#second person

[cassiefromhell]

The Game

Nanami x Wife!Reader

wc: 2.7k

warnings: f!reader, mdni/18+, smut, teasing, ROUGH, manhandling, gentle choking, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering a/n: this is a combination of my reaction to the latest jjk ep and a general need for manhandling nanami.

You know exactly what is coming for you.

You can feel his eyes on you from across the room. Watching you. 

Watching his pretty little wife play games that she’d lose. 

Because you have one goal in mind: piss off your husband, Nanami Kento.

Which is not an easy task. But you had pissed him off once before, a few weeks ago, and had been insatiably craving more. His reaction that night was… his hands in your hair, throwing you back against the bed, the words out of his mouth—

You can’t help but blush a little at the memories that flood your head now, as you speak to a man twice your age at this party. You know this man thinks he has a chance with you. He came up to you earlier, and is now flirting with you relentlessly, seeming blind to the ring on your marriage finger which marks you as claimed. 

You giggle a little at something he says, taking your poker and stabbing at the fire. You sip the glass of wine in your hands. There’s no need to look over your shoulder to confirm; Kento is most decidedly watching you.

And that fire? It’s growing.

You can feel the way your white silk mini dress has ridden up your thighs a little, but you don’t do anything to fix it, no matter how much the skin on the back of your thighs sizzles and sears under his scorched gaze.

All it takes is for the man to reach out, try to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, and the flame explodes.

Hands are on your waist in an instant, a cotton-covered, firm chest pressed against your back. You know that chest. Those hands.

“I think it’s time for us to get going, don’t you think, dear?” Kento grits out, his thumbs digging into your skin. A warning.

“Oh,” you pout, turning your head to look up at him. You’re met with a hard-set jaw and cold eyes, as your husband stares down the inferior man who got a centimeter too close. “But it’s raining. We’ll have to wait for it to slow down a bit, or have a valet bring the car around, we’re parked a block away—”

“We’ll walk. Goodbye,” he flashes the tightest, fakest smile you’ve ever seen, and then turns you towards the elevator, pushing you in that direction.

And what choice do you have? You half walk, half stumble forward, his hands never faltering in their iron grip the whole walk over. He stops you in front of the elevator.

“Button,” he commands, jerking his chin towards the panel with two buttons, one an up arrow and the other down.

“Why do I have to do it?”

“It seems that if I let you go for half a second, you’ll run off and let yourself get eye-fucked by a nobody in a cheap suit. Button,” he growls, his hands tightening their grip, causing your sides to protest.

You whimper softly, reaching out and pressing the down button. It glows a soft blue, and you tilt your head to the side, gazing up at your angry, blond man. “What’s got you in such a frenzy? I was socializing—”

He scoffs. “Socializing. Sure. I know the game you’re playing, and might I remind you that it’s a game you can’t win, darling.”

You swallow hard, fighting back a flinch as the elevator dings, and the doors slide open. 

Empty.

Kento shuffles you both inside, and holds the ‘close doors’ button so hard that you’re afraid it might actually crack.

The elevator doors slide closed, and he releases you, taking two steps back.

Suddenly, the air is so thick that you can hardly breathe, and the thought of the fingerprint bruises he’s likely left on you fills your head.

“Ke—”

“No. No more words from you,” he spits out, practically punching the ground floor button.

You pout, and take a step towards him. “‘Nam, c’mon,” you poke that damned fire again, just waiting for it to burn you.

And it does.

His arm snaps out, his hand gripping your chin, tilting your head up. “I said, quiet.”

That sharp anger in his eyes makes your stomach flutter, abdomen tensing. You bite your bottom lip, and try your luck. “You’re a little angry, huh?”

Your back is against the wall before you can even process what’s happened, before you recognize that he’s shoved you into the corner of the elevator, one hand gripping your neck and the other pressed firmly against your hip, keeping you in place. His body is fully pressed to yours, and the straining bulge you feel is unmistakable.

“Angry? You have no idea,” he says, his voice having dropped to an eerily calm tone. “I want to throw you onto the ground of this damned elevator and make you suck me off right here, right now. I want to fuck your throat, and then that kinky little cunt of yours, until you are sobbing and begging me to stop.”

Your breath catches in your throat— no, it completely stops. You’re no longer breathing.

“Then do it.”

He gives a breathy chuckle, suddenly spinning you around, a hand knotting in your hair and shoving your cheek against the wall. And then he leans down, presses his lips against your ear, and…

“No. You’d like that too much.”

You whine, straining against his grip on you. Kento is usually ever the gentleman, the perfect white picket fence husband. He brings you roses each Friday and a piece of your favorite cake every Tuesday, and fucks the shit out of you each day when he returns from missions. But he’s so… polite, all the time, his touch gentle and his voice soft. He’s the type to rest his hand on your thigh while he drives, and carry you bridal style into the house.

But this Kento… This Kento is the reason you’re trying to piss him off. Because you unlocked the manhandling, relentless Kento once, and now can’t get enough of it.

Suddenly, the hand on your neck drops down, down, down to your thighs, and then up under your skirt. Kento’s fingers ghost over your bare pussy, straight up laughing when he realizes you’re wearing no underwear. But the laughter is harsh, and sends shivers down your spine.

“You really planned this, didn’t you dear.” It’s more of a statement than a question.

“Can you blame me?” You murmur, trying to grind down on his hand, the hand which is now cupping your dripping cunt, the heel of his hand juuuust below your clit. “Please.”

“We’re almost on our floor,” Kento suddenly releases you, fixing your dress with a soft touch and taking two steps back. 

You open your mouth to complain, but right on cue, the elevator doors slide open. Kento presses a hand against the small of your back, forcibly guiding you out of the elevator, and across the plaza, out to the main doors.

Where it’s pouring.

You pause outside the glass doors, crossing your arms across your chest. “No. It’s pouring.”

Kento sighs, but looks you over, and realizes it at the same moment as you do; you’re wearing white.

And Kento is a gentleman.

“I’ll bring the car around. You stay right here, you understand me?”

You nod, and he’s out the doors in an instant.

You find yourself shifting on your feet as you wait, your heels really starting to do a number on you. You keep fixing your dress, trying to ignore how you’re wetter than the rain outside.

Your feet have not moved an inch when your familiar white BMW M8 pulls up to the doors, and your husband gets out of the driver's seat, umbrella in hand.

And he is soaking wet.

His blue shirt sticks to his chest, not hiding any of the rippling muscle along his entire torso. He’s discarded his gray suit jacket, but the pants have darkened a shade due to the rain. His hair sticks to his face, blond locks drenched.

You can’t help the blush that rises to your cheeks when you realize how close you are to being able to make out his dick print, and that only worsens when he walks through those doors, headed straight for you.

“I didn’t move,” you murmur as he takes your arm, gripping your bicep tightly and heading for the exit once more.

“That earns you no brownie points tonight.”

Kento opens the umbrella as he drags you outside, holding it over your head. Not a drop of water hits you as he escorts you to the car, and then opens the door to the back seat.

You raise a brow. “Backseat?”

“So you can’t touch me,” he replies, and then promptly sweeps your feet out from under you, catches you, and tosses you into the back seat.

You yelp as your back hits the leather, and the door is closed immediately. Kento is in the driver’s seat before you can blink, staring at you in the rear view mirror. 

You buckle yourself up, and he seems satisfied, putting the car into drive and pulling out of the parking lot at a speed that’s probably too fast.

You chew your bottom lip, watching his hair drip onto his face, watching his hands white-knuckle the steering wheel, watching his foot press the accelerator.

“You’ll catch a cold,” you murmur, leaning forward and running a hand over his hair, trying to squeeze some of the water out.

His hand wraps around your wrist, pulling your fingers away from his head. “No touching.”

You pout, unbuckling yourself and scooting forward, pressing your face against his neck. “Kentoooo…”

You feel the change in his demeanor immediately. He tenses, and reaches back to grip your hair, yanking your head away from him.

“That’s it,” he hisses, and pulls the car into an empty parking lot, putting it in park.

He’s out of the driver’s seat instantly, coming around to the back, and climbing into the back seat.

You have to fight back your victorious grin, but he doesn’t have the same plans as you do, because he grabs you, and pulls you out of the car and into the rain.

“Kento—”

His mouth crashes into yours, and he grabs your chin tightly, his other hand holding your waist to his. You whimper into his mouth, trying to ignore the cold rainwater that’s certainly making your white dress translucent.

He pulls away just when you begin to shiver, then drags you around the car, putting you into the passenger seat and slamming the door. He appears back in the driver’s seat in an instant, his jaw once again set and eyes cold as ice.

“What happened to the no touching rule?” You grin, kicking off your heels.

“Better idea.”

He pulls back onto the road, eyes staying on the path ahead, all while his hand starts to make its way under your skirt.

You realize what he’s doing just as a finger plunges into you, sliding easily with your wetness. You groan loudly, whimpering as his thumb grazes your clit.

He slides in a second finger, and starts pulling them out and pushing them back in, all while stimulating your clit.

It hardly takes any time at all for you to be whimpering and grinding against his hand, gripping the door for support and leverage.

With a few more strokes and swipes of his thumb, that coil in your abdomen begins to tighten, your cunt clenching around his fingers. “Ah— oh, shit…”

Kento withdraws his hand, and you open your mouth to protest, then realize he’s pulled the car into your garage, and is putting it in park.

And he presses the garage door closing button.

And then waits, both hands on the steering wheel, as the garage door closes.

The second that the concrete meets the door, Kento turns his head to look at you, all needy and desperate with pleas begging to escape your lips.

“You really want me to be rough with you?” he asks, his brows stitched together in concern.

“Wherever would you have gotten that impression?” you drone, raising a brow sarcastically. “I want to get the ever-loving shit fucked out of me.”

“You want to be hurt?”

“A little. I liked last time,” you murmur, allowing your mind to slip back a little bit, back to that night that had left you both bruised and begging for more.

“There are better ways to go about this than pissing me off,” your husband narrows his eyes, jaw clenching.

“This is the authentic way.”

“You’re spoiled, you know that?”

“You’re hard as fuck, you feel that?” your eyes flick to the bulge under his pants zipper.

That’s enough to send Kento flying out of the car, and before you know it, he’s opening your door, dragging you out by your bicep.

You yelp, stumbling forward as his grip on you — which is covered in your slick — remains firm. He pulls you into the house, and your back is pressed against a wall immediately, his mouth on yours, hand around your throat.

Kento pulls you up the wall, and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, grinding your aching cunt against his shirt. He roots his fingers in your hair, tugging just enough to be a bit painful.

Clearly he’s done waiting, because his dick is out within seconds, and he’s pulling up your dress. You whimper once the fabric is bunched up around your waist, gripping his shoulders.

“Please…”

“You think that’s enough?” he scoffs, tugging your hair and tilting your head back. “You flirt with another man, nearly let him touch you, act like a brat, and you expect me to just give it to you?” Nevertheless, he presses the tip of his cock against your entrance, teasing you with the slightest bit of pressure. 

“Fuck—” you whine, groaning softly. The hand holding you up digs into your skin. “I’ll be good— jesus, please. I need you.”

Kento slaps your ass, and then thrusts nearly his entire thick length in at once, causing you to cry out, tears coming to your eyes. He immediately starts a bruising pace, fucking you into the wall so god damn hard that a picture frame nearby rattles.

You whimper as his cock reaches that sweet spot once— and then again, and again, until you’re matching each thrust with a tilt of your hips and a moan.

“Fuck— there you go, baby,” he grits out, yanking on your hair. “Take it all.”

That familiar cool begins to tighten, your abdomen tensing as he picks up his pace even more, and you wonder how it’s possible — untll you look down and realize he’s using the tiniest bit of cursed energy to fuck the actual shit out of you.

“Cum for me, come on. You wanted this so bad, so cum on my dick.”

And that’s enough to send you tumbling over the edge, stars flooding your vision and a long string of curses leaving your lips like a prayer.

His thrusts grow a little sloppier, and he spills himself into you with a hiss, leaving little nips along your jawline. 

“I’m not close to being done with you, just as a fair warning,” he growls, and then tosses you over his shoulder.

At this point, you’re half dead.

But also half alive, kept awake by Kento’s hands rubbing circles along your skin, the bubbly bath water tickling your breasts. 

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to a bruise on your shoulder.

You give a half-babbled response, leaning into his warmth more.

“Full sentences, please.”

“Mm.. I love you,” you manage, turning to face him. You press your face into his neck and inhale his scent.

“I love you too.”

A long pause comes, with Kento just rubbing circles into your bruised sides. Then, he speaks.

“Now, what did we learn?”

“That pissing off the husband results in mind-blowing sex.”

He draws a sharp breath in, and smacks your shoulder gently. “No, no. We learned that we don’t have to piss the husband off, we just have to use our words and plan a date for these things.”

“That’s not very authentic.”

“Do I have a shot at winning this?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Alright.”

#nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #jujutsu nanami #nanami x wife!reader #smut #jjk smut #nanami smut #nanami kento smut #nanami kento x reader #kento nanami #f!reader #second person #cassiefromhell

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Narrative Town

Summary: You don't ever want to be the main character. In your town, that's deadly. Someone has to warn the new kid. 

--------.

Someone has got to tell the new kid in town the Rules.

“Hey,” you say.

The new kid looks up at you. He’s sitting at his desk in the back corner of the classroom, right next to the windows. It’s a chilly day, but he’s got the window open so that the breeze ruffles his curly, black hair. “What’s up? Fern, right?”

“Don’t call me by my name,” you snarl. Then, realizing what you’ve done, you look over your shoulder. The other teenagers are still looped around the teacher’s desk, trying to get Ms. Slauson to move the test date so they could organize a welcome part for the new kid. “I need to talk to you. Privately.”

The new kid leans back in his chair and studies you. You know what he sees – a completely average high school girl in jeans, a sweatshirt, and a ponytail. There’s nothing remarkable about you. He tilts his head. “You don’t look like a bully.”

You frown. “I’m not.”

“You’re being awfully threatening,” he says in a drawl.

The accent is going to be a problem. It’s southern and sounds really cool. Honestly, it might be too late for him already.

But you still have to try.

“Meet me on the rooftop—no!” You press the heel of one hand against your eye. Fight it, you tell yourself. Fight it! “Meet me at the supermarket on Western Street. The dairy aisle. After school.”

“Okay…?”

You spin on your heel, head throbbing. Meeting on the rooftop is against the rules. You glance up at the ceiling uneasily. You’re not usually affected by the compulsion so badly. Are you being targeted?

If you were smart, you wouldn’t show up to the meeting. You’d just let the guy get sucked into the madness on his own.

But you also really need to buy some milk.

---------------------------------.

To your surprise, the new kid meets you in the dairy aisle after school. He actually gets there before you and you find him frowning at the selection.

“I’ve never heard of these brands before,” he says. He points to one. “Moo-ilk? That’s not a thing.”

“It is here,” you say. Like you’d hoped, the supermarket is nearly empty. It won’t stay that way for long. “That’s what I need to talk to you about, new kid.”

He turns to look at you. You’re tall for your age, so you stand eye to eye. “My name is Caiden.”

“I know,” you say. “You should stop telling people your name, especially when it’s such a cool one. It’s safer to just be a nameless face in the crowd.”

“That’s deep,” Caiden says. His drawl is clearly sarcastic. “That can’t be what you wanted to tell me.”

It’s not my problem if he doesn’t believe me, you tell yourself. You take a deep breath. “It’s part of it. This town is magic and the school is the heart of it. It forces people to live out popular tropes.  If you’re popular or interesting in any way, it makes you the main character.” You take in the number of pockets on his black pants. “Unfortunately, you’re probably the coolest person to transfer ever and the magic is going to target you big time.”

Caiden stares at you. “You’re saying magic is real.”

“Yeah,” you say. You glance over his shoulder towards the front of the store. You can see shadows slanting through the windows as the sun starts to set. “All sorts. It depends what type of story you get pulled into.”

“But the main magic,” Caiden says, “is in the town itself which forces people to act like main characters?”

“Some people,” you say. You point at his trio of long necklaces. “Is that a wolf?”

Caiden looks down at the metal pendant. “It’s my favorite animal.”

“You are in so much danger,” you marvel. That’s the coolest thing you’ve ever heard. He also has a necklace that looks like an ancient coin and the other is a shark tooth. “The magic is definitely going to make you a main character.”

Caiden opens his mouth, closes it, then asks, “Are you insane?”

It really depends on what he thinks insane means. But going into that actually does make you sound insane, so you just sigh and shake your head. “You don’t believe me.”

“No.” Caiden doesn’t sound angry. He almost sounds apologetic. “I don’t.”

The bell at the front of the store rings. You reflexively look to see who came in. You see tennis rackets and gym clothes before you make yourself look away. A sports team, probably from a rival school. That…could be safe. Or safer. If they’re the first people he runs into, he might actually survive without having to believe you. “That’s fine. You do you.”

“…okay?” Caiden says.

He doesn’t follow you as you grab a gallon of milk and beeline for the self-checkout. You pass the tennis team in the aisle. They smell like sunscreen and don’t notice you dart past them.

“Hey,” you hear one of them say. They’re looking at Caiden. “I’ve never seen that guy around before.”

Another one hums. “There’s something about him. He looks…strong.”

“Why’s he just standing by the milk?”

You grab your purchase and calmly walk out the door.

------------------.

It’s a month after Caiden first transferred when he marches up to your desk after the last bell rings and says, “You. I need to talk to you.”

You look up at him from under your bangs, hands stilling on the open textbook. Caiden looks a lot different. He’s always dressed in a tennis club uniform now and his wild, curly hair is held away from his face by a sweatband. He’s a little sunburned and there is a bandage wrapped from wrist to shoulder on his right arm. Your eyes dart down to see a matching bandage wrapped around his left ankle.

“Please,” Caiden says when the silence stretches too long. His voice cracks. “I was wrong. I was—”

You close your textbook with a snap. You weren’t really studying anyway. Studying makes you look like a background character, but the ace of the tennis team coming to talk to you cancels it out. “There’s a dentist on 3rd Street. Meet me there in an hour.”

“A dentist?” Caiden asks, bewildered. He dumbly moves out of your way when you stand to go. “Why a—”

“Not here,” you hiss. “Dentist office.”

You rush out of class before anyone notices him talking to you.

-------------------.

The first time this town killed one of your friends, you didn’t know about the magic.

You were just a kid, barely thirteen, and new in town. You didn’t know what you were doing when you decided you wanted the quiet girl in class to befriend. Jeanine always sat by the windows, staring out into the school’s courtyard by herself. Her black braids swung on either side of her face and her glasses were pressed high on the bridge of her nose.

You introduced yourself to her, complimented her on her book, and asked if she’d like to have lunch. Sometimes you remember the smile she gave you in that first moment. Surprised, vulnerable, secretly pleased. You treasure that moment where you were just two girls looking for friends. You remember all her smiles over that blissful period where you went to the bookstore and the library, to the movies and to sleepovers, to parties and to concerts.

Sometimes remembering those smiles even helps you forget the painful one she gave you before she lost her life saving yours.

-----------------.

Caiden is pacing in front of the dentist’s office when you arrive. The street is deserted and there’s a faded Closed sign in the window.

Caiden jerks his thumb at the sign. “It’s closed.”

“Yeah,” you say. There’s a little bench in front of the office where patients are invited to wait for their appointment. You take a seat and gesture for him to do the same. “Very few stories start at the dentist and, those that do, always start when it’s open. It’s unlikely we’ll run into any trouble here.”

Caiden clutches his bandaged arm, looking over his shoulder as if checking for pursuers. “So location is part of it? Even just…walking down the street can trigger it?”

“Depends which street,” you say. You twist so you can put one foot up on the bench, angling your body towards him as he sits next to you. “Setting is an important part of the story.”

“Okay,” Caiden says. He breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth. “Sorry. I just—sorry. Thank you for talking to me. I know I didn’t believe you—”

“It’s hard to believe,” you say, “even without the magic.” You nod your head at his arm. “You okay?”

Caiden looks down at his arm as if he forgot about the bandages. “Oh, this? I’m not injured.” He unravels the strips to show unblemished skin. “Mark – the tennis team captain? – he’s worried about spies from other schools. I’m pretending to be hurt so they think I’m out of commission.”

“Thus giving you the element of surprise when you face them at Nationals next week,” you say with understanding. You eye the other bandage. “And your ankle?”

Caiden laughs. It’s not a joyful laugh. It sounds a little hysterical. “No, no, that’s real. I got invited to a drama club after party and spent most of Saturday night running away from a werewolf. I sprained it in the woods.”

“The Drama Club President is a werewolf,” you say. If he’d believed you a month ago, you would have warned him. You were there when she got bitten, but you managed to escape that particular story by pretending to faint. “She’s really had a lot of character growth since she got bit. She used to be super mean before.”

“Oh, as long as it’s for character growth,” Caiden says sarcastically. He scrubs a hand over his face. “We barely got away. It was only because the track team was there that we managed to run her into exhaustion.” He looks up at you. “I think—I think she’s going to kill someone one day.”

“She already has,” you say. When Caiden’s eyes widen, you wave a hand. “It was a bad guy who was trying to turn our entire school into werewolves. We actually owe her a lot for managing to contain that particular plot.”

“How is she going to put that on a college application?” he asks.

You point at him. “See, that right there is why you’re already so deep into a story. Being funny when you should be panicking is basically a requirement for protagonists.”

“I’m panicking,” Caiden assures you. He points to himself emphatically. “I’m definitely panicking.”

“Good,” you say, “that means the magic doesn’t have complete control over you yet. I was worried. Nationals isn’t supposed to be for another four months. I thought the accelerated schedule was a sign you’d completely become the main character.”

“How do I get out of this?” Caiden pulls at his jersey. “I don’t even like tennis! I don’t even know how I joined the club, I didn’t sign up for anything. I don’t know how I got the equipment. My dad didn’t buy it for me.”

“Those details aren’t necessary for the story you’re in,” you say. You pick up your backpack and unzip the main pocket. “I have some Rules to avoid getting sucked into a role. No meeting people in Big Settings, first of all.”

“Big Settings?”

“The lunchroom, the roof, the community pool, the lake, a love interest’s house, anywhere after curfew, etcetera,” you rattle off. You pull out a copy of The Rules and hand it to him. Even now, the mix of your handwriting and Jeanine’s sends a spike of sorrow through you. “There are some pretty specific ones on there too. I suggest you read through them all and pick out the common themes.”

The sun is getting dangerously low. You keep one eye on Caiden as he scans through the six pages of photocopied rules and one eye on the street. A couple cars pass by, but they’re all normal sedans. The moment you see a motorcycle or a van it’ll be time to leave.

“I can’t have an accent?” Caiden looks up from the paper. “But I’m not from here! How can I control an accent?”

“You can’t,” you admit. “But don’t use any region-specific idioms. That should help.”

Caiden points at the page. “Do not go to the library’s second floor?”

“Do not go to the library’s second floor,” you agree solemnly. When Caiden stares at you, you relent. “It’s super haunted. Also all the books in the back corner are cursed.”

“How do you know that?”

“They look super cursed. In a town like this, if it looks cursed, it’s cursed.”

“I guess I can’t say I don’t believe you,” Caiden mutters. “Werewolves are real, I’m pretty sure my club captain is some sort of spymaster, and I saw a kid fall four stories and land on his feet yesterday.”

“That’s Mark’s little brother. He’s got some sort of budding superhero thing going on,” you explain.

“Superhero implies the existence of a supervillain,” Caiden says.

“I try not to think about that.” A car turns onto 3rd Street a little too quickly. You tense and watch as a bicyclist comes screeching around the corner and pedal furiously in pursuit. “Time to go. Sunset is when rising actions get to climaxes. Read the Rules. We’ll talk about how to get you out of your current story tomorrow.”

“Wait!” Caiden scrambles up after you. “I can’t wait until tomorrow! Who know what will happen by then? A stalker could climb the trellis outside my window, or my house could catch on fire—”

“Do you have any little siblings?”

“No? What—”

“Are you going to be out after curfew tonight?”

“No, but my parents—”

“Your house won’t catch on fire then,” you say. “You’re a main character right now. The magic won’t give you a tragic back story when you’re there to stop it. I’d leave now if I were you. There’s about to be a police chase down here.”

“How could you know that?” Caiden cries out.

“Did you see that bicyclist just now?”

“From a minute ago? Yeah, but—”

“We’ll talk tomorrow. If the police see you here, you’ll get dragged into it as a witness.”

As if on cue, sirens start up a couple blocks over.  You duck into a side street without waiting to see if Caiden understands.

-----------.

Your parents stop talking when you come through the front door. You set your backpack down slowly, taking them in. They’re sitting on the floor of the living room with a whole pile of newspaper articles and printed Wikipedia pages between them. They’re both dressed in all black and your mom has a grappling hook over one shoulder.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

“Costume party,” your dad says.

“Collage for my book club,” your mom says. When she hears your dad’s answer, she nods quickly. “My book club which is also a costume party.”

It’s sad to see your parents caught in the magic like this. You remember them when you were little. Your mom was an accountant, and your dad was one of the best mechanics in your hometown. Sure, they’d still been a little…odd. Your dad taught you to hotwire a car before you learned how to change the oil and your mom would bring you along into corporate fraud investigations, but that was what they wanted. Now their eccentricities make them main characters.

“Sounds fun,” you say with false cheer. You desperately want to beg them not to do whatever they’re planning. You want to plead with them to be safe. You want your dad to quit adding spy-like features to the family car and for your mom to stop breaking into the town museum. But you aren’t strong enough to protect them. You’re only strong enough to protect yourself. “I’ve got a history test tomorrow, so I’m going to study in my room. I’ll probably have my headphones in so I won’t be able to hear anything. Try not to scare me.”

Your mom’s eyes light. “We won’t bother you, sweetheart. Do you want to take some snacks to your room? So you don’t have to come in and out.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Does it hurt your parents are so eager to get you out of the way? Yes, but at least it’s an attempt to protect you.

You let your parents give you some mixed nuts, fruit, and popcorn before heading up to your room. While they plan whatever heist they’re doing tonight, you’ve got planning of your own. Caiden’s in a pretty tame story, but it’s still a story.

He’s got to get out as quietly as he can or else things will get messy.

----------.

“Let’s meet in the lunchroom after classes,” Caiden says the next morning. The circles under his eyes are even darker than they were yesterday, but his eyes are bright and alive. He ruefully gestures to his tennis uniform. “Before practice.”

You raise an eyebrow. The lunchroom will be empty, students choosing to use the more comfortable chairs and tables in the multipurpose room or library to study. “I’m impressed. That might be the only time the lunchroom will be safe.”

“I finally did my research,” Caiden says grimly. He flinches when the classroom door opens but recovers quickly. He walks away from your desk as if only passing by it, smiling easily at a fellow tennis player when they greet him.

