#i am NOT i am going to rage on like the storm in frozen or whatever

[twoheartsoneclara]

ever since i was a little girl i always knew that i wanted to say to myself “im going to kill myself” whenever dealing with the slightest inconvenience

#claire.txt #i am NOT i am going to rage on like the storm in frozen or whatever #but i DID fuck up my knitting very badly and i’m stressed because i lost an hour’s worth of work at least #and i have four days left to finish this all of which i’ll be spending working

[stories-and-chaos]

Helluva High

AU: Overlord Husk and Angel

[Little one shot inspired by @celestialalpacaron ‘s au of Husk and Angel. Valentino is a sore loser, but Husk has his spider’s back. Enjoy!

Word count 1065 Cw: cursing, emotional manipulation, trauma response (disclosure: I’ve never experienced trauma like this so I apologize if Angel’s reaction isn’t accurate.) ]

***********

Angel was frozen, stuck between fear and desire. His former boss, Valentino, was here. At Husk’s casino. Angel Dust had been working the tables for a couple months now. His looks, charisma, and reputation had him hustling patrons for all they were worth and more.

But despite that reputation (and all the salacious videos of him still being sold) he wasn’t for sale. Not for any amount of time or money. Husk was adamant on that. “You wanna sleep with someone off the clock, that’s your business,” he’d told Angel. “But do it because you want to, not because someone john is paying, got it?”

Now Val was here and Angel could barely help himself. The moth demon had grabbed his arm as he walked past. Now he was pulling the spider close, cooing sweet venomous words at the former porn star. “Angiiiiieee, I miss you baby. That mean old kitty won’t let me win you back. I need you Angel.” Val’s hand stroked up Angel’s thigh, sneaking under the slit in his gown. “I know you want me too, baby. No one can give you what you need, not like me.” One of his other hands grasped another of Angel’s arms. He hooked a finger of his fourth hand under Angel’s pearl choker, “Come on Angel, tell the kittycat to give me a shot at you. Then we can go home and I’ll make you feel so good you’ll forget all this ever happened.”

Angel’s breath caught. Everything about Valentino made him want to just melt away. His voice, his cigarette smoke, the hands stroking his limbs with a hint of claws. But Angel didn’t want to go back. His eyes darted back and forth in panic. He caught a flash of red wings, black fur, and gold eyes. “Do it because you want to…”

“Fuck!” he managed to gasp as he jerked back. The string of pearls snapped at the sudden movement. The iridescent orbs shimmered in the light as they clattered on the table and floor. “No…” he said, voice wavering.

Angel stood up as straight as he could. Valentino’s rage at being denied built quickly. He moved to grab Angel’s arm again but Angel stepped back. “I…I need a break boss,” he said as loud as he could.

“Take the night off babe. You’ve been working hard last few nights,” Husk said curtly as he stepped between Angel and Val. “Thought you knew better than that ‘Tino.” He faced the other Overlord as Angel dashed to the elevator. “Am I gonna have to throw you out?”

“Fuck, just let me play for him again. What do you want a crackwhore like him for anyway?”

“You ain’t got anything worth betting Angel for.” Four members of the casino security turned up to flank their leader. “Get out ‘Tino. If my boys don’t have to drag your ass out, I won’t charge you for the pearls.”

Val spun away, muttering “fucking furry ass prick, that twink bitch, goddamn assholes.” He squeaked in agitation as he stormed out.

Shortly after Valentino’s limo was gone, Husk took the elevator to the penthouse suites. Angel’s door was cracked open. All his arms were wrapped around himself as rocked on the bed. Husk knocked on the door with the top of his cane. The spider demon jerked, eyes blown wide enough that Husk could see the pupils in even the six small ones.

“He’s gone,” the gambler said mildly. Angel took a deep shaky breath. “You did good.” At Angel’s surprised look he continued, “I told you, anyone fucks with you, they answer to me.”

After a couple more breaths, Angel managed to reply. “Thanks boss. I’ll be back down in five.”

“Nah, you’ve got the night off. Call for room service, just go easy on the booze tonight.” Husk didn’t leave right away; he saw Angel retreating back into the cage of his own arms. The catlike demon sighed and strode through the room to throw the doors to the balcony open. “C’mere.”

Angel walked up hesitantly and placed his ringed hand in Husk’s outstretched one. Husk pulled him out into the night air. He smoothly wrapped an arm around Angel’s waist and lifted the lanky demon’s legs up with the other. Angel reflexively wrapped a set of arms around the other man’s shoulders. “Damn Whiskers, you’re stronger than you look!”

Husk gave a huff. He spread his wings and flapped into the sky. “Oh shit!” Angel yelled, now with four arms clinging to Husk.

“I gotcha babe.” He got enough altitude that they could see every part of the Pentagram with ease. “How’s this for a high?” he joked, smirking at Angel.

“Fuck…it’s a helluva view.” Angel scanned the city. His eyes locked onto Valentino’s porn studio. A tiny fuschia line was just pulling up to the street in front of it.

Husk realized where Angel was looking and shifted to block the Red Light District from view. “Nah, we’ve got better things to look at. There’s a lot more in Hell than that shitbag.”

The train of Angel’s gown fluttered in the air. The cool breeze and the sparkling city below, sounds muffled by distance, helped calm him. As the tension started to ease in his frame, Husk spoke.

“Things change quick here, especially between Overlords. You know that, with how fast ‘Tino lost you. So I ain’t gonna make promises I can’t keep. But for now, you’re mine Angel Dust, and no one fucks with what’s mine.” His gold irises gleamed as his smile turned harsh. “I don’t plan on wagering you, ever. Clear?”

Something cracked in Angel, a chip in the despair. “As crystal baby.” He sighed. “Thanks…Husk.”

A few more minutes and then Husk lowered them back to the balcony. “I need to head back down. Call room service, get some rest.” He took Angel’s hand and pressed a kiss to the back. “Let me know how you’re feeling tomorrow.”

Angel ordered food, changing out of gown and jewelry for an oversized shirt while it was arriving. He’d ordered a bunch of finger foods, easy to eat as he lounged. But he was surprised to find his favorite cocktail added to the cart. A card written in Husk’s handwriting leaned against the stem, “Just one tonight.” He snorted before taking a sip. He was starting to like this kind of pampering.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin fanfic #hazbin angel dust #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel husk #huskerdust #hazbin au #fanfiction #angel dust #overlord husk #hazbin valentino

[light-yaers]

Take Care: Chapter One

Fic Masterpost | AO3 | Chapter List

Warnings: swearing, eventual smut, emotional themes. 

Word Count: 13k+

Chapter One

“Thank you so much for accepting me,” you said, stepping into Shannon Hart’s office, Head of Applications at Richmond university. “I’ve been so looking forward to finally getting into publishing and writing.”

Shannon gestured for you to sit opposite her. You dropped yourself down into the swivel chair facing her desk, as she cleared her throat and adjusted her sleeves. You stared at her thoughtfully, taking in the slight twitch of her brow and the vein popping out on her forehead.

“Are you okay, Shannon?” You frowned.

She intertwined her fingers and placed them on the desktop before her. “We’ve asked you here today to let you know, with great regret, that your placement at Pluto Press has been… mixed up.”

“Mixed up?”

“Royally.” Shannon stared you down.

“Royally how?” You leaned forward, all decorum going out the window immediately.

“Our paperwork was sorted wrong. It’s an internal admin error, one that’s– frankly– deeply embarrassing–”

“Just tell me what the deal is, okay, Shannon?” you said, trying not to yell at her to just say it.

Shannon cleared her throat again. “You weren’t the name that we sent to the Pluto Press administration. Which means… well, it means–”

You smacked your hand upon her desk, making her flinch. “I mean this in the nicest way, but for the love of God, spit it out.”

“Your placement at Pluto Press was filled by someone else.”

You squinted at her. “Someone else?”

“Yes.”

“But, I can still get a spot, right?” you asked.

“Regrettably not.”

“Not?”

Shannon nodded. “Not.”

You toyed between the urge to scream at the ceiling, or round-house kick the woman sat in front of you. Both seemed appealing, both seemed necessary, but instead you did nothing. You sat like a rock before her, ignoring the upbeat dump-dump of your heart beneath your ribcage. You weren’t an angry person, no, but this was the closest you’d been to booking into a rage room.

“So… you’re saying, I won’t be an intern at Pluto Press starting next week?” you said, trying to comprehend it fully yourself.

“Correct.” Shannon stayed frozen.

“So…” You leant forward, fully, leaning down on your arms and looking Shannon directly in the face. She gulped anxiously, with nerves, and for good reason. “What the fuck am I supposed to do now, Shannon?”

“Ah, well.” Shannon squeaked out. Sweat dotted her brow and as quickly leaned back in her chair. “This is what I wanted to discuss. Your options.”

“My options,” you repeated.

“Of which there are a few. One, you could defer the year and be ensured a space on this masters next year, with your original placement at Pluto Press–”

“Fuck no,” you said immediately. “Listen, Shannon. I’ve put off this masters for four fucking years. I’m not waiting another year. I mean, I’ve already moved to Richmond. I’ve taken out my student loans. So, abso-fucking-lutely not.”

Shannon’s eyebrow twitched intensely. “I was hoping you wouldn’t say that,” she whispered. “So, your second option.”

“How many options are there?”

“...Two.”

“So, this is my final option?”

“If you don’t wish to drop out completely, yes.” Shannon was a stone-cold fox, you could tell. As much as her eyebrow twitched and her brow glistened, she was certainly blunt and to the point. It was something you could admire, despite the want to storm out of her office.

“So, my final option is?”

Shannon leaned forward again, strongly. “There is one other placement available for this course. They’re new, and we were originally going to try them out with a student who wished to be a sports journalist, but…”

“But?”

“He changed his mind about the course and went into the fried chicken industry, instead.” You squinted at her quizzically. Shannon’s face stayed as still as a gargoyle. “It’s a social placement. You do Instagram uploads, copywriting, player profiles and articles, things like that.”

“Player profiles? For what?”

“Football.”

“Football?”

“AFC Richmond, to be exact.”

The day had gone from bad to worse within a matter of seconds. Not only had you been wrongfully pushed out of your publishing placement, but now your only option was to work for a fucking football team. Football had been something that went over your head from the start. If it wasn’t the fact that boys from the school football team, when you were twelve, laughed at you incessantly, then it was the visuals of grown men clutching their knees and whining on a pitch that made you hate it completely. Football was not your thing. Football wouldn’t allow you to publish your first novel.

You widened your eyes. “A fucking football team?”

Shannon winced, and it was like a layer shed off her in an instant. “Can I be utterly transparent with you?”

“Please.”

“I know it’s shit,” she said bluntly. You let out a huff in agreement. ���But, you still have the opportunity to network. Big name footballers have connections, as does Rebecca Welton, the club owner. You’ll still have all the access to publishing opportunities that you’d get through Pluto Press, just… in a slightly unorthodox way. Your coursework will be slightly changed, and the term structures will be different to match up with the league, but.” Shannon shrugged. “This is still something worth doing. You can write on the side, too. And who doesn’t want to be around some attractive footballers?”

“Me,” you said plainly.

“Scratch that last part, then,” Shannon replied. For the first time since entering her office, she attempted to smile at you. It was almost frightening to look at.

So, it was fuck all. You had no choice. You’d moved into your flat two days before, a tube ride away from Pluto Press, and coincidentally a walk away from the Dogtrack. There was no way you were backing out now, not when you’d been deferring your application for years. This was a time where you had inspiration, motivation, and wanted to succeed. You had to strike while the iron was hot, even if that meant dealing with footballers, of all fucking people.

As much as you’d batted away Shannon’s comment about them, you had already heard of a few players that Richmond. Jamie Tartt was well-known, and you’d be lying if you hadn’t thought he was fit when you’d seen him on his girlfriends’ socials a while back. They were a different breed, though, so entirely excluded from the world that you existed in; far away from the stoicism of footballers and their swinging dicks that fell into one too many vaginas. You didn’t want to be another working woman in the background, especially in an industry that you knew fuck all about. But– this was the best option. It still got you the same opportunities, still gave you the time to write and work on your own novel.

You inhaled sharply and sighed deeply. Shannon stayed put, eyeing you up as she pursed her lips.

“Fine,” you said. “I’ll do it.”

You had less than a week to prepare. Not in terms of your masters or education, but mentally. You were thrusting yourself into the proverbial belly of the beast, a football club full of men who, most likely, smelled really fucking bad. You made a list in your head– Febreeze was right at the top. It wasn’t just about the uncertainty and horror of it all, it was also something that transcended that. What if they didn’t like you? What if this entire experiment went drastically wrong? You knew fuck all about football, and would be surrounded by those whose literal entire lives revolved around the sport.

You felt like an imposter more than anything. More than the rage of the fuck up. More than the fear of things going wrong with your degree. You were an imposter, entering into a world that wasn’t your own, being handed opportunities that others would die for.

That’s all that went through your head as you stood outside AFC Richmond, just off Nelson Road. It looked like a typical football ground from the outside– a green and vibrant field directly to the right, where someone on an industrial mower was cutting the grass. The car park was full of expensive vehicles; Lambos, Jags, Martins. As you focused your breathing, a hulking pitch black Jeep came careening around the corner. You flinched as the driver parked it in one of the top spots, next to a bright green monstrosity, so low to the ground that your knees felt weak just looking at it.

The driver side door of the Jeep burst open, and a man, dressed exactly like his fucking car, jumped out. His jeans were black, his t-shirt black, his leather jacket– black. Atop his head sat a close cut mop of black hair, and his beard was trimmed to absolute perfection, almost to the point of robotism. It was, you guessed it, black.

You stared at him with a mixture of confusion and utter amazement. Was this the Grim Reaper, come to take you away for your sins and tell you your life was all but over? He looked back at you with an indifferent sort of stare, one that penetrated deep into your chest and made you want to violently throw up, or run away immediately.

As he approached the double doored entrance, his back to you, he stopped suddenly. He turned around slowly and laid his dark eyes upon you. “You a fan?” he asked.

“What?” you stuttered out, taken aback by the deepness of his voice. There was a scratch to it, one that resembled a growl. Was this man actually real? He came across as some kind of mythical creature that represented a bad omen, or someone gruff enough to mend the goalposts with his bare hands.

“Meet and greets only happen after games,” he continued. Your face soured with amusement.

“I’m not here for a bloody meet and greet,” you let out. “Do I look like a football fan?” you added quickly, suddenly afraid that you looked like the kind of person to wait outside football stadiums, just to see players.

He shrugged. “I don’t fucking know.”

You took a step forward. “I’m here to see Rebecca Welton, actually. I just…” You glanced around the car park, trying to find the right words to say that you’d been afraid to go inside. “I just didn’t know whether to wait outside or not.”

He followed your eye movements, looking around at the cars alongside you. “Well, she doesn’t seem to have an office in the car park, does she,” he stated. You let out a small huff, embarrassed.

“No, I guess not.” You looked into his eyes, tracing the outline of his stoic face. He was sort of… soft around the edges. If that was even possible. “Do you know where her office is?”

“Do I look like a fucking tour guide?” he said bluntly, and you flinched backwards. Your expression dropped, replaced with something other than the tinge of softness you had before. This guy was an arsehole. An utter arsehole, wearing leather and too tight jeans. When it rained, you bet droplets trickled off him in grey washes, picking up the black dye off his stupid fucking clothes.

“Well,” you said, regarding him. “No, not a tour guide. Maybe the caretaker?”

He raised his brows. “The fucking caretaker?”

“Yeah.” You squinted at him. “I can picture you mowing some grass, fixing some posts, DIY and all that.”

He shuffled on his spot. “Who the fuck are you?”

You crossed your arms. “Someone who’s trying to find Rebecca Welton’s office. And you are?”

“Not the fucking caretaker,” he said, before he turned on his heels and headed to the door.

“Hey, wait!” you yelled. “Hold on!” You rushed towards the door, flashing him a vaguely apologetic stare, but you didn’t dare say one outloud. He didn’t deserve one.

He peered down at you, letting out a literal growl. You backed up slightly, looking at him in absolute awe. “Did you just growl at me?”

“I growl at everyone,” he said.

“Has anyone ever told you that’s a bit weird?”

“All the time. I don’t fucking care,” he said bluntly.

You shrugged. “Fair enough.”

A moment of awkwardly comfortable silence followed. He continued to peer down at you, flicking his eyes across your own, perhaps in an attempt to intimidate you. It didn’t work, not after you’d got under his skin by mistaking him for the caretaker. You raised your brows at him silently, pleading with him to just fucking tell you where to go. You understood that they probably didn’t have many mid-twenties girls around the club, but the least he could do was help, just this once.

He rolled his eyes quickly. “All the way down the corridor, up the stairs. Her office is right there.”

He pulled open the door, reluctantly standing to the side for you to go first. You smiled. “Thank you!” you exclaimed. You rushed inside, fast-walking down the corridor until you found the set of steps up to Rebecca’s office.

He stayed back, peering at you as you went on your way. Before he turned to head down the stairs, he found himself subtly smiling at the scene that played out priorly. You had guts, that’s what he gauged. You had guts and you weren’t afraid to use them.

Rebecca Welton was the most intimidating, yet beautiful, woman you’d ever laid eyes upon. As you sat opposite her in her office, cup of tea in her grasp and hand moving through the air as she talked, you couldn’t take your eyes off the alarming look on her face. She was glowing, talking smartly and confidently, while you all but cowered before her like another male suitor.

“Did you catch any of that?” she asked abruptly, bringing you back into the room. You’d heard nothing, not when you’d been looking at the almost perfect way her face moved when she spoke.

You widened your eyes. “Yes. All of it. In perfect detail.”

“Great.” She stood up quickly, downing the remaining contents of her teacup. “I’ll introduce you to the team. Come on,” she said, rounding her desk.

You scrambled up from your seat and followed her immediately. Her shoes clicked upon the floor dramatically, as you made your way down the stairs and back through the corridor you came from. She took you down another set of stairs to the lower portion of the stadium. You passed multiple offices, and a gym, before she whisked you past a few back rooms.

“Locker room here.” She pointed to her left as you passed. You stuck your head around the corner quickly, taking in a wave of red and blue. “Manager’s office,” she added from a bit further up. “Beyond that is the kit room, and physio on the right.” Rebecca stopped in the corridor suddenly, making you gasp. She let out a breath, before turning on her heels and heading back down the way you both came.

You followed her without question, clutching onto your tote bag for dear life as she whisked you through the grounds. Her legs were too long to keep up with fully, so you were forced to partially jog behind her every few seconds.

“Um, Rebecca?” you asked.

“Hmm.”

“Do I get an office space?”

She stopped again, next to the gym. “Of course,” she said, peering down at you. “It’s there.” She pointed to the right, further away from the gym. A small room is all you saw, devoid of windows, with nothing more than a desk sat in the partial darkness. “I’m sure you can make it… homely.”

“Yes,” you said, smiling up at her from fear. Now wasn’t the time to be criticising your workplace amenities. Maybe when you’d paid your dues, or done a good job, could you ask for something more.

Besides, Rebecca seemed incredibly eager to be done with this tour. She hadn’t exactly been enthralled at your arrival, nor did she seem keen to talk to you for longer than she had to. You’d heard things about her before– a cheating husband, enough money to buy a skyscraper in Dubai, probably. You did your best to keep up with her, avoiding personal questions and trying to retain everything she told you.

The two of you turned the corner, headed for a long corridor, with daylight streaming in at the end. This was obviously the tunnel where players entered onto the pitch. You’d never stepped foot in a stadium of any kind, let alone been on the under-layers like the players themselves. As the both of you made your way to the doors, you imagined what it would be like for them– anticipation, nerves. You’d be shitting yourself, probably.

“I’ll take you to the team, now,” Rebecca explained. “Do you like football?”

“No,” you said immediately. From the look on her face, she wasn’t mad. Maybe this was as good a time as any to explain that you knew fuck all about all this, and actually didn’t want it.

Rebecca peered back at you. “Not at all?”

You sighed. “I know nothing about football, if I’m being honest. I’m a writer, not a sportswoman. I don’t care for sweaty men, or their reasons for fighting one another on a field. I’ll do my job, that I can assure you Ms. Welton, but I won’t deny that I couldn’t give a shit about this game.”

Rebecca slowed her speed, letting you catch up with her. Her quizzical expression quickly turned into a triumphant smile. “Fantastic,” she said. She was being genuine, and you had no idea why. “Well, come on!” she exclaimed, as the two of you burst through the double doors and onto the pitch.

The players bundled up and down the pitch with speed, kicking about a ball as they were split into two teams. You watched them for a few moments, following their movements as they scrambled up and down, kicking the ball between them, until someone finally went for a shot– he got it, but no one seemed happy about it. That was number nine, Jamie Tartt.

“I was wide open!” number twenty-four exclaimed.

“Well, so was I. So, I went for it. Sue me,” Tartt replied, in his staunch Mancunian accent. He stuck out his tongue like a schoolboy as he walked away, leaving number twenty-four with a sour expression on his face. He was comforted by a few others, telling him to brush it off.

You and Rebecca approached the coaches. “Coach Lasso,” Rebecca began, prompting the men to turn around. “This here is our new placement from Richmond university. The one I told you about last week.”

A man with the largest moustache you’d ever seen regarded you. “Oh, yes! I remember now. Welcome!” he said happily, shaking your hand abruptly. You shuffled your falling tote bag back onto your arm, smiling at him awkwardly as he kept shaking your hand.

