#like four?!?! days to goooo

[shirehobbit]

You know what it's like when you don't know anything at all, and that you're totally certain that everything would be better if you were just near one particular person.

#good omens #goodomensedit #good omens s2 #tvedit #goedit #cinematv #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #filmtvcentral #like four?!?! days to goooo #snuck up on me and suddenly one of my most anticapted things coming out this year #good omens season 2 #i cant believe i just fucking realised it's angle not angel #ded #myedits

[almondcroissantsandink]

some moon knight doodles for practice :) 

#mk #moon knight #steven grant #layla el faouly #moon knight fanart #fanart #oscar isaac #may calamawy #mcu #marvel #ayo I need to practice new poses and more full bodies so here we goooo #i love his little explorer outfit like its so big #art #digital art #i haven't drawn in like four or five days so this was wonderful

[leofrith]

back to work tomorrow. hell world hell world hell world.

#at least i made some good progress on the longfic today but oh my godddddd #tomorrow is gonna be hell i know it we were closed for four days which means people are going to be horrible and stupid oh goddd #i dont wanna goooo ever time i make any progress on writing its like good job! you're not gonna write this much again for at least a month #kill me #ky posts text

[f1rodrigo]

sweet relief | l. norris | part four

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ it's so reckless of me...

summary: in which you fall for your best friend’s teammate and keeping it a secret proves to be harder than you intended. or when all you need is sweet relief the rest of the world fades away. pairing: social media au || lando norris x piastri bsf!reader fc: olivia rodrigo <3 warnings: language

inspired by the song ‘sweet relief’ by madison beer

ALL PARTS HERE

a/n: hi i'm veryyyyy sorry for how long it took me to get this one up but it has a bit more than the other parts did & its currently finals week so the end of the semester is always very busy so i didn't have much time to work on this. hope you enjoy xx

⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。 ﾟ☾ ﾟ。⋆⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。 ﾟ☾ ﾟ。⋆⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。

⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。 ﾟ☾ ﾟ。⋆⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。 ﾟ☾ ﾟ。⋆⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。

⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。 ﾟ☾ ﾟ。⋆⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。 ﾟ☾ ﾟ。⋆⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。

landonorris added to their story

⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。 ﾟ☾ ﾟ。⋆⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。 ﾟ☾ ﾟ。⋆⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。

📍 Tokyo, Japan

liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell, and 2,032,987 others

yourusername i don't dream of anyone else...

view all 3,098 comments

user1 SHES IN JAPAN EVERYONE UP

user2 miss girl...this caption...the rumors...is it lyrics...what does it all mean%^&(@&@(!

user3 this caption after all the rumors ohhh my girl dont give a fuckkkk

user4 can't tell if this is her confirming or denying

⤷ user5 ...or living her life and not paying it any mind

user6 WHY THE FUCK IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT THE LAST PHOTO??? ITS LITERALLY THE ELEVATOR AND FIT SHE WAS IN FROM THE DELETED PIC ON LANDOS STORY HELLO

⤷ user7 wait omfg it is.... idk why i didnt realize it sooner ⤷ user8 pls they do not gafffff anymore basically telling us they're together ⤷ user9 omg what deleted story???? ⤷ user10 go to @/norrisupdates on twitter i think they posted it before he deleted

user11 max fewtrell in the likes oh i am Thinking

lilymhe prettiest girl <3

⤷ yourusername i love u so dearly ms lily ⤷ user12 this is wag confirmation idc

⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。 ﾟ☾ ﾟ。⋆⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。 ﾟ☾ ﾟ。⋆⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。

⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。 ﾟ☾ ﾟ。⋆⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。 ﾟ☾ ﾟ。⋆⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆

yourusername added to their story

⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。 ﾟ☾ ﾟ。⋆⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。 ﾟ☾ ﾟ。⋆⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆

liked by lnfour, yourusername, and 643,811 others

landonorris DOUBLE PODIUM!!!!!!!!!! Congrats mate! Thanks @/mclaren 🧡

view all 3,070 comments

mclaren Very good, very nice. 🏆🏆👏

oscarpiastri Well done mate 👊

riabish 🙌

user13 ANOTHER PODIUM THATS MY GOAT

user14 who would've thought... wow i am so proud

user15 mclaren double podium i used to pray for times like these

yourusername conhrsts 😭🧡

⤷ landonorris hmm sorry what was that ⤷ yourusername oh my god i couldn't see through my tears YOU KNEW WHAT I MEANT ⤷ user16 COULDNT SEE THROUGH HER TEARS PLSSS SHES JUST LIKE US ⤷ user17 mom and dad are fighting i dont like this

⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。 ﾟ☾ ﾟ。⋆⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。 ﾟ☾ ﾟ。⋆⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆

⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。 ﾟ☾ ﾟ。⋆⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。 ﾟ☾ ﾟ。⋆⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆

liked by landonorris, yourusername, and 643,811 others

oscarpiastri One for the mantelpiece 🏆 and driver of the day too!! you guys 🧡

view all 2,217 comments

user18 SOBBING MY EYES OUT

landonorris Congrats mate!!

⤷ oscarpiastri You too mate! (and i'm not talking about the podium 😉) ⤷ landonorris ...I take it back ⤷ user19 oscar piastri what the FUCK is that supposed to mean

yourusername I AM CRYING LIKE A PARENT DROPPING THEIR CHILD OFF FOR THEIR FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL

⤷ user15 yn & lando parents to oscar has now been confirmed

yourusername so beyond proud of you oscar 🥹

⤷ oscarpiastri 🧡🧡 ⤷ user20 cannot imagine how she feels watching him all her life through karting till now and getting to witness his first podium oh my gosh im crying again ⤷ user21 STFU NOW IM CRYING

⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。 ﾟ☾ ﾟ。⋆⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。 ﾟ☾ ﾟ。⋆⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆

liked by oscarpiastri, dan_nigro, and 3,981,061 others

yourusername my new single, 'sweet relief' will be all yours in one week. presave at the link in my bio<3

view all 5,910 comments

user30 BEST DAY OF MY LIFE ARE U KIDDING

user31 love song about lando calling it now

user32 sobbing my eyes out new yn music

user33 BABE WAKE UP YN YLN ANNOUNCED NEW MUSIC

landonorris 🔥

⤷ user34 real

logansargeant lets goooo

user34 HIT OF THE YEAR INCOMING

user35 cannot wait oh my fucking god

alex_albon lily and i will be streaming❗️❗️

⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。 ﾟ☾ ﾟ。⋆⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆。 ﾟ☾ ﾟ。⋆⋆。ﾟ☁︎。⋆

tagged:

@allywthsr , @2bormaybenot , @vellicora

#formula 1 #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris smau #landoscar #lando norris imagine #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #f1 2023 #formula one #formula one fic #lando norris fluff #oscar piastri #olivia rodrigo #wallowsrigo #wallowsrigosweetrelief

[salford-blues]

Flowers follow

A/n: Think I might have to switch some things up. I only write smau's. Do you guys reckon I should write actual stories? I've never done it before, but I can certainly try. Pairing: F1 mystery driver x driver!reader Summary: Reader continues to soft launch her mystery man... through flowers?? (basic ass summary cause I'm bobbins at them) Warnings: like one swear word

@yourusername posted on their story

caption: I love you a lily more every day

Replies to story

liamlawson30 disgusting caption. You should be ashamed of yourself

alex_albon I know who it isssss

> yourusername who snitched?

>> alex_albon my lips are sealed

>>> yourusername count your days Albon

user.1 tell us your mystery man... please im begging

landonorris WHO IS YOUR MANNNN?? Why won't you tell me? Are we not besties?

> yourusername because you can't keep secrets to save your life

@yourusername

oscarpiastri, danielricciardo, georgerussell63 & others liked

''April showers may bring May flowers, but you bring me flowers year-round''

View All Comments

liamlawson30 whats with the corny captions lately

> yourusername you love them bc you love me

>> liamlawson30 no, I tolerate you

>> yourusername meanie :((

User.2 is mystery man Liam??

> User.3 I don't think so. They're just friends. Plus I don't think Liam rides a motorbike

User.4 Look at our girlie goooo!!

User.5 Lord... it's me again 🙏

@f1driverupdates

liamlawson30, mickschumacher & 240,000 others liked

Rumour has it that our golden girl is now off the market. But the question remains... who has taken her? Still in her soft launch era, @yourusername has not shared that much information about her partner.

View all comments

user.6 can't believe someones stole my girl

user.7 We can see you Mick... 👀

user.8 Is Mick our mystery man? I men it checks out... tall and rides a motorcycle. Also seems like a person that is very caring to her and her pets

> user.9 omg imagine little Angie added to that madhouse!! So cutteee 🥰

@yourusername

oscarpiastri, logansargeant, landonorris & others liked

In the garden of love, you are my favourite sunflower!! 🌻

View all comments

User.8 Love how he gave you crocheted ones so that they last forever

> yourusername he's so sweet!! Especially since they're my favourite flower as well

User.9 Just tell us already... I'm done waiting

liamlawson30 cool story bro, didn't ask

> yourusername rude. I'll make sure to beat your arse in monopoly next games night

>> liamlawson30 😔 noted

@yourusername

mickschumacher, danielricciardo, charles_leclerc & others liked

Guess what I said??

View all comments

alex_albon what is this? when was this? Message me back Y/n

liamlawson30 Pick up the phone Y/n!!! I need answers

user.10 noooooooo... we've lost her

user.11 you said no, right?? pls don't join the dark side 🥲

oscarpiastri I hope that's fake

> yourusername maybe it is, maybe it isn't... but hey i still said yessss

>> logansargeant yeah well me and Oscar are gonna have a little word with him when we see him next

>>> liamlawson30 me three

>>>> danielricciardo me four

>>>>> yourusername oh leave him be. You all know he's nice and takes care of me.

landonorris ????

User.12 ignore the last slide... look at the kitty 🐈 😻

> yourusername main character moment for him. He's the only one that likes the rides 🫶

#f1 fanfic #f1 x driver!reader #f1 x female reader #formula 1 x female reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 imagine

[15-lizards]

What are your thoughts on Northern fashion? You mentioned in an early post that it would be different depending on the location, can you elaborate on that? I also feel like the style changed soon after Catelyn married Ned, since she would bring styles from the Riverlands and Winterfell is the King's Landing of the North when it comes to fashion

Let’s goooo 🏃🏻‍♀️

Starting in the Neck, they would definitely be more like the riverlanders in terms of clothing. It’s a fairly similar wet and muggy climate. Everything is mostly made of wool and hemp and linen. Thinner clothes for the muggy summers and warmer, thicker ones for when winter comes. Leather/animal skin shoes to keep the mud off. Also whenever I imagine the Crannogmen I imagine cloaks and hoods to stay dry in the swamps. So lots of those.

To the East and a bit father to the north, that costal area around White Harbor is colder than the Neck. So theres a lot more layers, and clothing it way thicker. Also the Manderlys are dripped tf out they got that White Harbor money. Wyman has fur lined EVERYTHING his damask coats could put Cerseis to shame. Wylla and Wynafred pull up to the Sept with lace and silk and jewels eating all the other bitches up. Also since they follow the Faith and are originally southern, this area probably follows more southern customs (fabrics, headpieces, etc)

And we finally make it to winterfell 🤸🏻‍♀️At this point everyone’s freezing their tits off, so fur lined everything. Indoors, I think they can wear lighter stuff bc of those hot springs. Even in the spring months, you can catch Cat wearing at least one shift, underdress, overdress, AND a jacket bc I feel like she never acclimated to the cold. Lots of leather and wool for everyday wear, but when Ned throws a feast or something they get to wear more fur and velvet (even Jon gets to wear a nice velvet surcoat, as a treat). Since the Starks are bordering on ascetic sometimes, there isn’t a ton of ornamentation, but Sansa likes to wear southern-ish styles as much as she can, so you can frequently find her wearing clothes from white harbor (aka I want to see Sansa in a kokoshnik)

And then even farther north we start to see Bolton and Umber territory. The conditions are even more brutal than at Winterfell and they don’t even have hot springs :/ like Sansa and Arya could probably get away with not having to cover their ears during warmer days, but the girls of last hearth and the dreadfort have no warm days. At this point clothing becomes a bit bulky and harder to move around in. Dresses are lined stiffly and almost drag the floor, and everyone is always bundled up to the neck. However materials and fabrics are cohesive and nice atp.

And by the time we nearly reach the wall, conditions are almost unbearable during the winter. Even during spring, all the villagers in the gift are wearing at least four layers (bc I hate hate hate how the show made the people at and around the wall just chill in a thin jacket when they were near a gargantuan frozen block of ice). Clothing is a lot less structured here, resources are getting sparse so most people stitch together a patchwork of whatever furs they can get their hands on. You will rarely see a person without a big hood or thick gloves on. And even though they aren’t wildlings, you can probably see a lot of animal head hoods, bc these people do NOT waste any part of the animal

#asoiaf #asoiaf hair and clothing #hiii I hope u like it I kinda don’t :/ I feel like I just couldn’t do the north justice #it’s sooo big so I couldn’t really get any cohesion going #but alas #we ball

[spideysbruh]

Distance

liked by tchalamet, sabrinacarpenter and 3,272,737 others

y/n i love you heaps, like candy sweets

view all 97,626 comments

tchalamet i love you more, like the sea loves the shore

y/n liked

rocketyn my favorite celeb couple fr

ynslipgloss yns aesthetic is my favorite it's so pleasing

@y/n just tweeted- just said bye to my boyfriend cause he'll be gone for like four months oh imma kms

@snowyyn replied- me after I finish a movie with him

@y/n replied to @snowyyn- girl me too

@realchalamet replied- stop. I miss you already.

@y/n replied to @realchalamet- BABEEE 😭😭😭💔💔💔💔💔

tchalamet just posted a story!

caption- princess. missing her so much

liked by tchalamet, rachelzegler and 3,827,288 others

y/n in my tropical era 💕

view all 101,772 comments

tchalamet I MISS YOU

y/n I MISS YOU MORE BABY

tchalamet so beautiful

y/n liked

tchalamet I wish I could twirl your hair around my fingers right now.

y/n stop im gonna cry. I wish you were here so I could give you a back rub

modernyn oh he's a mess rn

ynstan his comments 😭😭🫶🫶🫶🫶💕 so cute

@y/n just tweeted- watching kingsman im literally sooooo horny right now

@lovelyyn replied- REAL AS FUCKK

@y/n replied- like that man can do whatever he wants to me I swearrrr

@chromeyn replied- god I hope you never stop oversharing with us

@realchalamet replied- um ??? we're still together babe chill 🤨

@y/n replied to @realchalamet- ... im literally sooo joking hahaha you're the only man I've ever found attractive hahahaha (I miss you so much)

@realchalamet replied- I can see you still replying to other people 🙄

@richgirlyn replied- I'm deadd but I sooo understand you

@y/n replied- likeeeeee ?!!!???!

@y/n just tweeted- got high and took pictures of taron egerton in kingsman like it was a concert

@busyyn replied- been there fr

@huffleyn replied- sounds like a normal viewing of that movie tbh

@realchalamet liked and replied- what about my movies ? 🙁

@y/n liked and replied- oh dune is next baby don't worry

@realchalamet liked and replied- YAYYYYY

y/n just posted a story!

caption- missing his goofy lil ass extraaaa hard rn 🤧

tchalamet just posted a story!

caption- missing this

@chalswonka just tweeted- bro timmy is yearning soooo bad lmaooo they gotta see each other soon I swear

@princessyn replied- it's so funny the differences in their posts y/n is just thirsting over ppl in movies and then he's like "miss her so much😭😭😭🔫🔫🔫💔💔💔" LMAOOOO

@spaceyn replied- tbf ppl were hating on her when she WOULD post about him a lot in the beginning, so she toned down a lot. ppl hate on her too much smfh

liked by y/n, hallebailey and 3,817,277 others

tchalamet MY LOVE SURPRISED MEEEE

view all 204,287 comments

ynssocks YAYYY MY PARENTS ARE TOGETHER AGAINN

y/n ig I love you or smth idk 🙄

liked by tchalamet

y/n this is about to be the best four days of your life fr

liked by tchalamet

timmylaurie god she's so pretty wtf man

tchalamet just posted a story!

caption- babygirl 😍😍😍🥰🥰

liked by tchalamet, florencepugh and 3,287,227 others

y/n 🥺 missed him lots

view all 121,888 comments

tchalamet like tater tots?

liked by y/n

florencepugh MY FAVOURITE PEOPLEEE

y/n I LOVE YOU FLO

lucyxyn the throwback to her older captions w him 😭🫶

y/n just posted a story!

caption- our last day together for another two months 💔

liked by y/n, zendaya and 4,727,288 others

tchalamet i love you.

view all 92,828 comments

y/n this is gonna be the worst two months of my life

bratzyn she's literally an angel I swear

lauriesamy he always takes the best pictures of her 🥺

takemetotheyn you glow different in the photos taken by someone who truly loves you

tchalamet liked

@y/n just tweeted- help i miss my bf 💔

@pepperyyn replied- uh oh now she's yearning 😭😭

@ynshairtie replied- there we goooo

@realchalamet replied- I miss you more 🥺

@snowyyn replied- damn no thirsting now

@y/n replied- well... maybe later 😔🤧

@y/n just tweeted- watching 21 jump street and omg dave franco is so cute🤭🤭 ive been giggling for the entire movie

@lauriesyn replied- girl your mann!!

@tipsyyn replied- IT RHYMES WITH GRAPE

@ynsbra replied- if she was still w her ex he would cry and post ab how he's gonna khs over this

@sazonyn replied to @ynsbra- HELPP WHOS HER EX ?!?!?!!!

@ynxtim replied- sh*wn m*ndes 💀💀 there's so many compilations of him being a weirdo jealous obsessed bf w her... even after for a while he was weird ab her. even though HE broke up w HER ... anyways yeah he sucks

@realchalamet replied- reduce... reuse... recycleee 🎶🎶🎶

@y/n liked

@y/n replied- i love how that's the scene you remember 😭😭💕

liked by tchalamet, rachelzegler and 3,716,227

y/n living like a lusty flowerrr

view all 96,728 comments

tchalamet I can't take this, you're too beautiful how did this happen

y/n liked

lauriesyn she's so ethereal

tchalamet are you running through the grass for hours?

y/n yeah and rolling through the hay like a puppy child fr

rachelzegler my pretty best friend !!!

y/n we ARE the two pretty best friends

y/n just posted a story!

caption- missing this. missing you @tchalamet

@y/n just tweeted- SEEING MY BOYFRIEND OH SO SOONNNN

@y/n replied- I watched wonka and little women on repeat I swear that's how badly I missed him 😭💕

@wonkasyn replied- what a journey we've witnessed

@realchalamet replied- I CANT WAIT BABYYYY

@gourmetyn replied- yayyy my parents will be back together again 🫶

@y/n liked and replied to @gourmetyn- you still have to send the adoption papers

tchalamet just posted a story!

caption- BABYYYY 😍😍

y/n just posted a story!

caption- GUESS WHO'S BACKKKKK

*

#timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee imagine #timothee x reader #timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet au #timothee chalamet x you #timothée chalamet imagine #timmy chalamet #timothee fanfic #timothée chalamet x reader #timothée imagine #timothée x reader #Timothée chalamet social media au #Timothée Chalamet smau

[mastercucco]

Hateno Boy - Part 2 - Link x Reader

The Calamity is gone, but so is Link’s purpose. He feels completely lost in post-Calamity Hyrule where everyone but him seem to have found their new place.

It certainly doesn’t help his restless nights that you, a young Hylian whom Zelda has hired as the new teacher at Hateno School, are slowly taking up more and more of his headspace with each conversation you two have.

Fandom: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild / Tears of the Kingdom Pairing: Link x fem!Reader Raiting: Mature (might go up, might go down, let’s see) Contains: feel-good, slow burn romance; platonic Link/Zelda; Link being an angsty retired hero Chapter Index | Read on Ao3

Chapter 2 - Heromania

Contains: Link is awkward; Everyone is crazy about the Hero, maybe even you Word count: ~2,9k A/N: Yaas, second chapter, let's goooo

The cool night air sneaks in through the open window, barely keeping you awake. Twilight has come and gone, and you can already hear the first calls of the night owls. Your day at the school is stretching unpleasantly late into the evening once again. You’ve been so focused on creating the new curriculum with the Princess – or Zelda, as she has asked you to call her – that you have completely forgotten all your obligations as a teacher.

Now you’re stuck with a cup of tea that went cold hours ago and a stack of short stories written in poor grammar that you promised to read before the end of the week – a promise that seemed perfectly reasonable four days ago. But tonight? Not so much.

You’ve spent a lot of time with Zelda and her knight these past weeks. Zelda is eager to finish the curriculum before fall comes. You still have several moon cycles to go – summer has barely reached Hateno –, but Zelda isn’t one to waste time. She is dedicated to offering the children the best education they can get. You’re in awe of her devotion to the cause – and a little ashamed by your own lack thereof. You are the teacher, after all. You should be twice as passionate as Zelda is, should you not?

You blame your lack of enthusiasm on these late nights: the cold cups of tea and the ever-growing list of tasks and responsibilities that never seem to get any shorter, no matter how many hours of sleep you sacrifice.

You sigh as you pick up the next story from the stack.

THE HERO AND A MONSTER IN A SVAMP

You snort. The ‘Hero of Hyrule’ craze among your students (or ‘heromania’, as you like to call it) is at its peak. You thought you were being clever when assigning them to write a short story about the Hero, hoping it would excite them to complete an otherwise dull assignment. But you were a bit too clever for your own good in the end: your students got so excited to share stories that all of them returned more than one paper. And who were you to kill their excitement just because you had forgotten to do your part in reading them all in time?

