#THE GROUND IS COVERS LETS GOOOO
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ITS SNOWING 🌨️❄️
#LETS FUCKIN GOOOOOO#WE JUST LOOKED OUTSIDE AND WAS LIKE DAMN GUESS WE HAVE TO WORK TOMORROW#THEN LIKE TWO SECONDS LATER OUR BESTIE SENDS A VIDEO OF MY NIECE LOOKING AT SNOW FOR A SNOWMAN (shes a baby) THEN WE LOOK BACK AND BOOM#THE GROUND IS COVERS LETS GOOOO#wood wide web
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THE KIDS AIN'T FINE, FINE - ROY KENT.
PART THREE of ACES AT THE WATER'S EDGE.
(series masterlist!) (AO3!) (series playlist!)
pairing: roy kent x fem!reader (no use of y/n!)
summary: in 2012, roy’s summer olympic training camp is going (surprisingly) well. the same can’t be said for your new and current arrangement at richmond. and while you two think you’re doing a good job at keeping your bickering discreet, certain people are starting to notice that something’s up. and some are handling it better than others.
word count & rating: 11.8k (holy shit), R (typical roy kent fruity language)
chapter warnings: swearing, minor allusions to sexual assault and harassment, a sprinkling of sexual tension (we'll get there y'all), talk of alcohol and alcohol use, ploooot, lots of football/soccer/coaching talk, major angst, typical bickering, slight fluff.
author's note: i’m baaaaaaack and we're in it now, folks! we're covering A LOT of ground in this part. whole lotta relationship building and exposition. we're getting to the fun stuff soon, promise. and for the sake of my plot/pacing, we're pretending there was a week of time between last chapter and this one, despite them both taking place within the 3x02 timeframe. thank you for the love on the last chapter, i'm truly having so much fun writing this, so it's so exciting to see that people are enjoying it. ok, shutting up now, love u all tons, let's goooo! - mags
PRESENT DAY. (MID-AUGUST, 2023)
There are two days until Richmond’s first game of the season and you think you’ve slept approximately four and a half hours this entire week.
Despite the fact that your days weren’t too intense (pre-season practices were typically a little more involved and could stretch longer, and your Coaches' meetings never kept you past an unreasonable hour), your nights were rather rough. They seemed to be endless while also never offering quite enough time.
This was all self-inflicted, though. From the second you returned home from Nelson Road, you dove back into work, studying game film and your new players, attempting to figure out exactly what made this team tick. You thought about potential plays and formations in the shower, nearly slipping and cracking your head open each time you raced out to draw something up. You rehearsed things you wanted to say during practices, making sure each line was insightful and understandable, without overstepping any sort of boundaries.
Boundaries were key, here. You were hyper-aware of those now.
However, it wasn’t like you were saying the majority of these things. For the first time in almost a decade, you’d found yourself biting your tongue more often than not. You were friendly and encouraging like any good coach was, but you were agreeable. Quiet. Hesitant.
Those were issues and you knew that. That’s not what a coach was supposed to be, especially the coach of an AFC team. But that stupid fucking anxiety that you couldn’t shake had muzzled you. The fear made you weak. And while you hated it, you couldn’t rid yourself of it. That only made you feel more pathetic.
And it wasn’t like the Richmond team hadn’t done everything in their power to make you feel welcome. The ‘primary school-level art’ Roy had spoken of on your first day had been a large ‘Welcome to Richmond’ banner held by the team in the locker room, each of the players greeting you with a wide smile on their faces. While, yes, it did look like it’d been put together by a couple of third-graders (with the exception of a wildly intricate sunflower in the corner done by Dani Rojas), the thought behind it nearly made you cry.
All of the players had personally introduced themselves to you throughout the week, some keeping it short and sweet like Jaan Maas, others, such as Sam, approaching with lists of questions; not just about your professional life, but personal life, too.
They each were respectful and kind, listening to the few things you did work up the courage to say and seemed to take them to heart. They listened to you. They wanted to hear from you. They wanted to get to know you.
And you couldn’t fucking allow yourself to do it.
Your distant and rather closed-off behavior hadn’t gone unnoticed. While you thought you were keeping it cool and polite, certain players and people (AKA your entire coaching staff and boss) couldn’t help but see through what you’re doing.
This becomes evident early one morning, approximately five days after you begin. You’re the first one at the Richmond facilities, having stayed up for so long that night that you figured you might as well just stay awake for training. You’re only the slightest bit delirious and are trying not to vibrate due to the three cups of coffee that are currently coursing through your system.
You’re about to take a sip of your fourth when you hear a knock on your office door. The sound makes you pause— nobody’s supposed to be here until eight, at least.
The voice behind the knock reveals the identity immediately. “You’re here early, Coach.”
Unconsciously, your body goes rigid. You thought you’d be alone. You’ve only been here for a couple days, but nobody seemed to come in this early. Especially not Jamie Tartt.
What was he doing here? Why was he here so early? Was it just him? Or were there others with him? Anxiety floods through your veins at the idea of being alone in your office with this team’s star player. It creeps along your spine and into your mind and taunts you with ‘what ifs’, It’s stupid and it makes no sense and you hate yourself for it, but you can’t find a way to stop it.
And it’s not even his fault. It has nothing to do with him. But you can’t seem to convince yourself of that.
Without turning around, you greet him. “C-Could say the same for you, Jamie.”
Jamie Tartt chuckles from your doorframe. “Having trouble sleepin’ lately,” he tells you, sounding slightly confused by your refusal to face him. “Thought I’d show up early.”
You force yourself to turn, crossing your arms over your chest. You ignore how clammy your palms are as your hands ball to fists. “Is that… typical for you?” you ask. “To show up at this time?”
“Not at all,” he replies with a shake of his head. The smile on his face is easy. Polite. Comfortable. “Just got a lot on me mind lately. Makes me sleep shitty.”
“Sorry to hear that.” You attempt the same politeness but your words come out clipped. You can’t tell if he notices.
Jamie nods. “Oh, it’s whatever. I’ll get over it.”
The dead air you’re met with is almost painful. You know you should be better at this. You know you should be engaging in this type of small talk, trying to get to know your team. You’re their coach, for fuck’s sake. You know what you need to do.
But as you stare at Jamie, you can’t get anything to come out. You don’t want to say the wrong thing. You don’t want to overstep your boundaries or his. You don’t want to screw this up too. One wrong move and it could be over for you.
The hesitation clearly reads on your face and this time, you can tell Jamie notices. However, what you notice is the way he lingers at your door.
Finally, you muster up the courage to ask, “Is there something I can help you with?”
That seems to be what he was looking for. His shoulders sag as he nods, glancing behind him to see if there’s anyone around. “I was just…” He enters your office, plopping himself down into Roy’s desk chair with a lazy spin, and the action makes your throat tighten. “Is, uh… Is Zava really coming to Richmond?”
You don’t know what you were expecting from him, but it certainly wasn’t that. The question catches you off guard. “Oh,” you say. You shrug, arms uncrossing. “Uh, I mean… it’s being talked about. I’m still kind of new, but it seems like every team’s kinda trying to get him. I know West Ham was trying hard for sure, so… not sure if we’ll win him over.”
Jamie nods. “But it’s on the table?”
His tone doesn’t match the question. Everyone else— each player, coach, fan, everyone has the same type of excitement when talking about the prospect of Zava. And you get it.
But Jamie doesn’t seem to be in the same boat. And immediately, you get that too.
The realization makes you part your lips, something like sympathy rising up inside you. Jamie’s the star. The Ace. He’s Richmond’s playmaker and he thinks he’s going to be sidelined because of it. And honestly, he may just be right.
“Yeah,” you reply. “It’s still on the table.” He nods once more, like he’s confirming a reality he didn’t want to face. In an attempt to reassure him, you awkwardly try, “But there’s still a lot of ‘what-ifs’ that have to happen before that does. The probability of it happening is like, super low.” Jamie looks at you. “So, I wouldn’t worry about it until it does.”
That makes Jamie shake his head. “I’m not worried about it,” he nearly scoffs. You can’t help the way you look at him, eyebrows raised and calling him out on his bullshit. “I’m not!”
“Good,” you say, backing off from this type of conversation before it can start. The idea of getting into any type of argument makes you tense. “You don’t have to be.”
That seems to satisfy him. Momentarily. Because then he asks, “But if he does…” As he trails off, he meets your expectant eyes. “Could we… Could you help me out?”
The question gives you pause. “In what way? Giving you updates on where we are with Zava?”
“No,” he chuckles. “I mean, like… training me. One on one? Or even just giving me more notes in practice?”
The second he says training, your entire body freezes. He wanted to do one-on-one training sessions with you? Just the two of you? Alone? The last time someone you’d coached had asked you that…
Jamie’s expression contorts in confusion as he sees the look on your face. “I just thought that, like, we played the same position? And y’know, I’ve seen your film and I know what you do and… I think you’d be able to help me.”
You try to answer him but the words don’t come out. Your throat’s dry, jaw tight. However, luckily, before Jamie has time to fully panic about his questions, you crush them. “Uh, I’m—” Your voice cracks. “I’m not sure I’d be comfortable with that just yet.”
Your answer seems to surprise him, but you’re surprised by how quickly he backs off. He physically takes a step back, throwing his hands up. “Oh, yeah. Of course,” he says. “You just got here. Don’t really know us yet. Totally get it.”
You hadn’t expected that. The last time, you’d been fought. Begged. Coerced. You’re the only one who seems to get me, Coach. You just know how to teach me. C’mon.
But Jamie doesn’t do that. And you’re not sure what to do with that.
“I-I’m sorry,” you manage to get out. “Nothing against you, but I’m just—” You interrupt yourself with a new offer. “Maybe ask Roy?”
That Jamie actually scoffs at. “Right.”
“I’m serious,” you tell him. “He’s actually a pretty good trainer.”
“No, he’s uh…” Jamie swipes at his mouth as he laughs. “He’s not my biggest fan.”
His admission makes you laugh and relax for a moment. “Well, at least we’ve got that in common, Tartt.”
Jamie’s gaze snaps to yours at that, but his oncoming question is interrupted by a voice from the hallway. “The fuck are you two doing here so early?”
Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Roy’s voice is a welcome one for the first time in eight years. Your eyes flash to him as he stands outside your shared office, glancing between the two of you in confusion.
“We both had trouble sleeping,” you respond. “Felt like being early for once.”
Jamie nods in agreement. “Was shootin’ a bit outside. Saw the light was on and wanted to say hi to Coach.”
Roy nods but says nothing to that. He just continues to stare at Jamie in that vaguely intimidating, wildly annoying way. Jamie’s brows raise before Roy says, “You’re in my fucking chair.”
Jamie rolls his eyes. “Yeah. Because you weren’t here. I was gonna get out when you got in.”
“Well, I’m in now,” Roy says. “So get out of my fucking chair.”
Jamie glances at you with a cheeky smile. “Grandad doesn’t like people in his chair.”
The corners of your lips twitch up. “Grandad doesn’t like a lot of things,” you reply, a strange sense of pride rising within you as Jamie’s grin widens.
“Grandad’s about to go out back out into the car park and drive through the facility if my chair’s not empty in three fucking seconds,” Roy grits.
You bite back a smile at the empty threat, watching as Jamie shakes his head and stands. “Easy there, geezer. I’m out. Going back to the pitch,” he tells you two, making his way out of the office. Before he leaves, he glances back at you. “And Coach? Don’t worry about what I said.”
You can feel Roy’s eyes on the side of your face as you give Jamie a small, grateful smile. But when he exits, it drops and you fail to hold back a heavy, shaky sigh. God, why the fuck can’t you do your fucking job? Why does this have to be so hard?
Less than a second of silence passes between you and Roy before he asks, “What did he say?”
You shake your head. “Nothing. Nothing important.”
Roy doesn’t take the hint. He’s never been good at that. “What did he say?” he repeats.
“He—” You slump into your desk chair, running a hand down your face. You know avoiding this is no use. He’ll ask until he gets it out of you, so you might as well get it over with. “He asked me for extra training.”
Roy’s brows shoot up. “You?”
You glare at him from behind your fingers. “I’m a fantastic coach.”
“I know you are. But there’s no way he could have known.”
Your glare only gets more intense as you drop your hands. The implication of his statement isn’t lost on you. No one knows anything about you because of how little you’ve spoken. You get that. But he doesn’t need to be a dick about it.
“It doesn’t matter,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “I said no, so.”
“You said no?” He sounds incredulous. “Since when do you say no?”
“Since—” The words get caught in your throat again, and it tightens horribly. Since West Ham. Since you said no more times than you could count and it went ignored.
You shake your head like it’ll clear your thoughts. “I’m just not comfortable with it.”
Roy’s suspicious. In your experience, a suspicious Roy Kent is just about as bad as a deceitful Roy Kent. Every fucking move you make for the next week will be under scrutiny until he can pinpoint whatever he thinks is happening. The idea makes you want to take him up on his offer to drive through the facility.
His eyes stay on you, calculating stare never breaking. “Why?” he asks, as if he’s expecting a simple answer.
But it’s not simple. It’s so unbelievably, wildly, completely the opposite of simple.
But you give him a simple answer in return. It’s a bullshit answer, but it’s simple. “Boundaries,” you say. You’re out of your chair before he can respond to that. “I’m going to get more coffee.”
He says nothing as you exit, but you can feel his eyes on you.
LONDON OLYMPICS. (LATE JULY, 2012)
As it turns out, Roy Kent’s Olympic Boot Camp is wildly more effective and insanely more fun than you thought it ever could be.
The two of you had met up twice since the night of the Opening Ceremony, at the same field, typically at the late-night same time. Roy had continued to send Roger the Driver for you, something you’d taken gladly advantage of, especially with your limited knowledge of the London area. You’d actually grown to love Roger despite his rather talkative nature, and he’d clearly taken a liking to you.
(“Be kind to this one, Roy!” he’d yelled from the window as you’d exited his car. “The States need her much more than England needs you!”
“Fuck off, you old twat!”)
However, while these trainings had been way better than you’d expected, it’s also way fucking harder than you anticipated.
You knew Roy was good. He was an AFC star. A Chelsea legend in the making. He was as well known as he was for a reason, and it wasn’t just because he frequented a tabloid cover. Roy was good.
But you think you may have underestimated just how good he was.
And it wasn’t like you weren’t keeping up with him. You could go shot for shot with him, run the same length and duration, and score on him with the same type of precision. Of course, he had his things that he was better at than you were (as a midfielder, he was a smart, fucking brick wall of a defender and wasn’t afraid to push you around) and you had your strengths over him (you were quicker than he was and your striker nature made you better at anticipating him). But there were certain things he’d do in the midst of a 1v1 drill that you would have never thought of, or he’d stop a play to give you a direction that had never occurred to you.
(Or, it would have occurred to you, but just not as quickly.)
That, coupled with the fact that he liked to run these practices until your lungs gave out, made for an intensely more challenging but rewarding experience.
But you didn’t think of them as rewarding until they were over. Case in point, your current and third meeting with him. It was 1:30 in the morning at Mabley Green on the 2nd of August and here you were, growing more and more frustrated with the fact that you couldn’t get around Roy despite the aggressive amount of fakes and footwork you were throwing around. He’d been in your ear the entire time, somehow encouraging you while still being a shit, and when you thought you had him, he stuck out a leg to stop the ball, effectively tripping you in the process.
You hit the ground with an ‘oof,’ taking advantage of your new horizontal position to lie for a minute and catch your breath. Your chest heaved up and down and you stared up at the huge lights illuminating the field. You could hear Roy walking toward you as you threw your arm over your eyes in exhaustion.
“You’re a dick,” you told him. “That fucking hurt.”
Roy’s scoff was loud. “That was a fucking dive.”
“You tripped me!”
“Bit dramatic.”
An affronted sound left your lips and you put your other hand up in a way that resembled a phone. “I’ve got the kettle on the line right now if you’d like to tell it it’s black.”
You were surprised to hear him chuckle at this. “No idea what you’re talking about.”
Your eyes roll from behind your arm. “I’m serious,” you say. “All you boys act like you were shot the second someone marks you. It’s pathetic.”
“Refs miss shit. You gotta put on a show.”
“Is that show The O.C? Because I’m always expecting an auto-tuned ‘mmm, whatcha say’ to sound off each time one of you losers hits the ground.”
Roy’s standing above you now, looking down with a half-amused expression. “I don’t know what the fuck that means.” He’s talking again before you can explain. “Get up. We’re not finished yet.”
A loud, ugly groan escapes you. You still haven’t completely caught your breath. “I think I’m dying.”
“You’re fine. Get up.”
“I’m serious,” you say again. You finally remove your arm from over your eyes, squinting up at him. He’s as unamused as ever. “I think I’m dying and you killed me. I think if you tried to get me up right now, I’d collapse and stroke out or something.”
“And it would be a fucking loss for us all,” he replies dryly, earning a scowl from you. “I’ve got you for another thirty. We’re wasting time.”
You release another groan and squeeze your eyes shut once more. “Can I please just have, like, five minutes?” you plead. “Not all of us have this military-regimented training style that you seem to. I haven’t been this dialed in since college. Still trying to adjust here.”
