#you get the idea I just sort of wanted to ramble

[ghostmoon1]

Ngl fair,,, Roach is probably harder to write because he doesn't have a 'canon' personality,,,

If you're feeling up for it,, can I ask for some Roach x Selective Mute!Reader headcannons,?

Mb smthng with Reader only talking to people they trust,? Dw if you wanna scrap the selective part, I appreciate you trying sm ^-^

Hello again Anon!!

I def agree with you there, but then again it somewhat makes it more fun! Being able to write him as how I see him more.

And thank you so much for the request, this is actually my first ever request and I couldn't tell you how excited I was reading this :D So, here we are! I tried, I hope this is at least somewhat what you were looking for!

Lmk if you were looking for something different, I haven't written Roach nor Selective Mute!Reader before ashbdjnf

Roach x Selective Mute!Reader

To you, Roach was one of the task force members with whom you could feel safer and closer. He was quiet, only speaking when needed, which made you feel more comfortable around him. You weren’t made to speak with him; he was happy to sit silently with you, watching a movie or reading a book separately. The two of you got along like two peas in a pod.

He’d notice when your mood changes, even if it was just from the slight frown you wore after breakfast. There was never a reason you had to tell him, he’d just know. And of course, he did his best to fix it, whether that was waking up to him already cooking breakfast, or coming home with a fresh bunch of flowers sitting on the kitchen counter.

Whenever you felt like talking, he’d listen. It was always his favourite part of the day to sit on the couch with you, listening to you happily ramble on about how some customer at work wouldn't stop complaining about something you had no control over, or how you saw this jacket while walking through the mall and thought it was gorgeous. (He would secretly plan to buy it for you, he always wants his precious girl to be happy). He’d feel comfortable enough with you to talk as well, telling you the stories of how he, Gaz and Soap had pranked Ghost (That never ends well), or how Price had been ruthless to them during training.

He will softly coo at you, “Awh, you don’t like it?” when he notices you struggling to eat the food you both had gone out to try and waited for a while in line for. You didn't want to waste it even if you didn’t like the taste of it. As much as he hoped you’d like this new experience, he wouldn't waste a second to take you to your favourite place instead so you get to eat something you enjoy. As long as you were happy and fed. (Thank you @gomzdrawfr for the idea!!)

He notices the moment you begin to feel uncomfortable around others and will stand up for you without a moment's notice. Whenever you're at some sort of gathering and are being crowded and overwhelmed, he will notice how you slowly take steps back, hugging yourself as you try and comfort yourself in such a situation. Your silence feels like the loudest thing in the room. If you aren’t comfortable with them, he will be quick to jump in, excusing you from the conversation and pulling you to the side so you have a moment to breathe.

He secretly adores how you are comfortable enough to speak to him. He will sit and admire how sweet your voice is, watching as you do the most mundane things around the house. It’s just the fact that you are his, you found him and he feels like the luckiest man on earth to be blessed with the sound of your voice every day.

[findher-ogg]

A very interesting takeaway from the Farseer Trilogy so far (just started Assassin's Quest so no spoilers) that I have so far is that not only is Wit an unintentional allegory for queerness but it's also an even more unintentional allegory for autism! As an autistic person reading quite a few of the characters come across as autistic to me anyway, but focusing on Fitz specifically he has

- a very poor grasp of social cues

- a very specialised interest in both animal care and assassin things

- immediately after being revived after his month with Nighteyes he's on a similar level of functionality as an autistic person with high support needs, and in relearning to be a man he is relearning how to mask/cope

- continuing this, his constant dilemma of if he is more man or more wolf reminds me of my own personal struggle with how much of my personality is me masking vs my autism

Additionally

- Burrich's own internalised ableism (such as when he scolds Fitz for talking to Nighteyes or when he "kills" Nosy)

- whatever the fuck is going on with Kettricken

Honourable mentions go to the Fool, Patience and Verity who are also very very autistic but get differently stigmatised for it

[benevolenterrancy]

Do any NieYao (or general 3zun) shippers follow me? I've been tossing around the idea of a nieyao fic but I'm getting tripped up by timeline shit because good lord JGY's life is a nightmare... is there anyone who wouldn't mind either:

a) chatting with me about timeline/canon stuff to help me get sorted

b) sending me recs of their favourite nieyao fics 👀 for, uh, strictly research related purposes for sure for sure

[averlym]

ghostwriter (their grandma would tell them she'd lose half her soul)

[iwanttobepersephone]

So, homeless Halt huh?