“Hey,” the girl at the desk hisses at you. She’s a lower-level antagonist, easily identified by the bubblegum she’s always chewing. The teacher is always yelling at her for it, but she never gets in trouble unless the magic needs her to be a background character in detention. “Is it just me or is Caiden talking to you a lot?”

“I don’t think so,” you say. You frown at her like she’s the strange one, not you. “Are you feeling okay?”

Flustered, she pops a bubble and turns back to the doodles she’s scratching on her desk. “Never mind.”

Whew. That was a close one. Her words could’ve triggered a romance plot between you and Caiden with her as the third wheel. You’ve seen more than your fair share of those pan out. Best case scenario, one of you would end up studying abroad for a year. Worst case, one of you would end up dead.

Your heart races a little. Frowning for real, you press a hand to your chest. Could…could you actually have a crush on Caiden? After a moment, you shake your head. That’s ridiculous. You’re probably still feeling the adrenaline of escaping the pull of a story.

Even now, after four years, avoiding the magic still feels like a victory.

----------------.

The thing is, you used to love the magic. When Jeanine first showed you how to watch people, it was like TV come to life. The teacher is in a slow-burn romantic comedy with the principal. The tenth grader who just passed you in the hall is actually one of the most respected journalists in town. There’s going to be a musical number in the park after school because the eggs the biology club has been looking after finally hatched into the cutest baby ducklings.

You loved it. You and Jeanine would race around after school every day to check in on each story. You remember the way her jacket would puff out behind her as she jumped the last few steps in front of the auditorium. The glint of the sun off the barrette in her hair that matched the one in yours. The joy when she would turn to smile at you like what you were witnessing was for just the two of you.

It got to the point where you could guess what sort of story someone would get caught in. You and Jeanine used to place bets on the genre, the cast, the ending. It was a game. It was all a fucking game until it wasn’t.

You were naïve. You thought that being watchers protected you from the bad endings. The Rules…you thought yourself clever for making them. You never saw how incomplete they were. That’s why you didn’t notice when Jeanine became withdrawn. She never told you about the threatening letters that started to show up in her mailbox. Her parents were always away working and she didn’t have anyone to turn to.

She should have turned to you. You believe that now. If she’d just come to you sooner, then the weight of the story you’d gotten yourself tangled in would have been bearable. Or maybe you should have been able to see it. You were right there, watching. You should have seen the mysterious cloaked figures. You should have known.

You didn’t know soon enough.

Jeanine died saving you.

And now it’s your turn to save someone else.

-----------------------.

The end of the school day can’t come soon enough. When the bell finally rings, you make yourself count to ten before standing up.

Rule 14: Never be the first one out of class.

Rule 27: Never be the last one out of class.

You exit exactly in the middle of the pack. To your delight, Caiden is only a few people ahead of you. He read the Rules and he’s following them. That means this morning wasn’t a fluke. He’s still not completely bound by the magic.

He can be saved.

“Alright,” you say when you reach the lunchroom. Like you’d hoped, there’s no one there. You slam you backpack on top of a table and start pulling out folders. “I’ve got a couple ideas on how to get you out of your story.”

Caiden twirls the racket in his hands. “Can’t I just quit the club?”

“No, that’ll just turn it into a story about getting you back in time for Nationals,” you explain. You flip open the first folder. “One option is to get arrested for something. Sure, it’ll make you a criminal for a little bit, but your team won’t come looking for you. Heck, they might kick you off the team entirely.”

“If they’d come after me for quitting, don’t you think they’d just bail me out?” Caiden asks.

You pause. You didn’t think about that. “Would they even have the money to do that?”

“Mark’s estranged Dad is a millionaire,” Caiden says. He pulls out his phone and flips to a picture. “Here he is on a yacht.”

“I don’t really pay attention to the adult stories,” you say. You examine the picture. Yep, that’s definitely the start of a millionaire romance trope. “Good thing my parents are still together.”

Caiden frowns. “Mine aren’t.”

“Don’t let either of your parents meet Mark’s Dad,” you say apologetically. You flip to the next folder. “Next option is to pretend to be possessed by a famous tennis player. Then, when you lead the team to victory, you say it’s because of the ghost, the ghost gets exorcised, and the team loses interest in you when your abilities fade.”

“That’s pretty convoluted,” Caiden says. He pulls the folder towards him and examines the doodle of a ghost you did. “You don’t know if I’ll lead the team to victory.”

You scoff and gesture to him. “Look at you. Of course, you will.” Before he has a chance to respond, you reveal the last plan. “That’s why I think this one will work. Instead of leading the team to victory, you become a supporting character.” You open the folder to reveal a picture of Mark. “In short, you make Mark a main character.”

“What?” Caiden yelps. He casts a guilty glance towards the front of the lunchroom, making sure no one in the hall heard him. He lowers his voice. “You want me to sacrifice Mark? The guy’s already been through a lot!”

Caiden looks awfully heroic with the way he’s squared his shoulders. He’s genuinely a good person and if you’d meant to sacrifice Mark in his place, you’d feel very villainous right now.  “No,” you say, “don’t you see? Making him the main character will actually help him.”

“How?”

“His little brother’s got powers and his dad is, apparently, a millionaire.” You hesitate. You don’t really want to say it, but you don’t think Caiden’s quite understood what it means to be surrounded by main characters. “The way it is now, Mark is in danger.”

Caiden goes still. “What?”

“What’s more powerful than a superhero fighting to protect his brother’s memory? Or a millionaire who only needs the right romantic interest to recover from the grief of losing his eldest son?” You flip over the page and grab a pencil. You draw a circle on one side of the page. “Imagine that’s a superhero story.” You draw a dot in the circle. “That’s Mark’s brother. He can only be affected by superhero-related things as long as he’s in that circle. Their dad’s millionaire-romance story won’t stop him from being a hero, just like his son being a hero won’t stop their dad from becoming a sugar daddy for some lucky single in town.”

“Definitely keeping my dad away from him,” Caiden mutters.

You draw another circle and put another dot in it. “That dot is their dad. He’s protected from any superhero stuff because he’s the main character in the romance stuff.” Between the two circles, you draw a third dot. “In the center? That’s Mark. And right now he doesn’t have a circle to protect him from the superhero stuff or the romance stuff. Do you understand?”

“You’re saying that Mark needs to be a main character so he doesn’t become a tragic backstory,” Caiden says. He scrubs a hand over his face and collapse onto a chair. “This stuff is messed up.”

“Sometimes,” you say, “being outside the magic is just as dangerous as being in the magic.”

That’s what you and Jeanine never understood. There’s a difference between being a background character and being an exception. Exceptions make great protagonists. When the sorcerers that live in the park noticed that you and Jeanine never fell under their hypnosis, they took interest.

Deadly interest.

“Hey.” Caiden reaches out to place a comforting hand on your arm. “You okay?”

You shake yourself. The quiet of the lunchroom makes you feel like you’re the only two in the world. It’s been a long time since you’ve been able to talk to someone that’s not under the town’s magic. You swallow. “My friend,” you say without really knowing you’re going to say it. “The one who wrote the Rules with me.”

“Jeanine?” Caiden asks gently. When you shoot him a surprised look, he says, “You guys signed the Rules.”

You’d forgotten about that. You hardly ever read the Rules anymore. You know them all by heart. You nod. “Yeah. She saved my life. The town isn’t evil and the magic isn’t all bad. But when it’s bad, it’s really bad. You’re doing Mark a favor by making him a main character. You might even be saving his life.”

That seems to break through to Caiden. He takes his hand off your arm, eyes far away as he considers that. When he looks back at you, there’s no resolve in the set of his jaw. “Okay. I’ll do it. How do I make Mark a main character?”

You pass the folder over to him. “It’s all there. You’re going to have to go to Nationals but, after that, you should be back in the background. Just like me.”

“Perfect,” Caiden says with a sigh. He stands, taking the folder with him. “I gotta get to practice.” He pauses in front of the door. “Will you come see us at Nationals?”

“Probably not,” you say. You scrunch your nose. If you go and meet Caiden after the game, you could be in danger of triggering another romance plot. You start packing up to hide your blush. “I’d hate to be caught up in a sports story.”

“Right, rule #35,” Caiden says, laughing a little. He looks awfully cute when he laughs. “If you’re good at sports—”

“—no you aren’t,” you say with him. You grin and wave him off. “See you later.”

Caiden glances down the hall for other students before leaning back into the lunchroom. “Thanks, Fern,” he whispers and then disappears out the door.

Your face feels hot as you make your way home.

-------------------.

You find yourself at the park the day of Nationals. You can’t bring yourself to watch Caiden. On paper, the plan is simple. He has to let Mark play all the singles and, if he plays doubles, Mark needs to be the one to score the most points. Or whatever the right terminology is. Even if it wasn’t dangerous to know too much about sports, you wouldn’t care.

Jeanine would care.

You wander past the kids’ playground and head across the lawn to where there’s a cluster of birch trees. In your mind’s eye, you see this place four years ago. It was night then and there weren’t any kids on the swings or parents idly chatting around the water fountain.

No, it was dark and empty and the only sound you could hear was the harsh panting of your own breath and the slow, rhythmic chanting of the sorcerers about to sacrifice your best friend.

Jeanine was an exception. She was someone who’d grown up here her whole life but was just…average. Average grades, average looks, average worries. Average. She was never compelled into a story as a kid. She wasn’t called on to fight dragons and she wasn’t recruited to be a child spy. She was just Jeanine.

The birch trees are looking a little weak. You stop just where the grass changes to dirt and stares up into their thinning canopies. Good. You hope these trees die. Then the sorcerers trapped inside of them won’t ever emerge and, at last, Jeanine will be avenged.

“If that’s even possible,” you say absently,

The truth is some days you feel like you killed her.  Jeanine was average. You were the transfer who knew how to do too many things. You were the one the town took an interest in. Of course it did. You were a 13-year-old who could hotwire a car and who regularly broke into corporate offices searching for dirty books.

Jeanine saved you. She saved you from all the fates she’d seen her classmates fall prey to over the years. She taught you how to watch. She taught you how to survive. Sometimes you wonder why she did that for you, knowing what it could potentially (and did) cost her.

The truth is you would have done the same for her.

You kick at a root with real anger. When the magic couldn’t drag you into a mundane story, it escalated. The sorcerers that lived in seclusion on the other side of town got tipped off. They made a prophecy.

A prophecy about you.

You know the story that you should have had. You were supposed to be a lonely transfer student with only one shy friend. You were supposed to be excited when the sorcerers came to recruit you into their epic fight against evil. You were supposed to learn their spells and their ways and forget all about the normal life you once led.

Jeanine noticed the hooded figures first. She intercepted them before they could get to you. That’s what finally caught the magic’s attention. Here was a girl who would do anything for her friend. A beautiful girl with quick wits and an amazing loyalty.

Here was an obstacle that the sorcerers had to kill. Here was the final piece of your tragic backstory.

But Jeanine didn’t let that happen. Quietly, desperately, she worked to change your fate and, in exchange, sealed hers.

There is a reason that there aren’t any prophecies in town anymore. Jeanine’s sacrifice not only saved you, but everybody else from that fate. She gave her life to seal the sorcerers here, in these woods where they’d meant to kill her and take you away.

What you’re doing for Caiden isn’t like what Jeanine did for you. He’s not in danger of being whisked off into another dimension or being tortured by power you’ll never understand. He’s on a tennis team he doesn’t want to be on. But you’re teaching him like Jeanine taught you.

You just hope he sticks around long enough to learn.

----------------------------.

You get to school early on Monday. It’s against the rules, but you can’t help it. You need to know how Nationals went. You need to know if Mark won the title for them or Caiden.

You see the back of Caiden’s head in the hall outside of class. Your heart races. “Caiden!”

Caiden turns. When he sees it’s you, he raises two fingers in the air. “We won!”

Your heart sinks. “No, I’m so sorry—”

“I mean, I didn’t win,” Caiden says. He gestures down at himself. “Look! No tennis uniform!”

For the first time you realize that Caiden’s wearing normal clothes. Black cargo pants, a Henley, and boots. Normal clothes might be a bit of an overstatement.  You try to focus on the positive. “Nice job! Did Mark score the last goal?”

“Not how that works in tennis, but kind of,” Caiden says, grinning. “He got scouted. That means he’s the main character right? He’s safe?”

“Yeah.” You eye Caiden’s necklaces. He’s still got the wolf pendant and the shark tooth on, but now the ancient coin has been replaced by a tiny sword. “I don’t think you’re in the clear yet though.”

Caiden deflates. “What? Why not? Can you see something on me?” He turns in a circle as if looking for note that says main character stuck to his back.

“You’re still way too cool,” you say. You point at the sword necklace. “Where did you get that?”

“Found it on the ground,” he says.

“Oh my god, take that off right now,” you say.

You’ve really got your work cut out for you.

 -----End----

Thanks for reading! I love writing semi-meta stories like this and you know it’s not the last you’ll see of Narrative Town!

I post all my stories early on Patreon (X) Join me there to read stories a week ahead of time and to see exclusive continuations!

Next week’s story is already up!

Summary: When Shireen's city falls to a Supervillain, she knows there aren't any Heroes to save the day. So she does in more ways than she knows.

Thanks again for reading :)

#my writing #second person #long post #meta writing #of a kind #Caiden is Too Cool #Fern is a mother hen

[moiravim]

Draco Malfoy x Male Reader Headcanons

Warnings: mention of homophobia

You and Draco started dating in fourth year.

He liked you first, but you confessed because he was too nervous to.

At first he thought you were joking, but the moment he realized you were serious he confesses his feelings as well.

He had a bit of internalized homophobia from his parents, but got over it quickly after realizing he was gay in second year.

He becomes protective over you when he starts crushing on you.

When you first started dating it was a secret.

The first person Draco told was his best friend, Blaise. After seeing how much Blaise supported both of you, Draco became more confident and came out officially.

Most people supported your relationship with Draco once they found out. The only person who ever caused Draco any trouble was his father.

If anyone were to say anything homophobic to you, he'd feel the need to teach them a lesson.

His favorite nicknames for you are Darling, Love, and occasionally Baby. He'll also call you Prince during romantic settings.

If you like reading he'd love to go to the library and spend the whole day with you in one of his favorite places.

If you don't like reading, he'd probably drag you to the library anyways. You can do your own thing, he just likes the quiet atmosphere.

He absolutely adores you and just wants to be with you 24/7.

Your first kiss was in hogsmeade. The two of you went wandering around the town, hand in hand all night.

He calls you his pretty boy and kisses you all night. He loves cuddling and likes to spoon you.

Draco Malfoy is obsessed with his boyfriend, and just wants to show him how much he loves him. <3

#m4m #mlm #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x male reader #draco x male reader #gay #lgbtq #harry potter x male reader #male reader #mlm fanfic #draco x ftm reader #draco malfoy x yn #draco malfoy x you #second person #draco x yn #draco x y/n #draco x harry #drarry #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x male!reader #male!reader #draco #fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #male reader fanfic #m4m fanfic #fanfic mlm

[hazardtoons]

[click for full quality, id in image description]

picture this. it's 2017 and you're at a friend's house. the friend is telling you about a cool game and all its wonderful secrets. she boots up the game and shows it to you. undertale.

your life changes forever.

you want to draw your favourite character from the game. sans. so you pick up a pencil and scribble on your wall. I will practice until it is perfect. you draw these characters every day. you have sketchbook upon sketchbook filled with these characters. you write about them. you create songs on your iPhone 4 voice notes. you cry to sad comic dubs. you make a mettaton costume out of paper and you wear it to your halloween disco. you write a letter to the creator to make a sequel and you never post it. you buy shirts and wear them everywhere in hopes of finding someone else who loves it as much as you do. these characters are more than characters. theyre like friends. you imagine yourself hanging out with them.

sometimes, in private moments, you curl up in bed and wish to travel to that world. if you wish hard enough, maybe it'll come true.

this game is the most important thing in the world to you.

six years later, and the game and its successor is still everything to you.

the 'you' in this story is Meeeeeeeeeeeeeee:3 if it isnt obvious

#undertale #frisk #sans #papyrus #flowey #toriel #alphys #chara #undyne #napstablook #asgore #mettaton #mad mew mew #second person

[light-yaers]

Take Care: Chapter Seven

Fic Masterpost | AO3 | Chapter List

Warnings: swearing, eventual smut, emotional themes.

A/N: EAT UP FOOD IS READY !!!

Word count: 8.4k

Chapter Seven

Roy had never experienced something so visceral. He read your article again, and again, and again, and each time the words stuck deeper into the different compartments of his brain. The red alert in his mind, besides your fluttering words, was how awful he’d fucking acted, how rude, how dismissive, how fucking mean. Everyone thought he was mean because of the profanity, the bluntness, the social outing aversions, but the last person he wanted to think of him as truly mean was you.

Roy didn’t want you to leave Richmond thinking the worst about him. He wanted you to leave with your head high, with multiple new people to text and call and have coffee with, with an abundance of people to send your book to after it inevitably published in a few years. Roy wanted to be on that mailing list, too, or– better yet– to meet up with you so he could get you to sign it for him.

Roy couldn’t believe how long he’d moped for. He’d never once tried to rectify the situation, while you’d been trying to keep things normal for the sake of both of your sanities, for almost a month. You painfully said hello to him every morning still, and smiled in the corridor, and kept up with your work schedule, while he’d all but fallen after his own actions. He was a grown man, and no stranger to spats, but this hit it out of the park– all because he couldn’t own up to his own fear.

If he’d just fucking read it sooner, then it wouldn’t have got to this point. If he’d just bit away his pride and breathed through the terror, he’d still be driving you home after work, and hearing your cheers in the stands for the team that you both loved dearly. He’d taken that solace away from you–

And he knew he had to fix it as soon as possible.

The day after he’d read your article, you were absent at another weekend match. That was four in a row, Roy counted sullenly. This simply wouldn’t do. Come next week, he’d bear his soul on his fucking sleeve. You’d done it so effortlessly during the argument, putting your feelings on the line while he’d all but smacked them away.

When he drove past your building on Monday morning, he had the most insane urge to stop and knock on your door. He had to hold himself back, instead opting to floor the accelerator just to get your apartment out of his eyeline. He parked and slammed his door strongly, dead set on his route to your office as soon as he entered the stadium. His heart was in his throat as he rounded the hallway and approached your door.

Your name was already on the tip of his tongue when he burst through the doorway, ready to lay it all out and apologise profusely, to explain how shitty he’d been and not excuse it, to spill his guts on the grey carpet for you to understand fully–

But you weren’t there.

He stopped and held his breath when he saw your empty desk. There was no laptop, no bag, no cup of coffee from the cafe or a stray pile of books that were all half read. Without trying, he could imagine you sat there, peering up at him with wide eyes that would only make him fucking melt on the spot– but instead there was nothing.

He recomposed himself, clearing his throat a little, before he turned and left your empty office. He headed to the locker room like normal, and stalled his inevitable outburst until the time you arrived later.

When you hadn’t shown up by lunchtime, Roy’s anxiety hit its peak. He tried to keep up with his workout normally, putting one foot in front of the other on the elevated treadmill, peering through the window at the tiny sliver of your office he could see from this position. Usually, you’d be tapping away at your keyboard, or leaned back in your chair looking at the ceiling, but there was nothing today.

It was one thing having you absent from games, but a whole other can of worms when you weren’t at the stadium at all. He didn’t fucking like it, and it grated on him extensively until he found himself storming into Ted and Beard’s office from lack of what else to fucking do.

He didn’t knock when he cut into their office through the locker room. Ted smiled with his teeth as soon as Roy was in the room, and Beard looked at him silently with his feet up on the desk and a book in his hand.

“Roy! What’s shaking–”

“If you finish that sentence with Kevin Bacon I will fly my fist through this fucking wall,” he cut over Ted strongly, pointing at the wall immediately to his right.

Ted recoiled instantly. “Alright, you’re definitely not one for rhymes. Noted.” He shuffled at his desk, and placed his hands together on the top smartly. “What can we help you with?”

“Where is she and why is her office fucking empty?” Roy wasted no time. He didn’t even have to say your name for them to know who he was talking about.  

Ted and Beard shared a knowing glance. Beard cleared his throat and adjusted the cap on his head. “Called in sick this morning. Got a cold, she said.”

Having a cold was the oldest fucking excuse in the book for calling in sick. Roy knew that well, considering he’d done it at school too many times to count.

“Will she be in tomorrow?” Roy asked sternly.

“Don’t know, Barry Manilow,” Ted said, and he winced immediately afterwards. “Sorry, that one just popped out without me even thinking.”

Roy clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. “Fuck!” he exclaimed suddenly, loudly, but Ted and Beard were so used to it by now that they hardly reacted.

Beard pouted quizzically. “You read the article, then.” Roy sent him a pained look, but it was enough to explain everything. Beard looked back at his book and let out a sassy mhm in recognition.

“Four games. She’s missed four fucking games,” Roy said, losing some of the edge from his tone. “It’s all because of me.”

Ted nodded, humming to himself in understanding. “I think you might be right about that, Roy.”

Beard let out a sigh. “Probably got something to do with the fact you yelled and dismissed all her hard work directly to her face.” Roy shot a deadly stare at him, but Beard simply licked his finger and turned to the next page of his book.

Ted bobbed his head to the side. “And then took a month to read said work and haven’t even attempted to apologise yet–”

“I fucking get it,” Roy cut over him. “I fucked up.”

“Royally,” said Ted.

“To oblivion,” said Beard.

“Fuck!” Roy exclaimed again, but this time to the floor. He was so angry with himself. He was so sad that he’d made you so sad.

“Now, I know yelling profanity into the stratosphere might be a great coping mechanism for you, Roy, but I’m not so sure that’s going to help clean up the rest of this here mess.” Ted stood slowly, sticking his hands in his pockets, as he rounded his desk to stand opposite his team Captain. “What did you think?”

Roy forced himself to look at his coach. He clenched his jaw. “Of what?”

“The article,” Ted urged.

There were so many words that Roy would use to describe what you’d written. Lovely, passionate, the nicest thing he’d ever fucking read, and the nicest thing he’d ever had done for his sake. But the words he chose were ones that he’d slept upon since he’d first read it.

“I don’t deserve it.” He sucked in a rattling breath. “Those words in that order were something I have never fucking deserved to have written about me, especially by her.”

Ted shrugged. “Well, I personally don’t think that. Do you, Coach?” He turned to Beard.

Beard shook his head with his face buried in his book. “Nope,” he said. “But, I can definitely see why you’d think that.” Beard’s voice trailed off quietly.

“We’re in agreement there, for sure, but–” Ted turned back to Roy, and smiled at him gently. “I think all of us can accurately say that, if her opinion of you is as high as she wrote in that article, then it’s gotta be gosh darn true, now, doesn’t it.”

Roy tried to digest Ted’s words, but none of it was making him feel any better. He didn’t need people telling him he deserved nice things at the best of times, but after the way he’d acted that was the last fucking thing he wanted. All it did was cement how badly he’d overreacted, how badly he’d misunderstood your intentions and feelings.

“She isn’t the kind of person to lie, Roy– especially not about someone she regards highly. And I think you know that very well, already.” Ted furrowed his brows softly, and Roy finally relaxed his hands.

His arms felt shaky with how much he’d been tensing his muscles. His chest felt lighter when he breathed in and out, filling up his lungs with fresh air, as he tried to rationalise and believe everything that Ted was saying.

“My apology isn’t going to be enough to fix this,” Roy said lowly. “Saying sorry seems like a fucking waste after all I’ve done.”

“Maybe so,” Ted acknowledged. “But, it’s a heck of a good place to start.”

Your head pounded painfully. Your limbs ached incessantly. You didn’t think it was possible to contract a cold in the Spring, but your body had proved you wrong. All you could realistically do was lay in bed, but you did so with your laptop propped atop your duvet covered torso, just so you could still answer emails and get some work done.

If anything, the quiet of your apartment felt calmer. It was different to the quiet that you experienced at the Dogtrack, especially after the fight last month. Roy hadn’t so much as said two sentences to you in that time, but neither had you to him, so both of you were as bad as each other.

Oddly, though, you felt at peace. You’d made yourself clear, and given him the option to keep up or fall behind. When you looked at him now, all you saw were the remnants of your confrontation, playing over and over in his head constantly. You wondered if he’d read the article, or if he would never. You wondered if you’d ever get back to the way you were before all of this bollocks started.

You kept thinking before that you wished you’d never written the damn thing, but that wasn’t necessarily true. You were proud of it, even if Roy wasn’t. You were being noticed after it had been published, and it had flowered a few opportunities— post MA— for you. It had worked out in your favour. It could work out in Roy’s too, if only he’d open his damn mind.

There was part of you that didn’t even want to fix this, but whenever you found yourself thinking of that outcome you felt guilty. You knew Roy, or thought you did, and wanted to say for certain that he’d try to resolve this. But, as the days dwindled past, that outcome was getting further and further away from you.

If anything, being ill had given you a bit of a break. Sat in bed with your laptop, you weren’t overly anxious about seeing Roy’s face in the hallway, or in the locker room. You didn’t feel the need to be quiet when he was present, or felt the painful pang of your heart whenever he looked straight past you. Instead, you were comfortable under your duvet, dosed up on cold and flu capsules, and ready for a nap despite it being the early afternoon.

You were stripped from your relaxation as soon as your buzzer went off. You groaned as you got up, trying to keep yourself steady on your weak legs. When you clicked the intercom, you let out a disgruntled hello.

“Hey, it’s Eli from the upstairs flat! Sorry, I forgot my keys. Can you buzz me in?” your neighbour asked. You let out a pent up breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding, because– for a split second– you’d thought it might’ve been Roy. Just maybe.

“Of course,” you breathed out. “Come on in.” You unlocked the main door with your intercom buzzer. You heard it click open outside the door of your flat, and slam closed again. Eli’s footsteps bound up the stairs and into his own apartment.

You turned around and leant against your front door. You shivered as your back hit the subtle cold of the wood, and you let out a colossal sigh as you fluttered your eyes shut. This needed to stop. Thinking of him, expecting him to behave in the way you’d always thought he was capable of, because all you got from it was disappointment. Maybe he’d decided to bin this all off, just so it made his life easier. Maybe you’d utterly misjudged the situation, and he thought you were a mental case.

Either way, Roy wasn’t going to come to your front door. He wasn’t going to beg for forgiveness, or apologise, or look at you with his dark eyes like he couldn’t fucking stand the fact he’d made you sad. Roy Kent wasn’t going to do any of that.

And you just had to accept it.

You composed yourself enough to stand up straight again, and when you opened your eyes you took in the state of your fucking apartment. It had become a mess over the past month, since you’d found yourself almost unable to complete the basic house chores and tasks that you usually did. It was just too hard to do your laundry now, or run a hoover around your floor, or make yourself substantial meals. All of it proved to be entirely too much when you were reminded of just how fucking sad you felt. You knew it was silly to hold onto these emotions, but when they were further perpetuated every time you stepped into your workplace, it made it all the more difficult to shrug it aside.

