#most of us look like roy from the it crowd

[just-ray]

Irish miku (accurate)

[axelsagewrites]

Roy Kent*Bus Buddy

Pairing: Roy x reader

Word count: 2511

Warnings: pure fluff, Jamie flirting with reader, protective Roy, swearing

Masterlist here

at the same time that Ted got hired Rebecca had also decided she needed an assistant to enact her perfect revenge, so the boys often saw you walking around Richmond or at press interviews. Any time you entered the locker room wolf whistles from Jamie rang across the room followed by a loud ‘shut it’ from Roy. Usually, you’d object to Jamies actions, but the routine had become so common you found it funny especially when Roy dogged him into Keeley one time, and you saw him drag Jamie by the ear.

You weren’t sure why the tough and silent Roy Kent was so protective of you, but you were grateful to know walking into a locker room filled with men that he had your back. the longer you were around the team though you realised none of the boys would even hurt a fly.

still locker rooms or crowded hotel lobbies could get rowdy, and Roy almost acted as security, weaving you through the crowd and telling everyone to fuck off. any thanks you gave him were met with grunts, nods, or two-word answers.

sometimes you had to talk to Roy though, but you never complained. whenever you had forms for him to sign or events you wanted him to attend, sadly only on a work basis, he gladly complied without fuss. feeling his hand brush, yours as he took the pen from your hand or getting to secretly glance at his face as he filled out the forms was enough to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

you’d convinced yourself your crush was harmless. after all he was Roy Kent, an absolutely loaded footballer with an exterior tougher than diamond. its not like you flirted with him or stared at him. well not on purpose at least.

this weekend saw Richmond visiting another stadium a six-hour drive away for their next match. usually, you travelled with Rebecca but due to some other things she had to get done this weekend, aka a spa trip with Keeley you were secretly so jealous about, she had decided to send you as a representative. however, this also meant you got to arrive at Richmond Friday afternoon with a packed bag and a bunch of rowdy footballers.

“Well look who our newest bus buddy is,” Ted said, putting his hands on his hips as you approached the gaggle of men. “Hope you don’t mind being down graded to ride with us bunch of savages,” he joked as he ticked your name off his clipboard. you really did appreciate Teds soccer mom vibes.

You laughed as you dragged your suitcase up to stand by Ted at the bus, “Please how bad can it be? it’s just a bus,”

“Yeah, but with these twats,” Roy’s voice made Ted jump, but you just turned and smiled, ready to say hi, but Roy just walked past you. He picked up his suitcase, tossing it under the bus before turning back and picking yours up and placing yours in with far more care than he had with his own. When you said thanks, Roy just nodded before heading onto the bus, assumably to secure the most isolated spot he could.

Ted let out a low whistle as Roy walked off, “He’s a charmer alright,” he said, his eyes scurrying around before leaning down to whisper to you, “If I didn’t know any better I’d think he’s sweet on you,” You laughed but before you could even try to deny it Ted was pointing at your face, “and if I’m not blind you my friend are blushing,”

“Shut up Ted,” was all you managed to say before Nate walked over and thankfully Ted knew better than to keep going in front of him.

while you were talking to Nate and Ted the bus all the players had arrived and assembled on the bus. you were the last to climb on the bus since even though you knew it couldn’t be that bad six hours on a bus was still a dire experience. “Oi need a seat love?” Jamie hollered from the back of the bus, already tossing his bag to his feet.

“There’s a seat by me,” Dani pipped up from a few rows in front of Jamie.

you laughed, trying to think who would be the least awkward seat mate. however, as you went to move forward, figuring Dani would be less out right flirty than Jamie you were stopped by Roy standing up from his seat and stepping into the aisle.

when you looked up at him, expecting him to say something, he just looked down at the window seat he had just given up. you smiled as you moved to sit down, “Thanks,” you said squeezing past him, “Thanks boys but I prefer the front of the bus,” you said before settling down for the ride.

Roy dropped into the aisle seat and while you knew he was trying to keep in his seat the bus seats were only so big, so your thighs were bumping into each other, “Thanks for saving me,” you whispered to him.

Roy chuckled under his breath, “Really think I’d let you get tortured back there like that?” he whispered back making his voice sound even sexier if possible. the bus set off only a few minutes later and now you were trapped in a bus with 25 rowdy men who instantly started talking amongst themselves and playing bus games. “Bet you wish you’d never got on this bus,” Roy said in a low voice but with all the noise at least you didn’t have to whisper.

“Nah I don’t mind, honest,” you said, settling into your seat, “Sitting in a silent plane with Rebecca can get awkward,”

“Sorry I’ve not got any champagne for ya,” Roy joked and for the rest of the ride you actually talked the whole way which is the longest you’ve ever spoke to him for. you were almost sad when the bus pulled up outside the hotel.

without a word Roy had grabbed your suitcase and his, walking into the hotel still wrapped up in a debate about which ice cream flavour was superior. “Checking in together?” The receptionist asked making you blush, and Roy clear his throat.

“Eh no, separate,” he said, glancing down at you but you wish he hadn’t since you knew your cheeks were flaming hot as you gave the woman your information. however, after getting checked in Roy still carried your cases, taking them up to your room with you in silence. He sat the bag down in front of your room for you as you unlocked the door, “I’m just down the hall. 203. so eh if anyone gives you bother or these twats are too loud tonight give me a knock,”

“Will do captain,” you said, trying your best to stay composed as you got into your room, shutting the door behind you so you could freak out.

the next day was too hectic to even think about flirting with Roy or even catching a glimpse of him off the field. however, Richmond had managed to secure a tie which for them right now was a big win. however, what was not a big win was the fact that you had to get back in the coach that day since the team had a bunch of press to do tomorrow at Richmond.

between the game, the press interviews, everyone showering and getting into clean clothes, and checking out you weren’t even set to leave till 10pm despite the game kicking off at 1:30pm. you were already yawning as you came down the lift to the reception.

most of the boys were also absolutely shattered. running for 90 minutes straight at full speed was tiring enough without also having to pack and do press. you had got to sit during the game, but you also had the job of Rebecca all day so now you really understood why she needed that spa weekend. “Bus said it’ll be pulling up in five minutes,” you yawned as you sat your bag down, “Head count time,” you said.

you felt like a primary teacher, but you didn’t care as you walked around, counting each player as you put your hand on their head. they were all too tired to complain and even Issac let you touch his hair. “twenty three,” you said, counting Dani before stopping, “Wow your hair is soft,” you gasped before continuing as Dani beamed from his seat, “Twenty four,” you said, reaching up to pat Roy’s head but you were too tired to see the way he smiled at you when you did, “Twenty five,” you finished, putting your hand on your own head making Roy chuckle quietly. “We didn’t lose anyone, great job team. now shift it, I wanna sleep,”

“You heard her twats, get moving,” Roy said, his loud voice shocking everyone including the hotel staff. at least it got the boys moving though. Roy cleared his throat as he glanced down at you, “Need a seat buddy again?” he asked as you filed out behind all the boys.

you smiled up at him, “Yeah that’d be nice. Its your turn for the window seat,”

“I don’t mind, you keep it,” he said as you finally got to the bus. the boys were all tossing their cases in and filing into the bus with very few mumblings between them. you were silently thankful everyone was exhausted, “Just don’t fall asleep standing,” Roy’s joke snapped you back to reality as he loaded in your cases.

“Fine but I make no promises about the bus,” you said as you walked to get on, Roy offering for you to go first. a sweet gesture to you and silently Roy was grateful for the chance to check out your ass. “This seat, okay?” you said, plopping down into the first available seat. Roy didn’t even reply as he sat down next to you.

Ted was the last to get on and while you usually loved his speeches today you just did not care. “Now all yall try get some shut eye. Six hours of sleep would do you all the world of good right now,”

“Yes coach,” rang out in a sleepy chorus as everyone settled in to nap on the bus for the night.

as you looked around you saw Jamie in the seat across from you with a blanket already pulled over him and Dani a seat behind you with an eye mask on, “I am clearly not prepared,” you joked quietly to Roy.

Roy looked over, seeing his fellow teammates who were used to these late-night busses, “You can borrow my jacket if you get cold,” Roy said quietly making you inwardly melt, “Not much of a blanket but it’s warm,”

“I’ll think about it,” you yawned, making Roy smile as he saw how you stretched away your sleep. or well tried to. the ride set off and you could already hear soft snores across the bus. any of the boys who couldn’t sleep had headphones in and you had never been more grateful.

you sat in silence, looking out the window as the head lights of other cars went past and let yourself sink further into your seat. you barely noticed when Roy shrugged his jacket off or realise how close to him you were getting but you could feel your eyelids growing heavier with each passing moment.

Roy however had noticed the soft snores coming from you when your eyes had finally closed, unable to fight sleep off anymore. he was thankful everyone was asleep or not paying attention as he got to look down at you sleeping on his shoulder with a soft smile. after a few minutes, sure you were asleep, he gently pulled his jacket over you like a blanket.

he wasn’t sure when he had fell for you or why, but he’d known for weeks now that he liked you. hell, more than liked. there was just something about you and right now you looked downright adorable as you nuzzled further into him. Roy slipped his arm behind your back, allowing you to properly sleep on him and his hand to rest on your waist.

usually, Roy was far too tense or pent up in rides home to sleep on the bus, especially with a team he just knew were desperate to draw something on his face, but Roy was surprised when he opened his eyes and sunlight blinded him.

the bus was pulling up to Richmond at an ungodly 4 am when Roy realised, he had fallen asleep, his head resting on top of yours. without thinking, still in a sleepy state, Roy pressed a kiss to the top of your head as he moved to sit up. however, when he saw you stir awake, he kicked himself internally, “Are we here?” you yawned, pulling away from him and Roy already missed the feeling of you curled up to him.

“Looks like it,” Roy said as you looked down to realise it had been Roy’s jacket covering you, “You uh looked cold,” Roy said, clearing his throat and thankful he had a beard to cover the way his cheeks grew hot.

“Thanks,” you said, a sleepy smile playing your lips as the rest of the team started to wake. “Did you manage to sleep?”

“A bit yeah,” Roy said, and it was as you shuffle forward Roy realised his mistake when you looked down at his arm, “Sorry bout that,” he mumbled, quickly pulling his arm out from where it had been wrapped around your waist.

“It’s alright I don’t mind,” you said, a smile toying your lips as you stretched to try wake up.

without anything else said, really by anyone, you all filtered off the bus and Roy went to get both your suitcases. Roy cleared his throat as he went to pass yours to you, a nervous habit you’d only just really noticed, “Do you need a lift up the road? my cars just over there,”

“If you don’t mind that’d be great,” you said, so relieved you weren’t going to have to sleep in Rebeccas office, “Don’t hate me if I fall asleep in the car though,”

“Couldn’t hate you if I tried,” Roy said as he took the suitcase back and began to walk to his car. you blushed as you followed behind him, climbing into the passenger side as Roy loaded the bags in, “You all set?” Roy asked as he hopped into the driver’s seat.

when Roy glanced over, he couldn’t help but laugh when he noticed you were already asleep in the car. Roy reached over, buckling you in before getting ready to hit the road. he’d dropped you off a few times from work so he knew the way already, but Roy couldn’t stop himself stealing so many glances at the sight of you. there was no avoiding his feelings now.  Roy Kent was in love.

[wlntrsldler]

song challenge with Jamie tartt ! The just friends one please ☺️❤️

just friends | jamie tartt

based on just friends by virginia to vegas

description: you meet jamie tartt at a gala and he can't help but fall for you.

warnings: language-- it's ted lasso, what did you expect? angst! miscommunication! drinking! making out!

length: 4K words

ted lasso requests are open | main masterlist

When your uncle Trent invited you to a "work party," you expected maybe a private room in a restaurant in Tooting, or at most, a cocktail hour on a boat with snooty, businessmen. You did not expect a full-on red carpet gala with paparazzi, and famous footballers, and well, you got the snooty businessmen part right at least.

You knew your uncle had worked with AFC Richmond in the past. You weren't completely out of the loop. You read the book he wrote-- which was marvelous-- and watched a few of the games last season, but you didn't think he stayed in touch with the Richmond crew. Especially not to the point where he's still invited to their annual charity gala with a plus one.

Because of your lack of preparation, you felt severely underprepared for the event. You stood beside the open bar while your uncle walked around and mingled. You made the excuse that you needed some liquid courage to loosen up before you started chatting with folks who could buy half of England if they wanted to.

"Y/N?" You turned around to find a woman dressed in a gorgeous, sparkly dress, smiling at you. She outstretched her hand, which you gladly accepted. "I'm Keeley. Trent has told me so much about you."

"Keeley Jones!" You exclaimed, a smile overtaking your features. "So nice to meet you."

"Likewise," she beamed, "What ya doin' all the way over here? Come on, have you met the boys yet?"

You didn't have a chance to say no before she was pulling you towards a crowd of men dressed to the nines. You saw your uncle talking to one of them and he shot you a comforting smile as you approached.

"Lads, this is Y/N! Trent's niece."

"Nice to meet you, Y/N!" The boy beside your uncle called out, raising his beer bottle in a hello, "Name's Colin."

Then, the one next to you turned his body to introduce himself, "Hello, my name is Sam. It's a pleasure to meet you."

This caused a domino effect where all the men began introducing themselves to you. It was overwhelming, in a good way, but you knew that you would not be able to remember all of their names.

Finally, there were two boys left to introduce themselves. One had a glass of champagne in his hand, grinning brightly as he waited for his turn to speak. The other was wearing sunglasses indoors--prick-- and looked like he would rather be anywhere else but here.

"Hello, Y/N. My name is Jan Maas." The happier of the two grinned at you. "Trent did not tell us you were this pretty."

"Oi, bruv," Isaac, who you learned was the captain of the team, smacked Jan Maas on his arm, "You don't have to say everything that pops into your head all the time."

You blushed, laughing at the two men bickering. "No worries, I appreciate the compliment, Jan Maas."

The circle was hushed as they waited for the last man to speak up. When it became evident that he was not gonna say anything-- again, prick-- Roy spoke up. "And that's Jamie."

Ah. It made sense now. Jamie Tartt. You heard a lot about him from your uncle and from the sports blogs you read last season when you were trying to get caught up on all things AFC Richmond. You knew Jamie Tartt was the real deal. It suddenly wasn't so surprising that he felt like he was too good to engage in conversation with you.

But you would be a liar if you said that you didn't find him attractive. If he put in the effort to be decent, then you'd definitely be crushing on him already. He looked good. His jacket was discarded somewhere. He had the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to his elbows with a gold chain peeking out from under the collar. You had to give credit where credit is due.

You awkwardly moved on from the situation and mingled with the boys. You met Rebecca, Coach Beard, and Nate later in the night. As the gala progressed, your ability to function properly in society deteriorated with every free drink from the open bar. Before you knew it, Keeley was hanging off your arm, giggling over a stupid joke that Richard made.

Wiping your tears of laughter from your eyes, you untangled yourself from Keeley, "Okay, I'm gonna go get us some water."

You walked to the bar area, careful not to trip over your own feet. You sighed a breath of relief when you made it to the counter in one piece, "Two waters, please."

You looked to your left and couldn't help but scoff when you saw Jamie beside you. You rolled your eyes, "Prick."

He furrowed his eyebrows, "Are you talking to me?"

It was definitely the alcohol talking. And boy, was it running its mouth. "Yeah, you're bein' a prick."

"I haven't done anythin' to ya," he complained, taking a sip of his water. "What are you callin' me a prick for?"

"Where do I start?" He motioned for you to continue so you did. "First of all, who the hell wears sunnies indoors? There isn't sun in here! And it's nighttime, you don't even need it outside! Oh! And we're in bloody England, when do we ever get sunlight? Sunnies are useless."

He opened his mouth to respond, but you beat him to it, "Second, you didn't have the courtesy to introduce yourself to me. Made Roy do it. Like I get it, you're Mr. Jamie Fucking Tartt. Star Player of AFC Richmond and Golden Boy of the Champions League and gorgeous with amazing hair and I'm just Trent's niece. But would it hurt ya to say hello?"

"Sorry," he mumbled, taken aback by your bluntness. Drunk you could give Jan Maas a run for his money. He couldn't focus on anything else besides the fact that you called him gorgeous.

"'m not done," you continued, taking a deep breath. Ranting about Jamie made you lose your breath, "Lastly, you've been avoiding your teammates, your friends! I literally saw Dani frown! I didn't even think that was possible. You should be ashamed of yourself."

Jamie was stuck staring at you. He hoped you were too drunk to notice the blush on his cheeks. You were wrong about one thing, the sunnies were useful. If he didn't have them on, he was sure you'd notice the way his eyes have been heart-shaped since you first introduced yourself to the group.

He wasn't sure when he stopped being able to talk to pretty girls, but when he saw you approach with Keeley, his knees buckled and suddenly he forgot his own name. He didn't mean to be rude earlier. He wanted to introduce himself but he physically couldn't. By the time he remembered who he was, it was too awkward.

He's spent the rest of the night anxiously replaying the interaction in his head. If he had a sip of liquor, he would, no doubt, yak all over the dance floor so he stayed on the outskirts of the party, dead sober.

Before he could properly apologize for the terrible first impression, you'd already retrieved the two glasses of water from the bartender and began walking toward Keeley.

The day after, Jamie texted Keeley for your number. At first, he tried to play it off as just wanting to apologize to you for being rude the night before, but Keeley could read him like the back of her hand.

She smirked and sent your number over to Jamie.

That's how you found yourself nursing a hangover, cursing whoever texted your phone because it dinged so loud that your headache increased tenfold. When you checked your phone and saw an unknown number, you didn't think much of it at first. You knew you exchanged numbers with a few people last night so it wasn't out of the ordinary to get random texts. But when you saw the follow-up texts, you quickly sobered up.

From: Unknown

"Hi, Y/N. Got your number from Keeley."

From: Unknown

"Just wanted to say sorry for bein a prick yesterday. Promise, I'm not like that."

From: Unknown

"This is Jamie, btw."

From: Unknown

"Jamie Tartt"

From: Unknown

"From Richmond"

You laughed at his texts. Did he seriously think you wouldn't be able to deduce that it was him? You didn't know many Jamies. In fact, he's the only Jamie you knew. Plus, the prick thing gave it away.

To: Jamie Tartt From Richmond

"Figured it was you, Jamie. But thanks for the clarification. - Y/N Y/L/N, Trent Crimm's niece."