What, right after leaving Clonmel and bedore meeting Crowley, or a fully new context au style.

The first option, yes!!!

I decided that 17 was FAR too young for TEY, so I kinda just added 3 extra years in between leaving Clonmel and meeting Crowley, making him 20 at the time of TEY. (Well, technically, he was 19 when he met Crowley and turned 20 like 2 weeks later, but that's being unnecessarily detailed lol)

I like to think that, because Halt was a prince, Pritchard could only teach him the skills in isolation, and not how to use them. Y'know, like learning how to pick a lock on some little play toy you out in your lap, and then having to actually do it on a real door. So, these 3 years were when Halt had to transition from aiming at a target to aiming at an actual animal. There were also things like how he knew logically how to set up the tent and then realized that actually doing it was just different enough to make him feel dumb.

This also, btw, puts Halt as a homeless, jobless, (illegal) immigrant who speaks the language at a 3rd grade level during the height of Morgarath's rule. So. He had 🌈fun!! ✨️

By the time he met Crowley he understood the language a lot better (3 years of actually living in the kingdom will certainly help with that) but he still kinda struggled a bit. I like to think that he can't pronounce Morgarath's name and always ends up calling him "Morgor", "Morgaah", or simply, "lighting man". Why? Because it's entertaining, that's why

The fic I'm writing takes place when he had JUST moved to Araluen, and wasn't quite so stone faced yet. In the fic he finds a group of other homeless people, mostly other immigrants, who let him stay by their fire that night and help him fix a couple things from his saddle bag. It also centers heavily around his relationship with his old horse, Declan, from before he got Abelard, and how that horse was his only reliable source of companionship

[pxper-cranes]

Everyone who wrote off aetherdrift as just a wacky races filler set GO TO THE PLANESWALKERS GUIDE AND READ THAT SHIT BECAUSE IT SOUNDS SO FUCKING COOL

THERE ARE SHARK PEOPLE ON KALADESH, (Renamed to Aviskar)

AMONKHET HAS NEW GODS AND RIVAL FACTIONS

THERES FINALLY SOMETHING TO MURAGANDA! AND IT SOUNDS AWESOME

And theres word of tons of new planes and returning characters i did not expect to be so hyped for this set but just go read the planeswalkers guide they wrote so much for it the worldbuilding is so good

[theflyingfeeling]

...💌

[thsc-confessions]

"I'm worried about controversial stuff coming up about this ship opinion situation, but here we go-"

"I dislike Toppat Henry x Charles/ Henry x Toppat Charles, especially that second one. The artwork I see of it (especially Toppat Charles x Henry, not so much on the other option) leans into toxic relationships for me and I dislike it heavily."

"As much as I love Henrles (tied with Polythreat for me), that situation of "Enemies to lovers" is the one type of Henrles ship that just.. turns me the wrong way unfortunately.." submitted by anon

[skyward-floored]

In the Incredibles au I’m torn between making Sky fight Demise while Time/Malon are on their honeymoon or having it be a year or two later because on the one hand, it would be EXTREMELY funny for Time to get back and hear about how Sky literally fought the worst most-powerful supervillain in the world and WON and also convinced Ghirahim to quit being evil and also Sun got kidnapped but she’s fine now while he was gone, but on the other hand Sky is only 12 then so it would probably make more sense to have it happen when he’s 14 so he’d be a little more skilled

[soni-dragon]

Never ever EVER buy household appliances with ai in them. Most ridiculous things I’ve ever encountered

[arolesbianism]

I am rotating Light so hard in my head rn girlies who just straight up fucking torture ppl cause she can

[kakusu-shipping]

You know when I said I was redesigning my Self Inserts and going in Age Order? Yeah I lied.