You went to let out a sigh of frustration at yourself, but that abruptly turned into a shocked gasp when your intercom buzzer went off again. You clutched a haste hand to your heart, before you swivelled around and pressed down on the receiver.

“Hello?” you let out.

“Hey.” You stopped breathing when his croaking voice hit your ears. It was only made more static through the speaker, but you’d recognise it anywhere.

You gulped away the shock of it all as fast as you could. “Roy?” you asked. It was a stupid question, you knew it was him already.

“Yeah,” he said hoarsely.

“What are you–?” you said, but stopped yourself when you realised how frantic your voice sounded. You took in a quick and shaking breath. “What’s up?” you settled on, in the spirit of seeming cool and composed, despite being the absolute opposite.

“Can I come in?” Roy asked, and you were struck by the immediate want to reject him. You and your flat were a state. You were still in your fucking pyjamas.

“I’m… not very well,” you said, but you winced as you did so. It sounded so bad, and you truly wanted to see him, just not like this. Part of you had started aching even more so after you’d realised it was his voice over the intercom.

You thought he’d growl, or swear, or do anything else than what he actually did. “I don’t care,” Roy said lowly. “I’ll take the risk of catching whatever you have, just please let me in.”

You lowered your forehead to your front door again, your heart racing. Was this really the right time for him to see you at rock fucking bottom? A mess, inside and out, ill and full of snot, as well as sleep deprived? You didn’t want him to enter only to want to immediately leave again. Not now. Not after it had been so long. Not after he’d finally plucked up the courage to make an effort.

Exhaling through your nose, you clicked down on the intercom stubbornly. “Okay, come in.” You pressed the buzzer to the front of your building, and quickly unlocked your own door, all the while trying to stop your fingers from shaking.

Roy pushed the door to your building open, and as he did, you debated whether to open the door for him, or get him to knock. You shuffled on your bare feet before your door, hearing the slow and intentional footsteps of him outside, but you still couldn’t decide–

That’s when he knocked.

And you let out an abrupt. “It’s open.”

He let himself in as you quickly launched yourself at your cluttered coffee table. You started picking up mugs as the door opened, and before you could even lay your eyes on Roy before you, you dashed to the kitchen with them in your arms.

They clattered on the worktop as you placed them down. One fell into the sink and the handle almost snapped off. You tried not to think about the fact you looked like a mess, or how entirely unprepared you were for this at the moment. This had been the last thing you’d been expecting today. Your heart wasn’t ready to be put on the line again, not after the month you’d just endured.

You hunched your shoulders to your ears as you leaned by the sink. Roy shut the door behind him and clicked the lock from habit.

“Hey,” he said again, and his voice reverberated throughout your apartment. When it hit the back of your neck, you shivered.

You gulped, and forced yourself to be as normal as possible. “In the kitchen!” you said cheerily, but even Roy knew you were lying. You got deja vu from the night of the charity ball when you heard his steps on the floor.

He strolled around the corner and stood by the counter behind you, a few metres from where you were hunched over the sink. You could feel his presence, a warm feeling on your back, that made your hairs stand up on end. Goosebumps prickled on your arms, alongside a few drops of sweat on your forehead that could have been from your raised temperature, or just from the fact that Roy was in your fucking flat.

You slowly picked up one of the mugs to your right and started washing it up. The water was cold, but you didn’t care.

“Coach said you called in sick,” Roy started.

You inhaled sharply. “Yeah, I’ve definitely been better.”

“I thought I’d… come and check in on you,” he said. You closed your eyes, fighting against the urge to run your mouth or say something entirely stupid.

Quickly, you dropped the mug you were holding and turned off the tap. You turned around to meet his eye, before leaning against the sink behind you, keeping your shoulders hunched up defensively.

“Thank you, but I’m just fine.” Your throat felt like sandpaper as soon as you allowed yourself to finally look at him properly.

Roy’s eyes were glassy, glassier than you’d ever seen them before. He had this almost pitying look on his face, but you knew that Roy Kent didn’t pity anyone, least of all himself. He looked chastised, he looked guilty, and the way his hands were balled at his sides made you want to take them in your own and delicately swipe your fingers over his distressed knuckles.

“I thought you were lying about being ill,” Roy explained.

You scoffed, only to give yourself an excuse to look at the floor. His stare was too intense, too exposing. “Why would I lie about that?”

“To avoid me,” Roy said immediately. You froze, and you frowned.

“Do you really think I’d do that, Roy?” you asked, keeping your voice steady, as you caught his eye once more.

Roy shook his head. “It’s something I would do,” he said, before he winced at himself. “It’s something I fucking did, your first week on the job.” Realisation slapped him around the face. “I wouldn’t blame you—,” He swallowed. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did that to avoid me.”

You swallowed the want to vomit. Maybe it was from the excess amount of paracetamol and ibuprofen you’d consumed over the past three days, but you heavily doubted that. It was because all that you’d thought wouldn’t happen was actually happening. Roy was here, and he was looking at you like he knew just how badly he’d fucked up and hurt you. He was looking at you like he was on the brink of confessing his deepest, darkest secrets.

And for once, you weren’t sure if you wanted it. It had taken him a month to take initiative. Was that really something you were willing to excuse? Even if it was Roy?

“I wouldn’t avoid you like that, Roy,” you said gently. “Being on the receiving end of it was more than enough.”

Roy took a gentle step forward, but stopped when he saw your chest stutter. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His voice was soft and full of feeling. “I fucked up. And none of it was fair on you.”

You peered up at him, and tapped your fingers against the counter top. You didn’t know what to say, and somehow you couldn’t find the strength to say you forgave him immediately.

Roy took another step forward. “I shouldn’t have led you to believe I was okay with the article, and I shouldn’t have blown up at you after Keeley submitted it. I shouldn’t have ignored you, and avoided you. I should’ve— fuckin’— said something. I should have said that it wasn’t your fault, and acknowledged all the shit I was feeling, and not fucking—,” he stopped, and breathed in and out deeply. “I read it.”

Your heart stopped. “When?”

“On Friday night,” he said. “You didn’t come to the game on Saturday, and then when you weren’t in today, I just—,” he choked on his words, and your gut lurched. “The guys miss you.”

You didn’t care about the guys. Not right now. Not about this. Maybe that was his way of saying he missed you too.

Roy took another step forward, bridging the gap between you just a little more. “What you wrote, well it’s… not what I was expecting. I was scared, and I lashed out, and for that I can’t say sorry enough.”

You nodded, letting his words sink in. “Thank you,” you croaked. You didn’t mean for it to be so, but your throat had all but closed up.

“Ted and Beard gave me a fucking grilling,” he said. You scoffed so abruptly that it took you by surprise. The faintest smile appeared on Roy’s lips. “Sam and Isaac told me to read it. I should have done it sooner. I should have done this sooner.”

This. Apologise. Put his heart on the line. All of it.

This was a step in the right direction, you knew that, but something held you back from fully accepting his words. The hurt he’d caused had done damage, and as much as you had closure now, you still needed time to heal.

You nodded again, and caught his eye strongly. “Thank you for saying so, Roy. I… yeah. Just thank you.”

Roy nodded at you, before he shuffled a hand into the pocket of his leather jacket. What emerged was a bright blue and red Richmond shirt. He hovered it towards you, before he draped it open so you could see the number and name on the back.

“We had Nate make this for you,” he said.

Before you, you read the number 1, and above it read WRITER. Your heart swelled. You were part of the team in more ways than one now.

You breathed out through your nose gently as you took the shirt from his hands. You smiled, properly, for the first time in ages.

“I finally have something to wear on match days,” you said, and the smile that Roy shot your way was more than enough for you.

The moment ended abruptly when a dizzy spell hit you hard. Your face went sheet white and your gut dropped, similar to a feeling of falling. You clutched onto the kitchen counter with all your strength, just to keep yourself from keeling over.

Roy witnessed it all, and abruptly lunged at you. “Fuck,” he said quickly, as you gently brought a hand to your waist to keep you standing. “You alright?”

You nodded quickly, breathing deeply. “I guess my diet of cold and flu meds and water for the past three days has finally hit me,” you let out, trying to keep things light.

“What can I do to help?” Roy asked.

You shook your head. “I just need to sleep it off.”

“Come on,” he said, as he proactively twisted himself so he held up your bodyweight with one arm. You draped your arm over his shoulder to make it easier, and the two of you gently started towards your room.

Roy could tell you were burning up. Your body temperature radiated onto him tenfold, and the clammy look on your face was enough to know you had a raging fever.

“I can’t believe I thought you fucking lied about being ill,” he said, and you let out a breathy chuckle. “You can’t even fucking stand properly.”

“I don’t like lying,” you said, as the two of you rounded the corner to your bedroom door. “I’m fine, really.”

“Doesn’t like lying but just tried to gaslight me. You’re one of those fucking sneaky ones, aren’t you?” Roy teased. You didn’t have the strength to laugh back as much as you wanted to, so you settled on a simply whispered ha. “For the record, I don’t like lying either,” he stated.

You gently placed your hand on his chest to stop him from walking you straight to your bed. You didn’t want to seem utterly pathetic.

“I’m alright, really. Just had a moment,” you said. Roy nodded, but he still stayed close after he let you go. You leaned against your door and peered up at him softly. “I’ll try and be back at work tomorrow, anyway.”

Roy furrowed his brows at you intensely. “If your arse shows up at Nelson Road tomorrow, I will personally shove you in my car and drive you straight fucking back here,” he said sternly.

You tried to stop yourself, but your lips curled upwards into a small and mischievous smile. It was funny when Roy got angry for the sake of your well-being. It was even funnier when you remembered you were still in your fucking pyjamas.

You raised your hands in defeat. “Alright,” you agreed without a fight.

“Okay,” he said, backing down. He took a few steps back towards your front door, but you stopped him by standing up straight.

“Wait,” you said, as you shuffled towards him and reached out behind him. You plucked his jacket from the peg on the wall to his left, and hovered it in front of him. “Just before I forget.”

Roy took his jacket from you gently, and folded it over his arm, imitating the football shirt over your own.

“I wonder how you even dealt with the fact I had that for more than five fucking months,” you said jokingly.

Roy shrugged. “I bought another one to match my suit.”

You widened your eyes at him, astounded. He’d known you had it all along. Maybe there was something to be said about that, about wanting you to always have a part of him.

“Fucking idiot,” you breathed out.

Roy smiled at you like the sun. “Go and rest,” he said, as he gently grabbed the door handle and opened it up.

“Okay,” you said.

“Okay.” He nodded.

And then he was gone. After you locked the door behind him, you crawled back into bed. You could still feel his presence as you wrapped yourself in your duvet, and as you closed your eyes, all of his apologies replayed themselves beneath your eyelids.

As you recovered from this fucking flu, Rebecca let you work from home for the rest of the week. It was needed, and you still managed to stay productive in the daytime, without the need to be exhausted by social interactions. Sam texted you everyday, sending you well wishes and updating on what the guys were up to. They had another match coming up that Saturday, and the threat of relegation was even more so. With less than two months until the end of the season, and their final match being against Man City, you knew that they were all feeling the pressure.

You felt bad that you hadn’t been there to spur them on over the past month, but you realised almost reluctantly that you’d needed the time away. To reflect, to manage your emotions, to not hold back when Roy eventually apologised. Despite his kind words and accountability, you felt like you were almost back at square one with him–

Back to those first few months, before the charity ball, before that unspoken something had begun, but it was ten times worse now; because both of you knew that there was something there, but neither of you dared cross the line after the fight. The threat of losing the other forever was far too prominent, but you still felt yourself melt at the small things.

Roy texted you during the week at random times, with the most random of things.

Ted just told the team he thought bangers and mash was a famous porno film.

Just told the guys you’ll be at the game on Saturday and Isaac pulled down his pants in excitement.

Nate’s getting promoted to coach but he thinks Rebecca is gonna fire him. It’s fucking hilarious.

You replied accordingly, but that last one got you pumped up. Nate had always been a funny one. Too shy to properly open up to you, but sweet and kind in his own way. The amount of awkward interactions you’d had with him were enough to indicate his skills with women (or lack thereof) but you still enjoyed his company. He’d helped you during countless visiting sessions with the Diamond Dogs, and definitely liked gossip just as much as Higgins.

When you walked into the Dogtrack on Saturday, Richmond shirt donned and a skip in your step for the first time in a long while, you felt like you were coming home. It was that mixture of nostalgia that you got when you visited your family at Christmas, or when you saw someone you knew from secondary school. Excitement, but also the knowledge that you were stepping into an environment where you were properly known. Properly loved, even.

That’s what the Dogtrack felt like to you now, in all of her glory, with those creepy fucking pictures of the guys that dotted the walls on the stadium; the one of Roy always caught your eye when you entered the manager’s office. It was right by the door, and from Ted’s desk, you could see it if you turned your head to the left. It was like he was looking straight at you through the glass, arms crossed, jaw tensed. Roy fucking Kent.

You followed the familiar hallways of the lower level, headed to the locker room. There was a buzz in the air that you’d become accustomed to after multiple games, and you knew you’d arrived right on time for one of Ted’s pep talks. You heard his voice as you approached the door, and knew that you’d enter into the guys sitting on the benches, listening intently to their coach.

“Now fellas, I don’t need to tell you what’s at stake here. That’s not what I’m here for, and that’s the last gosh darn thing I need to be telling you, when I bet you’ve all been thinking about it in your own time,” Ted said, and you caught a glimpse of him through the door. Hands in his pockets, a small smile making his moustache look like an upturned moon on his face. “You all know that you’re capable. When you’re in the flow, well… that’s some of the most beautiful football I’ve ever seen in my, albeit small, time as your coach.”

“It is like a modern dance,” Dani said from within the room. You could practically sense the nods of his teammates around him. “Let us play like we are on stage at the ballet, yes?”

“Well said, Dani!” Ted encouraged. “You know you can do it, and all I’m asking y’all to do is–”

“Believe,” you said suddenly, raising your voice, before you turned the corner and revealed yourself in the doorway. Your own confidence took you by surprise, but it paid off as soon as you saw the faces of the guys.

The energy in the room tripled, and their smiles shone on you like a goddamn spotlight. Ted was the first to approach you, placing a hand on your shoulder gently as he guided you further into the room. He didn’t need to say anything for you to feel the love they were exuding. And as much as you wanted to yell support at them, you knew you had an apology to make.

You turned to guys, urged on by Ted’s hand on your shoulder. “I know I haven’t been to a game for a while, and I’m sorry for that.” You shot the smallest of stares at Roy, only to find his gaze stuck on you already. You breathed out and continued. “But, I’m here now, and–” You turned around quickly, and pointed at the number and name on your shirt. “I’m Richmond till I fucking die!” you yelled, and Nate flinched next to Beard.

The team erupted like young volcanoes. Isaac jumped up first and fast, and bombarded towards you before you’d even fully turned around. He wrapped his arms around you strongly, and lifted you from the ground in a hug of epic proportions. Your feet dangled above the floor, but you simply accepted your fate and hugged him back.

They broke out in song– Richmond till we die, we’re Richmond till we die. We know we are, we’re sure we are, we’re Richmond till we die.

When Isaac finally dropped you to the floor, you stayed back to admire them. You did this whenever you could, just watched them as they pumped each other up, as they intertwined their emotions and got ready to fight a battle on the football pitch. It was a sight to behold, and one that you felt privileged to be able to see.

Just like at Everton, you were thrust from the scene by a tap on the shoulder by Roy. You whisked yourself around to face him, and regarded him thoughtfully. His eyes flicked back and forth between your own, before he peered down your shirt.

He raised his brows subtly. “It suits you,” he said.

You chuckled silently through your nose. “Liar,” you joked.

“It really brings out the neon glow on your face,” Roy said, sticking a hand out to gently prod one of your cheeks. You swatted him away, smiling to yourself as you did so. “Really though, have you run a fucking marathon or something?”

“Fuck off!”

“You’re sweating like you’ve just played ninety-minutes,” he teased.

“I was nervous, okay?” you chuckled out, and Roy’s own laughter melded into the mix.

He dropped his hand to his side, but you almost wished he’d kept it close by. As the last of the laughter trickled between you, a tense feeling hit you in the gut instead. You were reminded of his impromptu visit on Monday, and it all came flooding back to you before you could dam it up. There was something soft that transcended words between you, full of all the prior laughs, the yells, the stares that neither of you ever noticed from the other. The secretive ones, the ones that you were certain were private, until the other abruptly turned around from the feeling of being seen.

Roy cleared his throat, adamant not to blow his fucking cover. “It’s good to have you back,” he said, but as the words fell from his lips so too did the rest. The want, the need and everything in between.

You gulped down his words like you needed them to survive. “It’s good to be back.”

Everything fell back into place after your return. Richmond won the match that Saturday, and drinks were shared in the locker room until the early hours of the morning. You spent the Sunday after at your flat, writing your novel non-stop as a tsunami of inspiration struck you from out of the blue. Typing on your keyboard, you lost sense of time entirely, and found yourself writing for more than five hours before you got up to do anything– eat, drink, take a piss. Bursts of inspiration were a rarity for you, so you knew you had to bleed yourself dry before it lapsed.

As the last of your assignments were due, you took pleasure in the peace of your office at the stadium. You tried not to think about how fast time was running out. As the weeks rushed by, the inevitable end of your placement was fast approaching, but you weren’t going to let it get you down. You knew that, despite leaving Richmond, you had made friends for life. You’d be damned if you and Sam didn’t share book recommendations beyond your time working there, and you were determined to be a true Richmond season ticket holder from here on in.

They were your team, your family, and deep down you knew you’d always be welcomed back with open arms. You could already imagine yourself strolling the corridors after a game, or randomly dropping in on the guys during a lunch break. That craving wasn’t going to fade away anytime soon. You would embrace it.

Richmond’s match win upon your return was joyous, yes, but it wasn’t enough. As the final month of the season hit you, whispers whittled around the corridors of the lower levels of the Dogtrack. You knew the rumours, the whispers, the mutters, and it wasn’t just because of Higgin’s love of gossip–

It was written all over Roy’s face.

There wasn’t anything that triggered it, so to say, but his form was becoming more noticeable with every game that the guys played. For years, Roy had been a staple of AFC Richmond, but as Coach Lasso finally spread his wings across his players, it was clear to see there was a difference in performance when it came to their team Captain.

You noticed it alongside everyone else, one practice, when you’d decided to take your laptop outside and sit in the stands. As the guys ran drills, Roy’s abrupt curse words and incessant effing and blinding only exacerbated the levels of his struggle. This was exactly what he’d spoken about in your interview– the inevitably that he was slowing down, that he simply couldn’t catch up with his younger teammates anymore.

You saw it when he urged himself forward, through pain and stiff joints and hurt. You saw it when he avoided team outings after more failed plays during games. Eventually, there had to be a final straw, and it came in the form of Roy causing the team to lose during the penultimate match of the season.

It was too much to be ignored, and everyone knew it.

After the game, you entered the locker room as players started trickling out to head home. You hadn’t wanted to bombard them afterwards, least of all Roy. You sent Sam a small smile as he called it a night, and you found yourself sitting in the locker room with your back against Roy’s cubby. He was nowhere to be seen, and you’d heard mutters about him taking an ice-bath in the treatment room.

Ted strolled towards you from the manager’s office, and sent you a stellar smile as he sat next to you on the bench.

You breathed together in understanding. It was impossible not to feel the realisation of it all, and as much as you wanted Roy to keep going, you were afraid he was going to kill himself trying, instead.

“What’re you thinking about, writer?” Ted asked, and you huffed through your nose.

The team had been calling you writer after Nate had your shirt made. It was their nickname for you, despite it sounding like nothing affectionate. To you, though, it meant a lot.

“I don’t know,” you let out. “What’re you thinking about, Coach?”

Ted leaned back into Sam’s cubby, and sighed deeply. “I’m thinking about far too much to be able to pick just one thing, if I’m being honest,” he said in his familiar Southern drawl. You’d grown fond of it over the past eight months. “It all comes down to next week.”

“Relegation, you mean?” you asked. It was pointless to, but it was almost like addressing the elephant in the room.

“Relegation, indeed,” Ted said lowly. “Lemme ask you this.” He sat up straight, and turned to face you on the bench. “What would you do if you had to choose between the– objectively right– opinions of your fellow coaches, or the dignity and pride of one of the greatest football players of your generation?”

God, he was fucking talking about Roy. In any other moment, you’d be happy to talk about Roy until your voice was nothing but a crack, but if it was about benching him; you didn’t want to talk about it all. It was impossible to navigate, and even more impossible to accept that reality. Benching Roy before the final game of the season would affect more than just his feelings, and you were glad it wasn’t you that had to make Ted’s decision for him.

As much as you wanted Roy to play, there was part of you that wanted to scream at him to look at the bigger picture. This game wasn’t worth that pain. It wasn’t worth hurting himself to keep up with his teammates. If it was too much, that wasn’t anything to be ashamed of in your eyes, but you suspected that was very different on Roy’s part.

You sighed deeply, stuck at a crossroads. You suspected Beard and Nate had already been on Ted’s ass to get him to pull off the bandaid, to just say it to Roy and get it over with, but you didn’t want to add anything to the mix that would sway Ted’s decision further. It was hard enough as it was.

“That’s a decision I couldn’t possibly make, Coach,” you said finally, and shot him a knowing smile. “I’m not in your shoes, and if I was–” you stopped, struggling to get the words out. “Well, that’s just it. I’m not. I wouldn’t be able to decide. Not when I love them all so much.”

“The guys, you mean?” he asked.

You shrugged. “Amongst others, yes.”

Ted smiled at that, getting what you were hinting at. You loved them all. The guys, the coaches, Rebecca, Keeley, Higgins. Ted’s smile quickly turned into shock and realisation. “Oh, heck! I totally forgot about you.”

You squinted at him in surprise. “What about me?”

“Your placement finishes next week, don’t it?”

You gulped away the want to cry. “It does, indeed,” you mimicked his Southern drawl to break open the sadness and tension you felt, but Ted saw straight through you.

He leaned in gently, and bashed his shoulder against yours. “You really think they’re all gonna let you go that easy, huh?” he said jokingly, but the knowing look in his eyes made you feel seen. You suspected he felt it himself, too. With the threat of relegation mere days away, you didn’t doubt that the subject of Ted resigning had come up before.

He was actually thinking about it then, as the two of you shared a look that was impossible to ignore. In one glance, you both said the same thing– you’d both miss Richmond beyond belief when your time there came to an end.

“He’s in the treatment room,” Ted said suddenly, changing the subject. “Roy.”

“He probably wants to be left alone,” you said, staring off to the manager’s office door. Above it, Ted’s believe poster lit up the room.

“Oh, he definitely does, don’t get me wrong,” Ted said, before he stood up from the bench. “But, I bet he wouldn’t be opposed to you keeping him company for a little while.”

As Ted strolled back to the manager’s office, you got up yourself. You breathed deeply a few times, before you slowly crossed the hall to the treatment room. The lights were off, but the large bin for ice-baths was set up inside, with the glare from the TV screen on lightening it. Through the window, you spotted Roy’s eyes just over the lip of the bin, and you gently entered through the door.

He didn’t say anything as you pulled up a stool and sat next to him. Only after a moment did he stir, and sit himself up so his head poked out of the ice cold water. You both sat and watched the TV for a bit, as a broadcaster whittled on about Richmond’s latest match.

You winced when they mentioned Roy’s fuck up. Pundits on screen discussed his plays, and his losses. You hated how they were talking in past tense– Roy was, instead of Roy is. It made you angry enough to grab the remote quickly and turn off the screen, before you dropped yourself back onto the stool next to him.

Gently, he turned his head towards you. You stayed frozen, not wanting to meet his eye just yet, because you didn’t want him to gauge your expression. As much as it annoyed you, Roy’s ability to read your face like a fucking book was also a sign of something more. It started after the night of the charity ball, when he’d calmed you down in your kitchen, and had only grown since then. As much as that invisible wall still stood between you, even after you made up from your fight, you knew he’d still be able to know everything about you in a single stare.

Roy flicked his eyes over your profile. You felt every hair on your body stand up,

“Just tell me to fuck off, if you want,” you said, breathing out deeply.

“Okay,” Roy said plainly. You thought that meant yes.

You turned to him and caught his eye bluntly. “Go on, then.”

“I don’t want you to fuck off,” he said, furrowing his brows at you questioningly. “Do you want me to tell you to fuck off?”

You huffed in frustration. “No,” you said. You didn’t know how to tread this, didn’t know what to say. Maybe the guys thought you were good, empathetic, a great listener, but when it came to Roy you didn’t know what you could say to make it better.

Probably nothing, which was what you struggled with.

“Okay, then,” he said, before he turned back to the blank screen.

You both stared at it together, sitting in each other’s silence with an understanding that floated through the air. You didn’t want to bring it up, and Roy knew that. He also didn’t want to bring it up, which you were perfectly fine with. So instead, you simply sat, and you said nothing. The air felt warm despite the ice cubes floating in Roy’s ice bath, or maybe it was just you.

You hadn’t been alone like this since he’d shown up at your apartment, and after something as severe as his last game, you were under even more pressure to say and do the right thing.

“What are you thinking about?” Roy croaked out gently.

You sighed. “Everyone’s been asking me that today,” you let out.

Roy shuffled in the ice bath, hoisting himself up so he could drape his bare arms over the back of the bin. “What did you tell em?”

You met his eye finally, and shrugged your shoulders. “I don’t know. I have no fucking idea what I’m thinking about.”

“All the time?” Roy asked, and you ignored the way his gaze flicked up and down your face, just for a second.

You huffed gently. “All the time.”

“Ask me what I’m thinking about,” he said.

You flicked your gaze over his stoic face, only now, it didn’t look so stoic. It looked raw, emotional, and soft. All the things you knew that Roy Kent wasn’t on the outside, but what he’d been like to you after that night.

“What are you thinking about, Roy?” you whispered, and his lips upturned into the smallest and most imperceptible of smiles.

“I’m thinking about how much that fucking shirt suits you,” he said, referring to the Richmond shirt that you wore. “It suits you more than it’s ever suited me.”

You turned away quickly, feeling your cheeks warm. “Oh, fuck off,” you breathed out, trying to hide how flustered you were.

“I mean it,” he said gently, and you allowed yourself to peer back at him. “It’s going to be strange without you here.”

You’d been counting down the days. Only six remained until your final Friday working in that office, next to the gym, with the guys laughter, and tears, and hurt, and pain, and all the rest.

“I’m going to miss it,” you let out, and your voice almost cracked.

Gently, Roy hoisted an arm out of the ice bath and reached towards you. Gently, he prodded a careful finger onto one of your warm cheeks, just for a second, hardly felt by you apart from the immense cold that rushed over every inch of your body. A shiver of him.

“Me too,” he said with a finality, before he retracted his arm.