You groan, rubbing your face harshly. You can feel the first throbs of a headache knocking behind your other eye. As amusing as some of the stories are (even Zelda thought so after reading one about Link turning into a giant), you’re slowly starting to despise your work, and your students – and the Hero, for that matter.

Another breath of cool air brushes against your neck. You bury your head in your hands. You don’t actually despise your work, not really. It’s just these late nights that you hate.

You hear the door creaking. Shit, you think in a panic and hurriedly tidy up all your scattered papers and pens. You should have expected Zelda to pay you a visit tonight, just like she has every other night so far. As tired as you feel, you don’t need Zelda to see that. Worst case scenario, she might even think you are slacking.

But when you look up, it’s not the Princess standing at the doors, but her Silent Knight.

“Oh, good evening, Link,” you sigh in relief. You glance at the stack of short stories and, as subtle as you can be, flip the first paper upside down before saying, “Please, come in.”

Link, however, does not. He stands awkwardly in the doorway, his expression turning to a frown as he looks around, as if the last person he expected to find inside the school was you, the teacher.

“The Princess isn’t here,” you say after it becomes clear you are not getting a hello from him.

Link looks like a lost puppy, an apt comparison in your mind: he does follow the Princess around like one. The silence between the two of you feels awkward. Even though you have seemingly spent multiple evenings with him, you two have barely even spoken. Everything you know about him, you have heard from either Zelda or the gossipmongers of Hateno.

Or from your students. Most of it from your students.

“I’m sure she will arrive shortly,” you add, giving him an affirming smile. After hearing this, Link finally steps over the threshold and lets the door creak shut behind him.

“I’m sorry,” he says, still looking around, “I thought she would already be here.”

“There’s no need to apologize,” you say, still smiling, hoping to ease the awkward tension still lingering in the air. You continue, “Please, Link, have a seat while you wait. Would you like some tea?”

Link shakes his head and sits down on one of your students’ chairs. It is way too small for him and whines horribly under his weight. The sight of him is amusing, and you struggle to hold back the smile tucking at the corners of your lips. It becomes extremely clear, extremely fast, that Link is trying to look anywhere but into your eyes. You consider asking about his day but decide against it; he’s not the most talkative person in Hyrule, as you’ve come to learn.

“Please, let me know if you need anything,” you politely say before going back to your work. You have barely finished reading the first sentence of The Hero And A Monster In A Svamp when Link suddenly speaks.

“I’m bothering you,” he says.

You glance up from your paper. He is looking down at his hands, a distant look on his face.

“No, not at all,” you lie, “but I do have to ask you to leave after I’m done with these papers.”

“Oh,” Link says, already getting up.

“No, not now,” you quickly say, “but later. You won’t be able to leave once I lock the doors.”

“Oh,” Link says, again, and slowly sits back down. “Right. Okay. Sorry.” He is glancing at the doors with a look of uncertainty.

“And I do prefer the company,” you assure softly. You give him a smile and – for the first time – he returns it. It’s quick but awfully sweet, and you feel your stomach turning.

He looks down at his hands again. “I could make tea,” he says almost absentmindedly and stands up, still avoiding eye contact. “Would you like some?”

Not waiting for your answer, he rushes upstairs to the kitchenette. It’s going to be a long night, you think to yourself and shift your eyes back to your student’s story.

Ones upon a time there was the Hero of Hyrule. One day he saw a monster in a svamp. He takes his Master sword and he kills the svamp monster and he is So fast because he is stronger then the svamp monster. Everyone is happy. Princess Zelda is happy and we had a big party for The Hero. Mom is there and also my brohter and all my friends are there asswell but dad is crying because svamp monster is really my Nana and everyone is sad. The end.

You rub your eyes. A long, long night…

Your second cup of tea has also gone cold by the time you are done reading the stories.

“Thank Hylia,” you mutter as you push the papers inside your bag. The stories are all sweet – though you question the validity of most of them – but no matter how adorable, you’re glad you don’t have to read one more story about the Hero tonight.

You hastily gather your things and blow out your oil lamp before heading to the doors. You nearly scream when Link steps out of the shadowy corner he was sitting in. He has been so quiet for the past hour that you completely forgot he was even there.

“I’m so sorry,” you mutter, your face flushing with embarrassment. He doesn’t say anything, and his eyes are as quiet as his lips. Instead, he opens the door for you. He gives your back a light, assuring push as you walk past him, something you’ve seen him do to Zelda many times before. His gesture seems automatic, you don’t think he even realizes he does it, but your cheeks blush anyway.

“Are you done with your work?” he asks, even though the answer is obvious as you lock the doors.

“Yes,” you still answer. “Hopefully the Princess doesn’t come here looking for us.”

“No. It’s late,” Link simply says. There’s a tone in his voice you can’t quite put your finger on. Is it disappointment? Or bitterness? You don’t know him well enough to say for certain.

“You’re not going to go look for her?” you ask.

Link shakes his head. “I will walk you home,” he says instead, giving your back another gentle push as you start making your way towards the village.

The silence between you two doesn’t feel as awkward outside, where the rustling of leaves and the singsong of night birds fill in the quiet. The night air is brisk, easing the throbbing pain behind your eye. You sigh. You are happy Link offered to walk you home – though, he would’ve walked past East Wind either way. He has an aura of safety around him, something you much appreciate at this hour, even though you know Hateno to be safe even during the night.

To your surprise, Link breaks the silence first, “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

You get a little startled when you turn to look at him and find him staring right back at you. You don’t think he has ever made eye contact with you in such a straightforward manner. You know you’re blushing. It’s almost like he is searching for something within your gaze.

And all you can think about is just how blue his eyes are.

“Have we really met before?” Link asks.

You can’t help the hint of pity seeping into your smile. It’s clear that the question has been bothering him for quite some time.

“Yes,” you answer, “yes, we have.”

He looks away, his brow furrowing as if he’s trying to force the memory.

“Our family farm is right outside Hateno,” you try to help him out. “You knocked on our door late at night. It was during a thunderstorm, a bad one. I don’t think we’ve had a storm like that since.”

The pace of Link’s footsteps slows down. His eyes are looking straight forward, but he doesn't seem to be actually looking at anything. You can see he is trying his hardest to remember. It pains you a little to see him struggle.

“It’s not that important, Link,” you comfort him. “It was a long time ago.”

“No,” he almost cuts you off, “I remember the storm. And I remember the farmhouse. The man of the house made me creamy mushroom soup.”

“That would be my father,” you smile, “and my mother offered to stitch your tunic, but you refused. And you refused a warm bath, to her horror.”

Link doesn’t laugh with you. He’s looking at you again, eyes observing you closely. You’re blushing hard. You don’t think even you, yourself, have ever looked at your own face as intensely as he is now. You can see frustration building up behind his eyes.

Finally, he shakes his head. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes and looks the other way. “I’m not trying to be rude on purpose.”

“It’s okay, Link,” you say, lightly touching his arm. “You had a lot going on at the time.”

You remember the night well. The first time you met the Hero of Hyrule was only a few months before the Calamity ended. He knocked on your family home’s door in the middle of the night, soaked from the heavy rain, bruised, and shivering. Your mother offered him a bed in the guest room because she recognized his blue tunic (there were rumors of a Champion awakened from a 100-year slumber), and your father made him food because he felt sorry for the boy.

You, too, felt sorry as you watched him eat his soup and then refuse the dry clothes your father offered him. He looked exhausted and on the verge of tears. He’s just a boy, you thought, your heart aching as you watched him rub his eyes dry while he may have thought no one was looking.

You’re not mad at Link for not remembering, nor do you feel disappointed. You never spoke with him. You never once thought he even noticed you sitting there by the fire, observing him quietly.

He was just a boy, you think, struggling to meet his gaze. You were the same age as him back then, and you believed – still do – eighteen was too young to bear the fate of the entire kingdom on his shoulders.

Hateno sleeps quietly. There are no lights, not even a flicker of a single candle behind the darkened windows. There is no chatter, no laughter, no horse hooves, no buzzing insects. Even the wind seems to be on its tiptoes as it blows through the town, as if to avoid disturbing the sleeping people. The sand beneath your boots sounds awfully loud in the silent night.

“May I ask you something in return?” you quietly speak. There’s been a long stretch of silence between the two of you since your earlier conversation. You can see something is still troubling Link, and you don’t want him to go home feeling saddened by memories you didn’t mean to bring up to the surface.

Link doesn’t say anything but he turns to look at you.

“The question is a bit… silly,” you hesitate. He waits patiently for you to continue.

“Uhm,” you mutter, already feeling stupid even thinking of asking what you’re about to ask. “Did you ever, by chance, fight a swamp monster during your travels? A monster that perhaps turned out to be someone’s grandmother?”

Link blinks. “... I’m sorry?”

“Forget about it,” you say with an uncomfortable laugh, motioning for him to stop staring at you. “The children have a wild imagination sometimes.”

Link thinks for a moment before sternly saying, “I have never killed a grandmother.” But the frown on his face makes it seem that he, himself, is not quite so sure of his own statement.

“It’s just something silly one of my students said,” you explain, “I asked them to write down stories they’ve heard about you.”

“Oh,” he says.

“They adore you,” you feel the need to explain further. “It was just for practice. I think most of them just made things up for the assignment. I doubt you ever turned into a giant during your adventures, or did you?”

Link shakes his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “No, I never did,” he says.

“I don’t understand how they can even come up with stories like that,” you laugh. “Poor Teebo swears he saw you riding a bear once!”

“Oh…”

“And one of the girls says their aunt in Lurelin saw you sailing naked all the way from Eventide.”

“... Oh.”

“Can you believe the imagination of these children?” you chuckle, shaking your head.

Link rubs his neck. “Yeah, wild imagination…” he hesitantly agrees, forcing the most unconvincing laugh you’ve ever heard.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry,” you quickly apologize, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. It was just a silly assignment.”

“No, I don’t mind. I– uh, I did sail to Eventide and back once,” Link admits, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.

You give him a sympathetic smile. “Stories change as they get passed on.”

“Yeah…” Link mutters, rubbing his neck again.

You come to a stop as you reach the East Wind. The store’s windows are pitch-black, just like the rest of the village. You hope you won’t disturb Pruce and his family when you sneak in. He has been generous for letting you stay up in their attic basically for free. Sure, your father knows the shopkeeper well, but you still think not many people from Hateno would offer such kindness to other people’s children. It’s not the most comfortable living arrangement for a woman in her twenties, but it is better than living with your parents. Besides, Zelda has promised you a room on the school’s second floor once it gets cleared out from all the junk left behind during building.

“Thank you for walking me back,” you say as you turn to look at Link, “I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”

“It wasn’t,” Link assures you with a smile so soft it makes your heart flutter. You’re starting to understand why the girls in town act so giddy around him. He does have an endearing smile.

“I’ll see you around,” Link says, still smiling. “Have a good night.”

“You too, Link,” you say, feeling a bit flustered. You don’t quite understand your sudden giddiness, and you wish you could just slap some sense into yourself. You pry your eyes off of him before the butterflies in your stomach get any more restless. You take in a sharp breath when you suddenly feel his hand on your back again, pushing you gently towards the door right before he leaves. You are still certain he has no idea he’s doing it.

The night air feels almost too cold against your warm cheeks. You fumble with your keys for an embarrassingly long time before you get the door open. You can’t understand why suddenly your mind is completely overtaken by the thought of the Princess’ knight giving you such attention. You’ve never felt this starstruck around the Princess, and she, at least, is going to be crowned as the Queen of Hyrule one day.

You curse. There’s no other explanation: it has to be your students’ ‘heromania’ trying to overtake you.

#breath of the wild #botw #link x reader #link x (y/n) #link x you #reader insert #the legend of zelda #tears of the kingdom #totk #age of calamity #botw link x reader #totk link x reader #my writing #hateno boy #fics

[thechaoticdruid]

[This Bites] (3)

Pairing: Astarion x F! Chubby MC

Content/Warnings: Sexual humor, suggestive content, animal death, blood, slight angst, no Brian yay!, Winnie freaking out again, fluff,

Quick summary: Winnie gets Star out of the house after being cooped up since his arrival. Vampire hijinks ensue.

Chapter Two: Go Back

Chapter Three: Stay here.

Chapter Four: Lets fucking goooo!

Check out this silly recreation of the chapter in The Sims I did.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Hiding a secret pet from your parents was stressful enough, but hiding a whole grown ass man in your room would likely be a thousand times as nerve wracking.  Especially with a step douche who had a habit of barging into the room. Luckily for Winnie, her stepfather was never a quiet man, always stomping along the floor in thick combat boots. And her current stowaway was very perceptive. That still didn't cover all her issues. Winnie had searched all over Nexus Mods for that damn cheat mod she downloaded but could not find it again. It was as if the creator deleted it just after Astarion got out. To make matters worse the vampire was likely starting to get hungry. He'd been gazing at her more and more longingly each day since his escape from the computer. She'd need a way for feeding her guest which didn't involve anyone getting sucked flat like a caprisun. Of course she thought about offering him her own blood, but the idea honestly made her uneasy. In fantasy it was very appealing, having an extremely attractive and alluring man suck on your neck, what's not to like? There was the whole sharp teeth tearing into your flesh aspect, but in fantasy there was no pain, no need to worry about death. Just sweet sweet blissful fantasy. But that was not the case now.  In reality if Astarion were to sink his fangs into her neck he wouldn't need to drink all her blood to kill her. She'd probably bleed out from her jugular being punctured alone. 

Winnie stared over at him as he peeked out the window. Night had fallen and he didn't need to worry about the sun. At least not for a while. 

Winnie sighed, “I have no idea how I'm going to feed you if I'm honest.” 

“Since you're so keen on protecting our dear friend Brian I suppose that leaves me with having to go out and hunt for my next meal, well unless you'd be generous enough to offer me your lovely neck.” 

“I don't think that's a good idea, but I guess my arm might be okay…” Winnie lifted up her arm to look at it. 

“You love to take the fun out of things don’t you? But alright, I'm not about to turn down a willing meal.” Astarion's pupils practically dilated at the sight of the veins on Winnie’s arm. His mouth watering at the thought of her warm blood coating his throat and he couldn't help but lick his lips.

“Hold on! I didn't mean right this second!” Winnie hid her arm behind her back, her cheeks turning red at the hungry look he was giving her. 

“Such a tease.” Astarion huffed and crossed his arms.

“I had some things planned for tonight and I can't do them if my head is spinning from blood loss.”  Winnie said before searching through her closet.

She pulled out a large duffle bag and began to unzip it. Inside were some hoodies and other clothing. Grey and black T-shirts, some jeans and a pair of sneakers. “Here, these were my brother's, they’ll probably fit you.” Winnie said before tossing the bag onto the bed.

Astarion made a disgusted sound.

“These are so tasteless and drab!” 

“We’ll get you something more suitable to your tastes later. For now you need to be able to blend in.” Winnie explained. Astarion muttered something under his breath before he started removing his purple doublet and exposing his pale muscular chest. He was so perfect, so flawless. Winnie’s brain honestly turned off for a moment as the elf then proceeded to slide down his pants. Her eyes nearly entranced by a certain large shape in his drawers, her face turning bright red. 

“My eyes are up here, darling.~”Astarion purred, voice husky and soft. 

“A-Ah sorry! I should….” Winnie sputtered before scrambling off into the connecting bathroom. Astarion chuckled a bit, watching the flustered female dash out of the room. He couldn't help but find her rather adorable.  Winnie stood in the bathroom for a few moments, heart pounding as she pressed her back against the door. 

Oh God, why didn't I walk out sooner!?

“You can come out now, my dear.” Eventually Astarion's voice broke her from her thoughts. The human girl let out an exasperated sigh before opening the door and heading back in. The clothes were a little tight around his body, making his muscles quite visible through the light gray tee.  Winnie quickly grabbed a black hoodie and handed it to him. “Here, put this on.” She said, watching him slide the jacket on. Winnie zipped it up for him before leaning up on her tiptoes and  pulling the hood over his head.

“Hey! My hair!” He whined.

“I'll fix it for you later. Right now I don't want anyone gawking over your ears.”

“Why would anyone be doing that?” 

“Ah, right. You see, in this world there are no elves, no magic, no vampires….Just humans really.” Winnie rubbed the back of her head. 

“Really? Gods, how dull. Not that I mind being the only vampire around. That actually sounds rather delightful.” Astarion smirked a bit. 

“Please don't get in any world domination ideas. Just because there aren't any vampires doesn't mean there aren't people who can tear you a new one.” Winnie sighed before peeking out the door into the hall. “Okay, they're asleep. Now come on.” Winnie said quietly.

“Where are we going?” Astarion whispered, slowly following Winnie as they tiptoed out of the house. 

“We're heading out to town. It's probably a good idea for you to get acquainted with the area just in  case something bad happens.” Winnie explained, “plus I feel bad about keeping you locked up in my room for days.” She then took out her cellphone and shook it, causing the flashlight to turn on.

“I thought you said, you didn't have magic here.” 

“We don't. This my fanged friend is technology. It’s a machine mostly for talking to people far away, but also does a bunch of other stuff.” Winnie used her phone to navigate in the dark as they began walking down across her driveway. Winnie’s neighborhood was quiet, each of the houses were fairly spaced out with plenty of trees and brush littering the terrain.  Parked in the yard near her family’s cars was a purple motorcycle. 

“Oh, and this is my trusty steed! Or well it's basically my personal source of transportation. Think of it like a horse but made of metal. To make it even better this won't decide to turn around and bite you!” Winnie said with a smile.

“As wonderful as that sounds. I'm not quite sure about climbing onto some strange metal contraption.” 

“Well…If you'd rather walk….” Winnie said in a sing-songy tone, putting her phone into her pocket.

“Nevermind! Let's go!” 

Winnie climbed on the bike, her hands gripping the handles as she glanced over at Astarion. He looked the vehicle over curiously, nearly jumping up in the air when the girl turned on the engine. 

“Come on!” Winnie said.  Hesitantly he climbed on and immediately clung to Winnie, arms wrapped around her plush waist. 

“Oh, this is rather intimate.~” Astarion took the opportunity to nuzzle his face into her neck, growing a bit more comfortable as he held onto her soft form. Winnie immediately turned bright red, a shiver going down her spine.  She didn't really think this through did she? 

Focus! Do not let the incredibly sexy vampire elf hugging your back cause you to have a crash! 

We are not dying because of horniniess goddamnit!

Winnie mentally scolded herself as she drove off. Not that she disliked his attentions, mind you. She was just very easily flustered, never having been in any kind of romantic relationship, physical or otherwise.  Astarion sighed into her neck, The smell of lavender and cherry blossoms mixed with the delectable scent of her blood was absolutely heavenly.  It took all he had to resist the urge to sink his fangs into her neck and gorge himself on her blood.

Winnie kept her eyes on the road, the headlights of her motorcycle illuminated the street as they zoomed down it.  There weren't too many cars on the road so Winnie could be thankful for that. 

They rode away from the suburbs where Winnie’s home resided, eventually until coming towards a small shop just outside of the city. A large sign that read ‘CornerStore’ sat atop the building and illuminated the parking lot.

“This is where I work.” Winnie said as she turned into the parking lot. She parked up front in her usual spot before turning off the engine and hopping off. 

“Well this seems like a cozy little shop.” Astarion said, getting off. “What exactly could you precure here?” 

“Mostly snacks. Some hygiene products and other things. Just stuff you need around your home really.” Winnie said, leaning up on her toes to fix his hoodie before leading him inside. 

Winnie looked around the shop, thinking about anything she could get which would be useful for her new guest to have in the future. She couldn't get too much however. She only had so much room in the little trunk she had on her motorcycle. 

Bandages would be a good idea, shampoo…. Though he'd likely complain if it was some kind of cheap smelling stuff….

Astarion looked over Winnie as she scanned around the store. His tongue flicked over his fangs as he couldn't help but stare at her jugular. The gnawing pain in his stomach was crying out, demanding to be sated. He backed up as Winnie became engrossed in the products that decorated the shelves. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a small creature outside the shop. Almost cat-like, but with a longer snout, a ringed tail and tiny black hands.  The creature appeared to be picking around in the trash outside. Not his first choice, but it had to at least be better than a rat.

Winnie kept looking through some hygiene products, wondering what her fanged friend would need when suddenly she heard what sounded like an angry raccoon. She quickly whipped her head around, heart nearly stopping when she noticed Astarion was gone. 

Quickly she rushed outside and glanced over to see a dead raccoon fall to the ground. Astarion stood over it, blood dripping down his chin. 

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” Winnie whisper-shouted. 

“I was hungry…” Astarion shrugged, looking at her with round innocent eyes, mouth still covered in blood. Winnie grimaced, kicking the dead raccoon off to the side and out of sight before grabbing hold of Astarion and dragging him off. She pulled him into the store before making a beeline for the bathroom. She dragged him inside and slammed the door. 

The young woman pinched the bride of her nose, on the verge of tearing her hair out.  

“Please…Just please….Can you not do any vampire shit out where people can see you!?” Winnie said.

“No one was even around to see me. Sweetie, you worry far too much.” Astarion said, making a sassy hand gesture. Winnie crossed her arms and huffed, her eyebrow twitching.  She turned before grabbing some paper towels and wetting them. 

“You have to understand.” Winnie said calmly, “if people find out you're a vampire they'll probably try to kill you or worse cut you open and try to find out what makes you tick. Just please be careful.” She wiped the blood off his face before crumbling up the towels and burying them in the bottom of the trashcan. Astarion crossed his arms and stepped closer to her.

“I am a master of stealth, my dear. And if you expect me to just wait about for my next meal while you flaunt around that delicious neck of yours, I might not be able to control myself for long.” He said, running a clawed finger over her jugular making her shiver. His voice was playful, a bit flirty even, but the warning was still very clear. If she kept him waiting for too long he might not even be able to think before taking a bite out of her. 

“I promise I'll figure out a way to feed you, just give me time…Please.” 

