#the coach is another great adult | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

loafgeto · 1 year ago

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ᝬ 𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗜 𝗦𝗞𝗜𝗥𝗧 ⤵︎

gojo satoru x fem!reader

synopsis: you are the teacher assistant for gojo satoru and the first years. in everyone’s eyes, you both are known as the duo who tolerate each other. but behind closed doors, you both can’t seem to get your hands away. and during a cookout, you seem to be capturing someone else’s attention, causing satoru to become jealous.

cw: fem reader, 18+ mdni, explicit language, secret relationship, jealous gojo, cocky gojo, teasing, dirty talking, edging, markings/hickeys, overstimulation, squirting, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, somewhat jealous sex, creampie, breast play, sucking and biting, begging, cock warming, pet names (baby, darling), different positions, gojo telling/controlling reader what to do. this isn’t proofread, and if you see any typos pls ignore 😢

wc: 3.9k

a/n: HELP I HAD TO REPOST THIS DUE TO SOME ISSUES. LMFAOOO HOPEFULLY THIS POST IS BETTER NOW, TOJI ONE SHOT NEXT

You've been working at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech for almost a year now, as the teacher assistant of Gojo Satoru. You honestly never thought you'd be the strongest sorcerer's assistant, but Satoru happened to request for someone by his side. Thus, lead to your encounter.

When you were first introduced to Satoru, it was like any other first impression for him, admiration. He was rather nonchalant and playful around you, knowing how to push your buttons, and definitely confident in himself. That admiration quickly turned into toleration, but you remained respectful towards him.

Things began to change during the third month of being his assistant.

After a certain mission that nearly caused your death, Satoru often stayed by your side as you recovered and this lead to the secret romance. It was unexpected from a guy like him, but his feelings are genuine. The two of you agreed to date in secret, wanting to keep a professional impression for the time being and acted like normal colleagues in public.

But when you two are alone, Satoru can't help but touch and kiss you everywhere. He always wants you on his lap, or at least feel your touch. He inquires about your day, how he misses you, how much he adores your scent and aura, how much he thought about fucking you. Satoru was never afraid to admit his feelings, which is what made you fall for him even more.

Each day before and after class, you'd go to his office, and pepper kisses on his face and suffocate him in hugs. Satoru enjoys receiving it all, and the reason why he enters the classroom all bubbly and with a wide smile, was because of you. Everyone just had the thought that he was normally that way due to his personality.

It was yet another normal day and the two schools, Tokyo and Kyoto Jujutsu Tech, planned a cookout at a private park. On this day, you wore a simple attire: white blouse, black skirt, black tights, and stilettos. For some reason, Satoru liked the outfit on you, though he hadn't fully admitted it yet. But the way he looks at you made you believe he enjoyed seeing you in it. So you wore it often.

The teachers and other adults were occupied with preparing the food, while the students were occupied with a challenging game of soccer. Even though you weren't directly there, you could feel the tension arising from the field.

You were preparing a fruit salad while slightly watching the first years bicker with the second years of Kyoto and then proceed with the game. You smiled when watching, after all these missions and cursed spirits lingering around, it was great to settle and take a nice break.

For a brief second, your eyes scan across the entire area. Your eyes finally detected Satoru, who was mainly directing the game. He was supposedly playing the role coach for Tokyo Tech. He was shouting enthusiastically, encouraging someone to do this, or that.

Beside of Satoru was Utahime, seemingly doing the same thing as he was but in a more relaxed yet serious manner. The students of Tokyo seemed to be winning the soccer match, mostly because of the second year student, Maki. Her twin sister on the other team didn't appear to be happy, but that didn't make them win a point.

Your attention returns to Satoru, who had his back facing you. Then you look down at the fruit salad, wondering if you should offer the first bite to him and inquire on the taste.

"L/NN!!" Two of the first years, Yuji and Nobara, shouts towards you from the field, capturing your attention and everyone else's. They were waving at you, as if competing to get your attention first. You shake your head and return the two a wave and smile.

Satoru had also turned around when the two called for you, seeing how you were diligently preparing the fruit salad and waving at them. He was going to approach you, leaving Utahime alone to deal with this soccer game when someone else had approached you.

"Your students must really like you, huh?" it was Utahime's teacher assistant. You hadn't met the dude before and this was his first time approaching you since this afternoon. Your attention was torn away from Satoru as your gaze met with Utahime's assistant's.

"Oh, well I'm not necessarily their teacher but I know they respect me enough like I am one," you reply with a smile, finishing the last stir of the fruit salad.

"I heard your fruit salad recipe was very good," he continues to speak, watching as you finish the dish. "Mind if I try a piece?"

You glance at him, pondering for a moment. You assumed it wouldn't hurt to do so. "Of course," you nod, grabbing a plastic fork and piercing it through a strawberry, kiwi and pineapple.

You hand the fork over to him, expecting him to take it. But instead, he leans forward, taking a bite of the three fruits into his mouth. Your eyes slightly widen at the unexpected action and he quickly pulls away before you can react further.

"Wow! It's delicious!" he chuckles, chewing on the fruits and tasting the different sweet, rich and savory flavors.

"Well.. I'm glad you like it.." you awkwardly reply, slightly smiling.

"Of course. I'll definitely come back for more!" he says and laughs while placing a hand on your shoulder. He gives it several pats, to your surprise.

But you hadn't realize that Satoru was observing it all— from the moment he approached you, to the moment he ate those fruits, and to the moment he placed a hand on you. The interaction irritated Satoru, and he was unable to return to the game with a bubbly manner.

His mood suddenly changed, but he didn't want to express it. He forced a smile, enthusiastic shouts and returned his focus to the soccer match. But he kept glancing back at you, seeing how Utahime's assistant was still causally around you.

But it wasn't like he could do anything. If he did, he'd cause an entire scene, and Utahime's assistant seemed rather nice, but his actions annoyed the hell out of Satoru. Why was he all up on you like that?

Satoru acknowledged the image of you not reacting or anything, and it made him feel irritated even more. Was she actually offering to feed those fruits to him? He got jealous and upset over the fact that the assistant was the first to try your fruit salad and not him.

He also noticed your outfit. How several buttons were loosened to reveal the chest area above your breast, how the skirt wrapped around your hips— shaping your ass and curves, how the tights were making the entire outfit appear more striking. And gosh, how he wanted to rip it all off of you.

Satoru pushes his sunglasses closer to his eyes, secretly rolling them beneath as he crosses his arms. Later, he'll decide what to do with you and that guy.

When the food was all prepared, the adults waited for the students to end their soccer game and gather around the picnic tables. Satoru stood behind of you, watching as you excitedly presented your fruit salad to everyone.

"Oh, Sa— Gojo!" you had turn around, surprised that he was standing there. You found this as an opportunity for him to try your fruit salad before giving it out to the rest. "Would you like to try my fruit salad first?"

Satoru gave it a brief thought as he glanced at you and then the bowl of the fruit salad. He gives you an unnatural smile before replying, "no thanks. I'll get it once everyone else does."

For some reason, his rejection shattered your heart but you nod, watching as he walks away shortly afterwards. You decide to ignore it, since it shouldn't affect you as much but the uncertain feeling in your body kept causing you to gaze back at him.

The remainder of the cookout, Satoru was deliberately avoiding making contact with you. And even if he spoke to you, it'd be short and simple. Of course, this sort of behavior wouldn't appear suspicious to others, but between the two of you, there was definitely some tension.

You wondered if you did anything that made him upset, but nothing was coming to mind. You knew for a fact that he was mostly focused on the game and you barely interacted with him. But you hadn't known about Satoru's observations from earlier, so you were left utterly confused.

The cookout finished with no further complications and the students decided to play one more match of soccer. Everyone was pumped after eating so much, and the first years were definitely determined on winning since the last match came to a draw.

You began searching for Satoru when you realized he wasn't around anymore. More confusion arose as you figured he'd want to participate and watch the entire thing. You tried not to worry too much, assuming he'd gone to the restroom or something.

Your attention about Satoru's whereabouts was shortly interrupted when Utahime's assistant approached you once again. "So, Y/n? After this— it's gonna be a while until I see you again."

"Huh? Oh, that's right," you nod your head, smiling politely as you've done before.

"We should definitely keep in contact some how— since you know, we both happen to be teacher assistants and we can share our stories with each other—" he begins to ramble, taking his phone out when a voice appears behind the two of you.

"L/n," it was Yuji, completely oblivious about the situation. "Gojo-sensei said for you to meet at his office, asap. Seems quite urgent. Man, you both are gonna miss the game!"

"O-Oh. Yes, of course. It's fine, Yuji, thank you though," you nod your head before dismissing yourself. "It was nice to meet you. I hope we can be good friends," you quickly utter to the other assistant before heading towards Satoru's office.

Maybe this was the chance to finally talk to him about earlier.

You anticipated on what could occur once you arrived, many scenarios raced through your mind as you kept walking. Whatever it was, you just wanted to know what you did and solve the problem with him.

When you approached the door to his office, you hesitated on opening it at first. But you were quick to push your feelings away and slid the door open, stepping inside and closing it behind. The room was dim, the only source of light was the sun peeking through the small opening of the closed curtains.

You immediately spotted Satoru resting on his chair, head leaned back, as if he was sleeping. A smile slowly appears on your face as you approach him quietly, guessing he was tired the entire time.

"Satoru?" you called out to him, gently tapping his shoulder. He didn't budge and remained asleep, to which made you frown. "Hey, you can't just call me in here and then fall asleep on me."

Satoru still didn't answer and you sigh, deciding to just return to the rest. "I'm going back then—“

As you were about to turn around, Satoru's hand quickly reached up to grab your wrist. The sudden action caught you by surprise, and Satoru pulls you down on his lap.

"S-Satoru?" you stammer, realizing that he had been awake and pretending to sleep.

"You know the reason why I called for you?" Satoru asks, finally opening his eyes. He then used his other arm to wrap around your hips, pulling you closer while keeping his other grip on your hand.

"Of course not.. that's why I'm here.." you smile awkwardly. "Is something the matter, 'toru? You've been avoiding me all day. Did I do something wrong?"

"Guess," Satoru answers vaguely, releasing his grip from your wrist and moving them down to your inner thigh. He starts caressing them, feeling the tights that hugged your skin.

"S-Satoru?!" you gasp, feeling blood rush to your cheeks. You start wondering what he was trying to imply, and returned to the moment with your interaction with Utahime's assistant. And you finally figured Satoru must've saw it.

"Acting all flirty in front of me, huh? Trying to get me jealous?"

"No! Of course not!" you pout, wrapping one arm around his neck. "Only have eyes for you.. I wasn't flirting with him, I promise. I only want your attention 'toru. Please."

Satoru wasn't going to let this slip past easily, and you knew that. When he was jealous, he was stubborn. And it took a while for him to forget this matter. Satoru huffs, lifting your body and changing your position to where you straddled his lap. "Why'd he get to be the first to try your fruit salad, baby?"

"You're upset over that?”

"He was also touching you. Being all over you. Fucking bastard," Satoru scoffs, placing both hands on your hips. "He was checking you out, getting hard because of this damn outfit you're wearing."

Satoru then lifts your skirt, pushing it above your hips to reveal your laced panties under the tights. You knew where this was going, but you didn't stop it at all. "You purposely wore this, didn't you?" Satoru inquires.

"Wore it for you.. only you, no one else," you reply, feeling your legs already tremble as Satoru presses your hips down against his crotch. You could feel his throbbing erection, poking your panties that were now soaking.

"I don't like it. Might as well take it off," Satoru says, moving his hands along the curves of your body and up to your chest. He starts unbuttoning your shirt, pushing the material apart to where your breasts popped out.

Satoru pushes your bra up, exposing your nipples. He grins, using both of his hands to pinch and grope your boobs. You moan, body twitching at the sensation. "A-Ah.. Satoru-"

"Move your hips," Satoru orders and you immediately obey, rocking your hips and grinding against his hard cock that could no longer withstand the suffocation of his pants.

Satoru continues to pinch your nipples, getting more soft moans to escape your mouth. Your hands rest against his shoulder as you continue grinding your clothed pussy against him. Your arousal soaked through your underwear and tights, and eventually stained Satoru's pants.

"P-Please.. I'm sorry-" you beg before a higher moan follows after when Satoru latches his mouth on one of your boobs.

Satoru starts sucking your nipple, swirling his tongue around the bud, and gently biting down on it. Your grip on his shoulder tightens, nails digging through his shirt as your moans squeaked louder. His other hand fondling and pinching your other nipple.

Despite all of this, Satoru was always able to tease your breast in a way that'd make you squirm. He switches between your two breast, making sure to pleasure each nipple, before leaving bite marks. He sucks on the skin of your breast next, leaving hickeys on several areas before returning his mouth to your nipple.

Satoru removes his mouth from your nipple, creating a pop sound before leaning back against his chair. He smiles, observing your reactions. "Hold your breasts," he orders again as his hands trail to your hips.

You end up following his order, cupping both breasts in your hands as Satoru rips your tights open, giving your soaked panties a brief observation. He smirks, seeing how your arousal was already slicking down your inner thighs.

"Would you look at that," Satoru murmurs, pressing his middle and index finger against the soaked area of your panties. He rubs circles on your clit before pushing the material to the side, feeling your arousal drip on his fingers.

It was enough to the point Satoru finally unzips his pants and slip his dick out. He uses one hand to lift your thigh up, making you crouch on your feet, and the other to pump his throbbing cock.

"F-Fuck.. Satoru- need your cock in me."

"You gotta be patient, baby," Satoru replies, grunting softly as he aligns his cock to your entrance. His cock twitches at the sensation of how wet you were and he pushes his tip in, already feeling your pussy pulsating.

You both let out a moan as Satoru sinks his cock deeper into your cunt, stretching you out until his entire length was in. "Shit. Ride me, baby," Satoru requests, his hands returning to grip your hips.

With no hesitation, you comply and start moving up and down, bouncing on his cock in a steady pace. You're moaning louder while your hands are still cupping and fondling your breasts.

"That assistant must be thinking about doing this with you too, don't you think?" Satoru inquires, holding back his hoarse grunts as he felt your walls clench around him as you moved up. "But I do it better, don't I? I touch you better 'nd make you feel better?"

"Y-Yes 'toru! Only you can make me feel this good!"

"That's right," Satoru's smile becomes wider as he gropes the fat of your ass with his hands.

Satoru begins assisting you by pushing your hips down faster, his balls smacking your ass as the sound of skin slapping and moans permeate the room. He watches at how your breasts bounce each thrust, even when you're holding it, but seeing your face was the best of it all.

"D-Damn.. squeezing me so good, baby," Satoru grunts, thrusting his hips upward slightly.

"Fuck- cumming soon," you throw your head back, feeling his cock rub against your g-spot every thrust. You were so close and began bouncing faster in order to reach your climax quicker.

But Satoru doesn't allow that to happen. He knew you were close, and when you were about to cum, he immediately stops your movements. Your eyes wide in shock, completely aggravated with how he stopped and didn't allow you to cum.

"Satoru, you—"

He was quick to shush you by pressing his mouth against yours, to which you return. The kiss turns sloppy, as your tongue presses against one another's, fighting for dominance. Your hands release the grasp of your breasts to wrap around Satoru's neck, pulling his body closer to yours. Satoru then lifts you from the chair, pinning you down on his desk, knocking off several of the small decorations sitting there.

Satoru pulls away, spreading your legs apart before pushing your thighs closer to your chest. "You're gonna cum when I tell you to, got it?" he says, not accepting any objections before slamming his cock right back into your dripping cunt.

"S-Shit!" your hand tries to reach for something to grab, but your mind is foggy and you swore you were already seeing stars. You were still close, on the brink of cumming all over him and you almost came without notice.

Satoru starts thrusting his cock fast and deep into your pussy, his hands gripping your thighs tightly as his hips slam into your ass. Your noises fall of your tongue each thrust, knowing you'd probably lose your voice later.

"Goodness, baby. Taking my cock so good, like you always do."

Satoru throws both of your legs over his shoulder, firmly holding your legs as they begin trembling. Tears have welled the socket of your eyes and they eventually start rolling back as Satoru maintained the position and thrusts.

"I-I can't, Satoru- gonna cum!" you couldn't hold your orgasm anymore, and even before Satoru could reply, you cum on him and his desk.

Satoru doesn't say anything besides scoff, and even when you came, he kept fucking you relentlessly. It was driving you insane, the feeling of him still thrusting into you after cumming.

He switches the position again, this time he wraps your legs around his waist before lifting you up with his hands cupping under your thighs. You snake your arms around his neck for a better grip, head dropping against his shoulder as he pistons his cock up into you.

He'd then push you back down on the desk, making your body turn to the side and lifting one leg over his shoulder, before thrusting back into you. Afterwards, he'd flip you on your stomach and pound you from the back, leading to your second orgasm.

Satoru would make you touch yourself, scream his name and tears stream down your face. He'd make you reach multiple orgasms until you couldn't anymore. Your throat began to hurt from all of the moaning and screaming, but that didn't mean Satoru stopped.

He lifts you up again, walking with you over to the window. You're unable to comprehend what he was doing by that moment before he slides the curtains open. His office view directly overlooked the field, where everyone still currently were.

"W-Wait, Satoru they're gonna see-" you panic slightly, feeling your feet come in contact with the ground as Satoru makes you face the window and everyone participating the ongoing soccer match.

"Let them see, and watch how many times I've made you cum," Satoru says, raising his hands to grip your biceps before filling your swollen pussy with his cock again.

Satoru pumps his cock in and out of you, the angle allowing him to hit your spots deeper and better. The sensation was too much for you to handle, but it was making you to the point where you're begging for more.

You could see everyone else enjoying their time in the soccer field, and your eyes detect Utahime's assistant by the side. His back was turned against you, so you didn't see his face but he seemed to be enjoying his time since he was cheering and clapping his hands.

If he'd turn around and look up, he would immediately be able to see you and Satoru.

"'toru— I'm gonna cum again!" you sob, feeling the tip of his cock kiss your womb. Your legs became wobbly, but Satoru held you up with his firm grip.

"S-Shit.. me too, darling." Satoru's thrust were becoming erratic as he neared his climax, groaning and throwing his head back slightly. "Gonna cum in you, baby. You okay with that?"

"Yes, yes, yes!" you chant, turning your head around to meet his gaze.

Satoru grits his teeth, thrusting his hips closer several times before pushing his cock all the way in, pumping his cum into your womb. You came at the same time, and you both share a final moan before your back fell against Satoru's chest.

You're both gasping for air heavily, body soaked in sweat while the room smelled like sex. You both remain there for a moment before Satoru kisses your cheek and trails his lips down your neck.

"Looks like we won the game," Satoru says when he glances out of the window, seeing the first years and second years of Tokyo Tech cheer in victory. You also look out of the window, watching as they all celebrated.

"I wasn't mad at you, by the way," Satoru adds, returning his head to your side before kissing your face again. "You're not upset at me either, baby?"

"No.." you shake your head, facing him before pressing a kiss on his lips.

Satoru slips his cock out, watching as his cum mixed with yours drip out of your pussy. He chuckles softly and smirks. "Good. Let's clean you up before we go back."

LOAF4U. thank you for reading! please do not copy my work or publish in another media without my permission.

