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gingerbreadmonsters · 1 year

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stupid cupid

or: stop picking on me!

gn!reader, no content warnings, fun dumb fluff for the soul. sam collins, you’re a real mean guy! takes place inside the wonderful lexi’s prissy au, where alexis and christian are together - @autisticempathydaemon i hope i do your blorbos justice! as always, i owe everything to the discord girlies - i get the sudden feeling that @zozo-01 might want to hear about this... oh, and all my love to my lovely dialect coach, the incomparable @sri-rachaa - without whom, you would all be subject to the most unholy combination of accents imaginable. be very very grateful! 💕💕 heavily inspired by stupid cupid by connie francis, which i demand you listen to while you read. spot the 五二零 reference! sam being absolutely, thoroughly to blame in just over 2200 words.

“Well. Fancy seeing you here, hmm?”

Sam Collins is an idiot.

Yeah, you’re not afraid to say it.

Sam Collins is an idiot, and you’ll tell anyone who listens, swear up and down it’s the honest truth. A bleeding-heart birdbrain who couldn’t find his way out of a paper bag. An empty-headed vamp with a talent for healing and an even bigger talent for sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. Nobody else alive can put their foot in their mouth quite so quickly or obviously, and - despite Asher’s continued existence - he actually holds the state record for most dumb things said in a single minute. He’s a moron and a fool and the stupidest goddamn loser you’ve ever met in your life, and the worst part about it is that you’re absolutely, ridiculously, so so so in love with him.

It’s not fair!

What even is there to like about him? His stupid face and his awful smile and that horrible way he says there’s my darlin’, all relieved and deep and easy, when you come traipsing back through his door like a drowned rat because you hadn’t checked the forecast and it had started raining about twenty minutes after you left. His old-fashioned, ugly haircut that’s the perfect length to run your fingers through, all messy and falling across his face when he’s asleep in your arms, unfairly soft and pretty even though he barely takes care of it at all. That god-awful scruff around his jaw that you can’t help but kiss as he fills the kettle up with water, those strong hands that gently find their way around your waist as you’re listening to Milo’s tale of whatever bullshit he and his mate got up to last week, the way he likes to prop you up against his chest whenever you’re watching TV together…

…Sorry, what were we talking about?

Oh, Sam, right. Yeah, yeah. He’s an idiot. Have you mentioned that yet?

He gets back and finds you perched on the kitchen counter, elbow deep in the bag of crisps you said you didn’t like but he knows you do, because he pays too much attention to stupid shit like that for his own good. He lets you play your music in the car way more than the 50/50 you’d agreed on, which you know is true because you’ve started counting, because he’s a lying liar who lies. He always opens doors for you and pulls out your chair at the table and brings you flowers, but never lets you do the same for him, because he’s an enemy of goodness who hates things being fair.

He’s just so - he’s - the - he - aargh!

Stupid, stupid Sam Collins. It should be illegal to be so - so like that, you know? Who even let him get like this, anyway? Kissing your hand as he says hello with that damned smile, like some dashing hero out of one of those gushy romance novels Vincent’s always carting around - you know the ones, the cringy airport-duty-free types with the big cursive letters and a stock photo of some windswept white guy plastered across the cover. Your real life white knight, stepped right off the page and into your arms like it’s where he’s meant to be.

(It sounds ridiculous when you say it out loud, but sometimes you really do have to wonder. He gives Vincent shit for reading all those cheesy romance novels, but you’re starting to think it’s Sam who takes them to heart. He does know that those aren’t instruction manuals… right?)

He’s something else, that man. Unfortunately, you can’t say you don’t like it.

At first, you’d thought he was just playing it up - trying to be courteous, trying to be nice, and accidentally laying it on just a bit too thick. It seemed like the sort of thing he’d do, from what you could tell. He’s just so good - the kind of guy that you can’t help but admire in a sort of ‘oh, he’ll make someone really happy, one day’ kind of way. Does that make sense? Charming, really charming, even if he thinks he isn’t - and thoroughly, utterly, absolutely meant for someone a lot better than you.

You don’t say it. Never have, never will. It’s obvious. Larger than life, moonlight on the silver screen. He’s always been meant for more than this, more than you, and you won’t insult his intelligence by pretending you don’t know. He could do so much better, couldn’t he? To start with, you’d thought he must be more of an idiot than he’d seemed, to want you the way he says he does.

You know a little better now, but it doesn’t stop surprising you - he doesn’t stop surprising you.

Credit where it’s due, he’s stuck around, even when you thought he wouldn’t. The truth isn’t hard to see, but he does his best to persuade you otherwise, in as many words - and sometimes not so many clothes. More often than not, you tend to believe him. He’s very convincing, when he wants to be - that or he’s just stubborn, and you never learnt the difference. Whatever it is, it sounds so nice when he says it. If that’s what his version of persuasion feels like, you’re more than happy to, uh… to be convinced, if you will.

You don’t have to say. He knows. He already knows, and he stays anyway.

“...Darlin’?”

Oh, fuck, he - um-

“Uh - yeah, I - oh - yeah, I, um…” Startled out of your daydreaming, you’re caught off-guard by that foaming, fizzing feeling that bubbles up in your chest as he catches your eye, leaning down to prop himself up on the side of the sofa right next to where you’re sitting. “I was just, you know… sitting here…”

He laughs low and easy at your smooth comeback, shifting his weight to rest on one arm so he can reach out and take your hand gently in his. “Gettin’ comfy, are we?”

“Mm-hmm,” you mumble, trying desperately not to look as flustered as you feel. Fuck, does everyone feel like this when they see their mates? Or is it just the effect Sam has on you? You’d better start cutting Milo some more slack for that dumb face he makes whenever his mate walks into the room. “Got back early from David’s.”

“He alrigh’?”

“Seems it.” It’s always a bit awkward, going over to hang out at David’s house, but it’s generally a good time when you can pluck up the courage to actually go. “Ash spent half the time giving him shit for losing at Mario Kart, and the other half was mostly David beating him into the ground at Gang Beasts, so… yeah?”

The afternoon had been pretty good, all things considered - barring one minor mishap with a deck of UNO cards, a saucepan full of rice and some god-awful rhythm action game - and it had been nice to spend some time just relaxing with the others again. Everyone’s been so busy that it’s been hard to find a day you could all do, so it was a good change of pace.

Sam nods, thumb idly stroking over the back of your hand. “Seems like the pair of ‘em are settlin’ right in with this whole engaged business, then.”

“Business as usual, more like. They’re all lovey with their mates anyway, so it’s no different.” It’s not like it’s anyone’s fault - it’s just the way the bond works, you know? Not a compulsion, it’s not forcing you close or making you want to be all soft and touchy all the time. It just… it feels nice, is all. Like it’s good, like it’s true, like it’s right. You’d like to say you’re not as PDA-heavy as the really ooey-gooey ones like Milo and his mate, but… Well. Maybe most of the time.

“Mm, ‘spose you’re right on that front,” he muses, regretfully letting go of your hand as he stands up and starts walking off towards the kitchen. “‘Sides, ain’t David the one who proposed to his mate on solstice day? Guess he’s just the romantic type.”

“I…” When you think of romantic people, David Shaw isn’t top of the list, but maybe he’s right. When it comes to all that cheesy, cutesy stuff? Angel isn’t exactly the most subtle pet name, after all. “Yeah, I guess.”

You make to get up and follow him, but he holds out a hand to stop you before you can even properly stand.

“Nope - you stay right there, darlin’,” he says, grabbing the remote off the side table and tossing it lightly into your lap as he disappears out into the corridor. “Won’t be more’n a minute.”

“Everything alright?”

“Left my phone on the counter, ‘s all,” he replies, voice echoing slightly in the hall as you turn the TV on, idly flicking through the channels. “Vincent wanted me to take a look at some website or other - last I heard, he’s been makin’ plans for some Valentine’s Day thing?”

“He’ll be disappointed, then,” you snicker, readjusting yourself slightly to make room for Sam as he comes to sit next to you on the sofa. “He has realised that Valentine’s Day was, like, two weeks ago, right?”

A long-suffering sigh - which, to be honest, is most of the clan’s reaction when Vincent starts waxing lyrical about his partner again. There’s been a meeting at William’s all evening, something about making preparations for an event at one of the properties in a few months’ time, so Vincent must have got a hold of him there.

“Well, whatever it is, he’s got all sorts of ideas floatin’ around. He normally asks Alexis about this kinda thing, but she wasn’t there tonight so he came to me.”

“Huh.” That’s unusual. Alexis is normally really on top of these sorts of things - say what you will about her, she’s always on time and she never misses anything business-related if she can help it. “Maybe she’s just feeling a bit under the weather today.”

“Vincent said she had some ‘prior arrangement’ in town she couldn’t miss.” Sam shrugs, settling in next to you as you switch over to Netflix. “Guess she must’ve been double-booked tonight.”

Hmm. Why is that familiar? Playing truant, ‘double-booked’... You haven’t heard anything about Alexis being busy tonight before, so why does ‘prior arrangement’ ring a bell?

...Wait.

Oh, so that’s why Christian left early! You’d thought he was looking unusually dressed up. Their date night is normally Wednesdays, so it hadn’t even crossed your mind, but now that you think about it you remember Chrissy bitching about being on an out-of-town job all this week and having to miss it.

Oh, fair enough then. If someone had tried to send you out on some boring security gig for a week and you couldn’t see Sam until you got back, you’d probably be pretty pissed off too.

The conversation trails off a bit as you finally find a show you want to watch, and you’re just reaching for the blanket behind you when he - oh, when - um, when, ahhh…

“This alrigh’?” Curse his vampire speed! Before you really know what’s happening, he’s got you pressed right up against him, legs draped over his lap and curled in close under his arm, blanket over both of you. Not that you need it, anymore - your face feels like lava with the way he’s looking at you, impossibly gentle and kind.

“Yeah, yeah…” The spotlight of his attention, turned fully on you, and you’re practically blinded every time. “Good, yeah, it’s uh… yeah, ‘s fine…”

“Good,” he says, smiling softly like he has no idea of the effect he has on you. “Wouldn’t want my mate gettin’ cold on my watch.”

Fuck, does he always have to say it like that? Doesn’t he know what it does to you? Mate, mate, mate. Rattling around in your head, that firecracker-fizzing in your chest that runs through you at just the thought. He’ll end up giving you a heart attack one of these days, the way he’s going. And if it means he’ll heal you, hands all over you, holding you close as his aura cracks and sparks with healing magic? Maybe it’s overkill - but you can’t say the thought isn’t very appealing.

You hide your smile against his shoulder, burying your face in his chest in a vain attempt to play it cool - unfortunately his ridiculously-affectionate little laugh as you twist your fingers in his shirt tells you that it hasn't quite worked.

“Y’know, you seem a bit distracted, if I’m bein’ honest.”

The TV is long-forgotten as he gently tips your chin up, that idiot, idiot Sam Collins - dumb silver eyes and horrible smile and stupidly-handsome face just inches away. Is it just you, or is it a bit warm in here? In the arms of an evil, awful, wicked man whose favourite thing to do is make your stupid brain stop working, who sets your face and your heart and your soul on fire without a second thought, without even knowing he’s doing it. Honestly. What’s become of you? A house and a life and a mate that’s yours, it’s yours, he’s yours.

“Penny for your thoughts, darlin’?” A soft kiss, pressed lightly to your cheek, and all of a sudden the inside of your brain lights up a familiar shade of bright, bright blue.

He - you - oh, that’s - he just - aargh!

masterlist

this is an original work by @gingerbreadmonsters - please do not repost or misattribute

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redacted fluff #redacted sam #redacted darlin #redacted fic #ginger writes #gingerbreadmonsters

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ineffablemurderhusbands · 1 year

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Hannigram Fanfiction

It's my own desire (It's my own remorse)

It's Purge night and Will is stranded in the city with no weapons or transport alongside his new dog Winston.

The night so black that the darkness hummed (Rated E)

Will reckoned that Hannibal was soft and tender during sex. The man just exuded a pristine exterior and although Will was quite insightful because of his empathy disorder he couldn’t read Hannibal like nothing other than proper.

So imagine Will’s surprise when they actually had sex.

Family Liaisons

The Holmes brothers have another sibling.

They don't talk about Will Graham.

National Hero (Olympics AU)

Will Graham is a national treasure for the United States of America, being the youngest swimmer to win Gold in the Olympics of London 2012, now he’s 21 years old and still the best bet to win Gold in Rio 2016. Hannibal has a long list of gold medals for his country Lithuania and this is his first year going again to an Olympics since he retired, this time as coach for Matthew Brown. Hannibal’s confident his swimmer is gonna win the Gold. But Will is his best and only adversary.

Through Time (Soulmates AU)

AU where Hannibal and Will are soul mates and keep finding each other through time only to one of them to die. Will they finally be together?

#murder husbands #hannigram #nbc hannibal #hannibal lecter #will graham #Hannibal lecter x will graham #hannigram fanfiction #hannigram smut #the purge au #olympics au

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mjtwinflamesoul · 1 year

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MJTWINFLAMESOUL - Medium Skills Direct & Personal

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Dear Readers Today I am sharing a bit of insights with you, without giving away any details of course as my consulting is asbolutely discreet and personal. I protect your data, after all I habe been through myself. Now, after starting work on Television and gaining a lot of clients at once, I built a service in which anyone can reach me, German and English, and ask me spiritual questions for…

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stardustintheabyss · 2 years

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Soulmated To Sunshine Eyes

Haikyuu soulmate!au

Bokuto x fem!reader

Warnings: swearing, lil angsty

Sum: One of your childhood best friends, Tetsuro Kuroo, begs you to be Nekomas team manager just in time for the summer training camp, you agreed not knowing who you'd find there

When you turn 17 a tattoo representing your soul mate appears. When they are near(2 mile radius)it tingles but both people have to have them first. It stops when you kiss.

A/n: this has been sitting in my wips for a year and I promised myself I'd get this done in time for my loves birthday and I finished with an hour and a half to spare (shout out to pressurized procrastination). Anyways happy birthday to my favorite beefy owl 😚

"Y/nnnnn! C'mon it'll be fun! You come to all the games anyway and you're good at hyping up the team, even Kenma, and giving advice. And I've seen the statistics notebook you keep. Please, please, please!" Tetsuro begged.

