#and you know roy flips his shit

[caslutz]

Jamie: Can I make you some tea?

Keeley: Uh yeah, sure.

Jamie: Alright we have… green tea, detox, and uh— cha-ma-ma-lay

Keeley: …what did you call it?

Jamie: cha-ma-ma-lay.

Keeley:

Keeley: It’s chamomile.

Jamie:

Jamie: wait— WAIT.

Keeley: I texted Roy!

Jamie: NOO!!

[redflagshipwriter]

Hot Ghouls in your area 7

masterpost

Chapter 7 

…Jason slowly put down the book and turned it cover up, shell-shocked from that interaction. He lifted his phone and took a photo. He sent it to Roy. 

“What do you see?” He typed. Jason bit his lower lip and tried not to scowl while he waited for a response. 

It wasn’t that Jason was unused to conflict. Jason was great at conflict. He won every conflict! (Almost.) But what the hell had this shit been? Why had that guy been so pissy about the book? What the hell was wrong with the book that Jason didn’t see?

“Gibberish?” Roy texted back a few minutes later. “It gives the impression of wonky Cyrillic to me. But it's got a terrible energy to it. The hell is that?”

Jason looked at the cover. To his eyes, there was a serif font declaring it Sense and Sensibility Universe D version 5. 

“Thanks,” he sent, ignoring the question and then the barrage of heart emojis. Shit, okay. 

That answered one question. But it didn't answer enough. What the fuck had that college kid been seeing that was so offensive? 

‘And why'd he think we would meet again?’ 

Jason pushed deep, deep down any awareness that he hoped it was true. That had been weird enough that it would bother him forever if he didn’t get answers.

He sort of hated the idea of getting his nosy family involved, but they would ask different and in some ways, less annoying questions than other groups he could poll. They'd know not to lie to him, at least. So he sent the picture on to the family group chat with the same question and grimly finished his tea. 

The elderly proprietor came out then and noticed that her other customer was gone. She looked confused for a moment, scanning the seat to see if his book bag was still there. She picked up the cash he'd left on the table and then started stacking dishes.

‘He’s a regular,’ Jason guessed, honing in on the opportunity to learn more. He flipped the book open but held the apparently offensive cover down towards the table, out of her line of sight. He needed to know what had gone so wrong. Jason wasn’t normally the kind of person that cute college kids had beef with.

He'd never been in this café before, his intuition had just told him to duck inside.

“I think he forgot something,” Jason offered casually, pretending to just look up from his book. “Ran out real quick in a panic.” 

The lady let out a soft “Ahhh,” of comprehension. “Something for his afternoon class, perhaps,” she agreed, looking a little happier. 

“Yeah, it looked like he was getting ready to settle in for a long study session and then he bolted,” Jason lied, watching her underneath his lashes. He had been paying a little more attention than he ought to when the guy came in. He was Jason’s type, aside from the thing where he’d hated Jason’s face for no apparent reason-

‘No, actually, everyone I’ve ever been into hated me on sight.’

Ouch. As Jason digested that embarrassing truth, the owner continued talking.

“He does that,” she agreed, apparently not thinking it was odd at all for them to talk about the habits of another customer. “Tuesdays and Thursdays. He's a sharp cookie, did you know that?” She continued, and oh, she had halfway adopted this college kid, huh? There was warmth and a hint of pride in her tone.

Jason valiantly swallowed the snort. “He looks familiar, but I don't think we have classes together,” he fished. 

“Mm, he's doing some kind of math and engineering,” the lady helpfully supplied. She gave Jason her full attention as she stood up from the table. “And you?”

“Modern language and literature,” Jason said, and sort of wished it was true. He didn't really have the time. Did he? Spoiler was a full-time student, wasn't she? …Huh.

While he chewed that over, the lady had drifted a couple steps closer.

“...Those are two meaningfully different courses?” 

“Modern language is learning additional languages, I'm doing Russian and Greek right now,” Jason lied easily. He was fluent in both already. “Literature is mostly classics, for my purposes. I'm focusing on Regency Lit.” 

She looked very interested, but she detoured away to deposit the dirty dishes behind the counter. They kept up a light conversation about books as she wiped off the table and reset for the next customer. 

When she left, he finally had the chance to check his messages. There was a full-on fight in the group chat. The last message was from Stephanie. She had tagged him and asked, “Is this an optical illusion??? Like that dress?”

Ah, fuck. Jason felt a rock settle in his stomach at the confirmation that something hinky was going on.

‘I can’t read this in public if it’s saying something I can’t control or even know.’

Fucking hell. Jason scrolled back up and checked. Damian listed the correct title. Dick saw what, ‘I thought was Greek at first.’ Stephanie might have been joking but she argued vigorously that it was pictographs that started with a bird. Drake had sent “You rediscovered Minoan Linear A? Cool.” and then not participated in any follow-up discussions. Duke had sent only a stream of confused and tearful emojis.

Cass had marked it read.

“Fair enough, I guess,” Jason muttered to himself. Resentfully he put the book back in his bag. 

What had that guy seen? If he’d just seen something foreign but illegible he wouldn’t have gotten so pissy about it. And who the hell had he been, anyway? Why was he so special?

Well. That was something to do with his afternoon. Jason paid up his bill and gave Phyllis his well-wishes for her doctor’s appointment tomorrow on the way out. Phyllis was a good contact, he would definitely come back for more of her jasmine tea no matter how mad that guy got at him.

…Jason really needed a name.

And found…

He headed to Gotham University and used the student computers to look up departments and then hack into the registrar. Jason flipped through photos until he found his guy: Danny Fenton, 19, sophomore double-major in the Engineering department. Good grades, no notes on his account about academic dishonesty or conflict.

'Little weird to meet two Dannys in a 24 hour period.'

Jason searched the guy online and found…

He let his mouth drop open in disbelief at the batshit insane website design he had stumbled into. The Fenton family had a website, apparently, and they had maybe let a 7 year old design it in 2008. The colors… The lack of centering… The.. the neon choices.

His eyes watered. It took a while to fight down his aesthetic grief and actually start comprehending the text.

He had expected this to be like, an online family newsletter. And it was! The link he had followed detailed “Danno going to college in the big city!!!” The boy himself looked extremely resigned in the attached photo. Seriously, Jason had seen much less mortified mugshots. The thing was, that on the same page, alongside posts about other kids going college (Jazzypants!) and someone called Alicia recovering from “supergout!” with "her eight favorite toes remaining!!!", there was also a lot of mention of ghosts.

Like, a lot.

Jason scrolled in pained disbelief. There were photos that showed extremely weird and dismayed green people obviously flinching away from a camera. A beautiful green woman with her hair halfway over her face snarled through a flood of smoke under the title “Wishywish Ghostie Interviewed: Learn what drives her generous heart!” and an ugly robot motherfucker was seen fleeing under the caption, “Skalker indicates that spook is a GHOST SLUR!”

….Was it a shit post? Just one long shitpost? It had to be a joke site.

Well. No. Jason buried his face in his hands and came to terms with the horrible fact that not only were ghosts real, he was accidentally married to one and this bombastic midwestern family already knew about it. This was his best lead for getting that 'beyond death do you part' separation.

They had been blasting the existence of ghosts for all the world to read, and it hadn’t been news. The Justice League didn’t know about this whole society. The journalism done by– Jason lifted his head to check– Jack Fenton interviewing clearly very unwilling ghosts was the only primary source that he knew of. 

He took a few deep breaths. He came to terms with grief. He decided to block his family from any further involvement in this shitshow, for what remained of his dignity. And he grimly noted down Jack Fenton’s email.

Jason cleared this history and closed down his tabs, feeling a decade older than he had when he had entered the library. He ignored the sultry ‘come talk to me’ eye contact that the student worker was shooting him from behind the counter as he slouched out. 

He stopped for a moment on top of the stairs to watch campus move. He saw the theatre building and the modern language headquarters from his vantage point, along with about half of the student center. There was just a trickle of foot traffic between buildings along paved paths. A few people were hanging out on blankets in the grass. An old man in a suit was taking a phone call next to a crawling rose garden. 

‘Maybe I should go to school.’

Well. After this shit was sorted out. Obviously he could not go to school before he got divorced. It would be torturous to hang out with cute boys his age and be committed to some hot dead mermaid who didn’t even wanna make out with him sloppy. Loser shit on absolutely every level, goddamn.

Jason shoved his hands in his pockets and jogged down the stairs. He kept an eye out for Danny, but had no luck.  

Not that he cared. It was interesting that he had a lead: Danny clearly had some connection to ghosts, and he had been able to read… 

‘Maybe he realized it was a ghost’s property and he thought I stole it?’ Jason realized in a stroke of inspiration. That made more sense. If he knew enough to recognize it as ghost language or whatever, then he might have felt affronted about Jason having it.

He went through his mental checklist to pick out what he did and didn’t know. Once he felt he had a hang on his priorities, he beelined to his own laptop in his favorite safehouse and started looking into the Fentons in more depth.

It was a great lead. It was suspiciously good, in fact, he thought as he found Jack Fenton’s online family newsletter again. What were the odds that he would run into Danny Fenton in a cafe that Jason had never even been in before? It had been a total fluke that he’d entered. He’d been walking past to a favorite place and then just had the urge to try the dark little family cafe.

‘…Ah, fuck’, Jason sighed. More ghost shit. It had to be. Something about Danny Fenton’s ghost shit had registered to him now that he’d been exposed to ghost central.

[chokepoet]

Cruelty & Empathy 18+

gif by @romulussy

Summary | A night alone in the office has Roman and his assistant escalating their tension past a point of no return. The aftermath of which leads to confessions that will change the trajectory of their relationship forever.

Genre | Angst, Fluff, Porn With Plot

Content | anxiety, biting, blood, bondage, choking, crying, dom/sub tones, degradation, dirty talk, mentions of past physical abuse, power struggles, thigh riding, sadomasochism, slapping, spitting

Word Count | 8.5k

A/N: Y’all this fic is fuckin’ filthyyyy… but like in a romantic way??? I wasn’t going to share it but my best friend insisted. If y’all hate this I volunteer as tribute for boar on the floor lmao

Roman Roy’s Office | 10:33 pm

He was sprawled out across the couch as if this were his family’s private estate. It might as well have been. The building’s climate control always seemed to be blowing a peculiar air. One that felt like his father breathing down the back of his neck at all times. Left calf draped over the backrest, right hand cradling a whiskey, and head tilted back over the armrest. His once-slick hair now hung limp, with loose strands reaching for the carpet below. His upside-down gaze willed me to stop my attempts at meeting our deadline and to focus solely on him instead.

My bank account's dwindling had my morals emaciated. They’d weakly played tug of war with my last braincell when I'd accepted Roman’s job offer nearly two years prior. About 6 months into being his assistant, I found myself earning another role: his best friend. His only friend. My typing picks up speed as I contemplate what level of fucked-up I had to be in order to actually enjoy this job. I decide it must have been top-tier when my thoughts drift to the one Roy that had me feeling this way.

In the past 22 months, I came to understand Roman better than anyone else ever had. He somehow wormed his way into gaining just as much insight into me as well. It made me feel strangely protective over him. Oddly enough, he seemed to reciprocate. We still rarely aloud ourselves vulnerability in the presence of the other. We much preferred self-immolation. I don’t think he ever intended to grow so attached to me. He certainly would never admit to it. If you had asked me if the feeling was mutual, I’d lie through my teeth.

I loved him madly.

I don’t exactly know when or how it happened. I do, however, vividly remember when I first realized he held something soft for me.

Siena, Italy | 4:21 am

He was drunk off his ass, his head resting on my shoulder. He had been leaning into my frame for support long before he even needed it. Roman mumbled something about liking me because I was the only “sad sack of shit” in the office who could make him laugh. I asked him why I was a sad sack and not just a regular sack. He blew out a huff of air, causing his lips to trill. The sound was quickly preceded by the flipping of his wrists in a few circles.

“Isn't it obvious?” I nudged my shoulder against his head.

“Because I work for your sorry ass?”

He clumsily tapped the tip of my nose with his right pointer finger, nearly blinded my left eye in the process.

“Bingo, bongo, banjo.” The nonsensical words tumbled out and the rest of his drink tumbled in. “Itstheeyes.” I’d been unable to make out the slurred syllables mumbled just under his breath. For all I knew, they could’ve been Latin for ‘bastard’.

“What?” He dropped his now-empty glass into a historic fountain as we passed. I stopped to try and fish it out, but he dragged me away. I remember wondering if he had made a wish on it in his drunken haze. Rich and careless enough to pretend it was a penny. Maybe that had been why he was so adamant about me not retrieving it. My mind wandered as I pondered what Roman could have possibly wished for. His father's approval? An endless supply of luxurious Korean face creams? A pair of stunning Italian supermodels to lean into instead of me?

Tripping over his own two feet, I instinctively gripped his bicep. Stubborn as ever, he shoved me and muttered something along the lines of 'fuck off'. God forbid he’d take my help. Throwing my hands up, I left him to walk alone a few steps ahead of me. He weaved for a while before slowing his pace until he could lay his head back on my shoulder.

A beat passed, where the only sound was the soft crunch of our shoes against the weathered cobblestone. I caught one of his bleary eyes peeking over at my face. Content with whatever it was he found, he nodded to himself.

“Yep.” He popped his lips on the 'p' and absentmindedly kicked a pebble from our path. “It's the eyes. Sad sack of shit eyes. You've got 'em.” The laugh that had left me seemed much too loud as it ricocheted off every crumbling brick ahead of us. Roman smiled proudly for a moment. “I love your laugh.” The words were said mostly to himself. My cheeks warmed considerably.

“Really? It's obnoxious as all hell.” His brows furrowed, and he shook his head.

“No, it's fuckin’—fuck off. No, it's not.” He kicked another stone. “It's pretty. Pretty like… like your face.” Pretty. “Nothin’ like a hyena.” Hyena? “I think I'm gonna puke.”

He did.

Roman’s Office | 10:47 pm

“Hi.” A small voice lounging across from me pulls my attention. I look up from the computer and rest my head in my hand, my elbow propped on his desk.

“Hi.” I smile softly with a raised brow.“Need somethin’?” The grin that breaks across his features is almost childlike. His big brown eyes could even be mistaken for innocent; I knew better.

“As a matter of fact…” Extremely happy to have garnered my attention, he pulls himself to a sitting position. “Yes!” With a swift motion, he slams his whiskey onto the coffee table. The sharp sound of glass on glass reverberates throughout the room.

“Yes?”

“Yes?” His voice drops into a cartoonish impersonation of my own. His hand was still clasped around his drink for some reason. Flipping his face up to me with a saccharine simper, he adds, “Will you kindly suck my cock?”

“Will you kindly go fuck yourself?” My impression of him was just as cartoonish as his of me. The hand holding my head returns to typing. Groaning loudly, he lets go of his glass to dramatically fall back into the couch.

“Will you? ‘Cause I’m fuckin’ bored!” He drags out his words until they turn to whine. “This is fucking boring. Aren’t you bored?”

“Yes, you’re extremely boring.”

“Hurr-hurr.” He mocks while crinkling his nose. “I’ll have you know I’m anything but and am widely known as delightful company.” A snort escapes my nose and Roman smiles.

“Really? I thought you were widely known as a terrible person.” He rolls his eyes as I quote his cousin.

“Yeah, yeah fuck you.” He gives me the finger. I flip him off in return. “The fuck does Nosferatu fuckin’ know anyways?” The nickname makes me chuckle and has Roman mimicking Greg. “Oh, I—I couldn’t help but—couldn’t help but notice that my gargantuan height may be alarm—alarming the schoolchildren. I—is that why Iverson is um c—crying? Or is he like, I—I mean, is he… y—ya know… special?”

The laughter still bubbled up uncontrollably even as I tried maintaining focus on the task at hand. My passive interest towards Roman was annoying him to no end.

“Come on! I want entertainment! Entertain me, woman!” I roll my eyes. A cinnamon tinted stare was steady burning apertures into my features, willing me to stop ignoring him. “Come—Come on…” His hands outstretch in my direction, middle and index finger beckoning quickly. “Come show big daddy watcha got.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, my typing stops and I fully turn my attention towards him. His face contorts in a grimace already knowing what was to come. My brows raise as I slowly repeat his words back to him.

“Come show big daddy what I got?” Roman’s hands drag down his face and he groans loudly as soon as big leaves my mouth.

“Oh, fuck y—shut the fuck up.” He sinks lower into the couch with high hopes of it swallowing him whole. The smile that breaks across my features is downright malevolent. I couldn’t recall having ever seen him this embarrassed. Surprising, considering all the lewd shit he spews at me daily. There was something sick inside me that enjoyed it. The urge to play cat rather than mouse overtakes me.

“No, no, no. I just want to understand you clearly, Mr. Roy.” Our dynamic had never been much of a professional one. I couldn’t recall the last time I had addressed him so formally but I wanted to really get under his skin. Oddly enjoying my place in its prickled embrace. Rising from my chair, I place both palms on the desk and lean forward with a pout. “Are you saying you wanna shut me up with your cock, big daddy?”

“I’m going to fucking kill myself.” He was pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Aw! Weawwy, Daddy? Jus' 'cause I won't suwck yo big thick cock?” At that, a cushion flies towards my head. I narrowly catch it as I’m doubling over in laughter. He’s standing now, hands overtly animated.

“I swear to GOD, I’m going to fucking—fuck! Fuck you! Out the window!” He’s angrily pointing towards the giant window panes beside him. “I’m going to throw you out the fucking window!”

“Oh wow, you’re gonna fuck me out the window?” His face was the deepest shade of crimson I had ever seen it.

“If you don’t shut the fuck up, I swear to Christ I’ll—“

“You’ll what?” I was doing a piss-poor job at stifling my laughter.

“I just fucking told you. Ass through glass.” He dismissively waves a hand in the air.

“Bullshit.” Finally looking at me, I cross my arms. His eyes flicker to my chest. “You don’t have the balls.”

“Are you saying I don’t have the balls to murder you?” The words come out in a bemused laugh. “I could murder the fuckin’—murder the shit out of you. Easily.”

“Okay.” With a shrug of my shoulders, I feel a dark coil in the back of my mind start to twist. “Prove it.”

“Prove it? You want me to—to what? Throw you through the goddamn window right now?”

I smirk back at him with a shrug, an inkling I had about him spilling to the forefront of my mind. It colors my vision and stains my tongue. If there was ever a time to find out if my suspicions held true, for some reason, I decided that now was the time. The office was definitely empty at this hour, and the privacy blinds were drawn, so no cameras. Risky as all hell, but if things go south, maybe I could play it off as riffing. I could be quite the convincing liar when I needed to be. My mother saw to that.

“See? I knew it.” With hands on my hips, I tilt my head to size him up. My tone shifts into something silky as sin. “You won’t do shit.” The air begins filling with static causing Roman’s lips to twitch. “You and I both know it. Don’t we…” I slide out from behind the desk, feeling taller as I grow closer. Feeling bolder seeing him swallow. “Romulus?” Using his father’s nickname for him causes his nostrils to flare. A clench in the jaw, a quick exhale. I fucking knew it. “So why don’t you just…” Fully standing in front of him now, I look down with a smirk “sit the fuck down and shut the fuck up for once in your life.”

The air was now overcome with static. Thick and heavy. The subjugated desire etched into his features felt so familiar to me. While I had never seen him this way, or anyone else for that matter, I myself had given that look many a time. That inkling I had was no longer an inkling. It had grown roots that smiled with wicked teeth; I was right.

The electric silence between us started to prick at my skin. My bottom lip twitches as it fought against every instinct to fill the silence with some form of an apology. To try and turn my sudden shift from dominance back into normalcy. His eyes dart to my mouth immediately; he knows.

“Make me.” His head slowly tilts upwards, as do the corners of his lips. The heat that had been slowly brewing between us for well over a year licks up my thighs. He was sneering up at me as we stood toe to toe. His burnt espresso eyes had my mind spiraling in their steam. The look on his face said everything. He saw me, he had me, he called my bluff, he won.

No.

My hand wound itself in the silky hair at the nape of his neck and I use it to jerk his head back. His jaw immediately goes slack. Something akin to a whimper escapes his throat. Surprise has my brows raising and Roman feeling embarrassed. His heavy lids fall and he turns himself away. Reaching up with my free hand, I grip his jaw until he’s facing me once again.

“Look at me.” He does in an instant and I’m flooded by a mixture of emotions. Relief, power, love. I never want to forget how he looks beneath my hands. The way his pupils eclipse the hazel of his eyes. The way his freckles scatter under the pinkish hue of a blush. The way his lips part slightly as his breath shakes out across them. Just as my eyes dance across his every feature, his do mine. Is he etching my features into his own memory?

