#till we know the actual reason they weren’t there

[chloesimaginationthings]

This is definitely canon in poppy playtime

[angstywaifu]

Treating You Right - Aaric Graycastle

Summary: You and Aaric grew up together, but you never got along. But when you both end up as cadet's in the riders quadrant, he changes. His behaviour for all those years not entirely being how he wanted to treat you. A/N: I had so many requests for another Aaric fic so I kind of just compiled them all into one. So if you sent a request for Aaric, this is for you! Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. Fingering. Unprotected Sex. Use of pet names (sweetheart). Rivals/enemies to lovers. Masterlist | Links

“You’re staring again.” Sloane teases, pulling me from my thoughts or lack there of.

Across the room, Aaric is in the middle of a challenge with another cadet from Third Wing. And as per usual he’s making it look easy. Barely breaking a sweat as he does it. Like he always has. I’m one of the few that knows who he actually is. Cam Tauri. The son of the King. A son I grew up around and never got along with well. He always acted so up himself. Living up to his title. But since being here, he’d changed. Or maybe he was putting on a front all those years.

“I am not.” I snap back as she laughs at me.

”You were. Like you always do. Starting to think you don’t hate him as much as you let on.” She teases again with a knowing smile.

I roll my eyes at her and shake my head. ”Trust me, I hate him.”

”Then why are you staring at him?” She states with a cocked brow. Gods she was too good at reading me. I’d only known her a few weeks and I felt like she knew me better than anyone.

”Figuring out the best way to take him out.” I point out.

She rolls her eyes at me. “I’d believe you if it weren’t for the fact were on the same squad.”

”Maybe I’m waiting till we graduate to take my shot.” I fire back.

She wasn’t wrong though. I had been staring. And not for the reasons I was telling her. If it wasn’t for the fact we disliked each other, I’d be all over Aaric. And I hated that I wanted that. Hated how I’d started noticing him more since we had been here. And being in the same squad, there was no escaping him for the next three years if we both survived that long.

I’m grateful the library is rarely used by other cadets in this Quadrant. It was the one place I could find alone time with all us first years crammed into the same dorm. The one place I could let my guard down and relax. Or so I thought. The sound of the door opening pulls me from the book I’d been reading for Kaori’s class on the different dragons. Footsteps sound around the empty library as whoever it is makes their way further and further into the space. I prayed they were heading towards another spot in the library. But it seems luck was not on my side as the familiar face or Aaric rounds the corner of one of the shelves.

”Oh great, it’s you.” I say with an eye roll, turning my attention back to my book. “To what do I owe this pleasure.”

”Ouch. And here I was coming to you in peace.” He states as he walks over to me and sits down in the chair across the table from me.

”I didn’t say you could sit your highness.” I throw at him, watching as he stiffens at my words before relaxing again. We both know we’re alone, no one nearby to hear me.

”Well someone’s cranky.” He notes, leaning back in the chair as he clasps his hands and rests them in his lap.

I slam my book shut and look up at him. “And someone needs to shut up. I’m trying to study. So unless you need something, you can go.”

”I’m here to apologise.” He tells me as his green eyes pierce into me.

I cock my eyebrow at him. “You? Apologise? Didn’t think you were capable of that.”

He sighs heavily as he turns his head. “Well I am. I had to keep appearances up for my father. Treat certain people a certain way. But I don’t have to anymore. And I wanted to say I’m sorry for how I treated you before we got here. That I wish I could have treated you how I wanted to. Be your friend.”

I scoff and shake my head at him as he turns to look at me again. “Please, don’t pretend you give a shit about me.”

”I’m not pretending. Not anymore.” He tells me as he leans forward, resting his arms on the table.

I just stare at him, unsure how to take what he’s telling me. Part of my wants to grab my things and storm off, not believe a single word he says. But part of me wants to listen to him. Believe what he’s saying. Because part of me knows it’s true. He was never like his older brothers Alic and Halden. They were cruel and harsh, always bullying me. Something Aaric never did. He would say things to me, but nothing like his brothers. In his own way he was being kinder, but doing enough to not arouse suspicion. My family was nothing to his. My father might have been part of his father’s court, but we were nothing to him. And we’re treated as such.

I grab my book, shoving it into my pack before standing up. “Sorry Cam, but I’m going to need more than some apology to prove what you’re saying to me.” I go to walk past him, heading towards the door to take me back into the Quadrant, but he moves quickly, stepping into my path.

”What do you need then?” He asks me sternly as he looks down at me.

”Prove to me you actually didn’t want to treat me that way. Treat me like you actually want to be my friend or ask for whatever it is you want from me.” I tell him.

He furrows his brow. “Why would I want something from you?”

”Because I’m not sure why you have the sudden interest in being my friend after all these years if you don’t have some ulterior motive. Your family hasn’t given me a lot of reasons to want to trust you.” I point out, Aaric nodding his head slowly. “So prove this is not some ploy on your fathers behalf.”

Over the next few weeks Aaric does start to prove it. Not once does he treat me like he use to. Hell, we even manage to have pleasant conversations which come easier to me than I expect, which earns me a few curious looks from Sloane as she takes in mine and Aaric’s new found friendship, if that's what you could even call it. But it doesn’t last long when we’re thrown into chaos. Not even two weeks after we bond our dragons we’re thrown into being part of the rebellion. All of our squad ending up in Aretia with other fliers willing to defend Navarre from the real threat of Venin and Wyvern. And now we all had to rethink everything we’d ever been taught, meaning all of us we’re drained at the end of the day with adjusting to our new routine and relearning everything. Meaning our squad had barely had time to have some down time.

A knock at my door pulls me from my thoughts. Strange. We’d all gone to bed an hour ago, who the hell is knocking at my door at this hour? I chuck the pack I’d taken on our bonding exercise with the Fliers under my bed and walk over to the door. I pull it open, revealing Aaric whose hand is raised again to knock on my door. His bright green eyes locking onto mine immediately. I open my mouth to ask him what's wrong when he rushes forward, his hands grasping my face as he crushes his lips against mine.

I instantly melt into the kiss, hands grasping the front of his shirt as I pull him into my room as he kicks the door closed behind him. His kiss consumes me, my whole body wanting more of him, giving into the thoughts I’d had over the last few months. His hands leave my face, skimming down my body as they glide over the material of the silk night dress I’d changed into for sleep. His fingers play with the edge where it ends at the top of my thighs before grasping my thighs as he picks me up with ease before turning around. He sits on the edge of the bed, settling me in his lap as my legs settle either side of his.

I break the kiss, giggling as Aaric tries to chase my lips and growls in annoyance. He goes to object but stops when he sees me grasp the edge of the nightdress, his green eyes following my movements as I pull the material up my body, leaving me in just the matching panties as I sit in his lap. I turn my eyes back to him as I discard the material to the floor, my cheeks flushing as he just stares at me in awe. On reflex I go to cover myself up, but his hands reach out and grasp my wrists.

”Don’t.” He tells me, his voice rough and commanding. “Don’t ever cover yourself up.”

I just look at him and nod as I lower my arms, resting my hands on his shoulders as his hands caress my skin, leaving goose bumps where he’s been. I lower my hand to the edge of his shirt, Aaric leaning back to give me room to remove the material from him. I’d seen Aaric shirtless before thanks to challenges and various training sessions in the gym. But I can’t help but stare at the toned and defined muscles of his torso as I trace over them with my fingers, causing him to shiver at my touch.

My eyes meet his again, catching the slight smirk on his lips before he kisses me again. It starts off softer, slower. Almost as if he wants to savour the moment. But it doesn’t take long for it to build in intensity. A moan escaping my lips as his hands grips my hips and pull me down on him is his undoing. His fingers digging into my hip as he tilts his head and deepens this kiss as my hand rests against his neck, the other tangling in his hair. My hips rocking back and forth against his, causing his fingers to grip on to my hips tighter, to the point I’m sure they’re going to be bruised tomorrow. I yelp as he flips us over, my back hitting the bed as he looms over me before gripping the matching panties to my night dress and pulling them down my legs.

”Careful Prince, wouldn’t want someone to think you’re impatient.” I tease as he tosses them to the floor.

His eyes raise to mine as he smirks at me while pulling down the linen pants he wears before getting onto the bed, causing me to scramble back to make room for him as I lean back on my arms. He kneels between my legs, shoving them open as he settles between them.

”Trust me sweetheart, I’ve been patient.” He tells me as he looks down at me.

I open my mouth to reply, but a moan comes out instead as he glides his fingers between my legs before toying with my clit. Fucking hell.

”Seems I’m not the only one whose impatient tonight.” He teases as he continues to smirk at me.

My hands fits the sheets as he lowers his fingers and pushes them inside of me. “Fuck me.” I nearly moan out, throwing my head back as he thrusts them in and out.

”Oh, I plan to sweetheart.” He assures me, curling his fingers inside of me.

The room is filled with my moans and heavy breathing as he continues to thrust his fingers in and out, spreading them wider and wider as he goes. I whimper as he pulls them out, my body sagging at the loss of them. I yelp again as he flips me onto my stomach, grabbing my hips and pulling me into a kneeling position as he settles between them, his cock rubbing against me. I cry out when he thrust in, not wasting any time as he slides all the way in, the position I’m in causing him to hit the perfect spot immediately. I’d already been close from just his fingers. There was no way I was lasting long now he was inside me. I look over my shoulder at him as I push myself up on my hands, watching as he looks down at where he slides in and out of me. His green eyes flicker up and meet mine as he bites his bottom lip. Holy shit, that was more attractive than it should be.

”Doing such a good job sweetheart.” He tells me, praising me as he continues to slam into me. “Feel so good.”

”Aaric… please.” I moan out, lowering my head as my body starts to shake, rocking my hips back and forth to meet his thrusts.

”Please what sweetheart? Use your words.” He tells me, his hands gripping my hips as I start to go limp.

”I’m c-close.” I stutter out as my arms give out, my head and upper body resting against the bed.

My whole body feels like it’s on fire, feels like it’s about to combust as I teeter on the edge. Aaric reaches around, his fingers finding my clit and applying pressure. I cry out as my body starts to shake as I tumble over the edge, Aaric drawing out my pleasure as he continues to thrust in and out while using his hand. A few moments later Aaric’s hips still as he falls forward, bracing himself above me as his hands land either side of my head. Both of us gasping for air as we come down from our high.

”You have your own room, right?” Aaric asks after a few moments.

”Y-yes.” I mutter out, doing my best to nod incase he doesn’t hear me.

”Good.”

I feel Aaric move, the bed dipping to my left before his arms wrap around me, pulling me into his side. My body instantly relaxing at his touch. I barely register him placing the blanket over us before falling asleep with my head against his chest.

[maxdibert]

From the way you talk, it sounds like you’re defending murderers, like they’re not even bad people 😅😅. And I’m not even talking about cases like self-defense or anything like that.

Legally, Snape didn’t kill the Potters or torture the Longbottoms, sure. But let’s be real—if it weren’t for him, they might still be alive. And he was a Death Eater for three years—do you really think he never killed anyone in that time? And why would he care? He didn’t give a damn about what they were doing until it affected him personally. Hе begged them to spare Lily… Like, who cares what she actually wanted? He wanted to save her after bringing this whole mess on them himself—even if it was by accident. If it had been any other family, he would’ve stayed a Death Eater and kept being a piece of shit till the end.

And how many times did he actually save Harry? Once? Twice? Maybe three times? (And no, I’m not counting that scene in the movie where he supposedly protected the Golden Trio from the werewolf—that wasn’t in the books.) He became a spy shortly before Voldemort’s death, and then again when Harry was in his fourth/fifth year. And the rest of the time, he just sat around doing nothing, like everyone else. So yeah, reading about his “20 years of nonstop dedication to the forces of good!!” just feels ridiculous to me.

He did the bare minimum for someone trying to redeem himself after all the shit he’d done—he literally had no other choice.)

Ah, the classic “Snape did the bare minimum and didn’t even care” argument. Let’s break it down.

"Without Snape, the Potters and Longbottoms might still be alive"

This is, at best, an absurd oversimplification and, at worst, an outright lie. Snape didn’t point Voldemort toward the Potters or the Longbottoms. He passed along information about a prophecy to his boss (which was literally his job as a spy at the time). He had no idea Voldemort would choose to target the Potters specifically, and when he found out, he did what no one else did: he tried to stop it.

Was his initial motive Lily? Yes. And? Snape was caught up in a supremacist organization from a young age, but unlike many others, Snape completely switched sides and became the double agent who ultimately led to Voldemort’s downfall.

Neither Dumbledore nor the Order could prevent Voldemort from going after the Potters. Snape tried. He failed, but at least he did something.

By the way, where was the rest of the Order in all of this? Why didn’t anyone else foresee what would happen to the Potters? Oh right, because Peter Pettigrew betrayed them. But sure, let’s blame Snape for everything. And let's blame him for begging for Lily and not Jame who was literally his long term abuser lol

"Did he kill anyone as a Death Eater?"

We literally don't know and in fact there is a huge insinuation during canon that him ceirtainly didn't.

But let's think he killed people. So what? History is full of people who have committed crimes and later changed sides. Snape isn’t a pure hero—he’s an antihero. If we demand that Snape must have a spotless record in order for his redemption to be valid, then shouldn’t we also discard characters like Regulus Black or Draco Malfoy?

What matters is that he changed sides and actively worked against Voldemort. He didn’t just say, “Oh, I don’t want to be a Death Eater anymore.” No. He became the key spy who kept Voldemort in the dark about Harry, the Order, Dumbledore’s strategy, etc.

“If it had been any other family, he would’ve stayed a Death Eater”

This is pure baseless speculation. Snape had prejudices, sure, but even before switching sides, he was never a fanatic like Bellatrix or the Carrows. He was an outcast who found power in the wrong group—until he realized what being a Death Eater truly meant.

Yes, at first, he only cared about Lily. But if she was the only reason for his change, then why did he keep fighting for years after she died?

If he only cared about Lily, he would’ve stopped after her death. But he didn’t. He stayed, kept spying for Dumbledore, risked his life daily, and in the end, he died for the cause.

“He only saved Harry three times”

First, that’s not true. Second, saving Harry wasn’t his only job. His role as a spy was far more important. Here are some things he did besides saving Harry:

Maintained his cover as a loyal Death Eater, earning Voldemort’s trust.

Protected the students at Hogwarts (yes, even the ones he disliked).

Drew suspicion away from Quirrell in Philosopher’s Stone.

Stopped Umbridge from torturing students in Order of the Phoenix.

Tried to protect Draco Malfoy from becoming a murderer and saved him from Voldemort’s wrath.

Provided the Order with critical intel on Voldemort’s plans.

Successfully deceived Voldemort until the very end, allowing Harry to win.

Saying “he only saved Harry three times” is like saying a resistance soldier only contributed because he shot three enemies—completely ignoring all his strategic and intelligence work.

“He did the bare minimum because he had no other choice”

Really? Who else in his position did the same? How many Death Eaters switched sides and risked their lives daily for 17 years? Why didn’t Lucius Malfoy become a spy? Why didn’t Regulus Black act sooner? Why did Karkaroff just run away?

Snape had plenty of other choices. He could’ve fled like Karkaroff. He could’ve pretended to switch sides and just stayed out of the fight. He could’ve let Harry die from the start and washed his hands of the whole mess. But he didn’t.

He even admitted to Dumbledore that he would never forgive Harry for surviving while Lily died. But he protected him anyway. Because it wasn’t about what he wanted—it was about what was right.

Snape wasn’t a perfect hero, but he wasn’t a one-dimensional villain either. He was a deeply flawed, complex character who, in the end, was instrumental in Voldemort’s downfall. He didn’t just do “the bare minimum”—he sacrificed his entire life, reputation, and future to ensure the Order had a chance.

If you think that’s not enough, the problem isn’t Snape. It’s that you refuse to acknowledge what he did.

PS: Do you even know what it means to be a criminal lawyer? I mean, I get the feeling that you don’t know how to read. Yes, I defend criminals. Yes, I have defended people who have killed others or hurt them very, very badly. So, I’ll insist again: you can try all the mental gymnastics you want to change my opinion, but if I have firmly believed that a person who left someone else in a coma deserved to be defended—a real person, with real consequences in the real world—you are not going to change my opinion about a fictional character whose story is literally based on a redemption arc that lasts seven books and whose only crime was criminal association when he was a teenager. I mean, I get the feeling that you’ve never actually left your house, you don’t know many people, and you’ve never interacted with anyone outside of your church in your little town.

[temporarywelcome]

Smooth Criminal - Spencer Reid

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: Spencer has been extremely secretive about his girlfriend of the past year, so much so that even Garcia can't find information on her. Till today, and her.... interesting ...past leaves everyone flabbergasted.

Warnings: light swearing

-----------------------------

Spencer’s had a girlfriend.

In fact, he’s had a girlfriend for almost a year at this point and she has not met his friends even once. He was so secretive with this girlfriend that the rest of the BAU couldn’t get any information about her. Not even a name, leaving Garcia in anguish. 

Everyone was dying to know about this mystery girl that has taken up most of the boy genius’ free time. 

And finally, Garcia cracked the code. 

As the team walked down the halls of work towards the exit, all exhausted and ready to go home, Morgan asked if Spencer had needed a ride.

“It’s pretty late to take a taxi,” Morgan had said. Everyone knows Reid barely drives for whatever reason. He frequently took taxis or carpooled.

Reid just shook his head, “It’s fine, thank you.” 

And that was that.

However, Garcia didn’t remember seeing him flag down a taxi. She didn’t remember seeing him walk off into the night.

And so she found herself in front of her computer typing away, already having a feeling as to how Reid left the office. She could get in trouble for this…

If she got caught.

But she won’t, because she’s Penelope Garcia,the most amazing tech analyst to grace the Earth. 

And there it was. 

She watched the camera footage of the parking garage, following Spencer’s movements of the night before, camera to camera. She followed him, until he stopped next to a car, opening the passenger side and getting in.

Then the car drove off.

Someone drove into the parking lot with the intention of picking up Spencer. And she was pretty sure she knew who. Especially because this didn’t seem like a random occurrence. Going back a few weeks (she really needed a hobby it seemed), she found this car would pick Spencer up quite frequently. 

So she tracked the license plate, finally finding the name of this mystery woman. Y/N L/N. And that’s when Garcia fell down the rabbit hole…

That same day, Morgan stood in front of Spencer’s desk, arms crossed with an annoying smirk on his face. He obviously had something to say. 

“Morgan, I feel you hovering,” Spencer muttered, closing the manila folder on his desk and looking up at his colleague. “What is it?”

“So… what are you doing after work? Wanna get some beers?”

“No thanks, I have plans already.”

“Oh, yeah? With who?” 

“With-” Spencer’s eyes narrowed at Morgan in suspicion, “Why are you asking?”

“Answering a question with a question, huh?” Morgan chuckled, “C’mon, Reid, are you going to be with your little girlfriend?” 

“She’s quite tall actually,” 

“You know what I mean,” he turned to walk away, “Have fun with Y/N, pretty boy,” 

“What the f-” Reid gasped as Morgan stalked off, “How do you know her name?!” 

Morgan ignored his question, Rossi coming at him next to bother him. 

Straight from Garcia’s computer-adorned office. 

“A criminal, Reid?” Rossi exclaimed, slapping a file down onto his desk.

“Garcia told you?!” Spencer groaned, head going into his hands. “I can’t have any privacy?”

“Hey, look at me!” Rossi was completely appalled by the information he had found, “You’re an FBI agent! Dating a criminal!”

“Weren’t you a mobster or are we just going to forget that…?” JJ grumbled from her own desk, averting her gaze when Rossi shot her a look. 

Spencer dropped his hands from his face, “Rossi, look-”

“I bet that’s why you’ve been so secretive,” Dave concluded, “Because you knew Garcia would find out about your felon girlfriend. Look, she even gave me printouts,” He gestured to the file he threw onto Spencer’s desk. 

“She did petty crimes,” Spencer scoffed in defense of his girlfriend. 

“She robbed people for sport. Her mother was wealthy. Her father was a cop.” 

“Daughter of a cop, girlfriend of an FBI agent, and a robber? Interesting,” Prentiss joined the interrogation. 

“Where did you come from…” Spencer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “She didn’t do it for sport. She just… well…”

“She’s a diagnosed kleptomaniac,” Rossi opened the file and pulled out a document of proof, “Now how the hell did you manage to date a kleptomaniac?”

Spencer opened his mouth to answer, but Prentiss answered for him, “They knew each other in high school back in Vegas,” she said, looking through the folder for the information Garcia told her. 

“Yes,” Spencer grumbled, “She was a freshman when I was a senior.”

“When you were twelve?” Rossi deadpanned. 

“Yes,” he repeated, “She actually helped me a lot with bullies.” he cleared his throat awkwardly, “She stole a lot of their things…” 

“And you find that attractive?” Rossi asked. 

“No, I didn’t find anything attractive when I was twelve,” Spencer shot back, “I only knew her for that one year before I graduated and left. We reconnected last year and-”

“Ah, yes, two years after she had to be bailed out of jail for stealing from a gas station.” said Rossi, “Not even a good crime,”

“What would constitute for a good crime?” Prentiss wondered out loud.

“A bank or something.” Rossi replied, “Anyway-”

“I mean she did rob a bank before-” Spencer paused, then clamped his mouth shut. 

Rossi and Prentiss exchanged glances, before making eye contact with JJ as well, who was now interested in the conversation. 

“She what” it didn’t even sound like a question coming out of Rossi’s mouth. 

Spencer quickly went to his girlfriend’s defense, “Not at gunpoint or anything! She just, uh, worked at the bank.”