You laughed and rolled your eyes at your best friend. For a few weeks now, well more so since Kenma joined, he'd been trying to get you to be the Nekoma volleyball manager. And honestly he was starting to make a good argument. "If I say yes will you quit bugging me?" You joked as you lightly punched his shoulder.

"Yes ma'am!" He smiled.

"Fine then. You're lucky I love you and Kens." You laughed.

"Oh. By the way we have a week long training camp in a week." He grinned.

"What." That little shit, he KNOWS your 17th birthday is in a couple weeks. The same week as the training camp apparently. Maybe this was his way of trying to cheer you up... You let out a sigh.

He shoved some papers into your hands, hyena laughing before running for his life, "Here's the permission slip! Bye!"

"Tetsuro, I swear I'm gonna kick your ass next time I see you!" You yelled a half empty threat after him. After letting out a sigh you realized at least you'd be with your two best friends when you got your soul mate tattoo. You'd been watching Tetsuro and Kenma play for years. You let out a small smile, you really did love volleyball even though you weren't really good enough to be on a team but played well enough to practice with Tetsu when Kenma refused. Which was more often than not. So maybe being apart of the team as a manager would be fun.

And that was how you got where you are now, in one of the gyms at Shinzen high school. You were a little nervous about being the manager but the team made you feel welcome. Even Coach Nekomata seemed to like you. Probably because you didn't have a problem putting the boys in their place when they needed it. You weren't what he was expecting. This training camp gave you the chance to find your footing before a real game. And you were having a blast. It was the second to last day and you'd found a nice rhythm. You were writing down some stats and advice on the game the team just won when you heard a boisterous voice from the court next to yours. "Oh yeah! Nice one Akaashi!" You looked to see the Fukurodani captian praising his setter. If you remembered correctly his name was Bokuto Kotaro and he was one of the top 5 aces in the country. Who were you kidding, of course you remembered, you were borderline obsessed with picking out talented players and learning as much as you could about them. He wore his emotions on his sleeve and seemed like an amazing person in general. The kind of person people gravitate towards. And to be honest he wasn't bad looking either. "He's a great player isn't he?" Tetsuro said. You nearly jumped out of your skin.

You smacked his chest, your cheeks warm from getting caught staring. "God Tetsu clear your throat or something. You almost gave me a heart attack." Scowling at him you grabbed his water bottle and took a drink. "Yeah, he's pretty powerful but he also has a great setter to back him up and can read his moods too."

"Mmhm." He leaned in closer, taking in your reddened face. His eyes twinkled with knowing and mischief. "You think he's hot don't ya."

"What? No! Shut up!" You screeched, a little too loud. Loud enough to have number 4 look your way and give you a bright smile, his eyes crinkled almost shut. You blushed, how could you not smile back at the sweet owl, so you returned an embarrassed small one. You turned glaring at your best friend as you shoved your notebook into Tetsuro's hands. Back at normal volume, more flustered than mad, "Fuck off Tetsu. What you need to work on is written in there. I need to go refill water bottles."

"Hey, later come by gym 3. Lev, I and a few other guys are having a 3 vs 3." He chuckled.

"Maybe, maybe not." You grumbled.

"Please Y/n, we could use your eyes." Tetsuro teased.

"Fine. But only cause I'm an awesome manager and you're hopeless without me." You mocked back before leaving to do your managerial duties.

"You know you shouldn't tease Y/n like that Tetsuro. Not with her 17th birthday tomorrow." Kenma said quietly as he came up next to him.

"Why? She knows I'm just kidding around." Kuroo told his boyfriend.

"Because she can still kick your ass if she feels like it." Kenma smirked before taking a drink of water.

"True but nah, she loves me too much." Kuroo couldn't wait for the little surprise he had for you later in gym 3....only a little afraid of what you might do to him. He was planning on asking you anyway but this development made things...interesting.

Bokuto had seen you around the training camp all week. Usually you were with Kuroo and Kenma. But this was the first time he'd heard you speak. He wondered what you were shouting at Kuroo about. He looked over giving you his biggest smile hoping it might brighten your mood, if just a little. In return you gave a soft but pretty one before shoving a notebook into Kuroo's hands and briskly walking away. "Hey, hey 'Kaashi, do you know who that is?" He nodded in your direction, you were gathering water bottles.

"The Nekoma manager I assume." Akaashi said disinterested.

Bokuto's cheeks rosied, "I know that! I meant do you know her name?"

"Huh uh." Akaashi smirked catching the color in Bokuto's face. "But earlier Kuroo mentioned he'd try and get their manager to come to the 3 vs 3. Something about 'she has a good eye', I don't know. So maybe you'll meet her tonight." That small smile you gave Bokuto lit up his eyes more than usual. It didn't take long for Akaashi to surmise that his best friend had a crush.

Your duties were done for the day and you decided to go run some laps around the track before heading to gym 3. You thought it might help to get rid of some nervous energy you had about tomorrow. In a few short hours you would have your soulmate tattoo. You didn't know why you were anxious about it, it's not like it mattered. It was bullshit, it wouldn't change anything. You shook your head changing your clothes. It was still pretty warm out so you'd changed into just a sports bra and leggings. Putting your ear buds in you cranked your favorite playlist and started running.

You didn't know how long you ran for but the sky was darker now and your leg muscles were twitching. You also weren't as anxious about tomorrow. Smiling you headed to gym 3 to go watch the game, wondering who the other 4 players were. Your mouth dropped open when you saw who Lev and Tetsuro were playing with. Two from Karasuno and two from Fukurodani. One of which was the ace you had been caught staring at. Briefly you wondered if Kenma would forgive you or help you murder Tetsu.

They were on their second set and you didn't want to interrupt anyone's momentum. You stayed in the doorway silently watching until there was a break in the play. "Oya?!" You shouted to get your best friends attention.

"Oya oya! Y/n, you made it! Bout time!" Kuroo yelled back before walking towards you. Everyone's head swiveled in your direction.

"Oya oya oya!" Bokuto added almost reflexively with a smile to yours and Kuroo's greeting followed by what looked like a scolding from his team mate.

You chuckled quietly to yourself before addressing Testu. "Yeah, I was just running some laps." Your eyes narrowed at him, letting him know he was in for it later for not specifying who he was practicing with.

"Nervous about tomorrow are we?" Tetsuro quietly asked you, for no one else to hear. He handed you a water, concern in his eyes. He may be a goofball and push your buttons but he's always been there when you needed him. Who knew the rooster-haired boy was such a mother hen at heart.

Blowing out a breath, "I'm fine Tets, thank you though." You gulped some water down as Tetsuro ushered you towards the other players. Not quite believing your words.

"Guys, this is Y/n L/n, the new Nekoma manager." Kuroo introduced you, slinging an arm around your shoulder.

Karasuno's number 10 walked over to you holding his hand out, " Hi! I'm Sho—."

You interrupted him, eyes sparkling and grabbed his hand to shake. Your volleyball geekiness was about to show. "You're Hinata Shoyo , Karasuno's Trojan whirlwind middle blocker!" Pointing, you named off the others, " Karasuno's Tsukishima Kei, the poker-faced perceptive bean pole middle blocker. Fukurodani's Akaashi Keiji, the analytical and supportive setter vice captian." You bit the inside of your cheek trying to not sound fangirly. "And last but not least, Fukurodani's Bokuto Kotaro, the powerful owl ace captian. Also one of Japans top 5 aces." Your eyes flicked over to Bokuto and lingered. A small shy smile forming on your lips and nervous laugh leaving your mouth. "Sorry, I don't mean to sound like a know it all. I just kinda have a knack for picking out talented and skilled players...and kind of obsessing. Oh and you all can just call me Y/n by the way."

"And boom. That's why Y/n is the best manager ever. Give her 10 minutes of a game and she'll pick out the specialties of a skilled players on any team!" Tetsuro praised.

"And she's nice when she helps me, she's patient unlike Yaku." Lev added.

"Oh, shut up Tetsuro." You blushed. "And you're welcome Lev. I just noticed you get less frustrated and play better when supported that way is all."

"Thanks Y/n! Well I am a pretty awesome player, right 'Kaashi?" Bokuto puffed his chest out. A faint red tint to his cheeks only Kuroo and Akaashi noticed.

Akaashi rolled his eyes, "Shut up Bo. No one likes someone who's full of themselves."

You could have sworn you saw Bokuto's hair deflate along with his happy attitude. You didn't like seeing him down. Before you could think you squeezed his arm comfortingly. "Hey, there is nothing wrong with being confident and believing in yourself." You gave him a wink, "Besides you're too sweet a guy to be an asshole about it."

Bokuto instantly perked up at your words. "You're so kind Y/n! Thanks, Akaashi means well but can be a little blunt sometimes." Bokuto lifted you up into a hug, your feet leaving the floor.

"Y–you're welcome." Your face felt like it was on fire and sparks were shooting across where your bare skin met his. Gingerly you hugged him back as he twirled you both in a circle. He was so much bigger than you, you felt tiny in his muscle defined arms but oddly enough safe.

When Bokuto set you down Akaashi looked like he was about to scold him again. "Bo...we talked about boundaries."

Bokuto had an embarrassed red tint to his ears but still had his wide infections smile. "Sorry."

"It's okay." You patted Bokuto's chest and smiled up at him and Akaashi, "I get hugs like that from the guys all the time, especially Lev."

Suddenly Hinata was next to you jumping up and down.

"Ahh! You gave me a nickname! The Trojan Whirlwind, so cool! That's that sneaky greek horse right? That's way better than just 'decoy'! You're amazing Y/n!" Hinata exclaimed, wonder twinkled in his eyes.

"I don't know...you really think so?" Excitedly you started to geek out more, talking fast. "Actually I know Karasuno's starting line up. You guys have a pretty talented team! And you guys pick up some tricks from other teams too I noticed. You truly are crows, omnivorous. Kagayama has wicked pinpoint accurate sets, Sawamura's great recives, Nishin—."

"As enlightening as this conversation is we have a game to finish and I don't want to be here any longer than I have to." Tsukishima scoffed adjusting his glasses.

"You don't need to be so rude Tsukishima. Ignore him, he's just salty because he didn't get a cool nickname." Hinata assured you.

You laughed, "No worries. He's right though, I came to watch a game." You glanced at the score board."Hmm. Cats vs Owls and Cats are winning? Here I thought Tetsu's team would be at a disadvantage."

Akaashi stated jabbing his thumb at Hinata and Bokuto, "Why, I've got the shorty and this big baby."

"Because they have to deal with his annoying ass." You snickered and you swore you heard Tsukishima snort as you poked Tetsu in the side. Everyone failed holding in their chuckles.

"Rude, Y/n, rude." Tetsu said as he poked you back.

"You two seem awfully close, are you together?" Hinata questioned, his head tilted to the side.

Lev, Tetsuro and you erupted into a fit a laughter. Between wheezes of catching your breath you answered. "Ew, no. I've know Tets since we were kids, he's like the brother I never wanted. Kenma too infact, except I actually like him. And besides Tetsuro and Kenma are soulmates, poor Kenma right?"

"Well we did kiss that one time." Kuroo fired back, bringing a finger to his cheek.

Everyone but Tsukishima had 'Huh? Excuse me?!' looks on their faces. It was hilarious.

Laughing rolling your eyes, "We were 13 and it was spin the bottle. You weren't the only one I kissed that night, you're not special. In fact it made my skin crawl."

"That hurts Y/n. But I still love you." Kuroo pouted, crushing you in a hug.

"Disgusting." You smiled up at him while pushing his head away, "Yeah, yeah love you too idiot. Now get back to your game."

"Aye aye miss manager!" Kuroo called.

"Don't call me that you rooster haired hyena!" You snarked right back while smacking a loose volleyball towards his head, narrowly missing.

"Okay, I see the brother/sister relationship now." Hinata giggled.

You sat on a bench nearby to watch. It was a pretty close game, your leg was bouncing with excitement. You always got this antsy watching a good game. You were taking a drink of your water sideways still trying to watch the game. Maybe if you hadn't been you would've been able to dodge one of Bokuto's crazy strong cut shot spikes after it landed a point. Next thing you know you were on the ground, right side of your face stinging. You let out a low groan sitting up, rubbing your aching cheek.

"Oh my god Y/n! I'm so sorry, are you okay?" The ace asked helping you up.

"Wow! That was a strong kill! It knocked me over even after it hit the floor!" You gushed, stars in your eyes.

Bokuto's face flushed and his golden eyes met yours. How had you not noticed how pretty they were, like the last brilliant rays of sunshine before the sun sets. They flickered with...you don't know what exactly. Like he was trying to remember something maybe? But it was gone as soon as it came. His hand still remaining on your arm. "But are you okay? You're not hurt?"

Shaking your head and giving him a warm smile, "Yeah, I'm fine owl boy. It wouldn't be the first time I took a ball to the face." Your eyes widend, realizing how that sounded. "V-volleyball, it wouldn't be the first time I was hit by a rogue volleyball!" Hopefully your injured cheek was covering up your embarrassment.

Kuroo smirked slapping Bokuto on the back, "Don't worry Bokuto, Y/n's a tough girl. Oh and that's our point, it was out."

You frowned at Tetsuro. "No it wasn't. It was in, barely. Really it was an amazing shot."

"This is favoritism." Tetsu whined.

"No, it's what happened." You pointedly glared at him, ignoring his implications. At least he didn't say anything about the embarrassing words you just said. "Ask Tsukishima then." Everybody turned to the blonde. Tsukishima shrugged, "She's got a good eye, I'll give her that."

You stuck your tongue out at Kuroo. "See. Now go get the point back."

The game continued for another 15 minutes before the Cats won. It was a close game. The long day had hit you as you leaned against Kuroo after helping clean up. You yawned, "Mmm. Good thing you won, otherwise I was gonna up your training regimen."

Kuroo laughed softly, ruffling your hair. "Oh ye of little faith."

Rubbing your tired eyes, "I have all the faith in you, you jerk." You waved to the other players, "Night guys. It was nice officially meeting you." Saying to no one in particular but subconsciously in your sleepy state your gaze landed on Bokuto. "Good luck in your games tomorrow, unless you play Nekoma of course." You were met with a chorus of goodnights and a couple thank yous from Hinata and Akaashi. Only you, Tetsuro, Akaashi and Bokuto remained.

"You able to make it to your room Y/n? You're practically asleep on your feet." Bokuto asked.