“Great to be here,” you muttered.

“Call me Ted. You and I are both newbies, you know. Same as Coach here,” Ted said, gesturing to a man beside him. He wore mirrored glasses and crossed his arms intimidatingly. He said nothing, only sent you a nod in hello. “So, what brought you to us, huh? Got a love for football? Got a burning Tobey Maguire for the beautiful game?”

Tobey Maguire?

You looked to the other coach for help. “Burning desire,” he said bluntly.

“I’m trying out my own version of Cockney rhyming slang. Tobey Maguire, desire. Sylvester Stallone, the phone. So far it’s all actors, but we’re getting somewhere.” Ted peered down at you with a cartoonish smile. He was like no one you’d ever met before, someone so overly happy that you could hardly believe it.

“You’re doing… great,” you let out, from lack of what else to say. “But, well– I don’t know a lot about football, but–”

“You and me both, sister,” Ted interrupted.

You laughed awkwardly. “But, I’m happy to be here, and excited for the next year.” A lie, but one that needed to be said. You weren’t here to fuck up this club, or get overly buddy-buddy with its players. You were going to do your job, get your degree and use it afterwards. That was the goal, but during that, you had no Tobey Maguire to upset the team or the management.

Ted and his second in command, Coach Beard, turned around to the pitch. You stood next to Rebecca, who stood next to them, looking out at the players like they were being judged for the next season of So, you think you can dance?

Ted blew on his whistle shrilly. “Gather around, boys!” he yelled. The men obeyed, halting play as they all gathered before their new coaches, with some of them looking more than exhausted.

You couldn’t imagine the physical damage all of them went through, or how fit they had to actually be. You could hardly reach a level six in your bleep test at school, let alone be able to sprint up and down a pitch for two forty-five minute halves.

“Where’s Roy?” Ted asked, prompting one player to appear through the hubbub. When you met his eye, you almost choked on air. It was the guy, the not caretaker. The one that growled at you not an hour ago. “Ah, there he is. Listen up fellas! This little lady here is the placement from Richmond college–”

“Uni!” one of the players yelled.

Ted shot him a wide-eyed look. “God, you call college something different, too? Anyway, yes. Richmond uni. She’ll be doing a few things around here for us. Not PR, but keeping up with player profiles on the website, small updates, and all that jazz about the season coming up, maybe an article or two.”

As Ted spoke, you forced yourself to look anywhere but at number six– Roy Kent. He was staring you down like you’d done something ungodly, like you’d burned down his house or kicked his dog. His stance was one that you’d never seen either, like he was constantly on high alert and ready to strike a punch if needed.

“This here is Roy Kent, the captain of the team.” Ted gestured to Roy. He growled at you. You frowned at him. “You’ll be working with Roy for the next week on player profiles–”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Roy stepped forward. I’ve told you all before, I don’t get involved in PR or website shit,” Roy spoke up. “Get one of the other lads to do it.”

“It’s just for the time being, Roy. Just until she gets acquainted with the grounds.” Ted tried. “As much as I’m happy not to have you in front of a camera– believe me, that’s up to you– as a captain, and as your coach, I’m asking you to do this for the newest member of the Richmond family. Okay?”

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. All you wanted was to start and not stop for a year, so time could go faster. All you wanted was twenty pairs of eyes to stop looking you up and down like something shiny and brand-new.

Roy’s fists balled tightly, until his knuckles went white. “Fine.”

You let out a long breath. “Great,” you muttered. Roy’s eyes found your face, and you looked at him with no effort to be nice. You and he both knew that this was going to be long and annoying. It was better to get it out in the first place than to keep it all in for a year.

After meeting the team, you headed to your shoebox of an office. You had the day to set it up and make your own, before things kicked off. Ted and Beard were still running coaching for the rest of the day, so you were effectively on the lower floor by yourself. You set up your office, popped down your laptop and made a new folder in your documents. You went through your upcoming assignments, and started planning for what you could do. Rebecca gave you the various passwords for the social accounts, which you started filing through to get a sense of what they posted.

It was all the type of shit that your mum would like on Facebook. Brilliant.

If this was what you had to do to get to where you wanted, then so be it. It would all be worth it when you had connections and a network around you. That was the goal.

You opened your ongoing novel on your computer and scanned the pages. This was the endgame; to get the baby published. It was fiction, not once mentioning any sport, but it was all you wanted. Years of delay had led you here, so you had to embrace it while you had the chance to. Downtime was something that you’d have an abundance of, which was another perk, you supposed.

By four in the afternoon, the players tickled back inside. They passed your office with subtle curiosity, peering around the corner as you sat at your desk, filing through emails and starting on a subtle plan for your first assignment, due in at the end of the week. As soon as you’d got the courage up to grab Roy for a quick chat, you could get started.

When the players began filing out of the locker room to head home, you packed up your own belongings. You passed a few of them in the corridor, smiling sweetly and saying subtle hellos as you made your way through, until you almost slammed into one of them.

“Oof!” you exclaimed before him; it was number twenty-four, the one you’d seen before on the pitch.

Gently, he held you steady by your shoulders to stop you falling. “My apologies,” he said kindly.

“Don’t worry. I’m still getting used to this place.”

“It can be a lot to begin with, but I’m sure you’ll get used to it very soon,” he reassured you. You smiled up at him, before he stuck out his hand. “I’m Sam Obisanya. It’s nice to meet you properly.”

You took his hand. “You too. I’m excited to get to know you all.”

“Well, if you want, come and join us later this week. It’s Isaac’s birthday, so we’re all going out to celebrate.”

“Oh,” you said bashfully. “I don’t know, I don’t want to intrude.”

“It’s fine, bruv,” another player turned the corner from the locker room. Isaac McAdoo. “Come along. The more the merrier, you get me.”

Player Colin Hughes appeared in the doorway after him. “Definitely. Come and join in on the fun.”

“Especially before the season starts next weekend,” Isaac added. “Gotta get our freak on while we still can.”

McAdoo and Hughes left together, and you got the sense that they were two players who had a long history of friendship. You turned back to Sam and shot him a smile. “Count me in, then,” you said.

“Brilliant. I’ll put it in our group chat,” Sam said sweetly, before he made his leave.

You turned to the locker room, pleasantly surprised at how that had all gone. If all of the guys were like that, then you’d have no issue with them whatsoever. But, then came Roy. You entered the locker room hesitantly, scooting out of the way as other players said their goodbyes for the day. To the right was the manager’s office, where Ted and Beard still sat at their desks. Directly opposite the door, however, was exactly who you wanted.

You approached Roy, as he pulled on a pair of shoes, and cleared your throat. He looked up at you slowly, resting a hand on his thigh as he lazily skittered his eyes across you.

“So, you’re definitely not the caretaker,” you said, in an attempt to diffuse the tension.

“The last lawn I mowed was my grandad’s when I was nine,” he replied bluntly.

“Noted. I can put that in your player profile, if you wanted.” Sarcasm fell from your mouth, but you got the sense that Roy didn’t appreciate it. He growled, going back to doing up his laces. “I just wanted to talk to you about that, actually. About what Ted said.”

“If you think I’m going to gab with you about the team for the next week then you’re a lot dumber than I gave you credit for in the car park,” he said plainly.

You waved at him in dismissal quickly. “No, no, that’s what I meant. I really don’t need you to do that,” you said transparently. Roy looked up at you with interest, waiting for you to continue. You let out a sigh. “I’m not going to pretend that all this is a dream come true for me, the same way that you won’t pretend it’s something you give a fuck about helping me with. I can go around the players on my own, don’t worry.”

Roy finished tying his laces, before he stood. He towered over you, but the intimidation he’d displayed priorly was starting to wear off. You got a sense that he was just like this, all of the time. You’d read a few articles about him earlier, about his start at Sunderland and his triumphant years at Chelsea, before he moved to AFC Richmond. Roy Kent seemed like a player entrenched with respect. He was one of the greats, that’s what every article had said. You wouldn’t admit it out loud, but you were intrigued to see it all for yourself.

“Fair enough,” he finally agreed.

You let out an innate sigh of relief. “Great. Thank you,” you said, before you turned and headed for the door. Before you left, however, you stopped abruptly. The locker room was empty now, bar the coaches in the other office. It was just the two of you, and you had a nagging feeling within your gut. “You can tell, can’t you?” you asked.

You turned back to Roy. “Tell what?” he replied.

“That I don’t want to be here.”

“You were stood outside the building this morning like you were walking to your fucking death,” he said. “Of course, I could fucking tell.”

“Just double checking,” you muttered, subtly embarrassed.

“Why are you here then? If you don’t want to be,” he asked, grabbing his bag from the bench. He stood to full height again and took a few steps toward you. It was only then that you realised he was assuming for you to both walk out the building together.

You stepped out of the locker room, falling into step next to Roy in the corridor. “The university fucked up. This was the only placement they had left,” you admitted.

“That’s fucking shit.” Roy’s candour was something you were growing to appreciate, almost. “So, you don’t like football?”

“I don’t know a single thing about it, besides it being people kicking a ball on a field.”

Roy let out a long, low whistle. “Fucking hell. No wonder you didn’t want to come inside.”

As the two of you emerged into the car park, you felt lighter than you had all day. Roy headed to his Jeep, and you stayed a few paces back. “It’s not… ideal.”

“That’s an overly nice way to put it,” he said, looking back at you. “And it’s a fucking lie. Why are you doing this to yourself?”

You shrugged. “I want to publish my book. This is a way to make it happen.”

“Fair enough,” Roy said, jumping into his Jeep. He rolled the window down and switched on the engine. “Just don’t fucking include me in it, alright?”

You scoffed. “You think I want to write about you? Don’t flatter yourself, Captain.”

Roy winced. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he muttered, before he put his car in gear and sped out of the car park. He left you without a second glance, turning onto the street and careening down the road as fast as he could, just to get away from you.

You found yourself walking home with a strange sense of peace. Yes, the situation wasn’t in your favour. Yes, you’d already fucked up and called the team captain the caretaker before you’d even stepped foot in the club, but things didn’t feel bad. The boys were nice, the coaches were welcoming, and even Rebecca Welton didn’t give a shit that you knew nothing. Things were slotting into place faster than you expected, but you were happy about it. As you made your way through Richmond, back to your flat, you realised that you didn’t feel awful. You felt almost happy, content, ready to take on the remainder of your first week and bosh out your first piece of coursework.

You spent the evening on Google, looking up the history of the Dogtrack, of AFC Richmond, of their star players. You learned that Jamie Tartt was on loan from Manchester City for a season, which made things all the more interesting when it came to his sportsmanship with the rest of the current team. You watched old game highlights, not understanding a single thing they were doing on screen. You gave up after a few hours of them kicking a ball around, too tired from the prior stress of last week to stay awake any longer.

The next morning, you got to work. You made an announcement to the locker room, while the guys pulled on their shin pads and football boots. “Over the next few days, I kindly ask that you all fill in a small worksheet for me. A bit about your backgrounds, your current positions, your birthdays, even. It’s for the updated player profiles on the website, and I’m on a deadline, so please do this as soon as you can!” you explained.

Sam was the first to hand his in, doing it almost immediately after you made your announcement. He dropped it into the small basket on your desk before he headed out to training, shooting you and a small smile as he left you at your desk. Soon after, McAdoo, Hughes, Bumbercatch and Zoreaux followed suit. You had enough information to start.

By the end of the day, you had almost half of the profiles written. You’d expected the workload to be more, or something intensely focused on football plays, but this was piss. You’d definitely be done by the Sunday deadline, just a few days away.

As the days flew by, you got better at approaching players on their own. You made yourself known and didn’t pester (unless they needed it), just reminded them of the task at hand. Isaac's birthday celebrations loomed ever closer, which meant the guys were in a boisterous and excitable mood for the final half of the week. They would play games in the locker room after training, laugh in the gym during work out hours, and pass by your office, waving at you with chuckles on their lips.

By Thursday, you’d cornered Jamie after training.

“Come on, man. It’s not hard to do. I just need it done by tomorrow, so I can write them all up for Sunday, is all,” you pleaded with him.

He took off his football shirt swiftly, making you roll your eyes. “I don’t have the time this evening. Got a prior arrangement, you get me.”

“I really don’t care about your prior arrangement, Jamie. I need this done. It’ll take you two fucking minutes, literally.”

“Sorry, love,” he said, and the patronising tone in his voice was one that you couldn’t stand. You were older than him by a few years, yet he was acting so inherently high and mighty. “I can’t change what evening I get waxed or the lady gets upset.”

“Waxed?” You grimaced.

Suddenly, a shrill high-pitched voice rounded the corner into the locker room. “Alright, boys!” it yelled, and when you turned around, you almost collapsed to the floor. Keeley fucking Jones stood in the middle of the locker room, beaming at all the boys with a genuine smile, and wearing an outfit that you’d never think would work on paper, but it absolutely worked in practice; on her.

You froze where you were, as she peered around the room and met Jamie’s face. “Ready to go, babe?” she asked, before she caught your eye. She smiled and shrugged her shoulders in greeting. “Who’s this?”

Jamie shrugged on a new shirt, packing some of his belongings. “New social person, or somethin’.”

“Social placement,” you corrected him, looking only at Keeley. “Sorry to stare, it’s just… you’re Keeley Jones, aren’t you?”

“The one and only!” she exclaimed. “You’re a newbie, are you? Welcome to Richmond.” She leant towards you warmly, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder in greeting. “Now, I’ve gotta get this one here to his waxing appointment.”

“Oh, sure,” you muttered, peering back at Jamie and trying not to imagine exactly what needed waxing. It was almost traumatising. “Before you go, take this, though,” you added, before you handed her one of your worksheets to her. “I really need him to fill this out by tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry,” Keeley said, folding it neatly and putting it in her bag. “I’ll make sure he gets it done.” She winked at you, making you blush.

The final lads trickled out of the locker rooms, while you reminded each of them to get the worksheet done. A few picked up a new copy, others nodded at you in agreement, but Roy Kent– he didn’t so much as growl as he passed you for the door.

You followed him immediately, rushing down the hallway to meet him.

“Are you giving me the silent treatment or something?” you asked. He growled in response. You scoffed. “You definitely are.”

“Excuse me if I’m not used to nagging uni students getting on my back,” he replied.

“It’s been years since I stopped being a uni student, Roy. I’m in bed by ten thirty every night, I’ll have you know.”

“A boring, nagging uni student, then.”

“Ouch,” you muttered, feeling a slight sting, but you weren’t going to let him phase you. “Have you done the worksheet yet?” you asked. He let out another growl, to which you peered up at him with a blunt expression. “Please, just get it done by tomorrow.”

“Only if you piss off and leave me alone.”

You stopped in the hallway abruptly. “Done and done,” you said from behind him. He kept walking towards the car park, looking back when he realised you weren’t doing it just for show.

You walked back down the hallway, the way you came, as you went for a different exit. Roy stopped walking without your knowledge, furrowing his brows at you as you turned a corner and disappeared. He readjusted his grip on his gym bag, sighing out of his nose.

“Fucks sake,” he whispered harshly, before he entered the car park, door slamming behind him with an echo.

You woke in the morning feeling anxious. It wasn’t just because today would be the first time you socialised with the lads outside the club, but today was the last, easy day that you had to get the remaining worksheets. Your deadline was in two days, and you wouldn’t see the players after today for the entire weekend. It was crunch time, and as much as you wanted Roy and Jamie to be easy and mouldable, you expected the absolute opposite.

Your anxiety dimmed when you arrived in the morning to a full tray of completed worksheets in your office. All but one had been filled out and left for you– and by no surprise, Roy Kent was the last.

“Fucks sake,” you muttered under your breath. You hoisted yourself from your chair and made your way out the office, headed for the locker room. There was a certain confidence in your walk, reserved only for when you were at the end of your tether.

Roy was a grown man. Was he really incapable of filling out a simple worksheet? It drove you insane that he was one of those people who intentionally didn’t do something, even when he’d been explicitly asked to multiple times. Like a child who did the opposite of what their parents said, or when your mum tells you to do something that you were planning on doing yourself, but now don’t want to because she asked you herself.

As you approached the locker room, you let out a whining “Roy!” loud enough that everyone could hear you. You turned into the room, flickering your eyes across the players.

Roy wasn’t there. “Where the fuck is he?” you asked Isaac.

Isaac shrugged. “Think he’s already out on the pitch.”

You made your way out to the pitch, filling the hallways with the same whine that you’d released previously. If this was what it resorted to, then so be it. If you had to make Roy hate you even more just to do this damn worksheet, then you’d fucking do it.

Ted turned to you as you stormed onto the pitch. “Howdy!” he exclaimed. “Jeesh, did someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning? I did that once, too, when I first moved here and slept on the opposite side of the bed. It was crazy, like the universe was all mixed up and upside down. I almost threw up.”

“Where the hell is Roy?” you asked, ignoring him as you looked out to the pitch. The boys were milled around, waiting for the others to come out so they could start warming up properly.

“Well, he’s right–” Ted began, pointing out to the field. He shimmied his finger around, like a cat obsessed with a laser pointer, before he dropped his hand in defeat. “He was right there before.”

“He’s avoiding me,” you let out with a scoff. “This is fucking unbelievable. He’s a literal child.”

“Hey now,” Ted said. “When I see him, I’ll send him to your office, okay?”

You nodded, pissed off beyond comprehension. “Okay.”

The day went by too quickly, but you managed to get all the other profiles written. Not once did Roy come to your office, and when the guys came back in at the end of training, he was nowhere to be seen. You approached Colin, who said that he’d been right behind him, last he’d seen. That was the same as Sam, as Isaac, as the rest.

Roy Kent’s back up career should have been a magician’s glamorous fucking assistant with how much he’d been able to disappear without a fucking trace.

“That’s it. I’m going to kill him,” you said, leaned against the locker room frame as the guys got themselves ready for the evening.

Sam turned to you reassuringly. “He might come tonight, who knows?”

“I can give you his number, if you want?” Isaac suggested. “Can track him down and make him pay, and that.”

You smiled. “Please do. I don’t care if I have to call him twelve times, I’ll fucking do it.”

“Why do you need it done so badly anyway?” Jamie chimed in, shaking out his football shirt.

You copied Roy’s number into your phone from Isaac’s, sighing as you looked back to the room. The boys stared at you expectantly. “You guys know how this placement is for my masters degree, right? Which means I have certain assignments and coursework to get done. This is my first one, and I need all the players to participate, or it’ll be a big, fat fail.”

“Oh shit,” Isaac said. “So, you get graded for this?” You nodded sullenly. Isaac puffed out his chest abruptly. “Listen here, boys! Any of you see Roy, you get him to fill out this fucking sheet, kapeesh?”

You smiled, feeling bashful. “Thanks, Isaac.”

“No problem, girl. Now, turn that frown upside down. We’re getting drunk tonight!”

The locker room erupted into cheers. Jamie sprayed far too much Lynx in the air, and Colin almost cracked his head open as he jumped up and down on a bench, but even you couldn’t deny the atmosphere was electric. They were all good in their own ways, just some were a lot harder to let their walls down.

As the guys filed out of the room, you peered over at Roy’s cubby. Gently, you walked over and placed an unfilled sheet on his shelf. You stuck a small post-it to the paper– do this for me and i’ll never come to you for anything else.

You left the locker room in silence, trying not to worry too much about having incomplete work for your deadline. You had Roy’s number now, anyway, so even if it was something small over text you were certain you could get something. A crumb, maybe. You didn’t panic, not yet. Panicking would be for the Saturday scaries, and the remainder of your Sunday. Panicking wasn’t for now, as you followed the boys out to the car park and piled into the front seat of Sam’s car. A convoy of you left for Isaac’s house, before you all hit up the club later in the evening.

By the time the sun had set, your legs were jelloid from dancing, and your abs were coming in from laughing. You’d gabbed with Keeley for hours at the house, and were still gabbing now on the way to the club.

“What is it with Roy? I just don’t get it,” you asked.

“What, you mean his rugged good looks, or the fact he’s emotionally constipated to the max?” Keeley replied, and you let out a scoff.

“Definitely emotional constipation. He’s not that hot,” you let out. Keeley’s mouth dropped open.

“Oh, please. I know you don’t like him, but you have to admit that he’s gorgeous.”

“I won’t admit that, because all he’s been to me is ugly.” You stuck out your chin stubbornly.

Keeley smiled deviously. “Call him.”

“Absolutely not,” you said, shaking your head. “Hard pass.”

“Just call him. As soon as you get him on the phone, he can’t avoid you. And if he does, he’s a real arsehole. This is for your degree, for fucks sake.”

“I don’t think he knows that,” you said timidly.

“Then tell him! Yell it at him! Get him to do it.” She urged you, and you had no choice.

As the guys strolled forward towards the club, you and Keeley found yourself leant against a wall in a quiet corner. You found Roy’s number in your phone and dialled before you could chicken out. You tried not to vomit when it rang, and with each dial sound you were close to calling it a day.

After five or so rings, he actually picked up. “Who the fuck is it?” he asked, his voice gravelly over the line.

“Roy!” you and Keeley let out in sync, both equally surprised that he’d actually answered.

“Yeah. Who the hell is this?”

“Roy.” You took over, letting out a shaking breath. “It’s–”

He sighed, cutting you off. “I know who it is, now. I swear to God, if you’re asking me about that fucking sheet again, I’ll blow my top.”