He attempts to lean forward but I hold him steady. Roman wanted to kiss me but I wanted to tease. I press my lips beside his mouth before trailing them along the smooth path of skin leading to his ear. Sucking his skin into my mouth, I bit gently. A soft sound of content slips from his lips, so I trace up the shell of his ear with my tongue. Upon my return, I bite down once more; harder this time. Just as my teeth release him, the fist tangled in his hair gives a sharp tug. His hum bleeds into a moan that has me squeezing my thighs together. A cool plume of air billows past my lips along the now damp skin; goosebumps erupt immediately. I slide my hand from his jaw until my fingers wrap around his throat to hold him.

“Do you like this, Rome?” The soft whisper has him murmuring his satisfaction. “Come on…” I lightly squeeze his throat. “Be a good boy and use your words.” When I pull away to look at his face, I find his lids are nearly shut.

“Y-yeah.” He swallows in an attempt to steady himself. It doesn’t. “Y-yes, I like it.” He could barely look me in the eyes and it made my stomach flip in the best way possible.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty like this.” The words slip out before I have the chance to stop them. He inhales sharply, and the air seems to rattle through his skull. His eyes quickly leave mine as his face warms considerably. My heart beats as if it were trying to rip itself from my chest and collide with his. The blood rushing in my ears was chanting 'I love you' over and over again. My teeth dig into my cheek until the taste of blood envelops my tongue. I'm raging a war with my own body in silence. This newfound power was locking talons with my own subjugated nature and death spiraling through the emotion in my chest.

His pulse was racing underneath my thumb. My voice cascades over his flushed skin as I let feather light kisses rain upon him. His first name glides along the tip of his right cheek, his last over the tip of his left. Hovering just out of his reach, I whisper into his open mouth.

“Tell me what you need.” He desperately tries to press his lips into mine but I just pull back. He grunts in frustration.

“Just fuckin’ kiss me already.”

“No.” Releasing my grip, I shove him into the couch. He trips backwards, gracelessly collapsing into the cushions. I climb onto his lap with my knees pressed to either side of his hips. With one hand, I weave my fist around his tie and pull him to me. My other grips his jaw tightly. “You wanna try that again?” His jaw clenches beneath my fingers. His eyes were wild as they flared up at me. Suddenly, his hands lock onto my hips, hard. He pushes his face into my fingers until the tips of our noses bump together.

“I said, just fucking kiss me and I meant do it now.” His words were caught somewhere between a hiss and a growl. He never could handle the word no, so his response shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did. The power I’d been holding over him was now leaking through the lace under my skirt. My thighs instinctively flex around him and it has him digging his fingers in harder. A liquid heat spreads through my chest at the thought of later seeing the bruises he was surely leaving behind.

“Well?” My teeth clench and the hand holding his jaw twitches. The attitude lacing his voice drug it’s nails up my spine as I’m reminded of how entitled he could be. He wasn’t supposed to be the one making demands anymore. His smile twitches as a darkness blooms behind his glee. “You wanna hit me don’t you?” My grip loosened; my lungs suddenly feeling like he held them in his fist.

“W-what?” I didn’t want to hit him. Did I? He was selfish, he was arrogant, and he could be so goddamn cruel. Still, the urge to physically harm him was something I had never once encountered. Knowing the history of his childhood and having bared witness to his father’s present day violence against him had made me hyper aware of the constant pain pulsing below his surface. My eyes rapidly blink as they search past his burning stare and into the darkened crevices of his soul.

Oh—he wanted me to hurt him.

His need for it radiating from the blackened pits to scald me. It scared me. It scared me because it felt dark. It felt wrong. But it scared me the most of all because suddenly in this moment, I wanted to. “I-I don’t-“

“Shut the fuck up.” Again, my teeth clench and my grip retightens on his jaw. His smile grew. Mother fucker knew what he was doing. He was basking in it.

He reaches for my hand wound in his tie, quickly unraveling before bringing it to his throat. His own then slide towards my ass. Gripping tightly, he pushes me down against his length to make sure I felt how badly he wanted this. He throbbed against my center; he wanted it bad. “Listen to me. You’re gonna let go of my jaw and you’re gonna fuckin’ slap me, aright?” I nod and release him. “Fuckin’ hit me.” As I draw back my palm, his tongue peaks out to wet his bottom lip.

Slap.

My palm makes contact and brushes across his cheek. It was a sad attempt really. Weak. Even though I knew he wanted it, needed it, something inside held me back.

I was still scared of harming him.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Come on!” He roughly digs his fingers into my ass, significantly harder than before. “I said fucking slap me!”

Crack.

I slapped him. Hard. His face jerks to the side. My hand stung as it instinctively goes to cover my mouth in shock of myself. His lips twitch before slowly turning up in a demented grin. A bloom of red seeps out from his bottom lip and his tongue slides across it. With the taste of his own blood, his smile widens. He laughs softly to himself and I slowly lower my hand.

“There she is.” His voice low, a rumbling purr. “You fuckin’ bitch.” The hand I had just used to strike instantly flies into the mess of his hair; our lips collide. A groan escapes, but from which of us—I didn’t know. The metallic taste of him fueled me. It felt frantic, bruising, needy. We pushed ourselves into each other as if we were feral creatures, held captive and starved. Feeding on something we had buried deep inside only to be found behind the teeth of the other. Sucking his tongue into my mouth causes him to moan and set me ablaze.

I force our mouths apart with a pull of his hair; desperately needing to catch my breath and clear my head. Panting heavily, we stare into the depths of the other in quiet disbelief. This was really happening.

“You sure you want this?” I needed to hear him confirm that he did, in-fact, want to go where we were obviously heading. I knew Roman long enough to know he had serious intimacy issues. Their seeming lack of presence in this moment had me in a whirlwind. He pressed himself into my center once again, his nails bruising crescents into my skin.

“What do you fuckin’ think, dumbass?” I let go of his throat and dig my own nails into his jaw to grip him harshly. He openly smiles with swollen lips.

“Tell me then. Tell me exactly what you want.” His expression falters and his jaw tenses beneath my fingers, eyes flickering from mine.

“You know what I fuckin’ want.” His words seep through gritted teeth. I press my forehead to his. Ever so slowly, I begin rhythmically grinding my hips down upon him. The friction causing his eyes to slip shut. A loud groan escapes from somewhere deep within his chest.

“Roman, I swear to God I’ll stop.” He doesn’t say anything so I still my hips. Umber eyes shoot open and he tries to move me himself. I won’t budge. “I will get up and I will fucking leave you here like this. Pathetic and alone with nothing but your hand.” As the words leave my mouth, so do my hips leave his. His brows snap together and tries in vain to pull me back down again. Still, I don’t budge. “I will walk out this door and you will never fucking see me again. Is that what you want?” The threat was hollow but said with a bite that had shaken me. I was falling into this role a little too easily, a little too well.

He gapes up at me when I completely let go of him. Placing my hands on his shoulders, I attempt to push myself off. It’s him who doesn’t budge this time. He yanks me back down with every ounce of strength his small frame contained. The sudden action has all the air escaping my lungs. With a hand clasped to the back of my neck, he seizes me into a searing kiss.

“Whatever you want.” The words frantically rush into my mouth. “I don’t care.” Fighting against the grip on my neck, he finally gives. I pull back to contemplate his words. Tilting my head slightly, my gaze falls to his tie. An idea begins forming as I slowly untie the silk. My nimble fingers unbuttoning his shirt has him intently studying my face. Whatever I want.

Cupping his warm face in one hand, I smear the blood of his bottom lip with my thumb. He parts his mouth and sucks it in. With my other, I reach for Roman’s and slide his own thumb into my waiting mouth. As I swirl my tongue around him, Roman’s eyes darken and he sucks me harder.

Pulling from his lips with a pop, I rub my now wet thumb against his nipple. A soft moan is let loose. My tongue continuously plays with him inside me. He shudders as I pinch the bud beneath my fingers before doing the same to the other. Letting go of his hand, I reach forward to pinch both simultaneously and he groans loudly.

My cheeks hollow around his thumb as he slips it from me. He drags it down my bottom lip and stares intently. Transfixed by my spit glistening in the incandescent light. Cupping my jaw, he pulls me forward to replace his thumb with his tongue. That familiar groan returning when I suck him in. His other hand tangles itself into my staticky waves and he kisses me with everything he has.

“Give me your wrists.” The order was partially muffled against his mouth.

“Huh?” The question was mumbled into my lips.

“I said,” Threading my fingers into his own hair, I pull him back. “give me your fucking wrists.” With a dramatic tug, his tie is jerked from underneath his collar in a rush. He sat still, blinking up at me. The walnut shells of his eyes fall into my hands. There was a slight apprehension, a nervousness to them. “Do you trust me, Rome?”

“Y-yeah.” His voice was hushed as he presents his hands to me and I slowly start wrapping the silk around his wrists.

“We can stop at anytime. You know that, right? Just say the word and I’ll stop immediately.” My reassurance seems to irritate more than comfort. He rolls his eyes with a tilt of the head.

“Would you fuck off? I’m fine.” A crease digs itself into the bridge of his nose and my actions immediately still.

“I’m not going to fuck off unless I know that you know that you’re safe with me, okay?” This dominate role was far from the submissive one I was innately familiar with. We obviously had never discussed boundaries and I didn’t know where the lines were anymore. “I need you to know you can speak up. That I’ll stop the second you tell me to.” Roman looks like he’d rather get a root canal than continue this discussion, but I don’t care. This was far too important. “I need you to know that your comfort is important—that your feelings matter.”

“I fucking know it, alright?” He snapped before groaning and throwing his head back. “God, what the fuck else do you need to know before you just shut the fuck up and get on with it already?” My hand quickly finds its way to his throat with a squeeze. He seems more than pleased by this response.

“Do you wanna fucking cum?”

“Clearly I wanna fuckin’—“ My other hand slaps over his mouth and I can feel him smiling underneath my palm. Roman was gladly trying to piss me off. He was itching to see me lose control; yearned to meet the creature locked inside me. The wicked one I never acknowledged or came near; the demon only he could see. She bathes me in the blood of solidified suspicions.

Roman didn’t want my empathy.

Roman wanted my cruelty.

“Then are you fucking stupid? If you don’t shut the fuck up I’ll make damn sure to have you crying like a little bitch before I even think of letting you cum.” His eyes blackened as he watches my succubuss unhinge her jaw to swallow me whole. “Got it?” He nods quickly. Rapid bursts of air shoot from his nose across the back of my hand. “And lose the fuckin’ attitude.” Removing my hand, I slap him across the mouth; handing myself over to his desires completely.

Having finished binding his wrists and setting them behind his head, I rise from the couch. Standing between his ankles, I unzip my skirt and let it fall to my feet. The muscles in his forearms flex. His tongue peaks between his lips as he gawked at the damp lace between my thighs. Sliding my finger below his chin, I tilt his head until he meets my eyes.

“You know what I want, Roman?” My hand takes home around his throat once again. Now having his full attention, I feel him swallow as he shakes his head. His excitement was palpable. Settling my right knee between his thighs, I nudge it gently against his hard length. His nostrils flare with a sharp inhale. “I want you to watch me get myself off on your thigh.” He groans loudly. I couldn’t tell if it was out of desire, frustration, or a mixture of both but the response delighted me nonetheless. Placing my left knee to the other side of his thigh, I fully seat myself upon him. “Knowing there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it.”

“Fuck.” Slowly grinding against the fabric of his thigh, my lashes flutter at the sensation. A soft moan escapes me before I can stop it. I was dripping wet and could already feel myself swiftly ruining his ostentatiously expensive pants.

“How does it feel Roman? To have me use you like this?“ A whimper meets my ears. His eyes transfixed on my clothed center sliding roughly against his thigh. There was a fire beneath his skin and he was entranced by the sight of kerosene being poured upon it. “To ruin you like this?” His smokey gaze flickers up to mine and I use the moment to grind myself harder against him. The rough friction elicits another moan from me, louder this time. “This is all you’re good for—” My final word comes out in a whine causing Roman to tear into his bottom lip hard enough to draw more blood. “Tell me. How does it feel?” I nudge my knee into his throbbing member once more and the deepest groan ripples through his teeth. His arms jerk against his binds as I use my free hand to sharply twist his nipple. “Answer me!”

“Good! It feels—Fuck.” The sentiment came out hoarse and husky. He shoves his head back into his tied wrists, thrusting himself against my knee. “Feels so f-fuckin’ good.” Digging my thumb into his pulse point, I slide my knee back. He whines; all hopes of friction dashing in an instant.

“No. You don’t get to cum until I say you do. Got it, you demented little fuck?” He’s a whimpering mess beneath me; eyes wide and watery. I wanted to drown myself in the sight and never touch the light of day again.

My thong bunches to the side from the aggression in my movements. Now fully bare against him, a shiver rushes through me as my clit kisses the luxurious fabric of his thigh. I wasn’t going to last much longer.

“If you don’t fucking behave I swear to God I’ll leave you like this—tied up and soaking for whoever to find.” The bite in my threats were losing their edge. My voice lost somewhere between a moan and sigh. An impending orgasm flicks it’s tongue at the base of my spine.

“Wouldn’t want it to be your father who finds you like this, would you?” A mangled whine shakes itself from his throat and has me smiling.

The blood seeping from his parted lips seem to glitter under the city light of his windows. I flatten my tongue across his jaw and drag it up his chin until my mouth fills with copper. The taste causes a sigh to slip from my mouth into his.

“You’re close. I-I can feel it.” His voice tight and high-pitched as he starts to slightly bounce his leg. “You’ve f-fucking drenched me.” The jolting of his thigh into my clit has my head falling into his shoulder; grinding harder and faster against him. The nails of my right hand embed themselves into the skin of his waist. A carnal mosaic of the flesh born below my grip. I was at the brink. “I-I wanna feel you cum.” He’s whining as he starts to bounce his leg faster; face buried in my hair. His shaking breath against my cheek has my entire body erupting in goosebumps. “P-please lemme f-feel you cum.” His beg hitches to an even higher pitch. His thigh nearly vibrating under me, desperate pleas rippling through me. Every nerve ending in my body felt ablaze.

It was all too much.

A scream rips from my lungs and I sink my teeth into the flesh of Roman’s shoulder. He tasted of salt and brimstone. My nails frenetically scratch into his skin as my thighs tremble and squeeze. Groans barrel up from his chest to mingle with my own. My release shatters through me with a blinding intensity I had never experienced before. I was overflowing; drenching his thigh to seep into his soul.

The heaving of our chests pressed tightly together slowly lulls me back down again. My fingertips absentmindedly painting shapes into his skin with the blood I’d drawn from his waist. Sparkles of light and voids of soot twirl across my vision. An indention of my teeth remained etched into his shoulder. He shudders when I press a soft kiss onto the bruised skin. My head falling heavy when it replaces my mouth to lean into him.

I’m suddenly reminded of Roman’s own much needed release upon finding his hips desperately grinding circles into empty air. He’s whimpering; body begging. My hand still cradled his throat so I languidly brush my thumb along his pulse point. His heart was racing.

“Do you need to cum, Roman?” A loud, high-pitched whine answers me.

“Please.” The word comes out in a choked sob. “I need—“ He was fighting against his binds, the silk digging painfully into his wrists. “Please.” He frantically presses open mouth kisses into any inch of my skin that he could reach; pleading with glassy eyes. “Please lemme cum.” I leave his throat to gently cup his cheek and smile softly before pulling back from him. “No—“ He stops himself when I thread one hand into his hair and place the other bloodied one atop his chest.

“You gonna cum your pants for me, Romie?” I take my sweet time sliding my palm towards where he needs it most. “Like the needy little slut that you are?” The whispered words were dripping in ghost pepper honey that had him swallowing. “Are you that desperate? That pathetic?”

“Yes.” The answer comes out in a quiet quick rush of air. “Y-yeah, I am.” My hand finally reaches his pulsing length and it twitches beneath my fingers. He immediately ruts against my palm and I squeeze him before jerking his head back.

“Stop.” He clenches his teeth but surprisingly does. Tensing beneath me, using every ounce of self control to still himself. He was trembling beneath my grasp. Frustrated tears caressed his lashes and began streaming down his flushed cheeks. His breath was coming out hard and shallow through flared nostrils.

A memory flashes through my mind: Roman’s captivated stare watching his glistening thumb press into my bottom lip.

“Open your mouth.” Again, he follows my orders instantly. Hovering my face above his, my lips purse with a drop of spit. He catches it with a moan that I immediately kiss into my mouth. “Cum.” My voice drops just above a whisper against his raw lips. “Make a mess of yourself.”

He instantly begins fucking himself roughly into my grip. The heat of his flesh searing me through the fabric. Grunting into my open mouth as I tug his hair into the cushions just below his wrists. His hands opening and closing before locking into tight fists. “Look at me.” His eyes shoot open. “Such a good boy for me.” A familiar emotion swirls through the sliver of hazel around his pupils. His lids flutter as he fought with everything in him to keep himself rooted in my gaze. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Roman.”

His hips shoot from the couch as he explodes and spreads me open across his thigh. The sensation causes my breath to catch in my throat. A gravely yell rips from the deepest parts of himself and tears apart every muscle in my body. He pours everything he has into the fabric beneath my hand with wide eyes never leaving mine. He collapses hard with shuttering breaths; body limp and twitching.

I release him to bring my palm to my lips; the slightest bit damp from him. My tongue paints his taste into my memory with pupils blown. Jaw slack, he watches intently through heavy wet lashes. His muddy eyes fill with that same emotion I had seen from him earlier.

“Lemme taste you.” The request was nearly silent but it rattled me like a wail. If I was any further from him I wouldn’t have heard it, but I did and couldn’t believe he had asked. Lifting my hips slightly, I run two fingers through my sensitive folds and shiver. He immediately takes notice and a ghost of a smile tugs at his lips.

My fingers tremble as they rise towards his mouth. He inhales deeply before parting his lips for me. Slipping into the velvet of his mouth, his eyes flutter shut. His pointed tongue runs up between their gaps before flattening to drag back down. He was savoring every drop as if he were a starved man lost at sea. An involuntary hum reverberates from his throat into my skin and his cheeks seem to darken even more. He playfully bites down with sparkling eyes when I slip my fingers from his warm mouth.

The sight had the blood pounding in my ears beginning their familiar chant: ‘I love you, I love you, I love you.’ It overwhelmed me and I couldn’t help but pull him into one last searing kiss. Tasting myself on his tongue had my head spinning. Here on my knees, I prayed to a godless sky that he could taste my heart overflowing into his mouth. Cupping his cheeks in both hands, my thumbs brush away the damp paths left by his previous tears. His forehead suddenly creases beneath mine.

“You okay, Rome?” He shakes my hands from his face and turns away from me. My own brows knot together in worry.

“I’m fine.” His face further contorts upon hearing how his voice cracked. It might as well have cracked my ribs right along with it. He clenches his jaw before gnawing at the inside of his cheek. His hands form into tight fist behind his head. He was trying not to cry again.

My fingers twitch in my lap and it takes everything in me not to wrap him in my arms. Instead, I reach for his wrists and bring them forward. They felt heavy and limp in my hands. Right as I began my attempt at untying them, a small sniffle brings my attention back to Roman’s face.

“It’s okay if you’re not okay, you know?” I try to gently reassure him but it only deepens the tortured disgust in his features.

“I said I’m fucking fine.” The words are spit with a venom that eats through to my bones. Feeling me search his feature has him crumbling before me. Fresh tears immediately start spilling down his cheeks and into the pits of my soul. I couldn’t help but reach for him. He surprisingly lets me cup his cheek, so I gently turn him to face me. His eyes squeeze tighter below my lips as I lightly kiss their corners. The small gesture of affection has a mangled sob ripping from his chest. Fully burying his face into my hand, he lets himself weep into my palm.

Brushing back the strands of hair sticking to his sweat, I feel my own eyes filling with tears. Refusing to let myself cry, I leave his hair to clumsily attempt untying his wrists with one hand but the knot had grown significantly tighter. No doubt from Roman constantly pulling against it all this time.

“Hey, Rome?” He responds with a mangled sound in the back of his throat. A desperate need to comfort and free him started anxiously clawing at my throat. “Listen, I know you’re totally fine and everything but I’m actually not.” His watery eyes glance to me, not registering that I’m joking. “The she demon that possessed me, she—the bitch was a Girl Scout from hell. This knot’s tighter than a goddamn hangman’s noose.” Roman pulls his face from my hand while rapidly blinking. The sounds of grinding metal fill my ears and their smokey scent tickles my nose. I flash him a goofy, albeit nervous, smile and the gears inside his head finally click into place.