“Jesus Christ,” Prentiss whistled, “Now this is intriguing,”

“I do not wish to speak about my girlfriend’s crimes anymore,” 

“Well we do,” Rossi grumbled, “So I’m assuming she hasn’t committed any more crimes?”

Spencer’s silence made Dave and Emily’s eyes widen. 

“You’re dating a current criminal-?” Emily began.

“Okay, look,” At this point, Spencer just wanted to leave and see his girlfriend, “Due to suffering from her kleptomania, her desire to steal is uncontrollable. Even when we met, she would constantly steal but return the object without the person knowing. I’ll admit, some of the robberies I’ve been… informed about, seem like they were more for fun, but that’s in the past, yeah?” 

“Yeah…” Emily wasn’t sure she should be convinced. 

“Yeah. Okay, I’m leaving now.” Spencer stood up, eyeing the file in Rossi’s hand, “And can you please get rid of that?”

“Well, can we meet her?” JJ asked from her desk, standing as well, “I didn’t stalk her like everyone else, but I’m still intrigued.”

“Thank you for being normal, JJ,” Spencer sighed, grabbing his bag.

Garcia burst out of her office, a devious look on her face, “Just looked at the cameras… A certain car is here waiting for Reid.” 

Spencer muttered under his breath as he sped off, already hearing footsteps following. He could hear Garcia tell Y/N’s whole life story to the group of Rossi, Prentiss, JJ, and Morgan who rejoined the group. 

“She’s a dancer in a big theatre a few cities over,” Garcia babbled, “They just finished Swan Lake. She Odette and everything! Oh and…”

Jesus Christ. 

“...and the last thing I found was that she used to run a Girls’ Generation blog,” Garcia finished.

“What’s that?” Morgan asked. 

“Girl group. She really likes Jessica, but she left or got kicked out or something. I learned so much girl group lore today.” 

“I also like Jessica’s sister, Krystal. She’s in a different group though,”

The team all froze, heads snapping comically at the same time to the owner of the voice. Y/N, the kleptomaniac that has somehow stolen Spencer Reid’s heart. She was leaning against her fancy car (Rossi pondered if it were stolen). 

“I had a blog for that group too,” she added, grinning at Garcia. She held out her arms, Reid shyly shuffling into her embrace. “But, well, I’d like to not remember either blog,” she whispered a ‘hey baby’ to Spencer, who mumbled something back, clearly embarrassed. 

“Um,” he cleared his throat, “Y/N, this is my team. Well, most of the team. Hotch isn’t here, thank God,” 

Y/N laughed, “They’ve been bothering you, baby? I’m guessing Penelope was the one who found out about me…” she scanned the small group and gestured towards Garcia, “You,” faced the others, “You’re Derek Morgan… Jennifer J… I’m not gonna lie, I can’t pronounce your last name-” JJ raised a brow. “-Emily Prentiss, and David Rossi.” she pointed out each agent before eyeing Garcia again, “You’re not the only stalker.” 

“Can we go now?” Spencer muttered, face already red, “I’m tired,” 

“Yeah, of course,” Y/N nodded. She looked at the team again, “It seems I’ve become a chauffeur, as this princess does not like to drive.” 

“Yeah, I’m gone,” Spencer grumbled, getting into the passenger seat.

“Oh, he so hates us now,” Morgan chuckled. 

Y/N shook her head, “Nah, he loves you guys. Well, as you all know, I’m Y/N,” She held out a hand to shake, politely shaking each member’s hand. “Should get going before said princess gets cranky,” She turned, heading back to the driver’s seat. “Oh yeah, Dave?” she looked over her shoulder and tossed a pair of keys at Rossi, who caught them.

His keys.

“Sorry,” she got into the car and drove off. 

“Kleptomaniac,” he said in awe, “She’s fast.”

“Didn’t even notice,” Emily agreed, watching the car as it created distance. 

“I don’t know how I feel about her,” JJ muttered, biting her lip, “I mean, is my name really that hard to pronounce?”

“Not at all,” said Garcia, “Spell, maybe,” 

_________________________

Once Y/N got back into the car, she noticed Spencer had turned off the music she had playing. “Um, Jessica was speaking,” she said jokingly.

He glanced at her, “Tell Jessica I apologize,” he said dryly. She was sure his team thought he was such a sweetheart, but damn, he gets cranky. Perhaps he saves that specially for her. 

“I’m guessing they saw my… record?”

“Mhm, Garcia made printouts,” 

“Ah, so they know about the bank incident…”

“One of them.”

“It won’t take long for them to find out about the other incidents,” she laughed. 

Spencer groaned, “I’m never going to hear the end of it… Now why did I decide dating a kleptomaniac was okay?”

Y/N just grinned, “Cuz I’m a smooth criminal, huh?” 

“Corny,” he grumbled, but the corners of his lips curled up. 

“Annie are you okay… are you okay…” Y/N trailed off, not knowing the lyrics. 

Spencer giggled like a kid; only she made him feel that way, “I don’t think Michael Jackson would appreciate that cover,”

“I don’t think Jessica would appreciate being silenced,” Y/N reached out, raising the volume of the music a tiny bit.

“Must we always speak of this woman as if we know her personally?” 

“Yes,”

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[nathaslosthershit]

Celebration Baby, Literally! (CL16) [Blind Items AU]

(Part 6 in the Blind Items AU [can be read separately])

Summary: 8 months after Charles Monaco win, the fans get to see just how hard he celebrated

“Ohhhhhhh mate, you have been outed!” Pierre laughes as he shoves his phone into Charles’ face.

“Pierre, I cannot read when you put the screen in my eyes like that, back up” Charles responds as he shoves his longtime friend. Like many of the other victims of the ‘F1 Blind Items’ account, Charles’ face drains of color as he sees what they are saying. While there is some truth to the rumor, it still is far from correct. “Ah! Merde, they got so much wrong, mate!”

“What's wrong, honey?” Charles’ girlfriend calls from the other room where she is sitting with Pierre’s girlfriend. The couple decided to join the Gasly house for a nice dinner, although reading the post surely made Charles lose his appetite. 

Charles and Pierre look at each other as they realize she heard them. The one thing the post got right was that his girlfriend was very pregnant with what is most likely a post-win conceived baby. There was no reason to stress her out when she was so offline it would take a while for her to learn about the rumor, giving Charles enough time to convince her to go public and try to make this into the smallest problem possible. 

“Nothing, baby. I love you” He responded as he made a ‘stay silent’ motion at Pierre.

“Um okay, love you too?” was all she replied, not believing in the slightest that this was nothing. 

It didn’t help that for the rest of the night, Charles was off in his own world, thinking of how he was going to execute his terribly thought out plan. But she wasn’t going to interrogate him on it, at least not again, she had already asked him multiple times if he was okay and if he wanted to talk but he would always answer with a “I am fine, beautiful. How can I not be when the woman I love most is pregnant with our child.” While it was charming, she still wasn’t convinced he was okay after all. 

After hours of deliberation, as he sat outside the bathtub while his girlfriend relaxed in it, he finally spoke his mind.

“We should tell people” is the best he came up with after hours of thinking.

“Tell people what?”

“About the baby”

“We told people about the baby”

“I mean like everyone, we should go public.”

She turned her neck to fully face him at that. 

“Where is this coming from? Why now?” She asked.

“No reason”

“You are a shit liar, Leclerc, tell me why.”

“People know”

“What people know?” She asked. God, he was awful at explaining things.

“Everyone.”

“Then why would we need to tell them?”

Right when he was about to reply, he closed his mouth. Why would he need to tell people? While the Blind Items account had become a reliable source as they had yet to be wrong, there wasn’t any reason to actually address the issue, at least not till the baby was born, which would happen during winter break.

“...I guess we don’t need to. It's just- there is this account that posts rumors about the drivers that so far have always been true, but one came out about us and it isn’t really that correct, I just thought we should squash it.”

“What did they say that wasn’t correct?” She questioned.

“They implied we only got together because of the baby, and that we weren’t dating before I uh, knocked you up.” The ‘very public breakup’ the post referred to, was an actual breakup that happened a year prior to the world knowing. It was another very private relationship, as Charles became more famous and ‘sought after’ he liked to keep relationships from the limelight till they got serious in order to protect his girlfriends. But when his ex had found out just how serious things were with his current girlfriend, she wanted to bring it to light in order to get her 15 minutes of fame, which ended up being more like 2 minutes. As terrible as it was, once the public knew she had no connection to Charles anymore, they lost interest in her. 

After requesting he pull up the post, Charles handed his phone to his girlfriend so she could read.

“Is this what you are worried about? The part about me getting a ring for a ‘push present’? Don’t want me getting any ideas?” She joked. They had been together long enough and were about to have a baby, so the idea of getting engaged took up about 65% of the monégasque’s thoughts, the rest being about her and the baby, maybe 5% in total was devoted to F1.

“Ah no, my love, you know that is not it. Although an engagement ring would already happen even without our baby, so I will get you something else as well as a present” He said as he kissed her shoulder, then her neck, then her cheek, finally landing on her lips.

“We don’t need to say anything, let us enjoy the privacy for a while longer. Wouldn’t it be better to go into the upcoming season with a baby and a financée?” She asked.

She was right, why not make an even bigger entrance by saying nothing and letting the rumor die down, in order to enjoy the bliss of privacy for a little while longer.

“That sounds wonderful, mon amour. Absolutely perfect.”

[ariahmichelle]

Fake It Till You Feel It- Part 5

Rafe Cameron x Reader Series

Previous Parts Here

Summary- You see your ex with a new girl wrapped around him after he told you “wasn’t ready for a relationship” after you had slowly started to fall for him. The betrayal stings. Rafe Cameron is dealing with his own issue—Amelia, a girl who refuses to take the hint that he’s not interested. One night you impulsively pretend to be Rafe’s girlfriend to get her to back off. To your surprise, it works. You also notice Alex looking pissed. This starts to become an unspoken routine between you when either Alex or Amelia are around. Simple right? However, longer this goes on, the more the lines blur between what’s real and what’s not.

Part 5- Blurred Lines

•••••••••••••••••••••• ••••••••••••••••••••••

The sun hung high in the sky, beating down on the sand as the ocean stretched endlessly before you. The air smelled of salt and sunscreen, a familiar mix that always came with days like this—long, lazy afternoons spent by the water, where time felt slower, conversations easier, and worries faded with the tide.

It had started as a casual plan. A few people mentioning the idea last night, and before you knew it, a group beach day had come together. No drama, no hidden agendas—just an excuse to soak up the sun and pretend, for a little while, that life was simple.

And yet… something felt different.

For the first time since this whole thing with Rafe had started, Alex and Amelia weren’t around when you were hanging out with your friend group. There was no need to play pretend, no reason to cling to Rafe’s side, no excuse to blur the lines between real and fake.

And yet, you still found yourself next to him.

You weren’t sure how it happened. One minute, you were laying out your towel, the heat of the sand warming your skin, and the next, Rafe was dropping down beside you, close enough that his knee brushed against yours when he stretched his legs out.

“You look like you’re actually enjoying yourself,” he mused, tipping his sunglasses down slightly as he glanced at you.

You rolled your eyes. “Shocker.”

“Just saying,” he smirked, leaning back on his elbows. “No Alex. No Amelia. No fake relationship to maintain. And yet, here you are, still basking in my presence.”

You scoffed, turning onto your side to face him. “Says the one coming to sit by me.”

Rafe grinned, something lazy and amused in his expression. “I think it’s mutual.”

“What’s mutual?” Brooke’s voice cut in as she dropped onto the towel next to you, raising a curious brow between the two of you.

“That she’s obsessed with me,” Rafe answered smoothly, earning a shove from you.

Brooke snorted. “Right. Because that’s so believable.”

“Did the Rafe Cameron basically just admitted he’s obsessed with me?” You shot back, making Brooke laugh from where she was lounging on her towel.

“Jesus,” Brooke called over. “You two are really committing to this act, huh?”

You glanced at Rafe, your expression unreadable. “What act?”

Brooke narrowed her eyes. “I don’t buy it. You two went from barely tolerating each other to suddenly being joined at the hip. It’s weird.”

“You’re weird,” Rafe shot back, reaching for his drink. “Maybe we just realized we have good taste.”

Brooke made a face. “Yeah, or maybe you’re both just full of shit.”

Mia studied you for a moment, but she didn’t press the subject. Instead, she just smirked. “Well, whatever it is, I hope you two know what you’re doing.”

Did you?

You weren’t so sure anymore.

At some point, Rafe got up to grab drinks from the cooler, and when he came back, instead of sitting beside you like before, he sat behind you. Legs stretched out on either side of your towel, back resting against his arms as he took a sip from his beer.

You shot him a look. “Comfy?”

“Extremely,” he said, grinning as he nudged your back lightly. “Besides, this way, you get a nice little seat.”

You rolled your eyes, but when you leaned back against him, you didn’t move away.

Not long after, his fingers started lazily tracing shapes on your thigh, the touch light, almost absentminded. Your skin burned under his fingertips, and you hated that it made your stomach flip.

It was fake. Wasn’t it? Rafe was just enjoying this too much.

——

By the time the sun started to set, someone had built a bonfire further up the beach. The sky turned soft shades of pink and orange, the ocean reflecting the colors like glass. The air smelled of burning wood and smoke, the crackling flames casting shadows across the sand.

It was the kind of night that made everything feel a little lighter.

You sat cross-legged near the fire, the warmth licking at your skin as the group passed around drinks and retold old stories. Someone had a speaker, soft music blending into the sound of the waves. Rafe sat beside you again, and even though the crowd was big enough for you to be somewhere else, you didn’t move.

It was almost too easy, slipping into these moments with him.

“You cold?”

His voice was low, just for you, cutting through the murmur of conversation.

You shook your head, but before you could say anything, Rafe draped his hoodie over your shoulders again, like it was instinct. His fingers brushed against your arm in the process, sending a small, unexpected shiver down your spine.

You glanced up at him, raising a brow. “You trying to be a gentleman or something?”

Rafe smirked, but there was something softer in his gaze, something unreadable. “Trying to make sure you don’t freeze to death. Don’t make it weird.”

You huffed out a quiet laugh, but something about the moment stuck with you.

You got up to grab another drink from the cooler when you felt someone step into your space.

Amelia.

She crossed her arms, looking you up and down. “So, what’s your endgame here?”

You frowned. “Excuse me?”

“Using Rafe to make Alex jealous.” She smirked. “I gotta admit, it’s a bold move. Desperate, but bold.”

You stared at her, caught off guard. “That’s not—”

“Oh, come on,” she scoffed. “You think I don’t see it? You’re using Rafe as some little rebound so Alex regrets dumping you. Pathetic, really.”

Your jaw clenched. “First of all, Alex didn’t dump me, we were never official. Second of all, I’m not using Rafe for anything.”

Amelia took a slow step forward, her voice dropping lower. “He’s just a placeholder for you, isn’t he? Some little safety net to make yourself feel better.” She tilted her head, eyes gleaming. “We both know he’s not the type to stick around. He’s just going with it to get in your pants, But hey, enjoy it while it lasts.”

Before you could respond, a hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled you away.

Topper.

He shot Amelia a glare before steering you toward the group. “Don’t listen to her. She’s just pissed Rafe doesn’t give her the time of day.”

You exhaled sharply, trying to shake off the sting of Amelia’s words. “She’s a bitch.”

Topper chuckled. “Welcome to the club.”

He walked with you back toward the fire but then glanced over at Rafe, who was already watching you, his expression unreadable.

Topper smirked. “You know what? Let’s get out of here.”

You frowned. “What?”

“Let’s go to Rafe’s,” Topper said. “Bonfire’s dying out, and I can guarantee she’ll keep trying to get under your skin if you stay.”

You hesitated.

Rafe caught on to the conversation and raised a brow. “You guys talking about me?”

Topper grinned. “Yeah, I just decided we’re going to your house.”

Rafe smirked, looking at you. “That so?”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t protest. Anything was better than staying here with Amelia’s words lingering in your mind.

So, naturally, you ended up there.

By the time you got to Rafe’s house, the music was softer, more background noise than anything else. The lingering tension from the bonfire slowly faded, replaced by the comfort of familiarity. The smell of the ocean still clung to your skin, and the warmth of the fire had been replaced by the cool night air that drifted in through the open doors.

You were curled up on the couch, still in Rafe’s hoodie, your head resting against the back of the couch. The fabric smelled like him—cologne, a little bit of salt from the beach, something undeniably Rafe. It was oversized on you, the sleeves swallowing your hands, the hem bunched up against your thighs as you tucked your legs beneath you.

“She’s out,” Brooke observed from across the room, her voice hushed but amused.

You weren’t completely asleep, but close enough that responding felt like too much effort. Your body was heavy with exhaustion, the kind that came after a long day in the sun, after too many drinks and too many emotions you didn’t have the energy to sort through.

“Yeah, and she’s taking my hoodie hostage,” Rafe muttered, but there was no annoyance in his voice. If anything, there was something almost… fond.

You felt movement beside you, the couch shifting slightly as Rafe sat down. He didn’t hesitate before leaning back, before letting his arm drape over your waist, his hand resting lightly against your hip. He was warm, the kind of warmth that made it easy to sink further into sleep, the kind of warmth that made you not want to move.

Brooke smirked, arching a brow at the sight of the two of you. “That’s cute.”

Rafe let out a tired huff, barely lifting his head. “Shut up.”

Kelce, who had been scrolling on his phone, barely spared a glance. “At this point, just date already and put us all out of our misery.”

Rafe didn’t answer.

Instead, his fingers absentmindedly traced over the fabric of his hoodie where it bunched around your stomach. It wasn’t intentional, wasn’t something he seemed aware of, but you noticed. Even in your drowsy haze, even with the pull of sleep, you noticed the way his touch lingered like he didn’t want to let go.

And then, a quiet whisper, meant only for you.

“Stay.”

One word. Barely audible over the hum of the music, over the quiet murmur of conversation.

Maybe if you had been more awake, you would’ve overthought it. Maybe you would’ve made a joke, brushed it off, reminded him that this wasn’t real.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you let your body relax against him, let your eyes drift shut, let yourself sink into the warmth of him without thinking too much about what it meant.

And just like that, the choice was made.

So you stayed.

————

The house was silent when you stirred awake, the soft hum of the speaker still playing some faint melody in the background. Your body felt heavy with sleep, your mind sluggish as you shifted slightly—only to realize you weren’t alone.

Rafe’s arm was still draped over your waist, his body pressed against yours in a way that should have felt uncomfortable but didn’t. His breathing was steady, slow, the warmth of him radiating against your back. Sometime during the night, you must have moved closer, because his chest was against your shoulder, one of his legs tangled with yours.

Your heart picked up, your breath catching as you took in the feeling of him, the quiet closeness of it all.

Everyone else was asleep—Kelce sprawled out in one of the armchairs, Brooke curled up on the other end of the couch, Topper somewhere on the floor with a pillow over his head and everyone else sprawled out in random places. The soft glow from the kitchen light was the only thing illuminating the darkened room, casting long shadows across the furniture.

Carefully, you untangled yourself from Rafe, moving slowly as you slipped out from under his arm. He stirred slightly, brows pulling together like he could sense the absence of you even in his sleep, but he didn’t wake.

You padded quietly into the kitchen, your throat dry, your body still warm from being wrapped up against him.

You reached for a glass from the cupboard, filling it with water from the sink, but before you could take a sip, you felt a presence behind you.

“You were just gonna sneak away?”

You turned, finding Rafe leaning against the doorway, his hair slightly messy, his voice thick with sleep. His eyes were still heavy-lidded, but there was something else in them too—something unreadable.

“I was just getting a drink,” you murmured, lifting the glass to your lips.

Rafe took a step closer, running a hand through his hair before exhaling softly. “You were gone when I woke up.”

“You were asleep,” you said quietly, setting the glass down on the counter. “I didn’t wanna wake you.”

Rafe studied you for a long moment, his gaze flickering over your face, like he was trying to figure something out. Then, without thinking, he reached forward, brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face. His touch was light, barely there, but it sent a shiver down your spine.

You didn’t move away.

Neither did he.

His fingers lingered, his eyes dipping to your lips before flicking back up to meet yours.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

The air between you was thick with something unspoken, something neither of you wanted to acknowledge but couldn’t seem to ignore.

And then, he leaned in.

It was slow, hesitant—like he was giving you a chance to pull away, to stop it before it happened.

But you didn’t.

Not at first.

Your breath caught, your heart hammering, the warmth of him so close, too close—

And then her voice echoed in your mind.

‘We both know he’s not one to stick around.’

The words settled like a weight in your chest, an anchor pulling you back to reality.

Your stomach twisted, hesitation creeping in, doubt sinking its claws into you.

Rafe must have sensed it because he stopped just before your lips could touch, his brows furrowing as he studied your expression.

You stepped back.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, voice barely above a breath. “You don’t have to—” You hesitated. “You don’t have to try to make me feel wanted after Alex.”

Rafe blinked, his expression shifting from confusion to frustration in an instant.

“Is that what you think this is?” His voice was low, rough with something you couldn’t quite place.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “I just—”

“You just what?” Rafe demanded, jaw clenching. “You think I’m doing this out of pity? Out of some fucking obligation to make you feel better?”

You didn’t answer.

Because deep down, you knew that wasn’t the case.

You knew Rafe wasn’t the kind of person to do something he didn’t want to do. You knew he wasn’t the type to pretend—not like this.

But that didn’t stop the fear.

The fear of falling for him.

The fear of getting hurt again.

The fear that this was temporary, that eventually, he’d wake up one day and realize you weren’t what he wanted.

So you stayed silent.

Rafe let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, running a hand over his face. “You know what? Forget it.”

“Rafe—”

“I’m going to bed,” he cut in, turning away before you could say anything else. “You can have the couch.”