All of your fear dissipated. It turned into immediate rage. “Oh, you fucking arse, Roy Kent,” you let out harshly. “I asked you to do this one thing, something that’s important, and you chose to avoid me all day instead.”

“I wasn’t avoiding you!” he yelled back. “I was busy, and I didn’t need you breathing down my fucking neck even more!”

“Oh, fuck you!” you screamed. “Just fucking get it done– please!”

“Why do you even fucking need it?” he asked, booming his voice over the line. You sucked in a deep breath, trying to control yourself.

“I need it for my d–”

“Know what, I don’t actually care,” he cut you off. “I don’t fucking get involved in club PR shit.”

“This isn’t just for the club, Roy–” you pleaded angrily, but he wouldn’t listen.

“The other guys do, but I don’t. I don’t want the fucking marketing collaborations, the articles, the profiles, whatever the fuck else your job actually is. I’m too old to fucking deal with this shit.”

“Are you fucking serious?” you exploded. “Do you hear yourself right now? You’re a professional footballer, Roy. This is part of the fucking job!”

“Good-fucking-bye,” he said.

“Hey, wa–!” you yelled, but the line went dead before you could get another word in. You called back, but the line went to voicemail immediately. You assumed he’d blocked your number. “I’m going to– I’m going to fucking–”

“Use your words, babe,” Keeley said, trying to calm you down. Soon, though, your anger turned to tears. Your eyes started watering, and you sniffed back snot. Keeley quickly wrapped her arms around you. “Hey now, hey, come on,” she crooned sweetly. “It’ll be okay.”

“My first assignment and I’ve already fucked up. It’ll be docked at 40% for being incomplete,” you explained. Keeley pulled back, looking at you softly.

“I’m sorry, babe. Can you tell them he was being an arse?”

“I don’t know. They might not believe me.”

“It’s Roy Kent. Everyone knows he’s a prick.” Keeley gently brushed a few strands of hair behind your ears. “Come on. Let’s have some fun and try to forget about this tonight, okay?”

“Okay.” You sniffed, breathing out to try and expel the anxiety from your stomach. “I need a drink,” you said.

Keeley twisted her arm in yours. The two of you walked down the street together, with Keeley cracking jokes to cheer you up. “I think you need more than one drink, to be honest,” she whittled on, and you allowed yourself to relax. Just for the evening, just for then.

When you got home, you sent Roy a drunk text. It was short and to the point, and when you woke up, you didn’t have a reply. You weren’t expecting one, not after that phone call. You read over the text, over and over, imagining what Roy must feel like.

This was for my degree, my first assignment is due on Sunday. It’ll be incomplete without you.

You didn’t even know if he’d read it, but you were past the point of trying. You’d done all you could, and still he’d denied you. This was on him, not you.

Roy spent his Friday evening in anguish. Sat at his dining table with a beer, he got out a crumpled version of your worksheet from his gym bag. He looked over the questions he’d already answered– his birthday, his prior positions through the years, but the one question that made him want to rage was still unanswered: What do you want from your career in the future?

The future for Roy was different to that of McAdoo, and Tartt, and Obisanya. Roy Kent’s future was up and coming, and he knew it wouldn’t involve running around a pitch anymore. Seeing that question hadn’t just made him upset, it had ruined his entire week. So, he’d avoided you like the plague, he’d spent every night doing the same thing; trying to fucking answer it and getting nowhere.

So, he’d decided to say fuck it, and not do it at all. After he’d hung up on you that night, his anger at you quickly turned to guilt. On Monday, he’d apologise and hand it in, just without that question answered. But for now, he wanted to sit in silence, read the latest Dan Brown novel he had, and drink beer until he fell asleep on the sofa.

Roy turned off his phone for the rest of the weekend.

You slept with yours the entire weekend, but still got no reply from Roy. You wanted to scream at him, tell him that he was an entitled arse, but you knew it’d be useless. Roy Kent obviously didn’t give a shit about you, so why would he care about your insults? You spent your Sunday compiling the profiles that you had already, putting them together to make something coherent. On the front page, you had to specify that one player had not completed the task, which would be your downfall. When you submitted your assignment, you slammed your laptop shut and immediately went to bed. You didn’t want to stay up thinking about it, or think about the email that you’d have in your inbox tomorrow, saying how it would be docked at 40% for being incomplete.

You slept like shit, but still you rose on Monday morning. The walk to Nelson Road was particularly bleak, with black clouds bustling over Richmond and rain on the forecast for the next few days. The atmosphere at the stadium was tense, too, what with the first game of the season being that weekend. The boys were all conserving their energy, all working hard. When you arrived at your office, you flicked on the light– a crumpled worksheet lay on your desk.

The name at the top– Roy Kent.

He’d done the majority, but crossed out the final question. You wondered if he’d done that as an apology, or as an attempt to piss you off further. You’d texted him about your deadline, told him that it was on Sunday. Had he not even opened your message? You picked up his sheet and read it through, trying to keep at bay the anger that you felt in your chest. Maybe he hadn’t meant it to be, but this was cruel. He’d given you enough to make a decent profile, but a day late. It came across like he was laughing in your face.

Quickly, before you lost your nerve, you picked up the worksheet and booked it to the locker room. You stormed down the corridor, turning into the room strongly. You didn’t look at anyone else, just eyes forward, and latched upon the number six at the top of Roy’s blue cubby opposite the door. The boys stopped talking, going utterly silent at your arrival.

Roy turned to you, shooting you a quizzical look. He peered down at the worksheet in your hands, then back up at your blunt and glassy-eyed expression.

“What?” he asked plainly.

You responded by thrusting the worksheet into his chest. He grabbed hold of it, not expecting an altercation this early in the morning. You stepped back, exhaling from your nose, looking at him with such disappointment, before you left them to it.

Roy looked at the worksheet in his hands, utterly confused as to why you gave it back after trying so hard to get it in the first place. He glanced around the room, taking in the pursed lip expressions of his teammates.

“What the fuck just happened?” he asked them, booming.

“Her deadline was yesterday, bruv,” Isaac said. Tension descended over the room.

“Deadline for what?” Roy asked.

“Her degree, Roy. This was her first assignment,” Sam added.

“How the fuck was I supposed to know that?” Roy said, furrowing his brows.

“She tried to tell you, man,” Colin joined in. “On the phone with Keeley.”

“And in a text.” Jamie pointed to Colin, before looking at Roy. “Keeley told me that she sent you a message that evening, explaining why she needed it.”

“Got docked at 40%, innit,” Isaac added, pulling up his socks.

Roy’s eyes found a spot on the wall and zoned out in realisation. He’d turned his phone off all weekend. “Fuuuuuuuck,” he breathed out.

As much as Roy wanted to be left alone, he wasn’t cruel. If he’d known it was for your degree, he would have grown the fuck up and handed it in sooner. Now, as you sat at your desk and read over the reply from your professor, probably over and over again, he felt awful. It’d only been a week, and he knew you didn’t even want to be doing this specific placement. He felt like an arsehole, a real, fucking arsehole.

At training, he could hardly focus. The thought of you, sat at your desk, pissed off, upset, writing another Instagram caption or article that you couldn’t give a shit about, made him angry at himself. Roy had never gone to uni, or done a masters. From the age of nine, he’d been destined to be a professional footballer. He’d got lucky, alongside working hard for the entirety of his career. He knew you also worked hard, just from the fact you put yourself in a shit position to get what you wanted. That took guts, even Roy could admit that.

When he missed another assist during training, his third miss for the day, he stomped his feet on the pitch and let out a loud, “Fuck this!”

Roy pulled off his bib, throwing it at Nate, the kit man, before he stormed off the pitch. His boots clattered against the concrete floor as he skidded his way through the stadium, all the way to your office. He didn’t knock, but instead bombarded his way inside.

You let out a small gasp at his arrival, but stayed sat down, glued to your spot.

“Why didn’t you fucking tell me it was for your degree?” he boomed. “I would have fucking handed it over sooner if you had.”

“Why would that make any difference?” you said, keeping your voice steady.

“Because it’s not just for the club, it’s for something you’re working towards.”

“So, you’re saying, if it was only for the club and not myself too, you wouldn’t have done it at all?”

“Fuck no. I don’t do PR shit,” he said bluntly.

“Even if it was my job to do it? Even though it was something you had a responsibility to contribute towards?” you said, raising your brows at him. “That’s no fucking better, Roy.”

“I just–” he stuttered. “I didn’t mean to fuck this up for you, that’s what I mean.”

“It is what it is.” You shuffled some papers on your desk, rearranging your notebooks just to keep yourself busy.

“Isaac told me you’d get a bad mark,” Roy said.

“Isaac is right,” you confirmed.

“Well, now I feel like an arsehole.” Roy breathed in deeply, and exhaled sharply.

“You were an arsehole, Roy,” you said immediately, strongly. “But, it’s done now. This was the only assignment I had that included the whole team, anyway. So, from now on, I’ll be sure to stay far far away from you.”

Roy short-circuited for a moment. He opened and shut his mouth a few times, he balled his fists, he shuffled on the spot. He looked like a robot that had lemonade poured on his circuit. His jaw clenched, and you watched in awe at the sheer skill he used to tense his body in such a way.

“Roy?” you asked, concerned.

“Fucks sake!” he exploded, before he left your office immediately. You got up from your desk and zoomed to the door, watching him walk away from the field and to the locker room instead, muttering to himself all the same.

You didn’t see him for the remainder of the day. You bumped into Ted on your way out the stadium, to which he shot you a perked brow look. You let out a long sigh, followed by a slightly awkward chuckle.

“Well, what a day,” you said.

“You could say that again,” he agreed. “The first match is on the horizon, and our captain walked out mid practice session.”

You winced. “Sorry about that,” you apologised.

“Oh, please, it’s not your fault,” Ted reassured you. “Gotta say, it’s not the first time a player has abandoned us halfway through the day, but at least it was today instead of on Saturday.”

“Wait” You stopped in the corridor, right before the doors to the car park. “He didn’t come back afterwards?”

Ted squinted at you. “You didn’t know? He flew off into the wind like one of the Wicked Witch of the East’s monkey henchmen. One second he was yelling obscenities on the pitch, and the next he’d driven off in his Jeep.”

You let out a stuttered breath, trying to compute Ted’s words. Roy had vanished after storming into your office, and no one knew where the fuck he’d disappeared to. It didn’t make sense, and you didn’t think this ordeal would mean that much to him in the aftermath. You weren’t trying to beat him up after what he’d done, as much as it had hurt you and pissed you off about your mark. This was odd, though, and incredibly out of character for Richmond’s captain.

“Weird,” you let out.

“Really weird,” Ted repeated. “But, who are we to question a football star?”

You squinted at him. “Isn’t that your job?”

Ted shrugged. “Hell if I know.”

You walked home, stunned into silence, trying to figure out what was actually going through Roy’s skull. You were half-tempted to text him, but you still didn’t know if he’d blocked you or not. You almost wanted to reassure him that it was fine, even though he was the one that fucked up your assignment. It was odd how that worked, wasn’t it? How those who had been done wrong felt the need to check in after the wrongdoer realised their actions. You had no reason to tell Roy it was fine, but you still wanted to. If his outburst had told you anything, it was that he felt bad about it all. That was good, you supposed. That meant he wasn’t as emotionally constipated as you’d thought.

Roy ignored you for the next three days. It was blindingly obvious to everyone at the club, even including Rebecca, who you met with for lunch on Thursday in her office.

“I think he feels bad,” you explained.

“I suspect he does. That’s no reason to be behaving like a child.” She ate a mouthful of salad.

“I suppose not… but other than that, it’s all going very well!”

Her face soured. “Oh?”

“I’ve given the Instagram captions a revamp, and I’m in the process of updating the website, too. I had this idea to do articles about the employees and why they wanted to get involved with AFC Richmond, and their passions outside of work, too–”

“That all sounds very interesting,” Rebecca cut you off. “But, unfortunately, I have a meeting to attend.”

“Oh,” you said, as she stood up. You followed suit, picking up your salad and juggling the rest of your lunch in your arms. “Well, this was really nice!” you said, as she started herding you out of her office. “Maybe we should do this again–?”

“Maybe,” Rebecca said. “Bye bye, now!”

You stood outside her closed door. It almost touched your nose from where she’d slammed it, your arms full of your belongings. You let out a sigh, and headed back down the stairs to your office sullenly. You found that what you missed the most out of everything– not the sunlight, or the decor– was having a woman work friend. You felt almost isolated being one of the only women who worked in the building. It was lonely sometimes.

You shuffled your belongings back into your bag on the walk down. You passed the gym as you approached your office and took a peek through the window. On the treadmill, facing the corridor by your office, was Roy. He read a book as he did an incline walk, reading the words thoughtfully, before he turned the page.

Suddenly, he looked up and caught your eye. You flinched, but stayed frozen in your spot. Roy’s face flattened into an unreadable expression. You gulped away the shock, and instead raised your hand and waved at him awkwardly.

Without warning, Roy fell off the treadmill. You gasped immediately, letting out a “Roy?!” as you dropped your bag to the floor and made your way to the gym.

You careened through the door and peered at the floor. Roy was there, crumpled, book thrown under a weight bench on the other side of the gym. “Are you alright?” you asked quickly, offering him your hand.

The other boys stopped what they were doing to witness the scene. Not one of them helped Roy up themselves, but instead waited for you to rush to his aid. It was beyond odd. Roy couldn’t even meet your eye, let alone take your hand.

You frowned at him, hurt. “Roy,” you tried again. “You know you can look at me, right?”

“I’m fine,” he croaked, and forced himself to look up and meet your gaze. “Just tripped.” Knees clicking, he got himself up off the floor. That’s when he caught your eye properly, frowning sullenly. You’d never seen him don such an expression, let alone this close.

You stepped back a little, confused as hell. You looked around the room at the others, their silence descending upon the entire stadium floor, not just the gym. They were all acting strange, making you feel like you were on the outside of an inside joke that they all knew well.

You scoffed, annoyed, as you reversed towards the door. “Okay,” you let out. “You’re all acting so fucking strange this week.” You reached the door frame, and went to leave, but stopped. You looked back at them all, before your gaze landed on Roy strongly. “I don’t like it.”

You left, walked back to your office, and shut the door with a bang.

Roy turned to the guys in the gym, still catching his breath from before. The guys looked at him like he was wounded, almost, and not just from the abrupt fall. Roy breathed out deeply, taking in their pitying faces.

“Stop fucking looking at me, alright!” he burst.

“Sorry, Roy,” Isaac said first, followed by some mutters from the others.

“I’m not some fucking baby bird that’s fallen out a fucking tree, alright?”

“Then why are you acting like one?” Jamie said suddenly. He sauntered forwards, and the rest of the team held their breath. “What, am I wrong? You haven’t said two words to her in days, not since you went AWOL on us earlier this week.” There were nods of agreement, some shrugs of confusion. “Where did you even go, like? You just took off.”

The yeah’s of agreement are what made Roy lose it. Everyone wanted to know where he’d gone, why he’d left, but he hadn’t been able to get it out since he’d done it on Monday.

“I went to her fucking uni!” he bellowed over their mutterings. “I went to her uni and spoke with her fucking lecturer, and said how much of a fucking arse I was.” The room went utterly silent. Roy looked to the floor. “That’s why I haven’t said a fucking word, because I don’t know if I made it better, or if I fucked it up even more.”

Roy balled his fists. He’d been feeling ashamed since Monday, more than he’d expected to feel. Guilt was his least favourite thing to feel, even though he often faked being unbothered.

Colin took an abrupt step forward, snapping the tension. “That’s fucking badass.”

Roy sent a confused arch of his brow at the Welshman. “Really?”

“Hell yeah, that’s badass. That’s a proper grand gesture, boyo. One that shows how bad you truly feel about it all,” Colin reassured him. The lads nodded in approval, sealing the deal that Roy had done the right thing. “She doesn’t know?”

Roy shook his head. “She hasn’t said anything. I don’t know if anything’s come of it.”

“Tell her tomorrow,” Sam spoke up. “Tell her tomorrow and I assure you, she will be okay about it all. I do not get the sense that she holds a grudge, you know? She is a kind person.” More hums of agreement filtered around the room. “Also, you cannot do it today. Not after that display on the treadmill,” Sam added, wincing.

“True,” Roy agreed reluctantly.

Isaac approached his captain then, placing a huge but reassuring hand on his shoulder. “She’ll forgive you, bruv. I’m sure of it.”

Roy nodded. “Thanks, Isaac.”

You locked yourself in your office for the remainder of the day. It was too odd out there, both on Roy’s and the guys’ part. You had no idea what had them acting so off-puttingly, but you wanted no fucking part of it. You dived into work, completing a plan for a new article on the website, before writing your novel for the rest of the day. Shannon Hart had been right– you had so much spare time to write that you already felt like an author already. You were on the clock while tapping away, getting paid for writing your book already, it seemed.

Near the end of the day, an email was pinged into your inbox from your lecturer. You had the jitters every time you received an email from him now, after reading what he had to say about your incomplete first assignment. You’d come to accept the 40% outcome over the past few days, but it still stung. You didn’t want to be considered a failure in your course, especially when you’d only just started.

You opened it up nervously, skimming the contents quickly until you realised it was nothing bad– in fact, it was something very good. “Shut the fuck up…” you let out, trailing off as you read it properly.

An impromptu visitor graced the halls of the Richmond university faculty building on Monday in the form of Mr. Roy Kent, number six and Captain at AFC Richmond. He had a lot to say about you, and about your recent assignment, most notably that he’d ‘massively fucked up’ and was a ‘gigantic arsehole’.

He explained everything about why you submitted your work incomplete, and assured us you were not to blame. I’ve taken this into consideration, and have remarked your work today on my own time. When before you were capped at 40/100, I have remarked your work at 87/100; a grade A1.

Congratulations. You must be doing something right for those footballers.

“Shut the fuck up!” you screeched, jumping up from your desk at lightspeed.

You could hardly believe it. This was what Roy had done on Monday, after he’d left training for the day? He’d gone and knocked on the door of your fucking lecturer, not leaving until they understood that he’d messed up the assignment for you. This was immense, and not at all what you’d been expecting. That explained Roy’s aversion to you over the past few days, and the abrupt fall in the gym today.

You let out a shocked cackle. It reverberated around the walls of your square office, bouncing back into your ears and only making you laugh more. This was hilarious– a footballer such as Roy Kent taking it upon himself to do something so rash was incredibly comical. But, it also warmed your heart. He’d felt so bad that he’d taken matters into his own hands.

This was probably the nicest thing anyone had ever done for you, if you thought about it too hard. This was a grand gesture, a proper apology, if you’d ever seen one. It made you smile like the fucking sun in the sky.

Roy left the stadium after everyone else, taking extra care after his fall in the gym. He’d scraped his knee up pretty bad, and even gone to the resident first aider for a knee brace to make sure he was fine before the first match of the season that Saturday. He made his way out, entering into the car park. He was expecting his lone Jeep to be there, but was surprised to find you leaning against the hood. Your arms were crossed, bag on your shoulder, as you looked out at the setting sun over the green grass of the Dogtrack. He slowed to a stroll, tightening his grip on the straps of his gym bag. You turned your gaze and met his eye, shooting him a knowing look.

“Working overtime?” you asked. It was a redundant question. You had a look in your eye that Roy could sense from a mile off– you knew.

“Just making up for lost time at the start of the week,” he replied, coming to stand opposite you.

You stood up straight, and peered up at him. “Ah, yes. I heard you disappeared on Monday.”

“Did you now?” he said. “Who said that?”

You shrugged, stalling to get the point. You were enjoying the silent amusement between you. Both of you knew what was up, but you had to admit you liked the subtle tension. “Just Ted.”

“Oh,” Roy said, his tone the slightest bit sunken.

“And my lecturer, actually,” you said finally. “He emailed me an hour ago to tell me that you popped in for a visit the other day.”

“Really?” Roy faked confusion.

“Mhm.” You tried not to laugh. “He remarked my assignment. I got an A.”

Just like that, all the stress and tension in Roy’s chest dissipated. It flew into the sky and was caught by the breeze instantly. You smiled at him knowingly, regarding him thoughtfully. He shuffled on his spot awkwardly, looking out towards the setting sun on the horizon, over the pitch.

“That’s great,” he let out genuinely.

You stepped forward. “You didn’t have to do that, Roy.”

He snapped his stare on you. “Yes, I fucking did. I was an arsehole.”

You shrugged, scuffing the ground with your shoe. “You were an arsehole, yeah. But arsehole’s don’t go to my fucking uni and ask my lecturer to remark an assignment.” You scoffed.

“It was the least I could do,” he said, and there was a softness in his tone that you didn’t think he’d been capable of. Roy Kent left you with more question marks the more you spoke to him, but you liked a mystery.

“Well, thank you,” you said, peering up at him sweetly. There was a section of yourself that was different, softer, sweeter, reserved only for those rare moments where people fully exposed themselves to you. Their true intention, their true selves. This was one of those moments. “Really. Thank you, Roy.”

He nodded at you, not knowing what to add. The sun cast an orange glow over the car park, reflecting off his Jeep vibrantly. It looked like the car itself was bright orange, so different from the black paint that stuck out like a sore thumb, usually. His car was so big and bulking, the same as the man that stood before you. But you knew that wasn’t all he was, not after what he’d done for you.

