#so fucking glad we are able to get out of here end of the month.

[genericmain]

Oh so now my safety doesn't matter because it's his house?

So if he hurts me police are gonna do literally nothing to protect me?

And bonus - Cherry on top, He's not legally required to pay us back anything at all when we leave here? So we won't be able to leave prior to the end of the month at all like we'd planned??

Great thanks so much.

Also the crisis line which has previously been very helpful was super dismissive and unhelpful tonight and I just

Wow y'all really out here just leaving us for the wolves huh.

"Do you have a therapist?" Literally what is that gonna do at 4am when my landlord is threatening my safety Linda. What good is having a therapist when I am currently very vulnerable and suggestable???

Like oh get a therapist while you're actively in trauma and unable to get out as it stands, and highly suggestible!

[muniimyg]

10.5: love 》 series m.list

note: we made it !!! i am so incredibly grateful for everyone's love and support with c2u <3 meeting u all was so fun ,, answering ur asks and interacting thru comments truly made my day ! i'm glad i was able to share this silly goofy concept and have it well received . as usual ,, please lmk ur thots !!! i have 3 extras that will be posted soon (ie: their first hook up, a comfort scenario, and one final smut extra) so please look forward to those !!! thank u for ur patience ,, all the love 💗

warnings: sex tape vibes (kind of), pussy eating (nom nom), fucking LOL ... dirty talk & creampie! easy shit yk? lmaoo

taglist request: CLOSED

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @taetaecatboy @pb-n-juju @miss-rainy-days @firesighgirl @whoa-jo @vantxx95 @pamzn @kakixaku @casspirit0705 @tae165 @defzcl @sopebubbles @leefics @ggukkieland @bebebutbetter @yoongimentita7 @boraength @era-genius @4ksj @vampcharxter @miss-jupiter @floweryjeons @taegijns @jeonqkooks-main @ellesalazar

//

As much as Jungkook loves to play soccer for the glory, he loves it best alone. 

When the bleachers are empty and the field is wide and free—that’s when he feels the most love for his sport. To others, it comes off as lonely and sad but to him; it’s serenity. Sometimes, it’s the only place he feels like he can truly be himself. It’s a place where he doesn’t have to be anything to anyone. It’s a place where he can be lost and found at the same time. It’s also his go-to place when he can’t sleep. Jungkook hasn’t slept well in weeks. He figured it was time to be in his own space.

His haven. 

His favourite part has got to be when he plays so hard that he doesn’t even notice the world is waking up. The moment Jungkook looks up and sees the sunrise—he always gets this feeling in the pit of his stomach. It’s an easiness that can’t be explained.

It’s an incredible relief. 

When he sees the sun, he stops playing. He takes a break and sits down to watch the sun bloom on the horizon. There’s so much bliss in the stillness of the world. He feels so much clarity when it’s just him, the net, and the ball. It’s like nothing else matters and his mind can focus on one thing: winning.

Jungkook has only done these late-night sessions a handful of times in his life. 

The first time was the day before Uni tryouts and he doubted his talent. Everyone kept telling him he had nothing to worry about, but that didn’t make him feel any better. To Jungkook, his luck was just like everybody’s. He was afraid of it not coming through when he needed it the most. Therefore, he worked his ass off regardless of his luck history. 

Note: Jungkook was the first in his year to get in. 

The second time was when he fucked up at a game and cost his team a minor setback. It wasn’t the end of the world—he just felt like shit.

The third time was the day he redeemed himself and scored the winning goal that got the team to championships. It was the best game he had in a while. It was also the first time felt tired of it. Tired of the game, tired of the play… Just tired. 

The fourth time was when he decided to take a break from soccer and tend to his burnout… Eventually, he came back after a few months. Of course, he did. He loves soccer more than anything in the world…

That was until you.

He didn’t go back to the field and have a session to himself to celebrate. No, he celebrated with you instead. You didn’t know and he never told you… But that’s what he did. The first day he came back to soccer, he went to you right after. With you, he found rest. 

That’s when he realized something… 

He wasn’t tired anymore.

At least, whenever he was with you.

He wasn’t tired. That’s all he could really ask for, right? To fall in love with someone that was his safety net. 

The fifth time would be today. 

Jungkook has been out here since 3AM, kicking the ball and practicing drills. It upset him, to be honest. He thought being here would help ease his heart. Everything feels so clogged up and messy to him. It’s like no matter what he does to try to clean up his mess, everything stains. So, he thinks to himself that maybe if he ran enough laps or kicked the ball hard enough—it would stop.

The mess. 

The yearning.

The loving. 

But it doesn’t.

No, instead his heart continues to ache. As he clenches it every so often, he thinks of you. Then, for a second, his heart is still. In the stillness, he tries to think of good things around him. 

At least the rain wasn’t pouring as hard as it was an hour ago.

At least the sun is coming up and it’s a new day. 

At least you were here—

Wait. 

You’re here?

Jungkook rubs his eyes. Partly due to disbelief and partly because the rain made it hard to see you clearly. Yet, somehow… In his heart, he knows it. He knows it’s you. 

How’d you know where he was? More importantly, why are you here? 

Why was his heart racing so fast again? 

Be still. 

He isn’t sure of what to do. Should he wave? Should he call your name? Are you here on accident? 

Considering it’s almost 6AM… It can’t be an accident, right?

Just as much as Jungkook’s head begins to fill with questions, yours does too. As you walk closer and closer to him, you can’t help but only hear your heartbeat pound louder and louder. Is this normal? To feel like your heart could jump out of your chest if it meant getting to him faster? You let your mind spin. 

Why the fuck are you here? 

What are you doing again?

Did you write everything down?

You sure felt a lot braver ten minutes ago… Suddenly, seeing him has made you doubt all the courage you worked to have for this moment. At the same time, the complex feeling of pure happiness and relief blossoms. You can’t help but smile at the sight of him. There’s a stillness in the world and it’s only when you look at him and it’s good. You know that now… But oh my god. 

You’re about to lose your shit. 

How did you get here?

When did it all begin? 

Was it from the first night you two slept together? Or was it the karaoke night when you realized you were waiting for him to kiss you? Could it be time he fucked you in front of your mirror and you vowed to never drink coffee before meeting up with him ever again? 

… No. 

Maybe it was when Mina came along. 

You gave him a blowjob just to stall him from going (bad move, by the way. That was pretty bitchy). Oh, and we can’t forget about the time you craved him when you were drunk out of your mind and all he did was take care of you. Half asleep, you woke up to him mounting your mirror on the wall… And well, maybe…

Maybe it was then. 

When he fixed your mirror, he fixed your heart. 

That’s probably why the time you two hooked up in his bedroom at the party felt so right. It was finally clicking.

You were into him then.

You just didn’t know how to admit it. Then, it got fucked up because you were caught off guard. 

The perilla leaf.

The exile. 

The hate sex. 

Everything good and bad has led to this moment and you can’t help but feel like you’re falling apart. Finding the origin of it all feels exhausting… In your head, you debate it all. In your heart, you’ve always known. 

You see, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. 

The friendship, the sleeping with him, the hurting him—the loving him… It wasn’t supposed to do this to you. You aren’t supposed to be this nervous and so impatient at the same time. You aren’t supposed to feel this stupid either… 

But you do. 

… And that’s okay. 

Sometimes, with love, you’re going to feel a little stupid. You just have to cross your fingers and hope the person you’re being stupid for is just as stupid as you. 

In your case… There’s a good chance he is. 

As you stand on the sidelines, Jungkook places his hand over his eyes to see you clearer. He tilts his head in confusion as you drop your bag. 

Then, just like that…

It happens. 

His thoughts pause, his heart goes still for the nth time, and his world slows down as he takes in the sight of you. Nothing will ever be better than this. The same way he feels an ease when he watches the sunrise—he feels it as he looks at you right now. 

God, he loves you so much. 

He has known it for so long but this… You in this moment; it’s bliss. 

Complete and utter bliss. 

If that isn’t enough… His heart is completely undone the moment he realizes two things: one, you’re wearing his jersey, and two; you’re holding a towel in your arms for him. He can’t help but let a laugh escape his lips. All that shit you said about how you would never be a part of his fan club and how you could never be that girl…

Oh, this is gold. 

Honestly, it’s more than enough. For you to show up and make this effort—it fills his heart. Yet, you’re you. Always full of surprises and ways of making his heart go on overdrive. As he sinks in his thoughts and soaks this moment in; he watches you take a deep breath. Then, slowly but surely, you extend your hand out to him. 

It’s then when he knows it. 

The wait was worth it.

The wait is over.

You and Jungkook sit on a bench, under the technical area’s cover. For a while, you two watch the sunrise in silence. Both too afraid to say anything to ruin the moment—both so undoubtedly in love. Once the sun is fully up, you brace yourself. 

This is it. 

Jungkook turns to you, chasing your eyes. 

“You nervous or something?” he jokes, as he begins to dry his hair with the towel you placed around his neck. 

“Yeah,” you confide. “Am I doing this right?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen as you scoot closer to him and take the towel. In your continued silence, you take over and start to dry his hair. Scrunching the towel, you pat dry his neck and cheeks. He gulps, unsure of what to do… He likes it though. He likes that you’re taking care of him and that you’re trying. He knows you are. 

As you pat dry him, you try to find your words. It takes a moment, but you think to yourself… It’s now or never, right? You’re already here. You’ve already folded. 

It catches Jungkook off guard when you suddenly tug him close. Putting the towel aside, you cup his cheeks with your hands. Your hands are cold, but he doesn’t mind. If anything, he’s holding himself back from kissing them. With a pout on your lips, you begin your confession. 

“I hate being your friend.” 

Jungkook squints at you and chuckles. He removes your hands from his cheeks, smirking at you. “What bullshit are you on now? Didn’t we agree on—”

“I never agreed,” your eyebrows knit together. “It’s been like… A day and a half and I’m going crazy being your stupid friend.”

“Fine,” he snaps. “Enemies?”

His suggestion annoys you.

You lift your hand to hit him, but he catches your wrist. Then, he opens his hands for you. You sigh teasingly but take it. Intertwining your fingers together, you two sit in silence again for a moment. 

Holding hands, watching as the rain pours, and preparing to give your hearts to one another… It feels like this could be a dream.

“Tae and Yuna, ” you begin, breaking the silence. Your voice sounds weary and desperate. “They’ve been friends since the very beginning. He always had feelings for her and she did too… But she didn’t do anything about it until it was too late. He’s dating Mina’s friend now or something—it’s so messed up. It’s so unfair, y-you know? They deserve each other so much and I—”

“Breathe,” Jungkook comforts you. “They’ll figure it out.”

“I don’t want that to be us,” you blurt. 

Jungkook blinks at you. 

“It’s so scary. Jungkook, I don’t want that to be us… B-but it is us, isn’t it? Y-you hate me because of—“

His eyebrows knit together. “___, I don’t hate you. Don’t say that.”

Your lips quiver, unsure of how to navigate through this talk. Maybe you should have planned it better. Maybe you should have written this whole speech out instead of word-vomiting like this… But that’s the thing. 

You aren’t good at this.

Regardless, you’ll try for him.

“I’ve been selfish,” you admit, letting your eyes dart to the field. You can’t look at him. It feels too overwhelming to.  “I’ve been inconsiderate and I know I can’t justify my actions because they hurt you—I just need you to know that I was scared. It was so scary trusting you, falling asleep beside you, and waking up next to you. It was so scary watching you laugh with other girls and not knowing how to tell you how I felt… I’m sorry I started fights while trying to figure out how I felt about myself… Honestly? I think I was so scared because you made it so easy.”

A beat.

“T-the truth is… I’ve always known how I felt about you.” 

Jungkook can’t help but smile. He wonders if you know what you’re doing to him… Do you? He’s afraid you don’t.

“Really?” he pries, moving closer to you. “How do you feel about me?”

Attempting to be intimidating, you turn to face him with a glare. 

“D-don’t push it.”

Jungkook pouts. “But I want to know… Please, please, please?”

For a moment you contemplate. Then, you look at him and take it all in. His wet hair, soft eyes, and pouting lips… How were you ever strong enough to say no to him before? Truly, you’re a changed woman.

Curling your fist, you shut your eyes and say it. You tell him the whole truth. 

You give him your heart. 

“You said you got ahead of yourself… But have you ever considered that I was beside you the entire time? L-like you said you’ve had feelings for me since the first time you made me laugh… Me too. I knew it then too. I just didn’t know what to do because every time I dated guys, it all felt the same… With you, it was different from the start. I don’t know how to explain it… All I know is that I like you in every way it’s possible to like someone—I like you. My heart has been yours all along. I’m sorry it took me so long to give it to you. It just felt like everything with you kept falling into place and I was terrified I was f-falling too… I think—n-no, I… Umm, I know that I…”

Something others may not know about Jungkook is that he’s consistently bad at one thing. That one thing is playing it cool when it comes to you. He has to fight his inner demons to stop himself from professing his love for you every 10 minutes. So, it would be a lie that he wasn’t loving this. He loves watching you feel what he feels. 

Your words, sweet and well-awaited, completely captivate him. 

He can’t help it when you’re like this. So perfect, so cute, so his. He can’t resist!

Which is why he kisses you mid-confession. 

Jungkook kisses you slowly and deeply. Like never before, you lose your breath from how passionately he kisses you. Once you two pull away, he rests his forehead against yours. Smiling, he sneaks in a couple more kisses. 

Timidly, you say, “So… You aren’t mad at me anymore?”

With a laugh, Jungkook shakes his head. “God, you drive me crazy.”

“So… That’s a no, right?” 

Jungkook rolls his eyes and purses his lips. You press your lips against them and kiss him once more. 

“___?”

“Y-yeah?”

“... I checked my phone a moment ago and Yuna ratted you out. She texted me like ten minutes before you came. Said if you don't show up I should knock on your door and fuck your feelings out of you.” You gasp, burying your face with your hands. Sighly dramatically, Jungkook makes a cheeky comment. “Once again, I waited for you.” 

You hit his chest playfully. In pure disbelief, you groan at him. “What? Y-you knew and still made me do the whole speech—”

"I didn’t know!” You ignore his claim. “Although, I wouldn't have had any issue fucking the feelings out of you—"

"Are you insane?" you fume. "I was literally sick to my stomach trying to get this confession thing done right!"

“I was excited!” He teases, and nudges you. You remain annoyed at him. Jungkook can’t help but find it cute. “Awh, ___! Come on. It’s not every day that a guy gets to see his girl in his jersey, holding a towel for him on the sidelines! Also… I just really wanted to see what all your fuss was about. I promise, I didn’t know.”

It’s too late. 

Just as you stand up and storm away from the embrassment, Jungkook catches up to you. Out on the field, the rain continues to pour on you two. Drying him off was useless if you were going to be this dramatic. 

As he catches your wrist, you shove him away and cross your arms. 

“I feel stupid,” you sigh. “Y-you knew how I felt about you. I was worried and anxious the entire time and y-you knew!” 

Jungkook shuts his eyes and can’t believe how feisty you are. It’s entertaining and frustrating at the same time. God, you were so complex… But at the same time, he knows you’re just afraid. This is you finding an out. This is also you trying to stay. 

He takes your hand. 

You don’t shake him off say anything. 

You let him take it. 

He holds it like it’s all he has ever wanted to do (it is all he has ever wanted to do).

“I didn’t know everything! Hey, the fuss was cute,” he ensures you. “Do it again.”

“No!” you cry, feeling your clothes start to stick to your skin. It’s pouring now and you instantly regret being dramatic.

Except, Jungkook looks so perfect. His hair is wet and his shirt is soaked so you can see the way his muscles curve. He’s so handsome that you have to gather all your strength as a woman to keep yourself from jumping on him.

“This shit is so hard!” you complain through the rain. “How did you do this? You confessed like every time we fucked—”

“Yah!” Jungkook warns, feeling a little embarrassed. Maybe he should be the one to storm away now…  “Be nice to me or else I’m about to reject you.”

You roll your eyes at him. Grabbing him by the collar, you tug him to your eye level. Happily, he complies. 

“Do it then,” you call his bluff. “Reject me right now.”

Jungkook looks into your eyes, loving the way you look at him. He blinks at you slowly and bites his inner cheek. For a moment, he’s silent. You’d think he’s contemplating or something… But he’s not. He’s been sure about you since your first laugh, remember?

“Kinda cruel considering you’re all I’ve been waiting for,” Jungkook confesses, as he dips his head low and kisses you. 

As he kisses you, you squeeze his hand. Holding his hand tighter, he smiles into the kiss. The rain continues to pour, making everything feel unreal. As he pulls away, he looks at you the way he always has… This time, you get what Yuna was talking about.

The warmth in his gaze.

The love in it.

The you in it.

After what felt like endless heartache with other boys—this felt healing. 

This was yours. 

Him. 

And that’s when your heart tells you something you never knew… 

You waited well too. 

You two escape the rain and make it to your place.

In your bedroom, you quickly get undressed and sit in front of your mirror to dry your hair. Jungkook comes out of the washroom all clean. Passing by you, he plants a kiss on the top of your head. You watch from the mirror as he reaches inside your closet for one of his shirts. 

Your high from the moment at the field suddenly dies. Suddenly, you realize the confession wasn’t enough to move forward. For fucks sake, he has his clothes in your closet.

“Jungkook?” you ask cutely.

“Mhmm?” he responds as he dresses himself.

You almost choke on your words. “What are we?” 

He grins, coming back to you and swaying you side to side. Without batting an eye, he answers: “friends, of course!”

Instantly, you push him away. Your shoulders slump as you glare at him. He laughs his ass off, loving the way you reacted. When he calms down, he kneels in front of you and apologizes. 

“Okay, bestie,” you play along as he gets up. “Should we eat perilla leaves to celebrate?” 

Jungkook’s mouth drops. His eye practically twitches at the mention of perilla leaves.

Throwing his hands up dramatically, he cries, “Oh god... My girlfriend is so mean to me… She’s so hot, holy shit.”

Girlfriend.

That sounds about right.

He’s so big. 

Sometimes, you forget that.

It slips your mind because Jungkook has always been a giver. You never really had to worry about it being uncomfortable. He makes sure you cum first and always puts his needs above yours—tonight was a prime example of just that. 

As he towers over you, he leaves a trail of kisses from your neck to your lips. Each kiss is so soft and intimate, your pussy clenches at his very touch. It doesn’t help when he places his thumb on your clit, rubbing and stretching it out to stimulate you even more. As you moan into his ear, he feels shivers go down his back. 

You gasp as he bites your skin, enticing you to want him even more. 

“Jungkook,” you breathe, “put it in, please.”

“Mhmm,” he moves the hair strands on your face and kisses you. “Be good for me, okay? Be patient. Gonna fuck you good so I need you to be on your best behaviour.”

“B-best behaviour,” you repeat rather lewdly. “Okay… W-whatever you want, love. You have it. You have me.”

Love.

God, you and your fucking words.

Jungkook bites his bottom lip, trying his best to take his time. Truth be told, he wants to fuck you silly right now. He wants you so bad that your legs won’t work and he’ll have to tend to your soreness. He wants to fuck you so good that you scream his name and lose yourself in him… But he’ll take his time tonight. 

He wants to show you so much. He wants to show you how good he can make you feel. How you won’t ever regret your decision of being with him. He wants to show you what kind of man you chose and what kind of man you get to have.

A good man.

A man that has wanted you for so long that now that he has you—oh was he ready to drag it out.

Jungkook gently places his dick in between your folds. It’s hard and thick. You can feel it against your wet pussy and want nothing more than for him to put it in. Instead, Jungkook lifts himself and sits in between your legs. There, he holds the base of his cock and slaps it against your pussy. He rubs his cock up and down your folds. Then, he splits them open with his fingers and spits on it. He then spreads his spit with his cock. You feel so lucky when he pokes it inside once in a while. Like a tease, he takes it out so quickly that you begin to feel frustrated. 

“P-put it in, please…”

Jungkook smirks. 

“Put what in?”

You glare at him.

“Your hard, thick, stupid cock. Put it in my wet, needy, desperate pussy right now… Please?”

Jungkook lets out a sexy chuckle. “Not yet,” he tells you, as he fully stops. He then moves over and helps you sit up. Leaning against your headboard, he spreads your legs. Just when you think you can predict his next move, he reaches over to your nightstand and grabs his phone. Unlocking it, he passes it to you.

“Film me.”

You nod, following his orders.

Tapping record, you angle the camera to your pussy. You watch through the phone screen as Jungkook positions his face in between your legs. Gulping, you throw your head back as he makes his first lick. 

Jungkook holds onto your thighs, helping you keep your legs open. He digs himself into your pussy, devouring every inch of it. To deepen himself, he digs his nose in and curls his tongue as he licks you. When he pulls away for air, he sucks on your clit making sure to keep you on your toes. 

“Oohhh,” you sob. “S-so good. J-Jungkook—“

“Mhmm,” he murmurs onto your skin. “Tastes so good.”

“A-aghhh! Oh my god!”

The thing is… Jungkook has eaten you out before.

But this was different.

It was slow and sensual. The way he licks you and eats you out just feels so surreal. Your toes curl, your stomach winces, and your pussy tightens as you’re about to climax—

Jungkook pulls away. 

He has a devilish look on his face. You stop the recording and toss his phone aside. Suddenly, he takes hold of your ankles and tugs you down. On your back, you open your arms and welcome him in again. Gladly, he buries himself in your breasts and moans at your softness. 

“That was—“

“Everything my girl deserves,” he tells you sweetly. “My girl…”

“Your girl,” you pull him in for a kiss. “All yours..”

Jungkook moans, unable to stop himself. He lifts his hips, making space for him to quickly pump his cock before guiding it inside you.

… And oh my god.

He feels so good.

Him inside you is so fulfilling and healing. 

“You okay?”

You nod, mesmorized by the man he is.

“More than.”

With that, Jungkook kisses you and begins to fuck you. He thrusts in and out, making you feel his entire length with each stroke. Your body takes him in as if it’s welcoming him home. As he feeds you your craving, he picks up the pace. You wrap your legs around him, moaning from how good it feels as he buries himself in you. 

“F-fuck,” Jungkook hisses. “Love this. Feels so good.”

“Mhmm,” you whimper. “J-just like that!”

Jungkook continues to fuck you, drilling himself deeper and deeper. Soon, you’re chanting his name and his ego begins to boom.

Jungkook fucks you like he loves you… And you know it. You can feel it. To express so, you claw his back. Digging your nails deeper and deeper, holding him close.

“N-nghhh! I’m gonna cum—”

“Cum for me, pretty girl. You behaved so well,” he praises. “Proud of you.”

Your heart flutters. 

Then, your pussy clenches as you release. He feels it. Jungkook groans, accepting that this round will be over soon. There will be plenty more, for sure. As he pumps inside you lazily, cautious of being sensitive to your climax but also because he’s hitting his. 

Then, he creams your pussy. It oozes out, but he pumps himself a few more times to stuff you.

As he spills himself onto you, he lets out heavy breaths and collapses on top of you. You let him catch his breath there as you tangle your fingers in his hair. 

“I love you,” you confess. 

“Good… I was hoping you would.” Jungkook lets out a tired laugh. “I love you too, ___. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. You’re everything I’ve ever loved.”

You hold him tighter.

“I love you more.”

Jungkook bursts into laughter. “Love, we are not going to play that game.”

Tilting your head at him. “Why not? It’s true.”

“You think you love me more than I love you?”

“Mhmm.”

“Prove it.”

With that, Jungkook laughs as you shift position. Leaving him on his back, you climb on top and straddle him. As you lift yourself to guide his dick inside, he lets out a whiney moan. You are so sexy. You are quite literally his favourite part of living.

“I’ll prove it,” you accept the challenge. “Will you last though?”

Jungkook’s lips slight part, amazed and shocked at your initiative. In response, he relaxes and gestures at your body. There’s a tightness that overcomes his entire body. It’s mixed with excitement and relief. For the nth time, he gives in.

Jungkook folds.

Happily, he gives himself to you.

“With you? Forever.”

Forever.

After 3 rounds, you two call it a night. As you drift to sleep, Jungkook holds you. Before this, you two talked as much as you could and even began to make plans. There is an indescribable comfort in being with each other.

Upcoming dates.

Better ways to communicate.

Everything and anything in between—you two want it all.

As the rain pours, Jungkook finally shuts his eyes. He pulls you closer, kissing you for the final time tonight. There would be tomorrow to kiss you anyway.

Tomorrow and the day after that… And the day after that. And the days that follow—he’d do just that.

He can’t wait to kiss you forever.

To hold your hand forever.

To love you forever.

For the first time in a while, Jungkook finds rest. His heart stays still and feels loved. Besides, this is what he has wanted to be all along—

Close to you.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two Three

Dustin looks squirrely, which is as weird as it is nerve wracking for Steve. When Dustin looks squirrely it’s usually shit like he’s keeping a baby fucking demo dog as a pet.

Which Steve just...doesn’t want to deal with it any more. He’s had enough. He needs Dustin to have normal kid shit problems, not apocalyptic ones.

So Steve is, silently, praying to whoever will listen that Dustin wants, like, the sex talk or something, and not that there’s an inter-dimensional creature with a taste for nougat in Hawkins.

“Eddie says he’s okay.”

Which, Steve just kind of shrugs, because it’s the same message Dustin’s been bringing back for months. Nancy and Robin have stopped to listen too. John and Argyle have gone on a snack run and the rest of the kids are outside; so this feels kind of worryingly tactical on Dustin’s part that he’s telling a very select group this information.

“I’m pretty sure he isn’t, though.”

“Okkkayyyy...tell us what’s going on,” Robin leans against the counter, and Steve is so glad Dustin chose to do this with the girls here.

“Well,” and Dustin looks squirrely again and Steve figures he...he thinks he must be betraying Eddie, or something, “I thought he was, at first, you know? He was planning campaigns and writing music and just seemed to be...you know. Normal.”

“But…”

“Well he...the last few times I’ve been there he...he hasn’t gotten out of bed and,” Dustin wrinkles his nose, ready for the big betrayal, “there’s always a lot of empty like, beer cans and stuff and...he smells kind of. Bad.”