That was the start of your friendship with Jamie.

--

"Jamie fucking Tartt!" Your voice boomed throughout the locker room, easily drowning out the hum of conversations that the boys were having. "You're dead!"

A chorus of "oooohs" rang across the room with all the boys patiently waiting to see what Jamie did this time. You and Jamie have been engaged in a month-long prank war. How Jamie managed to be a professional footballer (who is leading the team in goals and plays a large part in the team's 5 game-winning streak) and still have time to meticulously plan pranks was beyond your understanding.

Jamie was halfway done with getting dressed when you walked in. His shirt was still folded neatly in his cubby when he turned around to greet you with a smirk, "Hey, love. Are you wrapped up?"

You couldn't help but let your eyes roam down his chest and his torso. On your scan back up, your eyes stopped at his arms. God, his arms. For the most part, you were able to control your attraction for Jamie, but sometimes, the universe tested you. This was one of those moments.

Jamie bit his lip when he realized you were checking him out. He cleared his throat, breaking you from your trance, "So, you wrapped up and ready to go?"

You remembered why you were pissed at him. "You wrapped my entire car in plastic wrap! How the hell am I going to get home?"

At your explanation, the team chuckled at Jamie's latest prank. You turned around to shoot daggers at all of them. The laughter stopped.

"Someone wrapped your car in plastic wrap?" He faked a shocked face, "That's horrible."

Two can play that game.

"Is that why you invited me to watch training today?" You gasped, acting like your feelings were hurt. You pretended to cry, sniffling as you lowered your head, "Thought you wanted to see me. Whole time you just wanted to prank me."

Jamie's eyes widened. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you towards his chest as he began to mumble a million apologies, "No, no, Y/N. I did want to see you, promise! I just thought that it would also be fun to pull a prank, but you know I wanted to see you. Always want to see you, love. Please don't cry."

For a while, you forgot you were playing a bit. All you could focus on was that your head was laying on Jamie Tartt's bare chest while his arms were wrapped around you. He was kissing the top of your head and apologizing to you for a stupid prank.

You'd been in these situations before. After a few months of being friends with Jamie, you found that he was extremely touchy and clingy, which you did not expect from him. When he'd come over to hang out and watch movies, he'd end up with his head on your lap while you played with his hair. After games where Richmond won, you'd meet him in the car park when everyone's gone home where he'd run to you, hug you, then spin you around while you giggled and told him to put you down.

But this time was different. You were in front of people who were staring at you. Their hushed whispers, traces of smiles in their voice, brought you back to reality. You pulled away from him, red-cheeked, and stuttering. You saw Bumbercatch from the corner of your eye, sending you a wink.

"Jam," you said, "I'm just kidding. I'm not really upset."

"Oi," he frowned, finally putting a shirt on. "That's not nice. I thought I actually made you upset."

"Well, I am upset because you wrapped my car in plastic wrap." You reminded him. The room started to clear out, the boys bidding you a goodbye as they exited. You waited for Jamie to get his things together before walking out with him. "Can we call it a truce on the pranking?"

"You givin' up?" he raised his eyebrows, "Didn't peg you as a quitter."

"Not giving up," you shoved him lightly, "Just don't want to hurt your feelings again. Seriously, Jamie, you nearly cried and got on your knees when you thought I was upset! Embarrassing for you."

He was about to argue when he saw your teasing smile. He shook his head, blushing. It was embarrassing, really. It was so embarrassing how he was so gone for you. The idea of making you feel bad, even on accident, killed Jamie. He never wants you to be upset.

There was something magnetic about you. No matter how hard he tried-- and he did try-- to stay away from you, or at the very least ignore his romantic feelings towards you, the stronger your pull was. Jamie can't remember the last time he woke up without thinking of you or the last time he went to bed without the thought of you in his dreams.

Ever since the night of the gala, Jamie only fell harder for you. At first, it started out with just finding you attractive. Jan Maas was right, Trent did not mention just how beautiful you were. Even if Trent did try to explain it, Jamie didn't think the English language could do your beauty any justice. As he got to know you, your goofiness, kindness, and gigantic heart, he knew he was a goner.

With you, he could act like a stupid little kid. He can have fun with you, laugh at everything, and do nothing but sit on your couch eating junk food. But he can also be vulnerable with you. He hasn't mentioned all of his past to you, half afraid that you'd run away once you get a deeper look into who he is and what he's gone through, and half nervous that once he lets you in completely, he'll never recover if you ever break his heart.

He wasn't ready to lose you. Not yet. Not ever.

"Let me help you get your car untangled," he offered, opening the door to leave the facility. "Least I can do."

"How the hell did you do this while you were at training? I literally watched you the entire time and you were on the pitch."

"You were watching me?" he asked, looking at you with a glimmer in his eye.

You scrunched your nose, feeling caught. You had a joke ready as a response but it never made its way past your throat. You looked at him, a small smile on your face. You leaned over and placed a hand on his bicep, "Always am."

Jamie gulped, the feeling of your touch making his brain short-circuit. He felt his heart beating out of his chest. He really was pathetic. He backed away from your touch before he could do something he would later regret, "I paid Kenneth to do it while we were trainin'."

Your jaw hung low, a look of disbelief now on your face. Jamie, knowing you too well, sensed that you were about to tackle him and ran away from you. You chased him around the empty car park, with your plastic-wrapped car and his obnoxious sports car as the only inhabitants, while yelling, "I'm going to get you back so good!"

This, you thought, this is a life you could get used to.

--

You shouldn’t have gotten used to it. 

You didn’t know how things changed so quickly. One minute, you were leaning your drunk self on Jamie as you sang a horrible rendition of “When He Sees Me” from The Waitress, the next, he was ignoring your calls and avoiding every event where you’d be in attendance. 

It’s been a week since you last heard from Jamie and you were tired of it. You marched on the pitch, ignoring Roy’s complaints. The boys halted their movements, glancing at each other with worried looks, before staring directly at Jamie. 

“Stop being a fucking prick!” You exclaimed. He huffed, continuing to ignore you. He continued the drills he was doing before you showed up, though none of his teammates joined him. “Tartt!” 

He rolled his eyes, finally stopping to look at you, “What?” 

“Oi! Tartt, Y/L/N, can you settle your lover’s quarrel in the tunnel? We have trainin’!” Roy yelled. 

“Start walking, Tartt,” You weren’t going to let him off the hook that easily. You walked behind him as he made his way to the tunnel behind the coaches. You were really glad today was a closed practice. 

By the time you made it to the tunnel, your initial anger had subsided. You just felt bad. Why did he stop talking to you? Was it something you did? You knew that he was avoiding you given how he just reacted on the pitch. What you didn’t understand was why. 

“What do you want, Y/N?” There was venom in his tone. 

You blinked, not used to that tone from Jamie. “Why’re you bein’ such a prick all of a sudden? What have I done?” 

“Seriously?” he let out a humorless laugh. 

Now it was your turn, “What are you on about? You’re the one who’s been avoiding me and I don’t even know why!” 

“Don’t turn this on me.” He ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up just enough for a few loose stands to fall in front of his face. It took all the strength in the world not to reach over to fix it for him. “You’re the one being cruel and mean. That little prank you pulled.”

“Jamie, what prank?” you took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of your nose with your fingers, “I have no idea what happened! Please do enlighten me!”

“No, I’m not going to recount the most embarrassing moment of my life for your enjoyment.” 

“Enjoyment?!” You yelled, more confused than ever. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” 

“Right,” he shook his head, looking at you. Tears were pooling in his eyes. He bit his bottom lip before continuing, “You don’t remember being in the back seat of the Uber after karaoke where you were playing with my feelings.” 

“I don’t.” 

“Oh, come off it, Y/N,” he sighed. He shut his eyes, blinking away his tears. “You know how I feel about you. Everyone does at this point! Like, I’m so pathetic when it comes to ya. So when you look at me with that look in your eye like you might actually feel the same way as I do and tell me that you want to kiss me, just to remind me that we shouldn’t because we’re just friends, you’re just being plain cruel. It’s mean, Y/N.” 

You were speechless, which Jamie mistook as another rejection. He continued to ramble on. “I’ve been so in love with you since I met you. I’ve never met anyone like you, never felt this way with anyone. And I haven’t really been discreet about it, either. Even fucking Beard have said somethin’ about how I look at ya. The lads haven’t stopped teasin’ me about you since you showed up in my kit at our first home game.” 

“Jam,” you began, out of breath like the wind was just knocked right out of you. “I don’t remember this happening in the car.” 

Jamie finally looked at you, as if the mist of anger dissipated from his vision. He looked at you intently. Your bottom lip was quivering and your eyes were trying to desperately make sense of the situation. 

“Oh, fuck,” he gulped. He scratched the back of his neck with his left hand, rocking on the balls of his feet. “You really don’t remember, huh?” 

You shook your head, “No, I don’t. I blacked out after I sang that last song.” 

“Now, I feel awkward.” 

“Yeah, you should,” you chuckled. You walked closer to him, reaching out to fix his hair. You felt him stop breathing for a second. He closed his eyes for a moment before opening them back up to see you so close to him. So close. You cradled his face in the palm of your hand, letting your thumb run across his cheekbone. “You love me?” 

The tips of his ears turned pink, “Yeah, I do.” 

“Hmmm,” you hummed, inching closer to him. “For the record, I probably did want to kiss you then even though I can’t remember it now because I always want to kiss you.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah,” It was your turn to stop breathing. Jamie placed his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him. “Also probably only said we shouldn’t because I was too scared to lose you, but I don’t want to be just your friend, Jam.” 

“Don’t wanna be just your friend either.” 

“Well, we should probabl-”

“For fuck’s sake,” The two of you jumped apart at Roy’s voice from the pitch. “Just fucking make out already!” 

You both looked at the pitch to see the entire team, coaches and Will included, staring at the both of you in anticipation. Jamie laced your fingers together and led you inside the facility, the sound of groans and boo’s from the team echoing through the tunnel. You laughed heartily at their reaction. As he was leading you to the boot room, Jamie looked over his shoulder and sent you a shy smile. 

He opened the door and turned the lights on with his free hand, never once letting go of yours. Before you could say a thing, Jamie pressed you up against the wall and kissed you like his life depended on it. You sighed into the kiss, tangling your fingers in his hair, and gave it a soft tug. He grunted in approval, slipping his tongue swiftly into your mouth. As things started to get heated, you felt him smile against your lips, causing you to pull back. 

After you’ve separated, he pressed a soft kiss on your lips, looking as content as ever. He gave you one last peck before giving some space between both of your bodies, “So does that mean that you fancy me too?” 

“Jamie, come on,” you pressed your head on his shoulder, unable to stop the blush from your cheeks from spreading, “You know I love you, too.” 

“Yeah, I kinda figured with how you kissed me.”

“Hey!” you protested, glaring at him playfully.

He laughed, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear. His hands found your waist again. He was drawing shapes with his thumb on the small piece of exposed skin on your stomach. “I love you.” 

“So what does this make us?” 

“Well, you’re my girlfriend now.”

You pushed him away a bit, raising one eyebrow, “I don’t recall being asked to be your girlfriend.” 

“Fine,” he conceded, “I’ll ask, but it’s going to be so over the top and so ridiculous that you’ll regret that you had me ask.” 

You giggled, pulling him closer again, “Don’t think I’ll ever regret that, Jam.” 

He placed his lips on you again, slowly and passionately. When he pulled away, he had a serious look on his face. “You may not be my girlfriend yet, but I am 100% your boyfriend. I am taken. I’ve already been taken for a while, but it’s official now.” 

You grabbed his face in your hands, placing a kiss on his nose, “Of course, boyfriend.” 

[sasheneskywalker]

dc poly ships fic recs

Under Your Nose by withthekeyisking Dick and Kori have been together for years now, and it's been a recent habit of theirs to double-date with Jason and Roy. The four of them have a really good time together, that's all. Dick definitely doesn't have any desire to kiss Roy or Jason. And he definitely doesn't accidentally do that when drunk.

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Koriand'r, Roy Harper/Jason Todd, Dick Grayson/Roy Harper/Koriand'r/Jason Todd

the pact of our youth by bramgreenfeld Bernard didn’t realize that Tim was dead until three weeks after it happened.

[Timberkon meets Reverse!Robins.]

T | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Bernard Dowd/Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent, Bernard Dowd/Tim Drake, Bernard Dowd/Kon-El | Conner Kent, Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent, Jonathan Samuel Kent & Damian Wayne

the halfway home for washed-up sidekicks by moth_tille “You wouldn’t last an hour in Crime Alley,” Jason said, completely ignoring his partner. “Oh yeah?” Kyle replied. “Wanna bet?” “Sure. Why don’t you come on patrols with us for a month and then see if you still think Gotham is easy?” “Sure. The hardest part is gonna be putting up with you for a month.”

in which Kyle Rayner stays in Gotham longer than he'd intended with two vigilantes who are definitely not what he expected. Chaos ensues.

M | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Roy Harper/Kyle Rayner/Jason Todd, Roy Harper/Kyle Rayner, Roy Harper/Jason Todd, Kyle Rayner/Jason Todd

the old makes way to new by poppiesandsunflowers It's a new timeline, and in the process of fixing up the hiccups, Dick Grayson desperately tries to stop himself from becoming a homewrecker.

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Wally West, Linda Park/Wally West, Dick Grayson/Linda Park/Wally West, Dick Grayson & Linda Park

live fast, die young by poppiesandsunflowers Barry Allen experiences the worst day of his life. Somehow, things end up getting better for him.

M | Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death | Barry Allen & Wally West, Barry Allen/Iris West, Barry Allen/Hal Jordan (Green Lantern), Barry Allen/Hal Jordan (Green Lantern)/Iris West

space is just a word made up by someone who's afraid to get close (I want proof of what you're feeling) by lostandlonelybirds (RUNNFROMTHEAK) “Luv, what the hell are you doin’ here?” John Constantine asks from the rooftop below him, cigarette glowing in his hand. Zatanna waves at him, flashing a quick smile that feels like a punch to the gut. Right. Of course. Magic. Fucking Bruce.

Dick flips off his convenient gargoyle and lands in a crouch, silently as always. No sign of movement from probably evil witch, so Dick thinks he can hazard a conversation with the couple. Duo. Romantic partners. Fuck he’s pathetic.

M | No Archive Warnings Apply | John Constantine/Dick Grayson, John Constantine/Zatanna Zatara, Dick Grayson/Zatanna Zatara, John Constantine/Dick Grayson/Zatanna Zatara, Past Dick Grayson/Koriand'r

problematic by proxy by lostandlonelybirds (RUNNFROMTHEAK) “Why are you lying to me?” “I’m not,” Dick says, and there’s a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. “I don’t see him like that. He’s like Tim, just older, and with a bumpier history.” “You don’t stare at Tim’s ass, though.” “I don’t stare at Jason’s!” Donna gives him the most unimpressed look she can muster. “You sure about that one, chief?”

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Jason Todd/Donna Troy, Dick Grayson/Donna Troy, Jason Todd/Donna Troy, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd

did you ever have someone kiss you in a crowded room? by maruyaaya Donna Troy is definitely flirting with him.

Which, for the record, Jason thinks is fucking insane because that’s Donna Troy. Donna Troy, the girl who’s sitting on Jason’s right while her boyfriend is sitting on Jason’s left.

What the fuck is going on?

or;

jason todd [9:00 am] once at a party i kissed someones girlfriend and to make sure he wasn't mad about it i kissed him too… i blacked out and woke up in a groupchat with both of them that said "did you make it home safe baby <3"

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Kyle Rayner/Jason Todd/Donna Troy, Jason Todd/Donna Troy, Kyle Rayner/Jason Todd, Kyle Rayner/Donna Troy

like real people do by maruyaaya “Don’t think this means anything. I just like to cook. That’s all this is.”

“I wasn’t assuming otherwise.” Donna shrugs and Kyle stays silent.

“Good.” Jason nods.

“Good,” Donna responds.

“Good,” Kyle adds, mostly because he feels left out.

or;

kyle, jason, and donna are friends with benefits and also emotionally inept. chaos ensues.

M | No Archive Warnings Apply | Kyle Rayner/Jason Todd/Donna Troy, Kyle Rayner/Jason Todd, Kyle Rayner/Donna Troy, Jason Todd/Donna Troy

a little bit of persuasion (it goes a long way) by kuro49 Jason's rehabilitation comes in the form of taking over Clark and Slade's couch. It works wonders.

M | No Archive Warnings Apply | Clark Kent/Jason Todd/Slade Wilson, Clark Kent/Slade Wilson, Clark Kent/Jason Todd, Jason Todd/Slade Wilson

we all fall down by vlrnlr Turns out there is a statute of limitations on saying the things you’re not supposed to say. / Pre-Flashpoint. Ollie, Hal, Dinah, and everything in between.

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Hal Jordan/Dinah Lance/Oliver Queen, Hal Jordan/Dinah Lance, Dinah Lance/Oliver Queen, Hal Jordan/Oliver Queen

[potatounicoorn]

Teen titans band AU expect they are a metal band and still superheroes

It starts when they end up out of money and they need to get some new gear (dont ask how they are out of money)

So logically the teenagers they are, they end up figuring out that a great way for getting lots of money would be a music career

Because what teenager group hasnt formed a band at one point or another?

And while they examine what music they could do Donna has the brightest idea

She had been on a mission with Diana and somehow at some point they end up in a heavy metal concert crowd

Donna got some dudes beer dunked on her, she ended up in a middle of a moshpit and more fun

And later she is cleaning herself up in the bathroom and this set of the coolest girls she has seen come and congratulate her on her metal concert baptism

So now the fab five end up forming a metal band

And like your average metal band, Donna ends up being the singer

(Turns out amazonian war cry's make great music with some intrumentals)

Shes your average "you hear a great song with amazing growling, and then your dad drops some band lore and oh the singer is a woman what, tahts cool af"

She can switch suprisingly great with the growling, screaming and singing with the voice of angel in your local childrens church choir

Wally can hit drums like no other (superspeed lets goo)

Garth ends up with a guitar and Roy with a bass

And Dick is one of the "I know how to play the most random set of instruments known to man" aka he plays everything from cello to bag pipe and chruch organ to kantele

Most of their songs end up being nonsense sentences in ancient amazonian, atlantean and anything thats not english and propably not known by your average guy

At first their band doesnt really hit off, they get a few tiny gigs here and there and most of their listeners are their friends and family

And then they end up crashing in some no where town in North Finland during peak winter low degrees

And they need someplace for warmth and food so they end up at some local pub

Turns out the pub was supposed to host a concert but the artist never showed up so now they have a house full of disappointed metal heads

So the titans take their chance because "hey they give us free food for performing! And a gig is a gig!! :D"

And it goes fairly good! People are enjoying the music and mostly people are having fun, maybe some people even take up their band name for later listening

Until Roy notices a tracker device or smth in Donna's neck, and "oh shit it must be the bad guys from the earlier fight shit shit"

So he just swooshes the bass with full force at Donna, because the tracker needs to break and Donna can handle it she got amazonian strenght and all that

Expect they are not, you know, actually in their hero outfits at the moment but instead in some random clothes they found at lost item box because identity and all that

And the crowd just stares in horror as the random basist just smashes the bass at the poor singer

Like that much force will kill anyone!!