“Heading home?” he asked, changing the subject.

You nodded. “I’m exhausted.”

He scoffed. “You and me both.”

“How are you feeling about Saturday? The Arsenal game?”

Roy shook his head. “Let’s not even go there today,” he said, and you immediately backed off. You knew it was a lot of the team, having both a new management team, in the form of Ted and Beard, on top of someone new skulking around the building– you.

“It’ll be the first football game I’ve ever gone to, you know?” you added.  

Roy perked his brow at you. “You really know fuck all about football, don’t you?”

You scoffed abruptly. “Fuck all indeed.”

The smallest smile graced Roy’s face, and you found yourself savouring it. You didn’t want to jinx it, but after almost two weeks of headbutting, you wanted to believe it was over. Perhaps, you and Roy would coexist happily now. Without the meanness, or the miscommunication, or all of the inbetween. In terms of the team, you’d done well with the crew and the boys, bar Roy and Rebecca, but things were looking up.

You felt content again, like you could actually do this after all.

“Need a ride?” Roy asked suddenly.

“Oh,” you let out, looking back at his Jeep. The orange was fading from its reflection. “Sure, I could use a lift.”

“Hop in,” Roy said, as he made his way around to the driver’s side.

He shoved his bag into the backseat, as you opened the passenger side door and jumped in. You slammed it behind you, getting comfortable, as Roy jumped into the driver’s seat next to you. There was a comfortable silence that settled over the car, as the two of you buckled yourselves in. Roy turned on the engine, and the radio turned on harshly, blasting you with an 80s song far too loudly.

You both flinched back, wincing, and Roy clicked a button quickly, turning off the sound. “Fucking hell,” he said. “I think Heart are trying to deafen us.”

You let out a chuckle. “I’ll listen to 80s music over the charts any day.”

Roy perked his brows at you, putting the car in reverse. “Good on you.” He reversed out of the car park and turned onto the main road.

You didn’t talk much, just small talk here and there. It felt oddly intimate being driven home by Roy Kent, but you tried not to let it rattle you. Acquaintanceships always started off patchy, with neither wanting to step over a line, until something resembling friendship ended up shining through. You told yourself that, maybe, a few months down the line, it would be normal for you to catch a lift home with Roy in the week.

You directed him to your street, pointing at your door with a smile. Roy pulled up to the curb, cutting off his engine as you unbuckled your seatbelt. You weren’t expecting him to fully kill the engine, but you didn’t pay it any mind. You jumped out of the car onto the road and rushed onto the pavement, peering up into his, now open, window.

“Thanks for the ride,” you said with a smile.

“It’s fine. I live just around the corner, actually.”

“Don’t tell me you live in one of those big fuck off houses down the street,” you said, pointing down the end of your road. To the left beyond was an array of giant houses, all with blossom trees outside and large gates guarding them. They were gorgeous, huge and expensive.

Roy squinted at you. “I’m a professional footballer. Of course, I fucking do.”

You huffed in amusement. You were about to say I can’t wait to see it in person one day, but stopped yourself short. Was that a weird thing to say, even to a colleague? You bit on your tongue instead and stepped back towards the steps that lead to your door. There was something unsaid in the air, mostly from Roy. You got the sense he wanted to say something more, as his fingers tapped anxiously on the steering wheel.

Instead, you sighed. “See you tomorrow,” you settled on.

Roy inhaled deeply, and raised his hand in goodbye. “See you.”

His window ascended and he started the engine again. He sped off down the road, before he took an abrupt left at the end and disappeared from view. You let yourself into your building and stepped into the hallway. You sighed once more, contentedly, before you closed the door on another interesting day at AFC Richmond.

CHAPTER TWO

#roy kent x reader #roy kent x you #roy kent #ted lasso #brett goldstein #ff #fanfiction #x reader #reader insert #enemies to friends to lovers #angst and fluff #lightyaers #ao3 #wattpad #archive of our own #writeblr #jamie tartt

[fandomxpreferences]

Ten Seconds

Masterlist

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x female!reader

TW:none I don't think

Summary: Who knew life could change so quickly?

Word Count:3.3k

One. Rafe's eyes land on your features, taking in your plump lips that shine with strawberry-flavored lipgloss and the mild sunburn dusted on your cheeks.

Two. He takes a deep breath and for the first time, feels like his lungs can fully expand to take in the salty sea air in all its glory. 

Three. His heart thrums in its cage, seemingly unlocked by a key he wasn't aware existed as it flutters away and lands in the palm of your hand.

Four. Your sweet scent intoxicates him, hitting his bloodstream like a drug that smells like tanning oil and cotton candy. 

Five. The tension dissolves from his body as your energy engulfs him like a down comforter, and muscles he's never felt before unwind and go lax.

Five seconds is all it takes for Rafe's entire world to shift, and you disarm him without even knowing he exists. 

Six. Your laugh floats to his ears like a summer melody that drips with sticky sweetness like a melting popsicle, and he decides it's his favorite treat.

Seven. His knees nearly buckle when a smile brighter than the sun graces your features, chasing away the darkness that shrouds him.

Eight. Your head tilts back and the hues from the setting sky dance off your exposed neck with an angelic glow, and suddenly pink is his favorite color. 

Nine. His eye catches a glint of gold and his attention is drawn to the rings scattered on your right hand, suddenly he wants to add an even shinier one with a diamond that could be seen from space to your left. 

Ten. Your lip quirks up as you catch him admiring you from afar, and the breeze that's thick with sand and hushed whispers that he previously inhaled is sucked from his constricting throat.

Ten seconds is all it takes for Rafe Cameron to believe in love at first sight. Time stands still altogether as he watches you excuse yourself from your friends and make your way toward him.

He notes that you seem to float instead of walk, moving oh so gracefully as if you're a celestial being and he's about to have a religious experience.

Your gaze never leaves his, the eye contact so intense that it sends fire racing through his veins, burning so hot it leaves a scorching trail in its wake. 

He's frozen in place, utterly entranced by the way your long eyelashes fan across your face when you blink. 

Another ten seconds is all the time it takes to cross the few feet of distance that separates the two of you, and his head swims at the close proximity. 

Your aroma is even stronger up close, and he's sent reeling as he wonders if it could be bottled up and turned into a candle. 

He doesn't even know your name and has never heard you speak, yet somehow you feel like home. It doesn't make any sense, but then again, neither does falling in love with a stranger. 

You watch him for a moment, eyes raking over his chiseled jawline and backwards baseball cap. There's a few strands of sun bleached hair poking out and ticking his tanned skin in a way that reminds you of a character in The Outsiders.

He looks boyish and rugged at the same time, and your interest is fully piqued. He's easily the most attractive man you've ever seen.

Your melodic voice rings out like a siren song that's calling just for him, and the ever-present violent storm that rages just under the surface relents. 

"Do you always lurk like a stalker or am I just that special?"

There's that smile again, unabashed and erasing any logical thought from his brain. You wait for a moment, your eyebrows shooting up expectantly as he stares down at you like he's been struck with lightning. 

Rafe scrambles for words, begging his mind to string together a coherent sentence that will keep you within arms reach. 

"Uh, sorry. You just-"

He cuts himself off and your grin widens. 

"What? Do I have something on my face?"

He's painfully aware you're teasing; you don't make a move to wipe your mouth and your smile doesn't falter for a second. 

"You're stunning."

He breathes a sigh of relief as words finally find him and your features soften in a way that makes his heart skip a beat. 

Despite the stench of stale peanuts and sweat, you still feel like you're in the center of rom-com. There's shitty music playing, yet you hone in on the dizzying rasp of his voice.

"Stunning?" You question, and he nods his head slowly.

"Exquisite, actually. Downright bewitching if I'm being completely honest."

Rafe has never used those words before; he's never seen anyone or anything that warranted them. You most certainly do. 

You laugh lightly and in a split second, he makes it his life mission to get that sound out of you as often as possible. 

It's a fleeting moment; a blip in the universe, but it feels like an entire lifetime as he studies the look in your eye.

It's a mix between enamored and mischievous, and he can't even begin to comprehend the feeling it gives him. 

"Those are big words. I figured someone as gorgeous as yourself would get by on pretty privilege."

He ignores the blush crawling up his neck, tilting his head with a smile of his own. 

"Are you saying I look dumb?"

He's used to women being flustered around him, his sense of humor usually throwing them for a loop. You don't miss a beat though, and his stomach does a somersault.

Your head shakes from side to side and he fights the urge to run his fingers through your hair that looks a little too soft to be real.

"No, I'm saying you're attractive enough that you could be dumb and no one would fault you."

His smile only grows at your quick wit and ability to match his energy. He's quickly learning that your tongue is sharp as a knife, and he loves the way it cuts him.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

You study him for a moment, pondering your next words.

"Do you have a name? Or should I just call you pretty boy?"

He pretends to think for a moment before taking a step closer. He's elated when you don't move back, and rests his hand dangerously close to yours on the table. 

"Rafe. Though pretty boy works just as well."

He's about to ask you the same when you offer it up on a silver platter. 

"I'm Y/N. Though if you have a fitting nickname, you can use that too."

Your voice holds a teasing lilt and he lowers his head so it's only a couple inches from your ear. 

"I'm sure I could think of a few."

In fact, he could think of more than a few. He doesn't want to come on too strong though, and much to your displeasure, he backs away just as quickly as he advanced. 

He wonders for a second how he hasn't seen you before and worries that you're a touron. It's a fleeting thought, quickly swept away when your hand grazes his. 

"Hopefully I get to hear them."

He doesn't miss the lust that causes your voice to turn sultry and shifts a bit as his pants grow tighter. 

"Where are you from? I haven't seen you around."

He changes the subject to something more innocent in an attempt to distract himself from his growing arousal and you tsk.

"I'm from right here in OBX, but I didn't go to the academy and I generally stay away from figure eight. I kinda ride the line between kook and pogue."

He nods his head, the decades-long class war nowhere near the forefront of his mind. 

"So I take it you know who I am?"

It's a pointless question; anyone who grew up within a twenty-mile radius of Kildare knows his family. 

You give a timid smile and nod.

"Yeah, I just didn't want to be too presumptuous. Your reputation kind of precedes you."

His heart sinks as he feels any chance he had with you drifting away. 

"So then why are you talking to me?"

There's an underlying sadness in his voice that you catch, and your eyebrows furrow. 

"I never believed in judging people without knowing them. Besides, I know that picture-perfect family stuff is bullshit. Everyone has their skeletons."

He straightens up at this, genuinely taken aback at the lack of judgment in your voice.

"And what if I told you the rumors are true? That I am some violent asshole that rains terror on those around me?"

The words leave his mouth before he fully processes them and he kicks himself. Is he trying to scare you away? 

Your bubbly smile returns and his breath hitches as you take a step closer.

"I'd say I haven't seen it yet. Besides, underneath the scariest fighters is usually a big softie that's misunderstood."

Rafe's chest squeezes, and he can't believe how in five minutes you've got him figured out better than his lifelong friends. 

"You're something special, you know that?"

And he means it. There's a gravitational pull that calls out to him, and despite his usual attempts to push people away with a giant wall lined with barbed wire, he doesn't want to do that with you for even a second. 

"So I've been told. Though to be perfectly candid, it means a little more coming from you."

He goes to respond when your attention is ripped away by one of your friends telling you it's time to go. 

You turn back to him with an apologetic smile and even though you're still right in front of him, he already misses you. 

"Can I get your number?"

He's nervous as he asks, another new revelation. Usually, he's smooth and practiced. However, the idea of you turning him down makes his stomach lurch.

"About time."

He pulls out his phone and watches as you text yourself a heart so you have his number as well before you turn away and saunter off into the night.

Rafe doesn't even make it thirty minutes before texting you, any thoughts about it being too soon overpowered by his desire to see you again. 

His heart soars when you respond almost instantly, equally as eager to talk to him. 

How's the rest of your night going?

He shoots it off without a second thought, genuinely interested in the answer. He frowns when you text back immediately. 

Shitty, to be honest. Got dragged to this party and I'm bored, but don't have a ride home.

He types out his reply and hits send without considering that it may be creepy. 

Send me your location, I'll come get you.

He watches as three bubbles pop up and then disappear, that new nerve-racking feeling overtaking him once again. 

At the party, you stare down at the screen and contemplate your options. You're really not having a good time, but letting a man you met two hours ago pick you up doesn't seem wise.

Still, something in your core that you can't explain trusts him and you finally answer. You don't bother telling him he doesn't have to, something in you just knows that he doesn't mind.

Rafe jumps off the bar stool and beelines toward his rover when it pops up that you shared your location and he starts toward the address that's wedged between the cut and figure eight. 

He hops out and is instantly hit with the stench of beer and weed, loud bass causing his chest to vibrate. 

His face scans the crowd for your face as he weaves through drunk idiots doing keg stands and yelling a little too loudly. 

He finds it in seconds, and his feet carry him forward as if they have a mind of their own. 

You smell him before you see him, his expensive cologne that smells like vanilla and whiskey cutting through the sweat and vodka.

"Hey, pretty girl."

Your heart leaps at the pet name, and you have a feeling it's just the first of many. 

"You actually came."

Part of you believed he was bluffing, but you're beginning to realize that when Rafe says something he means it.

"You called."

Something about the simple statement gives you goosebumps. He said it with such conviction; as if he'd find you even if you were across the ocean on another continent. 

You shoot your friends a quick text to let them know you're leaving before grabbing your bag and standing. 

You try not to focus on the way your skin burns as he places his hand on the small of your back to lead you away, the gesture feeling too natural for someone you don't even know. 

Rafe drives you home, comfortable conversation flowing with ease the entire ride. 

You try, and fail, not to swoon when he walks you to your door and kisses you on the cheek. You're not usually the type to kiss on the first night, but if he'd asked, you'd have taken him straight up to your room and let him do whatever he wanted. 

You fall asleep easily, your psyche filled with images of a blue-eyed man that swept you off your feet. 

The next week is filled with non-stop texting and time spent surfing as the two of you grow closer. 

You've come to the conclusion that you were right; Rafe is massively misunderstood. 

He's confided in you about things he's never told a soul, and as ridiculous as it sounds, you could easily find yourself falling for him. 

He's told you all about his abusive father and the pressure he's under, about how his mom died when he was ten, and how he feels like he's always the second choice. 

You don't tell him that he'd never be your second choice, how you'd choose him first in a crowd of a hundred million people. 

Instead, you lend a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on, something else Rafe has never done before you. 

You're sat on the beach between his legs now as sand digs into your bare thighs, but it's a small price to pay to be in his arms. 

It's an unusually hot day, the sun rays beating down harshly on your glistening skin. You've just finished surfing, now relaxing as the two of you hydrate with ice-cold Gatorade and much on cheez its.

Your back is pressed into his firm chest comfortably, his free hand snaked around your front and resting just below your belly button. 

"You know," he starts and you shift to lay your head so you're peering up at him. His eyes stay focused on the waves ahead, eyes swirling with an emotion you don't recognize. 

"I've never met anyone like you. You make me feel safe and calm. All the noise in my head fades away and I'm at peace finally."

He pauses and you wait patiently for him to continue, pressing a chaste kiss to his bare pec as silent encouragement.

"You make me feel special. Like I'm worth it."

Your heart clenches at the admission and you turn around fully so you're seated in his lap. His arms wrap around your waist as if it's second nature, and your hands come up to gently grasp his jaw. 

"You are worth it, Rafe. I'm sorry the people who are supposed to love you have made you feel like you aren't."

You don't miss the way tears gather on his waterline and you lean forward slowly, giving him time to pull away. 

When he doesn't, you continue and the world stops on his axis as your lips mold with his. 

Everything else melts away and your mouths move in sync, only the two do you existing in this little bubble. 

Your ears tune out the sounds of seagulls crying and screaming kids, the heat from the unforgiving sun giving way to electricity that sparks every nerve ending in your body. 

His tongue tangles with yours, the flavor of spearmint and fruit punch mingling on your tastebuds. 

You pull back and give him one last short kiss before returning to your original resting position, both of you desperately attempting to catch your breath.

One month is all it took to officially become Rafe's girlfriend. You told each other your darkest and silliest secrets, quiet whispers and unspoken promises in the dark of the night. He became your best friend and boyfriend, consuming all your senses. 

Two months is when you gave yourself to him completely, sweaty bodies writhing in unison under fairy lights and the glow of the moon. You would have given in much sooner, but Rafe insisted on taking it slow, wanting to do it right. You're glad he did, the wait was worth it. 

Three months in, you introduce each other to your friends and family. Ward actually took a liking to you immediately, boasting about how good you've been for his son. You found a sister in Sarah, the two of you having girl's days regularly and laughing at Rafe's expense. Your parents and friends accepted Rafe with ease, him finding the father figure he always craved in your dad.

Four months is when you finally said what you've both been feeling since week five. A quiet confession while tangled together as a movie played in the background. 

"I'm in love with you." You whisper it so quietly, your voice thick with emotion. 

"I'm in love with you too. So much so that it's maddening."

Five months into your whirlwind relationship, the two of you moved in together. Rafe was itching to get away from Tannyhill, and in a shock to you both, Ward offered up one of the estates to be your new home. 

It's your safe space, a perfect combination of the two of you with carefully chosen throw pillows and pictures lining the walls. 

Six months is when you knew without a shadow of a doubt you wanted to spend the rest of your life with Rafe by your side. The two of you are well established now, the honeymoon phase long past and replaced with a much sturdier and ironclad love and respect. 

Seven months in, Rafe surprised you with a two-week-long vacation. It's an all-inclusive trip to Italy, the time spent sightseeing and eating local cuisine that still makes your mouth water.

Eight months is how long it took for him to convince you to quit your job and let him take care of you. It doesn't take much persuading by this point, you know that he's not going anywhere and you trust him when he says you'll never lift a finger again. 

Nine months in, he takes you on another trip; this time a month-long adventure in Greece. You see the world and he buys you anything you show the slightest interest in. You're happy and comfortable, more content with your life than you ever imagined. 

Ten months after your chance meeting, he buys you a new car. He'd absolutely insisted that you deserve the best of the best and your old beat-up Civic doesn't meet the mark. You cried, and the two of you drove up the coast for a blissful long weekend. 

Eleven months is when Rafe planned an elaborate party and dropped to one knee. You nearly collapsed with joy as he placed the four-carat Cartier diamond on your left hand and celebrated with your closest friends and family. 

That night was spent in bed talking about the future, shared desires of having kids, and settling in OBX. It took you a while to wrap your head around the fact that at just twenty-one and twenty-two years old, you'd found the one you belong with. 

Twelve months after your friends forced you to go out, you eloped and married your best friend. One year is all it took for you to believe in soulmates, and become a Cameron. In 365 days, your life did a 180 and you're married with a new Lexus and a house that's more than you could have dreamed of.

But really, all it took was ten seconds for your life to change forever. 

#Rafe Cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron #outer banks imagine #outer banks fic #outer banks

[minihotdog]

You angrily storm out of your room and come face to face with Ghost

Ghost x GN!Reader

a/n: I wrote this in like 5 minutes. Just got the idea and thought it was kinda funny. Is this what a drabble is? idk I'm new

c/w: swearwords

***

You were seeing fucking red standing in the middle of your room, reading the same message over and over. 

“Who does this fucker think he is?!”

The one asshole sergeant in the unit had given you “additional duties” after you dared ask him a question about his field tactics in front of the other recruits. He’d taken it as an insult and decided to respond, in the most childish way someone of his rank could have.

“I am going to fuck this guy up!” You rage, struggling to put your shoes on in the middle of your fit. You launch towards the door, not even bothering to wear your uniform.

You swing the door open, letting it swing until it hits the wall, revealing the hulking figure of your Lt. You stop dead in your tracks, one foot already out the door as his eyes bore into you. He stands there with his keys in hand, only centimeters away from the keyhole of his door knob. Seconds pass of just staring, waiting for someone to do something. You stand frozen, not expecting him of all people, the man that haunts the dreams of all recruits, to be the first thing you’d see.

“You alright, recruit?” He probes, wondering what in God’s name was the reason for the stomping and huffing that had been coming from your room and the spontaneous entrance that he’d never admit to anyone, actually scared the daylights out of him. You knew that it was a reasonable question as you had almost taken the door off its hinges, but the emotions that were briefly stifled came rushing back, and it was enough for you to detonate once again.

“I’m shit!” You nearly scream in outrage and slam the door shut before retreating into your room to die of embarrassment.

#simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #ghost imagine #simon riley imagine #myfic

[gumnut-logic]

Óen (Part 1)

Okay, I've been egged on repeatedly by the wonderful @idontknowreallywhy to have a go at this, but I'm a little nervous cos I've never written any HTTYD fanfic ever and am a bit short on the canon in my head, so be kind as I make up a pile of stuff as I go along.

This is a Thunderbirds Are Go and How to Train Your Dragon crossover and I'm chewing fingernails..

Many thanks to both @onereyofstarlight and @idontknowreallywhy for their support in this insanity.

This little bit is just set up so don't expect much, but I hope you enjoy it. My apologies to Toothless.

-o-o-o-

Hiccup Haddock III was an idiot.

Toothless, the midnight black night fury he was currently clinging to, no doubt agreed.

“I’m sorry, bud, you were right. We should have gone back earlier.” The words were whipped from his mouth by the raging winds, but as always, Toothless heard him regardless.

A deep rumble in the dragon’s throat, vibrating against Hiccup’s thighs, indicated agreement on all fronts.