The girls looks at each other before Nancy finally says, “we will go and see him, don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”

Steve watches as Dustin relaxes, and realizes for the first time that this was, probably, way over Dustin’s pay grade, emotionally speaking. They are the adults, and dealing with someone who...well, it’s got to be depression, right? Eddie was never okay, he was faking to start with. Even Steve can figure that out from what Dustin’s just said. Just because they’ve dealt with alternate dimensions and world ending monsters, it doesn’t mean that Dustin is equipped to deal with shit like this – yeah, definitely heavy stuff for a kid. And Eddie, would Eddie have been able to fake it if say the girls, or Steve, had gone over? Would they have noticed a problem that Dustin just, didn’t? Because for all they’ve been through, they’re still just kids. Dustin might not have noticed that Eddie was dragging himself out of bed and cleaning up just for the one or two hours a week that Dustin was stopping by.

But Robin would have...and Nancy definitely would have.

And now Eddie doesn’t have the energy to just...fake it any more, simple as.

This is heavy shit, too heavy for Dustin to have to deal with.

And that’s how Steve ends up ferrying the girls to the brand new Munson trailer, right at the other end of the park from where the old one was. Nancy’s in full investigative reporter mode, Steve can sense it. Luckily, Robin goes first, " we shouldn't have left him this long."

Nancy hums in agreement.

The doors not locked and no one answers, so they all end up spilling unceremoniously into the bedroom.

Dustin was being kind; it reeks of stale cigarettes and sweat. He was being nice about the beer cans too; it’s not just beer cans, worryingly there’s also empty vodka bottles and even a couple of wine bottles in the mix.

This is not something that has happened recently; this has been going on for months.

The place is a mess. Like a can’t even see the floor kind of mess.

In the middle of his visibly dirty bedding, Eddie snores on, oblivious.

“Steve, you get him in the shower, Robin and I will clean this up.”

Steve’s dubious, but he shakes Eddie’s shoulder gently. Nothing.

He tries again, firmer this time, and Eddie comes awake with an undignified snort and hands flapping at Steve’s, trying to get the movement to stop.

Steve can hear the girls rummaging out in the kitchen, looking for trash bags and rubber gloves, maybe a box for the bottles.

Maybe two boxes.

Steve shakes him again, “Eddie come on.”

Eddie does blink up at him then, clearly groggy and confused, but he smiles. Smiles so big and happy, he grasps one of Steve’s hands now, rather than trying to push it away, still smiling, he pulls it up to his mouth and kisses Steve’s knuckles softly.

Steve doesn’t know what his face is doing, but Eddie’s frowning, something like realization dawns on Eddie’s face, and then throwing Steve’s hand away like it’s burning him. Eddie moves quick, scrambling to the edge of the bed and leaning over it, and Steve realizes what’s about to happen a second too late; Eddie starts to throw up just as Steve moves, so his sneakers do get splattered a little bit.

Which...Steve’s probably trudged through worse, realistically speaking. There’s not really anything Steve can do about it now, so he gingerly sidesteps the splatter of vomit and, briefly, feels really sorry for the girls, “come on Munson, up.”

Eddie grumbles nonsensically, but does allow Steve to heave him up, his head lolling, still clearly very drunk. Eddie doesn’t put up much of a fight when Steve strips him; made easy by the fact that he’s wearing a stained tee shirt and dirty boxers that Steve abandons in a smelly pile on the bathroom floor.

He’s too thin; far too thin. Barely any weight at all on Steve’s arm, ribs all knobbly and skin stretched strangely over his joints.

Eddie slides to the floor under the warm water and Steve, not wanting to get any damper, makes no effort to stop him. At least sitting on the floor he’s safe; he can’t fall any further. Steve vaguely recalls something about little kids being able to drown in an inch of water, and keeps half an eye on Eddie as he digs around for toiletries.

He finds a sad bar of soap and shudders, but it’ll do. Steve gives Eddie the most perfunctory scrub down ever, doing his best not to look at or be aware of any part of Eddie’s body as he flicks the cloth over it.

The towel that’s hanging up looks dubious, but better than nothing.

Eddie’s showing no sign of rousing; Steve has no idea if he’s just...really really drunk still, or if he’s hiding. Steve’s brain prods at what he saw; Eddie’s reaction to him.

There’s one logical conclusion that he’s trying his best to avoid. Unfortunately, no matter how he angles it...his conclusion remains the same. There’s one obvious answer. Eddie looks like a sad drowned rat under the water, and Steve shuts it off, covering him with the one sad towel.

Eddie shivers without the heat of the water, and Steve tries not to feel guilty. This isn’t his fault. He’s not...if Eddie had a Steve, he’s not him. He didn’t, die, or anything. It’s a bit of a headfuck, and thankfully Robin interrupts by shoving the door open far enough to press through a bundle of clothes; black sleep pants and a hoodie, but better than nothing, “there’s no clean clothes, it’s the best we could find,” she whispers.

Which, okay, they’re kind of musty, but at least not obviously dirty.

Eddie huffs through Steve pulling his clothes on, standing awkwardly as Steve pulls his pants up like you would with a little kid.

Steve dumps him on the couch; immediately feeling bad about the whole thing. Guilt, maybe, but he pushes that away harshly because this isn’t Steve’s fault. It’s no one’s fault.

Well, except for the labs and then One. But there’s no one here to blame and it’s...ridiculous that Steve would feel bad about it.

This isn’t the time. Eddie’s passed out again, so Steve gets a glass of water from the kitchen, leaving it on the table where Eddie will find it, before he goes to help the girls.

“We absolutely cannot leave him here.”

“No, agreed, being alone is not good for him.”

“He’s not alone,” Steve protests, “Wayne’s here.”

“And Wayne works twelve hour nights six days a week and has done nothing about this so far,” Nancy replies, brooking no argument, “we’ll take him to yours, he needs to dry out.”

“Mine?” Steve squeaks, “look, uhm, maybe not mine-”

“Why not yours?” Robin cuts him off, “you have the space, and no one else around. I can come and stay, help you keep an eye on him.”

And although all of that is true, Steve doesn’t know how to tell them what he’s just figured out, and having Eddie in his house feels...awkward as fuck.

Eddie’s like a zombie out of one of his games. He has to be encouraged out of bed, Robin putting herself to the task, and that takes a good hour on the really bad days. He picks at toast. He picks at eggs. He picks at whatever's put in front of him.

He doesn’t fight it when they take the spirits away, he doesn’t fight it when he’s allocated three beers a day; he never looks for more. He doesn’t fight anything. He’s broken. So broken Steve has no idea what to do about it. The kids come and go, maintaining conversation around Eddie that Eddie will vaguely engage with whenever one of the kids addresses him directly.

Otherwise he sits there, inert. The kids talk about school and their nerd games and all that normal stuff, and then they leave again.

Sometimes it’s just Eddie and Steve in the house, and that's enough to make Steve want to throw himself into the lake; Eddie’s presence is uncomfortable, and Steve immediately feels guilt every time he feels like that.

Eddie saved their lives. Eddie fought off actual mind control and took out One like it was nothing. Eddie saved the world, at great fucking sacrifice to himself, and Steve feels like a total dipshit every time he has to remind himself of it.

He has to do something for Eddie. He has to try and get through to him somehow.

He has an idea, and when he tells Robin he’s going out for a bit, she doesn’t question it.

Steve delivers Wayne an update when he picks up Eddie’s records. Wayne seems like a good guy, even though he’s completely out of his depth with Eddie, he seems to be able to roll with the punches. He believes the kids want what’s best for Eddie, and that seems to be enough for him for now.

Eddie’s lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling, seeing nothing.

Steve picks one of his records at random, ‘Holy Diver. Dio,’ and puts it on the record player on low. He has Eddie’s guitar too, his notebooks, the rule books from his dumb game. Steve brings it all in in bits and pieces and leaves it on the coffee table. He leans Eddie’s guitar against the end of the couch.

By the time he’s finished, Eddie seems more alert; is actually watching Steve. Steve gives him a nod, and leaves him to it.

It changes something. Something undefinable. Eddie seems to be...making an effort. Robin says she thinks he’s coming around; remembering how to be a person. She thinks he’s making a good first step. He still drinks three beers a day, but they’re pretty much the weakest ones available and Steve thinks he’s doing it more out of habit than anything. There’s no other alcohol in the house.

What Steve thinks he knows has been gnawing at him too. Bothering his insides. He understands the girls logic; this is probably the best place for Eddie to be, but given what Steve thinks he’s figured out, this might also be the absolute worst place for Eddie to be.

He feels like he’s haunting him; the dead love of Eddie’s life, following him around every single day. Steve can’t even imagine what that’s like; Eddie even just having to look at him must hurt. Other questions always follow, like, why Steve? Was it random? Eddie must be gay, right?

Was Steve just the easiest one for Eddie’s brain to summon up in the moment? Or was there something else there, feelings that were easy to manipulate? Was there a reason it was Steve, or not?

He could spend hours chasing the thoughts if he let himself. Instead he makes himself and Eddie something to eat, a couple of sandwiches, and then takes them through. He sits, eating his own, and watching as Eddie nibbles on his. Things have moved; even as Steve watches, Eddie puts down the sandwich and scribbles in his notebook.

Steve’s just getting up to leave when he stops at the sound of Eddie clearing his throat, he still won’t look at Steve when he speaks, “thanks, uhm, for getting my stuff.”

It’s been a while since Eddie has spoken to Steve directly, and Steve hesitates a second, feeling like this is his chance to try and...he doesn’t know. Say something meaningful. Fix Eddie, somehow, say the exact right thing to make it better, eventually he just says, “no problem, man.”

Eddie nods, Steve waits in case there's more, but there doesn’t seem to be. He makes it to the kitchen door before Eddie speaks again, “you guys, you’ve probably saved my life.”

He is looking up as Steve now, chewing on the end of his pencil nervously, “you saved ours first,” Steve tells him.

Eddie huffs out the smallest, driest laugh, “didn’t realize it was a competition, Harrington.”

Steve leaves him to it, it’s not much, but it’s a start.

“You had a kid, right? Tell me about them?” It’s a push Steve knows. Their brief conversations turning into the occasional ten minutes on the deck when they both go out for a cigarette might have become regular, but they’re by no means secure. Steve might be about to bring the whole fragile thing down, but he needs to know. It’s eating him alive.

Eddie just shakes his head, ‘no.’ and sips at the beer he has. A beer Steve is pretty sure Eddie should not have, even if it is only a psychological thing, at this point, but Robin continues to be adamant that Eddie going completely cold turkey would be a really bad idea, so Eddie continues to have an allowance.

‘Well, fuck it,’ Steve thinks, ‘might as well try it,’ “come on, they were ours, right?”

Eddie snorts, “she was always more like you than-” he stops, cutting himself off. But it’s all the confirmation Steve needs.

Eddie looks at him then, horrified, before scrambling up.

“Eddie, stop, it’s okay-” Steve tries.

“Fuck you Harrington,” Eddie growls at him with more emotion than Steve's seen in Eddie since the whole thing happened, and then throws the beer bottle, not at Steve, exactly, but close enough that broken glass scatters around his shoe, beer smattering the patio slabs and the smell of it rising to fill Steve’s nose almost immediately.

Eddie stomps into the house, and Steve can hear Robin asking what happened, clearly concerned; she must have heard the bottle smash, “I cannot stay here with him,” Eddie spits, before the moment passes.

Robin comes out a moment later, “Nancy’s with him, what the fuck just happened?”

Steve’s a little stunned by the confirmation and then the close run in with the beer bottle, but regardless he wouldn’t hide this from Robin, “it was me, Robs. The...Eddie’s wife? I guess, not a wife, me.”

@autumncrocusandladybug @duckyreads @neonfruitbowl @slv-333 @starlight-archer @skys-archive @justdreamersdream @moomkin77 @prazinos @dragonmama76 @lingeringmirth @darkwitchoferie @weirdandabsurd42 @zoeweee @thennic @xiaq @tinyplanet95 @steddieyourself @chrystal-lovee @futuristicunknown86 @grtwdsmwhr @mugloversonly @wonderland-girl143-blog @a-little-unsteddie @marvel-ous-m @ajeff855 @gutterflower77 @thedragonsaunt @xxbottlecapx @hairdryerducks @catateme9 @gleek4twd @jaytriesstrangerthings @rovia2323 @carlajim98 @stevesbipanic @steddiecameraroll @thermofisherscientific @ninjapirateunicorns @whenindoubtb72 @dreamwatch @spectrum-spectre @eddiethehunted @sticknpokelightningbolt @kittycatcrackhead @hawkinshighflunkee @plasticcrotches @metalmunson @rosered93 @p0lybl4nkk @bluexvelvet @nicememerino @semi-precious-stoner @persnicketysquares @bj-freeplay @practicallybegging @yesdangerpls @cryptid-system @nadineseaday @platinum-sunset @bookworm0690 @clockworkballerina

[imtherain]

How We Used To Be (Forced Closeness)

Oh Hai - Logan has inspired me again. This was supposed to be a very different story and there was supposed to be smut, but it didn't work out that way.

Warnings: Talk of injuries (basically that scene in Logan (2017)), Not smut, almost tho, talk about the past, angst I guess? Old Man Logan, who has issues with intimacy and it's not what you think (or maybe it is). I used y/n but it's in first person and I gave her powers/a mutant name, so idk what that's called.

Old Man Logan x mutant!reader I guess? I'm too old to learn the new tricks of labeling these things, all I know is I've been thirsty for Logan since I was literally 7 years old and this is quickly turning into one of the recipe blogs where you have to read a bazillion words before you see the directions. Sorry

Word Count: 3.2k (don't look at me)

[Masterlist]

[Logan Masterlist]

“You look like shit, love,” I said, leaning in the doorway to the bathroom. Logan’s eyes shot up to glare at me in the mirror. He was bleeding from several bullet wounds and was currently shirtless and heaving over the sink. 

“Get the fuck out,” He ground out. I hadn’t seen him in almost six months. Almost a record.

“Calaban called me,” I told him, knowing he likely knew that was how I ended up here. “I’m glad he did, you’re worse off than anticipated.” 

“If you touch me, I’ll rip your arms off,” A caged animal snapping his teeth. I knew all of his threats to me were empty, but it still made my heart ache that he would rather suffer than let me help him.

“I’m not scared of you,” I told him, pulling myself off the doorframe. I shut the door behind me and crossed the tiles until I stood next to him. He was snarling in general, but didn’t move away when I took a cloth and began to clean the blood from one of the wounds on his arm.

My gift had earned me the name Booster back when things were good and goofy mutant names were all the rage, as my main ability was that I literally boosted other mutants powers when I touched them. I always joked about how it was a lazy XMen name. But now? There weren’t many of us left, no reason for silly code names. But we still stuck together when we could. I told myself that was the only reason I hung around this part of the country still. To be close to the few mutants I knew were left.

Nevermind that it was really the bleeding man in front of me that I stayed for.

“I don’t need your help,” Logan’s voice was quieter now, but still sharp edged like his teeth. I shushed him and wiped at another spot of blood, waiting for him to give in to the knowledge that I could actually make him feel better.

“I’m sure you don’t, but it would make me feel useful to help, would you deny me that?” I quirked an eyebrow at him and he looked away from me. 

“Last time you helped me I hurt you, I’m not letting that happen again,” I reached up and took his face in my hands. His eyes fluttered closed.

“Cuts heal,” I told him. He moved to cage me with his arms for a moment and I was sure he was going to give in. But all at once he shoved me away from him and I stumbled into the wall. “Logan,” I chided. 

“Leave, Y/N,” There was no snarl left in his voice, just defeat. 

And pain.

“No,” I told him simply. “Now are you going to let me Boost you or not?” 

“Last time…” 

“Yeah, yeah, last time,” I rolled my eyes as I cut him off. My abilities didn’t just boost one part of a mutant, it boosted all of them. So in Logan’s case, it made him a bit more animalistic for a time. Made him more likely to use his teeth, or use his claws.

The claws are what got me that last time he kept thinking about. He got me good, I'd give him that, I even had the scars on my ribcage if you looked close enough. But I didn't tell him that.

“If you do that again, I won’t be able to stop myself from…” Logan snarled at himself as a wave of pain contorted his features. “Fuck,” He cursed lowly to himself. I sighed and pulled my shirt off while he watched me in the mirror. 

“I’m a big girl, love, I can handle you,” I half teased, half soothed him. “And don’t forget, I get to keep a bit of what I boost, so anything you do to me won’t last long,” A secondary benefit to skin to skin contact with me. I got to taste the powers that others had. I hadn’t used it on too many mutants in my life. Most mutants didn’t really have powers that benefited from boosting all that much. But Logan and his healing factor? It was useful. Even if it made him extra feisty for a day or so.

It also made him horny usually but that was hardly a complaint from me.

“Fine, but only for a minute,” He finally gave in. I smiled at him and stepped behind him.

“Want me to take my bra off too?” I smirked over his shoulder at him and he shivered, shaking his head no. Too bad I was a bad listener. I shucked my bra and made a big show of dropping it to the floor next to us. Logan let out a shaky breath, knowing what was coming.

We’d been here before.

I pulled his beater out of his pants and slid my hands slowly up his ribs. He grunted as my hands slid over bruises and broken things. I hummed softly as I let my powers unfurl into his skin while I slid his shirt up. I’d learned pretty early on that the more skin that touched skin, the better my boosting worked.

I pressed myself along Logan’s back as I helped ease his shirt over his shoulders and arms. He groaned when the shirt finally came free over his head and joined mine on the floor. 

My arms closed around him, one moving up towards his chest, one circling around his middle. Skin searching skin as he caught my eyes in the mirror. 

“How does it feel?” I whispered against his shoulder. I had aimed for his neck but he avoided me.

“Warm,” He murmured. “Always does,” I pressed a soft kiss to his skin and he shivered again.

Instead of teasing him anymore, I focused on the task at hand, closing my eyes and leaning against him. I could feel my powers seeping into his skin, like sunshine that time we took a bunch of the kids to the beach the summer it was so hot the AC kept going out. I wondered if he ever let himself remember the good times or if he only ever lingered on the bad ones.

Logan let out a shaky breath followed by a deep groan as a bullet pushed free of his flesh. It landed with a metallic thud in the sink, closely followed by a second and a third. 

“Do you know how many there are?” I asked. 

“More,” Was all Logan got out from between his clenched teeth. I adjusted my hold and focused back on my breathing. Healing and boosting were both somehow tied to breath. 

My powers were not a magic fix though either. It still took time. I still remembered the days when he didn’t need me to boost him, but he’d ask just so I’d touch him a little. Back then I’d been shy, always holding his hand, or maybe his arm. I was shy a lot until the day he kissed me the first time.

Then all the cards were on the table…all the clothes on the floor.

A metallic thud on the floor brought me back to the task at hand. I moved my arms to touch different skin and Logan covered my hands with his, holding me so I didn’t pull away. I smiled against his shoulder and playfully nipped him with my teeth.

“And you didn’t want me to touch you a second ago,” I teased him. He growled, low in his throat. The animal was coming up in his chest and I knew what that meant for me. Logan was scared he’d hurt me again, but I knew the risk, and I was eager to face him. 

“That’s enough,” Logan panted, but he didn’t pull my hands away. I waited to see what he’d do, pull away or pull me closer. 

He brought one of my hands up to his mouth and kissed each finger tip. I hummed in pleasure, not so subtly rubbing my suddenly erect nipples along his spine. Another growl and my fingers were suddenly in his mouth.

“Logan!” I chuckled as he nibbled on my fingers. “I know that’s technically skin, but my arm isn’t helping if you hold it up like that,” I tried to pull my hand back and he just grumbled at me. 

“How do you still taste so good?” Logan mused, not expecting an answer. “It’s been years and you still taste just as sweet,” 

“You’re a romantic is why,” I hid my blush from his hungry eyes by dipping behind his shoulder again. Logan pulled me in front of him, caging me between his chest, his arms, and the bathroom sink.

“You should leave now, before it’s too late,” His eyes were hungry in the same way they had always been for me. I reached up and took his face in my hands again, tracing the crows feet around his eyes with my thumbs.

“And miss all the fun?” I mused. He rolled his eyes at me. “And you’re still bleeding,” I pointed out, tracing the one wound on his arm that hadn’t quite healed yet. It must have been the nastiest one because it appeared to be the last one to go.

“Y/N,” he warned. 

“I’ll stop touching you when this one heals,” I told him. “Promise,” it was a baldfaced lie. I wouldn’t leave him unless he bodily threw me out the window. And not only would I not fit out the closest window, he would never dare.

“I don’t know if I can hold out that long,” Logan’s pupils were blown and his smirk was hazy. I knew exactly what he was craving and I was pretty impressed he’d managed to hold himself back as long as he had.

“I can take you, big boy,” I smirked. “Always could and always will,” I pulled myself on his shoulders so that I could press my lips to his. It was just a quick peck, testing the waters. Logan stared at me for a long time, neither of us noticing that the last bullet hole had finally closed. 

But there was still pain in him, still things to heal, so I held onto him, hoping to fix everything I could before he made me leave him again.

Logan finally got himself together enough to push me away from him. I swallowed hard, wondering if he’d be mad that I clung to him as long as I had, wondering if this time I’d sassed my way into making him actually hate me.

His eyes drifted from my flushed cheeks, to my parted lips, down the curve of my neck and the valley between my breasts. I knew they’d seen better days, having drooped with the years, but from the hunger in Logan’s eyes, you’d think he didn’t notice.

His hands moved from my shoulders to my chest and I gasped at the sudden sensation of him pawing me.

“I shouldn’t,” Logan complained into my throat as he dragged his teeth along my pulse.

“I can take it,” I assured him.

“What if I hurt you?” 

“I can take it,” I told him again.

“Fuck,” Logan’s growl tickled my neck as he moved to lift me onto the nearest surface, a sad excuse for a bathroom cabinet that gave way with a crack as soon as he set me on it.

“I’ll fix that,” I told him but he didn’t care, his mouth was on mine before I could come out with another apology. Logan pulled me flush with his chest, off the now broken surface to my feet, and walked backwards with me until he ran into the door frame. 

I giggled a little as he cursed, unclear why this was so difficult. I got us through the door, smiling and pulling on his hands, making sure to keep my skin touching his somewhere. Anywhere.

Everywhere I could reach. 

Logan licked his way into my mouth as we stumbled through the living room, bouncing off the wayward furniture as we made our way to his bed. Finally, something soft to land on.

I was on my back looking up at him. I’d seen him in his prime, when his hair wasn’t graying, when he didn’t keep a beard. I’d seen him when nothing could stop him. And looking at him now, I felt exactly the same as I did back then. Hungry for the animal of him, for the things I knew he could do to me. Lust for the sensations he could cause. And love, still burning brightly after all these years.

Love for the man he was underneath it all.

When Logan didn’t join me right away, I reached up to him and whined, knowing he always liked how desperate I got for him. He shook his head at my shenanigans and I wiggled for him as his hands worked to undo his pants.

“Impatient as always,” Logan chuckled.

“It’s your fault for making me go away all the time,” I countered. His slacks hit the floor and he moved to kiss his way up my bare stomach as he worked on getting me out of mine.

He just grunted as his mouth ran along the skin he exposed when he pulled my pants and underwear down my thighs. I knew it wasn’t the time to bring it up, so I didn’t push him or ask him to ask me to stay.

Logan pressed his face into the soft spot behind my knee and I squirmed as his beard tickled the sensitive skin.

“God you smell amazing,” He mumbled, tracing the inside of my thigh with open mouth kisses. I let my hips relax and fall open for him and his eyes zeroed in on the place that, at the moment, needed him most. With a growl, Logan moved to bury his face in my folds, and I couldn’t help the surprised yelp I let out at his movements. 

There was a time he would devour me for hours if given the chance. A time when he’d want me in any place we were. Broom closets, empty classrooms, offices that we weren’t even supposed to be in. Every hotel and far too many bathrooms. Quickies and love making and slow fucks and even hate fucks now and then. We had everything, but now? 

“Fuck, Logan that tickles,” I wiggled against his face as he breathed me in.

“Shh,” He murmured. “Just let me have this,” 

“I’m trying to give it to you,” I groaned. Logan rolled his eyes at me, but adjusted so that he could pass a long lick of his tongue through me. I shivered at the sensation, a fire sparking along my nerves. I felt his self-satisfied smirk against my core before he moved his mouth against me again. 

“I don’t remember you being this desperate,” He mused, pulling two long fingers through the dampness he’s been lapping at.

“Logan, baby, please,” I begged him to do more than tease me.

“Please what, sweetheart?” Logan’s eyes caught mine as I huffed, annoyed that he wasn’t fucking me yet.

“I want more of you,” I told him. 

“Yeah well, ‘more of me’ ain’t exactly working at the moment,” He admitted. I knew finally growing old had caught up with him in a lot of ways, but my chest ached for him that it came for him this way too. He’d always prided himself on his virality.

“I want any of you I can get, baby,” I smiled at him, reaching down to pull him flush with my chest so I could kiss him again, my mouth opening easily for his tongue to explore. I let my powers unfurl into the kiss, into any skin of his that was touching mine. Trying desperately to let him feel like himself again.

“Hmm,” He mumbled, pulling back slightly. I kissed the side of his mouth, his jaw, as he tried to shake the feeling out of his head. “Warm,” His eyes were suddenly really far away, sleepy. I kissed him again, softer now. 

“It’s ok, baby, I’ve got you,” I told him. He made a grumbling noise in his chest as sleep zapped his strength.

“What did you…what did you do to me?” Logan tried to push himself off of me, but only managed to roll to one side. I held him close.

“Nothing, love,” I whispered, kissing his face again. “Healing is just, just a lot, remember?” 

“But I was gonna fuck you,” Logan mumbled, eyes closed now.

“I know baby,” I smiled gently at him. I had my arms around him still, trying to help him heal some of the damage that the bullets hadn’t caused. “You can fuck me tomorrow,” He tried to move away from me, but he was unable to untangle our limbs before his body told him it was nap time.