“Oh alright, but only because you're so sweet.” He tapped her nose playfully. “And that little snack should keep me sated for now, ahaha.” 

Winnie washed her hands before leaving the bathroom to continue looking around for some supplies. Astarion followed after her, red eyes inspecting the isles with interest. Some of the objects looked familiar, but somehow still foreign.

A couple of times he'd ask Winnie what something was, and she'd do her best to explain, but sometimes it was difficult. Especially with some technological items that Winnie herself wasn't even completely educated on. 

She picked up a few things she deemed would be useful for hosting her guest, bandages, hygienic stuff and a burner phone. Winnie was about to go pay for the items when she froze, eyes widening in fear. Shit. Becca was working tonight. 

“Darling, are you alright?” The vampire’s voice was gentle. Astarion noticed Winnie’s fear and placed a hand on her shoulder before looking over to what had her tense. At the cash register was a tall skinny woman with long red hair, round red glasses and a face full of freckles. There was a black visor around her neck with a name tag attached along with several different round pins, most notable ones being a colorful pin with a pattern of pink and blue with a purple line in between and a second pin with what looked like a mind flayer on it. She wore a casual blue dress and didn't look the least but intimidating so Astarion was rather puzzled as to what had Winnie's heart pounding so wildly.

Becca was probably the closest thing Winnie had to a friend these days, considering practically all her peers from high school had ran off to start their own lives (the fucking plebs) and the two were able to bond a bit over a common interest in video games. See where this is going? Becca was a gamer. A rather devoted gamer who was always quick to snatch up any of the hot new triple A releases.  Winnie turned back to look at Astarion before quietly whispering, “when we go up to the counter do not say a word, okay?”

“Why?” Astarion asked.

“I'll explain it later, just stay quiet please.” She said before the two walked up to the register. Becca glanced up from the magazine she was looking over and smiled. Astarion held the small of Winnie’s back and stayed close to her. He was still not sure why Winnie was so frightened of this very simple looking woman. Though looks could be deceiving. She could be some kind of shapeshifter in disguise! 

“Winnie! I didn't think you'd be stopping by tonight.” Becca said in a cheerful tone. 

“Hey Becca!” Winnie greeted in a tone as perky as she could muster. “I…Just needed to pick up a few things I was running low on.” She said handing over the items. Becca’s blue eyes looked over Winnie’s face as she scanned the supplies.

She noticed her nervousness, but didn't seem too concerned. Winnie was known to get anxious quite easily. But then she noticed the male standing next to her and hummed. Becca noticed the white curls peeking out from under the hoodie he wore and took a long look at his very pretty face. He seemed very familiar, but she couldn't for the life of herself figure out why. 

“Winnie,” She spoke up in a playful tone, “is this your boyfriend? He is cute.” Becca teased with a wink. Astarion couldn't help but chuckle a bit.

“A-Ah! N-No! We're just friends!” Winnie said, getting very embarrassed. Astarion suddenly snapped his head towards her, a bit shocked at her words.

WHAT?!

Winnie ignored him the questioning looks he was giving her. She leaned over towards Becca. “I'm just helping him out. He's really really shy….” Winnie muttered to her. Astarion stood there arms crossed as he glared at Winnie slightly, eyebrow twitching.

“Oh, okay.” Becca responded, scanning and bagging up Winnie’s things. “That'll be 29.50.” 

Winnie paid for the supplies before walking out, Astarion stomping after her. She put the bags into the trunk of her motorcycle before she finally acknowledged his glaring.

“What?” She asked.

“Just friends? After everything we've been through, you and I are just friends?!” Astarion almost hissed out, but his tone sounded far more hurt than angry. 

“We literally just met a few days ago.” Winnie said, a bit confused. She backed up a bit, flinching at his tone.

“I wasn't lying when I said I fell in love with you over and over! I..I…Did something happen? Do you not like me anymore?” His voice sounded a bit hoarse. Winnie’s heart shattered as she noticed he looked like he was on the verge of tears. 

“Astarion…” She said softly before approaching him. “I do like you. I like you a lot, but you don't really know me ... .The person in the game, the brave strong beautiful adventurer. That's not me.” 

Astarion huffed, trying to blink away the glassiness of his eyes. 

“I fell in love with the sweet person who saved me, nothing else matters!” He took her hands in his. “Please…I want to be with you…” 

“Honey, you don't even know my birthday.” Winnie said with a sad smile. “And I….I'm really not sure. I know everything was probably quite real for you, but to me it was like I was just a spectator. Someone enjoying a good story. Hell I've never even kissed anyone in real life so the idea of jumping into a serious relationship out of nowhere is honestly terrifying…” Winnie said and looked off to the side. The silver haired male took a moment to regain his composure, wiping one of his eyes.

Winnie thought for a moment before looking back at him and gently squeezed his hands.

“Look, I don't have a lot of experience in this, but maybe we could start over? I could court you, maybe?” 

“Oh….Y-Yes…Yes that would make me very…happy…” The vampire blinked away his tears before mustering up a smile. Winnie released his hands, before hesitantly moving in closer. She thought about going in for a hug before she noticed him lean closer, lips puckered. 

Quickly she stopped his mouth with her index finger. 

“I'm…Not ready for that just yet…” She said with a sad smile as he pulled back. 

“Of course, apologies…I misunderstood.” He said feeling a bit embarrassed. Winnie quickly decided to just pull close for a hug before anything else happened. Astarion relaxed a bit, taking comfort in her embrace, and quickly wrapping his arms around her. It was difficult. His relationship had now practically been set back to stage one. 

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

After Astarion had calmed down and the two of them left the Corner Store. Winnie decided to keep her word about beginning a courtship with her flamboyantly fanged friend.  The night was still young and a date was the perfect excuse for Winnie to stop somewhere to look for something edible to sate her own hunger. Unfortunately there was little the pale elf could enjoy at such establishments, but Winnie did have one idea. 

Astarion looked over Winnie’s shoulder, his eyes widened in awe at the bright lights of the city. It was rather beautiful, making the night much more pleasant and allowing him to see so much more color than he usually would at this time.

Winnie eventually stopped, bringing the motorcycle to a halt as they arrived at a large pleasant smelling building. The air was filled with the scent of meat and other savory dishes. 

Winnie got off the bike before quickly adjusting the hood on Astarion's head, making sure his ears were not visible.  Winnie then took her vampiric companion inside before ordering a table for the two.  She sat across from him in a booth, looking down at her hands shyly. 

“I know it might be hard to believe with my charms and devastatingly good looks, but I've actually never been on a date before, not a real one anyway.” Astarion chuckled a bit.

“What about before you were turned? Surely you'd have been on a date then?” Winnie frowned.

“Perhaps, but I can't exactly remember much from before. It might as well not have happened.” He sighed, looking off as a waitress walked towards the table. She was rather beautiful, long blonde hair, blue eyes, a waspy waist and thick curves in all the right places. 

“What can I get you both?”  She asked. 

“Oh, something full bodied and red.”  Astarion said and looked back at Winnie. 

“Red wine and a pinjacolada please.” Winnie said as she glanced up at the waitress, eyes staring enviously at her nearly perfect bodice. 

“Ah and some fried chicken fingers, and um….Can you get maybe get us an extremely rare steak?” Winnie asked feeling a bit clumsy and embarrassed about how her last line was worded. 

“An extremely rare steak?” The waiter looked at Winnie like she had grown a second head. 

“I don't know if we're allowed to-”

“Be a dear, and fetch me something as bloody as possible won't you beautiful?” Astarion turned towards the waitress, his tone dripping with charm, his ruby red eyes almost hypnotic as he gave her a flirtatious wink.

The waitress’s face turned bright red. 

“Y-Yes! Yes of course!” She sputtered, a giddy grin spreading across her face. Winnie felt a twinge a jealousy shoot through her. She understood why he did that, but it didn't make it feel any better. The pudgy female took out her cellphone as Astarion began to ramble on about something. Something about how dull all of the people here seemed, and how abhorrent their attires were.

Winnie began looking on Tumblr, noticing a notification about TheRespectfulBard posting a new BG3 fanfiction. Though something else caught Winnie's eye as she skimmed through the Bard’s blog.  Apparently the bard was also looking for a mod that had been recently removed from the Nexus Mod page. However the modification they were looking for happened to be a mod that added a few new overpowered attacks to the game. Winnie quickly looked through the comments and reblogs to find someone saying the mod was made by a user named ShadowMommy69. 

Oh God…….It was made by a simp…..

“Winnie? Winnie? Are you even listening to me!?” Astarion spoke up, sounding a bit annoyed.

“Ah! Sorry…I got a bit distracted….” Winnie hearted TheRespectfulBard’s post before putting her phone in her pocket. 

“Honestly darling if you can't pay attention I might have to find a way to punish you.~” He teased, his hand reaching over to hold hers from across the table.

“Oh shut up.” Winnie rolled her eyes with a grin, her cheeks burning up. Astarion was just eating up all of Winnie’s overly flustered reactions. They were honestly all too cute. He looked at her with soft round eyes, wanting nothing more to plant kisses all over her pudgy little face. 

“I've got your order!” The waitress from before brought in their food and drinks. Her hips swayed as she strutted over and set them down on the table. Blue eyes roamed over Astarion’s face and body, though he didn't seem particularly interested. The smell of blood from the meat hit him like a truck, making his mouth water. Winnie immediately began to nibble on her chicken, but her eyes were glued on that woman. 

“I hope you both enjoy…. Especially you.~” The blonde said, seductively running a finger over Astarion's chest, making him stiffen.

“Um lady he doesn't like to be touch-” Winnie tried to object, though her mouse like voice was completely ignored.

“I'm getting off at ten just so you know.” She winked at him before wandering off. Winnie glared at her strutting form.

“Creepy bitch…” She muttered under her breath. That skank was so not getting a tip. Astarion cleared his throat before dusting off the front of his jacket, acting as if the waitress had got him dirty.  

“Well, now that that's over. I think I have something to attend to.” His looked down at the streak which was practically dripping with blood. 

Winnie bit her lip. She wouldn't lie. This was a bit gross. 

Winnie grabbed her drink, slowly sucking it down as she attempted to ignore the vampire in front of her, cutting up the steak and sucking the blood off. She couldn't imagine what was probably going through the head of any on lookers.

“Oh my God he is so fucking hot.” Winnie’s ears perked up at the waitress’s voice as she gossiped with her friends.

“Who's girl with him? Think they're together?” 

“Fuck no! Have you seen her? Probably his sister or something.” 

Winnie rolled her eyes and glanced back at her food. She didn't really feel very hungry anymore. She looked down at her stomach. The round, plumpness of it made her feel so disgusting. It wouldn't be long before Astarion realized he had more options. Better looking options.

“Are you alright my sweet?” Astarion's concerned voice brought her gaze back up. 

“I'm fine I guess…A bit tired if I'm honest…” She said tapping her fingernails to the table. 

“Well then, perhaps we should get you home so you can get your beauty rest hm? Not that you need it of course! You're already the most beautiful person here.” The elf said sweetly.  

“Yeah, let's go.” Winnie nodded, the two left their table and Winnie payed for the food at the register. She side eyes the waitress from before who was still gossiping with her friends. Winnie turned ready to head out the doors before she was suddenly snatched up by Astarion.

“I just want you to know once we get home. I am going to make you scream my name.” He said, his husky voice purposely raised loud enough for everyone to hear.  Winnie immediately buried her embarrassed face into his neck. Despite being ready to faint she also couldn't help but let out a series of giggles at his bluntness.

The waitress from before looked over with a shocked and frankly pissed expression. The vampire smirked slightly before tugging Winnie outside.

It was around eleven o'clock when they arrived back home. Winnie got off her bike with a yawn before looking over at Astarion who's hood had once again fallen off due to the motorcycle ride. 

Since they were home though, she saw no point in fixing it again.  

“I think that was an absolutely delightful first date, my love.” Astarion said as the two walked over towards the front door. “Don't you agree?” 

“Shit.” Winnie stopped in her tracks.

“Oh come on! It wasn't that bad! Actually I don't think it was bad at all!” Astarion crossed his arms with a scoff.

“No! Shit!” She pointed at the front door which was cracked open about two feet. 

“Oh, oh dear.” The vampire exclaimed before his companion rushed inside. He quickly followed after her as she zoomed into her bedroom. 

“Maddie!? Maddie!” She called looking under the bed and in her closet before checking the bathoom. Astarion went into the bedroom and inhaled, trying to pinpoint the scent of the sweet little kitten’s blood. Was it nearby? However, his red orbs suddenly shot open at the echo of barking coming from outside. 

“Maddie!” Winnie cried in fear. 

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Note from The ChaoticDruid: Been so hyped to get this chapter out! We have a lead on who caused Astarion to suddenly become sentient and it looks like a Shadowheart lover lol. A Shadowheart simp if you will! Also I know a lot of people would probably think Winnie's crazy for not wanting to jump right into a serious romance with Astarion, but I just feel like there are some things we'd love to fantasize about, but might not be too sure about in real life. Besides the girl is very romantically awkward. If anyone has any ideas on how to hide Astarion's ears better I'm open to suggestions, oh and PLEASE tell me what you think of the chapter! I love hearing all the comments about stuff, really makes my day.

Also fuck, Maddie's in danger! Somebody do something!

Taglist: @astarioffsimpmain , @iamsexytrash , @tiedyedghoulette , @hp-art-studio , @gaymistakeboi @the-disaster-in-waiting

#SaveMaddie #Thank gods there's no Brian here #Such a Prick #Maddie must be protected at all costs #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion my beloved #astarion romance #astarion x reader #astarion fluff #baldur's gate astarion #modern au #astarion x mc #Astarion x Chubby MC #astarion x oc #astarion #astarion x female reader #astarion x female oc #Astarion x female original character #bg3 astarion #bg3 x oc #bg3 x reader #bg3 x female reader

[brackishkittie]

୨୧- CHAPTER FOUR, blame it! - ୨୧

summary: you go to a party with your friends and see ellie, you try avoiding her the whole night but when she sees you talking to an old friend, her blood boils and she just has to say something.

c/n: alcohol usage, strong language, jealous!ellie, you and ellie argue ( kinda idk ), and ellie going crazy..again.

a/n: idk why this took me so long to finish but here you guys go! come get y’all juice!!! 🗣️🗣️🗣️‼️‼️‼️

series masterlist! - chapter four ➝ chapter five!

"girl I'm outside hurry up," ashlesha said as she tapped her nails on her grey leathered steering wheel as she signaled for nari to scoot over to the other seat with her bag. “I’m coming outside just let me grab my bag and I’ll be right out,” you answer back while fixing your lip liner and ending the call. you walk out of the house and head straight for ashlesha’s car, “girl we thought you were gonna take 18 years and 5 business days to get ready..” nari says as she fixes her blush in her small mirror. “oh please I didn’t even take that long..now let’s go, I’m ready to down some tequila and henny.” you all laugh as ashlesha takes the car out park and puts it back in drive. 30 minutes later, as soon as it hits 8, you all finally make it to the party. “I’m telling y’all..if ellie is here I’m leaving..” you say but get pushed infront of the door by your two friends, “GIRL GOOOO SHE’S NOT HERE!!” nari says, putting her hand on her hip, and groaning.

“ok ok!” you push open the door and walk in as ashlesha and nari follow behind you. you all rush to the kitchen for that well known red solo cup and only a few cranberry and hennessy shots later, you all are on the couch laughing your asses off at the littlest things and then you see her. the one person you didn’t wanna see was right across the room, in the corner, looking down into her cup, and her eyes suddenly dart towards yours as if she knew you were looking at her. she smiles slightly and looks back into her cup but god if you only knew..while she looked unbothered, she was sweating and panicking. “oh my god she’s here? MY PRAYERS!! MY PRAYERS HAVE BEEN ANSWERED!” she thought to herself and had to stop herself from screaming at the top of her goddamn lungs.

you furrowed your brows and huffed looking at your friends, “you guys said she wasn’t gonna be here” you groaned and playfully hit them both and they giggled. “it’s not funny cmon I wanna go home” you frowned and laid your head on nari’s shoulder. “you should go talk to her” nari says as she pats your head, “no way I don’t wanna talk to her” you sigh and look to your left and see dina and jesse making out in a corner like some freakishly horny crazy highschool teens. “ugh..get a room..” you roll your eyes and look to your right and see a very familiar face, “oh my god? jasmine?” you gasp and she looks at you, “y/n? oh my gosh, hey gorgeous!” you stand up and she comes over and hugs you. ellie sees this and immediately her face drops from “omg my favorite sexy ex that I miss so much is here!!” to “who the actual fuck is that touching her. what the hell.” she clenches her jaw as she watches you two from the corner of the room, her face hot and red.

the more and more you and jasmine laughed and giggled the more ellie felt herself losing her cool. she knew she was your ex now and she knew she couldn’t just march over there but the alcohol was kicking in and she was feeling bold. she walked over to you and jasmine and put her hand on your shoulder, “can I borrow her for a sec? yes? ok thanks.” ellie says as she pulls you away from jasmine who looks extremely confused. “what the hell ellie? what do you want?” you turn to her and say while she just stares at you, pulling her hand away from you and biting the inside of her cheek. “y/n are you doing this on purpose?” she says which makes you tilt your head and show visible confusion to her question. “what the fuck are you talking about?” you’re frustrated, folding your arms and leaning against the wall while she just stares at you trying to get you to fess up about whatever she thinks you’re doing.

all of a sudden, ellie’s face turns red out of embarrassment realizing you actually weren’t trying to make her jealous and that she probably needed to sober up from the alcohol. she rubbed her neck and opened her mouth to speak when she didn’t even get a chance because you immediately read her like a book once you saw her face turn red. “you’re jealous aren’t you?” you squint and almost laugh, “we aren’t together anymore els..move on please.” you say while pushing yourself off the wall to walk away.“whatever..there’s no one better than me anyway.” she now crosses her arms as yours fall to your sides. “oh fuck you. you sound like a man.” you roll your eyes and walk off while ellie flips you off and you can hear her mutter “fuck you too.” and you start giggling to yourself as you walk back over to jasmine.

as it got later on into the night you, nari, and ashlesha all fall asleep on the couch and around 3 in the morning you feel someone shaking you awake. “y/n? Y/NNNN!!! GIRL GET UP LET’S GO.” nari lightly slaps your face trying to wake you up and you start to open your eyes. “ughhhh my head hurts...I have a fucking headache what the hell.” you rub your head and look up at nari, “how many shots did I take?” you ask as she shrugs and looks at ashlesha for the answer but she just shrugs too. “god..can we go back to my place?? you guys can just stay until it’s finally morning.” you sit up from the couch and stretch. “yeah..can we order wingstop when they open? I’m fucking starving and I could fuck up some mango habanero wings right now…a cow even.” nari says while patting her stomach while you pick up your things and follow behind your friends who left the house. “do you think dunkin donuts is open? I need something sweet like now. I feel like a pregnant woman bossing around her wife and child.” nari says as you all fucking lose it while ashlesha starts driving back to your house, still laughing her ass off.

meanwhile with ellie though…

“oh cmon ellie..it couldn’t have been that bad...I hope…” dina says as she pats ellie’s back as she ugly cries into her hands about how much she fucked up that small interaction she had with you a few hours ago at the party. “well I mean..it could’ve gone worse.” jesse says as he chuckles and runs his fingers through his hair, “wow thanks jess, that totally makes me feel better!!” ellie says sarcastically which makes jesse huff and roll his eyes. “all she said was fuck you ellie..she could’ve like slapped you for even pulling her away or cussed you out even more for everyone at the party to hear.” he says while falling back on ellie’s bed and staring up at the ceiling. “jesse, you’re gonna send the girl into cardiac arrest please stop.” she looks at him and hits him on his arm, “well call me kevin gates because you know exactly what happens next after the cardiac arrest.” he laughs while dina and ellie turn to look at him with the most “shut the fuck up” expressions ever. “bad timing?..sorry.” he mutters and looks away.

“obviously?? and stop with that kevin gates video, it’s making me feel extremely ill.” dina says as she shakes her head and sighs, “ellie you really need to talk to y/n…SOBER and IN THE RIGHT MIND.” as soon as dina said that, ellie immediately stopped her ugly crying and side-eyed her so hard. “no shit dina..no shit..and stop yelling in my EAR because I’m right NEXT TO YOU.” ellie says as she wipes her face with her sleeve and goes to the kitchen for a tissue to blow her nose. dina looks at jesse and shakes her head, “man..she’s hooked on this girl..I feel bad because y/n may not come around and she’s on her bad bad BADDD.” dina scratched her head while jesse nodded in agreement.

ellie came back into the room and sat back down on the bed, “so what should I do? it’s only been like a week since our breakup. I can’t just say I wanna get back together now..” ellie groans and grabs her pillow that jesse was laying on, “hey! I was laying on that..” jesse sits up and frowns, “well that’s too damn bad.” ellie scoffs and hides her face in the pillow. “I say give it a few more weeks or a month maybe??” jesse says in response to what she said earlier which she freaks out about. “A MONTH?? ARE YOU CRAZY? she’ll already have moved on by then..I’ll just give it a few more weeks maybe, hopefully, she’ll unblock me on everything and talk to me...if not I’ll have to text her off one of my lurking accounts.” ellie sighs and rubs her temples, “I’m sorry did you just say ONE OF?? AS IN THERE’S MORE THAN ONE??” dina looks at her with pure concern as ellie turns to her and makes a face that says “uhm hello???? obviously???….”