"Hm. Oh. Yeah, it'll just take me awhile. I'm slow when I'm sleepy." You replied as you shuffled towards the door, your eyes half closed. You couldn't wait to flop into bed.

Kuroo kneeled down in front of you. "C'mon and climb up. I don't feel like taking forever walking you back."

You snorted as you wrapped your arms around Kuroo's shoulders for a piggy back ride. "Thanks Tets." You murmured as you layed your head down and your eyes fluttered shut. Not fully awake you drifted between slumber and reality.

"She must be exhausted if she's being this openly nice to me." Kuroo chuckled lightly.

"Hey, can 'Kaashi and me walk with you?" Bokuto asked hopeful.

"Sure, I don't see why not." Kuroo said giving Akaashi a

questioning look. The fun loving ace seemed to have a thing for the insightful Nekoma manager. Akaashi being so intuitive of his best friends emotions gave Kuroo a small nod. This gave Kuroo an idea because you definitely had a crush on the owl captain. Hopefully you wouldn't kill him later if you remembered. "But be warned. When Y/n is super tired like this, she is a lot more loose with the truth." Kuroo talked as he started walking in the direction of the guest lodging.

"What do ya mean?" Bokuto's brows pinched together in confusion following.

"Hm, watch this. Hey, Y/n what'd think of Hinata?" Kuroo grinned.

"Mm, baby sunshine. To pure for this world, protect at all costs." You mumbled.

"Tsukishima?" Kuroo questioned.

"Fucking tsundere if I ever saw one but cool, I guess." They quietly snickered at your reply.

"How 'bout Akaashi?" Kuroo fired.

"Straightforward and calm. Kindhearted." You answered snuggling into Kuroo's back.

"And how do ya feel about Bokuto?" Kuroo questioned lastly. Suddenly butterflies found a home in Bokuto's stomach waiting for your answer.

"He's sweet and funny," you let out a contented sigh, "handsome too." Okay, Kuroo was glad you didn't say anything too embarrassing. Honestly he wouldn't have been surprised if you'd said 'beef cake' instead of handsome.

The otherwise outgoing male was quiet. You really thought that about him? Someone as smart and beautiful as you? A wide dopey smile made its way onto his face along with a dark blush. "Agaashi, Agaashi! Did you hear what she said! She thinks I'm sweet and funny and handsome!" Bokuto whispered excitedly, not wanting to disturb you.

"Yeah, Yeah I heard her Bo." Akaashi gave his friend a small smile before turning to Kuroo. "Isn't she gonna murder you for this?"

"Maybe....probably. If having Bokuto and Y/n realize they like each other is something that will make her happy in the long run, especially after tomorrow it'll be worth it." Kuroo looked up at the night sky, he knew you were secretly dreading tomorrow and how you really felt about the whole soulmate thing. No matter how hard you tried to hide it from him & Kenma.

"What's tomorrow?" Akaashi wondered.

Bokuto was still in a daze over what you said and something was nagging in the back of his mind. He'd only really met you today so why did you seem so familiar? Unconsciously his fingers drummed against his thigh, where his tattoo was. Lost in thought he didn't hear Kuroo's answer and lagged behind the two males. "It's her 17th birthday."

"You lost me, isn't that typically a good thing?" Akaashi noted.

"How do I word this? Well ya know how not everyone's lucky enough to find their soulmate? Y/n's parents are one of those couples. Don't get me wrong they absolutely love eachother and I think that's why Y/n thinks the tattoos don't really matter. If her parents can find love and happiness together it's like it's proof there isn't just one person in the universe just for you. And she probably thinks she's one of those people who won't be able to find their soulmate. She never said any of this to me directly but I've guessed as much and she once said 'the world is a vast place to find the one person you're meant to be with'." Kuroo looked over his shoulder at you, his eyes soft. "So if I can nudge her in the right direction to help her get what her parents have, to make her happy, I'll do it. I owe her that much."

"I see. It's poetic in a way. I mean you really can't help who you fall for, soulmate tattoo or not. You just might fall more for the one you were destined to be with. And what do you mean by 'you owe her'?" Akaashi shrugged, he could understand where you were coming from. He'd had his tattoo for almost half a year and never felt anything. He also knew Bokuto had never felt that tingle of a nearby soulmate and he had had his for almost 3 times that long. And he also knew it saddened Bokuto when he was asked about it, that's why he kept it covered most of the time. He thought as he fingered the tiny tattoo on the inside of his left elbow. A coffee mug and an open manga book.

"Oh that's a funny story actually. I wasn't as outgoing as a kid, barely talked to anyone. So one day this girl and boy come over to me, Y/n and Kenma. And she said 'I've seen you all by yourself every day and you shouldn't be sad and lonely...so we're all friends now kay?', just like that. Honestly she was so bright I couldn't have said no even if I wanted to. I don't think she would have let me either. Even at six she was a force to be reckoned with." Kuroo laughed softly. "So because of Y/n I was fortunate to have my soulmate so early on in my life and fall for him before I even got my tattoo."

Akaashi looked to Bokuto, "Yeah, I'd do the same thing for that goofy bastard."

Kuroo gave Akaashi a devilish grin, "So, you in for trying to get these two love birds together?"

Akaashi smirked back, "Bo's got a big heart but sometimes has trouble expressing it the way he wants to. I'm in."

They had made it to where the boys and girls rooms split off. "Night guys. See ya tomorrow." With a wry grin, "Y/n say goodnight to Akaashi and Bokuto."

"Mm 'night Akaashi." Your arms tightened around Kuroo's shoulders and you murmured still in your vulnerable half asleep state, "Goodnight Kotaro."

Both Kuroo and Akaashi's gaze darted to Bokuto. He was looking at you with such softness in his eyes that they might have thought he was already half in love with you. It was like Akaashi and Kuroo weren't even there. "Goodnight Y/n." Brushing a stray hair from your face he whispered with a gentle tone Akaashi had never heard from his captian. Yep he was definitely smitten.

"Night Kuroo, Y/n." Akaashi grabbed Bokuto's shirt tugging him in the direction of the boys rooms. "Come on you love sick owl."

"I-. Uh." Bokuto stuttered before saying goodnight to the Nekoma captian. As Bokuto was being dragged away Kuroo heard him say, "Hey wait! I'm not love sick!....am I?"

Kuroo laughed at Bokuto's words. If anyone knew if Bokuto was love sick, it'd be Akaashi. A few minutes later you were at your door for your room. Tetsuro carefully set you down making sure you wouldn't fall on your face. "Hey, Y/n we're at your room."

"Hmm. Thanks Tets. Ya know you're not completely annoying. I'm glad you and Kens have each other." You told him with your hand on the doorknob.

"Only cause of you." He bit his lip, he had one more question to ask while you were still painfully truthful. He wanted to make sure his and Akaashi's plans could work. "Can I ask ya something?"

"Mmhmm." You hummed crossing your arms and resting against the door.

"You like Bokuto, right?" Tetsu asked you.

A sad smile splayed on your lips. "Yeah but it doesn't matter. He seems like the 'wait for your soulmate' type so it's pointless hoping he could like me back." You opened the door.

"Y/n..." Kuroo heard the hurt in your voice.

"Goodnight Tetsuro." You whispered shutting the door before he could see the tears brimming in your eyes.

Kuroo blew out a breath. Fuck, he was an idiot for not realizing how deep the soulmate wound really went. But you were an idiot too. "You're really oblivious sometimes Y/n." He whispered to the closed door.

You didn't know if it was from being drained or because of tomorrow or some combo of both. But the moment you shut the door the tears that had been resting on your eyelashes fell down your cheeks. While you changed into pj's and washed your face they never stopped. You fell asleep with the glistening trails running onto the pillow and your heart aching for someone you knew you couldn't have.

The next morning you awoke to your whole back and part of your arms tingling. 'The fuck. Really my whole fucking back?' You didn't give to much thought that it was telling you your soulmate was near. You were in the middle of a huge city for fucks sake. You were more pissed at how big it was. You sighed, twisting your head you looked over your shoulder trying to get some idea of what it looked like. All you were able to see was black, grey and white feathers. Their tips reaching just past your shoulders and onto your arms. There's no way you'd be able to cover the whole thing in this heat. 'Oh well'. As you were getting dressed after taking a quick shower you received a couple texts in your group chat with the boys.

Kens 🐱❤🥺: happy birthday y/n, do you want your yearly bd hugs consecutively or throughout the day?

Tets 🐓❤😝: mornin birthday girl! Remind me again why you let kenma's presents be hugs and not mine?

You smiled before replying. They really just knew what to say to cheer you up.

Y/n 💜: thanks guys 😘 throughout the day pls 🥺and because unforced hugs from kenma are ✨special✨ yours not so much.

Tets 🐓❤😝: this is F A V O R I T I S M 😑

Y/n 💜: wbk but yes❤

Y/n 💜: the only good thing about this shit bd is that it means 17 KENMA HUGS! 🥺

Kens 🐱❤🥺: that's it. Omw rn for your first bd hug.

Tets 🐓❤😝: am I a joke to you?

Y/n 💜: okee kens 🥰. Bro you want the truth or nah?

Tets 🐓❤😝: I—. Babe you see this?

Kens🐱❤🥺: Jared, 19. ➖👅➖

Tets 🐓❤😝: I hate you both

Y/n 💜: no you don't

Kens🐱❤🥺: no you don't

Tets 🐓❤😝: your right 😔 see you two at breakfast 💛💜

Y/n 💜: 🖤💛

Kens 🐱❤🥺: 🖤💜

Five minutes later a knock sounded on your door. "Mornin Kenma!" You said brightly opening the door to one of your besties.

"Mornin." He mumbled wrapping his arms around you.

You didn't realize how bad you needed this. Your hands tightly clenched his shirt. After letting go you whispered, "Thanks Kens, I needed that."

Kenma pulled you in for another hug. "This one doesn't count. You still have 16 left."

You hugged the dual haired boy back, soaking up the extra special hug. A laugh escaping your lips, "You're the best."

Walking to the dining area you looped your arm through Kenma's. Of course he was playing a game but you didn't mind, you liked watching. You and Kenma had a different kind of friendship, you both didn't care about the long stretches of silence between the two of you. You just enjoyed eachothers company. That's why it surprised you when Kenma spoke. "So Tetsuro said you were at the gym last night with him and the others?"

Your hand brushed against your cheek where you were hit. The memory of Bokuto's hand on your arm and his golden gaze...flushed you answered, "Yeah. It was a good game."

Kenma's eyes flicked to yours before going back to his game. "You know Y/n, it's okay to like him. There's nothing wrong with feeling that way."

Goddammit. Between Kenma's perceptiveness and Tetsu's well intentioned blabbering mouth, nothing got past the setter when it came to you. "I—." You blew out a frustrated breath. "I know. I know. It's just... so fucking hard. My mind and my heart say two different things." You came to a stop at the doorway to the dining room. Your eyes easily found a white and grey haired boy laughing at something between bites. Without you knowing it a small grin spread across your lips and your heart beat a little faster.

Kenma noticed your smile and where you were looking. You looked happy, a light in your face he hadn’t seen since you all were innocent children in the ways of understanding what a soulmate was. "Maybe you should let your heart win this time."

"Maybe." You grabbed Kenma's hand and led him to the Nekoma table where everyone was sitting. Taking a seat next to Lev you asked, "Hey, where's Tets at?" They all had a look of mischief on their faces. "Wha—?" A pair of hands covered your eyes for a few seconds and then were gone. Sitting in front of you was a fancy cupcake with a single candle lit.

"Happy Birthday Y/n." Tetsuro hugged you from behind.

"Happy Birthday to the best manager!" The team shouted. Earning a few looks from the other teams.

"You guys didn't have to do anything for me..." Your heart warmed at their thoughtfulness.

"Nonsense, we're lucky to have you! You've done so much for us, this is the least we could do!" Tora gave you a thumbs up.

"How could we not do something for you, you take care of us." Lev nudge your shoulder gently.

"Yeah, you make my life easier by dealing with Lev." Yaku announced.

"Hey!" Lev yelled, insulted.

"Thanks guys. I'm only the best manager because I've got the best team to back it up." A wide happy smile split your face.

"Blow out your candle and make a wish." Tetsu suggested.

You closed your eyes making your wish as you blew out the candle. You dared to wish for something you wouldn't have if not for the conversation you just had with Kenma. You wished maybe, just maybe for a chance at love.

"What'da wish for?" Lev asked.

"For you guys to win all your practice games!" Bringing a finger to your lips, "But really I can't tell, or it won't come true." You gave him a wink.

A pair of flapping arms caught your attention. Of course they were attached to a certain owl boy. Once Bokuto realized he got your attention he gave you a big smile and waved. You let out a small giggle and gave a bright smile. You lifted your hand and returned the wave, your fingers wiggling in the air. Bokuto turned to say something to Akaashi, his face pink. But you didn't notice. Kuroo had playfully tugged on a piece of your hair.

"Oya?" Tetsu smirked at you.

"Oh hush." You said slyly but the smile on your face and blush on your cheeks lingered. "Go eat your breakfast, you have a lot of games to win today and need your strength."

Tetsuro stuck his tongue out. "Yes, miss manager."

You were so happy you'd almost forgotten the constant tingle on your back.

It was the end of the day and Nekomas last game was almost over. The other teams coach had called a time out to try and break Nekoma's momentum. All day you had been rolling your shoulders uselessly, trying to get rid of the ghost like feeling of someone's fingers dancing across the skin of your back. It was really starting to fucking irritate you.

"You okay Y/n? You've been doing that all day." Kenma had observed.

Tetsu came over and wrapped his arms around his soulmate, resting his chin on the crown of Kenma's head. God they were disgustingly cute sometimes. "Whatssup?"

You gave them a sour face. "My soulmate tattoo. It hasn't stopped prickling since I got the damn thing. Not to mention it's on my whole fuckin back and part of my arms." You pulled your sleeve up a little to reveal the tips of feathers. Kuroo was practically radiating excitement. You knew exactly what he was going to say.

"That's great! It means your soulmate is probably at this camp! RIGHT NOW!" Tets almost shouted.

You rolled your eyes. "I'm not that lucky. We're in the middle of a huge city. You know how many people live in a 2 mile radius of here?" Your eyes trailed to the other game you'd been keeping watch on. Or rather player. "...Besides, my hearts kinda already stuck on someone." You admitted out loud. Bokuto seemed more exuberant and carefree today. Even after getting blocked a couple times he was still glowing. Your lips twitched at the untroubled ace. His aura infectious. You were pulled out of your daydream when Tetsuro pulled at the back of your shirt, trying to look at your tattoo. You slapped his hand away. "What do you think your doing?!" You hissed.