And just like that, he was gone.

You stood there in the dimly lit kitchen, the weight of his absence settling heavy in your chest, the feeling of his almost-kiss still lingering on your lips.

————————————

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[asterias-record-shop]

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— come over

╰════• ೋ•✧๑♡๑✧•ೋ •═══╯

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪

Ethan’s such a virgin, he gets a boner every time he sees you.

**made up colors for the school, also, this was supposed to be short but now it’s a whole thing-

You weren’t like those other cheerleaders, you were smart and everyone knew it. With every tube top and every mini skirt you wore, there was ten times the knowledge anyone else had on quite literally anything else in the world.

He liked to study on the bleachers when you practiced your routine, the pretty red and white fabric of your cheerleading uniform. You would pause the music, bending down and showing off those pretty red shorts that were under your skirt. “Girls!” You scolded, groaning. “We’re not even close to being done! Or ready! You don’t know how to pop your hip, you don’t know how to do the splits, you- agh!”

You yelled out in frustration as Tara slowly came down the sidewalk, laughing. “Calm down, Y/N, you’re going insane.”

You turned, gasping. “Tara! Honey, you’re here!”

“Not for practice,” she dismissed quickly making you whine. “I think your stalker is here.”

You turned, Ethan quickly looking down at his notebook and fixing it over his lap to hide his hard on. “Oh, no! Ethan’s going to help me study when I’m done with practice, he’s harmless, you know that.”

Tara sighed. “Are you sure? I just… I don’t want you to be alone with him, I can come with you? And Chad?”

You shook your head. “No, I want to be alone with him,” you say with a smile. “I want to see what I can get out of him. See if I can find out if he knows anything about that new psycho.”

Tara rose a brow. “How are you going to do that? Hm?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know yet.”

“He’s infatuated with you, you know,” she says, raising a brow. “I’m sure you can take that a little… farther, if you’d like.”

Your face scrunched as you looked back at Ethan, who again looked back down at his notebook. “I didn’t think I was his type. I don’t know if I’m someone he actually likes, y’know?”

Tara laughed. “Oh he likes you, alright,” she looks at Ethan who’s eyes flicked up before going back down. “Think he likes you more than you think.”

Two hours later, you still weren’t done with practice. It was getting dark, and the only reason why you ended practice was because you didn’t want any girl to go home with a psychopath on the loose. “If you girls don’t work on this, I swear I’ll put you all to work from dusk till… a few minutes before dawn! Go, get home safe! I want everyone in groups! And texts when you get home!”

The girls yelled out okays and good byes as you gather your stuff, Ethan quickly disappearing from the bleachers making you sigh. When you stand, you could feel someone way too close to you making you rush to turn around, gasping. “Oh! Ethan, you scared me!”

He jumped back, gasping. “Oh, I’m s-so sorry, I just-”

You giggled. “Oh, don’t worry,” you say with a smile. “Do you mind walking me home? I don’t know if we’ll be able to study tonight, but you can stop by early tomorrow and we can have breakfast and review! Sounds good?”

Ethan nods automatically, head bobbing up and down. Any moment spent with you was worth it. “Yeah, that sounds good, I-I just… nothing, is your apartment far?”

You giggled, shaking your head. “It’s just off campus. I promise, it’s not a long walk. And it’s not too far from your apartment, either, so you’re not walking alone.”

He tilts his head slightly, confused. “How do you know that?”

You giggle. “I see you walking home some days,” you explained, offering your hand. “Walk me home?”

He nods immediately, fixing his bag and slowly taking your hand. He fixes it to cover his lower waist, his hand slightly sweaty in yours as you squeezed slightly. “I-I uhm… I wanted to ask if you would like to… h-have breakfast with me in the morning?”

You look over, confused. “That’s what I invited you over for, Ethan.”

“What do you sleep in?” It came out quick, his hand covering his mouth. “I didn’t- that wasn’t what I was-”

“It depends on the night,” you hummed, your hand squeezing his as you look up at him. “If it’s super hot, I don’t sleep in anything. If it’s not, it’s shorts and a tank top, sometimes one is missing.”

Ethan hides his smile. As smart as you were academically, he loved how oblivious — maybe stupid — you were in things like this.

The rest of the time was silent, Ethan’s hand warm and not sweaty as he stood in front of your apartment. “I uhm… I hope you have a good night.”

You smile, nodding. “Thank you, honey, I appreciate it,” you giggle, fixing your skirt. “Well uhm… I’ll see you in the morning!”

Ethan nods, hand holding yours tightly. “W-Wait. We should… if you don’t mind, can I have y-your number?”

You nod. “Right! Here, call me when you get home, alright?”

He nods. “Yes, y-yeah I will.”

You smiled, giggling. “Goodnight, Ethan.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

He all but ran home, quickly saying hi to Chad before calling you. It took you a few rings to pick up, your groggy voice saying you had just woken up. “Hello?”

“Y/N? It’s Ethan.”

You smiled, turning as you pull the blanket closer to your bare body. “Hey E, did you get home okay? Can I call you that?”

He was already pushing down his pants and underwear, grunting as he laid down. “Y-Yeah, of course, you can call me whatever you want.”

You giggled as he starts pumping himself, fast and hard making his eyes roll back. “Whatever I want?”

He whimpers out a hum, nodding. “Y-Yes. Yes, whatever you want.”

You couldn’t hear him as you hummed, falling into sleep. He was pumping himself, no need for lube with how much precum was leaking out of his tip. “Y-Y/N,” he moaned out, your eyes slowly fluttering open.

“Hm? Sorry, I was falling asleep.”

“N-No, don’t… I-I want to hear your voice. Can you keep talking, please?” His voice was high pitched, whiny as you giggle, not noticing the difference in his voice.

“Oh… well, what do you want to hear?”

“A-Anything,” he whines, inhaling sharply. He swiped his thumb over his tip, head tilting back. “Anything.”

“Well… I think I’m going to change up some of the routine. The girls aren’t getting it and the game is soon,” you exhaled, humming. “But I was having a lot of fun with it.”

Just the thought of you dropping down to the ground, legs spread as you threw your head back, quickly being helped up by two other girls to take your position as captain and jump up, tits bouncing made him hold back a whimper, hand pumping fast. “I could see that, Y-Y/N. You w-were doing really good, looked like you were having fun.”

You giggle, smiling as you fixed yourself on the bed. “I was having a lot of fun, but the girls couldn’t keep up.”

“Th-They don’t deserve you,” he says, grunting. Your voice at night was so gritty, full of tiredness, the epitome of what he thought you’d sound like after he fucked you so hard and made the mascara run down your pretty face. “N-None of them do.”

They didn’t, you were his. He didn’t deserve you either, but he needed you like a person needed food and water, just the sound of your voice made him hold back cumming. He would call you every night from now on just to get off to your voice.

“Oh, Ethan,” you groaned, laughing. His eyes rolled back, his teeth digging into his bottom lip so hard to hold back moans. “You’re so sweet, honey.”

“D-Did you take off your makeup?” If he was fucking you right now, would your lipstick be smeared? Would your mascara be running down your cheeks, would your eyeshadow be all fucked up?

“Oh yeah,” you smiled. It was sweet that he cared. “I take it off every night, even if I’m tired. Don’t want to break out.”

He groaned, head thrown back. He loved seeing you with or without makeup, as long as you felt pretty, he didn’t care. He was going to make you sob either way from how much he’d fuck you. “A-And what are you wearing?”

“Hm? Oh, nothing,” you shrugged, sighing. “It’s really hot.”

Nothing. Oh the thought made him cum just by your words, choking making your brows ruffle in concern.

“Ethan? You okay?”

“Y-Yeah, I’m good,” he groaned. He was so good, cock twitching as he continued to pump himself. “J-Just don’t feel good.”

“Do you want to come over? Come over, I have medicine,” you start to stand, inhaling deeply. “Please? I want to make sure you’re okay.”

He groaned, nodding. Pass up an opportunity to go to your house? Hell no.

“Okay. I’m on my way.”

part 2

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© asterias-record-shop

[tillsfan]

a dive into Till’s feelings regarding Ivan and Mizi!

ivantill’s whole thing is being INSANELY complicated. i am a full on believer that they have mutual (unrealized) feelings, but i think the word “love” is definitely too vague to properly describe what they have. vivinos said a “deep LOVE/HATE” relationship for a reason.

i think till both genuinely feeling love for ivan yet hating him at the same time is absolutely reasonable. ivan has pushed and pulled till his whole life. till never felt secure near ivan, as much as he cares about him. but, ivan was always there. till felt comfort with ivan’s presence despite the lack of security he gave. till heavily valued ivan’s opinion, getting upset when ivan implied he didn’t see till as a friend. he trusted ivan enough to attempt to run away with him, and he potentially would have spent the rest of his life with ivan if they actually escaped.

i while love mutual love ivantill as much as the next guy, saying their feelings were 100% romantic is wrong. their emotions towards one another being so raw is something that defines them, which is why it’s difficult to put their mutual feelings into a specific box.

another thing we need to take into account is that neither of them know what love really is. they inhabit a world that isn’t MEANT for humans to love. they were never taught what love is and how to feel it. this is part of the reason they could never develop properly. they live in a world where the concept of romance and relationships aren’t properly established between humans.

but, i do believe like they could’ve had a chance under different circumstances. they were a slowburn that was never able to properly develop because, again, they lived in a world that didn’t allow them to, and they both ruined things for themselves. ivan had a huge tendency to self sabotage because of his severely low self esteem. he convinced himself that his feelings were shallow, and projected that onto till through his actions, confusing and distressing the latter. in addition, till was avoidant of the reality in front of him, ivan. due to till feeling such a lack of security with ivan, and never being able to understand ivan, he avoided intimacy with him altogether. till also just has a fear of intimacy in general. there was a significant amount of miscommunication between both parties.

in addition, saying that till didn’t love mizi is just. false. he dedicated all of his life to her, she was literally his muse. he loved her in his own way, even if he had to put her on a pedestal to do so. yes, he didn’t know anything about her as a person, but that doesn’t mean his feelings weren’t real. saying he never truly loved her undermines so much of his character.

mizi was till’s coping mechanism, yes. he adored her from a distance. he liked the idea of her and not her as an individual, but that doesn’t make his feelings any less real. he loved and cared for her. we saw how torn he was after mizi disappeared in round 5. he almost DIED because of his grief, before ivan ‘saved’ him. his feelings towards her were as authentic as they could be for someone who kept everyone at a distance.

while you could say till’s love for mizi isn’t inherently romantic, the same can be said for ivantill. nothing stated in the patreon confirmed what EXACTLY till felt towards mizi besides her being a fantastical figure to him. and his “love” towards ivan doesn’t HAVE to be romantic (even though i believe it is), it could very much be platonic. vivinos is purposefully vague with what kind of love each character feels because, as i said, feelings aren’t something that can be properly established in this universe.

hope u guys enjoyed my rant Yay 🌹

[buckleybltch]

Why Tommy is Different to Buck’s Previous Love Interests

and Why it Doesn’t Make Sense.

This is going to be a long and (primarily) impartial post intended for all audiences, whether you like Tommy or not. However, this is not the blog to be airing grievances on. I’m not here for that. I am going to put some opinions of mine through here, but that’s all they are, and I’m going to try stick with facts with a side of interpretation. And Please, for the love of God, read till the end before commenting.

If you want to think I’m nitpicking then go ahead, but every scene of this show gets analysed to death and back for varying reasons. This will be no different.

The Hospital Scene

For the first time, we see one of Buck’s love interests sitting with the 118 at the hospital while they wait to make sure one of their own is okay. In regard to the group chat that appeared on that scene, form your own opinions. We don’t know if Karen or Maddie is in this group chat either. Opinion: I personally don’t think it’s that unusual to have a work group chat, and I also think Bobby showed Athena his phone. I don’t believe that was meant to reinforce the idea that Tommy is an ‘outsider’- if he was an outsider, he wouldn’t have been at the hospital altogether.

Never before has a LI shown up for the 118 at the hospital with Buck. Ali and Abby turned up at the hospital for Buck because it’s him who was hurt, and Taylor was at the hospital with her camera man for the story (s5 May Day). When Eddie got shot, Taylor showed up at the hospital because she thought it was Buck who got shot. Tommy showing up is a unique situation- they were sat in their civvies as a group in the waiting room, and Tommy is there with Buck for Denny. Tommy was part of the 118 waiting room crew; we’ve never seen this before; Buck’s partner showing up for his team(family) at the hospital.

The closest we’ve had before is Abby showing up to Chimney’s return to work party, but at this point they weren’t actually together, and obviously Chimney was okay by this point, it’s not a hospital scene.

The Firefighter Life

When Ali breaks up with Buck, she says it’s because she can’t handle the firefighter life, waiting for him to get hurt. She says it’s not what she wants. This issue isn’t present with Tommy because he is also a firefighter. He knows what he signed up for with Buck, he’s perfectly and intimately familiar with the risks they take everyday and the risk of getting hurt. While it’s a perfectly reasonable assumption that this might still be an issue to some degree, no one wants to see their boyfriend getting hurt after all, they both understand the life and what it means. Tommy solves the reason Ali broke up with him.

The Bobby Approval

This one is a key one. When the scene first aired, I strongly believed (and still do) that this line was also intended for the audience. We have Bobby’s explicit approval of Tommy as a person and for Buck. He’s good people, he’s good for you.

Bobby and Buck never spoke about Natalia or about Ali. I hold the belief, like many, that Bobby never particularly liked Taylor because of how she tried to exploit Bobby in season 2. However, Bobby did help Buck decide on a Christmas gift for Taylor and vice versa. Yet, he never said on screen that he thought they were good together. Hen and Chimney do also come to Taylor for help (s5) with Jonah, but even in that scene they’re shown to not trust her with what they’re telling her.

Abby is more complex as she was a main character in season 1 and her relationship with Buck was a full-season arc. Bobby helped Buck tie his tie and gave him genuinely good advice before their date. Bobby even talks to Buck about having a serious relationship and how to handle it, about how to treat her with respect. Other characters definitely aired their reservations about Abby in season 2 (Is it the age difference? More like the time difference). I believe Bobby gave his implicit, but not explicitly said, approval of Abby through the way he treated and spoke to Buck about their relationship. Despite this, I do think it’s poignant that for the seven years after Buck and Abby broke up, we never saw Bobby approve or like another one of his relationships until Tommy.

The Future Talk

In 8x06, Josh straight up asks Buck if he can see a future with Tommy. This of course follows up Josh already asking “do you care about him, do you think about him when’s not around”. The discussion between Josh and Buck is unique, because Buck has never spoken to a friend about this before. His relationships with Ali and Natalia weren’t developed or long enough to warrant the discussion, he never talked about the future with Abby, and he said ��no” at the prospect of proposing to Taylor. For the first time, Buck is asked on-screen if he sees a future with his romantic partner, and Buck says yes. This is explicitly said for the first time. Yes, he made a confused face when Josh asked if he loved him, because clearly Buck hasn’t given it that much thought until he’s confronted with it. Either way, Buck, for the first time, says he wants a future with his romantic partner.

This further prompts Buck to ask Tommy to move in with him, which, different to his motivation for asking Taylor to move in with him, is fuelled by wanting a future. Buck even brings up marriage in his discussion with Tommy, which he’s also never discussed with a romantic partner on screen before. The content of both discussions is something we haven’t seen Buck talk about or admit before.

Eddie Friendship

All of Buck’s love interests, bar Abby, have screen time with Eddie. However, Ali and Natalia only share screen time with Eddie when they first meet because they meet on a call. As Buck’s girlfriends, they don’t share screen time with Eddie.

Taylor once has dinner with Buck, Eddie, and Christopher, and she compliments Eddie’s cooking. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe this is the only main time they’re seen together. It’s civil, it’s fine. However, they aren’t friends.

Tommy is a unique situation again; because he’s a guy, it might be easier for Eddie to form a friendship with him. They’re very fast friends, they do Muay Thai together, Tommy works on Eddie’s car, they play basketball together, Tommy went to Eddie’s house 3 times in two weeks and met Christopher. Christopher likes Tommy, he thinks he’s cool, and Eddie invited Tommy to Chris’ virtual birthday party. He’s the first love interest to not only get along with Eddie, but become friends with him outside of Buck (emphasised by 7x04 where Tommy tells Buck that his friendship with Eddie has nothing to do with Buck). The show makes their friendship very clear.

I’ll fully admit that Eddie’s friendship with Tommy was needed for the plot in 7x04, but beyond that, why was it relevant? It already made Buck realise he wanted to be with Tommy. They might’ve needed it for a plot reason but they’re friends afterwards too. Maddie calls Tommy “Eddie’s friend” in 7x05 and they’re laughing together in the hospital and getting alone fine in 8x05. Why?

Fitting Into Buck’s Life

Of course, this all culminates by saying Tommy fits into Buck’s life extremely well.

Tommy doesn’t have to go through the awkward phase of meeting all of Buck’s friends, because the only one he hasn’t met is Eddie. Tommy was previously friends with Bobby, Hen, and Chimney, they already know him. He’s already met Athena. Sure, they might have some catching up to do, but they already have a good history. They’re familiar. Again, Tommy already gets along with Buck’s friends outside of Buck.

Why was Tommy at the hospital for Hen’s son if he wasn’t integrated? Why feel comfortable going to Maddie and Chimney’s wedding? Even Buck makes the point of saying that Tommy is already going to know everybody there; he’s not just his date, he already knows them.

Tommy is friends with Buck’s friends already, Tommy understands the demands of being a firefighter and what it entails with the risks and the commitment. Tommy understands Buck’s friendship with Eddie and Christopher, and his dynamic with Bobby.

Intention (Conclusion)

This is all to say- this is intentional. If the point of the relationship was always to breakup, why have Tommy included in these scenes? Tommy didn’t need to be there at the hospital for Denny, but they wrote it in for him to join the 118 waiting. Bobby didn’t need to give his approval of Tommy on screen. It didn’t further his relationship with Buck nor the plot. It was written this way for a reason, and I think anyone can admit the actual breakup in the scene was abrupt, and it’s all of the above context that makes it even more abrupt.

I know it makes his relationship with Buck more meaningful, sweeter, more heartbreaking for Buck, but we never saw these moments with his ex girlfriends, particularly Taylor, and their relationship was solid until it wasn’t. If this unique treatment of Tommy was meant to put Buck through heartbreak then I offer a second question: what is coming up for Buck that requires him to go through heartbreak?

Why go through the effort of writing Tommy to fit in so well with Buck’s life if he’s only there to further a plot? None of Buck’s other LIs were treated like that, and they achieved the plot they needed to. So why was this different? Buck’s relationship with Taylor was a lot longer, and they lived together, but we never saw these types of scenes with her. Why? Why was this different? What was the point of making the relationship meaningful and different?

Again, this post is not here for people to argue. It should be clear to everyone, regardless of why you think so, that Tommy was treated different by the show than Buck’s other love interests. There must have been a reason, even if that wasn’t clear. Is something big coming up for Buck that he needed to be heartbroken for? Is it poor writing? Is Tommy coming back? There must be some reason that Tommy was treated differently by the writers other than “just because”.

[bouncybongfairy]

Late Night At Fazbear's

Mike Schmidt x Fem Reader

Summary: Mike is an ex-coworker with whom you have a situationship with. Knowing about your interest in arcade games, he invites you to visit him at an abandoned pizzeria to check it out. Things get a little heated before you get a chance to look around.

Word Count: 2.5k+

(!This is a smut fanfic, you’ve been warned!)

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

You were working on some last-minute statistics homework after you got out of the shower. It was a Friday night and even though you got an offer from your friend group to go out, you decided to stay home. Going to house party after party was getting annoying. Half the time, the only people there were drunk frat boys trying to get some before their whiskey dick kicked in. Being a wing girl for your friends was fun the first thirty times but now you’d rather stay home. Things in your life seemed so stagnant, it was like all you did was school, work, then bumming it at home. Like you were some uncharismatic dad in a sitcom. Suddenly your phone goes off, which breaks you out of the trance you were in. When you answered, you immediately recognized the voice to be Mike from the pizza place you guys used to work at together. You thought it was kinda weird that he was calling you so randomly but you did talk often when working together. For reasons that still are unclear, you answered.

“Hey! Sorry I know this is- it’s kinda random but can you talk for a second?” his voice spoke over the receiver. 

“Yeah, I’m just hanging out at home. What’s up?” you asked, now standing up to pace around your room. 

“Oh cool cool, so kinda weird to explain but bear with me here. Remember how you were super obsessed with the old arcade games we had in the back of the pizza shop? Anyway, I got this new job at an old pizzeria and there’s a bunch of old games and animatronics. I was thinking while I’m working the graveyard shift you could maybe swing by for an hour or two and check it out with me?” His voice was so sweet and soft-spoken that you couldn’t help but blush over the phone. You coiled your finger around the wire of the landline. 

“Umm, yeah that sounds kinda fun actually, when are you there till?” you asked with a hint of a smirk on your face. 

“My shift starts at 12 am and ends at 6 am, no pressure. Obviously, I’ll be here all night,” he laughed.

“Yeah, I’ll call you right before I leave okay?” you asked softly. 

“Yeah that’s perfect, I’ll see you then,” he said. 