I sighed heavily, a bit bummed that neither of us had ended up getting our rocks off, but happy too, that I’d been able to help boost his healing. But I had a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach that he was far worse off than I thought he was. 

When we were younger, he’d almost go into a rut after being Boosted. It was madness but it was always a good time. The last few years, with his body slowing down, the Boosting made him feral, but then he’d pass out for a long time while his body caught back up. The last time I’d been here, he’d fucked me through two orgasms and himself through one, before the sleepiness came for him. That time, he’d lashed out, thinking he’d been drugged. It was like the nights he’d wake up with nightmares, only he’d not gone fully to sleep yet.

Part of me was glad he didn’t try to gut me at least. But my heart clenched at the thought that maybe the end of him was closer than I wanted to believe.

To stave off the tears that were suddenly crowding my throat, I adjusted our bodies so that Logan could use my chest as a pillow. He mumbled something in his sleep, and his arm pulled me closer, holding me like maybe this time he wasn’t going to let me go. I circled his head with my arms, carding my fingers through his hair, happy to be able to comfort him, to allow him to sleep.

For just a moment, it could have been any other day. We could be young again. All of our friends, still alive. I closed my eyes and imagined the sounds of the school. Kids running down wooden hallways, calling after each other. Tears escaped me then, because most of those kids were gone now. And any kids like them, like I had been so long ago now, didn’t have a school to go to. They would be rounded up and killed now. Or taken away to some place horrible. And I knew there was nothing I could do.

Except maybe hold Logan just a little bit tighter, knowing that every fight ever fought for those kids, eventually made its way to him too.

[Another Logan Fic]

[Masterlist]

[Logan Masterlist]

Likes/comments/reblogs directly correlate to how much fanfiction/fanart you see ;)

[simphornies]

Can I please request Vox x Female Angel Reader (PS: Vox doesn't know what was happening to him ever since he met Reader just like in quote he ask himself "Why is my heart racing whenever I'm with her? Why am I short circuiting? And etc)

A/N: Wondrous idea! This one's been brewing for a bit though it is shorter than my other ones. There are two requests for this so for the other person that requested it, worry not! It is on the way!

Word count: 2k (2,041)

Fallen for you [Vox x Angel!F!Reader]

You made the choice to sneak into hell during the extermination. Amongst the chaos you carefully ran around rubble to rubble. Your angelic powers allowed you to heal angels, mortals and sinners alike to which you used to salvage those who could be salvaged.

You kept yourself hidden from the exorcists so they could't drag you back up to heaven on their way back from the massacre. But you didn't could't keep yourself hidden from the VoxTek cameras that roamed and covered the area.

You ran into the nearest building that had three V's plastered on the top, making sure your wings were tucked away. You look around, everyone in the building seemed to be in a trance, their eyes filled with spirals. It creeped you out a bit. You kept your head down as you roamed.

"Well, who do we have here?" A voice came from behind you, the suddenness causing you to jump. You freeze in your tracks, it certainly wasn't an exorcist's voice so you slowly turn around. Your head stayed lowered, "Pardon the intrusion, I'll leave now." You respond.

You tried to walk around the tall figure in front of you but he quickly blocked your way, neon blue shoes stepping closer. You look up slowly, a little scared. You were met with a grinning demon, with a television for a head? You couldn't help but cock your head in confusion.

He chuckles in response, "You must be new here." His hand reached out to you, you shook it, "Vox! Nice to meet you, stranger. And who might you be?"

"It's Y/N." You awkwardly, and nervously, smile at him, "It's a pleasure to meet you but I'll be taking my leave now! Hah..." You pull your hand away but he grabs it back, not allowing you to take a step.

"You're definitely not from around here, sweets." His eye spirals at you. You feel yourself fall into a bit of a trance, "Let's continue our conversation in my office." You weren't able to stop him from dragging you to his office.

When you came to, you found yourself sat on a chair. In front of you is Vox, watching you intently. "I haven't caused anything out of the ordinary. I'd hate to waste your time, this is not necessary-" You try to explain.

A screen comes down next to him before he speaks. "You're not from here." He speaks in a low, distorted voice. The screen shows clips of you flying down amongst the exorcists, wings in plain view, followed by you sneaking around. "You're an angel and you're in my building." His voice sounded threatening. "What business do you have here and why are you helping hell."

"I..." You sigh, "Look. I snuck out of heaven. I don't want to be there anymore and with the exorcists leaving, they most likely have noticed I left for hell. I'm bound to be a fallen any day now and I honestly could care any less. Look, I'll...I'll work for you!" You pleaded, "Please just don't let anybody else know."

.

It's been a while since you struck a non-binding deal with Vox. You two got close after a couple months of him being on guard around you. Well, he's still on guard around you no matter how much you've tried to get his walls down. He kept his end of the stick, reasons unknown to you and told nobody about your secret. You chose to share it with the other Vees though and they were more than glad to have such power on their side.

Vox watched as you conversed with the two, his mind racing as quick as his heart. He didn't understand why in the fuck, his words, he couldn't compose himself properly around you. Your smile alone could make hims heart pound out of his chest. For a while he was convinced it was some angelic power but it was quickly debunked by you. You always smiled and your smile warmed his cold heart, constantly making him short circuit.

He was so lost in thought that he didn't realize you were in front of him, repeating his name over and over. He genuinely thought it was all in his head since his mind was constantly filled with the thought of you. You repeated his name over and over until he snapped out of it.

"Vox? Vooooox?" You repeated until he finally set his gaze on you, "Vox, are you okay? What's going on? You were kinda wonky there for a second. There's sparks coming out of you."

"Y/N! I'm fine. Appreciate the concern," He lied, "I'm just...thinking." He turned away from you so you couldn't see his screen glitching. He pretended like he was just looking out the window.

"Anyways," You looked out the window, admiring whatever he's looking at, the sharks you assume. "Vel and Val said we're going out tonight. And they told me to tell you to dress up, or something."

"Thank you. I'll get ready soon."

"Hey." You place a hand on his shoulder. He finally looks at you, staring into your eyes that hypnotized him better than he could hypnotize anybody. "If you need anything, I'll help you. You know that, right?" Your words received a small smile from him.

"Thank you, angel." Angel became a nickname of sorts from him to you. You smile sweetly at him and head out to get ready.

.

Vox was an absolute mess. He was the last to get ready for once and not Valentino. He wanted to look his best and though this usually wasn't a problem for him, it was now. For some reason he couldn't understand he needed to look his best around you.

Velvette bursts into his room while he's frantically trying to pick a bowtie. "What the fuck is taking so long with you? I expect this shit from Valentino but not from you."

He groans, "I can't pick a damn outfit!" He glitched.

"Why in the dead fuck do you care?" She scoffed, putting his outfit together for him with a swipe of her hand.

"I..." He took a deep breath, "I don't know. I feel like Y/N has some weird angelic power on me. I just can't stop thinking about her ever since I met her. She always short-circuits me, making my fans go on overdrive and-"

"Woah woah woah. Slow the fuck down." Velvette laughed, "You are such a fucking dumbass! You're so stupid." She was now on the floor, cackling at him.

"What?!"

"You like her. You're so dense. Oh my fuck." She gets up, wiping tears off her eyes, "I'm so gonna tell her."

"NO." He yelled, voice distorted and eye spiraling. "I'll do it. Later."

"Bet you won't, pussy."

.

You arrived a little bit after the Vees. You had something, or rather someone, to take care of. Ever since you were officially fallen from heaven, you've gotten quite accustomed to death and the whole "fighting for your life" thing.

Vox was impatiently awaiting your arrival, constantly fidgeting in his seat which earned him a kick or two from both Valentino and Velvette. Velvette caught Valentino up on Vox's situation and he wasn't hearing the end of it for the whole car ride.

He heard heels clicking and he turned a bit too quickly at your arrival. "Y/N! You've fi-finally arrived!" He glitched a bit again at the sight of you. He was never a fan of angels and frankly never understood the whole rave about their beauty but the moment he saw you his mind changed completely.

There you stood in front of him in a blouse and a skirt that hugged your curves right. Eyes were a staple detail in all of your outfits and it showed. You had rings on, few of which had red eyes. Your necklace, a gift from Vox, was his signature spiral eye. It doubled as an alarm for you in case you were in danger, not like you needed it considering you still had angelic powers, much stronger than any overlord but less than Lucifer and his daughter.

He had his arms out for a hug for you, a rare gesture from him. You gave him a tight hug and you swear you felt his circuits warm up again. He was smiling brightly at you, honored to have you in his presence and his life.

"Sorry. Had to deal with a couple sinners. You know someone tried fucking one of Val's employees on the street? For free?" Val almost flipped the table, "It's okay! It's okay. He's locked up in your room."

Val chuckles evilly, "Thank you."

Vox pulls your chair out for you before sitting himself down. The four of you talk business and you took notice of how much Vox kept staring at you. You got a little flustered, constantly fiddling with your hair.

You and Vox kept notice of each other but both of you remained unaware of the looks you received from Valentino and Velvette. They just needed some popcorn and they'd be set. Velvette made up an excuse to walk out to give you both space, dragging Valentino behind her. She placed a hand on Vox's shoulder and whispered, "$500 if you don't do this shit, tonight." She plastered a smile before leaving, "Kisses, darlings! So sorry we couldn't stay."

It was now just the two of you. Vox's heart was pounding loudly and his face was slowly getting brighter. You were pitching him an idea for the next release in VoxTek but you stopped when you saw his screen quite literally not there anymore.

"Vox? You've been glitching a lot lately and I'm getting worried..." You scoot your chair closer to him, "Do you need any parts? I can put them in for you or reboot your system." You put you hand on the side of his screen which jolted him back.

"No! I'm fine. I just," He clears his throat, still glitching out with sparks flying everywhere. "I have a lot on my mind."

"You can talk to me, I'm here to listen." You hold his hand for comfort but this just further heated him up. You feel him clutch your hands for once.

He takes a deep breath in before looking at you, "I have a confession to make. To you." You looked at him worried that he's having business problems, or something. "I like you." Vox felt like a weight has been lifted off of him but now he was filled with an overwhelming sense of fear that you'd reject him.

"Oh, Vox..." You spoke softly, holding his hand closer to you, "I like you too. Is that why you've been glitching lately?" You had an empathetic look on your face.

"You do?" He was in shock. His demeanor was new to you, he was vulnerable.

"Vox. You took me in and kept my secret with basically nothing in return and I am eternally grateful." You smile sweetly at him, "Vox. You didn't need to keep such a thing from me for so long to the point where you glitch and short-circuit. I was so worried."

He let out a sigh of relief, "Oh thank fuck." He felt as if he hadn't been breathing this whole time. He gave you a kiss on the back of your hand, "I will give you everything you ever ask for. I will protect you no matter what. You're such a...a breath of fresh air. I thought you had some angelic power hold on me."

You laugh at his statement, "Angelic power hold, Vox? Really?" You were giggling uncontrollably at this point.

"Shut up!" He said in embarrassment, "Anyways! Y/N, will you be with me for the rest of eternity?"

You gave him a kiss on his screen, "Gladly, Vox."

While you two were cuddling it up in the restaurant while talking about business endeavors, Vox got a text on his phone from Velvette. She had sent him $500 with a text saying 'Treat her right or I'm putting her in my show.' after it.

[rizzanon]

childhood friend! Shinichiro Sano

part 1 | part 2 (here)

childhood friend! Shinichiro who matures quite significantly by the end of highschool, no longer asking out girls at school anymore much to your surprise

"Woah, look at you."

"Hm??"

"It's been months since you last asked out some random girl. What happened to the women obsessed Shinichiro I know?"

"Shut up, it was just a phase. Besides, you made me open my eyes in a way."

"How so?"

"I guess... I'm just waiting to ask the right person out now."

childhood friend! Shinichiro who invites you to witness the disbandment of the first generation of Black Dragons, despite you not being associated with his gang at all

"Why do you even want me to go? The people I know are only just going to be Takeomi, Waka and Benkei."

"Because I want you to be there. Is there any better reason other than that?"

"I suppose not..."

"And maybe it's also the fact that I need someone to watch over Manjiro haha..."

"I knew it."

childhood friend! Shinichiro who gets upset frustrated when you chose to ride with Takeomi instead of him on the day of the final gathering (he couldn't complain about it to you though, you made a fair point)

"Hey come on! Why are you going to ride with him? Takeomi's a worse rider than me y'know."

T- "Fuck off Shin. You don't worry about me stealing your girl from ya'."

"But you are a reckless rider-"

"Come on Shin, you can't expect me, you and Manjiro to be able to sit in one bike, can you? One of us is surely gonna fall off. I'll be fine with Take-chan, okay?"

"Fine..." (He was not fine with it)

childhood friend! Shinichiro who you make fun of when he comes over to you after the disbandment of the first generation of Black Dragons bawling his eyes out (you were prepared for this outcome)

"Glad to know you're still the same crybaby Shin I know."

M- "Haha! I'm gonna tell Emma you're such a crybaby."

"Cut it out you two! This—sniffs—is a special moment...!"

"You're lucky I brought tissues to wipe your tears away."

"I can't believe you know me that well."

childhood friend! Shinichiro who gets used to you coming over to the Sano household unnanounced whenever you pleased, not that anyone minded, since they all loved your presence

"Emma, be a dear and wake up Shin? Smack him if you have to."

E- "Okay!!"

"Woah, woah, there's no need to smack any—yawn—one. And why are you here?"

"Emma wanted me to teach her a new recipe to make for breakfast. So here I am!"

"And you decided to come over this early??"

"It's 7am Shin. Besides, don't act like you don't like seeing my pretty face the first thing in the morning~"

"Shut up." (Spoiler, he does)

childhood friend! Shinichiro whom you never grow apart from even after highschool, and you both started going on different paths, him opening up a motor bike shop while you started going to college and applied for a part time job as a cashier near the vicinity

"Wait, the shop you're working at is the one down the street, right? Just a few blocks away from my shop?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Great, looks like I can go say hi to you whenever I want."

"Don't you dare do something stupid to get me fired, Shin."

"No promises, ma'am."

childhood friend! Shinichiro who after miserably failing 5 times asks you for your help to bake a cake for Emma's birthday

"And what is this supposed to be?"

"Clearly, it's supposed to be Ariel, y'know, the princess mermaid??"

"That's your best attempt at making an ariel themed cake?? Now I know why you were begging for me to come over when you called me."

"I blame it on Manjiro for ruining the frosting."

M- "Hey! It was you who ruined it."

"So not true."

"I think the both of you should just shut up and help clean up this mess first."

childhood friend! Shinichiro who's gotten used to his siblings asking him where you were whenever you weren't seen with him and getting teased about it

E- "Neh, Shin-nii, where's [name]?"

"Probably stuck in another class, why do you ask?"

E- "I miss her."

M- "Idiot, we already saw her this morning."

E- "Hey! Don't act like you don't want her to come and play with us too!"

"Seriously you two, sometimes I wonder if I'm your older sibling at this point, with how much you ask for her."

M- "Shinchiro, we all know you love her as much as we do, maybe even more~"

"Shut your mouth Manjiro 💢"

childhood friend! Shinichiro who always shows up to your workplace when your shift is almost going to be over, always claiming that he was hungry and wanted to buy something, when in reality, he's there to send you home

"So..."

"And what the hell could you possibly want from this humble store, Shin?"

"Woah, woah! Can't a customer walk around the store to see what they want to get?"

"The last time you were here you knocked down a stack of cans on display, the manager almost reduced my paycheck because of that."

"In my defence, I didn't see the stack of cans."

"Suree you didn't."

"Hey, come on now! You know I wouldn't do anything to jeopardize your job.. on purpose at least...."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. Now, would you be so kind to get me a pack of cigarettes, y'know, for a very dear friend of yours?"

"The only think you'll be getting from me is a pack of gum, rotten breath."

"Rude... now come on, when does this shift of yours end anyways? Let's get dinner on the way back."

childhood friend! Shinichiro who becomes your gossip and vent buddy whenever he sends you home after your shift, with him hanging onto every word you say, and hating on whoever you hate even if he doesn't know who the hell they are

"Argh, goddamnit, won't she just give me a break already?"

"Who? Wait—no, let me guess. Is it that girl from your econs class? What's her name again? Ka—Ka something..."

"Kazumi. Wow, didn't think you'd actually remember, well somewhat remember at least."

"With how much you complain about her, who wouldn't? But let me guess what she did to aggravate you this time."

"Go on. No guarantee that there'll be a prize for that though."

"She ditched a group project discussion again? Or she claims she's too busy to complete her part of the project when in reality she's going on parties and all that?"

"Mix of both actually, so congrats! No prize for you though."

"Aww. And here I thought you'll reward me for being a good friend."

"Argh, I should ask Takeomi or Benkei to intimidate her into actually taking this group project seriously or something..."

"Why ask them when you have your number one ride or die partner next to you to do so?"

"What'll you do? Intimidate her with the 20 rejections you've gotten? Pfft, she might even make that 20 become 21 before you intimidate her."

"I thought we swore to never talk about that ever again 💢"

childhood friend! Shinichiro who's grateful to you for bringing him his lunch to his shop whenever he leaves it at home and enjoys groans whenever you nag to him about the importance of not skipping any meals

"Guess some things will never change, huh?"

"Huh? Oh, is that my lunch?"

"No, no, it's my supper."

"Ha. Ha. Very funny [name]."

"I deserve more credit for making sure you don't skip your meals."

"Is that so? Would you like me to get on my knees and thank you? I can certainly do that."

"You and your cheesy lines... when will you learn to remember to bring your own lunch to work? You're pulling off the same shit you did back when we were in highschool."

"Maybe I just like your meals better than mine..."

"...??!... That... That still isn't an excuse for you to not bring along something to eat, dumbass. What would you do if I decide not to check in on you, hm?"

"Probably starve to dea-"

-smacks his head-

"Oww??? Alright, alright, sorry I guess, 'mom'. I won't purposely skip my meals ever again..."

"Good... next time, just... ask if you want me to cook extra for you."

childhood friend! Shinichiro who notes how you start to stand one arm's length away from him whenever you're with him, and when he asks you about it, becomes visibly distraught to hear you say he reeks of cigarette smoke

"Hey... why're you standing so far away from me? Don't tell me you came over to my shop just to see me work from a distance now.."

"You just stink, that's all."

"What??!? I definitely don't stink. I took a shower this morning, and I'm not covered in grease or anything..!!"

"It's that smokey smell that's always lingering around you. Y'know, because you like to smoke every now and then.."

"Huhh?!? What're you saying!!"

"Don't tell me you don't reek of cigarettes Shin. It's blatantly obvious, I can probably even smell you from a mile away like this."

"WHAT?!? WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME THIS EARLIER???"

"Because I didn't want you to make you self-conscious, stupid! Besides, it's not like I can force you to stop smoking or anything.."

childhood friend! Shinichiro who slowly stops smoking as much as he used to, especially around you so that you wouldn't be disturbed by his smell and stay close to him

"Huh?"

"What is it?"

"Eh... it's nothing important."

"Oh come on, you clearly have something to say. Cat got your tongue or something? Taken aback by my good looks?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever you say. You just... smell different, that's all."

"Is smell all you care about? What are you, a dog?"

"Fuck you."

"Yes please."

"Wha-?!?!"

"I'm joking." (He wasn't really)

"And I probably smell good because I put on this new cologne I got."

"Pfft, to mask off the fact that you're a smoke addict?"

"Hey! Might I inform you that I haven't picked up a cigarette for the past two weeks now."

"Really? Wow, I'm surprised. What made you stop?"

"You. Well, more precisely, you avoiding to get close to me because I stink."

"...?!?" (You were speechless and flustered)

childhood friend! Shinichiro who gets jealous upset when his friends flirt with you right in front of his face, not knowing that they're doing this to get him riled up enough and grow balls to finally confess to you

T: "Say, [name], you got a boyfriend or anything?"

"..?!?! Wha- Why're you asking her that-"

T: "What? Can't a man be curious? Besides, no boyfriend would be pleased if their girlfriend is hanging out with her 'guy' friend and his siblings 24/7."

"Very funny Take-chan. If that's your logic, then I believe you already have your answer."

B: "That's suprising. I was sure a pretty girl like you would have many guys chasing for you."

"...! I'm flattered, Keizo-kun. But I doubt that's the case, haha."

"Oi, you guys, stop bugging her like this..."

T: "Ya'know, I'm pretty sure most girls like strong guys, right? Shin's pretty weak to stay by your side."

"Oi-"

T: "But, he makes it up with his charm and caring side, so I guess you have it good [name]."

W: "Well, that's Shin-chan for ya, so you don't have to worry about him not treating you right, [name]. But if he doesn't, you cant count on us to beat him up for you."

"I.... wow, okay...?"

"?!? Oi, you guys!!? Now you're scaring me!!"

childhood friend! Shinichiro who confronts you one day, telling you all about how his friends and family keep on teasing him about how you and him should date and how he also really liked the idea of that

"Hahaha! Really? Manjiro did that?? I can't believe I missed that!"

"It's painful y'know! Can't believe he's only 12 years old and pulling off roundhouse kicks like that. And to my face too!"

"Well, what'd you do this time?"

"Wha-?!? I can't believe you're so quick to take his side. Both you and Emma."

"What can I say? Both him and Emma are my favourite Sanos after all."

"Gasp After all these years, you're choosing them over me?!? I'm disappointed, [name]. I thought you knew better 😔"

"Cry about it then."

"Mean..."

"But he must have a reason for doing that to you though, right?"

"I mean... it's kind of stupid, really."

"Oh? Do tell whatever the reason for the 'invincible Mikey' to roundhouse kick you. And for Emma to take his side on the matter."

"Ah... they're just mad that I apparently haven't made you my girlfriend yet."

"Huh??"

"I know, stupid, isn't it? They both have been bugging me about this for years now, claiming that they 'want you to be their actual sister'. What's worse is that gramps has the same sentiment as them too."

"Seriously? Sano-sensei as well?"

"Yup. He says he doesn't mind having you as his "granddaughter-in-law" and that you're the only person I ever truly listen to. Bullshit by the way."

"Is it it really though?"

"That's not the point. Hell, even the guys are teasing me for not making it official with you yet. Bugging me about it whenever we hangout, saying that if I don't act soon, they'll steal you away from me."

"I-.... wow... I guess that explains what happened the last time we hung out."

"Yeah, sorry if their words bothered you."

"No, no it's fine. But I'm just wondering... what do you think about all this?"

"Huh?"

"Like.... with everyone bugging you, and well me about this, what are your thoughts on us dating?"

"...?!?... I guess.... I don't mind that..."

"Really? I'm glad then."

"Huh? What do you mean."

"I guess I don't mind us dating as well."

".....Wait..., so are you saying I can be your boyfriend?!?! Really?!?"

"Yes! I'm saying you can be my boyfriend, and I can be your girlfriend, idiot."

"I'm actually so happy right now I could literally kiss you."

"Then do it, Shin. Who's gonna stop you?"

a/n: i love him so much oml, thinking about writing longer fics about some of these scenarios

m.list

[anime-grimmy]

Soooo, you've probably noticed Ive been replaying HZD recently so my mind's been stuck on the franchise for a while.

I finally took the time to actually try and experience Burning Shores for the first time, this time with an unbiased opinion.

Bcs, ngl, when it came out, I was very negative towards it for a couple of reasons. It already started out with me not being able to freaking play this DLC, even though I was so excited for it, cos while HFW was on PS4, the DLC wasnt. And Im wasnt going to buy a whole ass PS5 just for a DLC.

(I will get it once I buy a PS5 for MH Wilds though).

And then, ofc, the elephant in the room - Seyka, or rather Aloy's relationship with her.

I'll preface this with, though it should be obvious with my content, I do NOT have a problem with Aloy being in a gay relationship.

What rly irked me, and honestly still irks me, is that Aloy finally gets to experience new feelings IN A FUCKING DLC. AN EXTENSION A LOT OF THE PLAYERBASE WONT PLAY.

The second reason I didnt enjoy this decision was bcs it felt so rushed. I mean, we're talking about Aloy here! Miss "I dont have time for feelings bcs I gotta save the world"! Miss "I barely just learnt to let others in"!

From what Ive heard, the DLC is over the course of a few weeks/months, so it's not like they fell in love just like that, but Ive also heard that while playing you do not get a feel for that passage of time. I'll have to experience that for myself though.

Now that Ive had some distance from the franchise though, my feelings have changed a bit

Im not going to lie and say I now loooove this decision. No, I am still miffed such enourmous character developement for Aloy is stuck IN A DLC. Not to mention that it was such a bold move to try this with a new character, cos this relationship being perceived well hinges on the player liking Seykay and that fast. Imo she's a fine character but also nothing special.

Now, I do have to say, I am really happy that Aloy has finally come so far that she allows such intimate feelings to develop, or rather, that the devs let her be this way. I know a lot of us still perceive Aloy as this single minded protag, that wont let anyone in bcs "the mission is too important", so Im glad Guerilla shows us that Aloy has undergone quite the growth.

Im also pleasantly surprised that Guerilla has the guts to include romance for Aloy, bcs they were one leg in the "strong women need no (wo)men" pit, so it's great to see they dont let Aloy fall into that trope.

Now, for the FUN part.

I actually have a conspiracy theory, ie I am gaslighting myself on why such a big thing is stuck in a DLC.

I think Guerilla is testing the waters to see how players react. I am pretty sure they can gather the data on what dialogue options players used, so Im thinking this:

Guerilla is trying to gauge the player reaction on a) Aloy developing feelings, b) players thinking Aloy is ready/willing for a relationship, c) same sex relationships. They tried killing quite a few birds with one stone.

I have seen quite a few teasing, winky face posts and replies from Guerilla staff about romance options in the third installment, so my guess (delusion) is that the relationship is hidden in the DLC so Guerilla can plan on how much and obvious to include several romance options in the last title.

I know this is all just wishful thinking, but even if Seyka is a good character, I hope to fucking god that they dont just take that relationship decision away from us, esp with a character bound to a DLC.

