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princeguri66 · 5 months

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Back on my affectionate reader bullshit because I just want to smother those assholes with love.

TF 141 x Male! Reader

Kissing the homies goodnight.

18+ Minors DNI!

Cw: whole lotta fluff, it only gets suggestive at the end and that's it

It started with a joke. Gaz drunkenly saying "Hey, if I win will you give me a goodnight kiss?" Before you start a game of cards, you all laughed it off then. Until it starts getting later in the evening and when you excuse yourself to go to bed Soap calls out to you with a chuckle, "Ey, don't forget about Gaz's kiss" you trudge your way back to them eyes drooping. They all expect you to kick Soap or something akin to that, but you surprise them by leaning down and placing a kiss on Gaz's eyebrow before tiredly muttering a "goodnight" and walking away.

And if that didn't give them any ideas..

For the next week it was usually Soap and Gaz pestering you about your kisses being rewards.

"If I shoot all the targets will you give me a kiss?"

"If I beat him in this fight will you give me a kiss?"

It gives them such a boost of energy.

You don't expect anyone else other than them to ask you for one until you're watching a game on the telly with Ghost. "If my team wins, I want a reward like them" He says to you, referencing Soap and Gaz and you nod albeit a bit shocked.

And by a stroke of luck his team wins, you reward him with a kiss to his temple.

And when it comes to Price..

It occurred after a tough but successful mission, and it was all thanks to you. What you had to handle was rough but you still came back with minimal injuries.

After a quick check up and shower you head to the common room on base to lounge with your team, but when you just stepped in the area Price got himself up from the couch claiming he needs to get back to work.

As he passed you he said a quick "Good job out there lad." And held you by your shoulder to pull you close and kiss you right on your cheek before walking away leaving you stunned.

The team saw it all of course, sitting still a bit stunned as well, seemed like your habit of kissing your homies rubbed off on the captain.

You were too focused on the lingering feeling of Price's beard scratching your face that you didn't hear Soap saying how that it's so unfair, how he also had a successful mission but didn't get a kiss from their dear captain, only realizing you've been standing there like an idiot this whole time when Soap ran past you trying to catch up with the captain to claim his well deserved prize.

And it just evolves from there, everyone gives each other kisses.

It started off as conglatutory kisses like before, then it'll go to "kiss it better" kisses

(Like if Ghost trained so hard he gets bloody knuckles Price will kiss them better, or if Soap suffered an injury Gaz would be there to kiss his bandages, or if Gaz just had a rough day and is incredibly stressed you'd kiss his temple)

Then eventually everytime any of you are about to leave for a mission you all give a kiss to whoever's going for good luck, and when they come back it's those pushing mouth aggressively to cheek kisses happy that they came back alive and well.

And it goes to the point where any chance you get you'll exchange small kisses. Passing each other in the hall way? A kiss to the cheek. Finding each other in the kitchen late at night to grab a drink? A kiss on the forehead. One of you had a brutal nightmare? Boom, get kissed on your damn head, hell why not cuddle while you're at it? (You did cuddle while you're at it)

It doesn't take long for the kisses to trail closer to the lips, for the kisses to trail to your neck and collarbones as well. It doesn't take long for it to evolve from small pecks to heated make out sessions, desperate to feel each other's mouths even deeper. It doesn't take long for the five of you to end up swapping spit late at night, sloppily making out with whoever's mouth is open and wanting, stripping each other's clothes even with your mouth occupied.

After that it's no question to kiss the homies goodnight, hell it usually ends with more than a kiss.

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ozzgin · 4 months

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Hii I was wondering if u could do a yandere Kazuya x yn x yandere Daitou I’m not sure if u do character x yn x character tho

Yandere! Yakuza x Reader Spinoff

Two yakuza men who have fallen in love with their new foreign tenant. A what-if spinoff to the original story for that love triangle spice. Happy Valentine's Day!

Content: female reader, NSFW, organized crime, obsessive behavior, violence, BDSM themes (choking), threats

Credits: My boyfriend for giving me the Daitou smut idea

[Main Story] [General Headcanons]

Kazuya is sitting on the sidewalk, checking his watch occasionally and tapping his foot. The cigarette seems to have been forgotten, hanging lowly from his lips.

"Sorry I'm late." Daitou speedily makes his way towards his friend, smiling awkwardly.

"Where the fuck were you, man? We don't know how much time we have before the cops arrive."

"Uh uh, leave it to me." The cheeky grin doesn't leave his face as he pulls out his gun and carefully but swiftly inspects the barrel and safety one final time. "(Y/N) needed some help with the mailbox. I couldn't just say no, ya know?"

The blonde man's eyebrows raise for a second, but he quickly recollects himself.

"I see. That's good."

"She asked me to show her the area tomorrow, so I'll be working extra hard tonight. Hehe."

"That's good."

Daitou glances at Kazuya, somewhat wary.

"You okay?"

Stupid question. What's he supposed to answer? Yeah, he loves waiting like a dumbass while his friend flirts with the new tenant, who conveniently happens to be a cute foreigner, who's been unexpectedly nice and relaxed around them despite them explicitly stating they're part of the Japanese mafia. Fucking hell. It doesn't help that this idiot is as obvious as a blaring, blinding cluster of ads smack in the middle of Kabukicho. He can tell from miles away that Daitou's completely fallen for her. Just like that, in an instant.

They've been partners and best friends for years now, so the natural reaction would be happiness, right? Daitou has always been one scary motherfucker. Even the seniors scramble when he's in the room, let alone women. For him to find someone that isn't bothered the slightest by his appearance or background should be a celebratory occasion. Kazuya should be rooting for him. Except, well, he fell for you just as hard. Tough luck.

The Bushido moral code, often used as guidance within their own lifestyle, covers matters such as loyalty and honesty quite extensively. A true warrior remains fiercely faithful to his master or companions. And yet, love interests are more of a grey area, especially if they happen to overlap. Who dictates the proper etiquette for this dilemma? To whom is loyalty directed towards? Truth be told, Kazuya couldn’t care less. He’s always been a man of vice, impulsive and greedy. If he wants something, he takes it.

The trouble starts when the other person is of the same mindset. Two ferocious predators eyeing the same victim.

***

You fiddle next to the tall, dark-haired man. Similarly, Daitou is avoiding eye contact, looking around in hopes of finding something to focus on. It’s the first time he’s come over since the incident. After his little mission with Kazuya, he was tasked to “interrogate” some of the remaining members to get even more names for the hitlist. He’d completely forgotten about his promise to show you the neighborhood. Hands sticky with blood, he was in the middle of his signature act of benevolence, putting the lad out of his misery.

It was around that time you decided to be the one picking him up instead, for your grand tour. Your knocks on the door remained unheard, however, so you decided to politely make your way in.

“Sorry, I hope I’m not-”

You froze in place. A man (you assumed at least based on the few visible traits left), tied up on the chair, canvas bag roped around his head. Daitou’s hands were secured around his throat. In the few seconds of silence, you could hear a muffled wheezing, as the stranger’s chest heaved in short convulsions.

“-intruding.” You mumbled, regaining your speech.

He messed up, didn’t he? Daitou sighs and slicks his hair back. He can’t blame you if you’re now terrified of him. He had to come over for some tenant checkups and you’ve been maintaining a safe distance from him during his entire visit. What can he possibly tell you? “Hey, I know I threatened to chop you up and you’ve now witnessed firsthand I’m a legit murderer, but, uh…I have a crush on you? Dinner at seven?”

You’re terrified alright, but not of his deeds. Rather, your newly discovered perversion as a consequence of the gory scene. It’s not that you relished in the torment of another. It’s the other details that left you reminiscing. Daitou’s imposing frame, the unbuttoned shirt revealing his traditional tattoos glistening in beads of sweat, his flexed, brawny arms, and large hands. You’re scared of your shamelessness. It can’t be normal. Yet you can’t stop thinking about it. Just a glimpse into this memory and your cheeks become burning red.

“I’ll be on my way then”, the yakuza announces politely.

Though he immediately stops in his tracks, and you realize you’ve unconsciously grabbed onto his sleeve. Uh oh. What now? You mumble an apology without releasing your hold. Being this close to him makes your heart drum inside your chest.

To hell with it.

“I might say something terribly inappropriate right now, but…”

“Sorry?” He stares at you, dumbfounded.

“Do you have anything planned after this?” You ask quietly.

“N-no?”

“Would you mind staying over?”

“Huh? Sure…w-what for?” His mouth is dry, and he searches your eyes in confusion.

“You know…” Choke me until I pass out and such, you think to yourself sarcastically.

He turns to face you, lips pursed awkwardly.

“You’ll have to be clear with me, Miss (Y/N). I’m not good with all this tiptoeing around and I might get the wrong idea.”

Your ears perk up hearing his final words, a deep blush now spreading over your flustered features.

“What wrong idea?”

Daitou fidgets with his glass prosthetic nervously.

“Well, uh, a man can only dream, ya know? Especially around a cute girl like you.” He reveals with a stutter.

“Suppose I’d be willing to go along with anything on your mind. What then?” You twirl your hair, gazing shyly at the floor. Not even you can believe the audacity leaving your lips.

The tall man steps before you, towering above with a certain gleam in his eye. It’s yearning. Your knees weaken.

“Don’t tease me, please. I can hardly control myself around you as it is.”

You release his sleeve and instead cling onto his shirt with both hands, looking up through your lashes.

“I’m dead serious.”

He ponders his next move with a click of the tongue, then cups your cheeks between his hands and lowers himself until his hot breath tickles your nose.

“Are you? There’s no going back after this. Can you handle it?” His voice is suddenly deeper, raspier.

Before you can respond, you feel yourself lifted and you yelp, surprised, instinctively wrapping your limbs around the yakuza. In between the greedy kisses that leave your lips bruised and swollen, you don’t notice the movement back towards the seating area.

As you pull away to gasp for air, he throws you onto the couch, flipping you over in the process so that you’re kneeling away from him. Your nails dig into the soft fabric of the sofa. You hear Daitou unbuckle his belt and you squeeze your legs together, heavily aroused. He presses his palm gently into your back, arching it. You sense his fingers grazing over your core and you whimper.

“G-go on, please.” You beg, swaying your hips tentatively. “I really can’t wait anymore.”

“As you wish, Miss.” He reassures you with a grin.

He adjusts himself and carefully makes his way in. You don’t have time to enjoy the feeling; following almost instantly is his belt looped around your neck, tightening under his grip as he pulls the ends towards him. Your head is forced back, and you groan. You can hear the leather stretch and creak over your assaulted skin, the constriction briefly cutting your oxygen intake. Hot drool trickles down your chin and your eyes almost roll back in pleasure.

“Look at my little Miss (Y/N), taking it like a champion.” He bends over and bites your earlobe playfully. “Does that mean I can be as rough as I want?”

You nod erratically.

The grip around your throat intensifies and your vision becomes blurry.

“Hey, don’t pass out now.” He inserts two fingers in your mouth, pulling you by the cheek and tilting your head to look him in the eye. “Not before you show me that you understand your situation. You’re mine. Is that clear?”

He drags his fingers downwards, aiding your response as you struggle to contract your muscles.

“Attagirl.” He concludes, satisfied.

In the morning you wake up with a dreadful soreness, and you can quickly see why. Your body is peppered in bruises. Daitou is smoking by the window and promptly flicks his cigarette out once he realizes you’re no longer asleep.

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” He begins, remorseful, and squats in front of the bed. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

“I will need a day or two to recover before the next time, but otherwise I’m fine.”

He beams with delight upon registering your words: next time. You can’t help but snicker at his childish enthusiasm. It’s a mystery how Daitou can switch between ruthless killer and cute partner with such ease.

Although it’s no secret, really. It’s you.

***

“Thanks for driving me home, Kazuya.”

You smile and unbuckle your seatbelt, reaching for the door handle. Daitou has been busy with work for the past days, so Kazuya took his place in looking after your needs.

“Huh?” You rattle the grab handle one more time to make sure. “It’s still locked.”

The blonde raps the wheel impatiently with his fingers. Is he to silently accept his loss? Does it even count as a loss when he hasn’t even had the chance to present his piece? Daitou has been quiet about it, but he can read that bastard like an open book. Something definitely happened between the two of you and the mere thought drives him insane.

Ah, this is so unlike him. There are few things he cares about. His pride, his Family’s honor, his freedom. Women aren’t exactly on that list, yet somehow, you’ve snuck your way to the very top of priorities and he’s realizing it just now. It’s becoming harder to ignore his maddening urge to have you. Out of all the things…He’d give Daitou the world. But not you. He can’t. He can’t.

“Kazuya? Are you listening? You forgot to unlock the door.”

“Say, (Y/N) …ever fucked in a car before?”

“What?” You ask, baffled.

“Come here for a moment.” He swiftly slides his seat all the way back and pats his thigh.

“Are you out of your mind?”

He answers your inquiry by pulling out his handgun and lazily pointing it towards you.

“I’m only going to ask once.”

You clumsily climb over the center console, straddling the yakuza with a slight pout.

“Someone’s in a sour mood, that’s for sure”, you complain. “It’s not even loaded.”

“Even I’m not crazy enough to risk shooting my Princess.” He smiles apologetically, throwing the gun on the backseat. “I thought it’d be more threatening that way.”

He removes a strand of hair from your face, gazing at you intently. His hand lingers for a second, before sliding its way down, tracing the side of your body. You shiver.

“Can you truly blame me when there’s such a pretty girl right before my eyes?” The blonde exhales and focuses on your shirt instead. “Won’t you let me prove myself?”

From this distance, despite the dim lights, you can discern his features in agonizing detail. His long lashes, his fleshy lips, currently parted, the luscious locks of hair casually thrown back. Kazuya has always been effortlessly handsome. It’s not just his good looks, but his overflowing charisma. He always knows exactly what to say and do. A devilish power to have over people, and you’re presently his victim.

His slender fingers play with your first button and cheekily undo it. You can only observe it, entranced. Your legs are weak, and your arms are stuck in place, resting limply over his broad shoulders.