Here's a bunch more Redesigned Self Inserts, no longer in any particular order, just who I had the ideas for at the time.

[storfulsten]

lol did I just lose 3 followers for mentioning a cool new song? ok

[theriu]

You ever buy a thing and it’s just a LITTLE too big, like it WORKS but you wish it you could just manifest your paint program’s Lasso Tool and resize that thing a few percentage points?

[birdkittenn]

just remembered an extremely old oc. girl i have great plans for you

[somedaytakethetime]

I've had all these snippets of images in my head and I don't know what to do with them.. so I figured I could turn it into some type of writing. There's no discerning details that give any certain person away, so if you read it, in can be about just about anyone you fancy and feel would fit this. Of course, you know who I am picturing but.. that's details 😶 Warning: NO KIDS! DON'T MAKE ME PUT YOU BABIES ON THE NAUGHTY STEP! This isn't even like.. proper dirty or anything, but there's heavy implications and small touches of intimacy and elicit activities, some words that may be heavier than others if you know what I mean.., and I don't want the children to think dirty thoughts 😤 Word count: 5 283 words to be exact, I ramble..

Your hand rises and falls slowly with the pattern of his breathing. It lays on his naked chest, you lay on his naked body, his arms wrapped around you and rubbing your back softly. You watch the shadows on the rug, the same one you're both laying on, cast by the sun as it slowly sets in the window behind your heads. As you try to catch your breath and feel him do the same, you're still wondering how you ended up here.

His eyes are beautiful. That's the first thing you notice as he smiles politely at you and cordially shakes your hand when you're introduced. He repeats the name your superior just said to you, his voices is lower and more sensual than you expected and a small shiver runs through you, you pray you won't stutter and repeat your name back at him. He pulls back and you feel his hand still grasping yours, even as you're introduced to the rest of the bunch. Even as you try to stand as straight as possible beside your new employer, you still feel his hand in yours, his eyes on you, as they'd been just a few minutes ago. You never expected to be here, hired to work at this club, you didn't expect you'd be so close to them either, you thought you would have some small position and do meaningless little tasks. You're nervous, your heart skips beats at times, you're afraid to mess this up, to end up looking foolish in front of so many people, and... you're afraid of the way you can still feel his hand on yours.. his eyes burning into you from across the way.

You should probably get up and leave. Or at least get up and lay on the couch, the rug is soft and warm but it's still a little.. awkward to be laying naked, pressed to him, on his rug like this. His eyes are closed and you wonder if he fell asleep, you try to move away and you find out that he hasn't. His arms tighten around you immediately and he opens his eyes slowly, his voice sounds.. god, his voice, the things he says.. he's so attractive but the way he sounds and speaks, you feel shivers thinking about the things he's said to you before.. even tonight.. you refocus on his voice as he says, soft and low, in that effortless sensual tone that's natural to him, "Where do you think you're going?", a smirk lifts the corners of his lips softly and you hide your face against his chest, suddenly warm all over again and needing.. so much all at once.. you muffle into his skin "I thought I'd get on the couch.." and he nods "Not comfortable here? I should have probably taken you to bed.. I do have one, and it's incredibly comfortable.." he lowers his voice and a shiver runs down your spine again, he's trying to get a rise out of you and he doesn't need to. Everything about him turns you on, you've never been so attracted to anyone before. You part your lips to speak but he doesn't give you the chance. He lifts himself up, takes you with him, somehow through some testosterone-induced display of strength he gets you both up from the floor, carrying you in his arms, without even wobbling once. He looks down at you and his smirk looks devious now, "Shall I show you my bed then?"