“You’re a fucking idiot.” There was no bite to his words, having spoke them through a bemused chuckle. He wipes his nose with back of his hand and inhales the remnants of his vulnerability. Grateful relief balms the scrapes at my neck left by worry’s desperate claws.

His smile falters when I suddenly get up and leave him; it's as if a burst of panic fills his chest. However, when he watches me pick up a pair of scissors and the joggers from his gym bag, I sense the tension in him ease slightly. It's only when I climb back atop his thigh that he appears fully relieved. The weight of my warmth sinking into him seems to ground him.

After tossing his change of pants onto the cushion beside us, I carefully slide the blade under his tie and free him. The silk had dug in painfully, leaving nearly raw indentions in it’s wake. I mentally make a note to check my purse for some soothing lotion later as my fingers lightly brush across his skin. My thumbs begin rubbing into the muscles of his forearms. Roman was studying my face intently.

“These feel okay?” Shaking out his wrists, he rotates them a few times before letting them fall limp in my lap. It was his way of silently asking me to continue with my actions. He had far too much pride to express his desire for such a tender expression.

“Feels fine.” He fights off a shy smile when my hands pick up where they left off, massaging him gently. “My side on the other hand feels like fuckin’ cruise papers with the way ya shredded me.” He chuckles but I could still hear the residual emotion behind it. I lift the corner of his shirt up to take a look. The sight has my stomach instantly dropping; tangled weeds of angry wounds imbedded deep into flesh. Needles of red hot guilt begin sewing threads of shame up my legs. Looking down, I’m greeted with his blood caked under my nails. Memories of violence and words of degradation take ownership of my lungs.

“Fuck Rome…” My voice cracks and I suddenly feel my own tears holding a knife to my throat. “I’m so fucking sorry.” Roman quickly tears the fabric from my grasp and yanks it down.

“Oh shit. No no no no no—fuck fuck fuck.” His panicked expression made me feel so much worse. The canines of an anxiety attack drag up the nape of my neck like a threat. “I—I was fucking kidding!”

“I shouldn’t have d—done that to you. I—I shouldn’t have hit you. I shouldn’t have said—I didn’t—Rome, I didn’t mean them! The words—I—I’m so sor—“

“Oh dear God, would you fuckin’ stop.” He quickly cut me off but I had already dove to the deep end of a molten lava shame spiral.

“I—I made you fucking bleed Roman!” He rolls his eyes. “Multiple times!” His hands slap themselves onto the sides of my face, pressing hard into my cheeks.

“Yeah and you licked it up and it was the sexiest fuckin’—” I couldn’t open my eyes to look at him. If I looked at him I’d most certainly start crying. “I mean, I’m literally fucking drenched in cum right now.” My mouth was set in a hard line but my bottom lip quivered. “Come on now…” Nope, didn’t have to look at him. Turns out his voice alone could send tears falling. “I was kidding! I liked the fuckin’—fuckin’ feral scratchy shit! It was hot! And—and I told you to hit me! I—I wanted it! I wanted you to say all that fuckin’ nasty shit!” His fingers press into my skin harder as if he could force his sentiments to penetrate my skull. “I…I fuckin’ loved it. Like a lot. Okay?” My head was shaking back and forth trying to gain some control over my emotions, shake free of my tears. Roman didn’t know that though. How could he? I wasn’t speaking. He probably thought my actions were just my way of rejecting him. “Please don’t fuckin’ do this.”

My eyes crack open as I remove Roman’s hands from my face. The knotted look of bewilderment etched into his features summons the childhood phantom of my mother. Taking her disembodied palm to slap me across the mouth and rattle me with shrill screams: ‘You need to pull yourself the fuck together!’ I follow suit, digging the heels of my palms into my eyes.

“Promise?” My question came out pathetic and small. I fucking hated it and I fucking hated crying. I’m being fucking ridiculous. Stupid.

“Again, and I can’t stress this enough, soaking in my own cum right now.” His reassurance comes with a laugh that tugs my frown up slightly.

“I just—I’m sorry. It was one thing in the moment but just like… I dunno. I’ve never done anything like that. I—I don’t know what came over me.” My face felt feverish as the backs of my hands wipe the shame staining my cheeks. “Seeing the aftermath just kinda, it just—The thought of actually hurting you makes me feel fucking sick, Rome.” I feel the back of Roman’s knuckle brush away the tears I had missed. Chancing a look at his face gifted me the softest expression I had ever seen from him. “I never want to cause you any real harm.” My voice sounded almost foreign, weak with emotion and vulnerability. Where did all my bravado go? Oh yeah, it’s dripping down my thighs.

“Well you didn’t, alright? I’m fine. Like completely. A-o-fuckin’-kay over here.” He throws me the okay symbol and tries offering me a reassuring smile but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“But you were crying, Rome.” The smile instantly drops.

“That? No, I wasn’t—“ He shakes his head before scratching at his jaw. “It—it wasn’t because of that.” My brows furrow, and he groans, hands dragging down his face. “Look, I didn’t—I don’t—fuck!” He shakes his fingers through his hair and looks as if he’s about to rip it out. Refusing to meet my eyes, his stare finally settles on my hands lying face up in my lap. “It was your fuckin’—your hands, okay? It was your fuckin’ hands.” My eyes fall from his face and focus on the blood staining my fingertips. So it really was because I hit him. “The way you—“ He sighs. “The way you held me.” Oh. His head falls back as a long frustrated groan escapes him, eyes searching for heaven in the ceiling. “I dunno, okay? It just felt—it felt—“ He couldn’t finish. His eyes fall shut before he continues, his voice even quieter than before. “All I could think about was how you had looked at me.” I swallow before whispering just as quietly as he.

“How did I look at you?”

“I don’t know.” His voice grew thick with emotion once again. He shakes his head and finally meets my eyes; looking so defeated and sad. His pain bled me. “You’re always fuckin’ lookin’ at me like—like—“ Again, he can’t finish. He clenches his jaw like a threat towards the words caught in his throat.

“Like I love you?” His eyes squeeze shut and he turns his face from me once again; hiding himself from my words. I watch him clench and unclench his jaw until courage clenches my own. “Because I do love you, Roman.” Every muscle in his body seemed to tense beneath me, but I couldn’t stop my feelings from shattering their shackles. They’d been locked up for so long that their first taste of freedom sends them sprinting. “I love you so fucking much.” He clenches his fists, still unable to open his eyes and look at me.

I let myself lean into him and lay my head onto his shoulder. His fist start to unfurl and he lets his head fall against mine. A shuddering breath leaves him and he buries his face into my hair, hands tentatively resting on my hips. We sit in silence as I listen to his breathing slowly steadying. Once it had nearly returned to normal, I feel his lips gently press into my temple.

“I love you too.” The words were murmured into me, a heavy sigh follows after them. “You have no fucking idea.” The wilted buds of my heart and mind begin to bloom. My arms wrap themselves around him and squeeze him to me tightly. He reluctantly wraps his arms around me as well; slowly tightening his embrace until he’s clinging to my soul. Turning my head I press a kiss into the side of his throat and hear him sigh once again; the weight between us was dissipating.

“I’m sorry for freaking out earlier.” The words he had stuttered out when trying to calm me drift to the forefront of my mind. “I—I liked it too.” The warmth of his skin embraces my shy confession. “What we did together, I mean.” I hear him snort and it has me smiling against him. The air was feeling lighter.

“I’d fuckin’ say so, ya fuckin’ banshee. You shoulda seen how fuckin’ hard you came. I mean—Jesus Christ, you were fuckin’ feral.” I hide my face further into his neck but can’t help the laughter that bubbles up from me. “And now you act all fuckin’ bashful and shit? How the fuck does that even work? You literally tied me up and road my thigh like a buckin’ bronco.” I bite his throat and my body shakes from his laughter vibrating through me.

“Fuck you! I’m complex.”

“Yeah, no shit.” He tangles his hands in my hair and pulls me back to face him. “You’re fuckin’ insane, you know that?” He was smiling as he said it. “You drive me fucking insane.”

“The feelings mutual.” His smile only widens and he bounces his leg. I yelp in surprise, frantically gripping at his arms to maintain balance. He’s giggling uncontrollably. “You’re a sick fuck, Roman Roy.”

“Ooo round two already, thigh master?” He bounces his leg again. I try to slap his chest but he catches my wrist with his freehand and pulls me into a kiss I’m never going to forget. It was different than all the ones we had shared prior. This one was so much softer, so much gentler. Our foreheads rest against one another. His smile against my lips illuminates every crevice once void of light; I was loved.

[nameless-jamie]

Fire and Ice

One-Bed-Trope SPECIAL

Roy Kent x fem! Physio reader (Grumpy x Sunshine)

Masterlist

TW: cursing, kissing

From the moment Y/N started as AFC Richmond’s physio, Roy Kent knew she was going to be a problem.

She was too smiley, too bubbly, and too damn nice for her own good. Always bouncing into the training room with that stupid bright-colored clipboard—neon pink or pastel yellow or some other shade that hurt his eyes—asking the players about their injuries with a smile that could probably melt stone. And Roy, being Roy, met her sunshine with nothing but grunts, scowls, and the occasional begrudging “thanks” after a particularly rough treatment session.

But despite his best efforts, Y/N seemed determined to worm her way under his skin. She had this maddening habit of teasing him—nothing outright mean, just playful jabs wrapped in a smile that made his chest feel too tight. Calling him “old man” when she iced his knees, poking at his grumpy demeanor, and laughing softly whenever he let out one of his signature growls. And the worst part? She never seemed to notice the effect she had on him—the way her touch lingered just a second too long during treatments or the way her laughter echoed in his chest long after she’d left the room.

And Roy? Yeah, he noticed.

He noticed the way his pulse sped up whenever she adjusted the tape around his knee or pressed her fingers gently into a sore muscle. He noticed the way her ponytail always swayed when she walked across the pitch, bright and bouncy like she belonged in a goddamn sunshine commercial. He noticed the way she laughed at everyone’s jokes—even Jamie Tartt’s—and how she always seemed to find the good in people, no matter how much of a prick they were.

And it drove him mad.

Of course, the rest of the team noticed too. It was impossible not to.

“Oi, Roy,” Jamie would call across the pitch with a shit-eating grin. “Careful, mate—Y/N might smile at you too hard, and your heart’ll give out.”

“Leave him alone, Jamie,” Isaac would add, barely holding back a grin. “Man’s just tryin’ not to fall apart.”

Even Ted and Beard weren’t immune to the gossip.

“Y’know, Beard, I reckon Roy’s got himself a bit of a crush,” Ted had remarked one afternoon, watching as Y/N adjusted the ice pack on Roy’s knee with a soft smile.

Beard, as always, said nothing—just raised an eyebrow and sipped his tea.

So yeah—everyone saw it. Everyone knew that beneath all the gruff words and grumbles, Roy Kent was hopelessly, utterly, pathetically smitten.

The only person who didn’t know?

Y/N.

Richmond was on their way back from a successful away match, in the midst of winter. Naturally Y/N, the teams main physio was riding on the team bus.

But Y/N hated away matches in the winter.

The bus rattled softly as it wound its way down the snow-covered country road, the faint hum of the heater doing little to cut through the chill. Snowflakes tapped gently against the windows, blurring the view of frost-covered trees and winding roads beyond. Inside, the air buzzed with the familiar chatter of the team—laughter, jokes, and the occasional shout from Isaac or Dani echoing through the aisles.

Seated near the middle of the bus, wrapped in her Richmond-issued jacket, Y/N balanced her clipboard on her lap, flipping through the players’ post-match recovery notes with practiced ease. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, humming softly under her breath as she made quick, efficient notes on muscle strains and hydration levels.

“You hum like you’re starin’ at a bloody sunset instead of injury reports.”

The familiar gravelly voice made her lips twitch as she glanced up—unsurprised to find Roy Kent standing in the aisle beside her seat, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his coat. His signature scowl was firmly in place, dark eyes fixed on her with their usual mix of mild annoyance and something she could never quite name.

“Well, someone’s in a good mood,” Y/N teased, tilting her head with a playful grin.

Roy grunted. “I’m always in a good mood.”

“Uh-huh. Sure, Kent.”

A huff of air escaped Roy’s chest—something that might’ve been a laugh if it wasn’t Roy Kent.

“Did you need something, or did you just come over to brighten my day with your cheery disposition?” she asked, tapping her pen against her clipboard.

Roy shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his jaw working like he was debating whether or not to respond. “…Knee’s still tight,” he muttered, almost like it physically pained him to admit it.

Y/N’s smile softened into something gentler. “Left or right?”

“Left. Felt stiff after the match.”

“Well, you’re not gettin’ any younger, old man,” she teased, her eyes dancing as she scribbled a note on her clipboard.

Roy’s scowl deepened, though the faintest twitch of his lips betrayed him. “Watch it.”

“Or what? You gonna growl at me?”

Roy leaned forward slightly, just enough that she could feel the faint heat of his presence—close but not too close. “Don’t tempt me,” he muttered low enough that only she could hear.

The air between them seemed to hum with something unspoken. Y/N’s pulse skipped, but she recovered quickly, tapping her pen against her clipboard with a teasing smile.

“Careful, Kent. You almost sound like you enjoy our little chats,” she quipped, biting her lip to suppress a grin.

Roy grunted again—his signature non-answer—and stepped back before she could push him any further.

“Make sure you stretch when we get there,” she called after him.

“I know how to bloody stretch,” he shot back without looking over his shoulder.

“Could’ve fooled me, grumpy!”

Roy raised a hand in a half-hearted wave, middle finger extended.

Y/N just laughed, shaking her head as she returned her focus to her notes, the warmth of their exchange still buzzing beneath her skin.

After a while she felt the empty seat beside her shift.

“Oi, Y/N.”

She glanced up to find Jamie Tartt sliding into the seat beside her, his grin already firmly in place.

“Hey, Jamie,” she greeted with a smile. “What’s up?”

“Nothin’ much. Just wonderin’ how you put up with Roy all the time,” he replied, leaning back against the seat with an exaggerated sigh. “Man’s always growlin’ and glarin’ like someone stole his favorite pair of boots.”

Y/N chuckled softly, shaking her head. “He’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad?” Jamie snorted. “C’mon, love—he’s like a bloody bear with a sore paw. Especially when you’re around.”

Y/N blinked, her smile faltering slightly. “Wait…what do you mean?”

Jamie raised an eyebrow. “You’ve not noticed? Man’s always scowlin’ at you like you’ve personally offended him. Isaac reckons it’s ‘cause you’re too nice and smiley. Throws him off, y’know? Can’t handle all the sunshine.”

“Oh.” Y/N’s fingers fidgeted with the edge of her clipboard, her chest tightening with something she couldn’t quite name. “I didn’t think he… I mean, I know he’s a bit grumpy, but I thought we got along okay.”

Jamie tilted his head, clearly enjoying himself far too much. “Eh, maybe he’s just allergic to happiness. Or maybe he just—”

“Jamie,” Sam called from a few seats away, shooting him a warning look. “Don’t be mean.”

“I’m not bein’ mean!” Jamie protested, throwing up his hands. “I’m just sayin’—maybe Roy’s not your biggest fan. Bloke’s got the emotional range of a brick wall, after all.”

Y/N forced a laugh, but the doubt had already settled deep in her chest.

Maybe Roy really does hate me, she thought, her smile dimming slightly as she glanced out the window at the falling snow.

After a while the bus came to the stop. According to Y/N's GPS on her phone they weren't anywhere near Richmond. The bus driver must be taking a break or something...

Of course, fate had other plans.

“We’re stoppin’ here for the night,” the driver called back, his voice carrying over the groan of the engine.

“What? Why?” Roy Kent’s unmistakable growl cut through the air.

“Road’s closed up ahead. Too much snow. We’ll head out first thing in the morning once they’ve cleared it.”

A collective groan rippled through the team.

“Ah, come on!” Jamie Tartt whined. “It’s just a bit of snow, innit?”

“More than a bit, mate,” Isaac replied. “Unless you fancy freezin’ your bollocks off in a ditch somewhere.”

“Language!” Sam called teasingly.

“Alright, everyone off the bus!” Ted Lasso announced, clapping his hands together as he stood. “Let’s make the best of it, folks. Who knows—maybe they’ve got hot cocoa inside.”

The inn was charming in a rustic, old-world kind of way—dark wooden beams, stone fireplaces, and the faint scent of something sweet baking somewhere nearby. But the moment they reached the front desk, Y/N’s stomach dropped.

“I’m sorry,” the innkeeper said, looking genuinely apologetic. “With the storm, we’re nearly fully booked. I only have a few rooms left—most of them singles.”

Ted clapped his hands together. “Alright, folks, looks like we’re bunkin’ up tonight! Pair up, grab a key, and try not to snore too loud.”

The players quickly began claiming rooms—Isaac and Colin, Sam and Dani, Jamie and Richard. Y/N waited patiently, figuring she’d get the last room left, because she was the only woman on the bus. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d crashed on a too-small sofa or shared a room with Rebecca during away matches.

But when the innkeeper slid the final key across the counter, Y/N had a sinking feeling.

“This is the last one,” she said kindly. “Room 204—queen bed, en-suite bathroom. I hope that’s alright.”

Before Y/N could respond, a familiar presence loomed beside her.

“Wait, what?” Roy Kent’s gruff voice cut through the air.

Y/N glanced up to find Roy standing there, hands shoved into the pockets of his coat, eyebrows furrowed in that perpetual scowl.

“The bus driver’s already claimed the last single room,” the innkeeper explained. “I’m afraid you two will have to share.”

“Oh.” Y/N blinked. “Um…that’s fine. It’s just for one night, right?” She glanced at Roy, whose jaw seemed to clench even tighter.

Roy grunted. “Yeah. Fine. Whatever.”

Y/N took the key, plastering on her best smile. “Thanks. C’mon, Roy, let’s get out of everyone’s way.”

The room was cozy—if slightly small. A large queen bed sat against the far wall, piled high with thick blankets and pillows. A small fireplace crackled warmly beneath a stone mantel, and a window overlooked the snow-covered courtyard below.

Roy stood awkwardly by the door, shoulders tense as Y/N set her bag down near the dresser.

“Well…this is nice,” she said, trying to break the silence.

“Yeah. Great,” Roy muttered, hovering near the threshold like a man debating whether to make a break for it.

Y/N bit back a smile. She’d gotten used to Roy’s gruff demeanor over the past year of working with the team. He was all rough edges and sharp words, but she’d learned to see past the scowl to the fiercely loyal, surprisingly thoughtful man beneath.

Not that it made sharing a room with him any less awkward.

“Alright,” Y/N said, clapping her hands together. “Let’s figure out the sleeping arrangements. I can take the floor if you want the bed—”

“No,” Roy cut her off immediately, shaking his head. “You’re not sleepin’ on the bloody floor.”

“Well, neither are you,” she replied. “So unless you’re planning to camp outside in the snow, I think we’re stuck sharing.”

Roy’s brow furrowed. “We can’t—”

“It’s just one night, Roy,” she said gently. “I promise I don’t bite.”

Roy made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a sigh, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Fine. But everyone stays on their side of the bed. No fucking cuddling.”

Y/N bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Deal.”

Hours later, Y/N lay beneath the blankets, staring at the ceiling and very much not asleep.

The room was quiet except for the crackle of the fireplace and the faint sound of Roy’s breathing beside her. Despite the wide bed, the heat radiating from his body was impossible to ignore, and Y/N’s pulse seemed to thrum louder with every minute that passed.

Just go to sleep, she told herself. It’s just one night. Stop being weird.

But sleep remained stubbornly out of reach.

“Can’t sleep either?” Roy’s low voice rumbled in the darkness.

Y/N turned her head slightly, finding his silhouette beside her, broad shoulders rising and falling with each breath. His face was half-shadowed in the firelight, but she could still make out the furrow of his brow.

"Not a wink," she admitted quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I’m too cold.”

Roy exhaled a slow breath. There was a pause—just long enough that she thought he might ignore her. But then—

“C’mere,” he muttered gruffly, shifting slightly beneath the blankets.

Y/N hesitated, her pulse hammering in her chest. “…What?”

Roy huffed impatiently. “I said, come here. Don’t make me say it again.”

Her heart lodged itself somewhere between her ribs as she scooted closer, tentative and unsure—until Roy’s arm curled around her shoulders, pulling her against the solid warmth of his chest.

Holy. Shit.

Y/N swallowed hard, every nerve in her body lighting up like a live wire as Roy’s hand settled lightly against her back, his warmth seeping through the thin fabric of her shirt. His heart beat slow and steady beneath her cheek, and she could feel the faint rise and fall of his breath against her skin.