Hiccup should have known better. He’d seen the signs of changing weather but had ignored them, convincing himself they had a few moments longer. Unfortunately, said weather had disagreed and whipped up one of those sudden storms that had Berk locked down and huddled away.

Except Hiccup and Toothless were in the middle of the ocean with no protection.

He grit his teeth against the wind, desperately attempting to help Toothless manage their flight. At first, he had tried for home, his dragon friend whacking him with an ear flap in annoyance…always listen to your dragon…but the conditions had changed so abruptly for the worse, that now it was a case of desperately trying to keep aloft and not slammed into the ocean.

They had tried for height, Toothless as always knowing exactly how high they were, in an attempt to get above the storm. But the thunderheads went on forever and they reached as high as Hiccup could go - Toothless could always go higher, but he didn’t seem inclined to do it carrying a frozen friend on his back.

Toothless snarled and then attempted speed, trying to get out of the squall. But Thor had other ideas and along with several lightning strikes that had Hiccup’s hair standing on end, despite the wind and now the sleet, it soon became a struggle to stay in the sky at all, much less attain any directional speed.

And now they were in trouble.

Astrid was going to kill him if he managed to ever see her again.

Dad…

Dad, as always was the reason he was out here in the first place. Just another day where father and son just couldn’t see eye to eye. Another day that found Hiccup fleeing on Toothless and no doubt Stoick the Vast ranting in the smithy with Gobber.

Ice bit into his skin.

Beneath him, Toothless growled in alarm as they were suddenly swept sideways and down.

“Toothless!”

His friend’s wings struggled against the gale, but were snapped back, his growl turning into a wail of pain.

The wind took them and Hiccup could do little but cling to Toothless as they were swept into a dark and violent maelstrom.

-o-o-o-

It was all sensation after that. Toothless fighting beneath him. Pain. Freezing everything.

Screaming darkness.

This was it. His own stupidity, not listening to his dragon, and forever being fearful of his father and the future. It all had finally done him in.

Hiccup the Idiot.

Saved Berk, but was too stupid to save himself.

A sudden yank upwards against the wind startled him. But before he could react something grabbed him.

What?!

He was lifted from Toothless. A tug as his safety line pulled then fell slack as if snapped. No!

NO!

He struggled but it was too dark and whatever had him, had a solid grip. “Toothless!”

The wind raged but he wasn’t falling. He attempted to fight himself free, but his arms were pinned to his sides and he couldn’t…

“Toothless!”

The wind whipped the name from his mouth.

Toothless was gone. He had to be. His dragon couldn’t fly without him. His thoughts swirled like the wind battering his senses and he clenched his eyes shut in grief. Toothless!

“You’re going to be okay.”

The words were heavily accented and heard mostly through whatever he was held against, and he only heard them because the winds were dying.

The winds were dying.

Hiccup flung his eyes open. He was flying. But not on Toothless. His heart lurched.

He was on another dragon, black and silver danced beneath a dark grey sky. In the distance the sun managed to peek through over a bunch of islands fading into the grey sea.

“Toothless!”

“Óen has your dragon. Don’t be worried.” There was such surety in that voice, Hiccup had to believe.

“Who?”

“Scott o’ Clan O’Treasaigh and Óen. We’re here to rescue you.”

-o-o-o-

Next

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #how to train your dragon #httyd #crossover #thunderbirds fanfiction #httyd fanfiction #nuttyfic #I haven't written outside of Thunderbirds fandom in over a decade #a little terrified? #of many things #but there has been some research #and a pile of thought to get this to work

[fanfictionlibrary]

In the Shadow of Comfort

A poly Sebastian Sallow x Reader x Ominis Gaunt fanfiction.

The reader's house and gender are not specified.

Warnings: depression, mention of trauma and death, swearing

Author's Note: This is a rather sad poly fic. I wrote this for a friend of mine who is going through a hard time. But I am planning to write a fic with Sebastian and Ominis that is lighthearted and funny. It might take a while, though. Please, be patient. Love you <3

A blank stare was plastered on your face as you sat on a sofa in the Room of Requirements. You had placed your elbows on your knees, leaning forward and holding the weight of your chin with your hands.

On the outside, you appeared calm. As calm and peaceful as a still lake. A lake that almost looked frozen. Not even the wind could create ripples to break its solid-looking surface. But underneath that surface presided anything but quietude. Underneath that surface raged a storm. A powerful storm that would never break through the veneer of calmness because the anger you felt was subdued by your sadness.

The wetness of that sadness slumbered in the corners of your eyes, threatening to fall. But the tears would never roll down your cheeks because they were, in turn, kept in check by your anger.

Your feelings were confused. They scrambled aimlessly inside their home. A beautiful house that you were the caretaker of and that you knew as your body. Usually, as the caretaker, it was your job to reach your hand out to all of these feelings - happiness, anger, sadness, frustration, love - but this time, you didn't possess enough strength to look Anger and Sadness, those pesky inhabitants, in the face.

This time, you just couldn’t say, “You are a part of me. You can’t be that bad. So, live freely inside of me. Teach me how to overcome my fears and show me the path to my goal. I accept you in your purest form.” Now all you could do was run away from them, locking yourself in a room. But Anger and Sadness followed you, banging relentlessly against the door and crying for your attention. But not seeing them meant you didn't need to see yourself. Your feelings just wanted to be with their caretaker, but you couldn’t bear them anymore. Anger and Sadness were your least favorite inhabitants in your house of feelings. They were awfully persistent. However, you wouldn’t answer the door. You couldn’t. 

But why were you in this depressive condition? Honestly, you didn’t really know. All you knew was that this gloomy state sometimes caught you in the most random moments. For instance in class when you were brewing a potion or learning new charms. Or when you were out with your friends, drinking a well-deserved butterbeer and taking advantage of the freedom after classes were over, making the best of “your oyster” as Sebastian liked to call it. 

This sadness and anger were most likely tied to the events that you experienced during your fifth year at Hogwarts: Professor Fig’s death, Lodgok being killed by his own brother, defending the last repository, fighting Ranrok, seeing Anne suffering from her curse, trying fruitlessly to save her, witnessing Sebastian spiraling into the Dark Arts and losing control, Ominis and Sebastian’s fight, the family trauma the Gaunt experienced, defeating Rookwood… And. And. And!

Bang.

Bang.

Bang!

Your feelings continued to pound against the door.

Being the Hero of Hogwarts was great and all, but those events had left a mark. A mark that expressed itself in a frustrated emptiness. You had never opened up about this emptiness to anyone. Even Sebastian and Ominis, your best friends, only knew you as a strong person who always spoke up about injustice and took shit from no one. With one exception. Sometimes your own shit got to you. That was fine because you were not no one to yourself. You were somebody special to yourself, meaning your shit mattered and you had to deal with it. 

The shuffling of small feet brought you out of your reveries. You looked to your side, seeing Deek approaching with a cup of tea. 

“Deek brought you something to cheer you up.” He bowed and placed the hot liquid on the table in front of you. “Deek doesn’t want to cross a line. But he thinks talking to your friends about your feelings might help.” 

“Thank you, Deek.” You took the cup in your hands, relishing the warmth emanating from it and breathing in the rising steam, deciphering the flavor. It was a classic Earl Grey tea. “But I don’t even know what I should tell Sebastian and Ominis. Where would I start?” 

Deek fiddled with his fingers, looking unsure at his feet. “Maybe a simple ‘I am not well’ would suffice? Don’t complicate matters when you can make them easy.” 

“Hm…” you hummed in agreement. “That is good advice. I’m grateful, Deek.”   

That was indeed good advice, and you would put it into action. Late in the evening, you had worked up enough courage to seek out Ominis and Sebastian. Either they were in the library or the Undercroft. However, if they were not at those locations, they had most likely gone to bed already. You had partly set yourself up for failure. You hoped that Ominis and Sebastian had decided to rest already, so you needn’t talk to them, which was why you searched for them so late. But when you got to the Main Hall of Hogwarts, they were standing at the fountain talking in low voices. Sebastian fell silent when he saw you, and Ominis sensed his shift in demeanor, going quiet, too. 

“We have been looking for you all day,” Sebastian said accusingly, crossing his arms. But he couldn’t hide that he was genuinely concerned. His chocolate eyes scanned you up and down, looking for physical injuries. Have you been outside of Hogwarts again, going toe to toe with dark powers? Little did he know that he wouldn’t find wounds or bruises. He had felt for some time now that you were hurting from the inside. 

“We have been worried,” Ominis chimed in. He knew it was you due to the tone of Sebastian’s voice, what he had said – they had indeed searched for you tirelessly – and the light, typical succession of your footsteps. “You missed all of your classes.” 

You halted in front of them with an apologetic expression on your face. Since Ominis couldn’t see it, you pressed his arm gently. A signal that you two established. It could mean different things based on the context it occurred in. Seamlessly, his hand slipped into yours, intertwining your fingers. His head was turned towards you, but his eyes were focusing on a point next to your head. 

Sebastian’s large, comforting hand reached out to you. You always felt so safe in them. Solicitously, he placed it on your head, ruffling your hair lightly. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

You nodded, biting your lip. A tear slipped, rolling down your cheeks. Finally. “I’d love to.” With these two, your sadness and anger finally appeared to be in equilibrium. Your feelings felt lighter, and suddenly they had enough room to express themselves. Inviting two friends to your house of feelings was so worth it. The rooms appeared wider, there was fresh air, and a burden was lifted off your shoulders as you entrusted the permanent inhabitants Anger and Sadness to your lovely guests. 

“Would you like to talk in the Undercroft?” Ominis's soft voice rang out. He was already pulling you toward the direction of your clandestine hideout, and you followed along. 

Sebastian linked your free arm with his, smiling understandingly. 

It would probably be redundant to elaborate in detail on what was said between the three of you that night. You, of all people, knew best which words and gestures were exchanged. Lingering touches, soft whispers, decorous kisses, maybe? Who am I to tell? You know better. You are in charge. 

However, none of you returned to your common room(s) that night, finding peace in your companionship.

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x reader #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x you #poly relationship #slytherin supremacy #slytherin #hufflepuff #gryffindor #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts houses #harry potter #love #sad

[thewritingbeforesunrise]

Little Devil.

18+ ONLY. MINORS DNI

______________________________________

A/N: I cannot begin to describe how happy I am that so many of you liked Golden hour. It really means a lot to me. As a thank you, I decided to write a second part of the story. I didn't really plan it but here it is. I hope I can meet your expectations with this one, too.

Love,

Martina.

Word count: 7.1K

I got a bit carried away with this one, sorry. In my defense, I have to blame Jake, writing about him brings out the absolute worst in me. Beware, this is absolutely filthy.

Pairing: Jake x female!reader

Warnings: NSFW 18+ONLY, graphic sexual content, language, dirty talk, oral (f!receiving), anal play (m!&f!receiving), pegging, dom/sub dynamic, brief impact play, sub!jake.

Summary: Jake has a surprise for you this time.

Update -> Link to part three: Souls on fire.

______________________________________

It was freezing outside.

The weather was gloomy and so cold that you could feel the chill right into your bones.

With your teeth clattering, you made your way out of your car and towards your door, trying not to break your neck slipping on the frozen ground.

Since the storm was raging, your boss had sent you home early to avoid getting stuck in a foot of snow.

Thank God.

You couldn't stand one more minute freezing there. You just wanted to go home, take a scorching hot shower and snuggle into your warm blanket in bed.

You couldn't feel your hands and, as you tried to open your door, your keys fell on the ground, making you groan and curse under your breath.

Once you managed to unlock your door and enter inside, warmth engulfed you and you sighed, a whispered "finally" escaping your lips.

You dropped your bags on the ground and began taking off your coat and that's when you saw them.

Two big suitcases and a guitar case laid against the wall in your entrance.

He was home.

Less than a week after that glorious night at the hotel, he had to leave for tour and you had missed him a lot. You were so happy that he managed to get back a day earlier than he had previously told you.

You called his name a few times, but he was nowhere to be seen. Every light in the house was off-

You hung your coat in the entrance, unzipped your cold boots and took off your damp socks.

With your warm slippers on, you started to make your way around the house, looking for him.

Just when you were about to give up and phone him, you saw the master bedroom door slightly ajar.

As you entered, you noticed that the light of the bathroom was on and you could hear the faint sound of the water running on the other side of the door.

You silently made your way closer and, just when you were about to call his name, you heard a faint noise coming from inside.

You froze and you blushed as you heard another one.

You stopped with your hand on the handle.

You didn't know what to do.

You bit your lip as another faint moan made its way to your ears and you couldn't help but imagine what he was doing inside.

That wasn't a good choice because now all you wanted was to go inside and help him finish what he had started without you.

Your frozen body was warming up quickly with the current thoughts his hidden actions were eliciting from you.

On the other hand, you didn't want to startle and embarrass him, interrupting him in such a private moment.

You were about to go away and let him finish when you heard it.

It was much louder than before and you heard it very well.

He was moaning your name and he sounded so desperate and whiny.

You couldn't stop yourself as you quickly undressed and silently opened the bathroom door.

The room was filled with steam, all the mirrors completely fogged.

Now you could hear him better, his pants and breathy moans were becoming louder and more frequent.

He was close.

You found yourself in front of the curtain, not knowing how you had gotten there.

But you didn't care.

You needed him.

You opened the curtain and when you saw him your knees nearly buckled, making you almost fall to the ground.

He was kneeling down inside the shower, his head was hanging low under the water jet and his long hair was like wet curtains framing his face.

One of his hands was wrapped tightly around his painfully hard cock, stroking it fast and unrelenting, and the other was hidden behind him.

You almost moaned as you noticed the steady motion of the hand that was behind his back. You knew what he was doing and you had to bite your lip to prevent any sound from escaping you.

You felt the urge to stroke his wet hair back from his flushed face that was contorted in pleasure and you knelt down too, to be eye level with him.

A particular harsh stroke caused a deep moan from him and you couldn't take it anymore. You moaned his name in a whisper and his eyes shot open, startled.

He looked like a deer caught in the headlights, his eyes were wide and his face was the deepest shade of crimson.

You saw the struggle in his beautiful brown eyes.

He was so embarrassed because you had caught him doing that but he couldn't stop pleasuring himself even if he wanted to, he was too close.

"Don't stop Jakey, please, let me watch you" you reassure him with a whisper, caressing his flushed cheek.

He nodded, not uttering a single word and keeping a steady rhythm on himself, lips parted and red from constant biting.

His stare burned into yours and you couldn't look away.

His rhythm quickened and a minute or so later, he came with a relieved groan. His release coated his hand and your thigh and was washed away by the hot water still running.

He kept stroking himself for a second and then he collapsed towards you with a sigh, pinning you against the wall. The hand that was previously stroking his cock grabbed your hip and the other was keeping him upright on the floor. His face was flush in the crook of your neck and he was panting heavily. You stroked his wet hair and his back.

You stayed like that until he calmed down, and then, you spoke.

"You came home earlier" you said and he tensed, just a little.

"You too" he answered, his voice low and tentative, keeping his face hidden in the crook of your neck.

"I couldn't find you, I missed you so much. I was worried, and I was so cold, outside is fucking freezing." You said still stroking his back.

He started kissing your neck and you sighed.

"I missed you too. Are you still cold, love?" He said nibbling at your neck.

"Well, no, not after that" You giggled and he snorted out a laugh, silently avoiding the topic.

"Let me help you wash your hair, baby, then we can cuddle and I can keep you warm." His whisper turned playful and naughty as his lips reached your ear and he bit your earlobe.

~

Half an hour later you were nestled into your bed, tangled together in a mess of blankets and warm clothes. He couldn't keep his hands away from you, but you didn't mind.

The wind was whistling outside, the snow had covered your windows. You felt so warm, you were about to drift off to sleep, but you heard him sigh as he sat against the headboard.

"Are you upset with me?" He whispered, not meeting your sleepy confused gaze.

"Upset? Why would I be upset with you, Jake?" You answered, mirroring his position on the bed and stroking his thigh gently.

"Because of what you witnessed in the shower earlier" he mumbled out, hands flying on his face and into his hair, frustrated.

"I could never be upset with you, Jakey" you said, cradling his face with both your hands and bringing him to watch you in the eyes.

He smiled timidly and blushed, just a little.

"But I just want you to know that you can trust me, like really trust me." You kissed his lips softly.

"You can always tell me what you need, baby, you know this right?" You kissed the tip of his nose and he chuckled and then, suddenly, tackled you back in the nest of blankets. Your loud laughter echoed into the room.

"I know doll, I really do." His stare was steady and full of love. He nuzzled his face in the crook of your neck and you both fell asleep, listening to the snowstorm still raging outside.

~

In the morning you woke up alone in bed to a text from your boss telling you to stay at home, because the office was closed due to the snow.

The room was slightly cold and encompassed in the white light reflected by the snow outside.

You could hear a little clatter of dishes in the kitchen downstairs so you knew where Jake was.

You rolled over and nuzzled deeper into the blankets to take advantage of their warmth for a little longer.

They smelled like him, the thought making a little smile form on your lips. You drifted off again with your head resting on his pillow.

~

You woke up a while later with something tickling your face.

You slowly opened your eyes and were met with his beautiful face, a playful smile on his lips. He was straddling your waist on the bed and his hair was tickling your lips, softly.

"Hi" he whispered, a sweet smile adorning his face, as he touched the tip of your nose with his own.

"Hi" you said with a sigh as you stretched and crossed your arms over his shoulders.

"You are so warm" He whispered into your ear as he slipped into bed with you again. He kissed you sweetly and then moved to your jaw.

You sighed and stretched your neck upwards, giving him more space as your grip on his shoulders tightened slightly.

You were wide awake now.

His hands found their way under your shirt and soon his talented fingers were kneading at your breasts, making you arch your back towards him.

He slowly lowered under the covers and you felt his hot lips onto the skin of your tummy, inching upwards and reaching your already hardened nipples, bringing your shirt up in the process.

You sighed his name and he bit down onto your skin, his hand dipping inside your pants and cupping you over the thin cotton of your panties.

"Even warmer down here" you heard him whisper and you almost choked on your saliva when you felt the coarse skin of his fingers dip inside the fabric and stroke your bare cunt.

Just as quickly as his touch graced your skin, it disappeared, but only for a brief moment.

You couldn't see him, but you could feel his touch very well. When his hands grabbed your clothes and dragged them down your thighs, exposing you completely, you moaned his name.

He parted your legs a bit more and the next thing you felt was his hot breath between your folds.

God, what a wonderful way to wake up, you thought.

You felt his pointed wet tongue slowly parting your lower lips further, making you arch your back.

Then, he gave an experimental suck on your clit and you screamed.

You had missed him.

You had missed the way he could destroy you with his filthy tongue alone.

He started stroking your clit with tight circles of his thumb and you trembled.

His tongue swirled against your entrance and slowly poked inside making you moan his name, again.

He groaned in response and his tongue dipped further down, licking at your backside in the same way you had done with him that night. He was making you squirm, thinking about his lips right there was delicious and deviant, at the same time.

He alternated between sucking and licking, making you mewl.

Your hands tangled in his hair and he bit at your inner thigh.

Then, his lips resumed their position on your center and he started eating you out like a starving man.

You approached your orgasm quickly and you came with a gasp, suddenly.

He didn't stop.

He slowed down and eased his middle and then his ring finger inside of your warmth, curling them upwards deliciously, with every thrust.

You pushed the covers away from your body exposing yourself to the chilly room.

You didn't care.

You had to see him, you wanted to watch him ruin you.

"Push that shirt up for me, love" he said, hardly parting from your wet core.

You did as he asked and arched your back as his thumb brushed against your overstimulated bundle of nerves.

"Jake" you almost sobbed as his mouth came back onto your heat, your gazes locked.

You came again, with an iron grip onto his hair and your thighs clamped shut around his face.

This time he stopped and knelt between your legs with a satisfied smirk on his beautiful wet face while you tried to calm down.

"You ok?" He asked after a while, a smirk still plastered on his lips.

You didn't trust your voice so you just nodded.

He chuckled and helped you put your clothes back on.

"C'mon, breakfast is ready downstairs" he said, patting your thigh.

You giggled and you stood up on wavering legs. He steadied you and led you downstairs where he had laid the table for breakfast for the both of you.

~

You spent the entire day cuddling on the sofa watching TV and cooking together.

Just when you were loading the dishwasher after dinner, someone rang the doorbell.

Jake was busy putting food back in the fridge, so you went to open the door.

There was no-one there.

You lowered your gaze and noticed a white box on your doormat.

You didn't think that couriers worked in that awful weather.

You picked it up and went back inside.

When you entered the kitchen, Jake had finished clearing up and was washing his hands, his back to you.

"Who was that?" He asked and turned around as you placed the box on the counter.

"There was this on the doormat, but I didn't remember ordering anything, this has to be yours, the address is correct." You said matter-of-factly, reading the label.

You didn't notice him moving.

He was behind you now handing you a knife.

"Open it" he said in a whisper.

"What is it, Jake? Something for your guitar?" You asked him, curious.

"Just open it" there was something in his husky voice that you couldn't immediately pinpoint.

You traced the sharp point of the knife down the duct tape and opened the box to reveal another one. This one was matte black and fairly light.

You placed the black box on the counter and started to open the lid.

The content of the box was hidden by a soft layer of black velvet.

As you slid it off the box, you gasped.