#loaf4u #18+ minors dni #gojo satoru #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #jjk gojo #satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen one shot #gojo oneshot #gojo x you #jujutsu gojo #gojo x y/n #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen

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gotham--fc · 3 months ago

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UCLA Love - A Jessie Fleming Imagine

Request: Jessie and R both go to UCLA and have a great connection on the field. They both like each other but are too shy to say anything until R has a bad game and while Jessie comforts her it slips out that Jessie likes her

This request was from probably like three years ago at least sorry about that besties..... let me know what you think!

It’s hard not to be intimidated by Jessie Fleming, or, at least that’s what Y/N tells herself.

In truth, Jessie’s probably the least intimidating person. She’s quiet, bookish, nice to a fault, really all the qualities of a non-intimidating person. But that doesn’t stop the way Y/N’s palms start to sweat whenever she’s near Jessie. Ever since Y/N started at UCLA, she finds herself inexplicably nervous around the Canadian midfielder.

She doesn’t know why, at first, why her heart pounds when Jessie’s nearby, why her palms get clammy, and why she’s suddenly aware of every part of her body. At first, she chalks it up to the fact that Jessie is, like, a legend on the field already even as an 18-year-old. She made her senior debut at fifteen! Y/N hasn’t even been invited to one camp yet. So of course, it’s natural to be nervous around someone who literally has already played at a World Cup and an Olympics. She has a bronze medal! Of course that’s intimidating.

When they first met, at the first team meeting, Y/N didn’t know what to expect. She thought Jessie could be a little stuck up. Maybe cocky. She was arguably the best player in the room and Y/N wouldn’t have blamed her if she acted like it. But instead, she sat near the back of the room and didn’t speak up until Coach called on her. At their first practice, she tried harder than anyone else on the field and stayed late. Y/N was in awe. How was this highly accomplished player so… shy? Quiet? How could she act like everyone on the team was of equal standing? Y/N admired her from the start, her personality, how she played, but the way Jessie makes her feel is more than simple admiration.

***

Jessie is always nervous doing new things.

One would think that after making her national team debut at 15, then less than two years later moving across the country from her family to train with the team full time, playing in the World Cup at 17 and the Olympics the following year, that she wouldn’t be nervous about anything soccer related anymore. That couldn’t be further from the truth. She is still nervous that her team won’t like her, that she’s going to suck so hard and get cut from the team, or be benched forever. She chooses UCLA because she loves the school, and the campus, and the coaches, and it’s where she wants to be. She has no idea what college soccer looks like and while she knows, logically, that if she can handle herself against full adult pro players, she can handle herself against college players, or how many of her national team teammates tell her that she’ll be fine, better than fine, she’s still a bundle of nerves getting off the plane in LA.

In the end, she has nothing to worry about. She fits into the team immediately, even if they tease her for being a bookworm, or a huge introvert. They love to bother her, beg her to go to parties or to get drunk or hookup with the guys on the baseball team (ew). She plays well, she builds her chemistry with the team over the season and Jessie herself will tell anyone who asks that she’s only as good as her team makes her, but if you ask anyone else, they would tell you that Jessie is a phenom on the pitch and the team is just there to watch her greatness.

***

It's a Friday night, and the team is out at another party. Jessie opted out, because she has a test on Monday and they have a game this weekend, so she knows she won’t get much studying done after tonight. They tried to convince her to come, but eventually gave up when they realized that convincing her to come might take all night.

Usually Jessie is content with a night alone to study, but a little while after the team left, there’s a knock at the door. Jessie rolls her eyes as she gets up from her desk, preparing to tell whoever was there that no, she didn’t change her mind, and she still wasn’t coming out. Instead, she opens the door to Y/N, standing shyly in the hallway.

“Hey,” Y/N says, “I heard you were staying in to study tonight, mind if I join?” Y/N raises her own books.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Jessie says, “Come in.”

Jessie wills her cheeks to not turn red as she hastily clears off space on her bed. She tries to inconspicuously put her dirty laundry into her hamper. She can’t explain it, but Y/N makes her nervous, and she doesn’t quite know how to handle it.

“Sorry, it’s a little messy, I haven’t had a lot of time to clean,” Jessie says.

“You’re good,” Y/N says, “My room is even worse.”

“I-I only have one desk, sorry,” Jessie says, “I can sit on my bed if you want the desk.”

“If I didn’t already know you were Canadian, how often you say sorry would give it away,” Y/N smiles, “I’m fine with the bed, I just have to read articles and stuff, nothing too crazy.”

Jessie sits back at the desk while Y/N settles onto the bed – Jessie’s bed. Jessie swallows and tries to focus on her textbook in front of her. After a few moments of trying and failing to read the problem she was trying to solve, Jessie glances over at Y/N, textbook in hand, highlighter twirling in her fingers. Y/N looks up as if she could feel Jessie’s staring.

“Sorry,” Jessie says as she feels herself grow red, “I, uh, I should’ve asked if you wanted a drink or anything. I have water or Gatorade or pop if you want.”

“Water’s good, thanks,” Y/N says.

Jessie hands Y/N a water bottle from her mini-fridge and their fingers touch. Jessie pulls her hand back quickly.

“Uh, let me know if you need anything else.”

Jessie goes back to the desk and tries to work again. She mostly succeeds, getting through a decent chunk of the physics problems on the test prep. She’s struggling through one of the harder problems when Y/N lets out a loud sigh.

“I think if I read another word my brain will explode,” Y/N says.

“We can’t have that,” Jessie says, “Who else is going to assist all my goals?” Y/N barks out a laugh.

“I see, that’s all I’m good for to you,” Y/N says.

“You want to watch a movie or something?” Jessie asks, closing her textbook. “Here,” Jessie opens Netflix on her laptop and hands it to Y/N, “Pick something.”

Jessie realizes, too late, that her bed is not exactly big enough for two people. There’s no way for her to sit unless she was pressed up against Y/N, or half hanging off the bed. Y/N doesn’t seem to mind though, patting the spot beside her. Jessie sits and tries not to think about anything except the movie playing. A little bit into the movie, Y/N shifts, and Jessie thinks for a moment that Y/N actually doesn’t like being this close to Jessie, and is trying to get away from her, until Y/N’s head lands on her chest.

“Is this okay?” Y/N asks, “I’m so tired.”

“Y-Yeah,” Jessie says. It’s a little uncomfortable, so Jessie moves her own arm until it’s around Y/N’s back. Jessie keeps an eye on Y/N, looking for any sign of discomfort, but she finds none. She tries to focus back on the movie, but she’s so lost now on what’s going on.

Jessie stares resolutely at the screen, even though her mind is elsewhere. All she can think about is Y/N. Y/N’s head on her chest, Y/N’s hand resting on her thigh, Y/N’s scent hitting her nose. Jessie feels like she’s never been so red. Jessie doesn’t know how much time has passed when Y/N lifts her head slightly and looks up at Jessie.

“Are you okay?” Y/N whispers, “Your heart is beating like, so fast.”

“Wh-Ye-Um,” Jessie mumbles something that she doesn’t even understand. Y/N won’t stop looking at her.

“Do you want me to leave?” Y/N asks. Jessie shakes her head. Y/N is still looking at her and Jessie feels like she can’t breathe, that any slight moment of her muscles will break whatever spell they’re under. For half a second, Jessie thinks Y/N is going to kiss her. Then, Y/N nods, and lays her head back down. Jessie swallows and leans her head back against the headboard, closing her eyes.

***

They don’t talk about it. Jessie wants to say nothing changes, and things don’t change on the field at least. Y/N still finds her and still plays perfect passes in the box for her, and Jessie still knows exactly where to go when Y/N has the ball. That doesn’t change. Off the field, however…

They don’t talk about it, so Jessie isn’t really sure if anything really changes, or if she’s just hyperaware of every interaction they have. It feels to Jessie like Y/N seeks her out more, that Y/N’s eyes find hers in a crowd on purpose, that Y/N touches her arm or her shoulder or her hand on purpose.

Almost every night, Jessie dreams of that moment in her room, when Y/N stared at her and Jessie thought they would kiss. In her dreams, Y/N does kiss her, and Jessie wakes herself up almost immediately every time.

***

It’s supposed to be an easy game. The team they’re playing is so far below them in the standings, and it should be an easy win. They’ve bowled over teams better than this one, and they’re going into the game with all the confidence in the world.

Y/N doesn’t know what’s wrong with her. She feels like that scene in She’s The Man where Viola plays soccer in her debutante dress and she falls flat on her face. Every time she gets the ball, it feels like it gets taken from her before she can even think of what to do with it. When she tries to defend, it feels like the opposing players whip past her before she can blink. She feels in over her head and it’s not something she’s felt in years and she hates it. It’s no surprised her coach subs her off at halftime.

She spends the rest of the game on the bench, watching her team play. No one else seems to experience what she did. Everyone else plays the way they should, and they do roll over this team like they expected. But Y/N had no part in it.

On the bus back to campus, the team is celebrating, and Y/N seats herself in the very back away from everyone and pulls her hood up. She’s not in the mood to celebrate. She’s in the mood to sulk.

When they get back to campus, everyone tries to plan where they’re going to meet up to continue the celebration, but Y/N walks away before they decide. She’s not celebrating the worst game she’s ever played. She has her headphones in, volume turned up, so she doesn’t hear Jessie calling after her, she only stops when Jessie grabs her arm.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Jessie asks.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” Y/N says.

Normally, Y/N loves spending time with Jessie, and on a normal day, she wouldn’t think twice about walking with Jessie to her dorm, or telling Jessie what’s on her mind. Today is not a normal day, and Y/N can’t help but think that after her performance today that Jessie probably wants nothing to do with her. Y/N’s clearly not at the level of the rest of the team, and she doesn’t know why Jessie would want to bother with a player who will probably only see the bench for the rest of the season.

“You know you can tell me anything Y/N,” Jessie says, “I want to help you.”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

“At least let me walk you home,” Jessie says, “Please?”

Y/N agrees, because she hates seeing Jessie upset. They walk in silence most of the way. About halfway to her dorm, Y/N realizes all she wants to do right now is cry. She also realizes that it’s more than a want, that she is crying whether she likes it or not. Jessie realizes after the third sniffle.

“Oh, Y/N, please tell me what’s wrong,” Jessie begs.

“Like you don’t know,” Y/N wipes her nose on her sleeve, “You all saw me during the game. I played like shit. I sucked out there.”

“You didn’t play like shit,” Jessie says. Y/N scoffs. “You didn’t! You were triple teamed every time we could get you the ball. And they were definitely fouling you a lot and that ref was blind.”

“You don’t have to pretend to be nice to me,” Y/N says, “Team chemistry won’t collapse. You don’t have to pretend to like me.”

“I’m not pretending!” Jessie says, “I’m…” Jessie grabs Y/N so she stops walking. She pulls Y/N hood back so she can look Y/N in the eyes. “I do like you, I like you a lot. I like you more than… more than I’ve ever liked anyone before. I’m not… None of it is for the team and I’m not going to stop because you had an off game.” Y/N isn’t sure what to say, so she doesn’t say anything. Jessie sighs in frustration. “Can I kiss you?”

“What?” Y/N says.

“I really like you,” Jessie says, “Can I kiss you?”

Y/N sniffles one more time, wipes her face on her sleeves.

“I’m pretty gross, like I’ve crying and I’m all snotty–”

“I don’t care,” Jessie says, “I don’t care about that. I care about you.”

Y/N decides to stop thinking. She leans forward and presses her lips to Jessie’s. It’s a chaste kiss, lasting for only a few seconds, but it’s perfect for Y/N.

“Can I take you on a date?” Jessie asks. Y/N nods. Jessie smiles wider than Y/N’s ever seen.

They keep walking to Y/N’s dorm, their hands brushing every few steps. They steal glances at each other, blushing and giggling when they catch each other’s eyes. When Jessie drops Y/N off at her dorm, the bad game is completely forgotten. Jessie shifts on her feet, not making eye contact with Y/N. She whispers a goodbye, then kisses Y/N’s cheek quickly, before rushing off. Y/N closes the door and leans against it, hiding her blushing face in her hoodie.

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming imagine #jessie fleming x reader #canwnt #canxnt #woso imagine #woso #woso x reader

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warping-realities · 2 months ago

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A Better Brighter Future

A brief explanation, this story is a spinoff of Dalton Academy, you don't need to have read that series to understand this story, but you will miss some references. The themes here are also controversial and I need to remind everyone that just because I wrote it doesn't mean I agree with what's happening! Otherwise, a great read for anyone interested!

Director Horace Johnson wasn’t having a good week; in fact, the week he was having was bloody dreadful. The blonde, skinny bloke, fifty years old, had dedicated a good chunk of his adult life to educating young people, finding that calling shortly after leaving university. A staunch defender of human rights and a proponent of positive education, he faced all sorts of problems with reactionary teachers throughout his career, none worse than Ethan Wood, the former PE teacher at King Richard All Boys Institute, affectionately referred to by everyone in the tiny village of Daffodil-Meadow-Over-The-Hill as Lionheart School. However, after numerous run-ins over the three years he’d been the head of that institution, he finally got fed up with the other bloke's speeches, attitudes, and teaching style, and thanks to an anonymous tip about some dodgy behaviour that led to his dismissal, nearly all the students and many of the teachers breathed a sigh of relief; that sort of hardline, oppressive treatment had no place in today’s world. The one thing Horace couldn’t imagine was the struggle to find a replacement who shared his progressive ideals, not to mention the fact that he had to deal with the backlash from some conservative parents, teachers, and board members. Just another battle they were fighting; he should have known, it was like that when he banned the posh uniforms or tried to authorise the use of gender-neutral pronouns – one battle won, another lost. But he was determined to come out on top again; he refused to put another outdated troglodyte in that position. A better, brighter future was the motto of that school, and he was going to make it happen.

While he was mulling over these issues, sitting in his office with a good cup of tea, his privacy was invaded. With a loud BAM, the door to his office was flung open, causing him to quickly raise his eyes from the document he was reading, only to see the monstrous figure striding towards him. A black man in his thirties, dressed in a polo shirt, tracky bottoms, and trainers, exuding the brash vibe of a sports coach, swaggered confidently in his direction. He couldn’t remember scheduling any interview, and certainly not with someone so rude, who gave off exactly the impression of the type of professional he refused to hire.

“Sir, I’m sorry, but you’re gonna have to leave this room; I’m busy and we haven’t got a time booked!” he said, standing up and positioning himself beside his desk, noting the absurd difference in build and muscle between the two.

“And since when do old mates need permission to see you, Henry?”

“That’s not my name!”

“I know that, Henderson, you tosser, but if you reckon I’m not gonna use your nickname just because you’re the head honcho of a fancy school now, you’re sorely mistaken. Just wait until the lads on the rugby team find out the Steamroller Henry is all posh now; they’ll be laughing their heads off!”

“Sir, I… I don’t know what you’re on about… I insist you leave!”

“Now that’s the Henry I know, always ready to pull a fast one on his mates.” The man said, slumping down in the armchair opposite his desk. “But enough of the banter, mate. After you got in touch, I did a bit of digging into what’s going on around here, and you’ve got some serious problems. Losing a bloke like Ethan Wood must have been a right kick in the teeth, especially after scrapping the uniforms; they might have been a bit too posh, but they helped maintain a sense of unity and shared identity. Good on you for getting rid of that daft idea of using gender-neutral pronouns. Still, mate, I can see why you need me here. Transforming these crybabies into real men can’t be easy, but don’t you worry; you called the right person!”

“I… what…? I don’t get it…”

“What’s hard to understand, Henry? You need help to rein in this progressive agenda that’s trying to take root here, so you called your old uni mate Blake Ian Garret, The BIG and said, ‘Mate, I need your help with these wankers trying to sabotage me; old Wood is out, I need you for the job!’”

“I… Blake… BI… BIG, then… do you accept?”

“Of course I do, you muppet; it’s exactly what I’ve been banging on about! That whisky you’re drinking is probably messing with your already dodgy brain. I wonder how they let you become a director, Henry; not that I’m complaining, we need more blokes like us in charge.”

“I also wonder how I ended up here; I only became a teacher because that dodgy Wood promised to pass on his job to me when he retired, and next thing I know, I’m stuck in this boring role and now I have to give the job I wanted to an arse.” He said with fake exasperation.

“Shut it, mate; I know you missed having another real man around here, and while I explain how things work in the place I was working, why don’t you pour me a bit of that drink? I think you’ll love hearing about Dalton Academy.” The man commented, noticing the change happening in Horace Johnson. In a blur of movement, the skinny man’s body expanded in muscle and height, while the wrinkles vanished from his face and his blonde hair started to grow back where it had receded. In less than a second, Henderson “Henry” Johnson found himself grinning, offering a glass of whisky that hadn’t been there before to his old university friend and now professor Blake Garret, The BIG in his realm.

“A toast to the best hire I could have made,” he said, raising the glass to his old friend, who broke into a wide smile.

“To a better and brighter future, indeed!”

…..

The students and teachers didn’t know why they were gathered in the school gym. The summons came from Director Johnson himself, and they knew they had to comply quickly, as the man had a military rigidity about that sort of thing, not tolerating any behaviour he deemed lazy. So, what a surprise it was for everyone to see that it wasn’t Henry Johnson heading to the packed gym.

“Good morning, gentlemen! My name’s Blake Garret and I’m the new PE teacher here at Lionheart. The director Johnson and I have known each other for a long time; we were university mates and teammates, and he’s shared with me his concerns about the behaviour and ideals presented here. This nation is infected, gentlemen. Infected by a parasite called progressivism. Progress should be encouraged, yes, but with proper control, guided by the ideas of our parents and ancestors. Progress for the sake of progress should be discouraged!” He said, striding across the gym floor like a caged beast ready to break free, pausing only to observe the indignant faces of some teachers and a few students who bothered to pay attention to what he was saying. But that was about to change, and it was going to be now. “When Henry told me that the infection was spreading here too, I couldn’t believe it. I said to him, ‘Surely not, Henry, my dear. Lionheart is a beacon of clarity amidst a stormy sea of harmful ideas; the teachers are exemplars of masculinity and manliness, and the students are the pinnacle to which every young man in this nation should aspire; surely there’s no such behaviour here.’ But… but now that I’m here, I see! Gentlemen, my eyes fill with tears at what Lionheart is.” He said, taking another pause to take in the disgusted expressions before finally finishing what he had come to do there. “Tears, yes, tears of pride! For you are much more than I imagined, gentlemen. You are paragons of masculinity, the example of what every man should aspire to be; you haven’t allowed yourselves to be contaminated by the corruption attacking our country from within; you are what gives me hope for the future of our great nation.” He said, resuming his frenetic pacing, and with every step he took, the audience transformed; teachers, students, staff, all expanding in size while ideas and thoughts shrank, casual clothes being replaced by training gear that showcased their muscular and defined bodies, while a powerful funk that only dozens of sweaty gathered men could produce dominated the atmosphere, not that anyone there cared about it.

“That was a brilliant welcome drill, lads; now off to the showers and back to your uniforms for your lessons. Teachers, I ask you to stay a bit longer; I need to know about any absent students today.”

….