He blinked at you innocently. "I just wanted to see."

"Tetsuro, if Y/n doesn't want to show us that's her business." Kenma scolded.

"It's not that, just not right now. You guys are in the middle of a game...and Coach would kill me." Laughing at Tets getting reprimanded by Kenma.

"I don't know, could give us an edge and distract the other team." Tetsu joked.

You chuckled, "Yeah and probably incapacitate Tora, embarrass Lev to the point where he'd be useless, Yaku would yell at anyone who dared to look, and Inuoka would probably try and cover me up without looking."

Tetsuro tried holding in his cackling and Kenma had a rare wide grin on his face. "Okay, okay. You're right. Only we two are immune to your beauty and charm."

You snorted. "Whatever. Now go win this game and make my wish come true or else." You said as you pushed them towards the rest of the team.

The first thing Akaashi woke up to this morning was Bokuto screeching about how his tattoo was tingling. At first Akaashi wondered, today was your 17th birthday...maybe? No they were in a big city. Bokuto's soulmate probably just happened to be nearby today. But then he couldn't stop talking about how you waved and smiled at him at breakfast. So maybe his attitude wasn't due just to his tattoo. He was in the best mood Akaashi had ever seen. Even failed plays didn't bring him down. Akaashi really didn't put it all together until he saw his best friend rub at his thigh, right over his tattoo. "Bo, your leg good?"

"Yeah! It's great. It's just hasn't stopped prickling." Bokuto beamed. "My soulmate must live by the high school or something 'Kaashi!"

'Was this himbo so far gone in his daze last night he didn't hear Kuroo say your birthday was today? And didn't he see the whole Nekoma team wish you a happy birthday at breakfast?' Akaashi thought to himself. "Or something." Akaashi muttered. His eyes gleamed with knowing. He made it his mission to get you two oblivious fools to realize what exactly you were to eachother by the end of today.

After the last game all the coaches surprised everyone with a barbecue for everybodies hard work. You were waiting by the grill with Tetsu and Kenma, waiting for the food to be done. You were starving and the aroma of meat was only making your hunger worsen.

"Hey, here comes your man!" Tetsuro whispered in your ear while playfully nudging you.

Your stomach growled loudly as you swatted at Kuroo. "Food now. Man later."

"You're right. Priorities." Kuroo chuckled holding up his hands. "But that doesn't seem to be stopping Bokuto and Akaashi from coming over here."

You glanced at the Fukurodani duo. Hunger forgotten. "Holy fuck." You whispered. Bokuto Kotaro was not wearing his long knee sleeves. Your face flushed, "No wonder he wears those things. He'd be too powerful otherwise, no one would pay attention to the ball." Your eyes snagging on the rather large tattoo on his left thigh. A cats face, half normal with a y/c eye and half skeletal. And nestled behind the skeleton side was...your favorite flower? It was just a coincidence, lots of people have the same favorite flower and your eye color. Maybe you were biased but you thought it was pretty.

Tetsuro snapped you out of your thoughts with a snort. "Simp much? And is that drool from the bbq...or the cake headed this way."

"Oh, that was a mistake." Kenma commented while playing his game. "It's going to be mildly inconvenient to replace you but you will be missed."

Casually you answered back, "Shuddup. Takes one to know one. I seem to recall certain screenshots that would look great posted on Twitter."

At that moment the Fukurodani pair made it to where you were. "Hey hey hey! What would look great posted on Twitter?" Bokuto asked with a smile.

You smirked at Tetsu, opening your mouth, "Tets caught being—." Tetsuro smacked a hand over your mouth.

"Nothing!" Changing the subject, "Y/n was just about to show us her tattoo. Right?" You licked his hand. "Gross. You don't know where my hand has been, you know how many microbes could be on there!" He yelled wiping it off.

You shrugged, grinning. "I have an excellent immune system." Clearing your throat, "Hey Akaashi," Your cheeks rosied under Bokuto's golden gaze. "H-hey Bokuto."

"Your soulmate tattoo? Cool, usually I keep mine covered but I felt like letting loose today after practice." He smiled lifting his leg. Akaashi groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. How was his best friend this dense?

You crossed your arms to keep the urge to trace it with your fingertips in check. "Er, yeah. I don't even really know what it is. It's on my back and part of my arms. All I know is it has feathers. Yours is gorgeous and interesting though."

"Why don't you have Kuroo take a picture of it so you can see it?" Bokuto suggested.

"That is a great idea Bokuto!" Rubbing his hands together, "C'mere Y/n, let me see that tattoo."

You rolled your eyes. "If I didn't know any better I'd think you were a perv, Tets. I know I'm pretty but think of Kenma."

"Kenma is nothing more to me than a soulmate! I swear!" Kuroo joked.

"Back at ya babe." Kenma replied not looking away from his games. He had long become immune to yours and Kuroo's antics.

"You guys are strange but I'm used to weirdos." Akaashi smirked.

You poked your tongue out at Akaashi, "You say that like its a bad thing." You conceded. "Alright alright. I'll show you after we eat." You were curious about what was on your back.

"Y/nnnnnn. Why must you torture me?" Kuroo complained.

"I ain't ever seen two agreeable best friends, one of em always gotta be a whiney little bitch." You said to Tetsuro.

"So you admit I'm your bestie! Wait- I'm not whiney!" Kuroo exclaimed.

You cackled, "So you admit you're a little bitch?" Your eyes wandering, catching on a small girl holding an empty plate trembling in the middle of a bunch of boys. "I gotta do something, I'll be right back guys." You made your way over to the tiny girl.

"Oi!" Kuroo yelled after you.

"I mean she's not wrong." Akaashi snickered.

"Kenma, Y/n and Akaashi are being mean." Kuroo pouted.

"Show me the lie and I'll defend you." Kenma teased his soulmate.

"I hate it here." Kuroo crossed his arms.

Akaashi nudged him, talking lowly. "While Y/n's gone and Bo's distracted by the food. I found something out." Akaashi had a small impish grin, "I'm 99% sure Bokuto and Y/n are soulmates."

Kuroo's eyes widend. "No fuckin way! How?"

"Well Bo woke up this morning yelling about his tattoo tingling. It's the first time. And then during the last game I noticed he kept massaging his leg. I thought maybe he strained it but I asked and he said it hadn't stopped prickling all day. He thinks his soulmate must live by the high school. The himbo didn't hear it was her birthday today apparently." Akaashi explained.

Kuroo's mouth gaped open. "I think your right. Y/n said hers has been bugging her all day. But she also thinks it's someone out in the city." Kuroo looked to you then to Bokuto. "Holy fucking shit."

You pushed your way through the guys surrounding the girl, "Excuse me boys! Can't you see your frightening the poor thing?" You shooed them away. You knew they were just trying to be friendly but sometimes they didn't know how intimidating they can be. You gave a big smile to the blonde girl in front of you. "Hey, you're one of Karasuno's managers right? I'm Nekomas, my names Y/n. Are you okay? I know the guys can seem scary but most of em are just big softies." You punch one of your hands with the other, "And if they aren't you just have to seem scarier."

She returned a small smile. "H-hi. Yeah, I j-just joined. My names Y-yachi. Hinata mentioned you. He said you were nice. And t-that you gave him a nickname?"

"Really? I actually just joined a couple weeks ago but I've been watching my friends play forever." You blushed slightly at Hinata's compliment. "Er, yeah. I'm kinda a volleyball nerd and it seemed to fit him." You laughed.

"What did you mean by 'seem scarier'?" Yachi timidly asked.

"In my case I just use my scary face to keep Kuroo in line and mess with him...well and for jerks. Watch." You turned to face Tetsuro with dead eyes and your face emotionless except for the creepy grin plastered on. In a sing-song voice, "Kuroo Tetsuro!"

You only use his full name when he's in trouble trouble. Stepping behind Kenma for protection, "I didn't even do anything!"

"I know." You winked and softend your smile to a friendly one. Turning back to Yachi, "See, just pretend to be even more badass then you actually are. Give me your best scary face."

"I'm not badass, not like you..." Yachi murmured.

You snorted. "I don't know, taking on a rowdy buncha boys from Karasuno? Seems pretty badass to me."

Yachi gave you a small smile. "Ok." You could see the gears turning in her mind. Then she gave you her best scary-badass face.

"Perfect! No one will mess with you with that face!" You said excitedly. "It actually kinda reminds me of the look your setter gives Hinata if he messes up."

Yachi giggled. "Kageyama's angry face is the scariest thing I've seen."

"Ready to put your new skill to the test?" You raised an eyebrow.

With a determined nod she walked to the nearest grill and cleared her throat. "Excuse me."

A couple boys turned, "Hey, cu....tie." Their faces paled slightly and their words trailed off. As they stepped aside leaving their spots at the grill open, "Ah, nevermind."

You chuckled lightly as Yachi turned around with a plate full of meat and veggies. Giving her a thumbs up as she walked back to you. "See I knew you could do it!"

"Thanks Y/n!" Yachi smiled.

"No prob-." Right then your stomach growled ferociously. Embarrassed you replied, "-lem. Um I better go and get some food before those heathens eat it all and my stomach decides to eat itself. Bye, Yachi!"

"See ya Y/n!" Yachi waved goodbye.

Making your way back to your little group your mouth watered. God you were starving and there was a juicy looking piece of meat in front of Tetsuro. Probably his but you have just as quick reflexes as him. With your chopsticks you grabbed it quickly while he was talking to Kenma. A second later another pair barely missing said BBQ. "Haha, too slow Tets!" You teased bringing the BBQ closer to your mouth. Except it wasn't Tetsuro.

"Damn Y/n, you're quick!" Bokuto laughed.

"Oh. Sorry, I assumed that was Tetsu's food. Here you take it." Your cheeks rosied as you set the food on his plate.

"No, it was his. I was just going to steal it. BBQ meats my favorite." Bokuto grinned, his eyes crinkling. "Do you want to share? I haven't seen you eat anything yet."

"Sure, us food pilferers gotta stick together!" You nudged his side playfully.

"Kenma, Akaashi!" Kuroo whispered fiercely. "You seein this shit?!"

"Wow." Kenmas eyes widened slightly.

"Whoa, Bo is sharing BBQ meat. That's big." Akaashi commented while turning to hand a cup of water to a choking Kageyama, completely unfazed.

"Y/n sharing food at all is...unnatural. You wouldn't want to get between her and her food, especially when she's hungry." Kuroo's eyes looked distant as he shivered remembering the one time he made such a mistake. "It's not pretty, trust me."

You turned to the three boys swallowing the mouthful you had. "My shit talkin radar is going off. You talkin smack, Tets?"

Tetsuro smirked, "No, just observing that you're actually sharing food with someone."

You puffed your cheeks out in embarrassment. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I share...sometimes."

"Random stray animals don't count." Kuroo laughed.

"They do too! They're just so cute and I want to give them all the love they deserve." You pouted.

"So does that make Bokuto a stray that needs all the love?" Akaashi teased.

"And that you think he's cute?" Kuroo questioned.

Bokuto's ears perked at the sound of his name and heard Akaashi and Kuroo's questions. It took everything in him to keep his face neutral and not look like he was eager waiting for what you would say.

He did not do a good a job as he thought he was doing.

Your mouth gaped open as your cheeks flushed. You glanced at Bokuto. His face was as flushed as yours felt and it looked like he wanted to take a step closer to you, he was leaning so close. Maybe you should take a chance. Besides the obvious dislike of today in general, you felt an air of hope also. Taking a sharp inhale through your nose you said quietly, "Well, you'd have to be a blind idiot to not think he's attractive. And I'm not blind nor an idiot so." You shrugged your shoulders while shoving a bite of food into your mouth. Akaashi and Kuroo had shocked expressions on their faces. They were not expecting you to admit it. Kenma had a small smile that said he was proud of you. Bokuto was practically glowing. You cleared your throat, changing subject. "So, we're done eating now yeah? I promised to show you my soulmate tattoo and I'm a woman of my word." You handed Tetsuro your phone. "Bokuto had the idea you take a picture so I can see the whole thing." In a small voice you asked, "Can you, please?"

That fear in your voice snapped Kuroo out of his shock. "Y/n, I know I've been giving you shit about it but really you don't have to." Tetsu spoke quietly pulling you into a gentle hug.

Kenma sensed your discomfort and wormed his way into your and Tetsu's hug, giving you your last birthday hug. "He's right. Don't force yourself if you don't want to."

You shook your head, squeezing tight your two best friends. "No, I want to. Curious even but...I know it's stupid but I'm scared."

"That's okay. We're here for you." Tets whispered.

"No matter what." Kenma replied.

"I love you guys, thanks." You nodded letting go. A wry smile gracing your lips. "How fitting my 17th birthday hug be right before the big reveal." You clapped your hands together, getting back to business. "Ight, let's see what this big badass bitch looks like." With that you twirled on your heel and pulled your shirt just over your head, leaving your arms in; your back facing the group of 4 boys. You did have some modesty being as you were surrounded by 150+ people.

"Oh damn! You weren't kidding Y/n. It really does take up your whole back." Kuroo said shocked as he took in the tattoo smiling.

You rolled your eyes. "Well not all of us can have cute little dainty ones like you and Kens." Testu had a little gaming controller on his inner bicep and Kens had the chemical formula for love on his ribcage. Lucky bastards.

You heard Kenmas quiet voice. "Y/n, I think you'll be pleasantly surprised." You heard the click of your phone taking the picture.

"It's actually quite lovely too." Akaashi complimented as his theory was confirmed.

"Wow." You heard Bokuto murmur and before you could turn around you felt a finger delicately trace your back. You inhaled sharply as that sensation overrode the tingling of your tattoo. Was Tetsu being a creep? Or..? An awkward cough pulled you out of your thoughts and the finger gliding across your skin disappeared. Slipping your shirt back on you turned around. To be face to face with Bokuto. Was he the one touching you like that?! Your face turned a violent shade of red and your brain was glitching. Bokuto was staring at you intensely, his eyes zeroing in on yours.

Kuroo nudged your shoulder a wild grin on his face. "Here ya go Y/n." He sang song.