“Better?” he asked gruffly.

“…Yeah,” she whispered, her breath ghosting against his collarbone. “Thanks, Roy.”

He made a low, noncommittal noise—a mix between a grunt and something softer, something that made her smile despite the heat rising in her cheeks.

Don’t read into it, she told herself firmly. It doesn’t mean anything.

But as the minutes ticked by and the firelight flickered against the walls, Y/N couldn’t deny the way her heart stubbornly refused to slow down.

Minutes passed. Then an hour.

Sleep still refused to come. Now the reason wasn't the cold, but a certain grumpy man, cuddling her.

Y/N shifted slightly beneath the blankets, trying not to disturb Roy—but her movement drew a low, sleepy noise from the back of his throat, something halfway between a sigh and a hum.

Y/N froze, pulse hammering wildly in her chest. “…Sorry.”

“S’fine,” Roy mumbled, his voice rough with sleep and something heavier beneath it. His arm tightened briefly around her, then loosened again, as if caught between holding on and letting go.

Y/N swallowed hard against the ache rising in her chest. The room felt too warm, too quiet, the air thick with things neither of them seemed brave enough to say.

“Roy?”

“Mm?”

"Are you awake?"

"I am now..."

"Sorry."

"It's okay. What's keeping you awake?" he prodded, feeling her uneasiness.

“…Do you really hate me?” she asked softly.

Roy stiffened beside her, his breath catching slightly in his throat. “…What?”

“Jamie said something today on the bus. About how you’re always growling at me. And I just—” She bit her lip, staring at the firelight dancing across the ceiling. “I know I tease you sometimes, but I didn’t think you actually—”

“Christ, Y/N,” Roy muttered, his voice rough with something she couldn’t quite name.

Before she could say another word, Roy tilted his head, his nose brushing lightly against her cheek—just a whisper of contact, but enough to send heat rushing beneath her skin.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as his gaze found hers, dark and intense and impossibly close.

“…I don’t hate you,” he murmured, his voice low and rough with something dangerously close to longing.

Y/N’s lips parted slightly, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it. For a moment, they simply stared at each other—caught in that fragile space where time seemed to slow, and the air felt too thick to breathe.

And then Roy kissed her.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t slow.

It was heat and desperation and months of pent-up tension crashing together all at once. His hand slid to the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her closer, his lips claiming hers with a rough, aching intensity that stole the breath from her lungs.

Y/N gasped softly against his mouth, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as she melted against him, her body slotting perfectly against his like they were made to fit together. The kiss deepened, slow and searching, as if they were both trying to memorize the shape of each other—the taste, the warmth, the way their breaths mingled in the space between kisses.

Roy groaned softly into her mouth, a low, gravelly sound that sent a shiver down her spine as his thumb traced slow circles against the curve of her jaw. His other hand splayed low against her back, holding her steady as her pulse thrummed wildly beneath her skin.

When they finally broke apart, breathless and flushed, Roy’s gaze searched hers—dark and uncertain and so painfully open that it made her chest ache.

“Does that answer your question…I don’t hate you, it's the opposite.” he repeated quietly, his thumb brushing lightly against her cheek.

“I mean you made that very clear,” she whispered, her heart lodged somewhere between her ribs. “…Me neither, you know. I actually really like you, Roy.”

Roy huffed a soft, breathless laugh. “Good,” he muttered, his forehead resting lightly against hers.

For a long moment, they simply stayed there—caught in the warmth of each other’s breath, the world outside fading into nothing but snow and firelight and the quiet rhythm of their hearts.

The next morning, when they stepped out of the room hand in hand, the entire team was waiting in the foyer.

“Oi, oi, oi!” Jamie shouted immediately. “Finally! The power-couple, had a nice night, huh?”

“I knew it!” Isaac crowed, slapping Sam on the shoulder.

“Took you long enough, Kent!” Dani added, positively beaming.

Roy glared at them all. “Piss off, the lot of you.”

“Leave them alone,” Y/N added with a smile that was definitely not helping Roy’s case. “They’re just jealous we got the only cozy room with a fireplace.”

“Oh, cozy, is that what they’re callin’ it these days?” Jamie teased with a wicked grin.

Roy growled low in his throat—the kind of growl that usually sent the entire locker room scrambling for cover. But this time, Y/N just laughed softly beside him, squeezing his hand as if to say, I’ve got you.

And somehow, for the first time in a long time, Roy found he didn’t mind the teasing half as much as he thought he would.

Because as long as Y/N was beside him—warm and steady and laughing at his side—he figured he could survive just about anything.

Even Jamie Tartt’s endless teasing.

[ameenvie]

Prada - Roy Kent x gn!reader

masterlist | ao3 | fic recs

Word count: 1k Warnings: drinking, nothing really Tags: flirting, famous reader, first meeting Prompt/Summary: @kissykissymouth asked: Oh thank you! May I request Roy and song #69? My #69 song on my Wrapped was Prada by Raye, it is roughly based on the song as in famous reader meets Roy in Bones And Honey and they flirt. :D A/N: Thank you for playing alooong! It is a bit of a rough start, and I've never written Roy before, but I hope you like it! 🙈❤

The music in Bones and Honey was thumping loud against your eardrums, causing you to lean closer to your friend to hear what they had to say. You were nursing a drink in one hand, resting your other on their back as you leaned in.

A quite large group of people surrounded the two of you – colleagues, partners and friends. You all just came back to London from a job abroad, and you decided to celebrate a little. The taste of alcohol burned your tongue as it traveled down into your stomach, burning all the way. You hissed and looked at your friend.

“What kind of piss drink is this?” You asked laughing, wiping a tear away from your eye caused by the extremely bitter liquor.

“Aww, c’mon, don’t be such a baby!” They said, laughing at you. People around you had a great time, chatter and laughter filled the air alongside the loud music. You could feel your heartbeat synching with the heavy bass, and you looked around the bar. Nobody gave a shit that you were there, or if they did, they hid it pretty well. That’s why you liked coming here – no fuss. You were just a regular person in here. Kind of.

“I’m getting us a proper drink,” you stood up promptly, wagging a finger at your friend. „Then you’ll know the difference.” They rewarded you with a dramatic eye roll that made you laugh. You flipped them off teasingly.

You made a beeline towards the bar to get a round of your favourite drinks, although you felt you wouldn’t need too much anymore. A faint buzz took over your body, and your spirit felt lighter, your inhibitions fading to the back of your mind. This place had several bars on every level which you were eternally grateful for, because that meant no waiting in lines for you. You stood next to the bar, resting your hands against the cool countertop while trying to make eye contact with the guy behind the bar. He was pretty dashing; you thought to yourself when you first saw him coming in. You ordered two drinks, then something – someone – caught your eye.

He was standing there turned towards you, wearing a full black suit, up to the tie. His beard and hair matched the colour scheme, as he looked at you. His eyes seemed angry, but his lips were smiling. Trying, at least. A sense of annoyance spread through your body even before he spoke. But he did.

“Good taste,” he said, not taking his eyes off you. You shifted on your legs.

“Excuse me?” You asked and turned your body towards him. You were so close, you could smell his perfume, and you had to admit - he smelled amazing.

“The drink,” he raised one of his brows at you before continuing. “It’s a good choice.”

Your brain shifted into gear as your eyes searched his face. The smile was long gone from his lips; you were sure he did the same. He was lucky, you thought. You were in the mood to play.

“I know,” you scoffed, tracing your finger on the rim of your glass. “That’s why I ordered it.” You wondered if he knew who you were. He answered with a scoff and averted his gaze towards the bar. You didn’t take your eyes off him; his scent and the music filled your senses. His eyes were darting between the bottles on the shelf.

“But,” he started and turned towards you. “It could've been a great choice.” A little smirk appeared on his face as he waved to the bartender, ordering two drinks. You weren’t sure if his self-assured demeanour was a facade like yours. He seemed different than you thought he’d be.

“I’m quite content with my choice but thank you.” You raised one of your glasses at him and started to turn, pushing yourself away from the bar when he spoke.

“C’mon, then just let me buy you a drink.” You turned back and his hands were in his pockets, looking at you. You felt your chest tighten as you looked at him. You weren’t sure what or why but something in him captivated you. But you definitely weren’t going to give yourself that easy.

“I can buy myself drinks well enough, thank you,” you quipped, a playful smirk spreading on your face, as you looked over him. Quite slowly.

“And I’m well aware of that.” He smiled back at you. There was that. He definitely knew you. Know of you. If he wanted to really know you, he’d have to try. “I’ve seen you on that thing... Or the other.”

He was very nonchalant about it, and you loved that. You felt emboldened. You smiled and turned back to him, facing him with your full body. An expecting look decorated his features, and you chuckled.

“You a huge fan then?” You stepped towards him, your bodies almost touching. He cocked a brow at you. You saw the gears turn behind his eyes as his gaze darted across your face. The scent of his cologne now mixed with the alcohol on his breath, and you felt light-headed for a second, the thrill sending a shiver down your spine.

“A quiet admirer, more like.” He placed his hand on the countertop next to you, bringing him even closer.

“Do you have lots of quiet admirers yourself, Roy?” you asked and innocently blinked at him from under your eyelashes. Surprise flashed over his features as he looked at you before he smiled and spoke again.

“Maybe I do. Are you one of them?” It felt like the music died around you. All the people went home. It was just the two of you, his body so close to you, you could just move the slightest bit, and you’d touch. You chuckled.

“Footballers?” You asked, looking at your hand and back at his face. “To quote one of the greats – that don’t impress me much,” you said teasingly.

“Yeah?” He laughed. “Then what does?”

“Well, how about we start with that drink you’ll buy me?” You asked, and he smiled down at you, shaking his head a bit before turning to the bar and ordering your drinks. This was going to be fun.

[crystalrainfall]

I love how in 2003 Ed in the beginning is so shy! In the dub he stutters as well and flip flops over how to properly Adress Mustang it's absolutely adorable.

He has like respect for people older than him, he's not stepping over boundaries of people he barely knows, he has manners -

Like he used to be a really sweet boy before the world decided to take a massive shit on him daily.

Makes you wonder how he would've turned out if he wasn't exposed to cruelty so early.

2003 really puts an emphasis on the relationship Ed has with adults and facing his own maturity and growth as a person and how all that is significantly influenced on the people around him.

Ed doesn't really start off disliking Mustang until he realizes that mustang basically tricked Ed into

1. Proving himself to be capable.

2. Using him to partially deal with his dirty work.

Although I don't think roy was being super malicious and was putting Ed into alot of danger, sure alot could've gone wrong but he knew where the train would arrive and that Hughes and falman (?) were on

(roy trusts both of them and knows they're capable)

They were on board so if things were to go wrong they would be there at least.

It was just a controlled environment to see if Ed was actually capable to deal with far worse shit in the military because at that point in the narrative Ed is still super naive and childish, he's not all sunshine and lollipops but he doesn't really get the heavy implications that the title of state alchemist bears either.

Just look at how happy he looks after he got it, holding it up like a kid would a medal, presenting it with pride.

Anyway after the train arc Ed developes his iconic rivalry/"hatred" of roy that we all love to see on screen <33

Afterall, in Ed's point of view he's been tricked, he's been bamboozled, he's been Lied to.. ect

Ed's face of pure disbelief as the dying embers of respect he held for Mustang dies out:

[slinkythecoffeekid]

Chapter Three || How Hard Is Rock Bottom?

Update: When I originally watched season two, I had a hard time with S2.10 because it's supposed to be a rough, emotional episode. However, as someone who relates to Rebecca in this episode, I forced myself to watch it because that's what I needed this week. I do appreciate the way they show how everyone processes their grief so incredibly deeply, and that is so fucking powerful to me. Also, I apologize for the late upload. I was very sick this past weekend. HOWEVER, It's here!! Chapter Three of "Standing Again" Pairing: Jamie Tartt x Reader Rating: T for teens word count: 6.9k Warnings: swearing, Talk of injury, Injury-related trauma, PTSD behaviors, Reader has multiple panic attacks, some have coping mechanisms, one does not. Synopsis: three weeks have passed, and the game you've been anxious about has rounded the corner. You'll see your brother, his wife, and maybe your nephews. An excellent idea when you're not sure if you are ready yet. Rebecca comes to you with a proposal. You and Jamie talk about your feelings.

Three weeks. Three weeks since you moved to Richmond, three weeks since you started working for A.F.C Richmond, three weeks since you started watching their practices, three weeks since you began to befriend the team. Three weeks of coffee with Keely in the morning, three weeks of Ted giving you random nuggets of insight you didn't know you needed, three weeks of Roy making sure you hadn't done something stupid to your leg, three weeks of Jamie Tartt bugging you every chance he had. Three weeks of normalcy. 

Three weeks of staring at the same text message over and over again.  

You argue that you've been doing fine. But the only person who would believe that doesn't even stare you back in the mirror at night. Your sleep schedule has been shit; between waking up late or not sleeping at all, you only eat when your body violently remembers you need to eat. Your runs in the mornings have progressively gotten longer since you've been using it as a way to help relax. However, it doesn't help calm the tiny voice in your head. Or the anxious face that is staring you dead in the eyes. 

"hey- Earth to (y/n)???” 

Ted was in front of you, forcing you to focus back on the conversation in the coach's office. Ted, Beard, Leslie, Roy, and Nate looked at you in concern as you cleared your throat. “Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts. What are we talking about?” 

“Well, we were talking about play options. But we have been asking you if you're okay. " Beard leans back in his seat, raising one eyebrow. 

You shrug, stretch, grab your drink from your side, and take a sip. “I'm fine, just a little tired. I didn't get much sleep last night.” You look around you, and all five men look like they didn't buy it or knew you were lying. Especially Roy, he had the worst Don't you dare lie to me, Dad look you'd ever seen? His eyebrows raised at you and everything. 

Sensing the discomfort amongst his team of coaches and friends, Ted cleared his throat. " Alright, then, make sure you get some sleep after the game tonight (y/n). But hey, since we are all here, let's talk about Sunderland! What do we know?” 

“They are a well-rounded team, playing in a 1-4-2-3-1 formation,” Nate pipes up; as he mentions, Ted moves the magnets on the play whiteboard to mimic the formation. “It's usually seen as a defensive play tactic.”

“Yeah, but give them a well-time pivot, they can become a strong offensive team,” Beard mentions, flipping a book page. 

“So we have to keep up with them,” Ted comments offhandedly as he's writing names on the board. 

“If the midfielders are too close on the change-up, it leaves some opening,” Roy states, arms crossed.

“Keep them on their toes and hope they trip up.”

You watch the board, “or you could overpower the midfield, like a 3-5-2.” You were not expecting everyone to turn to look over at you. “What? You overpower the midfield line and force them to change up, keeping Danni and Jamie free to score too.” everyone looks at you with either a raised eyebrow or a confused look, Roy had the silent, non-visible Roy Smirk (™)

Everyone looks to Ted, who's still looking at you. He smiles as if he's proud of you, and you can see the glimmer of pride in his eyes. “I think that might be the game to play. I'm all in favor of (y/n) plan, say, Ey?”

The men give an eye, and you just shrug, and Ted nods. “Alright, 3-5-2 it is then,” he slaps his knees before forcing himself out of the chair. Well, then we should let the team know the plan.” The other coaches nod, Beard and Leslie walk out of the office, Nate pokes back into his own, and Roy walks out after Beard. 

Throwing away your takeaway cup, you go to leave. 

“Hey, (y/n), can I ask you a question?” Ted asks from over by his desk. 

You stop, look over, and shrug. " I mean, you just did, but sure, what's up, Ted?”

“How would you feel about joining us on the pitch? Since technically you are support staff? I think the other coaches would like your insight.” He had the biggest puppy dog eyes, and you sighed. 

“Are you going to pout if I tell you no?” you ask with a chuckle. 

Ted shrugs, “perhaps. Is that a yes or no?”

You think momentarily and nod in defeat, “Yes, but only because I'm not sure I can handle a pouting coach lasso for more than 20 minutes at a time.” 

Ted's smile was contagious. " Well, then, we will see you soon, " he smiled before leaving the office to give the team the pregame lecture. 

You smile, looking out the glass to watch, before walking through the assistant coach's office door and heading towards Rebecca's office. You'd have to inform your lovely boss that you could not sit with her and Keeley for the game. 

On your way out, you could see all the fans coming into the stadium, many Sunderland loyalists and far more Richmond faithful, people from young and old, friends, families, rivals, and enemies; it made you smile thinking about all these people excited to watch a match. 

Too bad you let them down before 

You stop for a second, hearing the voice in the back of your head, and clench your fist, nails biting into your palms, and shake your head, trying to get the thought out of your head, trying to focus on anything besides the mental tormentor that you'd left unchecked. You look around, trying to find something to focus on, and head towards the elevator to the upper floor and make your way over. 

You waited in the queue with several other people, primarily shareholders and their families. No one you recognized; you did overhear a young teenage girl whispering to her mother about you, though. Primarily recognizing who you were but nothing else. Everyone was quiet in the elevator until the door dinged, and everyone got off. You included. 

The owner box was off of a social area where everyone was before the start of the game; people mingled and chatted, catching up with one another, talking business, and the like; Rebecca and Keeley are, of course, no different as they are both women of business and one happens to own the club. You sneak into the circle that Rebecca is chatting with and gently tap her arm. Perhaps you startled her, but not that she would have let on ever; she turns and looks at you with a smile, “Ah, (y/n), Keeley was wondering when you'd show. Are you joining us in the box?” That dazzling smile could charm the entirety of parliament. 

You return the smile, but more mildly: “Nah, Ted invited me to sit with the coaches. I just came to let you know.” You shrug. “Next time, though, promise!” You expected Rebecca to be slightly more disappointed in this, but that sneaky smirk came into place. 

“Oh no, it's quite alright! If Ted wants you down there, I'm sure it's with good reason. Have a good time (y/n).” She squeezes you on the shoulder and returns to her conversation with some shareholders. 

You smile and head out, but not before Keeley can stop you.

“(Y/N)!” you barely even turn around before she's got you in a hug tighter than a boa, and you wheeze her name out, barely. “Where are you going?” Keeley looks you over and smiles, “That coach polo works on you, god you're fit!” she turns you around to get a good look at you.

You cannot help but laugh at her antics and smile. “I'm headed down to the pitch and sitting with the team today.” You look Keeley over in her fur jacket, earmuffs, and comfortable pants. “I must say you make everything look fashionable, Keels.”

She pouts, hearing you won't be sitting with the girls, “boo, I thought we’d get to finally gossip about you and your love life. But if you're gonna be with the boys, best be with the boys.” she then smiles looking at her outfit, “awe thanks babes, you are the sweetest! Alright, the boys are waiting for you- oh, hi!” Keeley was starting to turn you around to push you back towards the elevator when you both turned to see a woman behind you looking as if she was nervous to approach. 

The woman was about 5’6 "tall. Her black hair hung past her shoulders in light waves, her eyes dark green, and her complexion pale. She was wearing a black puffer jacket and a Sunderland scarf and holding a Paw Patrol backpack. She looked nervous, making eye contact with you. And you were equally uncomfortable, but you couldn't run. And sure as hell couldn't hide. Your heart pumping filled your ears, your jaw clenched, and you felt like you couldn't move. You could hear the words being spoken around you but struggled to cling onto any of them to formulate the conversation in your brain. 

The woman smiled at Keeley, and they seemed to introduce themselves. You heard both Keeley and her exchange names.

Jennifer, Keeley

You watched them shake hands, and Jennifer told Keeley why she was there. 

Husband, coach 

You knew Keeley was told she was here with her two sons by the way Jennifer gestured to two young boys talking to other kids who were there with their parents or grandparents. You knew all of this, but your tongue felt swollen in your mouth. Your jaw felt almost wired shut, so when the conversation turned back to include you, why couldn't you move? The feeling of cold rushed up your spine, reminding your body and mind that you didn't feel safe here. And that was enough for you to force your jaw to unclench. Your legs unlocked, and you quickly walked out without a word.

You don't know what kind of concerned looks you received when leaving, but you didn't want to acknowledge it either. It meant owning your anxiety, and you couldn't do that. You took the stairs back down to the bottom floor of the locker room, practically running down the stairs. You make it down and slam into the door of Roy and Nate's office, sliding down it, trying to catch your breath. You look up to the fact you are indeed alone in the room and sigh. What were your grounding exercises again? You dig through your pocket, pull out a piece of gum, and start chewing on it. 

5: the blue carpet of the coach's office, the grey paint of the office walls, the yellow wording of Gradarius Firmus Victoria, the bookshelf full of binders to your right, the clipboards hung by Nate's desk.

