#ok that's also assault of a minor

[dr3c0mix]

umm is it possible to get a yandere! male!siren x shy!gn reader?

Fish Bait

Yandere!Siren x GN Reader

CW: Kidnapping, assault, minor stalking, murder, thalassophobia maybe?

🌊 You are quite shy when it came to talking to people. You found the whole 'socializing thing' a bit overwhelming considering how rough and loud the rest of the people in your academy was.

🌊 You much preferred staying by the shore with a nice book or drawing book to enjoy the sound of the waves with. The ocean breeze and wailing of seagulls never failed to relax you.

🌊 One day, you heard the strange sound of splashing by the tide pools along the more rocks area of the shore. You thought it was a fish or some other animal that got stuck in one of the pools after the tide retreated and got up to help it out.

🌊 But what you saw was no animal, well, half animal. In one of the pools was a man with the lower half of a fish, his scales glistened wondrously as it splashed in the water.

🌊 The man looked at you with wide eyes and froze. You put your hands up to show you meant no harm.

🌊 "Please! Spare me! I just want to go home!"

🌊 "Calm down! I won't hurt you!"

🌊 He shook with fear as your hands drew closer to him.

🌊 You then pulled him up from the pool and carried him to the sea, he stares at you as you gently lowered him unto the water.

🌊 As soon as his tail was submerged in the sea, he swam out of your grasp and went a distance away from you, part of his head peeking out of the water as his red eyes looked at yours.

🌊 "Well...safe travels.." You mutter, wading back to shore, but the merman peeks his mouth out the water and shouts to you.

🌊 "You're not going to ask anything in return?"

🌊 You look back. "Uhm..no, I'm fine, thanks anyway.."

🌊 "Hmm, you know...you can come with me to my home. I'll grant you the power to breathe under water and you can enjoy the treasures I have there. What do you say? It's the least I can do for what you've done for me!"

🌊 "Nah, I'm good. Be safe though, I heard theres pirates that hunt merfolk nowadays..." You continue your way to shore but the merman swims quickly to your side.

🌊 "Don't you want to be rid of those insolent fools you call schoolmates? I can give you a life people only dream of!"

🌊 "I'm not really..interested..."

🌊 "...You're not?"

🌊 "Yeah..."

🌊 "...Oh..uh..ok...wow-um..well, bye I guess..." The man stutters before sinking his head back into the water.

🌊 You sigh, that was some encounter. You doubt you'd run into something like that again...

🌊 Boy howdy you were wrong.

🌊 You'd spot the strange boy again and again, always hiding back behind the rock or piece of driftwood he was watching you from.

🌊 Sometimes you'd also find trinkets and beautiful stones laid on the shore. You never took them though; you didn't want to take something someone probably lost. The merman would grumble to himself every time you ignored his baits.

🌊 You'd also see him again trapped in the pools, feigning sorrow that poor little him got stuck again during another low tide. What ever shall he do?

🌊 Your days would go on like this, the merman desperately trying to lure you into the sea but to no avail due to your shy and polite nature.

🌊 Him basically stalking you turned to him directly talking to you and trying to get you to go with him in the water.

🌊 "Oh dear, I've been stuck at this reef for ages! I just can't get out! Could you help me please? I promise not to drown you!"

🌊 "No thanks, I'm on the last chapter of my book..."

🌊 "My, my, it's so lonely in the ocean, not a playmate in sight, come down with me so we can really get to know each other yeah?"

🌊 "I don't really wanna get my clothes wet..."

🌊 What you thought was a potentially dangerous creature of the sea became a whiny, attention-seeking drama queen.

🌊 Eventually, you'd learn his name is Caspian. He gave up a bit on trying to lure you and settled on making small talk with you.

🌊 Most of your conversations would revolve around your cultures, how you two lived compared to eachother.

🌊 "So those silver things with teeth aren't combs? Interesting...tell me more!"

🌊 He more or less looked up to you because of the knowledge you'd tell him, even though it was all basic things ever human knows, but he wasn't a human so, I guess it's alright.

🌊 He'd try to crawl onto shore to see what you were reading or drawing. You'd have to scoot away from him because he was dripping wet, and you didn't want your paper to get soiled.

🌊 Please read to him! He loves it when you read out loud the books you bring!

🌊 Life seemed pretty content with you having a friend to talk to, one who's not judgmental of your quiet personality.

🌊 That was until one day, you heard laughing and shouting from your usual spot.

🌊 You saw your classmates, waist deep in the water trying to drag Caspian to the shore, the merman snarling and biting the air around him angrily as the bullies degrade and laugh at his attempts to wriggle out of their grasp.

🌊 "Look at this, boys! With this ugly thing we can buy the whole pub if we wanted to!"

🌊 "H-hey! Leave him alone!" You shouted, dropping your things as you ran to help your friend, but one of them punched you with in the face and grabbed you, about to hit you again.

🌊 "What? You're gonna let this siren kill everyone that comes to this beach? God you're dumb! No wonder why you have no friends!"

🌊 He was about to give another blow when you both heard a shrill cry from the ocean.

🌊 The water pooled with crimson as only the splashing of limbs can be seen form the shore, cries and gurgles are heard from the writhing gore. Your classmate rushes into the water to save his friends before the violent splashing stops and the red patch of bloody water extends towards him and around him until you see him get yanked below into the water, a splash of a fish tail verified in your mind that it was Caspian.

🌊 You could feel your heart pounding as you see the siren lift its head from the water, his blood red eyes staring at you again with razor sharp teeth bared.

🌊 "P-please...don't hurt me..I didn't lead them to you I swear!" You cried as he crawled to your shivering form.

🌊 You held your breath as he pulled you in a wet hug, your clothes getting stained by the salty, bloody water.

🌊 "Oh my darling~ I know you would never hurt me~ But we're not safe here anymore..I fear I'll have to take you somewhere safer...somewhere away from those disgusting creatures."

🌊 You couldn't even react before you were pulled into the water forcefully, you kicked and swam all you could to get him to let go of you, but soon enough, your whole body was under the water. The only thing that was left of you were your things by the sand, and bubbles that rose to the surface before stopping.

🌊 "You'll be safe here my love, my most wonderful treasure~"

this one was by far one of my favorite bois ive written, he's so mhmhmghghghmmmhmhmmhhh

#yandere #yandere x gn reader #yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere oc #oc yandere #yandere male #yandere x male reader #tw yandere #x reader #mermaid #mermaid x reader #mermaid x human #merman x reader #merman x human #siren x reader #teratophillia #terato #monsterfucker #monster lover #monster x human #monster boyfriend #monster smut #opossumdoodles

[leidensygdom]

I gotta say, one of the wildest radical transphobes' talking "points" is probably bathroom discourse. I can't even put to words how utterly detached from reality it is. It's terminally online stuff.

So, bathrooms. I don't know if somehow other people's realities are somehow vastly different from mine, but I feel like the extreme clear divide between "men's" and "women's" bathrooms is just not real. Where I live, stalls are often gendered, but how much they get used in that way is far less consistent.

For example: If the place had only the space to make one bathroom accessible, it's gonna be the women's bathroom. Always. It doesn't mean only disabled women have access to bathrooms- It means that the women's bathroom is also going to be used by disabled people. And this is common. Really common. Maybe it's because the women's bathroom tends to need more space- For pad dispensers and trash cans, for baby-changing stations (yes, I hate that these are only on the women's bathroom usually), and so on. Now- You see a guy enter the women's bathroom. Are you gonna micro-analize if the guy looks disabled enough to use it, or are you going to wash your hands and go on with your life?

Again, baby-changing stations are almost always located on the women's bathroom. It sucks- It should be in all bathrooms. But it's how it is. You see a cis guy enter with a kid. Or maybe not even with a kid- Just enters, wanders around, finds the baby-changing station, gets a diaper from the dispenser and leaves. Are you gonna throw a fit or just let this guy handle his kid?

Bathrooms get cleaned on the regular. A lot of times, you may wanna go there, and get told it's being cleaned, and just get asked to use the other gender's bathroom. Cleaning can take hours. If the men's bathroom is being cleaned and everyone is now using the women's, are you going to deem the bathroom to be the world's unsafest place or are you just go take a pee and leave?

Fucking hell, sometimes the stall you want to go to is incredibly dirty. It happens. No need to get on details. Just the kind of stuff that makes you want to not use it. Or maybe it's clogged, or maybe it's not working. Maybe there's a note saying "Broken, do not enter". Do you cry about it or just go find another stall- Which may be on the other fucking gender's bathroom?

Most times I'll use whatever bathroom is available. One is busy? Ok, let me get to the other one. I'm AFAB and while I don't present femininely, I still look like a woman to most people. Have I ever been in danger because I cleaned my hands besides someone with a dick? No. Grow the fuck up. This isn't even rare. People will switch bathrooms for speed. People will switch bathrooms because one of them is out of paper. Because one of them is out of soap.

The mall in my current city recently installed "Family" bathrooms. They're not being marketed as unisex, or inclusive, or anything. Just "family" bathrooms. For everyone. They're great. It's the bathroom everyone will use- Men, women, anything in between and outside of that, kids, disabled people, etc. There's a bunch of stalls adapted to different needs. There's accessible stalls. There's pad and diaper dispensers. There's stalls that have a big toilet and a little toilet so parents can go with their kids. There's tall sinks and short sinks- So disabled people and kids can reach.

And, to nobody's surprise, there's no reports whatsoever of any sort of assault in them.

I'm just. I don't know. I'm sorry you can't detach the existence of a dick near you from immediate assault. I don't know why that changes in the context of a bathroom- I've never (in my long life of using whatever bathroom) been in danger for that. And I'm talking as someone who has had some unsavory experiences in other situations. Grow the fuck up and maybe stop basing your views on imaginary scenarios y'all need to come up with to justify your hatred of a minority. Maybe if y'all got off your keyboards and went outside for once, you'd realize bathrooms work much differently from whatever weird ideal you have formed about them.

#trans issues #transgender #lgbtq #lgbtia #queer #long post

[blackdreadbalerion]

morning glory

PAIRING ⇢ Prince Aegon II Targaryen x fem!Reader [Name]

RATING ⇢ 18+ | minors don’t interact!

SUMMARY ⇢ Prince Aegon and his wife enjoy a slow morning together

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⇢ ok here goes nothing (bare with me this took a lot of willpower because i am my own harshest critic). if you do have any advice or constructive critic i am very happy to listen and learn, so feel free to let me know. to be honest, i don't know how i ended up writing for Aegon because I am an Aemond girl first and foremost. But somehow this idea made its way into my brain and i couldn't help myself, so..

Also, a big thank you to @aemonds-war-crime for helping me figure out how to tag this correctly!