Breaking eye contact from Bokuto and looking at your phone you gasped. You were met with the same golden sunset eyes you'd recognize anywhere. The very same ones you were just staring into. Only it wasn't Bokuto's face looking back at you. This time it was a grey, black and white owl with its wings spread in flight against a night sky filled with stars. And a handful of the stars were made into a constellation of a volleyball. No. No way was it possible. You looked up into the bright metallic eyes you had fell hard for. "You...?"

One of Bokuto's warm hands cupped your cheek tilting your head up. Leaning down he whispered, "I knew I remembered those eyes from somewhere."

His lips were on yours and stealing the breath from you. Eyes fluttering shut, your tattoo had finally stopped tingling and the knot in your heart loosened. Bokuto fucking Kotaro, the boy your heart had already started to fall for, was your soulmate. Suddenly you were lifted off the ground. Instinctively your legs wound their way around his waist and your arms twined around his shoulders, one hand in his hair. Bokuto lightly bit your lip making you gasp and open your mouth. His tongue darting inside to meet yours. A supernova of explosions were crackling in your veins. If he hadn't been holding you you would have fell due to the fact your legs becoming jelly. Your lungs were beginning to strain from lack of oxygen but you didn't care. You didn't need air when your nerves were buzzing alive from the contact with Bokuto. You didn't know how long you two had been kissing but Bokuto pulled away just enough. Both of you were breathing hard. "I promised myself that would be the first thing I did when I found my soulmate. When I found you."

A breathy laugh left you. "I'm gonna have to add kissing to the list of skills you have, Bokuto."

"Oh?" He smiled fondly at you. "Ya know Y/n you can call me Kotaro. Like last night."

Your brow furrowed. "I didn't—" Hazy memories of last night after the game came to you in flashes. You did use his given name. But more embarrassing is what you'd said about him in your frustratingly truthful state. A vulnerability only a few knew about. You were going to kill him. Or at least make him think so. "Hey Kotaro could you set me down for a sec please."

"Sure thing, baby owl." Kotaro set you down gently and kissed your cheek.

You blushed at the pet name and the soft kiss. Turning to the others you started to count silently on your fingers.

"What are you doing?" Akaashi questioned confusedly. He thought you would have been overjoyed at the fact you and Bo were soulmates.

"Oh I'm counting the ingredients I need to buy for apple pie for Kenma. Kens how many pies do you think you'll need to get over Tets' death?" You smiled sunnily at Tetsuro.

"Hmmm. I think five would be good." Kenma replied.

"I am worth way more than 5! Wait, what?" Tetsuro panicked. "I promise Y/n I had the purest of intentions!"

You took a step towards Kuroo and he took one back. "Oh?" You started chasing after Tetsu and he only made it a few feet before you tackled him.

"Y/n please don't kill me! Akaashi and I realized you and Bokuto liked eachother and we thought this would get the ball rolling, honest!" To say Kuroo was shocked when you hugged him would be an understatement. You weren't killing him?

Unwinding your arms from his neck you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. "Thanks Tets, for making me join the team" you mumbled, "and for helping with Ko."

Kuroo grinned. "HEY BABE! DID YA HEAR Y/N THANKING ME?! Y/N. THANKING. ME."

You rolled your eyes still smiling and pushed Tetsuro away. "And moments ruined." Once you made your way back to the group you snuggled yourself up against Kotaro's side and he wrapped his arm around you. Looking towards Akaashi you thanked him also. " Thank you for nudging us together so if you ever have a sweet tooth for a baked good, I'm your girl."

Kotaro kissed the top of your head. "My sweet girl."

"Oh you don't have to do that. I'm just happy Bo is happy, that's good enough for me." Keiji chuckled.

"Trust me Akaashi, you'll definitely want to take her up on her offer. Her apple pies are delicious and she makes mine and Tetsu's birthday cake every year too." Kenma added while still playing his game. You blushed at his compliment.

"Alright then, I will." Akaashi nodded.

"What about me?" Kotaro squeezed you & had a little bit of a pout.

You reached up on your toes and pulled him down to kiss his forehead. "For you, owl boy, I'll make a whole bakeries worth." You pecked him on the lips.

"Ew. Is this what me and Kenma are like?" Tetsu's face was all screwed up in disgust. "There is no way we are that bad. Right Kitten?" He declared as he was hugging Kenma from behind with his chin resting on Kenma's head. You've noticed that's his favorite way to be lovey.

"You are." Kens replied.

"Sorry bro but the love of your life is right." You giggled.

"I honestly don't know how I put up with you two. I deserve a medal." Tets said bewildered.

"Sure bestie. Sure you do." You ruffled his already messy hair.

"Don't patronize me." He pointed a finger at you.

You batted your eyelashes. "Me? Never."

Kuroo looked at Bokuto. "Y/n is your problem now. Good luck bro."

Incredulously you yelled. "HEY I'M NOT—"

Kotaro squeezed you tighter with one arm & with the other gently tilted your chin up, making you look at him. You could feel your heart go all soft looking into those golden eyes. "You're not a problem. Your my soulmate. I can't wait to get to know you and fall even more in love with you." He leaned in closer giving you another one of those earth shattering kisses.

This boy. This boy made your heart flutter, your stomach swirl... and your brain dumb. Thats why when he regretfully pulled away the only thing that came out of your stupid mouth was a whispered "Oh."

"Damn Bo way to make literally the whole camp feel single." Kuroo laughed. "Akaashi did you know that he was such a Casanova?"

Keiji nodded while eating a slice of watermelon & swallowed before answering. "I knew he was a romantic but not this intense."

A few hours later everyone was waiting to get on their busses to go home. You waved goodbye to the new friends you had made. However you and Kotaro were holding on to one another. You'd only just found eachother and now you had to say goodbye. You bit your lip. "I don't want to go yet." A few hours together had turned you into a mess.

"Hey, baby owl," His thumb traced your cheek, "its okay. We don't live that far from eachother. We'll see eachother all the time and talk on the phone yeah?"

You leaned into his warm touch. "You're right." You turned to kiss his palm. His cheeks flushed. He was also a mess. "So call me when you get home, to let me you got there okay, alright?"

At first his lips brushed yours then he deepened the kiss. Just as your lungs were about to scream he pulled away but just barely. Whispering "Looking forward to it."

That night you talked until the brightest of stars dimmed and the sun rose. Turning the sky a swath of pink, orange and a color that was quickly becoming your favorite. A color that reminded you of your soulmates sunshine eyes.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#bokuto kotaro #bokuto x reader #bokuto x fem!reader #soulmate au #a dash of kuroken #hes so sweet and for what 🥺#i love a beefy owl himbo and his name is Kotaro #it is his day & his day only #happy birthday bby #my tiny blog

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teddy-the-teddybear · 1 year

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"What did I do!?"

Luke Hughes x twin sister Dylan duke x reader

×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

Its been a week since Dylan has talked to me. The worst part is that he has been to class and that he had this girl around his arm. How could he tell me that he had feelings for me, but then goes off with someone else?!

I was walking to my dorm when I saw Luke and Mark walking towards me. "Hey! You should come to the house we're watching a movie" Mark said making me stop.

I was trying to think of an excuse, "sorryyyyy... I can't i have to study for my test coming up" I ran away from them before they asked any questions.

Once I reached my dorm room, my roommate was sitting on her bed on her laptop, "speak to Dylan yet?"

"No he won't even look in my way, I tried waving at him, but his new toy glared at me" I flopped on my bed.

"I can trap him here for you, I'm going to a party tonight. Invite him over to talk, or please message him", she climbed off her bed to go get ready.

"I messaged him already and got nothing back!.. well he read it"

She sighs, "then at least do something tonight, please. I don't want you here moping"

I rolled my eyes and sighed, "I'll go.. but if I see Dylan, then I'm leaving"

She nods and threw a dress at me, "I'll help you escape... and no duker? Wow never thought I see the day that you'd call him his first name"

I just nodded, "well if he doesn't want to talk then why give him the time of day, you know?" She nodded then finished getting ready with me.

Once we got there the party was already in full swing, I made my way to get me a drink, I needed to feel numb.

"Little hughes!", someone called me from the kitchen, I looked around to see Luca. I smiled, I've always been so close to Luca.

I hugged him, "how are wooka?" I pulled away and started making my drink, he grabbed a beer, "im okay, miss my partner in crime'"

I laughed, "yeah, I know the boys miss you being late to practice because you wouldn't wake up", I suddenly felt like I was being stared at, but when I looked around there was no one I could see.

"Yeah coach is suspicious that I did something bad" he joked, "hopefully he doesn't find out about the store incident", that's when I started dying of laughter.

He smiled and lead me to the couch, and anytime I asked for a drink he would get it for me. I think in a different reality Luca would be my soul mate, he'd save me from all this heart break. But atlas I'm in this situation, and Luca and I have no love for each other like that.

I sat there thinking again, Luca had been pulled away to play beer pong with luca. I was pulled out of my thoughts when I felt someone sit down next to me. I looked over and saw Dylan. I went to get leave when he stopped me with, "I see you moved on with Luca."

I turned towards him, "moved on? You mean him being my friend? You mean being there for me when this dick was leaving me on read?", I turned around and walked away.

But he stated to follow you me out, once we were outside he grabbed my arm, "you don't even know the full story"

"What do you mean I don't? You're right, I don't! But you never tried to explain it either, but instead you went around and fucked this blonde."

He just shook his head, and turned away. I couldn't take it anymore, "what did I do!? You pretend to like me one moment but then next you are acting like i didn't mean anything to you! Is that what you wanted to toy with my feelings?"

He just looked at me and opened his mouth a couple times and then closed it. I stood there till I couldn't and just turned around and left. When I got back home I started to get ready for bed but then I quit and sat on my bed till I burst out into tears.

Taglist-

@woodruff-edwards

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monsterrae1 · 11 months

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WIP 🚧 WEDNESDAY

tagged by all my babes:

@prettyboybuckley @heartbeatdiaz @shortsighted-owl @buddiearemydads @satashiiwrites @spotsandsocks @hippolotamus @honestlydarkprincess @alyxmastershipper @elvensorceress thank you guys!

A little from the soulmate AU that goes up this sunday for @ronordmann reverse prompt challenge!

Evan Buckley was 20 years old when his soul marks first appeared on his skin.

It was during football practice, he was running drills when suddenly the pain took his breath away and made him curl, falling to the floor sobbing.

“Buckley!” his coach yelled at him but Buck could barely hear anything above the pain taking over his body, it felt like it was everywhere, his shoulder, his wrist, his leg, and it felt like it went on forever. His team mates had to help him to the sidelines of the field, leaving him with the team medic.

“What’s going on?” Buck asked through gritted teeth, the pain making him keep his eyes closed.

“Oh, kid” The medic said, his hands examining Buck’s skin “You’re gonna be fine, it’s just your soul marks”

Buck frowned, taking a couple of deep breaths before trying to open his eyes to look down at himself. There was blood covering his arm and leg from where the marks had suddenly been carved into his skin, three of them, big enough to be bullet wounds or worse. “They’re dead,” Buck said, a knot forming in his throat, his pain was still nearly unbearable.

Tagging if they have anything to share: @brokenribsdiaz @loveyourownsmiilee @bekkachaos @the-likesofus @jacksadventuresinwriting @littlebitofdiaz @bigfootsmom @cowboy-buddie @buddierights @rogerzsteven @gentoodiaz @katries @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy and whoever else wants to share anything!

#wip wednesday #buddie #buddie wip #look at me doing a tag game!#sorry i've been kinda gone guys i'm currently in the soup as Jess says

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fingertips1992 · 5 months

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homestar runner british secondary school because i need a way to fucking cope here

homestar would be a year 7 that runs to the canteen like it’s his very last meal and would be a massive neek. not many people would like him especially the popular kids as they’d think he’s annoying.

marzipan would try so hard to fit in with the popular kids. she’d be one of them nice chavs. also nobody knows she’s dating homestar.

strong bad would try so hard to act hard, when deep down he’s the biggest neek there is. he’d probably get in iso a lot.

strong mad has already graduated but his soul is still left there. my mate was the biggest roadman there is.

bubs would sell elf bars behind the school for 50p.

coach z would be a proper teacher’s pet, but nobody knows if it’s an act or not.

strong sad would be one of those kids that get things shouted at them. a common one for him would be “emo”.

#homestar runner #british secondary school #uk

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beckettj · 2 months

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The Heart of a Villan - Chapter 2/5

Chapter Two - Operation Lion's Den

Summary: Three-thousand miles from home, Henry drags Emma into a land she never imagined venturing to; the realm of English football. She holds no interest in the sport but when she’s approached by Villa Captain Killian Jones, she determines that there could be something in the sport for her after all.

Words: 9536

Read on Ao3

Killian enters the home changing room, the last to return due to his flirty grovelling at pitch side, and is met by jubilant chaos. Someone already has their victory playlist at full blast, blaring from their phone, and Will – ever the life and soul of a party – has stripped to his boxers, dancing around the place with his shorts on his head.

Will spots his arrival instantly and prances over, slinging an arm over his shoulder and dragging him centre-stage, to the middle of the room.

“Wahey, look who it is! The man of the hour, the captain of the century!” Will exclaims.

He grabs Killian by the wrist and flings his arm into the air, as if proclaiming him champion of a boxing match.

“It would appear that three points and a man of the match performance is not all our captain managed to secure,” Robin notes.

As appreciative as Killian is for Robin’s pinpoint accuracy on the pitch – a lot of his goals have come from getting on the end of a Locksley delivery – he’s not so fond of it off the pitch. Will jerks Killian’s arm down so to look for himself.

“Emma,” Will reads and looks up at him, “is that the bird whose kid you clobbered?”

“The woman,” Killian corrects pointedly. “And I’d hardly say clobbered.”

“Well, I’ve gotta hand it to ya, mate, it was one hell of a bold tactic,” Will comments. “Keep going with audacious tactics like that and you’ll give the gaffer a run for his money!”

Killian playfully shoves Will off him, knocking the shorts off his head in the same movement.

“Alright, that’s enough of that! Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We have yet to seal the deal,” the aforementioned gaffer strolls into the room.

His arrival changes the atmosphere instantaneously. The music is shut off, attentive silence fills the room and the entire team scramble to find their seats. They all know the drill after a victory; the gaffer gives them a small time to celebrate whilst he converses with his coaches and then it’s straight back to business.