“why do you need more than one?? one is enough to lurk at her..bro what is your problem?” dina blinks a few times before turning away from her and shaking her head in disbelief and disappointment. “in case she finds out it’s me and blocks me? duhhh like I need to have multiple accounts. it’s a necessity when it comes to lurking..you wouldn’t know anyway.” ellie rolls her eyes and nudges dina. “ok so like what if she presses all new accounts made will be blocked??” jesse blurts out which makes ellie’s neck snap towards him and she throws the pillow at him. “take that back NOW. do not manifest that negative energy into my life jesse.” she frowns and gets up, grabs her phone from her desk, and goes onto instagram. “now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go do my daily lurking on y/n’s account.” ellie says with a smile while jesse and dina groan in unison.

tags: @elsmissingfingers @astrcmoni @cowgirlcherrie @theganymedes @ximtiredx @ellieswifee @liabadoobee 🩷🩷

#ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie x fem reader #modern!ellie williams #jealous!ellie #jealous!elliewilliams #dina the last of us #dina tlou #jesse tlou #jesse the last of us #brackishkittie

[allysunny]

Interlude: Beach Day | Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

Synopsys: What if Shadows to Stars never happened? What if you and Miguel led the blissful, romantic, domestic life the both of you have always wanted? And what if you all went out for a nice beach day?

Or

In which I had a stroke of inspiration to finally write something happy for this man, as opposed to all of the angst that plagues my mind whenever I think of Miggy!

Words: 4.4k

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff! That's about it, it's happy, it's kind of short, it's sweet and it's not angsty at all, which is a first for me. Spanish translations are at the end! Also, again, as with all of my fics, I tried to make this as inclusive as I could, so other than the fact that reader is a woman, there's no big descriptions. Hopefully I captured that well!

A/N: Hey everyone! I'm back from my vacation! I'm actually on my way to another, ahaha, but I really needed to write this - hell, I missed writing sooo much! Anyways, this is a sort of "what if" to STS. It's not a sequel, it's not a part 2, it's simply a "what if this was a happy oneshot instead of an angst-filled, heart-wrenching, tear-inducing one? What if everyone was happy?" kind of deal. I quite like how it turned out, and I hope you guys will like it too! Hopefully I'll be able to write something else before I leave again.

Also, this is a reupload because yesterday I posted the wrong, unfinished version of the story. I apologize for that, I promise to be more careful in the future!

“Beach day! Beach day! Beach day!” Gabriel chanted happily as you undid his seatbelt and removed him from his chair. Your son was quick to put a (Spiderman themed, thank you very much) hat on top of his head and grin at you, tiny legs eager to touch the floor and feel the sand through his flip-flops.

“Honey, watch out for the cars, c’mere.” You told him, and since he was far too happy to complain, he followed your lead, now safe from the harm of the road and careless drivers. 

“Beach day! Let’s go, let’s go, let’s goooo!” He jumped up and down, pointing towards the very visible horizon line.

Miguel could only help but chuckle. It was the first time this year you three were going to the beach, and Gabriel hadn’t stopped once minute ever since you told him to pick out new swimming trunks – he’d picked a very cute red and blue pair, tiny Spiderman masks adorning it. Gabriel was quite the Spiderman fan, which only made Miguel smile further.

While you carried a bag with food, Miguel carried a backpack with some essentials – sunscreen, your book, his newspaper, etc. It would be nice to get some alone time with his family, finally away from the responsibilities of the Spider Society, and the wary eyes of the Nueva York Police Department.

He was also eager to finally see you trying out that cute bikini you had taunted in front of him once or twice. He’d never seen you wearing it, but from the smile he saw you with when you got home that day and told him you had done the purchase of the year, he could tell it was going to be worth it. With his free arm, he slung one of the two beach umbrellas over his shoulder, and handed you the other. Gabriel was carrying a small backpack full of toys, and the sight of you three could only be described as precious. A beautiful family, all wearing the most beautiful smiles, ready for a fun beach day.

You were looking forward to every single bit of it!

“Mama, please, please, pleeeease, can I go in the water now?” Gabriel gave you his most adorable look – the biggest puppy dog eyes the world had ever seen, brown and bright and well, were you not his mother, and used to it, all his tricks would still work on you. As well as your husband’s, of course. But that didn’t mean your sweet boys did not keep on trying.

You sighed, and Miguel chuckled. What were you expecting? Your four-year-old son to sit still, waiting diligently for the moment you would finally tell him it’s okay to race to the water?

Squeezing a good portion of sunscreen into your hand, you smiled.

“Sunscreen first, alright?” You then proceeded to apply it all over his body, which proved to be a very difficult task, since the little boy in front of you kept jumping up and down, babbling on about all of the cool things he’d do once he was in the water, like swimming wish fish and meeting a mermaid, and then talking about the cool castles he’d build once on the sand. You watched him in complete awe and adoration, nudging him softly so you could apply some of the cream on his face.

“Alright, alright, now close your eyes.”

Gabriel did as he was told, giggling uncontrollably.

“I look like a snowman!” He exclaimed before you bopped his nose, smearing sunscreen all over it.

“You’re everything but a snowman my love, a snowman would melt, and you aren’t going anywhere.” You were rewarded with a smile and a big, tight hug from your son.

Miguel, who had been setting up the umbrellas, looked over at you and your excitable son. He could tell you were trying your best not to cave in, but it was just so hard when Gabriel got happy like this.

“Come on chaparrito, vámonos. I’ll take you to the water.” He said, taking off his sunglasses and glancing at you. When you opened your mouth in protest (going on about how he had to put on sunscreen first), he kept speaking. “Relax, I’ll do it when I get back. Are you sure you wanna deny this little guy of his water for much longer?”

When you turned to face Gabriel, you were met with his big shiny eyes and an adorable pout. Placing a kiss on his head, you smiled and gestured towards the water.

“Fine. But be careful, you two! I’ll organise things in here and meet you guys soon, ‘s that okay?”

Gabriel nodded happily and you turned around to organise your things – missing how your husband took off his shirt and placed it on top of his backpack. Miguel placed a kiss on your head and took your son by the hand, taking him to the water.

While this happened, you got to work.

You set the towels down next to each other, unfolded Miguel’s chair, applied some sunscreen on your face and arms, and checked everything inside the food backpack. You also decided to enjoy the few moments of peace Miguel had granted you and do some reading. There was no wind, so there was no sand to fly around and bother you. Today really did seem like the perfect beach day.

Within a few seconds, laughter could be heard coming your way, and a smile formed on your lips – you would always recognise this voice, no matter what.

“Mama! Mama! Mama, the water is fantastic!” You placed your book down and turned around to face Gabriel, whose hair was all stuck to his face, and whose smile seemed to grow as each second went by. “There were waves and Papa helped me jump over them!”

You chuckled and nodded along as Gabriel told you about all the nice things he saw. Like the family with the cute dog, or the girl whose brother picked up and threw in the water as a prank, or the group of friends that were playing volleyball – everything seemed to fascinate your little boy and you loved how enthusiastic he was.

The beach did seem to be very alive, crowded with all kinds of people. Families of all shapes and sizes took their children for a swim, friends cheered and laughed with cold beers, gymnasts showed off their backflip skills or their flexibility, and many, many others. It’s like the beach had a life of its own.

The sun was shining, and the sky was clear – it was the perfect summer day, with nothing but the sound of the waves, some seagulls, and all kinds of laughter filling your ears.

And then, it was as if all of the air got sucked out from your lungs.

The whole world seemed to move in slow motion – or was it just him? – as Miguel came out of the water, his hair dripping and making him look sinfully attractive, his figure tall and strong and broad, all strong cheekbones and veiny hands and wide back and large shoulders that you nipped and held onto while he sank himself inside of you again and again deep at night –

“Mama? Mamaaa? Mama, can you hear me?” Gabriel’s voice pulled you away from your thoughts, and your cheeks went hot when you realised what kind of images you were conjuring in your mind in such a public space. You looked away, slapping yourself mentally, which your husband seemed to notice as he approached you.

Goodness, he looked irresistibly handsome – and much to your dismay, you weren’t the only one who thought that. People around you – mostly indiscreet women who thought their sunglasses would disguise them – were gawking at Miguel, some going as far as to shamelessly open their mouths in awe and giggle.

It made you upset that people were openly staring, but all those thoughts went away once Miguel sat down on the towel closest to you and kissed your cheek.

“You look flustered, cariño. Is everything alright?” He teased, lips brushing softly against your ear, sending a full-body shiver down your spine. Miguel loved how easily he could get reactions out of you, how easily he made you squirm with only his words.

“Yeah, everything’s perfect,” You replied unable to meet his eye. When you looked away, you notice two women walking by, gawking at your husband, and giggling behind their sunglasses. You frown and turn to Miguel, covering him with the shirt he folded earlier.

“What’re you doing?” He asked, confusion on his face.

“Covering you up. You are far too handsome for your own good, everyone’s staring! I gotta lock you up for good so no one else will look at you.” You mumbled, faking a pout. Well, almost faked a pout. Miguel was good-looking. Terribly so. He got stared and gawked at on the street all the time. Women stopped to swoon when they looked at him, men wished they had his physique.

So, it wasn’t a surprise that oftentimes, you felt negative about yourself. What if you simply weren’t a match for his looks? What if he stopped finding you attractive? You had a son and your body had changed – and while you loved the changes motherhood had brought you, and you loved yourself and your body (just like Miguel, who spends every waking moment reminding you of how gorgeous you are, inside and out), you’re only human – and humans are bound to have sad thoughts sometimes.

Miguel laughed heartily, pulling you close to him by the hip. His fingers trailed along your leg as he placed soft kisses on your nose, cheeks, and finally your lips.

“No les hagas caso.” He murmured, lips still against yours, “Mis ojos solo te ven a ti.”

Warmth flooded your heart, and you were just about to reply, when your son interrupted.

“Nooo, Mama, Papa, stop kissing!” Having said this, he wrapped his arms around Miguel’s neck, clinging to his back. Miguel stood up, holding onto Gabriel’s legs so he wouldn’t fall, and pretended to shake him off his back.

“Oh no! I’m being attacked by the Gabriel-Man!” He shrieked, pretending to scream in pain. “The Gabriel-Man is kidnapping me! Mi amor, help me! He’s going to take me away!”

You laughed, heart swelling at the sight of your loving husband and your child playing together. Gabriel was playfully hitting his fists on his dad’s shoulders, attempting to “defeat him”.

“Don’t worry Mama! I’ll save you from the kissing monster!” He said bravely.

“Oh, my brave Gabriel-Man, always so thoughtful!” How could you not play along? You placed the back of your hand on your forehead for a dramatic effect and leaned back as if about to faint. “The kissing monster was going to kiss the life out of me! What would I do without you?”

This earns a gasp from Miguel.

“Qué?” He grumbles, putting Gabriel down and making his way towards you. “How dare you imply such things! I will steal you for myself now!”

“Noooo Mama! Be careful!” Gabriel yelled, pulling your arm, hoping you’d follow him.

But it was too late – within seconds, Miguel had picked you up and thrown you over his shoulder despite your protests. You giggled and giggled, playfully punching his back, and begging him not to do what he was about to, but to no avail.

It didn’t take a scientist like Miguel to figure out what he was up to.

“Alright, alright, I take it back!” You tried pleading with your husband as he approached the water, but he seemed hellbent on his mission. “You weren’t going to kiss the life out of me! Gabriel-Man, you’ve gotta help me!”

“Noo! Mama, I’ll save you!” But for all the trying your little boy did, he couldn’t stop Miguel, nor could he help you down. After a while of pointless pushing and pulling, he stepped to the side and watched with a wide grin how the water touched your feet with each wave, and laughed loudly when Miguel dived, taking you down with him.

He let go of you, and upon resurfacing, you giggled and gasped in faux betrayal, throwing your arms around Miguel’s shoulders like Gabriel had done.

“How dare you!” You yelled, trying to push his head under the water but failing miserably. Gabriel looked at the both of you expectantly, and you quickly walked over to your son to include him on the family fun. He couldn’t swim yet, so you settled for picking him up and bringing him near Miguel, where the water was at the level of your hips and could do no real harm to Gabriel.

“It seems the kissing monster has won, wouldn’t you say?” Miguel inquired, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry Mama, but he’s too strong!” Gabriel wailed, holding tightly onto you. It was only when he did that, that you realised Miguel had brought you to the water while you were still wearing your beach dress. You looked at it and then at your husband, chuckling and shaking your head.

“It’s okay my love, don’t you worry. This monster’s not so bad after all. Although he did get my dress all wet!” You replied, eyeing your husband.

He just shrugged, as if a soaked dress was the least of his worries – which it technically was.

“Should’ve taken it off, princesa, not my fault.” Miguel splashed some more water on you, which just made Gabriel get even more overprotective – he wrapped his tiny arms around your neck, covering your face with his, and swearing he wouldn’t “let Papa bother you anymore”.

All you could do was smile.

“Don’t worry, Papa never bothers me.”

After a while of splishing and splashing around, you placed Gabriel on the floor, and with him holding your hand, started walking out of the ocean.

As soon as your feet were the only thing it could touch, you took off your soaked dress, earning a whistle from your husband.

“Mierda…” He mumbled under his breath, somewhat imperceptibly, before running a hand through his hair. You looked ravishing. That bikini did wonders for your figure, hugging your body in the perfect way, accentuating the shape of your breasts and panties gracefully flattering on the natural shape of your hips.

And the colour – holy shock, the colour rested against your skin tone, complementing it perfectly. Miguel had to say – you knew exactly what you were doing when you bought that bikini.

He slowly approached you, a sort of low groan erupting in his chest, and that’s when he looked around and found at least a dozen of people staring at you. Men raising their eyebrows comically, licking their lips, women’s jaws opening and closing, unable to form a single sentence.

In that moment, Miguel knew the very thought that was running through all their minds: “Fuck. What a woman.”

He himself felt his swimming shorts too confining for a few moments – Miguel could swear the fabric was tightening around him, but the public beach was not the time nor place to have such filthy thoughts about you. Not when he had to make sure everyone around you knew exactly just who you belonged to.

While you happily made sure your son wouldn’t go too far in the water, Miguel approached you from behind and encircled your waist with his arms, bringing you closer.

“Te ves deliciosa.” He whispered, lips pressing against your cheek, the shell of your ear, your neck. “¿Todo esto es para mí?” To prove his point, he tugged at the straps of your bikini, which filled you with confidence.

Just a few minutes before you were feeling self-conscious, wondering if your handsome husband would perhaps not find you attractive anymore once he looked around himself and saw what other people had to offer – and here we was, almost salivating at the sight of you.

“Like what you see, Mr. O’Hara?” You whispered back in an almost identically sultry voice.

“Muchíssimo.” Miguel answered, hands coming to rest on your waist as his head did the same on your shoulder. A gentle kiss here, a playful nip there.

“In fact, I think you’re the one who has to cover up and never leave the house again.” His sweet words were whispered against your skin, as if he was trying, with all his might, to embed him into you. How could he make sure you knew just how much he loved you, how beautiful he thought you were? Would you ever truly know the way Miguel looked at you? How he saw you in his eyes, what you really were to him?

You laughed, turning to him, cupping his jaw, your whole entire world, in his hands. You kissed his jaw, his cheek, his usual frown (now a gentle smile), before pressing your back to his chest once again. Miguel knew this to be your favourite position – the two of you, holding each other close, as you looked at your son.

For a while, the two of you watched as Gabriel played near the water, collecting seashells and making tiny pools, jumping over each wave and overall, just rediscovered the beauty of the beach. And you were smitten.

“Thank you,” You say, placing your hand on top of his.

“What for?” Was the reply Miguel gave you.

“For taking the day off. For being with us today.”

You could feel Miguel’s smile as you continued to speak.

“I know that things have been a bit hectic in the Spider-Society, and that you’re a busy man; but it means a lot to me that you’re spending time with us. Gabriel thinks it too. He couldn’t shut up about how ‘Papa was taking him to the beach’.”

It was true. All of it. Miguel was a busy man, but he always did his best to be around you, to be around his family and be the best father he possibly could. Even if he was tired and in the brink of exhaustion, he would always spare some time to read Gabriel a bedtime story and hear about your day.

Because Miguel O’Hara had found peace in life, he could allow himself to simply be Miggy, or Papa, as opposed to being Spiderman all the time. Because Miguel O’Hara had found you, he could rest.

How he managed to land such an amazing wife and child, he has no idea. Miguel thinks he must’ve done some really great thing in his past life, like sacrifice himself to save the entire universe, or find a cure to some rare disease. What else could explain how fortunate he was, to marry the woman of his dreams, the woman who filled his days with laughter and love, the one who was always there, who helped and cheered him on every step of the way? And to have a son with her? For her to have given him the honour of making him a father, Miguel is sure he must’ve discovered life in another planet and saved all humankind.

“I’m just glad we can have a good time. I missed hanging out with you both.” He says, hands delicately trailing your hips. “And I most definitely missed seeing you like this.” A wandering finger tugged at your bikini straps once again, and he was rewarded with the most melodious sound in the whole world, your laughter.

What can he say?

He is a lucky man.

“How’s your sandwich, honey?” You asked, looking up to face your son.

Gabriel had gotten hungry, so you gave him one of the tuna sandwiches you packed, along with a juice box. He was sitting on his towel, hat comfortably on his head (Spiderman themed, obviously), while you were lying down on your stomach, silently watching him.

“It’s good! I like the lettuce! It’s gonna make me big and strong like Spiderman, right Mama?” Gabriel O’Hara, ever the Spiderman fan. You nodded to his words.

“Absolutely, honey. You’ll grow up to be just like him if you keep eating your vegetables.”

There was a big chance of him growing up to look like Spiderman, vegetables or not, but you wouldn’t tell him that. Besides, Gabriel was unaware of his father’s secret identity, and you wanted to keep it that way for a long time.

Gabriel kept munching on his snack, and you sighed contentedly, deciding to close your eyes and listen to the sound of the waves hitting the shore. How relaxing it all felt.

Miguel had gone for a swim, and you were waiting for him to come back so you could also eat your sandwich.

So, you settled for watching your little bundle of joy have his lunch.

Just as you’re about to give your eyes some rest (safely assured that your son is okay since he started educating you on the amazing world of sandcastles), you hear Gabriel giggle, and then quickly become quiet.

And then again.

He giggles, and suddenly stops.

You open your eyes, confused as to why your son seems to be acting so weird.

When you look at him, you see him looking behind you and covering his mouth with his hands. What the hell is going on?

But before you can turn around and find out for yourself, you feel a massive weight on top of you.

And not only that –

It’s wet.

Freezing, even.

And that’s when it hits you.

“Miguel!” You shrieked, as your son laughed and laughed and laughed.

“Ah, so comfortable!” Miguel said, adjusting his body so that he wasn’t squeezing you under him, but still pressed his body against yours. “Mijo, have you seen your mother?” He asked comically, pretending to look around.

“Yeah! She’s right there!” Gabriel said with a wide smile, pointing at you.

You wanted to be upset, truly. You’d been lying under the sun for a while, and while your body was scalding hot, his was positively freezing. But anything that got your son to laugh was fine by you, and there was no denying the whole situation was amusing.

“There? Where?” Miguel looked around and scratched his head, appearing truly confused. “I don’t see her. Mi amor? Where are you?”

So you decided to, well, quite literally, flip the situation. You reached your arms up behind you (a rather difficult feat, thanks to the position you were in), and managed to run your fingers along the sides of Miguel’s torso, making him jump in surprise, and roll on to the sand next to you. Sure, he was tall and bulky and strong and somewhat intimidating to the average person. But you were his wife, and you knew Miguel O’Hara to be ticklish in a few spots.

You decide to take advantage of that power, seizing the moment. Miguel is on his back, so you’re quick to tickle him. Soon enough, Gabriel is next to you, the rest of his sandwich carefully folded on top of his towel, and the both of you are tickling the living hell out of your husband.

“Cariño – ah! Ah, mi Cielo, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He pleaded in between breaths, laughing loudly at the sudden attack. He could push you two away at any moment, but for now, he wanted to play into it. “I won’t do it again, ah – promise!”

Gabriel seemed to beam at his words.

“Then say Gabriel-Man is the strongest! Say I win!” He gleefully remarked.

“Vale, vale, Gabriel-Man is the strongest! I have been defeated! You win, Gabriel-Man!” Miguel fakes a defeated sigh and drops his hand on the sand with his eyes closed.

“Mama! Mama, we win! See? We won; I saved you!” Gabriel practically jumped on top of you, hugging you tightly. You hugged him back just as tight, smothering him with kisses. No place in his face was untouched by your lips – you covered him in affection and were rewarded with the joyful sounds of your son’s laughter.

“Yes, my love, you did save me! Thank you so much!” You smiled and looked at him with all of the adoration in the entire world.

Meanwhile, Miguel had been watching this interaction with heart eyes, completely smitten by the sight before him. How could he possibly want anything other than the two people in front of him? His loving wife and the amazing son you blessed him with. Miguel feels a rush of affection run in his veins and takes a mental picture of the display before him.

He slowly sits up and smiles at Gabriel, who drops the superhero antics and jumps into his father’s arms.

“I saved you too Papa! I did!” Miguel smiles and holds Gabriel close to him with one arm, using his free one to pull you onto his lap.

“You sure did, mijo.” He looks at you, stars in his eyes, hoping to convey just a fraction of the devotion he feels towards you and Gabriel.

He meets your beautiful eyes and – Fuck. You’re gorgeous. You’re so gorgeous, and you’re his, and he’s so, so lucky to have you.

You wrap your arms around the both of them – your husband and your son, the two lights that shine as one, the lights that serve as guidance in everything you do.

“Enjoying beach day so far?” You question him as you place your lips dangerously close to his.

“Mhm.” Your husband smiles, and you swear you could get lost in this beautiful smile at him. The smile he flashes you when he’s completely there, with you, with no burdens and responsibilities, the one he gives you when he is utterly happy, the one you love waking up to. “In fact, I think we should do this more often.”