Franklin was in deep trouble; he missed the bus to school and had to walk all the way from the village of Grimchurch to Daffodil Meadow, which wasn’t pleasant for a skinny, asthmatic kid. The worst part was that he ended up terribly late for school, and knowing the kind of reception he would get, he thought about just not going, but that would bring even bigger complications, so he decided to face his fate with resignation. He was greeted by the guard, who merely directed him to one of the classrooms where a teacher would speak to the late students and administer the necessary punishment. Sighing with resignation, he headed to the indicated location, but upon arriving, something stopped him from entering the room; some sort of primitive alert resonating within his mind. Peeking through the corner of the window, he saw a teacher he didn’t recognise, a tall and very strong man with skin as dark as his own, talking to Bernard, Vincent, and Timothy, three of the biggest truants at Lionheart, who were looking at him with bored expressions. But then, in the blink of an eye, the unthinkable happened; the boys he had known all his life were replaced by larger, stronger, muscular versions, wearing uniforms and smiling as if they were getting drunk on every word the teacher was saying, words which Franklin couldn’t hear. But then the teacher approached the door, and he could hear the end of the speech.

“… rowing at the end of the day; you lot are to be congratulated, I wouldn’t be surprised if any of you ended up representing England at the Olympics. Oh, before you go, Bert and Victor, you’re in the same class as Franklin Burke, right? If you see him, let me know; I need to have a word with the lad, the same goes for you, Tom.”

Hearing that, Franklin took off running, desperate, not fully understanding what he had witnessed but knowing the risk he was in; he urgently needed to get out of there. In his despair, he didn’t notice that the man had left the room and smiled when he saw a skinny kid running toward the changing rooms.

Franklin thought the safest way to escape the trap he had fallen into would be through the school gym, which should be empty at that hour. Sneaking in as quietly as possible, he finally reached the changing area; he just needed to cross it and head to the football pitch, which would be free from whatever was happening there. But there was a hitch: someone was using the changing room. Quickly hiding behind the door, he saw the stranger swaggering arrogantly through the space. Recently out of the shower and wearing only a jock strap, the muscular Chinese lad strutted as if he owned the place. Stopping in front of the mirror, he admired himself. Who could he have been before? No… no… Lionheart only had one Chinese student. That must be… Anshen? Franklin’s best mate… no… this was a nightmare.

“I can see you there, mate!” said the muscular lad, crossing his arms. “Coach BIG is looking for you. I wouldn’t irritate the bloke if I were you.” He added with a cheeky grin. Having been discovered, Franklin stepped out of hiding.

“Anshen… is that you?”

“The name’s Ashton, Franklin. Honestly, how could you forget the name of the captain of the school swimming team?” he said, acting as if that made him the most important person in the room. Without even glancing to the side, he brushed past that aberration towards the corridor leading to the football pitch.

“Hey, mate, the coach’s office is the other way!” shouted the other lad, but Franklin didn’t pay him any mind. He was running anxiously toward the door that was his salvation. Only to see it swing open and the monstrous giant that was walking toward him with a grin. Between the two giants, he chose to face the smaller of the two and took off running in the direction he had come from, without seeing the smile fade from the man's face or hearing him grumble.

“Don’t know why they run…”

Upon reaching the door of the changing room he had just passed through a few seconds ago, he found it locked. How? Ashton must have locked it. Franklin grunted as he cursed the other lad with every ounce of strength not being used to try to open the door.

“It’s useless, lad. Your fate was sealed the moment you set foot in this school. But you know what? I like you; you’ve got fire in you. Turn around.” The man said with authority, and Franklin felt his body obey against his will. Gathering courage, he faced the man.

“Who are you? What are you?”

“What I am is something to be answered another time. Now, who am I? Frankly, Farrel, that’s no way to speak to your godfather.” Coach BIG replied, seemingly hurt, although a slight tremor at the corner of his lips indicated he was actually enjoying himself.

“What? Godfather? I don’t have a godfather and I don’t even know who you are! And who the hell is Farrel?”

“Farrel is my godson; a lad, strong and sure of what he wants. A man who knows a man’s rightful place in society. He’s a bit of a rogue, the type who’s too smart for his own good, always finding a way to dodge consequences. Except when he’s on the pitch; he’s the captain of the rugby team and takes that role seriously, even knowing his future lies in politics, thanks to the silver tongue he possesses. In short, Farrel is you, you great numpty. Now that it’s just the two of us in my office, come give your godfather a hug.”

“I… what? No…!” Franklin stammered as he felt his legs move on their own and a dreamy smile form on his lips, even as he internally screamed in anxiety.

Anxiety? He never got anxious! At least not off the pitch. There he was a monster, a bull. But off it? Off it, he was the face of relaxation. Chill out and have a laugh was Farrel Burke’s motto! Thought the muscular black giant that few would believe was only eighteen years old. While he put on the school uniform in his godfather’s office, admiring his beautiful body and smiling.

“Farrel? Farrel! Bloody hell, lad, can’t you pay attention for a minute?”

“Sorry, Uncle BIG… I mean… Coach BIG… oops… Professor Garret.”

“If you weren’t my godson, I’d give you a right telling off, lad, and just because I’m your godfather doesn’t mean you can use my office as if it were your personal changing room.”

“If you hadn’t dragged me from the changing room, I wouldn’t need to finish getting dressed here!”

“Is that a dig at my behaviour, lad?” BIG asked seriously, his eyes glinting dangerously.

“No, sir, professor. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.” The lad replied, sensing the danger.

“Great. As I was saying, I want to implement some of the ideas I brought from Dalton; while you finish getting ready, let me talk to you about the clubs…”

…..

By the end of that week, BIG’s initial work was complete; there were no more students or teachers left to be improved. The uniforms had returned to being the norm, and all the lads were required to be part of at least one of the school’s sports teams. Moreover, the social clubs had been formed, ensuring that the lads, even after school ended, would have a reason to return to Lionheart and not forget what they had learned there. BIG was proud of what he had accomplished, and those above him were too. Now it was time for the expansion phase, to take what was taught at Lionheart outside the school’s walls and fields. BIG’s approach was different from that taken at Dalton; times were different, and in the war they were waging against those who wanted to remove men from their rightful place, there was no room for the discretion adopted by the sister school. Europe was falling too quickly; it was necessary to be more incisive. That’s why Lionheart would focus not only on creating the leaders of tomorrow but a whole generation of influencers, and sport would be their flagship. And there was no sport more popular worldwide than football. Knowing this, the Lionheart team became a priority for BIG, and he created a particularly talented and charismatic group, but they still lacked a coach of the right calibre. But that would soon be resolved, and quickly too; normally, BIG liked to savour the moment he transformed a pathetic figure into a real man. However, as the mass transformation of the first day showed, when the need was pressing, he acted fast. And that Sunday morning, it was needed again. While the lads prepared for training, the stands of the school filled with students from other teams, but also with parents and locals from the surrounding towns. This would be exhausting. And the cherry on top was the old man walking across the field with an angry look directed at BIG, who returned the scorn before breaking into a smile.

Zachariah Hastings, a member of the school board and a staunch conservative, which in theory should please BIG, but the problem was that the old codger was too conservative. Homophobic and racist, he seemed to boil inside the outdated suit he was wearing at that moment. He indeed represented that mythical figure of patriarchy that the snowflakes loved to point out as the cause of all ills: the white, heterosexual, cisgender man. BIG had nothing against a man who was all those things; on the contrary. The problem was that this figure represented everything that the enemies of the brotherhood of men took pleasure in using to attack. BIG’s group merely wanted to return men to their rightful place in society; they didn’t care about race, religion, whether you were an immigrant or who you slept with. Implicating with those things only created divisions, pushing men away from the real goal. And it was precisely for that reason that Zachariah had to go. Without any fanfare or manipulation, in one moment, the old codger was there with a bewildered expression, as if he knew what awaited him, and in the next moment, a fine specimen of a black man, very much like BIG himself, stood in his place, while every man in that audience became an upgraded ally, and BIG enthusiastically announced to everyone the arrival of the legendary Zeke Hastings, newly retired player from Manchester City and multiple-time champion of the Premier League, Champions League, and Euro Cup, to take the position of coach for the school’s football team, sending all the men in that place into a frenzy of delight, while BIG himself smiled, satisfied that the first part of his duty was finally fulfilled.

**Two months earlier**

Barret couldn’t stop tapping his foot while waiting in the posh waiting room of Dalton Academy; after all, this was his big chance, even if he didn’t understand why an American school would be interested in an English literature teacher. Although the whole place reeked of Old Money, perhaps that justified the interest in him.

“You can come in, Mr. Garret.” A metallic voice startled Barret, who looked around for the source, but found none. Collecting himself, he stood up, straightened his suit, and opened the massive door to the office. What he saw there gave him a sense of strangeness. Smiling and walking towards him in a space much larger than would be possible, was a handsome lad, no more than eighteen years old. Was this some sort of prank by the posh students?

“Come in, Mr. Garrett. Barret Garret; your parents had an interesting sense of humour; I would have certainly liked them…” commented the smiling young man before frowning. “Why the scared face? Ahhh, I always forget these modern conventions; in my day, this would already be the appearance of an adult man.” The young man said, his face concentrating, and then, as if by magic, he began to walk towards an office desk that Barret could have sworn hadn’t been there seconds before. When he reached the desk a blonde, older, and muscular man wearing a slightly less formal outfit smiled at Barret.

“I think you’ll prefer this appearance, my dear. You can call me Mr. Edgar. And even though I’ve used a bit of trickery to bring you here, since unfortunately there’s no place for you on Dalton’s faculty, by the time we finish our conversation, it’ll be as if you know the place better than you do yourself, and I guarantee the goal I have in mind for you will leave you quite satisfied. Put a smile on that face and step in.” Even against his will, in that incomprehensible situation, Barret found himself smiling and stepped into the creature’s lair.

If anyone who wasn’t an active member of Dalton was watching what was going on, they would have been shocked. But within those walls, it was almost routine. A young, well-dressed black man hesitating in front of a portal, only to, upon crossing it, see his body modify and expand, while he aged a few years, though that only made him even more charming; his slow steps transforming into the confident stride of a man who knew exactly what he wanted. And anyone who knew Blake Ian Garret, coach BIG, could tell that that impression would be correct, though incomplete. BIG not only knew what he wanted but would also do everything in his power to achieve his goals. And those goals at the moment consisted of returning to England to find a way to occupy a position at Lionheart School, which conveniently was established on top of one of the largest dormant power points of the old country, but which only needed a spark to awaken. A spark that Mr. Edgar handed to him, only demanding in return that he use that power to ensure that the occupants of the place, both the established ones and those who would come, and even the unsuspecting traveler passing through, became the right kind of men. The exact type that BIG himself represented.

….

**6 months later**

“Son, I’m sure it won’t be as bad as you think. I survived high school; you will too.”

“Yes, but you didn’t have to be transferred in the middle of the second year to a school with the highest concentration of wanker athletes that would have certainly made your life a nightmare.”

“Duncan, I understand; I was transferred as well, remember? I need to make friends at work too.”

“Dad, that’s completely different; none of your colleagues are going to shove your head in a toilet or anything like that.”

“I’m sure that only happens in films, Duncan.”

The pair of overweight blonde father and son walked through the corridors of the Lionheart Institute towards Director Johnson. The truth is that even Alex, the father, was not comfortable with that arrangement, but there was nothing to be done; Lionheart was the best school in the area, and he refused to send his son away from him. Duncan was a shy and reserved kid, just like he had been at that age. That school would be a challenge, but any other would be too, and there he would be close by if something happened.

“Dad, didn’t you read the articles I sent you? This journalist, Aaryan Patel, wrote a series of them talking about what goes on here; all the students here, regardless of where they came from, are some kind of athletes; some have even competed in the Olympics. And there’s more; all of them have behaviour described as toxic; some have been banned from giving interviews; some bloke named Ashton Zhang won a bronze medal in Paris but said so much rubbish about the opening ceremony that he almost got banned from competing.”

“Well, then they’ll know what it’s like to have a mathlete among them now! And who knows, you might become a good influence on them or even get motivated to take up some sport; exercise does wonders for a young lad.”

“Says the man who’s never set foot on a court in his life…”

“Duncan, enough! You’re coming to study here, and that’s final.” The father snapped, as he noticed a giant figure approaching confidently down the corridor.

“But Dad, I think Aaryan Patel has a point…”

“Duncan! I don’t want to hear you talking about Aaryan Patel anymore!”

“You do quite well.” Commented the giant black man approaching them, his smile vanishing upon hearing that name. “Mr. Patel has only been defaming the good name of this school with lies and distortions, when what he should be doing is praising the performance of our students in all areas of life. I’m Professor Garret and I believe you are Archibald and Duncan, am I right?”

“In fact, my name is Alexander…”

“Ah, some misunderstanding then.” Commented the professor with a cheeky smile before continuing. “Director Johnson should have welcomed you, but he had a slight hiccup and asked me to do it for him. I thought I’d chat with you, Archibald, while one of the lads shows Duncan around the school. Where is that rascal? Ah, here he comes.” Professor Garret finished speaking without giving Alexander a chance to correct him about the name error, although he himself had forgotten it when he saw the lad strutting down the corridor, almost like a mini version of the professor. Although saying that anything about that lad was mini would be an affront. Broad shoulders and strong limbs pushing the limits of the school’s smart black uniform, made up of a full suit, tie, and dress shoes that must have been tailor-made to fit the boats that were his feet, the overall effect was one of sophistication but also of dominance and confidence that left Alexander gaping and Duncan, who was already fearful, completely terrified.

“Good day, Coach BIG… hum… Professor Barret; good day, sir.” The lad said politely, although a mischievous sparkle danced in his eyes.

“Farrell, my boy. Would you be so kind as to show the school’s facilities to Duncan here while Archie and I have a chat?”

“With pleasure, Professor Garret. Would you be so kind as to accompany me, Duncan?” He said, positioning himself next to the other lad who, although overweight, was shorter and lighter than him, before turning to Alexander with a cheeky grin. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Archie.”

“The pleasure was mine, lad.” replied Alex, again forgetting to correct the name error. “We’ll see you in a bit, Duke.” He ended up saying to his son, who looked at him first with wide eyes of pleading and then in surprise at how his father had called him. But there was nothing to be done, for at that moment the muscular giant lad took him by the arm and carried him down the corridor, while his father walked away in the opposite direction, chatting amiably with the behemoth that was Professor Garret.

BIG entered his office and sat down at the desk, although he hadn’t asked Archibald to enter, apparently lost in his own thoughts.

“So, Archibald Dunhan, that name doesn’t sound unfamiliar to me.” Commented the professor.

“Well, it’s not exactly a common name these days.” Archibald replied, accepting the name as if he had always used it.

“No, it’s not… Archibald, Archibald Dunhan, Archie, Archie Dunhan! But of course! Wall Archie! You could have been a legend at Arsenal, material for the England team, if it weren’t for that nasty injury in that game against Manchester City; but from what I know, your career as a player agent isn’t going too badly.”

“I… I think you’re confusing me with someone.” Archibald timidly replied, still standing at the door. Just the idea of thinking of himself as a former footballer was hilarious. Although he was indeed a die-hard Arsenal fan and risked a few matches with his mates on weekends. No, not that…

“No, I’m not mistaken; you were a leak-proof goalkeeper, you were a wall indeed, Archie; don’t let something that wasn’t your fault bring you down.”

“That accident ruined me, mate…” Archie found himself responding automatically. What the hell was he talking about?

“I know, but managing guys like Haaland and De Bruyne is also a success story. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Believe me, no one has ever accused me of being too humble!” Why would he say something like that???

“Then we’ve got the same problem!” replied Garret, bursting into laughter, and Archie joined in, unable to contain himself, stopping with a startled look only when the other man spoke to him again.

“What are you doing standing there, Archie? Come in, come in; we’ve got Duke’s future to discuss.”

Hearing that name stirred something in Archie; there was something very wrong with all of this, but then he took a step into the room, and everything changed. In a blur of movement and colour, his muscles expanded, height increased impressively, and fat seemed to evaporate from his body. When he stopped smiling in front of the other man, any trace of humility or shame had left his body. He was one of the most successful sports agents in the country; there was no reason to worry about that sort of thing.

“BIG, you’ve got 5 minutes to convince me to bring my son to this school, mate.”

“Archie, you know me you wanker; I can do it in three.��

….

“Take a seat, chubby; I’m not going to give you a hard time.” Said the muscular black lad to Duncan, although he clearly was already doing that. The moment Duncan’s dad and the teacher left their line of sight, Farrel dropped the politeness, throwing aside all false pleasantries, revealing himself to be exactly the type of person Duncan believed and feared he would be. He didn’t show anything Duncan might find relevant about the school’s facilities, leading the lad through some of the many sports facilities on site. They had courts for all sorts of sports imaginable, gym equipment, swimming pools, running tracks, and even a complete weightlifting gym. After the exhausting tour of Jockland, they finally arrived at the spacious and luxuriously furnished room where they were.

“I’d rather stand, thanks.” Duncan said, approaching the window of the room, which overlooked the well-kept football pitch of the institution.

“You know best, but carrying all that weight can’t be good for your knees.” Farrel commented venomously, as he took off the top part of the school uniform with no ceremony and flopped down on the sofa in the room. “But that won’t last long; BIG will have you sweating off all that flab in no time.”

“I wish you’d stop making comments about my body.”

“When you’ve got the physique of a real man, I’ll stop, chubby. And trust me, you will; in no time, no one will recognise you, not even you.”

“I’m fine as I am; I don’t intend to change anything.”

“As if anyone here gives a toss about what you think, lad. I repeat, soon you’ll be one of the lads at Lionheart and won’t even remember the wimp you are now. And even if you did, you’d be ashamed of what you let this society do to you.”

“I won’t let myself change; you can do what you want with me, humiliate me, torture me; I won’t change.” Duncan replied, feeling an uncharacteristic rage and turning from the window, seeing for the first time Farrel’s bare chest, which made him blush deeply, while the other lad shot him an intrigued look.

“Seeing something you like, chubby? You a queer or something? Not that I have a problem with it; It’s an all boys school after all, and the lads have their needs. Besides I know what my body does to others." He said, flexing his powerful muscles as if he was at some kind of obscene show, which made Duncan look back at the window, only turning around when the other spoke again, hitting the target this time."No, no… it’s a different kind of desire, isn’t it? Ever thought about having a body like this? Ever wished for muscles like these?” He conclude, looking distracted for a moment, as if he were reliving an old memory.

“I don’t need that; I’ve got my mind, and it’s more powerful than any bulging muscle.”

“Loooser! I wish I could record this and show it to my new bro when he comes out of you; it’ll surely make him die of embarrassment.”

“I… what?”

“You know where we are, Duke? At the headquarters of one of the Lionheart clubs, my club; not just anyone gets in here, but I decided you’d be one of the lucky ones. I’m the captain of the rugby team and would love to have you with us, but the boss has other plans. Speaking of which, you know what’s even more curious? The club is located exactly one floor above Coach BIG’s office. An office that has a direct exit to the football pitch. That exit, I believe, must have been used quite recently, so while you’re at the window, tell me what you see.” Farrel asked, his eyes sparkling and his voice filled with an uncontrollable mix of eagerness and excitement.

Without really knowing why he was obeying the other lad, Duncan looked outside, initially seeing nothing of note, but then his gaze landed on the pitch, and what he saw shocked him. Professor Garrett, who at that moment should have been with Duncan’s father, was walking across the pitch, bare-chested and laughing animatedly with a blonde man who was just as monstrous and muscular as he was. But if Garret was there, where was Alexand… Archibald?

“I don’t get it? Where’s my dad?”

“With all that talk about intellect, I thought you’d be smarter, Duke.”