“May I?” He glances up at you with a pleading expression. “I won’t be able to hold back afterwards.”

You bite your lower lip, distracted. Whether or not this is a wise choice, you can’t currently tell. You squirm in his lap and suddenly feel the pressure coming from below.

“Go ahead.” You finally confess.

He doesn’t hesitate and slithers his hand underneath your shirt, popping the rest of the buttons open. Like a hungry animal that has stumbled upon a feast, he sinks his teeth into your neck, leaving mean, wet kisses on his way down.

One hand is greedily kneading your curves, encouraged by your soft whimpers, while the other strokes your thigh in anticipation. With a bit of readjustment, he finds the right spot between your trembling legs. You jolt at the sensation of his cold fingers.

“My, you’re already dripping. How lewd.” He whispers between breaths. “Do you want it now?”

He nonchalantly slips out and undoes his own pants. You lift yourself expectantly and let a moan escape your lips upon feeling the erection throbbing right below.

“Well then, can’t forget our manners, can we?” He announces, visibly excited. “What should I do?”

You glare at him, feverish.

“Stop teasing me.”

“Come on, be a good girl. Tell me what to do and I will do it, Love.”

Why, this…You lower yourself to his ear and answer in a lulled whine.

“Isn’t it obvious? I want you to fuck me.”

Words enough to send the blonde man over the edge. He abruptly clutches your thighs for support, easing himself in before continuing with increasingly aggressive thrusts. Husky whimpers roll out of his mouth, desperate and starved.

“Oh, I’ve waited so long for this. My darling, perfect little (Y/N).” He presses his forehead into your chest, indulging in the moment. “Now say that you’re mine. Please. Please say it.”

“I’m…ah…I’m all yours, Kazuya.” You manage to blurt out, growing dizzy.

“That’s my girl. Such a good girl.”

Once the deed is finished, you flop your head over his chest, trying to catch your breath. Kazuya smoothens your clothes meticulously, holding you with one arm for support. Can’t leave a lady all disheveled, after all.

“Won’t Daitou be upset?” You point out, somewhat anxiously.

His muscles are tense for a second and he furrows his brows.

“That’s one strange way to thank me for making you come at least twice. Mentioning another man’s name.”

“I’m just…” your words trail off.

“What? Worried? You think I can’t handle it or something?”

Far from the truth. Both Kazuya and Daitou are violent, dangerous men. Given their stubbornness, you’re rather certain they’d end up killing each other. Not your favorite outcome.

“I don’t want either of you to get hurt.”

He sighs loudly.

“I’ll tell you what. Under normal circumstances, I’d probably dismember whoever had the guts to even entertain the idea of meddling with you. But…just because it’s Daitou, I might be willing to share. Nothing more than that.”

Kazuya ruffles your hair and chuckles.

“Aren’t you glad I’m such a diplomat, Love?”

“More like batshit crazy, both of you.” You retort, stretching.

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valdomarx · 11 months

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Roy’s first month of managing Richmond, he still wakes up at 4 a.m. every morning.

There’s no reason for it; work doesn’t start until 8 and he doesn't need to do extra training sessions with Jamie any more. But his body can’t break the habit, so he lies in bed and stares at the ceiling.

4 a.m. is when night is over but morning has not quite begun, when the world is quiet and distant and there is room for thoughts which would otherwise be unthought and feelings which would otherwise be unfelt.

4 a.m. is Jamie flinging open his front door with a big grin and a stupid head torch, saying, “Morning coach!” and bounding off with such enthusiasm that Roy has to scramble to keep up with him.

4 a.m. is the team finally calling it a night after celebrating a tough win, Isaac and Colin with an exhausted Sam between them, Jan Maas giggling, and Dani coming tearing out of the club yelling “Back to the hoteeeeeeeeeel!” and everyone running joyfully after him. Everyone except Jamie, who is leaning against the wall of the club and watching Roy with a hint of a smile.

“Fucking what?” Roy growls.

“You’re doing good. At this manager thing, I mean. The boys like it when you come celebrate with us.”

4 a.m. is sunrise over Richmond Park, the trees swaying in the breeze, deer leaping away in the distance, a blanket of silence muffling London’s ever-present hum of traffic. It is Jamie’s contentment as he runs, the way he springs forward to meet every step, with the rays of the rising sun painting streaks of red and gold through his hair.

4 a.m. is the time the team bus breaks down and strands them in a field in the middle of nowhere, and most of the lads are asleep in their seats but Roy finds Jamie sitting a little distance away on a grassy bank, looking up at the sky.

“Proper good view of the stars here, innit?”

Roy cranes his neck to take in the view of bright white points splashed across the darkness. He hums and lowers himself to sit next to Jamie.

“That one’s Rigel.” Jamie points. “And over there, that’s Betelgeuse. About to go supernova and everything. It’s gonna explode and take out everything around it, but after that, it’ll leave behind a cloud of dust n shit which’ll make new stars. Mental, right?”

Roy glances at him sideways. “How d’you know all this shit?”

Jamie shrugs one shoulder. “Me mum used to take me to the observatory as a kid. Said it was good for my cultural development. But I think I just liked the view.”

Jamie is staring up at the stars, but Roy is looking at Jamie’s face, soft, open, and full of wonder.

4 a.m. is a stupid time to be doing this. Roy stands in front of Jamie’s door and hesitates before knocking. Who the fuck shows up out of the blue at someone’s house at this hour? But he’d woken up early again and the world had seemed grating, like something important was missing, and almost against his will his feet had carried him here.

He knocks and, much quicker than he expects, the hallway light flicks on and footsteps thump down the stairs. Jamie opens the door fully dressed and wide awake, and beams.

“Morning coach! You want a cup of coffee?”

Roy blinks. “Aren’t you going to ask me why I’m here at this ridiculous time?”

Jamie's forehead wrinkles. "I'm sure you've got a good reason."

“I couldn’t sleep. Can’t sleep, I mean. I still wake up at 4 a.m. every morning."

Jamie nods. “Yeah. Me too.”

"I -" Roy squirms, hating feeling so visible. "I miss this."

Jamie looks up at him, surprised.

"I miss you."

Jamie blushes, then fidgets with his sleeves. "You see me every day."

"It's not the same though. I miss starting my day with you."

"Oh." Jamie's cheeks are blotched with pink. "We could go for a run together? Do some training?'

It's tempting. Roy could say yes, and they could jog around the park, and it could be like it was before. A little piece of familiarity in a season of changes.

But that's not what Roy is here for.

"I don't want to train," he says, and Jamie's face falls.

He steps closer, right up to the doorway, a mere few inches between them. He reaches out, stopping himself just before his hand lands on Jamie's chest.

He looks up, meets Jamie's eye, makes sure he knows what Roy is offering. His hand meets Jamie's chest, solid and warm. "I want something else."

"Oh." Jamie scarcely moves, has to remind himself to breathe by the looks of it, and then one of those soft, beautiful 4 a.m. smiles spreads across his face and he steps back to open the door. "Then I guess you'd better come in."

#a time of day that's arse o clock in the morning is something that can actually be so personal #roy x jamie #royjamie #roy kent #jamie tartt #ted lasso #my writing

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dante-mightdie · 6 months

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You mentioned bluecollar!simon would do some sketchy shit to make money when needed, out of morbid curiosity, what sort of stuff?

After reading that ask about Simon getting laid off it got me thinking

Even though your working full-time now to support the both you and Simon, you’re nowhere near making the same amount of money Simon was when he was working full time (idk I imagine reader having a job at like a petrol station behind the contour, it’s sketchy, the customers are sketchy and the pay is shit but at the end of the day it’s all that’s she’s got)

It’s getting to the point where you both are having to eat less/not until your satisfied but you can’t afford a weeks worth of food as well as water, electricity, rent, petrol, ect,ect,ect so you both just have to do the best with what you’ve got at the moment

Like you said, Simon is a very proud man and watching the love of his life have to eat as little as possible, shower as fast as possible and not use the heater because they can’t afford it breaks, not just his heart, but his ego

When reader first met him she made him swear up and down that he would stop doing sketchy shit for money, she helped him get away from those people who were leading him down the wrong track and made sure he didn’t get himself in trouble. So he started making money in a more adorable way, but now times are tough and feels as that he has no choice

He could feel their relationship start slowly falling apart and he just could have that so he called up one of this old sketchy mates to help him get back into making money like he used to

Of course he does this behind readers back because he swore to her he would never go back!! But what else was he meant to do? Let his sweetheart suffer? Watch her work herself to death 7 days a week 12 hours a day and do nothing? His a provider, his a problem solver and he’ll be damned if he lets down his baby in a time of need

He starts doing his sketchy job again, telling reader his just picked up some good contract work from an old friend that “owed him for a favour”

The money starts coming in and it’s good, really good actually. Bills are being payed mostly by him again, food is not really an issue anymore and his almost back to where he was before he got laid off. Reader and his relationship is back on track, no more big stresses or arguments anymore. Life is good

But it’s so so so hard for him to go back to normal blue collar work, his making a little more money now then he was working out in the elements sweating with aching muscles. OH and on the construction site AS WELL AS went behind readers back and continued his side hustle!! GOD HE WOULD BE SWIMMING IN IT!!!

Aghhhhh it’s so hard for him all he wants his for his beautiful baby to have the life she deserves, he would never want to break her trust but god just the thought of living somewhat comfortably financially makes his heart flutter.

I would LOVE to hear your take on that if you have the time. His so unethical but it’s from the heart. All he wants is for you to live happily and comfortably. Your worry’s only being what warm dinner to put on the table for when he gets home and if you should put the white loads or the dark loads on first in the washing machine.

Personally I think his sketchy gig world probably have to do with dealing some illegal substances, I know it’s a stereotype that blue-collar works use substances, idk but it definitely is in my country. But yeah I could imagine him liking to indulge before he met reader as well. SORRY IM RAMBLING BUT YEAH LOVE YOU HEAR YOUR THOUGHTS

- 🎀

listen listen he is 100% a fucking weed dealer

content warning: weed, drug-dealing, illegal activities, mentions of guns...

used to deal it to the lads on the site before he met you. was only something he did for a bit of extra cash but it spiraled and he was getting in to deep to that lifestyle. started dating you and decided it was time to get out of that life after you a found a gun in his flat...

hated the scared look on your face as you stared down at the weapon in your hand never wants to see you that exposed to that kind of lifestyle again. so he dropped out. got a steady job, moved in with you, living an honest life...

but then he got laid off and he was desperate...

started selling weed again, maybe even started smoking it again to deal with the stress. and he can't deny it's nice to be able to spoil you again, bring you home little treats and presents, small date nights...

being able to take all the stress away from you made the risk worth it. no longer having to deal with hearing you crying in the bathroom because you're stressed about which bills you can pay this month eased the pain in his chest

and once he goes back to having a steady construction job again, he can't help but enjoy the extra spending money. actually being able to put money into a separate savings account, even starts looking at engagement rings and getting a bigger flat...

#mw2 #cod mw2 #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #bluecollar!simon

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octuscle · 3 months

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You’re so good at transforming others so I was wondering if I could thank you by transforming you. Who do you want to become? 😊💪

I am almost 27 years old. I graduated from university almost two years ago. Since then, I have been working for an auditing company, auditing the risk management systems of banks. Not a particularly erotic job. But well paid. I travel a lot and my working hours are also less from 09:00 to 17:00. Not good conditions for getting back into shape. I used to be a competitive athlete. Open-water swimming. My shoulders and back are still quite broad… But the waist is no longer as narrow as it was in my best days. Well… The course of life, I would say…

Sunday morning. Normally I would sleep in, go somewhere for breakfast, then maybe do a bit of work. But today I feel like going for a run. At 06:00 in the morning. In the drizzle. I'm really crazy! But running clears my head. After just under an hour, I pass an outdoor gym in the city park. Yawning empty in this weather, of course. I really enjoy it! It's almost 10:00 when I get back home. Now for a hot shower. Uh, no. A cold shower! Hardens off. And then breakfast. Low-fat quark, protein powder, bananas, some fruit. Doesn't taste particularly good. But gives me the energy I need. A bit of Resident Evil 3 to relax. And around 3 p.m. I have to make my way to the stadium. Kick-off is at 5:30 p.m., and I'd like to be in my regular place in the south curve at 4 p.m. Getting in the mood with the boys. Highlight of the week!

Hehehe, that was a good brawl with the opponent's fans last night. That's a good black eye… And my lip is still a bit swollen too. Looks a bit dangerous. Despite the crisp white shirt, navy blue suit and polished black Oxfords. Even after a year on the job, I still haven't got used to getting up early on Mondays. Mondays are usually at 03:30. An hour of push-ups and a bit of weights training, as best I can at home. And then get ready, go to the airport and usually the plane takes off at 07:00 or so. And then I'm back to being the good auditor candidate. It's not as if the job isn't fun. But especially after the weekends, which are packed with hard training and fun with the lads in and around the stadium, the changeover is tough. I can only hope that none of my customers or colleagues ask me who beat me up like that at the weekend. I can't say that I'm one of the militant Ultra fans… Well, if anyone asks, I'll say that it happened during boxing training. They'll take my word for it. At the latest when I take off my jacket and people see my shirt, which looks like it's been painted onto my skin, nobody questions the boxer in me anymore.

05:30 on a Tuesday morning. An hour's run, then an hour's workout in the hotel gym, breakfast, 09:00 at the client's desk. A routine that I would never have expected a few weeks ago when I was doing my Master's degree. With your criminal record, the blatant undercut, the tattoos on your neck and the back of your hands, you'll never get a serious job, my parents complained. But damn it, I'm clever, I'm disciplined and I'm hungry for success. In the cage at MMA, in the fan curve at the stadium, at university and now at work. And fuck, when I show up at a customer's in a suit that perfectly accentuates my athletic figure, I'm surrounded by an aura of respect. Even if I'm the rookie in the project. For the first few days, my colleagues tried to persuade me to go out for dinner or a drink with them in the evening. Not in the mood! I found a club near the hotel where I can train properly in the evenings. Not the kind of wimpy workout I get at the hotel.