And

She just

Keeps singing?

Wtf

They quickly end the song and reasure the crowd and fly off

But some dude got it all on video

So next morning they wake up, and oh would you look at that! Our band is a massive hit!

Turns our doing insane stuff is the key to charm an audience!

And now they get concerts everywhere and a large insanely fast growing fan base

Because their band end up being the most mystical thing known to man

They keep the putfits they got from the lost box

Add some sick ass prosthetics masks whoch decipt some unnamed horror creatures (inspired by some villains they fought (look up Lordi for example))

Their music videos are the ultimate metal stereotype of "go into the woods and you will find a metal band there every other meter" expect the extreme version

Because they got missions all over and end up in the most random places

So all their music videos are homemade with a phonecamera while they are in the middle of Siperia or amazon rainforest, Sahara desert, himalaya, a volcano, a Thailand cave system, every single world wonder and so on

Not to even speak of their concerts

They are one of the few bands who can truly say they did a world tour

Because sometimes they do one in NYC and the next day they are at some unmapped island near New zealand

And the insanity of their concerts do not end with the smashed bass at Donnas neck no

There are even more smashed instruments at Donna, lots of things on fire, a world record at fastest drumming, Batman in a corner, dude who seems like he is flying doing flips and tricks of the hall roof, the bassist throwing all sort of stuff with insane accuraty, the guitarist crowd surfing once when it rained expect he was standing??, and so on and on

Sometimes the bassist also ends up playing for Black canary

They have no social media, no nothing, they just drop their music and appear in random places to have a concert

Sometimes the band is months without doing anything and just seemingly disappear from the face of Earth completely

And suddenly there are four new peiple joining the band, who is apparently anm extra choir

And seemingly no one in the band even knows who plays what where and how because why do the band members seem to keep changing???

Everyone is just holding their breaths following this absolute insanity of a band just waiting for the day they make a document of all the stuff thats happened in the background away from cameras

Its the most avaited lore drop of the century

But no, no one will ever just explain anything, they just go on and on, sometimes they disappear for years on time and appear with a new set of people

Sure why not

Its titled as the biggest mystery of the music industry

And so it remains

[senselessviolets]

“stay soft”

Roman Roy x Fem. Reader

Rating E (Smut)

Word Count: 3.3k

AO3 Link

WARNINGS:

Mommy kink, smut, some plot, this man has MOMMY ISSUES™️, gentle femdom, titplay, breast sucking, so much dirty talk, Roman gets called “baby” a lot, no PIV, no uses of Y/N

Author's Notes:

The people have spoken—y’all want Roman being fucking babied in bed so that’s what the fuck I did and I have zero regrets. Totally gave up in the end but school’s been incredibly draining for me so I’m proud of myself for even getting THIS out.

[Gif creds: I forget. if it’s yours, lemme know!!]

Summary:

You are an equally wealthy childhood friend of the Roys and Roman in particular. After years of little to no contact with him, he and you decide to finally act on the mutual attraction you both share in the most ‘Roman way’ you can think of. 

“Okay, but like if we…fuckin’...if we fuckin’ do this, I will want…some things. But I’m not g’na fuckin’ beg or anything…call you mommy, ‘goo goo ga ga’…none of that shit. I will want you…to be there…and I will want you to ‘not be there’...if you catch my drift. I-I don’t wanna hear a fuckin’ word or a single moan. I don’t want—I just don’t want it, okay. And this might sound bad—even though I’ve definitely said worse—but you would be just a-a means for me,” a voicemail blears in your ear as you are made aware of the four calls you missed in your slumber, “‘Kay? I dunno. Think it over. It’s not fuckin’ life or death. Until it is. And I kill you. And hide the body and burn the evidence…kidding! ‘Kay, love you, kidding, ‘kay, bye!”

This was uncharted territory for you both. 

You and Roman and the other Roy children were longtime family friends. Like Stewy Hosseni or a lesser example Ray Kennedy. What that meant was your incredibly loaded dad gave Logan Roy an ungodly sum of money in the nineties and had managed to stay on his good side ever since. At their status, that’s what qualified as ‘friendship’. Everything was a transaction at the end of the day. Like you suspected Logan and Caroline had bought their way into their kids’ hearts, to even be in the same room as these titans—to breathe the same air—you had to beg, steal, or borrow. Fortunately, you hailed from less-than-humble beginnings; your father being an incredibly successful venture capitalist-turned-philanthropist and your mother the heiress of a billion-dollar publishing company. 

But it was all just details. 

You were eternally grateful to be an only child, imagining an existence where you and your progeny were destined to forever claw at each other's throats—all for whatever scraps your parents were generous enough to leave you.

Unfortunate. ‘Pitiful’ felt more accurate. Every hollow soiree and vapid function served as a reminder. These were not your people. And they never would be. And yet—

“Heya! Well, you look less miserable than usual. Lemme guess, you finally ditched Loser What’s-His-Face and have taken up my longstanding advice of giving lesbianism a try,”

“Hi, Roman. No, I’ve actually been reminiscing about our younger years together. Remember the time you threw up in your mouth before presenting me my corsage the night of the winter formal? Seventh grade? Ring a bell?”

“That was because it only dawned upon me then that I would be getting Cody Keener’s sloppy seconds,” he answers, “I just couldn’t cope with that, I’m sorry,”

You slug him in the arm and he reacts overdramatically, as if someone stuck him with the pointy end of a knife. Onlookers included none other than Frank Vernon, Hugo Baker, and a close friend of your mom’s, Michelle Anne. This time, you and Roman had crossed paths at your father’s 70th birthday party. It was held at your parents’ penthouse on the Upper East Side and attracted a decent crowd. Faces you’d sworn you met pass you by as strangers come up to you, recounting memories of you who were only this tall. It was always a discombobulating experience but you continued to frolic and mingle nonetheless. 

In truth, this little ‘reunion’ was nothing but a facade. 

You and Roman had been talking for weeks now after years of no contact with one another. Brief texts turned into prolonged phone calls which by the end of the night became one-sided, pathetic voicemails expressing some sort of yearning for the other. It was becoming all-consuming and quite frankly, exhausting. And now it had finally come to blows. 

There was a plan, there were contingencies (of course, there were) but above all—there was transparency. And that was something you could hold onto. Oh, the many men who lied their way into your bed. And then here comes Roman, who’d made it abundantly clear he’d rather inhale glass than have you worm your way into his. So this scheme would not transpire at his place or yours. 

It would be occurring in a Central Park Suite at The Carlyle—just a quick jaunt from your parents’ place. He deigned to be a gentleman and handled the reservations as well as your transportation because you had to already be there. You were going to be lying on the bed, in some satiny sleepwear. No lingerie, no hosiery—nothing that could be construed as ‘sexy’. You were to look mundane, average, and bored. 

Roman would enter and you would be still and let him do as he pleased. While you’d had this endeavor nailed to a T, you’d be lying if you said the prospect of him going off-script—doing things rougher, harder, doors off the hinges, letting his darker impulses get the better of him—didn’t make your knees buckle a bit. 

So once the candles had been blown, the birthday wishes made, and goodbyes were said—you were to slide into his black Range Rover SV while his secondary chauffeur Crispin brought you to your destination. In your duffel was your change of clothes and a few other goodies. It had crossed your mind—once, twice how exceedingly easy it would be to bail right about now. Crispin could drop you off on the side of the road like some floozy and then your personal chauffeur could pick you up and drive you back to your cozy brownstone for a mundane evening spent by yourself—alone. That was the part that struck a pang in your stomach. That was the truly unbearable part. That, and the heat between your thighs which was starting to become really inconvenient. 

…

Now was not the time to get cold feet. 

You had already slid your sequin cocktail dress off and exchanged it for your satin sleepwear. Like the pretty kept thing he’d instructed you to be, you lay flat across the plush hotel mattress, awaiting his arrival, legs swinging to and fro like an eager teenage girl.

Maybe he’d be the one to pussy out.

At least then you’d have yet another thing to hold over his head for the foreseeable future. In your phone’s front-facing camera, you inspected the makeup you’d done earlier that evening for the party and it still seemed sufficient. Your lips seemed a bit drab. You roll off the bed and I sift through the contents of your bag, searching for the mauve lip color you’d brought along. Dabbing it onto the purse of your mouth while gazing into the mirror of the room’s modest vanity—you begin to lose track. 

This isn’t it and you know it. 

You know it. 

So fucking do something about it. 

Examining the time on the wall clock, you decide to hastily shake off your striped satin pj set and tear through your duffel for the sheer lace slip and matching long gloves. Not liking the unkemptness of your long hair at this particular moment, you palm your bag for one of the chignon French hairpins that had sunk their way to the bottom—a go-to for you since your younger years. The best you can muster is a half-up, loose, more-than-messy low bun because suddenly, a knock on the door can be heard. Your heart leaps into your throat and you shove your duffel bag into the armoire in a hurried panic. The click of the hotel room’s keycard lock comes next and you spring to the door as to be the one to open it. You and Roman meet each other’s gaze through the crack of the half-open door, you two beam down at your hands, enclosed over both sides of the handle. He is very noticeably startled, not expecting you to answer the door.

“C-Come on in,” you stutter, gesturing into the hotel suite with a gloved hand. 

Roman’s mouth goes dry. It is not all that often the family jester is able to be truly caught off-guard. This absolutely was one of those times. He shuffles into the room with tepid steps and doesn’t turn around to face you until he hears the door click shut. With a blank, nonchalant expression—he shrugs, prompting you to provide some sort of explanation. Of which, you do not possess. 

“What?” you say. 

“What’s…all of that about?”

“Yeah, sorry…wasn’t really feeling the pajamas tonight. I opted for something I felt was a little more fitting. You don’t mind, do you?”

“No,”

He definitely fucking does mind actually. But any frustration at being caught unawares expresses itself in the form of big beautiful hazel eyes beaming at you with fear and uncertainty. His lips are parted, unable to form the words he can’t even begin to think of at this particular moment.

“So…,”

“...so…?”

“So…lay down,” you finally say.

Roman is able to briefly channel the smarmy assholeishness he usually hones with a sarcastic scoff and smirk. He shakes his head to himself before his gaze finds the floor. 

“...I’m sorry, maybe you just didn’t hear me right the first time,” you say, crossing over until you are eye-to-eye with him and your competing breaths can be felt, “...or maybe I should’ve been a bit more specific.”

You lean in until your lips brush the outer shell of his right ear and he stops breathing. 

“Roman. Lay the fuck down on that bed. Now.”

He quickly scrambles onto the bed, resting on his back while slightly sitting up. There is a tentative eagerness in his demeanor as if the last hints of resistance in his muscles had yet to dissipate.

“Good. Now can you unbutton your shirt by yourself or do you need my help?”

“...I-I-I need your help,” he mindlessly babbles, “P-Please. Please, can you help me?”

You click your tongue at his wanton request, attempting to maintain your composure. It was after the first ‘please’ that you knew you were going to willingly give everything in you to this man right then and there. 

The safeguards? Fuck the safeguards. 

The time for self-preservation was about five or so minutes ago before his knuckles had rapped gently on the heavy wooden door. Without breaking eye contact, you straddle him effortlessly, both knees on either side of his hips. You aren’t certain because all the blood had flooded to your ears and you were unable to hear much over the thumping of your own heartbeat but you swear you hear a quiet ‘oh god’ slip out of him. Your fingers find the buttons on his grey button-down and your wrists noticeably begin to shake as they undo them.

For fuck’s sake.

Up until this point, you had conjured the impression that you were the one in control here and that there was nothing he could say or do otherwise. But now the true vulnerability of the situation had begun to set in. The playing field had been leveled. 

His fingers enrapture yours and he steadies your grasp as you both work to unbutton his shirt. Roman swallows, anxiously. You get more than half of the way there before he gives up and presses his face firmly to yours. 

It’s a declarative kiss. 

It’s long-lasting and when the two of you eventually break it—you know there’s no going back. Those hands of his, wracked with nerves, find their way to your hips. He slowly drags the lacey fabric up so your upper thighs are exposed. Once you can feel the soft flesh of your hips exposed to the cold air, you grab his wrists and he freezes. 

“Ah-ah-ah, I don’t think I remember saying you could do that,”

“I-I’m s-sorry. I’m sorry. Don’t—I’m sorry,”

“So many apologies, they just keep on coming,”

“I’m…,” he deeply exhales out of his nose. 

“You’re what? Wait, lemme guess,” you goad, “Sorry?”

He bobs his head up and down, face full of embarrassment.

“Hm…think I’m a little sick and tired of those ‘sorrys’, sweetie. You and that mouth of yours. Oh, that fuckin’ mouth of yours. You couldn’t even begin to imagine the amount of headaches it’s caused me in what, the two decades I’ve known you? What are we gonna finally do about that mouth?”

Roman looks up to you, hanging onto your every last word. 

“I-I don’t know, j-just tell me what to do. I can make it up to you, I-I promise,”

You genuinely take a moment to mull it over, though the growing hardness pressing against your most intimate place admittedly was making it hard to think.

“...I think…we need to find another use for that mouth of yours—something to keep it busy, hm? How does that sound, my sweet baby?”

You swear his face goes pale as he assumes you mean your cunt. While the thought had crossed your mind (many, many times in fact), knowing Roman—you know that would be too much. And that you would lose him forever somewhere along the way and you didn’t even want to begin to think about that. 

You tilt your head, staring longingly at that poor little boyish face of his. Your clothed index finger traces its way slowly from the exposed flesh of his tummy, up to his ribs, across his collarbone, along his Adam’s apple, over his bearded chin— finally stopping at his pinkish bottom lip. You pull it down, making him pout for you. 

“Open for me,” you utter softly. 

Roman obeys, his tongue moving upwards in his mouth when he swallows. You continue to tease around his mouth torturously, the lace creating a delicious friction against his beard. The heat of his pants against your lone finger makes you stir inside. 

“Now, close your eyes—mouth still open,”

He noticeably resists before relenting, his eyes flutter closed. You drop one of the spaghetti straps of the slip off of your shoulder, exposing yourself. Your nipple pebbles in the cool air conditioning of the room. You awkwardly lean your torso inwards, inching your breast closer to his mouth. For a brief second, his eyes flick open, taking in the scene. Catching your drift instantly, he swallows as much of the soft flesh as his mouth will allow, moaning into it. The most obscene sucking sounds soon fill the room. Roman whimpers into your skin, letting his head fall limp against your chest. You wrap your arms around his neck, cradling his head. His brown fluff of hair is too tempting for your hands to not tangle themselves in. 

“There, you go…you’re so good. You’re so good for me, aren’t you? Yeah?” you sigh, tilting your head backward.

You swear you can feel your hips gyrating on their own. Roman’s fingers have ensnared themselves onto the flimsy fabric of your slip, gripping it so tight you think it might tear. Not that you’d give a shit if it did. 

“Y’know what I think? I think you act the way you do all the fucking time because you’re just waiting for someone to come and put you in your place, is that right? Yeah? You’re a brat ‘cause you want someone to do this to you? Hm?”

He releases your nipple and an almost pornographic line of spit drools from his mouth. Roman’s lips are plump and rosy, kiss-bruised and swollen. You find out just how warm they’ve become when his wet mouth comes to meet your own in a kiss so messy, you know you’ll touch yourself thinking about it later.

“I-Is this good? A-Am I being a good boy for you?”

“Mm-hm, you’re being a very good boy for me. My good boy. Mommy’s good boy, right?”

“Yes, fuck, yes—” he sobs, moving onto your other breast.

His voice is shrill and wrought with desperation. You only ever heard it get this high-pitched when he was making a mocking impression of you or some other woman. And now here he was, making these noises all on his own. The edge of his bottom teeth catches your nipple in just the right away. You squeal, jolting upwards in his lap and laughing at the surprise sensation. He soothes the sensitive skin with the flat of his tongue immediately after. 

“That’s it. There’s my boy, there’s my sweet baby boy,”

All of the sudden, his hands leave your slip and fly to the buckle of his belt. Roman undoes his zipper and shimmies down his slacks enough to pull his dick out. He jerks it quickly with his eyes wound tightly shut in an attempt to get himself completely hard. 

“M-Mommy, c-can I see ‘it’? P-Please, god!” Roman begs out.

Your current position leaves his cock hidden by the hem of your slip. All you can see is the silhouette of his fist in the fabric pumping up and down speedily—relentlessly. He could easily just lift the skirt himself and look at your bare pussy, just as he hungrily wants but he doesn’t. 

He waits. He waits for you to give him permission. 

“See what, sweet boy? Say it, use your words for me. You’re a big boy, you can do it. I know you can,” 

Your hands cup his face and you rest your forehead on his. The skin is taught and slick with sweat. A vein above his brow becomes visible as he strains into his own palm. 

“What do you want, Roman?” you reiterate, trying to regain his attention.

“Fff-fuck! Your p-pussy, I wanna see y-your pussy!”

“All together. Say it all together. Say ‘Mommy, can I please see your pretty pussy?’” 

“Mommy, can I please see your pretty pussy?”

His eyes finally open and they aim downwards, expectantly. 

“Is that all you want, pretty boy?”

“N-N-yes!”

“Is that all you want?”

“No! No, I wanna cum, I-I wanna f-f-finish! W-Wanna finish on it,” he whines.

“All together, baby…”

“Mommy, can I please finish on your pretty pussy?! Please!”