The two of you looked back at the blank screen before you, sat in darkness, hearing the soft huffs of your breathing as the room stayed stuck in time.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Tag list: @atjamesbbarnes​ @20th-centu-fairy-girl​ @royalestrellas​ @weakmoony-stuff​ @ironmanmagnetfridge​ @lemonpiegurll​ @hellomagicalsouls​ @her-fandom-sanctum @gothicwidowsworld​ @old-enough-to-know-better73​ @djarindroid​ @afraidofshrimp​ @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog @queen-of-dumbasses​ @sogoodtoheritsvicious​ @lznnph1l @crav1ngc4ke​ @onceuponaoneshot​ @jamieolivia27​ @dadbodfanatic-x​ @kelp-dreaming​ @harrypedro465 @lonely-escape-artist​ @abeeabeeabee @nicklet94 @libsybum @cha0sdreaming​ @toomany24s​ @kashee-h​ @infinetlyforgotten​ @secretnook​ @cluelesslilsharkie​ @callmecasey81​ @deepdarkvelvet​ @twiceinabluemoon​ @cardeegans​ @golden-hoax​ @kingleahhh​ @hoalkk1 @sunderland-6​ @ellouisa17​ @thesestrangerslikeme​

#roy kent x reader #roy kent #ted lasso #fanfiction #x reader #lightyaers #take care fic #update #writeblr #ff #ao3 #archive of our own #wattpad #second person #brett goldstein #fluff #angst #enemies to friends to lovers #slow burn #romance #ted lasso fanfiction

[ellieswifie]

︿︿ ੈ[ 📺 ] ༉‧₊˚✧ meet me in the hallway | ellie williams

♪ meet me in the hallway — harry styles

summary: after a messy breakup with ellie williams, you’ve tried your best to distance yourself from her and her drama. but running into each other at a college party doesn’t seem to turn in your favor…

warnings: ex-gf!ellie x fem!reader, 18+ mdni, drinking, party party, swearing, smoking, heartbreak, angst, smooching, not really proof read lol, and that’s it, i think

authors note: one of my top favorite harry styles songs and will most likely always be. the lyrics are an absolute masterpiece and everything about this track makes me go feral. so why not make a gut-wrenching story? lol. also the start is kinda rocking, but it gets better. ˗ˋ.*✧·˚ ೃ࿔₊• GOING TO THE PARTY WAS DINA’S IDEA. she said going to this party would embrace your zen. that going to this college party would bring a state of calm, and peace after your horrid breakup.

but even after her wise yoda words, you still hadn’t pieced out exactly what your best friend met. in your mind going to a wacky college party would just build another drunk night out for you and your friends, more school drama to deal with, and an ass hangover to deal with in the morning.

but dina insisted.

and she was your best friend. if she thought going to the party was the best idea in her mind, it was a somewhat good idea in yours. even if you had a pit feeling that you’d kill yourself for the headache in the morning.

but here you are, standing across the room from your ex-lover. embracing your zen

your mind could only think about how great ellie looked. her hair pulled back into her signature bun she does, her flannel rolled up towards her elbows, full tat on display for the crowd around her. a beered bottle sways in her hand as she looks at the group talking around her.

you almost felt like you hadn’t had any glow up considering how amazing your ex girlfriend looked in front of you. you simply just put on some lazy baggie jeans and a sleeve less top that barley fits.

she hadn’t noticed you yet. but you watched her from across the crowded party room from where you were standing beside dina and her boyfriend.

dina was way too busy eye fucking jessie to notice you only watching ellie. you watched as her eyebrows furrowed together when her friend was mentioning something to her. you watched as she messed with the hair tie on her wrist.

it was as if you were analyzing every little detail about her as you just stood there.

dina caught your eye carefully, pulling you away from the view of ellie, and into a room where a group of students was taking shots.

“you need to get over her, babe.” dina said, raising a shot glass for the both of you, but you just simply shake your head. more so to her comment, but dina nods and places the extra glass back on the table.

“i am over ellie.” you mutter, watching dina quickly take the shot. she sticks her tongue out for a moment, nearly gagging at the taste. “yeah that was fucking disgusting.” her noise scrunched together when she said that.

a small laugh leaves your lips when she leans over, picking up another one. she quickly drains that glass too, shaking her body off at the horrible taste.

you yourself weren’t much of a drinker, but when you did drink, you drank. like dina. once she starts, she doesn’t seem to stop.

the loud party song slowly faded out of tune, as the next song began to play. dina gasped so loud you jumped when her arms launched at you. “this is my fucking song!” she sounded, receiving looks at the parties around you. yeah! by user began to echo loudly on the speakers.

before you can tell dina you are not dancing, she drags you along to the dance floor, pushing anyone in the way. you stood in front of dina, slowly swaying your hips as dina let herself feel to the music, shouting the lyrics in the process.

you couldn’t help yourself but laugh at your best friend. she was completely making a fool of herself, but you knew you loved her for that. her middle name had to be party animal, because dina is wild.

jesse, as well as a few other crowds, moved their way onto the dance floor, dancing almost as wild as dina. you laughed as you reached for dina, dancing together.

you felt as if they weren’t any worries in the world. you danced and laughed, watching your best friends just enjoy themselves with no care in the world.

but the song was slowly ending and jessie and dina were laughing in each other’s arms. you were back to being single and alone.

dina watched you from behind her shoulder, still tangled around jesse. her smile faded as she watched you stand awkwardly on the dance floor. but she wasn’t frowning at you.

she was frowning at ellie standing directly behind you.

you hadn’t noticed her at all. for a long moment, you completely forgot she was here. but when you turned around and finally met eyes with her, the world felt mute, and you could only hear her breathing.

your body had frozen and her eyes only stared at hers.

ellie shifted her stance, stepping back away from you for a moment. her head fell and you finally looked away from her eyes. you felt like you couldn’t speak as she stood in front of you.

you both had so much to say to each other, but nothing was leaving your mouth. you just stood and watched her.

“can i please talk to you..” ellie whispered, only loud enough for the two of you to hear. her eyes were soft. you hadn’t how apologetic she looked in this moment. “someone private.”

it’s been months since you guys have said a word to each other, and here she is, asking to finally talk to you.

you hear dina call your name from behind you and you quickly turn your head to your best friend. “we’re gonna catch a smoke, coming?” it wasn’t a question, it was more direct. more so, “we are catching a smoke, let’s go.”

you just stared at her, confused if you should stay and say everything that was left unsaid to ellie, or if you should leave and receive no answers from her.

you turn your head to looked back at ellie. her head was raised, looking between you and dina. she was hesitant to say something but you just turned around, and walked out with dina.

because with ellie it’s always gonna be her just standing there speechless. even if she wanted to say something, you knew she wouldn’t. deep down you knew she didn’t change, she won’t change she just piles everything that’s going on inside her head and distances her self away from the people who care for her.

as of the night of the break up. she left with no explanation of what’s going on with her and just decided breaking up was the reasonable expectation.

and certainly it wasn’t.

as you frustratedly walk out to the front lawn with jesse and dina, dina looks back at you, watching your expression turn to anger faster than lightning.

“hey,” dina stopped. you let your face drop watching dina hold a smile. she placed a hand on your cheek and you tried smiling down at your best friend. “if she doesn’t want to apologize, don’t bring yourself down for it. it’s not your fault.”

this is why you loved dina. she has been through this horrible situation with you since day one. she cares for your mental health, and loves you deeply.

dina’s hand lowers to her sides, pulling out a cigarette. she holds the cigarette up to her lips, before she pulls out a lighter. once the cigarette is lit, she takes a few hits, before offering you the cigar. you easily accept it, looking around you.

“remember, we are here to embrace our zen.” dina reminded, laughing as she takes the cigarette. you smile at your best friend while she makes her way to her boyfriend.

jesse has his own cigarette, leaning against the side of the house. dina smiles at boyfriend, leaning into his hold. they haven’t really been alone since we got here and i feel awful.

i’ve been following dina around like a dog and i beg jesse is tired of my presence and just wants to talk with his girlfriend.

“hey i’m gonna go to the bathroom.” i say as i step backward from the couple. dina shoot’s up from jesse. “do you want me to go with you?” she immediately says.

my head shakes, laughing at her immediate reaction. “no i’m just gonna fix my hair, or something.” dina nods her head, leaning back towards her boyfriend.

you walk inside the crowded party, moving past the crowded room. you find yourself standing in the hallway opening doors to find the bathroom.

when you finally knock on the door to what you suppose is the bathroom, a muffled voice answers. “occupied!”

you groan, leaning against the wall, beside the door. your arms cross against your exposed stomach, waiting patiently for the door to open.

the entire hallway was empty with only party lights hung around the walls. you could barely see anything in the low lighting. not even the familiar auburn girl opening the bathroom door you had been waiting to enter.

you didn’t recognize her at first, until you finally turned you eyes to look at her. both your eyes widened at the same time you finally recognized each other.

ellie opened her mouth to say something, but you didn’t want to hear it. you tried sliding into the bathroom, but ellie stopped you, slipping her hand towards your arm.

you gasped at the sudden contact, feeling completely vulnerable in the moment. ellie noticed and quickly spoke. “can i please talk to you?”

you huffed, tugging your arm away. “about what ellie? the way you just left with no explanation or the way you can’t speak like a normal person and open up to someone who loved you.” past tense.

“i wasn’t in the right mindset when we called things off, i’m sorry.” ellie spoke up, finally meeting your eyes. you looked at her pissed. that’s it? you thought. months of no contact and that’s all she has to say.

“you can’t be serious right now? you hadn’t said a word to me in months and that’s all you have to say? your need help williams.” you raged, placing your hand on the door.

ellie stepped, but you raised your finger at her. “you fucking left with you no explanation, and now your back, still with no explanation.” a tear fell down your face as you tore your finger away. “you’re a joke, ellie. if you want someone to love you, you have to open up to someone-”

“i was afraid.” ellie shouted, interrupting you. “it fucking terrified me that things were perfect and i didn’t want to get hurt. i love you so fucking much and i didn’t want things to end with me getting hurt.”

you just huffed at her response. “so you went out of your way and hurt me? that’s so low.” a small yelp left your lips as you spoke. ellie flinched at the pain in your voice.

“i didn’t mean to hurt you, i just- i just thought-” she didn’t finish her sentence, because you shut the bathroom door in her face. you stared at the shut door, waiting for her to shut your name, or say something, but she didn’t.

you heard footsteps leave the door, and you just fell. you wanted ellie to fight for what you had. you wanted her to scream at you to take her back, but she just left, again.

you sobbed for minutes before you heard a few knocks on the bathroom door. “in a minute.” you cried, rising from the floor to check yourself in the mirror. you looked like a mess. you couldn’t let dina see yourself like this. so, you reached over and fixed your makeup with a few tissues. your hair looked horrific, so you tied it back into a ponytail.

after fixing yourself, you opened the door to a couple smiling and giggling. your face dropped and moved out of the way for them to sneak into the bathroom.

the door shut and you just stared across you. looking at ellie. she sat there waiting for you to come back out. she felt as if giving up on you would haunt her for the rest of her life. she still loved you, even if you hated her for leaving what you guys use to have.

ellie raised to her feet, keeping a fair distance from you. “i’m really sorry,” she whispered. “you have every reason to hate me, yell at me, but i actually hate myself for just leaving like i did. i’m childish and an asshole, i know, but i would do absolutely anything for you to at least forgive me.”

you stared at her long and hard. what she said seemed true, but you didn’t want to get yourself hurt. “why?” you only ask, still watching her. “why did you leave me like that?”

“i told you, because i was scared.”

“why are you scared? why did you think i would leave with no-”

“because every single person i’ve cared about has left me. what we had was the only thing i cared about and i felt so afraid to loss it.” she confessed, looking into your eyes. you felt horrible. ellie wasn’t one to talk about her past, but you knew she didn’t have much family.

she stepped closer to you and you flinched slightly, so she stopped. she stopped and waited for some sort of sign that it was okay to get closer, step closer. but you didn’t. you instead stepped closer to ellie, raising your hands to her cheeks, keeping eye contact.

her hands lowed to your waist, resting there as you pulled your body closer to hers. you just needed to feel close to her, it’s been months and you just wanted her.

a small strand of hair fell in front of her eyes while she watched you. you let your fingers twirl the strand before tucking it behind her ears slowly.

you missed this.

you missed just standing close to her, having her close. but you hated wanting her, longing for her after everything you had been through the past months.

your smile dropped for a moment, letting your eyes fall. you wanted to push her away, yell at her, but you felt clung to her. like she was your missing puzzle piece. like she made you feel whole.

when you met eyes with her once more, she was forcing a smile on her lips, holding back tears. ellie has also missed this, you. she missed the way you’d hold her, the way you felt on her lips, she just missed you.

but she knew that the way she left things off wouldn’t just let you magically back into her life. so she needed you to trust her, she needed you to want her again like before.

so her hands fell from your waist, pushing you away.

“i’m not going to just expect you to want me back like nothing happened.” ellie spoke, lowing her head. “so when you’re ready, when you think i’m worthy enough to love you again, meet me in the hallway.”

your eyebrows furrowed together as she just left things off like that. million of questions and thoughts crowded your head as she just walked away, again. but the biggest thought was, what hallway? what hallway would you meet her in? where is this hallway? why’d she just leave?

then it clicked.

you and ellie had been through hell and back together. but the one thing you cherish most about your relationship was the late-night sneak ways in school hallways or party hallways. the way so many things would be going around the two of you, but you guys would always find yourself sneaking away to be alone.

when you were at your absolute worst freshman year of college, ellie found you in the dark hallway, crying. every since then, you guys care about that hallway as if it was the best thing that happened to you guys. because if ellie hadn’t walked down there, you would’ve never met her.

and if you don’t ever meet her in that hallway, you’ll never be with her like before.

-

senior year of college. it’s been exactly one year since the party and one year of still no communication. ellie waited in the hallway for at least two hours every single day, waiting for you.

she wanted you to want to be in the hallway like old times, but deep, deep down she knew what you guys had, was gone. and she’ll hate herself every single day for leaving you like she did.

as ellie sat against the way in her plain blue jeans and grey hoodie, she finally came to her senses you weren’t coming. it was the last day of college. everyone was packing and heading out their dorms, while ellie sat against a brick hallway wall, waiting for someone you.

and she needed to accept that.

and today she did. she gathered her bag off the floor, raising to her feet. but right when she turned around to leave. she saw you standing in your day to day clothes.

you were nervous to move, say something, but ellie couldn’t help but smile at you finally standing in front of her. you slowly smiled at the fact she was smiling at you and turned your head away.

“hi,” she whispered. her steps got closer to you and you looked at her, eyes searching her face. she looked like the same old ellie, but more mature. she looked slightly more happy and healthy with herself. you loved that for her because you yourself have grown.

you had an amazing job opportunity waiting for you after college and you’ve matured yourself.

when ellie placed a hand on your hip, you wanted to hide your face. you were smiling and blushing like crazy. but before you could cover any sign of embarrassment, ellie pulled you by your jeans hoop, kissing you hard.

you were completely surprised, but then your hands found her cheeks, holding her close. it felt amazing having to kiss ellie. you hadn’t been with anyone since the party and now that your here sharing a kiss with the only person in the world you want to be with, it was everything.

ellie pulled away first, catching her breath. her forehead leaned against yours, smiling like a little child. you smiled with her, trying to meet her eyes.

“hi.”

#ellie williams angst #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams #the last of us #tlou #the last of us part 2 #tlou fic #tlou x reader #modern au #college!ellie williams #ex-gf!ellie williams #fem!reader #ellie x you #second person #ellieswifie #gracie writes

[nakunakunomi]

This is my contribution to a secret santa discord server event. This fic is warm and fluffy and I LOVED writing it, I love these characters SO much. I hope you like it too!

Warnings/notes/tags are: polyamory, unspecified AU where Geto is not evil, unspecified whether this is a non-cursed world or a jujutsu AU where we just ignore the presence of curses. Loads and loads and loads of fluff.

2nd person. Reader is genderneutral, no pronouns are used.

Spending the winter holidays with Geto and Gojo is… 

…finding time in your busy schedules so the three of you can enjoy a winter market.

Strolling along the little stalls, taking in the views and the smells. It’s winter, and it has been dark for a while, but all the twinkling lights decorating the stalls reflecting into the white snow -both real and fake- make up for all that darkness. The smells are a little overwhelming at first, all kinds of stalls lined up flooding your senses with strong, sweet odors, heavy spices and the warmth of grilled meats… it’s a lot, combined with the sights and the jolly music playing from the speakers spread around the market, you can’t help but feel a little overwhelmed. 

It doesn’t help that Satoru is immediately overly enthusiastic, ready to spend money on souvenirs and gifts for all the students and everyone else he knows, and pointing out all the stalls he’d like to try the food at. He’d run off without you two if it weren’t for Suguru’s quick reflexes, grabbing onto the hood of his jacket and janking him back. Suguru’s holding your hand firmly in his, grounding you from all the things overwhelming your senses. 

You stroll past the stalls, for some reason holding a whole bunch of bags from Satoru, who just can’t seem to stop getting stuff. At every stall there is something that reminds him of one of his studens, his friends or either of you, and he just has to get it. 

You leave the market filled with all kinds of foods and drinks, Suguru suggesting a little break amongst the food stalls, and Gojo getting a little bit of everything to sample, completely filling the little table you are standing at with various containers and plates, one smelling and looking more delicious than the other. You have to fight a little to ensure you get to sample some of the sweet desserts, and all three of you end up with smears on your faces from various sauces- feeding each other is romantic only when you don’t joke around and miss mouths on purpose (and of course you had to have revenge). 

… snuggling up on the couch, shivering and sniffling, full of regret but still shaking from laughter, after Suguru sneakily started a snowball fight on your way home. 

You had felt the cold snow collide with the back of your head and turned around immediately, throwing an accusatory glare at Satoru, who immediately put his hands up in defense. 

“I swear y/n- It wasn’t me I-…” 

His pleas immediately interrupted by yet another snowball, this one narrowly missing the tip of his nose, the both of you whipping your heads around to see Suguru standing with his hands hidden behind his back, giving you both his most innocent smile before grinning and throwing two more snowballs at the both of you simultaneously, a remarkable display of his aim and strength. Though this time you saw them coming and both you and Satoru managed to duck away in time, already grabbing handfuls of snow for your counter-offense. 

The two-against-one-match quickly turned into an all-out battle where each of you had to fend for themselves, because you slipped and nearly fell, throwing one of your snowballs to Satoru, who had promptly declared you his enemy as well. 

You spent almost two hours laughing, running around, hiding from snowballs and each other, you felt like kids again. As if there was not a single care in the world. You continued until your stomach hurt from laughing, your fingers ached from the cold, and you could barely feel your face anymore. 

The minute your little snowball fight was over, you realized just how much snow had melted and had managed to get through to your clothes, despite your gloves, scarf and jacket protecting you from most of the cold. 

You went back inside, changing into warm clothes, fluffy socks and cuddling up on the couch. You put on a silly movie for some background noise and entertainment, Suguru retrieved the blankets and Satoru prepped hot cocoa, overflowing your mugs with way too many mini marshmallows, offering to ‘help’ either one of you if you thought there were too many for you to eat- how kind of him. 

You sat in between the two men, knees pulled up and neatly tucked under the blanket. You barely registered the movie you put on, too busy getting warmed up and enjoying the serenity and pure happiness you felt in that moment. 

…making all kinds of plans, only to spend most of the holiday resting and chilling. 

There were things that had to be done: some household chores as well as work, and there were some things that you wanted to do for fun. Going to visit a new shopping center nearby, explore some city sights you hadn’t had the chance to. You wanted to go out on some dates, go for long walks enjoying the winter landscapes, relax, not worry and stress too much. There was work to be done, but work would always be there, and opportunities to relax and do fun things were scarce, especially in periods where the three of you were available. 

Suguru is a go with the flow kind of person, so he’s happy to tag along to whatever plans you make. Satoru however, is like a kid in a candy store when there is suddenly a lot of free time on your hands, and he is on the couch with his laptop in no time, ready to order tickets to anything you wanna visit, booking trips, and talking about so many plans you wonder out loud where he thinks he’s going to find the time to do all that. 

The fact that you finally can relax makes all the plans seem exciting though, and initially you are 100% behind Satoru, adding on suggestions, sending him links and scrolling on your phone, doing additional research for a lot of the places and activities he suggests. You do listen to Suguru who suggests only really booking things when you’re sure you can go do it, when timing, planning, transport, other plans and your energy levels are all aligned and allow you to do the activity.

He turns out to be the voice of reason, cause all three of you have such a hard time getting up in the morning, finally getting to sleep in (and it’s quite hard getting up when you’re in someone else's arms, comfortable and warm). 

Chores -unless really necessary- get postponed, plans get cancelled. Instead you stay in, watching silly movies, and finally catching up on the latest series you really wanted to watch. You go on walks together, exploring your own neighborhood and stopping at restaurants you haven’t had the chance to try out yet. You focus all your time and effort on quality time and enjoying the time all three of you have together. And you very quickly realize that truly, you do not need to have big and exciting plans to make the most of your winter break. 

… sharing a bed, because it is ‘cold’ outside. 

You leave your windows open at night, because it’s healthier, and you don’t like feeling all stuffy in the morning. There is a certain charm about entering a cold room and snuggling underneath the warm blankets, warming up as you fall asleep, and waking up in your own little warm cocoon. Especially if you have no further responsibilities that day, your blankets keeping you trapped in bed on a cold winter day, sleeping in. 

It is a little less exciting though when the temperatures drop abruptly, and the room is not nice and chilly, but actually is freezing when you go in. You are shivering when you get changed, and your blankets just don’t feel right. Your feet might as well be blocks of ice in your warm, fuzzy, socks. 

It only takes a few minutes of tossing and turning before you decide you need to get a better source of heat in your bed. Or a bed, doesn’t necessarily matter which one. 

So you wrap yourself in a blanket, carefully closing the door behind you, and shuffle your way through the dark hallway, only to find Satoru -your current target- standing in the hallway, mirroring yourself with his blanket wrapped around you as well. 

“It’s too cold in my room”, is the only thing you can blurt out as an explanation, feeling the overwhelming need to explain, even though that’s not necessary. He just nods in acknowledgement, and you need no further words between the two of you to know what the next step is. 

Suguru is already peacefully asleep in a room that’s colder than the rest of the house, but not freezing temperature. Leave it to him to actually properly figure out when to open and close the windows in his room to reach maximum oxygen and the best possible temperature to still be able to snuggle underneath the blankets without risking to freeze overnight. 

Suguru is a quiet sleeper, almost too silent, and you worry you might have woken him up by opening his door. But you didn’t; he merely stirs in his sleep, lips parting in a quiet sigh, hand moving up a little to lay on top of the raven hair that’s splayed upon his pillow. 

You are both as quiet as possible when you enter, Suguru only waking up when you both slip into the bed to either side of him, piling your blankets on top of him and snuggling close. There is a brief moment of surprise, followed by a very sleepy nod of acknowledgement. All three of you take a little time to adjust to three people in the bed, and it’s not entirely sure whose limbs are entangling with who, but it doesn’t matter as you can already feel your body relaxing the second you find a comfortable position. 

Your eyelids grow heavy while you hear Suguru and Satoru quietly converse in the background. You squeeze an arm that is around you, a quiet way of saying goodnight. 

…feeling warm, no matter the temperature. Because you are safe. You are loved. 

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #geto x reader #gojo x reader #geto x gojo x reader #satosugu #satoru x reader #suguru x reader #polyam #winter fic #holiday fic #reader insert #second person #GN reader #secret santa #fluff #humor #cosy #jjk reader insert

[ishipgenfics]

You and Your Human: Part 1

You are small. You have tall ears and a long tail you use for balance and to carry things. You are covered in orange-yellow fur. Standing on two legs, you are about three feet tall, but you do not usually stand on two legs. Your front legs have opposable thumbs. Your language is a series of chirps and squeaks.

You are very, very smart. You were a member of your species first space venture. You were sent as a doctor. In the years since, you have worked on nearly twenty different ships. You discovered you have a natural knack for languages. You know everything you would ever need to know.

But... you do not understand humans.

You have heard the stories, of course. Humans are very new to the galaxy, even newer than you, and they are feared. They are strong, able to take levels of pain that would kill even a Xephala. They choose the things they care about, and will destroy anything else without hesitation. They are unaffected by mental tortures, seeming to suppress memories that would make any other species break. They are deadly, and to be avoided at all costs.

But personally, you don't really see it. Your human is bigger than you, of course, but you know that you are small. It rips fabric easily, but it as gentle with you as a Kaysbury beetle. Terror flashed in its eyes when you tried to give it a medical examination. It shrieked like a nestling when it accidentantly cut itself on a bolt.

For Saint's sake, this thing can't even handle spice! How could this possibly be a threat?

You cannot speak with your human. Though you know many languages, you do not know the one it speaks. You are trying to learn. You have never yet found a language you could not master. Until then, you find other ways to understand him.

Your human is tall, obviously compared to you, but even compared to the pictures of other humans you have seen in books. It is good at projecting a confident aura, but it has tells. Its hands shake, just a little, when it is in an enclosed space. It clenches its paws when a Cervilian comes on screen. And it hates medical equipment. Its breathing speeds up noticeably when it is forced to be near such.

You record all your observations with a keen eye and a yellow notepad, and adjust your behavior accordingly.

Although your human seems uncomfortable around others, you need your crew back. This flight was supposed to be a test drive, trying out some of their duties in the new vehicle. You got distracted by your human, but the deadline is swiftly approaching. They will assume you dead if you do not return soon.

Your human is sleeping. You do not know if it has gone at light-speed before, and you do not have the words to explain. You hope it will not awaken.

You hop up into your captain's chair. It was made for a creature taller than you, but it will serve. You tap the appropriate command and passcode into the panel at your side. It glows and hums in acknowledgement. Your human has never been here. It does not like bright lights. You will have to ask Meritha if she can adjust it once you get back.

To your relief, the light-travel goes off without a hitch. It's always a dangerous procedure, no matter how many pamphlets they pass out, and you know it. You also know you aren't the best pilot in your crew. The only reason you were sent was for your diplomacy. You might not make it back, but at least you won't start a war.

You knock on your human's door and it emits a low beeping frequency until your human wakes up. Its lips are pointed downward and it is slumping. Your human dislikes being woken up.

"Thing? What-is?" your human says in your language. You shake your head (means negative, negate action). You know its language better than it knows yours, and you already have to translate for your crew. You have explained countless times that it is simply easier for you to learn rather than it, but your human is persistent. It is... endearing. In its way.

"New place," you explain. "New people. You okay?"

"Why?" your human answers. It looks uncertain. You jump up onto its shoulder and run dexterous fingers through its hair. Your human likes touch.

"Ship," you hesitate. "More safe with them. Them here, than you safer. Us safer."

"They are good?" your human asks. Its voice is low. It is being vulnerable, showing its emotions. You are so proud.