WARNINGS ⇢ mostly smut | sexual content | reader is asleep at the start but it is implied she gave her consent prior (this scene is part of a longer work) | maybe some fluff?

WORD COUNT ⇢ 1'408 words

Aegon blinks open his eyes, groaning quietly as he rolls out of the sun, closer to his sleeping wife.

[Name] seems to be dead to the world still, and for a while, Aegon contents himself by watching the rays of sun moving up her back, bathing her in a soft glow, making her look even more ethereal.

Eventually, his gaze starts to slide lower, to the soft pink flesh he can see between her legs. There are some spots of white substance on her thighs, and he bites his lip as he remembers the night before, how she had writhed underneath him, always pulling him closer, taking whatever he gave to her, even demanding more, telling him that she wanted to keep him inside of her until they woke up.

“I have been blessed by the gods,” he murmurs to himself, one of his hands lowering to stroke his cock as he reaches out with the other, running a gentle finger down her back and between her folds.

[Name] mumbles something intelligible in her sleep, shifting one of her legs a little bit, almost as if to give him permission.

His mind set, Aegon slips closer on the bed, wetting his cock on her folds before slipping it inside her wet heat in one long thrust.

“A-ah…what-Aegon?” his wife yelps as she wakes up, one of her hands grabbing onto his arm as he wraps it around her chest.

“Good morning, wife. I apologize for not waking you up. You were simply too tempting to resist. And it is my name day, after all. I should be allowed to do whatever I wish today, do you not agree?” he asks her, his cock twitching inside of her as he holds himself still.

[Name] lets out a quiet snort, her eyes meeting his over her shoulder. Aegon can’t help but smile at the genuine warmth he finds in her lilac eyes, and he leans down to press a few fluttering kisses against her shoulder and neck.

“Do you not always do whatever you wish, dear husband?” she teases him, all the while pushing herself back towards him, letting him know without words that he can keep going.

Aegon growls quietly, his hips starting to move of their own accord, and his free hand moves down her front, teasing along her breasts before cupping her mound and rubbing soft circles.

[Name] lets out a quiet moan at his ministrations, throwing her head back against his chest, her eyes fluttering closed. She lifts her leg a little bit, opening up for him beautifully, and Aegon rewards her with a biting kiss to her jaw, leaning over her to finally plunder her mouth as she lets him do as he pleases.

With the combined assault of both his cock and his finger, it doesn’t take long for [Name] to reach her peak, her cunt tightening around Aegon, and he grits his teeth to keep himself from following after her, fucking her until her body stops shaking.

“My love, my beautiful wife. I wish for you to ride me. Take your pleasure from me, show me you are mine and I am yours, my little dragon,” Aegon whispers into her ear before pulling out, his cock bobbing up towards his stomach, swollen with need.

[Name] follows after him, turning onto her hands and knees as she crawls over him, leaning down to teasingly press a hot kiss to his tip on the way.

“Do not keep me waiting, my love, please,” Aegon rasps out, only to let his head fall back onto the bed when she takes him inside her once more, settling into his lap in a smooth movement.

“Ngh, you feel so good inside of me, husband,” [Name] breathes, leaning over him, her hands settled on his chest as she starts to move her hips.

Aegon slides his hands up her thighs, content to watch as she uses him for her own pleasure, quiet gasps falling from her mouth.

He can tell when she is close to reaching her peak, her movements losing rhythm, but he keeps still, licking over his lips.

“Touch me. Please, Aegon. I need you to touch me,” [Name] begs, one of her hands sliding down her body towards her center.

A smirk spreads on Aegon’s face as he reaches out and pushes her fingers away, toying with her cunt, circling his thumb over the little nub.

“Let yourself go, my love,” he commands, pushing his hips up to meet hers with every thrust.

[Name] throws her head back with a gasp, a visible shiver running down her body as she shakes on top of him, riding out her high with his help.

Once her peak has passed, [Name] collapses onto his chest, pressing a kiss to his collarbone as her breathing slows down.

“Take what you need from me, husband. Use me as I have used you,” she whispers into his ear a few seconds later, and Aegon lets out a happy groan at her words, resuming his movements once more as he holds her close.

Chasing his own peak, Aegon wraps his arms around his wife, pistoning his hips up into her warmth, until she clenches around him, pushing him over the edge as he lets go. His hips stutter and he holds [Name] down on his lap as he grinds against her, riding out his release, both of them breathing heavily.

“If only I could wake up like this every day, I believe the realm would be a much better place,” Aegon eventually breathes out, tilting his head as he grins up at his wife.

[Name] shakes her head with a soft laugh, leaning down to press her lips onto his, her fingers playing with his hair and running along his face.

“You truly are insatiable, Aegon. Is it not enough to have my evenings and my nights, now you want my mornings too?” she asks him, whispering the words against his lips in between kisses.

Aegon chuckles, running his fingers down [Name]’s sides in a teasing caress and settling at her waist, carefully lifting her as he pulls out, his seed slowly trickling down her legs.

“I will never get enough of you, my love. You are mine now. Mine to fuck, mine to hold, mine to worship. Every little piece of you is mine, and I will gladly prove it to you and the rest of the realm every day.”

A soft smile spreads on [Name]’s face as she rests her chin on his chest, and Aegon wraps an arm around her, keeping her close.

“You are mine too, Aegon. Mine to cherish, mine to keep. Mine to love.”

Their tranquil moment is rudely interrupted when the door to his chambers slams open, revealing Aemond, followed by his servants.

Aegon groans, pulling his bedsheets up to cover his wife from their eyes - he might have no shame, but [Name]’s body is only his to see.

“What is it? Why must you interrupt our nice morning?” he asks his brother with a sigh, knowing that he will not get this moment back.

“It is time to rise, brother. The banquet is starting soon, and then afterwards the tourney will be held. Our people must see their future King and Queen. You two can work on adding to your family later,” Aemond replies with a straight face.

Aegon just groans and sinks back into the bed, willing his brother to go away. [Name] giggles, pressing a kiss to his lips and tugging on his hair.

“He is right, husband. I would hate to miss the banquet or the tourney. Everyone will be celebrating you today, so we should thank them,” she decides.

Aegon sits up with a sigh, unable to deny his lady wife anything.

From somewhere near the bed, [Name] has apparently managed to find his shirt from the evening before, slipping it over her head to protect her modesty. It’s big on her, covering her up down to her thighs, and Aegon lets out another groan at how much she looks like his.

“Gods, wife, you really know how to tease your husband,” he tells her, reaching out to pull her into his arms.

[Name] dances out of reach with a laugh, evading his arms and sending him a flying kiss.

“Save your honeyed words for later, husband. It is time for me to get dressed - I shall see you later!” she calls out as she heads out of his chambers and taking his sunshine with him.

#nsfk #smut #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x reader #hotd #house of the dragon #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen smut #aegon x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #hotd drabbles #aegon drabbles #aegon ii fanfic

[atsvmi]

Isagi’s Interlude

“I wish I wasn’t famous/ I wish I was still in school/ So that I could have you in my dorm room/ I would put it on you crazy” - Cece’s Interlude, Drake

✿ tags: minors dni, 18+ content, pro!Isagi, fem!reader (called good girl, wears a skirt, has cleavage, etc.), established relationship, mention of an age difference (reader is older than Isagi, both are in their 20s), consensual audio recording, role play (university students), switch!Isagi, switch!reader, oral (male receiving), humping, unprotected sex, mentions of virginity but neither is a virgin, purity kink, corruption kink (?), one mention of a spoiler, tbh i think this is pwp but idk

✿ wc: 3.5k

✿ a/n: the time has come that i officially am no longer catfishing as a writing blog🥳 please clap. also, this is my first time writing smut so please be kind<3

“Do you think we’d still date if we knew each other when we were in school?”

Your question is a random but welcomed conversation as you both work to reset your shared kitchen after dinner, you wash as he dries. In the seconds between the next clean dish, he pauses to consider his answer, before choosing to reach for low-hanging fruit.

“Do you mean high school? If so then...I hope not,” he finally answers. He can’t help but laugh as you fling the excess water and soap from your fingers onto him in indignation.

“No, I didn’t mean fucking high school. And quit making me seem like a fucking cradle robber, asshole.” You’ve been together long enough that the four-year age difference between the two of you is little more than a fun fact and a harmless joke at times. He can sense your annoyance is mostly for show but he chooses not to push any further.

“Ok, ok. I’m sorry,” he manages to get out between chuckles, fending himself from the assault of suds. Again he pauses to really think about what could’ve been. What would he have studied? Would he manage to get into a university with a good team? How would you manage to cross paths? He realizes it’s hard to consider anything when he doesn’t know much about your own school experience outside of the anecdotal stories you’ve told him.

“Tell me what you were like in school first.”

You resume washing the dishes, multitasking as you answer him.

“Um…pretty lame honestly. I wrote for the school’s newspaper. I wasn’t super active on campus but that made me get out there more than I would’ve on my own. But I did go to some parties.”

He lets your answer sink in.

“Yeah, I think we would’ve still got along. You don’t sound like you were much different from now so I don’t see why not.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see your lips turn slightly up, pleased with his answer. Cute.

“Do you ever think about your life if things turned out differently? Like if Blue Lock never happened?”

He can’t say he has. Blue Lock changed his life on its head completely, it’s hard to imagine things working out any differently. Tada and the others he went to school with were freshly graduated, at least according to their social media updates, so he supposes he would be too. Yet still, it’s hard to think about something so different than today.

“I dunno. I can’t really picture it. Actually, I don’t even want to. If I didn’t go to Blue Lock then who knows if I’d ever get the chance to play the soccer I want to. I’d probably never get to play professionally either.” He lets his train of thought wander, eventually realizing that without playing professionally, who knows if he’d ever cross paths with you. He buries the thought before it can even fully form and upset himself in the process.

“Yeah, that’s fair,” you conclude as you hand him the final dish. “I’m gonna get ready for bed. Can you just finish up here by sweeping?”

He nods in the affirmative, which you thank with a kiss that just misses his lips before leaving in the direction of the bedroom. Left with only his thoughts he can’t help but think a bit more about what could’ve been.

Obviously, he’d continue playing soccer as long as possible. Sure his high school team wasn’t amazing, but maybe through tryouts he’d end up at a decent enough school. And he’s always liked art class. Maybe he would’ve tried to pursue a fine arts degree? Or physical therapy to help athletes just in case soccer really didn’t pan out. But what then? For someone who’s built an entire soccer career around the ability to visualize a scenario, he really can’t help but to draw a blank.