Jake was still behind you and you felt his breath catch in his throat. He leant his hands on either side of you on the counter, trapping you there and pressed you against it, slowly.

You couldn't believe what you saw there, you could feel your pulse migrate right to your core.

"Take it out." He whispered into your ear from behind.

You hesitated and he pressed you further into the counter. You felt his erection against your ass and you whined lowly with your lips pressed together.

"C'mon, you know I don't like waiting, baby" he whispered, kissing that little spot under your ear.

With trembling hands, you grabbed the item inside the box and you gasped at the coolness of it against your fingers.

Your heart was beating wildly and so was his, you could feel it very well with his chest pressed so snuggly against your back.

It was a modestly-sized deep burgundy strap-on with the relative black leather harness and a bottle of lube. The color palette of the set reminded you so much of his beloved Gibson.

Good lord.

You were absolutely and utterly speechless.

"What got you so silent, love?" He snickered into your ear, the bastard.

You honestly didn't know what to say. You opened and closed your mouth like a fish several times.

"W-when?" You stuttered with your voice shaking, you didn't even know what you wanted to ask. Your brain wasn't cooperating anymore.

"When I was away, I couldn't stop thinking about that night at the hotel, when you played that little trick on me." He said, rutting his hips against your ass and making you whine his name.

"When I stumbled upon this website," he said tracing his finger on the black box "I knew right away I wanted it and I wanted to try it with you. I even dreamt about it one night. I woke up in the middle of the night and I was so hard it fucking hurt. And so I did it. I purchased it and then I made myself cum thinking about you wearing it for me." He stopped talking then, panting lightly behind you.

Fuck

"I bet you loved that, didn't you? Reducing me to a stuttering moaning mess" he asked again as his hands gripped your hips.

"Answer me, did you like it?" He asked, one of his hands making its way upwards, around your throat and a shiver ran down your spine.

You swallowed and answered him, his tone was serious and harsh.

"Yes, I liked it" you managed to say, in a feeble whisper.

"Aren't you forgetting something, sweet kitten?" He rasped against your ear and your knees almost gave out.

"Sorry. Y-yes… I loved it…Sir" you told him and he sighed behind you.

"My good girl, always so polite" he said, tracing his lips on the delicate skin of your shoulder.

Your mouth was completely dry. You were shocked by the entire situation.

"And tell me, my naughty kitten, would you like to do that again?" He asked and you nodded, immediately.

"Yes? You do?" He chuckled behind you and then bit down on the flushed skin of your neck.

"Why don't you ask me nicely then? Tell me what you wanna do to me with this" he said, dangling the strap obscenely in front of your eyes and pressing his hips against your ass, again and again.

You moaned, unable to control yourself. His rock hard cock felt so good even if you were both still fully clothed.

You loved this side of him, so dominant and teasing, absolutely and effortlessly sexy.

"Don't make me repeat myself" He pressed and you quickly apologized.

"I-I want to…" you stopped, unable to continue.

"Don't be shy, doll, tell me" he chuckled behind you, making you blush.

You couldn't form a single complete sentence.

Silence engulfed the entire room, the only sounds were both of your panting breaths.

"Say it" he growled after a while.

"I…I want to… make you feel good" You said, but he laughed behind you.

"Oh my sweet kitten, you can do better than that. Be honest with me, let me hear how dirty you can be" he said, tracing down your spine with his other hand.

"Fuck, Jake" you groaned and his hand collided with your ass, harshly, making you yelp.

"Don't misbehave, love, do as I told you or you are not getting anything tonight. Try again." He growled into your ear. He sounded fucking serious and you hated that this whole situation was turning you on beyond belief.

"I want to…" you stopped and bit your lip. You could almost taste blood. He was about to speak again but you interrupted him.

"I want to fuck you with that, I want to see you take it again and again, and I want you to beg for it. I want you on your knees sucking and gagging on that obscene plastic cock like a good boy." You said, without taking a single breath.

"Fuck, love, listen to you" he said, sounding so proud of you.

"Do it then, little devil, make a mess of me with this pathetic plastic cock. It's yours, I bet you look lovely with it on" he whispered into your ear and turned you around.

As he met your gaze, you saw love into his beautiful brown eyes and you kissed him, enraptured by his entire being.

"Are you ok with this, love?" He asked genuinely curious.

"God, Jake, Yes I am, but only if you are" you whispered on his lips.

He winked with a smug smirk, took your hand and led you to the bedroom, grabbing the box and its contents along, silently answering your question.

~

You sat together on the bed with the black box in the middle.

You were nervous and excited at the same time.

He laid down on the bed and you mirrored him, turning to the side to look him in the eyes.

He was a bit nervous, too.

His hands were fidgety on his tummy.

"What do you want me to do, Jakey? I need to know" you whispered.

"I want you to make me feel good with this." He said, his voice was steady and certain.

"Tell me about the dream" you asked and he blushed, but just a little.

"It was so hot, baby, it felt so wrong but I loved it." He trailed off and motioned you to come closer, so he could whisper on your lips.

"I want you to boss me around, I want you to dominate me and be rough. Take control. I mean it, ok?" He said, without breaking eye contact.

You bit your lip at his words. God, he was going to be the death of you.

"I don't know if I am good at that" you said, your voice sounding concerned and tentative.

"I absolutely know you are, love" he winked at you and kissed you breathless.

Then he resumed his position facing you on his side.

"Do you remember that time when you couldn't even form a single sentence because I was giving it to you so good your brain couldn't focus on anything else but me?" He said and you closed your eyes, reminiscing the feelings of those particularly earth-shattering orgasms he was referring to.

You nodded and his smile gleamed, dirty and mischievous.

"Just like that, kitten, I want you to rough me up," he whispered.

"Fuck, Jakey" you whimpered, hopeless.

He nodded then stood, helping you up, too.

"Now, baby, undress and let me help you put this on" He said, grabbing the strap and the lube and throwing the box off the bed.

~

Five minutes later, you stood in front of the mirror completely naked, except for the deep burgundy strap and leather harness you had on.

His stare burned into yours from the mirror. He was still clothed, but he wouldn't be for long.

You turned around and made your way towards him. He didn't know where to look, your eyes, your lips, your breasts, between your legs. His gaze settled there and an imperceptible groan left his lips.

"Undress" you commanded and he obliged immediately.

What a good boy.

"So obedient" you voiced your thoughts and he whined.

"You like that?" You pressed him and he nodded.

He was looking at you in awe as he stood naked in front of you. What a delectable sight he was, skin flushed and hard cock leaking, already.

"On your knees, Jakey," you told him.

"God, you are so good at this. I suspected you had it in you. You look so calm and innocent but I know better, don't I? You are my little dirty kitten." He said and you almost melted, but immediately regained your footing.

You placed both your hands on his shoulders and pushed him down on his knees, then you bent at the waist to whisper into his ear.

"I asked you to kneel, right? Don't make me repeat myself, Jakey" you said using his words against him and it was his turn to whimper.

You kissed his soft lips and then stroked his plush bottom lip with your thumb, not breaking eye contact.

"Your lips are so beautiful Jakey, so pink and plump, why don't you show me what they can do?" You nudged his chin with the tip of the strap.

Your eyes searched his and he nodded, silently reassuring you that he was ok with that.

"Suck it, suck my pretty cock like a good boy" you said without thinking and he groaned.

He kept eye contact as he slowly opened his mouth and gave an experimental lick on the silicone tip.

He was right, all this looked so wrong but you couldn't avert your eyes, not even if you wanted to.

When he wrapped his lips around it, it was even better, the action looked so dirty that you almost came untouched.

This was filthy.

And you loved it.

He started with the tip and slowly took the strap deeper into his mouth. He looked sinful. His lips were so wet with spit that they shone in the low golden light of the room.

He started to slowly bob his head up and down, taking it further down his throat with every stroke.

"Look at you, Jakey, you look so good at this, I bet that if this was real" you said tracing your finger on the silicone that wasn't into his mouth "it would feel so good".

After a second, you heard him moan around it and your eyes rolled back into your skull.

When you opened them, you saw that he had a trembling hand wrapped around himself and was stroking his painfully hard cock with slow gentle touches.

You grasped his jaw in a tight grip and a little surprised whine escaped him, but his mouth stayed glued to your cock.

"You have been such a good kitten, Jakey, why are you misbehaving now? You know the rules, no touching" you said, his big doe eyes fixated on you.

"Well, baby, you didn't tell me" he said, letting go of the strap, his tone full of mockery and something else.

You caught a glint in his eyes and you understood immediately. He knew the rules very well, he was just testing you, he wanted to see how far you would go with your game of cat and mouse.

And you couldn't wait to show him.

Your hand on his jaw went down to his throat and squeezed, his breath hitching.

"You better watch your mouth, Jakey, or you won't get anything, understood?

"You can do better, doll, don't hold back. You know I can take it" he said, smirking.

What a little brat he was.

Your other hand grasped his hair and pulled, hard, making him crane his neck and look up at you behind his long lashes.

He snickered, he was succeeding in making your blood boil.

"C'mon, little devil, drag me to hell" he whispered and that was it.

You let go of him completely and backed away, in silence.

You saw the utmost panic into his eyes and, after a second, it was your turn to smirk.

"Turn the fuck around, kitten" you said through gritted teeth and he groaned at the nickname and at the dangerous edge in your tone.

He did as he was told and, still on his knees, turned around, facing the bed.

You knelt behind him and, with your hands on his shoulders, pushed his torso down on the soft dark green duvet.

You caught his eyes in the mirror on the wardrobe on the other side of the bed and he gave you an encouraging smile.

Then, you took a good look at him.

He looked absolutely indecent on his knees and bent over the bed like that, naked and with his hands on either side of his face. He seemed relaxed, but he was gripping the comforter with both his hands, the gesture betraying his nervousness.

You needed to touch him.

You gently traced your delicate hands from his knees, up to his thighs and his ass. Then you moved them up his soft sides and to his shoulders.

You traced his spine with your fingers downwards and he whimpered softly. As you reached his lower back, you snaked one hand to his front and wrapped it around his erection.

He was so hot against your skin and he felt painfully hard. You started stroking him and he growled deep into his chest.

"Good girl, baby, just like that" he absentmindedly praised you.

In a matter of seconds, the hand that was wrapped around his cock stopped stroking him and collided with his asscheek, abruptly.

A low hiss left his lips and turned into a yelp when your other hand grasped his hair and tugged upwards sharply, making him forcefully arch his back and meet your eyes in the mirror in front of you.

"I am not your fucking baby tonight, Jakey, and not even your sweet kitten, understood?" You said and he nodded eagerly.

"Use your words and apologize to me" you commanded.

"Sorry… sorry, I… it won't happen again" He almost moaned, his voice was strained because your iron grip on his hair kept his neck extended backwards.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" You whispered and he looked at you through the reflection, swallowing, a bit confused.

"Tonight you are going to refer to me as Sir, and Sir only, ok?" You kissed his right shoulder and a low curse escaped his lips.

"Y-yes, Yes Sir." He said and you praised him, letting go of his hair and peppering kisses all over his shoulders.

"My good boy, I knew you were hiding from me somewhere." He chuckled and you joined him.

"Are you ok?" You asked in a whisper, breaking character for a second to check on him.

"Lord, you are made for this, love. Yes I am ok" he said and he sounded proud and needy.

You exchanged sweet smiles and, after a moment, you resumed kissing his shoulders.

Then, you moved lower and lower, swirling your tongue delicately, but purposefully, against the little dimples on his lower back.

He whined and you had to bite back a noise, too.

He tensed in anticipation as both your hands made their way on his gorgeous ass, stroking the hot velvety skin there.

You kneaded at his supple doughy skin and he moaned your name.

"Be patient, sweet boy, I am going to give you everything you need" you said, tracing your lips absentmindedly on his skin.

"Please" A little whisper escaped his lips and you cursed internally. You didn't know if you were able to finish this without absolutely losing your mind.

"Please what, Jakey, tell me what you need" you said sweetly, stroking his back.

"Your mouth, your fingers, b…Sir. I need you, please" he said panting, his voice broke a little at the end, making you groan.

"I love it when you beg, my good boy." You whispered on his skin and you decided to reward him, at last.

Your hands gently spread him and your tongue dipped between his ass cheeks, licking at him.

A loud groan escaped him.

It was like music to your ears.

"C'mon baby, fuck yourself against the bed for me." You whispered on his damp skin and he obliged, a relieved whimper sounding in the room.

"Thank you, Sir" he said and you moaned. Your mouth resumed its work on him. Sucking and licking at his hole while he dragged his painfully hard cock against the soft duvet would be a memory that would haunt your most secret dreams forever.

After a while, you decided to bring your mouth further down between his muscular thighs, languidly caressing his taut balls.

A loud curse escaped his lips and his movements against the bed quickened slightly.

You stayed like that for a while.

Then he begged you, again.

"Please…Sir… I need your fingers." He whispered, voice raspy and fucked-out already.

You brought your thumb between your lips and then skimmed it on him, pressing lightly, but not enough to enter.

"Do you think you deserve them, Jakey?" You asked him, bending over him, with the strap pressing on the back of his thigh.

"Y-yes, I-I think so…Sir" he trailed off, uncertainty coating his beautiful gravelly voice.

"Of course, Jakey, of course you deserve them" you said in his ear.

You brought one of your hands in front of his face and, without another word, he started sucking on your middle and ring finger.

"Such a good boy, look at you, I didn't even have to ask " you praised him and you saw his eyes roll back into his skull from the mirror.

Once you were satisfied with the amount of spit covering your digits, you brought your hand back and circled his hole with them.

"Ready?" You asked him and he nodded eagerly.

"Yes, please" he whimpered.

"No, I don't think so." You retorted and a shocked, needy sound escaped him. His eyes were burning into yours in the reflection.

You took advantage of the eye contact to make him witness the gesture you had in mind.

You opened your mouth and let a bead of saliva drip down your lips and land directly onto his hole.

"Oh fuck" He moaned and bit his lower lip harshly, squeezing his eyes shut. You felt him trying to even out his breath, concentrating on preventing himself from cumming already.

You let him calm down a little.

Meanwhile, for good measure, you opened the bottle of lube and coated your fingers with a generous layer.

Then, you began to slide your middle finger inside him slowly, gauging his reaction in the mirror.

Last time you did this, you had your face buried between his thighs and you couldn't see his beautiful face. But now you could and, oh boy, you wished you had witnessed this the first time, too.

His mouth was hanging open in a silent moan, eyes squeezed shut and brows furrowed and slightly raised. His face was the image of pure and utmost pleasure.

You wanted that picture burned behind your eyelids.

As you pressed inside him to the knuckle, he released a shuddering relieved breath.

"Jakey? Are you ok?" You whispered on the skin of his back.

"Fuck" he whispered, "Y-yeah, I am ok, please" he sounded delectable and desperate.

Without warning, you eased the second finger inside.

He gripped the duvet with both hands, forehead pressing into the bed and a sudden scream of your name echoed into the room.

"Please, move" he whispered then and you obliged.

You started to push your fingers in and out of him gently, basking in the silky hot feeling of his skin around your fingers.

Your eyes focused for a second on them sliding in and out, but you had to look away almost immediately. You were afraid to cum because of that sight alone. That wasn't your goal, it was all about him tonight.

You experimentally curled your fingers slightly and he screamed.

"D-don't… don't do that or I am going to cum" he said through gritted teeth.

You eased your fingers out of his hot embrace and he groaned.

You squeezed his ass cheeks and placed a little kiss on his lower back. Then, you bent over him again, slowly, trailing your tongue all the way up his spine in the process. He arched his back and whispered your name.

"Ready for it, Jakey?" You whispered, a little trembling edge in your voice betrayed how nervous you were.

He nodded then spoke, reassuring you.

"Yes, baby, I am. Don't worry I will be fine. Make a mess of me, finish me off." The vibrations of his voice rumbled in your chest from where he was pressed against you.

You straightened and, with slightly trembling hands, you coated the strap with copious amounts of lube and dragged the tip between his legs.

He whimpered, deliciously.

Then, guiding the silicone with your hand, you pressed forward a little. The tip pushed inside with ease and he sighed.

"More" he groaned through clenched teeth and you obliged.

Extremely slowly, you pushed in to the hilt. He tensed, but only briefly. Then he sighed.

"Oh my… fuck" He whispered, a completely fucked out expression on his face as his eyes met yours through the mirror.

"Move, please" he said and then a sharp intake of breath left his swollen lips as you gave an experimental slow thrust of your hips.

"Just like that, slow and deep" he praised you and you repeated the motion.

Your hands were glued to his hips now, gripping the skin there with every thrust.

He was growing vocal and impatient with every deep stroke of the strap.

"Please, harder" he whimpered and you couldn't deny him anymore.

You snapped your hips against his, keeping him pressed on the bed with a firm hand on the back of his neck and another to his hip.

His eyes bore inside of yours from the mirror and he nodded making you understand that that was exactly how he wanted it.

You bent down flush against his back to whisper into his ear.

"Jakey, my good boy, you are taking it so well, I bet you can't wait to cum, can you? You are going to make a mess on this bed, right?" You whispered.

He nodded eagerly, looking completely out of his mind from the pleasure.

"Go on then Jakey, cum for me on my pretty plastic cock." You almost moaned into his sweaty neck as your thumb pressed on the little spot between his balls and his back.

As soon as the words left your lips, his strong back arched and he was cumming against the sheets on the side of the bed, where he was pressed flush by your own hips.

The sounds coming from him were sinful and delectable, you decided to store them into your mind for extremely lonely days.

His face contorted in pleasure, sweat making his entire body glisten like he was covered in stardust.

You stilled your hips but he kept moving, fucking himself on the strap through his almost endless orgasm.

His hips slowly staggered to a stop and he flopped face first onto the bed, panting heavily.

You let him calm down for a while and you stroked his back gently, pushing his sweaty hair away from his flushed damp skin.

"Jake?" You whispered.

"Hmhm?" He whispered back, exhausted.

"I am going to pull out" you informed him and he nodded.

He hissed slightly as you did, but didn't move.

You caressed his thighs and stood.

Your knees were burning from the time you had been kneeling, but you managed to stand, even though your joints cracked a little.

You heard him chuckled and you lifted your gaze to meet his eyes in the mirror.

"You look more fucked-out than me, love" he snickered and you glowered at him, making him laugh harder.

"I hardly doubt it, Jakey," you said, patting his ass cheek.

"I am going to get the bath running, then I am going to help you in there and come back here to change the sheets, ok?" You explained.

"No" he pouted. "The sheets can wait, I can't. You are going to join me in the bathtub and after that we can change the sheets together and get some sleep." He said and you smiled.

"You don't like giving up control for long, do you?" You quipped as you made your way to the conjoined bathroom, and he chuckled, still half laying on the bed.

As you returned to the bedroom, you approached him.

"Let me help you stand" you said and you guided his torso up with your hands on his shoulders, first.

Then you helped him on his feet, but his knees gave out.

He lost balance and grasped your hips to try to regain it, but it was worthless.

You both fell on the bed on your sides in a fit of apologies and laughter.

After a while, you felt his fingers trace on the leather harness you still had on and you angled your face towards his.

He wasn't watching you.

His eyes were trained downwards, contemplating the feathery touches of his fingers on you.

"This thing has bewitched you, hasn't it?" You whispered, referring to the strap you still had on, and he chuckled sheepishly.

"How was it?" You asked him, timidly.

He sighed, searching for the words he wanted to say.

"Exquisitely wrong. And felt so good I am going to get rock hard every time I'll think about it and about you doing that, my sweet little dirty devil." He confessed.

You grasped his jaw and kissed him making a little moan escape his swollen lips.

His fingers made their way around your hips and then lowered between your legs.

He broke the kiss with a gasp at the feeling of how wet the whole situation had made you.

"God, baby, you are soaked." He whispered into your ear and a little sound escaped you.

"I could see how much you liked it, baby, you look delectable like that, controlling, menacing and so dominant." He went on.

"You looked fucking filthy, fucking me in the ass like that with this pretty plastic cock of yours." He came closer to your lips and his fingers pressed between your legs.

You whimpered at his wording. Dirty boy

"Here, let me help you take this off" he said, gently taking the strap off your body.

He placed it on the floor without standing and then traced the red marks the harness had left onto your skin.

His hands found their way back between your legs and his fingers traced your wet skin deliciously.

"So wet for me, and I didn't even touch you." He whispered as his fingers pressed into your skin a bit more, making you whimper.

"C'mon love, come, have a seat" he said, patting the bed near his face and turning on his back, inviting you to sit on his beautiful face.

"No, Jake… we shouldn't keep the water running for long and then we have to go to bed. We are both tired" you said, trying to coax him up.

"I am not tired," he scoffed, "and we shouldn't do many things, love, for example indulging in sinful activities like we did tonight, so stop complaining and come sit that pretty wet cunt on my face, right now" he commanded.

You have always been unable to tell him 'no'.

As you maneuvered your body closer to him, he spoke again.

"Face the mirror, love. I know that if you faced my body, you couldn't stop yourself from putting that gorgeous mouth of yours back on me. And right now I really can't take it." he said, watching you blush at his words.

"You are admitting that you are tired, then" you said, rolling over and kissing his chest.

"Baby…stop talking and come up here before I drag you myself" He groaned, impatient.

You ended up cumming three times in a row before forcefully detaching yourself from him with a screech, upon hearing the water overflow the tub.