You nod. Your tail is swaying, your eyes are bright, your ears tall. It's honestly a little embarrassing-- you are glad your human can't read Pyrican body language. "Good. Safe."

You land upon the planet, your human by your side. It is wrapped up in tight clothes and a mask. It did not fight this, although you did not have the words to explain why. Your human never seemed to need the explanation that being a human was a dangerous thing in this galaxy. It knew.

Your crew is not here. This is the meeting spot. You checked, and double checked. It is in an isolated location, but with a mountain to serve as an easy sign if you land in the wrong place. This is the right spot. And you are here and they are not.

They... left you.

You have left ships before, of course. When you would get a new assignment, if you saw a better opportunity, if they did something you could not tolerate, if they asked you to do things you were unable to do. You are not a criminal, but you are a freelancer, which means you have run in the same vein as criminals before. Every time you left, it was professional and communicated clearly. If a fight broke out after that, well, that wasn't really your fault now was it?

You have never been left like this. You did not realize quite how much it would hurt.

You feel a gentle tap on one of your front legs, and turn around to see it is your human. It is bent down, with an expression you do not quite recognize on its face. "You-safe?" it asks. "Body tesned. Mind tensed. Me worried you?"

You are too tired to tell it to speak its native language, to not bother itself for you. You are one of the few species that can safely produce adrenaline, and although it doesn't make you a saints-damned killing machine like it does with humans, the crash is just as bad.

"Expected outcome not," you try to explain. Your small body shakes with heavy breathing. Light-travel is stressful and adrenaline is a void of a drug. "Crew should be here. Crew not here. Alone."

Your human wraps you up in a gentle embrace. You feel certain that if it just squeezed a little tighter, it could pop you like a balloon, but it does not. "I am here."

Whimpering and snuffling, you bury your face into your human and let yourself cry.

#second person #story #story snippet #just a couple oc's of mine #exploring the galaxy #languages are fun!!! #i don't really know much about them #but they are #humans are space orcs #Part 2: You Go Get Some New Crew Members Idiot #also have you seen a pika? #that's what 'you' looks like #but bigger #and with taller ears and a longer tail #writeblr #you and your human

[courtforshort15]

Of Random Things That Have Led Us Here

Pairing: Matt Murdock x GNReader

Word Count: 2600ish

Summary: Life is random and funny, and the pair of you decide just to laugh and embrace what is thrown your way

Trigger warnings: idk, maybe look into a dentist appointment to help with all this tooth rotting fluff

Masterlist

"Do you remember when we met?"

"Hmm?" You don't glance up from the book you're reading when he asks the question out of the blue. Instead, you flip to the next page, only half paying attention to the man whose lap your head is currently resting in.

"I asked you if you remember when we first met?" He repeats, running his hands gently through your hair. You lower the book you have in your hands to look up at him. He's got a soft smile on his lips, the light of the Saturday afternoon sun washing over his face.

"Of course I remember," you tell him, watching as his head tilts down at you, unfocused eyes aimed just slightly to the left of your head. "Do you?"

"I do," Matt affirms quietly, gently. "I think about it a lot."

You grab the hand that's running through your hair and bring it down to your mouth for a kiss. "You think about the first time I ran into you? Like...literally ran into you?"

"All the time," he responds instantly. You snort, recalling the day you had turned a corner in the library and abruptly run into him. The force of the collision had caused you to drop your books and his cane out of his hands as he caught you.

It was so cute it was almost disgusting.

"I think about how you must have known I was coming around that corner," you say in amusement. "You knew I was about to run into you, but you didn't move out of the way."

"That's true," he laughs, shrugging his shoulders. "But we were in public, and I hadn't quite expected you to turn the corner and then trip into me as fast as you did. I had no reasonable excuse for getting out of your way that quickly, and I wasn't about to just let you fall."

"That's an interesting way of you telling me that you purposefully let me walk into you so that you could introduce yourself."

Matt shakes his head in denial, though the smile is still on his lips. "That's a false accusation."

You put the book on the coffee table and sit up, though Matt makes sure to pull you back towards him and into his lap once you're no longer laying down. "Bullshit it is, Murdock. You knew exactly what was going to happen, and you made no move to keep it from happening."

He's laughing again. "I plead the fifth," is all he says in his defense.

"And," you carry on, eyeing the way he bites his bottom lip, something he does when he's being called out and finds it amusing, "you 100% knew where I was when I came back into Hell's Kitchen three weeks later when you "unintentionally" ran into me again."

"It was completely unintentional. I had no idea you were going to be there at that specific time on that specific day."

"Sure, you may have not been expecting me to be there that afternoon, but you deciding to walk in after catching my scent from two blocks over and calling it a mere coincidence to my face was definitely intentional."

Matt flushes. "It's not my fault you were at the McDonalds that was literally on my way to the office," he argues lightly. "Which, gross by the way. I almost decided to keep walking and not waste my time with someone who had such poor taste."

You gasp and punch him in the arm. He mouths the word ow, but you know he's full of shit. "Don't you dare knock their McNuggets. They are delicious."

"Sure, if you like fried chicken that is extremely processed and overly breaded."

"Which I do!" You exclaim. "Are you saying my choice in chicken nuggets almost kept you away? Because if it really offends you so much, maybe you should have kept walking." Matt immediately pulls you back into his lap when you move to stand up, a wide smile on his face. You put up a fight in mock outrage, but ultimately let him settle you back on his thighs, arms wrapped around your waist to keep you locked in this time.

You cross your arms over your chest. "I bet you're going to tell me that you dislike kittens, too. And all things fun."

He grins and kisses your cheek. "I'd gladly walk into every fast food place if I knew you were going to be in there. And you know how much the smell bothers my nose, so you should take that as a compliment, to the highest order."

"God, you're so romantic," you respond as you roll your eyes fondly. "A man after my own heart."

"After it?" Matt smirks, looking way too pleased with himself. "No, sweetheart, I already have it."

It's true. It's completely true.

"You're lucky you're cute," you tell him, pinching his cheek and snickering when he pushes your hand away in fake annoyance. "Or else I would have turned you down."

"No you wouldn't have," he says confidently, a self-assured grin on his handsome face. He's right, you wouldn't have. "And even if you had, it wouldn't have gotten in my way. I tried to find your scent for three weeks before I finally found you. Do you think I would have let you walk away that easily?"

"That sounds really creepy when you say that out loud." Matt shakes his head in disagreement, though his shoulders are shaking in quiet laughter.

"I knew I had found the love of my life; I wouldn't have given up so easily."

"We literally only spoke for ten minutes before we went our separate ways at the library," you remark dryly.

"It was enough for me."

You hmmm in feigned skepticism.

"Maybe I should have said no when you asked me out," you say thoughtfully as you shift in his lap. The look on his face is deicdedly unimpressed. "I had no idea you were prepared to be so stalker-y."

"Only the best efforts for you," he snarks, leaning forward to smack a loud kiss on your cheek. "I had no idea you lived so far outside of the city, which is why it took me so long to find you again in the first place."

"Brooklyn isn't that far," you comment wryly.

He shrugs, grinning. "Far enough that I wasn't able to find you again until you had an appointment with your client that day down the street fron my office."

"Ah, yes," you recall, remembering the annoyance you had felt that day. "The day where my client had me meet him all the way out here, only for him to cancel last minute, leaving me with no lunch plans and a starving stomach. At least I got a cute guy out of the otherwise shitty day."

"Lucky you."

"I mean...I guess I could go so far as to say you were the highlight of the day, but that wouldn't be saying much." Matt laughs and tightens his arms around you.

"I think it all worked out for you in the end, though."

"Eh, the jury's still out on that one," you say nonchalantly, pretending to pick at the non-existent dirt underneath your nails. "Still waiting to see what my other options are, I guess."

He pinches your thigh and you squeal. "You can't lie to me, sweetheart. Did you forget that part?"

"As if I could ever forget, seeing as you remind me of it every time you ask a question you know I don't want to answer."

"Not my fault you're a lying liar who tries to lie."

You look at him, unamused. "What are you, five?"

"Just a fact, sweetheart." The smugness in which he says it makes you roll your eyes, though you do so affectionately. "Can't lie to a man who can literally tell when you're not telling the truth." The man looks entirely too proud of himself.

"You know," you begin teasingly, watching the way the light plays over his face, drawing out the green in his eyes. "You could just say you never want me to leave, instead of getting all testy when I say I'm looking at what else is out there."

"You live here. I'm pretty sure that's what never wanting you to leave means," he deadpans.

"Let me guess, then. You're looking to tie me down, aren't you?" You ask as you run your finger down his cheek. He kisses it as it trails past his mouth. "Keep me from exploring other options?"

"There are no other options," Matt denies, his sightless eyes narrowing. "Not for you."

"Are you calling me undesirable?" You demand in mock outrage. "That's rude, Matthew."

He snickers. "There's no other options because no one else can have you. You're mine." He squeezes you tighter against him, pulling you in for a quick kiss, before you smack his chest hard enough that he lets you pull back. He leans back against the couch with another smirk.

"My, my. Possessive, aren't you? I bet you bought the ring already," you tease him, ready for him to laugh it off.

He doesn't.

Matt stills beneath you, breath caught in his throat, face going alarmingly white, and the change in him is so sudden it's almost jarring. His hand tightens in the shirt you're wearing, and you watch as he swallows, a look of panic crossing over his face.

Realization hits you suddenly as you observe his reaction, and your eyes widen in surprise. You throw your hands up over your mouth as you gasp.

"No," you whisper in disbelief, the word muffled by your hands. You stare at his face, noticing the way his eyes are shifting around the room almost frantically. "You didn't...no, you didn't."

Matt cringes, face now rapidly regaining color, but it goes far past his normal shade and straight into a fire engine red. "Any chance we can rewind the past 15 seconds?"

The shock has worn off, and the smile suddenly breaking out across your face is so wide it hurts. You shake your head adamantly, hands still covering your mouth. "Absolutely not."

He shuts his eyes, grimacing. His tongue peaks out to lick his lips, something he does when he's anxious. "Please?"

You pull your hands away from your face and ignore him completely, moving on to the next question that's bursting out of you. "You already have a ring?"

"I do," he admits reluctantly, and he looks like he'd rather be getting a root canal, or three. "It's with Foggy because you're literally the worst snoop I've ever met."

"That's rich, coming from you."

"A classic case of kettles meeting pots, then."

You let out a quick huff of laughter, but waive the comment away, trying to focus on the matter at hand. You're giddy now, much to his embarrassment over the situation. "When were you going to say something?"

Matt looks visibly pained at your questions, but you're absolutely vibrating in his lap, two seconds away from giggling like a hyena.

"Next weekend. This isn't...this isn't how I planned on asking you," he sighs as he continues to look frozen and mildly horrified. "I was going to--"

"I don't care!" You squiggle out of his lap abruptly, placing your feet on the ground and standing up. "This is...this is so us."

Matt is still flushing as his mouth twists into a quiet frown. "What do you mean by that?"

"It means, my beautiful Matthew," you say as you reach down to grab his hands before trying to pull him up to his feet. All that muscle mass is heavy, and you're lucky he decides to go with it, rising up to stand in front of you. You place your hands on his burning cheeks. "That our relationship has been a series of nothing but funny and random circumstances that has led us here."

"And?"

"And," you continue brightly, grinning like an absolute maniac at this point, "all these funny random circumstances have given me the most love and happiness that I ever could have imagined having in my life." Matt's face begins to to break into a small smile, though it's hesitant.

"And that includes me asking you to marry me while we talk about your love for McNuggets and my stalker-like tendencies?" He looks absolutely bewildered. You smile softly, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair.

"Well technically you haven't asked me yet."

"And if I did?" He questions quietly, though the smile has grown and is less cautious, no doubt finally understanding that you're smiling uncontrollably and haven't backed away screaming. It seems to be enough for him to push past the anxiety that you know has probably been coursing through his body. His hands reach down to your hips to pull you gently into him. "If I were to get down on one knee, right here and now, what would you say?"

"I think I would say that the McNuggets deserve a thank you gift for leading me to my future husband."

His mouth is on yours before you can even blink, and you let out a startled laugh against his lips before you throw your arms around his neck. A hand is in your hair, the other still on your hip, and you can feel him smile into the kiss as he pulls you closer. You're breathing heavily by the time he pulls away.

He places a kiss on your forehead, both hands coming up to cup your face gently.

"You know I would have eventually found you anywhere, right? After weeks of searching, you were just there, in that random McDonalds of all places. Just a few buildings down from me. I didn't want to miss another minute, so I walked in, without a second thought," he says reverently, brushing your hair back from your face, unfocused eyes landing to the left of your mouth. "But I would have kept looking."

"I know, Matt," you whisper as you place your hand on the side of his face, thumb brushing over his cheekbone. He has never looked more beautiful than in this moment, you think. A green tshirt and black silk boxers with hair that wasn't styled after his shower, and you've never loved him more. "I know you would have."

"And I'll buy you as many McNuggets as you want for the rest of your life if that's what you want."

You snort inelegantly. "This is the best marriage proposal ever."

Matt blushes, but keeps smiling. "I'll still bring you to that nice restaurant on 42nd that I had all planned out. I'll wear that nice suit you like on me, and get down on one knee in front of everyone. Just say the word, sweetheart. Anything you want."

"No," you're shaking your head at him, laughing as you do so. "This...this was perfect. Random and silly and hilarious."

"Are you--"

"Yes, Matt, I'm sure," you interrupt, fondly looking at him like the idiot in love that you are. "This is all I need. This is all I want. Just you."

He pulls you in for another kiss, this one more heated than the last as he presses the full length of his body against you and grinds his hips into yours. You shudder, knowing exactly where this is going, and everything in you wants to be underneath him, on top of him, on your knees for him. You're about to pull him to the bedroom when a random thought enters your mind, and you pull back from his lips, laughing.

"What is it? What's so funny?"

"Man, I can't wait to tell Foggy and Karen about this."

Matt groans, tilting his head back, cringing as if you've just had the worst idea in the world. You giggle at the look on his face.

"Is there any way we can skip the part about us talking about McNuggets while I'm asking you to marry me?"

"Not a chance, Matthew." You pull his face back down so that you can kiss him again. "Not a chance."

#daredevil #matt murdock #human disaster matt murdock #i love him your honor #matt murdock x gn!reader #matt murdock x reader #second person #gender neutral reader #matt murdock fluff #fluff #x gn reader

[cassiefromhell]

Lollipops

Post-War: Levi Ackerman x Reader

wc: 4.3k

warnings: SPOILERS. im so serious guys. SPOILERS. if you havent watched/read to the FINALE, do not progress. you've been warned. also theres a little tiny bit of gore.

a/n: this is self-defense writing to protect my sanity after the last ep. im so not okay with it being over. also requests are open, i'll write anything! also, this is written in flashbacks. but never fear, the flashbacks are separated from the present by dividers, so you'll know when it switches.

“You two are like a fairytale couple,” a young girl giggles, hugging a pink-covered book to her chest. “Like a damsel and her prince.” 

You smile, pulling a lollipop out of your box — and then another, handing them to her. “Take two for sweet-talking me. But remember that true love isn’t perfect by any means.”

She grins, nods, and takes her candy, sprinting off into an old woman’s arms. You sigh softly, looking up to see that the line of children coming to receive candy from Paridian heroes is momentarily empty.

“Not perfect, huh?” Levi asks from beside you, shifting in his chair.

You roll your eyes, gently flicking the side of his head. You crouch down to be on his level. “You’re saying that we had a fairytale romance? That you swept me off my feet and carried me away from danger?”

“Yes. I would. Now get your ass up, I don’t need you to get down for me,” he scowls, his eyes flicking over your kneeling form.

“I would get down on my knees for you anyti—”

“Up.”

You grin, but listen to him and stand up, picking up your box once more. “Fairytale, huh? So what are you, the savior?”

“I’d say it’s even. Although, I remember saving your ass much more often than you saved mine.”

You scoff, putting your hands on your hips. “Name a time!”

“Get your ass up, scout!”

You groan, shoving yourself up onto your elbows. “Just a sec,” you manage between heavy breaths, coughing and coughing.

Hoofbeats approach and you whimper, knowing that if that’s the captain you think it is, you’re about to get the beating of a lifetime.

“Why, exactly, are you laying in the dust?” Captain Levi Ackerman asks, tone cold and voice sharp as a knife. “You’re a transfer, not a cadet. From the MP’s, even. I expected better.”

“I’m recovering from an injury, Captain,” you wheeze out, pressing a hand to your side and shoving yourself up onto your knees. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

“You’d better be. Now, up. On your feet, or be left behind.”

You pull one foot under you, then the other, and nearly collapse. His arm shoots out to grab your bicep, effectively keeping you up as your side screams in protest, ribs aching and tears springing to your eyes.

“What kind of an injury?” he asks, his grip tightening. “Why on earth would you switch to the Survey Corps while injured?”

“Ribs,” you hiss, gripping your side. The doctors have said that nearly all your ribs on your right side are either bruised, fractured, or completely broken. “And I had no choice. I had to leave.”

He narrows his eyes, but slowly releases you, making sure you’re not going to fall over the second he lets go. “You’re in no condition to be training, and I don’t need you getting worse. I have no interest in crippled soldiers. Go inside and get yourself assigned to kitchen duty for the next two weeks, on Ackerman’s orders.”

Your eyes slowly shift up from the ground to him, and you get your first good look at him.

And holy shit, the rumors of Humanity’s Strongest did not mention how mouth-wateringly attractive he is.

You give the dumbest nod you’ve ever given and turn on your heel. You hobble your way inside, and then immediately lean against a cold, stone wall, repeating to yourself in your head over and over again:

We are not falling for a captain.

We are not falling for a captain.

You open and close your mouth, then shrug. “Okay, but of course you were going to save my ass a lot while I was training. I’m sure it got better once I was a captain.”

“Did it, though?”

You elbow him, scowling. A smirk dances on his lips.

A woman grinning ear-to-ear starts your way, and you narrow your eyes. “She’s too old for candy.”

“Reporter,” Levi grumbles, looking down into his box, as if not making eye contact will stop her from approaching.

“Hi!” She shouts, giving a big wave. “I was hoping to ask you two a quick few questions, while you’re not too busy.”

“We’re quite busy,” Levi drones.

“Ah! I had heard about that grumpy attitude!” The reporter laughs, then looks at you. “And you must be his sunshine!”

You scratch the back of your neck, shrugging. “Something like that.”

The reporter whips out a pen and paper. “Now, all sources say that tog two have been married for quite some time, but nothing ever tells me when you two met, or how! Do tell.”

“We met in the service,” you start, rubbing your chin. “I had just transferred to the military police, so I was starting fresh in the Survey Corps.”

She quirks a brow. “Why did you transfer?”

The air simply won’t come to your lungs. You can’t breathe. The night sky doesn’t help, the fresh cool air is only suffocating you more.

You drop to the grass in the courtyard, one hand on your healing side and the other around your throat. Tears pour down your face, and you cough, and cough, and cough, and gasp.

It was just a nightmare, you tell yourself, but it doesn’t help. You can still remember what really happened, his hand around your neck, boot in your side, the bruises along each ridge of your spine from being tossed into a wall.

Your ribs may have been almost fully healed now, after two months being a Scout, but you still can feel each kick he gave you just for telling him no.

“Breathe.”

You sputter, looking up to see Captain Levi kneeling in front of you. He grips your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him.

“Breathe, come on. Take a deep breath.”

You try, you really do, but you only end up sobbing harder. Your hands clench the grass.

He sighs heavily, scooting over to your side and awkwardly patting your back. “Breathe.”

You manage to slow your breathing, and take a few good deep breaths. Then you immediately stumble to your feet. “…Sorry. I’ll head back now.”

His hand is around your wrist before you can even register that he’s gotten up. “Why are you out here so late, crying in the damn courtyard?”

“It’s nothing. Just a bad dream, you murmur, tugging your hand away from him and heading back inside.

You feel assessing eyes on your back as you walk, and you can’t help but look down at your hand, that hand that you wore a ring on for a year and a half.

You’ve fallen silent, chewing your lip and looking off to the side. The reporter tilts her head, raising a brow. 

“She just needed a fresh start,” Levi answers for you, placing a hand on your hip for reassurance. “And that’s what she got.”

She accepts that answer, writing down the words. “Now, how did you two end up together? Was it live at first sight?”

Levi scoffs. “Far from it.”

You glare at him. “Well, I liked you.”

“No, you hated me. You just wanted to fuck.”

“Thank you, Hange,” you grin, folding up the card again and tucking it back into the envelope, which reads ‘Congrats, new Captain!’. “I really appreciate it.”

A year in the Survey Corps flew by fast, and you had shown immense skill in the craft, therefore earning the title of Captain of your very own squad.

But your skills weren’t the only thing that had developed. You and Levi tolerated each other now, even if he thought you were loud and chaotic and you thought he was grumpy and sad, like a lonely old man.

And yet, you were drawn to him. He was handsome, and every once in a while you’d say something that would make his mouth tilt up, and… that mouth. It would be the death of you.

Hange heads out, leaving you alone in your room for the first time in hours. Everybody had been in and out, offering congratulations and words of advice.

You sink back onto your bed, yawning. It’s been a long day, and now you just want to sleep—

But a knocking comes on your door, and in walks Levi.

“I could have been naked,” you grin as he strides over, dumping a pile of paperwork on your desk.

“Captains have more paperwork than everybody else. I’ve been assigned to show you how to fill it out.”

“I bet you were hoping I was naked” you tease, but get up anyway, running a hand down your face as you stand next to him.

“You’re insufferable.”

“You’re boring.”

“Boring? Really?”

“Yeah.”

There is a short silence, with Levi sorting through the papers. And suddenly, you are very aware of the fact that you are in your bedroom, alone, with Levi Ackerman.

And apparently he’s aware of it too, because he gives you a look.

And then you jump on him.

The reporter laughs and scratches a few things down on her pad of paper, her eyes crinkling around the edges. “And what year was this?”

“We met in 846, and then started seeing each other romantically in 847,” you explain. You open a lollipop and stick it in your mouth.

The reporter only stares at you, a brow lifted and eyes narrowed.

“Eleven years ago,” Levi says, and then she nods and writes it down.

“What—”

“Different years,” Levi murmurs, shaking his head. “They’re in the damn 1900’s, remember.”

You flush, blood rushing to your ears and cheeks. It doesn’t matter how long you’ve been with the rest of the world, you always forget that years are different and you can take a plane somewhere and getting a papercut doesn’t mean you might die of sepsis.

For you, it’s still 858.

“Did you two personally know Eren Jaeger?”

You crouch by the bars, tilting your head as you examine him. Just a child. Skinny. He couldn’t hurt a fly.

“This is the titan child?” You ask, squinting. “He’s, what, fifteen?”

“Yes. Please step back,” Levi says. “You don’t need to be that close.”

“He’s like a fleck of dirt in a crop field. I need to be this close to see him. Are you sure he really—“

The chains on his arms rattle, and you skitter back, slamming into the wall beside Levi.

“Careful,” he scowls, brushing dirt off of your shoulder.

“What… happened?” The boy asks, rubbing his eyes.

Erwin launches into a full explanation, and by the time he’s done the boy looks completely lost.

“You’re… the commander of the Survey Corps,” he looks at Erwin, “…And Captain Levi, and Captain {Y/N}… where am I?”

“A dungeon—”

Erwin keeps speaking, but a thump near the staircase catches your attention. You stride off, past the MP guards, and peek around the corner.

There, struggling against a guard, is the young girl that you’ve been told is Mikasa.

You scowl, shutting the door behind yourself and storming up to her.

“Calm down,” you whisper, taking both her wrists in one hand and pushing her up against a wall. “Do you realize what you’re risking here?” 

“You don’t understand, I need to see him—”

“Shut up. You’re risking his freedom by coming this close. Go back upstairs.”

She glares at you, damn near baring her teeth. But you hold firm, and she slowly nods.

“Good, now go.”

You release her, and with one final glance over her shoulder, she trudges up the stairs.

You run a hand through your hair,  thinking to yourself: these new scouts are going to be an issue, aren’t they?

“Yes,” you say, nodding. “We knew all of the kids.”

“All of them?” she asks, furiously scratching down your words.

“We were both captains when Eren’s year entered the corps — we trained them. Of course we knew them all.”

“On my squad,” you read off of your paper, speaking to the large crowd in front of you — all the scouts that will be on the next expedition. “…I am pulling in an extra scout. Mikasa Ackerman will join me in the center ranks.”

Whispers run through the crowd, and you step off of the stage, taking your spot next to Levi in the captains line. Erwin picks up a speech, talking about the squad formations.

A tap on your shoulder makes you turn, and your eyes widen as you’re met with your favorite chaos trio: Jean, Sasha, and Connie.

“Get into your formation,” you hiss.

“But, here’s the thing,” Jean whispers. “I’ve been really great during training. What do I have to do to get on your squad?”

“Jean!” you narrow your eyes. “You are not getting on my squad.”

“I would bring you food every day,” Sasha pleads, putting her hands out in a prayer position. “Please! We’d be the best squad ever.”

You actually pause to consider that for the food, but Levi stomps on your foot. “Ow— Uhm, no. Now return to formation or I’ll bump you down a squad.”

They skitter off, moving through the crowd. You just hope that they’ll go to the right place this time.

You sigh, facing forward again. You’ve already heard everything that Erwin has to say, so this is all repeat to you.

You brush your hand against Levi’s, and his pinky touches yours. You lock them together, resisting the urge to just lean into his warmth.

Pinkies locked, you wait out the rest of the assembly.

“Would you say you were close with any of them?”

Levi shrugs. “They respected me. They loved her.”

“Oh, they loved you too,” you grin, patting his shoulder. “Loved you enough for Historia to smack you the second she was legally allowed to.”

“Have there been any hardships?” The reporter cuts in.

You pause. Levi pauses.

“Of course,” he murmurs, voice softer now. He brushes his fingertips against your thigh.

As soon as you make it in through the gate, Levi is at your side, pulling his horse up next to yours.

“Let me look,” he murmurs, beckoning with his hand. 

You shake your head, cradling your messily bandaged hand to your chest. “No.”

“{Y/N}. Let me look,” his voice is more stern now.

You know the damage. You found a cloaked figure up high in the trees, you went for the attack, and they were faster than you. It was a clean cut. Your index and middle fingers are gone, as well as a chunk of your thumb.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“I can’t take it off ‘till I reach the medics,” you whisper back, turning away from him. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

But he doesn’t leave. He stays by your side, silently. He rides with you all the way to the scout headquarters, silently. He walks with you to the medics, without a single word.

The medics take one look at you, and, having heard that you were coming in, usher you into a private room.

There are three medics with you, which means they consider your injury a serious one. 

The lead medic closes the door, and then turns to you with a pitiful smile. “Let’s take a look, alright captain?”

You cradle your hand closer to your chest. You feel like a child, not wanting to accept what’s happened. But it’s… your hand… this is forever. 