He steps into the centre of the room and stands to take in his captive audience. He’s a young man for his role, mid-thirties and some of his players are a fraction older than him but his presence is a notable one, no matter what room he walks into. His presence alone demands respect and attention. He could walk into the away dressing room just next door and elicit the same response.

The gaffer’s accomplishments in the beautiful game deserve such worship, and earns awe from all those he meets for the first time.

Killian remembers the gaffer’s first day, being called into his office at the training ground first thing to be warned that the new gaffer wasn’t adverse to switching things up, to stripping him of his captaincy and giving it to another player if he deemed it to be in the best interests of the team. Had the previous gaffer made such a proposal to him, Killian would have been outraged, diving into an argument of how such an action would be unjust and potentially dent his reputation, yet with the new gaffer he’d done nothing but nod dumbly as he stared, astonished, at the legend before him.

A Premier League footballing legend; he’d broken into the Manchester United first team at just nineteen years old, setting the midfield ablaze, raking in the goals and assists. At only twenty-five years of age, the gaffer’s career came to a tragically premature end when a mistimed tackle in a pre-season friendly broke his leg in two places, but not before he had won five Premier League titles, two EFL cups, the FIFA Club World Cup, and the best of the best; the Champions League. A mind-boggling achievement for only seven seasons in the senior game.

Killian’s own career – coming towards the end of his eleventh professional season – feels trivial in comparison; his highest accomplishments of note being a Championship Play-off final victory and runner-up in an EFL cup final.

So he’d lapped up every word the gaffer had spoken, followed every instruction, gratefully grasped every piece of advice the legend had for him. His efforts retained him his captaincy and the entire team’s belief in the manager’s structural changes, tactics and formations had the team preforming miracles.

With the gaffer being a former Manchester United player, the media had taken to facetiously questioning whether the Aston Villa manager has sold his soul to the devil to elicit such fantastical results in transforming a relegation battling team into one competing for a top four spot on the other end of the Premier League table.

It's somewhat ironic, Killian muses, as the gaffer clears his throat, preparing for a speech, that in the three times Aston Villa have faced up to Manchester United since their new manager’s appointment, the Villans had beaten the Red Devils all three times.

Football is a fickle sport. A man once hailed as a hero for bringing such success to the Devils since transforming into the Villan responsible for pilfering nine points from them.

“As of this moment, we sit in fourth. You all know as well as I do what that means; it’s a Champions League spot but the fat lady has not yet sung!” the gaffer proclaims. “There are still eleven games left of the season and we’re sitting on the brink of success. They believed we’d drop off by Christmas. Did we?”

“No!” comes the charged, unison response.

“And nor will we! But victory comes with a price,” the gaffer continues.

It’s his long old mantra, one Killian’s heard countless times during the gaffer’s thirteen month reign at the club.

“Victory requires focus, it requires determination, it requires grit and it requires hard-work. I have demanded a lot from you lads in the last year and I’d like to think the results speak for themselves, but there’s no time to rest yet. I want Champions League, you want Champions League, the fans want Champions league. Eleven more games, one final push; double the focus, double the determination, double the grit, double the hard-work and we put Aston Villa back where it belongs; back amongst the top clubs of Europe. Are you ready for that?”

“Yeah!” the teams roars, together once more.

The gaffer nods, satisfied, “Enjoy today’s victory. Enjoy your day off tomorrow. You’ve earned it. We go again Monday.”

As quickly as he’d arrived, the gaffer leaves, off to meticulously review the game’s footage ahead of the team’s Monday morning briefing.

Killian releases a leisurely sigh as he leans back, his elbows resting on the tiled edge of the recovery pool, the cold water tranquil and peaceful, as his muscles relax.

“Cannonball!”

The scream comes from Will, moments before he leaps from poolside into the water, sending waves crashing into the faces of Killian and Robin; the only two inhabitants of the pool.

“Watch it!” Killian growls.

“Careful,” Robin speaks simultaneously, a light warning as if he were speaking to his eight-year-old son.

The rest of the team has long left, leaving ‘The Three Fragilities’, as the trio were often mockingly referred to as, to their longer post-match recovery routines. Will, at the mere age of twenty-two, has already torn his ACL twice, spotlighting him, to the club’s physios, as one to watch and take extra care with. Killian has suffered with a weakened Achilles since childhood, subjecting him to the longer recovery processes throughout the entire course of his career. As for Robin, well…

“It’s not my fault you two are old and boring,” Will defends his actions.

“Hey, speak for him, mate,” Killian nods towards Robin, “I’m still in me twenties.”

Will scoffs, “Yeah, and barely clinging on! When’s the big three-oh?”

“Bloody cheek!” Killian huffs. “I’m barely more than a month into twenty-nine!”

“Like I said, clinging on,” Will jokes. “Fighting against the pull of retirement age.”

“Bugger off,” Killian returns and is adamant, “I’ve got at least six years of top-flight in me still.”

“Wonderboy’s eyeing up your captain’s armband already,” Robin observes, amused.

“Wonderboy can bloody dream on,” Killian remarks.

Will settles down in the water, sitting on the submerged seating. The trio promptly dive into a game of ‘Would You Rather’, their usual way of passing the time, and Killian gets splashed by both Will and Robin on multiple occurrences, whenever the other men don’t agree with his responses. Killian gives as good as he gets, particularly dousing Robin when he comes out with the nonsense of preferring to sign for Birmingham City over Derby County.

“Have you lost your bloody mind?” Killian questions, appalled. “You can’t sign for Birmingham from Villa!”

“Says who?” Robin questions.

“Says the universe! It’s an unwritten rule,” Killian reminds him. “City fans won’t want you and Villa fans would be calling for your head! Going to City is like… Luke turning to the Dark Side!”

“As a Forest fan from birth, signing for Derby is turning to the Dark Side,” Robin returns. “I may play in claret and blue and for the lion on the badge, but my heart will always lie with Nottingham Forest.”

“Ah, yes, I’d forgotten your allegiance to Forest,” Killian admits.

“Hence the ‘would you rather’, they’re not meant to be easy questions,” Will speaks pointedly. “Where the bloody hell did you think I’d pulled Derby County out of?”

“I learned not to question your mind within your first week at Villa,” Killian retorts.

Further would you rather questions leads to more splashing and before any of them know it, Robin’s alarm is ringing on his phone, calling the end to their recovery time. Will jumps up faster than a diving player whose just won his team a penalty.

“Time to go home, stick on fifa, and relax!” Will grins at the prospect of his evening’s freedom.

Killian and Robin follow him out of the pool.

“I remember those days,” Robin reminisces. “Now I’m going home to an excitable eight-year-old and a newborn who’s vastly opposed to sleep.”

Will pulls a face at the mere thought and comments, “Kids. Who’d have them?”

Emma… Killian thinks wistfully and catches himself just before her name can escape his lips.

He freezes and pretends to busy himself with selecting a towel, allowing Robin and Will to go on ahead, both so deep in conversation that they fail to acknowledge his lingering behind. His eyes are wide at his own mind’s thoughts.

What the bloody hell was that?

He recalls the initial incident leading to their meeting vividly.

The opposition players broke out of nowhere, forcing him to bust a gut sprinting back towards his own goal, throwing in a last minute, desperate slide tackle to block his fellow number nine’s slot. He lay on the grass, watching the flight of the ball, time slowing down as it hurtled towards a young boy. He remembered hoping for the boy, or the woman beside him, to look up in time to react to the oncoming ball. When it became apparent they were both too drawn into their hotdogs, he hoped a member of the crowd would pull out a world class save, diving to parry the ball away.

Hope was useless. The ball hit the boy square in the face.

Shit.

Killian threw himself into PR mode, well-versed from previous escapades. He went over straight away, was the one to attract the attention of the first aiders, apologised, briefly checked in upon their return from the first aid station, dedicated his winning goal to the lad, gave the lad his shirt, signed some things and then he had turned to the best trick up his sleeve and subtly responded to the woman’s flirting.

It had gotten him out of trouble on multiple occasions. A few years back he’d crashed his car into another person’s vehicle. The driver – a woman by the name of Eloise Gardner – had been enraged when she’d climbed out of her car, her fury increasing more upon inspecting the damage. Then she had recognised him and things had taken a turn for the worse when it became clear she was a Blues fan and timing was not on his side; he’d only scored the winner in the Second City Derby the day before, causing him to be a very unpopular man from the eyes of Blues supporters. She’d cursed at him and threatened to go to the police so he’d turned to his charm and talked his way out of trouble and straight into her bedsheets. He’d awoken the next morning to coffee in a Birmingham City mug, a cruel joke, and before he really knew it, Eloise Gardner had gone from angry woman to friend with benefits. And they were regular benefits. Just as there were also regular acts of sabotage, Eloise taking her chances to try and throw him off his game, turning off his alarms, making him late for training, team meetings and matchday coaches, and yet he kept seeing her. There was something of a thrill to it; to fornicating with the enemy, to being challenged by her, and it had pulled him in.

Then the new gaffer had arrived at the club, pulled him up on recent dips in performance and unprofessional behaviours, and threatened to take away his captaincy. Killian dived headfirst into proving himself; spent every waking hour focused on his career, on the pitch, in the gym, or reviewing footage of previous matches. There was no time for the distraction of Eloise Gardner and once he’d made sure his captaincy was secured, she never replied to his texts or answered his calls.

He didn’t care. It had been nothing serious. Just a way to get out of trouble and have some fun in the meantime.

And that’s all it was with Emma. Charming his way out of trouble. But then he’d done something he hadn’t intended to do; he’d invited her and her kid to dinner.

And then his thoughts had gone straight to her the first moment someone mentioned something which even remotely referenced to her.

And he’s still thinking about her.

She’s nestled into his brain and there’s no shaking her.

He absent-mindedly plays with the red towel in his hand, noting the similarity of the red of the towel to the jacket she had worn. He wonders what she’s up to back at her hotel. He can clearly picture her lad bouncing on the bed, chatting enthusiastically to his mates on the other end of a phone call. He imagines Emma sat at the table, taking in the view of Birmingham out her window, a soft smile on her face as she listens to Henry’s excited recount of the day’s events and her eyes drop to her own phone, lying on the table, as she waits patiently for his call-

Wait.

He drops the towel. His heart pounds as a horrific thought swirls around his head. He recalls the light touch of her soft skin against his sweaty, warm arm as she’d written her name and number on his hand. The same hand which had been submerged in water, splashing and being splashed. He dares not look but he has to. His eyes reluctantly drop to his hand and his heart sinks. There’s faint scratching of ink, some stronger, some more faded, most of it gone all together. What remains is purely there to taunt him, to remind him of what he’d almost had, of what he had lost.

He's a bloody fool.

Killian has no idea what has gotten into him. The subtle, nonsense flirting and the offer of dinner had been for one purpose and one purpose only; to stop Emma from going to the press, claiming her five minutes of fame and allowing the newspapers to spin a tale which makes him look bad. The gaffer was big on no distractions and, as they had found out when Will crashed his car into the gates of a primary school, any news story proves a distraction.

Killian had been relieved to discover the morning paper contained no news story about a young lad requiring medical attention at the Villa game, determining himself in the clear.

And yet he finds himself sat in his car outside Villa Park on his day off, clinging to the only knowledge – beside her name – that he had; Emma and her lad had a stadium tour booked. He needs to see her again, if only to explain he hadn’t intentionally ghosted her, and this is his only chance.

A quick search on the Villa website had informed him that stadium tours were scheduled at ten-thirty in the morning and one in the afternoon. He’d arrived at Villa Park at nine sharp, in case her lad had been keen to explore the Villa store before the tour – the big store, not the half-arsed matchday one – when it opened at nine-thirty. He hadn’t. Those going on the morning tour had started arriving in dribs and drabs around ten-fifteen. He searched the group, both upon entering and leaving, for Emma and her lad; nothing.

By the time vehicles finally beginning pulling into the car park for the second, and final, tour of the day, he’s been sat in his car for three-hours-and-forty minutes. He sits up straighter in his chair, rubbing his tired eyes to focus on the people getting out of their cars.

Nothing.

He remains hopeful. The lad said they were coming and Killian doubts, from the impressive knowledge of Villa history that the boy had spouted at him, he would ever let his mother forget about the tour. Unless they haven’t forgotten. Maybe something’s happened; maybe the lad’s fallen ill, or has suffered complications from the impact of the ball. Maybe the lad’s wound up in hospital. Maybe his chances of ever meeting Emma again washed away with her number. Maybe he should start searching the local hospitals; he can start with Birmingham Children’s Hospital, he has a little pull there, visiting at least once a year with the rest of the Villa team.

As his mind spirals, he very nearly misses a grey taxi pull into the car park, only noticing it when it parks in the bay directly in front of his own. The back door opens the very moment the taxi stops and Killian breathes a sigh of relief when Emma’s young lad leaps out; he isn’t in hospital, he looks well in himself (except for the heavy bruising forming around his nose and left eye) and is full of energy, leaping excitedly as he eagerly coaxes his mother out of the taxi.

Killian has to stop himself from emulating the lad’s enthusiasm, very nearly leaping out of his own car when he sees Emma exit the taxi. He glances around the car park, taking in the growing number of people arriving for the stadium tour; he doesn’t want to cause a scene. He’s deep in Villa territory; there’s no chance of him not being recognised. A frenzy of picture and signing requests may well scare Emma off and he wants to speak with her, needs to speak with her, one-on-one (plus the kid).

He dons a black baseball cap and some dark sunglasses – it works in the movies – then slowly gets out of his car and follows after Emma and her lad, both on the move towards the stadium.

“Emma!” he softly calls out.

She turns, looking surprised to hear her name. Her head tilts slightly when she sees him and then her eyes widen with recognition before a cold stare falls over them and she straightens, standing tall and folding her arms across her chest.

“Jones,” she states coolly, hiding her initial surprise.

“She thinks you’re a jackass,” her lad speaks up conversationally.

Killian’s head has never turned so fast, snapping to stare at the boy; she what? Not a good first impression, work to do.

“Henry!” Emma exclaims.

“I don’t! You’re still my favourite player,” Henry covers quickly at Killian’s look then looks to his mother, “But I heard you on the phone to Grandpa. You said he was a jackass and that all professional sports players are egotistical jocks and that you never should have-”

“Okay, Henry,” Emma cuts him off and turns to Killian, “I was mad.”

That’s promising. Mad means she cares.

Cares! For a man she exchanged a few sentences with? She’s mad about her son being let down.

Or it’s a mixture of both.