You giggle – a the most beautiful sound, in Miguel’s humble opinion – and finally kiss him, hand cupping his jaw. You taste of salt and home, and Miguel wishes he could freeze not only this day, but this particular moment in time. He kisses you softly, savouring the unspoken promises between the two of you, the ones that promise you are not going anywhere. When you pull away for air, he rests his forehead against yours.

Gabriel quickly joined you both, attempting to do the same thing and resting his forehead against his parents’.

A smile graced your lips. You wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.

“Yeah,” You say, “We should.”

A/N: I love this man omg. I just know he'd be super playful when it's just him and his family, he'd come out of the water all wet and be like "Who wants a hug?" to his s/o, even though they're absolutely dry. My delusions are getting the best of me, I swear.

Spanish Translations

No les hagas caso - Don't mind them Mis ojos solo te ven a ti - I only have eyes for you Mi amor - My love Qué? - What? Princesa - Princess Mierda - Shit Te ves deliciosa - You look delicious ¿Todo esto es para mí? - All this for me? Muchíssimo - Very much Mijo - My son (It's short for "mi hijo", sort of a sweet nickname used by parents) Cariño - My dear (Another endearement term used for a significant other) Mi Cielo - My sky Vale, vale - Fine, fine

#miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara scenarios #miguel o'hara x f!reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #miguel x reader #miguel x you #miguel x y/n #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x y/n #spiderman 2099 x you #atsv x reader #atsv x you #miguel spiderman #across the spiderverse fanfiction #astv miguel #astv fanfic #astv fic #spiderverse x you #spiderverse x reader #spiderverse x y/n

[discokicks]

THE KIDS AIN'T FINE, FINE - ROY KENT.

PART THREE of ACES AT THE WATER'S EDGE.

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

pairing: roy kent x fem!reader (no use of y/n!)

summary: in 2012, roy’s summer olympic training camp is going (surprisingly) well. the same can’t be said for your new and current arrangement at richmond. and while you two think you’re doing a good job at keeping your bickering discreet, certain people are starting to notice that something’s up. and some are handling it better than others.

word count & rating: 11.8k (holy shit), R (typical roy kent fruity language)

chapter warnings: swearing, minor allusions to sexual assault and harassment, a sprinkling of sexual tension (we'll get there y'all), talk of alcohol and alcohol use, ploooot, lots of football/soccer/coaching talk, major angst, typical bickering, slight fluff.

author's note: i’m baaaaaaack and we're in it now, folks! we're covering A LOT of ground in this part. whole lotta relationship building and exposition. we're getting to the fun stuff soon, promise. and for the sake of my plot/pacing, we're pretending there was a week of time between last chapter and this one, despite them both taking place within the 3x02 timeframe. thank you for the love on the last chapter, i'm truly having so much fun writing this, so it's so exciting to see that people are enjoying it. ok, shutting up now, love u all tons, let's goooo! - mags

PRESENT DAY. (MID-AUGUST, 2023)

There are two days until Richmond’s first game of the season and you think you’ve slept approximately four and a half hours this entire week.

Despite the fact that your days weren’t too intense (pre-season practices were typically a little more involved and could stretch longer, and your Coaches' meetings never kept you past an unreasonable hour), your nights were rather rough. They seemed to be endless while also never offering quite enough time.

This was all self-inflicted, though. From the second you returned home from Nelson Road, you dove back into work, studying game film and your new players, attempting to figure out exactly what made this team tick. You thought about potential plays and formations in the shower, nearly slipping and cracking your head open each time you raced out to draw something up. You rehearsed things you wanted to say during practices, making sure each line was insightful and understandable, without overstepping any sort of boundaries.

Boundaries were key, here. You were hyper-aware of those now.

However, it wasn’t like you were saying the majority of these things. For the first time in almost a decade, you’d found yourself biting your tongue more often than not. You were friendly and encouraging like any good coach was, but you were agreeable. Quiet. Hesitant.

Those were issues and you knew that. That’s not what a coach was supposed to be, especially the coach of an AFC team. But that stupid fucking anxiety that you couldn’t shake had muzzled you. The fear made you weak. And while you hated it, you couldn’t rid yourself of it. That only made you feel more pathetic. 

And it wasn’t like the Richmond team hadn’t done everything in their power to make you feel welcome. The ‘primary school-level art’ Roy had spoken of on your first day had been a large ‘Welcome to Richmond’ banner held by the team in the locker room, each of the players greeting you with a wide smile on their faces. While, yes, it did look like it’d been put together by a couple of third-graders (with the exception of a wildly intricate sunflower in the corner done by Dani Rojas), the thought behind it nearly made you cry. 

All of the players had personally introduced themselves to you throughout the week, some keeping it short and sweet like Jaan Maas, others, such as Sam, approaching with lists of questions; not just about your professional life, but personal life, too.

They each were respectful and kind, listening to the few things you did work up the courage to say and seemed to take them to heart. They listened to you. They wanted to hear from you. They wanted to get to know you.

And you couldn’t fucking allow yourself to do it.

Your distant and rather closed-off behavior hadn’t gone unnoticed. While you thought you were keeping it cool and polite, certain players and people (AKA your entire coaching staff and boss) couldn’t help but see through what you’re doing. 

This becomes evident early one morning, approximately five days after you begin. You’re the first one at the Richmond facilities, having stayed up for so long that night that you figured you might as well just stay awake for training. You’re only the slightest bit delirious and are trying not to vibrate due to the three cups of coffee that are currently coursing through your system.

You’re about to take a sip of your fourth when you hear a knock on your office door. The sound makes you pause— nobody’s supposed to be here until eight, at least. 

The voice behind the knock reveals the identity immediately. “You’re here early, Coach.”

Unconsciously, your body goes rigid. You thought you’d be alone. You’ve only been here for a couple days, but nobody seemed to come in this early. Especially not Jamie Tartt.

What was he doing here? Why was he here so early? Was it just him? Or were there others with him? Anxiety floods through your veins at the idea of being alone in your office with this team’s star player. It creeps along your spine and into your mind and taunts you with ‘what ifs’, It’s stupid and it makes no sense and you hate yourself for it, but you can’t find a way to stop it. 

And it’s not even his fault. It has nothing to do with him. But you can’t seem to convince yourself of that.

Without turning around, you greet him. “C-Could say the same for you, Jamie.”

Jamie Tartt chuckles from your doorframe. “Having trouble sleepin’ lately,” he tells you, sounding slightly confused by your refusal to face him. “Thought I’d show up early.”

You force yourself to turn, crossing your arms over your chest. You ignore how clammy your palms are as your hands ball to fists. “Is that… typical for you?” you ask. “To show up at this time?”

“Not at all,” he replies with a shake of his head. The smile on his face is easy. Polite. Comfortable. “Just got a lot on me mind lately. Makes me sleep shitty.”

“Sorry to hear that.” You attempt the same politeness but your words come out clipped. You can’t tell if he notices. 

Jamie nods. “Oh, it’s whatever. I’ll get over it.”

The dead air you’re met with is almost painful. You know you should be better at this. You know you should be engaging in this type of small talk, trying to get to know your team. You’re their coach, for fuck’s sake. You know what you need to do.

But as you stare at Jamie, you can’t get anything to come out. You don’t want to say the wrong thing. You don’t want to overstep your boundaries or his. You don’t want to screw this up too. One wrong move and it could be over for you.

The hesitation clearly reads on your face and this time, you can tell Jamie notices. However, what you notice is the way he lingers at your door.

Finally, you muster up the courage to ask, “Is there something I can help you with?”

That seems to be what he was looking for. His shoulders sag as he nods, glancing behind him to see if there’s anyone around. “I was just…” He enters your office, plopping himself down into Roy’s desk chair with a lazy spin, and the action makes your throat tighten. “Is, uh… Is Zava really coming to Richmond?”

You don’t know what you were expecting from him, but it certainly wasn’t that. The question catches you off guard. “Oh,” you say. You shrug, arms uncrossing. “Uh, I mean… it’s being talked about. I’m still kind of new, but it seems like every team’s kinda trying to get him. I know West Ham was trying hard for sure, so… not sure if we’ll win him over.”

Jamie nods. “But it’s on the table?”

His tone doesn’t match the question. Everyone else— each player, coach, fan, everyone has the same type of excitement when talking about the prospect of Zava. And you get it. 

But Jamie doesn’t seem to be in the same boat. And immediately, you get that too.

The realization makes you part your lips, something like sympathy rising up inside you. Jamie’s the star. The Ace. He’s Richmond’s playmaker and he thinks he’s going to be sidelined because of it. And honestly, he may just be right.

“Yeah,” you reply. “It’s still on the table.” He nods once more, like he’s confirming a reality he didn’t want to face. In an attempt to reassure him, you awkwardly try, “But there’s still a lot of ‘what-ifs’ that have to happen before that does. The probability of it happening is like, super low.” Jamie looks at you. “So, I wouldn’t worry about it until it does.”

That makes Jamie shake his head. “I’m not worried about it,” he nearly scoffs. You can’t help the way you look at him, eyebrows raised and calling him out on his bullshit. “I’m not!”

“Good,” you say, backing off from this type of conversation before it can start. The idea of getting into any type of argument makes you tense. “You don’t have to be.”

That seems to satisfy him. Momentarily. Because then he asks, “But if he does…” As he trails off, he meets your expectant eyes. “Could we… Could you help me out?”

The question gives you pause. “In what way? Giving you updates on where we are with Zava?”

“No,” he chuckles. “I mean, like… training me. One on one? Or even just giving me more notes in practice?”

The second he says training, your entire body freezes. He wanted to do one-on-one training sessions with you? Just the two of you? Alone? The last time someone you’d coached had asked you that…

Jamie’s expression contorts in confusion as he sees the look on your face. “I just thought that, like, we played the same position? And y’know, I’ve seen your film and I know what you do and… I think you’d be able to help me.”

You try to answer him but the words don’t come out. Your throat’s dry, jaw tight. However, luckily, before Jamie has time to fully panic about his questions, you crush them. “Uh, I’m—” Your voice cracks. “I’m not sure I’d be comfortable with that just yet.”

Your answer seems to surprise him, but you’re surprised by how quickly he backs off. He physically takes a step back, throwing his hands up. “Oh, yeah. Of course,” he says. “You just got here. Don’t really know us yet. Totally get it.”

You hadn’t expected that. The last time, you’d been fought. Begged. Coerced. You’re the only one who seems to get me, Coach. You just know how to teach me. C’mon.

But Jamie doesn’t do that. And you’re not sure what to do with that.

“I-I’m sorry,” you manage to get out. “Nothing against you, but I’m just—” You interrupt yourself with a new offer. “Maybe ask Roy?”

That Jamie actually scoffs at. “Right.”

“I’m serious,” you tell him. “He’s actually a pretty good trainer.”

“No, he’s uh…” Jamie swipes at his mouth as he laughs. “He’s not my biggest fan.”

His admission makes you laugh and relax for a moment. “Well, at least we’ve got that in common, Tartt.”

Jamie’s gaze snaps to yours at that, but his oncoming question is interrupted by a voice from the hallway. “The fuck are you two doing here so early?”

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Roy’s voice is a welcome one for the first time in eight years. Your eyes flash to him as he stands outside your shared office, glancing between the two of you in confusion. 

“We both had trouble sleeping,” you respond. “Felt like being early for once.”

Jamie nods in agreement. “Was shootin’ a bit outside. Saw the light was on and wanted to say hi to Coach.”

Roy nods but says nothing to that. He just continues to stare at Jamie in that vaguely intimidating, wildly annoying way. Jamie’s brows raise before Roy says, “You’re in my fucking chair.”

Jamie rolls his eyes. “Yeah. Because you weren’t here. I was gonna get out when you got in.”

“Well, I’m in now,” Roy says. “So get out of my fucking chair.”

Jamie glances at you with a cheeky smile. “Grandad doesn’t like people in his chair.”

The corners of your lips twitch up. “Grandad doesn’t like a lot of things,” you reply, a strange sense of pride rising within you as Jamie’s grin widens.

“Grandad’s about to go out back out into the car park and drive through the facility if my chair’s not empty in three fucking seconds,” Roy grits.

You bite back a smile at the empty threat, watching as Jamie shakes his head and stands. “Easy there, geezer. I’m out. Going back to the pitch,” he tells you two, making his way out of the office. Before he leaves, he glances back at you. “And Coach? Don’t worry about what I said.”

You can feel Roy’s eyes on the side of your face as you give Jamie a small, grateful smile. But when he exits, it drops and you fail to hold back a heavy, shaky sigh. God, why the fuck can’t you do your fucking job? Why does this have to be so hard?

Less than a second of silence passes between you and Roy before he asks, “What did he say?”

You shake your head. “Nothing. Nothing important.”

Roy doesn’t take the hint. He’s never been good at that. “What did he say?” he repeats.

“He—” You slump into your desk chair, running a hand down your face. You know avoiding this is no use. He’ll ask until he gets it out of you, so you might as well get it over with. “He asked me for extra training.”

Roy’s brows shoot up. “You?”

You glare at him from behind your fingers. “I’m a fantastic coach.”

“I know you are. But there’s no way he could have known.”

Your glare only gets more intense as you drop your hands. The implication of his statement isn’t lost on you. No one knows anything about you because of how little you’ve spoken. You get that. But he doesn’t need to be a dick about it.

“It doesn’t matter,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “I said no, so.”

“You said no?” He sounds incredulous. “Since when do you say no?”

“Since—” The words get caught in your throat again, and it tightens horribly. Since West Ham. Since you said no more times than you could count and it went ignored.

You shake your head like it’ll clear your thoughts. “I’m just not comfortable with it.”

Roy’s suspicious. In your experience, a suspicious Roy Kent is just about as bad as a deceitful Roy Kent. Every fucking move you make for the next week will be under scrutiny until he can pinpoint whatever he thinks is happening. The idea makes you want to take him up on his offer to drive through the facility.

His eyes stay on you, calculating stare never breaking. “Why?” he asks, as if he’s expecting a simple answer.

But it’s not simple. It’s so unbelievably, wildly, completely the opposite of simple. 

But you give him a simple answer in return. It’s a bullshit answer, but it’s simple. “Boundaries,” you say. You’re out of your chair before he can respond to that. “I’m going to get more coffee.”

He says nothing as you exit, but you can feel his eyes on you. 

LONDON OLYMPICS. (LATE JULY, 2012)

As it turns out, Roy Kent’s Olympic Boot Camp is wildly more effective and insanely more fun than you thought it ever could be.

The two of you had met up twice since the night of the Opening Ceremony, at the same field, typically at the late-night same time. Roy had continued to send Roger the Driver for you, something you’d taken gladly advantage of, especially with your limited knowledge of the London area. You’d actually grown to love Roger despite his rather talkative nature, and he’d clearly taken a liking to you. 

(“Be kind to this one, Roy!” he’d yelled from the window as you’d exited his car. “The States need her much more than England needs you!”

“Fuck off, you old twat!”)

However, while these trainings had been way better than you’d expected, it’s also way fucking harder than you anticipated. 

You knew Roy was good. He was an AFC star. A Chelsea legend in the making. He was as well known as he was for a reason, and it wasn’t just because he frequented a tabloid cover. Roy was good.

But you think you may have underestimated just how good he was.

And it wasn’t like you weren’t keeping up with him. You could go shot for shot with him, run the same length and duration, and score on him with the same type of precision. Of course, he had his things that he was better at than you were (as a midfielder, he was a smart, fucking brick wall of a defender and wasn’t afraid to push you around) and you had your strengths over him (you were quicker than he was and your striker nature made you better at anticipating him). But there were certain things he’d do in the midst of a 1v1 drill that you would have never thought of, or he’d stop a play to give you a direction that had never occurred to you.

(Or, it would have occurred to you, but just not as quickly.)

That, coupled with the fact that he liked to run these practices until your lungs gave out, made for an intensely more challenging but rewarding experience.

But you didn’t think of them as rewarding until they were over. Case in point, your current and third meeting with him. It was 1:30 in the morning at Mabley Green on the 2nd of August and here you were, growing more and more frustrated with the fact that you couldn’t get around Roy despite the aggressive amount of fakes and footwork you were throwing around. He’d been in your ear the entire time, somehow encouraging you while still being a shit, and when you thought you had him, he stuck out a leg to stop the ball, effectively tripping you in the process.

You hit the ground with an ‘oof,’ taking advantage of your new horizontal position to lie for a minute and catch your breath. Your chest heaved up and down and you stared up at the huge lights illuminating the field. You could hear Roy walking toward you as you threw your arm over your eyes in exhaustion.

“You’re a dick,” you told him. “That fucking hurt.”

Roy’s scoff was loud. “That was a fucking dive.”

“You tripped me!”

“Bit dramatic.”

An affronted sound left your lips and you put your other hand up in a way that resembled a phone. “I’ve got the kettle on the line right now if you’d like to tell it it’s black.” 

You were surprised to hear him chuckle at this. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

Your eyes roll from behind your arm. “I’m serious,” you say. “All you boys act like you were shot the second someone marks you. It’s pathetic.”

“Refs miss shit. You gotta put on a show.”

“Is that show The O.C? Because I’m always expecting an auto-tuned ‘mmm, whatcha say’ to sound off each time one of you losers hits the ground.”

Roy’s standing above you now, looking down with a half-amused expression. “I don’t know what the fuck that means.” He’s talking again before you can explain. “Get up. We’re not finished yet.”

A loud, ugly groan escapes you. You still haven’t completely caught your breath. “I think I’m dying.”

“You’re fine. Get up.”

“I’m serious,” you say again. You finally remove your arm from over your eyes, squinting up at him. He’s as unamused as ever. “I think I’m dying and you killed me. I think if you tried to get me up right now, I’d collapse and stroke out or something.”

“And it would be a fucking loss for us all,” he replies dryly, earning a scowl from you. “I’ve got you for another thirty. We’re wasting time.”

You release another groan and squeeze your eyes shut once more. “Can I please just have, like, five minutes?” you plead. “Not all of us have this military-regimented training style that you seem to. I haven’t been this dialed in since college. Still trying to adjust here.”

(You’ve also never trained like this with someone as good as him before, but you keep that one to yourself. He doesn’t need the ego boost.)

You don’t hear anything in response for a moment. Confused, you open your eyes, expecting to find him still staring down at you with a frown, but he’s not there. Before you can rise to find him, a plastic water bottle lands right next to your head. You flinch in surprise, shooting up to glare at him.

Roy sits down across from you before you can complain. “Five minutes,” he agrees. 

“Oh, thank God,” you mutter, opening up your water to take a long gulp. You glance at him. “Are all of your Boot Camps as intense as this?”

Roy rolls his eyes at your question. “I’m sure you’ve been to worse.”

“I have. But in like, high school. This shit’s got nothing on my two-week sleep-away soccer camp in Western Massachusetts.” You pause for a moment. “Or the one in North Carolina. That one sucked.”

He looks over at you. “Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. Six A.M. early training sessions into all-day drills and tournament game play? Followed by a lovely nine P.M. late-night training?” You shake your head. “Insane. And that early and late-night stuff? Totally optional.”

“But you still chose to do it,” he states, brows raised.

“I still chose to do it,” you repeat. “That, and my psycho coach would keep tabs on me to make sure I was going.” You chuckle despite yourself and shrug. “But I did it. Without complaint.”

“I see you picked up the complaining later in life.”

You make a face at the way he smirks. “I’d be a masochist if I didn’t complain about this,” you tell him, biting back a smile. “I assume you were born with that trait?”

“Just fucking about,” he mutters. At your inquisitive look, he shrugs. “Sunderland scouted me when I was nine. Training was pretty fucking rough until I went into the AFC.”

“I forgot you guys could start that stuff that young over here,” you say, taking another sip of your water. “Was that tough?”

“I kept up,” he answers. “They were hard on us but—”

“No,” you interrupt. “I meant like, doing that shit at nine. Being away from your family. Being on your own that young. Was that hard?”

With every reason you listed, you could see him stiffening. His expression became harder and you figured if he could push a button to put a wall between you two, he would. Your stomach sank as you tried to figure out if you’d said the wrong thing or pushed too far. Maybe that was a boundary he wasn’t willing to cross. Despite the amount you’d spoken these past three sessions, maybe you weren’t yet friendly enough to ask about his upbringing. 

But then again, he barely talked about himself in any capacity, so maybe it wasn’t just that. Maybe it was everything.

He was quiet for a moment before he shook his head. “No,” he finally said, though the one word alone let you know the answer was the opposite. He glanced down at his watch. “Five minutes are up.”

And that conversation is over. Got it. No questions about his childhood. Understood.

Still, the dismissal catches you slightly off guard. “O-Oh,” you stammer. “Right. Okay.”

Roy said nothing else as he stood, making his way back to the end of the pitch. You suppose you should have expected that from someone like him. While he’d gotten better as a conversationalist as the days had passed, you still led the majority of the talking. And you were fine with that. You were a pretty open book yourself and often forgot that most people weren’t the same way. Maybe that was on you.

You sit for a moment, allowing him some distance before you stand. You throw your water bottle to the sideline and follow behind him, feeling a bit like a dog that just got scolded. But you quickly shake that feeling away as he stops where he left the ball and turns to you, kicking it in your direction.

You put your foot on it as you receive it and look at him expectantly. “I’m setting a timer for thirty seconds,” he tells you, starting to fiddle with his watch. “We’re staying in the box. If you don’t score on me within that time, you run a lap.”

Well, that just sounds like your own personal hell. You frown. “And if I do score?”

“You won’t,” Roy replies quickly, and you don’t know if you’ve ever heard him sound more sure.

“No, but when I do score?” you repeat, emphasizing the word to see him roll his eyes. “What happens? We subtract a lap?”

Roy shrugs. “Sure. But—”

“No,” you say, eyes lighting up. “You have to run.”

“I’m not the one being trained here.”

“Yeah, but I’ve got a match tomorrow. And if my legs like, give out on the field I’m totally blaming you.” You roll the ball against your cleat. “‘I’m sure that ‘Roy Kent being the reason America loses’ isn’t exactly the headline your PR team’s gonna want.”