Guerilla gave us such a wonderful cast of characters over the last two games, and if they want to give Aloy an "end game" in the third title, I hope they do let us choose with who. Or at least I hope they dont force a relationship we cant choose onto us.

Cos as much as Aloy is her own person, it is still US that make the decisions in game. Through our individual playstyles , we give Aloy our own interpretation. Now, we cant change her core values, but still, I hope to GAIA that Guerilla will give us enough wiggle room.

(Guerilla, Im begging you, Ive already waited 8 years, please dont let my ship sink)

[majinbangus]

What happens when soap's on again and off again gf finds out he got someone else pregnant? And do you think she would try to keep him from his children and reader?

Also I hope Soap tells his mom and she chews him out for not being better to reader 😭 (I also want Soap's mom know already that she's going to be a grandma to twins and just kept it from Johnny for reader's health too.)

i struggled with this one, but it turned out hopeful in the end i hope its good

"What're you doing here?"

You don't know what hurts more: the way he said that as if he doesn't want you there (which he probably doesn't; you don't want to be there, either, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt any less), or the apprehensive look he doesn't bother masking. He's never really been one to hide his emotions, but would it have killed him to pretend to be on amicable terms with you for at least a couple of hours? Dumbass.

"I'm doing great, MacTavish, thanks for asking." You go for an overly friendly inflection, but anyone listening in would be able to hear the biting undertone in your sarcasm. "How have you been? Wonderful, you say? That's absolutely grand. Glad to hear it. Truly, thank you for taking the time to welcome me into your home."

You attempt a smile, but from the way Soap's expression pinches at it, it more than likely comes off as a poorly veiled scowl. You can't bring yourself to care. You're more focused on keeping yourself from breaking down, rubbing your hand almost obsessively over your belly, trying to calm yourself with the soothing motion. Soap looks down at it, face flashing with something. You're tempted to call it regret. Whether that's for knocking you up or for hurting you just now or something else entirely, you have no clue. He clenches his fists.

"... Does my family know that you're... that I'm..?"

That's what he's concerned about? Fucking prick. You're half-tempted to announce it to his whole family now. You didn't even want to be at his family gathering in the first place, but Mrs. MacTavish insisted, and you adore his mother (so much so that you’re afraid of her, too). It's been months since you last saw all the MacTavishes in person (for obvious reasons), and you know if you refused another invitation, the woman, though getting up there in age, would've dragged you to the party herself.

You rub your belly a tad faster, and his eyes dart down to the anxious movement again. "No, MacTavish, your family does not know you got me pregnant, so you can stop worrying. I... wasn't planning on telling them. Not now, at least. Or ever. I don’t know. I’m still thinking about stuff."

Perhaps it's the right call, perhaps not (it most likely isn’t), but the tension that visibly leaks out of his body offends you. 

"That's... probably for the best,” He exhales slowly.

“For you or for me?” You snark and he at least has the decency to wince.

“Hen… Princess–”

“Don’t call me that.” You curl your lips at him, teeth bared. A bitter kind of hurt grinds within your chest. He only called you that once before. For one night. It meant nothing to him, but everything to you. “Don’t pretend to care; you never called back to talk like we agreed. You’re such a prick, MacTavish.” 

“You never reached out, either,” He shoots back with a defensive frown that doesn’t feel justified. “And I have a reason for not calling back earlier…”

“Was that reason your girlfriend?”

His silence is telling.

You scoff with a derisive laugh. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Hey, it’s not like that,” He tries to protest, but you remain staunch in your acrimony. 

“Sure, it’s not.” You roll your eyes. “If it isn’t anything else, then what is it?”

“We,” Soap hesitates, breaking eye contact to focus on where your hand is on your stomach. He swallows, rephrasing himself. “After our phone call, I brought up what happened between us… Tried to explain what happened… Communicate with her since that was always a problem we had.”

“And?” You prompt after he falls silent for a few seconds, though you think you can predict where this story is going.

“She didn’t take it well.” He continues, “We’ve been fighting about it. Trying to come to a compromise, but she’d rather I cut contact with you.”

“You… don’t want that?” You smother any bit of hope you feel. You have to.

He doesn’t answer the question verbally, merely shaking his head. It doesn’t feel like a good enough response, but you can’t push him on it because then he’s talking again. “We’re not wanting the same things. Every conversation about it–” about you “–turns into an argument, and we’ve decided to…”

“Go on a break?” You fill in, but he shakes his head again, avoiding your gaze.

“I think it’s permanent this time.”

Oh. That’s… skeptical. After years of watching them go back and forth, it’s hard to believe the permanence of their breakup. You wouldn’t be surprised if that changed as soon as next week, or even tomorrow. But maybe it’s true this time. Maybe they won’t reconcile. If that’s the case, you are glad he’ll be out of such an exhausting relationship, but you won’t let yourself believe he’ll develop feelings for you. 

“I’m sorry,” You offer instead and Soap chuckles humorlessly.

“Do you mean that?”

“I don’t, but I know she was important to you.” Probably still is, but you won’t dwell on that. “I’m still upset with you, though.”

He chuckles again, a little more genuinely this time. It’s almost enough to make you smile. Almost. “Aye, I know. I deserve it.”

“You do.” And maybe a slap. A cathartic slap. Perhaps not for him, but it might do you good. “And you’re still a prick, but now that you’re not… occupied… Can we figure everything out?”

It’s small, but you can’t help that spark of hope that blooms in your chest at the soft smile he gives you.

“I’d like nothing more, Princess.”

(His mother heard the whole thing. She’ll discuss it later with the both of you. But for now, she’ll stay out of it and let you two work it out before getting involved. She just hopes her idiot son doesn’t mess things up with you. 

She much rather prefers you over his ex, after all.)

[coffincestuous]

kit9 progress report #9

happy september!!! progress report time!!

to start, we’re given these images:

ashley doesn’t look her best here :( she’s pissed off. there are bags under her eyes. she has a bruise on her face (or blood?). this is not a girl who is having a good time

then we have… this? we’re back to the woods!! i wonder who Square Head and Cone Head are?? i wonder what ashley SAID!!! and what’s with the colorful flowers at the bottom??

(not to mention, they could totally sacrifice these people, and pretty easily too!)

next, we finally have some development progress reporting from kit9!! apparently episode 3A is super long & they’re trying to find a place to end the episode and start another one (4), but they haven’t been able to. they’re adding another several months to their estimated release date, which was previously “sometime in 2024” and is now “sometime in 2025… maybe”

they say, once again, that episode 3 (A and B) will be bigger and longer than episodes 1 and 2 combined, so episode releases won’t be as quick as they had been previously

finally, we have an episode three preview clip!!! it’s titled “voicemails” and the thumbnail is julia on the phone

a summary of the video for those who don’t want to watch, or can’t:

julia and andrew are in julia’s room. she tells him to listen to the voicemails she’s been getting on a daily basis. he declines, saying he’s “had [his] fill,” but julia insists

julia thinks that they’re from ashley, but she doesn’t know for sure because the voice is distorted. the voicemails contain graphic descriptions of julia’s “oncoming, painful and slow death” and then talk about how andrew would rather have sex with ashley than with julia. julia is disappointed in andrew’s lack of reaction to the upsetting content of the voicemails, and implies that he was previously upset about julia receiving these messages, but now he doesn’t care

she brings up the fact that she thinks ashley is sending these messages to her, pointing out that only ashley would use the word “floozy,” and andrew (probably lying) denies thinking that ashley has sent these.

julia disagrees, asking if he really thinks that some girl from college is pretending to be his sister and claiming that they’re a little too close, just to get julia to break up with him? he counters with “it’s working, isn’t it?” julia again disagrees, saying that she really does think that ashley is sending these messages. andrew then mentions that people teased him and ashley in high school for “keeping it in the family.” julia says that his relationship with ashley can seem incestuous, to which andrew reacts by slamming the phone back on the receiver, and getting really pissed at julia

julia gets scared of him, which makes him backtrack very quickly and clairify that he’s upset that julia would “think so lowly” of him. he says that he thinks she’s a wonderful person, while she thinks that he’s a “piece of shit” who “probably fucks his sister.”

julia then starts crying, denies thinking that he and ashley are having sex, and apologizes for starting a fight. andrew hugs her and says it’s fine, it wasn’t a fight, but he’ll “forgive her” either way

finally, andrew decides that they should “stay in after all” and it ends with julia saying she forgets what she even wanted to talk to andrew about

it’s fun to see andrew’s more… “genuine” side, even if he’s kind of an asshole. i guess “authentic” is a better term there. i think there’s an interesting contrast between how he acts with julia versus how he acts with ashley, and i’m so glad that we get to see more of him and julia!!! his lack of reaction to the threats against julia is so, so telling. it makes me think back to the part of episode 2 where andrew can bring ashley into the cult party and the cultist calls ashley a bitch and he immediately gets in the cultist’s face to defend her. there are some similarities between how he acts when he has upset each girl, but he doesn’t excessively compliment ashley when they fight. he doesn’t have to worry about ashley crying when he’s rough with her. he doesn’t have to worry about ashley breaking up with him because they’re not dating and she’s his sister

(chosen family is just as valid as blood family, but with andrew and ashley, their codependency shines)

i love how manipulative andrew is. don’t get me wrong, i’d absolutely hate him irl, but i love him as a character. he’s an asshole. he’s charming. he knows what to say to get people (like julia) to feel guilty of accusing him of something he’s thought about on more than one occasion. he knows that if he acts mad towards julia, that she’ll start fawning and apologizing, and he uses that to his advantage. he is not normal (affectionate)

and i’m glad we get solid “proof” that andrew is just as bad as ashley. before, people have argued that there’s plausible deniability, but now?? omgggg. especially when he’s hugging her, saying to julia the things he wishes he could say to ashley instead… they make me crazy. absolutely insane. i am so fucking excited for episodes 3 and 4

[discokicks]

WHISKEY, TANGO, FOXTROT - ROY KENT.

PART FOUR OF ACES AT THE WATER'S EDGE.

(series masterlist!) (AO3!) (series playlist!)

pairing: roy kent x fem!reader (no use of y/n!) summary: it's your first game of the season at chelsea and rebecca’s got some press for you to do. however, thanks to rupert, the reporters will have some questions you’re not exactly ready for. the same could be said for 2012 roy kent, who’s abusing his new avoidance power to the fullest extent. but, as the two of you continue to work and get closer, you realize that there might just be something else there.

word count & rating: 15.4k (holy fuck this is why it took 6 months), R (language per usual) chapter warnings: swearing, references to sex, minor allusions to sexual harassment, mentions of alcohol, the beginnings of sexual tension (slow and steady wins the race), rupert is a dick, roy kent has got around and everyone knows it, keeley and rebecca are wine drinking pr besties, men are trash (but we know this) author's note: long time no see and happy olympics season! it felt fitting to post this now, so I got motivated to get my ass into gear and write. there's A LOT to this one, so buckle up. and make sure you stay until the end bc baby we're cooking with gas now. this took a lot out of me, so i hope you enjoy! love u tons! -mags

LONDON OLYMPICS, LATE JULY, 2012.

You’re up 1-0 when you retreat into the locker room at halftime during your third game of the Olympic Tournament against North Korea.

Despite the fact that you’re winning, it was a terrible showing from each of you, except for Mel, who’d been your lone scorer of the night. She’d had a breakaway and had managed to single-handedly beat three defenders for a pretty impressive goal. You’d practically jumped into her arms during the celebration, glad that someone was able to break the sleepy curse that had seemed to be placed on your team.

Your captain Katie O’Connor stands tall at the front of the room, ready to rip you guys a new one. She was the more… passionate of your three captains, potentially coming off as abrasive when things weren’t going your way or if she felt that things could be better. It was only because she cared so much. You all did.

“We should be beating them by four at this point,” she says, pointing out the door. A mumbling of agreements goes through your team, knowing that it’s the truth. “We’re playing like it’s fucking high school out there. It’s the fucking Olympics, act like we belong here, for fuck’s sake.”

The amount of ‘fucks’ that Katie drops instantly has you thinking of someone else. God damn it, he was probably watching, wasn’t he? You could only imagine the things he was thinking, or saying, for that matter. 

You know you shouldn’t care as much as you do, but… as much as you hate to admit it, you want to impress him. Or at least make it look like these training sessions have been worth it. There was something about him that made you want to prove yourself. It wasn’t that he demanded you to do so or that he’d value you less if you didn’t, but you wanted to. Unfortunately, you cared about his opinion. How tragic was that?

Curiosity gets the best of you. Before your coach can come into the locker room, you fish through your bag and take a peek at your phone, just to see if he, or anyone else, has said anything.

Sure enough, you see that you’ve got two texts from Roy Kent that were sent five minutes ago, right when you finished the half.

What a fucking atrocious half. I fucking dare you to hit the post one more time.

A scowl pulls at your lips, but you know it’s true. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t already thought yourself. He had an extraordinary talent for knowing how to be exactly the brand of jackass that pissed you off, though. It only became more apparent as you read the next message.

You could learn a thing or two about footwork from Rivera.

You scoff, glancing over at Mel, who, while she sat next to you, was staring blankly at the wall, undoubtedly in her own little world. Before she notices you looking, you’ve turned back to your phone and to his messages. “Asshole,” you mutter, but type out your response.

maybe i’ll get her to coach me then. she isn’t as much of a dick to me.

The response comes before you can put away your phone. Not your coach, he says, then sends another message. Relax out there. You’re somehow playing nervous and stiff at the same time. You’re a fucking anomaly. But before you can frown too hard at that, he says, You know how to see the field. So take a breath and fucking see it.

You throw your phone back in your bag with a huff, mind reeling as you attempt to think back to what the field looked like before the half. The last three possessions had you following Mel as she took the ball up the field. The defense had started favoring her side due to her dominance throughout the game, leaving… 

…Katie on the left side. And while they hadn’t left her open—

“Did you call me an asshole a second ago?” Mel asks from beside you, having broken out of her own trance. You flinch at the sound of her voice, instinctively flipping your phone over and against the bench you’re sitting on. 

She courteously spares you the weird look you know she’s holding back. “No,” you reply. You motion to your phone. “Roy’s texting me.”

Mel nods in understanding. “Gotcha. What’s Coach Kent have to say?”

“He’s being an asshole,” you repeat. “He says we’re ‘atrocious.’ Making fun of how much I’m hitting the post.” You turn to her. “He’s got good things to say about your footwork, though.”

Mel grins. “I knew I liked him.”

You scowl again at that. “He’s also telling me I need to see the field better.” Mel raises her brows at the look on your face, cueing you to go on. “I think Katie’s been open-ish for the last three possessions. They’re favoring your side.”

The two of you look back to your teammate once more as you consider this. “We could keep trying to draw the defense out,” Mel offers. “We scare them a little bit, hit her when she’s coming up.”

“She can beat that fullback in a heartbeat,” you agree.

“It’s worth a shot,” she says. “We can’t play any shittier than we already are.”

You nod at Mel with faux enthusiasm. “That’s the spirit.”

And that’s exactly what you decide. Mel jumps to her feet and explains your plan to Katie and the team, drawing up the X’s and O’s on the locker room whiteboard. You glance around the room cautiously, forcing yourself not to read into your teammates' expressions too deeply. 

But it’s hard. Especially when you’re an overthinker.

It’s a title you’ve resigned yourself to, much to Roy’s pleasure. Whether you wanted to admit it or not, it was the truth. And while you were still working to get out of that lifelong mindset, it didn't seem to be getting any easier. 

But your over-analyzing leads you to a result you like: all of your teammates seem to be on board with your ideas. You can’t deny that that feels good.

You especially can’t deny it when your coach walks into the locker room to see Mel’s play on the baker and says, “Well, you ladies are way ahead of me.” Because that’s exactly what she was going to draw up.

That feeling has you giddily awaiting the moment you can grab your phone before you head back out to the field to send a text to your newfound trainer. 

i’ll have a shot on net in the first ten minutes, you type to him, confidence radiating through the text. and it’s not gonna hit the post this time.

Your message reaches Roy when he returns to his phone at the beginning of the second half. He can’t help the chuckle that escapes him as he settles back into his couch, shaking his head when he glances up at the massive TV in his sitting room, the broadcast showing a close-up of you with a new sort of fire in your eyes. It’s a look that illuminates his dim and quiet flat, one that he can’t seem to part with until they cut away from you.

Within four minutes and fifty-five seconds, you draw the defense over to you and Mel, who wails the ball over to Katie’s side of the field. Katie has possession of it for five seconds before she catches her defender off-guard and sends it in between her legs to you. 

Five minutes in, you live up to your promise and send the ball into the corner of the net, the crowd roaring as Katie shakes you back and forth in excitement and Mel jumps on your back. One of the cameramen runs up to you to catch your celebration, and you stare down the lens with a satisfied smile and point in a way that tells Roy that you’re looking directly at him. 

He couldn’t stop himself from grinning even if he wanted to. With yet another shake of his head, Roy reaches out for the phone he’d thrown onto the couch cushion next to him.

I told you. Fucking anomaly you are, you stupid fucking Yank, he writes. Stay pissed off. It’s a good look on you, Fourteen.

When Roy sends that text, he keeps his phone closer to him this time, and somehow, his dim and quiet flat feels just a bit lighter, even if for a brief moment.

PRESENT DAY, MID-AUGUST, 2023.

Before you can leave the Richmond facilities post-Saturday afternoon practice, you’re suddenly called into Rebecca Walton’s office.

It’s a day before your first game of the season and after your rather animated talk with Roy in the Boot Room yesterday, you’re feeling a bit lighter. You slept better last night (though you don’t see yourself hitting REM any time soon) and don’t feel like you’re being dragged down by the massive weight of… well, everything. It’s a feeling you’re taking in stride and one you’re welcoming with open arms. 

Practices before game days were typically a bit easier-going, and you and your fellow coaches had decided to make sure the team was up to date and understood the best plays to run against Chelsea tomorrow. They knew who to stop, what defenses to watch out for, and what trick plays to expect. While you hadn’t lent your voice to the conversation as much as you probably should have, especially after being yelled at for it yesterday, you spoke more than usual. While that still wasn’t a lot, it was enough. And that made you feel good, above all else.

That feeling goes away the second you walk into your boss’s office to see her and an incredibly familiar face staring at you from the couch area. Your lips part the second you see her, hand unsubtly slamming against the doorframe, not just to stabilize yourself, but to keep you from dramatically heel-turning out of the room, to never return.

By the way that Keeley Jones is looking at you, you can tell she’s just about on the same page. You suppose she’s got the better end of this deal, simply because your arrival doesn’t seem to be a surprise for her. At least she had a warning about the foreboding awkwardness of this situation. Your boss didn’t exactly grant you that luxury.

Then again, you figure Rebecca had no real way of knowing just how strange this might be for you. She didn’t know the extent of your history with Roy, and the only person who may was sitting right next to her, probably having shared more of that history than either of you cared to admit.

However, what you’re not expecting from Keeley, is the way she gapes at you, then turns to Rebecca to whisper, “Fucking hell, you didn’t say she was hotter in person.”

The shock and confusion flowing through your body makes you blink slowly at them to readjust, and you lean back on your back foot. You manage to stammer out, “I-I’m sorry to interrupt, I can come back--”

“No, no,” Rebecca says, beckoning you in after she finishes rolling her eyes at Keeley, “come on in and join us! We just opened a bottle.”

Join them? You glance at the open bottle of wine on the coffee table, then back to them. Is this why you were called here? To indulge in some post-work girl talk with your boss and Roy’s first real, and only public girlfriend? Ex-girlfriend, you remembered, but still.

You’re sure the discomfort you feel is broadcasted on your face, and that becomes especially apparent when Keeley offers you a small, kind smile. However, the action is sweet and it makes your over-anxious mind ease slightly. If she’s not going to be weird about it, you certainly aren’t either.

Besides, you have no idea what she actually knows about you and Roy. He would be the type to tell her nothing. He was the type to tell her nothing.

However, something about Keeley’s demeanor tells you that’s probably not the case.

When you realize that you’ve been standing like a freak in the doorway for just a moment too long, you snap out of your haze and return the smile, nodding gratefully as you enter Rebecca’s office.

“We were just discussing the game tomorrow,” Rebecca tells you as she reaches for the spare wine glass on the table. She eyes you with a wry grin. “I’d ask if you drank, but that bar cart I saw in your apartment gave you away.”

A surprised laugh escapes you at the rather forward comment, but it helps you relax slightly as you make your way to them. “Yeah, well. It was probably looking pretty sparse when you saw it.” You reach your hand out to Keeley, continuing to smile softly as you introduce yourself.

“Keeley Jones,” she says to you, though there’s a mutual understanding that this is just a formality. You both know who the other is. “Bad week, yeah?” she asks.

You reach for the wine glass Rebecca offers you and send a look of confirmation to Keeley. “You have no idea.” Your smile stretches as you look over at Rebecca and sit down. “These last couple of days have made up for it, though.”

Rebecca returns it. “That’s wonderful to hear.”

“I can imagine it’s been a little different than West Ham,” Keeley says. “We know what Rupert likes to pull. All that shit he’s been saying about you leaving?” She shakes her head. “I don’t know how people aren’t seeing through him.”

The smile you wear falters slightly. “I, uh… haven’t really been keeping up with any of that,” you tell her. “Figured it wouldn’t be great to hear anything that anybody’s saying about me, y’know?”

“Totally get that,” she replies kindly. However, she hesitates. “...But you… haven’t seen anything that’s been going around?”

“Um…” you trail off, shifting in your chair. “No? Why? Is it really that bad?”

Rebecca and Keeley exchange a look. “It’s just—” Rebecca cuts herself off, looking back at you. “Remember how I said you wouldn’t have to do any press if you didn’t want to?”

Any remnants of the demeanor you had when you sat down completely drain from your expression. “Oh, my God. It is that bad, isn’t it?”

Keeley shakes her head, holding out her hands. “No, no, it’s really not. It could be so much worse,” she assures. “I mean, it is that bad with those weird little shits online who always have a problem with successful women in sports, but what else is new—”

“This is the worst of it,” Rebecca interjects, putting a hand on her friend's arm. She passes you a tablet as Keeley goes quiet and you take it cautiously. 

It’s a video of Rupert at a press conference, one you presume was taken this morning. The season kicked off tomorrow and Ted, Rebecca, and the rest of the team had been stuck doing interviews all day, something of which you weren’t sad to have missed out on.

You press the play button in the center of the screen to watch Rupert point at someone off-camera. “Yes,” he says. “Daniel, what have you got?”

Daniel, presumably, asks, “I was just curious how the team’s feeling with that coaching shake-up so close to Opening Day?” You hear a murmur go through the audience of reporters. “Losing someone like that and then watching her get picked up by Richmond must be tough on you guys, no?”

Rupert seems to take this in and sit with it, nodding slowly. “I won’t lie to you, Daniel,” he says after a moment. “I wasn’t happy with the note that we ended on. She had concerns toward the end of her tenure about her role on the team and with certain aspects of AFC culture. She knows just how talented I think she is, and how excited we were to have her working with us. And we had a wonderful couple of months working with her. But, unfortunately…” He shakes his head scornfully, like all of this was genuinely upsetting him. “...there were just some differences we couldn’t get past. The team was remarkably sad to see her go, but I don’t believe it’ll affect our performance this season.” 

He lets his answer hang there for a moment, but tragically, he’s not done. “Perhaps Richmond was willing to offer her some things that we weren’t able to. Perhaps their values align more with what she wanted out of her AFC career.” And then, with a nonchalant shrug, he adds, “Perhaps she just wanted to coach with her old friend Roy Kent.” Your lips part at that, brow furrowing in disbelief as the reporters chuckle. “Who knows? I wish her the best and I wish Richmond good luck. I hope they’re a better fit for her.”

The clip cuts off there and you glance up at Rebecca and Keeley who are both bracing for impact. “What the fuck?” 

If either of them find your words unprofessional, they do nothing to indicate it. However, there’s something about them that tells you they’re more than comfortable with that kind of language in the workplace. “Yeah,” Keeley says. “So, like I said. It could be so much worse.”

“He was the one who was unhappy with how it ended?” you quote. “He’s upset about the differences we couldn’t work past? How about you address my concerns with AFC culture and get upset with your—”

You cut yourself off before you can say too much, focusing your attention on the plant in the corner of Rebecca’s office to stabilize yourself. What a fucking asshole. What a self-serving, lying, fucking asshole. He’s not worth the tears. Don’t give him that satisfaction.

You understand why you were called in now, why Rebecca prefaced the video with that question. You’d neglected to personally get ahead of Rupert and make a real statement on your choice to part with West Ham and sign with Richmond. Now you were paying that price— the price of being afraid.

“What—” Your voice cracks as you attempt to speak, and you clear your throat. “What type of press do I have to do?”

Rebecca’s sigh is empathetic. “We think it’d be smart to send you out with Ted tomorrow after the game. Make a statement, answer a few questions,” she says. “That is, if you’re open to it.”

Your brow raises skeptically. “I can say no to that?”

Rebecca chuckles. “You can say no to anything,” she tells you. “Roy refuses to do any sort of press and he’s managed to be completely fine. Labeled as a bitter, old recluse, but he doesn’t seem to care.” Typical. But then, she adds, “We do think it’s your best move, though.”

You know it’s your best move. You know it’s what you should have done at the beginning of all of this. You know that there’s nothing that you want to do less. But somehow, having that small, offhanded-out Rebecca offered makes it all sit a bit easier with you.

“I think so too,” you finally agree, sighing shakily. Rebecca and Keeley grin at you encouragingly, watching as you reach out to take a hearty sip of your wine. “So, what’s the plan?” You look over at Keeley. “I assume that’s why you’re here.”

Keeley’s face lights up. “Exactly why I’m here,” she replies. “We’re gonna PR this shit so fucking hard nobody is going to know what hit them.”

Her enthusiasm makes the corners of your mouth rise despite everything else. “Can’t say I’m great in front of a crowd,” you warn.

“It’s rare to find people who are,” Keeley responds easily, flicking her hand like she’s brushing off your comment. “That’s why we’re going to make this as simple as possible.”

You nod. “Okay. Hit me.”