You put the phone back on its hook and check the time on your alarm clock. To your dismay, you’d been studying for two hours and it was 10:50. Luckily you’d already showered but that wasn’t the problem. Internally, you were going through a moral dilemma. Part of you was telling yourself that he was just a coworker that got attached and another part, wanted to do your hair and make-up and hair before going. Making sure that every strand sat just right as if he’d somehow notice. To make sure your eyelashes have the exact amount of mascara they need to be long but not clumpy. If you thought all these things, wouldn’t that mean you do care what he thinks of you? Although you were bubbling with a mix of nervousness and anticipation, you managed to finish getting ready. You start packing your bag, pacing around looking for all your items. Car keys, pocket knife, compact, body spray, and your wallet. As you went to take the cartoon of cigarettes from your bedside table, you thought about taking the joint that was rolled. Sitting on your knees in front of your nightstand, you start dialing Mike’s number to let him know you are on the way. After shoving all the contents into the bag, you make your way outside and start your Mazda. You were sitting in the car for a few moments, thinking about if you were really going. 

Once you pulled into the parking lot, thoughts of regret started to bubble in your brain. You would have turned around if it weren’t for Mike’s car being in the parking lot. You checked the time on the radio and saw that it was only 12:57, was it weird that you were there so early? You were slightly worried that it would look desperate. Deciding to let that unneeded anxiety go, you get out of the car and lock your doors. Take a moment to take in the outside of the building. It appeared to be severely unkempt, brown vines covered most of the building. Due to the unsettling vibe of the building, the bear that was supposed to look cute and inviting was the exact opposite. Creating an ominous feeling as it waved at you. The walls were mostly a dull yellow color with red and blue accents and a black and white checkered line across the middle. One of the R’s of the sign was out, only adding to the sketchy feeling. You knocked on the big metal doors, wiping your knuckles off on your jeans. When Mike swung the door open, it made you jump and gasp. This caused him to break out into a fit of laughter. You playfully pushed his shoulder back. 

He took you back to the small room where he was monitoring all the security footage. The room was more creepy than the outside of the building. You sat down on the desk and Mike plopped down on his office chair. He was completely slouched back, wearing a gray thermal and a dark hooded sweater. His hair was more curly than shaggy and he had a five o’clock shadow. You set your purse on the desk and stood up, looking at the security cameras. One of the first things you noticed was the group of animatronics that were standing on the stage together. It was then that you realized what you really had gotten yourself into. 

He was surprised that you even came, yes you guys had become close while working together but he didn’t think it would lead to anything after. You were currently facing away from him, and he couldn’t help but admire you as you did so. He liked the fact that you were so well put together. Your jeans were fitted perfectly and your thong peaked out slightly from the top of your waistband. When you entered the small room, the entire space began to smell like apple-scented perfume. The white long sleeve was also very fitted, which brought attention to your figure. You turned around once you noticed it had been silent for a while. Grabbing your purse, you pull out the cartoon of cigs. Bringing the lighter to it and taking a drag to light it. After taking a couple of puffs you pass it to Mike who leans forward with a groan. As he took his hit, a piece of ash fell onto his pants. You leaned down and brushed it off his knee. 

“So much for cutting back right?” he asked rhetorically. 

“Oh yeah, I did switch to Spirits though. My grandma swore by these,” you said taking it back. 

“Do you smoke weed?” he asked, you laughed and started digging through your bag and pulled out the Altoids container, grabbing the joint. 

“Will you get in trouble? For like, smoking on the job?” you asked. 

“Oh no, this place is abandoned. There’s usually nobody in and out of here that would notice,” he said. 

You lit the joint and took a deep drag, blowing the smoke at his face playfully. He laughed as he took the joint into his hands and inhaled. You put the cig out on the glass ashtray that sat on the desk. He commented on how good the flower tasted which made you relieved knowing he didn’t think it was reggie. You guys started talking about memories of working together. You guys would always take smoke breaks together and go to lunch every once and a while. Mike actually listened to what you had to say. He wasn’t the type of person that constantly changed to a conversation with himself. A lot of guys you spoke with were usually just telling you whatever you wanted to hear. Everything you had to say was so fascinating and impressive because they were just trying to butter you up. Mike would actually give his opinions on things and would tell you if he thought what you were saying was stupid. It was refreshing, to be honest, to have an interaction with the opposite sex without them drooling on you. You glanced over at Mike, maybe it was the weed but something felt different now. The way his legs were spread so widely made something in you feel hot. Eyes were now bloodshot, making the hazel color stand out even more than before. When he reached for the joint again, his hand brushed over yours. This made you make eye contact with him but then break away once the awkwardness set in. You looked down and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. 

“Are you still with Jackson?” he asked.

“What? Oh yeah, we broke up a while ago,” you said, rubbing your arm.

“Well, what happened? I mean… If you don’t mind me asking,” he said. 

“No it’s- he just..” you took a deep inhale and spoke as the smoke poured out of your mouth, “he was really aggressive like, not just with his words. Not saying he beat me or anything but some things are meant to be more sweet and gentle. Sorry, I don’t know why I'm telling you this,” you said, passing it back. 

“No, I’m the one who brought it up. He always was a little misogynistic when we talked, I’m sorry you were subjected to that,” he said. You were sitting on the desk, you kicked off your sandals and gently swung your legs back and forth. 

“Yeah, I guess it just wasn’t meant to be,” you sighed.

“For sure, you could do so much better than that,” he said. 

“Oh yeah? When you say better what do you mean by that?” you asked, leaning over to grab the joint. 

“Like if you said he was overly aggressive then you’ll find someone that is more gentle and shit,” he said, chuckling a little. 

“Oh, I see,” you moved your foot so that it was resting on his inner thigh before continuing, “Maybe you could show me?” you asked flirtatiously, he looked up and looked at you with a shocked expression. 

You used your leg to roll him closer to where you were sitting. He was now smirking, looking up at you. He let his hands slide up both your outer thighs. He pulled you off the desk so that you were now sitting in his lap facing him. You still had the joint in your hand, you took a hit before letting it sit on the ashtray. Your noses were touching and you were relieved to see that his breath was as fast as yours. Running your fingers through his hair, forcing his head to tilt back a little. You ran your bottom lip across his, arching your back and pressing your crotches together. He picked you up which caused you to wrap your legs around his waist. He set you on the desk again so that he was standing, hovering over you. You reached your hands down between your bodies, trying to unbuckle his belt. He stopped the kiss and chuckled at your eagerness and helped you. As you unzipped his jeans, one of his arms reached behind you and undid the clasps of your bra. The way he unhooked it with one hand made you throb. He pulled your shirt over your head, leaving you in nothing but jeans. He still had his jeans on but now that his pants were undone, you could feel how hard he was through his boxers. It was like the heat coming off his dick was making your stomach feel warm and tight. Before he buried his face into your chest, the look on his face was almost primal. Like it was taking everything he had to keep his hands off of you. He took one of your breasts into his mouth and sucked, biting down every once in a while. He reached into his backpack that was sitting on the desk and pulled out a condom. He was breathing heavily and a couple of drips of sweat were beading down his forehead. As you unzipped your jeans you looked over at the security camera and thought you saw one of the animatronics move from the stage. You pulled away for a second to show him,

“Mike, I know we smoked and everything. Oh my god, I know this is going to be crazy but I swear I just saw one of those… things moved,” you said as he trailed kisses up your shoulder. 

“This is my third day here and I think that all the time. It’s just your head playing tricks on us because of how creepy they look,” he said, then tearing the foil package open. 

“Are you sure because I could have..” you started but then were interrupted by Mike throwing the still-packaged condom onto the desk and pressing a button that made both doors close around you. He then got down on his knees and gripped the top of your jeans, pulling them down. Instead of trying to pull your panties off of you, he simply pulls them to the side. Sticking his tongue in between your folds, massaging your clit. You had been in a dry spell since you broke up with Jackson and even then, he would never go down on you. The feeling of his mouth pressed against you was so euphoric, the moans that came out of your mouth were completely natural and unrehearsed. His pace was slow but he kept a steady rhythm which helped you chase to your climax. Instead of pulling at his hair, you cupped his face, gently stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. He looked up and made direct eye contact with you. His eyebrows were furrowed but when he saw the look on your face, his eyes closed and he groaned loudly. He grabbed your ankles and pushed your legs back so that your feet were now on the desk. You grabbed two fistfuls of hair and threw your head back, moaning loudly. The pressure of the top of your thighs being pressed into your lower stomach. Crying out as you cum, the moans came out strangled. As you started to come down from the wave of ecstasy, you began to feel insecure about how fast he made you cum. 

“God you are so fucking hot, like seriously I almost came in my boxers,” he said standing up and grabbing the condom. His lips were parted and his mouth was still covered in saliva. Without wiping his mouth, he slid the rubber onto his shaft. 

“Sorry, do you want to keep going?” he asked, you didn’t verbally respond. Instead, you grabbed him by his shirt and smashed your mouth into his. He moaned the word ‘fuck’ into your mouth before continuing kissing. He broke away to look down and line himself up with your entrance. You were still wet and swollen from the previous orgasm, enabling him to slide in with you easily. He dropped his forehead down on your shoulder, mouth open and moaning as he slowly started rocking back and forth into you. You scooted your ass down so that you could fully be pressed against his hips. The desk was continuously banging up against the wall. Your foreheads were now pressed together groaning and growling into each other’s mouth. Everything suddenly came to a halt when everything went dark. You both jump and start looking for any articles of clothing that are nearby. The big metal doors on both sides of you slam open so loud, that your ears start ringing. 

“What the fuck just happened!” you exclaim.

“The battery died,” he realizes. 

“Well has that ever happened while you’re working?” you asked.

“No,” he stated. 

“Holy fuck, do you hear that fucking music?” you whispered. 

[burst-of-iridescent]

Personally Kat.aang looks bad to me because Aang gave his most lightest skinned child special treatment 💀 there were air acolytes who weren’t air benders themselves but were still dedicated to keeping the culture alive so leaving Kya and Bumi out on account of them not being air benders is absolute bullsh*t. You don’t see Zutara shippers calling Kat.aang shippers racist because of it 🤔

yeah see this is one of those things that again ties back to bry.ke being totally oblivious about the implications of what they were writing because the optics of the kat.aang family are… troubling, to put it nicely.

the darker-skinned woman is a waterbender. the lighter-skinned man is an airbender. the nonbender is conveniently in-between. their clothing all correspond strictly to their individual elements (except bumi who gets chucked to red for the audacity of not being born an airbender — at least till he conveniently turns into one). if you knew nothing of these characters you’d never know they were biracial at all.

which is just… so disappointing. part of the reason i love zutara is how the fandom handles the incorporation of both cultures, and yet bry.ke couldn’t even be bothered to do the bare fucking minimum of at least having the kat.aang kids in blue and yellow clothes. if you’re going to claim that a significant aspect of this new, postwar world is the increased cultural exchange across nations then the kat.aang family of all people should be emblematic of that change! but no, instead of taking the opportunity to actually delve into and depict the intricacies of a blended household, we might as well just stick to the same shit we’ve been doing since atla because why think of something new, right?

it’s even more troubling that within the strange cultural division of the ka kids, it’s katara’s culture that gets the shaft. tenzin’s entire family might as well be air nomads through and through, and while bumi and kya seem to have been intentionally excluded from air nomad culture through no fault of their own, they don’t seem to know (or care) any more about their swt heritage either. the natural conclusion to draw from that is evidently that katara’s culture just doesn’t matter as much as aang’s in their family, and that paints a very disturbing picture of how aang views his wife’s heritage (especially with the worldbuilding of atla portraying the air nomads as ‘spiritually pure’ in comparison to everyone else).

i have no patience for the common ka defense that aang is a survivor of genocide so his culture should take more priority because a) katara is also a genocide survivor, as ka stans are so fond of pointing out until it doesn’t work in their favour and b) why are we acting like cultural integration is some sort of zero sum game? tenzin, kya and bumi aren’t going to run out of space for their air nomad traditions and practices just because they know more about their swt background as well. there’s no arbitrary limit on how much you can learn of your heritage.

yes, i know bry.ke didn’t intend for the ka family to come across this way. but whether the implications were purposeful or not, they still exist, and it’s fucking galling that the fandom will call zutara and zutara shippers racist all while defending the shitty writing choices of two american white men — and then pat themselves on the back for being progressive, as if genuine activism means harassing real poc in the name of fictional ones.

[light-yaers]

Take Care: Chapter Fourteen

Fic Masterpost | AO3 | Chapter List

Warnings: swearing, eventual smut, emotional themes.

A/N: YEEE FUCKING HAW WE'RE BACK AND LONGER THAN EVER. FEAST, MY PRETTIES.

Word count: 10k+

Chapter Fourteen:

Well, Arlo. It seems the Greyhounds have actually… done something right?

I know, Chris. If you’d told me they’d be in this position, not even in the Premier League, yet through to the FA Cup final, then well! I’d have eaten my hat!

But Arlo, you don’t own any hats. 

There’s lots that you don’t know about me, Chris. 

Oh. Well, I’d like to find out more one day, Arlo. 

Maybe one day, Chris. Maybe one day… But, moving forward– it seems AFC Richmond’s new coach, badboy Roy Kent, has well and truly shared the fabled ‘Roy Kent Effect’ once more. 

That’s certainly true, Arlo! Kent and his teammates have never worked so well, even when he was on the pitch next to them. I think this is the start of a blossoming season for the Greyhounds. 

I agree, Chris. So, you heard it here, folks. AFC Richmond are off to Wembley!

A few weeks after Roy’s return, you found yourself feeling the love. When you came to, you were screaming your head off. Everything was a giant blur of those familiar reds and blues, so you knew you were home. The locker room still looked the same as always, but the players within were so drastically separate from how they were a week ago that you could hardly fucking believe it. 

AFC Richmond were going to Wembley for the FA Cup final. The only downside– they were against Manchester fucking City. You weren’t about to dampen their joy, though. You suspected they all knew exactly what was at stake, but they deserved this. They deserved to feel like winners. 

Sam bound over to you as soon as he could. His embrace brought you back down to earth, and you hugged him back so tightly that it was a miracle neither of you passed out. “God, I am so proud of you,” you whispered into his shoulder. 

He reciprocated by squeezing you once more, before you tugged apart. “You still bring us good luck. You are part of the reason we have come this far.” He spoke so earnestly that you couldn’t stop your throat from drying up. 

You swallowed painfully, utterly overwhelmed. Sam went one step further, however, when he stepped onto one of the benches. “Hey, guys! Guys!” he yelled, bringing the sound in the room right down. Every player, and coach alike, turned to him and listened intently. “We wouldn’t have gotten to this position without the help of every single person in this room.” Sam looked down at you then, smiling like the golden sun. “Thank you, everyone! We’re Richmond till we die!” 

The room erupted into roars that no jungle could replicate. You soaked up their cheers, their happiness, their togetherness, and as you did you sensed someone close by: Roy. 

He stood in the doorway of the manager’s office, wearing a tracksuit that donned Richmond’s logo. He’d fallen into his coach position as if he’d always been here– assertively, strongly, respectfully. When you glanced around the room and saw him, you had to stop just for a moment to take him in. You smiled at him, even though he wasn’t looking at you. When he eventually caught your eye, you quickly looked beyond him, acting as if you hadn’t been eyeing him up for the better half of a minute. 

Roy liked it when you looked like this– happy, content, in the middle of a bustling and buzzing room yet perfectly fine with just existing and not speaking. You were good like that, good at listening and observing. You were also good at talking when you got to it, but Roy’s initial annoyance whenever you opened your mouth had quickly disappeared after a few weeks into your placement at the club. That sentiment had only grown over the past year and a half.

Jesus– eighteen months. It’d really gone fast, hadn’t it? Eighteen months, and you’d grown into your talent and only increased your work ethic (even if you secretly hated your current position). Eighteen months, and Roy had played his last game of football ever, but coached his first professional game since. 

Roy leaned on the doorframe of the manager’s office and crossed his arms. Dani had his hands wrapped around your neck lovingly from behind. The two of you swayed back and forth as the team continued rejoicing. Slowly, you latched your fingers onto Dani’s forearms and held them tightly. Roy knew what that felt like, having you close. He’d been there with you once, when it was impossible to keep your hands off each other in a crowded room like this. 

There was another thing that hadn’t happened in eighteen months. You and Roy. Roy and you. In truth, you’d thought about things more than he had. This was amongst one of the first times he’d allowed himself to think of you together, properly, and what it could have been like. 

He thought back to November, almost six months ago now, when he’d told you that he had no intention of fucking things up. To do that, you and Roy couldn’t happen– wouldn’t happen. 

Roy frowned when he thought about how awful he’d been, not even during that conversation, but afterwards. He hadn’t put up any boundaries, had continued acting the same as he always was around you. It wasn’t kind; he knew that as soon as he’d seen your face on Boxing Day, practically scrambling to get the fuck out of his house. 

The bad thing was, however, that Roy didn’t want to stop. Sure, he’d said things would never happen, and you’d graciously accepted that fate and tried to move forward over these past few months like any respectful and decent person would. But, he hadn’t. He’d said the words, but not followed them. 

Roy huffed to himself, only now realising– he was a fucking idiot. 

This was Roy’s more prominent disease, it seemed: delayed on-set realisation of selfishness. DOROS for short. Maybe he’d always known, but had pushed it all away in favour of keeping you close. Maybe he’d always known, but innately knew that he had never wanted to cut things off with you, so simply acted like he’d never fucking said a thing. 

Mentally, Roy added a new to-do box to his list. 

Fix things with you. 

He would. Oh, he would. 

“Roy!” Ted’s familiar accent called from behind him. Roy turned around and looked down at his fellow coach, sat before him with his feet on his desk. Beard was the same, and the two of them looked like peas in a pod. “How’re your first few weeks going?” 

Roy balled his fists instinctually. “Good. I think.”

“Well, you gosh darn thunk correctly!” Ted burst, jumping out of his chair in excitement. “And now, I need your help once again. This match next week, the big one.” He stopped directly in front of Roy, chin to chin. “How do we keep the guys like this?”

This meaning the ruckus behind him. Joyful, strong, ready to fight with all they’ve got even if the outcome isn’t in their favour. Roy knew that feeling well, having felt it too many times to count. 

He sighed. “It’ll be tough. Come tomorrow, they’ll all start to spiral.”

“How so?”

Roy shrugged. “It’s the hope that kills you.” 

Ted’s face soured immediately. “I don’t like your sayings over here.” 

“Yeah, well…” Roy turned around to look at the guys. “It’s easier than being fucking disappointed.” 

“Screw that!” Ted suddenly exploded. He grabbed Roy’s shoulders and urged him to look in his eyes. “We’re stopping that today. What’s the first thing that comes to mind when you look at those guys right there, acting like that?” Ted asked. 

Roy swivelled his head back around to look at them. “I… I dunno?” he said. 

Ted squeezed his shoulders abruptly. “Yes, you do! Say it. Say it!”

“All-fucking-right!” Roy yelled. “Her!” He pointed at you without hesitating. 

As if on cue, you laughed. You scrunched your eyes shut in happiness, giggling as Dani placed his chin atop your head. He squeezed you tighter, and you giggled even harder, gripping his arms stronger than before. Sam and Colin laughed opposite them, still overcome with the buzzing adrenaline of the win. They all were. You perpetuated that feeling, made the guys want it even more so you could join them at times like this. 

Ted moved next to Roy, looking at the same scene. “Well, I’ll be damned,” Ted whispered. “You’ve never been more right in your life.”

You had to suck in a deep breath as your laughter dissipated. Your lungs were empty of all reserves, but you’d never felt better about it. Dani gently removed himself from you to head towards Richard and Zoreaux. As he did, the most unexpected thing happened. 

Someone tapped you on the shoulder, and when you turned to greet them with a glowing smile, you stopped short. Jamie Tartt stood before you. “Hey,” he said. 

You kept things light as you perked your brow at him quizzically. “Hi.” You smiled. “Congratulations.”

Jamie laughed awkwardly, bringing a hand to the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. Thanks very much.” You’d never tire of his accent, secretly. You were fond of Mancunian. “Listen, can I talk to you for a moment?”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Oh– sure.”

“Privately,” he added. 

You glanced around the locker room quickly, before nodding once. Jamie led you out to the corridor and beyond. He opened the door to the kit room and held it for you as you entered, then followed you inside and shut the door behind him. 

You didn’t know where to place yourself. Stood in the centre of the room, overwhelmed by the scent of soggy feet, you turned to the striker and waited. Jamie stood opposite you with the same feeling of being utterly out of place. 

“What can I do for you, Jamie?” you started, getting the ball rolling.

“I know we’re not really… er, close.” He clutched his hands together awkwardly, almost unable to meet your eye. “But I know how much you mean to the club and that.”

You huffed amusedly. “Sure,” you agreed. 

“Which is why I know you won’t laugh at me when I ask you this.” Tartt finally met your eye, and you were taken aback. Whatever was on his mind you now knew was a big deal. I mean, it had to be for him to approach you like this, surely?

“Okay,” you said sturdily. “Lay it on me.”

“It’s Roy.” You held your breath as he said it. Never in your wildest dreams did you think that Jamie would come to you about a Roy problem, yet here he was. “He won’t coach me. Not like the others, you know. I know I was a dick in the past, for lack of a better word, and that Roy was on the receiving end sometimes–”

“All the time,” you said, matter of factly. Jamie subtly exploded.

“Okay, fine– all the fucking time– but I’m back now, and I need a fucking coach. I want him to teach me the same way he teaches Sam and Isaac and the rest.”

“But, you don’t know how to ask him,” you said your thoughts out loud. 

Jamie nodded quickly, agreeing with you tenfold. “I know he’d tell me to fuck off.”

“Well, of course he’s going to do that.” You almost chuckled from how right he was in saying so. “But, I see where you’re coming from.” Your mind spiralled down different routes, unknowing of where you came into this equation. You could tell Jamie what to say, but you knew what Roy would reply simply because it was Tartt, not you. “Why come to me, though?”