Distracted by being in his own head, finishing around the kitchen takes longer than usual. When he finally manages to make his way to your shared room, he just manages to hear the sink’s water turn off, a sign that you’re at the tail end of your nightly routine.

He turns down the bed, first removing the many throw pillows you insist are necessary (a mild point of contention in his opinion. After all, what good is a pillow you’re not even allowed to lay on?) and then making himself comfortable using the “sleeping pillows” to prop himself up against the headboard, occupying himself by scrolling on the phone while he waits for you to make your way to bed. Despite it being the off-season he’s scheduled to meet with a trainer to maintain his conditioning so an early night is in order.

The click of the bathroom door opening draws his eyes but more importantly, what you’ve decided to wear to bed has his full attention.

“Baby, you look-” he starts before you cut him off.

“Is this still a good time for the interview?”

“Interview?”

He’s never been so confused in his life. And even worse, he can’t even dedicate half of his mind to start to comprehend what you’re playing at when he’s busy eyeing you from head to toe. The only thing on his mind is the oversized replica of his Bastard München jersey you’ve tied at your waist and the shortest skirt he’s ever seen. If he were to turn you around he’s sure that it’d cover absolutely nothing he’s sure a skirt is meant to. But even more captivating is the pair of thigh highs that indent into your skin the same way his fingers do when he-

“Yes? The post-game interview. I was hoping to get a quote for the paper from the player that scored the winning goal.”

“Uhh…” Is the most intelligent answer he can muster as he watches you climb onto the bed with a pad of paper and pen in hand. The size of the jersey only frames your cleavage as it gapes open thanks to gravity. Eventually, you make yourself comfortable, legs tucked under you and pen poised to take notes of his response.

“Is it ok if I record this,” you ask, sliding your phone on the nightstand, voice recorder rolling once he manages a stiff nod of his head. You continue. “So what were you thinking in that last play? It was pretty amazing if I say so myself.”

“Winning goal?” He should feel embarrassed by the way he can’t pull his eyes from your legs but the slither of skin between where your skirt ends and the socks begin is calling his name. It’s like he’s in high school again the way he can feel the blood rush from his head. Only your groan of annoyance gives him the strength to meet your eyes again.

“Babe, it’s called role play,” you say as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe in some ways, it is.

“Right. Role play.” A beat passes. “What exactly are the roles we’re playing?”

The look you give him makes his cock twitch in his pants.

“Obviously, you’re the star of our university’s soccer team and I am the reporter assigned to cover the season. You just scored the championship goal. Aaaand scene,” you drop your pen and paper to clap for extra effect and then grab both again, poised and ready for his answer.

Truthfully, he can hardly keep up with your antics but that’s never stopped him from trying. He’s had enough practice managing eccentric personalities from the cast of characters Blue Lock managed to put together so this is nothing but a cakewalk. The fact he’s in love with you only makes your idiosyncrasies endearing.

“Right.” He clears his throat, buying time. “I try to keep a cool head and focus on the field whenever I’m playing. A championship game doesn’t change that.”

You scratch something down on the notepad before continuing.

“And how do you feel now that you’ve won?”

“It’s a big achievement to win the championship for the school, and even more so to be the one to finish the game. I just hope to do even better next year.”

This time you jot away a bit longer, leaving his attention to wander back to your outfit. He reaches out a hand to appreciate the getup, running his hand up your knee to just under the hem of your skirt.

“Mr. Isagi you seem pretty distracted. Are you sure this is still a good time?”

“Call me Yoichi”. He doesn’t move his hand away when he answers.

Again you put down your props, seemingly for good as they rest next to your phone.

“I suppose this is probably too boring of a celebration for a star player like yourself. I should probably let you go back to the team for a proper congratulations. I’m sure you have quite the fan club waiting for you.”

“I doubt it. I’ve never been that popular.”

With that, you scoot closer, letting your legs fall open so that he can get the slightest glimpse between your legs if your skirt were to ride up even the slightest centimeter.

“That sounds doubtful. Who wouldn’t want a chance with Isagi Yoichi? Ace of the soccer team. Handsome and nice to boot.”

Despite complimenting his personality, your attention is focused on his physique, eyes roaming across his body appreciatively. He doesn’t fail to notice that you linger a second longer where the sheets have started to tent.

“Do you think it’d be ok if I properly congratulated you,” you ask, resting a hand on the sheet, ready to pull it away at a moment’s notice. You both have a healthy sex life, both well accustomed to initiating, but it’s rare for you to be so forward. He might pass out if you wait any longer to touch him.

“Congratulations? What did you have in mind?” Is all he can get out, forcing you to get straight to the point.

“Let me suck your cock. As a congratulations on a job well done.” Your hand cups his length through both the layers of the sheet, his joggers, and underwear, but he swears he could still cum with the slightest amount of friction he’s so wound up.

“Yeah. Yes. Please.” He’s near breathless, he wants you so badly.

Not a second is wasted before you have him bare from the waist down. He completes the look by pulling his shirt over his head, throwing the offending article wherever it chooses to land. All the while, you shimmy yourself down between his legs. Sure he’s the one fully naked but the eroticism of the sight before him already has him on the brink of cumming.

His name emblazoned between your shoulder blades is something he still has yet to learn to be normal about, but more than that, he finds that he was right about your skirt not covering an inch of your backside. However, what he wasn’t expecting was for it to perfectly frame the curve of your ass since you’ve apparently decided to forego underwear.

“Fuck me,” he gets out in only a puff of air.

“In due time, Mr. Yoichi,” is all you offer before kissing the mushroom tip, smearing the precum that’s collected on your lips, and then swallowing all that will comfortably fit in your mouth. It takes all the strength he can muster to not instinctively buck into you but he can’t hide the deep groan that comes out involuntarily as he meets the entrance of your throat.

“Fuck. You’re so good at this. Always so good,” he offers as he bundles your hair into his fist, slowly guiding you up and down his length. The praise leads you to moan around him, getting him even closer to the brink of cumming.

To get a better view he props himself up on one shaky arm, massaging all that he can reach, as you use your other hand to fondle his balls. Mere minutes pass before he starts to feel the familiar pit of pleasure begin to grow in his belly and it takes all his willpower to pull you off of him before he cums from the added stimulation. It’s next to a miracle that he manages to hold off even after he’s pulled you off once he sees the thick strings of saliva that still connect the two of you.

“I wasn’t done yet,” you have the audacity to pout.

“I didn’t want to cum yet,” he answers. Even to his own ears, he sounds debauched.

While still catching his breath he pulls you close, encouraging you to straddle him. You do and let out quiet moans as you rut your bare pussy against his length. Despite being so close to cumming before, he’s happy to let you do as you please. When your legs eventually tire, he switches to using both hands on your waist to manhandle you the way he knows you like.

“Tell me how you feel, sweetheart.” He can’t get enough of your sounds, no matter how small. To see how much of a mess you’re making he flips the front of your skirt, his tip coming in and out of view as he rocks you back and forth.

“So good, Yoichi. Your hands feel so good.”

He knows it’s not enough to get you off, that you need more. Eventually, he stops, pulling you down so that your chests meet. If you really want to role play, he figures he should get into the role he’s been assigned.

“Is there more to my award,” he asks, hands roaming under the jersey and under your skirt. There’s nowhere his hands don’t explore while he waits for your answer.

“W-what more do you want?”

He moves his right hand so that it’s between your bodies, spreading your pussy lips so that he can fully appreciate the wetness that’s accumulated. He uses his full palm to rub your clit while he answers.

“You said you’d fuck me in due time, yeah? Or were you all talk?”

“Um…about that.” Your eyes are fluttering, struggling to stay open and focus on his words. He feels like he’s on top of the world seeing how he can ruin you. “I have to t-tell you something.”

“I’m listening baby.” His voice is muffled as he leaves kisses across your neck and cheeks. Anywhere he can reach while you still use him to get off.

“I’ve never done this before.” Your eyes meet.

The proverbial record scratches and again he’s confused.

“What do you mean, you’ve never done this before?” Sure you both have busy schedules but there’s no way this is new to either of you. As a matter of fact, it couldn’t be more than a week since he had you in this exact position-

“I was a virgin when I got to college,” you whisper directly in his ear.

Again you have the upper hand as it feels like he’s been doused with a bucket of ice. The feeling only lasts a second though before it feels like every nerve lights up once he connects that this is still a part of the scene you’ve conjured. Oh.

The idea of you as a virgin has never crossed his mind once until this very moment. Given the age you were when you met, he had no reason to give it consideration. It’s not like he was even a virgin when you met. He makes a mental note to do some soul-searching later to find out why he’s rock hard and nearly brought back to the brink of cumming at the mere idea.

“Do…do you want to keep going?”

You laugh. A full out belly laugh.

“Yoichi, you're so cute. Only you would still be so considerate even in a fantasy.”

If all the blood in his body wasn’t occupied he’d probably blush at your teasing.

“I fucking love you,” you emphasize with a kiss. “Yes, I want to continue.”

Not another word is needed before he’s fully plunged back into the world you’ve created. No, he's never thought about you as a virgin but now that the seed has been planted he’s going to absolutely ruin you.

Within a breath, he’s switched your positions, now with you on your back and him pulling your legs onto his lap as he sits above you.

“Tell me if anything is too much, ok?” He preambles before he sucks both his ring and middle fingers, slowly pushing in one finger, then the other when he deems you ready.

Now that you’re fully on display for him he can’t help but stare. Again, the skirt hides absolutely nothing but he does push the jersey so that your tits are on display for him as well. Seeing you dressed but so exposed has his head swimming.

“You’re so pretty. Prettiest thing I’ve seen on campus.” If he’s going to play along, then he might as well go all out.

He bends at the waist to take in one tit, using his tongue to lick at and bite your nipple, before turning his attention to the other all the while he doesn’t stop pumping his fingers into you.

“Yoichi, please. I need you,” you whine.

He takes pity on you and moves from your chest and back up to your lips, kissing you deeply. God, he’s so in love with you.

“I’m sorry, baby. I just wanted to make sure you were good and ready. I want to make sure I don’t hurt you.”

“I promise I’m ready.”

“Ok, ok. I hear you. But can you do me a favor and clean my fingers for me?”

As soon as his request hits his ears your mouth falls open in a way that can only be described as obedient. He lets you suck at both his fingers until he removes them himself, the way your tongue slips between them turning him on all the more.

“So good for me. I really am a lucky guy, huh?” He watches you preen under his praise as he reaches next to your head for an extra pillow, lifting your hips to situate it underneath you.

“Ok, if you need me to stop just tell me, ok? For any reason.” You nod your head yes.

“Need to hear you say it.”

“Yes, Yoichi. I promise.”

“That’s my good girl.”

