#the HAND PLACEMENT I’m SCREAMING
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Unfollow me now I’m never shutting up about them.
This moment right here…. Luz with her hands on Amity’s waist gently guiding her away from danger as The Collector walks towards them….
I’ve looked at it for 5 hours now.
I will never be over this.
#the owl house#toh#lumity#luz noceda#toh spoilers#amity blight#the owl house spoilers#the owl house season 2#toh s2b#lumity spoilers#lumity my beloved#the HAND PLACEMENT I’m SCREAMING#They love each other so much#toh kings tide#kings tide
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♡| Art concept from Thor Love and Thunder : Credits to Thor Updates via Twitter
You’re telling me we could’ve had THIS? I’M GONNA CRY
#thor#thor x jane#fosterson#natalie portman#chris hemsworth#marvel#valkyrie#thor love and thunder#jane foster#I’M SCREAMING OMFG#WE WERE SO ROBBED#this ain’t legal#end me#THE HAND PLACEMENT I’M SCREMINF
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PICK A CARD: What Will Your FS Admire Most About You?
⚤ “I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.” - Pablo Neruda
Disclaimer: This is a general reading, take what resonates. This is a gender-neutral reading, disregard any pronouns that do not apply to you.
p1 → p2 ↙︎ p3 → p4
✠ Pile One ✠ (King of Cups,Page of Cups,The World,7)
✧ Cards went wiillldddd. You stir up so much emotion in this person, it’s crazy. Your heart chakra is front and center here. You are picture-perfect harmony and universal love to your spouse. Your love can’t be contained, you love them, your friends, your favorite mug, worms out in the rain, strangers, the moon, and all the stars in the sky.
✧ All I see is a wide-ass smile, the biggest, wateriest eyes, and full cheeks. Your spouse thinks you’re sunshine-incarnated.
✧ This will sound corny, but your heart and love for the world and all its diversity make you appear angelic; God’s gift to humanity. The emotional depth you have is nothing shy of divine. Your ability to understand and reconnect your person with their inner dreamer makes you irreplaceable in their eyes.
✧ I feel like your future spouse had to navigate around a lot of emotionally stunted people who left scars that prevented them from forming healthy relationships. Your empathy and desire to make space for peace and unity in this world give them hope that true love is alive and they are the lucky son of a bitch who gets to call an angel, theirs.
✧ I smell salt and hear waves. (I bet you’re tired of the cheesy poetry but HEY, me and your boo are OBSESSED with your energy) You truly are as beautiful and powerful as the seven seas.
✧ You know the Ouroboros, and how it's sometimes depicted as a snake wrapped around the oceans, holding onto its tail to keep the world together? Yea, that. To your future partner, you hold the key to their world. You add so much color and vibrancy. You turn over their inner ocean and awaken so much repressed child-like wonder within them.
✧ Wow. Your spouse loves the depths of you.
✧ Check for water placements, signs, and houses, in your natal chart. Some of you have insane intuition and have clairsenses. Clairaudience to be specific.
✧ Some of you are active in charities or aspire to make a difference in society. Maybe you’re into esoteric practices or anything else metaphysical.
✧ I even have a few philosophers here. Okay, KANT! (somebody please get this joke)
She Excites the Seven Seas
✠ Pile Two ✠ (Ace of Pentacles,8oW,The Emperor rev., “I Want”)
I love the kind of woman that will actually just kill me
✧ Of course, you don’t have to be a woman but that TikTok sound SCREAMED at me. Your future spouse is lowkey intimidated by you and they love it.
✧ You have big dreams. Big plans. But most importantly, a million and one ways to get you where you need to be. Your ability to say “I want this,” and then actually go out and GET it?? Your spouse is like the meme that goes “I’m a little scared, but I’m turned on.”
✧ I also see that you’re unconventional. If people have been doing whatever you want to do a certain way for years, you'll find ways to do it differently, just cause. You’re a true trailblazer. Your self-conviction is so damn alluring. Even for the people who struggle with insecurity sometimes, once you get over that hump and decide that you desire something, you fucking get it. Your partner sees you like magic. They are impressed by just how quickly your desires are set in motion for you. They feel that you are powerful and bring a great deal of power to them from just being in your proximity.