I'm so fed up with this fucking Master's thesis. Pumping, eating, fighting… This is what I live for! I've been working at the martial arts school since I got my bachelor's degree. On the one hand in accounting. And also as a trainer. Shit, why do I even want anything else? Would I like it better if I became an desk jockey in some office? I suspect not.

I love the moment when I open my gym in the morning. The sweat from last night is still in the air. Whoever had the last shift yesterday didn't leave anything tidy. I do my rounds and stuff forgotten socks, jockstraps and water bottles into the lost-and-found box. Okay, I wank on it again first. There's nothing like the smell of a used jockstrap that's still a little damp. I don't officially open for another hour, so I have that long to get my body ready for the day with the weights and sandbag. Let's see how full it gets. The place isn't yet self-sustaining. But with my jobs as a bouncer and my OF account, I'm more than able to keep my head above water. At least my tattoo artist doesn't have to worry about me not paying my bills. It's better that way. After all, it's his job to make sure I'm scary!

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #inked man #age reduction #ai image

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azulera · 10 months

Text

Sweet Like Açai

Pairing: TAA x Black Reader

Summary: He’s still raw from a rough break-up, his club is trudging through a mid-season slump, and somehow Trent still develops a fat crush on the server at Merseyside’s newest smoothie place.

Notes: this will be my last story for a while, but it is a longer one, and who doesn't love wingman curtis and flustered shy trentski 😃 here is chapter 1, but all other chaps will be posted on ao3. pls enjoy and do tell me what you think!

—————————————————————————

The new café that Curtis suggests is only a 15-minute drive from AXA, so after their last meetings and quick showers they take off in his Range Rover and make it there in ten. The owner, he says, is a friend of the Jones family, a former footballer who took the constant chiding of his nutritionists to heart and built a second career from it, and Curtis promises Trent that it’s the best combination of chilled fruit, yogurt, granola and whatever other superfood magic that he’s ever tasted.

But it’s not that Trent needs the backstory that his teammate gives or really much convincing at all - after training his stomach feels as big and empty as a house, and, even still, he figures he deserves it. The past months have been less than kind to him, and closer to brutal: the team’s performance has continued to nosedive in what by Liverpool standards was already an aggressively average season, and he’s still deciding if he’s moved on from the mutual but still painful breakup with his long-term girlfriend two months ago. “Self-care” is a foreign thing he’s been trying to practice at the insistence of his mum and Hendo, since they claim it’s okay to let himself have nice things, to not always push harder when the going is already tough.

A quick, sugary pick-me-up can’t possibly do too much more damage.

A little bell chimes as they step in the door and the air that greets them is pleasantly cool, and sweet. Dark purples and greens blend with browns and oranges on the walls in a swirling pattern, and rustic wood tables with high stools are arranged in rows from one side of the space to the other. There’s a couple sat together at a spot near the window, twin purple cups in front of them, and a single, serious-looking man on a laptop near the back, but the line to order and the self-serve kiosks are both empty. Curtis walks up to the counter, as in any room, like he lives there, and has been there a million times.

“The açai one’s gonna blow your mind, lad, I swear to ya. Plus, the place is Black-owned and that, supportin the community.”

Trent laughs once before settling his hands in the pockets of his sweats and looking up to the menu. There are too many options, really, but at the moment his stomach is non-discriminating.

“Yeah, it better. Won’t shut up about it, you. What’s good- the bowl or smoothie?”

“Hold on – Y/N? Is that you?”

Trent’s question goes unanswered, and smothered by the sound of Curtis’ yell. His voice lifts across the space, shouting the unfamiliar name another time, and again Trent is astounded by just how loud his teammate’s voice can be. That level of volume is helpful on the pitch but embarrassing in public, and Trent feels the eyes of at least one of the patrons on them.

“Curtis? Curtis Jones? Oh my days, one second–”

The ceramic counter holding the ingredients curves around into a small kitchen entrance on the left, and from where he’s standing, Trent can’t see what, or whoever it is that Curtis sees. But the mutual excitement in the voices can’t be missed.

“No way! Get over here!”

Curtis shouts, bouncing on his toes. A moment later, a blur of movement in the shape of a girl flies in from the kitchen, and has Curtis pulled into a tight hug. His teammate reciprocates, and Trent can see his shoulder muscles working to tighten the squeeze, even with the width of counter between them.

“Long time no see, Curt. Was starting to think you were something we dreamed up, only ever see you on the telly.”

Trent can soon confirm the voice does belong to a girl, and on the first glance he gets of her face it is slightly squished against Curtis’ shoulder, but painted in a look of open, undisguised surprise and happiness. It’s the kind of strong emotion he would only ever show on the pitch, almost never in a public place like this, and it almost feels like too much to witness such vulnerability from someone he doesn’t yet know, and who’s heartfelt reunion he seems to be third-wheeling on. He would look away, but his eyes betray him and zoom in, already busy taking inventory without consulting him first.

They start at her skin, which is glowy and smooth, and the same color he likes his tea, on the off day where he does drink a cup. He thinks it’s probably poor to compare a woman to a beverage, in fact, he knows it is, but blames it on his grumbling stomach and moves on. His gaze locks next on her lips, because she and Curtis are speaking again, loudly.

“Could say the same to you, can’t I, been ages since I’ve seen ya! And I’m loving the hair.”

“Yeah, wanted to try something different. It’s been a few years since I’m growing them.”

Her hair, Trent notices when he pulls his eyes from her face, is in locs like his, but lighter brown with amber highlights strewn throughout. They swing about her shoulders as she moves, so that she regularly has to push the strands back behind her ears, away from her face. The familiarity of the movement triggers a thing in his brain that yells “Me too!”, and his eyes travel the rest of her, suddenly hungry to find more things he recognizes. The first are her eyes, which are a warm, chocolatey brown, maybe two shades lighter than his own. The close second is that he finds her unpredictably, and undeniably attractive.

That feeling inside him that went dormant two months ago starts to fidget.

“How is everythin, though? Uni? And how’s the fam?” Curtis asks.

The two of them continue catching up with excitement that hasn’t yet worn off, and Trent stands to the side, trying not to intrude and trying not to be awkward. In a way he hopes is sly, he continues scrutinizing her features while intermittently looking at his shoes, up at the artsy menu board where the offerings are, impressively, engraved rather printed, and briefly at his phone.

He should, he supposes, listen politely to their conversation, try and contribute, but in truth he only checks back in after a loud burst of laughter. She's covering her mouth with one hand, and Curtis is straightening up from being almost doubled over.

“Whoo, I had nearly forgotten about that, you know! Your brother used to be absolutely mad. But hey, I was round here last week and didn’t see you. Are you workin here now?”

“Yeah, I am.” She pulls at the cafe emblem on the corner of her mauve t-shirt. “I’ll be working the front end of things while we’re still small. Only been at it a few days now, but Dad’s made sure I’m working hard.”

“I don’t doubt it, but you tell the big man he ought to hire some more staff, ‘cause me, I’ll be telling the whole city about this place. Dragged Trentski here as soon as I could, just to show him. Me first convert.”

The sound of his nickname evaporates whatever was left of his distraction, and he steps forward a little, as if finally being invited into the conversation. He looks up and finds she’s looking back at him.

“Alright?” She asks, smiling. “I’m Y/N.”

She waits for him to introduce himself even though if she’s a friend of Curtis and a footballer’s daughter, she surely knows who he is. Or does she? Either way, he decides he likes her for it.

“I’m Trent. Nice to meet you.”

“Good to meet you, too, Trent. Let me get Curt situated and then I’ll be right with you, yeah?” She smiles again, and it isn’t one of those plastic, forced customer service smiles, but one that lasts, like she means it. The light from it floods her eyes, and makes them even shinier, independent of the artificial lighting buzzing above them. In it’s glow, his chest does that stupid thing where it feels filled up with too much air.

He watches as she moves down the line and makes his teammate’s bowl with laser focus, trying to guess if what he’s sensing is just politeness, if her smile lasts as long every time. When the flash of white does appear behind her lips again, and twice more before she calculates Curtis’ total at the register, he gets too distracted by it to count the seconds.

“What would you like?” Too quickly she’s in front of him again, hands poised around a brown paper bowl.

“Em, yeah,” He clears his throat. “A bowl, please. Not a smoothie. The açai one?”

“Good choice.” She nods, while scooping portions of the purple fruit-yogurt mix into the container. “Any special add-ins for you today? Plant protein, energy, antioxidants?”

The health-food buzzwords set off signals in his head, and he gives the answer that would make his nutritionist proud.

“Need all of it, honestly.”

She laughs again, but it feels different this time, since he’s the one who made it happen, not Curtis.

“Good boy. Bet your nutritionist loves you. Which fruits?”

Trent freezes a second, affected in equal amounts by the “good boy” and the feeling that she’d read his mind. She pushes the right side of her locs back behind her ear in the silence.

“What about banana? It goes really well with the açai.” She offers.

“Yeah, banana’s good.”

She nods again and uses metal tongs to arrange the pale yellow pieces artfully over the yogurt. He goes on, choosing available fruits from the names listed on the clear glass shield, and trying not to stumble, again. The bowl gradually fills up, and it’s a smooth exchange – it’s much easier to do this, to talk and focus, he realizes, when her face is turned down – until they reach the last two options.

“Pineapple?”

“Em, nah, no pineapple, it-” The next bit of information he adds not because it’s particularly important, but because their interaction is almost over, and he doesn’t want it to be. “-makes me tongue feel—”

“All tingly? Yeah, that’s a thing!”

Her eyes light up as she exclaims and to Trent it seems her face sudddenly changes over — there’s more color in her cheeks, and vibration in her voice. But maybe he’s imagining it. She flits the tongs through the air as she continues.

“There’s an enzyme in pineapple, bromelain, that breaks down proteins, and you’ve got a bunch of those on your tongue and cheeks. It’s what makes it so acidic, and makes it burn a little to eat, but it’s interesting, cause, bromelain is also really good for you? Helps treat inflammation, and indigestion-“

“Not now, Y/N, just give the lad his food! If he wanted a lecture he would have gone uni with you.” Curtis teases from near the register, looking up from where he’d been on his phone, waiting. She graces him with a beautiful and dramatic roll of her eyes, but when she turns back to Trent they’re sincerely apologetic.

“I get a little carried away with the nutrition thing, forgive me. It’s nice to have Curt here, though, to keep me humble. Coconut?”

Trent wants to say, “No, it’s okay, I don’t mind it” but all he manages is a kind smile. He could care less now if she adds the shredded bits of white to his order or not, but he wants her to keep looking at him, for the excited glow on her face from when she’d mentioned food science to return.

“Em, yeah. Thank you.”

Minutes later, their bowls are bagged and paid for and they’re heading towards the door, fond words of parting on all their lips.

“You all come back, okay?” Y/N probes, pulling out from another Curtis, cross-counter hug. “And I’ll tell me brother and Dad you came in, Curt, they’ll be buzzin.”

“Oh for sure, I’ll send him a text as well. It’s been so nice seeing ya.”

“Same. And hope to see you again, too, Trent. Not just on the telly.” She waves at him, more a wiggle of her fingers, and it should look silly but somehow it isn’t. He wiggles his own back, and hopes it works for him too.

In the car, they dig in, setting aside the plastic lids unceremoniously on the dash. Curtis is obnoxious about the cleanliness and quality of many things, his clothes, trainers, and phone screen, but strangely his car isn’t one of them.

The bowl Trent ordered turns out to be far better than average. The yogurt is perfectly tart and tangy, the fruit crisp and juicy and the açai deliciously purple. He still hasn’t got the girl from the counter, Y/N, out of his head.

He’s four bites in when he finally asks the question bumping around his brain the past five minutes.

“How’d you know her again?”

“Who? Y/N? Her brother’s me mate. She was a year older, but we all grew up together in Toxteth. Why?”

“No reason.”

“Do you fancy her?”

“No-what lad?” Trent screws his face his up, unsure how indignant he truly is, and though he saw the question coming. Curtis only shrugs.

“I said, do you fancy her? I saw your face while yous was talkin, and you almost never ask after girls. Just pull with your mind games or telepathy or whatever it is you do.”

Trent gets a mouthful of coconut to formulate his answer, and the taste makes his stomach feel funny. He remembers why he doesn’t usually go for it.

“No, I mean, I think she’s good-lookin, yeah, but I don’t fancy her. Don’t even know her.”

“S’not hard to change that- I could put in a word for ya. Know she’s real busy, real serious about school and that, but you’re you, innit. Trent Alexander-Arnold. Be mad not to go for it.”

Trent lets the drama of Curtis’ compliment slide off him with a shake of his head. But the “you’re you” sticks; it’s what he’s been telling himself the two month’s he’s been girlfriend-less and on a season high not-winning streak, sitting middle of the table with indications to fall. He’ll keep on repeating it, or hearing it repeated to him, until it feels true again.

“You don’t feel weird about that? Since she’s your mate and all?”

“Why would I? You’re both sound people, better than sound. And if chattin to her gets rid of that kicked-dog look you’ve been wearin the past month, brother, I’ll plan the weddin.”

“I haven’t been— there won’t be-“ Trent splutters, before resigning to the chaos that is his closest teammate and friend. “I’ll keep the offer in mind, lad. But let me finish me smoothie bowl first, yeah? Let’s start there.”

“Okay, okay. You’ll remember I told you so.”

Trent keeps eating, lets Curtis switch the subject, and it's not until he’s home, scrolling the lists of Liverpool-based Instagram profiles containing the name “Y/N”, that he questions just what would be the subject of his friend’s “I told you so” — Y/N or the smoothie. He decides to treat him to another one tomorrow to find out.