“Okay, three things you’re going to want to address,” she begins, tapping on her fingers. “The first is clarifying the ‘note that you ended on’ and those differences with the team. You don’t need to get into specifics if you don’t want to—”

“I really do not,” you tell her.

“Got it,” she says, and the look on her face tells you she really does get it. “Don’t get into specifics. Just say that you’re also upset things didn’t work out, but that it was nothing personal. Truly just leadership differences, like was first said. Even if it wasn’t.”

Your eyes narrow in question. “So, just lie?”

“Welcome to PR, babe,” she replies, and her grin gets more genuine when she sees you chuckle. “Alright, second; we’ve gotta say something about why you chose Richmond. Something that goes beyond our stale press release statement.”

“I didn’t think it was stale,” you offer.

“Aw, thank you!” The smile drops from her face. “But it was. All press releases are. They’re just words on a page, which is so fucking boring. And they get no feeling across. Which is what we need from you,” she says with a point. “You just need to actually say what we’ve already said.”

Once again, you nod. “So, you need it once more, with feeling?”

Keeley blinks back at you, then glances at Rebecca. “My god, I fucking love her.”

The smile that pulls at your lips is involuntary and smaller than the encouraging one that appears on Rebecca’s. “I told you that you would,” she says softly to her, but it’s just loud enough for you to hear. She then turns to you once more. “He brought up AFC culture and our values, but don’t even touch that.”

“'Values' is a loaded word,” Keeley says. “He used it for a reason, but if we’re looking to ignore all this, we shouldn’t be using those types of words.”

“Right,” continues Rebecca. “We’re not looking for a fight here. You don’t want to engage, we don’t want to engage. I think we can all agree we’re looking for this to be over and done with and forgotten about, yes?”

“Yes,” you confirm.

“So, just agree with his comments. Leave it neutral. Non-confrontational,” Rebecca says. “Make it easy. Even if you’re not disappointed to have left the club, say that you are. If you want to touch on ‘culture’ reference AFC culture as a whole. The culture shock of transitioning from womens to mens sports.”

Neutral, you think. Non-confrontational. Easy. You can do that.

After a moment, you nod in confirmation at Rebecca. Then, you refocus on Keeley. “What’s the third thing we need to address?”

Keeley folds her hands awkwardly. “That would be… uh, your friendship with Roy.”

Your face goes hot almost instantaneously. “Oh,” you say softly. You scratch the inside of your wrist, finding it increasingly hard to keep Keeley’s gaze, especially as she continues to sit in that tension with you. “Do I have to? Address that, I mean? We were just friends. A ton of people in the football world are friends with each other. I don’t…” The lie sours your tongue and you glance over at Rebecca, hoping for her to throw some kind of life preserver to you over here. “I didn’t think anyone knew about that. It wasn’t like we were Matt Damon and Ben Affleck or whatever. Our friendship wasn’t mainstream news.”

“Some intern at The Sun found some photos of you two after the 2012 Olympics at a club,” Rebecca explains. Your entire body flushes as you remember that night. “They resurfaced and became relevant after your move to Richmond.”

“Okay, but, if it’s the night I think they’re referring to, we were out with our teams,” you attempt to reason. “There’s no reason other than media speculation that people would think we were… what was implied.”

Keeley points at you. “And that’s exactly what you’re going to say if you’re asked about it.” Then, with a good-humored shrug, she says, “If you want to be petty, you can talk about how this speculation wouldn’t be happening if you were a man.”

Rebecca looks at her friend. “That’s actually not bad. Because it wouldn’t be.”

“None of this would be,” you say to the two women in front of you. The tone you’ve taken is scornful, and while they may not know all the reasons why… they get it.

Keeley reaches forward to grab the bottle of wine at in the center of the coffee table and tilts it to offer it to you. You nod almost immediately, mustering up a small smile as she pours. “So, our plan is to send you in with Ted after tomorrow’s game. They’ll probably, mainly, have questions for you because that’s the drama right now, so I’ve written up something that we can practice and workshop.”

“Ted’s won the press over and is practically on a first-name basis with all of them,” Rebecca continues. “So, he’ll be a lifeline if you need him at any time.”

Keeley nods at the glass she just poured for you. “So, drink up. Because we’re going to run through this shit and roleplay.” She pauses for a moment, catching herself. “The press conference, I mean. Not the sexy kind.”

“Probably better for HR reasons,” you reply.

As that joke slips out of your mouth, you can feel your comfort level with them rising. Something about them is just so… welcoming. You’re in a room with your boss and Roy’s ex-girlfriend. You should be guarded. You should be censoring yourself. But as you continue to sit here, you can’t see yourself doing so.

Perhaps Richmond was willing to offer her some things that we weren’t able to. Perhaps you were right, you fucking prick.

Keeley snorts softly and nods in agreement and you notice the smile that grows on Rebecca’s face. “I’ve heard the HR is rather easily swayed, so we might be able to get away with it,” Keeley responds, grinning as she sees you laugh.

Rebecca claps her hands together. “So. Non-sexy press conference roleplay?”

They both turn to you, and after a hearty gulp of your wine, you sigh. “Let’s get to it.”

LONDON OLYMPICS, LATE JULY, 2012.

You finish the game against North Korea with another win under your belt and return to utter chaos when you get back to the dorms.

While you were the only scorer of the last half, everyone stepped up their game in the ways that they had to. Things still weren’t perfect and there was plenty for all of you to work on going forward, but you were proud of the way your team had turned things around. 

When you return, it’s just past midnight, and all you want to do is go to bed. The game had drained you completely dry, and there was nothing more appealing than the idea of tucking into your horrendously uncomfortable dorm bed. Luckily, unlike last time, Mel’s on the same page as you.

She’d fallen asleep on your shoulder on the bus ride back for about an hour and spent the other three complaining that you weren’t paying attention to her. And why weren’t you paying attention?

Because Roy fucking Kent wouldn’t stop texting you. After you’d read over the text he’d sent to you during the second half (and ignored the weird feeling in your stomach and heat on your cheeks at him calling you an anomaly, God, why did that word land with you so well?), you’d returned to gloat. Hit the post again, he’d said. You hadn’t.

Things had gotten carried away from there. What had started as a slightly antagonistic and taunting back and forth had devolved into a conversation about the sleeping accommodations in the dorms (big-time footballer in his posh london flat doesn’t even have the decency to drop off a mattress topper and some extra pillows? you’d complained to him), then to about which countries you wanted to visit (Australia. For no other reason than to meet a quokka, he’d told you), then to what the fuck a quokka is and why he knew about them (that’s the stupidest looking animal i’ve seen in my life. i want 10 of them, you’d said), to whatever you’d landed on next.

You’d put your phone in your pocket the second you’d pulled back into the Village, helping the team unload everyone’s stuff. Everyone seemed completely dead, something of which you celebrated, simply because it meant there was no team bonding preventing you from going to sleep as soon as possible. The only thing that was doing that for you was Mel’s incessant questions about Roy.

“I really think you’re lying to me about this being a weird sex thing,” she says, readjusting her grip on the bag slung over her shoulder. “Because there’s no other reason that you two should be talking as much as you are.”

You make a face at her. “It’s not a weird sex thing,” you say for what feels like the seventeenth time that night. “We’re just friends. Or, you know, whatever the closest thing to a friend Roy has is.”

“That’s exactly my point,” Mel replies. Her voice echoes through the quiet night air surrounding the dorm’s courtyard. “Roy doesn’t do friends. He hasn’t for as long as I’ve known him.”

“I thought you said you didn’t know him.”

“I don’t. And I say that’s because he won’t let me get to know him. Because he doesn’t do friends.” She shrugs. “I mean, ask Jack or anyone who’s played with him. They’ll say the same.”

When you approach the doors of your dorm building, you make a teasingly innocent face at Mel. “Maybe I’m just different.”

“Right,” she says dryly. “Or he wants to fuck you.”

“Why are you trying to ruin this for me?” you whine as you open the door. “I’m actually, like, kind of having fun with him and this training thing we’re doing. He’s a good guy.” 

Mel shoots you a blank-faced stare. “You were calling him an asshole less than six hours ago.”

“Because he is. But he’s a good guy too,” you respond. “He’s like… I don’t know. Like Ron Swanson or Harrison Ford. Total curmudgeon but in a fun way.”

Mel’s lips purse. “Well, now I can’t stop picturing him with the Ron Swanson mustache.”

You grin, sidestepping fellow Olympians who hang around in the lobby of the dorm. “Have fun sleeping tonight.”

A heavy, exaggerated, long sigh leaves her as you approach the elevator. “Just be careful,” she says, putting her hands up in surrender as you look at her incredulously. “Even if you are just friends. And even if you’re not. As your actual friend, I have to tell you to be careful. All men suck, but athletes tend to suck ten times more.”

“I’ll be fine,” you reply in a sing-song fashion. The elevator doors open and you and Mel step in. “I appreciate you, though.”

“You better,” Mel scoffs. “I’m getting gray hairs thinking you’re doing weird sex shit with Chelsea’s Finest on a random pitch in the middle of London.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, my God, can these things close any slow--”

“Hold the door!” shouts a voice from the lobby. On instinct, you reach out to stop the doors that were finally closing, feeling Mel’s elbow in your side. The voice gets louder as it gets closer. “Thank you. Did not feel like waiting for this thing again.”

Into the elevator walks (quite possibly) the hottest man you’ve ever seen in your life. He’s got the quintessential surfer look to him, but in a way that works. He’s blonde (while you’re definitely more into dark hair, you can’t deny just how good he looks), at least six-three, and is built like a lean brick house. His curls fall into his eyes that squint into a smile as he looks at you and Mel.

“Oh,” he says as he walks in. “Congratulations on the win today.”

You and Mel stare at him in awe, snapping out of it as you realize that you’re gawking. “Thank you,” you manage to get out. You try to place his accent and what sport he could possibly specialize in, but your brain malfunctions. “I would say the same to you but I’m… uh--”

Luckily, he seems to catch on and saves you from your misery. “I’m Luca,” he says, holding out his hand for you and Mel to shake. “France. Swim team.”

“Nice to meet you, Luke,” Mel says, finally recovering from her trance. “You have any events today?”

“We did,” he says, though he seems to be talking more to you than to Mel. “Placed silver, so we can’t complain.” When you two congratulate him, he nearly brushes you off. “I have heard your team is looking like you’re going to go all the way this year. It is fun to watch.”

“We’re having a good run,” you respond, and he nods at you with that same breathtaking smile. “We’ll see what happens though.”

“Yeah, you are good.” Luca pauses for a moment, then shrugs coyly. “You’re American, so you are not as good as France, but you are up there.”

You see Mel’s head tilt out of the corner of your eye. “Easy now,” she warns with a light-hearted smile. “We beat them by two in our first match.”

Luca throws his hands up, grin turning teasing. “Just telling the truth. I must support my own.”

“Well,” you say, brow furrowed. “We’ll see when we get to the finals.”

“Oui. I believe that we will,” he responds. You notice that he’s leaned in closer than you had previously anticipated and the realization makes your face heat. “We should put a wager on it.”

“You want me to bet on my own team?” you ask rather bluntly, hearing Mel cough to cover a laugh.

“I suppose, yes,” Luca answers. The elevator stops at his floor and his eyes flick to the number on the small screen. “If France wins in your little tournament, you must purchase me a drink when these games are over. But if you win…” He trails off with a shrug as the doors open. “I’ll buy you one. It is only fair, no?”

You blink at him, trying to make sense of this entire situation. Is he flirting with you? Setting a friendly bet to get a drink? Just trying to be a jerk by referring to your Olympic Games as a ‘little tournament’? Then again, he was French, so many that’s just the way he spoke.

Yet another nudge from Mel finally has you answering. “I’m the one playing,” you say slowly, cautiously trying to read him. “I feel like I should have a better prize for winning.”

Luca seems to consider this but shrugs once more. “Those are my terms. Even I cannot make exceptions for beautiful women. Do you accept?”

Okay, so maybe he is flirting with you. This beautiful, French, god of a man is potentially flirting with you. You wish he’d upped the stakes by asking you to dinner or something to offer something more direct, but this is what you’re getting. As he exits the elevator, he puts a hand on the door while he awaits your answer. 

But, you don’t know him. You don’t know what he’s like, you don’t know if you’ll want him as a prize if you win, or as a consolation if you lose. But, you figure, it’s just fun. And he’s hot. So why not.

“I’ll consider it,” you decide, mirroring that grin of his.

Luca nods at you, motioning to the hallway behind him. “The deal expires soon. And now you know where to find me.” The smile returns. “So find me if you’re interested.”

And with that, your movie-star-looking, strange Frenchman saunters off down the hall, leaving you with a million questions and an American soccer player who’s gaping at you.

“That was the hottest man I’ve ever seen in my life,” Mel says, staring at the now-closed doors. “I’m not even into that and… And he… And you said you’d consider getting a drink with him?”

“He made a bet with me,” you argue. “He didn’t ask me out. And even if he did, I didn’t say no.”

Mel looks at you like you’re both insane and the dumbest person alive. “I think we need to get you checked for a fucking concussion, because… what?”

“He didn’t!” you insist, suddenly doubting your own instincts. “Did he?”

The elevator stops and Mel makes a break for the doors. “I can’t even look at you right now.”

You watch helplessly as Mel walks toward your dorm, muttering things about you under her breath that you can barely hear. The second you step off the elevator to follow, you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. 

Get some sleep, Fourteen. You’ve earned it. I’ll see you on Wednesday.

You find yourself smiling down at your phone, and for a moment, all thoughts of missed signs and Mel’s words go quiet. you too, you reply. big game tomorrow. and you know i’ll be harassing you like you did to me, so you better bring your a-game.

Before you can open your door to tuck in for the night, you get a response. I’m counting on it.

PRESENT DAY, MID-AUGUST, 2023.

Returning to Chelsea is like having one foot stuck in a dream and the other in a nightmare.

On one hand, it’s nostalgic. It’s loud and boisterous and you can’t escape the blue even if you tried. The field’s in the same pristine condition as you remember and the liveliness of it all engulfs you completely. It makes you think about everything that happened here and how easy it used to be.

But, on the other hand… it makes you think about everything. Those aforementioned easier times were a precursor to your downfall, and it all started here. It was the catalyst. Somehow, this place that had been in your life for an inordinately short period of time still had the same effect on you as it did eight years ago. And when you stare out at the field, you can't help but wonder what if.

As those memories start to creep into your head, you suddenly begin to feel very hot and incredibly overwhelmed. The tunnel you’re standing in is quickly going from something familiar to something more liminal. You swear it’s getting smaller too.

But on a day like today, you know you really can’t be panicking about the past. Your team’s on the field and your coaches are waiting for you to join them. There were more pressing things that were worthy of a panic attack.

You force yourself to take a deep breath and turn to the light emanating from the field at the end of the tunnel. You’d never talked yourself out of a panic attack at the prospect of more important panic, but at this point, you’d take what you could get. Focus on the clamminess of your hands. Focus on how bright the field is and how much it’s hurting your eyes. Focus on running through the new plays you now know like the back of your hand. 

As you walk down the tunnel and go through your maniacal little sense check, you decide to focus on something that you hear. And what you hear snaps you out of whatever state you’re in and makes it all quiet down a little bit. Because as you realize what it is you’re hearing, a very different feeling of… something takes over. 

“—HERE! HE’S THERE! HE’S EVERY-FUCKING-WHERE, ROY KENT! ROY KENT! HE’S—”

It’s nostalgia. It’s dread. It’s pride. It’s irritation. It’s… so many fucking things all at once and you can’t possibly stop yourself from smiling at it. The twinge you feel pulling in your stomach stays with you as you suppress that urge. Damn it.

Despite his final years being spent at Richmond and despite his new coaching status, they still adore him. You’d jokingly called him a “Chelsea Legend” more times than you could count, but it was true. It’s what he was. Not that you’d ever say that out loud.

By the time you make it to the field, Roy’s standing up from the coaches’ bench to show his thanks to the stadium. The cheer is resounding, the song continuing amongst it and you swear under your breath as that feeling lingers. 

It doesn’t go away as he turns to sit back down and meets your gaze instead. And, in typical Roy fashion, while he refused to show any emotion when thanking the city that supported him for years, a fraction of a smile makes its way onto his face when he sees you. 

(God, you hate yourself for noticing.) 

Looking away, you take another steadying breath and make your way to him and the rest of your team. The Richmond pullover you’re sporting rubs against your neck uncomfortably, but before you can fix it, you realize something: the cheers are getting louder. Confused, you look up at the jumbotron, knowing that that type of volume couldn’t possibly be for you. 

Lo and behold, it’s so not for you. It’s for Zava in the owner’s box, who’s staring at the camera like a professional wrestler, egging the crowd on. Right. Of course. Fucking Zava. You take a seat next to Roy as you stare up at the screen. 

“You think we have a chance?” you ask him, and you see him turn to you from the corner of your eye. “I’ve heard Rupert’s been putting in work there.”

Roy huffs. “Fucking twat puts in work everywhere but the things that matter,” he mutters, looking back to Zava. Your brows shoot up in agreement. “Let’s hope Zava’s not stupid enough to fucking fall for it.”

“Rupert knows how to stroke an ego,” you reply, glancing over to Jamie, who was warming up on the field, unsubtly making a very conscious effort to not look up at the screen. “He knows how to get what he wants. Speaking from experience.”

Roy scowls, and it’s a bit deeper than you were expecting. But, before you can dwell on that, he’s moving on. “You alright?” he asks. 

You know it’s meant to be casual on his part, but there’s an undertone of concern that you try to ignore. “Yeah,” you say through a sigh, hesitantly meeting his stare as you feel it boring into your cheek. You sigh again. “I’m good.” There’s a bit more conviction behind your voice this time, and it seems to satisfy him enough. “I’m nervous, but y’know. It’s a game. I’m always nervous before games.”

“I know,” he replies. “I’ve been waiting for you to throw up.”

It’s your turn to scowl now. “I only do that for big games. This is basically summer league.”

(While your sarcasm was flat, it didn’t go unnoticed. This was, in fact, a big game. Perhaps one of the biggest of your life. You’d thrown up twice today. But he didn’t need to know that.)

Roy looks unconvinced, but you’re thankful when he doesn’t press you further. “You know what to do today,” he tells you, and the assurance in his voice is palpable. 

You do know what to do today. You’ve got to prove why you were hired. Be the coach you know you can be. Get over that crippling anxiety that’s eating you alive. But instead of getting back into that, you say, “I know.”

“Fucking shook on it, too. Means you have to do it.”

You refrain from rolling your eyes and slump back into your chair. “Yeah, Roy, I know. I made that rule up. I got it.” With another sigh, you say quietly, “Just let me get there.”

His eyes remain on you. You think he’s going to say something else, but before he can, Ted whistles, calling everyone to attention. As the team rounds up, you and Roy stand.

Instead of saying whatever he was about to, he offers you a nod. 

You got this, he tells you silently. 

And despite the weird, horrendous, painful nether space your relationship currently exists in, the action does make you breathe a little easier. 

You send him one back in thanks.

What doesn’t make you breathe easier, however, is the score at the end of the half. What makes it even worse, is the unprofessional, pedantic Kent Rule that Roy has placed on the team that doesn’t allow anyone to speak in front of Trent Crimm.

Roy’s arms cross over his chest as soon as the writer enters the room, your players quieting down in suit. Your head tips back in annoyance, bracing for whatever’s about to come.

But nothing happens. The team remains quiet and wildly awkward and Trent aptly reads the room. Before he can leave, however, Ted’s calling for him to stay and is asking for Roy to chat.

Roy sends you a glance, then follows his head coach to the back of the room. While the players continue their talks in hushed tones, Beard inches over to where you stand. 

“Did I see a playbook in your bag earlier?” he asks quietly, making you flinch in surprise. “Sorry. I didn’t realize you were listening in to their conversation.”

You shoot Beard a look. “I was not,” you say, even though you so totally were. “And yeah? I, uh, take that with me everywhere.”

Beard nods. “Are they your plays?”

“Most of them,” you reply, shifting uncomfortably. You hadn’t talked about that book with anyone since you coached your college girls, and anyone you had shown it to over at West Ham hadn’t given it the time of day. “Why?”

“I want to see them,” he says, shrugging at your surprised expression. “If you want to show them to someone, that is.”

A small smile pulls at your parted lips, and you nod back at him. “That’d be—”

“CRIMM!”

Roy’s voice startles you again, and this time, it gets Beard too. You both turn to see Roy walking back toward the showers, Trent hesitantly following in tow. Ted offers a small smile to both you and Beard as he returns.

“That’d be great,” you whisper to Beard, finishing your sentence. “Thank you.”

The next few minutes are just as awkward as the previous ones. No one knows exactly what to do, or how the conversation behind you is going to play out. You know how hard it is for Roy to let go of things. Forgiveness was never something he excelled at, especially when it came to more personal topics. Not that you were any better at it.

You look around the locker room, watching each of your players whisper animatedly amongst each other. You were down by one and there were no signs of giving up. Each of them knew they were still in this. Even more so, you hadn’t heard any unkind or unsupportive words spoken since you got into the room. 

Your mind takes you back to the second summer scrimmage you coached at West Ham. You were also down by one at the half, and the atmosphere couldn't have been more different. Blame was being shoved down everyone’s throat, clinging wherever it would stick. Nathan Shelley had reprimanded three players within a minute and all of this was for a scrimmage. Nothing about that game mattered or counted. This, of course, was remedied the second you started winning, and the locker room was a wildly different place when you ended up winning by three.

While West Ham seemed to like each other, there was no sense of camaraderie there. It was nice, but nothing was kind. Richmond seemed like a family. You were starting to see that now. 

It wasn’t something you were able to embrace right now, but there was a growing piece of you that was… hopeful that you’d be able to at some point.

At that realization, you feel your body relax for a moment. Only for it to tense back up again as you’re scared for a third time, by Roy and Trent coming back to the group. As soon as he gives the green light to the team that Trent’s safe, the locker room erupts into relieved chaos.

Jamie starts shouting about the passing lanes. Sam yells out something about Chelsea’s lack of defense. More and more voices begin to speak up to offer their insight, and while they’re all on the right path, nobody’s said the right thing yet.

You can feel the words rising in your throat. Your mind continues to spin. Every thought you’d held on to, every tip you wanted to say, every nerve you had about saying the wrong thing was bubbling within you and you could feel yourself about to burst. 

No more being quiet. No more being afraid. No more being passive.

I know that you know them on the field. But they fucking don’t. And they won’t know it until you fucking show them.

You can feel your hands begin to shake back and forth in anticipation of whatever it is you’re about to say. However, you don’t realize that someone’s been watching you until they step beside you.

“C’mon,” they chide, making you jump, “Fucking say it.”

You don’t have to look to know that it’s Roy, but you still turn your head. His eyes fall from yours, to your hands, then back to your face. He’s familiar enough with your tells to know what’s going on. One part of you is grateful to have that. The other part wants to kill him.

The expression you wear reads hesitance, and you’ve only got about three minutes before the team needs to head back out.

As he continues to stare at you, you can hear his voice in your head. This is your job. You signed up for this. You’re a coach. So fucking coach. 

You take a deep, shuddering breath and ball up your fists to stop the shaking. Fucking say it.

So, amidst the noise and the yelling and the bickering, you do.

“EVERYBODY SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

The silence that takes over the locker room is immediate and deafening. Every single person stares at you in shock, jaws agape and eyes wide as if they couldn’t imagine looking anywhere else. 

Every person but one. And if you were to turn and shake the sudden anxiety of having all attention on you, you’d see him smiling softly to himself, something like pride gracing his typically stoic expression.

It takes a moment before you realize they’re all waiting for you to say something. You glance over at Ted, who, while still a bit taken aback, nods at you encouragingly. 

You’ve got the floor, Coach. Let’s do it.

“You’re all right,” you begin, motioning to each of them as you speak. “Yes, Jamie, they’re blocking the passing lanes. It’s a straight-up wall once you get into the midfield. And yeah, Sam they’re not marking you guys. Because they don’t have to. You’re all just…” You search for the word, throwing a hand up when you land on, “...running around aimlessly out there because you’re trying to see what’s going to work. But you know what will?” 

They all just continue to stare at you. Whether or not it’s because nobody has an answer or because they can’t believe you’re actually talking like this, you don’t care. Because you answer for them. “You make them mark you. Force them to break down that wall. Draw them out, and then pass through the cracks,” you tell them, offering a small grin as you continue. “I know you guys. And I know it hasn’t seemed like it because I’ve been… quieter. But I know the type of team you are, and each of you are so, incredibly good at what you do. You’re way better than what you’re doing out there. Like, way better.”

Your team remains quiet, but you know they’ve snapped out of their surprised trance because they’re smiling at you. And they look on board. Your grin grows as you notice. “So, let’s go out there and start this season off right, huh?”

That gets them up and out of their seats. The boys erupt in a cheer, clapping as they gather around in a circle, each of them putting their hands in the middle. Dani’s voice echoes through the locker room as he yells, “For Coach’s first game!”

Another round of cheers follows before Ted looks over at you. “Couldn’t have said it better myself,” he tells you, and you feel a sense of relief wash over you. “Alright. I second everything she said. Now get out there and show them what you’re made of. Okay, four on three!”

Hands go up after their chant, and the team runs out of the room with a type of energy that you’re not sure you’ve seen before. You hang back for a moment to take a breath.

A hand clamps down on your shoulder, and you turn to see Ted smiling at you. “Nice to hear your voice, Ace,” he says, squeezing it softly. “I hope we’ll hear it some more.”

You send him a thankful smile, nodding in affirmation. “You will.”

Ted squeezes your shoulder once more, heading out behind the team. Beard nods in your direction, looking vaguely impressed in the way that only he can, before following suit. 

That leaves you and Roy in the locker room, and somehow, for the first time, you feel like you can completely relax. A shuddering breath leaves your lips, chest heaving down as you do so. You hear Roy huff when he moves to stand next to you. 

“Well,” he says. “That was one fucking way to do it.”

“I have no idea what I said,” you tell him. “I blacked out after I yelled at everyone to shut up.”