Working here isn't as difficult as you'd expected it would be. But it's also not as easy as you'd expected either. You have good days, and bad days. The problem is that the bad days are more frequent. Through no fault of your own, that's just the way things are here. Too many egos, too much testosterone, too many strong personalities. It all leads to arguments, to misunderstandings, to being yelled at and lashed out towards. You're often apologised to, after they've calmed down, asked for forgiveness and told that you've done nothing wrong, they're just all under a lot of pressure and stress. And.. you'd let that slip.. if it wasn't happening constantly, that is. Because none of them know how to control their shitty attitudes and it grates on your nerves. You keep your head down, stay silent, this is a well paying job and you don't want to lose it. Especially not over these assholes and their arrogance. Your superior is nice, that's all that matters because he's the one that you need to spend the most time with, the rest of them can go to hell. The rest of them… except… him. He's kind to you. Incredibly kind even. Has gotten into arguments with others over you. Over the way he watched them talk to you, over the things they've said to you. He doesn't have to get into trouble because of you, you've told him every time, and he just smirks, defiant, like he was made to fight and contradict, "And what? Pass up the opportunity to remind them of their place?" and you start to realise that this man has far more layers than you know of. He's.. hard to figure out. He's quiet, rarely ever speaks unless spoken to, he's also clearly a loner. He'll interact with his teammates when needed, praise them and laugh with them when he's in the thick of training, but outside of that he retreats back into himself. Stands off to the side. Observing everyone. Silently judging them. Silently judging you too..

His bed is indeed comfortable, just as he said it was. The sheets are soft, the pillows smell like him. You love the way he smells, it's so.. rough? woodsy?.. it's manly. You're don't care for logistics that small, but the only way to describe his scent, and even the underlying feeling he gives off, is that. Manly. He has tenderness too, that he's displaying right now as he softly traces your naked body like you're porcelain, placing gentle kisses everywhere, treating you like something fragile and beautiful to be treasured, driving you to the brink of madness with his slow motions. But there's a biting edge to him. You always know that this man, who appears so calm and controlled, will lose his mind in roughly .5 seconds and fight someone if his anger gets the best of him. And you'd be lying if you said that you don't find it attractive. How controlled he is. A stronger personality simmering under the surface of all that control and calmness. Which is too calm at times.. like right now. He's kissed a path up and down your thighs five times and you're about to pull all that glorious hair out of his head if he doesn't do something more than tease you.. "Will you be there all night? Didn't you promise to show me something? Something along the lines of what talents that tongue has that go beyond defying people?". his hands look massive as they snake around your thighs, he pulls you down closer to him suddenly and a squeak flies out of you, the devious smirk, ever so present on those perfect lips whenever he's around you, is back "I like it when you're sassy, baby.. it makes it even better when you start moaning incoherently for me."