4: the carpet at your feet, the fabric of the polo against your neck, the cool temperature of the door against your back, the feeling of your hands against each other to help relieve your anxiety

3: the sounds of the coaches talking through the plans of today's plays, the team listening and asking questions, the sound of the heating system above you.

2: the bland air of the office and the mint on your breath

1: your gum you are chewing.

You take a deep breath and stand, dusting yourself off and rubbing your face. You hadn't been crying, but you wouldn't have been surprised if you had. Taking a moment to compose yourself, you finally walk into the locker room just in time for the huddle-up. 

“Hey, just in time (y/n)!” Ted smiles at you but gives you that concerned look, as does the rest of the team.

You shake your head, “Sorry, I was talking to the boss.” you put your hand in the pile, and everyone looks at Isaac. 

Isaac looks at everyone and nods. “Richmond on three. One. Two. Three.”

“RICHMOND!!” The locker room erupted, and the boys headed out the door.

You decided to hang back to clear your mind for a second, but I'm still unsure if you have the mental capacity to join them in the lineup yet. You fail to see Jamie hung back. He walks over to you and waves a hand in front of your face, looking at you. “Ello, earth to (y/n)?” His face is scrunched up in concern and confusion. 

You startle out of your inner thoughts to look at Jamie and force a smile: “Hm? Yeah, I'm okay. " However, you were unsure if he'd be kind enough to accept your obvious lie or corner you since you'd only known him for a few weeks. You shrug and look at the door: “Don't keep them waiting, Jamie; they will leave you.” 

Jamie frowns, looking at the doorway, too, and looks at you. You can't tell what he’s thinking, but he clenches and unclenches his fist a few times before letting out a pent-up breath. “Ted only let me come back because they needed a win, but the team didn't want me back, you know?” he says rather abruptly, catching you completely off guard. 

“I sorry Jamie-”

“No, let me finish,” cutting you off, he shrugs, “I’m working really hard to get their trust back, and I also want to be someone people can trust- so if you ever want to talk or shit- I'll do my best to listen… I know I bother you a lot, but it's because I want to be friends.” he extends his arms out, almost as if offering a hug, “Also, you look like you might start crying. I don't know what to do in these situations.” he mutters, unable to make eye contact. 

You stop briefly, steeling your emotions by pushing them down so no one can see them. A smile creeps to your face, startling him, and you push him towards the door.

“Woah-hey-what are you doing?!” Jamie was very surprised by the sudden shoving.

“You have a game to play, Tartt. Don't get sappy on me now!” you push him out into the hall where the rest of the team is waiting. Everyone looks at Jamie, but no one says anything about it. They head towards the entrance to the pitch, where the other team is waiting to walk onto the field.

The hall became silent as the teams awaited the announcement and music to play; you hung back at the end of the line for your team but looked up at the older gentleman approaching you. Actually, an older gentleman would be a horrible way to describe him, your brother, a 6’ft plus man in khakis and a Sunderland Manager jacket and oxford shoes. He stood beside you for a moment, not that anyone noticed his presence next to you. 

The feeling from before flooded your body, and your jaw clenched tighter than before. Your nails dig into the sides of your arms, and even your toes clenched in a vain effort to ground yourself. The blood pumping could be heard in your ears again, and you felt like your blood had left your body. 

Your brother knew better than to touch you in this state of panic, but could he even tell you were this anxious? Apparently so. You look down at the hand extended to you. It had a pack of gum in it, unopened, and your favorite flavor. You took it, of course. When you looked up at your older brother, meeting his gaze. The look on your face must have been ridiculous because he smiled at you. 

“Jenni texted me already. We can talk after the game.” Archie hesitated like he wanted to give you a pat on the back. Thinking better of it, he walked away from you and back up to where the rest of his staff was, leaving you alone. You put the new pack in your pocket and walked up to where the rest of the coaches were. 

Roy looked over at you, “you good?” 

You shrug in response, “As good as I'm gonna get.” 

With the timing of divine intervention, the team's Anthem started playing, and the two teams walked onto the pitch.

“Good afternoon, everyone, and welcome back to Nelson Road; today's match is between AFC Richmond and AFC Sunderland; what are we expected to see today, Chris?”

“Well, Arlo, With the Roy Kent Effect Vs Sunderlands all-rounded play style, I’m sure the two teams will be evenly matched.”

“I adore your enthusiasm, Chris; there seems to be a bit of a play style change to meet Sunderlands 1-4-2-3-1 strategy. Richmond has gone with a 3-5-2 approach for this match. This is a new lineup I've never seen before.”

“Yes, well, it keeps the midfield line overpowered and the strikers able to do what they do best.”

“Macadoo to Obisanya, Obisanya to Rojas- and a steal away from Sunderland-”

“Quite a long ball from Collin- up to Rojas- to Tartt and- GOAL for the Greyhounds!”

“And Richmond takes the half. Hopefully, this will continue in the second.” 

You stand up, waiting for the team to all head in for the half-time halftime break, the coaches quietly talking amongst themselves, and you follow in after everyone. One of the unwritten rules of football was not to break the focus. And this was their focus. 

Heading down the hall, you wait in the open area where the halls meet in a circle. You'd made it through half the pack of gum by this point and were unsure if the rest would last the next fifteen minutes. The team was going over strategy, so you couldn't just walk in. from the other side of the hall, though; your brother walked out; he didn't seem too frustrated, mainly because there were another 45 minutes to go. It was far too soon to call the game. You watch as he is typing on his phone, clearly talking to someone important. You decide to catch his attention. 

“Thanks for the gum,”... that was it? That's how you open a conversation with your brother, whom you haven't seen in three years, much less talk to? You started by thanking him for a pack of gum he probably had in his possession. You were beginning to spiral to thinking the worst things about yourself, but his response cut those off. 

“It's your favorite flavor. Unless that changed, it is still worth a shot,” Archie looked up, putting his phone in his pocket. Standing there, arms crossed, looking at you. “How are you?”

How are you? Honestly, you had no idea; you worked yourself up so badly that you thought he would hate you, and that option was still viable based on how you answered him. You could be honest and say you are having a rough go at life right now, and maybe he understands. Or he wouldn't and say it's not his job to coddle you. You could lie, and he would buy it, or press you for answers that you'd crumble on the floor. While honesty is the best policy, it's not when you haven't seen that person in three years. So you shrug and give a small smile.

“I've been worse.”

It wasn't a lie; you had been worse, but you had recovered this far, and you were mad, proud of yourself for that. There were dark days, but things have gotten a lot better for you as of late.

Archie nods, looking at the door to the locker room, then back to you. “I'm glad to see you doing better,” he says, looking back down at his phone, not looking at you. “Jenni texted me, said she saw you.”

You nod, looking at your feet, “I did… look, I want to say sorry-”

“I know you are,” he sighs, shaking his head and cutting you off. “Look, I don't think this is the time for this conversation (y/n).” he looks at you with a hurt expression. “I want us to be able to sit down and chat, but this just isn't the time.” Archie gives you a rueful smile. “I have to get back. The boys would love to see you before we leave. If you want, of course, no pressure.” with that, he gave you a pat on the shoulder and then walked back into the visitor's locker room, leaving you alone in the hall. 

You stood there dumbfounded, you wanted to cry, but you couldn't, pride? Arrogance? The way you were raised? All of these could be to blame. You'd gotten so worked up and in fear of your family pushing you out the way you did them. But maybe this wasn't something you needed to worry about. It was far too soon to tell. 

You hadn't realized the fifteen-minute half-time had even passed; the hall had erupted with noise as the two teams busted out of their locker rooms to return to the field. The only reason you even walked with them is because Jamie assured you along. You couldn't make out anything being said to you as your ears felt like all they could hear was static.

The second half of the game was mostly a stalemate, with heavy defensive and offensive shifts and about 10 shots on goal, all either blocked or wild misses, and the crowd was getting antsy. Yes, Richmond still had a point lead, but a draw wasn't in the cards, at least if anyone could do anything about it. It was about 20 until the final whistle, and the coaches talked amongst themselves. 

“We can switch back to 2-4-4-2, which will even out the squad a bit better.” Beard's suggestion was plausible but not suitable.

“Don't be fucking ridiculous we should stick with what we are doing; they can keep defending as long as we fucking need” Roy wasn't wrong, but it would exhaust the defense, and something would slip.

“Park the bus is always an option,” Nate recommended, but it was also not great for defense.

Ted thought, but there was no great option. 

The four coaches standing there huddling, unable to come up with a good idea, was worrisome, and the team could feel it. You, on the other hand, watched each second, analyzing the team and thinking from your chair. The four coaches almost seemed to start bickering ahead of you. 

“Let Jamie, Sam, and Dani try to score. Switch them back to a 4-3-3 formation. Keep the wings open, and the strikers can be more offensive,” you pipe up from your spot. 

All four coaches approach you with either a raised eyebrow or genuine contemplation. Besides Nate, he almost looked at you like you might be daft.

“That's a terrible idea; it leaves our midline weak for center field control,” Nate quips at you, looking at the other three coaches who seem to be considering it. “You three can't seriously think it's going to work?”

“If we want to keep a point lead, we must start playing more defensively.” Beard nods while stroking his chin, though.

“How sure are we that this is going to work?” Ted asks the coaches around him, but he is looking directly at you. This was a trusting moment, and he needed to know he could trust your gut. 

You nod, “it will work. I trust them.” 

Ted nods, looks over to the field, and lets out a sharp whistle, “Hey Isaac!” 

Isaac turned to look at Ted, who just mouthed 4-3-3 letting the wings fly.

Isaac nodded and returned to the field, relaying the message, and the team understood quite quickly and changed up the formation. 

“What a game! The score is one-nil, Richmond. Though I wonder how much longer they can hold their lead.”

“I say they might win the match this way, Arlo.”

“Always the optimist Chris, however- it seems to be a bit of a formation change- Jan maas with the pass, to Cumberbatch, to Obisanya, Obisanya to Tartt, and another goal for Richmond! A beautiful switch to a 4-3-3 formation and a beautiful goal from Tartt!”

“I must say that some guts to switch up this late in the game.”

“Yes, but it has secured Richmond the victory!!”

The clock hit zero, the score was 2-nil Richmond, and the crowd erupted into loud cheers. The crowd was a mix of “We Are Richmond Til We Die” and people singing Jamie's name to the Babyshark rhythm. The teams all shook hands, and the coaches exchanged good sportsmanship. 

But you? You were stuck in your chair, staring directly forward to the pitch. Your mouth was dry, and you were clawing at your arms through your jacket. Your ears were buzzing, it was all too loud, and everything was just far too bright; it wasn't always this bright. Your jaw was clenched far tighter than it had ever been previously today. Someone was talking to you; you couldn't tell where the voice was coming from or who it was coming from, but something about the voice talking to you forced you right out of your seat and practically running away from the area. However, since you were a person who understood social normalities, a brisk walk was the pace at which you moved. Weaving through people, probably muttering excuses and pardons on your way, you made it into your office in one human piece. You sat in your office chair, closing your eyes and squeezing them shut to keep the voices out and push back whatever tears might try to escape. Trying to grasp onto your reality- everything was just too much. 

Suddenly, you felt pressure; it was tight and warm. It reminded you of a blanket. You stiffened at the contact, but the pressure you felt strengthened, and you realized you were being hugged. You didn't know who, but it didn't matter right now. You just held onto the person tightly. They gently began to rock you and rubbed your back soothingly. Even if you were not the biggest fan of personal touch, you relaxed. Even as your breathing evened out and your tears slowly came to a stop, besides the occasional hiccup, they didn't let go of you yet. The body attached was firm and toned, so it couldn't have been Ted or Beard, not that you expect a hug from Beard. Roy wasn't this skinny, and he wouldn't know what to do if you started crying. They also smelt like expensive cologne, the good smells, you know? Unfortunately, it is with a little too much of it. 

When you finally decide to look up, it was who you expected, Jamie fucking Tartt. 

As soon as you two made eye contact, he let you go, hands at his sides, looking at anything that wasn't your face. To be fair, you had just spent at least the past five minutes crying, so you knew your face looked a mess. You also couldn't look him in the eye. You were embarrassed. When was the last time you cried in front of anyone? Had you had a panic attack you couldn't control? 

“So-” you both started, “No- you first.” Now, the two of you looked at each other, and you began to laugh. Jamie looked terrified like he had just watched a kitten get kicked, or someone die. Here you are, laughing at his expression because you don't know how else to respond to his reaction. 

“Why are you laughing? I followed you because I was worried!” Jamie seemed to get over the terror and was genuinely upset with you. 

It took you a second to compose yourself because you would start crying again if you didn't, “I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at you… okay, yes, I am, but I promise I'm okay!” 

Jamie frowned before looking serious and nervous again. “You bolted, and I got worried—I mean, everyone got worried, and I thought maybe you were having a panic attack like Ted did that one time, and I mean, I've never seen one, so I was worried and I followed you here,” he said. I don't know if that was the right thing to do—I've never had anyone in my life like this before.”

You were amazed. You'd never guess that Jamie Tartt would be so worried about you and your mental well-being, but here you are, and you cannot help but give him another hug, this time squeezing him tightly. “Thank you.” 

Jamie couldn't comprehend the fact that you were now hugging him. He had only reacted to your panic from the concerned look everyone had as you passed the entire team, and no one seemed bothered enough to follow you, and it reminded him of when Ted had his panic attack. He found himself worried that you could get hurt if you were left alone. In truth, he didn't know how others handled these kinds of things. However, you are his friend now, so he needed to support and comfort you. When did you two become friends? Was it some unspoken bond you two built? Or was this a one-sided affection, and did you only see him as a co-worker? He couldn't tell, which seemed to frighten him more; his embrace tightened on you in a fleeting moment of his anxiety. Those fears sunk into his bones as you broke contact first, aggressively wiping at your eyes to hide any traits of tears that might have shown their faces. Jamie did not attempt to keep you there, but he did lean in to check your face. 

“Feeling better?” his face painted in concern for you. 

You shrug and straighten out your jacket, and you look down at your feet, far too embarrassed to look him in the eye, “I think I will be…” you look up and give the best smile you can to ease his concerns, albeit it was not much of a smile. “Go celebrate with the team. We can talk later, okay?” you didn't leave much room for argument as you walked out of your office into the hallway. And Jamie exited after you but walked back to the locker room.

No more than 30 feet away from you, Rebecca stood at the end of the hall talking with Ted and Beard. You couldn't hear what they were talking about, but the second the sound of your office door opening and shutting again alerted them to another person in the vicinity. All three of the members of the huddle at the end of the hall look up and smile at you; Ted and Beard take this moment to excuse themselves as Rebecca approaches you. You hadn't realized how intimidating she could be, yet here you are, scared of the tall,, beautiful woman you know as your boss.

“Are you alright (y/n)? You don't look well.” she peers at your face with deep concern but you shake her off like it was nothing. 

“I'll be alright. Is there something you need?” You couldn't look her in the eyes, let alone anyone at this moment, but she gently placed a hand on your shoulder. " Let's go talk in my office. I think you'd feel more comfortable in there.” She led you up to her office, and you followed like a lost puppy in a storm.

The two of you enter her office, you taking a seat on the couch and her grabbing herself a cup of tea. " Anything to drink? Water, whiskey, tea?” she asks you before looking back at you. 

Unlike Keeley, you always kept your shoes on in the office. Here, you sat on the couch, knees tucked against your chest, hugging them close, with your shoes off. You were not responding to Rebecca; you were just watching the pitch from the window as people still were leaving the stadium. 

Rebecca frowned, sitting down next to you with her cup, and followed your gaze, “Keeley told me that you two seen your sister-in-law… are you alright? Seeing your family, I mean.”

You shrug and smile tiredly. " It'll be okay. I'm working on it. Anyway, what's up?” You turn your attention wholly to Rebecca. 

Rebecca nods before clearing her throat and turning fully, facing you in return. “I need assistance. Ted and Beard told me that you came up with today's formation that the team used. Roy is an amazing player and knows the game inside and out; Nate has amazing ideas, Coach Beard keeps Ted Tamed, and Ted is… he's Ted, and that team loves him. With Roy back, our tie streak has been broken, but I worry about the long run.” she takes a sip of her tea, studying your expression. 

You didn't give her much to go on, your face stoic as you listened. You knew this was going one way, but you wanted to let her pitch her idea before you answered.

Rebecca sighed quietly, “I'm asking for your help; you know how to be a goalkeeper, and the team likes you, even if you are only a consultant of such. Oh, (y/n) don't make me beg.” Rebecca gave you a pitiful pout, allowing you to crack a smile. 

You shrug and adjust so you're sitting crisscross apple sauce. You shrug, “I don't have an answer for you, and if I tried to answer you now, I'm sure that would be a horrible idea.” You stand up from the couch. " Don't get me wrong. I'm not telling you no. I'm just saying I don't know.” You respond, putting on your shoes. 

“Promise you think on it?” she asks you one last time.

You head to the door, “Goodnight, Rebecca.”

Outside the office, you check your phone seeing a new notification.

Jamie Tartt

Hey, want a ride home?

You peer over the railing, seeing Jamie looking up at you and giving you a wave. You chuckle to yourself and nod. Heading down the stairs to join Jamie by his side, you say, “Yeah, actually, I don't think I could walk myself home right now.” 

Jamie nods gently, rocking his shoulders into yours as you two walk, “about earlier-”

You shrug and walk outside with him, “Something you'll learn, Jamie, is that I'm not emotionally vulnerable. I don't like making people worry about me, and I sure as hell don't like people seeing how I feel.” you follow after Jamie to his car. You knew Jamie was one of those I'm rich because I'm an extraordinary person, and his Aston Martin Rapide didn't change that view of him one bit.

Jamie nods, unlocking his car so you can get in, and he opens the door for you. “Right.”

You frown at his short answer, but you get in and buckle yourself into your seat. Waiting for him to get in the driver's side, you say, " Right… that's all I'm getting out of that?”

He shakes his head, buckling up, “Ted said I should just let you talk if you want to talk; if you want input, then ill give it but ill be pretty shit at it.” he turns the engine over and puts the car into reverse so he can pull out his spot. “I asked for advice.” 

You nod, looking down at your hands, “Oh- right.”

He nods, “Also, I'm going to need directions.” He doesn't look away from the road, but you can feel his full attention on you. 

You nod, “Hang a left out of the park and drive straight until I tell you to turn. “I'm fine, though, I talked to my brother, and he wants to chat when I'm ready- I ran into my sister-in-law, and it scared the crap out of me, and we won. Everything went pretty well. Even the panic episodes could have been worse.” you look out the window. “I dunno… I feel like I'm waiting for something to happen. I couldn't tell you what it is- hang a left,” you gesture to the street. 

Jamie turns the corner, “like something bad?” he peeks over at you before turning his eyes back to the road. 

You nod, “Yeah, like if I get involved in anything again, I might get hurt.” You stop for a moment, letting your own words sink in, and you let out a shaky sigh, “Hang a right.” “I don't want to push people out, but I can't let them in if something bad happens again.” 

Jamie nods, turning right where he's told, and he looks over at the buildings on the street and drives slower since it is a pedestrian-heavy area. “You let your brother back in a bit, and you've got friends on the team; Keeley loves you; she loves everyone, but a wins a win.” 

You nod, pointing to your apartment building, “That one." You quietly sink into your seat. The tears finally escaping you no matter how hard you fight, “I miss the pitch, I miss the box, I miss my family and my squad mates, I miss the wins, the losses, the workouts, all of it, but I'm too big of a fucking coward to want to even attempt to get back in it, I know I can, but I do not want to get hurt again, I don't want to get peoples hopes up that ill come back, because if I do and I get hurt, I'm again just letting everyone down. I'm letting myself down.” you take a sharp breath and wipe at your tears aggressively as you realize the car has been parked for a while, and Jamie isn't to your right anymore. 

Instead, Jamie got out and opened the car door for you, reaching out his hand. “Do you want another hug?” 

You nod, unbuckling yourself from the seat, and take his hand. Jamie pulls you up and hugs you tightly. Allowing you to feel your feelings in earnest for the first time in a long time, you sob into his shoulder, hugging him as tightly as you can. There was no rush to pull yourself together, and Jamie didn't speak; he just made sure you felt safe and secure. When you finally pulled away, you felt exhausted and embarrassed. 

“I'm so sorry, Jamie-” you started apologizing before Jamie cut you off. 

“Don't apologize. You should get some rest, though. You can call me if you need anything.” He looked at his feet, hands in his pockets. 

You think for a moment, before throwing rationality to the wind, “Come on.” You pull him along after you, unlocking your door and leading him inside. You kick off your shoes at the front door and take off your coat. “Put the kettle on. I'm gonna go get changed.” And you head off to your bedroom. 