You get a huff of a laugh out of Roy for that one. “You did fine.” He doesn’t miss your dubious look. “I’m serious. You did well.”

“Yeah?” you ask.

Roy nods, expression turning a bit more earnest. “Yeah, Fourteen. You did well.”

The nickname makes a lump form in your throat, and it takes everything in you to ignore it. It’d been a while since you’d heard that one like this. It settles like cement in your stomach and you wish you could shake the feeling. He keeps his gaze on yours until you blink away, focusing on anything but him.

“Thanks,” you manage. Again, because he’s being nice, you suppose you can be too. “And, uh… thanks for pushing me. To do that, I mean.”

Roy nods, albeit a bit uncomfortably. “You needed it.”

“Yeah,” you say again. You hold his stare for one more second before returning his nod, the tension in the air easing within the moment. “Let’s go win a game, Coach.”

You don’t see the way Roy hides a smile as you turn to exit, the reflexive words of ‘not your coach’ on his tongue. But, he bites them back because, well… he is a coach. And so are you.

And as strange as all of this has been for the last week, it hasn't actually felt real to him until now. You’re here. You’re here and working with him and you’re not going anywhere.

The idea of it doesn’t make Roy panic as much as he thought it would.

(Though, unfortunately, that idea is what gets Roy to freak out. But he figures he’s got a bit of time to work that one out.)

LONDON OLYMPICS, EARLY AUGUST, 2012.

“You ever date a swimmer?”

It’s a question you pose to Roy seemingly out of the blue in the middle of one of your many footwork drills of the night. It was all he’d wanted to focus on for tonight’s training session, especially with your quarter-final game against New Zealand on Friday. While the idea of practicing again tomorrow was still up in the air, Roy had insisted on this practice being solely about fixing up what he viewed as your one weakness.

Roy looks up from your feet in confusion. “What?”

“Have you ever dated a swimmer?” you repeat, enunciating your words in a mildly obnoxious manner. “Perhaps a French person? But any swimmer will do.”

He’s still staring at you like you have three heads. “The fuck are you on about?”

You throw your hands up in a shrug. “I’m just asking. I find it hard to believe that amongst the slew of hook-ups I’ve read about, you haven’t slept with a swimmer.”

Those furrowed brows raise in interest at your statement. “Oh, you’ve read about those?”

Your eyes roll. “So not the point of what I was saying. Answer my question.”

“Foxtrot,” he says, watching you look at him in surprise. “Now shut the fuck up and finish your drills.”

“You really want to use our newly-established one Foxtrot of the hour on a simple topic like this?” you question.

Apparently, he doesn’t. “No, I haven’t dated a swimmer,” he finally tells you, exasperated. He glances down at your feet. “Stay on your toes. That fucking left foot of yours is always fucking flat.” Still staring at your feet and ignoring the way you roll your eyes, he inquires, “Why the fuck are you asking? And why do they have to be French?”

“I think I got asked out by one yesterday,” you say. Roy’s gaze meets yours with a speed that nearly makes you stumble in the middle of your drill. “But I can’t tell if he was being a weird little jerk or if he’s just French.”

While his lips twitch up at the last part of your statement, he seems more stuck on the first. “You think you were asked out?”

“Okay, it was strange,” you reply, sounding a tad defensive and slightly breathless. “He was kind of like, negging me? Which, you know, I’m now used to because I started hanging out with you.” Roy shoots you a look, but you carry on anyway. “But he was all, ‘oh yeah, you’re good. But not as good as the French team.’ And then he was like, ‘how about this, if France beats you guys, you have to buy me a drink. But if you win, I’ll buy you one.’ So, I’m kind of confused.” You stop your footwork as Roy’s stopwatch goes off and you take a moment to catch your breath. “And I’m honest enough to admit that I was only entertaining it because he was hot, but I truly can’t tell if he’s flirting with me and asking me out because he thinks we’ll win, or if he’s trying to get free drinks out of me because he thinks we’ll lose.”

“He was asking you out,” Roy says bluntly, continuing to look unimpressed. “He did a fucking horrendous job of it, but yeah. He’s interested.”

You nod, absorbing this for a second before throwing your hands up. “Why do guys do that?” 

“Do what?” he asks. “Ask girls out?”

Your expression quickly matches his. “Yes, exactly. I’d love for you to explain what happens when a man loves a woman, Roy,” you deadpan, biting back a smile as you see one grow on his lips. “No, dickhead. Why do guys think that… that’s the way to ask someone out? Like, I love a little banter as much as the next girl, but you gotta be good at it. And if you’re not good at it…” You shrug. “I don’t know. If you’re bad at flirting, you’re bad at flirting. That’s okay. That just means you’ve just gotta be direct with how you’re feeling.”

There’s a brief moment where Roy seems to consider this, but shakes his head soon after. “Some don’t know how.”

“Well, they should take classes from you or something,” you reply. “Because you’re the most direct guy I know.”

Roy’s scowl deepens. “Thanks.”

“That’s a compliment,” you say, pointing at him. His expression doesn’t change. “I’m serious. I appreciate it. You’re never afraid to tell me shit. It’s admirable.” A wry grin spreads across your face. “Flirting with you must be a three-sentence interaction.”

He casts his eyes up to the night sky. “Fuck’s sake, you’re on one tonight.”

“No, I’m curious. How do you do it?” you press with raised brows. “You told me when we met that if you were trying to ‘chat me up,’ I’d know it. So, c’mon. How does the magic happen?”

Though you were sure that it was impossible, Roy somehow looks even less impressed. “Foxtrot,” he all but snaps at you, making a low noise at the way you crush your lips together to hold back a laugh. “And I’m fucking serious about it this time. Using my one for the hour, or whatever the fuck.”

“Fine, fine,” you say, honoring your established rule with a surrender. “You don’t want to waste your succinct flirting charms on me, I get it. I won’t push you.”

Roy scoffs under his breath, fidgeting with his stopwatch. “They wouldn’t be.”

The words make you pause. “What?”

The stopwatch in his hand beeps as he finishes fiddling with the buttons. “You said they’d be wasted on you.” His eyes flick up to catch yours. “I can guarantee it wouldn’t be a waste.”

He speaks so casually that you almost don’t know what to do. You can’t tell what he means. Would his efforts not be a waste because he… likes you? That he wouldn’t even try if he wasn’t interested? Or is he just so confident in his abilities that he thinks he could get you that easily? That he could turn it on within minutes and make you rethink your entire, weird little friendship that you’ve started over this week? Because, to your knowledge, Roy hasn’t shown any sort of sign that he’s interested in you.

Or has he? Was Mel right again? Have you been reading this situation wrong? Was his bickering and negging his strange way of trying to flirt with you? Getting in your ear during drills? Texting you during games? Calling you an anomaly?

You nearly shake the thought out of your head. He’s Roy Kent. He’s quite literally known for being stoic, for his confrontational personality, and for his hotheaded tendencies. You’ve seen all of those traits since you started training together and nothing’s tipped you off that it could be anything more than friendly. Or whatever his version of friendly is.

You’ve also seen the kinds of women he dates. They’re actresses, singers, models, heiresses-- rich London elite. The shitty little one-bedroom you’ve got back home cries out in shame in the back of your mind. The Team USA Nike campaign that you were barely a part of for the World Cup taunts you. Actress, singer, model, and heiress you were not.

You’re not sure if he sees the look of confusion on your face, but you turn away before you can confirm anything. “Right,” you say, drawing the word out slightly. You kick the ball you’d almost forgotten about toward him. “Anyway. I’m bored of these drills. I need to do something else or I’ll go insane.”

Roy receives your pass, placing his foot on top of the ball with a quirked brow. There’s a hint of a smirk on his face as he attempts to gauge your reaction, momentarily throwing you off. “When have you ever had a say about what goes on in these sessions?”

“Well, never. But I think that says more about your coaching style than it does about anything else, despot.”

Roy rolls his eyes for the umpteenth time that night. He’s found that it’s something he tends to do frequently when you’re around. “I told you that footwork’s the only thing we’re working on tonight.”

“Yeah, but I’m bored,” you repeat. “Don’t you have like… I don’t know. Games we can play?”

“Games?” he parrots. He almost sounds offended. “What, are you five years old?”

You completely ignore his comment and gasp, pointing at him. “Let’s play knockout.”

“Again, I ask, are you fucking five years old?”

You look at him, pouting as you slouch over. “C’mon,” you practically whine. “It’s totally a footwork drill. But it’s fun. And it’s better than you just standing there menacingly with a stopwatch like you’re Frankie Dunn.”

Roy looks at you, then hesitates. “You’re a terrible fucking negotiator.”

That moment of hesitation lets you know that you’ve almost got him. While you may be a terrible negotiator, you’re something else: observant. The thing you’ve learned about Roy is that he physically can’t back down from a challenge. You know that there’s something ironic in that, but you figure that’s why you two have worked together so well so far.

So, your eyes narrow and you allow yourself to step forward to do just that; challenge him. “And you’ve got South Korea in a couple days. From what I saw last night, you need the practice.”

Roy’s head tilts, the beginnings of a dangerous smile twisting the corners of his lips. “Is that right?”

“I recall a lost possession toward the end of the first half that easily could have been avoided,” you say, sticking your leg out to kick the ball out from beneath his foot. The faux passive tone you’ve taken on nearly dissolves at the way his eyes darken. “For the amount that Chelsea's Finest goes on and on about footwork, you’d think he’d be better at it.”

Something between you two shifts the second those words leave your mouth. You’re not sure if it’s the way he’s looking at you (or continues to look at you, God, you don’t think he’s blinked yet) or if it’s your new proximity, but things feel completely different from when you started. The stare you’re holding is charged. It’s not just a challenge anymore— there’s something else there. It makes your mind whirl.

Roy’s voice is low when he asks, “What would you have done differently?”

It’s not what you were expecting, but it offers you a reason to look away from his piercing gaze, take a breath, and shrug. “I don’t know,” you say. “Crossed my mark up a little. Probably would have sent it up the field. Your striker was practically begging to be passed to.” You glance back up at him, with a smile that borders on teasing. “Definitely wouldn’t have hit my mark as hard as you did when you lost the ball.”

“He fucking dove,” is his response, sounding only slightly annoyed. But, when he sees you chuckle, he comes back to, “Who was open upfield?”

His question is genuine, like he’s actually interested in hearing your answer. “I don’t know. Didn’t recognize him. I think he’s a rookie,” you reply with yet another shrug. “But if you led him a little bit, he would have been open.” Roy’s brow draws as he hums something affirmative. When you realize he’s actually thinking about the play, considering what you’re saying, you can’t help but throw in, “Plays like that happen when you’re thinking ahead, Coach.”

Your tone has Roy glaring down at you, and you can feel the look sear through you. “And the goal that happened immediately after that was all instinct.”

“Maybe,” you say noncomittally. "But it could have been better if you all had thought ahead."

That tension between you shifts again, but this time, it’s in a way you’re really not expecting. When Roy looks back at you, there’s something disbelieving in his eyes. As if he can’t figure you out. But it’s also something almost… fond. “You really watched the game last night.”

It’s a question that comes out sounding like a statement. You’re not sure why he looks so surprised or why the emotional state of this conversation keeps going back and forth, but you say the only thing you can think to: the truth.

“You watch mine,” you reply as if the answer was obvious. “And believe it or not, I like watching you play.” Roy blinks at you, obviously not expecting that. For good measure, you add, “Being on the field actually gives you a reason to be a dick, so.”

That same searing stare returns, and it fixates on you long enough to make you itch. You don’t break it, but you rock back and forth on your heels, thinking for a second, maybe you said the wrong thing. Maybe it was a little too real, or a little too friendly.

But before you can sweat it too much, Roy dips his head. “Fuck,” he mutters, shaking his head in disbelief. “Fucking hell, fine. One round of knockout, you fucking child.”

“Seriously?” you ask, not even trying to hide the excitement in your voice.

“Yeah. Get the ball. Let’s go.”

You beam at him, running to go grab the ball you’d kicked away from him previously. When you turn back, you find he’s moving to get his own. “If I’d known you’re this easily swayed by flattery, I would have started being way nicer to you earlier.”

“Don’t push it,” he calls out. Despite the fact he’s not facing you, you can picture the look on his face. “And don’t be fucking nice to me. I want to see you pissed.”

“But we’re playing knockout,” you say, as he turns and kicks his football in your direction. “How can I be pissed?”

Roy smirks. “I’m sure I can find a way.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can too. But why do you want me pissed?”

“Because you play better when you’ve got something to prove,” he tells you. Then, he shrugs. “That, and… well, I wasn’t lying.” 

You scrunch your brow. “About what?”

“It’s a good fucking look on you,” he says, meeting your gaze once more. “I might have to piss you off more often.”

Oh. Right, right, right. Totally. Ignoring the way that that makes your cheeks go warm, you reply, “Well, like you said. I’m sure you’ll find a way.”

That’s when Roy smiles at you. It’s accompanied by a chuckle and while it’s not a full grin, it’s something warm and mildly sweet. However, for the first time, you’re stuck by how good he looks. You’d always thought he was good-looking, but you’d never been attracted to him. But for some reason, right here, right now, some switch has flipped. 

The realization churns your stomach and makes you physically look away from him. “C’mon, let’s play,” you say, hoping your forced nonchalance hides anything you’re currently feeling. “I like watching you lose.”

Roy huffs, sounding just a bit incredulous. “Whatever you say.”

PRESENT DAY, MID-AUGUST, 2023.

You walk away from the Chelsea pitch with a tie. And frankly, you’ll take it.

You’ve never seen a team more excited about a draw. They’re rowdy as they gather back into the locker room, and you feel a hint of a grin rising as you watch them from the hall. The petty part of your brain again has you comparing what this would have been like if you still worked at West Ham. Shelley would have berated your players (and likely his coaching staff) about how pathetic a draw was. West Ham was the superior team of the league, after all. Their record had to show for it.

It’s then that a sudden realization comes crashing down on you. Fuck. West Ham. PR. You have to do press with Ted.

As if he could hear his name rattling around in your mind, your head coach steps in beside you. He nudges your elbow with his. “You alright there, Ace?”

You nod quickly, like that’ll hide the panic you know is written across your face. “Yeah, Coach. I’m alright.”

When he folds his hands behind his back, you know he isn’t buying what you’re selling. “You still okay to do this with me?” he asks, motioning to the press room down the hall.

“I’ve done press before,” you reply, though your mildly defensive tone tells him that you’re not certain if you’re assuring him or yourself. At the way he dips his head, you sigh in defeat. “I’ve done this before. Just… never at this level. Or for these reasons.”

Ted nods in understanding. “You know you don’t have to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”

“I know,” you say, because you do.

“And I’ll be there beside you the whole time. I can take over whenever you need me to.” He nudges you again. “I ain’t too bad with all this press stuff. And I’m more than happy to make a fool of myself if it gets too tough. Really give ‘em something to talk about.”

That gets you to look up at him wearily. “I’m scared to know what that means.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I don’t think we’ll get there,” he says, earning a chuckle from you in response. A beat passes before he looks at you again. “You ready?”

A long, sharp sigh exits your body. When you inhale, you turn back to him. “Yeah.”

“Good,” he says, nodding toward the room. “Let’s go quiet ‘em all down.”

You surprise yourself with an involuntary smile, but it gives you the confidence to follow him.

The press room is abuzz as you approach it and they get even more lively when you enter. You can hear your name being said from every direction and the chaos makes your hands shake. You’ve done this before, you tell yourself. You used to be good at these. It’s part of being a coach. You wanted this. You know how to do this.

Ted, who’s been leading the way, steps out to allow you to go up the stairs first. You clasp your hands together as you walk up, praying that this isn’t the moment your feet choose to fail you and make you trip. Luckily, you avoid disaster and make your way to the further of the two chairs on stage.

You look out into the sea of reporters, eye each of the cameras, and continue to play with your fingers as if it’s the answer to calming your nerves. You don’t realize things have gotten started until you hear Ted’s voice.

“Alright, alright, alright,” he greets the room, and you can’t help but envy how easily the words come out. “Afternoon everyone. What have you got for us today?” All hands in the room immediately go up, each reporter’s eyes shifting from you, to Ted, then back to you. Everyone’s got the same question on their minds. Everyone, except the guy that Ted picks, apparently. “Yeah, Alec. What do you got for us?”

Alec The Reporter stands. “How are we feeling about starting the season with a draw, Coach?”

Thank you, Alec, for starting with the easy question. “Well, I mean, I think we both would have liked a win,” Ted replies, looking over at you. You try your best at a smile and nod along. “But we’re proud of our boys. They turned it around after that first half, due mostly to the insight of our new coach over here. So, I think we’re feeling good about this start.” 

Alec sits down, satisfied with the answer. Before Ted calls on the next reporter, he glances at you. You nod once. You’re ready.

Ted points at a blonde woman toward the back of the room. “Sarah, how are we doing?”

Sarah The Reporter stands now. “Very well, thank you.” Her attention is immediately on you. “Coach,” she says, addressing you. “How was your first game with Richmond?”

Easing it into it, are we? You clear your throat and keep that smile plastered on your face. You can practically hear Roy yelling from the locker room for you to loosen up. “Not echo Coach Lasso, but I’m feeling good. Definitely would have liked a win, but it’s not a loss.”

You don’t think you could have given a more generic, neutral answer if you had tried. Maybe simply answering with ‘good’ would have been worse, but you doubt it. Sarah’s not done with you. “I was more referencing the dynamics of the team in your first game. The culture, if you will.”

Then come right out and say that then, don’t be weird and coy. You fight back a scowl and in doing so, your grin cracks slightly. The phrasing isn’t lost on you. Dynamics. Culture. They’re all words Rupert used just days ago. Stick to the script. Talking points. Don’t let them bait you.

“The Richmond culture’s definitely different,” you reply, perhaps putting too much emphasis on the word. To save yourself, you add, “But I think that’s to be expected when coaching Men's sports. Bit of a different world over here.” You offer a shrug, hoping your smile returns to what it was. “I’m very grateful to the Richmond team and staff for welcoming me with open arms into the warm environment they’ve created.”

You hope Rebecca and Keeley are somewhere cheering you on. That was sweet, neutral, and non-confrontational. Everything you wanted to be. Everything you should be in this line of questioning.

Ted nods at Sarah, cueing her to sit down. He points to a reporter in the front. “Marcus, yeah.”

It’s Marcus The Reporter’s turn to stand. And he comes out swinging. “No use in beating around the bush,” he says, eyes on you. “Do you have any response to Rupert Mannion’s comments about you and your tenure at West Ham?”

This is it. You feel Ted’s foot nudge yours encouragingly as you nod at Marcus and take a breath. Just as rehearsed. You got this.

“There’s not much to say that Mr. Mannion hasn’t already,” you answer slowly. “Unfortunately, some things like that just don’t work out. I too was not happy with the note that we ended on and wish it could have worked out our differences. But that’s all it was. Differences. There aren’t any hard feelings or any sort of bad blood between us. West Ham is a great team that I was honored to be a part of for the time that I was allowed. I’m sure they’ll have a fantastic season and can’t wait to meet them in a couple of weeks.”

You nearly let out a sigh of relief when you finish, thankful that that’s fucking done. The lies don’t sit right on your tongue and feel as though they’re rotting your teeth, but you don’t care. You got it all out, didn’t slip up or trip up, and can hopefully put this to bed.

However, unfortunately for you, Marcus doesn’t seem to be satisfied. Because he’s got a follow-up question you’re not at all prepared for. “And what of Tom MacDonald’s recent comments?”

The world stops. It comes to a complete, emergency-braked fucking halt and you feel as though someone’s punched you in the stomach. You feel like you’ve been ambushed, but you know that if you could have been prepared for this, you would have been. This must have happened today. Perhaps, even moments before this. You can feel Ted’s eyes on the side of your face almost immediately.

He… made comments? He spoke about you?

You can feel your throat constricting, but manage to get a couple words out in a relatively neutral-sounding tone. “I’m not sure what comments you’re referring to.”

“In his post-game interview about a half-hour ago,” Marcus says, glancing down at his notes to read. “He said, quote, ‘My best wishes are to Miss USA and her new Richmond team. I hope she finds her place with them, as I don’t think she ever really found hers here. But, you know, I guess you can’t really know until you really try to get to know the lads in the locker room and in the Coaches' Offices, huh?’”

Your breath’s been stolen from you. You can feel your nose and eyes start to burn as you stare Marcus down, steeling the look on your face. Refusing to show any type of emotion or reaction to that, you gather yourself.

What a fucking prick. What an absolute, horrendously evil, fucking asshole he is. You can imagine the look on his face when he said that. The smarmy fucking smile that accompanied it, the casual nonchalance of which he spewed that last part out with. You want to burn him. You want to destroy his life, his career, everything. The audacity he was to even bring up the locker room and the… 

You feel physically ill. You could throw up on the spot, but there’s something in you that’s keeping you from doing so. As the silence in the room festers, you feel Ted’s foot tap against yours again.

Do you need me to make a fool of myself? His eyes ask as you meet them. 

Quickly, you shake your head. You can do this. You’ve done this before. You used to be good at these. Don’t let him get to you like this. Don’t let either of them win.

You know you won’t come forward with what happened. You can’t. But you weren’t going to sit on your hands anymore. You wouldn’t be neutral anymore. Neutral. That was the word of the day. 

Fuck the word.

You allow another moment of silence to pass before you blink and refocus on Marcus. “I…” you begin, collecting yourself. You can feel the anger rise within you and you know it shows in your eyes. You’ve never been able to hide that. “I do, actually.”

(Somewhere in the Chelsea facilities, Rebecca Walton and Roy Kent are glued to different TVs broadcasting your conference. Rebecca’s unsure if she should be praying that you’ll tear West Ham apart or writhing in fear at the idea of what’s about to come out of your mouth. Roy, however, clocked the look in your eye immediately and can’t remember the last time he’s smiled this big.)

“As I said previously,” you start, straightening your back with a new, harder, more confident tone, “I’m also disappointed with the way that things ended between me and my former team. I also wish things could have been different and that I could have found my place. However, Mr. Mannion was correct when he assumed that I experienced a bit of a culture shock when I joined the club. However, I can’t blame anyone or anything for that but my own expectations for what I assumed AFC Football was going to be.” You offer a smaller, slightly more pleasant grin to the reporters and cameras. “But I can confirm that Richmond has met all of those aforementioned expectations within my first week. I’m excited to continue my journey with them and can’t wait to see where we go this season.”

Hands immediately fly up in response to your answer, follow-up questions galore. You glance over at Ted for a moment (who looks like he’s unsure whether he should be proud of you or sweating this), then suddenly find that a group of people are being ushered into the press room. You eyes lock with the man in the center, and he stares right back at you with an intensity you’re not sure you’ve seen before. Zava.

“And on that note,” you say, quieting everyone down. Relief washes over you now that you have an excuse to leave the room, “I think we’ve run out of time for questions concerning me. We’ve got something much more important to cover.”

When they all see that you’re referring to Zava, the room erupts into even more chaos. You couldn’t possibly be out of your chair faster, ready to make a break for it, and run to the bathroom. Ted’s on your heels as you exit, running in front of you to stop you as you make it to the hall.

“Woah, woah, slow down there,” he says with a soft laugh. “Runnin’ out of there faster than Tom Cruise in— well, any of the Mission Impossible movies, I guess.” You don’t meet his eye, or offer him any sort of pity laugh, something he catches immediately. “You alright, Ace?”

“Yeah,” you say shortly. God, you don’t want to cry in front of your head coach. “I’m good.”

He sees right through you. God, why is everyone at Richmond so fucking in touch with other people’s emotions? “Is there something you want to talk about? Maybe something I should know about—”

“No.” It’s a conversation ender and Ted steps back from you. You squeeze your eyes shut, wanting nothing less than to deal with this right now. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—” With a deep breath, you move away from him. “I’m fine. Really. Thank you for your help in there, Coach. And thank you for a wonderful first week.”

You even don’t hear what Ted has to say in response to that before you’re beelining for the bathroom and locking yourself in a stall, finally allowing the tears that had been welling in your eyes to fall.

Zava announces that he'll be joining Richmond and thirty minutes, later you find yourself in a 'Coaches Group Chat' reading a message from Ted.

After you'd collected yourself, you had the full intention of pretending like everything was normal. You refused to let him win or get the better of your emotions, or fucking... whatever. So, the second you received that text, you immediately signed yourself up for whatever Ted wanted you to do. 

Coaches’ Celebration at Crown and Anchor, the text from him reads. Be there or be square.

However, apparently, you’re the only one who’s concerned with being square, because none of your fellow coaches have shown up yet. There’s a group of three guys sitting at a table in the corner, yelling things at the screen every few minutes. You see a couple who are throwing darts at the end of the bar. There’s a lone man with a pint at the hightop by the door, texting away on his phone. But Ted, Beard, and Roy were nowhere to be found.

The bartop’s nearly abandoned, so you choose a seat in the middle, making sure to reserve three extras. When the woman behind the bar turns to serve you, you can tell she immediately recognizes you, and the smile she offers is warm.

“Good showing today,” she tells you. Then, she shrugs. “Would have liked a win.”

A surprised laugh escapes you. “You and me both.”

“What’ll it be?” she asks.

You hesitate for a moment, glancing at the door. “Um, I’m meeting people here. I—”

“Oh. Right. That’s tonight,” she says, with a knowing look in her eye. Your brow scrunches. “When he gets here, call me over. My name’s Mae.”

Before you can question that cryptic fucking sentence or correct her and let her know that you’re meeting people (plural) here, the pub door opens. Roy walks through, nodding once he sees you.

He grabs the stool to your left. “Nice press conference today,” he says in greeting, taking a seat. 

The teasing note in his voice makes you scowl. “Shut up. I was nervous.”

“I liked the part where you called Rupert a lying prick who needs to keep his mouth shut.”

“That’s not even close to what I said.”

Roy chuckles. “You might as well have. That was a media-trained ‘fuck you’ if I’ve ever seen one.”

God, you could really use that drink now. “I wasn’t even trained for that one,” you admit sheepishly. ”I literally don’t know where that came from. I was like, possessed by some bitchy politician or something.”