“My name isn’t…”

“Duke!” Duncan read the lips of the gigantic blond man more than he heard him speak as he waved vigorously, beckoning him to join him and Garret on the pitch. Why would a complete stranger act that way? Unless… unless he wasn’t a complete stranger.

“No… it’s impossible…”

“Finally, you got it, chubby, although I think this will be the last time I can call you that.”

“No… dad?” Duncan asked, although the man who continued to wave excitedly couldn’t hear him. “What did they do to you?”

“Oh, old BIG has a thing for The gentlemen’s sport; even though he’s never been a pro himself. I’d say we’d put you on my team, and that would be that. But for a former pro rugby player, he doesn’t value us much. He says nothing gets as much visibility as football, and our team is about to lose the captain to a contract, and we still don’t have a worthy replacement. Plus, the old rogue managed to create a connection with someone who can get him the best seats at the games.”

“I don’t understand…”

“You don’t need to understand, Duke; you just need to accept.”

“I can’t accept this… I won’t accept this…”

“Duke?”

“What!?! He screamed back, enraged in response.

“Come over here, mate.”

“I’m not your mate, mate!”

“Of course you are; you’re my little bro; me and Ash were looking forward to finally having our little brother with us! Farrel, Duke, and Ashton, best mates. FDA, like the American agency, and like them, we run the bloody show! F for a lot of food, D for drugs to grow and an A for, shit what is the A again? Let it be A for awesome because that's what we are, mate!"

“I…”

“Think about it, Duke; you want to make your dad proud.”

“Yes…” he replied, shivering at hearing that.

“Then get your arse off that window and come with me to meet him; for you, I’d even play a match of football just to see the old geezers eat dust.”

“Haha, I want to see you try to score on my dad, F! The bloke’s a wall; not that he can stop his son from scoring.”

“That’s what I want to see; let’s go, then.” Farrel insisted, and Duke finally took a step back and went to meet his fate. In an instant, the fat seemed to be sucked from his body as his muscles expanded into a strong and toned physique, far from the giant muscle mass of Farrel or his father after the forced retirement and years dedicated to bodybuilding. A slim and strong body, except for the long, powerful legs with thighs capable of exploding a watermelon if it were squeezed between them. His unkempt hair giving way to a well-groomed cut, the sad, chubby face transforming into a beautiful, almost angelic face, but still unable to completely hide the mischief within him, easily identified by the cheeky smile playing on his lips at that moment.

“Don’t know why you’re so excited, bro; with that size, dribbling you will be the easiest thing in the world.”

“Watch what you say, scrawny boy.”

“This is definition, something a ogre like you will never know what it is.”

“Come talk about agility when you compete with me in rugby.”

“And why would I stuff myself into a game with a bunch of lard arses?”

“Who are you calling fat, punk?”

“Not me, your body mass index.”

“You’re getting quite cheeky there, lad. I want to see you crack jokes on the pitch.” Farrel replied with false irritation.

“When I get past you, you won’t even notice, chubby!”

….

Aaryan Patel was absolutely fuming; he had no idea why his boss at the Independent Herald had sent him from London to that conservative hellhole that Daffodil Meadow had become. And to top it all off, he was heading straight to the epicentre of that rubbish, the King Richard Institute for Boys, aka Lionheart School. A place he had written a series of scathing articles about in recent months, which didn’t mean he wanted to walk into the lion’s den, especially when it was the lion himself who had sent the invitation. But his editor insisted it was too good an opportunity to pass up, and now here he was, walking purposefully along the edge of the grass on the school’s grand football pitch towards Director Johnson, who was at that moment in one of the few empty stands. Apparently, it was a tradition for the school and the surrounding villages to gather every evening to watch some sort of competition from the different teams, and today it was a football match. What didn’t make sense was the question Aaryan kept asking himself: why the hell did Henderson Johnson make him walk across the pitch where the students were parading around with their muscular bodies on display while the school staff prepared everything for the match?

As Aaryan made his way to his destination, he passed two muscular black blokes wearing the infamous light blue polo shirt of the sports team, one of whom was much bigger than the other. The one he wanted to take down the most. However, when the larger man glanced at Aaryan as he walked towards the nearest entrance to the stands, the lad who considered himself a brave man felt his knees go weak. Feeling angry with himself as he watched the two lugs burst into laughter, Aaryan quickened his pace and climbed the stands to meet Director Johnson.

“Mr. Patel, it’s a pleasure to meet you in person after reading the rather vehement words you used to describe me, my school, and my students.” The man said with a threatening smile. But Aaryan wasn’t going to let himself be intimidated; he was indeed brave, and although he was much leaner than the brute, he wasn’t a total wimp; he could handle whatever the other bloke had to throw at him. And any words spoken would receive an appropriate response from his sharp mind.

“Vehement is an appropriate but incomplete description of what I have to say about this place, Director Johnson. And that description could also be applied to the behaviour of the people here, although belligerent might be a more fitting term.”

“And you know a thing or two about belligerence, don’t you? Big guy like you? Bet you’ve had your fair share of scraps, haven’t you, Aaron?”

“The name’s Aaryan! And I prefer to fight with words.”

“Ha, I knew there was a fighter in you; I never miss.” The man commented as if Aaryan's response had been completely different, leaving the journalist confused for a moment. Quickly shaking off that momentary confusion, he turned back to the giant blonde.

“So, Director Johnson, what’s the purpose of summoning me here? And summon is the right word; my editor informed me that you pressured him quite insistently and intimidatingly, I should add.”

“Right, lad, I just wanted you to see for yourself what it’s really like here, what you’ve been so harsh about. You might not realise it, but what you write affects people’s lives, people I care about; my staff and my students.”

“Forgive me, Director Johnson, but the actions of those people you care about affect many others’ lives.”

“You paint us as monsters, Aaron, but do what I asked you: roam about, chat with my students and teachers; there’s one teacher in particular who’s quite eager to have a word with you.” The director said, smiling and nodding towards the pitch where Blake Garrett was watching closely as Zeke Hastings paced back and forth, correcting both teams’ players’ positions.

A chill ran down his spine at the thought of talking to that man. Forgetting to correct the misuse of his name, he responded to the director.

“Alright, I’ll do that, but I don’t think anything will change my mind. I’m sure the teachers are lost causes by now and the students are probably already conditioned to the behaviours taught here.”

“We’re not a cult, Aaron, but if you want a fresh opinion, why not have a chat with the centre-forward for the black team? The blonde lad in number 9. Duke has been at the school for less than a week; see what he has to say after the game.”

“I know how to identify a centre-forward, thanks! And I think I’ll do just that; cheers!” replied the journalist, who until a few minutes ago certainly couldn’t identify any positions.

After chatting with some students and teachers who repeated the same toxic spiel about masculine values, manliness, and the rightful place a man should occupy in society, Aaryan felt drained. Coming here had certainly been a bad idea. He thought about leaving and writing another scathing article about the evils of that place. However, he realised that the game had finally come to an end when he saw the blonde centre-forward walking to the edge of the pitch, opening a bottle of water and taking a long swig that practically emptied the bottle in one gulp. As Aaryan approached him, the lad poured the remaining water over his sweaty hair, then shook it off vigorously just as Aaryan reached him.

“Good afternoon, lad; my name’s Aaryan Patel, Director Johnson told me I could have a word with you.” He said, moving closer to the lad and using an authoritative figure as a reference to ensure the lad paid attention; he had dealt with many of those arrogant lads in the past couple of hours to give the kid a chance to mock him or simply ignore him.

“Eh?” The lad huffed, flexing his muscles and shaking the soaked t-shirt. This was pretty much the expected behaviour from any football player giving an interview after an hour and a half of strenuous exercise. What Aaryan, as any good fan of the game, should have remembered. So he repeated the information to the lad.

“My name’s Aaryan and you’re Duke, right? I want to ask you a few things about the school.”

“Sure, mate.” The lad replied, looking more awake after taking off his shirt and showing off his powerful physique, even though it was clear that not much was going on upstairs. This diminished Aaryan’s hopes of getting any productive conversation, as it was obvious the lad belonged there. Still, he decided to press on; when in Rome…

“So, what do you think of the school? Settling in well?”

“Aaron, mate, this place is brilliant! I begged for nearly two years to come here, but my dad thought I’d have better chances of getting signed if I kept training in a bigger city. It was only when Coach BIG took over the sports department that he was convinced.”

“Um… just out of curiosity, who’s your dad?”

“Haha, as if you don’t know who he is, Aaron, mate! I’m not some little kid to fall for your tricks.” The lad replied, giving a thumbs up.

“What are you on about?” Aary… Aaron asked, confused. But then something worse happened; the lad turned to the middle of the pitch where his teammates were milling about, shirtless, chatting and joking under the watchful eye of the coach, who was in turn under the direct supervision of the head of the sports department, the infamous BIG, who was precisely the person the lad was addressing.

“Oi, Coach BIG! Come meet my mate, Aaron.” And to Aaron’s horror, the man who instilled all his primal fears turned to him, serious for being interrupted, but soon a mischievous grin spread across his face.

Strutting towards the two with all the arrogance in the world, looking at Aaron with the same gaze a lion gives to a gazelle before it attacks, making Aaron’s knees tremble… but why? He should respect the bloke, of course… but no matter how big he was, Aaron could handle him… how? Certainly not with words… hey… what was he thinking here? What intrusive thoughts were those? However, he had no time to fight against those ideas so contrary to his essence because at that moment, the coach was standing before him, eclipsing everything else with his immense physical presence.

“Aaryan Patel, the man of the moment! You have no idea how much I wanted to meet you!”

“It’s Aaron… sir.” He added. The respect for the figure of coaches ingrained in him wouldn’t allow him to respond any other way. But why so much respect?

“When young Duke told me he knew you, I couldn’t resist the idea of bringing him here. But where exactly do you two know each other from?”

“Eh… what?” He had just met the lad, right? But then where did the memories of him teaching the kid fighting positions come from? Fighting? What fighting? In the midst of his confusion, it was Duke who answered.

“It’s my dad’s agency that looks after Aaron’s career, coach. In fact, he’s been following Aaron from the beginning; he’s spent more time at our house than at his own over the last few years.”

“Oh, of course. A cunning man like Archie wouldn’t let a talent like that slip through his fingers.” Agency, what agency? Big-name journalists needed agents, but a rookie like Aaron… mate, in his world, even rookies needed a decent agent; it was the difference between a million-dollar career and retirement in the gutter, and Wall Archie was the best; after all, he had experienced firsthand how cruel that world could be. Yeah, the world was a cruel place, and it was his duty to expose those ills… No, not that, what he needed to do was fight… yes, fight for improvements in society… mate, society was what it was and that was that… in this life, you either lose or win, and Aaron Blink Patel, rising star of the heavyweight MMA scene, was born to win. He earned the nickname for the short time he needed to take down opponents. Which was almost the same amount of time he dedicated to interviews with journalists. He didn’t need many words in his life, being known for keeping his opinion to himself, aware of what the media vultures could do to his career. The only time he expressed his opinions was when he was with his friends, when he let out all the intensity inside him, in conversations filled with cheeky banter and heated praises of masculinity in today’s world. And if there was someone who was the ultimate representation of masculinity, it was Aaron Fucking Blink Patel!

“No… no…”

“Aaron, mate, it’s all good?”

“Of course it is, Duke; it’s just the fighter inside him manifesting, but now it’s just a matter of a blink and it’ll all be sorted.” Coach BIG commented.

“Just a blink…” Aaron grumbled, and then… blink… and… his toned, lean torso expanded like a flower blooming, if flowers were made of huge, protruding muscles and their scent was an animalistic musk, with a touch of spices that didn’t go unnoticed even in that place full of sweaty young men… blink … and his legs exploded in size and power needed to crush opponents… blink… and the years dedicated to reading and research evaporated, replaced by training in jiu-jitsu, boxing, and Muay Thai… blink… and all the pent-up rage inside him flowed out in flowery words in sharp texts, concentrating in the massive paws that were his fists and feet… wink… and Aaron Blink Patel found himself smiling at the man and the lad before him, an image seen only by those the fighter deemed worthy. But he’d known Duke since he was younger than the kid, and after hearing the glowing praise he gave about his new coach, the man earned Aaron’s respect without needing to lift a finger.

“Sorry, what were you saying, sir?”

“You can call me Coach BIG; Aaron is what everyone calls me.”

“Yes, sir.” He replied, causing Duke to burst into laughter.

“You’re a lost cause, mate.”

“Actually, I think Aaron is a great example to follow; I wish my rowdy students had his level of respect.” Coach BIG commented, his voice cutting, making the lad’s smile fade instantly. “By the way, after I speak to the team, I’d love for you to have a word with those rascals, Aaron. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a motivational speech to give. Duke, keep him company while I’m at it.”

“Yes, coach, sir.”

“See? Just your presence has instilled some respect in this cheeky little sod.” The coach commented before returning to the pitch to address the teams.

“Could you not be such a teacher’s pet, mate?”

“I only got where I am because I respected my coaches and your dad; authority figures are there to be respected. Don’t you want to be captain of the team? Don’t you want to be a pro one day? You could already be playing for a real team if you had a bit more discipline since talent isn’t lacking. Take advantage of that man.” He said, pointing to the coach who was animatedly giving a speech. “BIG is a legend, a legend capable of making other legends; it was a scandal to find out a man like him had moved to the States, but the results he achieved with Dalton’s teams speak for themselves. And he brought in fucking Zeke Hastings to train you lot, and your dad to manage those of you who are truly capable of going pro. So yes, listen to what your coaches have to say; you may think it’s just theatre, but it’s the attitude that separates the men from the boys.” Aaron finished, flexing his powerful muscles to the point where the polo shirt he was wearing ripped under his arms.

“Wow, mate! That’s wicked! You’re a beast!” Duke said with such genuine admiration that Aaron couldn’t help but smile and repeat the feat, tearing his shirt even more before returning to a serious demeanor and looking at the younger lad.

“And you know how I became who I am today, little brother? By listening to all the shite my coaches had to say to me!” He said, pointing in the direction of Coach BIG, who was just finishing his speech, raising his voice so that everyone on the pitch and in the stands could hear him easily.

“… because this society wants to diminish you, weaken you. They want you to believe that being a man is wrong, that being what we were born to be is a shame. But they don’t know the power you carry with you, the influence you possess; many of you will be professional athletes, some already are. You’ll be seen around the world, admired, able to inspire, capable of making our brothers, hounded by our enemies, react, and more than that, you can make some of those enemies see the mistakes they’ve made and bring them back to the right path, and for those who insist on their mistakes, you’ll be able to hit them where it hurts most, where they’ve been hitting us for years, and I’m talking about their children; You will shape and save them because you have the power to correct what’s wrong in this generation, then in they do same with the next. The truth is men, and never forget it, you have power! And we’ll use it to secure a better, brighter future!

#male tf #jockification #mental transformation #corruption #race change #reality change #mind change #musclegrowth

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its-time-to-write · 1 year ago

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how about a Jamie x reader fic when they go away to Amsterdam they sit together on bus and they wake up cuddling and then there’s an issue w hotel booking and there’s a one bed trope and they end up waking up cuddled together and then they admit feelings and reader goes to game with a tartt jersey on <3

I’ve been thinking about this forever, and I’m terribly sorry it took so long!! I do enjoy being an adult, but I’m at a point in life where I don’t have much free time and if I do, I use it to sleep😂

I really miss the days when Ted Lasso was still airing and the x reader tags had new content every day. I feel like that one meme of Thanos when he’s like “Fine. I’ll do it myself.” Shoutout to all y’all who are still here and reading my stuff! Love you!!

smile at me

It’s straight-up fucked. It really, really is. But also maybe it’s good, as Keeley pointed out, because not having a boyfriend anymore means you can focus on yourself?

Or something.

Of course he had to break up with you right before leaving for Amsterdam. Hell, he broke up with you because you were leaving for Amsterdam.

“I don’t want you going to another country with a bunch of other guys,” he had said. “It’s them or me.”

“It’s literally my job,” you told him.

Apparently, that didn’t matter.

But what-fucking-ever, you’re at Keeley’s waiting for a car to take you to the airport, and she’s promised to make sure you don’t think about your stupid ex even once.

It’s times like these you wish Ted were still here with a spot-on pun and some dad-type advice. All you ever get from Beard is a weird anecdote and a vaguely threatening look.

Keeley chatters on for the entirety of the ride to the airport, through customs, and all the way to the lounge.

“You’re gonna get loads of great content for the socials, babe. Candids, action shots, behind-the-scenes. Friendlies are fucking amazing!”

Last time Richmond were in Amsterdam, they had lost horribly. They’re hoping to make up for it this time around.

The plane is full of Greyhounds, both footballers and coaches alike, with Rebecca at the very front. Keeley plops done in the seat next to her as Dani waves at you from the middle.

“I saved you a seat!” he calls. You smile as Sam takes your bag to put it in the overhead. “Thanks, Dani. You excited?”

Dani grins. “I think this time I am ready to see a whole field of tulips!”

You laugh as the lads roll their eyes. Jamie leans across the aisle toward you and says, “Oi, what’s the twat doing while you’re away?”

You press your lips into a thin line. “Not a clue.”

He raises an eyebrow and says, “You break up with him?”

“He broke up with me.”

Jamie twists his face into a scoff. “And you wonder why I call him the fucking twat. Prick. Bet it was so he could finally fuck his coworker.”

You shrug. Jamie’s never liked your boyfriend. It’s not like you were together long, only a few months. And sure, he was a little bit of a twat, but sue you. You had a special place in your heart for pricks with a heart of gold, only he didn’t even have a heart at all.

“You should date someone better,” Jamie continues.

You glare at him and retort, “Oh yeah, because it’s just that easy. You got some one in mind?”

Jamie gives you his most angelic look and says, “What about me?” which makes half the plane dissolve into laughter, yourself included.

“Cheers, Jamie,” you say as you wipe your eyes. “I needed that.”

A strange look crosses his face, but it’s quickly replaced by his usual cocky expression. “Anytime, love,” he replies as you turn to start a conversation with Dani.

As much as you’d like that, Jamie would never date you. His joke stings a little but you brush it off. Maybe you’ll find another twat in Amsterdam to distract yourself from the fact that you’re half in love with Jamie Tartt.

—

“I’m sorry, we don’t have a booking under you name,” the hotel concierge says.

You tap your nails to your wrist. “Are you positive? I’m with AFC Richmond, they should’ve had one.”

The concierge taps on his computer for a moment before shaking his head. “No, I’m afraid we don’t have anything. And all of our rooms are booked this weekend. Might I recommend the hotel down the road?”

Damn it. There’s no way this is happening. Everyone else has gotten to their rooms without a hitch and here you are, alone in the lobby as you pull out your phone to call Keeley. There’s no way this is fucking happening.

“Everything alright?” asks a voice behind you, and you jump.

“They don’t have a room for me, and they’re fully booked,” you explain.

Jamie looks at the concierge, who shrugs apologetically, then back to you. He asks, “Why don’t you share with me?” and you frown.

“I thought you were rooming with Declan,” you say.

Jamie lifts a shoulder. “Yeah, but he switched with Richard because O’Brien fucking snores and he don’t give a shit.”

You say, “So you’re with Richard, then,” and he shakes his head.

“Nah, Richard’s with Jan.”

“I thought Dani was with Jan,” you say. These fucking footballers. What’s the point in having set rooms if they’re just going to switch it all up.