(You’ve also never trained like this with someone as good as him before, but you keep that one to yourself. He doesn’t need the ego boost.)
You don’t hear anything in response for a moment. Confused, you open your eyes, expecting to find him still staring down at you with a frown, but he’s not there. Before you can rise to find him, a plastic water bottle lands right next to your head. You flinch in surprise, shooting up to glare at him.
Roy sits down across from you before you can complain. “Five minutes,” he agrees.
“Oh, thank God,” you mutter, opening up your water to take a long gulp. You glance at him. “Are all of your Boot Camps as intense as this?”
Roy rolls his eyes at your question. “I’m sure you’ve been to worse.”
“I have. But in like, high school. This shit’s got nothing on my two-week sleep-away soccer camp in Western Massachusetts.” You pause for a moment. “Or the one in North Carolina. That one sucked.”
He looks over at you. “Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah. Six A.M. early training sessions into all-day drills and tournament game play? Followed by a lovely nine P.M. late-night training?” You shake your head. “Insane. And that early and late-night stuff? Totally optional.”
“But you still chose to do it,” he states, brows raised.
“I still chose to do it,” you repeat. “That, and my psycho coach would keep tabs on me to make sure I was going.” You chuckle despite yourself and shrug. “But I did it. Without complaint.”
“I see you picked up the complaining later in life.”
You make a face at the way he smirks. “I’d be a masochist if I didn’t complain about this,” you tell him, biting back a smile. “I assume you were born with that trait?”
“Just fucking about,” he mutters. At your inquisitive look, he shrugs. “Sunderland scouted me when I was nine. Training was pretty fucking rough until I went into the AFC.”
“I forgot you guys could start that stuff that young over here,” you say, taking another sip of your water. “Was that tough?”
“I kept up,” he answers. “They were hard on us but—”
“No,” you interrupt. “I meant like, doing that shit at nine. Being away from your family. Being on your own that young. Was that hard?”
With every reason you listed, you could see him stiffening. His expression became harder and you figured if he could push a button to put a wall between you two, he would. Your stomach sank as you tried to figure out if you’d said the wrong thing or pushed too far. Maybe that was a boundary he wasn’t willing to cross. Despite the amount you’d spoken these past three sessions, maybe you weren’t yet friendly enough to ask about his upbringing.
But then again, he barely talked about himself in any capacity, so maybe it wasn’t just that. Maybe it was everything.
He was quiet for a moment before he shook his head. “No,” he finally said, though the one word alone let you know the answer was the opposite. He glanced down at his watch. “Five minutes are up.”
And that conversation is over. Got it. No questions about his childhood. Understood.
Still, the dismissal catches you slightly off guard. “O-Oh,” you stammer. “Right. Okay.”
Roy said nothing else as he stood, making his way back to the end of the pitch. You suppose you should have expected that from someone like him. While he’d gotten better as a conversationalist as the days had passed, you still led the majority of the talking. And you were fine with that. You were a pretty open book yourself and often forgot that most people weren’t the same way. Maybe that was on you.
You sit for a moment, allowing him some distance before you stand. You throw your water bottle to the sideline and follow behind him, feeling a bit like a dog that just got scolded. But you quickly shake that feeling away as he stops where he left the ball and turns to you, kicking it in your direction.
You put your foot on it as you receive it and look at him expectantly. “I’m setting a timer for thirty seconds,” he tells you, starting to fiddle with his watch. “We’re staying in the box. If you don’t score on me within that time, you run a lap.”
Well, that just sounds like your own personal hell. You frown. “And if I do score?”
“You won’t,” Roy replies quickly, and you don’t know if you’ve ever heard him sound more sure.
“No, but when I do score?” you repeat, emphasizing the word to see him roll his eyes. “What happens? We subtract a lap?”
Roy shrugs. “Sure. But—”
“No,” you say, eyes lighting up. “You have to run.”
“I’m not the one being trained here.”
“Yeah, but I’ve got a match tomorrow. And if my legs like, give out on the field I’m totally blaming you.” You roll the ball against your cleat. “‘I’m sure that ‘Roy Kent being the reason America loses’ isn’t exactly the headline your PR team’s gonna want.”
“I don’t give a fuck about PR,” he replies.
Images of rather negative tabloid covers and online gossip articles starring the man before you start flashing through your head. “Clearly.”
“I just don’t want anyone knowing I’m fraternizing with a fucking Yank,” he finishes, a smirk tugging at his lips.
An overly fake and affronted gasp leaves your lips. “Fraternizing?” you parrot. “Is that what we’re doing?”
“Guess not,” he says. The smug expression intensifies. “Suppose I could tell them we’re training. Because the girl who’s supposed to be America’s fucking Ace needs it.”
That sparks a fire in you that you haven’t felt in a while. You can’t remember the last time someone challenged you like this. Sure, the women you played against would talk a fair amount of shit to you on and off the field, especially during a tight game when tensions were running high. But this was different. It was different hearing it from someone like him.
You’d never liked having to prove yourself. You knew it came with the territory of your chosen career path. You’d been doing it all your life. For every team you joined, every game you played, and every interview you gave, you’d been given an opportunity to prove yourself. And each time, you did. You were good at showing people up. But that didn’t mean you liked it.
You figured at some point people would just get the message. But unfortunately, that had never been the case.
So, as you look at Roy (who, by this point, knew he’d hit a nerve and had gotten the exact response he’d wanted), you know exactly what you’re going to do. You’re going to prove yourself and show him up like the rest.
With that settled, you nod at him. “Start the clock,” you say.
And as soon as he does, you’re on.
You attack without caution this time around. You’d never held back when practicing with Roy (mainly because he’d reprimand you if he felt you weren’t trying hard enough), but you also rarely had an edge to you like this. It’s new and aggressive and just a bit exciting.
Roy’s fucking ecstatic to see it. His chest meets your back as you attempt to pass him and you can feel him chuckling against it. “That’s it,” he says lowly. “Get around me. I fucking dare you.”
“Shut up,” you mutter, attempting a fake before moving to go the other way.
Said attempt ends up being less than successful as Roy fails to fall for it and kicks the ball out from beneath your foot. You swear under your breath, watching as it sails out of the box.
You’re close enough to him to still feel his chest moving up and down against your back, and his breath tickles your neck when he asks, “Is that seriously the best you’ve got?”
Your jaw clenches, but you refuse to look at him. “I’m gonna fucking destroy you.”
The certainty in your voice makes Roy grin, something you don’t see as you jog to retrieve the ball. The remnants of the smile stick around as you whip around to face him, commanding that he start the clock once more. The moment he does as he’s told, you’re coming at him again, nothing but determination to be seen in your expression.
This time, you’re quick. You anticipate his classic defensive stance, knowing that he’ll block your first shot. As soon as the ball bounces off his foot, you’re there for the rebound. You stop short, pulling back the moment he makes yet another move to take it from you, and he slips.
You easily score on him not a second later.
After watching the ball fly into the net, you glance over at Roy. While he doesn’t look thrilled to have been bested, he doesn’t look sad either. Again, it’s like there are remnants of a smile left to be seen.
“So,” you say. “Are we at zeroes for laps? Or one for one?”
Roy shakes his head. “One for one. Let’s keep fucking going.”
PRESENT DAY. (MID AUGUST, 2023)
It isn’t until the end of practice that you can feel it. How much Roy wants to fight with you.
It sounds stupid to phrase it like that, but it’s the only way. He’s pent up, a week into your ‘no fighting’ deal, and ready to burst. And while it’s worked (only because you two strictly talk about work and nothing else), now that he’s got something more personal to say, it’s like you’re waiting for an active volcano.
To be fair, your deal has worked in terms of not making a scene and not raising most people’s suspicions. But every other level, it’s been torturous. And right now? Roy’s ready to kill you.
He can’t, for the life of him, understand why you’re acting like this.
He knows you. You’re warm. You’re friendly. You have this innate ability to make everyone around you comfortable in your presence, an ability to talk to anyone and everyone and actually get through. All of these things, coupled with the fact that he could never shut you up, made you who you were; a great teammate and an even better coach.
(They were also all qualities Roy wished he had himself, which is why he was so fucking drawn to you in the first place, but that’s neither here nor there.)
He doesn’t know who this is. But he knows for a fact that these changes aren’t just because of time.
Roy’s breaking point, however, occurs toward the end of your Thursday practice. It’d been a good day, the boys showing more promise than ever. End-of-pre-season jitters (as Ted called them) were in full force and it was clear that the team couldn’t be more excited to get started with the season.
In your return back into the facility, Sam Obisanya trails back to fall into step with you with a wide smile on his face. He doesn’t miss the look of surprise you give him as he says, “I really liked what you said about passing around the box. I’ve been thinking that for all of pre-season, but did not know how to get it through to everyone.”
The point he’s referring to was one of the only things you’d said all afternoon. It was a quiet direction on your part, told more as a recommendation than an instruction. But Sam, Jamie, Colin, and Dani had taken it in stride, and it worked. Cleanly, too. You straight-up almost cried out of relief.
“Oh,” you say to him lamely, offering a small smile. “Thank you. You guys did great with it.”
Sam’s grin gets wider. “We all are going to eat after we’re done here,” he tells you. “You should join us.”
You can feel your stomach drop at the offer. You don’t want to turn him down. Poor Sam was trying so hard to make an effort with you and you feel completely awful giving him nothing in return.
But you just… can’t. Boundaries. Boundaries.
Sam gets his answer from the way your smile turns apologetic. “I wish I could,” you say, knowing that it’s the truth. “But, I, uh— I’ve actually got plans tonight.”
“You could just come for a drink?” he offers. “I’m only going for a little while myself. I have some things at the restaurant I need to do.”
Your heart clenches. “I really wish I could.”
Thankfully, Sam takes the hint. He nods at you, still smiling. You don’t think he’s ever stopped. “That’s alright,” he says. “Another time.”
You nod back. “Yeah. Another time.”
With that, Sam goes to catch up with his teammates and leaves you with an overwhelming amount of guilt on your shoulders.
He’s trying, you tell yourself. They all are. It’s different than West Ham. They’re not the same. Nobody on this team is like him—
You can feel yourself getting nauseous at the mere thought of him. It completely takes you out of the moment and your hands begin to shake back and forth as you attempt to continue walking, clenching your teeth as if that’ll rid your mind of him.
How strange it is to be haunted by someone who’s still living.
You’re already disoriented enough when you feel a hand grab your arm and yank you to the side. Your world spins for a moment and when it stabilizes, you realize you’re in the Boot Room staring at Roy Kent.
He slams the door shut and whirls around on you. “What the fuck are you doing?”
You do a full, cartoon-like double-blink at him. “What am I doing?” you ask him incredulously. “What are you doing? Why the hell did you pull me in here like that?”
“You don’t have plans tonight,” is what he replies with, like that’s a reasonable answer to your question.
“And how would you know that?” you question.
He gives you a look. “Because you fucking don’t.”
“I do,” you say, crossing your arms. Your mind scrambles to find some excuse that’s suitable. For whatever reason, you decide on, “I have a date.”
Roy’s brows rocket up. “Do you?”
You know he can see right through you, so you don’t even bother trying. “No,” you admit, watching him roll his eyes. “But I could have. You don’t know my schedule.”
Roy doesn’t seem to want to linger on this. “That’s the third fucking time one of them has invited you out since you got here,” he tells you, ignoring the way your eyes widen. “Why do you keep turning them down?”
“Why are you keeping track of that?” you shoot back.
“Because you’re being a fucking hermit.” As if he knows exactly what you’re going to say next, he holds out a hand. “And that’s my fucking job. That’s not who you are.”
His words make you deflate, and your arms get tighter over your chest. “I’m not being a hermit,” you mutter, looking away from him. “I’m just not trying to take work home with me. I don’t see anything wrong with keeping the two separate.”
Roy isn’t having it. “No, you’re not,” he says. “You’re not keeping the two separate. You’re shutting out every fucking person around you when you’re at work too.”
“That’s not true—”
“Did you or did you not refuse to train Jamie yesterday morning?” he snaps. Your silence answers his question for him. “It is fucking true. And even if it weren’t, unfortunately, that whole keeping-work-separate fucking bullshit doesn’t work here. Trust me. I tried.”
You scoff. “Well, that sounds like an HR issue.”
“Well, when Ted stops leaving fucking flowers for the HR women every week, I’m sure they’ll start to take your complaints seriously,” he tells you, and you sigh. Heavy. “Now, what the fuck is wrong with you?”
This question earns him a glare. “There’s nothing wrong with me,” you bite. “And if there were, it surely wouldn’t concern you.”
“Yes, it fucking does. You know why?” he asks. You stare at him expectantly. “Because last week, I remember someone telling me that if this was going to work, we have to tell each other things.”
Your own words come back to bite you in the ass and it makes your chest tighten. You scoff in an attempt to play it off, but that panic starts rising inside of you and throws everything off course. You know that it’s stupid, and you know that it’s Roy, and that despite it all, deep down, nothing bad would come from telling him… it’s still scary.
You didn’t want to talk about it and he didn’t deserve to know. Not yet, at least.
“Not this,” you say after a beat. Your voice sounds meek and it makes Roy’s brow scrunch. “I’ll talk to you about anything else you want, but not…” You interrupt yourself with a breath. “Not this.” Then, you utter a word you haven't said in eight years. "Foxtrot."
It’s then that Roy’s expression turns from confused to shocked. His lips part in surprise, like he can’t believe that just left your mouth. And then he looks at you. Like, really looks at you. It almost intimidates you in a way, and it would intimidate you more if you didn’t know this look of his. Not only is he evaluating you, you can tell he’s holding something back.
You’d said the word. Pulled that thing out of the trenches and threw it in his face. But he's still staring at you, determined to figure out exactly how to approach this situation. Attempting to figure out if he should say something.
Because, unfortunately, as well as you know Roy, he knows you better. And he knows how to get through to you.
(And it’s fucking irritating.)
He, in fact, does choose to say something. And it’s not what you’re expecting. Because before he says in, he reaches into his pocket for his wallet, filing through it.
Your mouth parts in question. “Are you trying to bribe me into—”
“Shut up,” he mutters, and you do so until he seems to find what he’s looking for. He holds out a slip of paper-- something that appears to be a newspaper clipping from ages ago. “Here.”
You blink at it. “What is that?”
“Just fucking—” Roy sighs, adjusting his grip on the page. “Read it.”
Hesitantly, you reach out to grab it. Your fingers brush his when you take it, and the action alone makes the two of you glance at each other. You look away as you unfold the paper, quickly scanning it.
Newcomer Roy Kent is an over-hyped, so-called prodigy whose unbridled rage and mediocre talent rendered his Premier League debut a profound disappointment.
Your gaze shifts up at him knowingly. Roy can’t help but notice that most of the anger has slipped from your face. “Crimm?”
Roy nods once. “Crimm.”
“Was this your first game?” you ask, and when he nods again, things start to make a little more sense. You sigh, shoulders slumping. “You were seventeen.”
“I was seventeen,” he repeats, reaching out to take the clipping back from you. He only seems marginally surprised that you remembered that. “I was fucking seventeen years old and fucking debilitated by how nervous I was. I didn’t sleep for days before the game and then I went out there, I fucking survived it, and then read that shit. Didn’t sleep for days after it.” He shakes his head. “And then that prick fucking waltzes in here with his notepad and his stupid fucking hair like he didn’t fucking destroy me and wants to write a book about my team? Not a fucking chance.”
The outburst makes you stare at Roy in shock. He’d never mentioned anything like this to you. By the way he spoke of his earlier AFC days at Sunderland, you’d always assumed that it was smooth sailing. That while his career didn’t really take off until he joined Chelsea, he didn’t hold any resentment for anything that had happened. And while this may have seemed insignificant in the grand scheme of things, especially looking back at his career and other things people had said about him, this was Roy. Of course, he’d hold on to something like this.
“So, yeah,” he says, shifting uncomfortably under your gaze. “That’s why I won’t talk to Crimm. I don’t give a shit if you don’t get it, but that’s why.” He motions to you. “I showed you mine, so you show me yours, or whatever the fuck. That's how the counter-Foxtrot works, right?”
You do get it. You understand it better than anyone. But more importantly, you understand why he’d hold on to that. Roy, who could hold a grudge almost as well as you could. Roy, who hated the media and press and the world knowing shit about him more than anyone you knew. Roy, who felt and internalized things so deeply that he didn’t even realize he was doing it.
It’s the first thing he’s clued you in on in years. Even if it was vague and minimal, he told you. And you know how much he didn’t want to. That’s good enough for you to allow yourself to clue him in too.
(God, he really does know how to get through, huh?)
You blink away from him, gaze focused on the door. “I just…” You clear your throat, throwing a hand up pathetically. “I don’t get why they want to get to know me so bad.”
“Because they’re good fucking lads,” he responds.
“I know. And it’s pissing me off,” you mutter. Your arms are still crossed and right now, that feels like the only thing that’s protecting you. The weight is comforting. “I know it sounds ungrateful and dumb and it doesn’t make sense, but I just wish they’d…”
“...Fuck off?”
“Yeah,” you huff. “That.”
Roy’s head tilts. “Why?”