This was the first time you had anyone over in a long time, let alone a guy you found attractive. There was a slight alarm in your head that your apartment was not clean for guests to come visit. Still, that thought was put out of your mind when you finally returned to the living kitchen area when Jamie turned back to face you with two cups of hot cocoa and a bowl of popcorn,. He had a second unopened bag of crisps under his chin as not to drop it on the floor. The TV was on in your living room, and you realized it was some sort of reality TV show, The Great British Bake Off. You stood in the doorway as Jamie set everything down on the coffee table and turned to you with his hands on his hips and a smile proud of himself and his work. “I think you deserve a calm night in,” he looked around your flat. “Got any fluffy blankets?” 

You chuckle and nod, returning to your room, grabbing a spare few blankets from the cupboard, and bringing them back out. Jamie was sitting on the couch watching the episode without you, so in any good fashion of friendly fire, you threw the blankets over him and hopped over the couch to sit next to him as he wrestled the blankets off his face so he could see again. You hunkered down on your couch to watch TV alongside Jamie. 

Jamie, freeing himself from the blankets, sat close enough to you that you could feel his body heat but not too close to make you uncomfortable. The two of you spent the night talking, watching TV, eating snacks, and just enjoying each other's friendship. 

It was late into the evening, and you had settled down from your chatting. Jamie had fallen asleep on the couch a while ago. Standing up, you tuck Jamie in on the couch and leave him to sleep out there and you in your room. You clean up the mugs and snacks, setting them in your dishwasher, and looking back out to the living room one more time, you walk back out to the living room and rustle Jammie's hair while he sleeps comfortably on your couch. 

“Good night, Jamie.” 

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[suppose-i-was-worm]

Dani A(Clone)

**An Arctic Siren Aside**

***Thank y'all for 200 followers!! I look forward to getting to know y'all!***

Oliver Queen, the Green Arrow of Star City, was not easy to startle. He went through too much training, too much pain to not be on the alert all the time. Letting out a breath, he shot his arrow, hitting his far away target with an ease that he was familiar with after so many years.

“Wow, Mister, you sure have good aim!”

Oliver Queen, when startled, screamed like a goat. He spun, looking for an enemy, but instead was met with the curious face of a young girl sitting on the ground behind him, leaning her chin on her fist.

Oliver took a moment to recollect himself.

“Hello, young miss. Can I help you?”

The girl tilted her head.

“I’m looking for my brother. Are you a hero?”

Nodding, Oliver pointed to his bow with the hand not holding it.

“I’m the Green Arrow.”

She didn’t seem impressed.

“Tell me more about your brother? Is he older? Younger? What’s his name?”

“Stranger danger, what’s your name?”

Oliver paused.

“Green Arrow.”

“His name’s John, in that case. John Jacob Jingleheimer Smith.”

“John?”

“His name is my name too.”

By the glint in the girl’s eyes, Oliver was being pranked somehow and neither child was named John. He tried a different approach.

“What does your brother look like?”

“Like me, but a boy.”

Helpful. He knew he was supposed to be kind and gentle with civilian children, but Oliver almost wanted to pick this girl up and shake her until she had useful information.

There was a crunch on the rooftop behind him, and by the sounds it was Arsenal coming to find out what was taking him so long.

“Oh wow, you’re cool!”

The girl bounced up and darted around Oliver to circle Roy, looking him up and down.

“Now there’s a hero! Baseball cap? Clean shaven? Be still my beating heart!”

Oliver’s only solace was that Roy looked about as off-put as he himself was.

“Can I be a hero? My brother’s a hero, we’d find each other that way!”

Roy smiled at the kid.

“Well, it takes a lot to be a hero, you know? What would your hero name be?”

“Phantom, like my brother. And it’s fine! I’ve got powers, see?”

The girl lifted off the ground, hovering, and crossed her legs underneath her to sit in the air.

“I can do some other stuff too, but the flight is the coolest.”

Oliver looked at Roy, who seemed to be seriously thinking about the girl’s proposition.

“Arsenal, you can’t- What about her parents?”

The girl’s float drooped a little.

“They’re… gone. It’s just me and my brother, and I don’t know where he is. I’m from the Infinite Realms, and I can’t get back without him.”

The Infinite Realms sounded like Justice League Dark shit.

“Let me introduce you to the Teen Titans, then. Phantom, right?”

Phantom lit up, and Oliver stared in shock at his teammate.

Batman would be so pissed at him.

~~~

Dick Grayson smiled at the girl in front of him. Damian had convinced him to come meet her, claiming that she was an ‘integral part of the team’, only a few weeks into her tenure with the Titans.

Phantom smiled back, too sharp teeth on display.

“Hello, Phantom. I’m Nightwing, Robin’s brother. How are you today?”

“Stellar, thanks!” She did a little twirl midair. “How are you, Mister Nightwing sir?”

“I’m doing well. I heard that you didn’t allow for a DNA sample? It would make life in the tower much easier if we had your biometrics.”

She scowled, suddenly dropping to the ground and crossing her arms. She was short, for a sixteen-year-old, but Dick was still a little thrown off by the ferocious look on her face.

“Don’t you Gotham folks know when no means no? Consent is sexy and you are not. I’ve met heroes with better etiquette than any of you.”

He held his hands up in a gesture of peace.

“I won’t force you. Who’s your favorite hero?”

Immediately, as if a switch had been flipped, Phantom was up in the air again, grinning like a loon.

“Phantom Prime, of course! My brother is the strongest person I know.”

Kid Flash looked up from where he’d been assembling a puzzle.

“You met Superman the other day, though?”

Phantom scoffed.

“My brother could kick his ass. Ancients, I'd kick his ass if you guys would let me. He deserves an ass-kicking.”

“Why?”

Dick would admit he was just as confused as Kid Flash.

“Vibes.”

“Vibes? What kind of vibes?”

“Fruitloop vibes.”

“That doesn’t make much sense, Phantom.”

“Sure it does! Hey, Superboy!”

~~~

Kon-el startled at being caught listening in to the conversation. He turned to address Phantom from the tower kitchen.

“What’s up?”

“Is Superman’s secret identity rich?”

“Uh, no?”

“Does he have a lair?”

“Kinda?”

“How is he about clones?”

Kon must have made a face, because Phantom pointed at him.

“Ah-ha! Those vibes! Clone hater vibes.”

Stepping out of the kitchen, Kon tried to downplay the issue.

“I mean, he’s gotten better, but…”

“Nope! He’s still an asshole and deserves an ass-kicking.”

Nightwing held up a hand like a kid in a schoolroom.

“You have an opinion about clones?”

Phantom nodded decisively.

“My brother says that clones didn’t ask to be made, just like any other kid. It’s not their fault, it’s the fault of their creator. He says that the sins of the father should not be visited on the sons.”

Kon stepped closer, curious.

“But. Isn’t it a violation? If someone makes a clone without the donor’s knowledge?”

Phantom looked over at him with big, sad eyes.

“My sister says that’s between the donor and the creator. No kid should be painted as the one in the wrong when they were a victim, too.”

Nightwing spoke up again, sounding a little out of his depth.

“You deal with a lot of clones?”

She grinned, and Kon could tell there was a secret behind the twinkle in her eyes.