He locks his hand in yours before he finally presses into you, both of you moaning as he works his hips into you. It’s a fantasy, sure, but he’s as mindful as he can be to be slow and let you get accustomed to him, even if it’s far from your first times, or even 48 hours since he last fucked you.

He’s captivated by the way your mouth falls open as he fucks into you. It’s familiar but entrances him every time. When you give the go ahead he increases his pace, working at that spot he knows gets you there the fastest.

“More, need more,” and he knows exactly what you need, licking his thumb before rubbing against your clit in tight circles. It’s only through time and experience that he knows exactly how to work your body, confirmed by the way you babble his name as if it’s the only word you know.

“You’re taking me so well. Feel so good, so tight. Can feel you squeezing me. You gonna cum for me?”

“Yeah. Gonna cum for you. So fucking close.” You’re wrecked.

“I know, baby. Tell me what you need.”

“Kiss me.”

Your wish is his command, him meeting your waiting mouth. It’s barely a kiss as you can hardly meet his mouth between your moans but he swallows them all dutifully. It’s when your back arches and you fall near silent beside one final cry of his name does he know that you’re cumming. He pulls away to watch you fall apart.

“That’s my girl. So beautiful. Let it out for me.” The vice around his cock makes it difficult to fuck you through your orgasm but he powers through. Only once you relax does he rut into you a few more times before he loses himself, filling you as deeply as he can manage.

It’s silent once he collapses next to you, both catching your breath. When he catches his breath before you he departs with a peck to your lips before he leaves for the bathroom, returning with a damp rag.

“If that’s what I missed out on then I wouldn’t have minded going to school,” he breaks the reverie, cleaning between your legs before his cum has a chance to cool and become uncomfortable.

“Well, I’m glad everything worked out the way it did. Now I can have you all to myself,” you smile at him. He thinks his heart might burst.

“Yeah…that’s true too. Maybe everything worked out the way it did so that we could meet each other?”

“God, you're so sappy. Gross.” You both know you don’t mean it.

“Yeah, yeah. I love you too.” He once again bends at the waist to meet your lips. Gross or not he’s glad things aligned to this very moment.

You meet him halfway, sitting up on one arm to brush away his damp bangs. When you pull away you meet his gaze.

“I really, really do fucking love you, Yoichi”.

Yeah, he’s sure he’d meet you in every universe.

#isagi x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi smut #isagi yoichi smut #blue lock x reader #bluelock x reader #blue lock smut #bluelock smut #i’m going to walk away from this site for 48 hours out of shame #(me lying)

[discokicks]

THE KIDS AIN'T FINE, FINE - ROY KENT.

PART THREE of ACES AT THE WATER'S EDGE.

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

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

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

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

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

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

PRESENT DAY. (MID-AUGUST, 2023)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jamie nods. “But it’s on the table?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That Jamie actually scoffs at. “Right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Roy’s brows shoot up. “You?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

LONDON OLYMPICS. (LATE JULY, 2012)

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

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

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

“Fuck off, you old twat!”)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You tripped me!”

“Bit dramatic.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re fine. Get up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looks over at you. “Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Roy shrugs. “Sure. But—”

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

“I’m not the one being trained here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And as soon as he does, you’re on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You easily score on him not a second later.

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

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

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

PRESENT DAY. (MID AUGUST, 2023)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod back. “Yeah. Another time.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Roy’s brows rocket up. “Do you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s not true—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(And it’s fucking irritating.)

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

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

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

You blink at it. “What is that?”

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

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

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

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

Roy nods once. “Crimm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...Fuck off?”

“Yeah,” you huff. “That.”

Roy’s head tilts. “Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shrug. “What’s the difference?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Roy’s brow draws slightly. “Zava?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Parent Trap ‘em?” he asked.

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

“It wouldn’t be fair. We’d sweep.”

LONDON OLYMPICS. (LATE JULY, 2012)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck. Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You crack an eye open. “Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am not a gnat,” you gasp. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Exactly. Fucking bullshit,” he says. “It shouldn’t count when he’s a prick.”

You allow for a beat of reflection before you respond. “Yeah, he really is a prick, isn’t he?”

That gets you something you haven’t seen from him yet. A smile. A real one, where you can see teeth and all. It’s jarring. And suddenly the pride you felt from his compliments is nothing compared to the feeling you get from this.

It grows as Roy carries on. “The fucking King of them.”

“Prince,” you say in disagreement. “He’s too much of a jackass to honor with a King title. Prince Prick. Duke of Prickland. Court Jester. Whatever.”

“Court Jester?”

“Absolutely,” you reply. “He’d look good in the stupid little hat, too. Would hide the fact that he’s balding.”

Roy barks out a laugh. “He’s going fucking mental over that.”

“I can imagine.” Teasingly, you add, “I guess that’s the one thing you’ve got over him.”

“My hair?”

“Yeah. You’ve got enough to share with him.”

Roy shakes his head again, smile refusing to fade. “Well, thank fucking God it’s something important.”

“Hey, football skills are forever. Hair starts to fade when you hit twenty-five.” You shrug and return his grin. “I’d say you’re winning this one, Kent.”

A labored sigh leaves Roy, like he can’t believe he’s having this type of conversation with you. Frankly, you can’t believe you’re talking like this with him. You’re talking like… friends. It’s strange. Especially after he completely shut you down when talking before.

That thought sinks deep into your mind and you know it won’t go away until you address it. Huh. Maybe he’s right. Maybe you do overthink.

Before you can question that further, you’re speaking. “Hey. I—” You awkwardly cut yourself off as his gaze returns to you. “I just… I wanted to say that I’m sorry if I like, overstepped a boundary back there.” He continues to look at you in response, cueing you to elaborate. “Asking about Sunderland. Leaving your family. That.”

The second you say ‘Sunderland,’ he looks away from you. You grit your teeth as you refrain from cringing, hoping you didn’t ruin what was almost a normal, nice, and friendly moment. That anxiety makes you talk more. 

“You don’t owe me any answers, or anything. We can keep this professional and talk about soccer and how much we both hate Lewis Fox only.” Roy still hasn’t looked at you. “You don’t have to talk to me at all, if you don’t want to. I’m just… pretty open. And I forget that other people aren’t the same way. So…” You trail off, fiddling with your fingers. “I’m sorry.”

He’s quiet for approximately ten seconds. Each feels like agony as you rot in the awkwardness of the silence. Then, he says, “Don’t… fucking apologize for trying to get to know me.”

Well, that’s not what you were expecting at all. “O-Oh.”

“I’m fucking obviously going to talk to you,” he continues, in a way that makes it sound like he’s choosing his words carefully. “But there’s just certain things that I… really fucking hate talking about. And that was one of them.”

You’re nodding before he’ss finished speaking. “Completely understandable.”

Roy looks over at you cautiously. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree. “Like I said, I’m not entitled to anything. You just let me know when I’ve crossed a line or something.” Your eyes light up in a way that Roy refuses to find endearing. “We can have a codeword or something.”

“A codeword?” he asks wearily.

“Yes, Roy. A codeword.” You stop him in the middle of the track. “Okay, Kent Rule number one. If either of us—”

“What the fuck is a Kent Rule?”

“If either of us,” you repeat, “don’t want to talk about something, we say…” Your eyes scan the field. “Goalpost.”

Roy blinks at you. “That’s a stupid fucking codeword.”

“Okay, you don’t get to shit on my idea and then shit on my codeword, dick,” you say, ignoring the tiny smile that’s growing on his face. “Let me hear yours.”

His eyes scan you up and down. “Gnat.”

“Oh, look who’s fucking annoying now.”

“I think that’s a great one.”

“I think I’m back on Lewis Fox’s side now,” you mutter. Before Roy can roll his eyes, you point at him in excitement. “Fox! That’s our codeword.” Then, you interrupt yourself, by throwing both your hands out. “Wait. Foxtrot. That sounds so much more legit.”

Roy’s had only gotten blanker as you spoke. “I think you should be institutionalized.”

“Kent Rule number one,” you say, ignoring him. “If you don’t want to talk about something, say Foxtrot. We move on, no questions asked.”

“Great.”

“But,” you continue, “you only get one Foxtrot a day.”

“Only fucking one?” he asks.

“Why are you saying it like that?”

“Because you ask a lot of fucking questions.”

You huff. “Fine. No one-a-day rule. But use them sparingly.”

“Can I Foxtrot this conversation?” Roy questions.

You don’t give him the reaction he clearly desires. “Look at you, you’re getting the hang of it!” you cheer, clapping him on the shoulder. “So, does Kent agree to the Kent Rule?”

You receive yet another exasperated shake of the head. “Fucking fine. Yeah. I agree.”

“Wonderful,” you reply, sticking your hand out to him. When he looks down at it, you wiggle your fingers. “We have to shake on it.”

“What?”

“Because it’s not a real agreement if we don’t shake on it,” you answer, as if it’s obvious. “Duh.”

Roy stares at your hand, then at you, and then back at your hand. After a ridiculous amount of time, his shoulders slump in defeat. His hand meets yours and when it does, you beam.

“Institutionalized,” he tells you as you two shake. “I’m fucking serious.”

“And risk your life being way less exciting without me in it?” You put a hand over your heart. “You’d miss me too much.”

And when you grin at him, there’s a piece of Roy that already knows that there might just be a sliver of truth in that.

(mini!) TAGLIST: @tegan8314, @csigeoblue, @confessionsofatotaldramaslut, @thatonedogwithablog, @hawkeyeharrington

#roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent x you #roy kent fanfiction #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction #aatwe #aces #the one who can't walk up stairs

[yeahspider]

Disclaimer please don't write this if you are uncomfortable‼️‼️‼️

Ok so stray kids and reader are having a movie night and reader is sitting on Felix's lap with a small vibrator on inside her while she is cockwarming felix giving them both pleasure.

thank you and remember to drink lots of water and get a ton of sleep!!

Ve's note- i'd like to thank you for sending an ask anon!! Ive been lacking a lil inspo lately so this is perfect !! also you're so sweet anon remember to drink water and sleep as well . i hope this is what you wanted ! feel free to drop by again !! :) <3

Ve's note pt.2 - two felix posts back2back omg ? felix is just so fun to write for. anyways. felix x f.reader . nsfw minors dni . not proofread per usual . thinking about writing a jilix post with a similar plot ... maybe . enjoy <3

SQUIRM 🕸️

you wish this stupid movie would end already. if any of the seven other men asked you to explain the plot to them you wouldn't be able to, hell you wouldn't even be able to tell them the title. The only two things holding your attention was the vibrator and your boyfriend . Both happened to be inside you. time was never really your strong suit, it always had a way of escaping you. but not right now. now you were counting down the minutes until this movie was over so you could catch your breath. which you've been holding this whole time, not wanting to let any sounds you might make slip from your lips.