“Dani is with Jan,” Jamie says patiently, as if this all the most obvious thing in the world. “But Dani’s a cuddler, so he’s probably going to fucking end up with, I don’t know, Isaac or someone. Which means I get a room all to meself.”

“Right,” you say slowly. “Alright, I can do that. As long as you don’t mind.”

Jamie winks. “Sharing a room with a pretty girl for four days? Ain’t a problem, love.”

You laugh and follow him to the elevator.

—

It feels a bit like playing with fire, agreeing to room with Jamie. Especially since you’re freshly single and definitely open to a rebound. But there will be two beds and a lot of space and anyway, you’ll be busy with the match and social media, respectively.

Except as soon as you walk through the door, you realize there’s a tiny little hitch.

“There’s one bed,” you blurt out, so surprised you’re unable to filter your words. Jamie blushes a little bit as he says, “Yeah, um, Cockburn and I hate sleeping alone, so we asked for one. He grew up sharing a bed with his brothers and I just fucking hate being alone. I can sleep on the couch if you want.”

“No,” you say firmly, “you need good rest. It’s not a problem.”

It’s not a problem.

Or at least it wouldn’t have been if Isaac had been a shittier captain.

But as it is he’s great, so he’s got the whole team going out to dinner at a pre-determined location complete with a dress code of no t-shirts and apparently you count as part of the team, so you have to go too. You’re in your massive bathroom trying to curl your disgusting travel hair when Jamie walks in wearing one of those white hotel bathrobes.

He asks, “You mind if I’m in here?” so you shake your head, struck temporarily mute by his bare clavicle. Fucking hell, you feel like a repressed Victorian woman.

Jamie says, “Mint,” and goes about his alarmingly detailed skincare routine. You’re pretty sure you’re done with your hair so you crane your neck in an attempt to check the back.

“Missed a spot,” Jamie says. “Want me to get it for you?”

You shoot him a dubious look but hand him the curler. He runs a hand through your hair, picking up the offending strand and it’s all you can do not to shiver.

“Mum taught me,” he explains and you nod ever so slightly, not wanting him to accidentally burn your neck. Jamie says, “All good,” and runs his whole hand through your hair this time, making the curls bounce.

You choke out, “Thanks,” and hurriedly put away your things, desperate to leave before Jamie can pick up on the fact that you can barely handle being in the same room as him, and that you have great concerns about what the night will bring.

—

“You look fucking hot,” is the first thing Rebecca says when you meet her in the lobby. Keeley looks mildly offended that Rebecca took the words out of her mouth, but she just laughs and taps your arm.

“Gonna break a few hearts tonight, yeah?” she grins.

You’re not sure about that, especially since dinner turns out to be a very domestic affair. It’s loud, sure, but it’s definitely toned down since it’s a pre-match celebration instead of a post-match one. You’re with Sam, Keeley, and Roy with Jamie far, far away. You push all thoughts of him from your brain only for memories of your ex to surface. You frown.

“The fuck’s wrong with you?” Roy says and for a moment, you think he’s talking to you. But he’s actually talking to Jamie who has moved from his place across the restaurant to right behind your chair.

“Fuck off grandad,” Jamie says good-naturedly. “Wanted to tell this one that some of the lads are going out dancing after this. Not too late,” he hastily adds at Roy’s burning scowl, “just for two hours and we’re only allowed one drink.”

You’re pretty sure that’s a bit more liberal than Roy likes, but he nods his head slightly so he must be in a good mood.

“So, you coming?” Jamie asks and before you can reply Sam and Keeley chorus, “Yes she is.”

You give Keeley a Look before turning back to Jamie. “Guess I am,” you reply.

The smile Jamie gives you does more to make your head spin than any amount of alcohol you’ve had in your lifetime.

—

Jamie has taken it upon himself to wipe that frown off your face. He might have been watching you over dinner and that might have been why he chose that exact moment to invite you out, but he’ll never fucking admit it to anyone except Sam. And Keeley. And maybe Cockburn when it was the off-season and they were a little tipsy. (But not drunk, never drunk.)

So yeah, sue him if he’s spinning you around on the crowded dance floor just because it makes you laugh. It’s not his fault that he’s been wildly in love with you since the day Higgins hired you. It’s not his fault that you’re easy to be around and have the most beautiful smile he’s seen in his life.

And fuck, it certainly isn’t his fault you can’t see in yourself what others do. Why you settled for a piece of shit like your ex, he’ll never know. But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t do his best to show you how special you are. He knows you’ll never feel the same about him, but maybe he can help you level up your standards. Maybe if you’re with someone good, it’ll hurt less that it’s not him.

So he lets you hold his hand for the entirety of the two hours that the team is out and doesn’t say a word when you don’t let go in the cab back to the hotel.

You’ve gotten that closed-off look in your eyes again, the one that means you’re thinking about your ex, so Jamie knocks his shoulder into yours and asks why he can’t have the password to the team’s Instagram account, which is a sure fire way to get you to lecture him on irresponsibility and aesthetics and the best way to get your eyes to come back to life.

—

Honestly, it’s easier to fall asleep than you might have expected. It’s a big bed and you’re fucking tired.

You just didn’t expect to wake up in the middle of the night crying, but it’s always fucking like this when you go through a breakup. You go to sleep fine and wake up sad, so you do your best not to wake up Jamie except you’ve both ended up entangled in each other’s arms, so he can feel you shaking.

“Hey,” Jamie says in a soft voice, “You’re okay, love.”

You half expect him to push you away once he realizes you’re so close, but he only pulls you closer and presses a kiss to your forehead. Maybe it’s because you’re both half-asleep, but it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

You sigh and settle into him, drifting off in a matter of moments.

—

You wake up to a pair of blue eyes watching you.

“How you feeling?” Jamie asks, voice gravelly with sleep.

You just blink at him. It’s hard to form coherent sentences within the first ten seconds of waking up, and even harder with the memory of Jamie’s arms around you last night.

Wait. Not just the memory. The present reality because neither of you have moved.

Jamie misinterprets your silence and begins to extricate his arms.

“Sorry,” he says, “I’m not to trying to like, cross and fucking boundary or something. Should’ve left you alone.”

You’re still not awake enough to talk so you grab him to stop him from moving away. He gives you a questioning look so you say, “I wouldn’t have agreed to share a bed if I thought you were a creep.”

Jamie grins. “So like, if Jan had offered to share a room you’d’ve said no.”

You wrinkle your nose as you say, “Jan’s not a creep.”

“He’s the fucking worst,” Jamie grumbles, “And anyway, can we not talk about Jan fucking Maas this early in the morning?”

“Sure,” you say, “let’s talk about something else.”

Despite your comment, you both lapse into silence. You’re enraptured by Jamie’s blue eyes. You’ve never been able to study them this close before, and you want to take this opportunity to memorize every fleck of green.

Jamie seems to have a similar thought, except his gaze flicks to your lips.

“I have morning breath,” you tell him and he says, “Real men don’t give a shit, babe,” before leaning forward.

It’s softer than you’d expected, sweeter.

It’s also strange to think that you’re making out with Jamie in bed, and that he’s the one who initiated it.

The thought is so absurd that you giggle, mid-kiss. Jamie breaks away and says, “Oi, there’s no way that was a shit kiss.”

“No,” you say between giggles, “it’s just weird that we’re doing this. Like, how are we supposed to look each other in the eye after?”

Jamie moves so he can look at you better, and you roll from your side to your back. “What do you mean?” he asks.

“Oh come on, we share a room and a bed, we kiss because I have all these sad feelings and you’re feeling a lot of emotions about the match, and then we have to work together after. It’s silly.”

Jamie cocks his head. “That’s what you think is happening?”

“Yes?” you say. None of this is going how it’s supposed to. “What do you think is happening?”

“I like you,” he says, and there is absolutely no mistaking his meaning.

“Oh,” you reply in a small voice. “Since when?”

“Since before you started dating the twat. When Higgins introduced ya to the team.”

“That’s a fucking long time ago!” you exclaim. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

Jamie rubs his face. “Yeah, ‘cept you showed up to work tellin’ everyone how you started dating the twat. And I ain’t a home wrecker.”

You groan. “Fuuuck. I literally only dated him to try to get over you.”

Jamie shoots up. “What?!”

“Yeah,” you say, “I’ve been like a little bit in love with you ever since you winked at me during that first promo I did.”

Jamie blows out a breath. “Okay. Think that’s enough talking. C’mere. We’re making out proper, like, then we’re going to breakfast.”

You grin as you climb onto his lap.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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entomolog-t · 7 months ago

Text

Finding Strength- Chapter 2

Nearly A WHOLE YEAR after the first chapter WE ARE BACK !!

Meet Rose, a varsity athlete who should needs to pay more attention to the concussion safety protocols. Also Grayson (you'll see a lot more of him eventually)

- - - -

Next Chapter: Chapter 3

Word count: 2160

CW: Adult language

Rose smiles. She smiles as the sweat beads that slick her brow drip into her eyes. She smiles as her limbs grow heavy, arms burning and near useless. She even, to the displeasure of her teammate, smiles as she drills. Her grin an ever present, and rather unnerving, fixture on her face as the duo works their way through their umpteenth repetition of speed drills.

Through gritted teeth Grayson Wilder manages to hiss out a quick knock-it-off before being met her forehead ramming square into his gut as she shoots yet another blast double. As her she makes contact, Grayson is swiftly reminded why pre practice Mcdonalds was a terrible idea.

Who even drills blast doubles during speed drills anyways?

As Rose plows through the take down, Grayson uses the brunt of his mental fortitude to curse their coach for having dared to suggest that doing some extra drilling with Rose would be light go’s for him- that, and to keep his meal firmly where it belonged.

Grayson lands with a grunt, and Rose takes the time to give him a sympathetic look before the two hustle back to standing, only to repeat the whole process again.

And again.

And-

The sound of the score clock's buzzer could have been a choir of angels to either athlete at this point. Sweaty, drained and sore, Rose sighs- not from fatigue, but instead satisfaction. There was a buzzing in her arms, shaky and electric with that telltale combination of adrenaline and exertion. Speed drills objectively sucked. Getting stuck with one of the 90 kilo men for a partner sucked even more. But losing her shot to go to Nationals last season has sucked the most. This season would be great- even if that meant she would have to favor the monotony of drilling rather than the excitement of scrimmage.

Think big. Rose grins, testing the sound of her new little mantra in her head. First early birds, then provincials then-

“Rose!”

Her thoughts are abruptly interrupted by a shout from her coach. Hank Miller beckons her over, a cheeky smile on his face as she jogs towards him.

“Another double and Grayson looked about ready to turn Green… son.”

Rose wishes she has the self control to groan, but instead, she laughs.

“Think he’s McLovin it?”

“He’ll be McLoving his sauna suit, that's for sure.” Hank shakes his head. With sigh he hands her a packet. Though as Rose grabs it, Hank doesn't let go. Eyebrows raised expectantly, his smile is replaced by a more stern expression.

“Filled out by Monday, got it?”

Rose rolls her eyes, but Hank’s grip remains firm.

“Don't lose it.”

In a feat of self control that could rival that of monks, Rose resists the urge to inform Hank that it's not impossible to print another copy. Though in fairness, with his downright cretaceous tech literacy, there were good odds that for him, it may in fact be impossible.

“Yes, Mom.” Finally, he relinquishes the thick stack of redundancy forms. With the packet in tow, Rose makes a B-line for her water bottle. Quick drink, stretches… maybe some footspeed drills? The thought of managing to get her legs to move with the growing weight of fatigue and lactic acid setting in was far from appealing, and there was also the weight of impending assignment deadlines to consider…

It should be a felony to have assignments due the first week of the school year...

With a groan, Rose downs her water as she meanders back on the mat to start her stretches, the cool water an oasis in the mugginess of the wrestling room. Though, the coolness of the water does nothing to hide the red hot glare she can feel burning a hole into the back of her head. A quick glance behind her reveals Hank, with a frustratingly smug pair of raised eyebrows as he casts a nod toward her packet; left abandoned on the sidelines.

With all the subtlety of an air horn at a funeral, Rose makes a show of bringing the oh-so-precious forms to her bag, grin smeared across her face as she plays up her exasperation. She can hear Hank laughing behind her, along with another “Monday” for good measure.

Looking over her shoulder Rose makes sure to shoot him a glare of her own as she shoves the papers into the front pocket of her-

A scream.

Head on a swivel, Rose's eyes immediately lock onto the source- a strained yelp escaping her as the sight sends her sprawling back. Her mind races, fumbling as it strains to make sense of what she was almost certain could not have been in her bag.

“...You good?” Hank’s voice feels like a lifeline back to reality, reeling Rose in from her shock.

“Uhh y-yeah, no. I'm good.” She lies, “Just, uh, papercut.”

Rose didn’t move. Hell, she wasn’t even sure if she had been breathing. She was frozen- feeling as if even a blink would dispel the almost certainly not real reality that stared back at her.

There's…. There's a man- A very small man- in my bag.

Rose swallows nervously. Had she hit her head and not realized? Grayson had made her eat mat on at least one failed attempt at a leg shot… Could concussions cause hallucinations?

There's a tiny man in my bag.

They definitely could, right? Rose couldn’t help but notice the irony that she couldn’t remember the stupid Safe Sport Concussion Awareness presentation. What was more concerning? Hallucinations from a grade 2 concussion, or finding a tiny man in her bag?

Rose blinked.

There's still a tiny man in my bag.

In a far away reality, she hears the muffled voice of Hank asking if she's sure she's alright.

Rose hurriedly gathers up her bag at his approach.

“I’m good. Totally good. I… I uh… gotta go.”

_ _ _

Those few stuttered words were all the warning Tamius had before he was flung backwards as the bag was torn from the ground.

A plan- he needed a plan. Anything-

Instead, Tamius was met by sheer chaos. His word topples over itself, rising and falling and sending him careening into the wall of fabric. A horrible realization dawns on him.

She’s running.

Dread seemed to be the only thing anchoring him to reality as Tamius remained a victim to gravity’s indecisiveness.

He’d been caught.

That behemoth idiot had fucking caught him- Tamius grit his teeth.

No. Not yet.

White knuckled, Tamuis clung to the fabric of the bag. His eyes desperately scanning in the low light for the hole he’d cut. If he could make it back into the larger compartment he could buy himself some time taking cover in her clothes- there’d be an opportunity for escape. He was sure there would be. He’d make one.

In a mix of determination and desperation, Tamius fights against the rhythmic lurching, an awful feeling of vertigo boring down on him as his hands scramble for new grips, something- anything- to pull him closer to that fucking hole.

A lock clicked.

The sound slicing through him- an executioner's bell condemning him to his fate.

No, no, no- not yet!

The stillness that followed was truly terrifying, a contagious beast freezing him, and time itself, in place. Reality itself seemed to hold a change, like the feeling before a storm- his muscles tense, and hair standing on its end, as if current was running through him. It was an electric sort of dread- a missed step, an object about to fall, the moment before impact-

No.

The impact came in the form of five grotesquely large fingers diving into the pocket, looking far more like a Hellish mass of writhing limbs than the hands he was familiar with.

Every ounce of his being screamed- all thoughts coalescing to one;

Get to the rip.

In that moment, Tamius was not a man. He was not a being of higher intelligence. In that moment he felt no soul, no empathy, no love. He was a desperate animal scrambling towards a corner. There was no safety waiting for him just beyond the rip. All that waited behind the fabric were a few extra tortured seconds of delusion. A few painful moments where he could pretend he could reason his way out of this and avoid the reality barreling down on him in the form of five gruesome fingers.

Though reality, it seemed, had other plans.

That gargantuan fucking idiot.

The fingers coiled around him, engulfing Tamius in their impossible mass. His heart pounded wildly in his chest, echoed by that of the flesh pulsing around him- the feeling so deeply sickening he could taste bile on his tongue. Tamuis’ stomach lurches as he’s dragged out, hands grasping pointlessly for anything as he's brought forth in front of a sickeningly familiar face.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to fight back. He wanted to kick, and bite and scratch until she had to let him go. He wanted so desperately to be the cause of even the smallest amount of pain. Anything to wipe that ridiculous awestruck stare off of her stupid face. Anything to pretend like there was something he could do to change the outcome.

But Tamius The Bestoyed, was a man far too smart for his own good. Cursed with reason, he was granted no security in ignorance. Pride was reserved for those who could delude themselves into believing they were in control. Much to his horror, Tamius knew better.

He’d been caught.

Trapped in the fist of a colossus, Tamius swallowed his pride. Tamius was a man of intellect and reason. So he did what any man with intellect and reason would do.

He begged.

“Please.” His voice shook, thick with fear and desperation as garbled pleas spilled forth like a river in spring. The knowledge he so prided himself with failed him, his words a stunted mess of gasping pleases and begging to be let go.

Her brow furrows.

“Pl-please.” Despite himself, Tamius uselessly strained against her fingers, wracking his brain anything he could say. Her eyes, wide and gray, were locked onto him.

Gray.

Gray like foreboding skies. Gray like-

She sucks in a breath, her eyes widening as some sort of thought passes through the near impenetrable density of her gargantuanly thick skull. For a moment, her mouth hangs agape- a look of confusion crossing her face as she takes her time forming a thought.

“... Why are you crying?”

Of all the things she could have said, Tamius had not been anticipating this.

What?

As if experiencing sympathy stupidity, his own mind goes blank, struggling to keep pace with her words. Was he? His face felt wet.

Wait- what did she mean why? How stupid could she be- As if she wasn’t obviously the reason!

Tamius wants to say something, but calling out her oblivious stupidity was out of the question. Before he’s able to gather his words, her hand opens up. No longer restrained in her grip, Tamius, completely and totally dumbstruck, finds himself sitting splayed out in her much too warm cupped hand.

He’s hit with an onslaught of thoughts, as he rapidly begins reformulating any semblance of a plan.

Could he jump? Run? Where was he? Could he fit under the door? How would he get home-

“Did I …” His thoughts are immediately silenced as she addresses him again, “... hurt you?”

Her words catch him off guard, but not nearly as much as her expression. Concern. Embarrassment? She seemed horrified at the thought, her grey eyes scrutinizing him for any sign of injury in a way that bordered on violating.

Too close- too much.

Unable to find his voice, Tamius shakes his head, scrambling back as much as the limited surface of her hands would allow. The massive, and now that he had the chance to get a good look at her, very sweaty woman eyed him curiously. She thinks for a moment, brow furrowed as the act of thinking clearly was not something in which she was well practiced.

“How did you get so small?”

What? Get?

His own expression mirrors hers, brow furrowing as realization dawns on him.

This idiot Gargo thinks I’ve shrunk…

If he wasn’t so terrified he would have scoffed. It would be his luck that he managed to have encountered the most gullible specimen of humanity imaginable. As if people just go around shrinking- wait.

People.

She thinks I’m human.

His hands rush to his ears, relief washing over him as he feels his hair, mussed just enough from this whole ordeal to have covered their not quite human shape. This… this could work. Despite the way his hands shook, despite the way his heart pounded in his chest, despite the way this was far beyond the bounds of a worst case scenario, a wry smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

What an idiot.

#Tamius just perpetually rolling critical failures #Man is a walking L #Also- enjoy my first borrower slur : Gargo #Theres some JUICY little foreshadowing in here #RoseOC #TamiusOC #GraysonOC #HankOC #FS #Finding Strength #Entowrites

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doudouneverte · 1 year ago

Text

Unfinished task

a/n: it took me a lot of time to finish it sorry...