What a night.

#greta van fleet #greta van fic #greta van smut #gvf fic #jake gvf #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka

[dc-and-arfrona]

Too Late

----

Jason Todd x GN!Reader

Summary: Jason waits wayyyy too long to ask you out, so someone else does.

Type: Angst

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.5k+

----

Jason's POV

I walk, nearly skip, to your apartment. Today is the day that I am going to ask you out. We have grown so close in friends and after a good talk with Roy, I was ready to make my move. I had everything ready, your favorite flowers in my hand and a small little speech in my head. As I get off the elevator I see another man in front of your apartment. Delivery guy? Maybe? Hopefully? My heart sank when I saw you greet him at the door with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. 

 My heart constricts, and I stand frozen in the hallway, invisible waves of pain crashing over me. How did I let this happen? I had been so sure that I was making progress, that we shared something special. But now, watching you exchange affectionate gestures with this stranger, it feels like my chance has slipped away. I lean against the wall, my grip on the flowers tightening, as the reality of my own hesitation and indecisiveness settles in. The weight of regret hangs heavy in the air, mocking my missed opportunity. 

 Unfortunately I am not invisible, they see me at the corner of your eye and the strange man turns around to look over at me as well. Wally fucking West. Were they fucking? What was Wally doing with you? What kind of greeting was that? Wally and they froze as they stared at me and the flowers in my hands. Wally quickly, almost possessively, grabs you and intertwines your hands. 

 My heart feels like it's been shattered into a million pieces. The sight before me is a painful twist of fate, mocking my unrequited feelings. I try to keep my composure, my face a mask of neutrality, but inside, a storm of emotions rages. Anger, jealousy, and heartbreak intertwine, creating a tumultuous mix that threatens to consume me. I manage to summon a weak smile, forcing myself to play it off as though I'm not affected. "Hey, guys," I say, my voice betraying a hint of sadness. "Didn't mean to interrupt. Just wanted to drop these off. Hope they brighten your day." With a final nod, I turn on my heel and walk away, my footsteps echoing the sound of my shattered hopes and dreams. 

 A few moments later I get a text from you. I am begging, praying that it's an explanation and nothing was going on. My heart was able to sink even more when I read the message. "Jason, please don't tell the team about our relationship, I am not ready to tell you. I can trust you right? Also, thank you so much for the flowers! :)" 

 My hands tremble as I read the text, the words burning into my wounded heart. It's as if the world around me fades into a blur, leaving only the weight of your secret and the ache of betrayal. I struggle to find the right response, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. Can I trust you? The question echoes in my mind, a painful reminder of the fracture in our connection. But somewhere deep inside, despite the pain, I find a flicker of compassion. I take a deep breath, typing a reply, my words laced with a bittersweet mixture of resignation and longing. "You can trust me," I type, each letter a testament to the strength I muster. "I'll keep your secret. Take care." With a heavy heart, I press send, knowing that my unspoken feelings will remain buried in the depths of my soul, a secret that will forever haunt me. 

Months later, and I am still heartbroken. What makes it worse is that you have come out to the team. I see you now everywhere. Wally always makes some kind of show that he is your boyfriend. I could almost swear that after every kiss Wally gives a glance over at me to make sure that I can see that his lips are on you... and not mine. He knows that I love you. He also knows that I am too late. Our friendship hasn't been affected a bit, you thankfully believed me that the flowers were just a random kind gesture on a random Tuesday.

 One day, as we gather for a mission debriefing, a subtle shift in the atmosphere catches my attention. Amidst the serious discussions and mission preparations, I notice Artemis and Wally exchanging sly glances, your banter taking on a new level of intimacy. The once playful dynamic between you now carries a weight I can't ignore. My heart skips a beat as I observe your reaction, the flicker of discomfort that momentarily crosses your face. It's as if a veil has been lifted, revealing a hidden truth that had remained concealed until now. Questions swirl in my mind, but I bite my tongue, unsure if it's my place to intervene. The weight of unspoken secrets lingers in the air, leaving me to wonder if this newfound connection between Artemis and Wally will only deepen the void that separates us further. 

Then it all explodes, you are at my door sobbing. He broke your heart. He had your precious beautiful heart and he broke it. He ran with someone else and left you. I have never experienced so much anger. The person I love the most, the one I wanted to protect with all my life, was sobbing in my arms due to some dick that couldn't comprehend the amazing gift he had. 

As you stand at my door, your tears flowing uncontrollably, my heart shatters into a thousand fragments. The sight of you, broken and vulnerable, ignites a firestorm of anger within me. How could he? How could Wally, who had been entrusted with your precious, beautiful heart, treat it so callously? The fierce protectiveness that has always swelled within me now roars to life, ready to confront the source of your pain. I hold you tightly in my arms, my own tears mixing with yours, a blend of sadness and rage. In that moment, I vow to shield you from any further harm, to be the rock you can lean on when the world becomes too heavy. As your sobs echo in the room, I find solace in knowing that, despite the anguish we both endure, we have each other to lean on, to mend the broken pieces of our hearts together.

Months later, the pain of unrequited love still lingered within me, casting a shadow over our friendship. Every day was a struggle, watching you and Wally together, witnessing the love and happiness that should have been mine. But I couldn't bear the weight of my silence any longer.

Summoning all the courage I had left, I found myself standing before you one evening, our eyes locking in a bittersweet dance of emotions. The air was heavy with unspoken words, as if the universe held its breath, waiting for the truth to be set free.

"I need to tell you something," I finally whispered, my voice laced with vulnerability. "These past months, I've been carrying a weight in my heart, a weight of regret and longing. The truth is, I've loved you for so long, and seeing you with Wally has been tearing me apart."

A mix of surprise and sadness flashed across your face, and for a moment, I feared that I had made a mistake. But I had to be honest, for both of us.

"I never wanted to jeopardize our friendship," I continued, my voice trembling. "But I can't keep pretending that these feelings don't exist. You deserve to know the truth, even if it means risking our relationship."

Silence hung in the air, and I braced myself for your response, unsure of what the future held for us. But then, something remarkable happened. You reached out, gently taking my hand in yours, your touch sending warmth through my entire being.

"Jason," you said softly, your eyes filled with compassion. "I had no idea you felt this way. The truth is, I've been grappling with my own doubts and uncertainties. Wally may have been a distraction, but it was you who captured my heart from the beginning."

Hope bloomed within me, fragile yet resilient, as your words washed over me. In that moment, we stood together, two broken souls finding solace in each other's arms.

From that day forward, we embarked on a journey of healing and discovery, navigating the complexities of our intertwined past and forging a new path ahead. The pain of the past gradually faded, replaced by a love that grew stronger with each passing day.

Though the road was not without its challenges, we faced them together, drawing strength from the unwavering bond we shared. And as we embraced our newfound love, the scars of our past became reminders of the resilience of our hearts.

In the end, the timing may have been imperfect, and our path may have been fraught with obstacles, but our love proved to be stronger than any pain or regret. And together, we created a future built on trust, understanding, and the courage to seize the love that had eluded us for far too long.

#dc universe #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #robin x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd x y/n #red hood x you #dc imagine #jason todd x you #red hood imagine

[r0-boat]

Hot Cold

Cw: dubcon, branding(with cig), facefucking, rough sex, smoking, aggressiveness, bondage, sadism, no aftercare, maybe one little forehead kiss.

Grusha x Male! Reader Commission for @spideroni ~ thank you so much for your support I hope you enjoy

Wc: 1.7k

The air was cold, and not because of a blizzard raging outside. No, it was your pissy boyfriend who recently has been acting strange.

Coming home after work, he had been really short with you. Giving you attitude, whether it was passive or aggressive, or sometimes ignoring you outright. Grusha would rather storm outside and have a cigarette than have a damn conversation with you, and it was getting on your nerves as well. You weren't aware that you were dating a damn child.

You thought just giving him some time to himself would help him cool off, but nothing has changed, and you're growing tired of his attitude toward you.

Grusha idly sat on the couch with his phone. His phone rings, he grumbled even though the weather was deemed too dangerous to go to work. It seemed that he'll never catch a break. Seeing the chairwoman's name, he clenched his teeth but took the call, switching in his native tongue. Whether it was the water running in front of you, or the fact that he was speaking Spanish, you couldn't hear the entire thing when you started the water for the dishes. You hadn't really started tuning in until the phone call was pretty much over. He growled, casting his phone to the side as soon as he ended the call, putting a hand over his face.

He leaned forward on the couch agitated and bounced his leg, his eyes glancing over at the door and the window cursing under his breath as the violent snow storm still raged outside.

You're washing the dishes, and from your peripheral vision, you saw your boyfriend took out a cigarette and lit it.

This was your breaking point.

"Could you not smoke in the house?"

Grusha completely ignores you, rolling his eyes.

"Hey!" You say a little louder.

Grusha clicked his tongue, muttering something under his breath, cigarette still in his mouth.

"Can I please get an explanation on why you've been acting more like an asshole than usual?"

Grusha pinches the bridges of his nose. He could already feel the migraine coming, having just got off the phone with the chairwoman.

"Could you atleast try not to be annoying today of all days?" Your boyfriend hissed. Usually, Grusha was used to handling anything by himself. However, the chairwoman constantly got on his back about his Pokemon battling career and the status of his gym. This slowly ate away his patience.

And that pretty face of yours being so bratty did not help. His patience was a thinning thread, and he was this close to turn your body and all its holes into a stress toy.

Without a word, he gets up from the couch, the cigarettes still between his fingers, making his way to the shared bedroom.

You watched him leave when he finally left the living room. Now deciding to follow him, he made an exasperated sigh, turning off the water and leaving the dishes half done, choosing to follow your boyfriend to the bedroom.

He puts the half-lit cigarette on the ashtray and watches as you practically barge through the door.

"Hey, I wasn't done–" You could have been nicer but in all honesty you weren't really having the best week either.

"If you keep nagging at me like that, I'm going to put your mouth to good use," Grusha growls, his icy blue eyes frozen over with bitterness.

You were taken back by his comment; anger at his witty retort bubbled within you while butterflies fluttered in your stomach. "Doll.. I am not in the mood to talk. I'm giving you one chance - just one - to leave me alone before I fold you over this bed and take out months of bottled-up anger and stress onto your body."

After a couple minutes of silence ignoring the warmth spreading across your face. You sealed your fate. "That doesn't mean you can smoke in the house–"

He grabs you by the collar, pushing you down onto the bed, grabbing a scarf as he climbs on top of you. You grab ahold of his arm, trying to shove his body off you, yet he doesn't budge. You twist and turn, trying to wiggle away from underneath him, all useless. The ex-pro athlete made sure to work hard to keep his form. You were not going to gain the upper hand and you lost the moment you picked a fight.

He secures your hands behind your back with a scarf, flipping you over on your stomach. Your eyes widen hearing the fabric of your clothing being ripped off of you, the man above you chuckled darkly, almost mocking you.

"Oh my, what happened to all that fire before?"

You pulled at the scarf with your arms, trying to unravel the knot with what you could work with. He watches you struggle with a sadistic smile on his face before flipping you on your back.

"It seems that you have forgotten your place," Grusha purrs, placing the cigarette back between his lips, inhaling and blowing smoke into your face. "You don't own me. I own you."

The cigarette bud hovered above your chest, your eyes widened at the burning. Your chest heaved as his hand wrapped around your throat, putting down pressure. You grit your teeth, growling in pain, feeling the sting of the hot cigarette right against your chest. His knee parts your legs, pressing right down on your crotch.

He goes for another puff from his cigarette, his leg rubbing harder against your covered cock. Your breath shakes from the friction. It starts to become addictive, the heat pooling into your loins.

Finally he hears you sing your moans of pain and pleasure. When he presses the hot cigarette onto another spot of your body, this time on your collarbone. It was just barely high enough for you to cover it tomorrow. Your toes curl at the hot pain, your back arching when you put more pressure onto your swelling bulge as soon as he makes contact.

He pulls your pants down, your breath shook, feeling his hand squeeze your balls before immediately colliding it with your soft ass. Taking you by surprise, you bite back a squeal and stifle back further sounds as he begins striking it over and over you. However, leaving your ass red wasn't enough. 

He bit his lip, his cock stirring in his pants when a delicious, devilish thought popped into his mind. He takes another puff of the cigarette, you cry out his name, feeling the hot burning sensation on your ass cheek, this time; he traces the letters of his name right on the flesh, branding you as his property. 

Grusha was satisfied for now, idly leaving the cigarette between two of his fingers, occasionally taking another breath in. Chuckling when his eyes met your pleading ones.

"You were so talkative before. What happened?" He smirked, his hands gliding upon your body as he maneuvers you to face him. Your eyes fell upon his crotch and his fingers diligently worked to take off his belt and pants.

"No matter, I did say I was going to put that mouth to good use, and I am a man of my word." He takes his already-hardening cock out of his pants.

"Mouth. Open," Grusha demanded. You hesitated for a moment, glaring at him at those ice blue eyes flashing with red anger. Putting his thumb on your bottom lip, forcing your mouth open, his fingernails split your lip and forced your jaw open for him.

"I said open slut!"

His cock immediately gets jammed down your throat. His finger is jumbled in your grip, tightening as your mouth engulfs his thick cock. Your senses are overrun by his taste and smell, making your head spin. You tried to take all of him without gagging from the burn in your throat,

You feel every vein roll across your tongue as he makes you swallow all of him, your nose nestling against his drapes. Your cock was straining in your pants, your body pressed deliciously against the mattress. You can't help but slightly rut your hips in rhythm as your boyfriend begins to move, his grip tightening around your locks. He showed no mercy in his pace.

You could swear his eyes lit up when he felt your throat tighten, gagging on his dick.

The mix of pain you felt twisting with pleasure was addictive. You wanted more of the salty taste of his pre-cum on your tongue; the strong scent of your boyfriend's natural scent mixed with his crisp cologne made your brain melt.

"Don't tell me you're actually getting off to me like this?" he smirked. Sliding his cock out of your mouth only to flip you over, he lets out a drawn out groan when your throat bulges from his cock when he slides right back in. You lay there obediently; eyes glazed over with lust. You don't even remember why you were mad at him in the first place. All you can think about is how his balls slap against your face when Grusha face fucked you.

He placed a hand around your neck, wanting to feel his thick cock slide right in there. He wants to feel your throat tightening as you suck every last drop of cum from his tightening balls. He switches to deeper, harder thrusts when he leans forward, wrapping another hand around your cock, rhythmically moving up and down your toes curl, moaning around his shaft. 

Your lover grinds against your face. You want your hands free to touch and caress his body to grab his hips and make him move fuck himself with your throat through his orgasm.

Grusha's, the pleasure becoming too much, eyes flutter. "Your s-so good, with your mouth around me like that I- FUCK!"

He cries out, filling your throat with his seed, watching you eagerly drink every last drop of him. Stilling his hips making sure he gives you every last drop of him. He slides his semi hard cock out of you giving you a moment to breathe. He moves you from the edge of the bed to the pillows. Giving you a kiss on the forehead.

"Sorry about before," he whispers his fingers running through your hair. "You look a little tired so I'll give you a moment to rest but I'm not done with you. I still feel really pent up"

#smut #pokemon grusha x reader #male reader #x male reader #grusha x reader #gym leader grusha #Ro.commission #dubcon #cw branding #Smoking #pokemon scarlet and violet x reader #pokemon grusha #Grusha smut

[sevlawless]

nothing without you

pairing: m!seven lawless x f!mc (arabella aveiro)

word count: 962

warnings: none just arabella going THROUGH IT

tags: @blainehayes @agentdumortain @valcubust-main

notes: so the @infamous-if brain rot is here and it's very fucking real lmfao- ever since i played i have not been able to stop thinking about it and more specifically, how my mc would cope post break up with seven. something something i still love you i still have to live that but how does ANYONE live with that .. anyway here it is! the song arabella sings is honeysuckle by pom pom squad

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

if i'm nothing without you, am i anything at all?

the chorus rattles around in her head long after she stops singing it. she seems to be frozen in place, her thoughts drowning out the ability to do anything else, although she does notice the faint sound of silence. the rest of dead apple have long stopped playing, but no one says anything. they seem to be doing that a lot lately when it comes to her.

she wasn't even supposed to be at this rehearsal, and she even agreed with her bandmates when they suggested she take some time away to process everything. the music can wait while she figures out how to move forward.

but all she can think about is music, all she could think about while she spent the last two weeks trying to pull herself back together is to write songs.

how do you go through something so traumatic and not write about it?

losing sev- just his name passing through her brain is enough to make her eyes clench shut, gripping the microphone stand in front for her tighter.

losing him is the worst pain she's ever felt in her life. how do you go from talking to someone every single day for the past eleven years to suddenly no contact? how does anyone cope with that? she'd really like to know.

it doesn't help that she was so unbelievably in love with him. she never was one to believe in soulmates but no matter how dumb she thought it was, she considered seven to be her's.

a soulmate who now wants nothing to do with you.

she lets out a ragged breath, which prompts someone reaching out to touch her shoulder.

"arabella-" it's rowan, his voice uncharacteristically timid, and it makes her stomach churn. she shrugs his hand off and turns to face him.

"i'm fine," she snaps, wincing at the tone in her voice. he's staring at her pitifully. if she dared to glance at the others they would share the same look.

they were just as much friends with seven as she was. why are they all so fucking concerned for her in particular? a part of her wants to say that if they were so upset about her, they never would have taken that stupid vote in the first place. the vote that ruined everything.

seeing the look on seven's face, the hurt in his eyes, the betrayal-

she can't think about this right now. she's spent the last two weeks trying to move on and fuck if she's about to cry in front of the band over this.

she turns back around, storming toward the exit. as she yanks the door open and slams it behind her, she wonders if anyone will come after her.

they don't.

she can't even get into the car before she's a sobbing mess, hands shaking as she clambers into her vehicle, resting her head against the steering wheel. her hands are balled into tight fists as she considers if punching something would help the pain subside. it didn't help last time.

last time. that night casts an unbearable weight down on her and makes her shoulders shake as she recalls her and seven screaming at each other in drunken rage, both saying things they can never take back. going to a place they could never come back from. when he left she punched a hole in the wall and her hand flares up as a reminder. her bruised knuckles are starting to heal now, and some part of her wishes they weren't. maybe so she could have one last piece of seven to remember him by. just one last trace of the effect he had on her so it didn't feel like the eleven years she spent with him were for nothing.

they can't just be nothing.

right?

that seems to be what they are now- he hasn't talked to her since that night and every day, every hour it feels like she pulls up his contact info out of reflex to tell him something. a joke, a lyric for a song, a text just to tell him she's thinking of him. she always manages to realize what she's doing before she hits send and she doesn't think that will get any easier.

if i'm nothing without you, am i anything at all?

the lyrics she wrote down one night after getting drunk in an attempt to get him out of her brain dance around in her mind again.

she can't remember the person she was before seven. it's not the one who stares back at her now as she wipes her eyes and looks into the rearview mirror.

would she like that person? would they be friends? she never thought about it until now. she never thought she would have to.

how do you move on from someone that was so inexplicably tethered to you? where there was arabella, seven was right there next to her.

she looks across to the passenger seat that seven used to occupy every day and is met with no one there. she sees the grey headrest where a black mop of hair used to lie. she sees the middle console where his fingers used to drum to the beat of whatever was playing through the speakers. she sees the dash where he used to lay his worn out combat boots on.

emptiness eats away at her until all she can do is let out another sob.

some part of her wonders if he even feels a fraction of what she does. he has to. for her own peace of mind, she hopes this has been as hard on him as it has on her.

but she wouldn't know.

#seven lawless #seven lawless x mc #infamous #infamous if #my writing #inf: seven x arabella #is it a fic of mine if i dont force yall to learn how my oc's brain works LMFAO #anyway thank u for reading if u did <3 #i need chapter 2 desperately maybe this will hold me over KSJSNDBDJDKD

[islenthatur]

“Look at what’s happened to us Julek, we’ve become such a sorry state that even in war we are afraid.” It was clear disgust in the other’s eyes as Jaskier wiped the blood and gore from his eyes to view the man before him.

It was his face, his voice, but the eyes were not the eyes he had seen for a very, very long time.

“This is what I am now,” He chokes back, trying to keep the bile down.

The man - Julian - scoffed. “You. Yes, it is you Jaskier who is a feeble-minded man that allows those he loves to walk all over us, who flees when those he calls friends be slaughtered around him. It was our job to slaughter, to protect…”

“WELL I GOT TIRED OF IT!” Jaskier screamed, the power of his words ripping from the very depths of his soul. "I got tired of the scorn, the hate and the violence! It made me sick, sick to my stomach with how I was… how we were.”

A snarl tore from Julian’s throat as he stormed forward and grabbed Jaskier by the lapels of the coat, wilted buttercups being left in his wake, fanning out like fingers towards the frozen soldiers around them. “We were made for war, to fight!”

“But we were born from love… there is no love in death and violence.” Jaskier whispered back viciously, flinching as Julian laughed and dropped him, his slitted eyes glinting in the firelight.

The laugh continued as he sneered. “You forgot then.”

“What did I forget?”

A sharp smile tugged at Julian’s lips. “We fight because we love. Now get up Jaskier and Fight… our friends don’t need you… our friends need Julian of Kerack, the Fae Witcher of the Bears. NOW GET UP!”