A sob slips out of your lips and you try harder to keep it quiet. This is the final drop. You're tired of being yelled at by assholes, sure, but this is worse. You weren't hired to be harassed, if these bastards don't know how to behave that's their problem. You feel anger, a strong and heavy feeling in your chest pooling like black liquid, and you ball up your firsts. You slam them against the wall behind you and you want to scream. You want to go back and slap him, but you're not allowed, even if he was disgusting. The images keep replaying in your head, you're trying to do your job and gather their information to update their data, keeping quiet, head down as usual, asking personal questions in the most formal and detached manner that you can and that oaf.. the big one. You never liked that one from the time you were introduced. He smiled at you like such a sleaze.. you've been revolted by his presence ever since and you avoid him like the plague that he is. But.. you had to do your job. You had to ask questions because of these stupid sheets. Personal, medical, technical, all for the database of their information to be updated.. and he had to try and be funny… he had to try and flirt again, no matter how hard you ignore him he does it again. Asking you personal questions that you ignored, commented on your body and how it looked in the loose, long dress you're wearing.. and… he had to start commenting on his body. On his size to be exact. And his capacities as a man. When he cornered you against the table, put that sleazy, disgusting paw on your waist and said so casually "I could show you.. I bet you'd sound really hot screaming my name while I fuck you.." you just lost your composure. You pushed him roughly, you called him disgusting, you told him firmly "I would rather die without sex again than to have sex with you. You're revolting." and you walked out, found the first bathroom you could, and here you are. On the floor. Trying not to disturb anyone as you sob against the corner. You're not sad, you're angry. Angry that you can't retaliate more. Angry that if you were to tell anyone they would just tell you that the guys here are "being playful, you're a pretty girl, pay them no mind. They'll tire of it, I promise." as they've told you before. You're boiling with anger. You're tired of being disrespected. You make a snarled sound as you get up and walk to the sinks. Wash your tears and try to gather your composure. You look like you've been crying, there's nothing to be done about it. You take a deep breath and turn around. He's standing there. Leaning against the wall, right by the door. You didn't hear him come in. He has his arms crossed over his chest, and he looks pissed. "I heard some things that I didn't want to believe.." he's speaking through gritted teeth, you look at him as he pushes away from the wall, walks towards you, looms, "Did he tell you all that shit?" you wonder if you could lie, say that you were just being sensitive and he didn't mean any of that crap, you know what will happen if you confess what just happened to you. You know he will fight the oaf. You can see the fire in his eyes, those beautiful eyes, daring you to lie to him and pretend he can't see the truth. You just exhale and nod slowly, can't look him in the eyes as his anger bubbles over and the loud smack of his fist slams against the countertop. "That motherfucker! Did he hurt you?? He said you were like marshmallow in his hands, did.he.hurt.you?" and your voice sounds angry "No, he didn't! But he had no right to touch me! I don't want random men caging me against desks and groping my waist like I'm just a piece of meat! Tell that bastard that I wasn't anything other than disgusted by him!" and… he was made to fight and defy people. There's the confirmation. The smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. The fire raging in his eyes. The way he says, so casually, "Oh, sweetheart, I'm going to do more than tell him, don't worry." as he turns his back on you and walks out..

He is unfairly good at that. Unfairly good at everything he does really. He can control his body with just as clinical precision as he can control his temper, and it's unfair. You can feel his smirk against the most sensitive part of you, can feel the delight he takes in how easily and quickly you fall apart for him. Because of him. He's relentless, renders you speechless, a mess of whines and moans and pleas, a mess of neediness and aching and pent up frustration needing to be released. He does it on purpose. Slows down and teases you every time you feel your spine start to tingle and sparks appear in your closed eyes. You curse out his name, "Please! What do I need to do for you to stop that and just let me come, god, will you please do something more!?" say frustrated and he has the audacity to laugh. Right against you. Shivers run down your spine and you moan, it rings inside you and it makes you feverish and needy all over again. Your voice gets softer, you're suddenly pliant in his hands again, mewling and begging. He takes pity on you, holds you tighter, presses you down into the mattress and stops teasing you. Watches you the whole time, eyes fixated on your body and how you arch up for him. Because of him. He loves watching you fall apart like this. He's addicted to how you react to him. He's addicted to you. It's been a long time coming, he's still unsure how he managed to get you here tonight, but he's never been more thankful to whatever Gods are out there, watching over him, and helping him along this path. He doesn't falter until you're pushing at his head, lifts up and smirks at you as you open your eyes slowly, still barely able to focus on him, and he places a kiss right where he just made a mess of and laughs at your curses and shivers. He gets up from his place, crawls over your body, cages you against his bed, "So… how was that?". He feels giddy right now, feels like a teenager again, there's something about making a beautiful girl giving into him like that.. but beyond that.. there's something about having you here right now. In his house. On his bed. Under him. Pliant and willing, eager even, to be with him. He's wanted it for a long time, even if you likely have no idea of it, but that's beside the point now. There's other matters to attend to while you're so willing under him. He nuzzles your neck, kisses you slowly, then whispers in your ear "How do you feel about testing out the quality of my mattress?", and he knows it's incredibly cheesy but he's feeling light hearted and happy tonight, and you react by whining and melting further so.. he figures you don't mind it either.