"you alright there darling?" felix questioned from below you. you had been so lost in thought that you almost forgot the predicament you had found yourself in. you and felix had always been a lil....adventurous with your sex life . trying any and everything together just because you could, but this...this was your hardest challenge to date. you could only hum a response to his inquiry as his cock filled you. the challenge had been your idea... see who could last the longest without coming. felix upping the stakes by adding the vibrator and you meeting him by proposing to do it today of all days. sacred movie night. you were determined to not lose . as sweet as your boyfriend could be he was a lil menace when it came to your challenges. he would not hesitate to tease if you came first.

so you decided to make it harder for him . all you had to do was get him to cum first . no problem considering how sensitive felix was to your devices normally . so you readjust yourself, in the disguise of making yourself more comfortable in his lap . just a slight shift of your hips and felix is biting your shoulder in attempts to conceal his groan . the vibrator pressing directly against his tip, stimulating him. you felt yourself gloat until you shifted a bit too much and the vibrator pressed directly against that gummy spot inside you. causing you to arch your back in surprise. your sudden movement caused jisung to spare you a glance of concern, which you thwarted with a smile that did not reach your eyes. this was good enough for jisung though as he smiled back at you and turned his attention back to the movie playing.

"stop moving kitten you're making it harder for the both of us." felix whispered quickly into your neck. planting a kiss right below your ear. you couldn't help but continue to squirm as the vibrator continued its constant assault on your sensitive areas. you weren't going to last much longer and you both knew it.

you felt felix move his hand from your hip to your clothed core. your eyes widened as he applied pressure to your clit. your will snapped along with the coil holding you together and you came with a scream barely held back. teeth clenching as you ride out the waves on top of him. slumping back once you finished. with a final pinch to your clit causing you to freeze and your walls clench on felix's cock he came inside you . using your shirt to muffle his own moan. once he had a chance to recover he picked up his phone and shut the vibrator off. causing you to let out a sigh of release . you could feel the pleasure ruminating off of felix as he smiled into your hair .

"looks like I won"

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids imagines #stray kids reactions #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x reader #stray kids headcanons #yeahspider #stray kids fluff #stray kids smut #lee felix fluff #lee felix smut #lee felix imagines #lee felix x female reader #lee felix x reader #lee felix x you #yeahspideranswers

[wangxianficfinder]

SOS help emergency im going on a 19-hr flight soon and im going to need some reading materials. so if y'all could drop your fave long fics so i could download them to read, that would be most awesome 🙏🙏🙏 thank you so much for everything you do your blog has introduced me to so many wonderful fics <3

You know what to do everyone! We need to help Anon not be bored on their very long flight ~ send in some long fics for them to read ^^

- Mod C

--

Jumping in to rec 💖 love, in fire and blood by cicer (E, 360k, wangxian, immortal WWX, slow burn, pining, arranged marriages)

~Mod L

--

Many trigger warnings! Take them seriously. But this is a good one: burning camellias by AvoOwO (M, 284k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Sunshot Campaign, Prisoner of War, WWX is a Mess, Genius WWX, Torture, Aftermath of Torture, Blood and Violence, Blood and Injury, BAMF WQ, BAMF WWX, BAMF WN, POV WWX, Hurt WWX, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Sentient Burial Mounds, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Attempted Sexual Assault, No Golden Core Transfer, WWX Has No Golden Core, Poisoning, Smart WWX, Protective WQ, WWX & WQ Friendship, Medical Torture, Cannibalism, WWX & WN Friendship, PTSD, Dubious Consent, Consent Issues, Heavy Angst)

on restitution by glitteringmoonlight (M, 98k, LSZ & WWX, WWX & JL, wangxian, dark JC, not JC friendly, captivity, non-graphic torture, angst w/ happy ending)

Ok ok. So it’s not a loooing fic. But it’s worth downloading for a plane trip: a thousand hills, no birds in flight | 千山鳥飛絕 by defractum (nyargles) (E, 26k, WangXian, Mythology, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon adjacent setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort)

Death of a Ghost by Gotcocomilk (E, 107k, WangXian, WWX & JL, Canon Divergence, Ghost WWX, Hurt/comfort, Family bonding, Fluff, Angst)

Amazing world building through the sun shot campaign - lots of sex heads up: Better Things to Do with a Flute in Wartime by Anonymous (E, 365k, MingXian, WangXianJue, Sunshot Campaign, Fix-It, Magical Healing Cock, Dual Cultivation, mild Dom/Sub, Undernegotiated Kink, Golden Core Reveal, Breathplay, Choking, Painplay, Subdrop, Topdrop, Major Character Injury, Canon Divergence, What-If, Temperature Play, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Fisting, Spanking, PTSD, Trauma, Self-Harm, (in the pursuit of cultivational badassery) )

Have a safe flight! Awaiting Your Return by Karmiya (E, 118k, WangXian, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, the opposite of slow burn, Found Family, Canon Divergence, Age Difference, discussions of wei wuxian’s canonical abusive childhood)

Over the Rotted Bridge by vailkagami (T, 314k, WangXian, Temporary Character Death, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, LWJ dies, Wei Wuxian doesn’t die, neither do (most of) the  wens, JYL also lives, Original Character(s), outside pov, YLLZ WWX,  Canon Divergence, CQL Verse, Illustrated, Grief/Mourning, Non-Consensual  Resurrection, mute LWJ, Hurt LWJ, Slow Burn, canonical death of a child  (mentioned), Survivor Guilt, PTSD)

❤️ The Third Young Master of the Qishan Wen by KouriArashi

T, 139k, wangxian, canon divergence, romance, angst w happy ending, Wen WWX, hurt/comfort, politics, families of choice, revenge, sibling bonding, pining, everyone lives au, Mojo's post)

Ten miles of Lotus Flowers by Yukirin_Snow (M, 273k, wangxian, JC/LXC, ABO, Romance, Slow Burn, Pain, Hurt/Comfort, True Love, Pregnancy, Humor, No one dies that doesn’t deserve to die, Fluff and Smut, Eventual Smut, Angst, Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending)

to pierce your heart; to fill it full by stiricide (E, 210k, wangxian, NHS/Other(s), WQ/Other(s), royalty au, magic, bottom LWJ, angst w happy ending, smut, dark gusu lan sect, implied future LWJ/concubine because heirs, blood & gore, sharing a bed, under-negotiated kink, light bondage, minor character death, slow burn, power imbalance, sexual role play, consensual non-con)

With No Particular Affection  by Chrononautical (E, 92k, WangXian, Modern AU, Arranged Marriage, Kid  Fic, Miscommunication, Family Drama, JFM and YZY’s A+ Parenting, Good Uncle JC, Wedding Fluff, Genius WWX, Street Kid WWX, Homelessness, Rich  LWJ, Oblivious WWX, Cinnamon Roll WN, Implied/Referenced Suicide, WWX Has a Pregnancy Kink, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Angst)

Mud on Your Feet by AvoOwO (Not rated, 59k, wangxian, JC & WWX, nightmares, sentient burial mounds, possession, panic attacks, night terrors, hurt/comfort, fluff, good sibling JC, hurt WWX, angst w happy ending, blood & injury, hallucinations, insomnia, good sibling WWX, sleepwalking, sleeptalking, protective JC, WWX sees dead people, LWJ pov, PTSD, implied/referenced self-harm, yunmeng siblings feels)

Wei Wuxian Makes a Wish series by natcat5 (M, 119k, wangxian, major character death, underage, madoka magica au, modern w/ magic, time travel, high school au, body horror, self-harm, angst w/ bittersweet ending, time loop, mental instability, suicidal thoughts)

The Scarlet Lotus by rainbowninja167 (M, 137k, WangXian, Marriage of Convenience, Secret Identity, Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Canon-Typical Violence, canon-typical war crimes, Yunmeng Bros, the mortifying ordeal of getting seduced by your own husband, nonlinear chronology we die like cql, just kidding nobody dies in this fic, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Miscommunication)

Mad about the Boy by TriviasFolly (M, 62k, wangxian, 1950s America au, greaser WWX, historical smoking, historical viewpoints, angst, internal struggle, pre-relationship, homophobia, sexual awakening, sexual experimentation, self-discovery journey, slef-love journey, gay academia, teenage dramatics)

The Fifth Type of Non-Contact Force by Caixx (Not Rated, 83k, WangXian, Modern AU, High School, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Fluff and Humor, Actually Somewhat Canon, Mutual Pining, Horny Teenagers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Non-Graphic Smut)

I know what my heart wants by yakuso5u (Not Rated, 28k, WangXian, Modern AU, Single Father LWJ, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Getting Together, Accidental Child Acquisition, Domestic, Slice of Life, Christmas references)

In Imitation of Life by travelingneuritis (E, 70k, wangxian, modern cultivation, scifi au, android WWX, tone: neon seedy, rich people are bored and terrible, post-apocalyptoc landscape, happy ending, smut, severe major characger injury, time loss)

A Narrow Bridge by FrameofMind, Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle) (E, 700k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Getting Together, First Time, Pining while fucking, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Angst with a Happy Ending, CQL Verse, almost everybody lives/almost nobody dies, epistolary-ish, canon-ish side pairings, radishes) the ultimate fix-everything in my opinion

Twin Demons of Mòby XiaoFeiFei (M, 358k, MXY & WWX, WangXian, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Injury, Abuse, Twin Demons of Mo, MXY Lives, Major Character Injury, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Angst, Minor Character Death, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Death, Minor Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Torture, Near Death, Near Death Experiences, Canon Divergence, Self-Harm, Found Family, Sexual Abuse, Rape/Non-con Elements, POV Alternating)

🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 663k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement)

💖 Magical Marriage Ribbons series by starandrea (M, 1M, wangxian, ongoing, animal transformations, weddings)

WWX relives the story - I cannot for the life of me remember the name of the trope - it’s early for me: we’re starting at the end by Miss_Enthusiasimal (M, 92k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel, Canon Divergence, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Golden Core Reveal, Burial Mounds, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Starvation, emaciation, Cannibalism, Self-Harm, Amputation, Suicidal Thoughts, Sunshot Campaign, let JZX and WWX be friends club)  

Madam Yu comes to cloud recesses instead of JFM when WWX punches Zixuan: 🧡 To have and to hold by Moominmammashandbag (M, 78k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Major character injury, CQL verse, Happy Ending)

WQ time travels back to the core removal: 🧡 Never Again by Hauntcats (T, 67k, WangXian, WWX & WQ & WN, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Angst, Not JC Friendly, BAMF WWX)

