me again, his pace increasing.

I eagerly met every demand his body made, raking my fingers through his hair then down his back, while at each thrust, I gasped at the delicious sensations that friction sent through my being.

We both win.

Urging each other onward, the pace increased, faster, harder—

-- though I had been determined that he would take his pleasure before mine, I lost track of that goal in our frenzy. And so, it was my cry of satisfaction that echoed through the room first.

As if that was the signal he had been waiting for, his answering moan filled my ears, then he stiffened and relaxed. “Treasure,” he whispered again, as his hands found mine. He brought my hand to his mouth, kissed my fingers, then his eyes eased shut.

Our hands were still linked as he drifted into a light doze with a smile still tugging at the corner of his mouth.

I swept my fingers through his hair, and I thought to myself, “I did that.”

@bestbryn