“She’d have my vote.”

“She shouldn’t. She’d start a global thermonuclear war because someone implied that she was difficult to work with.” You make a face at Roy as he chuckles. “Besides, I don’t think a Roy Kent endorsement would do her any favors.”

“Probably not,” Roy agrees. “Only person I’ve ever endorsed was you, and look where we are.”

You roll your eyes, casting them to the door. “Oh, my God. Okay, where are Ted and Beard?”

“They’re not coming,” a voice says as they round the bar. Mae stands before you once more, wiping her hands on a rag. 

You and Roy stare at her. “What do you mean they’re not coming?” you ask.

“I mean, they’re not coming,” Mae repeats matter-of-factly. Confusion takes over your expression. “They lured you two here and I’ve been given a ridiculous amount of money to keep you here until the two of you…” She glances down at her phone. “Fix your issues and…” Mae squints at the text she’s reading from. “...’Have whatever conversation you’ve been tiptoeing around.’”

By the time Mae looks up, you’re gaping at her and Roy’s already out of his seat. 

“You’re kidding,” you say faintly, praying that she’ll answer yes.

You have no such luck. “I’m not.”

“Fuck this,” Roy mutters. “I’m not getting fucking trapped at a fucking pub with you on a Sunday night because our stupid fucking team doesn’t understand fucking boundaries.”

You throw a thumb over your shoulder in the direction he’s looking to leave. “I second that. No offense, you seem lovely,” you tell Mae, “but I’m not staying here.”

“Unfortunately, you are,” Mae responds, nodding to the man who was sitting alone at the hightop, who stands up to block the door. He’s got to be the tallest man you’ve ever seen, and he’s built. You have no idea where he came from, but the sight of him alone gives you pause.

Roy’s on that same wavelength because he stops in his tracks, glaring at him. “This is fucking insane,” he says, looking back over to Mae.

“I agree,” she says, then nods to the window. “Take it up with them.”

You follow Mae’s line of sight to see Ted and Beard, sharing a pair of binoculars to stare at the two of you When they realize they’ve been spotted, Beard slowly removes the binoculars from his eyes and glares at Roy. Ted at least offers the dignity of a pity wave.

“Whatever they’re paying you,” you begin. “Roy will double it.”

Roy narrows his eyes. “I will?”

“Yes. You will.”

“Why the fuck am I the one paying? We’ve got the same fucking salary now.”

You whip around in your seat to glare at him, exasperation in your voice as you say, “Oh, my God, you played in the AFC for twenty years. I was in women’s sports for thirteen. We’re not even close to the same tax bracket.”

Roy considers this for approximately two seconds, then turns back to Mae. “Whatever they’re paying you, I’ll fucking double it.”

Mae shrugs, clearly not budging. “I’m a woman of my word, Mr. Kent,” she replies. Then, she motions to the clock on the wall. “I’ve promised to keep you here for at least an hour. What you do after that is none of my business.”

As Mae walks away, you stare at the bartop, truly unable to accept that this is happening in your present reality. There’s no way you’re doing this— no way that Roy’s doing this. This is fucking ridiculous, it’s wildly unprofessional, and—

—And Roy’s sitting down. You slowly raise your head to watch him pull out the barstool, slump into the chair, and put his face in his hands as if he can’t believe he’s actually going through with this. 

He’s giving in. He’s not putting up a fight. He’s obeying the wishes of his friends, he’s resigned to the cause, he’s… he’s putting himself in a position to have the conversation you two have been dreading since you began at Richmond.

Oh, fuck. Fuck. This is really happening.

You glance back over to the window where Beard stands, and he lowers his binoculars when he sees you looking. He sends you a simple, affirmative nod, raising the device to his eyes once more. 

“I assume you’ll be needing those drinks now,” Mae says from the end of the bar, two pint glasses in her hands.

You don’t think you or Roy have ever said ‘yes’ faster.

TAGLIST: @dark-academia-slut @tegan8314, @csigeoblue, @confessionsofatotaldramaslut, @thatonedogwithablog, @hawkeyeharrington, @jamieolivia27, @seatbacksandtraytables, @luvr-bunnyy

[peachhcs]

Does Will tell any of the guys he's realised his mistake??

Or even just that he slept with someone??

i like to think will calls grace first. she gives the best advice when it comes to any of this and then he calls gabe and ryan to talk to them.

"what's up, will?" grace asked as soon as she answered the phone.

"i hooked up with someone," will said immediately which caught grace off guard.

"what?"

"there was this halloween party last night..i think i was a little drunk and i hooked up with this girl," the boy explained, chewing on the bottom of his lip.

"okay. did something happen?" the older girl grew concerned.

"only that i did it because i thought i'd be able to get over samy and i didn't. i only thought about her the entire time," the hockey player's head fell into his hands as he sat on the end of his bed.

"oh. i see," the older blonde was at a bit of a loss with what to say.

"i think i fucked up, grace. i think i really, really fucked up," will frowned deeply as all the feelings he's tried pushing away for months began resurfacing.

"will..you didn't..fuck up. did you make a bad choice on rash thoughts? yeah. you didn't completely fuck up though," grace tried reassuring her brother even though she couldn't quite back his decisions.

"i should've talked to her more. i don't..i don't know what i was thinking. i thought i was letting her go for the better, but anytime i see her anywhere i wish i could call her and everything was how it used to be," now will was crying.

"it's not too late to talk. reach out to her. tell her you wanna talk or something."

"i can't. she blocked me on everything so even if i wanted to talk to her, i physically can't," the younger boy frowned deeply.

"do you want me to mention something?" grace offered softly.

"no, that's gonna make me look stupid. she doesn't wanna talk to me and i don't blame her," a long sigh fell from will's lips.

"look, we all do stupid shit when we're 18. she definitely does wanna talk to you. you guys were best friends once upon a time. that kind of bond doesn't disappear that easily. is there any time soon you'll be out near michigan or something?"

"i don't know. days off are random sometimes and unpredictable," will shrugged even though grace couldn't see him.

"maybe talk to gabe and ryan. they could make something happen. i know they're rooting for you two as much as i am to get back together or at least talk," will knew his older sister had a point. he should talk to gabe and ryan, but then they'd just tell him i told you so and harp on him.

"i don't know. i'll see. i should let you go," will mumbled.

"i'm always here to talk, will. it's gonna work out, i promise," the hockey player really wanted to believe his sister's words and he hoped to god it was true.

—

"wow, look who's calling first," ryan grinned through the screen when the call connected. will rolled his eyes a bit, but smiled when he saw his friends on his computer screen.

"you look like shit," gabe commented upon seeing will's red eyes and puffy cheeks.

"fuck off," the blonde mumbled.

"i'm kidding. it's good to see you. you had a hella game the other night," the dark-haired boy cheered.

"dude, you put those older guys to shame. like you were flying," ryan laughed making will laugh as well.

"thanks, it was pretty cool taking some of the veterans down. they're gonna be after me now."

"yeah, no shit. i think everyone now knows why you decided to sign on so early," gabe grinned.

their compliments had will flushing with pride. he's been working hard to prove himself these last few games and he was glad it was all finally paying off.

"by the way, halloween was so legendary this year. we went to like four different parties," ryan chuckled.

"i bet it's crazy in california," gabe wondered as the topic shifted.

"yeah, it is pretty crazy out here. so crazy i even hooked up with someone.." will began which had gabe and ryan's eyebrows raising.

"wait, you hooked up with someone? who?"

"uh..i don't really know her name, but i think..i think i regret it. i thought it would like..help me realize breaking up with samy was the right choice, but it didn't. i just thought about her the entire time.." will felt almost ashamed admitting this to his friends.

"oh."

"you're gonna tell me i told you so, but i know i fucked up now. i..i shouldn't have broken up with samy. i thought it would be better for both of us, but i just really miss her and i wish i could talk to her or something," the blonde frowned.

"you're saying this now? six months after the fact?" gabe raised his eyebrows.

"oh come on, give me a break. i was stupid, i know. i finally realize that now. i don't know what to do," upon seeing their friend's face, gabe and ryan saw how torn up will was about everything. they knew he really regretted everything that happened.

"i just don't get why you didn't talk to her more about this before you even decided to break up? you know she would've talked with you about whatever you were worried about," ryan said.

"it was a bad decision during very rash thoughts. i was overwhelmed and a mess back in may. i got scared and pushed her away like i do to everything. you guys don't need to tell me how much i fucked up. i know already," will huffed.

the three fell silent for a moment. will pulled a hand through his hair while gabe and ryan spoke with their eyes.

"a few of us are going to michigan over winter break to samy's lake house. if you can find some free time, you should come out. i think samy would like to see you. you two can finally talk maybe," gabe finally said.

"i'll think about it," will nodded. could he actually fly out to michigan and see samy after not speaking to her or seeing her for eight months though? the idea sent will's head spinning and not in a good way.

[that-basic-simp]

Birthday Surprise

Junker Queen x Fem!Reader CW: N/A WC:1.1k+ A/N: Happy Birthday to our lovely Junker Queen!

"I really miss ya," I said to Odessa.

"I miss ya, too, princess," she said, getting settled in the chair. "Ugh, fuck."

I chuckled, "Still getting used to being there?"

"Yeah. I am not really used to all this tech stuff," she said, adjusting the camera. "Can ya still see me?"

"Yeah. But it's pointing at your chest. Move it up slightly."

She moved the camera up before letting it go, "Better?"

"Much."

She let out a sigh, running her hand through her mohawk, "I'm glad Overwatch was able to send ya some stuff so that we can continue to communicate."

"I am, too. At least I know you're alive after every mission."

"Yeah. I don't know what you'd be doin' if ya didn't hear from me almost every day."

"I know. But talking to one another like this just isn't the same," I said.

"I know, princess. I know. Hopefully one day I won't be needed and we can just talk and spend the day together. Even if it's over a video call like this."

"Yeah. But I really want to see you. To hold you."

"I know ya do, darlin'. Hopefully one day Overwatch will let me go just for a few days."

"I hope so, too."

"Queen, we've got to get going."

She let out a sigh, "I'll be there in a minute. Alright, duty calls, princess."

"Be careful out there. Take care of her, Kiriko."

"I will, Y/N."

"I love you, Dez."

"I love you, too, Y/N," she said and blew me a kiss. I blew her one back.

The camera cut out and the video call shut off. I leaned back against the throne and let out a sigh. It's been a few months since Odessa had to join Overwatch. And in those past few months, it was such an odd change I had to get used to. No longer waking up beside her and finding her amber eyes staring into mine. Eating alone and just walking around Junkertown felt weird without her being there. Leaning towards the computer Overwatch had given me to remain in contact with Odessa, I pulled up someone from the contact list. The profile picture popped up on the holographic screen and it started to ring.

"Hello!" a peppy voice came through.

"H-Hi. Is this Tracer?"

"You betcha! What can I do for you?"

"H-Hi."

"Hold on one second."

Her camera turned on and I was face to face with a woman with short brown hair and matching brown eyes. There were some freckles along the underneath of her eyes, similar to Odessa's, but hers were more prominent.

"There we go. Oh! I know you. You're Odessa's partner."

"Y-Yes, hi. I'm Y/N."

"Nice to meet you, Y/N. Anything we can do for you?"

"I was wondering if it was possible for me to come visit Odessa. She's been lonely up there and we both miss one another."

"Let's see something real quick," she grabbed a calendar, looking over some things. "This month is pretty busy for all of us here. We're needed in multiple areas of the world since Null Sector is non-stop attacking right now and we don't know how long missions are going to take. But aside from that, nothing seems to be going on that is deemed important enough to where she will be reported if she doesn't show. Uhm, I will have to get back to you, Y/N, if that's alright."

"That's completely fine," I said.

"I do have the contact for your phone it seems. So I'll message you whenever there is a slow with some of the fighting."

"Thank you, Tracer."

"You're welcome, Y/N. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"No. Thank you again."

"Anytime. Take care now!"

"You too," I said and the call ended. I sighed once more, knowing I had to do more waiting until I got to see her. I just hoped it wouldn't be long.

A few more months had gone by and before I knew it, it was getting close to her birth month. It was going to be odd celebrating without Odessa, but that didn't stop me from getting her something in the hopes that I could see her. Or at least find a way to send it to Overwatch so she could receive it. While I was doing some work around the throne room, the phone Overwatch had given us went off. Leaning over to see who messaged, I immediately dropped what I was doing and opened up the message from Tracer.

"Hey, Y/N! A victory has been secured and the fighting has ceased for now. There will be some time for you to come and visit. Should I tell Odessa?"

"No. Please don't tell her. I want to surprise her."

"Sounds good! I have an idea on when we can surprise her!"

I stayed silent as I was hiding in a box. Tracer found a box big enough to where I can sit down and still have enough room to where I didn't feel cramped. She wrapped it up but left the flaps open. Once the position was set and everything, I got in and she closed the flaps. She wrapped a bow around the top and once the bow was unwrapped, that's when I'd pop out and surprise Odessa.

"What's this all about?" Odessa asked as I listened to her footsteps walking around.

"Someone informed me of a very special day for you," Tracer said. "This one is from all of us to you, Odessa."

"For me?" she asked, shocked that she was receiving something. "Ya didn't have to."

"We wanted to. We wanted to get you something that reminded you of home. We know how much you've missed being back in Junkertown."

"Ya have no idea," Odessa sighed.

"So we got you something special! Straight from Junkertown."

"Eh?" she asked, walking towards the box I was in.

"It's kinda big. Tell me ya didn't put a live dingo in 'ere. Then that'd be another problem on our hands aside from Null Sector and Talon."

"Open it," Tracer said.

There were more footsteps as I assumed everyone was nearby, waiting for Odessa to open up the box. She grabbed the bow and untied it. She was about to grab the box flaps, but I popped up.

"HOLY FUCK!" Odessa yelled, about to slap me. Her face went from terror to pure shock. "Y-Y/N?!"

"Surprise!" I smiled. "Happy Bir--"

I was immediately cut off as Odessa pulled me in for a much awaited kiss. I smiled against her lips and kissed her back. Pulling away, she kept pressing pecks to my lips before peppering my face with them.

"D-Dez!" I chuckled. "W-What about the others?"

"I don't care," she breathed out, pressing her forehead against mine. "I want to show you how much I've missed ya."

I jumped up and wrapped my arms and legs around her, hugging her tightly. She grabbed underneath my thighs and held me close.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you, too."

She pressed another kiss to my lips.

"Best gift ever."

"Ya haven't seen what I got ya."

"I'm sure I'll love it, princess. But gettin' to see ya. To hold ya. To kiss ya. Best thing ever since I came 'ere."

I chuckled and pressed my forehead against hers.

[burrowbaddie]

Heyy if you’re taking requests between chapters could you do something with the reader being famous or something but still quite shy and meeting the guys or them bugging joe when they find out that he’s dating her?

"Whose got you smiling into your phone like that, Burrow?" Ja'Marr asked, shoving his teammate.

"No one." Joe quickly puts his phone away as Zac starts talking about the upcoming season. His phone vibrates in his pocket, and Joe can't contain his excitement. He knows you are finally responding. Sure, you're in Tokyo shooting for your latest movie, and he understands how busy your schedule can get, but he would be lying if he said it didn't get to him. So, you being able to double-text him right now has him ready to jump out of his chair and call you. As soon as the meeting ends, Joe goes to the bathroom to facetime you.

"Hey, handsome." You pick up still in full make-up and costume.

"Wow, you look amazing. What are you?"

"I would be spoiling the movie, and that would be against my contract."

"Right, I'm sorry."

"I'm just kidding, Burr. I'm a prostitute in the early 2000s. I'm shooting season two of Tokyo Vice."

"I love that show! I didn't know you were going to be in season two."

"It's a secret."

"I umm miss-

"Sorry, They're calling me back to set! I'll call you when I get some downtime." You hang up before Joe can tell you good night.

"Who were you on the phone with?" Your manager smiles at you. You bit your lip and shook your head.

"Let's get back to set!" You reply, getting up from your chair. After another 6 hours, you wrap up for the day. You want to call Joe, but it's pretty later over there. But you end up calling anyway.

"What's up, baby?" Joe answers on the third ring. You lay back on your bed, smiling.

"I just finished filming, so I wanted to call you. I didn't think you would be available."

"Oh yeah, I couldn't sleep."

"So, I get back to the states in a few days. If you're free-"

"Yes. I mean, yeah. We should meet up." Joe cuts you off before you can finish, which makes you laugh. You end up falling asleep on the phone with him, exhausted after long hours of shooting even though it was only 1 pm.

And when you get back to the states, you meet Joe in LA discreetly. Joe looks at the dinner you prepared and nods his head, impressed by your cooking skills.

"Looks great." He pulls you into his arms and kisses your head.

"You better enjoy it. I hate cooking, but it's the one thing I'm glad my mom taught me." You look up at him smiling.

"Speaking of mom. My mother is dying to meet, and I quote the girl who has my son smiling like a maniac."

"Oh, so I am on downtime now. I can come to your first home game of the season. I guess I will meet her there."

"Are you sure that's okay?"

"Yeah. It will be fine." You tell him. But when the day comes, you're so nervous you can barely keep focused on simple tasks.

"A football game? You hate football." Your brother says, laughing. You look at yourself in the mirror, making sure Joe's jersey looks okay.

"I'm dating the quarterback." You finally confess. He laughs and shakes his head.

"Of the Ravens?"

"Nope. Bengals."

"No fucking way. You're not dating Joe Burrow."

"I am, and I'm supposed to tailgate with his family today, and I'm super nervous. Do I look okay" You pick up your phone, and your brother takes his Facetime off of pause to look at you?

"Holy shit. You are dating him. I'm surprised it hasn't come out on TMZ."

"Well, we barely had time to see each other, so-"

"Wait, how long have you been dating."

"9 months now."

"Why are you just now telling me?"

"It wasn't serious. Idk I didn't think we would be together this long. I thought, hey, this is a good fuck; don't ruin a good thing, but then we just clicked, and yeah."

"This is insane. You know, by wearing his jersey, rumors will start, right?"

"I should change." You say, tossing the jersey off.

Joe stares at his phone, waiting for you to say you're here.

"There you go on the phone again. Whoever she is, has you whipped." Ja'Marr says, making the other guys laugh. Joe ignores them and sneaks away to meet you. He pulls you into a hug and kisses your lips softly.

"So, I was wearing your jersey, but I didn't want to draw attention." You ramble. Joe laughs and looks at you wearing his hoodie.

"My parents are this way. I'm sorry I obviously can't join the tailgate but I think you'll be okay. I hope." Joe whispers the last part to himself. Joe opens the door and his mother's eyes light up.

"You did not tell us you were dating oscar winning actress-"

"Don't make this weird," Joe says, cutting off his sister-in-law, who is almost in tears.

"Yeah, so this is my girlfriend." Joe goes around introducing you to everyone. When Joe has to leave your side, you almost start to panic. But his mother grabs your hand, giving you a warm smile.

"Joe has just been glowing these last few months. I'm glad I finally get to meet the reason why." She whispers. You sit with the family and enjoy the festive of tailgating. A few people take photos of you or ask for your autograph, which you are happy to give. When it's game time, you decide to put Joe's jersey back on and become the supporting girlfriend. The truth is you know nothing about football. During warm-ups, Joe continues to look over at you. At one point, you blow a kiss at him, and he drops the ball. You start laughing. During the game, Joe is focused on winning. You cheer him and the team on. They win, and you wait with his family after the game. The Burrows have a celebration at their house after the game. You prepare yourself to meet his teammates. When Joe introduces you as his girlfriend, the guys' jaw drops.

"Did not see this coming? How did you meet?" Sam asks. Joe hands you a beer, and you take a sip letting Joe tell the story.

"We met at her cousin's wedding in December."

"Joe had game to pull you like that?" Ja'Marrs asks. You giggled.

"Those TikToks helped." You reply. Joe wraps his arm around you. The guys ask many questions you mostly let Joe answer because you feel timid, but with Joe's arm around you protectively, it melts away. At the end of the night, Joe takes you away to make out with you, away from peeping eyes. You sit on the bathroom counter, moaning into his mouth while his tongue works around yours.

"Can you stay at my place, or do you need to go back to LA?"

"I can stay with you. I'm on a little break." You whisper. He smiles, kissing down your neck. You hiss as he sucks a bruise onto your neck.

"Joe. Let's get home first." You giggle. Joe groans as you palm him through his jeans.

"I love you," Joe whispers. You freeze up and don't reply.

"Joseph! Your mother is looking for you." His father's voice breaks the awkward silence. Joe pulls away and doesn't look at you before leaving the bathroom. You lean against the mirror, cursing yourself.

A/N: I started getting carried away when I saw this ask! The idea was just too good too! I hope this was okay and you like it!

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 29: corn maze

Masterlist flufftober 🎀

Reblog if you liked it!

“Are you sure we should go this way? That corner over there seems familiar to me”

“For the umpteenth time today, you can't possibly recognize a place because they all look the same. They are cornfields”

“Your response only confirms to me that we are fucking lost.”

In reality, you knew you weren't lost and even if you were, you trusted that your friend would be able to get you out of there. You and Spencer had known each other for practically as long as you could remember and when he told you that he would be in Vegas for a few days you practically begged him to go out with you. You didn't even care where you guys were going, you just wanted to spend time with him and enjoy the fall weather like when you were children.

In the midst of it all Spencer looked at a sign advertising a haunted house and a corn maze on the outskirts of town and he thought about the last time he had gone to either. He talked to you and in the end you decided on the second option, feeling an adventurous spirit that was not very fueled right now.

“We’re not lost. I have an eidetic memory and I know perfectly well that since we arrived, we have made one turn to the right, three to the left, we walked forward along the path on the right side, then we made another turn to the left…”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” you whined, smiling slightly at your friend’s jabbering. A couple of people walked past you and waved at you, looking a little more lost than you.

Spencer was wearing a long coat that day, a garment you weren't very used to seeing him in, a themed scarf and a pumpkin-colored hat that you had knit for him a couple of years ago but that he still seemed to appreciate.

“Don't worry, these camps always use a Global Positioning System with satellites to help identify the location of all the people in the camp and are designed so that you can leave halfway if you panic.”

“This reminds me of that novel by King and his son, In the Tall Grass, have you read it?”

"No. Is it good?"

“It's a little scary if you live in the country. Or if you go into a corn maze, like a couple of fools thought of it” you joked and that seemed to amuse your friend, who giggled.

You moved a little closer to him and decided to wrap your hand around his arm, an approach that he gladly received.

“I'm glad we're here, I really wanted to see you.”

“I know, you hardly come to Las Vegas anymore. When was the last time?"

“Eight months and thirteen days”

“Too long,” you said, with a certain melancholy, and Spencer raised his opposite hand to put it on yours, as if he wanted to apologize for having taken so long to return.

“To the left,” he murmured kindly to you, pointing his head in that direction.

“I'm following you without questioning you, you know? If we get lost, I won't even know."

“We arrived at the third checkpoint, right there,” he pointed out, with a proud smile. “Relax, don't you trust me? I am a genius"

“You're a show-off,” you laughed, resting your head on his shoulder for a second and feeling his do the same on the top of your head.

It felt good to be with him like that, like two old friends who know that no matter how much time passes, things won't change at all between them. You didn't know it, but Spencer had been going through a lot these past few months, and being with such a familiar face comforted him immensely, as if he could remember a time in the past that seemed happier and simpler.

“I think it's this way!” you heard next to you. It was a group of teenagers who were pointing down the path to the left at a fork and who seemed quite excited by the discovery they had just made. “We are going to win, it shouldn't be too far away”

“Stop,” Spencer murmured, surprising you and them. “It's not that way. "You must take the other path”

The young people debated for a moment whether they should follow a stranger's advice or their own conclusions and you believed that, in their place, you would have done the same; I mean, a couple of adults advising them is always strange, since they feel like they know everything in the world. Still, you decided to support them a little.

“Listen to him, we haven't gotten lost even once. He's a genius for these things.”

You almost saw Spencer make fun of you when he heard you call him a genius, when just seconds before you were calling him a braggart.

“What if you are lying to us?”

“I'm so sure it's that way that I'll greet you at the exit,” Spencer responded, with a small smile “It's not too far away, but if you want to take that path and it leads you to nothing, you just need to go back to the right one.”

After thinking about it for a while, the group made the best decision and after saying thank you, they began to walk on the side that Spencer had recommended, where you saw them get lost a couple of seconds later.

“Why did you help them?”

"Why don’t do it?" he responded with amusement.

You continued advancing while you held him and when you reached the place that had caused discord, he guided you to the opposite side where the teenagers had gone. Your brow furrowed and you tried to mutter something, but Spencer beat you to it.

“I know this isn’t where we should go,” he pointed out, as if wanting to calm your questions.

"And then?"

“I thought that if we take the right path, we will spend less time together.”

Your heart skipped a little when you heard what he was telling you and you smiled unconsciously, like you always did when you were with him.

You continued to hold his arm carefully and chatted the rest of the way, not even having to worry about where you were going because you knew that in the end he would guide you to the right place.

And you thought, maybe, that was part of the magic of being with Spencer Reid.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14 @spencerslove @vivian-555 @r-3dlips @rhiannonhippiegirl @taygrls @simp4f1 @sdddoobydoobydoo @taintedstranger @missabsey

[caradecema]

Again// Twisters

Part 1

Summary: A love-hate relationship between a cold, could careless, Scott and happy, carefree Marian. The two of them are on different sides when it comes to chasing Tornadoes.

What could happen between the two of them when Tyler Owens is playing Cupid.

{Scott x OC fem}

Part 1, Part 2, Part3, Part4, Part 5

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It had been 5 years since Marian left Oklahoma for California to continue her studies at Stanford. But now five years later she was back in Oklahoma to continue her studies during her summer break. 

Taking a deep breath Marian smiled at the smell. "Ma, I'll be back later" Marian shouted when she saw the red truck that belonged to her best friend Tyler Owens. The truck was quick to come to a stop the familiar whistle of Tyler made her smile when he hopped off his truck and ran to her picking her up and twirling her around. "Glad to have you back Litte one" Tyler spoke his grin never leaving his lips as he placed her down. "Glad to be back gringo" Marian told him.