*not my GIF*

Pairing: Lena Oberdorf x AWFC!Reader; Arsenal WFC x NEDWNT!Reader

Summary: Based on this (requested by anon)

Type: Fluff

Warning: me,tion of heart attack and nothing else (i think)

word count: 4983 (sorry)

----------

2018/19

This season, everything changed for you. To start, you made your first step and scored your first goals in Frauen Bundelsiga for Essen with your best friend Lena Oberdorf. Talking about the German player, you and her were known to be pretty close; your mom raised you alone, and she was not very surprised when you told her that you wanted to play football. Growing up in a family of football fans who had some relatives who played with the legend Johan Cruff helped. You started with a boy team, and that's where you met Lena; she was also a girl, pretty good, and despite her roughness on the pitch, you quickly became friends. She was a solid midfielder when you were a more agile and versatile player.

Life couldn't be better for you, but that's when we're talking about the second reason this season is so special for you. A few weeks before the end of the season, you planned to take a new step in your and Lena's relationship. You started to see her as more than a friend a few months after she assisted one of your goals. But life is not always so simple and so great.

In May, during a training session, the coach told you that your mom had a heart attack at work. Her life wasn't in danger, but they allowed you to leave earlier. At the hospital, the doctor told you that your mom overworked, and this was certainly caused by the stress. Your mom didn't tell you, but you knew she worked more than necessary to be sure she could attend your game without any work left to be able to celebrate with you every time you win.

But the worst happened when the doctor told you that she would need an aldut around to make sure it didn't happen. Another adult—that was the problem. You never really met your father; your mom divorced him when she learned that he cheated on her when she was pregnant. Of course you could call your grandma, but she was in Netherland, and you knew she was a little too old to keep an eye on you and your mom, and then the only available option was your aunt Marina.

After you called your aunt, she immediately booked a flight. You knew that in this situation, you had to do something you would probably regret your whole life. You had a meeting with the coaching staff to ask them something, and just before your last match, you had your response: at the end of the season, after only a few matches, you'd be a free agent and leave the country.

The girls knew nothing about that—well, maybe just one, but you knew that if you had told her, she would make you doubt, but you couldn't. It was only when you were at the airport that you wished her good luck for the next season and told her about your departure.

2019/20

It's been more than two years since you left Germany. Of course, at first things weren't easy; you spent the first part of the 2019–2020 season literally jobless. You didn't have clubs; you continued to train on your own, but you spent almost all your time helping your aunt at her work. That was like this until you ran into someone you didn't expect to see after all these months: Vivianne Miedema, and she wasn't alone; she was with Jill Roord and Danielle Van De Donk.

Of course you knew who the forward was; she was literally one of your models when you started your career, but what you didn't know was that she knew you. After a few talks, you explained to her why you were not in Germany and, more importantly, why you hadn't played since the start of the season.

They were truly sorry for you and said they wished they could do anything, but you assured them that they couldn't do anything for that and that you would eventually try to found a new club even if you had to spend the rest of the season training by yourself. Apparently they decided to take things in her perfectly because only a few days later you received an unexpected call to let you know that after the three Dutch players talked about you to their head coach, Arsenal was open to giving you a chance, but you'd have to wait until the winter transfer window to offiacilize everything wich you accepted without thinking.

Until then, you continued your routine: help your aunt in her job—well, being not really qualified for it meant you just moved boxes all day, and after that, you spent some time with your mom and sneaked out in the night to train. That was like this until you signed. In Germany, Lena was attracting the interest of a few clubs when she saw the news. She wasn't really attracted to the WSL until then, and honestly, if it weren't for random posts on her Instagram feed, she would surely have missed it.

The midfielder wanted to call you to tell you that she was proud and happy for you that you could play again after what happened, but she knew you wouldn't reply. It was selfish, but since you moved, you gradually stopped speaking to your ex-teammates. At first, you said to yourself that was because you would probably drop the football a few months after you landed in London, but you finally accepted the reality. You didn't want to have anything that reminded you of the incident, but you were also too cowardly to say all the things you never said to her.

Your debuts were pretty good; of course you started on the bench, but when the coach gave you your chance, you took it. You even scored in your first London derby against Chelsea, and even if you lost, everyone could see that you were more talented than anyone else. But unfortunately, COVID came, and with that, the end of the season.

2022/23

A lot of things happened during those three years: first, your mom found a new job in your aunt's company; second, you signed another deal with the London club; and finally, the most important thing: you made your first steps for your national team. Being a Dutch player raised in Germany, the two federations wanted you in their team, but you decided to represent your mom and also spend more time with Viv, who had basically become your big sister since you joined the Gunners.

And it was with your oranje kit that you properly saw Lena for the first time in almost four years. Yes, Arsenal faced Wolfsburg last season in Champions League, but you were injured, so you couldn't play. During your pitch inspection, you noticed someone staring at you. You tried to distract yourself by talking with Esme and Vicky, but you were cut off when Lynn and Jill said that some of their Wolfsburg teammates wanted to meet you.

If Viv was your calm and collected big sister, Jill otherwise wanted to be the cool one. She always did some dumb thing to make you smile and see her as cool as she was. Lynn quickly grew into a very close friend of yours, even with the distance. After reluctantly agreeing, you made your way with the two girls to the German players.

Here you were in front of Lina Magull and Sydney Lohmann, who just got kicked out of the Champions League because of you, but like Jill said, there were also some Wolfsburg players, and that's how you found yourself shyly waving to Alex Popp, Feli Rauch, Svenja Huth, Jule Brand, and the only real familiar face, Lena Oberdorf.

Except for Viv (who was not there), Jill, and Dom (who knew how to put two and two together), nobody really knew about you and Lena. Well, some knew you played together, but nobody knew you were very close friends, and you messed up (almost) everything after you moved to London.

"Guys, this is Y/n, she's a little shy, but she's very good on the pitch." Jill introduced you proudly.

"We already know that." Lina said, and you looked at your feet.

"Sorry," you mumbled, "but you are very good too." You added a little, unsure of what else you could say.

"Wait, are you the same Y/n who played for Essen with Lena?" Jule asked, and when you saw Jill smirk, you knew it was something she planned.

"Uh, yeah." You looked at Lena "Yeah, it was a good moment." You smiled lightly, but it was enough to be noticed by the midfilder. Something in you wanted to pull her away from anyone and tell her that you were sorry about everything, but before that, you had a game to play.

The game went pretty well, even if you lost only 1-0. You showed one of your best performances on the pitch until you got subbed off. After the final whistle, you made your way to congregate with the opponents. When Sydney asked for a jersey swap, you accepted, and the Bayern player was floating in your jersey. Her teammates didn't miss the opportunity to comment on what made Lena feel something—something she thought she had been above for a while now.

In the tunnel, you were talking with Dom when Lena came, slightly interrupting you, but the older Dutch player didn't seem to be bothered by that. "Can we talk?" She asked, and you nodded before following her. "So..." she started before pausing for a moment. "You played really well."

"Thanks, you too. It reminds me of when we were in the old time." You responded and almost instantly cringed at your word choice "Well, it's not that we're so old or anything; it's just that..."

"It's just that it's been a while since we've seen each other."

"Yeah, that's it." There was a little silence after your reply, like you were both processing what you just said.

"You...you've changed a lot since 2019."

"Uh, yeah, I grew up a little."

"And you did a little work out?"

"Oh that's? It's a funny story; when I went to London, I was free of any club, and I started to work for my aunt's company, but she just assigned me to the physical job, and after I signed for Arsenal, I kept doing this, and here I am now." You chuckled lightly at the end.

"I think it's funny that when we were little, I was the one who looked like a boy, and now look at you...you're...handsome." You lowered your head, hoping that Lena didn't see you blush at her compliment.

"Thanks, you are beautiful too." Now it was her turn to blush. "Maybe one day we should—" you couldn't finish your sentence before Alex called her teammate "I think it's our cue to leave," you said, and she nodded and quickly hugged you before she left.

Later this night, you sent her a DM on Instagram. You talked a lot, and before you forgot, you gave her your new phone number. Back in London, you were still in your little cloud until Vicky reminded you that your next opponent in the Champions League would be Wolfsburg, but before that, you had a game against Manchester United, where you unfortunately lost Leah.

At the end of April, you were in Germany, ready to play one of the biggest games of the season. The two teams made their way onto the pitch, and like everyone except you were on the starting eleven. It was funny to see you being almost taller than every player, knowing that you were one of the younger. Your job today was to stop Sveindis' offensive and try to assist Stina in the box.

What should be a hard game became almost impossible when you were tackled by Lena for the first time rather early in the match. Lying on the grass, you took a moment to stand up until two people held you theirs hands. You unconsciously took one of them, and instantly, when your skin touched others, you felt a familiar warmth. On your feet, you were not disappointed when you saw Lena in front of you. She seemed a little worried, but you reassured her with a smile and a gentle tap on her shoulder. That was something she used to do every time an opponent was rough with you, and it became your thing to show that you cared about each other.

The match didn't go as planned, but you still gained a draw before the game at the Emirates. Back in London, you proposed to Lena that you see her before the next game. You told her that your mom wanted to see her. You felt relieved when she finally accepted, and now you had to wait a week to see her.

One week later, you were in your bedroom, emptying your wardrobe with Viv and Beth, trying to choose an outfit for the day. "Well, why don't you try the outfit that Daan brought you for your birthday?" the Dutch asked.

"I lost it," you instantly replied.

"How can you—" Beth started before being interrupted by another voice.

"Y/n always lost or forgot things," Jill said throught your phone. She proposed to help you with Lynn, so you facetimed them a few minutes ago, but they were more focused on whatever the young Dutch was watching on her phone. "Do you remember when she almost forgot her boots before a Champions League game?"

"Oh, come on, it was once," you groaned.

"Yes, but if Viv wasn't there, you would have spent the game on the bench." Beth reminded you.

"Okay, I think we got it; now can we focus on the really important thing?"

"Yeah, girls, let's focus. We're talking about Y/n's first date since a while." Lynn said, and you groaned again.

"It's not a date; it's just a lunch with my mom." You said.

"It's not?" The two girls thought the phone asked at the same time. "So why do you need us to pick an outfit?" Jill added.

"Because...because I promised to my mom that I'd try to wear something other than a jogger, and it's been a long time since I spent a whole time almost alone with Lena, so I want to look good."

"If you want to look good, you can just go without a shirt." Jill joked, making Lynn and Beth laugh, while Viv just sighed. Sorry, but well, you built a good body, so why not show her?"

"Is that even a serious question?" Viv asked while you picked some clothes in the big bazaar.

"Okay, I'll be right back," you said before exiting the room. The girls were talking until you received a text from Lena. Well, from what your teammates could see, 'Obi💪🧸'.

Obi💪🧸:

Ich bin auf dem Weg (I'm on my way)

You came back just when Viv was about to call you. Your two Arsenal teammates looked at you; they didn't say anything; they just let you get a little unsure if it was a good choice of cloth, but when you were about to speak, you heard Lynn and Jill cheering you on the other side of the phone.

"Go catch the girl," the midfielder said, and you rolled your eyes before you took your phone and saw the text from Lena. You didn't wait more before you left a little anxious, even if you didn't know why.

This afternoon was perfect; your mom was more than happy to see Lena again, and she didn't miss embarrassing you in front of her. When you drove her back to her hotel, you took some time to apologize about your departure a few years ago, but she told you that it was okay because she knew you couldn't do something about that. And after that, there was the game in London.

-----

At the end of the game, you lost 2-3. You were more than gutted, of course; you conced a goal in the last minutes of extra time. The Wolfsburg players came to congratulate you, and even if you found it cruel, you were still professional. Dom stayed with you until she was sure you were okay. Of course, Viv, Jill, and Lynn also came to check on you. You were trying not to be too emotional when Lena approached you. The Dutch players exchanged a look and gave you a quick glance to make sure you were alright before they let you with the German midfielder.

In this moment, a lot of thought invaded Lena's mind. She wanted to hug you to tell you it was okay and you fought pretty well, but she also knew that as someone who plays to win, it was not something she would want to hear herself. So she just gently rubbed your arm and gave you a weak smile. It was fascinating that even after all these years, she still understood you so much. "It was a tough game," she said, and you nodded. "I'm very happy and proud to see you play again, even if it would be better if we played together."

"You can come play here," you remarked, making her look at you with wide eyes. "I mean, if you want, of course. I don't want to force you to leave everyone; it's just that I miss playing with you too." You confessed, "And I'm sure you'd kill it in red." You joked.

"Thanks, but I'm not ready to leave my green shirt for now. But..." she started, making you raise your eyebrow to her. "But you can let me try yours to see if you're right." she explained. It took you some time to process what she meant, but when you did, you couldn't stop a little smile from appearing on your face.

"Very smooth, Oberdorf," you replied while you started to take off your shirt. Today was not particularly hot, but Lena sensed a hot wave rising in her body until it reached her face, and she started to blush. "And here for you," you said, holding her your shirt. Her eyes lost themselves a little on your tall figure before she took it and "maybe" brushed your fingers together on purpose.

She thanked you, and when she was about to take off hers, you stopped her. You didn't say anything until you quickly walked away toward Dom, who was talking with Feli. Lena had her eyes fixed on you through the entire process when you talked to the defender before she left you with her teammates and then came back with what seemed to be a Wolfsburg vest that she gave you, and you made your way back to your best friend.

"Where were you going?"

"I just needed that," you said, showing her the vest.

"For?" You covered her with her vest just enough to let her take off her shirt, protecting her from the public's view.

"Wow, did I miss an episode or something?" Vicky asked some players next to her when she saw what you did. The women around—who were basically all your team and some of Lena's teammates—turned their heads to where the Dutch were looking.

"Oh, Daan will really like that." Lynn was visibly excited to tell your national teammates that.

"Are they dating?" Gio asked.

"No, not yet, but don't worry," Jill said just loud enough to be heard by Dom, who was next to her and earning a strange look from Viv because of the expression she was making.

After your jersey swap, you walked with Lena to where you let almost everyone. You were close, but not close enough to permit anyone to misinterpret anything. Sometimes your arms would touch her while you were walking, and those little touches made you feel something deep in you. In the tunnel, you stopped her a little far away from the group, and the German looked at you with a confused look.

"Can you promise me something?" You started, and when she nodded, you continued, "Promise me that whatever happens in the final, you will not win."

"Yeah, I promise—wait, what?"

"Yeah, you heard me."

"But I want to win."

"And me too, but I want you to win the Champions League with me. That was your idea when we were little," you reminded her, and she laughed.

"I can't promise you that."

"Well, at least I tried," you joked. "More seriously, good luck for the final; I will come to see you."

"Thank you, and I wish you come. It would be different if you can't be there."

Later on the bus, Lena was questioned by a lot of her teammates. She knew that even if they were tired because of previous events, they wouldn't stop until they had their answers. But even if the German plaeyer was more than happy from your last interaction together, she felt like it was too soon to hope about something, despite all the teasing from her teammates and Jill's confession about the fact that she didn't see you so comfortable around someone other than Dom and Viv. While the midfielder was stuck with everyone's attention, the Dutch defender texted you, first to know how you were doing after you had to leave the pitch because of a bad tackle and then to ask you something about one of her next matches.

----

Two days later, you were told that your little injury would make you miss the next two games. You mentally cursed yourself because you knew when you went to the ball that you wouldn't avoid getting hit by the defender. Tryin not to overthink, you asked to take at least one week for you, which the coach was happy to give you. You used this week to help Laura and Leah with their injuries; you also spent some time with your mom and your aunt before you booked a flight to Germany. You don't know how, but your mom told you a few days prior that someone sent you a ticket for the DFB-Pokal final between Wolfsburg and Freiburg.

At the airport, you were surprised to see Lynn and Jill waiting for you. They helped you with your luggage, and they explained to you that the ticket was Dom's idea. Of course it was hers; she always perfectly knew how to read you, so when she saw how Lena talked about you and how you acted, she knew for you that somehow you may have the chance to finish what you couldn't a few years ago.

On the day of the final, the VfL locker room was more secretive than usual—at least that's what Lena was thinking. Except for Lena, all the players knew something special could have happened today. Sensing the weird atmosphere and some gazes on her, the midfielder asked Jule what was happening, but after a quick glance to her teammates, she found the courage to keep her mouth shut, even if it was more suspicious. But the short brunette didn't have too much time to think about it because they had to warm up before the kickoff.

The game started like usual, and at halftime, the two teams were 1-1. Even if the girls in black and green were a little pissed by the result, they were more concerned by something else: Lena hadn't spotted you in the crown yet. But it was a good thing; that meant she was totally focused on the game and nothing else. Back from the locker room, fifteen minutes later, you saw Lena talking with Sveindis, and the midfielder seemed to sense your eyes on her because she suddenly stopped and was about to search for a reason for this strange feeling, but she was met with Alex instantly. The striker looked at her teammates with a confused look before Lena shoved the strange feeling away and made herself ready for the second half.

Like you expected from them, Wolfsburg easily won at the end of full time. The joy quickly erupted from one side of the stadium, and of course, you were among the ones who were celebrating. After a few minutes, you waited for them to give both teams their medals and the cup for your best friend's teammates, and then you were escorted by a guy from security to the pitch to your own surprise. Once on the pitch, you were quickly dragged to the group of players by Lynn, and there you congratulated the girls until you found yourself behind a certain number 5. Ewa Pajor was talking to Lena until she saw you; she just looked at you and excused herself to her teammates.

A little confused Lena decided to search for Jule, but when she took a step back, she collided with someone, and when she turned around to apologize, she opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She blinked her eyes quickly, making you laugh, and when she heard your voice, she finally found her voice back. "What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Oh, rude. I thought you would be happy to see me," you replied.

She stood there for a moment, processing everything, and when she came back to her senses, she enveloped you in a tight hug. It took you by surprise, but you finished by reciprocating the hug. With her, everything seemed easier. The little touches, the confessions, the hugs and–and now it clicked in your mind, an almost forgotten feeling.

"I thought you wouldn't see me play until June, but wait, aren't you supposed to have a match this weekend?"

"Yeah, but thanks to a certain defender, I sprained my ankle, so I can't play for now, but I should be alright for the next week." You informed her.

"Oh, that sucks" she commented.

"Yeah, but I should be back in training the next Monday," you assured her.

"I see," she said, looking around to see a lot of eyes on her. "Uh, actually, it's cool that you are here because there is something I have wanted to ask you for a moment now."

"Uh, yeah, me too, actually." You smiled when you saw her surprised expression, but you couldn't brush away all the attention. "Do you mind if we go somewhere a little more calm?" She nodded, and you followed her a little farther in the tunnel. You stood there for a few seconds without saying anything; you were just admiring her. "So, first, congratulations for your victory; it was a great game; you played very well, like always." She blushed at your praise, "but I'm here for another thing. I want to tell you something, but please don't interrupt me until I finish, right?" After a little hesitation, she nodded.

"Okay, I don't know where to start, so I'll just start from the beginning. I wanted to apologize again for letting you go without telling you anything a few years ago. I know you already accept my excuses, but I need to tell you why I did what I did. At first, I planned to ask you out for the end of the season, and then it happened what happened but I didn't have the courage to talk to you about it because I feared that somehow you would reject me, so I used my travel as an excuse to stop talking to you. But then, there was this friendly game when I saw you, and when you didn't seem to be angry by that, I realized that I messed up. And after that, there was our first game in the Champions League, and my crush for you came back. Well, it's not really a crush; it's a strongest feeling. It's like I'm–"

"In love?" Lena interrupted you.