Jamie’s face squished questioningly, like he couldn’t understand why you hadn’t put two and two together just yet. “Roy fucking listens to you.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh now. “Oh, please. Yeah, he listens. But whether or not he decides to do what I say is a completely different ball game.”

Jamie reached out to you suddenly and gripped your shoulders in desperation. “Please. I know I’m making up for lost time and bad behaviour and whatever else I did to the guys, or Lasso, or Roy, but I need to be useful here. I want to be useful here.” 

You regarded him thoughtfully then. It was hard not to take him into account when he was like this, bearing his soul to a person who had never connected with him beforehand. Reaching out to you was a shot in the dark for him, but he’d done it anyway because he wanted to succeed. It was commendable, when you put it all into perspective. 

You decided upon a middle ground. “I’ll plant the seed in his head to let you in, alright?” 

Jamie let out a clear sigh of relief when you agreed. “Well, fuck– thank you.”

“But!” you continued. “You need to go to him yourself. You need to apologise, and tell him exactly what you said to me. It’s Roy, so he’ll make it a fucking nightmare and will probably be childish and petty and whatever fucking else that grown man is capable of…” As you rambled, the cogs in Jamie’s brain finally understood the whole story– you liked him, didn’t you? “...but he’ll do it eventually. He has to. He’s a coach now, and if you’re here, you deserve to be coached properly.”

Jamie squealed and smiled at the same time, his eyes ablaze with boyish resemblance. He squeezed your shoulders affectionately. “I knew coming to you would work out. I just knew it.”

You scoffed in amusement. “Don’t make it a regular thing,” you joked. “There are only so many strings I can pull with Roy.”

Jamie raised his brows assumptively. “I’m not so sure about that.”

“What do you mean by that?” All your amusement reluctantly trailed off alongside your words.

“Well,” Jamie started. His grin dropped instantly. “I mean– don’t make me fucking say it. You already know, don’t you?” 

“Know what?” you pressed. 

“That Roy, y’know. That Roy–” Jamie flailed his arms around like a flapping seagull. “He– y’know…” 

You squinted at him. “Are you speaking some kind of secret footballer language that common people like me don’t fucking understand?”

“He likes you!” Jamie finally let out. 

“Oh.” You stepped back. Jamie’s arms dropped to his sides. “Stop fucking talking now.”

“Oh, come on. You can’t see it?” Jamie looked you dead in the eye, but all you were capable of doing was looking away from embarrassment. “Well, you’re more stupid than I fucking took you for.” 

“Hey!” you exclaimed. “There’s no need for that shit when I’m digging you out of the mess you fucking made last season.” 

He raised his arms up in understanding. “Alright, alright. Sorry, my bad.” You let out your own sigh of relief when you realised the conversation was over. 

You and Jamie headed back to the locker room soon after. As he made his way towards the guys, you stuck to the outer limits of the cinder block walls. Roy was still in the manager's office, his back turned as he spoke to Ted and Beard. You didn’t want to intrude, so you made the decision to cut back into the corridor once more; not to leave, but to wait until the guys were ready for a pint. 

You slowly trudged down the familiar corridor that you used to traverse every fucking day. Past the locker room, you approached the gym. Beyond that, your old office still sat. Keeley had recently upgraded to a larger room deeper underneath the Dogtrack, however, so the usual array of pink pillows and her cheetah statue were nowhere to be seen. 

You entered through the half open door and walked straight into darkness. The walls were the same, just pinker. The desk was the same, just empty. Whenever you visited this office space after time away you felt the same pull to return. You didn’t care if it had no windows; you’d managed to make it home for nearly a year without any hiccups. 

God, you wanted to be back here. Everyone knew it, even Rebecca, but you daren’t take favours. You would never. 

A small knock sounded from the door, and you turned back quickly. “Ready to g–? Oh!” you exclaimed. You’d been expecting Sam or Roy, but were met with the still slightly unfamiliar face of Nate. “Sorry, Nate. I thought you were someone else.”

“That’s alright,” he said, smiling. “May I come in?” 

“Oh,” you spluttered. “Yes, of course. This isn’t my office anymore.”

He stepped inside. “No, no, it’s not, is it?” he said, and the tone of his voice was erring on patronising. You opted to ignore it, knowing that he wouldn’t have meant it that way. Surely?

The silent pause that flittered between you was very awkward, there was no denying it. It wasn’t that you’d meant to not really know him, but your circle at the club had seemed to travel in one certain direction that you hadn’t been able to control. The guys, Ted, Roy, Rebecca. Not Beard, not Nate. You didn’t mean anything by it innately. 

If anything, you were happy that Nate was making himself known to you. You’d love to get to know him more– or more than what you barely knew of him from your time at the club. 

“What a great game today, wasn’t it?” you started. 

“Oh yes, fantastic game,” said Nate. 

“And that thing–” You mimed what had happened on the pitch earlier, which happened to be a middle finger of all things. “That all four of you did to Jamie. Classic, really fucking brilliant.”

“Oh yes, the good old middle finger.” Nate copied you in miming what he’d done less than an hour ago. All four coaches had signalled to Tartt what needed to be done, and that signal happened to be swearing at him full-frontally. Four middle fingers had stood up on end, and Tottenham didn’t know what had hit them when Tartt managed to make a goal from just beyond the halfway line. 

“You were all absolutely brilliant!” you exclaimed. “I’ve been seeing you in the paper as well, you know? The whole Wonderkid thing.”

Nate smiled forcefully. “I definitely said Wunderkind.”

“Either way, it’s fantastic you’re getting that recognition.”

“Thank you, thank you,” Nate said, taking your compliment graciously; or so you thought. “So, here’s the thing.” He plunged right into his words like he’d had them on standby the entire time. 

“Go on,” you urged him happily.

“You can’t come to Wembley.” 

“What?” you asked, not fully absorbing his words.

Nate stopped smiling. He looked at you sternly, or like you were akin to dirt on his shoe, or whatever else. Your smile turned to a frown instantly. 

“You can’t come to Wembley,” Nate repeated. 

Those five words hit you like a tonne of bricks. You didn’t understand what he was saying, or what he meant. For a second, you thought he’d got his words mixed up, maybe, but even if they were un-muddled they wouldn’t make sense at all. 

“I don’t understand what you mean,” you said smally, feeling multiple degrees of hurt even though you had no explanation. 

“Okay,” Nate replied. “I’ll spell it out for you.” He raised his chin and sucked in a deep and confident breath, “You cannot come to Wembley for the FA Cup final.”

You still didn’t understand, but you understood Nate’s words fully. Why he was saying them, though, you had no idea. Perhaps you hadn’t misinterpreted his patronising tone upon entering the room, but had picked it up perfectly. You didn’t know Nate enough to get mad– properly mad– but your blood boiled as you looked at him. 

“Why not?” you asked, swallowing sullenly to try and keep the butterflies in your gut at bay. 

Nate smiled. You hated that he smiled. It felt grimy and wrong. “Roy, Ted and Beard seem to think that you keep the team happy, and maybe you do. But, this is the fucking FA Cup final. They can’t afford any distractions, and you.” He looked you up and down like a blight. You’d never been looked at like that before in your life. “You are a distraction. You may think you’re helping, but the guys need clear minds and ready heads. You’re a distraction towards all of that.”

You laughed abruptly, at a loss for words. Nate’s smile turned to something much more condescending. Gently, he reached out and placed a hand on your shoulder. You froze on the spot. 

“It’s just better if you sit this one out, alright? Don’t worry, the guys won’t miss you too much.” 

You opened your mouth as if to speak, but all that came out was air. Your lungs collapsed beneath your chest, your heart pumped blood uncomfortably and incredibly fast into your limbs, your organs, your gut. It hurt. It really hurt. 

Nate squeezed your shoulder. You stiffened further. “Good talk. Let’s catch up after the final.” He removed his hand from you and left promptly, leaving you in the darkned seclusion of your old office. 

Realisation hit you like a double-decker bus. Nate had always been like this a bit, hadn’t he? Not before he became a coach, but afterwards, certainly. A shift had cemented within him as soon as he’d donned the Richmond jacket and owned a desk spot next to Ted and Beard. The whistle around his neck clung to him like a trophy of his authority. 

Nathan Shelley was not a nice coach. Good, smart, intelligent, but not nice. 

You wondered if Ted knew. You wondered if Beard knew. You wondered if Roy knew. If they did, you knew they’d do something about it, so perhaps not. Innately, despite the weak way your chest scraped air through your crippled lungs, you hoped it was just you that he had gripes with. You hoped he wasn’t like this to any of the guys themselves. Just the thought alone made you angry beyond belief. 

No one on the team deserved to be treated the way that Nate had just treated you. 

You sucked in a sharp breath quickly, feeling the beginnings and endings of tears behind your eyes. You wouldn’t cry, not for this. If you twisted this entire ordeal on its head then it was borderline comical. Not to toot your own horn, but you knew that if any of the guys in the locker room next door found out about this, then they’d take your side. 

That was exactly why you couldn’t tell them. You weren’t about to be the reason that AFC Richmond’s managerial team broke apart. They’d come so far already after relegation. You couldn’t– wouldn’t– fuck that all up. 

Quietly, you swallowed away your pride and your feelings and left your old office. Silently, you headed back to the locker room and entered timidly. 

“There she is,” Roy muttered to Sam as you entered. As you approached him, you realised he’d picked up your bag and slung it over his shoulder to save you holding it yourself. “Ready to go?” he asked, face to face. 

Your eyes hit his. You struggled to keep everything at bay, but brushed it off as best as you possibly could. “Yeah,” you breathed. “Here.” You gestured to your bag on his shoulder, but Roy twisted himself away from you. 

“I’ve got it.” Roy frowned slowly, a sour feeling sprouted in his gut. “You alright?” 

You waved him off. “I’m fine. I just don’t feel all that good, if I’m being honest.” 

“Hm.” He reached out confidently and laid his knuckles against your forehead. Roy had done this to you many times. You were used to it, but still allowed yourself to silently indulge in his touch. Besides, you needed this. He didn’t know, but you needed him right now. “You do feel a bit hot, actually,” he said lowly. “Wanna skip the pub and go home?” 

Gently, you nodded. Roy’s hand dropped to your shoulder, the same one that Nate had held just minutes before. Quickly, you placed your hand over his. “Yes, please.” 

Roy stayed still. Something was wrong, he knew it. There was this look in your eye that coincided with you not feeling well, but that wasn’t all. The way you were standing; slumped, arms wrapped around yourself, as if you were desperately trying to make yourself smaller, invisible. The hand that rested atop his own didn’t feel strong. This wasn’t you, the real you.

Roy nodded at you in understanding. “Okay,” he whispered. Roy turned to the rest of the room and addressed the team. “You’ll have to catch us next week for drinks, boys.”

The collective groan that descended across the room made you feel awful, but there was nothing you could do about it. 

Roy sensed your unease. “Hey!” he yelled. “That’s fucking enough of that. Get some sleep after your well-deserved booze break, and I’ll see you all bright and early for practice on Monday!”

“Yes, coach!” 

You and Roy drove home in silence. Not the uncomfortable kind, but Roy could tell something was on your mind. It was rare that either of you evaded the weird sixth sense you had about the other now. Roy could read you as clear as he’d read your article about him. 

He stopped his Jeep outside your apartment building and killed the engine. You gathered your belongings and shot him a quick smile. “Thanks.” You went to leave. 

“Wait.” In one click, Roy had locked your door from the driver’s side door. “Tell me what’s wrong or I’m not letting you out.”

You huffed, slumping back into your chair in acceptance. “Really?”

“Really,” Roy repeated.

“This is childish, Roy.”

“I don’t fucking care. One moment you were happy as a daisy, and the next you look like you’ve landed on death’s fucking door.”

You sighed in exasperation. “Oh, for fucks sake.”

Roy twisted himself to face you more head on. He crossed his arms and waited patiently. “Go on.”

You rolled your eyes, wishing this to be over. “I’m on my period.”

Roy pointed at you quickly. “Don’t try and catch me out with a feminine problem that you assume men don’t want to hear about. I have a fucking sister, and I know all about how crazy her cycle made her. This isn’t that.”

“Fuck!” you exclaimed, raising your voice slightly. Your stress levels had grown exponentionally in the last minute and a half. You could feel your rapid heartbeat beneath your chest. “It doesn’t fucking matter, alright. If I wanted to talk about it then I would have told you by now.”

Roy perked his brow at you. “Is this about something football related, or something life related?”

“God!” you exploded finally. You wouldn’t mention Nate, but Roy’s incessant poking meant you had to say something real. Maybe this really was something you should have told him a while ago. “You really wanna know?” You turned towards him, eyes crazy and breathing erratic. “I hate my fucking job, okay. And everytime I go to the stadium for a game I’m reminded of everything I left behind and everything I continue to leave behind. The guys, Ted, Beard, you.” 

For the first tme since the car stopped, Roy shut his mouth and listened. 

“I– I wonder how much longer I can fucking do it. The commute every morning, the staleness of my work colleagues, the giant stack of papers and assignments that are always waiting on my desk to get done because no one else will fucking touch them. I don’t sleep at night properly, and I can’t even cook meals anymore. I feel like–” You sucked in a deep breath and finally looked Roy in the eye. “I feel like, even despite all of you including me in everything, I’m running on the spot behind you and will never be able to catch up. Like I’ll never be part of that world anymore. And it’s, it’s– breaking me.” 

Roy leant towards you instinctually. 

“Rebecca and Keeley know I hate it, but every time Rebecca talks about getting me a position at the club I freeze. It makes me feel sick that she’d so easily and without question hand me something because I don’t feel like I deserve it. And–!” Roy flicked his eyes over your face, at a loss of what to say. You laughed from a lack of what else to fucking do. “The game last weekend, when you showed up and finally realised your worth as a coach, I almost missed it because I couldn’t take being back there without thinking how much I fucking miss it all. I’m pathetic–”

“No, you’re not,” Roy interjected hoarsely. 

You laughed again, on the brink of tears. “Yes, I am. Who does that? Who cries before a fucking game because they can’t handle being there? Me. I do that now, apparently.” 

Silence descended inside the Jeep. You finally took a breath, and when you did you realised what you’d done. You leaned back in your seat and faced the windshield, utterly embarrassed that you’d burst at the seams. 

“So,” you said smally. “That’s that.” You turned towards Roy again. “Is that what you wanted me to say?”

Roy stayed as quiet as a mouse. That wasn’t his style. Glued to his spot, Roy kept his gaze on you thoughtfully. He regarded the look on your face and noticed the subtle embarrassment on your brow; you hadn’t expected to cave so easily when questioned about what was wrong. 

He looked down at your hands in your lap. Your fingers shook subtly as they brushed across your knuckles in worry. Roy hated that you were worrying after being honest about something in your life. It was only him, he thought. Surely you should know that you could tell him anything and he’d listen.

“Sorry,” you blurted out. 

Roy huffed, speechless. “What the fuck are you sorry for?”

“I don’t know.” 

“Fucking–” Roy moved closer to you. “Come here.” 

His arms were around you in no time. You stayed stuck in place, stunned, for just a second, until you found yourself hugging him back so fiercely that you couldn’t have thougth of anything you needed more. It was funny. You could count on one hand how many times you and Roy had hugged, and none of them had been like this. 

You’d been close before, sure, in proximity and in more. You were close even now, despite counting the conversation you’d both had in November. Everyone on the outside seemed to think of Roy as someone who wasn’t hands-on. He liked his space, he didn’t like to pry or poke, yet here you were– the air being squeezed from your lungs because he’d made you open up for your own good– because he couldn’t think of anything better to show that he cared than to embrace you. 

Roy Kent cared so much that it was a wonder he had energy to do anything else. 

When the two of you parted, you couldn’t help but laugh. You stayed close, foreheads almost touching. Roy smiled at you genuinely, fully, thoughtfully. 

“No wonder you’re going mental,” he said lowly. “That’s a lot to hold onto without letting it out.”

That’s not even the half of it. You wanted to say, but you didn’t. 

“You’re not running in place behind us,” Roy continued. “You’re what keeps us all together. You’re the reason I went back to Richmond.” You didn’t say anything, just took in his words. “I didn’t go back just for the game, or the guys– I went back because I knew you’d be in the box, looking down at me on the pitch again.” 

Your throat closed slightly, as the urge to cry hit you. You swallowed it away, not wanting to burst again in such a short amount of time. “Well,” you whispered. “I’m glad.” 

For a fraction of a second, Roy’s eyes dropped to your lips. 

You’d been here before, you thought. You’d been here with him like this so many times that you couldn’t even count them off the top of your head. If you had time, a few minutes maybe, you’d be able to pinpoint every occasion where the word almost screeched within your mind. 

Almost there. Almost on you. 

Perhaps you’d never get beyond the proverbial almost, but this time felt different. Something had shifted recently. You felt it. Roy’s stares lingered for just a tad too long. Electricity buzzed between you even when you weren’t touching. The joy you’d felt when he’d arrived at the Dogtrack and finally caved in had been second to none. In hindsight, maybe jumping the wall of the home box and running down the steps in the stands to him had been too much. 

Roy didn’t think so. He’d relished you being close. His stomach had somersaulted as soon as you’d yelled his name. Secretly, he’d hoped you’d react the exact way you did. He’d done it for you, had he not? He’d come back to Richmond for you. 

Without realising, you and Roy had inched closer to each other so much that you both hovered over the centre console of his Jeep. Foreheads almost touching. Hearts almost caving. 

You’d been here before so many times. 

Roy swallowed without moving a muscle, ready to speak. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

Instantly, you crashed back down to earth. You sucked in a deep breath and straightened yourself, leaning back towards the passenger side window. You thought the worst. Was this an ‘I’m sorry, I can’t do this’? It had to be, surely. 

“Oh,” you let out, flustered. “Don’t apologise, don’t wo–”

“No,” Roy cut you off strongly, unexpectedly leaning closer. “I’m sorry for being a fucking idiot.” 

Time stilled. That word– that almost– lingered in the air like dust in the desert. Heavy, dry, suffocatingly warm. 

Roy’s expression grew to frustration as quickly as you’d both fallen to silence. “I thought I was doing the right fucking thing, stopping–” He gestured between you both, not able to find words. “I thought it would be better for you, to not get you mixed up in all my shit.”

The penny dropped. You squished your face into a hurt smile involuntarily. “It’s okay, Roy,” you said softly. 

“And worse yet,” he continued. “I’ve been a… a fucking arse. Not changing how I acted around you, or what I said, or what I did. I must have made everything ten times fucking worse for you.”

You shook your head immediately. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” Roy replied instantly. “It does matter. I never wanted to play with your fucking feelings or make what I did more difficult for you, but that’s exactly what I did.” 

“It’s okay,” you said. “It’s okay,” you repeated, just for good measure. 

Roy fell silent for a pause, taking in your words as if he really needed to hear them. In fact, you thought he really did need to hear them, straight from your mouth and no one elses. 

“You’re sure?” he asked, checked, wanted to make extra fucking sure. 

You nodded quickly. “I’m sure.” You smiled, trying desperately not to let the cropped up hurt on your face show through. That wasn’t on him; he hadn’t intended to damage you this way. 

“Okay.” Roy breathed out deeply, leaning back into the driver’s seat like the weight of the world had just been taken off his shoulders. “Thank fuck,” he whispered, before meeting your eye again. He smiled, accepting the silliness that one felt after being so vulnerable with someone else. “I really fucking need you, you know?” 

You laughed first, wanting to say so do I. Instead, you differed your response. “Of course, you fucking do. Who else is going to tell you what to do with your life?” 

Roy’s smile lit up all over his face. You remembered a time where you used to count how many times he looked at you like this; honest. Now, it was everyday. 

“Exactly,” he said. Gently, he stuck his hand out and laid it upon your cheek. “Fucking exactly.” His thumb swiped across your face warmly. You shivered immensely, but tried desperately to hide it. 

You glanced at the radio clock. Time ticked by, and you knew you had to leave this conversation soon. Innately, Roy knew it, too. 

“My mum’s coming to Richmond tomorrow morning,” you said softly. Roy’s hand stayed put. You didn’t mind. “I need to go and clean my flat, or she’ll start washing up mugs against my will.” 

Roy’s eyes flicked between your own. Affection seeped from within them, so far removed from when you’d first met. Slowly, he removed his hand from your cheek. His fingers skimmed your skin on the way back to his lap. “Okay,” he whispered; acceptance. 

Almost would stay the same. Almost had gone the furthest it had ever been.

You slung your bag over your shoulder. Roy unlocked the passenger side door with one button click. You gripped the handle strongly, but paused before you left for good. 

“Thank you for listening to me,” you said simply. “I mean– really listening to me.” 

Roy stayed still, not leaving your gaze for a second. “Always,” he said lowly. 

When the door to your building shut behind you, Roy was still reluctant to drive away. He watched as the light turned on from the window of your ground floor flat, saw your silhouette enter the living room– the room where he’d stood before a few times– and drop your bag to the floor in exhaustion. 

Roy drove away when your silhouette disappeared, the feeling of you still present on his fingertips. 

You didn’t tell anyone about Nate. You didn’t tell anyone that he’d warded you off or spoke ill of you supporting the team. Instead, you went to work. You encompassed yourself in your job, taking on extra responsibilities despite that being the one reason you felt spread thin. 

By Thursday, you were ready to crash. Your bed had been calling you every day, as soon as you disembarked from the train at Richmond tube station. Intentionally, you ignored texts from Rebecca and Keeley about times to rendezvous at Wembley Stadium. If they ever asked, you’d blame it on having too much of a heavy work week. That would be your out. 

Logically, you knew you wouldn’t be able to completely miss Richmond playing at Wembley. People would be expecting you there. The guys would be expecting you there. But, despite their cries and pleads for you to be present, you were prepared to keep them at arms length– for Nate’s sake. 