#trent alexander arnold x oc #trent alexander arnold imagine #trent alexander arnold fanfiction #trent alexander arnold x reader #footballer x you #football imagine #footballer x reader #football fanfic

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kindestofkings · 5 months

Text

tis the damn season

robert keating x reader (she/her)

heres the requested bobby fic! reader is bobbys neighbour in dublin and they've had a situationship thats always off again on again, which ryan is v fed up with lol <3

masterlist

enjoy and also happy new year ! forgot how much I love making these so please come with some more requests, I always love getting them xxx

yourusername posted to their story!

year FIVE of working as a waitress during silly season, people need to be KINDER

yourbestfriend not all heros wear capes yourneighbour1 god bless you ↳ its been TOUGH but neighbours christmas party next week !! ↳ yourneighbour1 UGH best part of the season alsooo did I see a certain curly haired bass player make his return to the road...? ↳ feck he's home earlier than usual 😀 ↳ yourneighbour1 time to rekindle the infamous situationship??

yourusername posted to their story!

the return of the loudest next door neighbour known to man, yay 👍👍

yourneighbour1 😏😏 bobbyskeetz get rid of that sarcastic yay ryanmcmahon_15 yay my fav idiots have been reunited ! ↳ idiots? plural? why am I an idiot ryan?? ↳ ryanmcmahon_15 hmmhmm when will yee learn

bobbyskeetz

liked by yourusername and others

bobbyskeetz home.

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joshjenkinson_ lookin so mysterious and interesting xx

inhalerfan1 he is one of us

inhalerfan2 missed the intense staring since tour has ended, thanks mr skeetz !

inhalerfan3 christmas came early

yourusername smoking kills

bobbyskeetz excuse me?? I have NEVER and WOULD never yourusername big fat liar yourbestfriend y'all are the worst, every fecking christmas ryanmcmahon_15 what she said !

yourusername

liked by yourneighbour1 and others

yourusername the kids table at the neighbours christmas party is always the place to be <3

also slayed so hard with my kris kindle present he literally cried for hours 💅

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bobbyskeetz I cried cause you threw it at me

yourneighbour1 weakling bobbyskeetz ugh thanks tho.... I guess

ryanmcmahon_15 bobby and yn being adults when

yourbestfriend but then what would happen to their beloved situationship? yourusername guys you know this is MY comment section right?

joshjenkson_ hahah the perfect gift for him

yourneighbour2 ugh BEST PARTY EVAAAA

yourusername

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yourusername and it always leads to you and my hometown

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yourbestfriend ah ryanmcmahon_15 shes quoting tis the damn season by THE taylor swift, what does this mean?

ryanmcmahon_1 gasp not the sad tones..

bobbyskeetz confused we're from the same hometown...?

yourusername you uncultured swine its a lyric 😭

bobbyskeetzswife

liked by inhalerfan1 and others

bobbyskeetzswife OH MY GOD I JUST MET BOBBY, IM FREAKING OUT

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inhalerfan1 no way what the hell !! where?

bobbyskeetzswife literally in Dingle, Kerry 😭😭 he said hes with the lads but they ran out of drink so he was forced to go to the shops 😭 😭 inhalerfan1 omg hahahah I can't believe they just played the 3Arena

inhalerfan2 no way wonder why they're in dingle, such a random Irish town...

inhalerfan3 that girl that they all follow is in Kerry aswell with grace (eli's girlfriend) bobbyskeetzswife is that yourusername? I wonder who she is, bobby is always interacting with her inhalerfan2 huh wonder has he got a girlfriend

graciebrns

liked by elijahhewson and others

graciebrns wholesome few days before what I've been told, will be the best party I'll ever attend

view all other comments

elijahhewson promise its not an oversell

joshjenkinson_ agreed yourusername throws a phenomenal party yourusername ah flattered lads thank you

bobbyskeetz the million hikes will be worth it

yourusername you said you loved going on hikes bobbyskeetz course I do love 😔 inhalerfan2 love ?? gathering evidence

inhalerfan1 wholesome band trip bless

yourneighbour1 woohoo almost time to partyyyy

ryanmcmahon_15 how did one row of houses produce so many party animals?

yourusername party animals okay old man bobbyskeetz just cause you can't ever keep up ryan yourneighbour1 its how we were raised 😤

yourusername

liked by bobbyskeetz and others

yourusername hot people have birthdays on nye 💅

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bobbyskeetz so feckin hot

yourusername baby stapppppp that

yourbestfriend was the BEST time ever

elijahhewson class night it was, graciebrns whats the verdict?

graciebrns best. night. ever. yourusername I love you thanks for having me <33 yourusername you kidding me? thank you for coming !!

inhalerfan1 oh hello inhaler spotted ..

inhalerfan2 not bobby on the decks

bobbyskeetz

liked by yourusername and others

bobbyskeetz happy birthday gorgeous, love cleaning up bottles with you on new years day x

view all other comments

yourusername ahhhh the taylor reference 😭

yourusername my favourite nosey neighbour <3

ryanmcmahon_15 I have never been so invested in two idiots getting together properly

yourbestfriend so insufferable its taken like 13 years for them not to be idiots yourusername and what about you two being idiots.. bobbyskeetz whats your favourite book trope again love? yourusername FRIENDS TO LOVERS BABY, take notes ryanmcmahon_15 yourbestfriend

inhalerfan1 sad sad day for the bobby girlies 💔

bobbyskeetzswife noooooooooo

finished xx

#bobby skeetz #robert keating #robert keating x reader #robert keating imagine #inhaler dublin #inhaler band #inhaler fanfic #inhaler imagine #smau

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hopefulromances · 11 months

Note

grabbing them by their waist and tugging them closer to deepen the kiss with Jamie would be great!! Love your work!

It had been a tough day at Nelson Road. Conditioning day always felt like the longest day of training when all they did was run laps and lift weights. By the end of it, none of the lads could move more than a few inches.

As one of the physical trainers, you saw more of the boys on those day than any other. Sore muscles, strained hamstrings, or whatever else they could say to get a massage or some medication from you.

But one individual always seemed to make his way into your office everyday no matter the practice regime. Jamie Tartt. Now, it was fair that Jamie was always sore or hurting in some way with the level he was operating at. Not just the normal conditioning but whatever else Roy had Jamie do on top of that training.

You would know. Jamie was your boyfriend. Jamie was a good boy, though, he always waited until everyone else wen tbefore coming into your office to bother you until you dropped everything you were doing to pay attention to him.

"I got a stretchy feeling here in my funny bone."

"Jamie there's no such things as a funny bone"

"Well it feels funny and it's a bone... so"

Not that you could resist him anyways. Something about the way his smile seemed to brighten the room really gave you a motive for making him do so.

Today was a conditioning day. So you had been working on the boys for a while now. You were just finishing up some stretches with Sam when Jamie waltzed into your office, right on cue.

"Beat it, Sam," Jamie demanded, hopping up onto your table. Sam stood from his seat, immeditaly listening to Jamie.

"Nuh, uh, uh, not yet," You corrected, shoving Sam to sit back down. "You are not ready, let me get you some atheltic tape."

"Sam, if you don't get out of here now, I'm gonna put chili pepper in your pants," Jamie threatened. Sam stood again, trying to get out of the room.

"Nope!" You grabbed Sam and sat him back down. "Jamie, why don't you go play with the medicine ball? Keep your mind occupied on something other than being mean to poor Sam here."

"Yes, please, I think I hurt my knee again just trying to get out of this situation," Sam squeaked, looking betwen the two of you.

Jamie stared at you and you stared right back. You quirked an eyebrow at him and pointed towards the medicine balls. He let out a pitiful sigh and got up to go to his corner.

"Alright, Sam, here you go." You wrapped some atheltic tape around his calve and knee. "Take some Ibprofen for swelling and you should be right as rain by tomorrow."

"Thank you, (Y/N)," Sam said, gratfully. Jamie bounced his ball loudly, interrupting any conversation you and Sam may have had. You shot him a look. "I'll see you both tomorrow."

You shot Sam an apologetic smile and waves as he left the room. When he left, you snapped your head towards Jamie who was sending you a wicked grin.

"If you think you're getting into my pants after that behavior," you stalked towards him, shaking your finger. "Then you are very wrong."

But before the words had even left your mouth, Jamie pulled you by your hand and captured your lips in a kiss. You couldn't protest as you instantly melted against him. He wrapped his arms around your waist and tugged you even closer to him, drawing a noise of surprise from you as he did.

You shook your head and pulled back ever so slightly. "You are such a brat."

He kissed shortly, then again before replying. "'m not a brat."

"This," you said, pulling away again. "Is brat behavior" Jamie whined and followed you with his lips, missing and pressing them to your cheek instead. "Peak brat behavior."

"Well, a brat I may be," he snickered, sticking his tongue out at you. "But I am your brat."

God, that stupid tongue of his.

"Shut up," you mumbled, pulling against you again.

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

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fruitysoupy · 4 months

Text

100 years later I finally drew all of my AU Links

Say hello to my lads! They're going to be in a comic I've been scripting and planning for about a year now I think? I'm calling it Link and the Links, latl for short!

More info under the cut :]

(please don't tag as LU/Linked Universe!!)

The Plot

The Links find themselves in a mysterious forest that seems somewhat familiar to all of them yet none of them know where they are. Now they have to work together to find their way home. On the way they'll discover a thing or two about each other and grow closer!

The Cast

I could talk about these guys for hours, but to keep it digestible I'll make it short

A bit of info before I get into it - all of them are taken from different points in time after the end of their adventure(s)!

Birdie (Skyward Sword)

Roughly 6 hours after defeating Demise

The start of it all. Unbeknownst to himself and the others, the space they find themselves in was created out of his desire to meet the heroes after him. He feels terribly guilty about the curse and very much blames himself for the possible suffering of future heroes. His main goal is to check up on everyone and help where he can!

Grasshopper (Ocarina of Time and Majora's Mask)

4 days after leaving Termina

Somewhat disoriented after his journey still, he tags along simply because he thinks Birdie is an idiot who would get lost without him. He doesn't talk a whole lot but he likes listening to other people's stories

Seagull (Wind Waker and Phantom Hourglass)

6 months after leaving the domain for the ocean King

He's a real genuine pirate, yarr!! Or so he'd like you to believe. He talks a great deal about his strength and bravery, but really is just afraid and terribly homesick most of the time. He wants to fit in with Tetra's and her crew's toughness so much he might go a little overboard on the act in a way that may or may not end up biting him in the butt.

Choo (Spirit Tracks)

6 months after peace returned to new Hyrule

He wouldn't call himself a hero, in fact he'd say it's a miracle he made it out alive. Self-esteem and confidence really aren't his strong suits, he often finds himself dragged along and unable to say no. He is very friendly however, and if you just give him a little space he might even open up to you.

Wolfie (Twilight Princess)

4 years after defeating Ganondorf

Left Ordon after intrusive thoughts convinced him he was a danger to his village, now works at Telma's bar as a waiter in exchange for a room. He's responsible well liked, though he's not too fond of himself. He has some complicated feelings about the whole turning into a wolf thing

Apple (A Link to the Past, Oracle of Ages/Seasons and Link's Awakening)

Just a few seconds after Koholint disappeared

From one dream right into the next (sorta?) he's understandably disoriented at first. He pushes that aside pretty much immediately though, much more interested in getting to know everyone. He's a kind and soft spoken, weirdly wise sort of guy and near instantly becomes the heart of the team

Wallflower (A Link Between Worlds)

4 years after wishing upon the triforce with Zelda

Bitter doesn't even begin to describe this uh.. Pleasant fella. After being bossed around for the better part of his life he doesn't take orders from anybody and is this close to quitting his job as a blacksmith. He hates being stuck here, he hates these strange people, really there's not much he doesn't hate. But that can't be all there is to him...

Puzzle (The Legend of Zelda and Adventure of Link)

1,5 years after waking Zelda II

Confused, disoriented, but still happy to help and ready for adventure. Though some of the others don't really like him around he's still just as friendly to everyone. Since he struggles to communicate he tends to stay quiet. He appears to be simple minded on first glance, but he'll prove to be a valuable member of the team.

Sprout (Minish Cap)

13 years after defeating Vaati

After his grandfather died he retreated into his house and dedicated himself to improving his blacksmithing skills to live up to his grandfather's name, he was quickly forgotten by his community and faded into obscurity. Now he may be the best blacksmith in Hyrule, so good that even the royal guard hires him, but among the general castletown population he's nothing more than a forest cryptid. He only leaves the house when he has to, carefully avoiding people. Not because they disgust him, he just has a major case of social anxiety!

Squire (Breath of the Wild)

3 years pre calamity

This absolute rascal couldn't be happier about his current circumstances. These unknown woods are his playground and all of these weirdos are his friends now! Though everyone's pretty sure he's a knight trainee, he insists that he's just a stable hand for the guard. His chaotic and carefree nature surprisingly doesn't get in the way of things as he's eager to help out wherever he can, seeing the whole journey as an impromptu camping trip.

Some funfacts :]

Most of them are neurodivergent in some way!

Birdie and Seagull have ADHD, Grasshopper and Choo are autistic, Squire gets the combo platter AuDHD and Wolfie has OCD

Additionally, Birdie has auditory processing disorder and dyscalculia, and Squire has dyslexia

A few of them also have speech disorders

Choo stutters and Puzzle has cluttering speech disorder

Apple has a weak voice, so after a while his voice gets tired and gets hoarse

Choo enjoys drawings and cartography, two skills that will be very important!

One of Seagull's hobbies is photography! He takes his pictobox everywhere

Wolfie also does entertainment at the bar from time to time! He sings or does card tricks

Sprout knows HSL (hylian sign language) because his grandfather was deaf

Seagull's piratey way of talking is 100% for show and painfully inconsistent

Wolfie speaks in a thick southern (in universe ordonian) accent but he's trying hard to mask it since he moved to castletown

Wallflower absolutely hates Puzzle

Squire's special interest is horses

Birdie is a bit of a doormat so he has the ideas but Wolfie is the one to actually get them through

A number of them are blood related (has nothing to do with the colours of their names in this post, I had to reuse some because there weren't enough orz)

That's all I have for you today! Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! :]

If any of you have any questions about my Links or AU you'd like answered, my inbox is open!