“I don’t give a fuck about PR,” he replies.

Images of rather negative tabloid covers and online gossip articles starring the man before you start flashing through your head. “Clearly.”

“I just don’t want anyone knowing I’m fraternizing with a fucking Yank,” he finishes, a smirk tugging at his lips. 

An overly fake and affronted gasp leaves your lips. “Fraternizing?” you parrot. “Is that what we’re doing?”

“Guess not,” he says. The smug expression intensifies. “Suppose I could tell them we’re training. Because the girl who’s supposed to be America’s fucking Ace needs it.”

That sparks a fire in you that you haven’t felt in a while. You can’t remember the last time someone challenged you like this. Sure, the women you played against would talk a fair amount of shit to you on and off the field, especially during a tight game when tensions were running high. But this was different. It was different hearing it from someone like him.

You’d never liked having to prove yourself. You knew it came with the territory of your chosen career path. You’d been doing it all your life. For every team you joined, every game you played, and every interview you gave, you’d been given an opportunity to prove yourself. And each time, you did. You were good at showing people up. But that didn’t mean you liked it.

You figured at some point people would just get the message. But unfortunately, that had never been the case.

So, as you look at Roy (who, by this point, knew he’d hit a nerve and had gotten the exact response he’d wanted), you know exactly what you’re going to do. You’re going to prove yourself and show him up like the rest.

With that settled, you nod at him. “Start the clock,” you say.

And as soon as he does, you’re on.

You attack without caution this time around. You’d never held back when practicing with Roy (mainly because he’d reprimand you if he felt you weren’t trying hard enough), but you also rarely had an edge to you like this. It’s new and aggressive and just a bit exciting.

Roy’s fucking ecstatic to see it. His chest meets your back as you attempt to pass him and you can feel him chuckling against it. “That’s it,” he says lowly. “Get around me. I fucking dare you.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, attempting a fake before moving to go the other way.

Said attempt ends up being less than successful as Roy fails to fall for it and kicks the ball out from beneath your foot. You swear under your breath, watching as it sails out of the box.

You’re close enough to him to still feel his chest moving up and down against your back, and his breath tickles your neck when he asks, “Is that seriously the best you’ve got?”

Your jaw clenches, but you refuse to look at him. “I’m gonna fucking destroy you.”

The certainty in your voice makes Roy grin, something you don’t see as you jog to retrieve the ball. The remnants of the smile stick around as you whip around to face him, commanding that he start the clock once more. The moment he does as he’s told, you’re coming at him again, nothing but determination to be seen in your expression.

This time, you’re quick. You anticipate his classic defensive stance, knowing that he’ll block your first shot. As soon as the ball bounces off his foot, you’re there for the rebound. You stop short, pulling back the moment he makes yet another move to take it from you, and he slips. 

You easily score on him not a second later.

After watching the ball fly into the net, you glance over at Roy. While he doesn’t look thrilled to have been bested, he doesn’t look sad either. Again, it’s like there are remnants of a smile left to be seen. 

“So,” you say. “Are we at zeroes for laps? Or one for one?”

Roy shakes his head. “One for one. Let’s keep fucking going.”

PRESENT DAY. (MID AUGUST, 2023)

It isn’t until the end of practice that you can feel it. How much Roy wants to fight with you.

It sounds stupid to phrase it like that, but it’s the only way. He’s pent up, a week into your ‘no fighting’ deal, and ready to burst. And while it’s worked (only because you two strictly talk about work and nothing else), now that he’s got something more personal to say, it’s like you’re waiting for an active volcano.

To be fair, your deal has worked in terms of not making a scene and not raising most people’s suspicions. But every other level, it’s been torturous. And right now? Roy’s ready to kill you.

He can’t, for the life of him, understand why you’re acting like this. 

He knows you. You’re warm. You’re friendly. You have this innate ability to make everyone around you comfortable in your presence, an ability to talk to anyone and everyone and actually get through. All of these things, coupled with the fact that he could never shut you up, made you who you were; a great teammate and an even better coach. 

(They were also all qualities Roy wished he had himself, which is why he was so fucking drawn to you in the first place, but that’s neither here nor there.)

He doesn’t know who this is. But he knows for a fact that these changes aren’t just because of time.

Roy’s breaking point, however, occurs toward the end of your Thursday practice. It’d been a good day, the boys showing more promise than ever. End-of-pre-season jitters (as Ted called them) were in full force and it was clear that the team couldn’t be more excited to get started with the season.

In your return back into the facility, Sam Obisanya trails back to fall into step with you with a wide smile on his face. He doesn’t miss the look of surprise you give him as he says, “I really liked what you said about passing around the box. I’ve been thinking that for all of pre-season, but did not know how to get it through to everyone.”

The point he’s referring to was one of the only things you’d said all afternoon. It was a quiet direction on your part, told more as a recommendation than an instruction. But Sam, Jamie, Colin, and Dani had taken it in stride, and it worked. Cleanly, too. You straight-up almost cried out of relief.

“Oh,” you say to him lamely, offering a small smile. “Thank you. You guys did great with it.”

Sam’s grin gets wider. “We all are going to eat after we’re done here,” he tells you. “You should join us.”

You can feel your stomach drop at the offer. You don’t want to turn him down. Poor Sam was trying so hard to make an effort with you and you feel completely awful giving him nothing in return. 

But you just… can’t. Boundaries. Boundaries.

Sam gets his answer from the way your smile turns apologetic. “I wish I could,” you say, knowing that it’s the truth. “But, I, uh— I’ve actually got plans tonight.”

“You could just come for a drink?” he offers. “I’m only going for a little while myself. I have some things at the restaurant I need to do.”

Your heart clenches. “I really wish I could.”

Thankfully, Sam takes the hint. He nods at you, still smiling. You don’t think he’s ever stopped. “That’s alright,” he says. “Another time.”

You nod back. “Yeah. Another time.”

With that, Sam goes to catch up with his teammates and leaves you with an overwhelming amount of guilt on your shoulders. 

He’s trying, you tell yourself. They all are. It’s different than West Ham. They’re not the same. Nobody on this team is like him—

You can feel yourself getting nauseous at the mere thought of him. It completely takes you out of the moment and your hands begin to shake back and forth as you attempt to continue walking, clenching your teeth as if that’ll rid your mind of him.

How strange it is to be haunted by someone who’s still living.

You’re already disoriented enough when you feel a hand grab your arm and yank you to the side. Your world spins for a moment and when it stabilizes, you realize you’re in the Boot Room staring at Roy Kent.

He slams the door shut and whirls around on you. “What the fuck are you doing?”

You do a full, cartoon-like double-blink at him. “What am I doing?” you ask him incredulously. “What are you doing? Why the hell did you pull me in here like that?”

“You don’t have plans tonight,” is what he replies with, like that’s a reasonable answer to your question.

“And how would you know that?” you question. 

He gives you a look. “Because you fucking don’t.”

“I do,” you say, crossing your arms. Your mind scrambles to find some excuse that’s suitable. For whatever reason, you decide on, “I have a date.”

Roy’s brows rocket up. “Do you?”

You know he can see right through you, so you don’t even bother trying. “No,” you admit, watching him roll his eyes. “But I could have. You don’t know my schedule.”

Roy doesn’t seem to want to linger on this. “That’s the third fucking time one of them has invited you out since you got here,” he tells you, ignoring the way your eyes widen. “Why do you keep turning them down?”

“Why are you keeping track of that?” you shoot back.

“Because you’re being a fucking hermit.” As if he knows exactly what you’re going to say next, he holds out a hand. “And that’s my fucking job. That’s not who you are.”

His words make you deflate, and your arms get tighter over your chest. “I’m not being a hermit,” you mutter, looking away from him. “I’m just not trying to take work home with me. I don’t see anything wrong with keeping the two separate.”

Roy isn’t having it. “No, you’re not,” he says. “You’re not keeping the two separate. You’re shutting out every fucking person around you when you’re at work too.” 

“That’s not true—”

“Did you or did you not refuse to train Jamie yesterday morning?” he snaps. Your silence answers his question for him. “It is fucking true. And even if it weren’t, unfortunately, that whole keeping-work-separate fucking bullshit doesn’t work here. Trust me. I tried.”

You scoff. “Well, that sounds like an HR issue.”

“Well, when Ted stops leaving fucking flowers for the HR women every week, I’m sure they’ll start to take your complaints seriously,” he tells you, and you sigh. Heavy. “Now, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

This question earns him a glare. “There’s nothing wrong with me,” you bite. “And if there were, it surely wouldn’t concern you.”

“Yes, it fucking does. You know why?” he asks. You stare at him expectantly. “Because last week, I remember someone telling me that if this was going to work, we have to tell each other things.”

Your own words come back to bite you in the ass and it makes your chest tighten. You scoff in an attempt to play it off, but that panic starts rising inside of you and throws everything off course. You know that it’s stupid, and you know that it’s Roy, and that despite it all, deep down, nothing bad would come from telling him… it’s still scary.

You didn’t want to talk about it and he didn’t deserve to know. Not yet, at least.

“Not this,” you say after a beat. Your voice sounds meek and it makes Roy’s brow scrunch. “I’ll talk to you about anything else you want, but not…” You interrupt yourself with a breath. “Not this.” Then, you utter a word you haven't said in eight years. "Foxtrot."

It’s then that Roy’s expression turns from confused to shocked. His lips part in surprise, like he can’t believe that just left your mouth. And then he looks at you. Like, really looks at you. It almost intimidates you in a way, and it would intimidate you more if you didn’t know this look of his. Not only is he evaluating you, you can tell he’s holding something back.

You’d said the word. Pulled that thing out of the trenches and threw it in his face. But he's still staring at you, determined to figure out exactly how to approach this situation. Attempting to figure out if he should say something.

Because, unfortunately, as well as you know Roy, he knows you better. And he knows how to get through to you. 

(And it’s fucking irritating.)

He, in fact, does choose to say something. And it’s not what you’re expecting. Because before he says in, he reaches into his pocket for his wallet, filing through it. 

Your mouth parts in question. “Are you trying to bribe me into—”

“Shut up,” he mutters, and you do so until he seems to find what he’s looking for. He holds out a slip of paper-- something that appears to be a newspaper clipping from ages ago. “Here.”

You blink at it. “What is that?”

“Just fucking—” Roy sighs, adjusting his grip on the page. “Read it.”

Hesitantly, you reach out to grab it. Your fingers brush his when you take it, and the action alone makes the two of you glance at each other. You look away as you unfold the paper, quickly scanning it.

Newcomer Roy Kent is an over-hyped, so-called prodigy whose unbridled rage and mediocre talent rendered his Premier League debut a profound disappointment.

Your gaze shifts up at him knowingly. Roy can’t help but notice that most of the anger has slipped from your face. “Crimm?”

Roy nods once. “Crimm.”

“Was this your first game?” you ask, and when he nods again, things start to make a little more sense. You sigh, shoulders slumping. “You were seventeen.”

“I was seventeen,” he repeats, reaching out to take the clipping back from you. He only seems marginally surprised that you remembered that. “I was fucking seventeen years old and fucking debilitated by how nervous I was. I didn’t sleep for days before the game and then I went out there, I fucking survived it, and then read that shit. Didn’t sleep for days after it.” He shakes his head. “And then that prick fucking waltzes in here with his notepad and his stupid fucking hair like he didn’t fucking destroy me and wants to write a book about my team? Not a fucking chance.”

The outburst makes you stare at Roy in shock. He’d never mentioned anything like this to you. By the way he spoke of his earlier AFC days at Sunderland, you’d always assumed that it was smooth sailing. That while his career didn’t really take off until he joined Chelsea, he didn’t hold any resentment for anything that had happened. And while this may have seemed insignificant in the grand scheme of things, especially looking back at his career and other things people had said about him, this was Roy. Of course, he’d hold on to something like this.

“So, yeah,” he says, shifting uncomfortably under your gaze. “That’s why I won’t talk to Crimm. I don’t give a shit if you don’t get it, but that’s why.” He motions to you. “I showed you mine, so you show me yours, or whatever the fuck. That's how the counter-Foxtrot works, right?”

You do get it. You understand it better than anyone. But more importantly, you understand why he’d hold on to that. Roy, who could hold a grudge almost as well as you could. Roy, who hated the media and press and the world knowing shit about him more than anyone you knew. Roy, who felt and internalized things so deeply that he didn’t even realize he was doing it. 

It’s the first thing he’s clued you in on in years. Even if it was vague and minimal, he told you. And you know how much he didn’t want to. That’s good enough for you to allow yourself to clue him in too.

(God, he really does know how to get through, huh?)

You blink away from him, gaze focused on the door. “I just…” You clear your throat, throwing a hand up pathetically. “I don’t get why they want to get to know me so bad.”

“Because they’re good fucking lads,” he responds.

“I know. And it’s pissing me off,” you mutter. Your arms are still crossed and right now, that feels like the only thing that’s protecting you. The weight is comforting. “I know it sounds ungrateful and dumb and it doesn’t make sense, but I just wish they’d…”

“...Fuck off?”

“Yeah,” you huff. “That.”

Roy’s head tilts. “Why?”

You don’t want to tell him. You know how stupid he’ll think it is, you know you’ll get told you’re an idiot. But he’s already told you something. In your world of deals, that means something. And your words return again to taunt you.

If this is gonna work, you have to tell me things, okay?

Your eyes shut and a shaky breath escapes your lips. It all comes out at once, like you’re trying to exterminate them. “Because the last time I got to know the team, I got fired,” you tell him, and his entire demeanor shifts. “And I can’t do that again. That can’t happen again. So, if that means I have to be distant and a bit unfriendly, then so be it.”

The inquisitive look he wore vanished entirely, replaced with something harder and much more serious. “What do you mean?”

You can feel your skin start to crawl. Your shirt suddenly doesn’t feel right on your body. It’s too hot in this small Boot Room and it’s all suddenly too much. “N-Nothing,” you say, chest tightening. “It doesn’t matter. You asked for the reason, and I gave it to you. That’s why I’m being weird.”

Roy’s not buying it. He’s seen all your signs and he knows there’s more to this than you’re letting on. You can tell he’s battling whether or not to press forward, and if so, how to do so. Your eyes are pleading for him to drop it. 

“It wasn’t leadership differences,” he decides to land on. He says it like he’s always known. Like it may be confirming another suspicion. But it’s vague enough that you’re okay with it.

You chuckle, but there’s no humor in it. “No,” you say. “Not exactly.”

Roy nods, silence filling the room. He’s still staring at you and you’re starting to think he won’t ever stop. You notice the sliver of anger in his eyes but see it’s more subdued than usual. It’s not directed at you. It’s like he’s filing it away for later.

He speaks a moment later. “Whatever happened there,” he begins, voice low. “It won’t happen here. It would never happen here.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “I’m starting to get that,” you answer honestly. “But it’s still hard.”

“I know.” Roy says, and the way he nods tells you that he does know. His mouth opens, wanting to say more, but it doesn’t come out immediately. “Just…” His eyes cast up to the ceiling. “If anything, just fucking… speak up in practice more. You’re their coach now. If you don’t want to get fucking personal with them, at least get to know them on the field.”

“I know them on the field,” you reply, because you do. You know your new players inside and out. You’ve studied them. You know their strengths, their weaknesses, what makes them tick. You know what works. “I do.”

“I know that,” is Roy’s immediate response, just like this morning. He points to the door. “But they fucking don’t. And they won’t know it until you fucking show them.”

This time, you look away from him because you know he’s right. A decade ago, Roy was just about fifty-fifty when it came to right and wrong, but now? He was consistently on target. You’re not sure which switch flipped in him or when, but goddamn, was it maddening.

You ask him such as you huff in annoyance. “Since when are you right all the fucking time?”

Roy’s clearly not expecting that, and it’s evident by the way he barks out a laugh. But, he figures, if you’re going to be nice, he supposes he will too. 

“You were gone,” he replies with a chuckle. “Figured I had to pick up the slack.”

Involuntarily, your eyes go soft at his words. They’re kind and truthful and genuinely civil. It’s only for a moment, but Roy picks up on it in an instant. It makes the tiny, less resentful piece of him want to make it happen again, but he tells that piece of him to shut the fuck up.

He watches you as you sigh, shutting your eyes as if you’re readjusting. “Okay,” you finally say. “I’ll be better. I’ll… actually do my job, I guess.”

“About fucking time,” Roy mutters, though it’s slightly encouraging.

“But,” you continue, “I can’t… I can’t train Jamie. I can’t do one-on-one. That’s my non-negotiable.”

Roy wants to ask why. He wants to understand. He knows he’d be shit at helping you through it, but he just wants to get it. However, the look on your face keeps him from saying what he wants to. So, instead, he simply nods. “Okay.”

The relief you feel is written across your face. “Okay,” you agree. Then, you add, “I, uh, did tell him to ask you, though.”

Roy’s expression goes blanker than usual. “You fucking what?”

“You’re a good one-on-one trainer,” you offer, voice going up an octave. “I’m, like, your top reference.”

“Yeah, but you’re you,” Roy responds. “I can work with you. Not Jamie Tartt.”

You shrug. “What’s the difference?”

“Jamie Tartt is a fucking prick,” he states, as if it’s obvious. “You’re infuriating. And annoying. And a fucking headache. But he’s all those things on top of being a fucking prick.”

Your lips part at this, squinting at Roy. “I’m sorry, and you wanted me to train him?”

Roy doesn’t acknowledge your comment. “I’m not fucking training him.”

“I’m not saying you have to,” you respond, raising your hands in surrender. “I’m just letting you know that I passed him off to you.”

“Appreciate it. I’ll tell him to fuck off.”

“Glad you have a game plan.” While those words were lilted with annoyance, your next are a bit softer. “He… seemed a bit worried about Zava.”

Roy’s brow draws slightly. “Zava?”

“He tried to play it off,” you explain, “but he wasn’t subtle. Jamie’s obviously used to being the best on the team. I’m not sure he’s loving the competition.”

“The twat will get over it,” Roy says. “Sometimes you’re the best on the field, sometimes you’re not. That’s fucking life.”

You shoot him a look. “I don’t think he shakes things off like that. He’s not like you and me where we either don’t care or immediately use that type of shit for motivation.” Your eyes cast up to the ceiling as you speak, spilling out every thought you’ve had since Jamie came to you. “Guys like him, they need that reassurance. That ego needs to be healed when it’s been shot down, and then they’re finally ready to get motivated…” You trail off as soon as you see the way Roy’s looking at you. Head-tilted and slightly satisfied. “What?”

“Nothing,” he replies with a shrug. There’s a ghost of a smile on his face. “It’s just nice to get to see you finally fucking coaching.”

Warmth rises up your neck. It’s a mixture of embarrassment, being called out, and something else. The feeling makes you itch and in an attempt to shake it off, you shrug. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” 

There’s a brief moment of silence and for a second, you think he’s going to make you sit in this air. However, he seems to take pity on you. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

It’s a soft agreement, one that you weren’t sure you were going to get. But it takes a bit of the weight off nonetheless. “Thank you.”

“He’s still a prick,” he adds, like he can’t help himself. 

You nod in faux assurance. “Sure, Grandad.”

Roy casts his eyes to the ceiling. “Fuck’s sake, not you too.”

You can’t help it. You laugh. For the first time in eight years, Roy sees you laugh. It’s quiet. Light, even. But it’s lovely. It’s sweet. Roy can’t believe he’d allowed himself to go so long without hearing it. 

Yet another silence passes between you two. Maybe it’s to savor the moment. Maybe it’s to remember. Perhaps it’s both. Perhaps it’s neither. 

Whatever it is, it suddenly feels way too comfortable. There’s a split second where you’re back in 2015, just before everything went to shit. And that can’t happen. You can’t allow that to happen.

However, before you can move past that, Roy just has to catch you off guard. “So, you’ll start fucking coaching and I’ll… consider training with him.” He says the words like they take effort. And then, he looks at you and completely throws you off. “Should we shake on it?”

The words are hesitant and you know why. You have to refrain from taking a step back from him simply because of the weight that they carry. All you can do is stare at his outstretched hand. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say his hands were shaking.

But, you snap yourself out of it, and when you meet him in the middle, you’re certain yours are.

He holds eye contact with you as you make the agreement, hands grasped around each others with the intention of a promise. It’s too real. Too familiar. Too… much.

So, before you can freak out in front of him, you cut it short with a nod and remove your hand from his. You glance out the window of the Boot Room door to see the team pass by, all packed up and ready for their outing. One you know you should be joining, but just aren’t there yet.

When you turn back to him, the small smile on your face is tight. But you’re truthful when you say, “Thank you.”

Roy doesn’t need to ask what for. He knows. Of course he does. 

But luckily for you, he seems to be on the same page, blinking at you like he’s pulling himself out of some self-induced trance. “Right.” He awkwardly returns your nod, avoiding eye contact as he heads for the door. “Don’t make me say any of that shit again.”

And, as soon as the door shuts behind him, you’re finally left with more answers than questions about your place at Richmond for the first time all week.

(The same can’t be said for your questions about Roy. But, you figure, what else is new?)

PRESENT DAY. (MID-BOOT ROOM FIGHT WITH ROY KENT, 2023)

If you hadn’t been so consumed by your conversation with one of your fellow coaches, you would have noticed the other two watching you from the window. And as for questions, they had many.

The first is asked by Ted, approximately one minute after he and Beard had stationed themselves outside of the door. “Should we break it up?”

Beard shook his head slowly. “They’ve been tiptoeing around this one since she started,” he replied. “We break this up now, you might lose an arm.”

Ted shifted back on his heels. “You don’t think we can get them to hug it out, do you?”

“That’d be the reason you lose the arm, pal.”