When Saturday came, you knew it would be hard for you to avoid everyone at the club. By ten o’clock in the morning, Keeley had already called you twice. By half past the hour, Rebecca had called you three times. 

On the fourth time she rang, you knew you had to pick up. 

“Darling,” she said quickly. “What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry,” you said (you lied), secluded in your flat. “This week has been insane. I haven’t been able to focus on anything that isn’t Pluto Press related.”

Rebecca made a guttural sound in her throat. “Bollocks!” she exclaimed. “I’ll send a car. It can be there in twenty minutes if need be.”

“It’s okay. I can get the tube. Don’t worry–”

“Oh,” Rebecca cut you off. Her tone switched instantly. “Actually, don’t worry about a car. I think someone is waiting for you out front.”

As if on cue, the horn from Roy’s Jeep sounded from your living room window. 

Quickly, you ran to the window. Between your sheer curtains, Roy’s obsidian black Jeep was stationed on the road by your front door. You couldn’t curse on your call with Rebecca, but by God– you wanted to. 

“Is that the cavalry coming for me?” you said down the phone, peeved. 

“Yes, it is,” Rebecca said smugly. “See you in an hour, darling.” She hung up the phone fast, so quick that you couldn’t give any excuse to get out of this match. 

Quickly, you gathered a bag of belongings and left your flat. Reluctantly, you descended the steps of your building and pulled the handle of the passenger side door of Roy’s Jeep. You settled quickly, without fuss, but words dangled in the air as soon as silence descended within the car. 

“Ready to go?” Roy said from the driver’s seat. 

“Yeah,” you breathed out. Roy didn’t push you, but he did push upon the accelerator and toward Wembley Stadium. 

Roy parked in the car park beneath the stadium, only for players or coaches, and killed the engine. 

You grabbed your bag quickly and left his Jeep, knowing what happens when you’re trapped inside with nowhere to go. The two of you made your way through the back entrance of the stadium. It was a miracle that Roy hadn’t asked what was wrong– you were being quiet and subdued, that was enough of a trigger for him to know something was up. 

You wondered if Nate had eyes on you. You wondered if he was watching you traverse the inner sections of Wembley, if he saw you freak out when going past the locker room, if he saw you retreat into yourself past the press rooms. 

Roy didn’t wonder. He kept his eyes on you through it all. 

Silence hung in the air uncomfortably as you passed office after office. These were the inner workings of a stadium; a world that you knew well, but nothing like that of the Dogtrack.

You finally broke the air. “I should really get to Rebecca and Keeley,” you said.

“And you will,” Roy said. “There’s just one stop we have to take first.”

Your heart stilled as soon as he turned to the right, entering into the final office on the long corridor you’d traversed. You were hit with the nervous gazes of Ted and Beard immediately, but you didn’t care for the way their expressions faltered softly—

You cared for the way Nate’s eyes bored into you with no remorse. At the back of the room, he glared at you ten times worse than he’d done the week before at the Dogtrack.

“Writer!” Ted exclaimed, filling the tension in the air with his enthusiasm. “Oh, thank God,” he added in a whisper. 

“Hi,” you said smally, accepting a hug from him suddenly. 

You hated this. As you removed yourself from Ted’s grasp, you could feel the steely eyes of one Nathan Shelley staring you down, like a child did to an ant before he crushed it with his shoe.

After you left Ted’s embrace, you stepped back so quickly that you almost tripped over Roy’s feet. He steadied you instantly, keeping his hand at your lower back.

“Well, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” Ted said, gaining some colour back on his face.

You laughed nervously. “I should really go and find Rebecca and Keeley. I shouldn’t be here.” 

“Poppycock!” Ted exclaimed. “You’re exactly what we needed. The guys are in the locker room just down there, why don’t you go and say—,”

“No!” you burst suddenly. 

The room went quiet instantly. Beard looked at Ted quizzically. You could feel Roy’s stare on the back of your neck.

“They need to focus,” you stuttered. “I should just go and find my seat.”

Nate stepped forward a few paces, coming between Ted and Beard silently. “I think that’s a good idea. Let her go and find her girlfriends.” 

You hated the way words fell from his mouth. You knew he had you exactly where he wanted you— uncomfortable, vulnerable, everything in between— but you were in no situation to open this can of worms with Ted, Beard and Roy. 

You gripped your bag on your arm tightly and turned to Roy. “I’ll see you on the pitch,” you said timidly. Quickly, and without thinking, you pressed a chaste kiss on Roy’s cheek, and left promptly.

You had no idea where you were going, but knew that you couldn’t stop as you made your way down the inner corridors of Wembley.

All you knew was that you needed to be where Nate Shelley was not, as soon as humanly possible. 

“Have a glass of wine,” Rebecca said sternly from the internal bar by the VIPs box. 

“I’m okay,” you said, keeping yourself contained.

Her smile turned to a frown. Oh, she knew you far too well for you to get out of this one.

“Take the fucking wine glass, darling.”

“Okay.” You took the glass of wine instantly and downed one, two, three gulps. You breathed out. “Oh, that’s better.” 

“Mhm,” she hummed, satisfied. 

“Sorry,” you said between gulps and sips. “It’s just been a long week.”

“I can see that,” she said, looking you up and down. “Are you sure that’s all it is? Your job?” 

Shit. She knew something else was up. They all fucking did, and it drove you insane. Innately, you cursed yourself out for being so well-known, so well-loved. You were surrounded by the people who knew you most in this world, but also by the people that didn’t want you around. It was a double-edged sword of inescapable proportions, and you were tired.

“That’s all it is,” you said, trying to adopt as much sincerity as you possibly could. 

Rebecca’s frown stayed put as her eyes roamed your face. Gently, she reached out her hand and ran her expensively manicured nails through your hair softly. 

“You’d let us know, wouldn’t you?” she said, and you froze with your wine glass to your lips. “You’d let us know if it was something else, too?” 

Keeley shoved a mini sausage roll in her mouth and approached you both quickly. “It’s Roy, isn’t it.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not Roy,” you groaned. 

“Then what is it!” Keeley exclaimed, launching pastry crumbs across the bar. 

Before you could respond, applause broke out from the crowd immensely. You gulped down the rest of your wine quickly and dropped the empty glass on a side table by the door to the stands. 

“That’s kick off,” you said, already on your way to take a seat.

The conversation went unfinished, as Rebecca and Keeley followed you out of the door towards the pitch. They didn’t attempt to pry during the game, too caught up in the song and dance of yelling chants for Richmond, of being present, of supporting.

You knew you’d dodged a bullet, as you screamed your lungs out from the stands. But, you knew your silence was on a time limit. If anyone would get something out of you, it was Rebecca and Keeley. 

And you knew it would only be a matter of time before they broke your silence (for the better). 

When the full-time whistle blew, you felt helpless. You could only imagine how the guys were feeling, knowing that they’d lost so spectacularly against none other than Manchester City. 

The person who your heart went out to the most, however, was not normal. It wasn’t Roy, it wasn’t Ted, it wasn’t even Sam or Isaac or Colin— it was Jamie Tartt. 

You knew he’d be hurting the most from this immense defeat. His old team, his past life, and at Wembley fucking stadium no less. He’d be in bits.

“Well,” Rebecca said, standing up and wrapping her scarf around her neck. “That’s that, then.”

“The guys will be crushed,” Keeley said sadly.

“Jamie will be crushed.” The pair of them looked at you as you spoke. Their sombre faces were enough for you to know that they agreed wholeheartedly.

“Come on.” Rebecca passed you and stepped out of the stands. “Let’s go and commiserate with them.”

You tensed instantly, watching silently as Keeley stood up and followed Rebecca. The two of them waited for you at the end of the row. 

“I should really head home,” you said finally, trying to keep your expression neutral. 

“What?” Keeley.

“Why on Earth do you need to leave now?” Rebecca.

“It’s just— I don’t want to crowd them, you know?” The pitch of your voice had risen. You sounded like a mouse, a lying, cheating mouse.

The two of them stared at you like you were mental. Neither said anything, their expressions spoke a thousand words for them— what the hell is up with you?

You faltered first. “Don’t look at me like that.” 

“Oh no, we absolutely will look at you like this,” Rebecca said threateningly. “What’s got your knickers in a twist? You look like a labrador that’s shit all over the carpet!”

“I really hope you haven’t shat on someone’s carpet, but if you have, you can tell us.” Keeley leaned down and laid a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“I haven’t shat on a fucking carpet!” 

“Then come on!” Rebecca exclaimed. “Your team needs you.” Her words stung you internally. “They need you.” 

Rebecca’s commanding nature jumped out tenfold. You were stuck at an impasse, between a rock and a hard place, whatever other metaphor you could use for being trapped. One side of your brain projected a sad picture of the guys in the locker room, begging for a friendly face to come and lift them up; and the other— Nate was glaring at you like you’d just done something terribly wrong. 

God, you hated this. No one knew the way he’d talked to you, or what he’d said. And the worst part was that you couldn’t tell them— wouldn’t— from how much drama it would create. 

Football was supposed to be your safe space. Watching matches with your girls, cheering or crying in the locker room with the guys, urging Ted, Beard and Roy on whenever you could.

Nate had taken that all away after one simple conversation. 

You didn’t know how to tell them no. If it was up to you, you would have sprung out of your seat and ran down to the locker rooms without any hesitation.

But, it wasn’t up to you. Nate’s words rattled around your mind like beads in a maraca. 

Rebecca sucked in a deep breath. She leant down and grabbed your hand swiftly, warmly. “We’re here with you. Whatever you need, we’re always here. But, those boys need us the most right now. You know them better than I do—,”

“And me! You know them better than me, too!” Keeley joined in supportively. 

“They don’t want us without you, and that’s a fact.” 

You let out a shaking breath, then nodded quickly. Nate would have to move to the fucking side.

“Okay.” You nodded again, strongly. “Okay— let’s go see our boys.” You stood up quickly, not letting go of Rebecca’s hand.

“Your boys,” Rebecca said sternly. “They’re all yours.”

Navigating the lower levels of Wembley was nerve wracking, you couldn’t lie. Scenarios raced through your head of things going terribly wrong; Nate stopping you in the corridor; Nate forbidding you from entering the locker room; Nate this, Nate that. 

Fuck this shit.

Rebecca was right. They were your boys, your team. You knew them on levels that didn’t revolve around football, you knew them as people. And by God, they needed that. This time, they needed someone to make them feel something other than defeated.

The corridors were clear when the three of you turned the corner to the locker rooms. Only a security guard stood at the door of Richmond, and he very easily let you all in when you approached.

You held your breath when you finally entered. The guys sat in their respective cubby holes sullenly, elbows on knees, heads in their hands.

You’d seen this before at Roy’s last game. Silence even deeper than when you both sat in the Dogtrack locker room alone littered the air at Wembley. You could only imagine what the guys were feeling, like history was repeating itself on so many levels for the team.

You caught eyes with Jamie first. He looked broken. 

Rebecca and Keeley headed towards the coaches, but you felt stuck in place by the door, frozen by the sad atmosphere in the room.

Roy saw you before you saw him. He strolled over slowly and reached out to grab your forearm. “Hey,” he said softly. 

You flashed back to reality and gazed up at him. “Hey.” Quickly, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders tightly. He clutched you back strongly, and you knew that he’d been needing a hug with the same fervour as yours. 

You didn’t need to say you were sorry. He’d probably heard it enough already. He knew you felt the sting of a loss this big just as much as he did.

When you went to pull away, he squeezed you tighter. Evidently, he wasn’t done just yet. 

“Well, guys,” Ted said to the room. Roy finally tugged away, but he kept a firm grasp around your waist as the two of you turned to listen to Ted’s address. “We lost. You don’t need me or anyone else to say it, because the look on your faces says it all.” Ted’s southern drawl felt like therapy. Within seconds, the team felt acknowledged, and that was all that mattered. “We all knew this was going to be tough, and for just a moment I want you all to forget the score, forget the goals and whatever else, and just think of how you all played like a proper team.” 

Ted had a way with words that you knew was the main reason his career was so vast. You didn’t know a thing about American football, but you knew that Ted was a stellar coach whether it was football or soccer in his eyes.

“You played as a team today,” Ted continued. “And sure, you’re allowed to be sad about the outcome, I’m not about to tell you you can’t feel that sting, but—.” Roy squeezed your waist. You wondered if he was doing it subconsciously. “But you all need to know that you were a unit today. One that has got us up through these ranks and back on the radar of the Premier League, even if the FA Cup wasn’t ours this time around.” 

His words settled over the room and brought back a sense of self to all the players. Next to you, Roy breathed out softly and in understanding. You could feel the tension within him dissipate ever so slightly. 

And then, that all went away. 

“Knock knock!” a voice sounded from the door to the locker room. A second later, a face you didn’t recognise turned the corner and into the room. “Awh no, sorry for the loss, lads,” he said, as your eyes darted quickly around the room, trying to find any semblance of familiarity. You found it in Jamie’s eyes instantly. “Though, not fully sorry. Because Man City fuckin’ won!” His Mancunian accent reverberated throughout the room.

You understood immediately, as you watched Jamie’s hands ball into fists. The rest of the team stayed back, as if glued to their cubbies. This was Jamie’s father. It had to be. 

Jamie’s dad pottered further into the room, towards his son. Jamie stood up as he did, sucking a deep breath into his tired lungs. “My boy, my boy. You bottled it didn’t ya?” 

Your entire body tensed as everyone observed, not saying a word. Jamie’s dad only kept coming, not paying any mind to the other players in the room. Roy’s grip on your waist tightened suddenly, as if he could feel your anxiety rising. You could feel the same from him; every muscle in his body tried desperately to hold back. 

Jamie’s father lunged towards his son’s face, so close that Jamie couldn’t look anywhere else. “You hear me, boy? You fuckin’ bottled it, didn’t ya?” he repeated. 

“Don’t speak to me that way,” Jamie said quickly, seething. 

“Wha?” his father faked not hearing him, getting even closer. 

“Do not speak to me that way,” Jamie repeated. His father looked up to his face, catching his eye lethally. 

Your gut lurched as his father kept going, kept repeating wha?, kept getting closer and closer to his boy’s face. This was vile, and you could hardly believe no one was doing anything.

“Wanna say that to me again, boy?” 

Jamie stood his ground, puffing out his chest to be bigger, straightening out his spine to be taller, and better, and whatever else he hadn’t learned from his shit-bag of a father. 

“Huh?” he said again, louder. “Huh!” he exclaimed. Alongside his voice, his hands bombarded into Jamie’s chest– hard.

Something within you snapped. Your chest compressed, your intestines warped, and your legs started moving. Roy’s grip disappeared from around your waist as you rushed forward, not giving a shit about the audience, or about the guys, or about Nate. Nate, who was standing behind Ted and Beard, saying and doing nothing. 

Inside, you stopped caring. You didn’t give a fuck if he hated you being around, you didn’t give a fuck if you’d get in trouble from this outburst, but you had to do something– anything. Jamie Tartt was being publicly abused by his father in front of your eyes, and you couldn’t fucking stand it. 

Maybe this is what Roy meant. You were the glue. You kept everyone together, you brought Roy back to the team. Maybe this is what you’d always been meant to do– protect these boys from whatever you fucking could, when they weren’t able to for themselves. 

As Jamie recovered, ready to strike, you were already one step ahead. In a fraction of a second, you were already beside his father, fist raised. When your knuckles hit his skin, you finally came back into the room. There were two crashes; one from the impact of your fist on his father’s cheekbone; the second from him hitting the floor unceremoniously. 

Quickly, Beard approached you and hoisted Jamie’s dad up by his armpits. The two of them backed out of the door, clambering over stray shoes and shirts and whatever else that lay on the floor. Without any warning, two large arms wrapped around you from behind and pulled you off the ground. You knew it was Roy as soon as you smelled his cologne. You smiled inappropriately, and then you chuckled to yourself deviously. 

You’d just punched Jamie’s piece of shit dad in the fucking face. 

And it felt fantastic. 

Clatters sounded from the outside corridor. Beard breathed heavily as he made his way back into the locker room, and the door slammed loudly behind him. The air felt heavy as eyes darted around the room. The guys looked at each other, then to Beard, then to you. Roy still held you tightly, dangling you above the ground as you tried your damned hardest not to burst into laughter. 

You couldn’t feel your hand. Your knuckles were red when you dropped your gaze to look. Your hand shook, finger bones stuck in place as they contemplated what their owner had just done– thrown a punch for the first time in her fucking life, and very haphazardly at that. 

When Jamie looked over to you, Roy finally dropped you to the floor. He leaned in close to your face, surveying your eyes suddenly. This was a look you’d never seen from him; fear. Roy Kent wasn’t one to be afraid, but the way his eyes poured into your own had your chest crumpling beneath your skin. He was worried– he was frightened– for you. 

“You ok?” he whispered. 

You nodded quickly. “I’m not the one you need to be asking that to.” Your gaze moved over to Jamie in a heartbeat. 

Roy stood up straight once more, puffing out his chest as he inhaled a deep, shuddering breath. He started walking without warning, fists balled, towards the Richmond striker. Everyone held their breath, knowing that him and Jamie together were not a good combination. You, however, smiled to yourself without question. 

When Roy reached Jamie, he wrapped his arms around him immediately. Coach and player hugged in silence, as the gravity of what Jamie’s father had just done stuck to every wall in the room. He needed this– hands on help, a real show of love and affection.

You were happy that Roy was the one to breach contact. That’s exactly what Jamie had needed. 

“You ok?” Roy asked him, pulling away from the embrace. 

Jamie breathed out slowly. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“It’s not me you should be thanking,” Roy muttered. 

Both men turned back to face you. You held your wrist with care, not wanting to jolt your now fucked up hand. You smiled at the two of them knowingly, as everything settled back into place. 

Behind you, Nathan Shelley grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. On the way out of the locker room, he rushed past you harshly. You yelped to yourself as he pushed into you, jolting your wrist painfully. He stopped before you for just a second; he smiled. Your heart skipped a beat. 

“Watch yourself there,” he said, in some kind of fake honey-toned pitch. Then, he turned on his heels and left the locker room as fast as he’d bumped into you. 

Another threat. What a fucking joke. 

Your face soured immediately, you couldn’t help it. Inside your head, you imagined a world where you’d told Roy all that Nate had put you through recently. You could see it clearly– his whole body would tense, his fists would ball, his nostrils would flare, and he’d yell I’ll show that little fucker! 

Deeper within the indulgent part of your mind, he kissed you passionately before he went to confront Nate on your behalf. You swallowed quickly, trying to pat away those thoughts from the unexplored crevices of your mind. It was futile. Besides, you knew you still couldn’t tell Roy about Nate’s behaviour, for the sake of the team. 

One day, rest assured, you would. When Nate left Richmond, or something else happened to change things around here, that’s when you’d lay it all out for him. 

You were counting down the days.

“Hey,” Roy said, alerting you back into the room once more. Stood before you, he looked down at your hand. His brows furrowed. “Hm,” he growled gently. 

“It’s fine,” you lied. 

Softly, Roy laid his fingers atop your red knuckles. A sharp pain bombarded through your flesh instantly, forcing you to suck in a gasp. The pain spread to the rest of your hand, down your fingers, and twinged into your wrist. You couldn’t help it– you had to scream. “Motherfucker!” 

“Just as I thought,” Roy said. “You’ve fractured the shit out of your hand.” 

You squirmed on the spot, trying desperately to alleviate the pain you felt. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you rattled off, purely as a way to expel what you felt. 

“Come on.” Roy bent down to the floor and picked up your bag, slinging it over his shoulder. “Let’s go to the physio.” You hardly heard him, too focused on your hand. Roy gently wrapped his arm around your shoulders, leading you out of the room. “See you in a bit, lads!” he exclaimed to the room. 

The two of you turned into the empty corridor ay Wembley, walking slowly as you tried to hold onto the last of your composure. 

“God,” you hissed. “Why the fuck did I punch Jamie’s dad?”

“Because someone had to,” Roy replied. “And besides.” He glanced at you unknowingly, as you remained preoccupied on your self-inflicted injury. “It was fucking hot.”

You groaned immensely, dropping your head onto Roy’s shoulder. “It doesn’t fucking feel like it,” you whined. Roy couldn’t help but smile. 

“Oh, believe me,” he said lowly, indulging in you being this close to him. “It was.” 

Roy held you all the way to the physio. Secretly, he’d never been happier that you’d decided to be so reckless. Perhaps, he thought, he was rubbing off on you just as much as you’d changed him for the better.

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[xanderisbraindead]

How to get the confidence to dress alternative in public: LONG POST {from a scene king!!}

I hear a lot of young teens online saying things along the lines of, “I would love to dress like that but I’m scared”. We’ve all been there, it takes bravery to step outside the box. Since 2020, there has been an uptick in alternative fashion, which makes things a little better, but it doesn’t mitigate the fear some people feel.

As someone who has been dressing alternative all throughout highschool and who I’d like to think has some 17 year old wisdom, this is how you can get the confidence to dress how you want. This can apply to other alternative fashion types like decora, punk, goth ect ect.

This post goes with a youtube video!! You can just watch it if you dont wanna read

Realize why you’re scared: Is it because you’re afraid of being different or picked on? Are you afraid of change? Do you think your friends/peers won’t care about you anymore? These are all valid reasons, and once you know why, you can start to tackle it. Change isn’t bad, everyone changes, change is natural. Look around at nature, seasons change, we grow and age, animals migrate and go through metamorphosis. You don’t have to be confined to one thing forever just because you weren’t born that way. As for the fear of being picked on, fuck those people. Do you know why people tease others? It’s because they’re insecure. Hurt people hurt people. When people see you being yourself and they wish they could do that, they take it out on you because in their heart, they’re jealous. You’re not the problem, they are. (If you’re afraid of being physically hurt, that is completely different and I would not advise putting your safety in jeopardy)

Start slow. While you’re still building your wardrobe, you can start slowly stepping out with small accessories and such. Add some kandi to your outfit or a tattoo choker. This is mainly to ease yourself into it. Big changes can be pretty scary and jarring, so easing into it can help you.