Have a lovely day everyone!

#links meet au #tloz #legend of zelda #tloz fanart #tloz au #legend of zelda au #link #artists on tumblr #not lu #link and the links au #LatL au #my art #triangles #IT IS DONE FINALLY #Apologies for my handwriting also orz I tried #LatL #the lads

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misshoneyimhome · 6 months

Text

Struck by Lighting

Tags; Angry!William; Friends-to-lovers; bestfriend!TimothyLiljegren; Fluff

Summary: In the midst of a difficult game, William appears to lose his composure, suggesting more than just frustration over a bad loss;

Author's Note: I wrote this a little while ago and just decided to share it today 😉 It follows the familiar friends-to-lovers plot, yet a little different, you know? 😅 Nonetheless, I hope you'll find it enjoyable;

By the way, a quick thank you to everyone reading my work! I never imagined anyone would enjoy what I write, and I'm incredibly grateful to be able to share my thoughts and ideas with all of you! Having 1️⃣0️⃣0️⃣ followers might not seem like a lot to some, but to me, it's beyond anything I could have imagined 🫶🏻

[credits: inspired by a scene from Ted Lasso]

Word count: 3.4K

・✶ ｡ﾟ

The atmosphere was crisp as the five of you strolled through the streets of Toronto on a regular Friday evening.

The lad's hockey season had started just a month ago, and tonight, you were out with your group of friends: William Nylander, Timothy Liljegren, Pierre Engvall, along with his girlfriend Mathilda. Yet, this evening wasn't solely about the five of you chilling together; it was also a chance for Willy to introduce his new romantic interest to the tight-knit group. Being his close friends, he valued your opinion on this matter.

William had become, quite unexpectedly, one of your closest friends. It was something you hadn't quite anticipated from the day you were introduced to the inner circle of the Toronto Maple Leafs – particularly the inner circle of the Swedes.

Morgan had been your entry point, having known him back in Vancouver, and upon your move to Toronto, he graciously showed you around, and after a few months, he introduced you to his team. It was a bit surreal to suddenly find yourself among friends and partners of an NHL team, but undeniably, you felt like you belonged.

The entire team had been incredibly kind and welcoming. You hit it off particularly well with most of them. Auston and Mitchy were an absolute riot, always incredibly funny. Woll, alongside Mo, was among the kindest individuals you'd ever encountered. Tavares was the living legend, and the new guy, Knies – those eyes and that smirk – had a way of making anyone feel weak in the knees.

Everyone treated you kindly, but you could also sense a closer bond among the Swedes. It wasn't something frowned upon by the guys; in fact, it seemed this group genuinely encouraged everyone to become more open and mingle better with the rest of the team. Timothy, in particular, stood out as a genuine sweetheart, perhaps a tad less outgoing than the others.

And it was Tim that was the one who paved the way for you to join the Scandinavian friends' circle. You were consistently kind to him, offering help whenever needed, and being there to support him if he ever felt anxious. It all began with a simple, clumsy mishap in the hallways where he had lost his things, and you swiftly lent a hand. From there, it blossomed into casual conversations about various topics. And soon enough, you found yourself getting him a coffee, guiding him through breathing exercises before facing cameras, and keeping him company after tough losses.

And your efforts had earned you a cherished place in the hearts of the Swedes.

William, on the other hand, was a different story. He had to grow on you.

At first, you genuinely found him rather off-putting. With that way too satisfied, smug smirk on his face all the time, the way he knew all too well how good he was at hockey, and how he so effortlessly just sashayed onto the ice, scored a couple of goals, and became the hero of the day.

However, as time passed and you spent more moments with Tim's friends, you gradually peeled back the layers of William Nylander beyond the dazzling performances and mischievous grins. The more you hung around him, the clearer it became that it wasn't an act; it was simply his natural way of being - in a good way.

After each match, road trip, and workout session, you began to grasp the immense effort he invested in his training. How he'd show up early, stay late for workouts, constantly study technique videos, and engage in discussions with his father about his game.

You witnessed the sheer amount of energy required to uphold his positive mindset. In fact, it amazed you how he managed to stay so rooted and composed, even after a tough loss or demanding day filled with media responsibilities. And what struck you even more was his indifference to the attention and accolades he received; his primary focus remained on playing the sport he adored, striving to perform his best, and feeling proud of his achievements. He aimed high and held himself accountable to those lofty expectations and goals he'd set.

He simply impressed you.

On William's end, he hadn't given much thought to you initially. You were there, seemed nice, and that was about it. He wasn't one to dwell on things, so as he noticed your genuine friendship with his close friends, he didn't really have any negative opinions about you.

But much like he grew on you, you gradually made an impression on him. At first, he didn't pay much attention to you. But as you integrated further into the group, he began to notice your playful nature, your sense of humour, and the banter that developed among the lads. What initially elicited a light chuckle soon evolved into hearty laughter, echoing through the halls of the Scotiabank Arena after almost every home game, and Willy found himself thoroughly enjoying it.

Yet, beyond the good times, the real turning point occurred when William allowed you to see his more vulnerable side.

It had been a terrible game. For him at least, and he just wasn’t feeling good about it. And while he’d normally remain composed and all calm despite the challenging night, he’d involuntarily spat at his teammates about something regarding the play.

And though there was a mutual understanding among the teammates, that outbursts like these were rather common and no one should take it personally, as it’d all be forgotten the following day, you couldn’t help but stand up to him. He’d said something that was clearly targeted towards Tim, and you were just not having it.

So, after the match as everyone besides William had left, being one of the last ones as always, you’d stayed back just to offer him a quick remark.

“You know you can’t talk to him like that,” you’d spoken in a low voice, yet your words been firm and sharp as you’d confronted him in the hallway on your way out. “He played his heart out and you know it. Everyone made mistakes tonight, even you, and you shouldn’t be saying things like these to him.”

William had been slightly baffled by your words. And though he knew you were right; he didn’t think it was your place to talk back to him like this.

“Timmy’s a grown man, he can take it.” He’d said in response. “He needs to know what he did wrong so he can do better next time.”

In a way you knew he was right too. This was simply the way the boys showed their love and affection for each other as teammates, but you just couldn’t accept the way he’d speak to his close friend.

“I know, Willy. And I know you mean well, it’s just… Tim looks so much up to you, and we all know that you’re an amazing player, who gets a lot of attention, but that doesn’t give you the right to talk down to the others. You’re a team, and you also need to support each other in down times like these.”

And your words had had a way to walk straight to William’s heart. The way you showed so much care for your mutual friend had really opened his eyes for you. You were more than just giggles and funny puns. You were indeed caring and protective of the ones you loved – just like him.

“I’m sorry…” he’d murmured, which had taken you slightly by surprise. You hadn’t expected for him to give in to your confrontation so easily. But the softness in his eyes had given away that he might just feel a little regret of how he’d spoken to the lads, and quickly you found yourself feeling softening your facial expression as well.

Though there’d been no yelling or shouting, you’d unintentionally tightened the muscles in your face, raised your shoulders, as you’d gathered the confident to speak to him. But then as you saw his expression exude a hint of vulnerability and his composure softened, you instead tried to flash him a gentle smile and simply show that this was all about your shared love for a person.

And as concern and frustrations slowly faded away, you both shared smiles and light chuckles. And yet to another surprise, William had suggested for you to grab a late dinner snack, which you’d enjoyed at his place, while talking for hours about pretty much anything.

You’d shared family details, stories from the past, future aspirations, along with casual dating experiences and ups and downs from what had you both still at the single stage.

From that day on, your friendship had become almost closer than yours and Tim’s.

You’d be the one to confront him when he was merely being a brat, just as you were there to shower with love and affection whenever needed.

***

So, as the evening of the triple-“date” (you were there with Tim, though you weren’t romantically involved), was coming to an end, William turned to face you all, mentally preparing for the virduct of his new flirt.

“So, what do you think?” he timidly asked.

“I think she’s sweet,” Mathilda had started out. “She seems kind and nice… friendly and funny, I suppose.”

“Yeah, she’s got a nice laughter, doesn’t seem dum or without ideas,” Pierre had added.

“And she’s attractive.” Tim chimed in with a lightning spirit.

William nodded at the feedback, taking in that everyone seemed to approve of the girl he was becoming interested in.

“Yeah, you could be a good match,” Mathilda spoke once again with her sweet, gentle tone of voice, as she tried to reassure William that he had found someone good. However, as much as you tried to remain composed, you just couldn’t hold it back.

“Oh, come on,” you blurted out. “Tell him the truth.”

The group of friends looked stunned at you as you’d broken the silence, you’d maintain during the walk from the restaurant, earning you to elaborate.

“She’s fine… that’s it,” you spoke gently, before continuing. “Which there’s nothing wrong with. Most people settle for fine. The question is just why the fuck you think she deserves you. I mean, you’re William bloody Nylander – you’re gorgeous, talented, funny, and overall, not too empty headed. Honestly, you deserve someone who makes you feel like you’ve been struck by fucking lightning.”

Your words echoed through the heads of your friends as your bold honesty slowly sank in, and the others couldn’t contain their amusement. In fact, they just smiled and nodded in agreement as William maintained an intense gaze at you.

“Anyway, that’s just my opinion,” you offered a sweet smile, and shrug your shoulders.

And in the evening, William couldn’t help but reflect on your words. It was incredible how you’d always have a talent of speaking so freely and directly to him. And he couldn’t help but deeply appreciate it.

****

A couple of weeks later, the lads were back in Toronto for a home game after a lengthy stretch on the road.

And this time around, it was your turn to spill some news about someone you'd been seeing.

His name was Matt, a few years older than you, working as a chef. He had a kind and sweet nature, and in your view, he was an all-round good guy. Just what you needed after a string of let-downs. Each person you'd dated before had been either completely unfazed or overly dramatic about every little thing. You'd been with all sorts, from the typical sales rep to the cliché sports jock, the soft-spoken preschool teacher, and the imaginative journalist. Yet none of them shared your zest for life and love for outdoor activities or your calm and drama-free outlook on life.

But Matt seemed to be the right fit.

Even your friends' reactions seemed to back it up.

You all shared laughter and excitement during a coffee break - known as "Fika" as the Swedes called it. And soon after, he joined you and Mathilda among the other partners of the team for a home game.

However, the match turned out to be rather awful. The Leafs were trailing 4-0 at the start of the third period, and their gameplay displayed no signs of a potential comeback strategy or strength.

The atmosphere weighed heavy on everyone, evident in the collective sighs as the Senators once again slipped the puck past Woll and into the net. Fans covered their faces in resignation, acknowledging the likely outcome of tonight's game. Equally frustrated were the players, especially when Mitch received a 2-minute penalty for holding, granting the Senators another Power Play opportunity.

The tension only seemed to ratchet up from there.

Then came William; he pushed himself, maintaining a rapid pace, maneuvering around opponents with confidence, controlling the puck as he charged towards the opposite end. He searched for an opening to take a shot, almost finding the perfect opportunity. With an intense focus, he swung his stick high, eyes fixed on the target, aiming and letting loose his shot.

But the puck didn't find its mark.

And a resounding disappointment reverberated throughout the arena.

William, unable to contain his usual composed demeanor, vented his frustrations, taking it out on his stick. He forcefully slammed it against the boards, the rage causing it to snap into two pieces. It seemed like nothing was going right for him tonight.

And your heart sank as you witnessed his outburst.

You'd never seen him this angry or out of character. Typically, he was the one who kept his teammates grounded, but in that moment, he held nothing back.

The game ended with a harsh 7-1 scoreline, and while Auston managed to net a goal, it did little to lift the spirits of the team.

One by one, they departed from the arena after their showers and media commitments. Partners took their hands, quietly making their way towards the exit, understanding that the night ahead would be spent in quietness at home, focused on care and relaxation, as the lads mentally geared up for the next match.

Finding yourself among the last few standing, you exchanged concerned glances with Tim and Pierre, aware that Willy was likely still in the locker room, possibly berating himself.

Offering a reassuring nod to their unspoken worry, you turned to Matt.

"I'll go check on him. This isn't like Willy, and I just want to make sure he's alright," you said to him.

He gave you an understanding smile as you slowly walked towards the locker room.

Inside, you found William, seated in his stall with his head bowed, almost completely removing his gear. His body still gleamed from post-match sweat, hair damp and sticking to the sides of his face.

With cautious steps, you approached him, prompting him to glance up.

"Hey," you said in a hushed tone.

You knew how hard he was on himself after such games. There was no need to vocalize it. But you wanted to convey unwavering support to your friend, so you attempted to offer your best, concerned, and caring smile.

"Hey," he replied, his tone subdued.

There fell a brief silence between you two.

"Alright?" you asked gently.

"Yeah, sure..." he shrugged, his voice lacking its usual spark.

But you knew him too well.

"Babe, I know it might not mean much, but tonight wasn't your fault," you offered in an attempt to console him.

"I know," he mumbled, eyes fixed on the floor.

"Really? Because it seems like you're shouldering blame that isn't yours to carry," you ventured further, aware you were nearing sensitive ground. Yet, seeing him like this hurt, and you couldn't hold back your concern.

"I said I know, y/n," he replied firmly, his tone indicating an end to the discussion. "You don't need to keep digging.”

"I'm sorry. I just want to ensure you're not getting lost in self-pity. This was a team effort, and you all had a tough night," you persisted, trying to express your worries.

"And what do you know about that, huh?" he suddenly snapped, rising to his feet.

William was completely unlike his composed self. He was on edge, filled with an anger so unlike him. And it startled you.

"I don't..." you attempted to speak. "I'm just worried... Willy, I've never seen you like this before, and I just want to make sure you're okay," your voice quivered, conveying your genuine concern.

"Well, I'm not okay!" he burst out.

Never before had William raised his voice at you like this, not even following a devastating game. Something deeper seemed to be at play here than just the outcome of a hockey match.

"Then please, let me help you..." you urged, hoping to diffuse the tension.