You don’t want to tell him. You know how stupid he’ll think it is, you know you’ll get told you’re an idiot. But he’s already told you something. In your world of deals, that means something. And your words return again to taunt you.
If this is gonna work, you have to tell me things, okay?
Your eyes shut and a shaky breath escapes your lips. It all comes out at once, like you’re trying to exterminate them. “Because the last time I got to know the team, I got fired,” you tell him, and his entire demeanor shifts. “And I can’t do that again. That can’t happen again. So, if that means I have to be distant and a bit unfriendly, then so be it.”
The inquisitive look he wore vanished entirely, replaced with something harder and much more serious. “What do you mean?”
You can feel your skin start to crawl. Your shirt suddenly doesn’t feel right on your body. It’s too hot in this small Boot Room and it’s all suddenly too much. “N-Nothing,” you say, chest tightening. “It doesn’t matter. You asked for the reason, and I gave it to you. That’s why I’m being weird.”
Roy’s not buying it. He’s seen all your signs and he knows there’s more to this than you’re letting on. You can tell he’s battling whether or not to press forward, and if so, how to do so. Your eyes are pleading for him to drop it.
“It wasn’t leadership differences,” he decides to land on. He says it like he’s always known. Like it may be confirming another suspicion. But it’s vague enough that you’re okay with it.
You chuckle, but there’s no humor in it. “No,” you say. “Not exactly.”
Roy nods, silence filling the room. He’s still staring at you and you’re starting to think he won’t ever stop. You notice the sliver of anger in his eyes but see it’s more subdued than usual. It’s not directed at you. It’s like he’s filing it away for later.
He speaks a moment later. “Whatever happened there,” he begins, voice low. “It won’t happen here. It would never happen here.”
You swallow the lump in your throat. “I’m starting to get that,” you answer honestly. “But it’s still hard.”
“I know.” Roy says, and the way he nods tells you that he does know. His mouth opens, wanting to say more, but it doesn’t come out immediately. “Just…” His eyes cast up to the ceiling. “If anything, just fucking… speak up in practice more. You’re their coach now. If you don’t want to get fucking personal with them, at least get to know them on the field.”
“I know them on the field,” you reply, because you do. You know your new players inside and out. You’ve studied them. You know their strengths, their weaknesses, what makes them tick. You know what works. “I do.”
“I know that,” is Roy’s immediate response, just like this morning. He points to the door. “But they fucking don’t. And they won’t know it until you fucking show them.”
This time, you look away from him because you know he’s right. A decade ago, Roy was just about fifty-fifty when it came to right and wrong, but now? He was consistently on target. You’re not sure which switch flipped in him or when, but goddamn, was it maddening.
You ask him such as you huff in annoyance. “Since when are you right all the fucking time?”
Roy’s clearly not expecting that, and it’s evident by the way he barks out a laugh. But, he figures, if you’re going to be nice, he supposes he will too.
“You were gone,” he replies with a chuckle. “Figured I had to pick up the slack.”
Involuntarily, your eyes go soft at his words. They’re kind and truthful and genuinely civil. It’s only for a moment, but Roy picks up on it in an instant. It makes the tiny, less resentful piece of him want to make it happen again, but he tells that piece of him to shut the fuck up.
He watches you as you sigh, shutting your eyes as if you’re readjusting. “Okay,” you finally say. “I’ll be better. I’ll… actually do my job, I guess.”
“About fucking time,” Roy mutters, though it’s slightly encouraging.
“But,” you continue, “I can’t… I can’t train Jamie. I can’t do one-on-one. That’s my non-negotiable.”
Roy wants to ask why. He wants to understand. He knows he’d be shit at helping you through it, but he just wants to get it. However, the look on your face keeps him from saying what he wants to. So, instead, he simply nods. “Okay.”
The relief you feel is written across your face. “Okay,” you agree. Then, you add, “I, uh, did tell him to ask you, though.”
Roy’s expression goes blanker than usual. “You fucking what?”
“You’re a good one-on-one trainer,” you offer, voice going up an octave. “I’m, like, your top reference.”
“Yeah, but you’re you,” Roy responds. “I can work with you. Not Jamie Tartt.”
You shrug. “What’s the difference?”
“Jamie Tartt is a fucking prick,” he states, as if it’s obvious. “You’re infuriating. And annoying. And a fucking headache. But he’s all those things on top of being a fucking prick.”
Your lips part at this, squinting at Roy. “I’m sorry, and you wanted me to train him?”
Roy doesn’t acknowledge your comment. “I’m not fucking training him.”
“I’m not saying you have to,” you respond, raising your hands in surrender. “I’m just letting you know that I passed him off to you.”
“Appreciate it. I’ll tell him to fuck off.”
“Glad you have a game plan.” While those words were lilted with annoyance, your next are a bit softer. “He… seemed a bit worried about Zava.”
Roy’s brow draws slightly. “Zava?”
“He tried to play it off,” you explain, “but he wasn’t subtle. Jamie’s obviously used to being the best on the team. I’m not sure he’s loving the competition.”
“The twat will get over it,” Roy says. “Sometimes you’re the best on the field, sometimes you’re not. That’s fucking life.”
You shoot him a look. “I don’t think he shakes things off like that. He’s not like you and me where we either don’t care or immediately use that type of shit for motivation.” Your eyes cast up to the ceiling as you speak, spilling out every thought you’ve had since Jamie came to you. “Guys like him, they need that reassurance. That ego needs to be healed when it’s been shot down, and then they’re finally ready to get motivated…” You trail off as soon as you see the way Roy’s looking at you. Head-tilted and slightly satisfied. “What?”
“Nothing,” he replies with a shrug. There’s a ghost of a smile on his face. “It’s just nice to get to see you finally fucking coaching.”
Warmth rises up your neck. It’s a mixture of embarrassment, being called out, and something else. The feeling makes you itch and in an attempt to shake it off, you shrug. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”
There’s a brief moment of silence and for a second, you think he’s going to make you sit in this air. However, he seems to take pity on you. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
It’s a soft agreement, one that you weren’t sure you were going to get. But it takes a bit of the weight off nonetheless. “Thank you.”
“He’s still a prick,” he adds, like he can’t help himself.
You nod in faux assurance. “Sure, Grandad.”
Roy casts his eyes to the ceiling. “Fuck’s sake, not you too.”
You can’t help it. You laugh. For the first time in eight years, Roy sees you laugh. It’s quiet. Light, even. But it’s lovely. It’s sweet. Roy can’t believe he’d allowed himself to go so long without hearing it.
Yet another silence passes between you two. Maybe it’s to savor the moment. Maybe it’s to remember. Perhaps it’s both. Perhaps it’s neither.
Whatever it is, it suddenly feels way too comfortable. There’s a split second where you’re back in 2015, just before everything went to shit. And that can’t happen. You can’t allow that to happen.
However, before you can move past that, Roy just has to catch you off guard. “So, you’ll start fucking coaching and I’ll… consider training with him.” He says the words like they take effort. And then, he looks at you and completely throws you off. “Should we shake on it?”
The words are hesitant and you know why. You have to refrain from taking a step back from him simply because of the weight that they carry. All you can do is stare at his outstretched hand. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say his hands were shaking.
But, you snap yourself out of it, and when you meet him in the middle, you’re certain yours are.
He holds eye contact with you as you make the agreement, hands grasped around each others with the intention of a promise. It’s too real. Too familiar. Too… much.
So, before you can freak out in front of him, you cut it short with a nod and remove your hand from his. You glance out the window of the Boot Room door to see the team pass by, all packed up and ready for their outing. One you know you should be joining, but just aren’t there yet.
When you turn back to him, the small smile on your face is tight. But you’re truthful when you say, “Thank you.”
Roy doesn’t need to ask what for. He knows. Of course he does.
But luckily for you, he seems to be on the same page, blinking at you like he’s pulling himself out of some self-induced trance. “Right.” He awkwardly returns your nod, avoiding eye contact as he heads for the door. “Don’t make me say any of that shit again.”
And, as soon as the door shuts behind him, you’re finally left with more answers than questions about your place at Richmond for the first time all week.
(The same can’t be said for your questions about Roy. But, you figure, what else is new?)
PRESENT DAY. (MID-BOOT ROOM FIGHT WITH ROY KENT, 2023)
If you hadn’t been so consumed by your conversation with one of your fellow coaches, you would have noticed the other two watching you from the window. And as for questions, they had many.
The first is asked by Ted, approximately one minute after he and Beard had stationed themselves outside of the door. “Should we break it up?”
Beard shook his head slowly. “They’ve been tiptoeing around this one since she started,” he replied. “We break this up now, you might lose an arm.”
Ted shifted back on his heels. “You don’t think we can get them to hug it out, do you?”
“That’d be the reason you lose the arm, pal.”
“Yeah, Roy’s not much of a hugger, is he?” The silence that passed between them spoke as an agreement. The two watched as you crossed your arms over your chest, rolling your eyes as Roy seemed to reprimand you. “Do you think this thing between them goes deeper than he let on?”
Beard’s response was immediate. “Oh, yeah. Way deeper.”
“Did we sign ourselves up for something crazy? Something we can’t handle?”
“Oh, yeah,” Beard repeated. Then, he shook his head. “But nothing we can’t handle.”
“Well, then, what do we do?” Ted asked. “Because we can’t have them ‘fine, fine’-ing each other like they’re Sam and Diane all season. The kids ain’t fine, fine, Coach.”
Ted turned to his friend, who’d gone quiet. He followed his sightline to the corner of the Boot Room where Will was hiding, looking as though he were praying to any God who would listen that the two of you wouldn’t notice him.
Pity overtook both of their expressions. “I…” Beard drew out, brow furrowing as he watches Roy pull out his wallet. “...may have an idea.”
When Beard did look over at Ted, there was an excited look in his eye and a wide smile threatening to break out. “I know that voice,” he said. “Am I thinkin’ what you’re thinking?”
“Parent Trap ‘em?” he asked.
Ted grinned. “We really should go on The Newlywed Game.”
“It wouldn’t be fair. We’d sweep.”
LONDON OLYMPICS. (LATE JULY, 2012)
It’s nearly three in the morning when Roy tells you that your next rally will be your last for the night.
To say you’re thankful would be an understatement. Your lungs are screaming at you and have been for the last fifteen minutes. You can feel the early signs of shin splints with every move you make, and you already know you’re going to wake up tomorrow morning with a ridiculous amount of pain in your hamstrings.
But you didn’t care. That didn’t matter. What mattered was getting your newfound training companion to shut the fuck up. And the only way to do that was to beat him in this little game he created to a pulp.
It was tragically ironic to find that Roy Kent, a man who was typically of so few words, couldn’t seem to keep quiet when he was playing against you. He had a special sort of talent for getting under your skin, somehow saying the exact thing that would press a specific button that you didn’t even know you had. He was frustrating. Infuriating, even. And there was no shot in hell you were losing to this jackass, especially when you’d managed to tie the score.
(But you’d be lying if you said that you weren’t having at least a little bit of fun.)
However, the relief on your face at his declaration is palpable, and your expression makes Roy raise his brows. “Don’t tell me you’re fucking tired,” he says. “We’ve still got laps to run.”
You throw your head back with an exaggerated groan. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I know,” you say. “Can we just go so I can beat you and leave?”
Roy’s head tilts. “You’re confident for someone who looks like she’s gonna drop fucking dead.”
“Like you look any better,” you shoot back, eying the grass and dirt that had stained his legs.
To be fair, you hadn’t lied. Roy didn’t look any better than you did. He was just as roughed up, if not more. There was a sense of pride in that, knowing that he’d had to try as hard to beat you as you did for him. You felt equal. This game had never been equal before.
He seems to know this too. “Well, fucking get on with it then.”
The ball’s at your feet, and you stare down at it as you try to plan how you’re going to attack. What haven’t you done yet? What won’t he be expecting? How can you ensure that--
“Don’t fucking think about it,” you hear him say. When you look up at him in annoyance, he shakes his head. “Just fucking do it.”
But you can’t not think about it. Thinking is what you do. It’s how you stay ahead, it’s how you’ve beaten him in this little game before, it’s how you’re going to beat him now.
But now you’re frustrated. You wanted to get this over with and prove him wrong and show him up. You’re so sick of hearing him say that and you kick the ball out in front of you to shut him up. And suddenly, you’re playing.
He’s guarding you before you know it. You cut the ball to your left, kicking it through his legs as he tries to meet you. You push your elbow against his chest as you chase down the ball, gritting your teeth when you feel him whip around to recover from his misstep. His chest presses against your shoulder, repeatedly bumping into you each time he works to get the ball from you.
“Come on, Fourteen,” he chides in your ear. “Finish me off like you said you would.”
You shove your shoulder into him again. It’s more forceful this time and the soft sound he makes in response feels like a victory. He drops back to follow you to the goal, which gives you the space you need to maneuver your body into a more comfortable position.
You’re just outside the box, but you know that whatever move you make next, he’s going to be there to block it. You know his tricks. You’re on track to figuring out how his mind works on the field. Maybe you can outsmart him. Rely on your footwork to psych him out and—
Roy then seems to see you thinking. And he chooses that time to attack. So, footwork it is.
As he nears you, you roll the ball in the opposite direction, keeping an eye on him in your peripheral. Your foot pulls the ball back in a V, then you move it forward to creep into the box.
He’s still in front of you. While you were quicker, Roy was never one to give up. It was what made him so great on the pitch and so annoying to play against. An idea then sparks: if you can get him to bite, get him close enough to you, you can chop the ball to get him off balance, then spin to get a better angle on the goal.
So, you do exactly that. Or, at least try to.
You swear he can see in your head. That he can read your mind and every thought that crosses it. Because while you do catch him slightly off guard, he recovers the second you try to spin. He’s behind you and before you know it, you’re the one caught off balance. He kicks the ball away from you and out of the box, leaving you to fall on your ass and stain the backs of your thighs.
Fuck. Fuck.
You’re on your back again for the second time today, eyes screwed shut in frustration and disappointment. How had he done it? You swore that was going to work. It’d worked millions of times before, how could it possibly have gone wrong now?
There’s a piece of you that wants to cry. That frustration, that exhaustion, that need to prove yourself had all come crashing down onto your chest, and here you were, in the same place you were before the drill had started.
You don’t even want to look at him. You’re almost too embarrassed to do so. You know that it’s all a part of your deal, that you’re supposed to fail and get better with him, but it’s still a kick in the teeth to end a session like this with a loss.
You’re able to feel Roy’s presence before you hear him. “Get up,” he tells you.
A loud, shaky sigh escapes you. “I need a second before you run me into the ground, Coach.”
If he notices how your voice wavers, he doesn’t say anything. “Not your coach,” he replies, though he’s speaking softer. “But I’m not running you either.”
You crack an eye open. “Really?”
“C’mon,” he says, holding his hand out for you to take. “Up.”
You stare at his hand for a moment, then cast your eyes up to the starless sky with another heavy sigh. Then, you begrudgingly take his hand, allowing him to yank you up with a strength you’re not expecting.
His hand lingers in yours as you get your bearings. It’s rough and just a bit clammy, but you can’t imagine yours are any better. You’re not looking at him when you remove your hand from his, but find his eyes when he taps your shoulder.
“C’mon,” Roy repeats. He nods over to the track around the field. “Let’s go.”
“I thought we weren’t running,” you mutter.
He glances at you from over his shoulder. “We’re not fucking running,” he responds. “But you need a cool down. Stop your fucking whining and walk with me.”
A scowl appears on your lips at his words, but you relent and follow him. “Fine.”
It’s quiet between you two, giving you a moment to catch your breath and think about what just happened. While you’re thankful that you don’t have to do your laps, so still can’t believe you lost. Yes, it’s just practice, and yes, it doesn’t mean anything, but it’s still… it’s the principal of it. You’ve never been a good loser. You’ve never—
“We need to work on your footwork,” Roy says abruptly, interrupting your train of thought. You glance over at him. “It’s your biggest weakness besides your overthinking.”
A frown pulls at your lips. “My footwork is fine.”
“Yeah. Exactly. It’s fine,” he agrees. “And that’s the fucking problem. Nobody out there can fucking catch you, so you’ve never had to worry about it. But the second you get tighter and more concise…” He shakes his head. “Pair all that with your unpredictability and fucking annoying defense, you’ll blow them all out of the fucking water.”
Pride bubbles in your stomach and rises to your chest. You know that you’re good. And you know that he thinks you’re good. He wouldn’t have taken a chance on you if he hadn’t. But it’s still validating to hear. Especially from him.
But still, you can’t help yourself; “I’m not annoying.”
Roy scoffs, but you can tell he’s biting back a smile. “You are. You’re like a fucking gnat.”
“I am not a gnat,” you gasp.
“You are. Fucking buzzing in my ear and shit.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being aggressive. You’d know something about that, hypocrite.” When Roy huffs a laugh and shakes his head, you bat him on the arm. “I’m serious. When I crossed you up and hit that corner goal toward the end?” You blow an exaggerated breath and raise your brows at him. “I haven’t seen you that mad since that Arsenal game in like, 2007.”