It’s on the last syllable of his sentence that he erupts. Only as he’s cumming is he able to look at your cunt. You swiftly move the fabric up and his load catches the edge of it, the rest of it coating your exposed pussy. Roman falls backwards limp onto the pillow and you roll off of him and the bed and onto your jelly-like legs. The two of you don’t look at each other, occupying opposite sides of the room while you make yourselves decent. You shed your stained garment, using it to wipe your cunt clean. You fling it onto the hotel carpet and don’t think twice about it. 

“Mind if I…borrow that…for a bit?” a weak voice croaks from across the suite. 

You turn your head and smirk, still topless.

“All yours.”

Briefly, you catch a glimpse of Roman from behind, buttoning up his shirt. You pull up your dress, sweatier than before when you had taken it off. You expected there to be a palpable shift between the two of you, had everything gone according to plan. You figured the next RECNY ball that was just around the corner might be a bit awkward but it was nothing a few sarcastic quips and some alcohol couldn’t fix.

“My guy’s still waiting out front, so that’s my not-so-stealthy getaway. I can have Crispin pull around in twenty if I guess, I dunno, you wanted to shower the stank off of y…”

Roman’s words trail off as he becomes caught up in the sight of you; your cocktail dress zipped up halfway, your hair in an even messier updo than before, one heel on with the other remaining to be seen. It left him dumbfounded, feeling impulsive, like he could leave everything behind then and there and things might turn out alright. 

“Um…d’you maybe wanna just come with me…I dunno. Back at my place, I mean. And don’t make it into…it’s not a thing. Th-This is not a thing. But, yeah, we could order in whatever you, you could stay over, I-I got spare rooms–”

“Roman—”

“—it-its not like a big deal or anything, y’know? This isn’t, this wasn’t ‘a thing’. Fuckin’ labels and everything, I m—”

“Roman! That all sounds fine; I just would like to exit one of the nicest hotels in the damn city not looking like a two-bit whore, yeah? Come and zip me up,”

“I mean, if you ask me—I think it’s a rather fitting look,” he says, echoing your previous words.

“ROMAN!” 

“Alright, fuck, fine!”

End.

{ Feedback is welcome! }

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<3

[burnthoneydrops]

Like I Always Do (s.o. x fem!reader)

pairing: sam obisanya x fem!reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings: language (it's ted lasso), use of 'my girl'

a/n: ahh! first time writing for my favourite boy!! i hope y'all like this and don't mind the fact that i clearly know nothing about football, i'm trying my best!!

“Come on Sam!” You call from your place in the owner’s box, Keeley gripping your hand that wasn’t acting as a megaphone. There’s a few minutes left on the clock and both teams have yet to score a goal. The boys are weaving through each other on the pitch, trying desperately to dodge between the opposing players. It’s just started raining and you mutter a curse to the universe under your breath for England’s reliably shitty weather.

“Oh for God’s sake, we just need one goal!” Rebecca sighs from beside Keeley, readjusting the Richmond beanie that held down her hair. Zoreaux throws the ball from his spot on one end, and Sam’s quick to claim it, bouncing it off his knee before kicking it over to Danny. You’d be lying if you said you knew much about football, but from what you do know, this setup looks pretty damn good. 

“Let’s go Richmond!” Higgins calls from behind you, and you can’t help but smile as this is the most high energy and carefree you’d ever seen this man. 

“Babes, you’re gonna squeeze my hand off,” Keeley comments to you as you had turned your focus back to the game, quickly becoming very concerned with the state of it. 

“Oh sorry,” you apologise, loosening your grip with the intention of letting go entirely, but Keeley weaves her fingers through yours, keeping your hand exactly where it is. 

In quite an elegant move from Danny, he twists his body and kicks his leg over the other, shooting the ball straight to the goal. While you could hear the Richmond fans all collectively take a quick breath, it seems too good to be true. Your fears are unfortunately proven accurate as the opposing goalkeeper sweeps the ball away from the netted end, pushing it back onto the pitch with his gloved hands. The crowd splits into a round of sighs and cheers as they either celebrate or mourn the moment for their team. 

“Fucking shit,” Rebecca curses, fidgeting with the bracelet adorning her left wrist. Isaac makes a call, shouting a combination of words that only makes sense to them and they get in a new formation. Jamie runs to basically lean against the opposing team’s players, no doubt muttering something to get in their heads as the boys get ready behind him. They’re soon off again and you’re eyeing Sam the entire time. He’d been so in his head before this that you knew he was stressing like crazy right now. The game is tense and you know he’s trying his hardest, but that self doubt does unfortunate wonders on someone’s self esteem. 

“You’ve got it Sam!” You cheer again, and this time he hears you, looking up at the owner’s box, giving you a warm but small smile and a thumbs up. 

“You’re not biassed at all, are you?” Keeley teases as she looks between you and Sam. 

“And what if I am? You’re the same way for Mister ‘he’s here, he’s there, he’s every-fucking-where’ Roy Kent,” You shrug with a squeeze to her hand. 

“Never said it was a bad thing babe,” Keeley replies, shaking her head. 

The crowd starts cheering in unison as the ball gets passed back and forth across the pitch. It gets passed to Sam and the goal is somehow left wide open. This seems almost too miraculous, but you try not to doubt and instead focus on the magic that might be about to happen. Sam claims the ball once again and keeps running forward with it, dribbling it past the opposing players. The stadium waits with bated breath and the tension in the crowd could be cut with a knife. With the looming clock ticking down its last seconds, Sam kicks the ball straight toward the goal, swiftly pushing it past the goalkeeper, making the score 1-1. The timer buzzes loudly, signifying the end of the game, and Richmond has done it. They end with the tie they needed and the fans go wild. 

“With a clean goal from Obisanya, the game ends with a tie!” The announcer repeats into his microphone, as the team runs to hug each other. You and Keeley stand up, exploding with joy as you hug each other tightly, Rebecca turning to hug Higgins from behind her. The fans start to storm the pitch, and everyone is quick to exit the owner’s box, wanting to join in on all the fun. Rain be damned, nothing is going to stop you from celebrating. You search the sea of people for your boyfriend, who pushes Jamie off his back when he sees you. 

“Go get your girl mate,” Jamie smiles, patting Sam lovingly on the back before turning to Isaac and celebrating with him. 

“Y/N!” Sam calls, waving his arms to get your attention. Your smile grows as you spot him, running at full speed, though trying not to slip on the damp grass. His arms open as he meets you halfway, catching you as you hurdle into him, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. He picks you up lightly, both of you laughing, and spins you around before putting you back down.

“That was fucking amazing!” You praise. “Oh my God, the tension in the crowd was insane but you absolutely fucking killed it!” You tighten your grip on your boyfriend, unable to keep the smile off your face. 

“Hearing you cheer really helped,” he comments as you pull back slightly to look at him. 

“Yeah, might have been a bit aggressive up there. Almost took Keeley’s hand off with how hard I was squeezing”. 

Sam laughs, lightly grabbing the sides of your face and pulling you in for a kiss. The cheers of the fans still on the pitch fade away to background noise as you immediately kiss back, putting all the remaining adrenaline into it. You’re so proud of him and you want him to know it every chance you get. When you two pull away, Sam grabs your hand, twirling you around before settling you back to face him. 

“What was that for?” You ask, a confused look in your eyes. 

“Just wanted to get a good look at you in my number”. It had become custom for you to wear a shirt with Sam’s famous ‘24’ on the back and he loves it every time. 

“My one and only,” you reply, “now come on, this rain is starting to soak through my shoes”. You pull the two of you closer to the exit, but you don’t get too far before Sam’s picking you up and carrying you bridal style across the rest of the pitch. “Sam! Put me down!” You slap his arm lightly before gripping his neck, not wanting to fall. 

“Do not worry, I’ve got you. Like I always do”.

[player1064]

i love everything about the wife-gary saga! if you’re looking for fresh brain worms… maybe something from the euros this summer? long distance pining (but refusing to admit it, they don’t even like each other really) while gary’s posted in berlin for a month? the STF team finding gary increasingly insufferable? one late night phone call where gary says he can’t sleep (it’s got nothing to do with the absence of his most behated scouser snoring in his ear!!) and next morning someone tweets a blurry pic of jamie at the heathrow boarding gates?? use any or none of this - i love your fic so im sure i’ll be obsessed with anything you write :)))

GODDD I love the idea of gary pining and everyone getting annoyed by it...... also of jamie having the time of his life in ibiza and being like oh my wife? no he's fine xoxo back to partying now

---

“D’youknowsomethin’, Roy, I dunno how much longer I can keep doin’ this for.”

They’re in a bar with some of the other ITV crowd, all squashed around a table in the corner and having to raise their voices to be heard over the music. Roy looks at him with one unimpressed eyebrow raised.

“You’ve only had one gin and tonic, Nev, calm down. It’s still early even for you.”

“No, not –” Gary waves his arm around the room, “not this, I mean like – the tournaments. Spendin’ a whole month in another city, like. Aren’t you exhausted?”

Roy shrugs. “It’s something to do, innit? Gets you out of the house.”

“I just –” Gary cuts himself off, fidgets with the ring on his finger. “No, it’s stupid. Never mind.”

*

Jamie feels a buzzing in his back pocket and pulls out his phone, wincing in guilt when he sees two missed calls already on the screen. He nudges his brother, nods towards the house to let him know he’s going inside to take a call away from the noise of the party, and he presses answer as he walks inside.

“What’s he done now?”

“Your wife,” Roy bites out on the other end of the line, “has got himself pissed on half a glass of wine and some watered down cider.”

In Roy speak, this means that Gary’s probably shared a bottle of wine with someone and then moved on to his little gin and slimline tonics. Which means that yeah, he’s probably a bit pissed.

To contrast, Jamie’s onto his second week in Ibiza and isn’t quite sure if he’s spent any of it sober. But he’s at least sober enough to feel bad that Roy’s stuck dealing with a drunk Gary on his own. He gets so maudlin.

“Put him in a cab and send him back to the ‘otel,” Jamie suggests. “Let him sleep it off.”

“He’d need to sleep for a week to shake this one off.” Roy sighs exasperatedly. “He asked me for a hug earlier. A hug. Me.”

“Let me guess, you told him where to go?”

“Well of course I did, but my point still stands. He’s all off this tournament. Don’t think he’s been sleeping much, he keeps dragging me out to Barry’s Bootcamp at six o’clock in the bloody morning.”

Jamie glances at his watch. It’s not that late, only just gone eleven - trust Gary to get bladdered before he’s even made it to midnight.

“Get ‘im some chips – do they do chips in Germany? – and make him put one of his little electrolyte tabs in some water. And don’t let him moan too much, you know what he’s like.”

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks, Jamie. You go enjoy Ibiza, I’ll do all the heavy lifting for you.”

As soon as the call ends, Jamie’s opened up a search for flights to Berlin.

*

By the time Jamie’s cab arrives at the ITV hotel in Berlin it’s still disgustingly early in the morning but it’s almost a reasonable hour – or at least close enough that Gary’s awake and alert enough to answer when the concierge rings him from the front desk to ask if he should let the big bad Scouser in the lobby up to his room.

The lift pings and Gary shuffles out of it wearing crumpled clothes, squinting through his glasses across the lobby.

When his eyes fix on Jamie, though, his whole face splits into a grin. He doesn’t hug him, doesn’t even shake his hand, just keeps on smiling while he shakes his head incredulously.

“You old softie,” he says once he gets close. He wraps one hand around Jamie’s wrist and tugs him gently towards the lift. “You absolute – who put you up to this? Roy?”

“Can a man not just miss ‘is missus?” Jamie asks, then chuckles at his own wordplay. “Heard you were out on the town last night, couldn’t risk you getting pissed enough to start throwing yourself at every man you see over six foot tall, eh?”

Gary swats at his chest. “Think that’s you you’re thinkin’ of, lad.”

They step into the lift and the doors ping shut behind them. Gary immediately takes this privacy as an opportunity to fit himself into Jamie’s arms, his face pressed up against his neck.

“God, Carra, I’ve missed you.” He takes a long inhale through his nose. “You smell like plane, though.”

“I can shower once we’re back in your room.”

“Absolutely fuckin’ not. It’s straight to bed w’you, James.”

Jamie raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“I’ve not had a decent night’s sleep in weeks, and my favourite pillow’s just got here by overnight delivery.”

“I always knew you only wanted me for my body.”

[someplace-darker]

In The Static | Ted Lasso

Pairing: Ted Lasso x reader (no y/n) Wordcount: 2.1k Warnings: panic attack/talks of panic attacks, vague mentions of trauma. That's about it I think, it's a touch angst and hurt/comfort I suppose. Fluff. Summary: Ted thought he was past his panic attacks until he encounters another, and you follow him to make sure he's okay. A/N: "now jay" you might be saying "wasn't the last thing you posted smut almost a year ago?" and the answer is yes. But i've recently become insanely attached to Ted Lasso, and I dipped my toe into writing more than a wip. SO here's my middle aged white man of the month. Enjoy :)

“REFEREE!!!” Keeley stands with a force that causes her to latch onto your arm to keep from falling forward. It continues to astound you that for such a tiny lady, she really contains an insane amount of spunk. One of the opposing team’s men had just slid Sam’s legs out from under himself, causing him to land hard on his shoulder. The game had been a rough one so far, more aggressive and bitter than most. Richmond had been respectful at first (as per usual) but the second their opponents had started playing violent and dirty, that changed.

Roy and Beard were obviously shouting and pointing angrily, though you couldn’t make out what they were saying from your seat in the box. Ted, however, was standing stiffly with his balled fists shoved into the pockets of his Richmond zip-up. You can feel that something is off. Even if you can’t see his face, you know him well enough to read his body language. There’s mere minutes left in the game and the teams are tied.

Rebecca is already standing and gathering her belongings to head back in, gesturing for the lot of you to follow. That’s exactly what you begin to do before the crowd goes ape-shit, jumping from their seats and screaming so loud it makes your head thrum. 

“ROJAS INTERCEPTS THE KICK AND PASSES TO TARTT AND JUST LIKE THAT-”

You turn just in time to watch Jamie kick the ball into the net, the stadium erupting in cheers that shake the ground.

“AFC RICHMOND TAKES ANOTHER VICTORY 2-1 IN A SHOCKING LAST SECOND SCORE”

Keeley, Higgins, and Rebecca rejoice, grabbing at each other in shock. Placing your fingers between your lips you let out a piercing whistle, jumping up and down as thousands of chants echo. You look down to your coaches, expecting to see all three soaking in the sweet relief of not gaining another loss. Instead, you see Ted darting for the locker room, head down with his phone held two inches from his face. It was obvious to you that he was trying to use it as a cover. 

“I’ll meet back with you guys later, I’ve gotta check something real quick.” 

They smile and wave you off, relishing in the buzzing excitement clearly felt throughout the facility. As much as you wish you could join them in celebration, you were pretty sure Ted needed you more. So you slip through the small crowds with ease, having much practice during your time with Richmond, taking the back staircase to the locker room hallway. 

At first you check his office, finding only his jacket laying on the floor. The second spot you search is the right one, opening the door to darkness. You almost turn and leave but a staggered breath gives him away. 

“Ted?” you whisper, stepping into the boot room and closing the door gently. He sniffles almost silently and hums in response, curling in on himself when the lights flicker on at your touch.. You’ve never seen him look so small before, his entire body condensed into half of his height in the corner of the room, the sight moving you to shut the lights back off for his sake.

“Hey,” you murmur softly, walking over to kneel in front of him. He has his head placed between his knees, hands on the back of head with his fingers intertwined tightly. As much as you know of his panic attacks, you’ve never been present for one. Something tells you he tends to keep it that way with everyone around him. 

However, you’re well versed with them yourself.

“I’m gonna sit beside you, but I won’t touch you unless you say it’s okay.”

You lower yourself onto the ground, the floor cold beneath your already freezing ass. England's weather was not kind to the warm blooded. Ted doesn’t lift his head all the way, simply angles it towards you just enough for an eye to peek out from behind his arm. He looks at you with the gaze of a wounded puppy, eyes red and wet, smeared with warm tears.

The silence that follows is deafening, a faint ringing the only thing you hear. Ted looks like he wants to say something, but thinks better of it. It’s not like you can blame him. The last time he opened up to someone he considered close about his panic attacks, it ended up plastered on every magazine and tabloid across the country. Trust within himself and others had been fractured- not broken. No one could ever betray Coach Lasso enough to break that within him, it was fundamental to who he was as a person.

After a few more minutes of silence his foot slides over to yours, just barely nudging it. He lifts his head and sniffles, using his sleeve to wipe the mix of tears and snot off his face.

“I want to tell you about it, I do. I’m just… stuck. Feels like if I tell you, it’ll be too much,” he murmurs, keeping his foot pressed to yours.

“I understand, Ted,” you whisper. “I started having panic attacks before I was even a teenager. I’d been through things- rough things -and they plagued me for years.” He begins to unfurl himself, listening intently to every word you say, the blatant honesty and vulnerability easing his anxiety. “It took me a while to open up to anyone about them, let alone a therapist. I spent so long trying to hide them, that when I finally did get help I felt like a fake.” 

Ted adjusts himself to sit up straighter, shimmying closer so your shoulders touch. You can tell he’s trying to be inconspicuous about it, but the man is known to be anything but subtle.  Outside you can hear the boys begin filing into the hallway, headed for the locker room surely for some type of victory activity. Their shadows dance across the wall in the darkened boot room, slashed into segments by the blinds slanted slightly open. Both of you seemed to have held your breaths as they passed, because as soon as they’re gone there’s a simultaneous exhale of relief.

An amused breath comes from Ted, palm pressing from the corner of his eye to the tip of his cheekbone to wipe away the stray tears. He knocks his knee against yours and dares to glance at you, opening up enough to make eye contact. Here in this room, he looks more human than you think you’ve ever seen him. For the most part he keeps his mood insanely optimistic, tending to care more about others happiness than his own. It gave him an almost otherworldly bounce to his step and light to his eyes. 

But now that he’s sat no more than two inches in front of you with puffy eyes and a chewed lip, Ted is just… a broken man. 

“You’ll never be too much, Ted. It’s normal to feel stuck, and it’s okay to not be able to talk about it yet.” His eyes flick to your hand when you lift it towards him, a lifeline of trust, openness in the form of warm skin and an upward facing palm. Internal conflict tugs at his lungs, his breath hitching as he weighs his options for all of five seconds before taking your hand. You are someone Ted knows he can always find solace in. 

Someone who he could spot in a crowd of thousands, someone who he will always seek out. 