Levi gently touches your arm. “You don’t have to look.”

You can’t remember the last time Levi was so soft with you. You’ve been with him for years by now, but he’s just not a soft person.

Nevertheless, he pulls your face against his shoulder, stroking your hair. He carefully pulls your wrapped hand away from you, holding it out for the medics. 

You feel it immediately when they start pulling the bandages off, and you bury your face into Levi’s shirt, whimpering.

“You’re alright. They’ve almost got it off,” he murmurs, holding your face against his chest.

The wrapping falls away, and there’s a soft gasp from one of the medics, followed by Levi stiffening.

“Is it bad?” you moan, crying out as someone prods something painful.

“Do you want me to lie?”

“No.”

“It’s not good. But it’s a clean cut, so they’re going to clean it and stitch it up for you. You’ll be fine.”

You fist his shirt. “…Please don’t go.”

He pulls you a little closer. “I won’t. I won’t leave your side.”

The next thing you know, they’ve stuck your hand in alcohol, and you’re screaming.

You tuck your half-hand into your pocket, out of the reporter’s watchful gaze.

“But you two are married, correct?”

Levi nods. “Yes.”

“When were you married?”

You look to Levi, smiling softly. “Well, twice. Once in Paradis, and they don’t acknowledge Paridian marriage licenses here, so we did it all over again a couple years ago.”

“When was the first time?”

Your hand has become a focus for you.

Just as you lay in bed now, holding your two and a half fingers above your head. The stitches have been taken out, leaving you with pinky and ring fingers, two little nubs cut below the first knuckle, and half of a thumb. It’s still healing, but this is pretty much what your hand will look like. Forever. Till the day you finally croak.

The door swings open, and you immediately feel Levi’s cold, calculating gaze. “Are you picking at it again?”

“No,” you roll your eyes. “Just looking. Y’know, at least I still have a ring finger.”

“Why does that matter?” He asks. He takes off his jacket and hangs it up, then sits on the bed beside you and starts on his boots.

“So one day I could wear a wedding ring.”

He pauses. You pause, realizing what just came out of your mouth.

He turns to face you, leaving one boot on and the other half off. “You’re interested in marriage.”

Suddenly your face feels hot. “…Yeah.”

“To me?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s really what you want?”

You nod, chewing your lip.

“Then marry me.” His face stays completely blank.

You sit up slowly, eyes wide. “You— you wanna marry me?”

“You already know that I love you. If you want marriage, it’s only logical that—”

You cut him off by tackling him, sending the both of you tumbling off the bed. Levi twists so that he’ll hit the ground and you’re just land on him, but you have no time to ask if he’s okay between all the kisses you’re showering across his face.

He scoffs. “Enough, woman.”

“You wanna be stuck with me!? Really?!” You grin, sitting up to be straddling his waist. 

“I guess so.”

You throw your arms over your head, starting to sing to yourself. “You looooove me, you wanna maaaarry me, I’m gettin’ maaaarried,” you snap to your own little beat, dancing on his waist.

You look down at him, beaming, just to find him watching you with soft gray eyes.

“I love you,” he whispers.

The reporter smiles and nods, then looks over her notes. “Well, I just have one more question, and then I’ll leave you two be.”

Levi looks quite ready to be done, so you speak up. “Just make it quick.”

She nods, looking up at you one last time. “Did everyone else know you two were together?”

You sigh, reaching behind you and pulling your hair out of its ponytail. It’s been a long day, and all you want is to refill your ODM fuel for tomorrow and go to bed.

You approach the supply closet, but pause when you hear voices. You peer in, eyes widening at the sight.

Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Jean, Connie, Sasha, Reiner, and Bertholdt all crowd around a table, coins in piles. But there are no cards. No game.

“Listen,” Connie says, throwing up his hands. “It’s just gotta be someone in the Survey Corps. There’s no way it’s not!”

“But wouldn’t we know if it was?” Jean adds, rubbing his chin. “There aren’t too many options.”

“Miche?” Mikasa proposes, spinning a coin in her fingers.

“What? No,” Eren scoffs. “Absolutely not. Armin, what do you think?”

Armin lets out a low whistle, shaking his head. “I already lost my money on the bet that Captain {Y/N} would stay single. I thought she was the type to not want or need a man.”

Ah. So they’re betting… on my love life!?

“Well, she’s wearing a ring, that’s for sure…” Sasha rubs her chin. “What if it’s Levi?”

There’s a beat of silence.

Everyone in the room erupts into laughter. 

“Ha! Her and Levi? When pigs fly!” Eren laughs, banging his fist on the table.

“You’re such an idiot,” Connie grins, shoving Sasha. “I’d say she’s a lesbian before that!”

You smirk and roll your eyes, walking away from the room. You just know that they’re gonna be knocked off their feet when they find out.

“No, no, it took them quite a while to find out,” you laugh, shaking your head. “They couldn’t have guessed it if they’d put all their little brains together — and believe me, they did.”

“So, how did they find out?”

“Alrighty, Armin,” you sigh, running a hand over your head. “Let’s get this transformation done. The area is cleared for miles, so just give me a few minutes to get out of dodge, and you’ll get the smoke signal to go ahead.”

He nods, chewing his lip. 

“Hey,” you pat his shoulder. “You’ve got this.”

With that done, you turn, shooting your grappling hooks into a tree and soaring off into the forest.

After a few minutes, you’re damn near in the safe zone.

Near.

And then the sky lights up like a Christmas tree.

As expected, a massive explosion sounds behind you, and your ears immediately start to ring. More concerning, however, is the shrapnel made of trees and dirt and rocks flying your way.

You shriek, turning forward once more and zipping your way through the trees. Except, you have to hold your left sword in a weird way because of your hand, and then a gush of wind hits you and—

The branch you’re swinging from snaps, and you’re sent tumbling to the ground, unable to right yourself. 

The grass gets nearer and nearer, and you fumble with your swords. But you won’t make it. You squeeze your eyes shut tight, and accept your fate—

Until you collide with Levi’s chest, and his arms are around you, and you’re zipping towards the safe zone.

“Holy shit,” you wheeze, coughing on stirred up dust. You grip his shoulders, shaking from all of the adrenaline rushing through you.

You’re back in the group with the others in no time, and Levi immediately puts you on the ground. But you don’t get a hug and a ‘thank god you’re alive.’ No, Levi puts his hands on your shoulders and shakes you.

“Are you crazy?” He hisses, gripping your jaw with one hand. “I’ve told you to hold your swords upside down like I do, so this wouldn’t happen. You almost died, and all because of your idiocy—”

“Levi—”

“No, I don’t want to hear it. You cannot go dying on me, you hear me? I will not lose you.”

You bite your lip, putting a hand on his chest. “Levi…”

“You are such a fucking idiot. I cannot believe I married someone who would risk her own life like that. You need to value yourself, damn it! You cannot leave me here alone—”

You shut him up with a kiss, rooting your hand in his hair. He kisses you back without hesitation, his hands flying to your waist.

“You’re not going to lose me,” you murmur, pulling away. “You saved me. You caught me. And I’m confident that you always will.”

His jaw clenches, a muscle feathering, and he opens his mouth, but a voice from the right interrupts whatever he had planned to say.

“Did I, uh… miss a chapter?” Jean asks.

You look over to find almost all of Eren’s friend group standing there, dumbfounded. Hange sits up in a tree, grinning ear to ear, but they’ve known about you two for years.

You grin, shaking your head. “The money goes to Sasha.”

“AND YOU ALL CALLED ME STUPID!” Sasha shrieks, throwing her hands up in the air.

“That’s all I need,” the reporter nods, and closes her notebook, tucking away her pen. “Nice meeting you two, heroes.”

She leaves with a wink, and just in time, because a little refugee boy has approached, hands behind his back.

You give him a soft smile, kneeling to be on his level. “Would you like a lollipop?”

The boy nods, giving a shy smile. 

Levi reaches into his box, holding out a blue lollipop. He gives the child his softest smile, and in that smile you see it all.

You see the man that saved your ass more times than you can count. The man who presses a kiss to your temple when he thinks you’ve fallen asleep. The man who blushes when you run your hands down his chest. The man who doesn’t give anyone that soft smile of his, except for on very rare occasions.

Your man.

The center of your universe.

The boy takes his lollipop, bows at the waist, and then skitters off with a  mumbled ‘thank you.’

You watch him go, and then you turn back, met with Levi, holding out a lollipop to you.

You press a kiss to his scarred knuckles and take it, giving him your own soft smile. “I love you.”

“Yeah, you too, brat,” he chuckles, turning back to the box of candy.

And you remember the nights you spent eating sweets he brought back for you from town.

You remember every night with him.

Because Levi is your world. Your one and only.

And he always will be, from now until the end of time.

@jeannineee be proud of me bitch <3

#fanfiction #aot #levi aot #attack on titan #attack on titan fanfic #attack on titan fanfiction #levi ackerman #captain levi #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #second person #2nd person pov #post war aot #cassiefromhell

[caffeinewitchcraft]

Dandelion (A Villain Story)

You stub your toe and the mind control breaks.

Your power snaps from the shock and the hundred or so clones you’d been controlling disappear with a pop! You hold your breath as the steel they’d been carrying clangs loudly in the cavernous room. You’re the only one in this sector but that was loud. If by some miracle nobody heard that, surely your abductor will notice you’re free any moment now—

Devil Eyes doesn’t notice.

You cover your mouth with both hands, pressing so hard that your teeth creak. There’s a hysterical giggle struggling to claw its way up your throat. You’ve been shot, stabbed, and beaten, but this is what it takes to break Devil Eyes’ control? Your pinky toe throbbing after kicking a stray steel beam?

Fuck, that’s funny.

You breathe in through your nose slowly. Only when your lungs hurt worse than your toe from how much air you’re holding in them do you release your mouth. You breathe out in six quick bursts. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

You’re free.

Holy shit, you’re free! How long has it been? Six months? Eight? You know it’s not summer anymore, but Devil Eyes has had you working in the depths of his lair for weeks now and you’ve lost track of time. That’s fine though, you’re pretty sure you’re still in Arizona and there’s sunshine even in winter. Your breath hitches in your chest. The sun! Oh, the sun, you want to see the sun so bad and now you can because you’re free--

Don’t cry. Don’t make a sound. Assess. Act.

Escape.

You’re in the delivery sector. There are piles of steel everywhere you look, tossed this way and that so that it looks like a giant failed game of Jenga. Your clones were carrying the beams from the truck in the docking bay to the appropriate facilities deeper into the mountain when they disappeared. Ha! Fat chance Devil Eyes finishes construction without you around. You’re the only reason this mountain lair is even possible. It would serve him right to spend so long stealing materials only to have nobody around to do the hard work for him.

That’s why I need to escape.

Spite is what keeps you moving. The truck driver is gone. He’s a real minion of Devil Eyes, not a brainwashed one like you. That means he’s probably in the living sector enjoying the benefits of willing servitude. Benefits like soda. And beds. And those little pillow mints they give you at hotels.

Your mouth waters.

Don’t you dare go back for a pillow mint, you scold yourself. It doesn’t matter how bad you’ve been craving one, forced to set them out and never allowed to eat one. You have the chance to escape and you’re going to take it.

You climb into the cab of the truck. The driver took his keys with him, but you’re a villain. You have the engine turning over in less than five minutes, the bed of the truck detached within three, the seat and mirrors adjusted in less than one.

Ten minutes after stubbing your toe, you’re driving out of the mountain and into the deepest of Arizona nights. Nobody sounds any alarms. Nobody starts shooting at you. How could they? You were the one manning the graveyard shift in the security room. You were the one at the turrets. You were the one doing it all while Devils Eyes and his crew slept.

The stars stretch above you. You crack the windows of the truck and suck in the fresh air greedily. Your eyes burn.

Not yet, you think. Your eyes smart and you bite your lip until the lump in your throat goes away. Not yet. As a villain, you’ve always made it a point not to let your guard down until the job is done.

This job isn’t anywhere near done.

----------,

Getting into one of Hero Force’s headquarters is either the best thing to happen to a villain or the worst.

Breaking into one is a badge of honor, especially if you’re able to get away with a trophy. Information, a hostage, even a paperclip. Anything that proves you were there and they couldn’t stop you from doing whatever you wanted.

Getting taken into Headquarters is a nightmare. It means you’ve been caught and caught good. Getting taken into Headquarters means the end of a masked villain’s career. Hero Force knows who you are from that point on and, even if you escape, they’re not going to lose track of you any time soon.

You’re not sure what walking into one is. A disgrace? An act of stupidity?

You park your truck illegally and push both doors open at the same time just a little after sunrise.

“Hello,” you say to the receptionist. He’s wearing the characteristic black mask of Hero Force personnel and you wait until his brown eyes shift from his computer to you before continuing. "I’ve been held captive by the villain Devil Eyes for the last six or eight months and I’d like to talk to somebody about it.”

“Pardon?” the receptionist asks. His fingers are frozen over his keyboard. “You—pardon?”

“I don’t know what month it is,” you say. Abruptly you realize you’re not wearing a mask. A chill shudders down your spine. Devil Eyes knows what you look like and now Hero Force does too. You are so fucked, you’re going to need to flee the country-- Think about it later. “So I don’t know how long I was brainwashed for.”

“Brainwashed?”

“By Devil Eyes,” you say. When the receptionist continues to stare at you, you shift your weight from side to side. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but is there someone higher up I could speak to?”

It turns out there is. The receptionist is only too happy to call them for you and things move very quickly after that.

They take you to the fifth floor of headquarters and into a very nice conference room. The receptionist brings you coffee, water, and a fresh change of clothes. He doesn’t bring you pillow mints when you ask but makes up for it by fishing out a crushed granola bar from the inner pocket of his blazer.

“This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten,” you say. Crumbs tumble from your lips and onto the oak table. “Fuck.” You lick your fingers and pick them up as best you can, scooping them into your mouth as you go.

“We’ll have something delivered,” he says, eyes skittering away from you. “It’ll probably arrive before Arctic—”

“No, it won’t.”

You twist in your seat, granola bar stuffed in your cheeks. Arctic is standing in the doorway in full costume, sans cape. Her slate grey eyes study you a moment before she steps into the room. Rag Doll, her second in command, follows silently behind. Unlike his boss, he’s half in his civvies– jeans and long-sleeved Henley that shows off the extra joints in his arms and legs. His patchwork mask does little to hide the bags under his eyes.

“Ma’am,” the receptionist says. He’s flustered in the presence of the A-rank heroes, you can see it. He sketches out a bow and then seems to think better of it, jerking ramrod straight and shuffling towards the door. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Arctic watches him go with one pale brow raised.

As soon as the door shuts, Rag Doll sighs. “It’s his first day.”

“He didn’t get their name, did not relay a proper history, and called me ma’am,” Arctic says in her heavy drawl. She frowns and smooths her white hair away from her face. “That’s three strikes.”

“Wait until he watches all the HR videos before you start handing out strikes.”

“He should have finished those before he was stationed at the front door.” Arctic strides around the table and takes the seat at the head without looking at you. She pulls out a notebook from her utility belt, flipping to a blank page, and then finally looks at you. “Do you need another granola bar?”

Oh. She was stalling until you could finish eating. A smile comes to your face unbidden. “I missed your southern charm, Arctic.”

Arctic drops her pen.

Rag Doll, halfway into his seat, freezes. He stares at you with wide eyes. “Virus?”

Oh yeah. You used to compliment Arctic’s Southern manners a lot before Devil Eyes got you. “Long time no see.”

“Long time—it’s been a year,” Rag Doll says incredulously.

“You look awful,” Arctic says without a bit of manners to be found.

“A year?” The room swims. Since the wallpaper kind of reminds you of bile anyway it’s no surprise what happens next. “Fuck.”

You throw up.

------------------.

“I was going on the straight and narrow,” you’re saying an hour later. You’re in a different conference room, this one on the third floor. The walls are a nice, soothing blue and there’s a vanilla air freshener plugged into the wall. “I really was.”

“You’ve been with Devil Eyes this whole time?” Rag Doll asks. He’s seated across from you, leaning forward onto his elbows. He’d stopped Arctic from putting the power suppressors on you. She agreed when he pointed out they might kill you in your fragile state. “There’s never been any indication he can hold someone that long.”

“Well, he can,” you say. You wordlessly accept the tea Arctic slides across the table. The heat of it shocks you in the best way. You drink greedily, relishing in the warmth as it slides down your throat. “And not just one person. He could hold me and five of my clones at first. Then ten. Then twenty.”

“But your clones are you,” Arctic says. She refuses to sit, standing behind Rag Doll. She crosses her arms. “It’s impressive he was able to hold you that long, but it was just you.”

“Impressive?” You laugh without humor. “I’m not exactly impressed.”

“She didn’t mean anything by it,” Rag Doll says. He looks over his shoulder at Arctic and, when she nods, he continues. “It’s just that, from what we know about your powers, holding you and your clones would be the same as holding one person.”

“It’s not,” you say. You’re giving away too much information about your powers, but you don’t care. Devil Eyes needs to be stopped. “Every one of my clones is an exact replica of me. An exact autonomous replica of me. Otherwise, I’d have to be some sort of supercomputer to control them all.”

“You’re not?” Rag Doll asks. His voice is light, like it used to be during your fights. Teasing banter.

You’re not in the mood for banter.

“No,” you say shortly. “If I was, I wouldn’t have been caught.”

Rag Doll sobers. “How did that happen?”

“I was getting out of the game,” you say. You wipe the back of your mouth. The tea is sitting better than the granola bar, but you’re still feeling unsteady. You clear your throat. “I should have just disappeared, but I didn’t. I let a few of the locals know I was going to be leaving. Stupid of me. Stupider when I agreed to come to the goodbye party they were throwing.”

“Locals?” Arctic asks. Her voice is smooth and cold. “Which locals?”

You shrug. “Dreadwatt. The Ice Twins were in town back then, they said they’d stop by.” Your lip curls. “Devil Eyes.”

“That doesn’t sound like a very fun party,” Rag Doll says.

“No.” You didn’t think so either. But how do you explain that they were the only people who thought your low-level villainy meant something? Heroes and civilians just found your antics annoying. Villains found your schemes clever. “It was a way to mark the end of an era.”

“What were you going to do after?” Rag Doll asks.

Were. You can’t get mad at the past tense. You’re sitting in Hero Headquarters without a mask. Arctic has probably memorized every single one of your freckles. Even if she hasn’t, Devil Eyes knows your face. There’s no way you get to retire to an honest life now. “I was going to be a librarian.”

Rag Doll perks up. “You like to read? What genre?”

“Mostly science fiction.”

“Me too! Have you read—”

“Devil Eyes got you at the party?” Arctic interrupts. She shoots Rag Doll a chiding look and claims the seat next to him. She fixes you with her chilling gaze. “That right?”

“Yeah.” You don’t remember the moment it happened. That’s the scariest part. It took you weeks to be able to feel Devil Eyes’ control. Until then, everything still felt like your choice. “He had me start construction on his lair about a month after that. He was sure his control would hold by then.”

That makes Arctic lean forward. “His new lair? You’ve been there?”

You grin bitterly. “I’m the one who dug it out.”

“Dug it out? It’s underground?”

“Some of it.”

“Where?” Arctic flips open her notepad. “We know it’s east of the city and, judging by the truck you arrived in, it’s in the deep desert. Can you give us coordinates?”

“I’m pretty good with stars,” you say. Even now you can remember the exact position of them the moment you left the mountain. “I know exactly where it is.”

Arctic can’t hide the impatience in her voice. “Where?”

“Not so fast,” you say. You lean back, crossing your arms. Your heart pounds against your ribs. “I want a deal.”

Arctic snarls. “You don’t understand what’s at stake—”

Rag Doll puts a hand on her arm, quieting her. He smiles at you. “Now, Virus, you know—”

“Don’t call me that.”

Rag Doll blinks. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t call me Virus,” you say. Your skin itches and you dig your nails into your arms to keep from scratching. Devil Eyes called you Virus. “I retired. I’m not Virus.”

“Then what would you like us to call you?”

Your mind scatters. “I don’t know. Not that.”

“Alright,” Rag Doll says gently. He waits a moment and, when you don’t offer up anything else, says, "You know we can't offer immunity agreements. Foresight would have to be here for that and we don’t have time for him to fly down from New York. What I can do—”

“I don’t want immunity,” you interrupt.

“You don’t?”

“You don’t?” Arctic echoes. She frowns, seemingly shaking off her impatience. “You’ll still be charged with your previous crimes, Viru—sorry. You’ll still be charged with your previous crimes.”

“That’s fine.” It’s not. You rub your arms, fingertips worrying at the half moon indents your nails bit into your skin. It’s the price you’re willing to pay to take down Devil Eyes. “That’s fine. I’ll pay for those. But I want to be there when you raid his lair. I want to be there when you catch him.”

“That’s too dangerous,” Rag Doll says immediately. He shakes his head. “Arctic and I both have mental defenses, but you don’t. We know your power and now, knowing the extent of it, we can’t risk having him turn you again. It’d be like facing an army—”

“You’ll need an army against him,” you interrupt again. You press a hand against your chest. “I know how many minions he has. I know the layout. I know the location. You need me.”

“But if he gains control of you again—”

“He can only control twenty of me,” you say. You’re feverish and jittery so you stand. You pound your hand against your chest. “Only twenty, so I’ll be a hundred of me. I’ll be so many that those he manages to ensnare won’t stand a chance against the rest. I can do it. I can be more than he can handle. He got the jump on me but he won’t again.”

Arctic furrows her brow. “A hundred? You can make that many clones?”

You laugh darkly. You weren’t a good villain. Your goals were always too small. Robbing a grocery store, taking over the local theater, stealing the water from the water tower. They don’t know what you can do. “I can do more than you know. I can do more than Devil Eyes knows.”

Silence fills the room as the heroes think. The air freshener sprays a new puff of vanilla.

Rag Doll clears his throat. “If we let you come—”

“Rag Doll!”

“—if ,” Rag Doll emphasizes to Arctic. To you he says, “You won’t kill anyone?”

Of course I’m going to— “No,” you say. You cross your fingers under the table. “It’s just….” You look down at the wood grain. You say in a small voice, “I had to escape alone.”

Whatever protest Arctic was about to voice dies on her lips. “There were others there?” Her gaze sharpens, a bloodhound on a scent. “Who? Where?”

Aha. You guessed right. Arctic is patient. Arctic is polite. She’s been neither of those things during this conversation. What she has been is impatient and demanding. Devil Eyes has someone Arctic cares about. Devil Eyes might even have a hero from Arctic’s team.

“I didn’t see them,” you whisper. You glance up from under your lashes to find the heroes hanging onto your every word. “But I know where he keeps them.” You bite your lip. “I—I shouldn’t have left them there. I know what it’s like being under his control. I know what he does.” You sit upright, meeting their eyes unflinchingly. “I want to save them. I’ll pay for my crimes after, I swear. I won’t run. But Devil Eyes needs to be stopped.” You let your voice crack. “Please. I need to help stop him.”

Arctic softens. “Virus—sorry. Please, is there anything else I can call you?”

Your lip trembles. “My mother called me Dandelion.”

“Dandelion,” Arctic says. “That’s lovely. Dandelion, I understand how you feel. I don’t think—”

Rag Doll stops her with a hand on her arm. “Arctic? Can we talk in the hall?”

“Of course.”

You watch the heroes leave the room. As soon as the door closes, your lip stops trembling. Your shoulders straighten. Your eyes stop glistening.

Rag Doll and Arctic will argue for ten minutes. You’re a former villain and, despite your lack of real villainy in your history, you can’t be trusted. You know Devil Eyes’ hideout, but you’re also fresh out from his control. You’re powerful, but that power can be turned against them.

But those arguments will only last ten minutes. The reality is that they don’t have a choice. You're not going to give them the location without being allowed to tag along. They don’t have time to wait for Foresight or even the Mind Squad who specialize in dealing with mental powers like Devil Eyes’. They’re heroes and the villain has one of their own. They have to act.

You settle back in your chair. They’ll agree to your terms. Your stomach twists. It’s nauseating to think about going back there. A year. Devil Eyes stole a year from you.

You hide your grin as the door opens.

“Alright. Let’s get you kitted out. You’re coming with us, Dandelion.”

You’ll be stealing a lot more from him.

Then instead of crying, maybe you’ll be laughing.

Only one way to find out.

--------

Thanks for reading! I love mind powers in the Superhero universe but they sure are a pain to write!

If you’d like to read stories like this or like others on my blog a week before I post them here, please consider supporting me on Patreon (X)

Next week’s story is already up! Summary:

Sometimes, when things go very wrong, the Chosen One gets a wish. That’s where Danielle comes in. TW blood, death, violence, child death

Thanks again for reading!

#my writing #mind control #violence #librarians are crafty af #and somewhat criminal #for good reason! #my superpowers #superheroes #original short story #second person

[fazgoo-connoiseur-1987]

Bill is wearing someone else's skin. You do not see it, originally, because why would you? Why question such a genuine smile? His charm and flattery?

But they you notice how it sloghs off his face, how it doesn't match his eyes, how it stretches unnaturally when he performs his little charade for you.

And you want to go back to being blind to it again, now everything he does feels wrong, but you can't. You can't unsee it.

#this is a metaphor #im trying to convey how i feel about him bear with me guys #second person #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #william afton #yelling about the bear #body horror #he's uncanny because the mask of joy and comfort he is wearing writhes with all the things that are beneath it

[light-yaers]

Take Care: Chapter Eight

Fic Masterpost | AO3 | Chapter List

Warnings: swearing, eventual smut, emotional themes.

A/N: sorry about how long this took i am busy and tired and also didn't want to write all this sad shit but alas, i did it. we are officially done with season one! i will be taking a small hiatus before i get to posting the next chapters for season two, but i cannot wait to continue this for you all. mwah mwah mwah

Word count: 8.8k

Chapter Eight

As your final week at the Dogtrack began, you found yourself already getting nostalgic. You wandered the lower levels gently, strolling in and out of every room, before you ascended the steps to the upper levels. You slalomed through the concessions, waving hello to the bar workers, cleaners, and others who were getting ready for the final game of the season that Saturday. You ascended another level to reach Rebecca’s office, and when her door loomed before you, you knocked upon it. 

Rebecca shot you a look of understanding when you entered her office, almost sullenly. You tried to keep your spirits up, but she could see right through you about this– the same way everyone else could when you gently popped your head around the locker room door that morning. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Rebecca said, opening her arms warmly as you clicked the door shut behind you. 

You allowed her to encase you in a hug, one where you couldn’t help but imagine her as the Virgin Mary and you as her tiny baby Jesus. Rebecca’s bosom was just that comforting that you couldn’t liken it to anything else, but you would never tell her that. Not in a million years.

“Are you okay?” she asked, as she removed her calming grip from you. 

You nodded once. “Yeah,” you said, but your voice cracked involuntarily. “Maybe,” you added, and it only made Rebecca laugh sympathetically. 