He would say you've been building a budding friendship. Even if he's pretty sure you have no idea of it. Because he's a little.. guarded, if you will. He doesn't trust easily, he doesn't befriend people easily either. He likes his space, his peace, his own ways. He prefers to stand back, watch others, judge and gauge what they're all about. Studies people and tries to gather information before he can make a decision on them, he tries to be impartial, tries to give everyone a fair chance but.. he's also himself. Reserved and slightly stubborn in his ways. He knows what he wants and he knows how to get it, he's never had trouble with his confidence or his own self assuredness. He doesn't feel the need to justify himself to anyone or be a person pleaser. He also doesn't feel the need to make friends at work, not in a deep sense. He's polite to everyone, he'll be playful when there's room for that, and he'll go along with some things from time to time. But he's not here to be best friends with anyone, he's here to work. And he does his job well. So well apparently, that it's created some friction with some others around. So, try as he might to be professional, he doesn't like some of these guys because they don't like him and don't bother hiding it either. But, that said, he does like you. You're quiet too, just as guarded as he is, and you always keep your head down too. He could see from the very beginning that you're here to do your job and get on with it, and he respects that. He doesn't like stereotypes but he's aware that some girls try to get jobs at places like this for reasons that have nothing to do with the job. He doesn't judge that, everyone is after whatever life they want in the end, but he doesn't particularly care for those girls either. Being loved for the potential of what he could give to others in terms of lifestyle isn't something he wants, he just wants to be loved for himself. It's hard to get people to see him, who he is, without all the glitter and the flashes of the lifestyle. Without the fame aspect and the money. He's tried many times before, had loose strings here and there, and they all fell flat. He didn't feel a connection like he needed to, they weren't bad girls, they were funny and kind, but they had expectations from him. They created an image of him in their heads and that's what they were in love with. Not him. Not the simple man that has simple hobbies. The man that would rather cook dinner himself, instead of go out to some fancy restaurant that he'd have to put a suit on for. He's never been able to share himself, his true self, with anyone before without them thinking he was joking. Girls don't often believe how much of a nerd he is, how boring he can actually be, how unexciting he wants his life to be. Because he looks a certain way. And he has a certain reputation too. All of them do, so he understands it's hard to accept that, in the end, he's just a regular man. But he is. And you believe him. He's unsure how and why he felt such a pull to you when he first shook your hand. There was something. Probably in the softness of your eyes, the clear nervousness that clouded your whole being, the way you tried to stand and look so tall and professional but he could see your hands shaking the whole time, could see your cheeks flush pink with shyness whenever someone talked to you. He grew attached to you the more you spend time together. He sought you out, struck up conversations, tried to get to know you. To get you to be comfortable with him. And little by little you were. You built a friendship, that he thinks you're unaware of, and he cherished that. Cherishes the fact that you only laugh with him, only tease him, only feel comfortable around him. He knows that last bit isn't very healthy but.. he feels vindicated, he's selfish and he doesn't care. He likes you, really likes you, and he likes that you like him back. He also.. feels possessive of you.. which is why… he always gets into so much trouble for you..