His response to your jab isn’t what you expected. While you’d anticipated a classic eye roll, a reaction of his that you’d become very familiar with, you get a look of intrigue. “You watched that game?”
“Of course I did,” you respond. Your lips tug into a smile. “I’m a huge Arsenal fan.”
Then you get the eye roll. “You must have been fucking distraught to see your team lose.”
“It was heartbreaking,” you say. “It was fun to see you get thrown out, though.”
“That was a fucking bullshit call,” he scoffs.
“You almost broke Lewis Fox’s leg. And then tried to fight him from the ground.”
“Exactly. Fucking bullshit,” he says. “It shouldn’t count when he’s a prick.”
You allow for a beat of reflection before you respond. “Yeah, he really is a prick, isn’t he?”
That gets you something you haven’t seen from him yet. A smile. A real one, where you can see teeth and all. It’s jarring. And suddenly the pride you felt from his compliments is nothing compared to the feeling you get from this.
It grows as Roy carries on. “The fucking King of them.”
“Prince,” you say in disagreement. “He’s too much of a jackass to honor with a King title. Prince Prick. Duke of Prickland. Court Jester. Whatever.”
“Court Jester?”
“Absolutely,” you reply. “He’d look good in the stupid little hat, too. Would hide the fact that he’s balding.”
Roy barks out a laugh. “He’s going fucking mental over that.”
“I can imagine.” Teasingly, you add, “I guess that’s the one thing you’ve got over him.”
“My hair?”
“Yeah. You’ve got enough to share with him.”
Roy shakes his head again, smile refusing to fade. “Well, thank fucking God it’s something important.”
“Hey, football skills are forever. Hair starts to fade when you hit twenty-five.” You shrug and return his grin. “I’d say you’re winning this one, Kent.”
A labored sigh leaves Roy, like he can’t believe he’s having this type of conversation with you. Frankly, you can’t believe you’re talking like this with him. You’re talking like… friends. It’s strange. Especially after he completely shut you down when talking before.
That thought sinks deep into your mind and you know it won’t go away until you address it. Huh. Maybe he’s right. Maybe you do overthink.
Before you can question that further, you’re speaking. “Hey. I—” You awkwardly cut yourself off as his gaze returns to you. “I just… I wanted to say that I’m sorry if I like, overstepped a boundary back there.” He continues to look at you in response, cueing you to elaborate. “Asking about Sunderland. Leaving your family. That.”
The second you say ‘Sunderland,’ he looks away from you. You grit your teeth as you refrain from cringing, hoping you didn’t ruin what was almost a normal, nice, and friendly moment. That anxiety makes you talk more.
“You don’t owe me any answers, or anything. We can keep this professional and talk about soccer and how much we both hate Lewis Fox only.” Roy still hasn’t looked at you. “You don’t have to talk to me at all, if you don���t want to. I’m just… pretty open. And I forget that other people aren’t the same way. So…” You trail off, fiddling with your fingers. “I’m sorry.”
He’s quiet for approximately ten seconds. Each feels like agony as you rot in the awkwardness of the silence. Then, he says, “Don’t… fucking apologize for trying to get to know me.”
Well, that’s not what you were expecting at all. “O-Oh.”
“I’m fucking obviously going to talk to you,” he continues, in a way that makes it sound like he’s choosing his words carefully. “But there’s just certain things that I… really fucking hate talking about. And that was one of them.”
You’re nodding before he’ss finished speaking. “Completely understandable.”
Roy looks over at you cautiously. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you agree. “Like I said, I’m not entitled to anything. You just let me know when I’ve crossed a line or something.” Your eyes light up in a way that Roy refuses to find endearing. “We can have a codeword or something.”
“A codeword?” he asks wearily.
“Yes, Roy. A codeword.” You stop him in the middle of the track. “Okay, Kent Rule number one. If either of us—”
“What the fuck is a Kent Rule?”
“If either of us,” you repeat, “don’t want to talk about something, we say…” Your eyes scan the field. “Goalpost.”
Roy blinks at you. “That’s a stupid fucking codeword.”
“Okay, you don’t get to shit on my idea and then shit on my codeword, dick,” you say, ignoring the tiny smile that’s growing on his face. “Let me hear yours.”
His eyes scan you up and down. “Gnat.”
“Oh, look who’s fucking annoying now.”
“I think that’s a great one.”
“I think I’m back on Lewis Fox’s side now,” you mutter. Before Roy can roll his eyes, you point at him in excitement. “Fox! That’s our codeword.” Then, you interrupt yourself, by throwing both your hands out. “Wait. Foxtrot. That sounds so much more legit.”
Roy’s had only gotten blanker as you spoke. “I think you should be institutionalized.”
“Kent Rule number one,” you say, ignoring him. “If you don’t want to talk about something, say Foxtrot. We move on, no questions asked.”
“Great.”
“But,” you continue, “you only get one Foxtrot a day.”
“Only fucking one?” he asks.
“Why are you saying it like that?”
“Because you ask a lot of fucking questions.”
You huff. “Fine. No one-a-day rule. But use them sparingly.”
“Can I Foxtrot this conversation?” Roy questions.
You don’t give him the reaction he clearly desires. “Look at you, you’re getting the hang of it!” you cheer, clapping him on the shoulder. “So, does Kent agree to the Kent Rule?”
You receive yet another exasperated shake of the head. “Fucking fine. Yeah. I agree.”
“Wonderful,” you reply, sticking your hand out to him. When he looks down at it, you wiggle your fingers. “We have to shake on it.”
“What?”
“Because it’s not a real agreement if we don’t shake on it,” you answer, as if it’s obvious. “Duh.”
Roy stares at your hand, then at you, and then back at your hand. After a ridiculous amount of time, his shoulders slump in defeat. His hand meets yours and when it does, you beam.
“Institutionalized,” he tells you as you two shake. “I’m fucking serious.”
“And risk your life being way less exciting without me in it?” You put a hand over your heart. “You’d miss me too much.”
And when you grin at him, there’s a piece of Roy that already knows that there might just be a sliver of truth in that.
(mini!) TAGLIST: @tegan8314, @csigeoblue, @confessionsofatotaldramaslut, @thatonedogwithablog, @hawkeyeharrington
#roy kent#roy kent x reader#roy kent x you#roy kent fanfiction#ted lasso#ted lasso fanfic#ted lasso fanfiction#aatwe#aces#the one who can't walk up stairs
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For the Candy Hearts, how about 💚 Cutie for Kunigiri? 🥰
{Candy Heart Prompts: OFFICIALLY CLOSED!}
*running leap of joy* LETS GOOOO! It's my ship! :D I love these two so much holy- *happy sobbing*- I've gotcha covered, anon!
Cutie- "You can't hide from me, I can hear you laughing!"
“Princess…I know you’re in here.” Kunigami called as he entered the recording room. “Come on, you know I’ll find you.”
No response, but he swore he could hear the faintest of giggles.
“You can’t hide from me, I can hear you laughing!” He called, chest warming. He didn’t know what got into him, but the redhead was in a silly mood- jabbing him in the ribs before running for the hills. “This room isn’t that big- I’ll find you in no time-”
The second he stepped into the room, he was tackled. Only- instead of hitting the ground like Chigiri hoped, he stood tall. Turning a growing grin down at his wide eyed boyfriend, he gave him a little wave. “Found you, Princess.”
“...Well damn.” Chigiri tried to run, but Kunigami had him in his arms within seconds, pressing into his highest ribs. “Ahehahaha! Whahhait, wahhahait I whahahs suhuhuhupohohoosed to tiihihckle yohoohohu!”
“Aww, really? That’s what’s supposed to happen?” The ginger snickered, safely bringing them down and to the ground as he carried on drilling into Chigiri’s sides, leaving him a mess of giggles and squeaks. “A good effort before you forgot I’m sturdier than you, hehe.”
“Whohohoho are yohohohou cahhahaalling nohooht stuhuhurdy-ehehehehhehe hehehehro!” Chigiri squeaked and shoved his arms back when his armpits were poked along. “Stahhahahahap, yohoohohu jeehehherk!”
“First a hero, then a jerk- how the mighty have fallen.” The ginger moaned pathetically as he moved to his boyfriend’s hips, making him squeal and kick. “If I’m a jerk, I must be a villain! Time to enter my new era- come here!”
“Gehahahhaha, stahhahap whahahait-EHEHEHE NOHOHOHO!” Chigiri all but cackled as his good knee was grabbed, covering his face with his hands as he sank further back into Kunigami’s chest. I TAHHAKE IT BAAHHACK YOHOOHUR A HEHEHEHRO!”
“That’s right!” Kunigami stopped, laughing as his boyfriend groaned against him. “And don’t you forget it!”
“Uuhuhgh..” Was the only response he gave, smiling as Kunigami kissed his crown. “Jeheherk. I lohove you thoohugh.”
‘I love you too, princess."
#Candy Heart Valentine Event#chve2k24#tickle#tickle dabble#fluff#blue lock#kunigiri#kunigami rensuke#chigiri hyoma#I love them your honor so much JWRKJEKJRJKERKJL#My ultimate comfort OTP GAWD!#Thank you for giving me the opportunity to write them anon ijarjeakjrejkjkrej <3
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You taking Hangman to meet your family for the first time and it’s summer, like a bbq and you decide to tease him by wearing this short sundress that he loves and it’s driving him crazy cause he’s trying to be the perfect gentleman in front of your family. But every time you’re near him he’s whispering dirty things in your ear and putting his hands on you. When you go in to get something from the kitchen he pushes you into the pantry and totally fucks you.
this made me SCREAM DEAR ANON!!! SHOW ME THE FUCKIN MONEY LETS GOOOO
this is so hot, and was so hot to write, omg! i wrote a lil headcanon for this, i hope you enjoy! 💌
main masterlist can be found here!
Hangman has to make a good impression whenever he meets new people, its in his pretty boy ego. But he’s going to work extra hard today, especially as it’s for you, the woman he loves and cares for so dearly.
But when he sees you come out from your bathroom wearing that dress, that shows off your thighs, fucking hell, nearly your ass, Jake has to fight the feeling of blood rushing to his cock.
“You’re looking for trouble, Doll.” You say nothing, just flash him an innocent smile.
The BBQ is way, way worse. Bending over to pick up your niece, Jake can see everything.
He’s trying to make polite conversation and schmooze your retired pilot Father, but all he can think of is bending you over you buffet table and taking you right here, right now.
Coming over to the table, he cocks his head over to your ear, feeling his hot breath against your skin. “You keep doing that and I’m going to take you right here and now.” He’s not even looking at you, his eyes are trained ahead of him, trying not to draw attention to the way you breath hitches and you hold back the smallest whimper.
Standing next to him, hearing all about your Aunt’s travels to Austrialia, you can feel his hand that was sat innocently on the small of your back, fall to your ass, squeezing it hard. You jump, nearly spilling your drink over your Aunt. She throws a questioning glance your way, but you look up at Jake, who’s just smiling and nodding along with her stories.
He’s got his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, fingers brushing up along the underside of your breast. “You look so fuckin’ good, sweets. Gun’ let me have a taste of that pretty cunt?” He whispers directly into your ear as you walk along your lawn to sit at your table.
Even when you’re sat down, trying to enjoy the food everyone has lovingly made, you can feel his index and forefinger hitch up your dress and slide along your thighs, teasingly brushing past your clothed covered clit. He leans down to your ear again, “I can feel you, you know? You’re fuckin’ dripping aren’t you?” You swallow thickly, hoping the blush covering your cheeks right now will be passed off as sunburn.
His last straw is when you get him back. You run your hand over his crotch, his tailored trousers already a tighter fit, much more snug. He bucks his knee up, hitting the table and you hold back a giggle.
You see his jaw tense and he runs his hand over his face, but he returns back to holding his composure in front of everyone. Politely excusing yourself from the table, you go into your kitchen to retrieve some tableware your Mother requested.
Not two minutes later you can hear his footsteps behind you in the kitchen. He grabs your wrist with a harsh tug and pulls you into the pantry. The tableware clatters to the ground.
He has you pressed against the shelves, his chest puffed out and a lust driven look set back deep in his eyes. “You’ve been fuckin’ teasing me all day, you know that?” You try and nod, but your head falls back with a loud cry when his hand hoists up the hem of your dress and his fingers push your underwear aside, fingers catching the slick in your folds. “I just couldn’t fucking wait when you look that good,” his index and forefinger slip into you, “and I know how wet you are.”
You moan out again and he kisses you hard to stop the loud whines of his name tumbling from your lips. Mumbling against your lips he says, “you gotta keep quiet sweets, can’t have daddy come in and see you getting fucked in your childhood pantry.”
Your knees go weak and he wedges his thigh between your legs to hold you up and eventually push you up onto the shelves, flour and sugar bags falling to the floor with a loud ‘thump’.
He’s thrusting into you, hard and fast. You both know it needs to be quick, but the feeling of him hitting that sweet spot deep inside you from this angle and that quick? It makes you see stars. He’s keeping his groans as muffled as he can, his face pressed into the crook of your neck.
But when you wail out his name again when he hits that spot just right, he grunts, covering your mouth with his hand. You wail into his hand as he fucks you through your orgasm, following shortly behind, feeling his cock twitch deep inside of you.
He pulls out slowly and checks you over, making sure you’re okay. You redress yourselves and brush down your hair, trying to make yourself look like your boyfriend hasn’t just made you cry on his cock.
Before you leave, he holds your face and kisses you softly. “I love you.” “I love you too my darling.”
“I ain’t done with you yet. I’m having you again when we get home.” He presses his lips to yours again and gives your ass a smack as you leave the pantry making you giggle.
Collecting the tableware, you sat back down at the table outside. Tableware coming a little too late, but a satsifed look on both of your faces.
#💌you’ve got mail#jake seresin x reader#jake seresin x you#jake hangman seresin x reader#jake hangman x reader#jake hangman seresin#jake seresin#hangman x reader#hangman
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Mind if I requested a Mando with a tall S/O? Like my boy here ain't your typical 6'0 man, he's around 8ft tall and wears thick armor, basically imagine Doom Guy if he were much taller and a Panzer(Tank) in human form. But in reality he affectionate, Mando only finds out when he gets picked up by the tank in a hug or is shown care when S/O has to patch the man up
Din Djarin x Tall male reader
Headcanons
Its not mentioned but imagine the readers armor is like Paz Vizsla seeing as he is a tanker-like type Mandalorian.
Sorry this took like a million years for me to write, haven’t been in the biggest Star Wars mood lately, but I’m back Baby.
I didn’t feel like adding as much mando´a in this fic as the other Din Djarin ones I’ve written.
Helmet kisses, lets goooo
- You and Din first met on a bounty that you had both taken. You are from different coverts, yours being one that allows people to remove their helmets and be open about names and alike.
- This doesn’t mean you remove your helmet a lot. You tend to keep it on because its more comfortable, unknown to you it makes you very intimidating and even scary to some people.
- Being that you are both Mandalorian and that there are not many left, you decide to split the bounty. You assume Din isn’t much of a talker and since you enjoy quiet, you don’t speak much on this mission. This makes Din feel like he has to be serious and follow the way when around you, since you remind him of Paz.
- You give eachother your contacts and keep on touch, mainly by sharing bounties the other might enjoy and alike. Overtime it becomes closer to small talk, but as much as Din hates to admit it he is still slightly intimidated by you as you tower over him in height and build.
- You take bounties very seriously, and seeing as you are an incredible fighter it pushes Din to try harder. Seeing Din try so hard you press yourself too. You end up helping each other get better without realizing.
- You start to develop feelings for the other man when he takes a blasterbolt for you, not caring for his own wellbeing. You feel yourself fretting on the inside and ask if he needs help patching up. Din, not being used to attention, says he can do it himself.
- You don’t know but Din has been developing feelings for a while. He sees how an incredible fighter you are, how handsome you are in your armor even if he hasn’t seen your face, and how you go out of your way to protect the innocent. So, you offering to help makes his face hot.
- The two of you continue your dance, subtly flirting in ways only bounty hunters and mandalorians only can. By having each other’s backs during bounties and giving each other weapons as gifts.
- Its during one of these bounties you two get split up. It had turned out much worse than you had been told. It went from catching a few wanted people, to being swarmed by what seems like a never-ending swarm of beings, all gunning for your head.
- Your com connection to Din ends up shorting out, and you don’t know if your friend and crush is alright.
- When the battle is finally over Din and you meet up at your ships, and Din is noticeably limping and covered in blood that appears to be his own.
- He tries to make a comment about being fine, but you feel all the worry that had been building up well over, and you throw your arms around him and lift him off the ground, clutching him close.
- Din stutters, fumbling with his hands as he doesn’t know what to do with them, before wrapping his arms around you in return.
- You stay wrapped up until the adrenaline wears off and your own wounds start hurting. This makes you realize Din was hurt, so you carry him off into your ship.
- He tries to say he’s fine and can do it himself, but you brush it off, telling him you’ll help and it’s the least you could do.
- It takes some fumbling around but your both out of your armor, except helmets, and you help Din put on bacta patches and clean up.
- At some point your patching up the last cut on his arm, and after putting the bacta on, your visors meet, and you feel your chest and face warm.