His other hand reaches to pat the top of yours, rubbing his thumb against your skin in soothing circles. A shuddered breath begins to pass his lips, but he smothers it to ashes with the cool press of a kiss to your wrist. 

Humming amusedly at the feeling of his mustache tickling your skin, you lean your head on his shoulder, moving slightly as they lift with the intake of air into his lungs. “I suppose you’re right. I just feel bad that I haven’t spoken to you ‘bout it,” he tsk’s softly to himself, carefully navigating his brain for the right words. 

“I was fine out there, y’know? I’ve been doin’ better, Sharon’s helped a lot. But it just got so loud, and everything felt out of my control- out of any of our boys’ control and I- I just couldn’t breathe. Tunnel vision, boom, just like that.”

You whisper encouragements softly under your breath, murmurs of ‘it’s okay’ and ‘you can keep going’ pushing him gently in the right direction. Voices can be heard from the locker room, loud cheering and chanting from the team acting as muffled background noise for Ted’s moment of vulnerability. 

“After everything that happened with Nate, I learned to mask it a bit better I guess. That’s the fancy word Doc told me about,” the corner of his lips quirks up “I figured I’d be okay in here for a bit anyway, then you walked in.” Your brows furrow and you pull away from his shoulder, opening your mouth to apologize for intruding but he beats you to it.

“No, no, that sounded different than I meant. I am very glad that you found me here. I needed you even if I didn’t know it,” he traces the details of your face with his eyes, not stopping you when you move your head back down to his shoulder. 

“I think you’ve worked on it so much quicker than you realize, Ted. It wasn’t that long ago, yeah? Healing and improving takes time, and it’s okay that it takes time. I certainly took my time,” you muse, channeling your own therapist’s word. “But I think it’s right on par with who you are, who I know you to be, that you got on it as fast as you did. Even if it was begrudgingly at first.”

“Yeah, Doc definitely had her work cut out.”

You laugh, normally at first but then Ted snorts and you both lose it, bodies bumping against each other with the shakes that come with post-meltdown laughs. Soon enough you’re both wiping away tears of a different variety, the air in the room much lighter than before. You take that moment to push yourself up and off the floor, lending a hand to Ted to pull him up.

“I am immensely proud of you, Coach Lasso. So is the team. You have a very large family backing you up, as unorthodox as said family is.” You take one step closer, hand still holding onto his, pressed between your bodies. Taking your free hand, you hold the side of his face and lean in to kiss his cheek, thumb stroking his jaw. 

Ted presses into your lips, chasing your touch even when you turn to the door. Twisting the knob open you find Will standing there, boots tied by their laces hanging over his shoulder, hand outreached to grab the now absent handle. 

He blinks at the two of you for a second, gaze one of vague shock, before curling his lips in an embarrassed smile and stepping out of the way.

“Not a word, Will,” you sing-song when he opens his mouth, pulling Ted down the hall to stand outside of the locker room door. 

You can hear Roy in the middle of a somehow happy/angry sounding congratulation speech that only he is capable of, grinning and turning to face your Coach once more. “Now, get your butt in there and relish in the sweet taste of winning.”

“I mean, relish is pretty tasty-”

“Ted.”

“Yep,” Ted takes a deep breath and nods, squeezing your hand “you coming in with me?” 

“I don’t want to intrude on your moment, Coach.”

He rolls his eyes exaggeratedly and pushes the door open, dragging you with him. The boys’ faces light up, immediately rushing to storm him, all reaching to touch him and jumping up and down. Their team song buzzing and bouncing along with them.

“WE’RE RICHMOND TILL WE DIE, WE’RE RICHMOND TILL WE DIE, WE KNOW WE ARE, WE’RE SURE WE ARE, WE’RE RICHMOND TILL WE DIE”

You slide past the group, safely reaching Roy and Beard without your feet being stomped on. The smile on your face is one of pure joy and contentment, not faltering when Beard slides to your side, bumping your elbow. 

“Thanks,” he speaks, nodding towards Ted. It’s easy to know what he means immediately, always one to be of few words. 

“No need to thank me,” you reply easily, watching your family bond even more “it’s what we do.”

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Shut Up and Drive (Chapter 2)

Roy Kent x F1 Driver!Reader

4.3k words

Warnings: Language, fingering, unprotected sex, the start of catching feelings

A/N: Reader is called "The Empress" by fans. Thanks to @agentstarkid for coming up with the nickname 🩷🩷

Series Masterlist

It didn’t take a genius to know whose eyes were drilling a hole into your backside. When you glanced over your shoulder, you locked eyes with Roy Kent. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards ever so slightly as his eyes raked down your figure. His gaze froze at your middle, where you had tied your racing suit; his eyes were on that little sliver of tummy that you may have purposefully left exposed just for him. You shot him a small wink before turning to chat with one of your engineers.

Roy focused all of his strength on not biting his lip as he stared at you. The two of you had been playing this little game all weekend: gazes across rooms, eyes lingering on each other’s bodies, mentally undressing each other, both wondering if the other was thinking about Roy’s post-race promise.

“Oi, why don’t we get a picture?” Keeley’s voice interrupted a particularly filthy image Roy had swimming in his head that involved you on your knees. “Our Greyhounds with one of the cars. Be real cute, yeah?”

Needing his willpower to prevent himself from getting an obvious hardon, Roy allowed himself to be dragged to one of the cars and- fuck, Keeley was dragging him to your car. The car that he most definitely did not imagine you writhing on top of while he-

“Alright boys, smile pretty!”

Right. Roy, smiling. Keeley was just grateful that he stood next to Jamie while she started snapping away. He swore he saw something light up in her face, but she just continued to take pictures. Freaking Keeley.

“Roy Kent, are you a fan?”

The breath on the back of his neck had a visible shiver coursing through his body. Even just the sound of your voice was enough to make his mind go to the filthiest places. When he turned around, you were smirking up at him, eyebrows raised and hands on your hips, looking like his own personal centerfold in your half-down racing suit.

Before his brain could get the blood back from his crotch, Keeley pulled you into a hug, squealing about how hot you looked in your race suit, something Roy quite agreed with- especially since he knew what was underneath all those layers.

After you’d greeted the others, you turned your attention back to Roy. “Excited to watch the race?”

He swore he saw your eyes flicker to his crotch when you said excited.

Roy shifted his weight, hoping to avoid looking like a horny teenager in front of everyone. “’Course I am. Really looking forward to seeing you win.” Recognizing the lustful look in your eyes, he felt emboldened to quietly add, “And looking forward to celebrating with you after.”

Finally, he’d cracked that cool exterior you wore. Your slight flush only added to his desire “Oh, is that offer still good?” You glanced at the Richmond crew, who were back to taking pictures by your car. “Guess I better get out there and win then.” You gave his bicep a little squeeze. “Wish me luck.”

His voice was low. “You don’t fucking need luck. You’re the fucking Empress.”

You’d been called that little nickname for what felt like forever now. Heard it shouted by fans, had reporters cheekily call you that, even had a couple guys try using it in the bedroom. And you loved the way it sounded in Italian- L'imperatrice- once you joined Ferrari.

But hearing Roy Kent call you that had your pussy practically purring.

You needed to remove yourself from him before you removed his clothes. So, you allowed yourself one last eyeful of the football legend before turning away. “I’ll see you after the race, Roy Kent.”

~

Goddess. That was the only word Roy could think as he watched you up on the podium, drenched in champagne and positively glowing. When the bottles of champagne were popped and poured over you, Roy found himself grateful for the roar of the crowd because he couldn’t hold back his groan, thinking about other things he wanted to see you covered in.

Unfortunately for Roy, the cheers could hide his moans but not his face.

“Roy Kent, are you horny?” Keeley hissed in his ear.

Roy tore his eyes away from you to look at Keeley, completely flabbergasted. “What the fuck, Keeley?”

Her smile was pure, adorable evil. “You’re horny,” she repeated. Her mischievous eyes flashed to the podium. “You fucking like her.”

“Fuck off, Keeley,” he grumbled, trying to look casual when he turned his gaze back to you. But fuck, it was hard when he saw you up there, drenched, in that sexy racing suit, being worshipped like the deity he was completely convinced you were.

Something else was hard when your gazes locked and you offered him that smirk, the one that told him, I’m taking your pants off, Roy Kent.

If only he knew how badly you were fighting the urge to rub your thighs together at the mere sight of him.

Keeley’s elbow dug into his ribs. “Holy shit, are you going to try to shag her?”

He was going to murder the blonde beside him. “Fuck are you on about?” he grumbled, pretending Keeley wasn’t completely on target. “What is actually wrong with you?”

She shrugged, as if she wasn’t torturing her friend. “Roy. I know your horny face. I have been the reason for your horny face.” She pointed at him. “That is your horny face. And, if memory serves me, you are very fucking turned on right now. Not that I could blame you. She’s gorgeous.” Her smile widened. “I ever tell you about the photoshoot we did together? Where I was hanging all over her? Even kissed her in one.”

The tips of Roy’s ears turned bright red. Yeah, that was a mental image he’d have melted into his brain for a long time, especially now that he knew what both of you looked like naked.

“Oi, Keeley!” Jamie wrapped his arms around both of his friends’ shoulders; for once, Roy was grateful for Tartt’s interruption, even if it meant being embraced by the man. “We goin’ to one of the afterparties or something?”

Even though she answered Jamie, her wicked grin was directed at Roy. “Oh, we’re going to Ferrari’s party.”

~

For once in his life, Roy didn’t complain about having to go to a club. Keeley thought she was clever, realizing that Roy was seriously attracted to the gorgeous young champion, and even more clever for dragging Roy to the celebration in your honor. She was such a good friend, trying to help Roy shag his little crush.

What Keeley didn’t realize was that Roy’d already had his tongue inside of you.

“You should go say hi,” Keeley purred, nudging Roy for the millionth time that day. “Bring her a drink or some shit. Flirt with her a little.” She reminded him of a parrot, repeating herself over and over since they’d arrived at the club.

Roy rolled his eyes and leaned his elbows on the high-top table they stood at. “Keeley,” he growled. “You say one more fucking word, and I will never speak to that woman again.” It was an absolute fucking lie, but Roy was desperate for her to stop.

She pouted. “Come on, Roy,” she whined. “Just want to see you all happy and getting some.”

“I get plenty,” he snapped, feeling himself blush.

“When?” she responded, just as curt. “I’ve hardly seen you since any women since we broke up.”

Roy scoffed, pretending Keeley wasn’t once again correct. “Well, not that it’s your fucking business, but I just hooked up with someone recently. And it was fucking great. And she definitely fucking came.” God, he sounded like such a wanker.

Before Keeley could badger him about who this mystery woman was, Jamie pulled her to the dance floor, leaving Roy to finally fucking breathe. He turned his attention to the glass in front of him, frowning at it. Should he go say hi? You were spending your whole night being mobbed by people; did he really want to add to that? And besides, did you really take his little promise seriously?

“There a porno playing at the bottom of that glass or something?”

There you were, wearing a dress that was more skin than material, giving him that fucking smirk. You leaned on the table and gazed up at him, the look in your eyes tempting Roy to pull you close and plant a sloppy kiss to whatever skin his lips found first.

Instead, he lifted his glass. “There she is,” he hummed. “The fucking champion. The Empress.” He wasn’t sure because of the dark lighting, but he swore he saw you blush. “Looked great up there, with your big fucking trophy.”

Your bravado returned with a vengeance. “Speaking of which…” You took a tiny step towards him, letting your fingers brush against the inside of his wrist. “I’ve heard you’ve got a big fucking trophy for me.”

In spite of his spinning head, Roy coolly raised his thick eyebrows at you. “Only if you want it,” he murmured.

Your eyes never left his as you reached into your clutch, pulled out a hotel room key, and slipped it into his hand. “Wait five minutes, then leave. I’ll be five minutes behind you, alright?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he huffed, eyes sparkling as he pocketed the hotel room key. “Bring that bossiness with you, hmm?”

He pushed himself off the table and strode away, letting his fingertips brush against yours. You looked down and let yourself smile, a real, girlish smile; you weren’t sure the last time you wore one of those. But fuck, Roy Kent sure made you feel some kind of giddiness.

“Hey there, gorgeous!” Keeley Jones bounded over to you. “Congratulations!”

You let her pull you into a tight hug, although your mind was already in your hotel room embracing someone else from Richmond. “Thanks, Keeley.”

Keeley’s smile was… suspicious. “Saw Roy chatting with you just now.”

Fuck. “Oh, yeah. Nice guy, was offering me his congratulations.” And his cock.

“Well, between you and me…” She leaned in close, reminding you of the girls you went to school with, the ones who giggled and whispered. “I think Roy’s got a thing for you.”

“Oh.” Dammit, you didn’t know how to react. What are you supposed to say when someone says the guy you’re about to fuck wants to fuck you? “Interesting.”

Keeley all but scoffed. “Interesting?” she repeated. “Come on, you’ve got to admit he’s fit as hell.”

You shrugged. “I guess? I mean, it’s not like I’ve seen the guy naked.” Hey, it’s the truth.

“Well, I have. And believe me, he’s gorgeous.” Keeley nudged you, offering a cartoonish wink. “Should give him a shot.”

As you tried to figure out the least obvious way to get out of this conversation so you could get into Roy Kent’s pants, Jamie Tartt- who was apparently very busy being an angel tonight- rushed over to tell Keeley that Rebecca had just agreed to do body shots off of him and that he needed Keeley to come record it.

Thankful to finally have Keeley gone, you quickly turned on your heel, giving only smiles and waves to the people who wanted to offer you congratulations as you made your way out of the club. But, just like on the track, there was no stopping you; not when you had a big fucking trophy waiting for you.

The entire cab ride to the hotel, you were fighting the urge to touch yourself in the dark backseat, just imagining Roy waiting for you in your suite. Would he be in the sitting room? The bedroom? The shower? Would he be wearing his suit still? Or completely naked and ready for you? Each scenario was hotter than the last, and you felt a little guilty, thinking that you were probably leaving a puddle on the seat of the taxi.

Miraculously, you walked steadily in your high heels through the hotel lobby, to the lift, and finally down the hall to your suite. You paused in front of the door, your confidence failing for the first time all weekend as you stared at the door handle. What if Roy wasn’t in there? What if, on what should be one of the best nights of your life- six fucking titles- you’d just utterly humiliated yourself? Maybe what he’d wanted was a one-time thing and nothing more.

Or, maybe he was just as hot for you as you were for him.

Knowing there was only one way to find out, you fished out the duplicate key to your room from your clutch and pressed it to the sensor. The little beep let you know to go ahead and turn the handle; with a shaky breath, you did.

“Was starting to think you wouldn’t show.”

Roy Kent sat on the couch, the top buttons of his shirt undone, legs crossed, drink in hand, looking like sex personified. He stood up and grabbed the untouched drink that sat on the little coffee table and crossed the room to hand it to you as the door closed behind you.

“Empress.”

You took the drink, unable to suppress the smile that tugged on your lips. “Roy Kent. In my hotel room. Drinking scotch.” You took a sip. “Why does this feel familiar?”

He took your free hand in his and led you back to the couch. Feeling utterly bold, you swung your legs over his lap, pleased with the surprised look in his eye, and even more pleased when he let his hand rest on your shin. He stared, not at your highly exposed body, but at your face, his fiery gaze holding yours carefully.

“You were fucking brilliant today,” he murmured, letting his thumb stroke your shin, natural and casual, as if he did this every night. “Knew from the moment you started your car that you were going to win.” He tilted his head back, the corner of his lips tugging upwards. “Really glad you did.”

You eyed him over the rim of your glass as you took a long sip. “You make a bet with someone that I was going to win?” you teased, kicking off your shoes.

“Something like that.” He finished his scotch and placed his glass back on the table, keeping a firm grip on your legs. “Now, what’s this about you wanting a big fucking trophy?”

“Well, you did promise me something about your pants if I won today.” You sat up, bringing your face to his, nudging his nose with yours. “And I did win.”

“Guess you get a big fucking trophy then.”

His mouth captured yours, somehow even more desperate than last time, scotch and desire on his tongue. Without breaking the kiss, he grabbed the glass you held and placed it next to his, freeing your hands to grab onto his shoulders as you lifted yourself onto his lap, that familiar bulge pressing against you.

“Been waiting all weekend for this,” he mumbled against your mouth, tangling one hand in your hair, and letting the other grip your hip. “All fucking weekend, watching you strut around in that little racing suit.” His mouth trailed down your jaw towards your neck. “Gorgeous fucking thing.”

You rolled your hips into his, not bothering to hide your moan. “And what if I hadn’t won?” you teased, squeezing his shoulders. “What would’ve happened to my big fucking trophy?”

“Then you’d get a big fucking consolation prize.” The hand on your hip found your ass, giving it a squeeze. “Because I was not leaving this weekend without fucking you.”

His brazen, dirty words had you gasping even louder than his clothed hardness. “Fucking hell,” was all you could huff out, giving another thrust down onto him. “Get me into the fucking bedroom already.”

“Whatever you say, Empress.”

You didn’t need to tell Roy twice. Just like Thursday, he held you against him, bringing his mouth back to yours as he traced the now-familiar path to the bedroom, fighting the urge to rip the dress off your body; it could hardly be called a dress anyway, it barely covered a damn thing. And what it did cover, he was desperate to see.

The two of you collapsed onto the bed, Roy on top of you, careful not to press his weight on you. As soon as your back hit the mattress, your hands were on the remaining buttons of his shirt, carelessly opening them, not feeling an ounce of guilt when one ripped off the material and bounced onto the floor. As soon as the last button was undone, you thrust the shirt over his shoulders and tossed it aside.

Finally- fucking finally- you had a piece of Roy Kent’s clothing gone. You broke the kiss to take a good look at his chest, as if you hadn’t just been looking at shirtless photos of him the night before while doing your usual pre-race “ritual”. A sigh flew out of your mouth as your hands trailed down his chest, gripping that thick, dark hair that you wanted to bury your face in.

When you gave a particularly demanding tug at his hair, Roy let out a hiss and gave a jerk, the material against your bare thighs reminding you that he still had his pants on.

“Can I have my prize?” you purred, fiddling with the zipper of his pants; you realized with a smug satisfaction that he’d taken off his belt before you’d even arrived at the suite.

He buried his face in your neck, hands roaming your body. “You can have whatever the fuck you want,” he growled. “Fucking champion. Fucking Empress.”