In a blink Jaskier’s world trembled, the words piercing through him and shaking away the curse that held his human form. Memories upon memories pouring upon him like a tidal wave that left him immobilized and invigorated… Julian was right… here he can no longer be Jaskier the Humble Bard… no…

A feral snarl ripped free from his throat, the war raging around him unhindered again as he dodge the sword going for his throat, his hand and body moving on instinct, snapping the human’s arm with ease and twisting to toss it away to move to the next.

Yes… Julian of Kerack was indeed needed…

And oh was he pissed…

@0dde11eth what ya think?

#the witcher #blood origins #Witcher Jaskier #Dark Jaskier #Immortal Jaskier #Oh my god the trailer has set my mind ablaze! #the witcher fanfiction #Fanfiction #ao3

[academyofbrokenhearts]

Standing in the Wake of Devastation

Suna and Kaya, in the aftermath of the storm. Taken from episode 51. One-shot.

Author (lengthy) note:

Okay, listen, LISTEN. Episode 51 was quite intense as far as KaySun goes, and I have to say I disagree with many of the takes I saw in the fandom following it. One of the major takes I disagree with was "Suna knew Kaya would never hurt her, she was frightened for him, not of him". No, friends, she did not know that, and judging by the way Beril Pozam played the scene, I am quite sure she was frightened of him during his outburst of rage. Suna is a victim of severe physical and psychological abuse, and has been for most of her life. That has to leave some scars. Plus, she has only known Kaya for a short while, and even if he has treated her quite well up until now (especially compared to the other men in her life), it doesn't mean she trusts him blindly.

BUT ALSO. While I wasn't a fan of him telling him the following morning that she was going to be even more sorry if something similar were to happen again, and while it did sound very close to a threat for me, it obviously wasn't the case for her, considering that she is linking arms with him on her own volition in their next scene, even if he's obviously still upset with her. So I tried my best to illustrate her inner voice.

Does she love him? Probably not yet, but she is loyal to him (as seen in the scene with Abidin), and she is attracted to him, and I do think there is potential for more there. They need to TAAAAAAAAAAAAALK. But alas, they are too damaged at the moment for that.

And yes, I do believe that the writer made the correct choice by not making them talk after Kaya's outburst. I know you all wanted otherwise, but to me it makes sense. They need to build more trust, I think, and that comes with time. People like them will not open up so easily. Hell, it's actually a miracle they were so honest with each other up until this point.

Title inspired by Linkin Park's "Iridescent".

AO3 link here.

It has to be the adrenaline from earlier in the night that keeps Suna from wavering on her feet when Kaya's rage explodes.

That, and the certain something in her that shifted ever since she understood he intended to keep his promise to support her. She doesn't even have to think too much before jumping in his way and trying to stop him from hurting himself, as he's hitting his head on the wardrobe in anger, his previous words, the pain of betrayal echoing in every sound.

didn't we promise to be open and honest with each other didn't we say we were going to walk together on this way

I trusted you

I trusted you

Then his hands are all of a sudden on her wrists, her back to the wardrobe, and she cannot move, and in the blink of an eye, it's like time freezes, and the old fear seeps into her bones, because she knows the story so well from here on out, and it's her heart that cries, because he didn't promise her a fairy tale, but he did promise he will support her always, and why didn't she come to him, he's not his mother, he would have understood, he would have helped, and now it's like he's someone else, and why does every single action of hers, every single decision, turn out to be so wrong, and she was mistaken and she did something bad and now he's angry, and with blood frozen in her veins and heart in her throat, part of her expects a hit that never comes, because he just pushes her away.

She doesn't even have time to process what happened, before he starts hitting his head again. And it goes against everything she learned, against every single act of self-preservation she has internalised, but she hurries in his direction once more.

"Kaya, stop!"

She drags him away, and before she knows it, she's on her knees, Kaya crying with his face buried in her shoulder, holding her as if she's the only thing stopping him from drowning.

For a few moments, she doesn't know what to do with her hands. She's tentatively holding him, traces of her temporary fear still lingering, but in spite of it all, she whispers to him that it's okay, although things are so far from being okay. He cries even harder, and she feels one of his hands holding her head, caressing her hair.

This is also a story she knows well.

She knows how to console a child who is crying, has always knew. How many times did she hold Seyran just like this?

There's nothing scary about a hurt child crying in one's arms, after all.

So she goes through the motions. She embraces him fully, she returns his caresses, she's murmuring gibberish, until his eyes grow heavy, until he allows her to guide him back to bed, until he's lying there with his head on her chest, occasional sobs still rattling his chest.

They don't speak. Seyran and her never spoke either, back then. What's there to say in such moments?

*

In the morning, Kaya is calm and composed, but rigid, and more distant than Suna ever saw him. She does apologise; she didn't intend to offend him or hide things from him, not really, but the situation is complicated as it is, and she doesn't really see how she could have included Kaya in Seyran's escape plan, with Ferit and Abidin also around.

Part of her hates that Abidin can still affect her so much. She has chosen her way, what good is it to linger on the past? They were never in sync, and with the way things are going, it looks like they will never be.

"I don't want you to see me like this ever again, Suna," Kaya says.

"I don't want to see you like this either," she replies. It's far from being a lie; the memory of his voice, of his entire demeanour, still gives her slight chills, but there are also some parts that make her heart flutter weirdly in her chest.

He trusted her.

He really, really wanted to support her.

She's overwhelmed with a sudden urge to touch him, like she did during the night, but she refrains herself. Not yet. Not yet. Because he speaks again:

"If something like this happens again, you will be even more sorry."

It sounds like a threat, and she should perceive it as such, but strangely, she does not. He leaves, and all she feels is a flicker of disappointment.

I trusted you

I'm an idiot

I trusted you

*

It's shortly before the formal event they are supposed to attend, and she knows he must have heard the click of her high heels on the floor, but he doesn't turn towards her.

He's fully dressed in black, just like she is. Always in sync, her and Kaya - except when they are not.

She comes by his side, but his gaze remains ahead, unmoved, his hands in his pockets, his posture rigid. Like she isn't even there.

She understands he's not going to move, so she takes a deep breath, links her arm with his. He still does not look at her, still does not touch her in return, but she thinks she can feel his body relaxing, ever so slightly.

He doesn't touch her on their way there either.

It's only later, when Seyran comes after the Korhans, after their father, on television, metaphorical guns out, later, when she stands at the reception petrified (of admiration? of apprehension? maybe both?), that she feels Kaya's hand covering hers, squeezing gently, and although it's a difficult moment, and she doesn't know what the future has in store for her, for them both, she feels a weight in her chest she wasn't even aware of dissipating.

He still trusts her.

He still supports her, after all.

#Yalı Çapkını #Yali Capkini #Kaya Sönmez #Suna Şanlı #Kaya Sonmez #Suna Sanli #KaySun #fan fiction #Standing in the Wake of Devastation #writing #made by me #abuse #me? writing two fics in two consecutive days for the clown show? more likely than you think #I blame KaySun #also they are. SO NOT OKAY #they are holding themselves together with pride packing tape and prayers at the moment #one wrong step and they crack completely #still not a fan of the fandom claiming that Kaya has nothing to apologise about #YES HE HAS #but it was very interesting to write from Suna's perspective

[thirstbxtch]

Interference

Fandom: Star Wars, The Sequel Trilogy

Rating: Explicit. 18+ only.

Pairing: Kylo Ren/Reader, slight Hux/Reader, No use of Y/N

Warnings: Rape/Non con, Inappropriate use of the Force, Inappropriate use of light sabers, Mentions of Blood, Spanking, Squirting

Hux has interfered with Kylo Ren's work one too many times. Ren decides to interfere with something of his.

AO3

Notes: Yeah this is pretty fucked. Idk. I was writing a Jacques Le Gris fic and then suddenly in the middle of writing that I was writing this. It's almost like I'm living at the bottom of a villainous Adam Driver dumpster. First time writing for Kylo Ren, hopefully he's in character. Drink every time he "hums" (but actually no please don't). Let me know if there are any additional warnings I need to tag. Please validate me.

You're sitting on General Hux's desk, legs spread, your black First Order issued, form fitting skirt slid halfway up your thighs. The general himself stands between them, hands caressing the skin above your knees, carefully kissing the skin of your throat. He's in a good mood and when he's in a good mood, he likes to take his time, likes to praise you in a way his words cannot. He's nipping at your earlobe, really warming you up when the doors to his office open with a sudden crash.

A fuming and unmasked Kylo Ren standing in their ruined wake.

Hux whips his head around in anger.

"Ren, you've returned early."

"You! You have interfered with one of my missions for the last time, you have no right!" The knight yells accusingly, pointing a gloved finger at the general.

"I had to interfere, you were getting ahead of yourself, overconfident as usual," Hux replies, stepping away and shooting you a dismissive glance.

You go to move, to comply with his silent request, but find all of your muscles suddenly frozen, Kylo Ren pinning you in place with a look before returning his attention back to Hux.

"No General, you are getting ahead of yourself by continuing to disrupt my work," Ren seethes and several objects large and small scatter and fly about the office in a pulse of rage. "Don't. Let it happen again," he spits, turning on his heel and storming out of Hux's now destroyed office, finally releasing you from his force hold.

Hux stares disdainfully after him for long moments.

"Fix this, it is late. I'm retiring to my chambers," he orders coolly without so much as a backwards glance.

You activate the holopad at your wrist and begin putting in work orders, summoning repair droids, and sending an order to the pharmacy for a relaxation tonic delivered to his chamber. You also formally enter the incident into General Hux's official record per protocol, though nothing will come of it. You wait for the repair droids to arrive and stick around long enough to ensure that they are repairing and not just causing additional damage.

It's probably half an hour before you're retiring to your own modest chamber to sleep, staring disinterestedly at the pointed toes of your heels as the doors whisper open, then closed, startled when you look up to see Kylo Ren, dark, imposing, sitting on the corner of your bed.

"Kylo Ren, I believe you've created enough work for me already tonight, I will have to ask you to leave as this is highly unusual and against protocol," you quip annoyed and unsure as to what could warrant a personal visit from the knight.

"I was not aware that the nature of your working relationship with General Hux was so intimate," he lilts. The sight that had momentarily greeted him when he stormed into the office was certainly not something he ever expected to encounter, but a welcome revelation nonetheless.

"I am employed to attend to all of General Hux's requests, both professional and personal."

Ren hums.

"As you are for any and all high ranking First Order officials," he says simply, still sitting on the bed, eyes locked with yours.

"Not quite," you correct him.

"How so?"

"General Hux has filed a contract of exclusivity to retain my services personally."

The knight scoffs, amused. What a very Hux like thing to do, however-- it only makes this so much sweeter.

"He must think very highly of you," Kylo Ren muses, rising from the bed and taking a step towards you.

You step back.

"Does he care for you I wonder?"

Forward.

"It would be above my station to speculate."

Back.

Forward.

Back.

Cat.

Mouse.

Until you're back against the edge of your own desk and Ren is towering over you, crowding you in, panic rising in your throat.

"You have no hope of escaping me," he says blithely. "I do want you to know that this nothing personal," dark eyes search yours and the back of a gloved hand brushes your cheek, "collateral is often times-- unavoidable."

A brief but crushing moment of silence and then suddenly he's hauling you up onto the desk and you scream as your heart clenches tight, so very tight with dread and adrenaline.

"Scream all you want, no one will hear you," Ren says calmly, gripping your chin in one hand.

He forces your thighs apart, standing between them, mirroring the image of his interruption. The knight pulls at the recollection in your mind, replicating every touch and kiss that Hux had bestowed on you, thrilling inwardly at the prospect of treading on rival territory.

"You like when he takes his time with you," Ren says softly, echoing your earlier thoughts, "I'll also be taking my time with you."

Because he doesn't stop at tonight's encounter, he searches through your history with the general, revealing every weakness, moments of seduction now enacted by his hand, his touch erasing the one in your mind's eye, his lips tracing your skin in too familiar ways, and your body begins to betray you. You try in vain to force him out, to separate your reality, but you quickly tire from the effort, head aching from his constant intrusion.

His mouth, warm and surprisingly gentle, finds the spot at the crook of your jaw, the one that always makes you weak, his presence overwhelming you, the scent of him, dark and heady, intoxicating, so when he removes a glove to slip his hand beneath your skirt, pushing your underwear to the side, you're hot and slick. He hums, pleased with himself.

"I hate this, I hate you," you hiss.

"I know, I can feel it, your loathing," Ren's voice velvet, eyes locking with yours.

The knight seems to come back to himself now, breaking his reverie, he yanks at the black silk, practically tearing it from your body and unzips himself without ceremony. He enters you in a swift, hard thrust and knocking the air from your lungs in a pained gasp. His size fills you thoroughly, an agonizing kind of relief. He groans low in his throat at the shocked spasm of your walls and at last succumbs to his rage. One hand pinned to your thigh and the other still gloved gripping your jaw because he wants to have his hands on you, wants to leave his mark as he enters you, again, again, never giving you time to adjust, harder, more, you're nothing but an empty vessel for his anger.

Ren is trembling when his release hits him, spilling within you in sharp, broken breaths, face buried in your shoulder. It's long moments before he loosens his grip and withdraws, tucking himself back in. Your core aches with pain and pleasure unfulfilled. He pulls you roughly from the desk, ripping at your uniform until it pools ruined at your feet.

The knight turns you, roughly forcing you down over the desk, soft leather gloved hand trailing down the length of your spine and coming to rest on the small of your back. A boot sliding between your still heeled feet, shoving them apart. There's a click, the sound of an object detaching from his side. Your panic spikes again. Ren flips the saber hilt smoothly in his hand so the cross guard rests in his palm. Briefly, through the lens of his wrath, he admires the curve of your ass, but it does nothing to spare you the stinging pain of the strike he brings down.

A sharp cry escapes you and it turns to ragged, keening begging as he continues to criss cross the saber hilt over your ass. Angry, red welts rising in it's wake, Kylo Ren not ceasing until he's breathless from exertion and your skin is broken in places, blood trickling down the back of your thighs.

The exchange of uneven breaths fills the room and you seethe, cheeks wet with anger, bottom lip bitten swollen and bloody.

"I hope for your sake that General Hux will consider his future courses of action more carefully," Ren comments idly, admiring his work, his destruction of Hux's property.

The cool metal of the hilt runs along your entrance, Ren dragging it through the remnants of his release. There's a phantom pressure at your center, a gentle would be caress, and you bite the inside of your cheek, pushing the sensation away.

Ren hums amused, saber hilt nudging against your cunt.

"It's ok, I want you to enjoy this," he says, calculated tone doing nothing to reassure you.

You can feel him sweeping aside your resistance, replacing it instead with a gradual liquid heat that runs along your nervous system, and you relax against your will. The phantom sensation returns to your core, it feels good, a light whisper friction distracting from the pain previously inflicted. The saber hilt twists against your entrance now as Ren eases it in up to the cross guard. He draws an inhale at the sight, pupils blowing wide. You moan once it's seated and somewhere in the back of your mind, you're vaguely aware that this is humiliating, but that doesn't stop you from moaning again when Kylo Ren gently pulls and twists at the cylinder, cunt gripping it's grooves and ridges.

He sets a slow rhythm, hungrily watching the hilt glisten and disappear, while still exerting his will upon yours, maintaining the phantom pressure at your center with more insistence. His length strains against his breeches, his own lust consuming him, lust that he siphons off to you, making you whimper and push back against the object. The knight focuses, reading your pleasure to find that spot inside you, rocking his weapon hilt against it once he does. The shift is palpable, you're right there, on the edge, he can feel it.

"Say it," he commands quietly because he knows the words are there, lingering just behind your lips, still lodged in subconscious resistance.

"Ren," you whine long and needy, "please."

He sighs a long exhale, giving you what you need, what he's willed you to need, heat sparking along your spine before breaking over you hard, gushing your climax all over Ren's saber hilt, more escaping each time he presses it into you and he groans a low sound in the back of his throat, transfixed, drawing more from you, until the inside of your thighs are slick and the floor beneath you is wet.

His patience worn thin, he frees himself again, entering you for a second time, sliding in with a quiet moan. Strong hands pull you off the desk, pull you to stand so your back is to his chest and you're weak in his arms but he holds you tightly, wrapping an arm around your waist, fucking you slowly from behind. The thick head of his cock a heady drag through your aftershocks. He's languid and lazy now, wrath temporarily sated, savoring the feel of your body, taking it for himself. You can feel him  gradually begin to pull at you, seeking that which you would not otherwise be able to offer.

"No, no, please," you pant, a plea on deaf ears, because you're hit with a swell of ecstasy and then you're clenching around him, wetting his cock. You moan together, his voice breaking, he holds onto his climax until you're weakly leaking around him and only then does he paint his release inside you.

Ren continues to hold you tight against him, face tipped up towards the ceiling, eyes closed. You can feel his influence start to retreat, your mind beginning to become your own again. Exhaustion, pain, and latent anger only just beginning to set in, before everything turns to black.

Ren carries you, wrapped in the coverlet from your bed, through the halls to Hux's chambers, occasionally glancing at your face. What a state he's left you in. Doors are of course not a concern, entering Hux's suite, the general, a habitually light sleeper, is stirring from the sounds of the door and Ren's boot steps. He sits up gazing somewhat blearily at Ren, who gives him a half smirk.

"General Hux."

A subtly, self-satisfied fuck you.

He sends your body sliding across the floor, thudding unceremoniously against the foot of the general's bed.

A final, level look.

He turns on his heel, leaving Hux with the sound of his retreating, unapologetic boot steps.

#kylo ren #kylo ren x you #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren fanfiction #adam driver #adam driver fanfic #adam driver fanfiction

[asha-mage]

The Warrior in the Woods [RWBY]

>:C

[Send me in an Ask with one my WIP titles from this post, and I'll post a snippet of it and tell you a bit about it!]

Listen. Listen. It's ON THE LIST okay. I just have to work more on my posted WIPs first. Also probably need to rewatch RWBY at some point.

This is my 'Jaune and Adam are stranded together in the frozen tundras of northern Anima circa v5 au and have to work together to survive, causing Jaune to learn Adam's messy history and get a new perspective on him, and forcing Adam to question a lot of his assumptions about the cruelty of the world now that he has his lowest point and finally encountering someone who seems to just be good in a uncomplicated straightforward way, but is a human which runs so hard against Adam's lived experience that he doesn't know how to deal with it' au

(I wonder sometimes if my inability to sum up my ideas in a succulent fashion is why so many of my works use references and song lyrics as working titles)

Anyways-

Jaune stood there, staring at Adam who lay on the ground, motionless. The snow had not stopped falling, if anything the storm was growing more intense as the moments passed and Adam’s body started to collect a light dusting of snow, his gray clothing quickly covered in a layer of faint sparkling white. Jaune could faintly hear the strident cries of the huge Strix, likely still circling up there somewhere overhead. And the huge Cereian would be  back for revenge as well, soon enough. Jaune’s best chance was to find shelter in the castle and wait them both out, while his Aura recovered. But if he had to drag an unconscious Adam on his shoulders while he did that, his chances of making it through the next few hours would go down sharply. But Adam’s chances of surviving if Jaune left him here, were nothing. You don’t owe him anything. He only worked with you to save his own skin, then only with his teeth clenched the whole time. Jaune told himself. He tried to kill you. He dropped you to your death. He ambushed you while you were fighting Grimm. He helped Salem at Beacon and Haven, and has probably killed dozens, maybe hundreds of innocent people. He hurt Blake. He hurt Yang. He wants to hurt everyone. No one is here to judge you, and if they were they wouldn’t. He’s a monster. But you are a Huntsmen. A voice that sounded a lot like Pyrrha’s whispered in the back of his mind. And Huntsmen do not leave people to die. Jaune exhaled and forced his feet to walk forward. He leaned over to dust off some of the snow from Adam’s body, and gave a start as he realized the blindfold had fallen the rest of the way off, exposing his left eye. The pale skin around it was twisted and gnarled red as if it had been burned, the darkest pieces raised into rough ridges that spelled something out. SDC. Schnee Dust Company. Jaune felt his skin prickle, his stomach lurching in horror at the sight. So this was why he had worn the Grimm Mask, and then the blindfold. Before Jaune could stop himself he had reached out to thumb open the eye, and instead of icy blue a pale milky white iris and pupil stared back at him, filmed over the way a corpse’s eye was filmed over, the whites so blood shot they seemed red. Jaune pulled back his hand as if burned and felt the urge to shiver for reasons that had nothing to do with the cold. He steeled himself, and gently as he could manage, rewrapped the blindfold around Adam’s eyes. He had chosen not to show this to the world, and Jaune felt the need to respect that. Then he lifted the other man into his arms, feeling a stab of surprise at how light he was, and set out to look for a place they could shelter, before the cold and the Grimm killed them both.

I've always had this weird soft spot for Adam/Jaune, because I genuinely think their dynamic could be fascinating and challenging to both characters, and also I am huge sucker for dark knight x paladin style relationships (Someone whose power is draw from anger and rage at a unjust cruel world, who can believe in their strength to see them safe, and a person whose power is drawn from an ideal, tirelessly working to create a world where their isn't suffering and pain and refusing to let either thing burn them down- delicious). I defiantly want to return to this work and flesh it out properly. Probably will once Vol 10 finally drops and I descend back into RWBY hell.

#Rwby #Jaune Arc #Adam Taurus #Matador #Rwby Fanfic #wip ask meme #about me