Second Summer by Anonymous (M, 152k, wangxian, canon divergence, post-sunshot, mystery, amnesia, memory loss, curses, not everyone dies au, golden core reveal)

Linger by the Door (I’ve Always Been Yours) by piecrust (T, 78k, wangxian, canon compliant, slow burn)

actually super fuffy and funny despite tags: Like a Water-Worn Stone by meyari (T, 41k, wangxian, major character death, hurt/comfort, cchronic illness, serious injuries, self-medication, disability, PTSD, depression, self-worth issues, implied/referenced child abuse, aftermath of war, aftermath of violence, prisoner of war, idenity issues, warning: JGS, discussion of enslavement, discussion of abuse)

LWJ saves WWX from falling at nightless city: Unbreakable Heaven, Luminous Earth by carolyncaves (M, 96k, wangxian, graphic depictions of violence, canon divergence, secret identity, sharing a bed, literal sleeping together, pining, getting together, suicidal thoughts, bloog & injury, caretaking, sexual content, fluff, angst w happy ending, power imbalance, JYL lives, not everyone dies au)

🧡 Song of Suibian and Bichen: Or, the Greatest (And Only) Furby Master of Demonic Cultivation by moonwaif (T, 64k, WangXian, Fix-It of Sorts, canon adjacent, The spiritual weapons are furbies, Angst with a Happy Ending, The parent trap but make it WangXian with furbies, Mutual Pining, Taking my favorite parts of every adaptation and smashing them together)

🧡 All will be well when the day is done by abCEE (T, 76k, wangxian, time travel, canon divergence, fix it, not YZY friendly, not Jiang friendly, butterfly effect, no sunshot, madam lan lives, lan WWX)

🧡 like speaking to my heart by SnowshadowAO3 (T, 613k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Daemons, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, Some people live!, additional warnings in specific chapters, if you don’t know what daemons are that’s ok because I explain it in the author’s note, also by slow burn I VERY much mean slow burn)

The Same Moon Shines series by sami (Various, 799k, check individual tags from the works!)

Crossover between MDZS and Scum Villain, where Jiang Cheng and Liu Qingge meet, pretend to date, get married, and eventually fall in love. You don't even need to know that much about SVSSS, is so beautiful written that you can just read it: What married people do by Shamelesscooper (E, 216k, JC/LQG, crossover, SVSSS, marriage of convenience, slow burn, pining, demisexual JC, sharing a bed, masturbation, jealousy, slow burn WWX & JC reconciliation, chapter-specific tags in the notes, bathing/washing, enthusiastic consent, relationship negotiaitions)

Nearly 400,000 words, WIP gorgeous AU transmigration: The Tamed by Escheria (T, 366k, wangxian, LWJ/XZ, WWX/WYB, RPF, YLLZ WWX, combination of MDZS & Untamed, OP WWX, XZ is WWX, transmigration, isekai, WIP)

Many happy returns. by orange_crushed (E, 25k, WangXian, Modern AU, Mistaken Identity, Misunderstandings, Grief/Mourning, Loss of Parent(s), Implied/Referenced Suicide, Past Suicide of a Parent, References to Depression, Anxiety, Therapy, References to Anti-Depressant Medications, Escort Service, Loneliness, Everybody’s Abandonment Issues, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Moving In Together, Oral Sex, Penetrative Sex, Hopeful Ending, Recovery, References to Escorting/Sex Work but No Actual Escorting/Sex Work)

live from new york by varnes (E, 87k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, This is a SNL AU, however the juniors are featured and there are lots of shenanigans!, slow burn, friends to lovers, pining, getting together, happy ending)

I know what my heart wants by yakuso5u (Not Rated, 28k, WangXian, Modern AU, Single Father LWJ, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Getting Together, Accidental Child Acquisition, Domestic, Slice of Life, Christmas references)

Cure by Yukirin_Snow (M, 100k, WangXian, XiCheng, XuanLi, Modern AU, Hurt/Comfort, Sick Character, Cancer, Medical Procedures, Medical Jargon, Romance, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Love at First Sight, possible trigger warnings) i’ll keep reccing this time and time again until more ppl see how good this fic is!!!!!

#mod c #answers #long fics #long post #wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic recs #i'm in the mood for a fic #the untamed #wangxian fic search #wangxianficfinder

[suzteel]

Ok it’s own post because I am OBSESSED with the bodyguard lunch scene in this episode. It’s like literally my favorite scene. Like…even my face VP scenes don’t top this scene for me.

Ok so god where to start. Let’s just go from the beginning:

Pete’s “Disneyland!🤗” joke is so fucking funny. Especially after looking so annoyed while waiting for Porsche to wake up. (This poor man has probably had to help carry the new guy’s unconscious body twice in like a month. I would be put out too.)

The fucking music shifting from this very light comedic beat to a fucking alarm when Vegas shows up kills me every time. No subtlety at all. This man is a walking red flag and the show wants you to know it 😂

Pete being SO jumpy. So many people have talked about his jumpiness in this scene over the past year but goddamn, it kneecaps me every time thinking about it with the full context of his past.

The fact that Vegas has barely sat down before Kinn shows up. You just KNOW Kinn was in the other room trying to hide his longing stares while he thought about Porsche and so he immediately saw Vegas make his way to the table and was like “oh hell no, bitch.”

One again a costuming note: Kinn in gray robes with Porsche, Arm, and Pol on one side of the table, Vegas and Pete in black on the other side.

This cheese ad is the second funniest ad on the show (after the bread obviously). Bible’s smiles especially are just…insanely funny.

Honestly wish we’d had more Kinn and Vegas scenes. The tension in this scene is sooooo good. I also love how Vegas kind of lights up when he realizes hitting on Porsche genuinely gets under Kinn’s skin. Before that he was just doing what his father asked, but now he smells the blood in the water. And he’s looking to make Kinn bleed as much as he can. I adore him bringing up Tawan here. He’s probably been waiting so long for an opportunity like this one.

TANKHUN WITH THE STEEL PAN

Lord, do I have thoughts about Tankhun in this scene. First of all, 100% big brother protection mode here. He heard that line about Tawan; you can’t convince me otherwise, ok? Secondly, I think it’s the first time we really see the original heir Tankhun come through. He has no fear of retaliation for assaulting Vegas. You know, the scary guy who tortures people for fun. But this is the Main Family territory. It’s Khun’s territory. So he does as he pleases, even to the Minor Family. But the moment Vegas is gone, he shifts right back to spoiled, petulant Khun Nu.

And Vegas…leaves. It’s actually one of those super telling moments about how unbalanced the dynamic between the two families really is. Macau is physically assaulted in episode two, and the Minor Family has to demand the lowly guard who did it be punished (instead of just doing it themselves). Vegas is physically assaulted by Tankhun here, and he has to shrug it off and leave. It’s so easy to see how these kind of little indignities have piled up over the years, festering. The toxicity carried over from their parents.

I just…I love this scene so much. It’s tells us so much about these characters in such a short period of time, it’s so funny and dramatic. It’s delightful. And it was probably THE moment for me when this show went from “eh enjoyable enough” to “ok you got me, I’m hooked.” Fave scene, hands down.

#kprewatch2023 #kpts

[fayes-fics]

birthday head drabble the next time requests are open pls faye🥹🥹

A Birthday Treat

Paring: Benedict Bridgeton x fem!reader

Summary: Benedict gives you a birthday treat

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, oral sex (m to f).

Word Count: 0.8k

Authors Note: Unbetaed. Hi lovely @margofiore. Sorry this is a little late, hope you had a nice birthday. Don't know if this is remotely what you wanted, but it's where my mind went. I also hope you enjoy this <3

“Stay silent, my love,” he whispers from between your legs, unheard above the buzz of conversation around the dinner table.

You can’t reply; you can’t give him away.

But it’s almost impossible to follow his request. He appears determined to ruin you. Your legs are over his shoulders, your dress pushed up around your thighs, and he’s buried inside the layers. Part of you is concerned he could suffocate; part of you wants him to die for torturing you like this. 

“Happy birthday, darling!” your mother calls from the other end of the table, quieting the noise in the room.

“Thank you, mother,” you squeak as he licks a long line up your slit, pushing your thighs even wider apart, his breath so hot on your soaked flesh.

Your sister holds up her champagne glass. “A toast to my little sister on her 21st birthday! May you have wonderful adventures and a life full of happiness!”

You hold up your glass, but it’s shaky. A cheer and call of ‘here here’ around the table gives you the opportunity to groan lightly. His tongue is spearing hard inside you now.

You take a large swig of your champagne. In fact, you drain your glass; a butler instantly refills it as you nod your thanks politely, hoping they cannot sense anything under the heavy table drapery.

“Where is your suitor, Mr Bridgerton?” Your younger sister teases from opposite you.

Under the table, tonguing you to oblivion is not an appropriate response. So you just clear your throat and attempt to sound normal.

“He’s on his way,” you assure, “he’s busy being a talented artist presently.”

You feel rather than hear his chuckle against your inner thigh as he bites you there lightly, signifying he enjoyed your little play on words. 

“That’s so wonderful,” she replies with a sigh, “he’s so very handsome.” 

“Yes, he is.” You agree quietly with a blush, biting your lip as if to appear demure when it’s to hold in your moan as he shifts to sucking your clit so hard you want to scream and grab his hair.

“Are you ok, my dear?” Your father inquires, “you look rather flushed.”

“It's the champagne, father. I fear I’m quite tipsy,” you reply shakily as Benedict continues his sensual assault on your body.

Your father smiles. “Well, if a lady cannot be a little tipsy on her birthday, when can she be?” He adds with a good-natured laugh.

You smile sweetly back and feel a palpable sense of relief as the table descends into spirited conversation once more. 

Ever the opportunist, Benedict uses the time wisely. Expertly pushing you so far towards a climax. Mostly you are so incredibly proud of yourself for appearing so serene and disaffected as you climb higher under his insistent talented tongue.

When your orgasm crests, you grip the table so hard you are sure your fingers will leave indents. Silent screams echo around your skull. Blood pounding, spots dancing in front of your eyes, your body tensing and releasing in waves. 

You slump back in your chair and stare listlessly at the ceiling as the intensity subsides. The next challenge will be getting Mr Bridgerton out from under the table as unseen as he snuck himself under. 

He pulls himself away from between your legs and sits patiently caressing your ankles and calves, awaiting the opportunity to escape.

After a few minutes, you stand up and follow your family into the drawing room when the aunt sitting next to you loops her arm in yours.

“My dear, if your husband-to-be must pleasure you at the dinner table, at least ask him to have the decency to distinguish your foot from someone else’s,” she breezes quietly with a playful smile, “but I must say, given your face you are one lucky lady. I wish you a lifetime of happiness together.” She ends with a wink.