Have some role models. By this I mean, have people you look up to, people that are inspiration to you. Me? Some of mine here on tumblr are @xx-may4-malic3-xx , @xx-k1tsun3-k1d-xx , @xxdespairfactionashtonxx , @cigsnvalentines to name a few. Theres also some old scene queens, musicians, ect. Find whoever you want. I’m reccomending this, because when you see other people doing the same as you, it makes you go “if they can do it, so can I”. Most people probably wont even mind if you send them an ask about specific things (ik i dont, i love them).

Kinda the same point, but build a community. We have a pretty good community here on tumblr. Community is the backbone to everything. Ideally it would be someone irl, but not everyone is lucky enough to have cool irl friendz.

Fake it till you make it. Nobody has to know you’re scared but you. I’m not saying get super extroverted if you’re introverted and go around exuding confidence like a lazar beam. Dance in your mirror, hype yourself up. Take cool pictures and edit them, even if you don’t post them online. Learn to walk with your head up, again SLOWLY. As you start introducing more alternative elements into your wardrobe, wear them with pride.

Be the change you want to see. What I mean is if you want people to be kinder, you be kinder. Try to compliment someone every day. People actually aren’t as rude as you think, maybe I’m an optimist, but I think the average person isn’t terrible. Complimenting other people also makes you feel good, try it. Piggybacking off this point, don’t take things so personally. I know if can be easier to harp on the negative looks and comments you got versus the good ones, but you have to look past this. There are gonna be bad apples always, but their misdeeds can blind you from the people who think you’re pretty cool. Don’t let one bad apple ruin the bunch.

Lastly, realize being cringe is okay. Not just realize it, but internalize it. What even is cringe? Define cringe… Weird? Different? Everyone is different, everyone is weird about something. As I said earlier, some people are just too scared to be themselves. In 80 years when you’re old and looking back on your life, would you rather regret not being your authentic self, or think of all the fond memories of your life? Regret is one of the worse things in life, it’s terrible. There is nobody you can be but yourself. You’re you, so be you.

Remember that this is something that can take months or years. I feel like this past year and a half I have become fully confident in my fashion. I have been dressing alternative for 5 years for reference. I hope this could help someone.

If I wasnt clear on anything, feel free to send me an ask! Im more than happy to help!!

[buckrecs]

Hi!! Was wondering if you had recs for Bucky and reader fake dating??

Fake Dating / Marriage

masterlist | req masterlist

ONESHOT

Keeping Score by @all1e23

After hearing you begging Steve to pretend to be your fake boyfriend to keep your family off your back, Bucky quickly jumps at the chance to play your boyfriend even though you’re a hundred percent sure he hates you. What could possibly go wrong?

the right partner by @bucky-bucket-barnes

You and Bucky have always possessed a complicated history, and even more strained relationship with one another. Begrudgingly, you're sent out on a mission with Barnes where you two are posing as a newly wed couple. In an effort to investigate the consistent disappearance of young women in a certain neighborhood, you find yourselves forced to confront a whirlwind of emotions.

Suburbia by @wkemeup

Posing as husband and wife, you and Bucky infiltrate a quaint suburban neighborhood in search of a Hydra hacker. Perhaps if you weren’t so in love with him and he hadn’t broken your heart, the act of pretending wouldn’t hurt so much.

where do we go from here by @barnesafterglow

when you agree to be bucky's date for his sister's wedding - and his fake girlfriend for the weekend - you're expecting a good time with your best friend. but things may never go back to normal

Fake It Till You Make It by @buckyalpine

Fake dating solves everything… right?

A Little Longer by @buckyalpine

It’s just a little lie.

Crossing The Line by @jadedvibes

After your friends set you up on a blind date with your sworn enemy, you both drunkenly decide to mess with them by making a bet to see who can pretend to be a happy couple the longest.

annoying neighbors and fake boyfriends | 2 by @lovelybarnes

“You stayed over at my place one night but my nosy, annoying neighbour saw you leave. They always get on my case about being single so I told them that we’re dating to show them”

Undercover by @buckysknifecollection

You and Bucky go on an undercover mission, where you need to pretend to be married. You are close to solving the case when Bucky decides he’s done pretending.

Make Believe on Christmas Eve by @green-eyeddragonfanfiction

When your family insists you bring your [nonexistent] long-term boyfriend over for Christmas, you panic. You hadn’t expected to be put in this situation; you never thought you’d actually have to bring “him” over.

Stop flirting with the staff by @writingsoftheloser

You and Bucky go undercover to stop the sale of a very important device.

The Karen’s of the World by @espinosaurusrexex

Aunt Karen is possibly the worst person you know. So when her annual Independence Day party arrives, you try to give her as little reason to pick on you as possible. Not being single for once should cover most of the topics she complains about. So you ask your friend Bucky to play pretend.

Tis the damn season by @starrysebastians

On the first post-blip Thanksgiving, you find yourself having to reunite with your parents and your heart is not in it — Sam persuades you to take Bucky with you, and this might be an opportunity for you two to get to know each other.

SERIES

The Holiday Hack by @gogolucky13

You ask Bucky to be your stand-in boyfriend for your family’s Christmas party.

Breaking The Rules by @redgillan

You hate James Barnes with a burning passion and the feeling is entirely mutual. Just when you think things can’t get any worse, you are tricked into attending his sister’s wedding as his girlfriend. Stuck with a bunch of strangers, you come up with a set of rules that are not going to last long.

Best Boyfriend You’ve Ever Had by @language-rxgers

When you find out your sister is getting married and expects you to bring a date to her wedding in two months, you panic, having not gone on so much as a coffee date with a guy in far too long. After all, being an Avenger doesn’t leave too much time for a life outside of work. So, when your best friend, none other than the James Buchanan Barnes himself, offers to pretend to be your boyfriend and plus one, how can you refuse? It seems like something that would come out of a movie. However, real life is never like the movies, and stories like this never go as planned.

Stepping Up by @i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend

When Steve can’t go with you to your cousin’s wedding, he sends Bucky in his place. What happens when more than one person assume you’re dating? 

Picture Perfect by @writingsoftheloser

When Steve asks his collegue to be his fake girlfriend, she accepts, thinking nothing could really go wrong. Then, she meets Steve’s best friend.

-> this is not bucky and reader fake dating but it’s one of my favorite fics so I included it!

Worst Idea Ever by @firefly-in-darkness

Wedding Season is brutal as it is but throw in two friends that decide to be each other’s plus ones and a mixed bag of feelings, what's the worst that could happen?

Heart to a Gunfight by @lailannajacobs

You didn’t want to help Bucky Barnes make it through the party by pretending to be his fake girlfriend, after all, you had just met him. You also didn’t plan on the charade lasting as long as it did. 

am i more than you bargained for? by @morsmordre-writes

Bucky has an unwanted secret admirer, so naturally you pretend to be his girlfriend until it blows over. Will someone catch feelings? Will they be absolute idiots about it all? Will they live happily ever after? We may never know.

Almost Had Me Believing It by @tuiccim

An undercover operation playing Bucky Barnes' wife is a dream come true. Playing house in the suburbs while trying to take down a drug ring brings you and Bucky closer but a nosy neighbor causes trouble in paradise.

A Certain Romance by @wienerbarnes

With the threat of yet another bad date at the result of Sam Wilson’s meddling, Bucky’s desperate to find a solution. As are you, another victim to Sam’s failed matchmaking. The two of you come up with a genius plan: pretend to date each other in order to escape the poking and prying nose of the Falcon.

The Proposal by @toomanyrobins2

Y/N Arnaud is the liaison to the Avengers, but she’s also a French citizen. After a couple mistakes, her visa application is denied. Even though they can’t stand each other, Bucky offers to marry her in order to keep her visa status in the U.S. and avoid deportation.

Follow My Lead by @ciarawritesmarvel

You and your new friend Wanda are enjoying a day together at the Avengers Tower, her giving you a tour around the place when you both run into the infamous Bucky Barnes. Moments later, he’s introducing you to Sam as his girlfriend and placing a kiss on your temple and you’re not sure you’ve ever been so confused in your life.

Where Dreams Go To Die by @insomniumstella

[cheolhub]

YOU GET ME SO HIGH — VERNON CHWE ࿐

summary. smoking with your best friend (who you totally don’t have a crush on) is super fun till all you can think about is him… well, doing him, to be more specific.

wc. 6.2k

warnings. recreational marijuana use!!, dubcon (kinda? sex while high), bf2l + idiots to lovers, kinda fluffy!! weed is referred to as ‘green crack’ several times lol, fingering, hehe big d!ck!vernon, mentions of masturbation, unprotected sex, pet names (baby), brief tit worship, naked confessions, vernon is kinda shy, jealous, nervous & rlly likes boobs and reader is v needy lol <3— MINORS DNI 18+

note. havent seen anyone write for vernon in like 3 years so here’s my lowkey cringey, poorly-written, self-indulgent fic that i was supposed to post for his birthday 2 months ago ++ guest appearance from weed dealer!cheol bc yeah :3

if you had told vernon that his best friend was someone he’d met in a biology lab–one that he was accidentally put into his freshmen year– he’d say you were a liar. nonetheless, it’s true– you’re his best friend and you have been for years now. in your fourth and final year of university, you still sit on the balcony of your apartment with him like you have every other day for the past three.

“happy birthday, vernon,” you smile cheekily, passing him a snack-size ziplock baggie. “i got you an eighth since you’re always begging to smoke my shit.” 

he laughs and gives you a lazy smile, “Y/N, my birthday was over two months ago… plus, you know you didn’t have to get me anything.”

you scoff, rolling your eyes, “hansol vernon chwe, you are my best friend, of course i had to. and… i was waiting for a few of my checks to hit, that's why it’s a belated birthday gift.” you take his hand, placing the bag into it. “now take it and don’t smoke it all in a day, got it?”

he nods, eyes softening, “thank you,” he says. “must’ve cost your broke ass a fortune, though, so next time– don’t get me anything.”

you giggle at the joke that’s actually, not really a joke. “i really don’t think you have any room to speak– who here has a real job?” 

he rolls his eyes, “my job is real, thank you very much.”

you chuckle, shaking your head. “reselling limited edition vinyls for seven times what you bought them for isn’t a job, vernon, that’s called being a dick.” you tell him. “and actually, the prices weren’t too bad. cheol gave me a discount.”

vernon almost visibly clenches at the name of your awfully-sweet dealer. though he can attest, cheol is only ever sweet to you. every time he’s bought from your favorite supplier, he’s been a total asshole and upcharges him for no reason which is one of the basis’ why he’s always smoking your stuff. you always tell him it’s karma for selling records at such a high price, but vernon begs to differ. he knows that cheol just doesn’t like him and he has a gut feeling that it’s because of you. 

“oh yeah? how’d you get him to do that?” he asks, but he’s pretty sure he knows the answer. the answer being cheol has a thing for you.

you bite your lip, looking over your apartment balcony. “mmm, he showed up here while i was… you know…playing around…and…”

vernon knows you well enough to finish your sentence for you. “masturbating?”

“vernon, be modest!” you whine, hiding your face in your hands. “you knew, you didn’t have to say it!” 

he chuckles, “it’s normal, Y/N, we all do it. no need to be embarrassed over it.”

it’s true. everyone does it. but not everyone masturbates thinking about their best friend. he thinks that might just be him. 

“yeah, but you’ve probably never done it thinking you’d be finished before your hot drug dealer shows up at your apartment.” you blush. vernon doesn’t say anything for a while and you’re afraid you’ve made him feel uncomfortable (even though he claims you never have). you bite the insides of your cheeks before uttering, “can you pack a joint or something?”

truthfully, vernon doesn’t mean to be so quiet. he’s just trying to imagine you in that state without letting his dick get hard, though it’s proving to be extremely difficult. you probably looked so pretty in cute short shorts and a shirt that you could see your nipples through. or worse, you were wearing a tank top that was snuggly wrapped around your torso where you could see everything. he wants to be a gentleman, wants to be respectful… but, god, your tits are out of this world.

he hums trying to rid the dirty images in his head, taking your box of goods to grab the grinder and paper cones. “finish your story.” he urges.

you look at him, searching for signs of discomfort, but there is only that stoic look he always wore. with a sigh, you continue, “anyway, i was… you know… and he texted me and said he was here– i was a mess–”

he can imagine.

“–and i think he could tell ‘cuz when i got down to his car i was so disheveled and was about to start crying. i literally looked like i got edged or something,” you mumble, twiddling your thumbs out of embarrassment.

you’re painting a picture for vernon and he has to bite back a groan. 

it’s not the first time you and vernon had talked about sexual things. there had been several conversations on the topic. he knew almost everything about you except for… you know… what you tasted like and how tight you are– his vivid imagination couldn’t give him all of those pleasures. 

“and, vernon, i kid you not, he literally knew. he was all smug and shit,” you groan. “it was kinda humiliating.”

you remember how much wetter you’d gotten the moment you slipped into his car. he was calling you all types of things– all types of pretty pet names–and you’re genuinely surprised it didn’t escalate further because the sexual tension was heavy.

“and then i told him i wanted a quarter– an eighth for me and an eighth for you– and he told me he’d give me a special strain of sativa for half the normal price.”

vernon’s eyes widened, “half the price?”

“that’s what i said!” you exclaim. “pretty sure it’s because he could see my tits… i wasn’t wearing the best outfit …”

of-fucking-course he could see your tits. vernon holds back a groan, seeing as his suspicions about you in a tank top that night was right. instead, he chuckles airly. “now who needs to be modest.”

“stooop, just grind the weed.” you cry. 

vernon does as you ask, muttering, “maybe he laced it.”

“cheol wouldn’t, i’m pretty sure he just likes me.” you humbly reply, shooting daggers at your best friend for even suggesting that. “plus the strain was called ‘green crack’ or something like that… it was from the ‘st. patty’s day special.’”

“saint patrick’s day was like 4 weeks ago.”

“well then he was either trying to get rid of it or my tits must’ve made him feel generous.” you joke, giggling a bit at vernon’s poker face.

vernon is hiding it really well, but he’s filled with so much annoyance. your stupid dealer doesn’t deserve to see you like that. hell, vernon doesn’t even think he deserves to see you like that, but, fuck, he wants to. so badly. seeing you all hot and bothered with your tits on full display would be a dream come true. 

“would you fuck him for free weed?” he asks all of a sudden, making you blush furiously. he knows now that he doesn’t want to hear your answer when your mouth parts in shock. 

“vernon! what kinda girl do you take me for?” you put your hand over your chest as if it’s something you wouldn’t do. you break your facade when he gives you a knowing look, mouth cracking into a grin. “probably, i dunno. he’s kinda scary but i feel like he knows how to please a woman– i can’t say the same about a lot of other men.”

he internally rolls his eyes. cheol doesn’t know you the way he does. vernon could please you, he knows he can. 

he switches the subject back to the packed joint in his hands to keep from spiraling. “wanna spark it?”

you shake your head with a hum, “mmh-mmh, belated birthday boy gets the first few hits.”

he smiles, pulling the joint to his lips taking the lighter, igniting it with the pressure of his thumb. he lets the flame burn carefully through the paper, inhaling a large rush of smoke. he holds it in for a bit before he blows it out– away from your face– creating a white, potent-smelling cloud.

you reminisce while watching him. your balcony is like home to you and vernon. contrary to your neighbor's beliefs, smoking isn’t the only thing you do. you laugh and cry and talk for hours about people you hate and people you love. sometimes, you’ll do homework out here and when vernon is bored at his own place, he’ll come over to yours to keep you company. he provides a comforting presence and never-ending encouragement while reminding you to take breaks.

 it’s where you told him about your puppy crush on soonyoung from your statistics class and it’s where he told you about how he awkwardly lost his virginity to a girl during orientation week. it’s where the two of you are always together– it’s kinda like your place.

and watching him after all these years, you’ve never really realized how attractive your best friend was. well, that’s a lie. you’ve always thought vernon was likely one of the prettiest men to ever walk the earth, but if you truly admitted that, then you’d have to admit to the other things. things like how kind and considerate he is and how he’s boyfriend potential and how you totally don’t have any type of feelings for him whatsoever. it’s not a crush, you constantly have to remind yourself, it’s admiration for your best friend. there’s a difference.

but those admirable traits are things you can’t think about because he doesn’t see you that way. there’s no reason why you should see him that way if it’s not reciprocated. it only makes sense and prevents brutal rejection from the most perfect man on earth, aka your best friend. 

but your not-crush manifests itself sometimes. like when he smiles at you or when he randomly places his headphones over your head and tells you to “listen to this song” or when he spends the night in your bed because he’s too lazy to drive home. it gets harder and harder to hide every day. 

he passes the joint to you with an even lazier grin and you take it, parroting his actions. you let the smoke fill your lungs, hold it there, and exhale, shutting your eyes just as he did. 

and vernon thinks you look like a goddess. how could you make a simple action seem so attractive?

you take your hits, passing the joint back and forth till it suddenly hits you. all at once, you feel your body start to ache, your tummy flipping in anticipation, your mind fogging over leaving your entirety to buzz. you shift a bit and you feel your cunt dampen causing you to let out a sharp exhale.

“you good?” vernon asks, his deep voice filling your ears.

then you look at him. like… actually look at him. his face is a bit tired, his eyes red from the weed coursing his system, and his hair a bit disheveled from running his hand through it too much (this is why he wears the beanies)-- nevertheless, he looks fucking fantastic. 

your usual munchies are replaced with strong, burning sexual desire. just at the sight of your best friend, your pussy is soaking through your panties and your shorts.

“‘sol,” you murmur out the nickname. “do you feel… different?” you ask, eyes fluttering and lips parting.

you’re truly unaware of how seductive you look and how it’s slowly taking years off his life. vernon has been rock hard in his sweats for a solid 15 minutes now. and, yes, he feels extremely different. turned on to say the very least. 

“mmm, a little,” more like a lot. “maybe it’s the strain you got,” he mumbles, implying what he had said earlier was true.

it makes sense that cheol provided you with a strain that feels like you’re smoking a fucking aphrodisiac, but you’re starting to wish you were alone so you could at least do something about it. 

for a split second, you think you might be fine, then you’re hit with yet another wave of arousal, your core pulsing at the ideas that are incessantly popping into your head. ideas of him taking you right now, sitting on his face, sinking onto his cock– it’s too much. 

“vernon,” you say breathily and he freezes, pulling the joint away from his lips. “i… i think…”

you try to think about how to kick him out kindly so you can have some much-needed alone time, but you can’t– you can only think about having alone time with him. alone time that leads to shoving his hand down your pants. 

stop, you tell your hazy brain.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” he asks, scooting closer to you. 

his scent floods your senses– a mix of weed and his cologne causing sensory overload in your poor brain and aching core. 

he’s internally worried that you’re greening out. though it doesn’t happen as much as it did when you first started smoking, there are rare occasions when you take more than you can handle. 

“c-can… you do me a favor?”

“‘course, anything.”

“vernon… it… i…need your help.” you whimper, leaning into him. “please…feels like ‘m gonna die.”

you’re being dramatic. 

he furrows his brows in confusion, panic becoming apparent on his features. “what hurts, Y/N? how can i help you?”

you take his hand in yours, slowly guiding him to the ache in your body. you gasp when his warm fingers come in contact with your clothed cunt. “here… it hurts here.” you exhale.

vernon has definitely lost it. his hand is between your thighs and your smaller one has moved to tightly wrap around his wrist. you’re a mess– he can feel it. he can feel the warmth radiating from your core, he can feel how you’ve soaked through your panties and how it’s seeped through the thin pair of shorts. he’s holding his breath and he fears he may pass out before getting a chance to touch you like you deserve. 

“y-you’re not in your right mind, Y/N,” he whispers, afraid his voice may betray him. “you smoked too–”

“uh-uh, it’s okay– vernon, it’s okay, i want you… please,” you whimper, grip around his wrist tightening as you buck your hips slightly for more friction. 

you want him. you… want him. 

“but–”

you’re growing frustrated, “if you won’t… then i-i think you should go ‘cuz i need… i need to be alone.”

vernon takes this as an implication that you need to fuck yourself if he won’t fuck you and he’ll be damned if he’s not the one making you see stars. 

so, he asks one more time, “Y/N… are you sure?”

“yes… yes, ‘m sure. ‘m so sure, please, ‘sol,” you beg, using the nickname that makes him fold every time. 

he doesn’t hold back, putting out the joint in his hand and leaving it in the ashtray. his now-free hand cups your cheek, pulling you in for a kiss. you moan, eagerly allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth as your hands needily fist at his shirt. 

despite having smoked, vernon’s lips are soft. softer than the lips of men you’ve kissed before. and he still tastes good even with the pungent lemony flavor lingering on his tongue– overwhelmingly good. it seems that he’s just as eager and turned on as you are, too, nearly devouring you whole. you can’t help but fall in love with the heated, now-sloppy kiss.

and vernon truly feels like he’s died and gone to heaven. he’s not sure if this is even real or if the weed has him hallucinating… it wouldn’t be the first time, but you biting down on his bottom lip has him coming back to earth and lets him know that you’re real. that you are very much real and very much grinding on his fingers desperately. 

“vernon,” you pant, pulling him closer by the shirt in your grip. “please, more— feels good, but i need more.” your hazy eyes look into his and you see how they’ve darkened.