Determined to take him up on that, your nimble fingers made quick work of his pants, helping him tug them down. Once they were off, he turned over, tugging you to sit on top of him. Your hands and eyes took their time roaming his body; it was everything you knew it would be: strong, muscular, hot to the touch. And now it was the one thing you wanted it to be: yours.

“This would be one hell of a consolation prize,” you whispered, bringing one hand to cup his cheek. “Glad I won. Feel like I deserve it.” You said it in a joking voice, but some small part of you meant it.

He laid his hand on top of yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Believe me,” he breathed. “You deserve anything you want.”

The two of you paused, both taken aback by the tenderness of the moment, this interruption to the hot desperation. Roy let out an awkward huff and brought your hand to his mouth, giving your palm a rough kiss.

“You’re the Empress, after all. Fucking royalty and shit.” He was trying to play it off, to act like he’d been flirting and nothing more.

And you decided to join him in playing along. “Then why the fuck am I still wearing my dress?”

His wicked smile returned as his hands shot to your zipper, pulling it down harshly; you were pretty sure he might’ve ripped the dress as he tugged it over your head, but you didn’t care. He wasted no time getting your bra off, smiling at the sight of your bare breasts.

“Oh, I remember you two,” he chuckled, reaching up to grope them. His hands kneaded and tugged and squeezed until he was satisfied with your perky nipples and the groans flying out of your mouth. Determined to hear your pretty noises some more, he bucked up, the sensation more intense now that only two very thin pieces of material lay between you.

He flipped you over, resuming his position hovering over you. His mouth met yours sloppily as he began grinding his clothed length against you, torturing you, knowing you were desperate to get the last bit of his clothing off.

“Fucking tease,” you huffed, fiddling with the waistband of his boxers.

He chuckled and gave a painfully slow grind. “Oi, play nice,” he warned playfully, nipping at your swollen bottom lip. “Patience is a fucking virtue.”

With that, he tugged at your panties, sliding them down your thighs at that tantalizing pace of his. He watched your face shamelessly as your features twisted when you felt his hands brush past your heat.

“Roy,” you whined, bucking up. “Please.”

He throbbed at the sight of you: hair completely mussed, lips red and swollen, eyes glassy, stunning body frantically writhing beneath him, trying to get just a hint of friction. Despite how desperate you appeared, Roy knew the truth: you were in charge.

“Oh, gorgeous,” he cooed, pressing a kiss to your lips. “Just let me enjoy this. Let me enjoy you. Please.”

Unable to say no to the begging eyes he was giving you, you nodded and rocked your hips into his, your own eyes pleading with him to fucking touch you.

He obeyed and brought a strong hand down to your pussy, groaning when he felt how soaked you already were. “This for me?” When you nodded, he moaned again. “Fucking love it.” Though tempted to repeat Thursday night and devour your sweetness, Roy instead watched you carefully as he inserted two fingers into you, his cock twitching when he heard the lewd noises coming out of your mouth as you clenched around his fingers.

He set a slow pace, pumping in and out, practically drooling with the knowledge that soon, his cock would be replacing his lucky fingers. His mouth found yours again, greedily swallowing your moans, tasting your neediness on his tongue.

“Roy,” you hissed as he hit a particularly deep spot. “Give me my fucking trophy. Please.”

He chuckled, caught off-guard by the joking tone in your strangled voice. “Well, since you asked so nicely.”

Your whole body melted when Roy pulled down his boxers and you felt his hot tip, already leaking, press against you. Your hips bucked up to meet him, gasping when you felt him so fucking close to your entrance.

With your eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, you missed the smile Roy had for you, watching you squirm before he’d even entered you. Fuck, if he thought you were a goddess up on the podium, you were otherworldly beneath him right now.

The kind of beauty a careless man could fall in love with.

He concealed a moan in your neck as he slowly buried himself in you, the gentle pace allowing his mind to come to terms with the fact that he was fucking the woman he’d spent far too many hours fantasizing about.

“Fuck,” he hissed as he felt you clench around him. “Fucking perfect.” He pressed his mouth to yours, stuffing your throat with his moans and hisses and fucks. Once he felt you relax and adjust to his size- filling you up even better than you’d ever imagined and- holy shit what is this heavenly curve you feel?- he began thrusting into you, setting a steady pace that had your toes curling.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, wondering how much closer two people could get, and gripped his chest, tugging at that dark hair, while his hands held your hips tight enough that you knew you’d have bruises in the morning.

If you’d thought the sounds from before were lewd, they were nothing to now. Roy was grunting and moaning like a madman, and you were pretty sure the people in the room next to yours could hear your cries of pleasure, leaving no doubt in anyone’s mind that Roy was in your bed, considering the way you moaned his name. And the wet sounds of skin on skin rounded out the dirty symphony that filled the room that would undoubtedly have that sweet smell of sex in the morning.

As you felt your climax build around his cock, you found yourself hoping, in some little part of your mind, that this wouldn’t be the last time you fucked Roy Kent.

You couldn’t dwell on the fleeting thought for long once he gave a particularly rough thrust, sending you over the edge. You spasmed in his grasp, babbling his name and fuck over and over. He chuckled through his own moans, pressing a sweet kiss to your swollen lips.

“Good girl,” he grunted, rocking you through your orgasm. “Fucking come for me. You fucking deserve it.”

For the second time, Roy Kent had you seeing stars as your walls gripped him so hard you were almost scared that you’d push him out. But he kept his pace, splitting you open and approaching his own climax.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he mumbled through gritted teeth. “Taking me so fucking well. Gonna fucking come for you.”

The blissed-out look on your face, with your glassy eyes and parted lips, sent him over the edge. He shuddered as he spilled into you, his forehead falling against yours. You groaned, your heart and pussy both fluttering at the feeling of being filled by Roy Kent.

Carefully, he pulled out of you, chuckling at the noise you made, a mix between a hiss and a whine, letting him know that you already missed the feeling of him. He rolled over onto his back, turning his head to gaze at you. You met his eyes with a heavenly smile.

“Well,” you chirped breathlessly, “if that’s the champion treatment, guess I’ll have to keep winning.”

He laughed and reached over to brush some hair out of your face. “I have no doubt that you will.”

You relished the fact that he left his palm on your cheek. “Spend the night.” It wasn’t a request or a question.

“Fucking tempting,” he hummed, letting out a disappointed sigh that had you frowning. “But I’m sharing a room with fucking Jamie. Prick’ll notice if I don’t come back.”

“Will Jamie Tartt wake you up with a blowjob?”

A smile- a wide, joyful smile- spread across that handsome face. “Well in that fucking case-” He pulled you to him and kissed your lips, letting his embrace assure you that, at least for tonight, Roy Kent wasn’t going anywhere.

[just-ray]

Irish miku (accurate)

[hopefulromances]

Hi!! I love your writing so much!!

When I saw number 5 on your Drabbles list all I could think of was the team trying to figure out what’s going on with reader and Jamie and coming to the most wild conclusions like they did with Zava and Trent LMAO

AHH! This means so so much to me! Thank you!

I love this prompt so I hope you enjoy!

5. “Idiots. They are all idiots.”

Colin and Isaac peaked around the corner to stare down the hall as (Y/N) walked up the stairs. Surely she was going back and forth between offices, delievering messages and what not for Rebecca.

Since she'd come on the team as Rebecca's personal assistant, everything at Richmond had run smoother. (Y/N) was some kind of assistant extrodinare, memorizing Rebecca's needs in an instant and helping her to focus on the really important things.

She'd also fit right in with the Greyhounds. While her extreme A-Typer personality was intimidating at first but soon they warmed up to her and she softened for them.

But what was really getting the boys in a tizzle recently was her somewhat odd behavior around one certain Greyhound. Jamie Tartt always seemed to be missing right around the time that (Y/N) took her breaks, and during lunch, the both of them would disappear all together.

But the team was not one to back away from a mystery and made it their job to figure out exactly what was going on between the two of them. Right now, Colin and Isaac were on (Y/N) duty.

"What chu lookin' at?"

Jamie's voice from behind them caused Colin to jump, hitting his head on Isaac's chin. The two men cursed and grabbed their respective body parts.

"Fuck! Why'd you sneak up on us like that, bruv?" Isaac groaned, rubbing his chin.

"I didn't do nuthin'!" Jamie defended, walking over to sit in front of his locker. "It was you twos who were being weird."

Colin frowned as he rubbed his forehead, a red mark appearing right in the middle. "We weren't doing anything, were we Isaac?"

"Nope, nothin.'"

Jamie shrugged and whipped out his phone. Isaac looked down at Colin and nudged his head in Jamie's direction.

"So, Jamie!" Colin opened, standing up.

"Colin, I've told ya a million times, you don't need to keep askin me to use my lynx, just take it," Jamie dismissed, messing around with a filter on instagram.

"No, that's not- wait really?"

"Obviously."

Colin nodded, happy with this information. Isaac grunted, reminding Colin of the ask at hand. "Oh! I was wondering if you wanted to get lunch today. Roy told us about this new Kebab place down the road."

"If it's got anything to do with that old fart, I'm not interested," Jamie responded, standing up to grab his fanny pack.

"Oh, so you have plans then?" Isaac interjected, his gaze burning into an oblivious Jamie.

"Uh, yah? Eat lunch?" Jamie rolled his eyes. "Get away from you, twats for five minutes."

"Where are you goin then?" Colin boxed Jamie in. Isaac on one side of Jamie, Colin on the other. Jamie frowned at him, before nudging him out of the way.

"None of your fucking business, is it boyo?"

With that, Jamie was off down the hallway, walking past the same stairs the (Y/N) had climbed just a few minutes prior. Isaac and Colin looked at each other for a second before racing off down the hallway. They reached the boot room where seemingly the rest of the team was waiting.

When they entered the room, they were bombarded with questions flying at them.

"What did you learn?"

"Are they getting lunch together?"

"What lynx does Jamie have now?"

Isaac let out a bark to silence the crowd.

"Jamie didn't take the Kebab bait!" Isaac grunted, crossing his arms. "But he also wouldn't tell us where he was going."

"AH! So (Y/N)/Jamie lives," Dani exclaimed, looking around in exctiement.

He was met with shouts of disapproval and outrage.

"There is NO way that (Y/N) and Jamie are together," Bumbercatch argued. "(Y/N) is just too serious for him."

"Exactly, that's why it's clear they are starting a side hustle!" Jan Maas stated, raising his hand. "We should look to support them in their endeavors."

Again, there was cries of outrage as the boys all shouted their theories of what was going on with the two.

"Jamie is looking for a surrogate!"

"(Y/N) is his long lost sister!"

"She was actually hired to be Jamie's nanny to make sure he doesn't get into anymore trouble."

The theories went on, each more outrageous than the last. Unbeknownst to them, unoticed in the corner was Will. He'd been in there the whole time. He pulled out his phone and sent a message.

...

(Y/N)'s phone lit up in the cupholder between her and Jamie. Jamie was driving down the road, his sunglasses blocking his eyes. He had a hand on the wheel and the other was rubbing up and down her thigh gently.

(Y/N) reached over and grabbed her phone, letting out a giggle as she read his message.

"'the boys are properly distracted, have a good lunch' smiley face'" She read out, leaning over to show Jamie the photo of the boys arguing.

Jamie chuckled, glancing down at the phone. "Idiots, they're all idiots."

(Y/N) planted a kiss on Jamie's cheek before leaning back in her seat. "Yeah, but so are you."

Jamie smiled, content at the though of being (Y/N)'s idiot.

Hope you enjoyed!

[rxqueenotd]

Magic In The Hamptons

Pairing: Lukas Matsson x f!reader

Summary: Lukas is shocked to see his new GC’s Instagram feed after she heads back home to NY for a week. (Heavily implied that reader and Matsson have NOT slept together... yet)

Warnings: literal phone sex, dubious content if you squint, mentions of alcohol/drugs, sexual themes, bodily fluids, etc. MINORS DNI!

Word count: 2033

Notes: absolutely no one requested this but I’m about to join the ranks of everyone else suffering from Matsson brain rot. I’ve been silently writing a fic involving Matsson/f!reader/Kendall and this is me testing the waters to see if anyone would even entertain the idea of reading it. This all unedited as well, so please look over any mistakes!

“Lukas,” Oskar bellows from across the room. Once again, he’s moonbeamed on edibles. The entire room is buzzing on something. Oskar holds his phone up, shaking it back and forth, “have you seen what your new counsel is posting on insta?”

Lukas looks around, quirking an eyebrow. “Should I have seen it?”

Lukas is quick to break away from the crowd of people surrounding him. Finding a small corner, he leans against the cool tile as he fishes his phone out of his pocket. He opens Instagram and there you are- happy and loose and alive. Something you hadn’t felt when you’d been in Sweden. He doesn’t take it personally. He knows it shocked your system when he asked you to come to Sweden to assist with the legalities of laying off upwards of a thousand people. With the WayStar acquisition and merger in its early stages, the both of you have been tense. Moreover, the sexual tension between the both of you seemed to hit an all time high before you were called back home for a family friend’s wedding. 

“Too bad she won’t let loose like that with all of us,” Lukas looks up at Oskar who peers over his phone and watches as he scrolls through the slides. 

 Amongst the curated feed, the newest post stands out from its tailored predecessors. Gone are the days of a carefully monitored feed. Gone are the days of Logan Roy. The first photo is innocent, it’s you and a group of friends clinging to one another. You're tanned, practically glowing, he notices. The next one is a panoramic of the estate he assumes you’re staying at for the wedding. The well curated lawn, hedgerows, and statues meticulously placed along the sprawling grounds screams ‘old money’ and a quick click of the tagged location lets him know you’re in The Hamptons. He’s back on the slides again as he thumbs over to the third photo. You’re lying back on a lounger by a pool. The smallest bikini covering the most intimate parts of you, with the rest on full display. The first thing he notices is the Jacques Marie Mage sunglasses you’re wearing. If he had exquisite vision and the capability of zooming far beyond anything an iPhone offers, he would be able to make out Kendall’s initials on the right sided temple. You’ve had them for years, an old pair Kendall had given you when you lost yours in the ocean. Things may have soured between you and Kendall but his sunglasses were your favorite amongst your precious collection. The most peculiar thing about the photo is the reflection in the lenses. Lukas zooms in further and sees, what he assumes, to be a man leaning towards you. He’s smiling down at you in an appetizing way. Like he’s going in for the kill. The next slide is a Live Photo of you letting smoke billow from your slightly agape mouth. Your eyes are glazed and slightly rolled back.  The first thing that comes to his mind is vivid. He imagines this is how you look when you cum. He thinks of his thumb on the crest of your tongue as he rolls his spit around your mouth with the pad of his finger, your doe eyes staring up at him as you come undone. He swallows the lump in his throat. He secretly wishes you were here with him. The next photo is of you sitting in a corner booth. The lights are dim, except for a small amount of candlelight spilling across your face from the centerpiece. There’s a man, someone he can’t place, sitting beside you. He looks like him. Same build, same profile. His face is brushing against your cheek, arms snaked tight around your waist. Your arm is wrapped equally as tight across his shoulders, your right hand tangled around his arm. He notices no one is tagged. No matter, he thinks, he will find out who he is regardless. The next photo stops him in his tracks totally. Your front is pressed against a marble wall, back completely bared for the photo, a slinky dress hanging off your waist. Your fingers splayed out in your hair, pushing it upwards, away from your face. You don a smirk. The one he wants to fuck right off your face. There's a small hint of a tattoo spanning the length of your right side. As much as he zooms, he’s unable to make it out. He wonders what you were thinking when the photo was snapped. Specifically, he wonders who took the photo. Without another word, he slides his phone deep in his pocket and takes off upstairs. He sits idly amongst the deep cushions of the couch spanning the wall of his bedroom before he slides his phone back out. He finds your contact with ease and initiates the call. 

It rings four times before he dejectedly pulls it back from his ear. 

“Hello?” Your sleep laden voice calls out before he can end the call.  

“What’s that tattoo on your side?” He sets off into the conversation. No need for formalities. 

You sigh loudly into the receiver, “it’s three in the morning, Lukas.” 

“Show me.” He insists. 

Another sigh leaves your lips. “It’s a sword.” 

You tell him. 

“I’m a visual learner,” he says lowly, “show me.”

Another loud sigh and he hears your phone being shuffled around. His phone vibrates against his ear and he slides it down, opening your highlighted name in his Notification Center. 

No face at all, just your left hand covering your breasts, right arm hovering above your form to snap the photo. Your stomach is partially bared to him from your position on your side with your lower half wrapped in a deep green down comforter. He pays attention to everything but the tattoo. 

It’s his turn to sigh now. 

“Did you fuck him?” You’ve begun to notice how his accent slips through when he’s turned on or worked up. This isn’t his first time getting riled up around you. You figure it won’t be the last either.  

“I did.” you admit. Lukas notices more shuffling from your end. 

“Tell me about it.” He pushes you further. There’s a certain longing in his voice. He lays his phone on his chest and taps the speaker icon as his hands come to rest on his hip bones. He pulls his cock free and it springs out, slapping against his belly, resting just below his belly button. He’s hanging on your every word. 

You inhale deeply. 

“We drove out to the beach a few days ago,” you tell him. “Just for a little while to get away from the wedding chaos. I climbed over once he parked the car and fucked him right in the driver’s seat of his Audi.”

A groan manifests deep from his chest. He has a firm grasp on his cock now, his pointer finger and thumb rolling over the swollen head repeatedly.

“You let him cum inside you?” His question comes out breathy. 

You chuckle lightly, almost sardonically, “I didn’t.” 

The phone is pressed tightly against your ear as you imagine what type of state he’s in. 

“Would you let me cum inside you?” He asks. You clench at the mere thought. His breath hitches and you can tell his hands are no longer idle. 

On the other line, he throbs viciously in his hand. He slows his movements as he waits for your answer, a tight grip around his thick base. 

“Do you want to?,” you suck in a gasp of air, “Is that what you’re thinking about?” 

“Yeah,” he breathes out, “it’s all I’ve been thinking about.” 

“Mmm,” you muse, “maybe if you ask nicely.”

“I don’t ask,” he growls out, “I take.“

Against your will, a light moan flies out of your mouth. The sheets are clinging to the edge of the mattress as you squirm and writhe around, squeezing your thighs shut for any sort of relief. 

“Yeah,” he questions with a tinge of a chuckle, “you like that?”

“I do,” you admit, “I thought about you the entire time I fucked him. I closed my eyes and imagined it was you.”