You stand there mortified just as Benedict enters the room, announced by your father's valet. There is a chorus of greetings, but especially from the aunt who leans in again and whispers, “y/n, marry him tomorrow. A face like that with a tongue like that? If you don’t marry him, I will,” she threatens.

You smell yourself on his lips when he kisses your cheek so chaste, it makes you want to throw him on the ground and give him your virginity right here and now. You decide not to tell him you were caught red-handed; instead, you just lean in and murmur in his ear.

“I assume when it’s your birthday dinner, I should sneak into Bridgerton House and await you under the dinner table?” you tease.

He growls gently at that, causing a riot of responses in your body. 

“If you make that noise at me again, I’ll have to drag you into a quiet room right now, and you can teach me all I need to know to bring you such pleasure,” you continue.

He growls again. You grab his hand and lead him quickly to the library.

When you re-emerge, your makeup is ruined, but your grin couldn’t be wider. 

Tagging: as this is a special birthday request, I'm not tagging the usual crowd.

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton

[ursie]

TT isn’t ableist it’s DC/the editors/ect stop blaming him ok but he wrote these scenes he wrote this dialogue and this is just off the top of my head not even touching the “subtle” ableism woven throughout the run :

⚠️

Major tw for ableism :

These may seem minor to you but they’re overt to literally any physically disabled person

-why couldn’t Barbara eat pizza in the park before? Take down low level thugs? She literally could. She literally did. This retroactive take on her years as Oracle is ableist. She was not miserable or useless or anything like that. She was quite literally still a crime fighter living an active lifestyle. She was happy as Oracle. In her own words “the joker took nothing from me”. But TT does not understand the disabled experience and cannot write a woman ok being disabled-this is not about Babs being able bodied now-this is about the language used. There are plenty of similar examples throughout the run (and dc period atm) TT did not have to write such dialogue. He chose to do that. It should also be noted that he wants credit for giving Babs accessibility aides but does not have any real interest in showing her use them (the justification of her not using a chair anymore) or writing her as a Disabled woman at all (a similar issue applies to his writing of Dick)

-Why reintroduce Risk and make the point to remember his prosthetic (I should also note he’s a recovering addict as well) just to kill him brutally and rather intimately on panel. It’s important to note that for all intents and purposes Risk was an invincible hero. Killing him (and frankly for shock value) is ableist. I’m not saying you can’t kill disabled characters but if you do it after consistent allegations of ableism it’s hard not to see Risk (and any physically disabled person in his run) as a proxy for the disabled people who criticized him after all they only seem to show up to get brutalized or be a joke. It’s important to contextualize that this was his introduction into main continuity again-they made the point to retain his disability (whilst under scrutiny for ableism) just for killing him without an once of dignity. It’s just horrific and genuinely these panels may trigger me the most.

-now I understand you may not see the big deal here because hey he’s not being hatecrimed here but yet again disabled characters are either brutalized or made into a joke. There’s multiple issues wrong here . You do not touch a hoh persons hearing aides. 1. You don’t touch anyones accessibility tools (especially hearing aides which are delicate at the best of times) w/o explicit permission. This joke is not funny to disabled people this is our lived experience and it’s called assault. 2. In line with TT previous inclination to not actually write the disabled experience this person does not seem to have any emergency setup such as a bed shaker for example which while not criminal does show a lack of research. TT would rather have a joke at our expense then just write a disabled person living realistically. And 3. Dick does actually canonically know sign language. There was no need for ableism in the first place. Instead of highlighting Deaf/Sign culture TT opted for dated jokes and further erasure of Dicks competence (which is a separate conversation). It should be noted that showing sign in comics is not new or impossible if Hawkeye can do it so can Nightwing.

Again these are just three out of many examples and that’s not counting TT’s ableist behavior on Twitter. That’s not talking about the artist. But three is enough. Three is a pattern. At a certain point when people refuse to reflect and address their behavior-when they refuse to even entertain the notion of fixing it-real accountability must be discussed, and if you cannot handle disabled fans discussing his accountability here-if you’re ambivalent, if you’re defensive, if you’re apologetic for him, you’re complicit as well. It’s 2022 we can do better. It’s July. It’s Disabled Pride month. Listen to Disabled voices. Do better. Or be quiet.

Ok to add on and discuss but no clowning and if you are able bodied you do not get to debate the ableism at hand.

* if anyone could write the image ids that would be great my hand feels like it’s going to fall off :(

image ids :

[Three panels from Nightwing comics by Tom Taylor. In the first, Babs is saying, “I have some pretty new technology holding my spine together.* (*see batgirl: three jokers) I’m happy to do most things--eat pizza in the park, take down low level thugs--but leaping from rooftops seems unwise” while Dick looks on. This is from Nightwing 79.

The next part is two whole pages. In the first panel, Dick in a narration box is saying, “..in metropolis” while there is the skyline of metropolis in the background. The next panel is Risk jumping off a building while his prosetic arm is clearly visible. The next three are of him saying, “enough running. I don’t know who you are but we are clear of civilians now. I’m ready to hit back.” The next panel is of him being hit by a purple laser while in the next he says, “ha! I’m invulnerable.”

The next page starts with three people in black suits and jetpacks flying towards him while the lead one says, “we know.” In the next panel, she has Risk slammed on the ground while saying, “we know all about you Risk.” In the next three panels, she drags Risk towards the water and sticks his head in it while monologuing, “we know you were a Titan. and we know that you still have to breathe. The rising has begun.” The last panel is of some bubble underwater.

The third example is one page. In the first panel, Dick (Nightwing) is hitting down a wood door while calling out, “Maurice!” In the next panel, Maurice is in bed while his hearing age is pointed out by zoomed in bubble. In the next panel, Dick has grabbed Maurice’s hearing aid, and is holding it out to Maurice while saying, “Hey. I just need you to put your hearing aid in.” Maurice replies while looking angry, “Is that what you do? Steal hearing aids?!” In the final panel, Dick says while looking confused and still holding out the hearing aid, “what, I’m not” before Oracle interupts him over the comms, “Nightwing!” He responds, “Oracle” end id

#tw ableism #ask to tag #anti tom taylor #dick grayson #barbara gordon #Nightwing #Oracle #Cody driscoll #risk #I babble #disabled tag #it’s disabled time <3 #anti dickbabs #ig

[allamericansbitch]

Yeah like idk it’s not like we’re mad at her bc she ended a 6 year relationship and maybe wants to slut it up like I feel like 90% of her fan base would LOVE a messy summer a la Calvin/Tom/Joe and she has built up enough of a persona (I guess is the word?) that she won’t be criticized for being a maneater anymore like no one wants to say negative shit about her

But it’s the man she chose. Like

Also the article saying “lol who’s taking him seriously?” like ok plenty of people. It’s not a fucking joke… he’s not just a “silly guy” like. God I hate it here… can someone with a large platform PLEASE call them out. She has way too many yes men rn

literally no one cares that she's dating. not a single person (a mature one at least) would pay close attention to her casual flings. it's that the person she chose is a racist bigot. what the fuck is so hard for y'all to understand about that.

it's the same as people being like 'yeah i dont like that she's dating him but i guess we have to deal with it' we dont have to do shit? it reeks of privilege to just simply ignore it and that opens up the topic of white feminism- people just ignoring the suffering/abuse of minorities because it's more comfortable for them... historically look where that's gotten us.

'who's taking him seriously'

the black women when he said he likes to get off to them being beaten and when he said the n word. the Muslim people who he said were all a part of ISIS. the Jewish people when he did the Nazi salute. victims of assault when he publicly supported kyle rittenhouse. disabled people when he said the r slur. queer people when he said the f slur. Korean people when he mocked their culture and disrespected their flag. that's who's taking it seriously because they don't really get a choice in the matter now do they you privileged fucking idiots.

#answered #anonymous

[bella-rose29]

Bite Me - Prologue

Vampire!Lockwood x f!vampire!reader

Ok so I have no idea what to call this series to be honest (Bite Me was the first thing that came into my head so we'll go with that for now), and also I have no idea how regularly I'm going to update

on the plus side I'm home for the Christmas holidays on the 15th (if I manage to get my assignments done bc I have four? five? due that day 🥲), so I'll have loads of time to write then!

Word count: 660

Warnings: being drunk, mentions/minor descriptions of death and decaying bodies, mentions/minor descriptions of wounds.

Tag list: will be at the end bc there are genuinely about 50 people (I'm assuming that if you liked this post, you wanted to be added to the tag list for this series). if you want to be added to or removed from the tag list, then let me know (either on the post I mentioned or here, or just drop me a message!) <3

(not my image, credit to David Geib)

Midnight.

The streets of London were bustling with activity despite the late hour, groups of people laughing obnoxiously as they exited or entered a pub, music blaring over car speakers and out of clubs, sirens cutting through the usual sound of car horns and traffic and bright lights casting the city in an almost supernatural glow.

A man was stumbling along the pavement, dressed in ragged clothing and his beard scruffy and untrimmed, and he clutched a bottle of beer in one of his dirty hands as though it were his most prized possession. The people that he passed paid him no attention, rightfully thinking that he was just another drunk trying to forget about the darkness that clouded the air of the capital. Perhaps the lady that stopped him when he nearly fell face first into the ground should have made sure that he got in the cab she hailed for him, but she was busy, needing to get home after working late. He slurred a thank you to her, patting her shoulder with a tired smile as the cab pulled up to the curb, and she went on her way.

The man didn't make it into the taxi.

A second man appeared before he could, and the driver, not wanting to wait given the late hour, drove off to find better customers. The drunk turned at the tap on his shoulder, furrowing his brow at the polished businessman before him and following in a drunken haze when asked.

If the woman had made sure that the man made it into the taxi, then perhaps she wouldn't have been watching the news the next morning, spoonful of cereal halfway to her mouth, explaining how a drunk man had been murdered late last night in an alleyway.

She rushed to work after shovelling down the rest of her food, downing a coffee on the way to the morgue and demanding to see the body that had been brought in. She pressed her fingertips to her neck, right over her pulse point, and stepped into the room where the drunk man's body was, attempting not to gag at the stench that was already enveloping him.

He's decaying too quickly, she thought, a frown appearing on her face. It had barely been seven hours and already she was needing to press her sleeve over her nose to prevent the smell from assaulting her senses. Pulling back the cloth, the coroner explained how there were no signs of physical assault but for the marks on the neck.

The woman froze slightly, rectifying her slip-up when the coroner eyed her curiously and relaxed again, asking to be left alone for five minutes with the body.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind the last person to leave, the woman leaned in closer, pulling her hair out of the way and examining the marks.