“fuck, Y/N,” he groans and his voice has you clenching around nothing. “we need to go inside…”

you’re both sure that this might ruin your relationship, but you decide it’ll be a problem for tomorrow. right now, all either of you can think about is getting off on each other. 

that’s why you’re quick to stand on your feet, holding out your hand for him to take. when he stands, grunting, you pull him into your apartment and leave all of your goods on the balcony without a second thought. 

you drag him to your room before attacking him with another kiss and pulling at the ends of his shirt. you’re a bit disoriented, swaying and stumbling over your steps, but when your legs hit the bed and you nearly fall, vernon’s quick to catch you by the waist. 

“careful,” he murmurs, gently laying you on the plush mattress. you scoot to the head of the bed, laying on your back as you wait for him. 

he takes your expectant face as a sign to remove his clothing and he does so quickly, knowing how impatient you are at this very moment. his shirt comes off and then his sweats, leaving him in boxers where his bulge becomes… apparent.

you have to hold your breath at the dizzying sight of his naked torso and the massive tent in his underwear.

you make grabby hands at him, urging him to come take care of you on the bed. he obliges, getting on your bed, hovering over you while his own head spins. he’s truly unsure if this is actually his real life or if he’s having a dream sent from the gods above. 

he decides not to wait any longer, taking control of the situation by placing his lips on your heated neck. his lips trail down, leaving sloppy, wet kisses on your skin, reveling in how you desperately whimper for him though he’s barely doing anything. 

his hands reach for the hem of your loose top– one that might actually be his– pushing it up and tugging it over your head and arms, leaving your chest bare before him. he groans before diving to your tits, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples, sucking and tugging at the bud hungrily. 

you gasp at the sight. you’ve never seen vernon so eager to do anything in the time you’ve known him and now he’s making out with your tits as if it were his last day on earth. 

that’s hot, you think to yourself. so hot– you’re so fucking hot right now.

you can’t see it, but you feel his hand come down to your sleep shorts, digging in past the elastic band of both the satin fabric and your cotton undies. his fingers dip into your lips, running them through your soaked folds. 

“you’re so wet.” he hisses. 

you whine at the contact, apologizing softly, “‘m sorry– can’t help it.” 

his fingers find your hole, circling it before easing two of them inside. “don’t apologize, baby. it’s really hot.” he whispers, the pet name slipping past his lips without completely registering. 

you clench and moan at the domestic name. “fuck, ‘sol,” you whimper. “a-again… call me that again…”

his face burns, whispering out, “you like when i call you ‘baby?’” 

knowing vernon, it was meant to sound like a genuine question, but being in the state you’re in, it sounds so seductive… so enticing that it has your back arching. you nod your head, an even darker blush falling over your already-red cheeks. 

you let out a clipped, “yes.” and he just moans, thrusting his fingers in and out faster, digits stretching your tight, gummy walls out to prepare you for his cock. 

he wonders how you could be so tight because, holy fuck, you’re squeezing around his fingers like you’re trying to trap them in there. 

you whine softly, “vernon, please give me more…”

he definitely just fucking died. 

his cock twitches uncontrollably in his boxers, begging to be set free, but he decides to give you another finger instead. vernon knows he’s… a bit on the bigger side, and judging by how you feel right now, there’s absolutely no way he’ll easily fit inside of you. the last thing he wants to do is hurt you. 

so he slowly pulls his hand out of your shorts and helps you out of them. he throws them to the side and has you spread open. he huffs at the sight before taking three of his fingers back to your hole. he pushes them in gently, groaning at the tighter fit. your moans are bouncing off the walls and vernon looks up to see your mouth hung open with your head thrown back against your pillow. 

he checks on you, throat dry at the sound, sight, and feeling of you. “i-is… are you doing okay?” and when you just whine, he bites the inside of his cheek anxiously. he remembers your fondness for the pet names from a few minutes prior, so he tries again. “baby… does it feel good?”

and he’s not sure what to expect, but when your body jolts and your hand's fist at the sheets, you get even tighter, clenching around his fingers desperately. you really do have an affinity for being called ‘baby.’ 

your brain is jumbled, intoxicated from the weed and his fat fingers stretching your cunt open. “‘m okay… f-feels so good.” you tell him breathily with a whine bubbling in the back of your throat at the feeling of his fingers pushing further into you. “fuck, vernon– it’s so good.”

and it’s true, you don’t think you’ve ever experienced pleasure this intense before, but you remember your senses are heightened by 10 because of the drug. that ‘green crack’ is insane.

he moans at the confirmation, curling his fingers up and fucking your messy cunt, the palm of his hand bumping against your clit with every thrust. he feels a rush of your honeyed arousal soaking his fingers and he swears he might cum before he can even get his cock in you. 

you gasp loudly when you feel his pace quicken, eyes squeezing shut. an array of mewls and high-pitched whines shamelessly slip past your lips. “oh! fuck, i’m close, i’m so close, vernon.” you warn, wet walls clamping around his curled fingers.

he exhales sharply, voice low when he urges you, “cum for me, baby.”

his voice and harsh thrusts are more than enough to throw you over the edge, stomach knots unraveling. you gush all over his big fingers, pussy pulsing as it’s doing its best to push his digits out, but he continues his ministrations to work you through your blinding orgasm.

feeling you cum may have been the best thing life has offered him. 

“fuck, that’s it– are you okay? did that feel good?” he asks breathily, pulling out his fingers, a string of arousal connected to your hole following them out. he bites his lip at the sight, keeping a moan bottled up. he wants to taste you so bad… and the cum on his fingers taunt him. 

you nod your head, still panting, “w-was so good, y-you’re really good… don’t usually cum that fast…”

“really?”

you shake your head, “t-told you that guys don’t really know what they’re doing most of the time.”

he shakes his head in disapproval, “well… you deserve the best.” 

“... like you?” your heart races and the weed from earlier still lingers like a cloud over your brain. you look at him, the soft light from the moon illuminating his flawless skin. your eyes trail down his torso, eyes landing on the big bulge in his boxers again. 

he chokes, masking the sound with a nervous chuckle, “me? i-i’m not…no.” your eyes widen, realizing you’ve completely misread him, feeling panic flood your body. you quickly shut your legs, arms coming to cover your bare chest. 

he’s quick to notice that you’re starting to spiral, though, so he re-registers what you said and then what he said and his eyes widen, too. his words come out rushed as he attempts to do damage control. “no! not no, as in i don’t see you in that way, but no because you deserve the best and…”

“but… you are the best, ‘sol…” you tell him softly, hugging yourself tighter. “and before you say anything, the weed is wearing off– think you finger-fucked it out of me,” you joke to lighten the mood, but when you see he’s still frozen, you internally cringe at yourself, continuing. “i’m being serious. i’m in my right mind and i’m telling you that you’re the best because you are. you always have been.”

he shudders nervously, “Y/N… don’t.”

you frown at him, turning your head away to look at your window instead, mentally face-palming yourself. “did i make it awkward again?” you ask nervously. you don’t even wait for his response, continuing your anxious ramble. “can you just forget i said anything? and that i made you do this? i…i don’t wanna lose you– i never want to lose you.” you whisper. “you’re my best friend.”

he shakes his head incessantly as if he’s trying to tell you something with the simple action, but you aren’t even looking at him, so he takes a deep, shaky breath. “no, you didn’t make me do anything. i just mean don’t say things like that if you don’t really like me because i…” he trails off and you turn back to look at him, concerned by his sudden halt. “Y/N, i… like you. so much. i have for forever now, but you were always talking about soonyoung or cheol and then there was that whole thing with that pretentious art kid– minghao, i think– i dunno.”

what!?

you look at him incredulously, eyes wide and lips parted in genuine shock, “why didn’t you tell me…?”

he sighed, hands coming to rest on your thighs. “it seemed like i never really had a chance… you’re my best friend, too… and i didn’t want to lose you either.”

you sit up, exclaiming, “but you’ve liked me this entire time and i didn’t even know?!”

he gives you a small grin and a shrug, “what can i say? i’m discreet.”

you scoff, sitting in silence for a few seconds before opening your mouth again. with your voice meek, you say.“i wish you would’ve told me.” you inhale sharply, continuing to hug yourself tightly. “i like you, too, you know… i just didn’t think you liked me back so i tried to not like you– which is really hard, by the way, because you’re annoyingly pretty.”

“sorry, i’ll try to stop being so pretty.”

you playfully slap his bare chest, “i actually hate you so much.”

he jokingly sulks, placing a hand over where you hit him. “aw, baby, you just said you liked me.”

you shudder, body naturally leaning into him as your mind gravitates back to your not-so-innocent thoughts. “i do… and i’d like you a little more if you kept calling me that.”

his breath hitches as you get closer and closer, “yeah?”

“mhm…”

he whispers against your lips, a cheeky smile on his, “you’re such a baby.”

“you’re so mean,” you hum, letting your lips graze his. “am i not your baby?”

he rests his forehead against yours and looks into your eyes for any sign of playfulness. you seem to be serious so he asks, “is that what you want?” he’s nervous you can hear the way his heart is about to pound out of his chest. 

“duh… idiot.”

“okay, cool.” he says nonchalantly even though he’s internally freaking out. “you’re my baby.”

your heart skips a beat and your cunt dampens again at the title, “okay, cool.” you parrot casually as if your heart wasn’t about to lurch out of your chest. “you can… kiss me. if you want…”

vernon utters a soft ‘right’ before finally closing the gap between the two of you. his lips mold to yours and you know for a fact that there is no one else on earth you’d want to kiss. his big hand comes to cup your cheek and you melt under the touch, mouth opening for him to slip his tongue into. 

naturally, the kiss heats up and before long, you’re whining into his mouth, hand blindly reaching for his clothed cock. he groans the second you find the aching hard-on, nimble hands stroking him through his boxers. 

“Y/N,” he pants breathily in between kisses. “are you… sure you wanna… do this?”

you think it’s sweet that he keeps checking on you, and sure, you’re still a bit fuzzy from the after-effects of the ‘green crack’, but you need him to give you what you want. so you nod, breaking from the kiss to lay back in your original position under him. 

“please fuck me, baby,” you beg in the most sultry voice you can conjure up. when he stays frozen, you pout. “hansol, please.”

he curses, quickly getting his boxers off and revealing the prettiest dick you’ve ever seen. precum beads at the slit of his flushed tip and prominent veins run through the length. he’s so big, surely enough to have you see stars. you’re starting to feel grateful that he prepped you because his dick would have completely ruined you without it.

“‘s big.” you simply state, bottom lip finding sanctum in between your teeth as you gawk at it. 

“you think so?” he gives you a wobbly smile, stomach-churning at the subtle praise. he moves in between your thighs and spreads you out for him. “is it okay?”

you blush, nodding your head, “mhm, don’t worry,” you tell him. “i’ll let you know if i need you to stop.” 

he nods, huffing softly, “do you have any condoms?”

you chuckle breathily. “not for your size… but it’s okay, i’m clean and safe. you don’t need one. you can pull out if it makes you feel better.”

his throat runs dry– fuck, fuck, fuck. he’s fucking you raw?! how the hell is he supposed to last hitting it raw?! you were already tight around three of his fingers and he can’t even imagine how you’d feel wrapped around his cock.

he realizes he hasn’t replied in a few seconds when you say his name softly. he sees you growing restless under him and he apologizes and nods again dumbly. 

he runs his tip through your folds, moaning when he finds you’re just as wet as you were earlier. he aligns himself with your leaky hole, slowly pushing himself inside of you with a groan to find that you’re still so fucking tight.

you’ve found that, despite vernon’s laid-back and chill personality, he’s quite loud in bed. he’s nothing like you expected and you’re pleasantly surprised. 

when his cock slides in between your tight walls, the both of you are instantly a mess, panting and moaning in pleasure. your walls envelop him so snugly that you fear the thick veins that adorn his length will imprint into them.

“fuck, vernon.” you moan, praying the burn in your pussy melts to pleasure soon so he can fuck you the way you want it. the way you need it. . “your cock.”  

he hisses, pushing in past the resistance. “you feel so good, baby, oh my god.” he grunts, head falling back at the way you hug him. “god, i’ve wanted this for so long– wanted you for so long.”

you cry, clenching around his girth because, god, you’ve wanted him, too.

when he finally bottoms out, you both pause to take erratic breaths, positively going feral over each other. he attempts to recollect himself and check up on you again. “are you–”

you don’t even let him finish, nodding your head vigorously. “yes, vernon, just need you to move, please.” you plead. “need you to fuck me– please, need it so fucking bad.”

you’re so needy for him and he knows it’s because of the last bit of weed that looms, but he can’t help but wonder if you’re like this on a normal day. if you’re always begging for a cock to fill you up. not that it would matter– he’d do anything you asked of him. you’re so fucking pretty to him and his brain is constantly yelling at him to cater to every single one of your wishes. the chokehold you have him in is so tight. 

tight like your pretty cunt that’s now gracefully swallowing his cock with every thrust of his hips. your room is full of panting, moans, and the lewd squelch of your wet pussy taking him. it sounds better than any song he’s ever heard and, if he’s being completely transparent, he hopes to experience this for the rest of his life.

vernon unexpectedly comes down, craning his neck to latch his mouth around your nipples again, stimulating you there, too. you’re sure the position is a bit straining, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he moans loudly into your chest. his hand plays with the other nipple, switching every minute to give both of them love and attention all while his cock steadily rams in and out of you. 

your hands tangle in his hair, smothering his face into your tits while he moans and whines some more into them. 

and when he adjusts slightly and his tip hits that spot, the one that makes you crumble in seconds, a sob wracks through your entire body.

“there! shit, baby, right there, please.” you gasp, back arching into him. 

vernon asks breathily, removing his face from the comfortable spot on your chest, “there? that’s it?” 

and you nod, chest rising and falling at a rapid pace as you feel the pressure build-up at the bottom of your tummy. he continues to hit the spongy spot inside of you, bringing you closer and closer. 

his own face is pinched and he can’t stop the soft whines that come out of his mouth. you just feel fucking amazing. 

“a-are you close? i’m not gonna last long.” he pants out. 

and you weakly sob out a reply of ‘yes,’ hand moving to toy with your swollen clit. the action immediately has the tightrope inside of you coming undone for the second time in the night. you mewl out his name, clamping around him tightly and coating his cock in slick cum. 

it’s like a chain reaction that has vernon cursing and pulling his dick out of you. he eagerly fists at his cock, jerking himself off till he releases all over your puffy pussy. he’s moaning softly, prettily calling out your name. his heart pounds rapidly and his entire body twitches at the feeling of release. 

his eyes finally open after a few seconds of trying to regulate his breathing. he sees the way your cunt is dressed in white and how you're slowly, but surely, coming down from both of your highs. 

“hey,” he whispers. 

“hi,” you mumble, eyes fluttering open. your hands reach for him and he can’t help but find you so cute. “c’mere.”

he smiles, leaning down to kiss you again. unlike your past few kisses, it’s soft and innocent. loving. he parts after a minute or so, hand moving to sweep the hair out of your face. 

“are you sure you’re alright?” he whispers. “i feel kinda bad…”

“don’t, ‘sol, i wanted it. i’m really happy.” you tell him sincerely. “are you alright?”

he sighs, “i’m really happy, too… i just wish i would’ve taken you out on a date or something before… fucking you.” 

you shake your head, “we did it kinda backwards, but, seriously, i’m just happy you’re here… happy that you’re mine.” he blushes, moving to hide his face in your neck while you giggle. “if you wanna, we can go on a date now?”

“where?” he mumbles into your neck.

“7/11– channie’s working so that means free big gulps and rollers… you know, since some of us can’t afford to eat real food because of their ‘job.’”

vernon scoffs, pulling his face out of your neck and giving you a stern look. “dude, it’s a real job–”

you laugh, effectively cutting him off. “okay, scammer– if it’s a real job, why are you always stealing my fucking weed instead of buying your own?” 

“because weed is scarce these days and your bitch ass dealer hates me– why should i have to pay $20 for a gram when you only pay $5?” he nearly cries. “and, since we’re on the topic, i don’t like him. he’s too friendly with you.” that’s code for “he obviously wants to fuck you.”

“you’re jealous of cheol!”

he groans, rolling his eyes, a tiny pout appearing on his face, “so what if i am?”

you coo, “aw, baby,” hand coming to cup his blushy cheek. “you don’t have to worry about him,” you relay to him, voice laced with sincerity. “you’re the only one i want.”

he goes a little bug-eyed at your words before clearing his throat and nodding. “good. that’s good.” 

you raise an eyebrow, “just good?” 

“no… it’s great…” he mumbles cutely. “you’re also the only one i want.”

© cheolhub — all rights reserved, please refrain from copying, reposting, modifying or translating my work on any platform.

[flowershines]

Say that again

Peeta Mellark x Stripper F. reader

warnings: name calling, smut, dom mike, hard dom, insulting, doggy style, unprotected sex, creampie

Nights usually were not as tense as tonight was, when Peeta had gotten home from his job he got no sleep and of course had to get snotty with you, just because he was tired.

Arguing back and forth to the point of almost screaming just to get their point across, but that wasn’t even the worse part.

Peeta was too tired to argue that he had forgotten what you guys were arguing about making you even more mad, at this point he just kept going to hear his own voice.

But before we get into the arguing currently, the reason the whole argument started was because he insulted your job which of course isn’t that bad but he kept going till he started arguing about the things that you always do wrong.

“Peeta you really should start at least taking a nap before work so that way you dont come home tired.”

“I don’t need your help, Y/n.”

“Oh ok, I was just trying to help, sorry.”

“You should be and I don't want your help just stop being clingy and leave me alone.”

“What is wrong with you, I was just looking out for you.”

“Well don’t it’s not your job, oh speaking of jobs you do yours?”

“I-”

“Exactly what I thought so dont talk to me till you get your priorities straight.”

“You act like I don't have a job.” You said laughing at him

This made him even more pissed, “Oh sorry forgot you get praised by other men by dancing in their face while they put money in your pocket like some filthy piggy bank.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He said inches away from your face then walked away.

“Atleast they fuck better than you.”

“What did you just say.”

“You heard me.” You said mimicking his tone.

Now both of you guys were just arguing about how you started doing your job, defending yourself he just kept coming at you.

When you both first started dating he knew about your job and he was okay with it, because you were helping out the both of you out with the money.

The part that got him riled up was when you said that they fucked better than he does.

You made a deal with him that you wouldn’t have sex with any of the customers.

That’s why he was screaming at you now.

“So do you just go around whoring which every guy you meet or just your customers.”

“I just was saying that to rile you up.”

“No you weren’t, you know what my ex has better pussy than you.”

“Oh for real.”

“Yeah.”

With that you grabbed your jacket and keys then started walking to the door.

“Where you going?”

“Not like you care or anything but i’m going to my job to find a guy that can dick me down, cause you don’t do shit for me.”

“Bull shit, i always make you cum.”

“Oh but apparently you also make your ex cum too, so go fuck her.”

“No Y/n I didn’t mean it.”

“Nah you good, i’m pretty sure there are gonna be cute guys there too. I mean there always is and guess who always gets them, ME.”

Grabbing the door knob you started to put your jacket on and leave to go to your car, you knew that you weren’t going to do any of the things you were taking about.

But you just wanted to see if he actually cared.

He grabbed you hand before you left and threatened you saying.

“If you go fuck some guy i’m fucking my ex and sending a video to you.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you too.”

He held the sides of your face and placed a hard and passionate kiss, he kept kissing you and occasionally biting your lip in the process.

“Ow, Peeta what the fuck.”

“Just shut up and enjoy.”

“How can I you can’t even make me cum.”

“Wanna test that out.”

You laughed in his face riling him up even more than he already is, he pins you against the door and humps his hard on, on your thigh.

“This is what is going to be making you beg that you never said that.”

“Yeah… Okay.” You said laughing again

He continued kissing you roughly and biting your lips and sneaking his tongue into your mouth.

Humping his hard cock on your thigh feeling it twitching, you try your hardest not to give in to his needs.

He grabbed your hand and pulled you into your shared bedroom and pushed you onto the bed.

“Hey!”

“What’s wrong I thought you liked being treated like a slut?”

You just rolled your eyes, he stripped your pants off your legs and kissed from your thigh up to your clothed heat, noticing how wet you are.

“See you like it, fucking slut.”

He pulled your underwear to the side and stick his finger into you then going to suck on your clit.

He adds his middle finger as he fingers you and eats you out at the same time, not wanting to give in to him you didn’t encourage him nor play with his hair.

You just brought your nails up to your face and started looking along with picking at them acting like he wasn’t even doing anything.

This pissed him off, he yanked your underwear off and unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants.

Still looking at your nails you tried to ignore what he was doing but your thoughts were interrupted by him entering you.

You softly moaned trying to have him not hear, his breathing was shaking.

“You like being fucked like this?”

He started to slam his cock in you at a vigorous pace, then he pulled out making you clench around nothing.

He put you on your stomach and told you to put your ass up.

Doing so you grabbed your phone and started playing a coloring game, he then started fucking you again.

“I know your just fucking with me, i know you like this dick by the way you clenching around me.” He grunted

“This pussy is mine, not some random customers.”

He then started going as fast and hard as he could at this point you couldn’t hold it in anymore and gave in to him.

“Fuck.”

He was a groaning and moaning mess behind you.

“I’m gonna cum soon.”

“Fuck, me too.”

He was still going in you he usually has pulled out by now.

“What are you doing?”

“Cumming in you.”

“What? Why?”

“So every time you think of us fucking think of my cum still in you and to remind you of what happens when you pull that shit with me.”

With that he moans in your ear and cums in you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything I said earlier.”

“I know, i’m sorry too.”