"You can’t,” he retorted.

"Why not?" confusion laced your words.

"Because it's you I'm pissed at," he declared.

You were taken aback. He was angry with you?

“Why? What have I done to piss you off like this?” you questioned, bewildered by his accusation.

William struggled to steady his breath, trying to contain the fury coursing through him. Slightly lowering his voice to a more controlled but still assertive level, he continued.

"You always tell us that we deserve someone who makes us feel like we've been struck by lightning... yet you're with a dull, ordinary guy who isn't even close to your league, and you expect me to believe that he makes you happy?"

Wait, what?

"It that with this is all about… you playing a shitty game because I'm seeing someone you don't approve of?" you expressed disbelief. How dared he?

William exhaled sharply, standing with his hands on his hips.

"That's not… no, we just played a shitty game, we'll get over it," he attempted to gather his thoughts. "I just don't understand why you feel entitled to dictate what the rest of us deserve when you don't hold yourself to the same standard."

You struggled to fully grasp his words.

"What are you trying to say, Willy?"

"Don't you see... you should be with someone... not like him... someone who also makes you feel the way you want the rest of us to feel..."

"Well, I'm sorry, but that just won't happen," you spoke loudly, your mind racing faster than you could rationalize.

"Why not?"

"Because the only person who'd ever made me feel that way is you!"

A heavy silence filled the room as your confession hung in the air.

You were left breathless, realizing you had verbalized something you hadn't even admitted to yourself before. A fleeting thought that had crossed your mind briefly but had never lingered for more than a moment. However, as the words escaped, they felt undeniably true.

And the truth was, you had deep feelings for William.

The laghter and playful banter between you. The affection you both had for your friends and families. How he always showed his genuine self with you, offering a listening ear and a supportive shoulder. You simply liked every part of him.

And as William gradually absorbed the sudden confession, he regained control of his breathing following his emotional outburst. He gazed intently at you, focusing on your worried expression, acknowledging your unintentional heartfelt disclosure.

Yet, he found himself speechless. There were no witty remarks or playful comebacks. He didn't feel compelled to challenge you or demand explanations. Instead, he took a step forward, gently cupping your head with his hands, leaning in to tenderly kiss you.

As your lips met, you couldn't resist, placing your hands on his chest, feeling all frustrations and negativity dissipate from your mind.

Relaxation flooded your body, sinking deeper into his touch. His hands moved down to your hips, drawing you closer, while yours wrapped around his neck.

His tongue delicately sought permission to explore beyond your lips, and you eagerly welcomed the intimacy.

It was an true, heartfelt moment where you both surrendered to desire and passion.

As you parted from the kiss, both breathing in the air that was momentarily lost, smiles couldn't be contained as you stood close.

Being in his arms felt incredibly right, and you wished for that feeling to never end.

However, reality beckoned, so you looked up at him with a gentle smile, brushing a strand of hair away from his handsome face.

"I suppose... I should let Matt know that I can't see him anymore," you chuckled lightly.

"Yeah, he should probably know that you’re already taken,” William replied with a hearty laugh.

#william nylander imagine #william nylander fic #toronto maple leafs interview #toronto maple leafs fic #nhl hockey fic #wn88 imagine

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yellowkitkieran · 7 months

Text

To Have and to Heal (Part 14)

Masterlist

Read part 1 here

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: Single working dad Martin Odegaard is navigating the ups and downs of parenthood all on his own, and he’s struggling. That’s not to mention football, life and... love?

Martin should be focused on today's match. In less than two hours, he'll be out on the pitch to captain his side. He needs clarity. He needs precision. He needs to stop thinking about you.

But everywhere he looks, he's reminded of you. He can't bring himself to delete the dozens of photos on his phone or the messages you've sent him. The note you stuck in his duffle one day still hangs in his cubby, shoved between the shelf and the back wall. Martin aches worse now than being plowed over by a defender. How is he expected to lead when he is a husk of who he's meant to be?

Martin runs a hand through his hair. At no point did he expect to become this attached, to have his mood so dependent on another person. He doesn’t like it, not at all.

"Mate, you giving this talk or am I?" Kieran's Scottish accent grates on Martin's ears for no good reason. Kieran has been doing that quite a bit lately; he talks quietly about the woman he’s started seeing, and is careful to avoid doing so in Martin’s presence, but it still stings. At least someone on his squad is happy.

Though grateful for the offer, Martin shakes his head. Team talks ahead of games are his responsibility, and he'll be damned if he misses it because you dumped him. Heartbreak aside, he needs to be the captain his team needs him to be.

So, Martin clamors to his feet. He forces his shaking legs to work, to remain steady, whilst his mind works through the fog surrounding it. Each step he takes towards the center of the sparsely decorated away dressing room feels like he is wading through waist-high molasses. But Martin has always been a fighter, and today is no different.

“Facing anyone away from home is tough," Martin starts a minute later. He sounds more confident than he feels, which he is grateful for. "Nothing we haven't won before, though. Their fans are harsh but we are strong. We've faced worse and come away with three points. I'm not saying this will be a cakewalk." Martin observes the faces of his teammates, noting which seem hesitant and which are hungry. There's fewer of the former thankfully, which bodes well for their chances.

"This will be both a physical and mental game. We haven't been challenged like this in over a month. Our last fixtures have been easy wins. No frills, nothing fancy- go back to your roots, the basics. Let's show our gunners what they traveled all this way for!"

Though far more brief than his usual, Martin's words have the desired effect regardless. The lads all clap and cheer, raring to go. Slipping into his matchday headspace is easier now that his teammates are here to lift him up.

Not that it matters- ten minutes into the match Martin knows they’re done for. Sevilla batters Martin's side, raking them across the coals. A 3-0 loss away in the Champion's League isn't exactly a morale booster. The changing room is quiet after the final whistle blows. Arteta doesn't bother to give any sort of speech. The gaffer lets the silence speak for his disappointment, which somehow hurts more than if he had screamed at them for hours. Martin himself is too caught up in his head; his loose passing led to the goal that sealed their fate tonight, and that's not something he'll forgive himself for any time soon.

On the ride from the stadium to the airport, Martin turns his phone over in his hand. In a perfect world, you would be at his house comforting Atla right now. The two of you would be cuddled up on his sofa, Atla probably insisting on being wrapped up in the duvet off Martin’s bed- that’s always her favorite on match day.

The worst thing about an away loss is knowing that Atla’s nanny, bless her heart, won’t be able to keep Atla from crying. She hates seeing Arsenal lose, especially when it’s in the Champion’s League. Her poor nanny is probably frantically attempting to soothe her, though Martin is certain Atla won't calm down until he is home early tomorrow.

If Martin is sure of anything, it’s that he needs to get his mind off of his lackluster performance. Because if he fixates on it, he’ll be lost in his head for who knows how long. Martin, as the face of his team, needs to be focused on the bigger picture. Arsenal still tops their group, regardless of tonight’s result; though even that knowledge cannot lift his heart enough.

Messaging you might possibly be the worst idea he's ever had. He convinces himself to tuck his phone away until he's on the plane. There, crammed between the window and a snoozing Aaron, he can no longer resist temptation. Martin connects to the onboard wifi and pulls up your contact.

He shouldn't.

It's a bad idea, right?

Fuck it.

I miss you. If I asked if you're free tomorrow night what would you say?

Delivered at 21:53. Martin stares at the screen until his eyes grow heavy. The 'no new messages' in the app hangs over his head. When Martin falls asleep against his will, he dreams of titans tumbling from their mountainous perches, crushed under the weight of unmet expectations.

*********

Leaving Martin's message unread is an exercise in restraint. Your fingers itch to click on it for multiple reasons, not the least of which is genuine curiosity. You know it starts with 'I miss you' and includes some sort of question, though you have no idea what he'd be asking. Maybe he wants the kit he gave you back, but he's too afraid to ask outright.

Whatever it is, it doesn't matter. It's Monday, which means your students are your focus, not your personal life. Throwing yourself into work has never been a problem; you find small tasks to keep you busy when your students are working quietly in groups. Things like testing whiteboard markers, sharpening pencils, organizing bookshelves. Anything that keeps you busy and on your feet is acceptable at this point. Motion means distraction, and distraction means you don't think about your phone sitting in your bag.

Your prep period comes and goes without incident, as you plan your entire week of lessons in the hour-long session. Your best friend is absent today, meaning she thankfully doesn't barge in to bother you about your day with Martin. Thank the stars, because you aren't sure you could have that conversation without a breakdown. At least you only have a few more hours until the final bell rings, and then you only need to get through after school care before you can flop on your sofa with a container of ice cream.

Your stomach ties itself in knots as you set up the gymnasium like you normally do. Coloring pages are laid out on the plastic picnic table, footballs are scattered around a child-sized goal, and snacks are set out for kids to grab as they come in. You keep yourself as busy as possible whilst they arrive. You recognize Atla’s laugh rising above her friend’s voices and force yourself to remain seated. After successfully avoiding speaking to Atla for nearly an hour, a glance at the clock confirms your fear: her guardian is late for pick up.

"Hey, Atla," you murmur, crouching down to her level and keeping your voice light. You're fully aware of how she bristles when you speak, her little shoulders going rigid. "Is your papa picking you up today?"

"I don't know." Atla turns her head slightly away, a frown tugging at the corners of her mouth. It isn’t her responsibility to know who is meant to pick her up, but if you can avoid calling Martin to clarify…

You sigh through your nose while offering the child a smile, "do you remember him saying anything about pick up today? If someone different was coming by, maybe your uncle Kieran?"

Atla shrugs, continuing to color her cotton candy bunny. She sighs, purposely not offering you a pencil like she normally does. You know why, of course. You can’t exactly blame her for being frosty.

Rationalizing with children is no simple feat. It isn't your place to sit down and explain to Atla what dating is, and why it isn't a sin for Martin to be dating her teacher. She's a toddler, and in her mind her mum will be coming back. Her mum would be devastated to find Martin with someone else, and that's all that matters to Atla.

Instead of talking, you communicate in Atla's language. You pick up a purple pencil on your own and leaf through the printouts until you find one of a frog, then set about coloring it in. Atla pauses, clearly curious about your design, and watches you with bright blue eyes. You let her, wanting to repair the relationship you have with her above all else. It doesn't matter that your heart aches when you look at her and see Martin's features in her delicate face; she is a student and you love her the same as the rest.

You draw bright polka dots across the frog, determined to communicate in an easy, stress free way. Atla is an artist and as such, regardless of her age, her mind is soothed by creativity. You allow yourself to relax as Atla shows no signs of rejecting your companionship. You are all too aware of her eyes on you, following each streak of color you lay onto the page. It is an effort to remain quiet, letting the soft music playing from your desk across the room fill the silence.

Finally, Atla squeaks out a question- "why were you kissing my papa?"

You mull the question over for a minute. You could lie, try and convince her that she had made it up. That would not be fair to anyone, especially Atla. No, the truth is best, especially because she will find out sooner or later. "Because I care about your papa very much. He means a lot to me, and that’s how I wanted to show him."

"You do?" Atla pauses to look up at you. “But I care about my friends a lot. I don’t kiss them! Papa said that’s only for people you love.” You afford her your undivided attention, setting your pencil down and sliding the page aside. Conscious of your body language, you refrain from crossing your arms to avoid closing yourself off. You have to be careful with what you say; the last thing you want is to admit your feelings to Martin’s tiny daughter.

"Yes, I do. I care about your papa. You know how sometimes in films, when the princess is really sad, the prince comes along and cheers her right up? That's what your papa is for me."

Atla's brow furrows like she's trying to picture it. She then sorts through the stack of coloring pages and pulls out one of Ariel and Eric, tapping the half-scribbled sheet, "like princess Ariel and her prince?"

You nod, thankful for her understanding. "Exactly. And I care about your papa so much that I'd let a sea witch take my voice," you lean over and pretend to grab at Atla, imitating stealing her voice from her throat like in the film. You continue when a delighted giggle fills the room, "and use it for her own plans. I'd be quiet my whole life if it meant I could be around your papa."

"I like when you talk. I don't want a sea witch to steal your voice."

"Well then I'll just have to protect it won't I? Can't have you getting upset!" You playfully tap Atla's nose, earning you another giggle. Her wide smile has her dimples on full display, a sight which you admit you’ve missed almost as much as her pa’s.

Martin clears his throat from across the gym. That funny feeling in your stomach reappears with a vengeance.

“Pa? Pa!” Atla's head turns and she immediately clamors over to him, her knee knocking the table in her haste to get up. Pencils roll to the ground and you bend to pick them up, forcing yourself to keep your eyes on your task and not on Martin. So studious are you that you refuse to look up even when a pair of black trainers edge into your view, followed closely by a pair of tiny white ones.

“Hello,” Martin murmurs. Your entire body tenses at the sound of his voice. You haven't realized how viscerally you've missed it until you hear it.

“Hello Mr. Ødegaard.”

Martin doesn't speak just then. He doesn't need to; the title you've used says more than a thousand words ever could.

Square one.

“I apologize for being late. Training ran long,” Martin says with perfect formality. Gone is the hint of flirting you had come to expect. There are no traces of fondness. Instead his words are punctuated by an undercurrent of mourning.

“It’s not a problem. Don't fret about it. Atla’s bag is on the coat hook- these are hers from today.” When you stand to hand over the drawings, you train your eyes on the crest on Martin's chest. You refuse to glance any higher. If you do, you know you won't be able to control yourself. One glance at his eyes and you'll crumble, and you cannot allow yourself to be so selfish.

“Atla, grab your things please.”

“Yes, pa.” Atla's little footsteps ring through the gymnasium, piercing in the silence. You and Martin both remain frozen, as your feet are glued to the polished wood beneath your feet. Your heart is an ocean in your ears. It pounds on your ribcage, begging and pleading to be set loose. Your fingers twitch at your side, joints aching to reach for him. You crave the familiarity of his lips, the burn that washed over you with each tiny kiss you shared.

“You got my message the other day, right?”