The wound went right into the carotid artery, so at least the drunk man was only in pain for a few seconds before he died.

The woman left the room, dragging the cloth back up over his already-gaunt face, nodding to the people that she passed on the way out. Once outside, she leaned against a wall and pressed a hand to her forehead, the other hand holding her phone to her ear. It rang three times, then someone picked up.

"Yeah?" they answered.

"We have a problem," she said, not wasting time. There was no need for formalities, they each knew who was calling. "I've seen the body; it's definitely his work. We need to call a congress."

"Get it done. We'll need to move fast if you're right." The phone clicked on the other end, signalling the end of the call, and the woman sighed as she headed back to her car.

"Shit." She tapped her phone a few times, sending out the message to everyone that a congress would be in session in two days time. "Shit."

tag list: @avdiobliss, @novelizt, @my-mask-of-sanity-is-slipping, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @downgoestheship, @howcouldifearanyhurricane, @oshverse, @demigoddess-of-ghosts, @mentallyillsodapop, @peace-333, @nomugglesallowed, @why-would-i-eat-chewy-chicken, @sousunny, @vijigenshin, @beebo86, @dangelnleif, @halfthyme, @d-e-s-t-i-n-e-s-i-a, @forgottenangel, @catnip411, @mnmississippi, @ohmyoverland, @ellajar, @chronicpcssimist, @criesinlies, @hotcryptidsummer, @melliegorl, @justanassociate, @sydsicr, @starzortega, @loveverythingbooks, @boookfreeak, @fallinginlovewithbeingaliveagain, @thorns-for-the-sake-of-flowers, @rhiannons-realm, @karensirkobabes, @lavendernarwhal72, @star-of-velaris, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @sandiesohocollins, @ladyfluffyduck, @rentaldarling, @magipies, @donotwonderr, @wenigstenshabeichesversucht, @toddandersondupe

#vampire!lockwood #fem!vampire!reader #lockwood and co #anthony lockwood #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you

[mioyeo]

8 makes 1 Team

No matter how different, without one of us there is no 8 makes 1 Team

Synopsis : In which 8 boys build a friendship despise of their differences with the help of a psychiatrist

Pairing : psychiatrist! Reader x Ateez (for now )

Warnings : this chapter includes mentions of , ignorant staff , crying , sweet guard hours , grooming , influential parents, no consent , threatening , taking minors private parts in their mouths , sexual assault , arguing , please tell me if I forget something , and I’m not romanticizing disorders in anyway and this is pure fiction meaning this doesn’t represent Ateez in any type of way

For every new chapter I’ll place this (🟢) beside it in the masterlist so you guys know that the chapter is new and was posted recently

Tag list : @veneziamadness , @hcyaa , @sadcoffeecritic , @aapplepii , @lavishloving , @dogsongy , @acciocriativity , @k33vad3la , @seonghwifey , @hanjihyun23 , @yunhoswrld123 , @cqndiedcherries , @miriamxsworld , @belle643 , @pandyandy71-blog , @mothworked

I apologize for taking so long , I had a huge writer’s block so I couldn’t really continue writing for some days

Also if you want to be added to the tagging list for the next chapter comment so I can add you

Word count: 1,6k

It was a very quiet night that day as every guard was currently changing shifts  , others just coming in and others going home so they could return to their morning shift

Y/n just had dinner with both groups at separate times and now walked into the break room

" You've been called to the office "

One of her colleagues that was currently in charge of ordering new things such as medical equipment and further more looked up to her informing Y/n about her being expected somewhere

" I guess he must have heard my complaints "

" Your wasting his time with things we can fix ourselves , we get it there was a minor issue last time with a patient bu- "

Y/n bursted out laughing starling the other staff that sat silently doing their work

" A minor issue? Do you call a patient wanting to end themselves a minor issue ? "

She wiped her eyes and collected herself

" You must not know what your duties are if your labeling such a live threatening situation a minor issue , and the fact that you where also at the scene but didn't do anything makes me uncomfortable looking at you "

" I'm not in charge of him but you"

" Ok if I ever see you having any complications I'll just stare at you and leave how about th-"

Everyone stared in shook as silent murmuring where heard

" Both of you stop being loud there are people trying to work here "

" Well I'll excuse myself  ,  sorry for disturbing everyone else "

She bowed and went out sighing in annoyance before bumping into someone

" I-I'm sorry I didn't see you "

The male apologized quickly checking if she was alright

" It's alright , it's my fault I didn't see you "

" No no I should've looked where I was going "

He bowed again apologizing

" Aren't you the new guard in charge of Hongjoong? "

" Y-Yeah I am , I just changed shifts with a fellow friend that also works here "

" Are you going home now? "

" Yeah what about you? "

She smiled and straighten her work clothes

" I was about to meet my boss "

He hummed in knowledge scratching the back of his head

" I could walk you there since the exit is near "

" Sure I wouldn't mind company "

" How long have you been working here ? "

Both walked down the hall in silence only their footsteps being heard

" It's been over a month already "

" A so your still a fresh worker "

She nodded and looked ahead

" I feel like I've been longer here actually I don't know why but I bonded quickly with some of my patients "

" I know how you feel , I used to listen to my brother tell me stories of when he used to work here and these stories made me like his patients without even knowing them "

" These kids have something special in them they just need to be treated with care and be understood "

"I agree ,and it's exactly what my brother said "

She smiled softly looking at him

" You seem like someone they can trust based on your personality right now "

"I want to protect them just like my brown did"

" Your brother seems like your biggest role model "

" He is , we grew up alone and he was both parental roles that's why I really look up to him and want to follow his footsteps "

The elder looked at her before coming to an stop in front of the office "

" I guess this is your stop "

" Yeah it is , wait what is your name ? "

" I'm Seok-woo and I already know your name because of Hongjoong he can't stop talking about you and the activities you do with them "

He chuckled making her smile

" Well it was nice talking to you Seok-woo "

She waved before knocking on the door hearing a soft call for her to come in

" Ah Miss Y/n I've been waiting for you "

The man in his late sixties looked up from his paperwork gesturing for her to sit

" I must assume you heard of my complaints? "

" What complaints are we talking about ? "

She cleared her throat and adjusted herself on her seat

" I must inform you that the staff you've hired has been out off line and crossing several boundaries multiple times regarding not only my patients but other children here "

He hummed and leaned back on his arm chair

" When I started working here I came across the complaint that one of my patient has been sexually assaulted multiple times and forced to do multiple things out of his knowledge by one of the guards here and also physically assaulted for not acting they want them too "

" And who is that patient and guard? "

" It's my patient Park Seonghwa that was assaulted by Guard Lee "

She studied the man's face that seemed to stay calm despite being told this information

" Well I'll see what I can do about it "

He looked back at his paperwork

"He should be fired and sued for sexual assault it hasn't been one but many children in here "

The elder pressed on a button and spoke while looking at her

“ Please accompany Park Seonghwa to my office now , yes wake him up "

" Sir you need to do something about it "

" We'll discuss this with Seonghwa "

She sighed and waited patiently for the boy to arrive , it was making her nervous and something told her that this was going in a totally different direction

The door opened revealing the short blonde boy rubbing his eyes as he was woken up from his sleep

" Y/n your here "

The boy smiled and waddled towards her hugging her

" Sorry for waking you Seonghwa but would you answer some questions for me ? "

She looked at him and ressured him that it was ok so he could sit

" Miss Y/n here told me something about Guard Lee assaulting you is that true? "

The elder stared at the boy who's face dropped in horror

" Has Guard Lee been touching you without your consent ? "

He nodded and fiddled with his fingers

" What did he exactly do "

" H-He told me to take my pants off so he could look at my down there "

Seonghwa's hands found Y/n's who squeezed them slightly for encouragement

" Did he just look ? "

" H-He started doing weird things and told me that it was going to feel good "

" What do you exactly mean with he was performing weird things on you ? "

She rubbed his palm and reassured him to stop if he didn't want to continue

" He put it into his mouth and than did this until something weird came out "

The boy stiffened as he copied the stroking movements the elder performed on him

" What else did he do ? "

" H-He promised me legos after I do the same to him because he said that I should repay for his kindness "

Y/n felt sick to her stomach as she listened

" Did you allow him to touch you "

Seonghwa nodded

"B-But I didn't like it and told him to stop but he said that if I tell someone what happened he would kill me and depose my body in the woods where no one would find me "

The younger teared up trembling in fear

" How old are you Seonghwa ? "

" Sir this is a totally irrelevant question "

She looked in disbelief

" Seonghwa how old are you ? "

" I'm sixteen "

He replied sniffing

" With your age I don't consider this sexual assault anymore because that’s the legal age you can do sexual activities here in Korea "

" Excuse me ?! This is sexual assault and he groomed him prior to this "

She scoffed in anger

" How is this considered assault if he gave his consent Miss Y/n ? "

" He may have given his consent but he told the guard to stop but he continued without his consent on other occasions which means from that moment on its considered sexual assault "

“ He still gave his consent ”

“Because he was groomed, guard Lee formed a relationship with so when he was about to do this Seonghwa would be comfortable to say yes ”

" Do you know who his parents are ? His parents are very powerful people and if this comes to light it could get ugly "

He said calmly crossing his hands

" So you prefer to protect a disgusting child abuser because his parents are influential? "

" That's not what I said Miss Y/n , I'd need proof that Guard Lee touched him inappropriately before proceeding with this "

" His words are enough proof and the legos because this means that he literally purchased sex from Seonghwa in return for goods other kids as well we'd just need them to open up-"

" Miss Y/n this is not a normal hospital, these children practically live here be it long term or until they finish their treatment this is nothing like your past job "

" It's either you fire that man or he'll continue abusing your patients "

The elder sighed

" I'll see what I can do, I will have a word with Guard Lee you may go now "

Seonghwa looked at her and wiped his face even though they kept falling

" It's ok I'll make sure that he's gone ”

She bowed and left the office with Seonghwa holding onto her hand

“ Will he r-really be gone? ”

“ I promise you sweetheart that you’ll never see him again after I figure out how to get rid of him ”

“ I’m afraid he’s gonna hurt me ”

He teared up and shivered in fear

“ You don’t need to be afraid as long as I’m here , I’ll make sure he disappears from our lives completely ”

The boy nodded and hugged her tightly

“ I t-trust you ”

She teared up slightly and rubbed his back

“ I won’t disappoint you sunshine ”

#ateez #ateez angst #ateez atiny #ateez fluff #ateez hongjoong #ateez imagines #ateez jongho #ateez mingi #ateez san #ateez seonghwa #ateez yeosang #ateez wooyoung #ateez yunho #ateez x reader #angst with a happy ending