The side of his mind fighting his corner dares to have hope. He takes a small breath. He’ll never know unless he shoots his shot.

“I would have called but I lost your number,” he starts to explain.

Her eyes shift to his side.

“Did you lose your hand too?” she remarks sceptically.

“The ink washed off,” he expands. “I was a bloody fool and didn’t save your details on my phone before– let me make it up to you. Lunch?”

He’s too eager, not even finishing his explanation before diving into his question. He’s mentally kicking himself.

What the bloody hell is he playing at?

“We’ve eaten already,” Emma tells him outright.

“I can still show you the city?” he offers immediately.

He wants the ground to swallow him up. He’s acting desperate.

“Henry’s been talking about this tour all morning,” she tells him.

It like taking a boot to the face, studs first; using her lad to let him down gently after her first attempt failed to dissuade him. He takes a resigning step back. He’s missed his shot; took too long, invited pressure, put it out wide. She’s taken possession, took her goal kick, and blasted the ball deep into the other half.

“Mom, he can come on the tour with us.”

The young lad dives in with a heroic save to keep the game alive.

Henry looks to his mother with big, brown puppy-dog eyes, seemingly eager to see his idea come to fruition. Killian looks to Emma and raises an eyebrow. If she agrees, there could still be hope.

“I guess he could,” she shrugs.

It wasn’t a no. He had a chance.

“Yes!” Henry cheers. “This is going to be so cool!”

“Aye, lad,” Killian agrees, glad that at least one of them is thrilled about his presence. “But let’s keep my presence between the three of us, okay? The club charges double the price for tours with ex-players present. I doubt they’d be too happy to learn that a current one spontaneously popped up at a standard tour.”

Whilst everything he says is strictly true, he’s talking utter nonsense. In truth, he has the duration of the tour to win Emma on side and he’s not going to be able to achieve such a feat if he’s having to share his time equally with the rest of the people on the tour. As much appreciation as he has for the support that Villa fans show him, they were not the reason he’s wasted half his day off sat in his bloody car; Emma is, and he sure as hell is not going to let those four hours become a waste of his time without a fight.

Henry gasps, “So it’s like a spy movie! You’re going in undercover. You’ve got to get in and out without being recognised!”

“That’s the aim,” Killian nods.

“The hat and shades are a good start,” Henry says, “but we need to name this mission.”

“Name it?” Killian questions.

“An operation name,” Emma expands, amused. “The kid loves his spy movies almost as much as soccer. He turns his aims into missions and names them. For example, Operation Cobra is his mission to get me to like your sport and refer to it as ‘football’.”

“Cobra? Why cobra?” Killian asks.

“Grandma says snakes are a symbol of rebirth and transformation because of the way they can shred their skin. The aim of Operation Cobra is to transform Mom into a football fan,” Henry explains then declares, “But right now we have another op to focus on, and this will be Operation Lion’s Den.”

Henry turns to take in the stadium before them and beams.

“Okay then,” Killian agrees. “Into the lion’s den we go.”

Killian steps towards the stadium entrance, aware that time is not on their side, the tour due to start any moment.

“Wait!” Henry yells urgently.

Killian freezes.

“Have you got an alias?” Henry asks him. “We can’t call you Killian. People might clock on.”

“Fair point, lad,” Killian concedes and considers, “How about Alex? Alex Rogers.”

“Okay Alex,” Henry agrees. “Now, Operation Lion’s Den can commence.”

Operation Lion’s Den was very nearly called off the very moment they had stepped into reception and approached the front desk. The booking under David Nolan had only two tickets to its name and the tour was fully booked. Killian dived in to save Operation Lion’s Den, revealing his true identity to the woman at the front desk, talking his way in and urging her to keep his presence discreet.

They had all received their passes, a claret lanyard on which holds a small claret square complete with the Villa badge and the lettering ‘STADIUM TOUR’, and entered into the Gas Lamp Longue just in time for the commencement of the tour.

Their tour guide is a young yet knowledgeable Australian woman named Belle who is such a fountain of Aston Villa facts – both present and historic – that even Killian finds himself learning new things about his club as they are shown around the hospitality areas within the North Stand.

Henry soaks it all up, chatting enthusiastically with Belle as she leads the way through corridors and up stairways, before the lad runs off to take photos of the view of the pitch from the latest hospitality area they are shown.

Emma lingers at the back of the group, keeping her distance from the avid Villa discussions being held amongst the friendly group, and Killian notices the way her gaze keeps lingering on the view of the stadium, staring longingly at the Holte End opposite, as if wishing to go back to the previous evening’s game.

Belle launches into a tale about the club’s late charge for promotion into the Premier League a few years back, and Killian leans towards Emma.

“You can’t fool me, you know,” he tells her, his voice low and hushed.

“Fool you how, Alex?” she returns pointedly.

“I saw you yesterday, after I scored,” his voice remains a low murmur, right into her ear, purely for the purposes of keeping his secret identity intact, and not because he longed to breathe in every bit of her enticing scent. “I saw the grin creeping onto your face, I saw your eyes alight with adrenaline, I know your heart was pounding in your chest as the roar of the crowd encompassed you.”

Her eyes flick once more towards the Holte End then back onto Belle.

“Is that supposed to mean something?” she challenges.

“It means that you let it in, maybe not consciously, maybe only for the briefest of seconds, but you let the claret and blue of Aston Villa touch your heart,” he tells her.

“Or maybe I was glad to finally see some kind of action in what was looking to be a goalless game,” she returns.

“Hmm, sure,” he replies, unconvinced. “You know, I remember watching my first Villa game. I was eight years old. I wasn’t sure about coming but my dad told me there was no pressure for me to be drawn into the club the same way he was. He said, ‘You don’t choose Aston Villa, Aston Villa chooses you.’. And for some people, that’s from birth, it’s all they ever know. For others, like me, like your lad, it’s more complicated; you find your own way to it, and it fills this gap you never even realised you had until one day you can’t remember there ever being a time in which Aston Villa didn’t hold a place in your heart.”

“That won’t ever be me,” Emma responds assuredly.

“We’ll see, love,” Killian shrugs. “We’ll see…”

Belle leads them into the heart of the Trinity Road stand, through hallways and up more stairways, until they finally enter the press room. Henry is at the front of the group with Belle, allowing him to claim front row seats and reserve two for Killian and Emma who maintain their pattern of lingering at the back of the group. With Henry’s enthusiasm, they can hide at the back no longer and are forced to take the seats right at the front.

When Belle asks for a volunteer to take centre-stage, Emma finds it funny to offer Killian for it and, since they’re seated at the front, Belle spots her right away, urging him up.

Henry looks utterly horrified at the prospect of Operation Lion’s Den being blown whilst Emma all but pushes Killian off his chair, leaving him with little choice but to join Belle behind the desk situated on the raised platform at the front of the room. She lowers her voice to exchange greetings, ask his name, and question whether he wants to take his sunglasses off and he responds with a hasty lie about light sensitivity.

Belle proceeds to lead the group into a fake press conference, introducing him as new signing Alex Rogers, unaware of how incredibly difficult she was making it for him to maintain his cover. To aid his jeopardised cover, Killian naturally slips into an Irish accent as he proceeds to face a bunch of questions from the fake journalists who play their parts well. Emma is stifling a laugh whilst he has to really concentrate on providing answers in the way a standard Villa fan would, and not submit to his years of media training instinctively screaming a standard, scripted answer at him. It’s only five minutes of questions but it feels like the longest five minutes of his life and when he finally escapes the unwanted spotlight, fake Irish Alex Rogers persona somehow intact, he’s sweating.

Belle offers the opportunity for photos behind the desk and light conversation soon floods the room as families take it in turns to have their picture taken at the press desk.

“That was awesome!” Henry exclaims, just about managing to keep his voice down. “They were interviewing Killian Jones and they didn’t even have a clue!”

“Mmm, someone almost blew Operation Lion’s Den,” Killian says, shooting a good-humoured glare at Emma.

She smiles and confesses, “I just wanted to see how you fared under pressure.”

“Because you didn’t see enough of that yesterday?” Killian shoots back.

“Maybe I liked what I saw yesterday,” Emma shrugs.

Henry promptly pulls Emma away to get his own picture at the press desk and Killian stares after her, taking the moment to collect his temporarily scrambled thoughts. It was a return to the previous day’s playfulness, a stark contrast to the cool, withdrawn woman in the car park.

He’s pushed her back into her own half, finally gaining a bit of possession for himself, making progress up the pitch.

He considers what must be left on the tour; the private boxes, the dressing rooms, the pitch and the dugouts. He’s got the better part of the second half of the game to go. He can still pull it back. He can still win it.

There’s time yet.

“We have private boxes available to buy for a game. If you’re interested in this possibility, you can get in contact with our hospitality department via our phone lines or through our website. Many of our players and sponsors also have their own private boxes, whether in this stand or the Doug Ellis on the other side of the stadium. Players’ friends and family will use the boxes during the games,” Belle tells the group as they walk along a hallway, closed doors on the left leading into said boxes.

“Grandpa looked into these,” Henry tells Emma. “They’re about three-thousand pounds per matchday! That’s not far off four-thousand dollars!”

“That’s obscene,” Emma remarks.

“Welcome to the world of top-level English football, love. The money in it is bloody ridiculous,” Killian acknowledges disdainfully for, whilst he benefits substantially from it, he doesn’t wholly agree with it.

Belle brings the group to a stop outside a door which Killian knows well.

“Club Captain Killian Jones kindly permits us entry into his box during these tours,” Belle informs the group, “enabling us to be able to show you the view from such luxurious viewing spaces.”

Henry grins knowingly at Killian as Belle leads the group into the box. Killian lingers somewhat awkwardly in the doorway as he watches the large group explore the space. He’s not used to seeing so many unfamiliar people in his usually remote, private spot. Upon entering after a game, he’s usually met by familiar faces and not the sight of people taking selfies with the view of the pitch behind them. As willing as he is to let the tours into his box – it seems the least he can do after all the support the Villa fans have given him over the years – it feels strange to actually see it happen.

“A whole range of people have watched matches from up here,” Belle tells the group and Killian can but wonder exactly where she’s going to go with her examples. “From family members and close friends to Hollywood actors and royalty. But Killian has also been known to regularly invite local foster families to games and host them here too.”

Emma looks surprised as she turns to him, an awe in her eyes as she murmurs, “Foster families?”

“I’m aware of the privilege I’m fortunate enough to have. If I can make even the smallest difference in the lives of those in less fortunate positions, it only seems right to do so,” he explains seriously and then smirks as he seizes the opportunity to call her out, “You see, not all professional sportsmen are egotistical jocks.”

“We’ll see,” she shrugs, nudging him playfully in the side then asks the burning question, “And royalty?”

“Oh, aye,” he confirms with a nod. “Didn’t you know the future king’s a villan?”

“Until yesterday, I didn’t know a villain was anything more than the bad guy in a movie,” Emma points out. “So, you’re telling me that you mix with royalty?”

“From time to time.”

She laughs.

“What’s so funny about that?” he questions, bemused by the reaction.

“I just can’t imagine you all… fancy and proper,” she tells him.

“I scrub up quite well, I’ll have you know,” he insists. “It’s not all sportswear and sweat.”

There’s a spark in her eyes as she returns, “Pity.”

“And now, the Villa dressing room,” Belle announces as she leads them through the double doors and into the room that, in the entirety of the stadium, Killian is most familiar with. “I’d like to direct your attention to the tactic board up here.”

She brings the group to a large whiteboard, positioned on the only wall not lined with player’s lockers and seats. Scrawls of the gaffer’s tactics remains in place from the previous day’s game.

“Now, as most of you are aware, past Villa managers have used similar tactics for every game which meant they’d furiously remove any signs of their tactics from this board before we’d have even a chance of stepping foot in here,” Belle addresses her attentive audience. “Adam Gold, however, we have all very quickly learned is just as world-class a manager as he was as a player. He’s a tactical genius; his tactics vary significantly from game to game, adapting to the slightest whiff of a weakness he assesses in opposition players, and so he’s more willing to leave us little insights into his great mind.”

She gestures to the board, a combination of circles and numbers to represent players, complete with arrows of various lengths and intensities.

“You can see his half time talk during yesterday’s game partly comprised of urging his front three to apply intense pressure to the back line, to not give them a second on the ball, forcing them to go long despite their forward players not boasting much height and preferring to receive the ball to feet,” Belle interprets the squiggles for those struggling to decipher.

Killian notes her use of the word ‘urging’ as soft. He recalls the gaffer’s instructions as a demand, an unspoken threat of being substituted if they failed to match the intensity he expected.

“And up here,” she points to slightly more legible writing in the top corner of the board, “is his mantra. It’s been here every week without fail since Gold took charge of the club last year. It’s rather inspiring and applicable outside football so I invite you all to take the opportunity to take in the wise words of Adam Gold.”

They’re words Killian has heard countless times since the gaffer’s arrival. Words he could recount in his sleep;

Victory comes at a price;

Focus

Determination

Grit

Hard-work

“Now feel free to explore and take photos,” Belle tells them.

The group immediately disperses around the room, taking photos on the seats beneath various players’ lockers and Belle throws further facts and information at them as they do so. Henry’s the first one to claim the seat beneath Killian’s name, shirt and locker, and Killian watches on amused as the lad flat-out refuses to budge for anyone until Emma catches up with him and takes his picture.

Even then, he’s not done.

“Kil-uh, Alex!” he calls, catching himself, a hint of panic flaring in his eyes, but he quickly continues, “I need one with you.”

Killian ducks his head as he crosses the room, sitting next to Henry and silently urging Emma to move fast as she takes the photo, well aware of the growing number of people waiting. The second he hears the click of the picture, he’s up and guiding the young lad away.

“What about Humbert or Booth?” he suggests to Henry.

The boy nods eagerly and hurries over to their lockers, positioned side by side, roping Emma into continuing to be his photographer. He ends up going around the entire changing room, taking photos under each player’s name and replica shirt. Killian even coaxes Emma to get into some of them with Henry, taking over her duties as photographer.

They eventually make it to the final player in the squad. Killian has Henry and Emma getting ready for a photo in front of Robin’s station when another member of the group steps into his shot and offers his hand out for the phone.

“Here, I’ll take it for you,” the man says. “You get in. As good as place as any to get an update for the family photo album.”