There’s no response to that. The only sound you hear is flesh on flesh. A slapping noise that echoes around the room and straight into the receiver. 

He’s working himself viciously on the other end. Thinking about you tight and slick around him, a silken vice, fucking you until you forget anyone else has ever fucked you. He imagines being deep inside you, filling you up to your belly, fucking you so good, you don’t walk right for days. 

“You like that?” It’s your turn to taunt him. 

“Yeah,” a murmur of a grunt slides out of him, “I am going to ruin you.”

You don’t doubt it. You anticipate it. 

You can tell he has met his end when a few strangled grunts pour out of him, followed by a dull, scratching sound reverberating from his side of the call. You hear him sigh loudly, chuckling as his voice comes back into earshot. 

“Dropped you.” He says with no indication of what has just transpired between the two of you. The casualness in his tone, as if you’ve both just spoken about the weather. 

You only laugh in response, squirming around in the bed, pulling yourself up to rest on the mountainous pillows.

“I am tired,” you whisper out, “still a little drunk.”

"Let me see you,” and before you can tell him ‘absolutely not,’ your phone vibrates with an incoming FaceTime from him.

You reluctantly answer, squinting briefly before adjusting to the light filtering in from behind his face.

“You look like shit,” he tells you and you laugh, nodding in agreement.

“When did you go to bed?” He asks and you glance at the time pinned in the corner of your phone.

“An hour ago?” You shrug, “if that.”

It’s obvious he is no longer paying attention to you, rather doing god knows what else on a different tab. You take the moment to glance at your reflection in the small window hovering beside his face. You’re missing an earring, your eyeliner has bled down onto your cheeks, and your hair is wild. You tuck the duvet further under your arms, making a mental note to search for the earring amongst the sea of sheets. 

And then he’s back, staring at you as you disassociate to the view out the french doors across from the bed. 

“There’s going to be a car there to pick you up at eight,” your phone vibrates with a text from him, “just sent you the details.”

You swipe down to see he has scheduled a meeting with you for later this afternoon.

“A meeting?” You groan, “The only meeting I want to have is with a pillow.”

He is up and moving now and you can tell by the new surroundings, he is in his bathroom. He has placed his phone down on the counter, crooked, and you watch as he grabs a tissue, wiping it across his lower stomach.

He shoves the cum filled tissue close to his phone.

“All for you, baby!” He maniacally laughs out. He takes his shirt off and tosses it haphazardly in the corner.

You grimace, turning the deepest shade of red. “You are disgusting.” You don’t mean it. In a sick way, you’re almost flattered. 

You inhale sharply, suddenly aware of what has transpired between the two of you. The gravity of the entire situation weighs heavily on you as you shift in bed.

“We can’t make this a thing.” You tell him, “there’s work to be done.”

“I know,” he assures you. He’s on the move again, only stilling when he plops down on his bed, “but the way I see it is either we fuck it out or we fight it out.”

‘And I don’t fight fair,” he continues, “and I know you don’t either.” He smiles at you knowingly.

“I will see you soon,” he says and you’re back on your home screen. You lock your phone with a groan and roll over. 

[hand-written-dreams]

CRIMSON SHADE

Chapter 11

Entangled in the Brown Abyss

They say he's morally grey

What can I say?

Grey's my favourite color.

- ( The song of the chapter is 'Morally Grey' by April Jai and Nation Haven.)

"Hi, you are Khushi, right? I am Lavanya, Lavanya Kashyap."

A beautiful girl with slanted jet-black eyes and sleek shiny hair greets her in the garden of the resort. She recognizes her as one of the girls sitting beside Junior Rathore earlier at lunch today. Lavanya's smile is as gorgeous as she is. The highly fashionable white saree that she's wearing compliments her entirely. There is an undeniable playfulness in her demeanour, the kind that makes it hard not to smile in her presence.

"Hi, yeah, I am Khushi."

"I absolutely love your lehenga."

"Thank you", Khushi replies with an awkward laugh.

"You know what they say about you is true."

When Khushi gives a confused look, Lavanya continues, "They say you're the most beautiful girl in the society....They are absolutely right."

Red creeps into her cheek as she offers Lavanya a small smile. "You are beautiful too."

"Oh, thank you," Lavanya responds in a gleeful voice. "Sorry to be overbearing, but I've heard so much about you that I feel like I already know you."

"I don't understand."

"Neil talks about you all the time."

"Neil? NK?"

The mention of her best friend leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. She has yet to deal with the betrayal she felt by him. It still stings, an unresolved wound festering beneath the surface, twisting inside her like a knife she has yet to pull out.

"Yeah, one and only, my honey bear."

"Lavanya, Tell her the story about how you and NK eloped to Vagus to get hitched." The other girl she saw earlier with Lavanya joins them. Her almond-shaped eyes glint with mirth as she teases Lavanya. The sequins in her orange lehenga sparkle in the evening light.

"Wait.....you and NK are married."

"Yeah, we are," Lavanya replies sheepishly.

"Not only that, they've been childhood sweetheart," The other girl chimes in. "Hi, I'm Payal Roy."

"Hi, Khushi Sen Gupta. Very nice to meet you, Payal," She says, smiling at Payal. "So, Lavanya, tell me..."

"Oh, we both were born and brought up in the US. We were together in everything... elementary school, middle school..High school. After high school graduation, we went to Vegas for some fun and got so drunk that we got hitched there. That's it...Happy now, Payal?" Lavanya huffs. "What fun do you get from making me repeat this story to every new person we meet?"

"Oh, come on, Lavanya, you know I adore you two. Can’t a girl live vicariously through you?" Payal teases sweetly, linking arms with Lavanya. "Hey, look! Pani puri ! Let’s go, Khushi, we’ll have some."

"Do you think it’s a good idea? What if someone sees us gossiping together?" Khushi asks, glancing around.

"Come on, it’s not like we’re discussing anything top-secret. The men in our family don’t share anything with us anyway." Payal says rolling her eyes.

"Yeah, like they’re a locked ancient chest, with the key long lost," Lavanya giggles. "You, at least, can go to Arnav’s room. I tried once, just to peek inside, and he practically glared me right out of there. The only female he tolerates is you. You can even make him do things he doesn’t want to do."

"Come on, Lavanya, don’t be jealous. You know how it is with Arnav."

'She can go to his room!! Who is she?! It's not like I care. Whatever.' Khushi mutters in her head. She looks back at Payal. She is stunning. Something unexplainable clenches in her chest. She brushes it away. 'Exactly. Who cares anyway."

"Speaking of him, where did he disappear to after lunch?" Lavanya asks as they made their way toward the pani puri vendors set up by the Oberois. It's the sangeet this evening. There is a concert supposed to happen. And the muhrat for the pheres have been set for midnight. Then tomorrow is the reception. Not only elites all over the country but also celebrities and movie stars are crowded around the sprawling complex.

"Akash said he went to receive his date," Payal replies, gesturing to the vendor to prepare pani puri for them as Khushi quietly listens to the conversation.

"Ohh...spicy..anyone we know." Lavanya wriggles her eyebrows at Payal.

"Helena Khan," Payal drawls out secretively.

"Ah, the leading lady of this year's biggest blockbuster. Totally his type," Lavanya says, rolling her eyes before mumbling under her breath, "Fuck 'em and leave 'em."

Payal slaps Lavanya's arm lightly. "You’d know his type well, wouldn’t you? You’ve known him your whole life."

"Payal.." Lavanya whines, rubbing her arm, "Be nice." Then she looks back at Khushi. "See you're confusing our friend here."

"Actually, NK is Arnav's cousin. NK's dad was Mr.Raizada’s—uh, I mean Arnav's father's younger brother. He lived in Chicago and worked for the 'Chicago Outfit.' You know, 'the Outfit,' right? That's where I'm from." Lavanya's voice drops conspiratorially.

Yeah, Khushi knows the Outfit. It's an organized crime group active in the US. She nods her head quietly, and Lavanya continues.

"So, Arnav's mom passed away when he was 14 and then he came to live with his uncle. That's when I met him. So yeah, I’ve known him since I was like, 6 or 7…and we spent pretty much every holiday together. He was super grumpy as a teenager. And it’s funny—I never once saw him date anyone or heard about him having a girlfriend." Lavanya glances around, checking if anyone might be eavesdropping. Lowering her voice, she whispers, "Then I got all the juicy details about his one-night stands from Aman. So that’s his type. One-night stands."

"Aman Mathur? His manager?" Khushi asks feeling slightly uncomfortable with the turn of conversation but equally intrigued.

"Yeah, they’re best friends. Have been since high school. So much so that Arnav brought him back here to India with him." Lavanya pauses, reflecting. "Actually, now that I think about it, he didn’t even have those one-night stands since he moved back. All he does is work. I don’t even remember the last time he brought a date anywhere."

The vendor interrupts their conversation, handing each of them a plate of pani puri. Khushi’s lips curve into a smile at the sight of the crispy, tangy delights. She picks one up, dipping the round morsel into the spicy tamarind water, her fingertips grazing the cool, wet surface as she raises it to her mouth. She parts her lips, feeling the shell break between her teeth, a burst of flavours exploding on her tongue as her eyes flutter shut for a brief second.

The tang, the spice, it all hits her senses at once. And then she feels it. It starts from the tips of her toes and ascends, spreading up her back, snaking around her neck, caressing the ends of her hair before settling in her chest making her heart pound, each beat echoing in her ears.

Dhak-dhak, dhak-dhak, dhak-dhak

The weight of a stare presses against her skin. Until now, she hasn't realised it's possible to feel a gaze without seeing the person. And yet, every inch of her recognizes that stare. She knows exactly who it belongs to.

She doesn't look his way.

She doesn't need to.

Without opening her eyes, she lets the moment stretch, savouring not just the food but the flame skimming the surface of her skin. She rolls the remaining bite on her tongue, letting her lips close around her fingers just slightly before she pulls them away.

And then she opens her eyes.

Deliberately, slowly.

Her lashes lift and the world around her shrinks. Everything else fades away, dissolving into a soft blur, narrowing her focus to the one individual she can't seem to ignore these days.

Him.

Her hazel orbs clash directly into the dark pool of madness. It's the darkest of all chocolate-brown.

A jolt of electricity shoots through her. She is caught like a prey under the gaze of a predator, but instead of fear, flame surges through her veins.

She doesn't look away.

It's not like she can.

She can't look away.

She's pinned right in that moment.

She swipes the tip of her tongue across her lips, clearing away the last traces of tamarind water glistening on them. They're burning, the spice still tingling. She bites down gently, trying to soothe the heat. Eyes still locked, she lifts another pani puri to her lips.

His jaw tightens.

Subtle but not subtle enough to escape her eyes.

She bites down on the sphere of flavors, letting the tang of the spice sear her tongue, but it's nothing compared to the burn in her chest as she watches the storm gather in his eyes.

It's raw and primal.

It's dark and dangerous.

It's thrilling.

She brushes the back of her hand against her lips, wiping away the spicy tamarind juice that escapes the corner of her mouth as the world around her clears a little bit. The corner of his lips lifts, just slightly, and then it is gone in an instant, so quick she almost believes she has imagined it. His presence is undeniable, even in a crowd. He stands tall in his impeccable attire, but that isn't what rattles her. It’s the woman at his side, draped over him like a piece of art—beautiful, poised, and clinging to him as if she belongs there.

But the sweet little angel can't take her eyes off the devil.

The sangeet concert rages on in the main hall, the vibrant music and cheers filling the air. But she slips away from the lively crowd, in search of some solitude. The sounds of laughter and music fade as she steps into the cool night, walking across the lawn. She follows the silver glow of the shimmering water reflected in the moonlight and ends up in a deserted poolside.

She takes a deep breath, inhaling the cool night air that mingled with the scent of blooming jasmine. The melodies of the sangeet echo in the distance, but here, in this secluded space, it's actually pretty quiet. She sits on the cool tiles, letting her legs hang over the pool's edge, dipping her feet into the cold water.

Her mind drifts to a time earlier this evening. She closes her eyes, trying to quell the flutter in her stomach that has yet to settle.

"Get a grip, Khushi," she murmurs to herself, shaking her head as if the motion can dispel the heat coursing through her.

She watches the stars twinkle above. There are tall, meticulously manicured hedges encircle the pool, decorated with strings of fairy lights. A soft breeze brushes against her skin, and she rather focuses on a different conversation.

"Khushi", Lavanya hesitated before she started, her voice softening, "Listen, I know you felt betrayed by him....But, you need to know that you are really important to him. He sees you as his best friend. If you two never meet again, I want to apologise on his behalf."

After a while, she continued. "He wasn’t spying on you, you know. The family didn’t need to keep tabs on you. His father died just after high school, and his mother didn’t want to be alone in the States. So we moved back here. NK just wanted to attend college but Mr.Rathore didn’t. He wanted NK to go back and join the Outfit in place of his father. But NK wasn’t ready to dive into that life....at least, not yet. So, Arnav made it seem like you needed to be watched, and he was the one chosen for the job... and now I’m rambling," Lavanya said, smiling awkwardly. "So, yeah, you get what I’m trying to say. He really is sorry. He didn’t mean to hurt you."

The sound of laughter interrupts her musing, and she turns her head to see Mr.Rathore and Sheetal Kapoor approaching the poolside, with Mr.Rathore already clad in a robe, likely wearing a swimsuit underneath.  Panic surges through her as she spots Mr.Raizada following closely behind them.

She looks around her. Desperate to avoid the confrontation, she turns on her heel, intending to slip away behind the hedges. However, in her haste, she misjudges the layout, only to find herself caught in a tangled maze of greenery. It's a twisted blind loop in the hedge design.

“Great,” she mutters under her breath. Glancing back, she half-expect them to spot her in this embarrassing predicament, but it seems she is completely hidden by the hedges. If she wants to leave, she’ll have to do it in front of them, and there’s no way in hell she’s going to do that. Apparently, she just has to wait here until they’re done.

Shit.

She leans against the hedge, the rough texture pressing into her back as she hopes for her early bail from this imprisonment. Through the gaps in the leaves, she can just make out the vague silhouettes of Sheetal Kapoor and Mr.Raizada sitting on opposite corners of a bench with their faces toward her. A mile between them.

"Are you sure you don't want to join me, Darling?" Mr.Rathore calls from the poolside.

"Yes, I think, I will just watch you from here, handsome."

Mr.Rathore slips into the water, effortlessly gliding through laps, while Sheetal watches him silently, a faint smile playing on her lips. Meanwhile, Mr.Raizada keeps scrolling through his phone, a champagne glass cradled in his other hand,

"What's wrong with you these days?" His deep, detached voice breaks the silence, asking the question nonchalantly, still to look up from the screen.

"Nothing," Sheetal huffs. A pause stretches between them. Then she whispers, almost as if testing the words, “I think I’ve fallen in love with him.”

"Huh",  he barks a laugh, then after a pause says, "..Really?" his tone is flat, almost disinterested.

"Yes," Sheetal replies, “Is it Stockholm?”

He doesn’t bother responding to her question. After a while she says, “What does it say about me that he’s treated me better than any man I’ve been with? And that he’s... a good lay?”

"I didn’t need to know that."

"Besides," Sheetal goes on, her voice softer now, almost reflective, "I thought I was pregnant."

"You thought?"

"False alarm. It scared the shit out of me." A sigh escapes her lips. "But it made me realize I don't want to be here anymore. If I get pregnant, I'd be tied to this world forever, tied to him forever. I don't want that."

"Initially, it was fun..." Sheetal continues, her eyes downcast. “...having a powerful man like him by my side, all that power at my fingertips... and to make it even better I got a double deal....." she pauses, chuckling as if she's sharing a secret. "But it doesn’t matter anymore. The money, the expensive gifts.......I just want peace and my baby boy... living a quiet life."

Khushi hears him exhale, a calculating look crosses over his face, illuminated by the mobile screen.

"Those are dangerous desires..... Give me a couple of months," his voice suddenly softer, almost negotiating.

"And then?"

“You pick a country. I’ll take care of the rest.”

"I can do that..." Sheetal agrees before her voice shifts, becoming inquisitive. "Now you tell me, what's going on with you these days?"

Without giving much heed to his non-remark, she adds, "I've never seen you this riled up before. My God, the threats you shot toward me that day. You didn't need to do that. I am in this willingly, with my eyes wide open..... You even threatened Aarav. You love my boy."

"Arnav Singh Raizada doesn't love anyone."

"Whatever you say, but my boy certainly does," the woman goes on, her voice softening with affection. "Every time I visit, he can't stop talking about how Mr.Raizada sent him the latest Xbox...Just last month, he was thrilled that you played basketball with him. I didn’t know you played basketball, Arnav."

His jaw tightens as a dark shadow falls over his features, but he remains silent, eyes glued to his phone.

"Oh, silly me," her lips curving into a playful smirk. "The golden boy Arnav, straight-A student, Harvard graduate—of course, he can play basketball as well."

"Careful, Sheetal, don’t push your luck," This whole time, he's not even looking anywhere other than his phone. It seems something really interesting happening on his screen. "Why don't you join, Mr.Rathore? He looks lonely."

"Will you watch if I do?" she replies, her tone teasing, almost flirting. Mr.Raizada doesn't even twitch. "Mind if I have your drink? You aren't going to drink it anyway. You never answer my question, why you don't drink?"

He wordlessly extends the drink toward her. "...And you aren't going to answer my question....again." she quips, taking the glass from him.

There's an indefinite pause fall over over then. Only the distance music and the shushing of water created by Mr.Rathore's swimming can be heard. Sheetal has gone back to watching Mr.Rathore as she silently sips the champagne.

"You know, I've always been curious about what type of women can rattle you. I think I might have found my answer today."  Sheetal let out a low chuckle, leaning in slightly. "By the way.....She is gor..ge..ous."

This time, Mr.Raizada looks up and fixes her with his infamous glare.

'What was the name of his date? Helena khan. Yeah, that's the name.' Khuhsi mutters to herself, remembering her name from a previous conversation.

"Seems like you don't wanna live anymore." His voice is dangerously low as he says that. But Sheetal just smiles at him broadly, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

"What?!..I'm just saying." She shrugs her shoulders. "Hey, tell me,...Were you scared when I said I thought I was pregnant?"

"Why? It's not like it's mine," he retorts, annoyance lacing his voice.

"You know, if I had been pregnant... and managed to convince Mr.Rathore to marry me, I would’ve been a mommy by now." She grins at him, her voice dripping with mirth while her eyes sparkle with hidden secrets.