- You’re both at a loss for words, you both know what you want but don’t know how to act on it. It ends with you leaning forward and clinking your forehead against his in a Keldabe, Din twitching before reaching up to grasp as your neck to pull you closer.
#male reader#star wars#din djarin#mandalorian reader#star wars imagine#star wars headcanon#star wars x male reader#din djarin imagine#din djarin headcanon#din djarin x male reader#mandalorian imagine#Mandalorian Headcanon#mandalorian x male reader
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poetry for @noose-lion's dtiys (+ my personal take on what I've written) and original work below the cut!
You wounded beast
So comfortable with claws
Salvaging those you tear
Dropping tatters on the ground
You wounded beast
Keen on sharpened teeth
Jaws clamped tight around your goals
Sinking when they fail
You wounded beast
Putting a collar on comfort
Red as a form of warning
Values lying elsewhere as a discarded leash
You wounded beast
Never bothering to lick any wounds
The scent of copper in all that you breathe
Covering the unwanted throne upon which you sit
Your body is in pieces
Falling prey to injuries of the mind
Withering away as one does with rot
Plummeting upon crimson asphalt
I don't know if anyone cares about my view on my poetry because it is subjective, but I'll try to explain my thought process behind this. The poem as a whole reflects how Beast Dazai only cares about achieving his goal at the cost of himself. It's heavily referring to self destruction, especially with the mentioning of comfort being collared, and values put on a leash. Beast is the culmination of things that the original Dazai wouldn't do under normal circumstances. If Beast Dazai really valued comfort, he wouldn't be working so hard to tear down the life he could've had in order to save one person. Conversely, you could argue that he is so eager to finally have comfort that he is willing to lose everything for it, but is it really comfort then? As for the values bit, he has to contradict behavior his original counterpart does in order to achieve his goals, even though they fail in the long run. Even after all this, he still does try to cling to the people he's pushed away during the course of his plans.
I don't have much else to say, really. It's midnight for me at the time I'm posting this, so Happy New Year. This is half 'poetry for the dtiys,' and half 'partially baked psychoanalysis on an anime man,' so I wouldn't take this too seriously, but I put effort into this.
I'm also self conscious since despite being an author, I'm nervous on being a poet. Anyways, first published poem on this site, let's goooo
#dtiys#i had fun with this but i am horribly self conscious of my freestyle poetry#dream's textposts🖋️#dream discusses bsd 🖋️#bsd#bungo stray dogs#bungou stray dogs
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Project Night
(Summary: The hexsquad has to work on a school project and go to Darius's house were they spend the night working and having a blast
Notes: they use snails as currency and most of the story is dialog)
Words: 1,572
*knock knock knock*
D: Come in
Hunter opened the door and stepped into Darius's room where he was calmly reading a book on his bed.
D: what’s up kiddo?
H: Oh-um, so basically me and my friends are doing this school project together and um I was wondering if you know, we could, if they could come over so we could work on it if that’s alright with you?
D: When do you want them to come over?
H: Oh um tomorrow morning if that’s alright
Darius put his hand on his chin contemplating whether it was a good idea.
D: How about they come tomorrow at noon and they can stay the night if they want since I have to take Eber to get his shot in the morning
H: YES, PERFECT THANKS DAD!
Hunter ran out the room closing the door behind him without looking back while Darius sat there dumbfounded
D: 'He called me dad-'
D: 'HE CALLED ME DAD!!!! I'M A DAD!!!!I'M GANNA RUB THIS IN EBERS FACE LATER!'
*The next day at 10 am*
D: Me and Eber will be home soon text me when your friends get here.
E: Let me goooo!!!
Eber moved around trying to get out before giving up and melting into Darius's arms.
D: Oh don't be so dramatic Eber it's just one shot
E: I don't need a shot, I'm perfectly healthy
D: Anyways, don't burn the house down little prince
H: I'm not that irresponsible Darius
Darius rolled his eyes before teleporting him and Eberwolf to the healers for his yearly shoot.
*** 2 hrs later ***
*knock knock knock*
Hunter ran to the door as fast as he could, almost falling down the stairs, when he made it down he quickly opened the door to see all his friends standing on the other side with their palisman in hand.
H: Come in make yourselves at home
L: Wow Hermano your house is awesome
G: It's so clean and organized
H: Yea Darius likes to keep stuff like that
*** 20 mins later ***
D: Hunter we're h-
He paused at the sudden group of teens in his living room making a mess on the floor, from what he can see the couch and table are covered with several stacks of paper and textbooks
D: Hello children
H: Oh, hey Darius sorry about the mess we'll clean up after I promise
D: You guys better, anyways if you need us we'll be in the basement
And with that he walked past the kids being careful of where he stepped while carrying Eber in his arms. He had fallen asleep during the walk back home since they had to make a stop at the fabric shop because Darius needed more supplies for one of his projects.
He closed the door behind him then walked down to the basement placing Eber on the ground while he got started on his sewing project. (Eber enjoys sleeping on the floor)
About 40 minutes past before Eber woke up
D: Good morning, Eber
E: What time is it?"
D: 1 pm why?
E: I'm hungry
Eber walked over to the table that contained a drawer filled with chips and other snacks then grabbed a hand full before hopping onto the sofa
D: You better not get the sofa dirty like last time
E: Don't care
20 minutes later Eber was asleep again on the sofa with a small blanket barely covering his body. He was slightly shivering but it managed to catch Darius's attention. He made his way over and gently picked Eber up before sitting down and placing him back down this time on his lap with the blanket on top of him. He gently ran his hand through Ebers hair and started scrolling on his scroll.
By the time he looked up from his scroll it was 2:35pm and he forgot to make lunch.
D: Eber wake up I'm ganna order take-out what do you want?
E: fairy pie!
D: Okay Ima ask the kids what they want
E: Kids?
D: Yea Hunters friends came over to work on a project, I told them they could stay the night too.
*15 mins later*
D: Foods here
L: Yay I'm starving
A: Me too
Darius placed the bag of take-out on the table while Eber got the plates. The living room was no longer a mess, all the paper and books were stacked neatly on the floor next to their bags.
W: Thanks for the food, Darius
A: Yea thank you sir
E: Gimme pie!!!
G: Here you go my dude
H: Since we got most of our project done and it’s not due until Friday how about we play bone-nopoly?
A: YEA!!!
L: Don’t you mean monopoly?
W: nope
H: You wanna play Darius?
D: Sure
H: How about you Eber
E: Okay!
D: Don't talk with your mouth full Eber
E: No
*After eating*
G: I wanna be the microphone!
L: I wanna be the eyebat!
H: No, it's my board game I get to be the eyebat!
D: STOP! How about I just make little abominations of all of us so you don’t have to fight over the tokens?
W: Perfect!
A: I’ll help make some too
While the two were making tiny abominations Eber was evenly distributing the money.
H: Each player is given 1,500 snails divided as follows: 2 each of 500 snails, 100 snails and 50 snails, then 6 20 snails, 5 each of 10 snails, 5 snails and 1 snail
(Don’t know if these are the official rules but it’s close enough)
E: Does it matter which I use? You end up with 1,500 snails regardless.
H: Of course it matters, the rules are there for a reason
E: Whatever I still think it’s the same thing
D: Finished, you guys done with the money?
E: Not even close
H: He’s just being careless
E: CARELESS!!!
G: How about we just start the game
W: Agreed
later in the game
G: Thats another 100 snails for me
A: WHY DO YOU HAVE SO MUCH PROPERTY?!
G: I'm just that good✨
W: hurry up so I can get my turn
E: Hey Darius can you make my abomination sit on your abomination's shoulder since we're on the same space???
D: No
E: What whyyy?????!!!
D: Too much work
E: Thats a lie
D: Whatever
H: Hey Luz
L: What?
H: If I win you got to give me 100 snails
L: Fine, but WHEN I win you have to give me 100 snails
H: Deal
L: Deal
W: Luz you have to go to the conformatorium
L: WHAT! AGAIN!
H: Looks like you're ganna owe me 100 snails
* After Game*
L: Here you go Hunter
H: Thank you very kindly
G: Hey Hunter how many blankets do you guys have?
H: like 8 in total-
D: 7, the quilt is off limits even to Hunter
H: right 7, why?
G: well, I was wondering if we could make a pillow fort, with that amount we could make a giant one!
H: Is that okay Darius?
D: sure, but what's a pillow fort?
*30 mins later after the fort was made*
A: Hey Hunter, why do you guys have so many blankets
H: Because Eber loves to sleep with like 5 blankets
E: THATS A LIE! I sleep with 3 :)
H: Anyways, me and Darius each sleep with one and the other 2 are extras
W: That makes sense
Grrrr
L: Sorry, that's my stomach
D: Me and Eber will get started with dinner you kids can put on a movie
G: YAY MOVIE!
D: But first clean up
H: Okay
*After Dinner on the couch*
A: Which movie should we watch?
L: Die Bard 2! Raine talks about it all the time when they come over to the owl house
W: That sounds great
H: We should probably watch Die Bard 1 first
G: Amity could you move a bit?
A: Could you move a bit, Luz?
L: could you move a bit, Hunter?
H: could you move a bit, Willow?
W: could you move a bit, Eber?
E: Darius move
D: I can't you're on my lap
L: I'll sit on the floor there are plenty of pillows
A: me too
D: me and Eber can sit on the floor he prefers the floor anyway
E: YEA!
*In the middle of Die Bard 2*
E: I'm ganna make more popcorn
D: Did you eat all the popcorn again?
E: Yep
D: How do you even do that?
H: I'll make more popcorn Eber
E: Thanks!
H: Here you go
D: Thanks Hunter
H: Could I um- sit with you guys
D: Sure, but why?
H: Willow and Gus are sleeping and I don't want to wake them up
D: make yourself comfortable
They continued to watch the movie as normal until Darius looked around and noticed everyone was asleep, Hunter was asleep on his shoulder and Eber was on his lap. Luz and Amity had fallen asleep above several pillows while Willow and Gus were covered in multiple blankets with all their palisman curled up next to them. He created a little abomination to turn off the tv while he carefully placed a blanket around the three of them before getting rid of the abomination and falling asleep content with how the day had gone.
---END---
This probably isn't my best work since I lost inspiration mid way. Sorry if there are multiple grammar mistakes :)
#dadrius#toh darius#darius#darius deamonne#toh eberwolf#eberwolf#eberwolf the huntsman#toh hunter#hunter#toh luz#luz nozeda#toh willow#willow park#toh amity#amity blight#toh gus#agustus porter#gus porter
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☆—MIKEJIMA MADARA
It’s nearing 11 pm, and you’re snuggled under your sheets, drifting off to sweet sweet dreamland when, slamming the door open with a bang!, Koga storms into your room, a vein throbbing in his forehead. Still dishevelled from sleep and dragging his blanket behind him, he looks pissed as hell.
“Your boyfriend’s here. Again.” He grits out. “Fucking…do something about it.” He then turns and storms off, presumably back to his room.
You think he should be used to this by now.
Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you trudge out of the room, rubbing your eyes sleepily all the while. A cold draft circulates through the living space, and you shiver as gooseflesh prickles over your skin. Ah, someone must have opened the window…
“Y/N-saaaaan!”
The loud shout disorients you, so you’re caught off guard by the tackle that follows soon after.
“Ah…?”
Your face is smushed into a leather-covered chest as you’re pulled into a bone-crushing hug and you breathe in the scent of motor oil and tuna, underset by something distinctly…metallic. You don’t mind, though. It’s a comforting smell, one that you’ve come to associate with him.
“Madara-kun…”
“You’re hereeee! I missed you!” Strong hands plant themselves on your waist and you find yourself being lifted off the ground. You involuntarily dig your fingernails into broad shoulders as you’re twirled in the air. An embarrassing noise escapes your throat, and Madara laughs.
Someone clears their throat politely behind you two.
“Ahh, my bad!” Madara flashes Tatsumi-san a crooked grin as he places you lightly back on the ground.
Tatsumi-san smiles blandly at the two of you, a cup of steaming tea in his hands. “Ah, didn’t I ask Mama-san to stop climbing in through the window before?”
“Sorry, sorry,” Madara laughs sheepishly. “I was just soooo excited to see Y/N-san…”
“Mm, I understand. But you should be more considerate of others. Poor Koga-san, he must have been very disturbed.” Tatsumi-san tsks, shaking his head disappointedly.
You smile slightly. That’s a bit much, don’t you think, Tatsumi-san? Of course, he’s right too. You still remember the first time Madara broke into–sorry, visited–your dorm room. Vividly.
“ARRRGHHH!??!?!”
You and Tatsumi-san exchange a single look, before you’re both bolting into Koga’s room at the sound of the scream.
“Oi, what the fuck!? What d’you think you’re doing?” Yelling echoes from behind the closed door, followed by multiple crashes and grunts.
“Koga, are you oka…y…?”
You slam open the door, then pause in the doorway, and the sound of skidding against the wooden flooring lets you know that Tatsumi-san only just avoided crashing into your back by a hair's breadth, instead hitting the wall behind you. Still, you have no presence of mind left to turn around and check if he’s okay, not when the sight in front of you is so…bizarre.
“Y/N-saaaaan! Hi!” Madara-kun waves brightly when he catches sight of your gaping form, despite the fact that Koga is desperately attempting to brain him with his guitar.
“Y’know this motherfucker, Y/N-senpai?” Koga sounds aggrieved. “Is he one of yours?”
“Y-yeah…sorry.”
“Then get rid of him, already!”
“Y/N-san! Let’s goooooo!” Madara chirps, and you splutter, forcibly yanked away from your thoughts as you feel yourself being picked up once again.
“Madara-kun…!? Put me down!”
“No can do!” He says cheerily. “I have something to show you! Let’s goooo!”
“No, wait, don’t let him take me–!”
Tatsumi-san just laughs in the face of your cries for help. The betrayal!? Hello? Where’s your loyalty, you mint-haired bastard!? You seethe. After all the times you’ve helped him with Mayoi-chan too…! “Have fun, children. Don’t stay out too late.”
“Tatsumi-san!?”
“Don’t worry, Tatsumi-saaaan! I’ll have Y/N-san home before 10, I promise!”
“You’d better,” Tatsumi-san’s eyes harden into flinty chips but his serene smile never leaves his face which, in your humble opinion, makes it all the more threatening. “Or I will make you regret it.”
What the fuck. You’re not a child with a curfew, jeez. If you want to stay out late with your boyfriend, you’re perfectly entitled to do you, and you tell them as much to two very different reactions.
“My apologies. I didn’t mean to demean you in any way.” Tatsumi-san dips his head in acquiescence.
Madara-kun deposits you on the floor with sparkling eyes. “Waaaaah…Y/N-san is protecting poor Mama from their scary roommate… We should make out, ahahaha!”
His hands find their place on your waist and his eyes search your own for the answer to his unspoken question. Whatever he finds seems to satisfy him, because he tugs you closer until the two of you are nearly chest to chest.
Your bare toes brush against the tips of his leather boots. He leans down to nudge his nose against yours, and your eyelids flutter shut. You can feel his hot breath against your face as he presses his lips to yours. It’s minty. He brushed his teeth before coming to see you, and the thought makes you smile a bit.
You push up against him, winding your arms around his neck and tugging on his bottom lip with your teeth. He lets out a muffled whine against your mouth that turns into a gasp when you bite harder. His fingers fist in the fabric of your tank top.
Someone clears their throat behind you.
Your eyes fly open and you shove Madara-kun away from you. Problem is, he’s built like a brick shithouse so this action doesn’t achieve anything except cause him to look at you in confusion.
You blush when you notice Tatsumi-san standing there. His normally polite smile looks a bit strained. His eyes scream, Let me die. You smile awkwardly.
“Sorry…?”
“Please refrain from making out in front of me next time.” He says flatly. “God is watching.” He points to the cross propped up on the mantle and you flush even deeper. Sorry, Jesus…?
Madara-kun looks between the two of you, before a lightbulb seems to go off in his head and he slings you over his shoulder once again. You decide maybe it’s time to admit defeat and let yourself go limp. Really, there’s nothing left to be done…and there are worse ways to be carried, you suppose. At the very least, he’s gentle about it. “Well!” He announces to the room at large. Tatsumi-san looks like his soul is leaving his body. “Y/N-san and I are going to go make out now. Bye-bye ☆!”
☆—notes!