“Oooh,” Killian draws out, immediately noting the assumption. He points dumbly towards Emma and Henry, stumbling over his words, “I’m- he’s- she’s-”

“He’s just a friend,” Emma steps in to clarify.

Friend. He bloody hates the sound of that word on her lips.

But it is better than jackass, or egotistical sportsman.

Small victories.

One step at a time.

Killian refocuses, snapping the photo and returning the phone to Henry who proclaims he’s sending all the photos to Nicholas immediately.

“Okay, we are running short on time so can everyone follow me, and we’ll head out to the tunnel,” Belle announces.

The group are rather prompt in wrapping up on their various photos and following Belle out of the door. Killian sticks an arm out, successfully holding Henry back from being the first one out the door after Belle. As the door swings shut behind the final member of the group, leaving just him, Emma and Henry in the emptied out dressing room, Killian drops his arm back to his side.

“What are you doing?” Henry questions.

“I figured you’d want a proper photo,” Killian explains.

He removes his hat and sunglasses, chucking them onto Robin’s seat. By the time he gets to his seat, Henry’s already there – as eager as always - so Killian ends up to the side, just as he had been in the first picture they’d taken. Emma takes the picture, just as the door swings open again and Belle returns.

“I do require everyone to stick togeth-”

She cuts herself off as the door swings shut behind her, staring at Killian and laughing in disbelief.

“Alex. Rogers.” Belle says the name with a light shake of her head. “I should have known something was up. Wha- What are you doing here, Killian?”

“Trying to keep a low profile,” Killian tells her, grabbing his hat and sunglasses, putting them back on. He nods to Henry, “The lad wanted to go on the tour as planned so I’m tagging along.”

Belle has quickly recovered from her surprise and tells it how it is, “Well, you’re doing a good job of disrupting the planned tour by not keeping up.”

The trio choose not to hang around any longer.

Killian stands staring at the European Cup in the display stand proudly situated in the centre of the tunnel. It’s a reminder every single home game, every time he comes and goes from the pitch, of where the club had once been, how far it had fallen, and what it was striving for once more.

Emma steps up beside him and reads the display tag, “European Champions, nineteen-eighty-two.”

“European Champion,” Killian breathes out dreamily. “Every footballer’s dream. That’s my ultimate goal, right there.”

“Does that mean the rumours are true?” a worried Henry pops up out of nowhere, appearing between Emma and Killian. “The ones about you going to Manchester City in the summer?”

“Off the record?” Killian checks, not that he can envision the boy to go running to the press, but the media training in him demands it. “I could go to City. Might very well go on and lift the trophy my first season there. Certainly a higher chance of it than if I were to stay here. But what does that really achieve? There’s almost an expectation on City to win it. Going to City, well, that just feels like bloody cheating. I want a story, an underdog story. My first season with Villa, we finished in the middle of the Championship. Eight hard years later and we’re pushing to be in competing in the Champions League next season. It’s a big, big ask but there’s every chance I could be lifting that trophy as a Villa player in just over a year’s time, and if there’s a chance of that, even a very, very slim one, I can’t possibly leave. From Championship mediocrity to Champions League winners; proving that focus, hard work and determination pays off, that’s the true dream.”

“So you are staying!” Henry grins.

“No definitive promises, lad,” Killian returns. “We’ll see.”

“And here we are. The conclusion of our tour, the dugouts,” Belle gestures to the team dugouts at pitch side. “Unfortunately, we can not go on the pitch today. We’re nearing the end of a long season and endured a horrendous winter so the groundskeeping team have been working tirelessly to keep the pitch at a top notch condition and have requested minimal disturbance to the playing surface. You are more than welcome to take your pictures in the dugouts and at the side of the pitch right here.”

On Henry’s disappointed look, Killian catches his eye and gives him a small nod – he’ll sort it.

The lad grins and rushes off to get his pictures in the home dugout, diving into the crowd of people doing similarly. Emma is back to playing photographer as Killian wanders over to Belle.

“This is the final part of the tour, right?” he strikes up conversationally.

“That’s right,” she confirms.

“So, you don’t mind if I stay back with two of your guests to give my own personal tour?” he checks.

“By that, you mean take them on to the pitch, which we’re under strict instructions not to allow,” Belle’s onto him in a flash.

“You’re under strict instructions not to allow,” Killian corrects, “and I shall neither confirm nor deny your accusation, that way you are not a willing accomplice in whatever I may or may not be up to.”

“Killian.”

“Come on, it’s not like I’m going to do anything to severely piss off Nathaniel, am I?” he remains persistent. “I’ll let you into a little known fact; us players are just as wary of pissing off that man as any member of the club staff.”

Nathaniel, the head groundskeeper, has a notorious reputation for getting severely pissed off with anyone who dares to touch a single blade of his grass on non-matchdays. Even on matchdays, players opting for a knee slide celebration upon scoring risked the incoming wrath of Nathaniel when bypassing him in the tunnel at half-time or full-time as he’s on his way out to tend to his precious grass. If the man had it his way, the matches wouldn’t even be played on the hallowed turf of Villa Park. There are very few people who dare to cross him; even the gaffer tends to give the man a wide berth.

“Fine!” Belle huffs reluctantly and points an accusing finger at him. “But I had no part in this, understood?”

“Crystal clear, love,” Killian confirms with a nod.

Killian has no bloody idea what he’s playing at.

He and Emma are finally alone. At least alone, if not for her lad. For the first time, there’s isn’t a crowd of people around, or a demand for him to be elsewhere. It’s just them in a completely empty stadium, an opportunity to get to know each other better, and things are great. Except for the fact that Emma doesn’t share the same love for football or Villa as he and Henry do. She’s probably longing to be in the group Belle had led to the exit of the stadium, the doors of freedom from the world of football, and he’s kept her from them.

He had promised her dinner. Instead, he’s given her an extended sentence imprisoned within Villa Park.

He’s a bloody fool. First the ink, next the stadium. He can only marvel at how his brain fails to function properly where Emma is involved.

“Are we going on the pitch?” Henry questions eagerly.

Making Henry happy is easy. Impressing football fans is easy. He has no clue where he stands with non-football fans. He needs to figure it out and fast. Until then, he can only stick to what he’s good at.

“We’re doing more than that, lad,” Killian manages a smile. “What’s the one thing every Villa fan wants to do?”

Henry’s eyes shift towards the goal in front of the Holte End and he dares to believe, “Score in the Holte?”

Killian nods, “Score in the Holte.”

He instructs Henry to hold fire, and his eyes linger for a fraction too long on Emma, sat in the dugouts with an unreadable expression on her face, before he jogs down the tunnel and fetches one of the balls they keep stored in the dressing room. He returns to find Henry exactly where he’d left him and the young boy’s eyes light up at the sight of the football.

Henry doesn’t just score in the Holte, he scores a whole series of goals in the Holte; left foot, right foot, headers, and volleys. He even attempts a bicycle kick which goes soaring into row Z and sends Killian clambering into the stand to fetch the ball. On his return to the pitch, Killian glances to the dugouts where Emma still sits, perched on one of the claret and blue seats, watching with a small smile on her face. He rolls the ball to Henry, who’s quite content scoring in an open goal, as Killian jogs over to the dugouts.

“Well, this won’t do,” he states as he stops in front of Emma, holding out a hand towards her, “I can’t have my best player languishing on the bench.”

She takes his hand, perhaps a little reluctantly, and he helps her to her feet, pulling her along with him onto the pitch and into the penalty box at the Holte End.

“Hey, lad, how about we let your mother have a go?” he suggests.

Henry collects the ball from the net of his latest goal and nods eagerly, “Can I be the keeper?”

Killian agrees and chuckles at the sight of young Henry, barely more than a dot when stood in the centre of the mammoth net. He places the ball Henry chucks at him onto the penalty spot and turns back to Emma.

“I’ve never kicked a soccer ball in my life,” Emma tells him, staring at the ball as if it were going to attack her.

“There’s for a first time for everything,” Killian returns. “All you have to do is kick it twelve yards. Anywhere but at the keeper and you’re pretty much guaranteed a goal, given his size.”

Emma gives a short nod, her eyes fixed on the ball, a hard determination fuelling her gaze, as if determined to prove herself. She steps up to the ball and pulls back her right leg.

“Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah!” Killian calls out, halting her actions just as she’s about to kick.

He moves over to her, placing his hands softly onto her shoulders and guiding her a few steps back from the ball. He stands behind her, his chest just inches from being pressed against her back, as he coaches her.

“You need to give yourself a run-up,” he explains his intervention. “Now, the temptation’s going to be to kick the ball with your toe; don’t do that. You have two options, you can either use the inside of your foot or get under it and hit it with your laces. For now, let’s keep things simple with the side of your foot. Statistically, most penalties are scored in the bottom left of the goal so my technique is to place it in that corner but, for now, just focus on getting it on target. Okay, so run up, generate power, hit with the side of your foot and direct goalwards.”

He releases his hands from her shoulders, encouraging her to take her shot. She charges forward, strikes the ball with the inside of her right foot and it nestles into the back of the net towards the bottom left. It’s not perfectly placed in the corner but it’s a very promising start and Killian is pleasantly surprised by the amount of power she had rifled into the ball; she’s either a good student or beginner’s luck is in play,

She cheers and he high-fives her before Henry charges over, diving onto his mum to celebrate with her.

They break into a mini game, pulling off their jackets and placing them on the ground to make small goals either side of the width of the penalty area; taking Killian back to the many hours spent playing football on school playgrounds and parks in his youth. Henry and Emma team up against him and Killian initially takes it easy, allowing the lad to score and doing very little as Emma dribbles the ball around him and slots it home.

There are wild celebrations as Henry and Emma go two-nil up and break into a teasing chant of ‘we’re beating the pro’ which sets Killian’s competitive side ablaze. He drives forward with the ball at his feet, knocking it through Henry’s legs as the lad makes a step in to block. He powers around Henry, taking a touch of the ball to knock it towards goal, just Emma to beat. He feigns a move left then swiftly knocks the ball to Emma’s right and he’s past her, sprinting goalbound, the ball at his feet. He’s in the clear, goal dead certain and is preparing himself to slot it home when contact is made with the back of his right leg. He loses his balance, barrelling over onto the grass, landing on his back in time to see a stumbling Emma following behind him, crashing down on top of him.

She puts her hands out quickly, onto the grass either side of his head, taking her weight off him, but she remains above him, looking down on him. He dumbly stares up at her, taken by surprise by both her sudden challenge and the position they since find themselves in. His mind’s scrambled, overcome by the light woody scent radiating from her, the faintest hint of cinnamon, and her warm breath tickling his temple.

“Can’t get past me that easily,” she tells him triumphantly.

“I did get past you!” he argues. “I was through on goal, and you took me out. That’s a dead cert red!”

“I have no idea what that means,” she confesses.

“It means your team are down a player, you’re off the pitch, headed for an early bath,” he explains.

“Do I get to take you with me?”

A faint gasp escapes his lips at her suggestive tone and her gleaming earthy eyes only draws him in closer, his head lifting off the grass, his elbows propping against the ground, lifting his upper body against hers. There’s barely anything between them and yet he still desires her closer, needs her closer. Her soft, red lips part; an open goal, inviting his forward move.

His lips brush faintly against hers.

“Mom!” Henry calls.

She’s gone instantly. Killian lets out a shaky breath and throws himself into the grass, squeezing his eyes shut. Bloody kids.

“Uh, Killian, this guy does not look too impressed. He’s actually carrying a pitchfork,” Emma’s comment pulls him from his sulking.

He jumps to his feet, looking towards the tunnel to see head groundskeeper Nathaniel stalking towards them, a thunderous look on his face.

“Killian Jones! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Nathaniel bellows from the halfway line.

“Funnily enough, mate, I’ve been asking myself the same question all day,” Killian attempts to keep things light.

The groundskeeper does not see the funny side, a deep scowl piercing into Killian’s soul. If looks could kill, he would be flat out on the ground.

Killian throws his hands up into a surrender.

“Don’t worry, mate, your pitch is intact,” Killian tells him then glances at the scuff marks inflicted by Emma’s challenge and their subsequent falls, and amends, “mostly. My bad. I’ll make it up to you. We’ll be on our way now.”

Killian navigates Emma and Henry around the fuming groundskeeper, an onslaught of curses following his every move as they hastily leave the pitch behind them.

“So, how about that dinner?” Killian proposes.

They stand on the car park outside Villa Park, a safe distance from the fury of Nathaniel. Things have changed since she turned him down the just a few hours ago, and he’s fuelled with confidence for her coming response.

“I’m sorry.”

The response is unexpected and he clenches his jaw in an effort to hide his crushing disappointment.

“We’re due on a train back to London,” she explains.

He comes crashing down to reality. He’d forgotten they were tourists, forgotten they lived thousands of miles away, forgotten that things were much more complicated than winning over a non-football fan when his whole life is football.

“Ah, of course,” he nods. “How long are you in the country for?”

“We leave for Boston next Sunday,” Emma answers.

“I have a game in London next Saturday,” Killian tells her. “I can sort tickets for your whole family?”

“That’d be awesome!” Henry exclaims.

Killian grins at the lad then looks to Emma hopefully, “And maybe we can finally get that dinner after? Just me and you?”

Emma glances at Henry, falls deep in thought as she considers, as if a debate is raging in her head. They’d both gotten caught up in the moment on the pitch, they were both firmly back in reality where any long-term future is especially unlikely. She knows what he’s suggesting; a one-time thing.

“What the hell,” she throws any caution to the wind. “I’m on vacation. Let’s do it.”

“And this time I have my phone to hand so you can put your number directly into it.”

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and hands it over to her.

“Make sure you don’t drop this down the toilet,” she tells him warningly as she inputs her number.

He takes the phone back from her, holding it tightly.

“I’m an attacker by trade but this I will defend with my life,” he promises.

As she gets into the taxi waiting for her, Killian’s eyes drop to the new contact in his phone; Emma Nolan. He clicks on the edit button, adding one red heart emoji to her contact name.

For all the talk of her letting the claret and blue of Aston Villa touch her heart, he had well and truly let her touch his.

Tags: @teamhook @laianely @booksteaandtoomuchtv @exhaustedpirate @anmylica @hollyethecurious @kmomof4 @winterbaby89 @undercaffinatednightmare @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @captainswan-kellie @motherkatereloyshipper @soniccat @jrob64 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jonesfandomfanatic @myfearless-love

#cs ff #captain swan #the heart of a villan

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