He's relentless. And you're going to faint. It's just too much. Your whole body is on fire, your senses are all overloaded, you can't even see straight and your breathing is barely enough to fill your lungs with oxygen. But he's relentless, and you are too because even as your head feels fainter and fainter, you want more and more. You need more and more. You need it all. You need him. He feels amazing, he's sturdy and warm over you, he knows just what to do to make you fall apart at the seams, knows exactly how to move to make your whole body curl around him, knows just what to say to have you biting at his shoulder and clawing your nails down his back. He's amazing, he's both gentle and rough, pushes you back and reels you in, keeps you on edge for what feels like hours and drives you insane. When he allows you to fall, it feels so strong, it's so potent, that you all but faint. Barely hanging on to your senses, clinging to him, possibly crying from how good it all feels, you aren't really sure. Your body is a mess of emotions and he kisses you so slowly and tenderly as he falls with you too. Presses his forehead to yours as you both pull back with a need to breathe, keeps you so close and tight to him, melts against you too and wants to never let you go. You're shaking as you come down, you wouldn't be able to move right now from how limp he's rendered you, but also from how constantly you shake. Luckily you don't have to. He pulls away from you slightly, carefully rolls you both sideways and holds you tightly in his arms. One hand cradling your head and petting your hair, the other rubbing soothing circles on your back. He presses tender kisses to your forehead, whispers to you tender words of reassurance that you're okay and he's right there, holding you and keeping you grounded to this earth so you won't float away. You start to calm down, realise that you did cry because you have tears drying on your cheeks and you're almost scared of the power this man has over you. He makes you feel in a way you've never felt before. He pulls at your heart in such a strong way.. you're scared of that feeling. Because you don't know how he feels about you. He's so hard to read, even as he gently tells you that he's not going to leave and that he's right there for you, that he'll take care of you. It's hard to know if he means now, or… you melt against his chest, sigh heavily, remember what happened earlier today. He's suspended for a few days now. After that show, of course he would be, but you didn't mean for it to happen. You've apologised, chastised him, but it didn't make a difference because all he did was laugh.

You're back with your papers at the medical office right where you left them. They let you use this place today for all the crap that you needed to deal with, but someone clearly filled in for you while you were gone. The papers now have a handwriting that you can barely read. 'Does no one teach these men to write properly!?', you think exasperated. It's not the first time that one of your coworkers hands you notes that are barely legible. You exhale angrily, trying to push aside all that's happened today and just focus on getting to the end of your workday. You're trying to decipher what a certain hieroglyph says when you hear a commotion outside. There's a giant windowed door beside you, that leads to the training grounds, and you approach it. A mass of bodies piled in a circle is on the field, there's shouting. Something is happening. You don't think twice, you open the door and rush out. As you get closer you realise what's happening. He's hitting the oaf. They're tangled on the ground, he's overpowered that oaf, and he's punching him. Everyone else all around them is trying to get them to stop, a few have entangled themselves too and you're not sure why. Maybe men just love any excuse to fight each other and they'll break into silly antics as soon as someone else does. One of the older coaches shouts, the head coach is running towards all of you, some of the older players are trying to keep everyone in check and trying to dodge punches too. 'This is a mess..' you think to yourself. You regret telling him, you should have lied. But, god, you can't pretend that you're not pleased seeing him punch that disgusting oaf.. seeing him insult him and argue with him.. trying to defend you and make him pay for how he acted towards you earlier.. you feel so.. vindicated. Violence isn't the answer, you know it, but sometimes? It's pleasing to see someone do what you would like to do. You would be fired if you retaliated his actions from earlier, but they won't be fired. They're the team.. the club needs the team. They're men, they're always excused for their actions with no more than a slap on the wrist. And a slap on the wrist they get. When the head coach has them all under control he loses his temper and yells at everyone. Scolds them like little boys and a few of them have the decency to look ashamed. When it's all said and done, your saviour and the oaf are suspended for a few days, one for fighting and the other for his lack of professional conduct towards female staff. Rich that it took a fight to break out with the team for them to take the disrespect seriously but.. you'll take it. Some of the others are suspended for a day and the rest are severely scolded just because they were in the vicinity. The head coach turns to you suddenly, "As for you. I would like to apologise for the treatment you've been receiving. I'll speak to the management and we'll see what should be done. But next time? Tell me what happened, not one of my players." and the tone of his voice makes you whisper 'asshole' as he walks away after dismissing everyone. He approaches you, his knuckles scrapped and bloody, his lip is bloody too and he seems to have a bruise blooming under his right eye. You want to kiss him suddenly. He smirks at you, like the devil himself, and says "You're lucky you're this cute, otherwise he would have suspended you too." and winks as he walks past you. You scoff at the suggestion and stomp after him. Until you realise what he said. He thinks you're cute. He's teasing you. Again. You instead walk back to your borrowed office and gather your things, you were dismissed too, and it is the end of the week anyway so.. you cross paths with him as you're both walking out. You're looking at your watch to check the time, maybe there's a bus you can catch now. Or you could walk back, it's not so far off and you did it this morning. But as a hand lands on the small of your back, and a low voice says behind you, "Do you need a ride home?" suddenly.. your plans for the night have already changed..