WC: 1k words
i just wrote 1k words in less then 2 hrs i swear im normal about him!? anyways i just think the kogatatsu dorm room is SO FUCKING FUNNY so i just had to include it lmfao. this was sooo self-indulgent and i rlly should be working on my reqs but this fic grabbed me by the throat and wouldn’t let go until i wrote all 1087 words of it cries. THE TITLE is a pun cause like yk ‘break up, make up’? well this is ‘break in make out’ AHAHAHHA get it? im sorry that was soooo stupid but I SWEAR it made sense in my head qwq. anyways enjoy <33 smooches u mwahh
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ONLY FRIENDS EPISODE 8 LIVE REACTION POST
I AM SO SO NOT READY for raymew...more like im not ready to see Sand hurt but arggghhh lets goooo
ohno ray seems to have not been a great influence on mew
okay i LOVE how protective cheum seems over mew but hello where was all this love and concern for ray all this while like whats that about !??
my gawd First is so dang good in this scene with Khao not like im surprised but gawd the hurt is hurting and it is not one bit comfy but again nobody should expect messy gays the show to be a comfort watch lmao
OHMYGOD why is everybody so good at their jobs...we barely knew anything about plug and yo's relationship but was that scene IMPACFUL or what!!!
no matter how much mental torture this may offer, its great that we also have guaranteed quality performances like wow what a pleasure it is to watch them perform
i get that top seems to be very much in love with mew but him acting all holier than thou about smoking PLS bit rich coming from somebody who literally cheated on him like WOW yes mew TELL HIM
I ADORE TF OUTTA HIM BUT PLS NO NOT FIRST SINGING
my gawd ray getting on my nerves he's so selfish wanting to have both mew and sand and using his cuteness to get his way like excuse me who allowed you outta my pocket and into the world where you can hurt sand GET BACK IN HERE!
my gawd ray using all his perusasion moves and then some but sand standing his ground multiples times im SO PROUD OF HIM 🥹
ray did not just use orphans to get sand to agree like arrest him milord its too much!!
oh damn top approaching cheum for help, man clearly serious about his concern (pretty obvious/out there prediction based on how you think but mewtop endgame methinks :3)
okay papang's character CLEARLY has just work on his mind SURE completely his excited thirsty looks giving NOTHING away
STFU did i just see boston looking at a selfie of him and nick while drinking alone in a bar WOW did not think i'd have lived to see this day lmao
is it just me being too sandray biased or did raymew not have much chemistry in that library scene...the way ray said you look delectable felt mechanical sorta like its something he just read off a script in his head and not what he thought of right then...probably also due to it being early days together but also i did NOT hear ray say that he doesnt want a band anymore...i simply didnt hear it...it makes me feel NOTHING
why the fuck have all these people been invited these two self destructive boys have evidently NO clue in life...as expected i mean lol otherwise whats the fun in a show about a bunch of well adjusted adults with entirely healthy relationships lmao
STFU did mew just try coke NOMYGAWD this is gonna be such a train wreck of a party I CANNOT
gawd pretty boy ray (SO PRETTY but also)whipped af he's gonna hurt so so bad when he realises mew has been knowingly or unknowingly using him to get over or spite top
zjnsnsjs what was that laugh mew did when ray asked if cheum invited top...book looked so HOT and MY GAWDS TOP GUN TOP AHRJMSNANSKAKA
is ray thinking what im thinking?? that mew is showing more emotion in the past 1 minute than he did the entire time they were together and it was entirely directed at top!?
ahjansnnsjsjs mew you menace that was such a badass move im gonna forgive you for using ray and making out with him for a hot second cos WOW
sand nick moving on buddies CUUUTE if only the moving on was working out for either of them 🤧🤧
wow nick has got some guts walking upto ton like that after having secretly recorded him and ruined his friend group...im dyingggg at his (desperation dressed as ) confidence
not to get distracyed but that teeny glimpse of neo's forehead through his fringe making me wanna scream...he looks so so sooo goood argh WHY DO THEY COVER IT UP HUH FOR WHAT?? FREE THE FOREHEADS!!!
2 freddie mercury's making out at a halloweeen party...woulda been such an iconic moment...ray playing spoilsport boy you better get back in my pocket (THREAT)
AABNANAN RAY DID NOT JUST SAY WHAT I THINK HE DID MY GAWD HE'S SO!?????
When tf is ray gonna learn not to kiss people without their consent he making me madder and madder!?!?!
holy fucking shit sand's expression after ray said "you love me" !?????? im so devastated at that milli second of a reaction FIRST IS SO FXKING GOOD!??
"you're mine no matter what!????" um how DARE he!????
YES SAND GOOD ON YOU IM SO PROUD OF YOU ray you better count your days im coming for you😤😤😤😤
mew breaking up with top cos he cheated on him to be with ray who has "always" been faithful to him and this always faithful guy just decides to offer himself to his "fuckbuddy" and some other random dude from the party so easily?? gawd i feel bad for mew.
i know mew is going through hell and sorta acting out...but my gawd unhinged mew is so hot????? i feel like my brain is turning to mush everytime he does something wild
pls that bgm in the topmew scene...no matter how this scene ends...they have to be the endgame i really dont see a way around it
cheum deciding to draw boundaries and blaming ray for showing no concern for her and ruining things while the police are literally checking the room for drugs after having pinned ray down is just the sorta shiz the show promised and it has delivered so good i could scream into my pillow for hours
2 seconds...thats all it took for khao to make an impact with that scene...he's MAGIC i tell you
cheum and april should just run away together just for a while give themselves some peace of mind
pls the romcom music for topmew its driving me insane.....this was supposed to be my sandray WHERE DID IT ALL GO WRONG
sandnick cuties I LOVE THEIR DYNAMIC ARGH...whether its kept as moving on partners or new found besties or even fwbs...i am full on supporting that shiz...sand deserves some fun too
cant believe boston was the least active character today...i almost have humane feelings towards him wow
sghahnsnznsjwjzjjsjsjsnjs omygod next episode preview ducking hell
Forget everything i said about sandnick and arresting ray and being mad at him...i am still mad but ahhh sandray my babies WE ARE SO BACKKKK....they better have a proper talk so ray can apologise and start off on a proper note or else imma lose it again but ahhhhhh i havent smiled at a preview in a loooong time fuckkk feeels goood😭😭😭
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Shorts With Shimura
A/N: HI GUYS!!! I'm so sorry lmfao, I had a date with my partner and his friends for a day and we all got blazed.
I've kinda been vibing for the past few days and completely forgot about time as a whole. Anyways, here you goooo
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Pairing: Kirishima x GN! Reader (Pretty sure)
Warnings: Other than heavy topics of injuries and stubbornness, it's pretty mellow, if I missed anything, lmk
Word Count: 2.9K
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"Can't you just accept when people do nice things for you?"
"No, I can't."
You pushed the first aid supplies away, opting to stand up and walk towards the entrance of your makeshift shelter. While on patrol, Pro-Heroes Chargebolt, Red Riot, and yourself had been caught in a sudden attack by a suicide squad of lower class villains. They’d followed your patrol patterns and decided to take the whole block out with extremely powerful explosions. On the lucky side of the day, everyone in the block in question were across town to partake in an annual festival. And anyone who’d stayed behind in their homes were promptly rescued by nearby heroes. On the not so lucky side of the day, no one, including yourselves knew where exactly you were and both the impact of the blast and the large sinkhole that happened because of it trapped all three of you underneath multiple tons of rubble. The impact of the fall itself knocked Chargebolt out immediately as he’d knocked his head on uneven concrete on the way down. Red Riot was heavily injured as well, suffering a broken leg, however he used the last of his energy to knock down a wall of a broken building to shield everyone from any future falling debris. You weren’t spared either, as your left arm broke under a random piece of building that fell on you as soon as you hit the ground. Your right shoulder had been dislocated, but that was a quick fix to you. Everyone was bleeding and Chargebolt, while occasionally stirring, hadn’t properly woken up yet. You’d also sustained a bad sprain on your ankle which hindered your walking ability. However, you hid the pain well, barely showing a limp as you hobbled off. Everyone was covered in blood and dust, smaller bits of concrete in everyone’s hair and hero costumes ripped in many places.
“Just let me help you, Reaper, please? You’ve already fixed both of us up as best you can, it’s only fair.”
“I’m fine, Riot. I’ve already splinted my arm, there’s nothing else for you to do.”
“You need to get off that ankle, I know you messed it up.”
You leaned against a large piece of rubble, looking up to see small spots of the now night sky peering through. “I’m fine.”
Riot sighed, wanting to get up to drag you back, but his current condition prohibited him. You’d also splinted his leg with the straightest piece of pipe you pulled out of the area and a random shirt you’d luckily spotted underneath a broken T.V.
Luck was on your side today as you had mindlessly brought your emergency backpack out of your apartment with you on patrol. You hadn’t really thought much about it, knowing you were already too far away to put it back by the time you realized you’d even brought it, so you carried it with you. And lucky for you all, it had everyone you’d need for some kind of multi day crisis. Unopened foods, water bottles, two first aid kits, stitch kits, extra bandages, rubbing alcohol, and more. You didn’t know why you’d brought the bag with you but you thanked your lucky stars you did. It made fixing those boys up a legion easier and because it seemed the other heroes hadn’t pinpointed your exact location yet, the food and water definitely helped. Charge Bolt would definitely need some when he woke up.
“Please? At least come back here so we can talk quieter. I don’t wanna wake him before he’s ready.” Riot tried again, leaning against another piece of broken wall. It wasn’t the comfiest he thought, but they didn’t have much to work with. You sighed, giving into the request, walking back slowly and sitting down beside the redhead.
“Thank you.” He whispered. You let out a small hum, taking the half drunk water bottle you both had used and taking another sip. Your throat had been bone dry the whole night but you did your best to conserve what you had, not knowing how long you might be down here.
“Can I please clean you up? At least bandage that cut on your head.” He pushed, reaching for the kit again.
“Why are you so persistent?” You huffed, setting the bottle down and crossing your arms as best you could. It was really your unbroken arm gently gripping the other while the broken one moved to sit in your lap.
“Because it’s what I do. Besides, we were all hurt and you’re the only one who hasn’t been properly cared for. You splinted my leg, fixed my wounds and helped Kaminari the best you could, but you’re the only one with wounds that are still open and vulnerable.”
“I don’t need help. My cuts are fine, I heal fast.”
“Not fast enough.”
You let out another sigh, glaring the hero down. His stare remained unwavering and after a few minutes of silent staring, you gave in.
“Fine.” You groaned. “Just be quick about it.”
You could see his face brighten as he swiftly placed the kit in his lap and you slid closer to him so he wouldn’t have to move too much.
“This’ll sting.” He warned.
“Just do it.” You grumbled, closing your eyes as he dabbed the cuts on your face, neck and shoulders with an alcohol soaked piece of fabric. You winced just a bit when he got to a deeper slice on your neck, but otherwise made no protest. He gently placed small bandages over each now semi cleaned wound and sat back once he was done, proud of his work.
“Done. For now anyways. How’s your arm feeling?”
You looked down at the makeshift splint you’d made, noticing the slight bend in your upper arm from the fracture and all of the bruising that stretched over your entire body. “Feels fine.” You hummed, leaning back against the rubble with him. “As good as a broken bone can feel anyways. How’s the leg?”
“Hurts like a sucker, but you did a good job keeping it straight.” He chuckled, looking down at his leg.
“Can you move your foot at all?” You asked. He focused for a minute, his foot slightly jerking to the side once before he relaxed it again. “A bit. That’s a good sign I think.”
You nodded, leaning your head back against the cold surface only for a moment before lifting it again to glance over at your unconscious co-worker. He jostled a smidge, but eventually settled back under your blanket - which had also been in the bag. Your eyes softened just a bit seeing your old classmate in such a state, knocked out with no real way to see if he was alright. It hurt your heart a little to know you couldn’t help them any more than you had already and it hurt even more to see the way Kirishima uncomfortable shifted trying to settle himself back onto the rubble. You couldn’t fix this. Not with the way you were anyway. Your entire body felt like lead, your head was fuzzy and sleep tugged at your eyelids as you forced yourself to stay up for their sake.
“You should sleep.” You mumbled, reaching into your bag to see what else you had. You had an old jacket in there, belonging to a long forgotten ex. It was much bigger than you, which at this moment in time, you thanked him for as you pulled it out and handed it to your conscious partner. “Here. This should fit you. It’s getting colder, so you should cover up your torso.”
“What about you?” He asked, a tone of concern coating his voice.
“I’m fine. I’m used to the cold, so it’s no big deal for me.” That was a lie. You were freezing. Sure you were used to the cold, but it was the dead of winter right now and you were almost certain that it could probably snow with the current temperature. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was shirtless and the temperature was dropping drastically the later it got.
“Are you sure-”
“Yes, Red. Please, just-” You sighed slowly. “Just take the damn jacket.”
He hesitantly accepted the jacket, slipping it on and zipping it up. You slowly rose to your feet, making your way over to a sleeping Charge Bolt, kneeling and checking his pulse and forehead. He was alive and for the most part warm. That was good. You watched as he once again squirmed around, the blanket on him riding off his shoulders as he struggled to lay on his side.
“He’s movin’ around, that’s a good sign. Means he’s not too far gone at least.” You muttered, grabbing the top of the blanket and pulling it back over his shoulders. He subconsciously snuggled into the fabric and your lips couldn’t help but curl upwards a bit as you stood back up and went back to your previous spot. You looked down at the cracked walkie talking in between you and Kirishima, letting out a small breath as you picked it up and pressed down the button.
“Reaper speaking. I’m still here with Red Riot and Chargebolt. If anyone’s around, we need you to look for a way into the sinkhole to get them.” You spoke, lifting your finger and hesitantly waiting for a response. When nothing but broken static came to you, you put it down, closing your eyes in defeat. “Dammit. Who the hell is in charge of comms up there?” You whispered, pinching the bridge of your nose.
“I’m sure there are people already looking for a safe way in. Don’t worry, they wouldn’t just leave us here.” Kirishima smiled, placing a warm hand on your thigh. You looked down at it, eyes softening again.
“I hope not. I can’t trust a damn thing they do until it happens.”
“Why? Why do you never trust others, Reaper? We’ve never let you down.” His tone came out a little defensive, something he quickly noticed, giving you a slightly apologetic look.
“Because-...Just because.” You bit the inside of your cheek, cursing yourself for almost letting it slip. He didn’t need to know.
“(Y/N), please. You can trust me, if not anyone else. We just wanna help you.”
“No you don't, no one ever has. No one ever did.” You huffed, gripping your other leg with your unbroken hand.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean what I said, okay? No one ever came to help me when I was in trouble, so until they come to help you two, I have no goddamned reason to trust any of ‘em.” You snapped, looking away from his pitiful gaze.
“But what about you? You’re here too.”
“I don’t need anyone’s damn help. I’ve made it this far, I’m not gonna start now.”
He sighed slowly, letting silence wash over you. It stung. The memories of your childhood spent alone and in fear. The memories of your high school years spent ducking from everyone and walking on eggshells to avoid anyone that tried to upshow you. Everyone knew you were strong, you knew it too. But you didn’t like flaunting that fact. Whenever someone would be paired to spar with you, you intentionally lost, immediately leaving the arena as soon as you could. You didn’t like hurting people. You didn’t like having to fight the people you’d eventually have to work with. For the first year or two, this definitely didn’t mull over well with your fiery blonde bomb of a classmate Bakugou Katsuki, who quickly realized your fleeing tactic and would try and force you into real sparring matches.
The one day he caught you in a bad mood while you were walking to the common room in the dorm building, you laid him on the floor in less than a few seconds, glaring at him and walking into the kitchen to get a snack.
Everyone watched in awe as you moved in a blink and he was suddenly shoved onto the carpet, coughing for breath while you simply walked off with no words spoken. Neither of you talked about that day for different reasons - him, his pride. And you, embarrassment that you let yourself go like that.
Another day, everyone was paired for a training period fighting against seasoned pros and while everyone had two people to a group, because of the odd number, you’d been added to Bakugou and Midoriya’s pair. Of course it wasn’t just random choice, however you never really understood the reason why. Nor did you really care. You had a chance to go head to head with the one man you loathed in this world. You hated All Might, but you wouldn’t tell anyone why to save your life. That was something that you’d take to your grave.
Why Bakugou and Midoriya were bickering, you were running around, attempting to locate the Hero. When you did finally find him, he had appeared in front of the two boys, sending them flying while you balled your fists. You used your quirk, manifesting a large scythe as you charged for him. The edge was dulled for obvious reasons but it was still strong enough to get the job done. By the tie he’d realized your presence, you’d swung the weapon around, knocking him down. Or so you thought. You quickly spun around to see the 7”2 menace behind you and prepping a punch. Your eyes widened as you jumped back, letting go of your weapon as it dissipated into dust.
For a while, it was constant back and forth, dealing blows to each other and dodging others. Bakugou and Midoriya had since returned to the site, stunned still at the scene playing out. A high schooler was giving the Number one hero - the symbol of peace - a run for his money. They wanted to join in on the fight, but they felt like they couldn’t. You were on a whole different level from them and it left them wondering how you even had to go through this school to become a hero. You were strong enough to become one without the training.
All Might kept dodging your attacks which eventually began to tick you off. “Quit running away, dammit! Fight me for real!” You barked, letting go of the weapon you had as you manifested your scythe again. “I’m getting real tired of this cat and mouse bullshit!”
You landed a few more blows on him, and he, you before he’d caught onto a small opening. He leapt forward, ramming his large knee into your stomach and knocking all the air from your lungs. The sudden shockwave caused you to release your weapon as he grabbed you and flung you a few yards back into the dirt. And while you laid there catching your breath, your training partners took advantage of the opening to get their own licks in.
A few minutes later, you heard the hero exclaim how you’d all passed and made his way over to you. You lay there motionless, an arm over your eyes as he picked you up and put you on your feet.