“Oh- yes I saw something from you. I didn't read it though. Just got so busy, I must have forgotten.” Your stomach flips when Martin's posture slumps ever so slightly. You nearly reach out to comfort him but stop yourself at the last moment.

“Right, of course.” Martin shifts on his feet, glancing at Atla quietly stacking cones. “I was trying to ask if you had some free time this week. Thought maybe we could do something.”

You think back on the conversation you just had with Atla. Though she is incredibly mature for her age, you still don't feel right about having anything other than a professional relationship with Martin. “Mar I'm sorry, I can't-”

“Of course, I understand. Just thought I'd try one more time.” Martin smiles softly. The gesture does not reach his eyes. Martin looks so unlike himself, so timid and small, that you scarcely recognize him. “Atla, are you ready søta? It's time we get home, uncle Kieran is coming by to steal your chicken nuggets. We have to get there first or there won't be any left for you!”

“I told uncle Key those were mine!” Atla screeches, stomping over to Martin and grabbing his hand. “Come on pa! We have to go!”

Neither father nor daughter glance at you as they make their way out. You remain rooted to the spot long after Atla's laughter fades. Cleaning up and locking the door upon your exit are the result of simply going through the motions. Muscle memory takes you home, barely remembering snips of the drive.

The emptiness in your heart remains long after you have sunk yourself in a warm bath, wine glass in hand. Not red, never a red anymore, because you cannot stand the color. Even a deep merlot reminds you of him, of sharing that bottle in front of his fireplace the first night he’d invited you inside to chat. Neither of you had wanted to leave, though you reminded him that you had to be up early in the morning.

The pinkish washcloth you run over your arms was once a vibrant cherry red. Even that stings more than you care to admit. More wine, another glass, anything to stave off the tears threatening to fall. Why did you have to say yes to that first date? Why did you cross that line, blurring the boundary between professional and personal?

It takes one more glass of wine before you find yourself reaching for your phone, splattering soapy suds across the tile.

Could we talk?

#martin Ødegaard #martin odegaard #martin odegaard fanfiction #martin odegaard imagine #martin odegaard fanfic #martin odegaard oneshot #arsenal fc #jac writes #thath #alt timeline lover

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kurjakani · 4 months

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Lads am having a tough time w money rn bc i got so few hours of work done for the past few months- smth that is not the case for the last one, i have a big paycheck coming but thats in 10 days and i have some shit i need 2 get 💀 food & losec bc my heartburns been awful.

So if anyone has interest. I could do these quick black & white sketches for HM 15 usd for full body? Really quick & doodly and no bgs, just smth I can do in abt an hour between school & regular work. Examples here.. payment via paypal.

In the worst case i can borrow some money from mom, so this is not an emergency but i like trying 2 do my own finances :')

#I have some bills too but those arw too high and i will get to them when i get my paychevk #Kanitalk

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jacevelaryonswife · 1 year

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Maybe I just wanna be yours

Even though he were handsome and kind, you were successful in avoiding fantasizing about Billy, after all, what is the possibility of seeing him again?

∴pairing: Billy Washington x Fem!reader

∴warnings and a note: fluffy and smut, english is not my first language. This shot was made for this request. 2,8k

ewanverse characters

Your routine was well defined. You would wake up early to work as a waitress at a local restaurant, which worked in the morning until late and was open for breakfasts and lunches, then you would come home and study for a few hours, to finally spend the rest of the day with your mother. Even smaller and working hours less than the other establishments, the restaurant was quite old, classic and well located, with a satisfactory flow of customers every day. It was not exactly what you imagined for your life, but it was a good job, with a good salary and close to your home, a real rarity to find. When the financial situation of your house stabilized, you planned to take a vocational course or a college, but so far you hadn’t made up your mind. While this didn’t happen, you enjoyed the happiness that life provided you, whether it was staying at home on lazy days, taking some walks, buying things, taking advantage of the day off or trying to find some nice guy, but the latter was more of a torment than a happiness in fact.

You've had one night stands and some failed attempts at romance, but you've never found a minimally decent guy to be ideal. You see, you were demanding, but you knew how to be flexible in your choices and yet immense bad luck seemed to haunt your love life. Maybe the mistake was in you after all, maybe you weren't ideal for anyone, not even for the guy who made you pay the dinner bill and blamed you for not being able to make you cum.

No, heavens! He was an asshole, idiot and profiteer, you deserved more than that asshole! But so many disappointments made you stop looking for someone.

Your life was followed the way it was in recent months, a good routine and a well-deserved rest, without many big emotions and weekly happiness in small things, until everything changed when he, Billy, showed up.

An attitude that constantly embarrassed you was to imagine your life with some clients you served, it was pathetic and needy, but you couldn't contain yourself sometimes. Because of the last events of your life, you stopped paying attention to them, but then a tall and slender figure entered a calmer moment of the day, with dirty blonde hair and such beautiful blue eyes. You anticipated to serve him, since your co-worker was with two other desks, greeting him with a simple smile without showing your teeth. “Hello, welcome to Little Jim, I will be in charge of your table. If you need anything, just call,” you said.

“Thank you,” he said softly, returning the smile.

To your surprise, your boss had known him for some time — from what you listened discreetly.

"Billy, how are you, lad? What about Lana? It's been so long since I've seen you two," Jay said with one hand on his shoulder.

"She's fine, you know, a lot at work," he, Billy, replied.

“What about you? Did you find something nice? Something with computers, huh? It's the job of your young people's dream."

Billy lowered his head with a small weak smile. “I got a nice job, the last few years have been a little tough but I managed to reverse the situation,” he pouted.

"You deserve it, you're a good boy and you have the same blood as your sister. Feel free here, who is serving you?"

You pretended to be waiting for the order from the other table as you turned to disguise yourself, but soon heard your name being called by you with a large amount of white threads and looked at him in false curiosity as you walked to his side.

"Take good care of my lad Billy, he's a special customer!" He said playful.

“I will, don't worry,” you smiled at both of them, but even more at Billy, who returned your gesture with sweetness and shyness.

Even though he were handsome and kind, you were successful in avoiding fantasizing about Billy, after all, what is the possibility of seeing him again?

Surprisingly you was discharged, since approximately five days later he returned to the restaurant, but this time he was attended by Nancy, your co-worker and another single waitress. Even busy, you looked at him a few times and caught him stealing glances at you too, causing a shy smile on both of you. No words were exchanged between you that day, but the fate seemed to reserve good things, since three days later he appeared again, only at the time you were closing. You knew you should say goodbye to your boss and leave, but Billy looked so handsome with his clean hair and trimmed beard...

You wanted him to talk to something, anything in your direction.

And then, when you signaled to your boss that you were on your way to catch the bus, he apparently had another idea.

"Billy, are you still living in the same apartment?" He asked, stating that you lived on his own streets. Oh... he lived near...

Mm.

No, stop.

While you were daydreaming about the fact, your boss was already planning some things, such as a possible ride, until you realized it. "Oh no, you don't have to bother!"

"It's not a problem, I'm going home anyway."

Although you was reluctant to accept it, Jay insisted that you go. It would be a hand in the wheel and an economy in your money, what could go wrong? As you got into the car, your old boss blinked suggestively at Billy, making him blush and lower his head in shame. What was better than a cupid?

“Thank you for the ride, it's very kind of you,” you said.

“You're welcome, it's no problem,” he said softly. "So... how long have you been working for Jay?" He tried.

“A few months ago. It's a good job, and he's a good boss,” you answered sympathetically. "And you, how long have you known him?"

"Since I was a kid, he's been a friend of my family."

"Oh, that's good."

The desire to look for another subject was mutual, as well as the shy silence that followed, neither of them confident in asking something particular from the other, so Billy asked another comprehensive question.

"Have you lived here for a long time?"

You watched him calmly, although your heart was a little racing. "A few years ago, not many, we lived somewhere else but things got a little difficult and we need to move."

“I understand,” he contemplated your answer.

"What about you?"

“I've always lived in the region, but I've been living alone for some time,” he replied.

Again the silence gained strength, only more comfortable than before since neither of you were so nervous. However, your side that avoided fantasizing about the beautiful blonde and his incredibly big hands? You can forget it. You were already thinking about him and his pleasant smell, and luckily for him, he remembered Jay's suggestive wink and decided to act when he arrived at your apartment.

“Thank you again,” you said with a shy smile.

"You're welcome, so, would you like to go out for coffee someday?" Billy asked slowly. Oh, how he hated these situations! His self-esteem was not a big deal and receiving a no from a beautiful girl was not pleasant, but then life - and you - seemed to smile at him.

"I'd love to go out with you. But I'm not a big fan of coffee,” you timidly confessed.

Heavens, the little smile he showed you was so cute and sweet, as if your answer had illuminated his whole life. "So what do you suggest?

“Can you give me your number so we can arrange it?"

“Sure,” he gave you the number and his full name. Billy Washington. You had a date with Billy Washington at the weekend at a cute local desserts place that you always wanted to go to. Your mind became restless when you got home, looking for him immediately on social networks to learn more about him. His Instagram didn’t have so much actionable information and the last update was about a year, Facebook was a little more revealing about some curiosities about his age and education — Twitter was out of the question. He was older than you, which caused a different excitement in your belly. But even with your efforts to find out things about your date, that night Billy and you began to chat by messages, starting a routine where curiosities about you were exchanged.

The anxiety built on your body had peaks and falls over the days, disturbing your thoughts. How should you go? Should you really go? After so many loving disappointments your mind and heart were not the most hopeful in a new endeavor, but the fire and the desire to find a love and be found by it were still lit in you. That's why you chose your best products to get ready that day, starting with a fragrant soap for the bath, the hair care kit, waxing cream, moisturizer and body oil, perfume and makeup. You were beautiful and serene, and you knew you would cry if things went wrong this time.

Luckily for you, Billy was extremely punctual. Quickly saying goodbye to your mother and making sure you would send her some messages to say you was fine, you greeted him when you saw him wait in front of the car.

“Hi,” your smile was wider than usual.

“Hi. You look pretty,” he said in a soft voice, opening the car door for you to enter.

“Thank you, you too.”

Maybe fate intended to smile at you, since from the moment you chose the table the dialogue was present at full speed. He talked about his sister's work in the bomb squad, his own work in information technology, some stories of his life and his tastes. You did the same, talking about your reality, your dreams, what you wanted to conquer and the things you found happiness. There was no pattern of dialogue, since at one hour he was telling about his uncle who named his dogs with atypical names, followed by you telling how you fell on your first day of employment.

At the end of each report there was a gaze full of expectation on both sides, an unspoken suggestion. Maybe he was the guy. But it was you who took the first step.

"I wanted to ask something. Doesn't it bother you to go out with someone younger?" Your voice was low and uncertain.

"Doesn't it bother you to go out with someone older?" He answered with another question.

“No, it doesn't bother you,” you said.

"Neither me."

It was already night when you asked for the bill and he fervently insisted to pay, holding your waist on the way back to the car. Your next step was bold, preventing him from opening the door for you as he leaned against it and gently pulled it by the hand to stand in front of you.

“I had a lot of fun today,” you leaned your two hands gently on his chest.

"Me too," he circled your waist, "but you don't have to do that if you don't want to."

A bold smile shone on your face before saying, "I want to. And you?"

He smiled too.

“Me too.”

Your lips touched each other with sweet tenderness, soft and shy as you tasted each other quickly.

"Do you want to come home with me?"

He didn't have to make an effort to convince you to say yes.

Just a few seconds after the apartment door closed, Billy traced his thumb over your lower lip before you kissed again, more intense than before. You held both sides of his head and leaned on his soft lips, returning the anxious desire to prove it. The wet and gentle kiss made you float in his arms, making it easy for him to take your body to the room to undress you without haste, passing his long fingers through each exposed piece of skin. You closed your eyes when you felt the steaming sensation of tongues and teeth in your neck, allowing yourself to sigh loudly. His hands kneaded your naked breasts and the flesh of your ass while diving into your neck, flooding yout mind with such delicious sensations.

“Let me take it off,” you said while holding the hem of his shirt, getting space to grope his deliciously defined chest and with some hair. God, he was so handsome.

You leaned over to return the kisses on his soft chest, sucking the pink areolas to provoke him — and apparently it worked, as the tightness on your waist got sharper. He moaned softly when you spanned him over your pants, closing your eyes and leaving erotic sounds with the intimate massage received. Your hands were masturbating him and your mouth tasting his abdomen were making him warm and needy, making him move away against his taste to remove his pants, shoes and socks.

He pulled you for a messy and wet kiss, sucking your tongue and tasting your tasty lips. He squeezed your ass and waist while depositing your body on the bed, retreating to pick up the condom package in the nightstand drawer.

You felt in the clouds when kisses were planted on your inner thighs, contributing to the accumulation of moisture in your flower.

“Your skin is so soft,” he purred satisfied.

“Mmm. Thank you,” your voice was sly.

And then, your panties were removed to expose your needy intimacy and bright entrance, making his mouth water while more kisses were destined to his belly. “You’re so damn beautiful,”

“You too,” you said out of breath. The wet and loving trail followed your breasts, where he sucked, licked and nibbled like a hungry and spoiled man, making you purr like a cat and your pussy squeeze for him. Your legs caged him and you pulled him for a terrifying kiss full of tongue and teeth crashing, you wanted him so much, you needed him so much. Your hand pulled his beautiful hair while gently scratching the light skin of his shoulder, making him moan and grind against your pussy. “Billy,” you sighed expectantly, every vein of your body burning in eagerness to receive you.

He moved away weakly to remove the last piece of his body and put on the condom, smoothing your leg before adjusting to your entrance. Your eyes closed when he felt him enter and a moan left your throat in the sensation. Billy was slow to push on you, but just as noisy. He held your thighs before moving gradually, at a deliciously slow and constant pace, making you relax and squeeze on his perfect cock.

“Mmm Billy.”