Mr.Raizada narrows his eyes and says in a hard tone. "Mr.Rathore is done. It's time for you to go."

Sheetal waves dramatically at Mr.Raizada before rushing toward Mr.Rathore, throwing her arms around him in a playful hug. Their laughter echoes through the air as they retreat toward the main building, their voices fading into the distance.

"The things my high blood sugar made me do. Now I have to do exercise while I am attending a wedding. Go figure...." Mr.Rathore's booming laughter rings out one last time, leaving the poolside eerily quiet in its wake.

Khushi breathes a sigh of relief, thanking her stars that it's finally over. She steps forward, eager to escape, but the universe seems to have other plans. A sharp tug at her hair and waist stops her in her tracks. Glancing down, she realizes with horror that the fairy lights wrapped around the hedges have somehow tangled themselves into her hair and lehenga, making her look like a Christmas tree.

With a frustrated groan, she raises her arms, trying to untangle herself from the shimmering lights, only to discover a tall, dark figure standing in front of her, watching her silently with his arm crossed over her chest.

Author's Note:

Hey guys! Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Khushi really can't catch a break, right? I'd love to hear your thoughts on these scenes and what you think will happen next! Drop a comment and let me know!

Until next time! 💕

<previous> | <next>

@arshifiesta @featheredclover @phuljari @chutkiandchotte @jalebi-weds-bluetooth @titaliya @msbhagirathi

[jamiesfootball]

🌹🪻🌸🌺🌷🌻🌼💐🥀🪷

A bit of a longer snippet to go with that bit of the funeral I just posted:

The person Roy doesn't expect to see is-

"Jan?" he says, baffled at the other man's presence. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

He means no offense; Jan doesn't take it as such.

"Here for Jamie," the taller man shrugs. In the few months since they've crossed paths, his hair's added in a few streaks of grey and the scribbles of a beard have taken shape on his face. "I'm the pool cleaner."

"You're the what?"

"I clean out the scum. It's part of the plan." Jan jerks his head at something over Roy's shoulder. "See those two men over there?"

The two men in question are stood by a small table. In awkwardly fitted suits, they blend in with the crowd more than Jamie's people do. From Roy's understanding, most of them were from some sort of support group-

("A.A. He was making another go of it, I guess.")

-but he hadn't heard of anything that would require Jan Maas to be stationed like a bird of prey perched on a wire ready to strike.

Roy studies the men as they shake hands with another guest. They have the same grief-scrubbed pallor that Roy's gotten used to seeing around hiss own home these past few weeks.

"Those are the dead man's friends," Jan says without an ounce of pity in his heart. "My instructions are to keep them away from Jamie. If I see them moving in, I'm to stop them by any means necessary. Beard is also on pool cleaner duty. See- he is on the other side of the room so that we both have eyes on them."

"Is that what he's doing." He'd wondered why Beard was stood off in the corner with his arms crossed and a wild glare on his usually mild face.

Now Roy follows his line of sight, and he can see he's looking at the two men. One of them glances up and blanches. He quickly turns away with a look of panic on his face.

It almost seems as if they know each other.

Roy frowns and makes a note to talk to Beard about that later.

"Dani and Keeley are on bumper car duty," Jan continues explaining. "See how they are each of them hanging off his elbows? If anyone comes close to him, they will bump them away and explain that he doesn't wish to talk to anyone."

Keeley really had planned for everything, hadn't she? Except-

"What about me?" Roy asks. It's stupid, but the thought of being left out leaves him feeling sore. He's been fucking useless throughout the entire lead up. If there's a job here today that needs doing, then Roy wants to do it. "I'm here too. What's my duty?"

Jan looks at him as if he is, truly, stupid.

"You are on Jamie Duty."

[moonmaiden1996]

Slow Pursuit Chapter Five

Like all of River’s plans, they were destined to have some flaw, some small fissure that could tear open the entire operation. Which was why he always prepared for every eventuality. One contingency sat in his pocket now—a mild sedative that could wipe the last twelve hours from anyone's memory. It was a tool he reserved for emergencies, something he preferred not to use. But as he watched Trent Roy swagger into your life, his hand brushed the tiny vial reflexively. If ever there was a time to use it, that time was when you met this prick.

The man had no idea what you were really like. Trent Roy—a sales manager whose company had just moved into your building—had swept in, smirking as if he were the most charming creature alive. All false polish and oily charm, he spoke as if he’d known you for years.

“We should definitely have dinner tonight, a little bar I know,” Trent had said, giving you what he probably thought was a winning smile.

River sneered as he overheard the invitation. The man’s lack of awareness bordered on insulting. How could he not realise you needed time to prepare for a night out? Spontaneous dinners in crowded, flashy bars were your personal nightmare—something Trent would know if he truly understood you. Instead, here he was, parading around like he knew exactly how to impress you, when all he was doing was adding to your discomfort.

It was foolish to worry you’d fall for such a blatant show, yet Trent’s persistence was unsettling. He was the kind of problem River preferred to eliminate before it took root. It wasn’t that he thought you couldn’t handle yourself—far from it. But Trent was a distraction, an unnecessary chaos that could derail everything River had put into motion. And if River knew anything, it was that chaos needed swift correction.

There was only one person who could help him now: Shirley Dander.

xxx

Shirley slouched in her chair, examining her chipped nails with an exaggerated sigh. “Why am I doing this again? Couldn’t you just ask Louisa to handle this?” she complained, casting an annoyed glance at River.

Shirley was reliable when it came to surveillance, one of the more adept assets among the Slough House crew, but she was anything but polished in fieldwork. Subtlety wasn’t her strength, and River felt a pang of doubt about involving her. But there was no one else, and she owed him one.

“Because you owe me,” River said, his tone calm but with a hint of firmness. He reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small baggie with a fine white powder inside that shimmered like ground diamond dust in the dim light. “And because I can give you this.”

Shirley’s eyes lit up as she reached for the baggie, but River tucked it back inside his pocket before she could grab it. “Uh-uh. Not yet,” he chided. “I need to know you’ve got the plan straight.”

Shirley scowled, her hand still outstretched. “I get it, River. God, you’re acting like I’ve never done a favor before.”

River’s expression tightened, and he seized her wrist, his grip just firm enough to get her attention. “I mean it, Shirley. Make it convincing, and do not let her drink that cocktail. I need you to make Trent look like the creep he is without her getting a sip of that stuff. Are we clear?”

Shirley yanked her wrist back, rolling her eyes. “Crystal. Now can I have my payment?”

River gave her a long, hard look before nodding. “After it’s done. And I’ll be nearby to make sure it goes smoothly. Just don’t mess this up.”

xxx

The bar Trent had chosen was worse than you feared. Loud music pulsed through cheap speakers, laughter echoed through the crowded space, and the smell of fried food lingered in the air. You sank into the plush chair opposite Trent, already feeling out of place, glancing nervously at the menu. It was the type of place that tried too hard and came off tacky. There were too many choices, none of which you had time to research, and the pressure was beginning to set in. You’d agreed to come here only to shake off the memories of River that had been consuming your thoughts recently. But this place, this atmosphere—it was all wrong.

You took a deep breath, reminding yourself to be polite. It was just one evening.

“I took the liberty of ordering you a cocktail,” Trent said, flashing you another grin as he slid an orange-colored drink toward you. “All the girls love a Pornstar Martini.”

You eyed the frothy monstrosity, a piece of dried passion fruit floating on top like a final insult. It was a well-intentioned gesture, perhaps, but it felt heavy-handed and overbearing. Passion fruit was on the list of things you couldn’t stand, and the garish color of the drink only heightened your discomfort.

As you lifted the drink, something shifted in the corner of your eye—a woman with a sharp gaze and disheveled hair sidling up to the bar. She was watching you and Trent with open suspicion, her gaze darting between the two of you. Before you had a chance to wonder about her intentions, she took a bold step forward.

“Hey!” the woman called out, her voice cutting through the bar noise. “Did I just see you put something in her drink?”

You froze, and all eyes turned to her. Trent’s face reddened as he sputtered, trying to keep his voice down.

“What? No, I didn’t put anything in there!” he insisted, glancing at you with a strained smile. “This lady’s mistaken, sweetheart, I swear—”

“Then what’s that?” she interrupted, pointing at the faint fizz rising from the bottom of your glass. “A vitamin? Because it sure looks suspicious to me.”

Your heart sank as you noticed the subtle bubbling, a grainy lump dissolving at the base of the glass. A horrified realization washed over you as you looked up, meeting Trent’s guilty eyes.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, more to yourself than anyone else. You set the drink down, your fingers feeling numb.

Trent’s gaze darted to the people around you, noticing the growing audience. He forced a laugh, his hand twitching. “You’re blowing this out of proportion! I didn’t put anything in there! She’s probably just had one too many and is seeing things. Right?” He looked to you, desperate for an ally, but you were too shocked to respond.

The woman didn’t back down. Her eyes blazed with anger as she took a step closer. “I saw you, mate. Clear as day. And I think everyone else here should know the truth.”

A cold clarity settled over you. Whether or not she was right about Trent, one thing was certain: this man did not respect you enough to take you seriously. And you would not stay here a second longer.

You rose from your seat, straightening your shoulders. “I think we’re done here, Trent,” you said, voice steady.

Trent’s face twisted in frustration. “Oh, come on, you’re seriously going to listen to some random girl?”

You stared him down, the noise of the bar fading into the background. “You ordered me something I didn’t ask for, took me somewhere I didn’t want to be, and now you’re trying to make me feel guilty for noticing something strange.” Your voice hardened. “Goodbye, Trent.”

Leaving him spluttering, you turned and walked out of the bar, your heart pounding with adrenaline. The woman who had called him out was gone before you had a chance to thank her, but her intervention lingered in your mind, reinforcing a simple truth: you deserved to be listened to, respected, and cared for on your terms. And tonight, you’d learned just how little Trent understood that.

xxxx

River leaned back in his chair at your favorite café, his fingers tracing lazy circles around the rim of his coffee cup as he watched the entrance. The dim light inside the café softened the angles of his face, but his eyes were sharp, alert. He hadn’t really needed Shirley to intervene, but he was glad she had. You needed to see for yourself just how little respect Trent Roy had for you.

When he’d seen you leave the bar, shoulders squared and head held high, River had felt a surge of pride. You’d handled Trent with a quiet strength, calling him out and walking away without letting him pull you into his web of excuses. He knew it must have taken every ounce of willpower to make that exit, and that thought alone tugged at something deep inside him.

He’d had Shirley trail you for a while to make sure you were safe on your walk, then sent her on her way. Now, he waited for you to come here, to the place you always went when you needed to clear your mind. Not long after, he spotted you through the window, your shoulders tense but your pace steady. He watched you scan the café, your gaze lighting up when you saw him. It was impossible for him not to smile as you walked over, the relief in your eyes unmistakable.

“River,” you murmured softly, watching him as you made a beeline straight to him, just like it was meant to be. And you looked so beautiful, your eyes glistening with tears, marginally marred only by the fact you weren't dressed up for someone else. But he preferred you like this, in your loungewear without makeup, just as you are. So beautiful.

“What happened?” he asked gently, “You’re shaking,” he added as he helped you into your seat.

You took a shaky breath, looking down at his hand over yours before squeezing it, as if steadying yourself. “It’s stupid, really. I thought a night out would help me clear my head. Trent was…” You hesitated, then pushed on. “He was a jerk, honestly. Took me to this place he thought I’d love, ordered me some drink I didn’t even like—and then…”

River’s face tightened as you hesitated, your brow furrowing as you continued. “And then some girl—she was just a random stranger, I think—saw him put something in my drink. I almost didn’t believe her at first, but then I saw it.” You let out a bitter laugh. “He tried to laugh it off, making me feel like I was overreacting. But I knew, you know? I just knew something was wrong.”

He didn’t say a word, just squeezed your hand tighter, letting you take your time. His silence was warm, comforting, like he was carving out a space for you to feel safe.

“I walked out,” you added, voice trembling. “And part of me felt proud, but another part just…” Your voice trailed off as your face crumpled, a tear escaping down your cheek before you could brush it away.

River shifted his chair closer, releasing your hand only to wrap his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his warmth. “Hey,” he murmured softly, rubbing your shoulder with a steady, grounding touch. “It’s okay. Did you call the police?”

You let out a shaky breath, leaning into him as your tears started to fall. “No! I feel so stupid. I just wanted to get out of there so fast, I didn’t even think.”

“Shh…” he soothed. “It’s okay.” River’s hand gently rubbed your shoulder, tender and reassuring.

The sound of his voice, the warmth of his arm around you, and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your cheek were all so reassuring, so real. You leaned into him, letting the stress and anxiety drain away until only comfort remained.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffed. “You always seem to be rescuing me.”

“Don’t be silly,” River murmured, brushing away a stray tear with his rough, calloused thumb. “I rather like coming to your rescue.” His thumb lingered, tracing over your lips, his gaze soft as he looked at you. Your breath hitched, a quiet thrill simmering in the pit of your stomach.

“Hey, you!” Trent’s voice cut through the air, loud and grating, desperation lacing his words as he stumbled through the door of a cafe. He scanned the café until his gaze locked onto you, eyes blazing with a mix of frustration and anger. “Look, it’s not what it looked like,” he insisted, his tone pleading yet harsh.

You instinctively pulled closer to River, gripping his hand as if it were the only anchor in a suddenly turbulent sea. Trent’s gaze flicked from you to River, his expression souring when he noticed the closeness between you two. Your heart pounded, but River’s hand over yours didn’t falter; his presence was like a shield, steady and unbreakable.

“She doesn’t want to talk to you, Trent,” River said, his voice calm and low, every syllable sharp and precise—a stark contrast to Trent’s frantic tone. “I suggest you leave.”

Trent’s face flushed, anger boiling over. “Who the hell do you think you are?” he sneered, fists clenching at his sides. “I just got accused of something awful, and the least I deserve is a chance to explain myself. This whole thing was a misunderstanding!”

River’s lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes unwavering as he faced Trent. “It doesn’t matter how you explain it. If she doesn’t want to speak to you, that’s enough. She doesn’t owe you anything, least of all a chance to explain.”

Trent looked ready to lash out, frustration coiling tightly within him. But then River rose from his seat, standing tall, shoulders squared, face impassive yet radiating a silent, powerful authority. The air crackled with tension as River held Trent’s gaze, not backing down an inch. In that moment, River’s usual quiet warmth transformed into something formidable—an unshakeable resolve that left no room for doubt.

“I suggest,” River said, his voice dangerously low, “that you leave now, before this turns into something you’ll regret.”

Your breath caught as you looked up at River, seeing him in a way you hadn’t before. There was a protectiveness in his gaze, a fierce loyalty that stirred something deep inside you. Trent faltered, his bravado waning in the face of River’s calm yet undeniable strength. For the first time, you saw a flicker of hesitation in his eyes as he shifted uncomfortably.

Trent’s voice softened, almost as if he were hoping to appeal to you one last time. “Come on, you’re really just going to throw me away like this?” he pleaded, frustration barely masked. “After all, we were just… getting to know each other. I swear I didn’t put anything in your drink.”

The thought made you feel sick, your heart twisting with a blend of anger and relief. You could see Trent for who he truly was—a person who couldn’t handle rejection, who didn’t respect boundaries, who thought he was entitled to forgiveness. And you knew, deep down, that you deserved so much more than what he could offer. The realisation filled you with a quiet strength, a resolve buried under the weight of confusion and self-doubt.

“Goodbye,” you said, your voice firmer than you expected. You felt River’s hand rest on your shoulder, a warm, grounding presence.

With a final glare, Trent stormed out, the door slamming shut behind him. The café slowly returned to its usual hum, but it felt different now—like you’d finally reclaimed a part of yourself that had been lost. You took a breath, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease as the weight of the confrontation began to lift.

But as that moment of calm washed over you, an unsettling wave of unease surged within. “I want to go home,” you declared suddenly, your voice cutting through the lingering silence. “It’s been a weird day.” You moved quickly, the icy air burning your heated skin, you were tired and scared, River followed closely behind you.

Out of the looming darkness, Trent reemerged from one of the side streets, his face contorted in rage, eyes darting toward River. “You think you can just waltz in and play the hero?” he spat, his voice loud enough to draw attention from other patrons. “She was just being dramatic! You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Get lost, Trent,” River said, his voice calm but low, a warning simmering beneath the surface. “You don’t want to make this worse.”

“Worse?” Trent laughed bitterly, stepping closer, fists clenching at his sides. “You think you can scare me?”

“Please,” you interjected, your voice rising above the mounting chaos. “Trent, just go! I’m done with you!”

Trent’s eyes flicked back to you, his expression hardening as River’s hand slid to your lower back, guiding you toward the door as you walked past Trent. “Let’s get out of here,” he murmured, and you nodded, the weight of the night still heavy in your chest but now feeling lighter with each step away from Trent.

As you stepped outside, the cool night air hit you, and you took a deep breath, ready to leave the chaos behind. But just as you reached the corner, Trent burst out of the café again, his anger renewed. “You can’t just walk away from this, this is serious!” he shouted, his voice echoing in the stillness.

You instinctively moved closer to River, who turned to face Trent. “What do you want?” River demanded, his voice low and steady, maintaining the line between calm and confrontation.

“I want to talk to her! To explain!” Trent’s frustration was palpable, his eyes wild. “You don’t get to decide that for her!”

You felt a surge of panic, and your heart raced. “I want to go home,” you said firmly, standing your ground. “This is over, Trent.”

River turned to you, his expression softening as he sensed your distress. “I’ll take you home,” he said, his voice gentle but resolute. “You don’t have to deal with him.”

Trent’s face twisted in disbelief as he realised you were choosing to leave with River. “You’re seriously not going to hear me out. You’ll regret this!” he shouted, but his words felt empty, like a last gasp of desperation.

“Let’s go,” River urged, his hand firmly on your back, guiding you away from the confrontation. As you moved, you could feel the tension dissolve, replaced by the warmth of River’s presence beside you.

You glanced back at Trent one last time, feeling the weight of his gaze as you stepped away. The chaos faded into the distance, but an unsettling feeling lingered at the back of your mind. It wasn’t something you could put your finger on, but it set you on edge.

Maybe not the best chapter but we are now gearing up to do some proper Dark!River in all his glory, he is gearing up to make his move.

Quick question, though- Do you think River would ever drunk a reader? No ominous intentions just to keep her safe?