"Uh, yeah, but how do you?"

"Because I feel it too. Honestly, I should be angry about everything, and I was when you left me, but then I learned what happened with your mom and I saw you play for Arsenal, and it was like all the anger dissipated because I had seen you for a long time and you seemed happy. I wanted to ask you out too before you moved out, but I never had the chance. I don't even know how long I've fallen in love for you, but I don't know it's—I don't know."

"It's easy?" You asked, and her look told you that it was exactly what she was searching for. "Me too. I don't know why, but it's so easy to fall for you. I don't know if it's because of your eyes, your smile, your heart, or everything, but yeah, I love you. So, after four years, I can finally say this: Lena, would you go with me tonight on a date?"

The midfielder wrapped her arms around your neck before slowly approaching your face. She gave you enough time to push her, but when you didn't, she kissed you. You only pulled appar when you needed some oxygen, and Lena was giving one of her brightest smiles.

"So?" you asked when you remembered she didn't give you a proper answer.

"I would love to."

"Great, I'll pick you up at 7 p.m." you said before quickly pecking her lips when you heard some footsteps coming in your direction. Lena's teammates found you totally engulfed in Lena's little body. You saw Jill and Lynn exchanging excited faces while Dom seemed to be proud of her work.

After the team saw the two of you, you were required by almost all the youngest players and Jill to explain what happened. Dom stayed behind with a blushing Lena: "I told you," the denfender told her. The midfielder just looked at her and gave her a hug to thank her.

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #lena oberdorf #lena oberdorf x reader #arsenalwfc x reader #awfc #awfc x reader #vfl wolfsburg women x reader #nedwnt x reader

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yoshirage · 2 years ago

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Body Swap Diaries: Enri

The old man slowly open his eyes; his vision slowly clearing as he looks down. He sees a tight muscular body free from wrinkles. The man that helped him with acquiring this body hands him a mirror and a giant smile forms at the once old man’s face

“So how do you like it?”

“Amazing” the man closed his mouth surprised at his thick Mexican accent. “How how is this possible!?” The man is still bewildered at what happened

The man tries to explain. "I am what you can call as a 'swapper' I can swap people's bodies with anyone I want, but I also can swap bodies with whoever I want." He searches the gym bag for the old man's new body's wallet. "and it looks like I swapped you with someone named Enrique."

"Enrique huh" He flexes his new muscular biceps in awe at how big he his. "But why would you do this for me" Enrique ask the man before him.

"Well i guess you can call it gratitude Coach Stevenson." The man was surprised that he knew who he was. "I'm sure you don't remember me but I was one of your students during the 70's when you were still a coach." The man explains. "and being one of the few black kids in that school, i've experience a lot of racism and bullying from both teachers and other students."

"Wait... Trevor is that you?" Coach Stevenson exclaimed.

Trevor smiled and he continues his story. "But you... you were the only adult in that school that showed me respect, and you even helped get into track and football, though I had to quit the latter since I was so scrawny back then."

"well look at you know! you've grown into quite a handsome man." Coach Stevenson laughs.

"well actually this is not my original body." Coach Stevenson was surprised hear this but Trevor continues. "I managed to get into a great college and got myself a great job as business man and my life's been great since; but I felt empty in my life since I always wanted to be an actor." Trevor is in deep thought but he continues. "it wasn't until a man named Blue taught me to become a swapper and it was then that I swapped with an upcoming actor named Michael."

"so you gave up everything to become an actor? the money, the success, everything?" Coach Stevenson asked

"So you gave up everything? money, success, everything!?" Stevenson asked

"Yes, and I don't regret any of it. and know I've been a hit. Been in some movies like Creed and Black Panther, and as for the original Michael, \me and Blue made it so that he doesn't remember his old life and would live my life as if he's in auto pilot"

"how about me. I don't know anything about this kid Enri. How am I supposed to live as him? and what happened to my old body."

"Don't worry, His memories will flood into your head shortly." Michael sees the old coach wince a little as he knows that parts of Enri's memories started to come in. "and the old Enri, will live your life as did Michael is living my life. Michael tossed Enri his Gym bag "come on Enri time for your work out"

Hearing his new name sounded natural to him as more memories flood into him. Enri grabs his gym back and dressed in his gym gear. His cutoff shirt still showing his new massive body.

"YO Enri, where are you?" another man comes into the locker room. Enri recognizes him as one of his Gym bros.

"Faziz Man! I told you I'll be out! and let the bros know its arm day today."

Faziz left the lockers. Enri smiles at Michael " thank you again for this Michael. and no matter how many lives you live in this lifetime... Coach Stevenson will always be there for you." He pats Michaels shoulder as he picks up his bag and leave the locker room as his new life as Enrique.

"Thanks for everything Coach." Michael says to himself as he smiles.

#enri flores #body switch #body swap #male body swap #body swap diaries

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garthofshayeris · 10 months ago

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"you're always so negative, what kind of Aquaman story would you NOT complain about?" so glad you asked. I have some thoughts, DC, on how to make things fun again. You can reboot everything at any time and I will only be a lil mad if you don't let me write it.

To begin, the info below would cover multiple arcs: I think too many Aquaman comics just start out putting him in Atlantis, but not this one. The journey to Atlantis will take some time, giving the reader the opportunity to know Arthur before he's a king and get the lay of the land (extra joke) underwater.

Let's start with Arthur. We're doing a little combo action here: Arthur is fully Atlantean, abandoned by a baby but found by a pod of dolphins. Since he's a telepath, and for Divine Plot Reasons, the animals know he is someone of great importance. However, he very quickly becomes too much for them to handle. They're just dolphins, after all. The dolphins, led by the iconic Porm, bring him to a lighthouse when he's around 5ish. There, he is discovered by Thomas Curry.

Tom Curry is no dummy. He knows this kid Is Not Human, but he also knows that revealing him as a non-human will just get the kid sent to some unknown lab to be experimented on. So he raises the kid as if he's a human and tries to keep him out of the water at all times.

Obviously, this doesn't work. Arthur is drawn to the ocean, and the dolphins who keep visiting him. There’s no hope in keeping him from the water. Tom doesn't reveal that Arthur is non-human, but he does coach him on never revealing any of his powers to people. Arthur becomes a local hero, mostly because he's often out swimming or on the fishing boat and ends up saving people.

Tom gets sick and, fearing he will die and leave Arthur unprepared for the world (he's in his 20s but just chills at home) he explains Arthur's origins and how Arthur is not his biological son, but a creature from the oceans.

Arthur always assumed he was a meta human; he knows now that he's not human at all. Arthur wants to learn about his people and Tom is like "we have no idea if they're dangerous, we have no idea why you were left here" and Arthur is like "how bad can they be?"

Arthur leaves home and tries to find Atlantis. This is no easy feat, considering he has no idea where to start. The dolphin pod is able to give him general directions to where they think they found him, but he still doesn't end up anywhere near a sunken city. Eventually, he finds the ruins of some kind of settlement, a cave...and a kid.

The kid is speaking a language that Arthur doesn't understand, but they quickly realize they are both telepaths! Slowly they learn to communicate; the kid will say something out loud and then convey the same message telepathically, and Arthur will do the same while responding in English. They slowly figure out how to speak each other's language, but the kid has a very limited vocabulary of his native tongue. However, he manages to explain some things:

The cave they are in used to be full of people, rejects from Atlantis for some reason or another; criminals, "mutants", etc. Atlanteans have a tendency to abandon their kids to die of exposure but people can be kicked out for any reason. This kid was the last baby they found, and were raising him as a group until Something Happened. They were attacked and all the adults died; he only survived by being hidden and has been alone in the years that followed the attack.

Here's the thing: the kid thinks his name is Baby, because that's what he was referred to as (aka "the baby") before everyone was killed. Arthur is convinced that the kid must have parents who are grieving him in Atlantis, and that they have a name for him. So he doesn't want to assign a name that's wrong, but he can't just call him Baby. So he starts using similar names, Baby Shark, Minnow, Tadpole, etc. as nicknames.

So! Arthur is convinced that he needs to find Atlantis and figure out who he is. The kid is like I was always told to avoid going there also they killed everyone, but I like your energy. Also you are my dad now. The kid doesn't know where Atlantis is, but he has seen some people like them nearby. So they start venturing off to find other Atlanteans.

Eventually, they discover an Atlantean man out in the wild, doing some kind of research. Arthur swims right up to him to introduce himself. The man is absolutely shocked to see Arthur (and the kid, who followed behind) and introduces himself as Vulko. Vulko works for the king as a scientist and advisor, but honestly hates that guy. The king is a real dick and only king because of marriage, not royal lineage. He believes the ocean is dying and they need to reveal themselves to the surface to save their home. Arthur is like omg no way, I'm FROM there can you introduce me to the king I can defend your case! :3 I'm somewhat of a folk hero on land, you know...

Vulko says no, and that Arthur and the kid are "throw backs" or undesirables in Atlantis. The people of Atlantis will not take kindly to someone like Arthur, but also implies that Arthur SHOULD try to win their affection because he likes his style. They decide to do that by "saving the ocean" they start taking on bigger, badder threats. Vulko provides them with some outdated Atlantean armor that he steals from the palace (orange for Arthur, red for the kid) and they begin to take on pirates, monsters, etc. They are not only gaining notoriety on land, but in the sea as well. Scouts from Atlantis are reporting back about a duo of mysterious Atlanteans taking out threats the king had been too cowardly to take on. They take on celebrity status.

Along the way they find Mera. She has fled her home dimension (unrelated to Atlantis at all, she's literally not from their world) who needs a place to crash. Arthur and Garth invite her to stay with them, in that destroyed settlement turned bachelor pad, and explain their plan to get into Atlantis. Mera, a princess, has the tact and manners that the others lack and joins the team.

Meanwhile, Vulko is stoking the rumor mill, trying to put in a good word for Aquaman and Aqualad, and he starts digging around for records of them. Vulko finds no record of Arthur's birth, and can only find ONE instance of a boy being born within the approximate age of the kid; the boy was named Garth and abandoned as an infant. There is no official record of him, or his parents (which is customary) and it appears this was done intentionally, and that information was destroyed. He only learns about this from talking to people who used to work in the palace. Vulko starts to suspect there is more to the story and also tries to dig into any of info on about Arthur…

And eventually he finds it; everyone knows the late queen had a son named Orm, but what they DON’T know is that she had a son before him with an unknown father. The people believe this child died during childbirth but Vulko finds a single woman who was around for his birth (the others involved have “mysteriously died”) who can confirm that the child was born, and born with blonde hair. While the queen rested, the king took the child out of Atlantis to leave him to die. The queen was told her child died shortly after childbirth but she never truly believed this. The queen bore a second son, Orm, and took her own life when Orm was a child.

So, why is the king so adamant about killing off the outsiders? Although he believed the baby had died, an oracle told him that the boy lives and would dethrone him (he’s VERY superstitious). He has been sending out soldiers to kill anyone harboring throwbacks and he has been training his son, Orm, to be a great fighter so he can defend his father and anyone who might claim the throne. He’s paranoid that the child he tried to dispose of will return and dethrone him.

So anyway. Arthur returns to Atlantis to try and convince the king to let him on as an advisor to the surface world. The king recognizes the blonde hair immediately but cannot react and give himself away. He tries to remove the squad by virtue of them being throwbacks but the people LOVE Aquaman and Aqualad, they are so excited about their visit that to avoid an uprising they are allowed to stay as guests.

They meet prince Orm during their stay. He's a little standoffish and not at all happy to see throw backs trying to get into the palace; his father had assured him that they were all dead, that throwbacks cannot survive into adulthood.

In an attempt to kill them off/make them leave and lose favor with Atlantis, the king starts making up increasingly dangerous tasks they must complete (like the trials of Hercules tbh) but of course Arthur is absolutely killing it! He’s having a great time and thinks this is very normal, but Mera, who is unfamiliar with Atlantis but very familiar with royal schemes, decides that something fishy (extra joke) is going on. She and Vulko investigate the events surrounding the queen’s suicide.

One of the “challenges” is for Arthur to fight Orm in a public arena. Orm gets his ass beat but Arthur, who had taken a liking to Orm, let’s him get a few punches in so he’s not embarrassed. Even after the fight he’s acting really buddy-buddy with him. Orm is confused and angry at being public ally defeated, but cannot help but think that Arthur is a really nice dude.

Once again, I’m imagining this taking a long time. It’s part monster fighting, part investigation, part hijinks in a new location, etc. They leave Atlantis occasionally to take on land-threats and visit Arthur's father. FINALLY, though, Mera figured it out; the queen didn’t kill herself. This is already long so I'm just going to say that she confronted her husband and he killed her to secure Orm's place on the throne.

The king has another very public venue in which to try to embarrass Aquaman. For example, having him fight some giant monster. But Arthur doesn’t like to kill innocent animals and he uses his telepathy to calm the beast down. Telepathy is not a common ability (and until now nobody had seen Arthur use it) but it’s also a mythical sign of the divine right of royalty in Atlantis. Only kings of yore have shown the ability, and even the late queen couldn’t manifest it. So ofc the king accuses Arthur of being some kind of freak or faking it. That’s when Mera, Garth, and Vulko come on the scene with their receipts: they’ve pieced together the king’s attempted murder of the baby, that Arthur is rightful heir to the throne, and that the king murdered the queen. The king initially claims they’re lying, but then they pull out the receipts and display them to the entire crowd. Enraged, he tries to kill Arthur and another fight ensues. Arthur manages to get the king pinned but refuses to kill him. The king takes this opportunity to break out from under the trident and flees the city. although soldiers pursue him it seems that he has completely disappeared. There is a bounty out for him, leaving the possibility of him returning as a major threat still in the air (extra joke).

Arthur is named king, as the oldest heir to the throne, to his absolute bewilderment. Orm is absolutely furious, as he thinks Arthur only came there to steal the throne from him, just like his father said he would. Arthur tries to explain that it wasn’t his intention, but Orm storms off and hides away in a wing of the castle. The squad lets him stay, but there’s animosity for sure.

Now that he is no longer in celebrity status, the people begin to poke holes in their love of the group; they did not have the full story (of them being throw backs) and now they're a bit suspicious about Garth and Mera, specifically (they don't realize she's not Atlantean, though you would think the flipper feet would give it away...) and there are some who loved the old king and want him back on the throne (conspiracy theorists essentially) Now that they aren't essentially there on vacation, they begin to notice how isolating it is in Altantis...and then we begin the more introspective plot lines, talking about feeling like an outsider and what it means to fit in!

Now Arthur has a new job, a reputation as a hero, and no idea what to do next!

Character's main traits/inspiration

Arthur: did NOT anticipate finding out he was a long lost king, he just wanted to learn about Atlantis! He's trying to balance being a hero, which he likes, being an adventurer, which he loves, and being a king which is...fine, I guess. This version will lean more into his Silver Age personality, which is my favorite, where he seems a little confused but excited about everything. Rather than try to sweep all the "uncool" things under the rug like some versions of Aquaman do, he's so genuine about his life that it's difficult to make fun of him. He is not actually that great at being a king, so luckily he has a lot of friends to help him.

Garth: he follows Arthur around like a lost puppy and is SO happy to be living in a place with real walls and a real bed. However, he still wants to know more about his parents and why records of him were destroyed... We are going back to the classic sidekick genre with him, something DC seems afraid to do. If DC also wanted to have the Titans, or the rest of the fab five be older, I could see him being significantly younger than the others but still part of the "first wave" of sidekicks so they're lumped together anyway. Like the Silver/Bronze age, he could visibly age during the run of the comic and be in his teenage years for any Titans-related plots DC wanted to run. I would be keeping his lost prince backstory, but that wouldn't come up for a very long time. I like the idea of having him age throughout the series, I think that's a very fun aspect of comics that has been lost. He would keep his post-crisis origins, but not learn about them for quite some time.

Mera: She never told Arthur the real reason she was exiled, and to be fair he didn't ask. She's excited to be in the political world of Atlantis and make changes for the better, something she couldn't do back home... I like the idea of Mera being from another world altogether, I think it adds to the overall theme of them being outsiders. She will be a combination of her very domestic original version and the feisty modern Mera. Since Mera doesn't have much of a personality usually (sorry girl) I'm going to make her very studious and politically minded. She LOVES politics and is passionate about making changes to help the everyday Atlanteans. She’s also worried about being sent back to her home dimension, so she tries to keep everyone pleased with her.

Vulko: the only one of the group who understands Atlantean customs. He is always so, so tired of shenanigans... Vulko is going to be a bit like Merlin, an advisor and advocate for Arthur taking the throne. and yes he WILL be old and he WILL be fat.

Orm: royally (extra joke) pissed about losing the throne, but conflicted about his father being Very Evil and hiding the existence of his brother/killing his mom. He mostly sulks and keeps to himself, making it unclear if he is friend or foe... I LOVE his Silver Age jealousy, but DC wants them to be related by their mother and I don't want to fight them on that. I actually prefer when Orm is at least partially human, but I don’t think I can have my cake and eat it too with the origins here, so he’s the biggest compromise tbh. I think Orm could be a shifty character, not outright evil but clearly angry about how things are going so he causes problems on purpose. But there's still the chance that he might sway to either side...

Manta: Honestly, he's the hardest one to introduce into the fray because he only recently started getting actual reasons to have beef with Arthur. Which I respect. Since Tom is going to be alive (for now) I think having Manta slowly develop a beef with Arthur that all comes to head by killing Arthur's father could be interesting. Or maybe Tom gets to live, and Manta does something equally terrible. It's unclear in my mind tbh. So! Manta is trying to develop his empire of piracy and Arthur, trying to win over the people of land and sea, starts really going after him. He sinks every single one of Manta's subs, thwarts every single plan, and is ruining Manta's reputation. He HATES Aquaman, and unfortunately Aquaman doesn't really know who he is or realize he's made an enemy... he would show up as a big threat in later comics, after Arthur has established himself in Atlantis

The former king: this could be Orvax, who was introduced in N52, but honestly if the writer wanted to make a new OC I wouldn’t mind. Orvax doesn’t have much in ways of background of personality because he only exists in flashbacks, but I know how sucky it is to just use the same name for a totally different character (looking at you, rebirth Garth!) so I’m just going to call him King for now. It would be interesting if he was corrupted like Orm in previous volumes into making a deal with an entity in exchange for power…perhaps even serving as a patron for Orm if he shifts to the dark side.

So. That's a quick rendition of my ideal Aquaman reboot. I think it s a fun combo of all the elements I've liked over the years without simply be a rehashing of the stories. Thoughts, opinions. etc?

#aquaman meta

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misshoneyimhome · 9 months ago

Text

250 FOLLOWERS FESTIVAL

"Why can't you just do what you're being told?" I William Nylander

Summary; Sometimes, a push can make all the difference, even within the realm of relationships.

Tropes & warnings; smut 18+, friends-with-benefits, friends to lovers, fighting to sex (is that a thing?); mention of masturbation, unprotected sex (p in v), spanking, more unprotected sex, oral sex (m receiving);

Other notes; This one's for you, styles217, my love.🤍 Although it didn't end up as angsty as I'd envisioned 🙈, I hope you still enjoy it 🤞🏼 Surprisingly though, it ended up containing more smut than I initially planned, thanks to the requests I chose to combine it with [“take it out on me” I “I will never get enough of you” 🔥] - And no, I don’t actually think anyone on the coaching team would say something like this, and I’ve got no idea if anyone on the internet would react in such way; but for the plot of the story, they did 🤍 Knock on wood for not jinxing the winning streak ✊

Word count; 4.1K

➼｡ﾟ

It had been quite a week. The Leafs had been on the road for a week, still keeping up their winning streak, which exceeded everyone's expectations. But even from the comfort of your sofa, you could sense that the games were getting more intense.