“One or two.”

~~~

Dani heard a knock on the frame of her open door and turned to greet her visitor. It was getting late- she was pretty surprised that anyone was still awake.

“Hey Superboy! How can I help?”

“Would you-‘ he looked sheepish. ‘Would you really beat up Superman for me?”

She cracked her knuckles. Someone had said that Kon-el was a clone, but she hadn’t really expected him to admit to it. They weren’t even properly teammates- he was part of Young Justice, not Teen Titans.

“I’d beat up anybody to protect the honor of clone-kind, Superboy.”

“Why?”

Making a split second decision, Dani leaned in close.

“Can you keep a secret, Kon-el?”

“Yeah?”

“You’d better. Us clones have to stick together, amiright?”

Superboy looked at her, stunned, and she winked.

“Just don’t tell the bats. Batman has both rich and secret lair vibes.”

[thebisexualdogdad]

Smutober day 10: Roy Harper x Male!reader - You're mine

Roy Harper was not a jealous man but Jason knew exactly how to push his buttons just enough to make him so.

Jason would never actually sleep with his friends boyfriend but he sure did enjoy hitting on you with the intentions of pissing Roy off.

The three of you were drinking beers after a long day, you and Jason looking for some snacks in the kitchen of the abandoned warehouse the outlaws were currently preoccupying while Roy was on the nearby couch watching some random show on TV.

“You did good out there today Y/N,” Jason says leaning against the counter, “and you were looking good too.”

You scoff and roll your eyes playfully, “thanks Jay and you're welcome for saving your ass.”

“You can save my ass anyday,” he grins, “but I gotta say I much rather prefer looking at your ass.”

Roy can clearly overhear your conversation knowing what Jason was doing, “knock it off dude,” he says over his shoulder and taking another swig of his beer.

“What's the matter Roy can't handle a little friendly competition?” Jason asks.

“Please, there's nothing to compete with,” he says getting frustrated, “Y/N would never in a million years sleep with you.”

“That's not true, is it Y/N?” Jason says faux innocently.

“I mean never say never,” you reply playing along.

Roy slams his beer down on the coffee table, getting up from the couch and stomping over to you and Jason.

“Back off my boyfriend,” Roy grunts, grabbing your hand and taking you to the room you've turned into a makeshift bedroom by putting a mattress on the floor.

Once in the room Roy slams the door shut and pushes you against it, kicking off your shoes and attacking your neck with his lips.

“Fucking Jason,” he says biting down harshly on your neck, “never knows how to keep his mouth shut.”

“He's just messing around,” you moan, his hand going under your shirt to lift it off over your head.

“I don't care, you're mine,” Roy growls, aggressively kissing you.

He picks you up and carries you over to the mattress, dropping you onto it and pulling his shirt off before climbing on top of you and kissing you again.

“You're hot when you're jealous,” you moan into the kiss, tugging your pants and underwear down your legs and Roy takes them the rest of the way off.

“Shut up and turn over,” he demands.

He shuffles down the mattress as you flip over onto your hands and knees, Roy spreading your cheeks apart and frantically licking your hole.

Your cock is getting hard as he eats your ass and you hear him unzip his jeans, looking back to see he's now jerking himself off.

“Roy please,” you groan after a few minutes of his tongue expertly working you up, “fuck me.”

His tongue leaves you and is quickly replaced by his cock making you tightly grip the pillow under you.

The rough material of his jeans are scratching the back of your thighs, Roy enjoying the way your skin is turning red as a punishment for making him jealous.

He gives you a hard smack to your ass, jumping at the jolt of pain but he grabs your waist and pulls you back into him hitting so deep inside you.

“Holy shit!” you yell out, Roy smacking your ass again and thrusting faster.

“Scream my name Y/N, I want Jason to hear you,” Roy says.

“Roy,” you cry out and then another smack.

“Louder,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Roy!” you scream.

“Just like that baby,” he says digging his nails so harshly into your waist he's drawing blood as he's railing you.

A few minutes later you cum but Roy doesn't stop he just keeps fucking you, focused on reaching his own release.

You scream his name over and over as your eyes roll back, nearly passing out from the intensity but eventually he cums filling you so much it drips out of you with his cock still inside you.

When he's feeling satisfied, he pulls out of you and you flop down onto your stomach.

The back of your thighs are rubbed raw by his jeans and he stands up, stuffing his cock back in his underwear and grabbing a rag.

He leaves the room and goes to the bathroom, returning with the rag now wet.

Leaning down he gently runs the rag over your skin making you wince from the sting as he cleans you up.

When he's done he slips out of his pants to get more comfortable as he lays down on the mattress next to you in his underwear.

He puts his arm around your waist and gently kisses your chest, his demeanor completely changed from before.

You hear a ding on your phone and look to see you have a text from Jason that just says, “you're welcome 😏”

Roy huffs when he sees the text, “fucking Jason.”

[jamtartandsunshine]

Roys been helping his sister raise Phoebe for the little girls entire life. He’s lost count of how many times he’s woken up to the little gremlin standing beside his bed, or even creepier standing in the doorway, the faint light of the lamp he leaves on in the hallway for her eerily glowing behind her.

He’s used to it.

So when he wakes up to a faint knock and his bedroom door opening with a slow creak it’s muscle memory that has him shuffling over in bed and flinging back his quilt before he’s even cracked open his heavy eyes.

“Roy?”

The voice makes Roy jolt awake. It’s deeper, even in a soft whisper, but more than that is the tremble in the single word. The hesitation, the fear has Roy sitting up blinking against the familiar glow of the hall light.

Except this time he hadn’t turned it on for his niece, she was safe at home tucked into her own bed.

And yet he’d hesitated at the light switch after seeing his player safely to bed in the guest room. Something inside him making him flip the light on, almost as if he knew this moment would come.

“Jamie” Roy grunts his voice heavy with sleep “you okay?”

He looks so young standing in the doorway of Roy’s bedroom, wringing his hands nervously, his shoulders hunched in way that makes Roy frown at him, knowing it must be aggravating the bruised ribs that lay hidden beneath the borrowed hoodie the young man is wearing.

“Dunno” Jamie mutters nervously. “Sorry-I-I dunno what I’m doing…I’ll just…” he takes a step back, stumbling into the door.

“Jamie” Roy calls sitting up straighter reaching out to pull the quilt back further in silent invitation.

Jamies eyes widen at the gesture, looking over at Roy longingly but he doesn’t move. His hands drift under his hoodie, pulling the black material taunt as he fidgets anxiously.

Roy can’t help the tired sigh that slips out. Regrets floods through him as Jamie flinches back at the sound and Roy silently berates himself.

“It’s okay” he encourages tiredly patting the empty space beside him “I won’t fucking bite, let’s just get some sleep yeah?”

He watches as Jamie fights with himself but after a moment he clearly makes his choice as he slowly moves forward towards the bed.

“Sorry” Jamie whispers as he carefully crawls into Roy’s bed. Roy immediately notes that he’s trembling almost violently “M’ being fuckin’ stupid…just…I heard a car door slam and I dunno…” his voice drops as his unconsciously sinks closer to Roy “I got scared…S’ stupid”

“It’s not fucking stupid” Roy grunts laying back down, shifting onto his side so he can look at Jamie in the dim moonlight. “It’s completely fucking understandable after the shit day you’ve had”

Jamie makes a small noise of acknowledgment but he doesn’t relax.

“Do you think you can go back to sleep?”

Jamie hesitates, the trembling picking back up a little “dunno” he almost whimpers. “I…I dunno”

It’s too much. Jamie’s scared and shaking, covered in bruises and all Roy can think of is how he’d flinched at every sudden movement that night, every sound.

The thing is, Roys been helping his sister raise Phoebe for the little girls entire life. He’s lost count of how many times he’s wiped away tears, or soothed nightmares. And while Jamie’s not Roy’s nine year old niece, he is a scared kid and Roy can’t just pretend Jamie’s not crying next to him and go back to sleep.

He shifts closer to Jamie. Slowly, and cautiously being careful not to startle him “don’t fucking laugh at me” he warns lightly “but do you want a cuddle?”

[pixiedurango]

Six Songs Soundtrack - Cara de Riva

@alystrin03 tagged me and it makes me super happy, because there is nothing I love more than yapping about the music I chose for my baby to represent her vibes. So thank you, love, I really appreciate you and how you always boost positivity here in our little corner of fandom. Rules: make a post with links to music and/or lyrics describing six things/events about your OC/story. So here we go... get the party started

Lucanis' memories of her when they were teenagers and trained and lived together at Villa Dellamorte and that he has to admit, that now has not much changed and he still has the same crush on her like when he was 17

Take me back To that fire in your eyes 'Cause I know it ain't gone too far Take me back to you and to your wild heart, yeah To your wild heart, yeah You used to be the girl that could light up a room And with the flip of a switch I bet you still do You will leave a trail of danger, yeah, wherever you go And no matter where it lead me, I would follow, yeah

Those two songs for me belong together and so I am counting them as one (because I can). They stand for how Cara sees Solas and what she thinks about their relationship and how she feels about what he does to her

How she sees Solas I'm gonna build me an empire And it's lonely at the top But madness and greatness Can both share a face And nobody will ever convince me to stop It's my destiny (it's my destiny) I was born to play this game So fear me or love me It's all the same

How she feels about Solas So don't come crying to me When nothing's how you Thought it'd be You made this bed Forced me to lie in it But you haven't seen me angry yet You're gonna see me angry

The (drinking) hymn of the Lighthouse Crew

We could just go home right now Or maybe we could stick around For just one more drink, oh yeah Get another bottle out Let's shoot the shit, sit back down For just one more drink, oh yeah Here's to us Here's to love All the times that we fucked up Here's to you Fill the glass 'Cause the last few days have kicked my ass So let's give 'em hell Wish everybody well Here's to us Here's to us

Lucanis and Cara are my demi icons

Secret romantic fool On cloudy days, one hundred ways That I find, blows my mind Nothing can compare to this Can never miss my favorite bliss Oh I know, I know, I know You're my ace, winning hand Lucky starlight wonderland Shining bright diamonds, baby Just a little more You're my ace, jamming band Guitar rhythm on the sand Every little thing's gonna be alright You and I belong together, we make life better You and I, we can sail together across any weather

Cara is the ultimate book nerd, deep down dreaming of romance and even though she is perfectly capable of saving herself, a knight in shining armor is not the worst, right?

No need to run, life is not in a rush Your fast love is just a button you push Don't be scared, he won't catch your eye Why take second best when you can aim for the sky? You need the braver crusader The prince who came to save her The honest to promise and treat you like a goddess You need a man to go down on his knees You need a man who'll give you what you need Hey, hey, how will I know he's the one?

Lucanis' feelings for her in one song

She's a whistle on the wind A feather on the breeze A ripple on the stream She is sunlight on the sea She's a soft summer rain Falling gently through the trees And I love her She's cunning as a fox Clever as a crow Solid as a rock She is stubborn as a stone Shes a hardheaded woman And the best one that I know And I love her Yeah well I love her She's as new as the springtime, Strong as autumn blows Warm as the summer And soft as the snow She's a thousand miles from here But she's everywhere I go Cuz I love her She loves me like a woman She looks like a lady She laughs like a child And cries like a baby I think that maybe she's the one that's gonna save me

I gently invite to play: @ezriell @hyperions-light @becausedragonage @therivercrow @thedissonantverses @ofcrowsanddragons @badwolf626 @draco-illius-noctis @melody-loka @blackwall-my-tiny-husband @motleymercurialmarionette @serensama and everybody who loves music and wants to spread blorbo vibes and positivity. No pressure of course <3

[normal-nightmare]

When I first got into JayDick, this blog was the first one I encountered and I really enjoyed the posts about Gotham Knights JayDick (and why I got the game and wow y'all weren't kidding XD) and then post about RHatO annual #1 really sealed the deal. But all that to say that as I've been slowly devouring the comics I noticed a trend? (And please forgive my rambling thoughts as I get them out of my head and into the void)

But I noticed that fandom likes to give Dick a lot of shit about his thing with red heads and I'm side eyeing Jason like he also doesn’t have his own collection of red heads... literally the same ones as Dick (except for Artemis)?

Kori? Roy? Babs? (All exs even Roy imo)

Like you have him and Kori kiss in new 52 RHatO plus him saying that Kori loves Dick as much as Jason hated him 👀 when we all know there is a fine line between love and hate 👀

And then Babs, I know there were a few moments in Batman Eternal where she was implying she wanted a relationship with Jason as a means to get him to stay? (I mostly skimmed through Eternal but that's how I understood those panels) and then (spoilers for) Batman Three Jokers (again which I flipped through) where they share a kiss (and sidenote: Jason was hot as hell in this 😳)

And idk if I'm making sense but I find it interesting that the writers give Jason almost all of Dick’s exs as potential romantic partners? Isn't there a trope out there where Person A is jealous of Person B so they date all of B's exs when in reality all along A wanted B?

I hope you see the vision I'm trying to explain. 😆 like at the this point please give us canon JayDick this is ridiculous.

Oh my god yes ahigudhxyv I see what you're saying!! Like, there's SO much accidental setup for canon jaydick, even in the comics. I can't really explain it super well?? But they have such a complicated and emotional history, and it feels like they actively TRY to have a relationship with each other. They fuck up sometimes, or occasionally need outside help [glances at Artemis in that RHATO v2 annual], but they seem to really want a relationship with each other, whatever that may be. There's sooo much commitment in their relationship!! And there's so much yearning, too...

And yes, yes, there's a very fine line between hate and love :) hate isn't the opposite of love, indifference is. Jason has never truly HATED Dick, I think. The idea of him? The golden boy who gets all of Bruce's love? Definitely. But actually hating Dick? Yeah I don't think so.

Idk they feel so entangled in each other in a way that's hard to explain. Their relationship is complex, weighed heavy by guilt and grief and tragedy that they're only recently starting to clean off. But there's sooo much devotion and commitment. Their relationship can't really be described as fully platonic (not yet at least... 👀), it's too complex for that, but it's not explicitly romantic either. And it's certainly not familial, lol, I never got those vibes from them except for in fanfiction-esque comics (like Nightwing v4 107 lol). Honestly, their relationship is way too complex to be boiled down to simple labels like that. Hence why I recently found out that 'alterous' is a good label for their relationship!

Just... they're so complicated and it sucks that people don't wanna explore that because of the preconceived notion that they're brothers, nothing more, nothing less. Sure, legally they are, but they don't... act like it? They didn't grow up together, they weren't very close before Jason died, and they only recently started getting properly close. Jason also has his crush thing going on (seriously, how else am I supposed to interpret RHATO v2 annual 1??).

People are soooo afraid of even touching the idea that their relationship MIGHT be more complex than a familial one. This absolutely isn't me like, bragging or being prideful or anything, but my analysis on this sort of thing is rarely wrong loll. They're complex, and people love it that way, and I think DC is slowly starting to understand just how much people love them as a duo (and a couple- seriously, it's one of the most popular DC pairings. I like to joke it's the wincest of DC). Honestly? I feel like jaydick becoming canon one day would be a natural progression of their relationship. Especially since they seem to be getting paired up as a duo more often. Readers love them, comic artists and writers like them too- i feel like jaydick actually happening one day wouldn't be extremely surprising. Or. Well actually it would be because DC loves to push dickbabs and wouldn't dare make some of their most popular characters bisexual lmaoo. But still, they're a popular duo!! It'd only be natural for them to end up together loll.

And, honestly, I genuinely feel like Gotham Knights was going that way in terms of canon jaydick?? People love to say they were "soooo siblings" or platonic but like. God they were as FAR from platonic or familial as you can GET 😭 if you act like that around your family, I'm VERY concerned for you lmaoo. I genuinely feel like the writers were intending for jaydick to happen in a DLC given how much setup there is. Either that, or it was an Arcane Jayvik situation where the creator(s) considered them friends/brothers but told no one. God, what i wouldn't give to talk to one of the writers about that. Seriously though, there's no way they ACCIDENTALLY wrote them flirting. And how the fandom didn't pick up on it, I have NO clue.

Anyways 😭 I am SO sorry for yapping, I can't keep my mouth shut about them even if my life depended on it. I'm happy my blog is the first one you found when you got into jaydick <33

OH WAIT the thing about redheads you mentioned?? Extremely funny on Dicks side of that because JASON was canonically a redhead at one point loll. 10 points to jaydick shippers, as per usual.

Okay, actually shutting up now, I've yapped enough

[pr0serpinas]

ready to fire me a hot one

The five minutes that Jason thought Roy was dead were the worst of either of his two lives.

Or: Roy, who does not die on their mission (but does blow up a building) seizes on the opportunity to put Jason out of his misery and act on both their feelings.

Can also read on ao3!

Jason shifted his weight from one leg to the other and tried not to stare at the time. It didn’t necessarily mean anything that Roy was twenty-three minutes late–not that he was counting. It went against every one of his instincts to lie in wait, letting his partner go into the office building while he did recon on the roof. In and out, Jaybird, Roy had said with a dirty wink. Roy was the better hacker. He’d get the intel they needed in a fraction of the time. And Jason could watch his back from the opposite roof.

Roy was twenty-seven minutes late.

There hadn’t been so much as a gnat flying across Jason’s scope, but if Roy’s happy ass didn’t come out the door in three minutes, Jason was going in after him, subtlety be damned.

At twenty-nine minutes, the explosion threw Jason off his feet.

The helmet protected him when he hit the rooftop, but the crack reverberated through his skull and rattled his teeth. He felt the heat through his pants even from six stories up and across the street. He picked up the rifle from where he’d unwittingly tossed it and crammed the scope to his eye with shaking hands.

The office building with their intel—the office building where Roy was getting their intel—was on fire. Glass fell like rain on the pavement as the windows blew out. Jason’s heart rose to his throat and he dropped the scope. Roy was in the building. Roy was in the building. Jason unclasped his helmet, panting in a desperate attempt to avoid throwing up. The rush of night-cooled air on his face stung, grounding him just enough to bring the scope back to his eye. Nothing moved across the street except the fire licking its way up the sides of the building.

Roy was in the building.

The world tilted hard to the left. Jason’s knees buckled. The part of him that was hardwired to monitor his own body, as drilled into him by Bruce in his last life, noted with detachment that he was hyperventilating. The way the blood thundered through his veins felt like a mockery. He couldn’t move. The graveled roof bit into his knees. He couldn’t get his brain to make the connections. Roy couldn’t be in the building. Nothing could happen to Roy; he was practically bulletproof, the toughest person Jason knew. Roy, Jason had decided long ago, was not allowed to die before Jason did for the final time.

Time lost meaning for Jason. The only thing that was real was the ringing in his ears.

“Hey, baby; miss me?”

Jason landed hard on one arm to keep from tipping over. He threw his head over his shoulder and blinked dumbly, uncomprehendingly, at Roy. He was streaked with grime, glass clinging to his hair like fragments of stars, and grinning like a madman. “Hell of an entrance, right?”

Jason’s throat seemed to be swollen shut. He swallowed painfully. “What—happened?” he ground out, rising shakily to his feet.

Roy’s smile faltered at the edges. “Eh, you know me. Shit’s bound to blow up eventually. Got the intel, though.” To prove his point, he flipped the SD card along his knuckles.

“Give me that.” Jason snatched the data off the back of Roy’s hand. “What the hell happened.”

“So…turns out that their computer system—which, speaking of, way more sophisticated than I expected—their computer system was connected to a network of explosives. It was rigged to blow if a virus infiltrated it.”

Roy’s casual shrug made Jason furious. “You were twenty-nine minutes late before the building exploded.”

Roy blinked. “Well,” he said slowly. “I wasn’t expecting the building to have anyone in it, so I improvised. I had to knock out a guard, take his uniform off, plant the virus in the computer system, scrape the data, and put the uniform back on the guard.”

“Whatever,” Jason snapped, cramming his helmet on with such force that it made the top of his head hurt. “Let’s just go home.”

“Okay, whatever you want, Jaybird.” Roy still talked in that slow, exaggerated voice, like Jason was a wild animal Roy could calm. It only served to make Jason even angrier, though he wasn’t sure why. He couldn’t stand to spare Roy a single glance as they flew across the rooftops. If he looked, he worried he might never stop.

In their safehouse—apartment, you weirdo, Roy often said—Jason shed pieces of his armor with clinical precision. Usually, he and Roy would do their version of a debrief. On good nights, they’d eat freezer burritos and find their way to the couch, Roy sprawled like the couch was twelve feet long and Jason curled up tight in an age-old habit to make himself as small as possible that he never could seem to shake. On bad nights, they’d stitch each other up while Roy cracked jokes with smiles that didn’t reach his hollow eyes. Either way, they had quiet music going in the background.

Tonight, Jason chose silence and meticulously disassembled and cleaned his rifle. He didn’t need to look at Roy to know he would come apart by degrees. Roy couldn’t abide being ignored. But Jason was so angry he could hardly see straight. He didn’t know why, exactly, which only made him angrier. He’d hardly finished cleaning the grease and soot off the eyepiece of the scope when Roy cracked.

“You’re seriously going to clean your gun first thing?” Roy complained, cross-armed and sulky.

“Just because you don’t take care of your equipment doesn’t mean I have to do the same,” Jason replied evenly, not looking up.

“I didn’t have any equipment because I was running intel. Don’t you wanna know what we got?”

He really did. “No.”

“What the hell crawled up your ass?” Roy muttered.

Jason set down the scope and the cleaning rag and glanced at Roy. “I dunno, a smoldering crater where an office building used to be and what, three dead guards and half a dozen hired guns?”

“You’re upset that a couple of low-level thugs are dead?” Roy said incredulously.

“No, I’m upset that we were trying to be discreet.”

Roy threw up his hands. “I didn’t know the computer system was set to blow! Seriously, why are you so angry about this?”

“Because—because you weren’t more careful!” Jason exclaimed, springing to his feet. He crossed over to Roy, jabbing a finger at him despite Roy’s indignant spluttering. “You could have died!”

“Died?” Roy frowned, confused. “I wasn’t even in the building when it happened; I was carrying the guard I knocked out.”

“Carrying the—what the fuck for?”

“Because he didn’t deserve it,” Roy shrugged. “I’m pretty sure the rest made it out, too. They all had these little wrist communicator things that buzzed when the system went into lockdown, and they scattered. I’d knocked this guy out cold, so he couldn’t.”

“But you were late,” Jason insisted, determined to be angry.

“Yeah, we’ve been through this. Can you please quit poking me in the chest?”

“You’re so—” Jason snapped his jaw shut, too furious to speak. He knew he was too close, practically toe to toe with Roy, who had one eyebrow and a corner of his mouth quirked in surprised amusement. He just wanted to—what? Hit him? Kiss him? Not for the first time, Jason regretted that he was never really a teenager. Or a kid, for that matter.

Roy leaned in with a hint of a smile, red hair in his eyes, and cupped Jason’s cheek with a surprisingly gentle touch. Jason’s stomach lurched at the look in Roy’s eyes.

As far as first kisses went, it was a firecracker.

In Jason’s limited experience, first kisses were special only in that they were the first: they were fumbling and awkward as both parties remembered how to fit lips together and tried not to bump teeth. Roy slid his lips against Jason’s as if he knew them as intimately as his own, taking Jason’s bottom lip between his teeth and tugging until Jason gasped. Rough and gentle all at once, Roy pushed against Jason with his hips with a filthy slide at the same time that he petted Jason’s hair, twisting the curls around his fingers. Jason’s head whirled. Roy stank of smoke and tasted of Mountain Dew. It was the most revolting combination. Jason wanted to etch it into his bones.

Roy pulled back abruptly, eyes dark and grin slick. “You’re mad because you thought I was dead,” he said with satisfaction. Jason blinked, dazed. “And you’re mad because you care, and you were literally gonna let me die before you did anything about it.”

Jason’s ability to string words together kickstarted again. “Apparently, so were you,” he said dryly.

Roy shook his head. “Nah. I had a ten-step plan. Little did you know I was on step three.”

“Step three was faking your own death and blowing up a building?”

Roy rolled his eyes. “For the last time, you drama queen, I wasn’t even inside.”

“Step three was making me think you were dead?”

“For like, five minutes, tops.”

They were quite possibly the worst five minutes of either of Jason’s two lives. “Don’t be careless,” Jason said, too tired to explain what he meant. He felt as though he’d aged about a hundred years in increments of five minutes for the past several hours.

“With you? Never.” The look Roy gave him was so unabashedly sweet that Jason had to stare at the floor, embarrassed and feeling wrong-footed. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

“Yeah, well,” Jason muttered, chewing the inside of his cheek.

Roy squeezed his shoulders. “You wanna see what those guys worked so hard to keep us from finding?”

The adrenaline of the evening had subsided, and Jason was fading fast. “I think it can wait til morning,” he said.

Roy smiled, not his usual foxlike grin, but something soft and sweet, something that could be all his, if he’d take it. “I’ll be here.”

Jason felt himself flushing. “Better be, or I’ll kick your ass.”

“You always say the sweetest things.”

Jason shut his bedroom door on Roy’s raucous laughter. Leaning against the door, where Roy couldn’t see, he let his joy spill over into a relieved and very stupid smile.

He’d take it.

[its-time-to-write]

hi there! (ok FIRST AND FOREMOST i need to tell you that i am obsessed with your writing. you are by far my favorite jamie tartt writer, you characterize him perfectly and nail his speech mannerisms! not an easy feat! so thank u for writing what you do and for sharing it with us!!!! <333333 ok now that i've gotten that off my chest) if you're taking requests right now i'd love to see your take on a (slowburn?) enemies to lovers fic with jamie!!

I don’t know why I take simple little prompts and turn them into angsty monstrosities. This one makes up for the lack of plot in my other fics, and I’d like to apologize in advance😬

Oh also I am the queen of commas, in case you didn’t know 😇😇

flipped the script

It cannot be considered murder if you’re provoked. It would be considered doing the world a favor. 

And by god, you are going to fucking murder Jamie Tartt.

He does absolutely fucking nothing but make your life fucking miserable and you’re fucking losing it.

The only thing you’d agree on is when it started. It was 4am and he was yelling at someone called Roy and you had to be awake in two hours for a fucking conference, and you’d only just fallen asleep at 1am.

So you marched out of your house to the sidewalk where your prick neighbor was arguing with his prick coach and told him to shut the fuck up or I’m calling the police.

He opened his mouth to retort, changed his mind, then made a snide comment about your choice of outfit while you glared at him. His prick coach had the decency to apologize and smack Jamie on the head, so you said, “You’re fine, Roy, I’ll see you at work next week,” and Roy said, “Ah shit, you have that fucking conference, yeah?” and you said yeah then flipped off Jamie as you walked away.

You really hadn’t had many interactions with Jamie before, but you knew him before you started your job as an administrative assistant for AFC Richmond since you were, after all, living right next to each other.

Your last job had paid incredibly well; you were basically the go-to girl for your last company for two and half years. You compiled all relevant information from the day and presented to your boss so he would be caught up on the company’s inner workings. You were observant when it came to valuable (or toxic) employees, and had gained a reputation for being an invaluable asset.

But your old boss was retiring and you were ready for something new, so you began looking around. You found a job at AFC Richmond, assisting a Mr. Higgins and just generally making sure his job ran smoothly so the club could run smoothly. 

It was mostly paperwork, but you enjoyed it. You collected data from all different departments and then ran it by Higgins and Ms. Welton. You weren’t above coffee runs; it was nice to get out sometimes and Ms. Welton would put your coffee on her bill. You got to take your lunch breaks with them and talk and laugh, and be appreciated, which is something you didn’t often get.