"So how is the big city treating you these past few years?" Tyler asked opening the door for her before heading to his side. "Good, met a lot of people," Marian told him causing Tyler to laugh "And fuck them" Marian laughed with him. "That too, I was able to get one of the tablets from work and from what I can see June is going to be packed with Tornados," Marian told Tyler who nodded. "Are we surprised?" 

"Are the others waiting on us already?" Marian asked making Tyler nod as the two of them made their way to meet up with the others. "Are you staying until the end of summer or only a few weeks?" Tyler asked lowering the music so that the two could speak without shouting. "I need to head back to Cali sometime in July," Marian told him making Tyler nod. "I guess we are going to have to make this month exciting for you Little one," Marian smiled at him.

It wasn't long for them to arrive where the others were at. When they did everyone smiled as they brought Marian into a hug telling her how happy they were that she was back even tho it was only for a few weeks. 

"Want anything from the store?" Marian asked wanting some snacks for the road. Boone was the first to speak "Unos takis, por fa" Marian nodded as she headed inside. (Some takis please)

When she came down she saw more people in the parking lot of the gas station. Looking around she saw Storm Par... she had heard of them in one of her meetings. Not truly paying much attention she made her way to the others. "Here you go" Boone nodded as he grabbed the bag of takis and placed it in his back pocket. "Where is Tyler?" Marian asked when she noticed he was gone. "Talking to the brunette over there" Lily spoke pointing to Tyler and the woman he spoke with.

Marian laughed knowing Tyler would fuck anything with two legs if he had the chance. "Mar?" Marian looked at the familiar nickname that not many used. Taking a look around she saw "Shit, Javi" Marian smiled as she made her way to the older boy who brought her into a hug. 

"How are you?" Marian asked as she patted Javi on the arm. "I'm good, what are you doing here?" He asked before turning to the tall black hair guy next to him. "This is Scott by the way, Scott this is Marian an old classmate of mine" Javi spoke.

"Nice to meet you Scott" Marian smiled looking at him waiting for him to shake her hand when he didn't she brought it down a scowl on her face as she cursed him off in Spanish "Melolengo cabron! (No translation in English)" Javi let out a laugh patting Scott on the arm "Don't mind him, he's a man of little words" Marian nodded. "I would get your boyfriend if I was you, it seems Kate might steal him from you" Scott spoke as he went back to chewing on his gum.

"Kate... the Kate?" Marian asked when she saw the girl making Javi nod. "I'll get going see you on the road" Marian smiled as she headed off opening her sprite before shouting at Tyler to hurry up.

"Well let's go" Javi spoke as Scott began to shout at the earpiece for everyone to hurry up and pack up.

"What was that about?" Marian smirked when she saw Tyler looking for Kate. "She said that one over there would be our winner but I think she was fucking with us," Tyler told her as they took off into the road. 

"The one she told you is going to die down soon, look" Marian spoke as she showed him the tablet Tyler gave her a look as he looked down his hand resting on her shoulder as she showed him how the wind was going the opposite way meaning it would die down soon.

"Well let's get going, little one" Tyler smiled as he opened the door for her making her laugh as she got inside the truck with his help. "Ok buckle up" Tyler spoke turning back to the British guy in the back.

"What's wrong with grumpy?" Marian asked as she clicked away on her tablet as Tyler spoke to the cameras. "You mean clipboard? Don't mind him he doesn't smile or talk much" Tyler told her as he pressed the gas laughing as they passed, Javi. 

Looking up Marian made eye contact with Scott the man more than likely glaring at her from behind his glasses as he chewed his gum. Marian couldn't help but kiss her middle finger before flipping him off as Tyler passed them.

They had taken a left and so had Storm par. The two of them began to get close to the tornado as Storm Par separated from them. Marian rolled down her window and smiled. Oh, how she missed the thrill of this. "We have about 5 minutes before it dies down, I want to say," Marian told them when she saw the wind pattern begin to change. 

"Got it!" Tyler shouted as he got in front of the Tornado making Ben shout as they all began to put their seat bells on.

When they came out they were laughing and more when Ben threw up. Looking up Marian saw Scott looking their way a smirk formed on her lips as she kissed her palm and blew it his way making Scott roll his eyes as he turned to help Javi on something making Marian smirk. "We should find a motel to pass the night shouldn't we?" The others nodded as they got back in the truck and headed out.

When they made it to a hotel they all separated and made their way to their own room. Around 11 Marian left to go down to the bar where almost everyone was when she arrived Tyler shouted at her to join them making her smile as she sat next to him. 

"How was your first day back?' Tyler asked as he asked for a drink his hand wrapping around her body. "Good, I forgot how fun this is," Marian told him as she down her shot before turning around when she heard the doors to the bar open reviling Storm Par.

"if it isn't Storm par! Come to delight us with your presence?" Tyler shouted making many in the group grunt as they took their seats. Marian smirked when she saw Scott enter his eye on her making her laugh as she blew a kiss his way. 

"Please for the love of god tell me you do not find that man attractive?' Tyler begged whispering in her ear so that no one would hear them. Marian did not say much as she down another shot. "The same can be said for Kate?" Tyler didn't say much after that.

"Are they a thing?" Kate asked Javi the boy gave her a look before shrugging. "No, idea... but from what I remember she goes for beefier guys, and they have to have black unkempt hair," Javi told her as he eyed Scott. 

"Still I wouldn't go after him Kate he fucks anything with two legs" Javi warn her. Scott on the other hand kept his grip on his beer his brain trying to decipher if Tyler and Marian were a thing. By the way, Owens kept her close the entire time and she didn't look bothered they might.

"Here you go, love" The woman from the dinner spoke as she gave Scott a shot. Scott gave her a look as he looked down at the shot, his eyes went straight to Mar the girl already looking at him with a grin as she raised her own shot before downing it and winking at him. Javi looked down trying to hide his laugh as he saw the lost look on Scott who down his own shot in confusion.

Around 2 everyone began to leave back to their own rooms smiling and laughing at one another. Marian had pushed Tyler causing him to stumble out of the door. "That ain't nice, Little one," Tyler whined as he grabbed her hand and stood up. 

"Off you go" Marian smiled as she left him in his room before heading off to her own. Before she went inside she took a look at the clear night a small whistle leaving her lips at how pretty the sky looked.

"Not sleeping with your boyfriend tonight?' the cold voice of Scott made her turn a grin on her lips as she laid back in the railings. "Nah, maybe tomorrow I'll ride him until he can't walk" Marian laughed at her own stupid joke. Scott gave her a look making her smile at him "You should smile more, maybe you'll get laid" She told him before turning around and heading to her room. Scott gave her a look as he opened the door next to her.

Why am I attracted to assholes?

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[blvckswxnji]

Can’t Get Enough of The Wrong Thing

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-xxxxx-

Pairings: [Hobie Brown x (f) Reader]

Genre: toxic (?) romance, exes that won’t leave each other alone, unhealthy relationship, (18+)

Warnings: some angst, strong language, heavy tension, smut.

Summary: You’re Hobie’s guilty pleasure and he’s secretly yours, yet you won’t admit it. He’ll make you, one way or another…

Word Count: 4.2k

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You won’t look. You can’t. He wants you to, you can feel it across the table. But you won’t. No more giving in, not this time. Hell no.

You made a truce with yourself to stop seeing him after the last time and you’ve been proudly holding up to that truce for a whopping three weeks. You couldn’t fumble it now.

When Pav decided on the group hanging out after a successful mission on capturing a tough anomaly, you knew he’d be here. It was honestly inevitable, but throughout the whole night you’ve maintained a good amount of distance from him. Although you were able to avoid his presence, you weren’t able to avoid his lingering gaze. You tried brushing it off and focusing your attention on the rest of the gang having fun and chilling out, but it was hard.

The thing was, you hadn’t told Hobie you were going to stop hooking up with him. You had kinda just ditched him after your last interaction. If you were being honest, you knew you couldn’t keep seeing him, you both broke up months ago and you couldn’t let yourself continue to mess with your ex any longer. No matter how much you loved it, it wasn’t healthy.

A live band had been playing tonight in the random joint you guys attended. There were many people, but it was enough where you could get around easily. Many of them swayed and bobbed their heads to the music and you decided this was the perfect distraction to occupy yourself from the man burning holes in your face.

Surprisingly, Hobie didn’t try anything after you began avoiding him. Little did you know he knew you’d pull some bullshit like this, so, he let you have your fun. Let you think you guys were over, when he knew he’d pull you right back into his greedy hands soon enough.

“Hey Gwen, dance with me?” You pleaded to the girl not wanting to be by yourself. Hobie lifted his head in amusement. Amused at the way you were trying to get away from him. Still, he didn’t utter a word to you. You were grateful.

She returns a panicked look, “Oh no, I don’t dance y/n!” You roll your eyes with a smile on your face to mask being on edge.

“Just come on, it’ll be fun!” With that, you got up and pulled her into the crowd of bodies moving along to the music. Gwen looks like a lost puppy, but your positive energy seems to loosen her up eventually and sooner or later, she gets the hang of it.

After a few songs, you started getting a bit tired so you both decided to meet back with the rest of the group at the table. You were glad to have relaxed and take your mind off of things, and for once throughout the night, you actually felt like you were having fun.

Once you two made it through the crowd and towards them, you noticed Hobie nowhere to be found. You decided on not asking though, it would be weird to. It’s not like you should care anyways, because… you shouldn’t.

“Where’s Hobie?” Gwen asks, looking around as we both sit down.

“Oh, he went to go dance with some pretty lady that offered like 10 minutes ago.” Peter answered casually. You froze. You curse yourself for doing so but you did. You also cursed yourself for looking around to see if you could spot him. Pathetic really on your end.

Gwen’s eyes widen slightly, “Oh wow, go Hobes!” she said, to no one quite in particular.

Did you also forget to mention no one in the group really knew of the relationship you and Hobie had? Because they didn’t, and right now you wish they did so they could just shut the fuck up. In all honesty it’s not like they were completely clueless, they knew you both liked flirting with each other but nothing really past that. Hobie wasn’t/isn’t one for labels or pda and neither are you.

Your eyes finally land on said man. Your heart annoyingly drops. He’s holding the girl by her waist loosely as she practically throws herself all over him. Luckily for you he doesn’t look super interested in her dancing but he doesn’t seem bothered by it, which bothered you.

You cursed his spidey senses because almost like clockwork, as soon as you caught the two, he made eye contact with you. You quickly avert your gaze but not quick enough as you could already feel the smirk etched on his face targeted to you.

Hobie was honestly enjoying this. His bastard self. He loved to see you crack under the pressure of his being, his gaze. He wanted to watch you crumble under the desperate urge for him and only him. Which is why he pulled the girl even closer, just to get further under your skin.

“You alright y/n?” Margo asks from beside you.

You turn your head to her, “Yeah of course I’m fine I jus-”

“Hey, I saw you back there on the dance floor with your friend, you’re really pretty, mind if I take you for a drink?” You’re cut off by an unfamiliar voice. You turn around to see a decent looking man standing in front of you. He’s pretty tall (not as tall as Hobie), but somewhat attractive all the same (although doesn’t beat Hobie’s beauty).

Y/n what the fuck!? Shut up!

“Oh um…” you look to the others to see if it’s a good idea, Pav giving you a smirk and looking as if to tell you to do it, while everyone else just looked to see what you were going to say. You take a final look at Hobie across the room who seemed to notice the interaction before you finally decided… fuck it!

“Sure why not.”

And then you were off. A faint smirk plastered on your lips as you were more than happy to piss Hobie off. You could practically feel his glare from a mile away. You’re walked up to the bar where you two sit down and the guy finally introduces his name.

“I’m Colin by the way, you?”

“Oh, I’m y/n, pleasure.” It wasn’t necessarily but he seemed alright, so why not at least try to be nice.

“Please to meet you y/n, what would the pretty lady like?” He asks as he scans the array of bottles lined up behind the bar and further looks for a nearby bartender.

“Um, a classic martini would be nice.” You shoot him a flat smile.

“Lovely.” He makes eye contact with one of the bartenders, “two classic martinis please, on the rocks!” The bartender nods and goes straight to work.

You would’ve like to say you didn’t find the conversation of getting to know Colin that followed soon after interesting, but for some odd reason you actually kind of liked the guy. He was quite funny and you don’t know if it’s because of the amount of martinis you’ve drunken since the first round, but you found yourself more relaxed and more willing to give him a shot. Hell, you might’ve become slightly more attracted to him. But you believe that’s due to growing intoxication of your mind and body. Either way, you found yourself laughing at his jokes and more keen of his flirting advances.

“Ya’ know, I think I kind of like you.” You blurt out without really thinking much of the words. Colin smirks.

“I’m quite fond of you myself y/n.” You bite your lip as you lean in a bit closer to him. The tipsiness in your veins making you a little bolder than usual.

The same case can be said for Colin as he moves to whisper in your ear. “Wanna get outta here and go to my place?” Followed by a light brush on your thigh. You don’t know what the hell kicked you into high gear to wake the fuck up but suddenly reality seemed to hit. Should you be doing this? You mean sure he’s a cool guy but was this really want you were ready for? Plus Hob— stop, enough with him y/n! Get a grip, no more of him.

Colin seemed to sense the way you stiffened up because he’s immediately filled with concern and regret. “Oh, fuck, I shouldn’t have I’m sor—”

“No no no no, it’s not you I’m— look I’m sorry, Colin, for everything really,” you stumble over your own words trying to let him know you weren’t offended with him, “I’m sorry you were really great but I need to go.” You hurry and shuffle from your seat at the bar towards the public restroom near the back of the joint.

You felt bad and embarrassed. You basically screwed that poor guy over what, because of some bastard you’re not even with anymore!? What the hell were you doing?

You made your way to the women’s restroom where you entered through the marked door and shimmied your way into an empty stall. You think you’re going insane. You stand in there for about a minute to catch your breath before your senses slowly come back to you. You hear the bathroom door open then shut and presume it’s the lady you saw when you first entered, leaving the sink.

You quickly open your stall door and make your way to the sinks directly across. You turn on the cold water and give your face a quick splash to sober yourself up. You lift your arm as a lazy attempt to dry your face, placing both your hands on the counter to steady yourself. You hear the distant thumping of the base of the music playing from outside the restroom. It’s quiet as you close your eyes and soak in the silence for a moment.

“Ya’ done now love?”

It was as if someone had screamed the highest pitch ever, directly into your ear. The speed your body had jolted, in the mere shock of the voice that emitted from the other side of the bathroom. Your head snapped so fast you thought you were about to break your neck. Your heart literally dropped.

“What the actual fuck Hobie?! You’re not supposed to be in here!” You shouted in a mix of shock and anger.

He smirked. “Now since when do you ever remember me following the damn rules?” He was leaning on the tiled wall, arms folded in one another with his head tilted to the side as he questioned you.

You didn’t answer, turning towards the paper towel dispenser to dry your hands.

Hobie huffs out laugh. “How much longer you gonna keep this cheap act up ay’? It’s getting bloody borin’ if you ask me.”

“What act?” Shrugging your shoulders, feigning ignorance.

“Playing clueless are we?”

“Letting random girls grind on your dick are we?” You shot back, looking him straight in the face. Instead of offense, satisfaction seemed to over take Hobie’s features.

Damn it.

He smiles in amusement. “Jealousy ain’t a bright look on you sweetheart. And correct me if I’m wrong, but weren’t over at the bar about to get that lad’s dick wet before you choked?” He taunts.

This damn bastard.

“Fuck… you Hobie, like actually fuck off.” You spit as you make your way closer to his form. He wasn’t intimidated in the slightest and it pissed you off.

He abruptly pushes off the wall and sweeps his hands out of his pockets, moving forward which made you move back a bit. “Oh I know you’d love to do that again darlin’. I’d fuck me again too if I’m honest.” His smirk stretched even wider as you found your back coming in contact with the sinks behind you.

“You’re gross.” You counter, a futile attempt to hold your ground.

He moves even closer to you, so much so that only a few inches were left in between your bodies. “You weren’t sayin’ that when you were takin’ me from behind in the alleyway near HQ a few weeks ago, now were you?” His eyes grew a shade darker, daring you to deny. You hate how your heart rate began to speed up.

“And that’s the last time I’ll ever do anything with you again.” Hobie lets out a dark chuckle, his head falling low as if you just told the world’s most hilarious joke. You just stare. As his laughter dies down, he puts his hands on either side of you and on the edge of the counter. He lifts his head slowly and brings his face mere centimeters from yours, staring with dilated eyes. It feels as if you both are in that position for an eternity, before suddenly he lets go all together and pulls back.

He doesn’t say anything. You stay frozen in your spot as he turns away from you and walks away. You think he might actually leave it at that and exit the bathroom, but you become more confused when you see him entering the farthest stall away from the entrance.

The hell?

You take this as your chance to leave and quickly make your way towards the exit.

Almost to the door, suddenly, you feel your shirt get hit with something or stuck to something? You don’t have time to dwell on it as you feel your body jerk and get pulled all the way to the other end of the restroom. You let out a yelp at the unexpected movement and feel yourself about to fall backwards, but before you do, you feel a pair of arms wrap around your waist. It doesn’t take you longer than a second to realize it was Hobie.

Before you can resettle your feet to the ground, you’re pulled once again, inside of the stall where Hobie locks the door in front of you. You feel his chest behind you and before you can melt into the all too familiar touch, you turn around and push him back with not much success.

“What the fuck are you doing, let me out!” You yell as you spin around to turn the stall lock. Although you were too slow, as before you could even touch the lock, sticky web was shot on the knob, covering it completely. So now, you were quite literally trapped. You hate the funny feeling in your stomach you get from the fact if you were completely honest, but your annoyance kind of overshadowed it.

Hobie presses his front to your back once again, resting his hand on your stomach. His other coming up to your mouth to silence you. He then leans forward, lips brushing your ear as he finally whispers something.

“Shhh, love.”

You shudder at the warmth of his breath. You’re slightly confused as to why he would tell you to hush, but you then hear the swing of the restroom door as it opens, and the click when it shuts. You hear two girls talking and from what you can make out, it seems they’re fixing themselves up in the mirror. You couldn’t really find the need to care about they’re conversation, not when you feel Hobie’s hand start to slip under your shirt.

You immediately grab a hold of his hand in a death grip, warning him to stop. You even try to mumble to get him to halt what he was trying to do, but he only tightened his grip on your mouth.

“Knock it off before I make this harder for you.” He warns.

Huh? Make what harder for you? What is he about to do?

As you dwell on your thoughts in pure confusion, Hobie’s hand creeps further up your shirt to finally settle his grip on your left breast.

Oh. OH….

No fucking way. He’s not serious with this right now is he? Your eyes widen in complete shock and panic.

You reach up to grab his hand but are immediately halted with a harsh squeeze to your chest. The action forcing a low grunt from your throat. You feel Hobie lean his face forward to whisper something again into your ear.

“You’re gonna stay quiet for me love, y’ got it?” He looks dead serious and you don’t know if being turned on by the look is something to be ashamed by, because damn did he look good. But at the same time, this was so wrong, on so many levels… shit. So, for the sake of your modesty, you give him a look of ‘what the hell, you’re insane!’

He ignores it, rendering the whole action as theatrics as he knew deep down, you wanted him. He cranes his head to start layering kisses to your neck. You shiver at the coldness of his lip ring and the way it drags on your skin. You try to resist the tingly feeling crawling through your veins at the touches, but in the end, it felt way too good. After met with some resistance, you eventually ended up falling into the feeling of his lips on you. You even lull your head to the side to give him better access.

He smirks and whispers, “There’s my girl.” As he begins to play with your other breast, lifting your shirt even higher so it rested atop both of them. You moan lightly.

You still hear the chitter chatter of the girls still present in the restroom, but they’re conversation is becoming all to foggy for you to even comprehend a word being uttered from their mouths.

Slowly, little by little, Hobie’s hand that gripped rigorously at your chest, made it’s way lower and lower. Eventually making it to the waistband of your jeans. He tugged at it, teasing you. Your breathing becoming heavier and slower. Unconsciously, you brought your hips backwards in anticipation. You hear a groan deep groan in your ear, followed by the swift pop of your button coming undone. His hand travels down to cup your heat, now fully engulfed in his hand through your underwear.

“Can’t believe you were keeping her from me for three whole weeks. You shouldn’t even be allowed to have my fingers after the crap you pulled.” You whine into his hand covering your mouth.

He snags the side of your panties with his index and middle finger, pulling the piece of fabric upward, giving you delicious pressure to your clit. Your head falls back and you try closing your thighs together but Hobie hooks a foot on your ankle, pulling it to the side to keep your legs apart.

“Ah ah ah, keep them open.” From the tone of his voice, he wasn’t asking you, he was commanding you. So with your strength, you swallowed your pride and did as he said.

His hand then teasingly travels to the waistband as of your underwear before finally arriving at the destination you want (need) him the most. His long fingers tease your folds. Collecting an embarrassingly large amount of arousal that had pooled there. You hear Hobie huff out a quick laugh.

“Ya’ know for someone so cryptic on wantin’ to be left alone, you sure are drenchin’ my fingers, huh’ love? She’s lit’rally throbbin’ f’me.” He teases smiling in satisfaction on how your body reacts to his touch. He removes the hand from your mouth to rest on your throat for a brief moment to hear an answer from you.

“Shut up.” You whisper in defeat and clouded lust. At this point you couldn’t really care for his annoying comments. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, all you wanted to feel was him in you. That’s why before he could even respond back, you took his hand that was between your legs and guided his fingers to rub your clit. You needed to be worked up.

Seems he got the message because he soon he was rubbing fast and tight circles on your nub. It was so hard to keep quiet when he was practically working magic between your thighs. You were now glad he picked the farthest stall from the entrance.

“Fuck Hobie, I need your fingers inside me.”

“No problem darlin’.” At that you felt the first finger protrude at your entrance. Your mouth hangs open at the feeling.

Fuck, you really almost forgot how good his digits felt. These damn girls need to get out of here before they hear something they don’t want to.

“Shit your so tight. Thought you’d be fuckin’ some other losers while you were off avoiding me.”

You scoff. “Thought about it, I just… decided against it.” He added another finger. Your head falls back on his shoulder again, as he soon curls his fingers to get to that delicious spongy spot inside you. He quickly covers your mouth as you let out a loud, yet muffled moan against his palm. You grip his wrist tightly as a form of leverage.

“Good, no one could ever make you feel as good as me.” There was a hint of possessiveness in his tone. “Plus, if you let another man touch you, there would have been hell to pay. For the both of you.” Your stomach flipped at the comment. His fingers began to speed up and your other hand finds purchase on his forearm of the hand covering your mouth. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he curls his fingers effortlessly into your cunt, at a pace that makes your knees buckle.

Shit, is this what heaven feels like?

If the girls didn’t hear your muffled moans by now, they sure as hell heard the squelching of your pussy echo throughout the restroom.

The pleasure becoming so much, that you ended up having to hold on to the stall door. Your knuckles turning white at the amount of ecstasy you were experiencing. Your ass grinding onto Hobie’s clothed member, sitting half hard in the confines of his jeans.

Hobie ended up moaning loudly in your ear at the friction you had caused. The chattering of the girls in the bathroom had halted, but you couldn’t give less of a fuck and neither did he anymore. You soon heard an awkward shuffle of footsteps rush out the door, rendering you and Hobie finally alone at last.

Finally.

Hobie breaks his whisper. “You’re mine y/n. Ya’ understand?” His hand coming to sit at your throat, squeezing around it. “All fuckin’ mine!”

“Yes, H-hobie, fuck… I’m sorry alright!” It felt so good to yell. Moan in pure pleasure. His fingers were working you so good and the band in your abdomen was only becoming tighter.

“You’re damn right you’re sorry.” He breathes heavily. His eyes scanning the way your body submitted to him. He smirked hard. It was a pretty sight.

“I think I’m getting close!” You panted out, still using his arms as leverage. In response Hobie let go of your throat and positioned his hand back to your breasts as he knew they were sensitive by now.

“Let go for me angel.” He whispers breathily. Fondling your nipples and fingering you with pure desire you thought you would pass out. The feeling so overwhelming, it brought you to the edge.

You practically screamed as the exploding sensation bursts across the nerves of your body.

“That’s a good girl, ride it out.” You hear his voice, it’s almost soothing as you embrace your high.

Fuck did you miss him.

As you came down from your high, your senses slowly but surely started to clear up. You flinched at the feeling of Hobie pulling his soaked fingers from your heat. You sluggishly turn around to properly face him and you’re met with him looking straight at you. You see him bring his fingers up to his mouth before sticking his digits inside of it, sucking your juices as if it was his last meal. All the while maintaining eye contact. It made you fluster up a bit.

“Mmm, absolutely divine.” He closed his eyes before opening them back up slowly. “You’re perfect.”

“Alright, alright it’s embarrassing.” You look away in slight annoyance.

“What? Can’t take a compliment?” He tilts his head to the side, leaning over your frame.

“Oh whatever.” You rolls your eyes although you’re not necessarily upset at his statement.

You lean your back on the stall door as Hobie moves closer to your body. A hand grabbing your hip.

His face leans in closer until your lips are centimeters away from colliding. Your hands take a hold around his neck as you bite your lip.

“We really shouldn’t be doing this.” You say it, but you can’t bring yourself to listen to your own words. The man in front of you, with an allure so captivating, the only thing you want is to be suffocated by it.

He doesn’t answer you, instead he just chuckles, before he smashes his lips to yours. His hand grabs the back of your hair as he pulls you deeper into him. Tongues messily colliding, entangled in one another. You can’t help but moan. He’s so intoxicating…

and you can’t get enough.

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Part 2???? 🥱 Also y’all this my first ever completed fiction!! (what?? omg) Anyways hope y’all enjoyed, I may make a part 2 but I need to figure that out lmao. I’m thinking of maybe taking requests but I’ll need to think that through too lmfao… (I love me some Hobie <33)