“You’ve done well today, Young (Y/N). You’ve passed.” He smiled as you stared blankly at him. No I didn’t. You thought. Nevertheless, you were ushered back to your group as you continued a blank stare at the ground. You were silent for the rest of the week.
“You should sleep, (Y/N). I’ll take first watch and if Kaminari wakes up, I’ll wake you.” Kirishima’s offer cut through your silent monologuing as you blinked and looked up at him.
“N-...No, you sleep first. I’ll take watch for if anyone decides to show up.” You rebutted, squirming around a little.
“You’re tired.”
“So are you.”
“But you’ve done more.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to stop.”
“(Y/N).”
“What?”
“Just let me help you for once. You said you don’t trust people until they do something, so I’m doing something now. Go to sleep. I’ll wake you after a few hours.” His tone was assertive and you couldn’t help the surprised look on your face. “But-”
“Ah. Sleep.” He cut in, staring demandingly into your eyes.
“I don’t-”
“I don’t wanna hear it. I wanna see you sleeping, so do it.” He ordered.
You swallowed, a slight blush dusting your cheeks. You weren’t used to being told what to do like this. It wasn’t from a malicious place. He was doing this out of care for his co-worker. His friend. You couldn’t fight him anymore, your body getting heavier and your eyes dropping a bit. He seemed a little proud at his feat as he unzipped his jacket and pulled you to his chest.
“And you are cold, I know it. We can keep the both of us semi-warm this way.”
“But you-”
“Nope. Not gonna listen to anything else you say until after you sleep.”
You huffed a bit in annoyance but didn’t fight it as you situated yourself so as to not accidentally press against his hurt leg.
“...Are you sure you'll be alright?” You whispered, a tinge of worry in your voice.
“I’ll be alright, I promise. If anything happens, I’ll wake you, okay? Promise.” He hummed, holding you closer. You nodded lightly against him as you finally let sleep take over you.
“I won’t let anything happen to you.” He muttered, placing a soft hand in your hair as you slumped and relaxed against him.
#anime#anime x reader#bnha x reader#bnha x y/n#bnha x you#mha x reader#mha x y/n#mha x you#my hero academia#kirishima x you#eijirou kirishima#kirishima x reader
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Fireworks
A fic because it's the ✨ 4th of July ✨ and I got inspired
As the night fell,the Megurine family became more and more exited. Tonight a nearby company was hosting a party to celebrate it's 50 year anniversary,and Meiko had heard from a few people that there were going to be fireworks. Fireworks weren't a common thing where the family lived,so everyone -especially Sakine- was exited.
'Come on! Let's goooo! Hurry up!'
She said as the rest of the family was taking their time getting ready.
'We're coming,Kiki,we're coming!'
Said Luka.
The rest of the family followed Sakine out onto the front lawn of their newly bought house.
'I'm so exited!!'
She squealed.
'Me,too!'
Said Kawane. She was obviously really hyped,sense Kawane tended to be rather quiet and timid.
The first firework shot into the air,before exploding in a loud pop,though the noise wasn't too bad.
'Wow!'
'Kawane,did you see that!?'
Another one
pop
'Wowwww! So cool!'
'They're like stars!'
'They're pretty,aren't they,Mei?'
'Hmm... Not as pretty as you~~'
'You're so cheesy...'
'Why thank you!'
More fireworks shot into the air,exploding into pretty shapes and colors.
Then they stopped.
'Hm? Is that it?'
Asked Sakine.
Luka and Meiko shared a glance,a bit confused.
SCREEEEEEEEEE
BANG!!
The loudest firework the family had ever heard exploded into the sky,several others following suit
BANG!!
BANG!!
BANG BANG!!
Kawane yelped and dropped to the ground,knees to her chest as she covered her ears.
Luka,made a startled noise,as well. She covered her ears and shrunk into herself.
BANG!!
BANG!!
Kawane and Luka both hated loud noises,and they had all forgotten how loud some fireworks can be...
Sakine knelt down by her sister,trying to comfort her.
Meiko put her hands over Luka's helping her block out the noise.
'Sakine,get your sister inside.'
Sakine nodded and helped Kawane up,leading her into the house,as Meiko guided Luka in as well.
Once inside,Kawane ran to her room and hid underneath the bed,Sakine went after her,laying on the floor by the bed,trying to coax her out from her hiding spot.
Meanwhile,Meiko was holding a startled Luka on the couch downstairs. She was trembling from the adrenaline rush,still covering her ears.
'I'm sorry,dear. I know you really wanted to see the fireworks,too...'
'They're so loud...'
'I know... This is my fault,I'm so sorry...'
'No,it's okay... You just wanted to spend some time with our family...'
Meiko kissed the top of her head.
'Are you feeling well enough to go check in on the children?'
'Yeah... I just needed a minute...'
Luka got off of Meiko's lap,Meiko got up,as well.
The couple walked upsairs to find their kids.
----
'Kawa... Please come out,sis... It's okay...'
'No... It's too scary...'
'But you're safe in the house!'
'No.'
'Sis...'
Kawane heard the door open,and the voices of her mothers talking to Sakine,who got up,Luka taking her place on the floor.
'Hey,baby...'
Kawane didn't respond.
'I know you're scared. I got scared,too. But we're inside,you're safe. Besides,hiding under your bed isn't going to make the fireworks any less noisy... How about you come out,okay? I'll make sure you're protected,alright?'
Kawane started to inch closer to the edge of the bed.
'That's it,love. Come here...'
Kawane crawled out from underneath the bed and into Luka's arms.
'There you are,baby...'
'Mama... I-I wanted to watch the fireworks,but they're scary...'
'I know,it's disappointing,isn't it?'
'LuLu... I have an idea...'
'What is it,Pancakes?'
'All three of you,sit on the bed,okay? I'll be right back~'
Sakine sat on her sister's bed,Luka and Kawane following suit.
Meiko returned after a couple of minutes with a few small bowls of ice-cream. She handed one to each person,keeping one for herself. She turned off the lights,then hurried to open Kawane's curtains.
Outside,fireworks were exploding,the lights shining in the dark sky.
'Wow! I forgot that Kawa's window faced this way!'
Said Sakine
Luka and Meiko sat on the bed,while the kids knelt on the floor in front of the window,eating their ice-cream and watching the fireworks from inside the house,the bangs muffled by the windows.
Sakine and Kawane were excitedly pointing at different fireworks,amazed by the bright colors.
Luka leaned into Meiko's shoulder,as the couple looked out at the balls of light,giggling at their daughters as they marveled at the fireworks,the sky lightning up beautifully.
Sometimes life gave the family setbacks,but no matter what,they could get through them as long as they were all together.
(Sakine and Kawane are sitting on the floor they look like they're rlly small but they're on the floor in front of the bed lol)
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KinnPorsche ep 14 Rewatch Rambles:
Last time seeing/hearing the intro 😭 but it's okay it's in my Favorites playlist on Deezer 😌
VegasPorsche friendship my beloved
"I definitely won't let anyone do anything to Pete" - "Just take care of him" 😭😭😭 VegasPete feat. PorschePete friendship
I love how Porsche's flashbacks come with dramatic wind in his hair
Apo's acting tho 😭❤️
KP thinking they're cousins for a hot second lmaooo 💀
Liar liar pants on fire (me @ Korn rn)
The brothers 😭❤️
The beginning of the end here we goooo
How can they all disrespect Kinn like that in his own home as if he's not still mafia even with his dad "dead"... not gonna say they had it coming but that definitely wasn't the smartest move
"Know your place" - "That's why I was speaking" POINTS TO DADDY CHAN SORRY VEGAS
Vegas immediately using one if his bodyguards as a human shield 💀
NOT CHAN 😭
Also can we talk about the fact that Vegas is still doing all of this just so maybe his father will be proud of him just this once 💀😭
Shit is going DOWN
Kinn also kinda used Pete as a shield but unlike Vegas he didn't grab him from behind and Pete actually kept his hand on Kinn the entire time making sure he's still behind him
Enter: Porsche
Whose first instinct is also to pull Kinn to his side and cover him 😭❤️
"I'm on your side" followed by their little tango of violence will always be in my heart
"Head, chest... or heart" *aims at Porsche* THIS EPISODE HAS SO MANY ICONIC LINES/MOMENTS
THE FUCKING TOY CAR OF DESTRUCTION 😂 and the marbles I can't hahahaha
Erika ftw
"I can be by myself" CHAY YOU'D HAVE BEEN KIDNAPPED AGAIN IF YOUR EX WASN'T LOOKING OUT FOR YOU
The face Kim pulls before dragging that guy's face across the bar is HILARIOUS
KIM CLEAN UP YOUR MESS
Not Erika 😭😭
Not Gun saying he doesn't care about profits WELL IF IT'S NOT THAT THEN IT'S POWER IS THAT ANY BETTER?
I remember being so confused about Korn's and Gun's versions of the story, not realizing there was wayyyy more to it
The VegasPete reunion 😭 Pete shooting Vegas in the arm so the bodyguards wouldn't shoot 😭 Vegas, broken and bloody, reaching for Pete's face, asking him to be the one to kill him
The kiss 😭😭 the way Vegas pushed Pete off of him and runs away, leaving Pete confused af
I didn't even notice that Pete wipes his mouth before getting up lmao
Porsche yelling "Hey! Stop!" as if that's ever worked xD
Suuuuure, in like 15 years she hasn't aged a day...
"You just want all the power" AND WHAT ABOUT YOU GUN
What was he gonna say WHAT WAS HE GONNA SAYYYYYYYYYY
They left so much open for a season 2 and then DIDN'T GIVE US A SEASON TWO
Please don't call Porsche your nephew he's dating your son
Also can we talk about how Vegas was never able to free himself from his father before Gun died? I really wanted Vegas to break free on his own 😭
PETE STILL HAS BLOOD ON HIS MOUTH. VEGAS' BLOOD. FROM THE KISS. I AM THIS 🤏 CLOSE TO GOING INSANE
And his little speech before he runs after Vegas 😭😭😭
Korn may be terrible but he will always be supportive of gay love <3
With his dad, Vegas lost all sense of purpose because all he ever did was to try to make his dad proud. So even after he died, Vegas wasn't immediately freed. Nah, he thought he had nothing left to live for. Where would he go, what would he do, if no one gave him any direction?
This entire scene... 😭 it hurts even more after seeing the bts where they just sat on the ground after filming, processing all the emotions 😭 and Pete's raw af sobs and screams that were muted in the episode are also in that bts
VEGAS' TEENY TINY LITTLE SMILE FOR A FRACTION OF A SECOND BEFORE HE GETS SHOT WILL NEVER NOT MAKE ME GO ABSOLUTELY INSANE
Porsche becoming head of the minor family means he'll still be under Korn's thumb
Omg Chay is adorable
And Kim is still miserable lol
Porsche in that green suit 🔥🔥🔥
The kissssss omggggg
Tay 😍🥰❤️
KIM'S VIDEO 😭 he's trying okay he's trying not to isolate himself 😭
I think there's still hope for them (post-canon, because again, no s2 unfortunately) because 1) Chay was playing the guitar again, meaning he picked up music again even though he'd stopped because of Kim, and I'm not sure which guitar it was but if it was the one Kim gave him u know what that means... and 2) he didn't delete the video - he almost did but then he put his phone away PLEASE I JUST WANT THEM TO START OVER AND I WANT KIM TO ACTUALLY BE A GOOD BOYFRIEND THIS TIME
Tankhun is still so iconic
"I have a surprise for you" - "then I'll go wait in the restroom" PORSCHE NOT THAT KIND OF SURPRISE LMAO
They're so adorable aaaaaa
Hahaha Kinn's trying to be sexy but ends up being a little cheesy and goofy 🤭
"How's Vegas doing?" HIT ME SO HARD THE FIRST TIME BC UP TO THAT POINT I WAS CONVINCED I'D BE STUCK WATCHING VEGASPETE FIX-ITS ALL NIGHT
"I call Pete everyday to encourage him" IS SO OVERLOOKED PORSCHE IS SUCH A GREAT FRIEND ❤️😭
The whispered "I love you" 😭😭❤️❤️
I feel like there are so many secrets left to be uncovered
Namphueng looks so uncomfortable and idk if it's because there's two dudes she doesn't remember hugging her and calling her mom or if it's because she's actually just pretending 👀👀👀
The post credit scene 😭 I find it hard to believe that it's also 1 month later bc Vegas' wounds would be wayyy further along the healing process. Especially the one on his arm that probably didn't actually go through but just grazed him. And after a month, Vegas wouldn't be asking Pete why he's still there. They would have had that conversation much sooner. So did they actually go back to right after the incident? Like, a few days later? A week maybe?
I will always be insane about "I can't run off to anywhere" I have made an entire post about Pete not being able to leave Vegas for various reasons so I won't go into too much detail but I'll just say this isn't just "I don't have anywhere to go" but also "I couldn't just run off and leave you behind"
AGAIN WITH THE SOFT HAND HOLDING 😭❤️
Hahaha Macau's little smirk he's so precious
The family cuddles and Vegas' soft little pecks for Pete and Macau 😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️ also they used a mirror for that scene again and I'm still not sure what reflections mean in KP but I know they're a Thing™️
I can't believe it's over. That's it. I've rewatched the entire series less than two months after first watching it. It's not over yet, not for me. But I think my brain will at least stop being a "KP only" zone, at least for a while.
Aaaaaahhh this series and its characters and the cast will always be in my heart 😭❤️
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01 | Songbird next
"Catch me if you can!"
The patches of snow melted under her feet as she struggled to catch up to the ombre haired boy. "Wait for me, Touya!"
Their dynamic was unexplainable but it was theirs to cherish and to despise. It was just how they worked — Touya always being one step ahead and Kotori following behind without any hesitation.
Huffing from the lack of oxygen from all the chasing in the paradise of ice, the curly haired pinkette plopped down on one of the slate covered benches. "You're always going too fast", she glared at the male who simply chuckled like a kid on Christmas eve.
"I'm not fast, you're just too slow", he teased, slumping down beside her as he threw and arm over her shoulder.
Kotori whined, shoving his side repeatedly, "Get off. You're heavy!"
"Rude", the Todoroki stuck a tongue out, already getting himself ready for another round of tag, pulling his best friend up by the hand. "Break time's over! Let's goooo."
"What? Already?" The girl exclaimed, letting herself be dragged towards a circle formed by all the neighborhood kids. The inking on her arms grumbled in protest; unfortunately for her, her body did not heat up nearly as quick as her companion's. "I'll sit this one out."
Coming to a halt, Touya rounded on her. "Nu-uh. You promised, Tori."
The shorter girl sighed, teeth clattering from the lack of mittens and the numerous holes on her sweater from tear and wear. Her family wasn't as well off as others residing in the area and most days it was tough for her mother to put three square meals on the table for the family. They couldn't afford such luxuries, she was told. "But it's so cold."
Peeking over his shoulder as if to make sure they weren't being observed, Touya leaned down to a hunch, prompting her to do the same. "Wanna see something cool?"
Awe sparkling in her ruby eyes, Kotori nodded eagerly. Touya held his hands out and she latched on, not yet knowing what he was up to but putting her trust in him. Soon, a strange warm sensation filled her. It was like one of her mother's home-cooked meals, filled with love and adoration. It made her feel fuzzy all over.
A massive grin threatened to split his face as Touya watched her eyes light up with joy. "Pretty cool, huh?"
Bursting into a fit of giggles, Kotori ignored the 'shh's from him, throwing her arms around his frame in a bear hug. "You got your quirk! Congratulations!"
"Keep your voice down!"
Taken aback by the rebuke, she tilted her head slightly. "Why?"
Pouting, Touya led them towards the recently abandoned swings. "Just because."
It took a moment but realization dawned on her. Squeezing his hand that snugly held hers, she kicked off the ground. "You didn't tell anybody yet, did you?"
His silence was answer enough.
Smiling, Kotori leaned towards his side, "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me. But Touya, now we can finally train to be pros! Our names will be at the top of Japan's Hero Billboard Chart!"
Catching onto her innuendo, Touya smirked, "Yeah. No. 1 hero Dabi and his sidekick, Saphira."
Kotori glared, "Hey! I'm nobody's sidekick!"
"Well you're still slow, Miss Snorlax!" Touya claimed and took off immediately.
"Get back here!"
#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#dabi x reader#touya fluff#touya x reader#touya x oc#touya x kotori#touya todoroki#dabi x kotori#mikunato.blogs#touya x reader fluff#kotori ishida#bnha x oc#mha x oc#dabi hero au#pro hero dabi#endeavor isn't such a shitty father#atleast not to the canon degree
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DiapOut: Chapter 7
DISCLAIMER: This series contains diaper usage, public humiliation, masturbation, hypermessing, sissification, WAM, mental regression, and other ABDL themes. If you haven’t read the first chapter and want to catch up, be sure to check out the link in the description. I hope you enjoy!
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Tapping her foot anxiously at the far end of the obstacle course, Kyoko watched in a mix of frustration and anger as the opposing team got the early lead. “What is that idiot doing?” she mumbled to herself. She was already preparing some choice words for Cade once this leg of the competition was over.