He's looking at you seriously when your eyes focus on him again. "Is everything okay?" and you nod confused, "Of course. Why wouldn't it be?". He caresses your cheek softly and looks puzzle "I feel like I lost you for a moment there, your gaze was far away.." you settle against him, trace the bruises and cuts on his knuckles, "I was just thinking about what you did today. You got into trouble because of me, and you didn't have to." he pulls you tighter, "Someone had to. Besides.." he lifts your chin up and kisses you again, a deep kiss that takes your breath away and makes your heart pound against your ribs, "I don't like the way he talks to you. Or looks at you. Actually I don't like him in general, but I especially don't like him around you.". He looks like a contrived little boy and you have the urge to laugh and kiss him, you tease him softly, "Jealous? Don't tell me you feel a little territorial already.." and.. he feels his heart do something. Is it skipping beats? Is it sinking? Whatever it's doing, he doesn't like it. He doesn't like the casual feeling he's getting. He's not making himself clear. Of course he isn't. He brought you to his house instead of yours, allowed you to care for his wounds which led to him finally losing his control and kissing you. That kiss led to you losing your clothes and ending up on his rug panting for air. So far, he has done nothing that says 'I want you'. All he's done is say 'I'm horny'. And he doesn't like it. He doesn't like that you might just want casual sex from him, he'd give it to you, oh, he so would. He's a fool for you, he'll do anything you ask, but.. he wants you. All of you. He wants more than just occasional sex. There's a need to make you his in his chest, something he's been trying to control, but he can't hold it back anymore.. he says, serious, "As a matter of fact, yes. Yes, I am. I'm territorial over you. Because I don't like to share. Never did. I was an incredibly selfish boy and I'm not ashamed to say I'm an incredibly selfish man too. I see things I want and they're mine on sight, so I don't take kindly to others forcefully trying to share them." and… your breath gets caught in your throat. Feminism has exited the chat, all of your foremothers are watching over your shoulder with curious eyes right now. You've always been self assured, strong in your convictions, you've never allowed a man to think he owns you or even had the chance to think such thoughts. But.. you're a fool for this man. You would bark if he asked you to, you don't care. He brings something out in you that turns feral. You want him so badly that you'd crawl if he asked. You whisper his name, unsure of what to say, you don't know if he means.. "I like you. In fact, I more than like you. I want you in my life. I've wanted it for a while now and it drove me crazy to think of that fucker touching you. I've been trying to find a way, to get an excuse, to bring you to me. I don't know how to do this the right way, there is no right way, I'm confused because.. I have never felt like this. You throw me off balance, I don't know how to act around you. I've been flirting with you for months now and you're oblivious to me. So, at first I assumed that you didn't want me, and I respected that. Kept my actions the same because I didn't want you to see that I was hurt but.. after what just happened today.. I think you want me. Or maybe you just think I'm really good in bed, I guess that's an option too and I'll respect if you don't want me. But I want you. A lot. What I'm trying to say here is: I think I'm falling for you and I would like you to give us the chance to see where this goes. And we can do this really simply: will you stay the night?" you look into his eyes, his eyes are beautiful, more so after he's just confessed his feelings. You feel the same and you suddenly see flashes of where your lives could go if you accept his offer. You see them reflected in his beautiful eyes. A soft smile appears on your lips as you say "Of course I will."