✧ You are also the “I don’t take shit from nobody” type. Not from strangers, not from your friends, your family, not even from your partner. In their eyes, you know your worth and have a strong self-foundation that nobody can tear down. There is genuine admiration and respect here. I even get the “I want to be like you when I grow up” mentality.
✧ There is a speediness to you they find very attractive. Either the way you behave, speak, or just stress about time, your pacing holds a special place in their heart. (or maybe, despite all of your responsibilities, you manage to find stillness in the chaos and slow down when necessary)
✧ The way you speak drives this person wild. It's like your voice narrates their thoughts and is the source of all of their arousal. Do with that information what you will...(don't be cruel, you make this person so nervous).
✧ I shuffled through a playlist and E-GIRLS ARE RUINING MY LIFE!! by Corpse came on and one of the lyrics goes,
She just look into my soul with them Shinigami eye Coke in my nose and a blade on her thigh. Man, I think this girl is really trying to plan my demise
✧ Yea, you put the fear of God into this person, but in a good way! Your presence can be chilling sometimes. Fire energy for sure. There are definitely people here from pile 2 of my first pac, “What are your most alluring qualities?”, check that out if you want to.
✧ Okay, this energy has me needing to take a LAP, bye.
"Man, I Think This Girl Tryna Plan My Demise"
✠ Pile Three ✠ (10oW, 9oW)(no other cards wanted to come out, real stubborn)
✧ Okay so, this feels specific?... and maybe even a lil off topic but I feel called to say this
✧ I sense that you and your person are psychically connected and share the mutual feeling that the two of you are meant to cross paths. The both of you have gotten your fair share of fuckery in this lifetime and this union feels like divine justice.
✧ This sounds a little fucked up, but you guys flourish amid trauma. Dark energy alchmaziers. You best wield your potential while you’re going THROUGH it.
✧ You had to “die” and bury yourself a dozen times to get where you are today.
✧ You are a very evolved individual. Throughout your life, traumatic events and relationships have forced you to bear a lot of weight on your back and it’s like the pressure has forged you into a diamond. With each curveball life threw at you, you stood tall and pushed to make something of yourself, proving your worth after a lifetime of strife and instability.
✧ Scorpio/Capricorn and 8th house/10th house placements. (check midpoints).
✧ A lot of you have tense shoulders, upper back, shoulder, and neck pain from the unease and anxiety your body carries. You have insomnia and may even struggle with nightmares.
✧ This person you’re coming into union with is so healing.
✧ This is something the both of you broke down and prayed for on your darkest days. This is a true partner, the soul that kept yours warm when the world was so cold. You had to put your dreamier side on the back burner to survive. This person will make you feel safe to dream again.
✧ I don’t have anything specific to say because you and your person feel so secretive You two recognize each other’s pain and are the only people you guys trust. Like not even lil ol’ me can really get through to y'all. Y’all ride AND die for each other, in this life and the next.
✧ If you’re into astrology and already have a feel for who this person is, check your guys’ composite chart. Strong Scorpio energy here.
✧ Coming into union with this person will feel like a wish fulfillment.
✧ (short pile, it felt like a quick message for those of you who feel this connection telepathically. This is probably a secondary choice.)
"I Want To Caress The Piece of Me Within You"
✠ Pile Four ✠ (Queen of Wands, 9oP rev., 7oP, 4oP rev., the high priestess, queen of cups, “I will”)
✧ You’re a bad bitch, truly. Your fs isn’t calling you a bitch, buuuttttt she a baddie, she know she a ten! She a baddie with her baddie…. wait a minute…
✧ You may not have a lot of friends? You keep your circle tight-knit because you have been deeply hurt in the past and you guard your peace fiercely. For some of you, your home life was quite tumultuous and you struggle with financial security and inner happiness. It seemed like the world did not want you to feel good about yourself or succeed.