“Did you submit your final assignment?” she asked. 

“Yes, thank fuck,” you breathed out, before you flopped yourself onto the sofa. “Every last thing I needed to do has been done, so now I just… wait, I guess.”

Rebecca dropped herself beside you and crossed her legs. “Waiting isn’t so bad of a thing, I suppose. I waited to see the Spice Girls live for over a year, and it turned out brilliant.”

“I think waiting for a concert is vastly different than this, Rebecca,” you let out. You spread yourself out on her sofa, starfish style. She reached out and grabbed your knee affectionately. “I’m not waiting for a once in a lifetime performance, I’m waiting for the inevitable end of coming to this place every fucking day.” You lifted your head up quickly, and shot a wild gaze her way. “What if they all forget about me?”

“That’s not fucking possible,” she said strongly. “And if you go off the radar then you can count on Keeley and I coming to batter down your damn door, or someone else.”

“Someone else?” you questioned, and your mind immediately went to Lasso. “I don’t think Ted would do that. He’s far too soft and squishy to break down a door, don’t you think?” you rattled off. 

“I didn’t mean Ted,” Rebecca said, squeezing your knee gently. You inhaled when she looked at you knowingly, before you dropped your head back down to stare at the ceiling. She didn’t need to say a name for you to know that she meant Roy. 

Roy Kent would definitely batter down doors, you thought, but whether or not yours would come into that equation was a mystery. He hadn’t battered down your door before, only knocked and begged to come inside… 

Was that the same thing?

“They’re going to bench him,” you said plainly. 

“I know,” Rebecca said. 

“I think he knows it, too,” you said. 

“I think you’re right,” Rebecca said, before she retracted her grip from you. She stood up strongly, and peered down at you like a giant. “No more moping, come on,” she said, as you allowed her to hoist you from the sofa. 

“If I can’t mope, what the fuck am I supposed to do for the next five days?” 

Rebecca smiled. “Enjoy it,” she said. “Before it’s all over, enjoy it.” 

On Tuesday, you grabbed a coffee from the cafe in the morning like normal. You scuffed your feet on the concrete as you headed to your office afterwards, but got immediately side tracked when you heard a ruckus from the locker room. Without dropping off your belongings, you headed there first to check out what was wrong. 

You entered the uncharacteristically quiet locker room, only to discover Ted, Nate, Higgins and Rebecca. 

“Why so hostile, Nathan?” Rebecca said, as a mischievous smile graced her face. 

“Wait… you know my name?” Nate asked, as you slowed to an almost comically paced slow walk. You held your breath, not wanting to interrupt the four of them. 

“I needed to know it for when I wrote your contract,” she said, before she sent a look your way. She winked at you, and you were reminded of a text from Roy a few weeks prior– Nate was due to get promoted, but for the past month he’d been afraid he was going to get fired. 

You had to admit it, but the look on his face was fucking hilarious. 

Ted smacked a hand down on Nate’s shoulder. “You’re not getting fired, buddy, you’re getting promoted!”

All of a sudden, the closed blinds of the manager’s office revealed the screaming team of AFC Richmond behind. They yelled and cheered, and Colin let off a confetti cannon as he burst through the door and into the main locker room. Nate’s shock and fear dissipated immediately, turning into excitement and appreciation, as soon as he locked eyes with Rebecca again. 

She handed him his contract, and the word coach at the top made him want to cry. This was what he’d wanted for so long, but what he’d never dared to think about achieving. Seeing his name on this contract, however, made everything change. He’d made it. He’d really fucking made it. The guys gathered like a swarm of bugs, picking Nate easily off the floor and gently swinging him in the air triumphantly. You laughed at their joy, their excitement, as you peered up at him atop Isaac’s and Sam’s shoulders. 

Roy gently approached you from behind. He skidded his knuckles across your lower back, alerting you to his presence. You crossed your arms and leaned back into him without even thinking. Your upper back thumped against his chest gently, as the two of you kept your eyes on an overjoyed Nathan.

You twisted yourself around and looked up at the smile on Roy’s face. You jabbed him in the abdomen gently, as he peered down at you. “You’ve gone soft,” you said, just loud enough for him to hear. 

Roy sniffed, trying to puff out his chest to counteract your words. “No I fucking haven’t,” he said, but it was clear that you were right. 

Without hesitation, you raised your hand to his face and gently prodded his cheek. “I think I just felt a tear,” you joked, before you prodded again. You widened your eyes in false shock. “No, I definitely did. You’re on the brink of crying, aren’t you?” 

Roy’s attempt at staying stoic went out the window upon your second prod. He swiftly pushed your hand away and guided your shoulders around to face the rest of the room, before he playfully wrapped his arms over your shoulders and chest. You leaned further into him, bringing your hands to grab hold of his forearms strongly. He was so close to resting his chin on the top of your head, and part of him wanted to, but he didn’t. You refrained from tilting your head back from fear that he’d pull away. 

Instead, the two of you swayed from side to side gently, smiling, laughing, peering out at the joyous scene before you. Neither of you dared to question the position you were in, whether mental or physical. You simply held on for dear life, and chose not to focus on the fact this would all be over in a matter of days. 

On Wednesday, you took your laptop outside to the stands. You sat there for most of the day, tapping upon your keyboard, until the late afternoon sun shone against the blue and red plastic seats of the Dogtrack. You only went inside to piss, or eat, or drink, but even those times were sparse. Even by the time practice had been and gone, you were still outside, soaking up the sun. 

The echo of footsteps on the opposite side of the stadium hit you, and when you looked up you were surprised to see the small outline of Roy. He headed to one of the blue seats in the stands, hands in his leather jacket pockets. You gently went to close your laptop, thinking about joining him, but you stopped when you saw another figure emerge. Ted walked up the stairs of the stands, before he slotted himself beside Roy in the sea of blue. 

Innately, you knew what they were going to talk about. Pulling off the bandaid. Quickly and without fuss, you grabbed your belongings and headed back inside. The guys were packing up to head home after a long day. You bumped into Sam in the corridor, and strolled to the car park together. 

“Do you need a lift? I can drop you home,” he offered, as you approached his car. Further down the car park, you saw Roy’s Jeep. 

You shook your head gently. “Thank you, but I’m good,” you said. Sam followed your eyes to Roy’s Jeep, and when he looked back at you, there was an understanding look on his face. 

“See you tomorrow?” he questioned. 

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” you replied, beaming. 

Sam drove off a moment later. When you were alone, you strolled towards Roy’s Jeep and leaned against the passenger side door gently. The Spring sun shone off the hood, casting an orange glow over the entire car park. This reminded you of before, the first time he’d ever driven you home from the stadium. The sun was the same colour, and it was so vibrant that his pitch black car had erupted with a volcanic glow. 

Secretly, you thought the colour orange suited Roy. 

You crossed your arms and looked at the ground, waiting for the inevitable moment that Roy appeared. You didn’t want him to be alone, not for this–  not ever, really– so you planted yourself on the concrete, content with waiting for him to finally leave for home. 

Roy stormed through the stadium, gym bag in one hand and his car keys in the other. He huffed through his nose painfully as he opened the doors to the car park, and was ready to scream at the top of his fucking lungs– until he saw you. You leaned against his Jeep, head down to the point where your hair covered the obviously sleepy expression on your face. Your arms were crossed over your chest, and your knees were slightly bent from tiredness. 

He slowed his pace as he approached you, and unlocked his car with his keys. You felt the car vibrate behind you, and noticed the flash of lights as it unlocked. When you looked up, Roy was no more than a metre away from you, and still fast approaching. You sucked in a gentle breath as he tugged open the passenger side door for you. 

“Jump in,” was all he said, and you didn’t have to be told twice. He shut the door behind you after you were settled and jumped into the driver’s seat. He started the engine, leaving the car park as fast as he possibly could.

The drive was silent. Roy didn’t turn on the radio, nor did you ask him to, either. When he turned down your street, he pulled onto the curb outside your building. He cut the engine, and the interior went utterly silent. Gently, you looked at him. He looked back, and his stare was enough to make you melt. 

You sucked in a deep breath. “Do you want to talk about it?” you asked. 

Roy’s knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. His entire body tensed. “No,” he said plainly. 

“Okay,” you said gently, shooting him a small smile in understanding. “If you want to, you know where I am.”

Roy nodded, trying to keep it together. “Yeah,” he said, but it came out forcefully, like he didn’t want to show what he was truly feeling. You didn’t press him, but instead grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder. 

“See you tomorrow?” you asked, as you laid your hand on the door handle. 

“Yeah,” Roy said again, hiding behind the pain in his chest.

You got out of his Jeep, and slammed the door shut behind you. You sent him a small wave from the pavement, and before you could even reach your door, he’d switched on the ignition and veered off down the road. 

On Thursday, Roy didn’t come to the stadium. His absence was felt by everyone, especially the team. Ted was quiet for most of the day, trying to keep up his commonplace enthusiasm, but it was clear that he felt guilty. No one blamed him, but that didn’t stop him from feeling like he’d done the unthinkable. 

You grabbed lunch with Keeley, but the quiet and sombre feeling from the stadium had rubbed off on you, too. You swirled your fork in your plate of pasta, and had hardly touched your glass of wine. Keeley cleared her throat opposite you, before she leaned forward gently. 

“Babe,” she started, as you met her eye. “It’ll be alright,” she said, trying to keep things light. 

“Sorry, I’m being such a fucking downer, aren’t I?” you breathed out, before attempting to perk yourself up. 

“It’s understandable. Change is scary,” she said. 

“It’s like, even though I try not to, I’m counting down the minutes until it’s all over. At five o’clock tomorrow evening, I’ll be done at Richmond.” Saying it outloud had you getting choked up. You swallowed quickly to stop your throat from closing up. 

The cogs in Keeley’s brain started whirring. “You sound just like Roy, you know? In your article, when he talked about not knowing what to do after he retired.” You listened to her intently, thankful for her kindness. “There will always be opportunities beyond the now, especially for talented fuckers like you and him,” she said, and you huffed at her bluntness. “You must have had employers in touch after the article, surely?”

You nodded at her, and thought about your inbox full of job offers. “I’ve had a few, yeah. That’s not what I’m worried about, though. I could work anywhere, I think it’s just… everything else, that’s getting me down.”

The end of the season. The threat of relegation. Saying goodbye. Every-fucking-thing. 

“You’ve got time,” Keeley reassured you. “Your lease at the flat doesn’t end until July, you’ve got job offers left right and fucking centre, and, well– you’ve got Roy.”

You furrowed your brows quizzically, but that was counteracted by the small smile that curled onto your lips. “Got Roy for what?”

Keeley sent you an amused look. “Oh, come on. Don’t be like that,” she said, as she shoved another mouthful of pasta in her gob. “I see the way you two are when you’re together.”

You huffed. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, here.”

Keeley dropped her fork and pointed at you abruptly. “You’re in denial, babes.”

“I am not–”

“Yes, you fucking are! You’ve been around a whole bunch of sexy footballers for months now, one of which has gone out of his way for you, your degree and your future, not to mention he showed up at your door with an apology fit for a fucking queen. All I’m saying is, if I was in your shoes, I would have had him at least three times by now–”

“Keeley,” you warned her, through a wave of amusement. 

“What? Not even a fucking kiss? What a bloody waste,” she said, before she grinned at you with her teeth mischievously. 

“The last thing Roy needs right now is me scuttling around him.” You took a sip of your wine. “He’s got enough on his plate as it is, and I don’t want to make it worse.”

“Do you hear yourself, babes?” Keeley said, her eyes wide. “You’re exactly what he fucking needs right now.”

You scoffed at that, reminded of yesterday in his car. “No, I’m not. Even at the best of times, Roy has the emotional output of a fucking teacup, but yesterday…” you trailed off, taking another sip– more like a gulp– of wine. 

“Was it bad?” Keeley asked. 

You nodded. “Yeah, it was bad.” 

Keeley leant across the table and grabbed your hand quickly. Her touch had superpowers, you thought. You always felt infinitely better when she found a soft way to reassure you. “His feelings aren’t your problem to fix, babes. You’ve let him know you’re there to support him, which is all any of us can do.”

You nodded, and let out a pent up breath. “Yeah,” you said, smiling at her. “You’re right, it’ll be fine.”

“All you need to focus on is enjoying the last days of your placement, alright?”

You chuckled at her. “I can do that. For you, I can do that.” 

Keeley squeezed your hand harder, and you let her. The two of you clinked your glasses together, as you enjoyed the final lunch break meal of your placement at AFC Richmond. 

On Friday, you started clearing out your office. You shoved all your supplies, books, post-its from Sam and the like, into a cardboard box that you could walk home with at the end of the day. You sat at your desk in the morning for the last time, and opened up your laptop despite having no fucking work to do. You skimmed through your emails, and added interview dates in your calendar, but you had to stop and hold your breath when you saw a new email fly into your inbox. 

It was from Pluto Press, the publisher that you’d meant to have your original placement with. They reached out after reading your article in the Independent, and had asked to set up a meeting for a possible job opening. Just like that, cogs had started flying into place. 

If you got a job there, you’d be able to stay in Richmond. In your flat, around your friends, around the boys, and around the club. You emailed back immediately, letting them your availability for an interview, and started curating a portfolio of your work before and during your time at AFC Richmond. Keeley was right— change was scary, but it was also exciting.

You just had to let yourself believe it all.

By lunch, you’d cleared out your entire office. It looked too bare, too empty. You swiped your hands over the cinder block walls— walls that you’d become so familiar with that it seemed painful to know you’d be leaving them behind in a matter of hours. 

Behind you, Sam knocked at your door. You turned and met his eye, and sent him a saddened smile.

“All packed up?” he asked, looking at the emptiness of it all.

You nodded, letting out a huff. “It feels so weird. I feel like I haven’t been here nearly long enough, but also for years at the same time.”

He strolled further into your office. You felt calm when he was near. “This place will do that to you. Make you settled and comfortable, but that is when time passes you by without realising.” 

“Yeah,” you acknowledged him gently, before sighing. “Are you on your second workout already?” Sam nodded. You stepped forward, and could see the other guys headed to the gym together through the door. A question danced in your mind. “No Roy today?” 

Sam shook his head. “We think he switched off his mobile. We’ve tried to reach out, but—,” He shrugged. “Nothing.” 

“I tried on Wednesday,” you said, as you leaned against your empty desk. “It was the same. Like he was feeling everything and nothing at the same time.”

“That has always been Roy’s way, I think,” Sam said. “He will come back if he wants to, and he knows we will be here if he does. No one is to blame for this.” 

“I know,” you breathed out shakily. “But, that’s just it, isn’t it?” You peered up at Sam’s soft and welcoming face, and you knew then that he understood you wholeheartedly. It felt good to be known. “It’s out of our control— but that’s when I want to fix things even more. It’s gutting to know we can’t do anything.” 

“That is because you are kind,” Sam said, and stepped towards you once more. “Too kind for your own good, sometimes. You want to fix everything all of the time, and feel responsible for other people’s feelings far too much, might I add.”

You huffed, feeling vulnerable. “Come off it.” 

“See!” Sam exclaimed. “You just proved my point for me.” 

You waved him off playfully. “Yeah, yeah, yeah…” you trailed off. 

Sam settled comfortably. “I am going to miss this.” 

This. Your chats. Your moments of shared clarity. Sharing a space with one another every day of the week. 

You ignored the strain you felt when your throat closed suddenly. You swallowed away the urge to cry. “Me too.” 

He headed towards your door then, smiling knowingly as he left. “I will see you after?” he asked, lingering on the doorway.

You nodded strongly, despite the rapid way your eyes were welling up. “I’ll be here.” 

You finished up some final emails in your bare office, before you sat in the cafe with a cup of tea for the remainder of the day. When the clock hit 4:30pm, you left sullenly. You felt a strange sense of peace as you navigated the empty corridors of the lower level, and were surprised to find the gym and locker room utterly empty.

The guys were nowhere to be seen, and Ted and Beard’s office was quiet of all Americans and Brits alike, too. You sighed to yourself, as you looked up at the yellow believe poster above the manager’s doorway.

You couldn’t believe this was it. Your last day. You’d spent nine months strolling up and down these corridors and rooms, sharing smiles and commiserations with the team, a joke with Ted, a look at Roy. When you thought back to the September before, you’d been so annoyed to be in this position, but now? 

You wouldn’t trade this experience for the world. 

It didn’t feel right, though. It didn’t feel like closure, because you knew that someone was missing. Roy wasn’t here. He wasn’t here on your final day to roll his eyes, or boom profanity, or offer to drive you home just to spend a few more moments with you. He wouldn’t be starting on the pitch tomorrow, or may not even show up at all, as you sat in the stands for your last game under contract at the club. 

It was almost too much to bear. You’d started your journey here with Roy, and it seemed only right to end it with him— but that wasn’t an option anymore.

You let the last of your composure fall away as you finally let go. Your eyes welled past the point of staying dry, as tears crept down your cheeks, tracking shining lines down your face. You peered around the room as you held yourself, taking in the red and blue everywhere, the numbers and names on the cubbies, and fluorescent lights overhead. You’d never expected for it all to feel so sad. Leaving, saying goodbye, moving onto other things. 

You realised then that, if you had the option, you’d stay at Richmond in a heartbeat. Fuck publishing. Fuck your book. You wanted the comfort of the cinder block walls and the laughter trickling from every room. 

You wanted to stay.

“Is it really the end already?” Ted said from the doorway. You jumped from the surprise, and turned to him quickly.

You wiped your tears away frantically, trying to hide your face, but when his soft and knowing smile hit you, it only increased your sadness. He strolled towards you gently, hands in his pockets. 

You sucked in a shaking breath before forcing yourself

to speak. “Give or take twenty minutes, but… yeah,” you let out, sputtering out embarrassed chuckles as you did so. 

Ted peered down at you. Him and his moustache smiled at you. “Come here,�� he said gently, before he encased you in a hug. 

You let him hold you, as you laid your head on his shoulder and sniffed away the last of your tears. 

“I might be joining you on the goodbye train out of here, too, y’know?” he said, as you pulled away from his embrace. “Oh! You should come and visit Kansas!” You chuckled at the ease in his change of tone. “We’ve got great barbeque, and none of that brown watered monstrosity that you call tea.” 

“I love tea,” you croaked, as your voice levelled out and away from a wobbling mess.

“I just don’t get it! Roy said the same thing last night,” Ted whittled on. Your gut lurched at the mention of Roy’s name.

“You saw Roy?” you asked.

“I sure did. He stopped me from getting hit by one of those taxis— sorry, black cabs— last night. And we had a little chat afterwards at my place.” 

“How is he?” you asked, trying to keep the desperation from your voice, if that was even possible. 

Even just a few days without Roy had you feeling fucking crazy, especially after your drive home earlier in the week.

“He’s doing alright,” Ted’s voice settled. “About tomorrow’s match though, well… we’ll see.” 

You nodded in understanding. At the end of the day, it was Roy’s decision whether he wanted to show up or not. You prayed he would, prayed he’d be there to hear you scream your lungs out in the owner’s box for the last time during your placement. 

“I’ve got something for you,” Ted said suddenly, before he pulled out something from his pocket. You hovered your hand out for him, and he placed a small, green army man in your palm. “For protection. Just a little goodbye present,” he added, and your heart swelled.

You held it in your fingers, and felt a finality surge through you. You peered up at Ted thankfully. “I’ll miss you,” you said. 

“You, too.” Ted smiled. “Now, come on! The guys have something planned for you.” 

You followed Ted out of the locker room, sniffing away the last of your tears as you did so. He zoomed ahead as you tried to keep up with him, and turned to the left towards the tunnel towards the pitch. You emerged into the late afternoon light behind Ted, and what met your gaze had your heart in your throat immediately. 

The boys stood on the pitch, holding individual signs with letters upon them that spelled out the words– write about us. 

Starting from Isaac, all the way to Sam at the other end, those twelve letters burned themselves into your retinas. Behind those boys, the rest of the team cheered. As your last day at AFC Richmond came to its end, you felt more known than you ever had before. Each of these players, and coaches, and crew, knew you so wholeheartedly that you could hardly believe it. Your impact had spread around the stadium off Nelson Road like wildfire.

It only cemented the love you felt for them all. Even if you wanted to, they wouldn’t let you remove yourself from their team after this. You were Richmond till you died, and you had never been happier about something being set in stone.

As the group dispersed, Sam, Colin and Isaac approached you quickly. You let them encase you immediately, ignoring the slight suffocation of knotted limbs and laughing bellies that surrounded all of you. You would have let them smother you to death in a heartbeat. What a wonderful way to die that would be. 

“When you go out tonight, you better have enough drinks for all of us, bruv,” Isaac said, as the four of you gently parted. 

“I’d be downing a pint with you if it weren’t for Man City tomorrow,” Colin said. “It’s best we get an early night and keep up our strength for the game instead, you know?”

You smiled in understanding. “Don’t worry about me. Whatever happens tomorrow, we’ll be drinking in the pub after the game, anyway.”

Sam placed his hand on your shoulder and squeezed. “I am already looking forward to it.”

You sent a look at each of them in turn, trying to portray just how much you appreciated them, how much you loved them, but you felt like it had to be said in words. You sucked in a deep breath. “I will,” you started, but noticed their confused faces. “Write about you, I mean. There’s already too much of you all within me that I’ll have to get it out on paper sooner or later.” 

Colin and Sam smiled like the sun. Isaac’s face scrunched up painfully, until it was clear he was holding back tears in his eyes. 

You walked home in the dwindling Spring sun. Down Nelson Road, across Richmond green, past Mae’s pub, and the like– you knew Richmond like the back of your hand now, and had no desire to leave. Lucky for you, you had a feeling you’d land a position at Pluto Press soon, which meant you wouldn’t have to uproot yourself again. You could stay in your flat, stay close to the guys, stay close to Roy–

You cleared your throat abruptly at the thought of the Richmond captain. You hadn’t heard from him in two days, and didn’t know if he was going to show at the game tomorrow. It was none of your business, either, but you still felt a craving to let him know that you were there for him; through thick or thin, despite all the shit between you in the past, and even now. Roy Kent deserved to know how much you loved him, and your time at the stadium that day had only made you all the more nostalgic and emotional. 

When you got back to your flat, you quickly opened your laptop and printed out what you had in mind. You were practically jumping by your printer as the ink cascaded over the once blank page, and were bounding out of your door before the words had even dried.

You rushed down your road towards Roy’s house, not even thinking about what you’d do or say if he was at home or opened his door. As the sun began to fully set over your small neighbourhood in Richmond, the fancy houses that you passed seemed to almost loom over you. They cast shadows upon the pavements and empty roads, but you didn’t hesitate as you approached Roy’s driveway. 

Gently, you folded up the small piece of paper you’d printed, and placed it on his welcome mat by the front door. Inside, the lights were off, but you still knocked quickly before you turned on your heels and left. You weren’t about to wait around, or call in on him out of the blue– not after his long week. So, you left as soon as your knuckles were done wrapping on his door, and rounded his driveway before he could’ve opened his door and caught you. 

Roy saw you leave. Through the windows in his porch, and the large panes of glass that showed off his living room, he saw you approach his home and leave immediately after knocking. Before he could reach his door, you’d already turned the corner of his drive, back towards your building. 

The urge was there to shout out, to run after you and acknowledge how today was your final day at the club, but he held himself back. He hadn’t seen you since he’d driven you home, since he’d been feeling everything and nothing at the same time. He didn’t want to face you while he still felt the repercussions of it all, and especially not before the game. 

It was selfish, he knew, but you would have stuck around if you’d wanted to see him, too. As he looked out at his driveway, he wondered why you’d even bothered to knock upon his door and leave straight away– until he looked down. On his welcome mat was a small, folded piece of paper. Roy bent down and grabbed it, before he retreated inside, back to the dark. 

He didn’t like turning on his lights a lot of the time. It angered him that he had to pay to put on the lights in his home, and it felt even stupider that he needed them when he mostly looked at his phone screen, or the television. They were pointless, most of the time, but as he sat at his dining table, he turned on a lamp to the side of him.

He unfurled the note you’d left him, and as his eyes traced the printed ink– alongside some of your own writing– he found himself smiling. 

It was the email from your lecturer, when he’d told you about Roy’s impromptu visit to your university, all those months ago. It felt like it’d been five years, not a little over nine months. Beneath the email, you’d written something short and heartfelt– A reminder of the time that we became friends. Thank you for everything during my time at the club. Whether you play or not tomorrow, I’ll be yelling from the owner’s box for you. 

Roy sat back and inhaled deeply. “Fuuuuck,” he whispered. It cemented his decision for tomorrow in a millisecond; he would go, even if he was on the bench. He would go for you. 

As you walked to Nelson Road the next day, nerves bubbled in your gut incessantly. This was it, the final hurrah. Richmond’s threat of relegation was imminent, and it was only a matter of time before them and all the fans would witness their downfall. You didn’t even want to think about it, it felt blasphemous, but it was almost impossible not to understand how much this game meant. 

Even more so when you thought about Jamie Tartt. This was the first time in a while that he’d been back at Man City, and against his former teammates as a consequence. You knew that Jamie wouldn’t care– he’d go out there and play like he normally did, to an annoyingly good level despite his ego, and wouldn’t think twice about dominating against his old team. 

But the guys– they would feel every sting, they would take every hit, and they would be heading outside onto the pitch for an all out battle. You knew it well. 

Against your wishes, you chose not to go to the locker room and greet the guys before this game. Instead, you headed for the owner’s box immediately, and found yourself sitting there alone for the first twenty minutes before the pre-game started. You knew that Keeley and Rebecca would be around, but you were almost glad that you got some time to yourself. Just to breathe, to soak it all in, before you got ready to yell for your life. 

As the stadium started to fill up, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You fished it out, and when your eyes traced over the message,  the butterflies in your stomach seemed to mellow out. It was from Roy.

Still in the owner’s box? 

You smiled as you typed your reply, and sent it without any hesitation. 

Of course. Still not the caretaker?

Roy smiled at his phone in the locker room, sitting quietly as everyone prepared for the game. He’d just handed off his Captain armband to Isaac McAdoo, and didn’t fully know what he was feeling. Knowing you’d be outside when he stepped upon the pitch was enough at this moment. 

Not yet. I’ve still got game in me, even if I am on the fucking bench for this. 

It’s too bad. I was hoping to see you rightfully start on Jamie, but this time you’d be on the opposing team. All the more dramatic. 

Roy huffed to himself. It was impossible not to feel the comedy in your words as you sent them his way, both over text and in person. 

Don’t tempt me. I’ll still fucking do it if I get the chance. 

Looking forward to it. 

“Alright, fellas!” Ted clapped his hands together. Roy sent one last message, before he put his phone in his bag and out of the way. The boys settled into their pre-match pep talk, and that was that. 

You read Roy’s final reply, feeling a warmth that you’d never be able to describe. 

See you out there. 