The nature of your job demands a certain level of… professionalism, shall we say, which can be misconstrued as coldness. You’re not. You’re just young and trying to be taken seriously, which is why it’s nice to be known both in a personal and professional capacity by Higgins and Ms. Welton. Higgins has even invited you over for family dinner and you’d invited his family over to yours. His boys had absolutely lost their minds at the amount of nerf guns you had stashed in each room, courtesy of your brother who often liked to drop by unannounced when he knew you were home and get you in the back of the head. Sometimes you regretted giving him a key, but not enough to take it back.

All that to say, it was a relatively seamless transition to AFC Richmond. You and Jamie would exchange a neighborly nod if you saw each other, but that was absolutely it. 

—

The next incident is, uh, kind of your fault.

Remember the brother-and-nerf-guns thing?

Yeah.

Your brother had sneaked over on a Sunday (parked around the corner so his car wouldn’t be seen on your security cameras) and you were chasing each other around the house. Your sister-in-law had warned you he was coming over (he asked her to drive him), so you were prepared and hiding in the bushes. He was nonchalantly walking on the sidewalk, hands in his hoodie, when you popped out and got him right in the chest then booked it into your house, which led to a solid fifteen minutes of running and yelling, with the occasional, “Ow, you jerk!” that siblings are always saying but never really mean.

The incident occurs when you’re once again in your front yard running from your brother. You look back to assess how far away he is when smack, you run into someone and feel their beverage go flying.

It’s Jamie, and his bright pink drink is now all over his clean white hoodie.

You both stop and glare at each other. 

You had stopped feigning civility after the 4am thing, so the glare is standard procedure.

Jamie says, “What the fuck?” as your brother comes careening to an abrupt halt.

You’re still glaring. “Why are asking me ‘what the fuck?’ You’re the one walking around here with that fucking awful drink that’s probably going to kill your internal organs. I mean seriously, it cannot be safe to consume something that bright.”

“Says the girl who’s addicted to diet soda.”

“Says the girl who’s fucking pissed that her sidewalk is stained fucking bright pink. How the fuck am I supposed to clean this?”

Jamie’s face is red now, and yours is too.

“A), it’s a fucking public sidewalk and b), what about my fucking sweatshirt? This cost more than your shitty car!” he shoots back, and that’s the moment a line is crossed.

“We live in the same goddamn neighborhood,” you hiss, “so shut the fuck up with your stupid elitist footballer bullshit.”

“Oi, at least I’m not a fucking stuck-up, self-righteous big-shot with no friends!”

You’re not sure what would have happened next because your brother grabs you by the arm and hauls you back inside, waving apologetically to Jamie. All the fight goes out of you as soon as the door shuts.

“What the ever-loving hell was that?” he asks. He never did like using the word “fuck.”

—

What the ever-loving hell was that? Well, it’s actually quite simple. In the seven months you’ve been at Richmond, you haven’t really made any friends.

Yes, you have Ms. Welton and Higgins, but that’s not the same as having people the same age as you to go out with and watch movies and drink and dance and just be stupid and unwind with. 

You’re not even necessarily looking for friends at Nelson Road, just friends somewhere. The problem is, you’re not even sure how to go about it. You’ve spent the last decade of your life (yes, decade) working your ass off to get where you are now. Fourteen year-old knew what she wanted and was determined to get it. You had hustled through school, made connections, grew your resume, and saved every fucking penny until you landed a job that you were definitely under qualified for, but you had nailed the interview. You weren’t sure why your boss decided to take a chance on you, until he told you later he saw the same spark his daughter had in your eyes.

His daughter, who had become a multi-millionaire on her own by the time she was twenty-seven.

So, because someone saw the grit in your eyes of all places, you had a chance to make a fuck ton of money and have a fuck ton of benefits.

You made more connections, including a realtor who set you up with your current home at a price that was insane to normal people, but a steal to the rich. You were signing papers before it was even officially on the market.

It had been labelled as a “fixer-upper,” but that meant a little bit of scuffed paint and slightly outdated utilities. 

And it was yours.

It all came at a price though, didn’t it?

That price was not seeing your family often, sleeping poorly, and no real friends.

That’s why your brother makes it a point to come around. He knows that your lack of contact does not equate a lack of love.

Not everyone saw it that way. You’d lost all your friends at this point, labeled a bitch and a workaholic. So, you though, why the hell not just lean into it. You could be a bitch and a workaholic if it got things done. It was easier to harden the shell around your heart than let people in again.

—

Ok, maybe taking out all that anger on Jamie isn’t healthy, but hey, he’s the one fighting back so hard. 

Things keep happening. His foot is stuck out just enough to make you stumble as you pass each other in the hallway, your car is parked on the street just enough so he can’t get into his garage, ferocious glares are exchanged. Any conversation you are forced to have is laced with sarcastic, biting remarks that only serve make you close off even more. 

The worst part? You’re both fucking brilliant at hiding it. 

You’d have to be, especially at AFC Richmond under Ted Lasso’s command. If he got wind of this, he’d be all over it trying to fix it and neither of you want that. 

You see, Jamie’s a little bit fucked up too.

—

You’ve been at AFC Richmond for a year, and you’ve hated Jamie Tartt for eleven months.

Yet somehow, you’re in fucking Paris. 

Not with just Jamie, of course, but the whole team.

Rebecca’s basically given you a paid vacation because there isn’t much for you to do here. It’s great, the city of lights or something, but you can’t enjoy it. 

You’re in your room on the floor, becoming slowly dehydrated from crying.

Everything is all fuzzy and you’re incredibly disoriented, so you think you might be hallucinating when you hear a knock on the door.

It happens again, more insistently, and you think it’s probably Rebecca so you drag yourself up off the floor, wipe your eyes, and open it to find Jamie Tartt standing in front of you, clearly wishing to be anywhere else.

He’s staring at the top of the doorframe as he says, “Coach sent me to see if you want to go out with the lads tonight,” looking down only when you’ve left his statement unanswered for far too long.

His look of annoyance changes as he clocks your puffy eyes and red nose. 

“You alright?” he asks and you don’t even have the heart to say, obviously, don’t I look it? so you just nod and move to shut the door. 

Jamie blocks it with his hand and pushes it back open, then past you into the room.

It’s pristine, all marble and gold; and far too big for you. You would have preferred something smaller, something less empty. Something less cold. 

All you can do is stand there mutely in your t-shirt and sweatpants, watching your worst enemy clatter around in the room’s fridge looking for a water bottle.

He retrieves one and hands it to you, cap unscrewed.

You don’t ask if he’s spit in it, just take a sip and look at him with dead eyes.

“You look like shit,” he observes, breaking the silence. 

It’s not a dig. You’ve heard enough condescension from his lips to know when he’s fighting.

You shrug.

“You gonna say something?” Jamie asks, and that’s enough to get you going.

“You’re the one who’s in my room,” you say and instead of firing back, Jamie grins. 

“We can go to mine if you want, love,” he winks and in a terrible, awful, panic-inducing moment, you are thrown completely off your guard.

How the fuck are you supposed to reconcile this Jamie Tartt with the awful neighbor you hate? And is he- flirting? Surely not.

He registers your face going through a million expressions in an instant and sobers.

“Go sit,” he says, and you comply without thinking. You’re cross-legged on the couch and he thumps down next to you. He’s not close enough that you’re touching, but you can feel the heat radiating off his body. It’s funny, because you feel so cold. You wonder for a moment if your heart has actually turned to stone and that’s why you’re shivering.

You hear someone say, “My ex is here,” and are horrified to realize that you’re the one talking, and not only that, but you’re continuing. 

“He fucking… knew I’d be here. I saw him in the lobby. He acted like it was some great coincidence, but he was never a great liar. And… he’s here with his girlfriend. Fiancée, I guess. Because he’s proposing to her tonight. They’ve known each other less than a year, and he’s proposing to her. I saw him in the lobby looking like this while he’s in a fucking suit and all I can think about is the fact that he broke up with me because I wouldn’t put out because I wasn’t ready. And how he said he wasn’t the marrying type.” You pause.

“I broke my back making time for him. Everyone thinks I’m a workaholic and maybe I am, but I make time for the people I love. I made time for him. It sounds funny to say, especially how I am now, but he’s why I don’t anymore. Make time, I mean. Nobody notices I’m gone anyway. Or when I’m around. Or anything I do unless I’m doing something for them.”

You risk a look at Jamie. He’s studying your face with an intensity you’ve never seen and you look down to find his hand in yours, and you wonder how that happened. Your knuckles are white from gripping it but he’s holding it back and it gives you just enough of a boost to keep going.

“I don’t even want the money for myself. Like, I’m able to buy expensive shit and that’s cool, but the only reason I have a house that big is because my brother and his wife have a shit-ton of kids, and sometimes they need a break. So they can come over to mine and run around and have space and be wild for a week and I don’t care. They won’t let me give them money, so I have to think of creative ways to help them out. I only have nephews- they each have their own trust fund. It’s not that big right now, but it’s growing. It’ll be a lot by the time they’re each eighteen. And my parents… They died when I was fourteen. It was a stupid car accident, this freak thing with the brakes even though they’d just had the car serviced a week before. My brother was twenty one and newly married because he’s an idiot and he was in love. He and his wife let me live with them.”

You shake your head. “No, that’s not right, they didn’t just let me live with them, they took care of me. Bought me clothes and fed me and let me have my own room even though I said I could sleep on the couch. They could barely afford things for themselves, but they made sure I had what I needed. That’s why I threw myself into work and pushed people away. It’s for them, because I know I can never repay them. But I want to, even if they won’t let me.”

You’re done speaking, finally, and your face is bright red. It normally is when speaking to Jamie, but that’s from the sheer anger you usually feel from having to deal with him. This time it’s different. It’s from the embarrassment of being vulnerable in front of someone.

Jamie hasn’t said anything the whole time, just let you hold his hand. Your knees are touching now, and you realize that one of you must have shifted to make that happen.

You take a deep breath and blow it out slowly. “Why are you here, Jamie?” you ask softly. “You hate me. I don’t even know why I told you all that.”

He looks straight into your eyes. “I don’t hate you,” he says simply.

That’s enough to fully shatter the shell around your heart, and you’re shaking with silent sobs again as Jamie pulls you closer, your back against his chest as he wraps his arms around you.

—

You fall asleep like that, and you’re not sure at which point Jamie left. But when you wake up, you’re in your bed under a blanket. You think maybe you dreamed the whole thing until you see the note on your nightstand in messy handwriting.

I meant what I said.

—

Neither you nor Jamie comment on it, but something has changed. You don’t hate him anymore. He sits next to you on the plane back and cracks jokes, and you have a weird opportunity to apologize. He tells you he’s sorry too, explains about his dad, and you form a strange bond of repressed anger as a way to deal with hurt. 

Ted is right, forgiveness is the way to go.

—

Jamie Tartt makes it a point to ask you to go out with the lads every time they do group activities. You meet Rebecca’s friend Keeley, basically the only other girl, and pretty soon she’s invited herself over for girl’s nights. Jamie recognizes Keeley’s car the second time it happens and walks over to say hey. She invites him in, and suddenly he’s a fixture at girl’s night. His movie recommendations are shit, but his skincare products are not.

Since things at AFC Richmond aren’t as hectic as you’re used to, you start to pick up some of your old hobbies. Cooking, for example. You get your hands on a copy of Jamie’s diet plan and start experimenting with ways to make it more interesting. So now he’s at yours for dinner more often than not. 

He pops his head over the fence one Saturday afternoon, hearing young voices all morning. Your nephews are over and playing football in the backyard while your brother and sister-in-law deep clean their house. You’re sitting under an umbrella with the baby in your arms and a pitcher of water, when you hear Isaiah, the oldest, say, “Whoa! Is that Jamie Tartt?” 

You look up from Daniel’s tiny giggly face to see Jamie hanging over your fence and waving. You roll your eyes and grin back.

“Wanna come over?” you call, and the words are barely our of your mouth before he’s hopped over and starting to steal the ball from your four walking nephews.

They’re at it for a good thirty minutes before he calls time-out and is jogging over to you, all sweaty and grinning. 

“Didn’t know you were good with kids,” he says.

“Could say the same thing about you,” you shoot back.

He grabs water then makes a silly face at Daniel, who giggles and waves his arms. You laugh and kiss the baby on the top of his head, which makes him gurgle. You look up to see Jamie watching you strangely, so you wrinkle your nose at him. “What?” you say, but before he can open his mouth to respond, Jesse is pulling on Jamie’s hand, telling him the time-out is over.

—

Your next interaction of note happens after your third consecutive Richmond match. You don’t usually go to them, as it’s not required and you didn’t really care. But since you’ve been hanging out with the team, you find yourself taking Rebecca up on her offer to sit in the owner’s box. It’s three days until the next match and you’re looking for Jamie so you can eat lunch together. You find him in the locker room of all places and hand him his bag of food, yet another one of your experiments.

You’re starting to get really good revitalizing Jamie’s meal plan.

His eyes light up when he sees you, and you both miss the looks exchanged between Ted and Beard in their office.

Jamie puts down the lunch and says, “Oi, I got you something.” He reaches into his locker and pulls out a Richmond jersey.

“It’s new, it ain’t one of mine, but now you can wear it to matches.”

You shake it open to see it’s a Jamie Tartt jersey, and this makes you unreasonably happy.

Jamie’s grinning too, and it’s the rare kind of grin where his teeth look sharper and his eyes flash.

You hug it to your chest and say, “I’ll be sure to wear it Saturday,” before you and Jamie head to the café to eat.

— 

Keeley, of course, has comments about the jersey. You pretend not to understand what she’s saying.

—

It’s girls night again, and you and Jamie are pulling snacks out of his cabinets when your phones ding at the same time. It’s Keeley on your groupchat.

Can’t make it babes, something’s come up.

You make a comment involving the words “Roy Kent,” and riffing on her excuse, which makes Jamie laugh.

“I guess I’ll head back to mine,” you say, but Jamie tilts his head and says, “Or you could just… stay,” so you do.

You’re on his couch again, like the night you stopped hating him: your back agains his chest as you rub your thumb absentmindedly on his tattooed forearm.

You’re midway through the movie and explaining to Jamie the limited plausibility of it happening in real life, when he says a soft, oh shit as you pause to take a breath.

“What?” you say, sitting up. “Is everything alright?”

Jamie rubs a hand across his face. “You’re gonna fucking hate me again.”

You squint. “Not sure that’s possible. You’ve got too much dirt on me.”

Jamie just groans. “Nah, you’ll hate me. But I’m gonna tell you anyway.”

He grabs your hand and looks you straight in your eyes, giving you goosebumps.

“I’m fucking in love with you,” he says, and your brain still functions just enough to crash your lips into his.

You’re on top of him and his fingers are tangled in your hair, but as your fingers ghost his waistband, he stills and grabs your hand.

You freeze too, afraid you’ve crossed a line, but Jamie says, “I’m not fucking you for the first time on my couch. We’re going to do this proper,” and then he’s whisking you off your feet and up the stairs.

—

You know that fucking someone you work with is a line you said you’d never cross. But he was your neighbor first, and you’re in love, so it doesn’t count. You’re lying on Jamie’s bed gasping for air after god knows how long and all you can say is, “fuck me.”

Jamie smirks. “Thought I just did, babe, but I’ll go again,” and you’re seeing stars for the third time that night.

He’s sucking a line across your collarbone when you say, “Wait!”

Jamie is off of you in a moment, and you feel strangely empty.

“You alright?” he asks, all concern.

“I never said it back,” you explain. Jamie’s still confused.

“I love you too. You said you’re fucking in love with me. I’m in love with you too. Just thought I should make it clear.” 

Jamie’s looking at you all strange again, eyes dark, so you roll him back on top and let him devour you.

[thetarttfuldickhead]

”Who’s this then?” she asks, as if she doesn’t know, and only to hear the excitement in Jamie’s voice as he tells her all about Roy Kent.

She’s a City girl through and through and it is a little jarring to see different colours up on her wall, but that’s what being a parent is all about, isn’t it? Loving someone enough to love what they love, even if it turns out to be the captain of bloody Chelsea. 

--- 

Posters come and go, there are girls and footballers and other girls and other footballers and then others still, but Roy Kent stays where he is, slap bang in the middle and staring right at her with those weirdly intense eyes whenever she gets in the room to hoover.

Needs to relax a bit, that one, she thinks, more than once. For all the pictures and clips Jamie has shown her, she’s never seen Kent smile. Plays like a god, though, one of those vengeful ones, so she guesses she can see the attraction.

---

It’s obvious that Jamie’s not happy, and she’s not either, what with having him move down all the way to London to play for AFC Richmond of all teams. Still, she supposed a loan make sense, get him more minutes and bit of experience.

“Didn’t Roy Kent move there after he quit Chelsea?” she asks, and is pleased with the way Jamie’s eyes light up a little at that. “You’ll get to play together now.”

---

“He’s a nasty bastard. Right fucking bitter about not being as good as he was, yeah?”

She doesn’t hear much more about Roy Kent after that, not for another year or so. Doesn’t hear much from Jamie at all, really, not even after he returns to Manchester. When he does stop by – for Christmas, for her birthday – he talks about just about anything but football. Doesn’t mention fighting Kent on the pitch, doesn’t say a word about calling him a knob on national television.

Doesn’t take the poster down either, though, she notices when he’s gone.

---

“Jamie Tartt is a muppet and I hope he dies of the incurable condition of being a little bitch,” Roy Kent says and she’s already halfway out the sofa when Simon’s hand on her arm holds her back.

“If Jamie wants it down he’ll take it down,” her husband tells her.

---

She sees her son crouching, defeated, on Wembley grass, and her heart breaks for him. Two days later he’s outside her door and in her arms and he’s talking like he hasn’t talked to her since he was loaned to Richmond and her heart breaks for him all over again.

She can’t wish she had never gotten with his wanker of a father, for how can she, when she got Jamie out if? Still, there’s no stopping her from wishing James falls down a sewer and drowns in shit, gagging on it as he goes.

“And I’m just standing there, like I couldn’t move or something, right, but then Roy walks over and I though he was going to fucking punch me, but he just hugged me, like really tight, and I fucking bawled my eyes out. Dead embarrassing, it was, but… made me feel safe, too. Made me think of you.”

She stops flipping the poster off, after that

---

“So Roy offered to train me, special,” Jamie says, and she thinks it sounds a bit like torture personally, the things Kent is apparently having him do in the middle of the bloody night, but Jamie’s nothing but enthusiasm and barely contained pride so she’s happy for him.

---

She knows that other parents might have been surprised to see their son befriend and then bring home people whose pictures he still has on his wall, but their sons are not Jamie, are they?

Roy Kent proves far less domineering than she might have suspected. Doesn’t shout once, is polite about Simon’s baking, and tells her he loves her before he leaves. Definitively has some issues, but seems a nice enough lad for all of that.

--- 

Simon drives them down to London for Jamie’s 26:th birtday and it’s only the third time she’s ever been to his Richmond home. As she exits the car, Roy Kent exits Jamie’s front door and pauses at the sight of her.

“Hey,” he says, and it’s a bit endearing, the way he sounds unsure, like he doesn’t know what to make of her or how to act around her.

No need for any of that, though.

“There he is,” she exclaims, adding, “I’m going to hug you now,” before doing just that.

His body is solid and hard and held so fucking stiff, but after just a moment – surprisingly quickly, really – he relaxes into the embrace, like maybe it’s one he’s been wanting for a very long time. He holds her tight and she lets him and she can see what Jamie means about him being a great hugger.  

Eventually, she gently pulls back a little, so she can smile up at him as she says, “Thank you.”

Off his furrowed brow, she continues, “For what you’ve done for our Jamie. I know it’s meant a lot to him, you training him and being his friend and everything.” 

“Oh. Jamie’s told you about that, has he?”

And she must raise her eyebrows at that, kindly but incredulously. “Of course he has, love. Never shuts up about you, does he?”

As it turns out, Roy Kent does know how to smile after all.

[lycanlupins]

┌─ “ „ EYES LIKE SKY ─┐

Roy Harper x F!Reader - Chapter 1

Cam Girl Au! [+18]

Sex toys, D&S elements, controlled orgasm, pet names

AN: im kinda back?? idk im trying this out because i really like writing again 🥹 lmk if y’all like this!! remember to like + rb + leave a comment if you enjoyed it!! Anyways, enjoy Chapter 1!!

You heard a familiar ping come from your laptop, a sign that everything was up and working on your end.

“Great…” you sigh and roll your eyes, “Time for another show.” You’re a cam girl, and a pretty successful one at that, but it never failed to make you rethink your career path when you logged in at the same time every night like clockwork. You didn’t have a specialty so to speak but you did have a specific clientele, so you did what you do best; angle your camera, adjust your lingerie and press the glaring red go live button to start your show.

[r0binhood]: how’s our favorite girl?

[seraphicsiren]: tired, been pretty low energy lately but i’m ready to please as always!

Your number one fan, r0binhood, was finally there and that meant you’d be taking home at least $100 that night.

[r0binhood]: good, hopefully that means you have all of your toys charged ;)

Gag. He was probably some creep in his 50’s, rubbing one out on his wrinkly cock while you talk him through it but fuck it, his money was a nice cushion while you got back on your feet at the new apartment you were renting.

“Hi boys, let’s start shall we?” You purred, pushing the straps of your nightgown down ever so slowly just to tease your viewers. Suddenly you hear a familiar notification, your first tip of the night. A few tokens here and there from desperate men trying to get your attention but you knew better. You knew if you wanted the real money, you would wait for him.

r0binhood has sent you 50 tokens.

There it is. You push down your nightgown, exposing the lacey bra underneath, a slew of tips flooding your notifications once more. They never got to see your face, it was your one rule, and it kept the mystery alive for them. You won’t have a breach of privacy and they can imagine you look like their wildest, wettest dreams.

[r0binhood]: private show?

[seraphicsiren]: you know the rules, private shows are 500 an hour.

He wouldn’t, you knew better than to expect a man to buy that sort of time on one of your shows. Sure, you may make a few hundred per show along with your other forms of income but a private show? In your dreams. You were asking $25 an hour for your time, it wasn’t much but most men would tune out then and there.

r0binhood bought a private show.

The screen went blank, no notifications to be had and then an empty chat popped up.

[r0binhood]: hi princess. just thought i’d spoil myself and see what you can do for me with the time we have here.

You were used to entertaining multiple men, and sometimes others, at the best of times on your streams. This was scary, this was something you were completely foreign to.

[seraphicsiren]: you have an hour of my time to tell me to do whatever it is you’d like. my attention is all on you.

Your hands were shaking, sweaty, and clammy at the thought of performing for one person. You had been intimate in the past, that wasn’t the issue, he was paying for you to please him this time. And while yes, you knew what he liked more or less, he was still someone completely stranger to you.

[r0binhood]: why don’t you start off with the bullet, don’t take anything off, just use the bullet on yourself.

You grabbed the compact vibrator from your nightstand, flipping the switch to the on position as it came to life with a whirring sound. Most often than not, you were in control of the speed and rhythm, but tonight he had tricks up his sleeve.

r0binhood redeemed 300 tokens for bullet control.

Shit. You begrudgingly sent the link for a 10 minute session on your vibrator.

[seraphicsiren]: use those 10 minutes wisely

[r0binhood]: i’ll only need 5

An immediate slow vibration started against your clit, sending a wave of pleasure through your nerves.

“Fuck…” you moan under your breath. Usually men like him would spend their 10 minutes of control on the highest setting, they never knew what you liked. They thought all women must like a high intensity session when it just felt boring to you, but you faked orgasm after orgasm when they were in control to make them feel better.

Not this time. No, this man knew what he was doing, he slowly upped the intensity until he heard that hitch in your breathing, the one that indicated that it must have felt good.

“Mmnh…that feels so good, christ…” you lolled your head back, rutting against the vibrator and a pillow under you for better friction. He must have noticed the way you were reacting because he immediately switched up the intensity for a split second to grab your attention.

[r0binhood]: needed your attention sweetheart, i want your eyes on me, i want to watch you come undone.

This man… he commanded his attention, and he commanded it well. Why was this man behind the screen making you feel horny for some god forsaken reason? Was it the dominance? The control he had over you at this moment? Fuck it, you didn’t care, it just felt so damn good.

Another minute passed before he grew bored of the intensity, turning it up a setting or two.

“Shit!” You squeaked, panting like a dog at the feeling between your legs. You were soaking, dripping all over your pretty red sheets and pillows, grinding down for some semblance of friction against your puffy, needy cunt.

Soon enough, the setting he was at was beginning to make you see stars. Babbling nonsense and a string of curses as you kept humping your pillow like a horny teen until—

“SHITSHITSHIT!” You felt that tight coil in your stomach pop, squirting all over your sheets and everything within a small distance of you. You wanted to collapse, you could feel your legs turn to jelly as you tried to crawl back to your laptop.

[seraphicsiren]: 5 minutes…left…

You knew he was chuckling behind his screen, because how the fuck did he get you to squirt on camera with just him in control.

[r0binhood]: i’ll let you be for tonight, here’s the rest of my tokens. i’ll be back tomorrow night if you’re online. see ya princess.

r0binhood tipped 1000 tokens.

Not long afterwards you ended your stream, too spent and shocked to continue for the night. You shut your laptop, cleaned your bed and made a beeline for your kitchen.

“How the fuck did he do that…” you racked your brain for the amount of times you had actually cum on stream. You could count the times on one hand and now make that two hands. You were still throbbing, rubbing your legs together while you washed some dishes in your sink. You never noticed the window in your kitchen was facing another occupied apartment until just now.

“Huh…wonder who lives there.” You watch the light from their tv flicker different colors. Suddenly you see movement, someone getting closer to the window. Holy fuck.

He looks directly at you, a smile wide on his face as he waves and opens his window. You were awestruck for a moment, he was gorgeous. Not in a model way but something different. He was rugged and manly but still somehow read as boyish. After a few moments you join him in opening your window, leaning out ever so slightly.

“Hi! I’m Roy, nice to see a friendly face across the way for once!” He shouted.

“I’m Y/N, I’m guessing this place was empty for a bit?”

“Yeah, this isn’t really the nicest building around but it's got charm! What do you say we meet for coffee sometime? I haven’t met anyone around my age in forever.”

“Yeah! How does tomorrow morning sound?”

He smiles a toothy grin. God he was cute, missing a tooth by his right canine and light ginger stubble littered his chin. He nodded while you were busy taking in every feature of his face and he chuckled.

“Hey, get some sleep, you look out of it.” He shook his head, still smiling from ear to ear. You couldn’t tell if you were throbbing from the mind numbing orgasm you had earlier or if his kind smile had your brain in a tizzy, either way you needed to take care of that feeling before bed. You finished up dishes in the kitchen, closed your window and headed straight for the cum soaked bed.

You were honestly too tired and too horny to care so you grabbed the nearest towel and dropped it on top of your sheets. You could worry about that in the morning, right now you needed sweet relief. And with your final spur of energy you grabbed your dildo and got right to work at the thought of that hot ginger across the hall.

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