✧ Do you know that viral display of a deer’s ribcage with a spear through it, and how even though an attempt was made on the deer’s life, he managed to survive and lived for years after that event; all while still growing bone marrow with a giant fucking spear through its ribcage?
✧ “A close encounter with a hunter left the deer with several broken ribs and part of an arrow embedded in its body. Remarkably, the animal survived, and bone grew around the shaft and arrowhead lodged in the creature's side."
✧ "The deer lived with the arrow inside its body until years later, when another hunter killed the animal, cut the deer open, and discovered its amazing secret…As the tough tissue formed over the arrow, it acted as a splint for the damaged rib cage, strengthening the deer's injured body.”
✧ I highlighted some words that needed emphasizing. That’s how your partner sees you. They are in complete awe of the resilience and sheer tenacity you hold. They look at you and can’t believe the person before their eyes. The troubling history you usually try to hide from your romantic partners is exactly what allures this person.
✧ You won’t ever lay on your belly and cry about life passing you by. You aren’t the type to victimize yourself and “woe is me” your way out of self-improvement.
✧ You are quite ambitious and aim to push forward, even if the odds are stacked against you.
✧ I get the message that some people in this pile have struggled with self-harm over the years. Your partner wants to kneel down and kiss your scars like a white knight, and vow to protect you emotionally and physically for as long as you’ll have them.
✧ The spear-deer imagery is so interesting. The deer represents virality. It is a symbol of piety, gentleness, devotion, and fertility. Especially with the queen of wands, the high priestess, AND the queen of cups, you provide profound love, passion, and insight to this person. However, even as a deer, you are quite badass???
✧ You are as gentle as a strand of hair but as strong as wool. Dainty but unbreakable.
✧ They have no desire to infantilize you because they know you are already your own greatest warrior. But they don’t want you to feel that you have to fight alone. Whatever burdens are on your plate, they take away as much as possible because they want to be a piece of the paradise you fight for.
✧ This is meant to be a short pac, a Tumblr post won’t do the unbelievable strength in your character much justice. Just know that your fs is so fucking in love with you and wants to spend their life by your side because of just how awe-struck they are by you.
✧ I mean c’mon… will YOU ever forget the story of the coolest fucking deer in existence??
"I Yearn To Be the Name You Call Out in Victory"
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match point - c.leclerc
masterlist
requested: n
parings: Charles leclerc x gasly!fem!reader
warnings: nsfw + not intended for minors + mentions of nudity + mentions of oral (f receiving)
a/n: it needed to be done.. feedback is always appreciated xx
《 the following content is not intended for minors. 》
“you don’t even like tennis.”
he’s right, you don’t. but there’s something about the Monegasque man that you’ve been seeing, walk out his bedroom in a cream colored suit and matching drawstring pants, with a white button up that just makes you want to scream.
so yes, you’re fighting your disliking for the sport of tennis by wearing a loose midi sundress that hugs your curves and chest in the right places, it’s payback in some way. because when you walked out your room he nearly fell out of his chair, he couldn’t keep his hands to himself.
“excuse me,” he makes an excuse to touch your leg, his finger tips brushing your bare skin as he pretends to adjust the knots of his tennis shoes. you roll your eyes under your sunglasses turning back to the match.
he’s situated between your brother, Pierre, and you with kika on the other end. the four of you watch the game, but there’s two of you that aren’t that interested in the rally back and forth. his hand keeps making dangerous placements on your leg, you’re sure your brother will catch one of them soon enough, but right now he’s engulfed in explaining the match to his girlfriend.
“did you have to do this to me?” he leans closer to your seat, he can see that you’re fighting to look away, but your eyes keep darting back between him and the match in front of you.