Keeley, Rebecca and Higgins joined you soon after. As the minutes whittled down before kick-off, you tried and failed to place yourself in some kind of zen mode. The air was almost too thick, and coupled with the upset you felt about leaving Richmond, you spent the majority of the time until the players emerged trying not to fucking cry. 

The atmosphere shifted as soon as the players ran out of the tunnel. You held your breath as they lined up for the anthem, and leaned over the edge of the box so you could see them all better. The unmistakable look of a Captain band was on Isaac’s arm, over Roy’s, and you felt proud of them both. It mustn’t have been an easy decision for Roy to make, but he’d still done it. Isaac must have been feeling nerves ten times what he was used to, but he wore the band with pride. 

After the anthem, the teams split up on each side of the pitch. When Roy would usually head to his starting position, he exited off to the sides and headed towards Richmond’s bench. He slipped on a long-sleeve thermal, before he took a few moments to peer around the stadium stands. Richmond’s bench and coaches were right beneath the owner’s box; you had a full view of all the second string players and Ted and Beard alike. Seeing Roy there was like an entirely different feeling– he was closer to you, which you didn’t mind in the slightest. 

As Roy peered around the entire stadium, he twisted himself around to land his gaze upon the owner’s box. His eyes found you in seconds, and yours glued onto his in response. You leaned further over the lip of the box, and rested your chin on your knuckles as you looked at him. You smiled. He smiled back. Quickly, you shuffled your hand from beneath your chin and made a simple OK sign with your fingers. Roy chuckled to himself unavoidably, before he gently sent you an OK sign back. 

You glanced quickly at the pitch, and the match was about to begin. You stood abruptly, with Roy’s eyes still on you from below. Sucking in a deep breath, you exhaled it alongside your loudest Come on, Richmond! imaginable. 

Roy had to turn away to hide his smile. It was colossal as he headed towards the bench and sat down. It didn’t go away until the whistle blew and the game began. He waa going to miss seeing you everyday, but he knew that you would still go to games at the Dogtrack. That should have given him some comfort, but it didn’t. He knew his time was up. 

The game started, and you didn’t sit down for the first half in its entirety. Dani scored halfway through the first half, and you erupted when he did. You hugged Rebecca and Keeley like there was no tomorrow, and that early had the team in great spirits for the rest of the half– until it was fucked. A sneak attack had Man City emerge into the box, and with two minutes to go until the whistle blew for halftime, they equalised. You let out a heartfelt “Fuck!” when they did so, and found yourself dropping back into your seat glumly. They’d been so close, but they simply had to hold it together now. You watched silently as the team scuttled back to the locker room for the interval.

Ted had a plan up his sleeve. He had the power of Beard and Nate on his side, and they had the advantage of knowing City’s star player through and through– Jamie Tartt. If he was still the same after he left, then there was a chance that the guys knew how to get to him and mess up his game. It was a longshot, but it was a good place to start. 

They needed speed, that was for sure. When Jamie got the ball, it instilled the fear of man into every single person on the opposing team. He was unstoppable, and almost impossible to tackle when he got going. That was the goal– keep the ball as far away from Jamie fucking Tartt as they could. 

“We’re so close, guys,” Isaac spoke up suddenly. “Another goal, and we clinch the win. We just have to hold our defence together, you get me?” 

“Keep that ball away from Jamie,” Richard said, and nods of agreement rounded the room. 

“Exactly right, boys,” Ted joined in. “If we get out there, if we believe, we can do this!” The energy shifted tenfold, and the priorly defeated guys were pumped up once more. “Roy, you’re starting in the next half. I want you back on that pitch,” Ted added finally, before players started trickling out of the locker room. 

Roy glanced over at Isaac. Isaac gave him back his Captain armband without a second glance, smacking a hand on Roy’s shoulder warmly before they headed back to the pitch. 

Your heart jolted when Roy started in the second half. You knew Ted well enough to know that he wouldn’t bench Roy for the entire game, but it was a surprise when he swapped him out after halftime. It was true that Richmond needed fast players to keep up defensively, and despite Roy being slow now, you knew that he held more in terms of power. 

Players were scared of him. He had an anger that always came out on the pitch, one that left players, referees and coaches alike with a similar mindset– do not get on Roy Kent’s bad side, because he will make you pay. 

As the second half proceeded, it was anxiety inducing how little things happened. It was a full back and forth, with hardly any opportunities for Richmond or Man City to go for a goal. Both teams had put their defences up tenfold, and neither wanted to risk that and fuck up the rest of their game. It was almost like a stalemate, like a disaster waiting to happen. 

As full time approached, you could hardly fucking breathe. You clutched Keeley’s hand tightly as the guys kept up with each other, and simply tried to get through this shit. Jamie hadn’t yet found an opportunity to break through, until there were less than five minutes in it. When he snuck through, you shot up from your seat and screamed. 

“Tartt’s going for the box!” you screeched at the top of your lungs, clutching your hand over your heart and crunkling the Richmond shirt that you donned fondly. 

The home fans in the crowd rose intensely, as they noticed a player creeping up behind Jamie. Even Arlo and Chris in the commentator box could hardly believe it– Roy was going for Tartt, running at speeds that hadn’t been seen from him for a matter of years. He was stealthy, pumping his arms in perfect harmony with his legs, until he launched himself into a perfect sliding tackle.

You raised your hands to your mouth as he did so, and the ball was knocked from Jamie’s orbit as the two of them dropped to the grass harshly. The cheers for Roy were impossible to block out, and you joined in as soon as you recognised the familiar tune. 

He’s here, he’s there, he’s every-fucking-where! Roy Kent! Roy Kent! 

You rejoiced with Keeley and Higgins in turn, pumping your arms triumphantly within the owner’s box, until the clock restarted– but that moment didn’t come. Instead, as you laid your eyes back out onto the pitch, Jamie reluctantly stood and shook himself off after that tackle, but Roy…

“He’s not getting up,” Keeley said, confused. “Why isn’t he getting up?”

Your eyes burned as you took in the image of Roy, sprawled on the ground, clutching his kneecap. Something was wrong, and that was plain to see. Your heart skipped a beat in your chest. This couldn’t be it, surely. This couldn’t be the time he wasn’t able to get up and keep playing. Not now. 

Sam and Isaac approached him quickly, and huddled around him. The physio was on stand-by, and Ted and Beard were practically chewing off their fingernails in anticipation. Sam helped Roy up slowly, dragging him up from the pitch as he took in the chant that he’d become so accustomed too. It had echoed throughout the Premier League for more than a decade, almost two. He was a household name, respected by footballers, pundits, coaches– you. 

Roy limped off the pitch, waving to the crowd in good nature. He would never be wheeled off, or walked off with help, you knew that. Before he fully left for the tunnel, he quickly pulled the Captain band off his arm and passed it to Isaac. The two shared a moment that had your heart bombarding into your throat–

This was it. The moment that Roy had been talking about before. His last day of playing football. With an injury that bad, that had been settling for years and damaged further by overuse of his joints, you didn’t have to be a rheumatologist to know that he was done for. That final tackle had fully fucked his knee.

As he hobbled out of view, you couldn’t bear it any longer. You abruptly stood, and left the owner’s box without a word. Keeley and Rebecca saw you go, but said nothing to stop you. Instead, they shared a look with each other that said a thousand words– you were exactly what Roy needed. 

You fast-walked along the corridors of the Dogtrack, descending to the lower levels until you hit the familiar grey concrete floors. You passed by the full size pictures of players on the walls, and ignored the uncomfortable beat of your heart, until you stumbled around the corner to the locker room. 

You lingered by the door, and swallowed painfully, before you emerged into the doorway. Roy sat by his cubby. He’d shrugged off his shirt and thrown it on the floor unceremoniously. His right knee was red and already bruising, as he attempted to make himself comfortable. It was no use, though, not alongside the tears in his eyes that were welled so full it was a miracle they hadn’t already dropped down his face. 

You stepped into the room gently, and Roy jumped when he saw you. “No one’s allowed back here during a game,” he said bluntly, but the wobble of his words was enough to make your heart subtly crack. 

“I won’t tell,” you said gently, trying to diffuse the tension as best as you could. Roy knew you weren’t going to leave, but when goosebumps hit his skin, he flinched further away from you. 

“I told you, you have to get out,” he tried again. You only kept up your slow pace towards him. You weren’t going to back away from this, not when he needed you most. 

Roy’s aversions to being social, to being emotional, to being vulnerable, scattered all over the floor before you. You ignored them, and continued placing one foot in front of the other, until his attempts to deter you heightened even further. 

“I mean it– stay the fuck away from me!” 

You stopped when he said that, but still stayed in place. Peering down at Roy softly, you flicked your gaze over his face gently. He looked wounded, in more ways than one. You knew this day would fucking suck for him, and wanted to be there for him desperately. As much as he’d yelled at you to leave, you knew that was the opposite of what he needed. 

Slowly, you closed the gap between you. Instead of sitting beside him on the bench, you knelt to the floor before him. At this level, you were practically face to face, and Roy could easily see your intentions. Gently, you reached out and placed your hand on his cheek. Your fingers skimmed his jaw on the way, and his eyes stuttered shut at your touch. He leaned into it, and brought his hand up to cover your own softly.

You shuffled closer to him, placing yourself between his legs, as you leant upon his healthy leg. He let you, and urged you to do so, as he leant further down towards you. Roy’s breaths were shaking as he inhaled and exhaled, and a few tears fell from his closed eyes and splattered upon the concrete floor. 

“I don’t know what to fucking say,” Roy croaked painfully, as he opened his eyes and landed his stare upon you. 

You peered up at him thoughtfully, and swiped your thumb across his damp cheek, mopping up a few tears unintentionally. “You don’t have to say anything.”

Roy exhaled shakily once more, before he gently dropped his forehead onto your own. They bonked together almost clumsily, but you held each other in place for dear life. “Okay,” he said, trying to calm down. For a moment, he removed his forehead from yours and replaced it with a chaste kiss, just for a second. You shut your eyes as every hair on your body stood up on end, before he replaced his forehead back onto your own. “Thank you,” he said. 

As roars sounded from outside, neither of you knew which direction the match had gone in. All you knew was that the other was breathing, and this was something new for both of you. After all this time, being close to Roy didn’t feel shocking, or abrupt, or anything of the sort– it felt normal. The two of you stayed close until his heart had calmed down, and the adrenaline in his body had disappeared enough for his knee to start fucking killing him. 

You found an ice pack from the training room, and rushed back to his aid as soon as you could. Then, you sat next to him on the bench silently. He dropped his head onto your shoulder, and you draped your arm around him to fiddle with the hair at the nape of his neck. Roy’s fingers traced your knuckles distractedly, and the two of you stayed like that until the unmistakable echoes of his teammates emerged from the corridor. You didn’t want to move away, neither did he. 

As the season and your placement drew to a close, you knew that new things were out there. For you, for Roy, for the rest. Roy knew it too, as he contemplated his options after this injury, and this loss. All he had the energy to rationalise in those moments after the result were you related– would you still be near, would you still give him your time, would you still hold him this close? 

As much as he felt your warmth, radiating from every pore and crevice and fingertip and the like, invigorating his flesh and bones and blood and everything that made him, him– he couldn’t help but wonder… would all of this fade alongside this change?

As you laughed alongside his teammates, after their relegation, and his fucked up knee, and Ted’s possible resignation, he found himself smiling about all the good you offered every single person in that room. But, it wasn’t entirely truthful. Roy was afraid. But, he put on a happy face. He held your hand when it felt right, and he let you lean into him during Ted’s post-match talk. He smelled your perfume in wafts and held himself back from looking you directly in the eye, from fear that he’d do something stupid and place his lips upon yours. 

Roy Kent had often held himself back, but he didn’t want to do it with you. Not now, not after all the shit that had happened over the past nine months, and the fact that he’d become so used to your presence. But as he sat there, laughing through the pain with his team, and his coach, and you– he knew that want and circumstance were different things. 

Sometimes you couldn’t help the way things turned out– and not even you, or Roy, or AFC Richmond, were immune to those sullen twists of fate. 

CHAPTER NINE

Tag list: @atjamesbbarnes @20th-centu-fairy-girl @royalestrellas @weakmoony-stuff@ironmanmagnetfridge @lemonpiegurll @hellomagicalsouls @her-fandom-sanctum @gothicwidowsworld @old-enough-to-know-better73 @djarindroid @afraidofshrimp @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog @queen-of-dumbasses @sogoodtoheritsvicious @lznnph1l @crav1ngc4ke @onceuponaoneshot @jamieolivia27 @dadbodfanatic-x @kelp-dreaming @harrypedro465 @lonely-escape-artist @abeeabeeabee @nicklet94 @libsybum @cha0sdreaming @toomany24s @kashee-h @infinetlyforgotten @secretnook @cluelesslilsharkie @callmecasey81 @deepdarkvelvet @twiceinabluemoon @cardeegans @golden-hoax @kingleahhh @hoalkk1 @sunderland-6 @ellouisa17 @thesestrangerslikeme @elissaa @scrumptiousroadponymoney @confessionsofatotaldramaslut @ysmmsy @seacactusplant@pedritosgirl2000 

#roy kent x reader #ted lasso #roy kent x you #lightyaers #ff #fanfiction #brett goldstein #roy kent #x reader #second person #writeblr #take care fic #ao3 #angst and fluff #enemies to friends to lovers #romance #slow burn #reader insert #wattpad

[tavyliasin]

The Devil On Your Shoulder - A Fic For The Writers

This one is dedicated to all my fellow writers who have let Haarlep into your hearts and minds, turning to them for your inspiration. This made for a nice warm-up today, although I feel a little guilty that they won't be getting a proper fic from me for a while. There are others in the list first, they shall have to learn patience, or perhaps they can visit one of you and give you some inspiration~

The Devil On Your Shoulder

There they sat, a formation of thoughts and emotions in the back of your mind, the conjuring of your imagination that you turned to for inspiration when the words refused to flow from your fingertips. “Well?” They put down the book they had been reading, looking towards you as they sat back, one leg crossed over the other in a pose of casual dominance. “I don’t know,” you thought back at the apparition in your mind, “I don’t know what’s meant to happen next.” The conversation was often the same, they whispered ideas, pushed you to write just a line or two more, and when you were tired they blessed you with a moment of daydreaming that lit up your sleeping libido. “Haarlep.” You whispered to them, wishing you could for a moment feel the real warmth of their presence, their wings wrapping around you like a comforting cocoon, their clawed fingers wrapping around your throat with gentle pressure to remind you not to get too comfortable. Sometimes they took their feminine form, the sauntering grace of hourglass curves, and still the same piercing gaze that burned right through you. Most of the time, though, they took their masculine form, knowing how that voice hit just that little bit deeper. The reminder of their mirrored master should have been an insult, but this was your fantasy, after all. You could almost feel them at times, looking through your eyes and borrowing your vision. They read the words on your page, relished every time you mentioned their name in conversation, peered closely at every piece of art that appeared on your screen. Wings stretched and fluttered with perverse joy, tail whipped and slapped on the walls of your thoughts in irritation when they weren’t the focus of attention. It was almost cute when they got jealous, no matter who else you imagined they would always be there first. “You’ve lost focus again, Little Pen.” Their nickname for you was affectionate, though when the block struck it felt like an insult instead… “Come, write the next line, and I’ll bring you an even more pleasant dream when you rest.” You felt the shiver down your spine, the subtle warmth of their suggestion and less subtle choice of words echoing through your senses. You took a deep breath, imagining them sat behind your chair, leaning over your shoulder, wrapping sweet bindings around you to keep you in place until the page was filled. You could feel their hands on your body, their breath hot on your ear, and you could hear their voice in the edge of your memory. “Play with me, pretty please?” Even the simplest lines had been filled with heated desire, words dripping with lust. Their offer ever clear as you wondered if fiction could perhaps transcend reality… “Stay here, with me. This…can be forever.”

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #fanfic #haarlep #second person #haarlep x reader #haarlep x writer #inspiration of the imaginary incubus #to writers with love #you've got this darling you can write your dream #I've got this too I think I just don't believe it yet

[just-a-random-dungeon-master]

Imagine how weird it must be to be one of Lilith’s coworkers.  

Like.  You’ve been working at the Supernatural Museum of History for a while, and everything’s normal and then. The ex head of the EMPERORS COVEN becomes your coworker. 

And you’re technically her superior.

You eventually find out that she actually doesn’t have magic- you weren’t sure if the rumors were true. You start seeing feathers everywhere and don’t entirely know why. An acquaintance of yours buys her a bouquet of spiders and you see her eating them. She once talked about Deadwardian balusters for 2 hours.  You used to see her face looking refined on coven posters and now she’s the dorkiest person you know, and you work with a lot of history dorks.  Her palisman has been seen flying around a lot and you’re secretly sure she has two because of how different it looks from the staff form. She’s technically a criminal but it’s easy to forget that.

She also goes to a party to celebrate her job and comes back with somehow more information on Deadwardian balusters, along with her own baluster.  She gets emotional at the sight of a stonesleeper skeleton. 

And then, she takes off the week before the day of unity and has her palisman deliver the message.  

And the last thing she tells everyone is a warning not to go to the day of unity.

#the owl house #the owl house spoilers #toh #toh spoilers #lilith clawthorne #elsewhere and elsewhen #second person #*gestures at history dork lilith* i just think she’s neat #please keep any shipping stuff with lilith off this post #tw caps

[ishipgenfics]

You and Your Human: Part 4

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

You see your next crew member walking out of a shop entitled Engineering Advice and Tool Repair. You probably would not have noticed them, but your human tugged on your sleeve. Its feautres were frozen, eyes wide.

"Human?" your human says.

You step closer. The sentient is walking slowly, so it is easy for you to get a glimpse at it, and to see that your human is wrong. It is a Sirviles, and while they can look human at times(although you'd never noticed it before) they are a species all their own.

You turn slightly to your human. "No," you say, shaking your head. "Sirviles."

Your human appears to lose an inch or two to height, which is concerning until you realize it is merely slumping. A reaction to exhaustion in many species that you had never gotten used to.

You jump up to your human's shoulder and shake it. "Okay?" you say.

Your human makes a noise like the yipping of wild dogs, which you have come to recognize as its version of laughter. "Okay," it confirms. "Just... little sad. What is Sirviles?"

You struggle to find the words to explain. Sirviles are wonderful and fascinating, but complicated. "Human then snake then human. One to two to one."

Your human nods at you and you nod back, momentarily forgetting the meaning of the gesture. Your human laughs at you and you bare your claws playfully at it before turning your attention back to the Sirviles.

You may end up zoning out slightly, for it feels like only a few seconds have passed when it whirls around, bares pointed fangs at you and hisses, "Who are you and why are you watching me?!"

You clasp your paws together and jump down from your human's shoulder. You don't want to draw too much attention to it yet, before you reveal to all of them what it actually is. Being human technically isn't illegal here, but there are still definitely people that could have a problem with it. "Apologies," you say. You know you must sound rather foolish, but you have always had trouble with the hisses of the Sirvilein language. "I saw you exiting a shop about Engineering, and I have found myself in need of an engineer. Do our needs align?"

The Sirviles is stunned into silence. You back up a few steps and study its face as it gathers its thoughts.

It is mostly on the hominid end of the cycle, with only a few scales and a slight limp showing the snake end. It is bald, with abstract tattoos covering its head and shoulders. It has dark skin and dark scales.

"They do," the Sirviles says. "Or I believe ssssso. What sssort of workerss are you looking for?"

"I have brought a new s-s-ship," you say, giving up on trying to hiss the s. You just aren't made for it. I could use an engineer, a scientist, or a doctor. Third is lowest priority." You already have a bit of emergency medical training, enough to get by. If there's a doctor willing to come work on your ship, great, but it really isn't necessary.

"I am an engineer," the Sirviles says. "I also ssspeak Cervilian, and a bit of Pyricessse, if that enhances the deal for you."

You smile. You've picked up the habit from your human. "It does."

"Where will the deal be ssssealed?" your engineer asks.

"The Crow Section of the docks," you say. "You will find an Equilian there. "I will meet you shortly."

As your new engineer walks off, quickly vanishing into the crowds of people, your human bends down to tap you. It is a startling feeling, and you jump. Your human backs away, babbling too quickly for you to understand.

You hold a paw up. "Slow, slow," you say in your humans language.

"Sorry," your human says. It bends down. It does that sometimes when its talking to you. Its... kind of sweet, but you are very used to talking to species much taller than you. Did your human not see you talking to the Sirviles five seconds ago. "When home?"

Home? What does your human mean, 'home'? Does it mean Earth? You can't get to Earth. Earth is dangerous. And anyway, your human never mentioned wanting to go back there. "Home?"

Your human frowns, and your tail twitches slightly, a prey instinct you cannot suppress. "The ship? You? When home?"

Oh. Oh, you love your human so much. "Soon. Person," you hold up one finger, "supplies," you hold up another, "and then home," you hold up a third finger.

Your human nods. "Good."

As you walk into the crowd, you notice that your human is walking behind you. Now that you think of it, it's pretty much been doing that the whole time. You aren't sure why. It's not like you can hide it, other than drawing attention of it-- it is much bigger than you. And while you would do anything to protect it, it is stronger than you as well.

Hmm. It is young. Perhaps it doesn't know it's own strength.

As you ponder this question, you feel an icy chill through your arm and turn to see a flickering sentient trying to pull you away. Its hand keeps going through your arm and it growls in frustration.

"Excuse me?" you say in Pyricese. It probably doesn't know Pyricese, but hopefully it knows at least one language that you speak.

"Hi!" the sentient says. "Will you come over here? Your friend can come too."

You stare, unable to process the words you are hearing. This feels like encountering an extinct species in the wild. "Are you speaking Universal Standard?"

The sentient shifts its weight back and forth. The light of its form flickers as it moves, like a candle flame. "Is that bad? Sorry. If so."

You sigh, and jump up to pat the being. It seems to have focused more, because your hand doesn't phaze through it. It zaps you a little, like... tiny electrocution? There should really be a word for that. "Galaxy-new, no one speaks Universal Standard."

The flickering gets more intense, and you thank the Saints that you are standing on the side of the road rather than in the middle of it. "Why is it called Universal Standard then? This is too confusing."

You really want to rant about the history of Universal Standard, because it is fascinating, but ironically, your Universal Standard is extremely rusty. You only ever studied it, never actually practiced, since no one speaks Universal Standard. Instead you just chirp a I don't know, and say, "Sorry. Were you not looking for a job?"

The sentient flickers in and out one more time and then settles down into a more humanoid form, with golden eyes and a pointed noise. It doesn't have a mouth, and you realize that you have no idea how its been talking to you this whole time. "Right! Yes. Now I haven't been to space before, so I would like a job. Before they find me."

"Are you a criminal?" you ask. "Because I'm not hiring criminals--"

"Only from my planet!" the sentient protests. It seems flustered. "They're very closed off, and they don't like space, but I wanted to go to space so I could learn more things."

That explains why they thought Universal Standard was actually the standard language then. Galaxy-new was a lot more accurate of a term than you thought. "What can you do?"

The sentient hesitates. "I am a," there is some sort of word in their home language that sounds like the squeak of a whistle. You have a wide range of vision and can see your human tense behind you.

"I don't know that word," you say. A very helpful phrase, in any language.

The sentient growls again. "I... I learn things, and I do tests, and I do more tests to figure things out, and I collect information about the things and write it down."

"A scientist?" you say. Your heart flutters. Saints, you have been lucky today. Maybe the world is trying to give you a break after having your old crew abandon you. "I need a scientist."

"Is that the Universal Standard word for it?" the sentient says, before waving a glowing tendril. "Not important. So you'll hire me?"

You sigh. Well, it seems sweet. Why not? "Yeah, alright," you say. "But I'm gonna be giving you language lessons. You need to know something other than Universal Standard."

"Deal!" the sentient turns into a little glowing star, pulsing happily. You explain to it where to go, and then head off into the crowd again. Just a few more supplies to get and then it will be time to go back to your ship.

This time, you hop onto your humans shoulder, occasionally whispering instructions into its ear to tell it where to go. Its nice, to see the world from a different perspective, and also nice to see your human.

You have a very wide range of vision, and from your spot on its shoulder you can see your humans absolute wonder at everything it is seeing. Sometimes fear, yes, or confusion, but mostly wonder and awe. If you are interpreting human facial expression correctly.

It's beautiful. You haven't been that in awe of the galaxy in a very long time, but you still remember the feeling, the first time you saw how small you were, and how big the world could be.

You are glad to be able to see your human experiencing it. You would have thought it would have already happened, considering you found your human on a crashed Cervilian ship. Maybe the ship never landed....?

Eh. It's really not that important. You should just enjoy the moment.

You gather up supplies-- food and equipment. You'd gotten a lot of different types of currency before you'd set off in your ship, so you don't have to worry too much about exchanging, which saves a lot of time. Before you know it, you have everything you need.

Your human is walking back to the ship, when you pass by a bookshop. You would have ignored it, but for two important things.

1: One of the books on display has a human on the cover.

2: The sentient inside, sweeping the floor and humming quietly to himself, is Pyrician.

You jump down from your human's shoulder. It will be good to look another one of your species in the eye.

You open up the door, your human awkwardly shuffling after you. It seems to understand when it sees the Pyrician, because it stops whispering, "What?" at you in both Human and Pyricese.

The Pyrician is larger than you. Its tail is bushier and its fur is darker, more beach than desert. It is a little grey around the whiskers, and it snuffles welcomingly at you as you enter.

"Pronouns?" it asks.

"She/her variant," you answer. "You?"

"He/him," he says, answering with the shortened version. You have gotten used to talking more formally, you realize. It is easier for outsiders to understand. "What brings you to my little bookshop?"

You are almost certain that this man is from the beach areas of your planet. He has quite a thick accent. "I saw that you have a book about humans in your windows...?"

"Oh! Yes!" he glances around. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Of course," you promise. You glance over to your human, standing in the corner tapping the wall in some sort of rhythm unidentifiable to anyone but itself and giggle. Whatever the secret is, you are almost certain you won't have a problem with it.

"I think humans are a bit... too villanized," he confides in you like its some huge deal, instead of something you've thought pretty much ever since you started talking to your human. "They can be dangerous of course, I'm not denying that, but there are lots of dangerous species out there. Humans just seem... misunderstood to me. I have a lot of books about them. Professional interest."

"Wait..." you say slowly. "You have books? About humans?"

"Yes!" he says happily, ears bobbing up and down. "Some written by other species, but a few written by humans themselves. And one of them is just all my collected information. Now, all the humans I know are from one specific part of the planet, so my understand of the language is limited--"

"But you have books on the language?" you repeat.

He nods. There is a twinkle in his dark black eyes. "Yes, I do."

You grab him by the shoulders. "Show me everything."

#story snippet #story #original character #humans are space orcs #second person #you and your human #picking up where part 2 left off #Part 5: Crew Bonding!!! #writblr