It was becoming clearer that the playoffs were getting closer. And suddenly, you noticed new aspects of your beloved William Nylander.

William had always been a talented ice hockey player. He might as well have been born with skates on his feet because the ice rink was his natural habitat. At just 16 years old, hockey became his first real profession, following in his father’s footsteps with aspirations of greatness.

And now, with his latest eight-year contract extension playing for the Maple Leafs, he was having the best season of his career.

Watching him play was almost magical - Every goal he scored or assist he made showcased his deep passion for the sport. And to you, he was simply an incredible person.

Despite the challenges that came with the fast-paced lifestyle, being part of William’s world felt nothing short of amazing. Over the past six months, the two of you had developed some sort of a bond, and there was nothing else you would have traded it for.

William Nylander had stolen your mind and soul from the moment he walked into the quaint coffee shop one early Wednesday morning before a training session. As he was completely exhausted and absent-minded, he inadvertently reached for something that appeared to be his drink, however as it turned out it was your coffee. With a gentle laugh and a charming smile, you kindly asked the handsome hockey player not to take it and encouraged him to enjoy his own instead.

Which then had turned out to be great a conversation starter, leading to a casual dating slash sort of a friends-with-benefits arrangement. Nothing too intense, just two consenting young adults enjoying each other's company, indulging in mind blowing sex, and relishing in easygoing conversations and hangouts.

However, perfection is elusive. Despite William's charm, kindness, and humour, he had a temper. Which you had only glimpsed bits of before, with penalties and a few snappy comments after tough losses.

But what happened during the Coyotes match was on another level.

William didn’t just receive penalties, but he suddenly also reacted aggressively to the pushes he usually shrugged off. He pushed back forcefully, his eyes blazing with anger.

And to your surprise, you found it incredibly arousing. Your cunt even tingled as William pushed the Coyote player, and a scuffle broke out among other players.

Never before had a hockey match stirred such arousal in you. And to top it off, the Leafs emerged victorious.

That night, thoughts of William's roughness lingered, leading you to touch yourself, and reaching an orgasm in a way you hadn't experienced before. The sheets beneath you were soaked as you moaned William's name into the emptiness with a whimper.

The game against Arizona was then followed by another impressive win, this time against the Knights, and then furthermore; a victory over the Avalanches after three thrilling periods, bringing the road trip to a satisfying conclusion.

Yet, as entertaining as it was to follow William and the team, it paled in comparison to being back in Toronto with him, where you could finally be intimate again.

And already Sunday afternoon you found yourself back at his place after he had a lie-in and taken care of the dogs. Entangled on his ample couch, his lips passionately locked with yours as your tongues explored each other with every shared breath.

With William on top of you, your fingers entwined in his blonde locks as he moved his warm mouth to the sensitive skin of your neck, sucking and nipping, eliciting sweet noises from you.

He was insatiable. After a week of being apart, William craved the feeling of you wrapped around him, longing to reach his own release in the midst of passion.

Clothes littered the floor of the living room, and despite the TV show still playing in the background, your moans filled the space of his condo. His two doodles lounged in a basket nearby as William guided his hard, throbbing member to your tight entrance.

Feeling William's hands on you again was nothing short of amazing. His mouth expertly melded with yours as his cock stretched you, sending waves of pleasure through your body with every thrust.

It was intense and messy. Bodies slick with sweat as you passionately connected on the sofa. His movements were determined, rough, and primal as he straightened his position, one leg on the floor, the other knee on the cushion, holding one of your legs against his chest while the other wrapped around his waist, thrusting mercilessly into you.

Your hands eagerly searched for something to grip onto, settling on the pillow behind your head as your mind blurred and your body melted for him.

You moaned loudly, the sounds mixing with the TV as you reached the peak of orgasm. But William didn't let you rest for a moment. Instead, he increased his intensity, feeling himself nearing the edge as your muscles tightened around him. And with heavy breaths, he thrust vigorously until he reached his climax, releasing his cum into you.

The intensity of the moment was palpable as you both took a few minutes to come down from the high and regain control of your breathing. It was a prime example of how raw and amazing your sex could be – effortless yet dirty, filled with desire.

And what came after was even better: William's tenderness as he caressed your curves in the post-sex shower was almost romantic. The way he caressed every inch of your skin was incredibly arousing, washing away the remnants of your sofa session. And then, he kneeled before you, placing hungry kisses on your core.

It was an added treat he provided, indulging in a late-night snack before you settled in for the night, knowing that Monday morning and the workday would soon be upon you.

It was another day of facing adult responsibilities at work, with the excitement of hockey on hold until reuniting with William in the afternoon.

However, while your day passed uneventfully, William found himself stirred by something deeper. His recent behaviour during matches hadn't gone unnoticed, and while fights were often accepted in the sport, comments about William being 'out of character' emerged.

Social media buzzed with opinions about him; criticising his usual calm demeanour, suggesting it wasn't present to support the team during heated moments, and deeming his actions as outrageous.

Which ignited William's temper. Despite his stellar performance in recent games – scoring goals and providing assists – he felt unjustly criticised. And more over it seemed that every attempt to express confidence in his own game was met with accusations of selfishness and 'overconfidence'.

It simply seemed William couldn't strike a balance. If he didn't score goals, he was deemed a bad player. If he didn't assist but scored himself, he wasn't seen as a team player. And if he didn't contribute at all, he was deemed unworthy of the team. He was often labeled as the attractive star player, good at scoring goals, but not as exceptional as Auston Matthews or as dominant as other players like Rielly, Reaves, and Tavares.

'Nylander’s a talented player, but he only cares about scoring for himself.'

‘Great to see WN88 take on some responsibilities when wearing the A – but he’s nothing like MR44’

The power of public opinion could be harsh.

Though most of the time, William didn’t even pay much attention to the criticism, knowing he was a great player, and his confidence remained unshaken. But often when he tried to brush off the comments and act nonchalant, it only fuelled speculation about his carelessness.

And, for some unexpected reason, he found himself unable to contain his temper on that particular Monday. Tired of the negative remarks, he wanted to prove that he could be just as strong and skilled as anyone else.

So, during Monday’s ice training, he attempted to assert his dominance. But things didn't go entirely as planned. Although the comments from the assistant coaches might not have been intended to be negative, they still managed to pierce through his thick skin.

"Hey Willy, we all know you did great as an alternate captain in Mo’s absence. However, maybe focus more on your scoring, passing to Auston, and breakaways – you know, the things you’re great at."

William simply nodded in response to the coaching staff's encouragement. But as they all left the locker room, he still couldn't shake off the words entirely.

"Hey," you greeted him with a warm smile in the hallway, joining the other partners of the team. "Want to go out for dinner?"

"Sure," he responded tersely, his tone devoid of your enthusiasm. "Just go wait by the car, I’ll be right there."

His voice was low and cold, but as his confidant, you resolved to show your support and be there for him.

"That's alright, I'll just wait here until you're ready," you replied, offering a reassuring smile.

"Just go and wait by the car," he suddenly snapped, his words sharper than before.

“What did you just say?”

“Go wait by the fucking car.”

"Oh no... You don’t get to talk to me like that, Willy..." you retorted, your voice firm and steady. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just... I'll meet you outside."

"No, I'm not leaving until you talk nicely to me!"

"Why can't you just do what you're being told?" William shouted, his voice echoing through the hallway.

You were taken aback. William had never shouted at you, especially not in public like this. While your relationship wasn’t without its disagreements, it had never escalated to this level.

But you held his gaze firmly as the others dispersed, the tension between you palpable.

There was a silence that hung heavy in the air. A moment where every thing could fall apart if you let it. But instead you decided to take the battle elsewhere.

"Fine," you finally spat, before turning and walking towards the exit.

And needless to say, the ride back to William’s place was dead silent, broken only when William left the car to pick up your takeaway dinner, opting not to go out. And when he returned, he slammed the door shut, and the journey to his place remained eerily quiet.

You felt his frustration emanating from him as you entered the condo, and as you placed the bags of food on the kitchen counter, you decided you couldn't ignore it any longer.

"Willy... do you have any idea how humiliating that was?" you said with a steady voice, trying to catch his gaze, but he remained hunched over the counter, looking down.

"So what?" he replied curtly.

You let out a small sigh. "So what?... Willy, I'm not a toy you can play with however you like... I'm a person with feelings."

"Don't you think I have feelings too?" he suddenly erupted, standing up straight and taking a step towards you. "Don't you think I feel frustrated and annoyed? That I'm not this perfectly calm and chill guy everyone always wants me to be?"

"So, you're upset because you're a talented hockey player, but not perfect in every way?" you asked a hint of rhetoric in your tone, raising a brow. "Willy, nobody's perfect, and nobody can live up to everyone's expectations."

"Don't you think I know that! But it still doesn’t make the frustrations go away, y/n... not that you would know how it feels to just want to... let go!"

And you suddenly found yourself releasing a breath you hadn't realised you'd been holding. William's words were sharp and filled with tension, fuelled by his passion for the sport. And strangely, you felt the same arousal you had felt the night you witnessed his anger for the first time.

"Take it out on me," you spoke softly, still maintaining a firm tone as you extended the invitation.

"What?" William inquired, taken aback by your bold offer.

"Take your frustrations out on me, Willy... let go, be angry... do what you need to do..."

For a moment, he couldn't comprehend what you were suggesting. His mind raced with thoughts, but as his eyes met yours, a sudden surge of desire and lust overwhelmed him. The offer was too tempting to resist. And without hesitation, he closed the gap between you, fuelled by a primal urge.

His lips almost crashed onto yours, his hands gripping your head tightly as he held you close. Your breath was stolen as he forcefully slid his tongue into your mouth, exploring your warmth with intensity, pressing his body against yours.

Your hands instinctively found his neck, but they couldn't stay still as William, using his size to his advantage, guided you out of the kitchen and into the bedroom. Clothes were shed along the way, leaving a trail of passion in their wake.

The intensity was so overwhelming that you barely registered how quickly you ended up standing by the bed, clad only in your lacy thong, as William's mouth continued to ravage yours until he breathlessly stepped back.

"On your hands and knees," his voice commanded roughly, his breath heavy and his eyes filled with lust.

And feeling your cunt already pulsating merely from the sound of his voice, you removed your last piece of fabric, and obeyed without hesitation.

William couldn't help but smirk as he admired the sight of your exposed cheeks before him. And as he lowered his boxers, freeing his hard cock, he slowly joined you on the mattress, kneeling behind you as he let his hands explore your soft skin.

"So you want me to let go, baby," he spoke darkly from behind, his mind clouded with thoughts of what he wanted to do to you. “I’ll fucking let go.”

And by encouragement form you, be withdrew his large hand from your ass, intensely stared at your ass before delivering a hard slap against your skin.

"Oh fuck..." you cried out, feeling the sting of his spank.

"You liked that, huh?" William inquired darkly, and all you could do was nod, earning another hard spank.

His force was harsh. Harder than you’d ever been playfully spanked before, and you could tell he was releasing some negative energy with two more intense smacks. His breath heavy and deep but his fifth and last spank, which had beautifully decorated your skin with a red hue.

And as you let out a soft cry mixed with a pleasure-filled moan, William felt satisfied with his actions. Shifting slightly in his position, he teased the tip of his cock against your entrance.

"Do you think you deserve this?" he asked, his voice filled with desire. “You think you deserve to be fucked?”

You could feel nothing but your muscles pulsating between your legs, yearning to be filled by his length.

"Yes," you whimpered, your legs trembling with anticipation.

"Good girl..."

And with a forceful thrust, William slammed his cock into you, burying himself deep inside your cunt and hitting your very depths.

His hands gripped your waist firmly as he established a steady rhythm of forceful thrusts, channeling all his frustration and annoyance into each powerful movement. With every slam, he felt himself releasing the pent-up tension, letting go of the negativity that had been weighing on him.

It was almost too overwhelming for you. His vigorous thrusts caused your body to tremble, pushing you closer to orgasm much quicker than anticipated as he pounded and overstimulated your walls.

Usually it’d take more than just forceful penetrating sex like this to give you that pleasurable high, however with William’s merciless performance, you suddenly found yourself nearing a peak.

And as if you had no control over yourself, your moans grew louder with each collision of skin against skin, and soon you found yourself clutching onto the sheets beneath you.

"Willy," you breathed, your voice filled with need. "I'm gonna come..."

Your words were music to his ears, mingling with moans and cries as he revelled in the pleasure he was giving you. And with no intention of slowing down, he continued to fuck you hard and fast.

"Oh fuck... Willy..." you cried out, your cunt dripping with juices as you threw your head back and allowed yourself to reach the peak of ecstasy, waves of climax rushing over your body.

William could feel how your walls clenched tightly around him as you embraced your orgasm, relishing in the sight of you closing your eyes in ecstasy and feeling your body shake and surrender to him.

And though as much as he wanted to continue fucking you hard and bring you to multiple orgasms, he also felt the urgency for his own release.

So, he paused his movements, allowing you to come down from the euphoria and catch your breath, before gently withdrawing his length from your dripping core. It was a sight to behold, seeing how perfectly your heat fit him, reflecting the pleasure he had given you.

But for now, he desired something else from you.

"I want you on your knees, baby, on the floor," his husky voice commanded, and with a deep breath, you summoned the strength to move your body.

Despite your legs feeling like jelly beneath you, you managed to manoeuvre from the bed to the middle of the room, where you flashed William a confident smirk as you knelt before him. You knew exactly what he wanted, and you were more than willing to give it to him.

Then patiently waiting for him to draw closer, you glanced up at him with desire in your eyes, parting your lips slightly as he approached. You yearned to taste him, to feel his hardness against your tongue, and even to savor your own essence.

And William happily gave it to you.

Holding his cock before your mouth, he gazed intensely down at you, silently granting you permission to take him.

Without hesitation, you accepted. Wrapping your lips around the tip, you began by circling it with your tongue. Then taking a deep breath through your nose, you focused on relaxing the back of your throat, guiding him in slowly and effortlessly. You felt him reach the back of your mouth, but you allowed him to push in further.

Gently withdrawing your head slightly, you coated his shaft with your saliva before taking him in entirely once again. And while taking your time, you savoured the sensation before starting to move your head in rhythmic motions, bobbing up and down on his length. Your lips wrapped around him as you moved, using your dominant hand where your mouth couldn't reach.

William's fingers found the back of your hair, gently gripping it as he began to let his hips move in sync with your motions. And as the pleasurable sensations intensified, so did his actions.

You allowed him to take control, something you wouldn't normally do as you needed to manage your gag reflex and breathing. But tonight was William's night to let loose, which meant allowing him to guide his cock in and out of your mouth.

And while feeling his grip tighten in your hair, you managed to glance up at him through your lashes and saw how he tilted his head back, surrendering to the moment.

"Fuck, your mouth feels so good," he mumbled between moans.

Knowing exactly how to push him over the edge, you released your hand from around the base of his cock and placed both palms on his muscular thighs. Taking another deep breath, you prepared yourself as best you could before letting him push his shaft all the way into your throat, causing your nose to brush against his pubic hair. Holding still for a few seconds, you allowed yourself to gag around his cock before pulling off completely and gasping for air.

"Oh shit! Fuck, babe," William panted above you as you stroked his length. "That's fucking hot."

And you knew it was. William had often expressed his love for your blowjobs, and sometimes hinted at his desire for more dominant behaviour. While he had never actually choked you with his cock, he had shown some interest, which was how you knew he would enjoy how you forced him all the way down.

Then taking another breath, you placed both hands on his thighs once more and took him back into your mouth. And this time, William wanted nothing more than to come for you. Knowing how good you could be for him, he held onto you firmly, meeting your eyes as he thrust against your mouth.

It was forceful and dominant, as he relished every gagging noise you made. And as he fucked your mouth faster, he felt himself on the brink of climax.

"Oh yes, baby, that’s it! Oh, I'll never get enough of you," he moaned, his eyes shutting tightly. "Your mouth is so fucking..." But his words were cut off by a deep grunt as his climax took over, and he unleashed his load into your warmth.

You felt his muscles tense under your touch, your nails digging into them as he held his cock in your mouth, ensuring you received every single drop he had to offer.

Both of you remained still for a brief moment as William came down from his high, and holding back your instincts, you gazed up at him as you waited for his approval.

Slowly, he pulled himself out of your mouth, allowing you to taste every inch of his shaft. And locking eyes with you once more, he issued his final command.

"Swallow."

With a gulp, you let his raw cum slide down your throat, before releasing a light sensual gasp. It was nothing but an intense moment of sexual silence as you stared up at the man before you.

"Shit, baby, you're way too good at this," his dark words praised, and slowly he helped you to your feet.

"Did I at least help you with the frustrations?" you chuckled lightly.

"Oh, yes, you did," William replied, flashing you a great smile before pulling you into a cuddle. "How about a shower?"

"How about we heat up dinner?" you suggested with a laugh.

"Good idea - but shower first."

It felt as if all the tension had dissipated, as if there were no lingering issues anymore. Yet, a part of you remained uncertain about the true nature of your relationship with William.

As you enjoyed a later dinner after the post-sex shower, smiles gracing both of your faces, you couldn't help but ponder what was going on inside William's mind.

However, as you cuddled up, feeling satisfied in every aspect, he beat you to the conversation.

"Hey... thanks for... you know, today," he started softly, his thumb caressing your shoulder as his arms enveloped you, turning his head to face you.

"Of course, it's what I'm here for," you replied with a content smile.

"Yeah, I know, it's just..." he continued softly, struggling to articulate his thoughts. "You don't have to... let me do that... you could’ve just walked away after what happened at the rink."

"I know, but I didn’t want to walk away... Willy, I know I'm not exactly your girlfriend or anything, but whatever this is, to me, it's something..."

"Exactly... and I guess I just... I don't know how to say it, but I just feel like there might be more... you're so amazing, and I just really want you around, all the time... and I understand if that's not what you want, because it's not always easy with me, but... if you want to, I'd like to have you..."

His last words almost came out in slow motion, uncertainty evident in how he expressed his feelings.

"Willy, are you asking me to be your girlfriend?"

"Yeah... I think I am."

You were slightly taken aback by his question. Despite being intimate and spending a lot of time together for months, you didn't think William was considering this direction. On the contrary actually, you had been nervous he wanted to end it because of the increasing intensity of the season.

"Yes, Willy... of course I'd want to be your girlfriend," you finally managed to speak, the words carrying a mix of joy and relief. "Babe, I was honestly afraid you'd had enough of me...."

It was a moment you had both anticipated and feared, but now that it was here, it felt nothing but right. Leaning in, you sealed your answer with a tender kiss, a silent affirmation of your commitment to each other.

William's eyes sparkled with happiness as he returned the kiss, his arms pulling you closer. It was a moment of clarity amidst the chaos of life, a moment where everything just felt right.

"Oh, I already told you; I'll never get enough of you," he whispered against your lips, his voice filled with warmth and sincerity.

#250 followers festival #william nylander imagine #william nylander x reader #toronto maple leafs imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #wn88 imagine

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