He moaned deeply as he leaned over your body to capture your lips in a quick and superficial kiss, sinking into your neck as he continued to slowly fuck your body. Your legs caged him when the friction of their bodies became too terrifying to hold, so stupidly good to be real, so affectionate and hot that it made you shipwreck with pleasure. His speed increased when you started to squeeze him more intensely, getting lost in yous body and in your hot and wet grip.

"So good… fuck.”he praised you close to your ear, contributing to the construction of your majestic peak that made you moan loudly and twitch belos him with fire burning your body and clear lights blinding your sight. You loved him, it was almost certain — or the orgasm made you believe it.

“I'm close,” he warned breathlessly and with wandering movements before cumming with a deep moan, weighing a little on your body, which you willingly left.

You smiled satisfied and happy for the amazing sex and for the whole set of the night, but a weight on your chest appeared soon after to harm your peace. What if that was all he wanted? Just one night. Oh no, please don't! How should you approach the subject without spoiling the most pleasant weather? Luckily for you, he decided to start.

"Did you like it?" A classic question asked when he rolled to your side after discarding the condom.

“Yes, I did, I liked our day today,” you confessed.

"Me too," he brought you to his chest, "could become common, us you know," he suggested with expectation.

"Do you want it too?" Your eyes shone when he asked, "because I would love to. Us."

Billy smiled, cradling you even closer, his eyes as bright as yours.

"It's a mach, then."

———————————

ewanverse taglist: @aemonds-fire @partypoison00 @schniiipsel @fan-godess

general: @chompchompluke @kravitzwhore @partypoison00

#billy washington #billy washington x you #billy washington x reader #trigger point #smut #billy washington smut #fem!reader #Billy Washington x fem!reader #ewanverse

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tokusho · 6 months

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TF141+Vaqueros as Elementary School Teachers AU

Characters involved: John Price, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, Johnny “Soap” Mactavish, Simon “Ghost” Riley, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo “Rudy” Parra

Warnings: One mention of bullying

WC: 1.3k

Notes: Irl I actually work for an elementary school and this is how I feel the soldiers would be as teachers and what they’d teach. In this AU they’ve never been soldiers. I do have plans for Farah, Alex, Nikolai, and Graves in this au. I may make this into an actual fanfic if there is enough interest.

Ghost-Kindergarten

Ghost is a veteran teacher coming in the second year of the school's opening. Knowing that students are snotty and don’t cover their mouths when they cough so he wears a face mask around them. Despite his large frame and the dark clothes, his kids flock to him. They love to sit on his lap during story time and cuddle against him during nap time. His dry sense of humor along with his natural leadership kindergarteners become comfortable and confident at the start of their school life. He is deeply protective of his class seeing them as still young and innocent. If he catches any older student picking on one of his kids he’ll come up behind them without a sound like a ghost escorting them to the principal's office. His children affectionately call him Mr.Riley but the other kids who were never in his class call him Ghost due to his more closed off personality and strictness with the higher grades. Ghosts classroom is filled with bright colors and mats in the corner ready for nap time right after lunch.

Price- 1st and 2nd Grade Special Ed

Price has been in the school ever since it has opened along with Alejandro. He knows every staff member and does his best to learn and remember every student's names in the school. His calloused hands hold his kids small hands through the halls making sure they don’t run off and get lost or hurt. His steady and sure personality helps with his little ones having tough times, getting overstimulated, or dealing with big emotions that they don’t know how to deal with. He's able to read situations and his students quickly knowing what to do and how to help. He joins in with his students doing their breaks with little dances, holding their hands and shimmying with them encouraging their playfulness while keeping an eye out for any potential problems. From the years of working at the school he has learned that he needs to either bend or break the rules to get proper accommodations to help his children whether it be ipads for nonverbal students, earmuffs, etc he’ll do anything to make sure his kids are happy. His classroom is set up practically and a little more sparsely than the other classrooms, not because there isn’t a lot of things its more that its organized so his students know where things go throughout the day.

Soap- 2nd Grade

Soap is one of the newer teachers still with enough energy to keep up with the students. He’s the joker, out of every other teacher he’s able to make any student laugh the loudest. He goes all in for each student making sure to hear their laugh at least once a day from doing dad jokes from falling on his face. He makes sure his students are learning but he doesn’t want his students' brains to melt from studying too much so he participates in brain breaks with them such as doing dance battles or even simon says. He affectionately calls his kids lads and lasses, in his eyes they can do no wrong so he redirects them and talks to them about what's wrong, unless if there was a case of hitting or bullying. When one of his kids gets a warhawk to look just like him he almost cries tears of joy ready to sweep the kid up in a massive hug. His room consists of big desks where the students can sit at a table with a large amount of space in the back with a rug for brain breaks and library time with his students.

Kyle- 3rd Grade

Kyle is one of the newer teachers like Soap but he knows for third grade they don’t need that overwhelming energy anymore. His presence is calming and positive for his students making them feel more relaxed compared to other classes. He wants his classroom to be a safe place for his students, to feel at ease while learning. In the eyes of the students (specifically his students) he is the calmest teacher at the school. He cares for each one of his students and if he sees one of them not being their usual self he’ll subtly pull his student out of the class to make sure everything is alright. As he walks through the halls, is doing lunch duty, or playground duty he is being constantly tackled by children wanting a hug or having other little kids wanting to show him something cool they found. He softly chuckles and hugs each student giving them a pat on the head despite knowing most likely he's going to get sick from them hugging him all the time. His room is very cozy, never using the harsh overhead lights but with many lamps with warm lights along with a variety of different places his students can sit to read or just to relax.

Alejandro-4th Grade Math and Science

Alejandro started teaching along with Price at the beginning of the school's opening. He is extremely proud of each and every class that has ever passed through having his class. Alejandro and Rodolfo share a class of 40, 20 in each class so the students can get used to switching classes for middle school. He calls his students his “pequeño

vaqueros y vaqueras” (his small cowboys and cowgirls). He believes that his students are the absolute best out of any other class in the whole school always talking and showing off his amazing students. He is willing to go to any lengths to help a student who is confused wanting for his students to unlock their full potentials. He is by far the loudest teacher in the school whether it be his normal talking voice, laughing at an awful joke, or yelling at a student trying to throw food at someone in the cafeteria. He believes in punishment for those who have been wronged whether it be a student being picked on or a horrible rumor. He’s the voice for the students willing to do anything to get proper accommodations just like Price, even if it means going against the higher ups. His room is a little less decorated than the others since he and rodolfo is prepping the students for middle school. The desks are in a half circle with big pieces of paper on the wall with big writing showing off math equations or science they are currently learning.

Rodolfo-4th grade Reading, Writing, and History

Rodlfo joined the school a year after John and Alejandro. Just like Alejandro he is extremely proud of each student and calls them his “príncipes y princesas” (princes and princesses). He and Kyle are some of the most hugged teachers in the school. He teaches his kids the curriculum along with some extra fairy tales if they finish their work before the class ends. On special days if his students have been behaving he lets them watch movies of the books they are reading. Whether summer or winter he is usually wearing his gray sweatshirt which is how his students identify him in the school. He is one of the kindest and laid back teachers in the school only beaten by Kyle. His students like to spend their lunches and sometimes even recesses in his room. A lot of students ask him and Alejandro if they are siblings, although at first they saw it as cute but after being constantly asked by every student, they made matching shirts that say “we’re not brothers”. Rodolfos class has many books along with desks paired in twos for group work. There is a big desk in the back so he can have small groups talking about books they are reading, stories they are writing, or specific parts of history they are learning.

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elk96 · 9 months

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No Better Way to End a Day

Cillian Murphy x female reader.

Warnings: umm, work stress? a slight hint of angst, and some suggestive context-also, English is my second language.

You are going through a tough day(week) especially at work, and so your nerves are...kinda really bad, so you snap at your boyfriend, who tries to make things right.

Just a little something to get us all through the day, Ig

"Coffee at this hour babe? How will you fall asleep at night"? Cillian asked, coming down from your room.

You sighed heavily as another thunder almost shook the whole house. Taking a sip from your coffee, you counted in your head all the things you had to do until night. Finish work. Clean the windows. Iron Cillian's clothes and yours, fucking find a way to hold your job-but your boss had suddenly gone nuts, nothing was good enough, everyone was irreplaceable. Your coffee was cold, you realized, but you gulped it down anyway. Heating it felt like too much work for your already worked up nerves.

"I won't, that's the fucking point"!

"Okay…I'll go out, have a beer with the lads".

"'Kay", was all you answered.

Cillian stayed there staring at you for a moment, keys jingling at his hands. He opened his mouth to say something before an angry glare of yours prompted him out of the door.

And just like that, he was gone. And you were stuck home. With all the chores. And all the work.

With a deep sight you finally found the strength to get off the couch, and sit in front of your computer. The first notification you found was a text from a colleague of yours, which informed you of a new interview of all employees in the company.

Fuck.

But you had done nothing wrong -to the contrary, you were exceptional at your job. Until your supervisor didn't like your face or something.

I look like shit and I feel even worse.

I look like hell 'cause I'm going there first, you sang in your mind.

In a catatonic state, just as the rain had subsided into silent drops, you finished all your programmed work. It was nearly 11 at night when you emerged out of your "office".

Cillian came home at the same hour too, scaring the life out of you as you headed to the laundry room.

"Fucking hell"! you cursed breathily.

"Sorry", he answered with a smile. "I'll go get changed and I'll come for dinner", he added and leaned to kiss you on the cheek.

Dinner? What fucking dinner? You'd been working all day, he was out partying and fooling around, but that didn't matter, you were supposed to have cooked dinner on top of that. As if you hadn't told him not to eat all the soup at lunch.

You're being irrational, you thought to yourself as you stormed to the only place you'd have some privacy: the bathroom.

Banging the door closed behind you, you slid slowly to the floor against the wall, pressing your head on your knees.

It wasn't his fault, any of it, you complained to your stupid self. He had a wonderful afternoon well earned. Before your worked up nerves got the best of you, you heard a soft knock on the door.

"Baby? What's wrong? Y/ N? Did I do something"? Cillian asked softly, making you scrunch your face in regret. With heavy steps you got up, opening the door and falling in his arms.

"I'm sorry", you wailed.

Cillian rested his chin on your hair, brushing his fingertips against your shoulder.

"Let's go to bed huh? And we'll talk about it, and cuddle".

"I'll cook something quick first", you sighed, accepting your faith.

"I ordered Mexican," Cillian smiled and ushered you to your bedroom. He threw his clothes on a chair quickly before pulling you to the top of the bed, arranging the pillows and throwing a blanket over your bodies.

He kissed you on the temple softly.

"If you wanted me to stay tonight, you could've said so, you know I would've without a second thought", he murmured.

Cillian looked at you with that hurt look in his eyes, complaints and love lying within them. He always gave you that puppy -eye look when he wanted to convince you of something.

"Nothing important, I was just childish", you answered. You'd been together for the last 3 years, but still, you hated the idea of him knowing you had such an attitude all day long because of fucking work stress.

"Is it your boss again"? he nevertheless guessed.

"We'll be interviewed tomorrow, all of us. He tries to figure out who's the easiest to sack".

"Don't worry you silly. You're the best there, everyone praises your skills and devotion".

"I'm just anxious, I know it's stupid, but still. And tired. I was working all day long", you said, pressing your head firmly against his shoulder.

"I know Y/LN", he said sweetly. "It's just a bad day though, it will pass".

He reached on the bedside table, pulling your favourite chocolate out of it.

"Especially with some help", he smirked and you immediately bit off a chunk of it.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you like that".

"You scared the shit out of me", Cillian chuckled. "I spent half my time with the lads trying to figure out what me and Dave had done wrong with our girls".

You smiled at his last words, you loved the pet name. "My girl", he'd always call you while he finished, and you'd usually reach another high at this point. You shivered at the thought of it, and Cillian, somehow reading your mind again, placed a burning kiss on your neck. He nipped on your skin, sucking a large purple mark. He lowered his head to your collarbone, bringing his hand to caress your breasts.

As always, if you enjoy please please reblog and/ or comment!!

"Don't worry", he smirked. "I won't do anything tiring", he whispered in his dark voice as he moved to settle between your legs.

"Cillian!", you squealed. "What about the food"?

"Oh,I'll eat that too".

"No, I mean what if it arrives during-

"Let me take care of that sweetie. You just relax".

-----

You were just catching up your breath when the food arrived, Cillian carrying it like a trophy to bed along with all necessities so this little gesture didn't end up a complete disaster. You practically buried your face in your plate. He had ordered just right: chicken wings, country style potatoes with bacon and cheese sauce and tacos with yogurt dressing.

"I'm sorry I was like that", you said again, stuffing your mouth with chicken.

"Hey", Cillian scolded you. "Stop thinking about it, will ya? I too am a fucking prick when I'm under pressure".

You gave him a half smile, knowing deeply in your bones that this wasn't true. But it wasn't your regular behaviour either -hence his troubles thoughts- so you decided you could forgive yourself.

Cillian chuckled as you tried to fit all the remaining potatoes in your mouth, and got quickly downstairs to wash the dishes and clean everything. He returned to find you sat on the edge of the bed, playing with your thumbs.

"'D you wash your teeth an' all"?

"Yeah. I still have too much tension though, for some reason", you added bitterly. Your head was heavy with exhaustion but, of course, why would you have it so easy as to get some damn sleep?

Cillian cupped your cheeks tenderly, peppering your face with kisses before he carried you in his arms to the bathroom. He put up your hair in an -acceptable?- attempt of a ponytail before stopping you off your little clothing.

"After you ma' am", he motioned, and followed you into the shower. The warm water felt better than a heavy, heated blanket.

Cillian massaged your shoulders lightly, pressing kisses all over you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. No better way to end a day, you thought, until you felt his erection pressing against your ass.

"Something got you excited Mr. Murphy"? you asked playfully, yet in a manner that you hoped discouraged his plans. A little while longer and you might as well melt under his touch.

"Perhaps it's time I taught you about the benefits of vanilla sex Y/ N", he whispered against your neck, turning off the shower.

@joy-dwaekki there you go darling, hope you like it and it helps💙

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