“Yeah, Roy’s not much of a hugger, is he?” The silence that passed between them spoke as an agreement. The two watched as you crossed your arms over your chest, rolling your eyes as Roy seemed to reprimand you. “Do you think this thing between them goes deeper than he let on?”

Beard’s response was immediate. “Oh, yeah. Way deeper.”

“Did we sign ourselves up for something crazy? Something we can’t handle?”

“Oh, yeah,” Beard repeated. Then, he shook his head. “But nothing we can’t handle.”

“Well, then, what do we do?” Ted asked. “Because we can’t have them ‘fine, fine’-ing each other like they’re Sam and Diane all season. The kids ain’t fine, fine, Coach.”

Ted turned to his friend, who’d gone quiet. He followed his sightline to the corner of the Boot Room where Will was hiding, looking as though he were praying to any God who would listen that the two of you wouldn’t notice him.

Pity overtook both of their expressions. “I…” Beard drew out, brow furrowing as he watches Roy pull out his wallet. “...may have an idea.”

When Beard did look over at Ted, there was an excited look in his eye and a wide smile threatening to break out. “I know that voice,” he said. “Am I thinkin’ what you’re thinking?”

“Parent Trap ‘em?” he asked.

Ted grinned. “We really should go on The Newlywed Game.”

“It wouldn’t be fair. We’d sweep.”

LONDON OLYMPICS. (LATE JULY, 2012)

It’s nearly three in the morning when Roy tells you that your next rally will be your last for the night.

To say you’re thankful would be an understatement. Your lungs are screaming at you and have been for the last fifteen minutes. You can feel the early signs of shin splints with every move you make, and you already know you’re going to wake up tomorrow morning with a ridiculous amount of pain in your hamstrings. 

But you didn’t care. That didn’t matter. What mattered was getting your newfound training companion to shut the fuck up. And the only way to do that was to beat him in this little game he created to a pulp.

It was tragically ironic to find that Roy Kent, a man who was typically of so few words, couldn’t seem to keep quiet when he was playing against you. He had a special sort of talent for getting under your skin, somehow saying the exact thing that would press a specific button that you didn’t even know you had. He was frustrating. Infuriating, even. And there was no shot in hell you were losing to this jackass, especially when you’d managed to tie the score.

(But you’d be lying if you said that you weren’t having at least a little bit of fun.)

However, the relief on your face at his declaration is palpable, and your expression makes Roy raise his brows. “Don’t tell me you’re fucking tired,” he says. “We’ve still got laps to run.”

You throw your head back with an exaggerated groan. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I know,” you say. “Can we just go so I can beat you and leave?”

Roy’s head tilts. “You’re confident for someone who looks like she’s gonna drop fucking dead.”

“Like you look any better,” you shoot back, eying the grass and dirt that had stained his legs. 

To be fair, you hadn’t lied. Roy didn’t look any better than you did. He was just as roughed up, if not more. There was a sense of pride in that, knowing that he’d had to try as hard to beat you as you did for him. You felt equal. This game had never been equal before.

He seems to know this too. “Well, fucking get on with it then.”

The ball’s at your feet, and you stare down at it as you try to plan how you’re going to attack. What haven’t you done yet? What won’t he be expecting? How can you ensure that--

“Don’t fucking think about it,” you hear him say. When you look up at him in annoyance, he shakes his head. “Just fucking do it.”

But you can’t not think about it. Thinking is what you do. It’s how you stay ahead, it’s how you’ve beaten him in this little game before, it’s how you’re going to beat him now. 

But now you’re frustrated. You wanted to get this over with and prove him wrong and show him up. You’re so sick of hearing him say that and you kick the ball out in front of you to shut him up. And suddenly, you’re playing.

He’s guarding you before you know it. You cut the ball to your left, kicking it through his legs as he tries to meet you. You push your elbow against his chest as you chase down the ball, gritting your teeth when you feel him whip around to recover from his misstep. His chest presses against your shoulder, repeatedly bumping into you each time he works to get the ball from you.

“Come on, Fourteen,” he chides in your ear. “Finish me off like you said you would.”

You shove your shoulder into him again. It’s more forceful this time and the soft sound he makes in response feels like a victory. He drops back to follow you to the goal, which gives you the space you need to maneuver your body into a more comfortable position. 

You’re just outside the box, but you know that whatever move you make next, he’s going to be there to block it. You know his tricks. You’re on track to figuring out how his mind works on the field. Maybe you can outsmart him. Rely on your footwork to psych him out and—

Roy then seems to see you thinking. And he chooses that time to attack. So, footwork it is.

As he nears you, you roll the ball in the opposite direction, keeping an eye on him in your peripheral. Your foot pulls the ball back in a V, then you move it forward to creep into the box. 

He’s still in front of you. While you were quicker, Roy was never one to give up. It was what made him so great on the pitch and so annoying to play against. An idea then sparks: if you can get him to bite, get him close enough to you, you can chop the ball to get him off balance, then spin to get a better angle on the goal.

So, you do exactly that. Or, at least try to.

You swear he can see in your head. That he can read your mind and every thought that crosses it. Because while you do catch him slightly off guard, he recovers the second you try to spin. He’s behind you and before you know it, you’re the one caught off balance. He kicks the ball away from you and out of the box, leaving you to fall on your ass and stain the backs of your thighs.

Fuck. Fuck.

You’re on your back again for the second time today, eyes screwed shut in frustration and disappointment. How had he done it? You swore that was going to work. It’d worked millions of times before, how could it possibly have gone wrong now?

There’s a piece of you that wants to cry. That frustration, that exhaustion, that need to prove yourself had all come crashing down onto your chest, and here you were, in the same place you were before the drill had started.

You don’t even want to look at him. You’re almost too embarrassed to do so. You know that it’s all a part of your deal, that you’re supposed to fail and get better with him, but it’s still a kick in the teeth to end a session like this with a loss. 

You’re able to feel Roy’s presence before you hear him. “Get up,” he tells you.

A loud, shaky sigh escapes you. “I need a second before you run me into the ground, Coach.”

If he notices how your voice wavers, he doesn’t say anything. “Not your coach,” he replies, though he’s speaking softer. “But I’m not running you either.”

You crack an eye open. “Really?”

“C’mon,” he says, holding his hand out for you to take. “Up.”

You stare at his hand for a moment, then cast your eyes up to the starless sky with another heavy sigh. Then, you begrudgingly take his hand, allowing him to yank you up with a strength you’re not expecting.

His hand lingers in yours as you get your bearings. It’s rough and just a bit clammy, but you can’t imagine yours are any better. You’re not looking at him when you remove your hand from his, but find his eyes when he taps your shoulder.

“C’mon,” Roy repeats. He nods over to the track around the field. “Let’s go.”

“I thought we weren’t running,” you mutter.

He glances at you from over his shoulder. “We’re not fucking running,” he responds. “But you need a cool down. Stop your fucking whining and walk with me.”

A scowl appears on your lips at his words, but you relent and follow him. “Fine.”

It’s quiet between you two, giving you a moment to catch your breath and think about what just happened. While you’re thankful that you don’t have to do your laps, so still can’t believe you lost. Yes, it’s just practice, and yes, it doesn’t mean anything, but it’s still… it’s the principal of it. You’ve never been a good loser. You’ve never—

“We need to work on your footwork,” Roy says abruptly, interrupting your train of thought. You glance over at him. “It’s your biggest weakness besides your overthinking.”

A frown pulls at your lips. “My footwork is fine.”

“Yeah. Exactly. It’s fine,” he agrees. “And that’s the fucking problem. Nobody out there can fucking catch you, so you’ve never had to worry about it. But the second you get tighter and more concise…” He shakes his head. “Pair all that with your unpredictability and fucking annoying defense, you’ll blow them all out of the fucking water.”

Pride bubbles in your stomach and rises to your chest. You know that you’re good. And you know that he thinks you’re good. He wouldn’t have taken a chance on you if he hadn’t. But it’s still validating to hear. Especially from him.

But still, you can’t help yourself; “I’m not annoying.”

Roy scoffs, but you can tell he’s biting back a smile. “You are. You’re like a fucking gnat.”

“I am not a gnat,” you gasp. 

“You are. Fucking buzzing in my ear and shit.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being aggressive. You’d know something about that, hypocrite.” When Roy huffs a laugh and shakes his head, you bat him on the arm. “I’m serious. When I crossed you up and hit that corner goal toward the end?” You blow an exaggerated breath and raise your brows at him. “I haven’t seen you that mad since that Arsenal game in like, 2007.”

His response to your jab isn’t what you expected. While you’d anticipated a classic eye roll, a reaction of his that you’d become very familiar with, you get a look of intrigue. “You watched that game?”

“Of course I did,” you respond. Your lips tug into a smile. “I’m a huge Arsenal fan.”

Then you get the eye roll. “You must have been fucking distraught to see your team lose.”

“It was heartbreaking,” you say. “It was fun to see you get thrown out, though.”

“That was a fucking bullshit call,” he scoffs.

“You almost broke Lewis Fox’s leg. And then tried to fight him from the ground.”

“Exactly. Fucking bullshit,” he says. “It shouldn’t count when he’s a prick.”

You allow for a beat of reflection before you respond. “Yeah, he really is a prick, isn’t he?”

That gets you something you haven’t seen from him yet. A smile. A real one, where you can see teeth and all. It’s jarring. And suddenly the pride you felt from his compliments is nothing compared to the feeling you get from this.

It grows as Roy carries on. “The fucking King of them.”

“Prince,” you say in disagreement. “He’s too much of a jackass to honor with a King title. Prince Prick. Duke of Prickland. Court Jester. Whatever.”

“Court Jester?”

“Absolutely,” you reply. “He’d look good in the stupid little hat, too. Would hide the fact that he’s balding.”

Roy barks out a laugh. “He’s going fucking mental over that.”

“I can imagine.” Teasingly, you add, “I guess that’s the one thing you’ve got over him.”

“My hair?”

“Yeah. You’ve got enough to share with him.”

Roy shakes his head again, smile refusing to fade. “Well, thank fucking God it’s something important.”

“Hey, football skills are forever. Hair starts to fade when you hit twenty-five.” You shrug and return his grin. “I’d say you’re winning this one, Kent.”

A labored sigh leaves Roy, like he can’t believe he’s having this type of conversation with you. Frankly, you can’t believe you’re talking like this with him. You’re talking like… friends. It’s strange. Especially after he completely shut you down when talking before.

That thought sinks deep into your mind and you know it won’t go away until you address it. Huh. Maybe he’s right. Maybe you do overthink.

Before you can question that further, you’re speaking. “Hey. I—” You awkwardly cut yourself off as his gaze returns to you. “I just… I wanted to say that I’m sorry if I like, overstepped a boundary back there.” He continues to look at you in response, cueing you to elaborate. “Asking about Sunderland. Leaving your family. That.”

The second you say ‘Sunderland,’ he looks away from you. You grit your teeth as you refrain from cringing, hoping you didn’t ruin what was almost a normal, nice, and friendly moment. That anxiety makes you talk more. 

“You don’t owe me any answers, or anything. We can keep this professional and talk about soccer and how much we both hate Lewis Fox only.” Roy still hasn’t looked at you. “You don’t have to talk to me at all, if you don’t want to. I’m just… pretty open. And I forget that other people aren’t the same way. So…” You trail off, fiddling with your fingers. “I’m sorry.”

He’s quiet for approximately ten seconds. Each feels like agony as you rot in the awkwardness of the silence. Then, he says, “Don’t… fucking apologize for trying to get to know me.”

Well, that’s not what you were expecting at all. “O-Oh.”

“I’m fucking obviously going to talk to you,” he continues, in a way that makes it sound like he’s choosing his words carefully. “But there’s just certain things that I… really fucking hate talking about. And that was one of them.”

You’re nodding before he’ss finished speaking. “Completely understandable.”

Roy looks over at you cautiously. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree. “Like I said, I’m not entitled to anything. You just let me know when I’ve crossed a line or something.” Your eyes light up in a way that Roy refuses to find endearing. “We can have a codeword or something.”

“A codeword?” he asks wearily.

“Yes, Roy. A codeword.” You stop him in the middle of the track. “Okay, Kent Rule number one. If either of us—”

“What the fuck is a Kent Rule?”

“If either of us,” you repeat, “don’t want to talk about something, we say…” Your eyes scan the field. “Goalpost.”

Roy blinks at you. “That’s a stupid fucking codeword.”

“Okay, you don’t get to shit on my idea and then shit on my codeword, dick,” you say, ignoring the tiny smile that’s growing on his face. “Let me hear yours.”

His eyes scan you up and down. “Gnat.”

“Oh, look who’s fucking annoying now.”

“I think that’s a great one.”

“I think I’m back on Lewis Fox’s side now,” you mutter. Before Roy can roll his eyes, you point at him in excitement. “Fox! That’s our codeword.” Then, you interrupt yourself, by throwing both your hands out. “Wait. Foxtrot. That sounds so much more legit.”

Roy’s had only gotten blanker as you spoke. “I think you should be institutionalized.”

“Kent Rule number one,” you say, ignoring him. “If you don’t want to talk about something, say Foxtrot. We move on, no questions asked.”

“Great.”

“But,” you continue, “you only get one Foxtrot a day.”

“Only fucking one?” he asks.

“Why are you saying it like that?”

“Because you ask a lot of fucking questions.”

You huff. “Fine. No one-a-day rule. But use them sparingly.”

“Can I Foxtrot this conversation?” Roy questions.

You don’t give him the reaction he clearly desires. “Look at you, you’re getting the hang of it!” you cheer, clapping him on the shoulder. “So, does Kent agree to the Kent Rule?”

You receive yet another exasperated shake of the head. “Fucking fine. Yeah. I agree.”

“Wonderful,” you reply, sticking your hand out to him. When he looks down at it, you wiggle your fingers. “We have to shake on it.”

“What?”

“Because it’s not a real agreement if we don’t shake on it,” you answer, as if it’s obvious. “Duh.”

Roy stares at your hand, then at you, and then back at your hand. After a ridiculous amount of time, his shoulders slump in defeat. His hand meets yours and when it does, you beam.

“Institutionalized,” he tells you as you two shake. “I’m fucking serious.”

“And risk your life being way less exciting without me in it?” You put a hand over your heart. “You’d miss me too much.”

And when you grin at him, there’s a piece of Roy that already knows that there might just be a sliver of truth in that.

(mini!) TAGLIST: @tegan8314, @csigeoblue, @confessionsofatotaldramaslut, @thatonedogwithablog, @hawkeyeharrington

#roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent x you #roy kent fanfiction #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction #aatwe #aces #the one who can't walk up stairs

[somebluemelodies]

DAY SIX OF SPIDERBIT THEME WEEK STARTED BY @anonymous-dentist! :D SELECTED THEMES: HYBRIDS & CUDDLING ladies gentlemen and everyone in between WE GOT A TWO-FOR-ONE LETS GOOOO

Roier tries to be sneaky, Cellbit will give him that. And sure, he is sneaky! Against other people. Humans.

And, well, Cellbit is decidedly not human. Not one-hundred percent, at least. In other words: he hears Roier coming sneaking up the stairs to the bedroom long before a normal person would, ears tuned into the sound as he reads.

But he decides to let his husband have his fun, not looking up from his book and playing the oblivious game. Red appears in his peripheral.

“Gatinho!”

And then there’s a spider-hybrid strewn across his legs.

The investigator doesn’t look away from his book, but there’s a contented smile on his face. “Oi, guapito.”

Roier adjusts so he’s between Cellbit’s legs instead. The latter keeps reading, not needing to see the former’s face to know he’s starting to pout.

He’s patient, though, giving it a good while to wait and see if the cat-hybrid makes any move to put the book away. He doesn’t.

(He knows exactly what he’s doing.)

“Cellbo,” Roier whines.

Cellbit chuckles to himself. “Que?”

“Pinche pendejo— you know exactly what the fuck you’re doing, man!”

“Yeah?”

He feels two arms wrap around his torso, and another two pull the book from his hands indignantly. Six eyes stare up at him; two browns, and four extras laced with a beautiful ruby red.

Roier seems to contemplate, and Cellbit knows he’s considering throwing the book far away, but the spider-hybrid decides against it, merely tossing it onto the nightstand to their right, out of reach.

Hands free once more, he settles them on Cellbit’s chest, resting his chin on them and looking up at him, blinking in faux innocence.

The investigator laughs again, fond, gently cupping his husband’s face and stroking his cheeks. His tail flicks happily, curling somewhere around Roier’s leg as it always does.

It falls silent for a short while, the two basking in their silent admirations. In front of them, the sun has started sinking below the horizon, painting the whole bedroom with yellows and oranges and blanketing them in a comforting warmth.

The light catches Cellbit’s already-piercing eyes, casting his face in a golden glow, and for a moment, the spider-hybrid is left truly breathless, heart thumping in his chest.

(Is this what it feels like to fall in love all over again?)

He finally moves one of his arms, reaching up to the cat-hybrid’s head. Finding the right spot behind the base of Cellbit’s right ear, he scratches gently.

Immediately, Cellbit’s eyes flutter shut, hands dropping from Roier’s face so his arms can wrap around him instead. He subconsciously tilts back into the touch, and his husband hears the telltale begins of a purr rumble from his chest.

They stay like that a while, until Roier pulls his hand back but the purring persists, and he takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around Cellbit’s chest, above his extra pair. His head settles against the investigator’s chest, and he feels Cellbit hold him tighter in turn.

The bedroom gets progressively darker, but the warmth stays, settling into their bones as they feel sleep on the verge of taking over.

Only then does Roier pull Cellbit to lay down completely, and his husband complies immediately. They shift to be under the blanket and onto their sides, still facing each other, holding right back onto each other.

They become a web of tangled limbs, then, and pieces puzzle into place like routine clockwork. Roier tosses his leg over Cellbit’s and feels something soft curl around his in return. The spider-hybrid feels hands curl into the fabric of his shirt, tight but not desperate, keeping him pressed close.

(They physically can’t get any closer to each other, not with their tangled legs and three total pairs of arms wrapped securely around each other.)

(But they’ll try anyway.)

He presses his own face right back against the cat-hybrid’s chest. The purring is louder now, even as they’re clearly drifting off and can barely murmur te amo to each other in goodnight. But it’s not distracting. It’s… comforting.

It’s home.

This is home.

#qroier with four arms is not usually part of my spider-roier agenda #BUT for fic/prompt purposes i thought it would be neat :> #they have to not only be touching but be pressed as close as possible at all times or they will die #it’s just a fact #qsmp cellbit #qsmp roier #spiderbit #qsmp #blue writes qsmp #a.d's spiderbit week

[gettinshiggywithit]

With that art you reblogged + your requests being open, I have to ask for some PM Boss!Chuuya. Could you write about his reaction to finding out a rival criminal organization ordered a hit on his wife? And like, him being protective of her while his men investigate the situation?

!Know your place!

Scenario:- pm boss!chuuya when his wife has been targeted.

Pairing:- pm.boss!chuuya x fem!reader

Genre:-idk what the first half would be but the last bit is fluff

Type:- oneshot

W/c:-2.25k

A/N:-HIYA ANON! OKAY ITS THREE AM AND I JUST SAW THIS JUST WHEN I WAS GOIN TO SLEEP.AND IT TICKLED MY BRAIN SOO HERE WE GOOOO

Art credits:- @taxolotl

Chuuya nakahara was a ,man of great power and status.all of which had only increased since he had ascended to the position of the head of the port mafia.The mafia in itself was an organization that commanded great fear and respect from both civilians and the government,but since his ascension to the throne,things had only gotten better.the organization ran like clockwork,not that it hadn’t before,but he seemed to bring his own  twist to things.he was also more brutal and ruthless than the previous boss.dazai osamu was a man of great intellect and he too had elevated the mafia from where I once was.but chuuya had something that dazai didn’t.he had a lover, or wife, as those who were closest to him knew.you two had tied the knot shortly before dazai’s passing and although you knew it would be risky,you were determined to make it work.in fact,In your vows,he’d promised to protect you no matter the cost.and you’d promised to love him till the end of time.

You were also a member of the mafia,having joined at the same time he did.you were one of the sheep and had defected when they betrayed him. For even then,you loved chuuya but as you grew,so did your love for the blue eyed ginger,and when you started dating,you were the happiest you’d ever been!needless to say he’d felt the same way you had for almost as long,but the fear of rejection and losing a loved one is a pesky instinct.

four years was how long you’d dated before he proposed at age 21.the ring wasn’t exactly fancy,but it was the one you’d wanted,and although you could’ve rushed the ceremony,you decided to wait.the next year flew by like a blur and soon it was your wedding day,and as you walked down the aisle,you both teared up.

Fast forward to today,he was staring at a memo from one of his subordinates,the one tasked with protecting you and keeping you safe,for while chuuya knew you could take care of yourself,he also knew that in your world, there was no such thing as being too careful.

There had been an attempt on your life. and as he read the memo chuuya felt a sudden chill run down his spine.his worst nightmare….his biggest fear had finally been realised and he hadn’t even known it had.

At first he beat himself up about it,how could he let this slip by?how did he not know???he suddenly felt a sudden wave of disgust as his mind replayed a certain phrase, “dazai wouldn’t have let this happen.” he pushed the thought away and continued to think of how to keep you safe.he’d be damned if he let his insecurities were what out you endanger!

Step 1,get you to a safe location,and while chuuya knew that being by his side would be dangerous,half of him wanted to believe that he was the safest option.but finally he went with the objective solution and sent you off to an overseas safe house,with a unit of the organisation’s best hitmen.assassins and body guards.he knew this was a tad bit extreme yet he wasn’t going to risk it! So later that day,once you were feeling a little less shook up about the attack,you grabbed your to-go bag, and took a private flight to your,hopefully safe, hideout.and even though it pained him to have you so far away.he knew it wouldn’t be for long.