“Wahoo!! Go Misa! Slide down that butt like your life depends on it!” shouted Lelaya with her hands cupped around her mouth, blissfully unaware of the daggers that were being shot in her direction through Kyoko’s pupils. Suddenly, she pointed forward, bouncing up and down, before placing a hand on Kyoko’s shoulder, “Look! Look! Your poopy friend found his diaper pin too!”
Rolling her eyes and shrugging Lelaya’s hand off of her shoulder, a still pissed-off Kyoko refused to let the hope of her team advancing to the second stage put her at ease. “C’mon Rupert! You better catch up!”
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Laying a thin, white mat down on the top of the slide, Misa positioned herself in the center and placed her hands on the surface, ready to push off. “Didn’t expect to be used as a baby wipe today but whatever,” she said, chuckling to herself about how ridiculous this all was. If it hadn’t been for Ayaya’s begging, she never would’ve done something this humiliating. It was all she could do now to block out what this show was going to do to her image and focus on the cash prize waiting at the end of all this.
Nudging herself forward, Misa looked over the edge of the rounded slide. It wasn’t super long, being two rounded sides with a divot covered in chocolate pudding going down the center to make it look like a messy butt. She’d be at the bottom in seconds, so she wasn’t expecting it to be all that thrilling. It was, however, quite steep. While she had no issues with heights on a regular basis, the thought of face-planting becoming an internet meme was more than enough to make her overly cautious.
Taking a good, deep breath, Misa hardened her resolve and lurched forward, sending her careening down the center of the slide. “WoooooOOOOOOO!” she shouted as she picked up speed quickly, thanks to the pudding making the surface extra slick. Much to her surprise, other than a small bump midway down, it was a pretty smooth ride. Even though she didn’t want it to appear like she was enjoying herself too much, she couldn’t help but crack a smile as she arrived at the bottom of the bottom.
“Alright, Misa! Let’s goooo!” cheered Ayaya-Girl, waving for Misa to hurry over so that she could continue with the next portion of the race.
Unfortunately, just as Misa was about to tag Ayaya in for the next leg of the race, CassiRole chimed in to stop them. “Ah, ah, ah! Don’t forget, you still need to find the second diaper pin,” she said mockingly in a sing-songy voice.
“Shoot!” yelled Misa. How could she have forgotten to look for the other diaper pin?! Hopefully, this cost them the lead. She stopped dead in her tracks, ready to make her way back toward the slide as quickly as possible. However, due to the pudding-coated floor and her reckless haste, she lost her footing and was sent flailing toward the ground, landing with a hard “oof!” on her stomach.
The audience went wild with uproarious laughter as they all soaked in Misa’s humiliating fall. Picking her head off of the ground, Misa could only groan in despair as the self-fulfilling prophecy she’d had at the top of the slide came true in the worst of ways. Not only did she fall on her face, but now her diaper was brown and droopy thanks to the puddle of pudding that she landed in. Wiping the chocolate pudding away from her eyes and mouth, she shook off her tumble and waddled her way back to the top of the slide, picking up her sliding mat along the way.
Meanwhile, Rupert was just getting started with his first run at the slide. Unlike Misa, he was not at all concerned with looking silly on television. Grabbing his white mat, he dove onto the slide head-first with reckless abandon. “Geronimo!” he screamed as he came down the slide at an even faster speed than Misa, causing the basin of pudding at the bottom to splatter outward in all directions.
Covered head to toe in a light layer of creamy chocolate, Rupert whipped his hair back and looked around the nearby area for the second diaper pin. “Crap, where the heck is it?!” he said, his searching getting a bit more frantic.
“You must’ve missed it on the slide somewhere!” Zeke said, calling out to Rupert from the barrier to the next leg of the race, “Go back to the top and see if you can find anything.”
Groaning, Rupert was not enthused with climbing a set of stairs to get back to the top. That was the least of his worries, though. In his panic-fueled search, he’d wandered onto the Wetters’ half of the course just in time for Misa to come barreling down the slide again.
“LOOOOK OOOUT!” cried Misa in an attempt to get Rupert to move. Sadly, her words came too soon as she collided with her opponent's legs, sweeping them out from under him and knocking herself off of her own mat. A chorus of pained “oohs” emanated from the live audience.
Off to the side of the stage, several crew hands shot each other nervous looks, wondering if they needed to pause the segment to check on the contestants. However, right as one of the safety team was about to leap into action, Jackson was there to hold him back, nodding to Cassi to continue the show.
“Now that’s what we call a DiapOut! Am I right folks?” said Cassi, fixing a bright smile on her as she laughed along with the audience anxiously. In the back of her mind, she was cussing out the two dumbass contestants who ran into each other. If someone gets hurt and ruins her show before it even airs, there would be hell to pay.
Attempting to pick herself up off the floor, Misa squirmed her way out from under Rupert’s heavy legs, recognizing that there was no time to lose. Having already been down the same slide twice, she was at a loss as to where the damn diaper pin was hidden. Breathing heavily, she looked back toward the slide, wondering if there was some way to see it from the base. Squinting her eyes, she noticed a tiny divot in the middle of the slide that had been made to look like a puckered booty hole. With nothing else to go off of, she assumed that must be where the pin has been stashed.
Feeling a bit sorer than she was a minute ago, Misa trudged back up the stairs, ready to take her third trip down the slide. Rupert, on the other hand, was still reeling from the impact. He rolled over and sat up, deciding to take a small breather as he watched Misa. He was terrible at finding things, so wherever Misa found her pin, his would likely be somewhere similar.
Rupert’s actions, while logical, did not appease his teammates. “Rupert, get off your ass! We gotta move!” said Zeke, trying his hardest to get his friend moving again to no avail. Turning his head back, he stared up at Kyoko’s livid expression, a touch of concern welling up in the pit of his stomach.
Sitting back down at the top of the slide, Misa also felt exhaustion start to kick in. “Damn Mia…you had it so lucky…no stairs on your section…” she muttered back at her pudding-drenched friend in between breaths. Cracking her carpal tunnel-riddled fingers, she nudged herself forward once more, slapping a hand down behind her to keep her from moving too fast.
Inch by inch, Misa lowered herself down, making sure to keep as steady as possible. However, there was only so much she could do. The mat under her body began to shift further and further from her stabilizing hand until eventually, she couldn’t hang on anymore. Abandoning her sliding mat, she leaped for the small hole in the center of the slide, grabbing onto the edge just barely.
Down on the ground, Rupert watched as Misa pulled off quite an impressive stunt. Looking back toward his slide, he spotted the same divot that Misa had. “Now that’s what I’m talking about,” he said to himself, finally getting off of the ground as she lined himself up with the hole.
Unlike Misa, Rupert was much taller and more agile. While someone her size would need to go down the slide to reach that point, he was certain that he was capable of reaching it from the bottom. With a running start, he attempted to dash up the slide as far as he could, diving for the butt hole and snagging it with his fingertips. His hands were regrettably too slick, though, causing him to lose his grasp and slide back down.
Misa did not have the same issue though, gaining a stronger handhold due to the direction she came from. Sticking her arm inside the hole, she instantly felt the end of the diaper pin in her hand. “I dunno who would stick a diaper pin up their ass but sorry in advance, friend,” she joked, slapping the side of the butt as she clutched the diaper pin and yanked it out.
“And with that, Misa has retrieved the second pin! Rupert will have to hurry if he wants to stop his team from falling behind again!” said Cassi, easing back into a more casual posture now that both contestants appeared to have fully recovered. They would need to overhaul this section of the course for future players to prevent that from ever happening again.
Cruising down the slide for the final time, Misa moved as fast as her droopy diaper out allow it as she delivered the two enlarged diaper pins to Ayaya. “Go, go!” she said exasperated as she crumpled to the floor, “After this is all over…I’m not leaving my bed for like…a week…maybe two…no, definitely a month…”
Tucking the diaper pins under her arm, it was now Ayaya’s turn to be the hero. All she had to do was make it up a padded staircase and recover the cloth diaper at the top. Sure, the stairs were covered in lotion, but so long as she stepped lightly, she assumed it wouldn’t be too hard. More importantly, she was just happy that her task didn’t require taking a pudding bath. The last thing she needed was to get chocolate in her hair.
Running up to the staircase, Ayaya planted her foot down on the first step, her confidence at an all-time high.
*SLIP!*
The moment Ayaya put her weight on her foot, it shot out from under her, sending her crashing down to the floor. “What the-” she screamed as the crowd around broke into hysterics. As she placed her hand on the first step to help herself back up, she slipped yet again. Contrary to her initial assessment, this staircase was going to prove a much bigger nuisance than originally thought.
TO BE CONTINUED…
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Edited by AllySmolShork
#ab/dl#ab/dl art#ab/dl stories#ab/dl girl#ab/dl diaper#diaper art#diaper stories#crissiebaby#diapout#diaper messy#dirty diaper#wetting diaper#diaper humiliation#wet and messy#gunge#sissybaby#diaper sissy#crissbabydiaperco#ab dl#ab dl diaper
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THE GOALIE IS COVERING THE ENTIRE GROUND, YOU HAVE A STICK, LIFT IT OFF THE ICE
THEY MAKE A TOP SHELF FOR A FUCKING REASON
-💍
LETS FUCKIN GOOOO
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Could you do a fic where Raya gets injured by doing something risky and Namaari scolds her for it and takes care of her
Here ya goooo (some edit?? Rated T and just silly)
“Ouch?!” Raya hissed out, jerking her foot back. Irritation on her face more than actual pain, giving Namaari quite a look as she clutched her leg. “That hurt, Na-MAR-i?!”
Namaari rolled her eyes, grabbing her ankle and bringing it back toward her. Holding it firmly, but with care, as she picked tiny thorns out of the bottom of her foot.
“You have no grounds to complain, Raya-“ she huffed, focusing on the injury, taking a tiny set of tweezers to pull out the thorns that had buried themselves into her foot. “I told you that was a bad idea and you didn’t listen-!”
“But Sisu challenged me?!” Raya whined.
“Oh my God-…”
“I’d look like a quitter if I backed down!”
“And you wouldn’t have six thorns in your foot either!” Namaari shot back, “I mean- if Sisu challenged you to jump off a bridge would-…” she paused, waving her hand, “don’t answer that actually- we both know you would.”
“I’m not stupid Namaari!”
Namaari lifted Raya’s foot up, “then explain this?”
Raya opened and then closed her mouth, realizing she had nothing to counter that. She had been stupid. Sisu bet her she couldn’t jump from one spot on a tree to another along the path the three of them had been traveling on their way back to Fang after going out on a stroll that morning.
Raya, who never passed up a challenge, agreed to it despite Namaari telling her that it was too far to land. The jump was from one branch to the next in a tree. Raya climbed up and jumped, overconfidently, and missed it by a mile. Landing in a particularly bristly bush. Her entire body covered in scratches and, as she tried to tear her way out, she lost her cape and boot and managed to step right on said thorns as she made to escape their sharp touch.
Good thing Fang wasn’t far off from where they were, bad thing was that now she was receiving a scolding from Namaari who not only tended to her injury but was the one who carried her back.
It was embarrassing enough to mess up a landing, even worse to have to be carried through Fang by their Princess. Namaari lifting her up in her arms as if she weighed absolutely nothing, muscles flexing, stirring something deep in Raya. Pressing her lips tightly together the entire way back to Fang, afraid of what might come out of her mouth if she allowed herself to speak. She swore her face was still red from it all, even now after Sisu had been sent to find bandages to wrap her foot.
“Ah-“ Raya hissed again, trying to jerk back when Namaari pulled another thorn free. The Princess of Fang holding on tight, trying to finish her work. “Can’t you be - I don’t know, gentler?!”
“If you’d hold still it would’ve been done by now.” Namaari mumbled, “so stop moving and it won’t hurt so much.”
Raya rolled her eyes, sitting back on her hands then as she tried not to move. Letting Namaari finish up, watching the way she carefully inspected her skin. How concentrated her look was, how her sharp eyes held right to the spot where each thorn was. Hands steady, grip strong. Her breathing even, steady and warm as every exhale fell against her skin. Tickling it, sending a shiver up Raya’s body as she tried to ignore the way it made her heart race and-
Oh no.
There went the temperature on her face again. Hot and rising, thinking she could feel the redness spread across her cheeks no matter how much she willed it not to.
She was staring, a lot. Raya didn’t even realize how long she had been focused on the woman before her, admiring her even, as Namaari plucked the last of the thorns out. Satisfied, a smirk falling on Namaari’s lips, which made Raya’s heartbeat pick up even faster still. Turning away when Namaari’s gaze lifted to her face.
“There, now-“ Namaari began, cut off by Raya who attempted to retract her leg from her now that the task had been done.
“Okay thanks-!” She mumbled, trying to hide the redness of her face as she turned. Only for Namaari to, hold her leg firmly in her grasp, preventing her from scurrying away with an easiness that was…..exciting.
“Wait- we have to apply the ointment and bandages!” Namaari stated, tugging her back into place, “Sisu will be back soon with-“
“No, it’s fine!” Raya quickly said, waving her hands as she again tried to get away. Resulting in a tug of war with her own leg as Namaari tried to get her to stay still while Raya kept trying to leave despite the fact that she had open wounds on her foot.
“Raya it’ll get infected-!” Namaari insisted, clearly not understanding Raya’s inner panic. “We have to wrap it!”
“It’s fine- I don’t care-“ Raya argued,
“Wha-…Raya it’s a minor solution, just wait-!”
“Well- it’s my injury!”
“Oh my Gods…why are you being so- AUGH?!?”
Raya shot her leg back a bit too hard, Namaari’s hand wrapped a bit too tightly. So when she pulled her foot, Namaari came with it. Stumbling, falling on top of Raya which startled Raya right onto the floor. The two of them collapsing in a sort of heap, a pile of bodies. Two stubborn women both trying to get the other one to listen.
Raya groaned as she tried to sit up, having hit the back of her head, a good bump that would definitely give her a headache at some point that evening. Hardly moving into a sitting position before she came face to face with Namaari.
The Fang Princess had landed on her hands, which fell on each side of Raya’s head. Her face winced as she might have wound up hurting herself in the moment, but she recovered quickly as she gave Raya a very grumpy look. Irritated by her stubbornness, until she realized how close their faces were to one another. That same look of annoyance melting into a look Raya had rarely seen her wear before.
Startled?
Perhaps.
Caught of guard. Her eyes locked on Raya’s as they froze in that position. Namaari on top of her, lower half pressing into Raya’s, their faces mere inches from each other. Eyes, nose…God- even her mouth hovered above Raya’s. Feeling that same heat from Namaari’s breathing against her lips that had just been along her leg. This fact, being so close as they were, had Raya feeling like time stopped around them. Maybe even her heart too? Unable to breathe, think, just react as her entire body was something akin to fire or lava.
Namaari stole a glance down to her lips and then back up to her eyes, Raya mimicking her actions as she too looked at how her mouth had fallen open. However, on the way back up to her eyes, Raya saw Namaari’s ears turn a lighter red color. The blush moving across her cheeks and nose as her mind undoubtedly was thinking the same thing Raya was thinking. Wanting to zero in, move closer, by the commanding force inside them that begged them to do so.
And just as Raya thought she might listen to said command, of course Sisu just HAD to return.
The doors busted open, the dragon leaping inside with a ridiculous amount of bandages in her arms and what looked like vials of medicine. A bright and cheerful look on her face as she paraded inside.
“LOOK WHAT I-“ she happily began until she realized what she had walked into.
Or-…what she thought she walked into. Nothing was happening, not yet at least, but the position the two Princesses were in wasn’t ideally innocent either. Both of them on the floor, Raya’s leg lifted as if to accommodate and make room for Namaari’s body. Which was (deliciously) pressed down into Raya’s body, looking like they had been caught, both their faces flushed red and breathing ragged.
God-
Could she be any more humiliated today?!?
“Oh-…my-“ Sisu began, her smile growing wider the longer she stood in the doorway.
Namaari quickly pushed herself up to her knees, Raya following with just as much speed.
“This isn’t what it looks like-!” Namaari stammered out, followed by Raya adding, “I can explain!”
But it was far too late, Sisu was bouncing on her feet, her joy already set into motion.
“YOU TWO WERE KISSING!” She yelled, her voice shaking the walls, “YOU TWO WERE-!”
“No we weren’t Sisu!” Raya yelled as she tried to storm over to her, getting to her feet only to stumble as her sore foot pressed against the ground.
Namaari rushed to her, offering her hand, which didn’t help Sisu’s fangirling at all.
“EEEEE I AM SO EXCITED FOR YOU TWO!” She cheered, gasping in the next moment as something came across her mind, “OH! I have to go see Pranee and tell ‘em I won our bet!”
“BET?!” Both Raya and Namaari snapped, watching in horror as Sisu zipped away.
“Sisu, stop!” Namaari yelled, rushing after her down the hallway while Raya hobbled after them.
By the time either of them caught up to her, it was far too late. Half of Fang knew about their relationship, including Namaari’s Mother, and were congratulating them all afternoon. Celebrating a relationship that really didn’t exist.
Not yet at least.
#rayamaari#rayaari#raymaari#Raya x namaari#ratld canon verse#ratld#sisu the dragon#sisu the last dragon#princess raya#princess namaari
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