Step 2,figure out who the fuck was responsible.the mafia had many resources,and being the boss allowed chuuya to take full advantage of said resources.so with almost no effort,his informant was able to find out ,who ordered the hit on you,when they did and and who had been assigned to carry out the hit.chuuya thanked the informant,took this information and left to form a plan of action.he first decided to take out the man who had been tasked with the hit.

Did chuuya know this man was probably just following orders and had no actual beef with him or the port mafia?yes.but was he gonna let this bastard get off scot free?? Not a  chance.

He paid the hitman a visit himself,knocking on the door almost harmlessly,before punching the door in when he heard someone else on the other side.

Needless to say the assassin was shook! he watched as chuuya’s subordinates stormed his apartment and had all their guns aimed straight at his head.chuuya then took a few steps forward,his expression one full of rage and hate as he wrapped his hand around he man’s throat,instantly crushing his windpipe with what looked like no effort at all.his face became stoic after that.as he silently left the scene,he stared at his hand and it shook.he hadn’t shouted or screamed like he’d planned to,and it felt,weird.nevertheless,he got into his car and was driven back to the PM HQ.

Next for the the man who had ordered the hit himself.chuuya had found out that the man ordering the hit was a leader of a rival criminal organization,one dazai had managed to eradicate,that had come back from the dead.and apparently they thought attacking the new boss’ significant other would be a good idea…foolish.

(like bro we aren’t even in this universe and even we know that that’s a big no no! tf?! Literally you deserve to get rekt!)

As chuuya read the man’s file he realized just how insignificant he was.no abilities.no special accomplishments.no worth. Nothing that could even compare to the might of the port mafia but still they had chosen a fight? Chuuya didn’t know if he should have been impressed by their ambition or annoyed with their stupidity.perhaps they thought he wouldn’t retaliate.

Well,they were dead wrong.

So the next day,chuuya did a simple thing.

He broke into the man’s home,sat on his couch and waited.once he arrived at his home only to see the literal boss of the port mafia,scarf,fedora and all.the man attempted to run out the door.

Chuuya responded to this by simply throwing his blade at him,effectively pinning him against the door.he took his time sauntering over to the pathetic whimpering excuse of a man and finally said. “so you’re the sack of shit that tried to take out my y/n?” he gave the man a once over.he had a scraggly beard,tacky jewellery and looked absolutely disgusting.it made chuuya sick to his stomach to be in the presence of such a piece of trash,but he wasn’t done yet.

“please! Im sorry! I-I made a mistake I beg of you spare me! I promise not to ever interfere with the port mafia again!!” the man was fully begging now,and honestly it was quite entertaining to see him squirm under both the influence of fear and the pain caused by the knife in his shoulder.  chuuya pretended to contemplate letting the man go before his lips curled into a devious smile. “yeah how about no?” he said before pulling the knife out of his victim’s shoulder,causing him to crumple to the ground.

Next he climbed over the man and began to beat him to a pulp.

First one punch,then another,and another.each one getting heavier and heavier as he added the weight of his ability behind them.he screamed out curses and threats between punches,even straight up insults and just yells.

 The man was dead after about the tenth punch.

well…at least that’s when chuuya realized he was dead.but then again,who wouldn’t be death with a bashed-in skull?

Chuuya then calmly got up off the floor and soon realized he was covered in blood. “crap…..now ill have to send this one back to the cleaners you piece of shit!”he muttered to the corpse as he stepped over it and exited the apartment through the door.

His car was waiting for him when he reached the street and his subordinates made sure no one saw him in his blood-stained state.

Once in the car,he sighed and let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in. he pulled off his bloodied gloves and threw them to the side,picking up his phone to call the leader of the unit protecting you.

“its done.bring her back in four hours”

A “yes sir” was heard on the other side of the line,before it cut off and chuuya was left listeing to the beeps that replaced the team leader’s voice. He lowered the phone and called a different number this time. This one being the mafia’s elite kill squad’s leader’s. he let the phone ring once,twice, then hung up.this was the signal to carry on with the eradication of the rival organization. It would be a massacre,but still,the other organization stood no chance. Chuuya almost felt bad for the members of that organization;for they had to pay for sins they hadn’t even commited,but he supposed simply being a follower of the man who’d wanted you killed was enough of a sin to warrant the punishment they would be dealing with now.

Chuuya got home to your shared apartment and took off his shoes at the door,he looked at the pictures of the two of you that decorated the walls,and each time he saw your radiant smile his heart skipped a beat.

He went to the bathroom and stripped down,getting into the shower to wash off all the blood. He tossed his bloodied clothes in the hamper labeled ‘work-stained’ and chuckled to himself when he saw the label you’d hand written and stuck on there.

After he was done,he got out of the shower and began to towel off his hair,as he was doing this,a little flash of light caught his eye. It was your wedding ring twinkling at him from its place on the counter. Of course he’d left it behind! He wasn’t going to stain something so sacred with the blood of a worthless cretin! No way in hell!

But now that he was all cleaned up,he slipped it back on his ring finger and smiled.once he was ready, he heard a click and knew you were home.

He stepped out of your shared bedroom wearing and oversized tee shirt and some sweatpants only to be tackled by the likes of you!

You wrapped him up in a bear hug and didn’t seem to be showing any signs of letting go.and he was perfectly okay with that. He hugged you back just as tightly from your spot on the floor,simply saying, “I missed you too princess~and im not going anywhere.” you nuzzled into his neck and he held you close. “don’t ever send me away again chuu you know I can take care of myself” you said,pulling back to look him in the eyes from your position on top of him. “I know love but,” he said as he sat up, “you know I couldn’t risk it” “yeah… yeah I know” you said, looking down at the floorboards. “but it really sucked you know?” “oh yeah…it sucked ass.were you okay?did anything happen while you were there?” he said,concern seeping into both his expression and his voice as he gave you a once over,his eyes looking for any sort of scar wound or injury.

You placed your hand on his his cheek and directed his attention back to your face before bringing yourself closer and gently cupping his face. “chuuya,im fine…really.you can relax…” he nodded at that and leaned into your touch. “I know but i-” “ah ah! No buts.”  You interrupted him,“im okay and that’s what matters right? So lets just relax hmm?”

He nodded once again before pulling you in for a kiss. It was soft.yet passionate.clearly making up for lost time and when you both came up for air,your foreheads leaned against eachother, he said it. “I love you y/n and I’ll do anything in my power to keep you safe.” You smiled and nodded at him. “I know chuuya….i know” you said before giving him a quick peck and hoisting yourself up off the floor.

You pulled him up along with you and the two of you made your way to the kitchen to cook up some dinner.

“oh and chuuya? I love you too”                 “I know y/n…I know” he said with a wink. you almost threw a pot at him~

I HOPE YOU LIKED IT ANON! AND PLEASE FEEL FREE TO LMK WHAT YOU THOUGHT ABT IT!DID I DO YOUR IDEA JUSTICE?

All rights reserved © 2023 gettinshiggywithit . Please do not repost, modify or claim as yours.

#did i stay up till 5 am writing this??? #yes #do i kinda love it???? #also yes! #🎙jaya speaks #📚jaya’s tales #📬jaya answers #🖤anon #🐶🐕jaya’s bungou stray dump🐕🐶 #bsd chuuya nakahara #nakahara chuuya x reader #chuuya x you #chuuya nakahara fluff #chuuya fluff #chuuya x y/n #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x reader #bsd x reader #bsd oneshot #beast chuuya #chuuya oneshot #chuuya nakahara #chuuya headcanons #bsd chuuya #chuuya x reader hcs #bsd fluff #bsd fanfic #chuuya x reader angst #chuuya x fem!reader

[my-soupy-brain]

No thoughts, head empty just - 🌟 clingy ted 🌟

Ohhh, clingy Ted. I'm a big fan of touch and snuggling and all those cute disgusting things couples do. And I feel like Ted would love to show you off and be wrapped around you at every opportunity. Right? Right. Some little snippets of how clingy Ted can be. Let's goooo!

---

Relationship: Ted Lasso x reader

Warnings: Mostly cute and fluffy

---

Your plane left early. Too early for Ted to be up, honestly. But he insisted on driving you to the airport and got out to get your bags, and then hugged you tight, kissing your lips softly.

"I'm gonna miss you, darlin'," he murmured, his voice deep and sad.

"I'll be home in three days, Teddy. Just a conference!" you tried to cheer him up, but since the two of you got together, you spent very little time apart.

He loved having someone who enjoyed being around him. That was new to him.

And you loved having someone you enjoyed being around, too. It was new to you, too.

Both of your prior relationships had ended with people who felt you were both "too much." But you weren't too much for each other.

As soon as you got to your gate to wait to board, you had a text:

"Miss you already, darlin'. The bed is cold. Counting down the minutes. xoxoxoxoxoxo"

And for three days he texts you the cutest and most innocuous things.

The coffee's not very good today. How's your coffee?

Rebecca asked me to ask you where you got your handbag from the other day.

I miss you so much my heart aches.

Don't watch the new Bake Off without me.

Oh, I want to watch the new Bake Off but I'm waiting for you.

TWENTY FOUR HOURS LEFT

And, sprinkled in there, plenty of selfies of his smiling face, or pouting face. Especially at night in your far-too-empty bed.

...

When he picked you up from the airport a few days later, he practically lifted you off the ground, hugging you and kissing you all over.

"Get a room, Lasso!" an irritated passenger shouted at him, making him grin and offer back a wave.

"Home?" you ask and kiss his lips, and he smiles. "Home."

You get in the door, change into cozy clothes, and lay in your bed for a minute, so happy to be back in your space. He crawls in behind you, wraps his body around yours and tucks his knees the crook of your legs.

His lips kiss your ear softly, and he hums happily to have you in his arms again.

...

The next night you're at the pub with your friends, and he's got his arm around your waist, or around your shoulders, or holding your hand. He just wants you near. Always.

"God, Ted you act like you haven't bloody seen her in a decade!" Keeley chides, taking a sip of her cocktail.

Ted looks over at you and grins, kissing your lips gently. His mustache tickles and you smile and blush.

"Well, three days felt like a lifetime," he adds, kissing your cheek, your hand on his chest. "Besides, gotta show off this perfect creature any time I can!"

Roy grumbles about PDA. Keeley slaps him.

"Oi! I wish you were a bit more lovey-dovey with me, Roy!" she jokes smirking at him, and he puts his arm around her waist and smiles.

Ted holds your hand on the walk home, looking at you with a big smile.

"What are you gawkin' at?" you ask with a blush.

"The most beautiful thing in the world," he answers, pulling your hand to his lips to kiss it.

...

At home, you kick off your shoes and plop on the couch to turn on a movie, and Ted sits right next to you, his arm around your shoulders, bringing you to his chest. His lips kiss the crown of your head.

When your arm ropes over his tummy, he leans down, curling the both of you together even further.

"I love this," he says with his deep drawl. You tilt your head in interest.

"I love being curled up with ya, or holdin' ya, or touchin' ya," he adds, his hand coasting up and down your side.

You lace your fingers through his and smile up at him.

"I love it too. I love you most of all."

---

This was cute. I could almost do another post of just headcanons of how Ted always has to have his hands on you. He just adores physical touch and it's even better when it's reciprocated. Thanks for this adorable prompt, my lovely friend!

#ted lasso x reader #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fluff #handsy ted lasso

[luvly-writer]

“But oh…Cara Mia”

Ch. 17 I wanna be yours

—-<3—-

Dick Grayson x Latina! Reader

Warnings: Mentions of sex

Author’s note: I had been thinking of this chapter for the entire week and was able to finally write it down. YAY! I finished my last final today so LETS GOOOO!!! I’ll have more free time to write let’s go! I am getting ideas for the Tim x Reader and the Brice x reader so YAY!

Taglist: @lorosette @nanas-teatime @prettyacademia00 @mxtokko @sarahkaliii @w31rdg1rl @Eurydicegrimes @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @alecmores @dakotali @sadraven1992 @camilalexa93

Series masterlist:

—-<3—-

You wake up with your naked body feeling sore and an empty bed. You open your eyes and look around, feeling your bed's emptiness and the feeling of good sex. You don’t find Dick anywhere and you feel a small tug in your heart. Was he just trying to get into your pants? You finally stand up and take your towel, taking a shower to wash the small feeling of dread rising in your heart. “I can’t believe I was stupid enough to believe Dick Grayson has ever had a single genuine feeling for me beside anger…” you say discouraged as you finish showering. You get ready for your day in silent.

Finally, as you exit your room, you are taken aback by the flowers you received yesterday in a pretty arrangement in a vase and a bag of your favorite bistro. As you walk towards it you see a note that reads, “Got called by an emergency, didn’t want to leave you all alone so figured the least I could do was get you breakfast. It’s your favorite. Have a nice day, gorgeous! ~D”

You look at the note and have no words. You are genuinely filled with so many mixed emotions that you don’t even know how to describe them. Sleeping with someone as a one-night stand is one thing, but sleeping with the person you deemed to be your enemy when you were nine who all of a sudden is absolutely whipped for you and has a hold on your heart that is unreachable for someone else who may I add you hold a complicated relationship at the moment, is ANOTHER thing. You eat your breakfast and find that it is still a little warm so he couldn’t have left but too long ago.

You decide to avoid Wayne Manor as a whole for the day and work from your house. You do a mental checklist of what you should do. The majority of the things you had done for Batman had been done. The antidote was perfected, the plan was sketched out, and Dick was in perfect condition........

You and Dick had gotten to your apartment faster than you had thought you would. Once the door was closed, the flowers placed on the counter, and the shoes taken off, your lips had been attached to each other’s. Clothe began coming off, first your shirt, then his. You can remember clear as day how he kissed your neck, sucking lightly, the moans you let out as your hands messed with his hair, how he picked you up and walked you all the way to your bed, how he kissed you as if he had been a man dying for thirst in the desert and you were the first drop of water he had had in a while, how good his body felt on top of yours, his hips on yours, how delicious the roll of his hips felt, his hands caressing your body every where he had access to, how he kissed down your body, his lips, his tongue, his hands on your thighs as he made you come undone with just his mouth, the rasp of your voice as you moaned and moaned his name, how he kissed up, the roll of his hips once again but now as he filled you up to the brim, the way he took your breath away and made you roll your eyes back, his low grunts as he thrusted nice, slow but hard, he was savoring every moment, how he kissed you in order to stop you from screaming, oh Dick was in a good condition, much better, he was in such a good condition he fucked you in your bed and in the shower oh so delightfully. He moaned your name so many times it almost sounded like a prayer. Four times he made you come with just how insatiable he was. Dick was in a great condition and you were one to testify for it. Just as your thoughts were slipping back to the night that Dick ruined you for other men your phone blasts your ringtone.

Lo and Behold, Dick Grayson was calling you.

It just so happens he had been thinking the same thing. Damian had called him about an emergency at Wayne Manor which in reality was nothing. He was just fighting with Tim and Jason wasn’t helping, just instigating so he needed Grayson on his side. To say the least, Dick was frustrated as hell when he got there. He wanted you to wake up next to him, he wanted breakfast with you, he wanted maybe another round of those sweet moans you gave him last night that were like a melody to him, most importantly he wanted to clear things up and finally talk things out. Seems like he had to wait for another time and it frustrated him so fucking much. He tried to pay attention to what his siblings were saying but his mind was elsewhere. His mind was in how soft your body felt against his, his mind was on your hands on his body, his mind was in your plump lips, his mind was in how good you tasted, in your soft thighs squeezing his head as he made you scream, in how good your pussy felt wrapped around him as he fucked deeper into you, his mind was filled with you and you alone, you on your bed, back up to your wall in the shower, how delicious it was to have you kneeled for him in the shower, how good your mouth felt, how this was the best fuck he has ever had because it wasn’t empty, it was filled with longing that been there for years and with so so so much love. He adored going to sleep with you in his arms, he couldn’t believe that he got so lucky last night. AND HE WOULD HAVE BEEN HAPPIER IF HIS SIBLINGS HADN'T INTERRUPTED. He wanted to ignore them but they were annoying. His siblings noticed his grumpy attitude and weren’t sure they should ask about it. Finally, after having lunch with them, Dick left in a hurry. The rest would have minded if Jason hadn’t insisted on playing Mario Kart hence his attitude becoming forgotten. Just as he got in his car, the first thing he did was ring Yn up.

You answer the call after looking at your phone for a whole minute.

“What, Dick?”

“Hey! No good morning, gorgeous? Thought you’d greet me nicer after last night” he says pouting.

“No good morning after leaving me alone to wake up, Grayson” she said rolling her eyes”

“Have dinner with me”

“what?”

“Have dinner with me, I’ll pay and take care of everything. Have dinner with me as an apology for leaving you and as an actual first date.”

“Dick-“

“I want to have dinner with you. I want you to know that this is legit, not just one nights stand thing not som-“

“-Im not a rebound Richard! You can’t just fuck me and romance me just because Kory and you didn’t work, last night was a one night thing, call it a lapse of judgement if you want an explanation. I am NOT your rebound okay! The fucking audacity you have!” she was yelling by now. Dick had begun his car and made his way ti her apartment. He knew her well enough to know that this rant was overdue and it will take time. By the time he got there Yn was still venting on his ear. “and to think, AFTER SO MANY YEARS, Richard John Grayson Wayne you are one piece of shit if you think that a wOMAN IS JUST REPLACEABLE! I am not friends with Kory, not even an acquaintance but if I’m being honest it isn’t exactly fair for her to jump from one girl to another! AND THAT ANOTHE- wait a second someone knocked my door. ILL BE BACK!” Yn said as she opened her door only to find Dick Grayson smirking at her with an amused look in his eyes. “No.” she said as she slammed the door on his face, making him laugh.

“Come on! You can scream at me all you want face to face.” he said making her hang up and open the door again. She pointed to her couch where he willingly followed and sat on. She went to stand in front of him and asks, “you heard everything, not just listened?” to which he nodded.

“You aren’t a rebound, babe”

“no? then what am i?”

“Gorgeous, amazing, down right beautiful, breathtaking?” he said cheekily to which she glared at him. He smiled and continued, “I don’t know what you are to me, I just know how I feel and I feel so much for you it physically hurts to not be around you” he cleared up making the girl cross her arms and nod.

“I’m done running around in circles. Talk to me.” He said, looking at her hopefully, “we aren’t solving anything if the only thing we do is run back to Barbara or Wally and venting or complaining. We make progress here. Talk to me” Dick scoots closer to the edge and takes her hands in his. “We used to be able to tell each other everything. From our faults to our blessings, try me, I’ll listen” he insisted.

Yn breathed in and out and finally spoke up. “I am not a rebound”

“You are right, you aren’t”

“I am not easy”

“Damn right you aren’t, I’ve been dealing with your ass for years now, no one knows that better than me”

“I don’t want this anymore” she said and Dick’s eyes widened. He wasn’t expecting that.

“….what?” he asked, feeling his heart slowly breaking.

“I want more. I don’t want a few months of being okay then going back to hating each other. We literally hold THE MOST unstable relationship out of everyone. Bruce and Jason have more stability in their father-and-son relationship than we do. For fucks sake, Dick we have hated each other for a good percentage of our lives-“

“Have we?” Dick interrupted, standing up to be in front of her and she looks down, not being able to bear the intensity of his eyes. “… I don’t know..” she whispered softly and Dick rubs his thumb on her knuckles softly, encouraging her to continue, “how so, baby?” he asked softly

“There’s a thin line between love a hate, Dick. One that we constantly cross, I don’t want that anymore, I don’t want to get hurt again,” she said letting go of his hands once again and hugging herself, “I want stability, I want to know that this time is real, I want to know that this time you aren’t walking away hating me, I want more…” she finished looking at him.

“Give me a chance to prove it then, let me love you please, let me try, Yn. I want to try, I want to grow, I want to change for you, so please let me try and I will give you all that you want and more,” he said walking closer to her and taking her face in his hands, “let me love you, not just your body, let me love you and your mind and your heart and your soul and you just you, let me try to become the man you deserve, not just the one that you want, please gorgeous, I do want you, I do love you and I know you love me back. Heaven knows for how long we have longed for this, so please give me a change” he said earnestly. He was desperate to have her forgive him and to begin once more with her and prove he deserved her, “This time it’s healthy”

She nodded, “This time is healthy…” Dick sat down on the couch and pulled her with him, holding her in his arms as if she was the most precious thing in the world because she was to him. “I just ask one thing,” she said and he hummed an answer, “Let’s go slow, I want to make sure this time is real, this is real now” Dick didn’t have the heart to say no, he nodded and kissed her head. He was willing to wait forever for her. “Ok, baby”

“And,” she said and he rolled his eyes, “I thought You said one thing” he whined jokingly and she shushes him making him roll his eyes, “And?” he asks.

“No one gets to know, including Babs and Wally. Just us. Slow and private”

Dick thought about and agreed. They have been a spectacle to the entire vigilante and villain community for years now, their fights and disagreements being known by everyone seeing as EVERYONE has had witnessed the fights first hand at least three times, both heroes and villains. They wanted privacy for once, a relationship that was just theirs to know, discover, develop and nurture. Just once, they owed it to themselves to be selfish.

“Just you and me?” he asked

“Just you and me. Slow and steady?” she responded.

“Slow and steady.” he answered.

They stayed a while in silence enjoying the presence of one another until Dick broke it by asking, “soooo in slow and steady, no sex?” making the girl laugh. She moved and sat in his lap. “No, corazón, we ARE having sex” she said beginning to kiss his neck, “think you have it for one more round before patrol?” she said making him laugh. He puts his hand under her chin and lifts her head to catch her lips. “Mmm i think i can manage” he said before lifting her up and walking towards her room.

This time it was real between them and they would both be lying if they said they weren’t excited or happy.

---<3---

Author's note: Hi loveys! Please do give me feedback on this chapter and the story as a whole. I would love to see your thoughts so far and how you are liking it! Thank you for reading it! XO your author <3

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