“I could say the same to you.” you whisper resting your hand on arm of the seat, his fingers give yours a squeeze, the metal that dresses his fingers are burning against your palms. you’d rather have that hand somewhere much more dangerous.
he scoffs moving his mouth closer to your ear so it’s just you that hears him, now that your brother is back to paying attention, “you’re making this harder than it needs to be.”
before you can get a word in he’s turning to Pierre, he wants to switch seats, says there’s a glare from the sun that’s reflecting off his suit and the two men switch leaving you to sit with your brother and kika to sit with Charles.
“what’s his problem?”
“I wish I knew.”
—
your seats have been upgraded, you’re now sitting next to kika right behind Charles. every so often he turns to tell your brother some gossip he knows about the tennis players, he knows how to reel you in, if you’re anything like Pierre, in which you are, you’ll tune in to any gossip.
“yeah I heard he some girl told him he just wasn’t big enough.”
“that’s disgusting, Charles.” you scoff shaking your head trying to turn back to the game, but you catch those green eyes staring at you. his sunglasses are tipped down the edge of his nose.
“cherie, I’m not talking to you.” he sasses before flipping back around instantly switching his language to Italian with joris. the two men laugh at whatever it was he said, you curse yourself for not taking the time to learn the language.
“does he hate you or what?” kika whispers, she’s seen the whole thing go down. the way he stared at you when you came out of your bedroom, the brief hand touching, etc. she’s seen it all go down and she knows something is up, but you won’t admit it here. not with Pierre around.
“I don’t even know what I did.” you say it loud enough for him to hear you. you know he wants to turn around, tell you what it is you’re doing to him and make you pay the punishment. it’s too bad this is too public of a place.
“must be a misunderstanding? I’m sure Pierre can get him to apologize.”
—
he does apologize, but it’s in private with a kiss. he says his behavior was uncalled for and he shouldn’t have snapped.
“I forgive you, but you don’t need to make me look like a fool in front of my brother and your family.” you lightly smack his arm, and he nods getting up off his bed where you lay still in your sundress.
“I think the sun burnt me good.” you say checking the tan lines of the spaghetti straps from your dress. you stand correct when you see the redness versus the pale thin lines.
“want me to take care of it?” he says with a playful smirk that only sends you laughing, butterflies warm his stomach watching your head tilt back. he could’ve sworn if you asked him years ago if he’d ever date you, it would be a hard no. now here you are all grown messing with his feelings in that sundress.
“I want you to take care of me,” you say motioning for him to move closer to the bed, he does so with no hesitation. you move your dress up your thigh revealing that all day you’ve sat with nothing on underneath, “such a shame you never got a taste.”
he’s sputtering to find words, his face flushes red in nervousness and slight embarrassment, he’s so kicking himself for his behavior to you publicly, “let me make it up to you?”
“well I don’t have all day.” you roll your eyes watching him climb onto the bed, his hands roll your sundress up your thighs exposing the bareness down there, he can’t believe all day long you were like this. what a fool he was.
he pushes your thighs open, the moisture glistening in the light, he wonders how long you’ve been like this. his index finger traces your folds gently, he watches your body twitch under his touch as you begin to relax against the mattress.
“I want you in me.” you demand, you don’t even care how or what he does, just something to take this edge off that you’ve been dealing with all day. he knows how to end this mess he’s started, so he allows his head to dip down in between your thighs his tongue laps your folds. the moisture that’s created down there tastes good against his lips, it’s sweet and earthy.
your finger tips find his long messy brown hair, you allow the groans and grunts to escape, there’s nobody in his house but the two of you.
his tongue nudges your entrance, it’s tight but he’s able to make room for himself, you nearly choke on his name feeling his tongue inside you.
he’s slow, each spot his tongue discovers he takes his time hearing his name grow louder out your lips. he loves it from you, the way your hands tug his hair and the incoherent stutters that come for you, he’s the best at knowing how to make you feel good.
“r-right there,” you whisper it’s not even close to your clit, but the spot feels so damn good you’re fighting with letting yourself come. he’s got a punishment for you, and if you know him well, you know you’ll have to hold off. he hasn’t even gotten to the good part.
he hums against you, you’re sputtering once more, he feels your legs shaking the bed, you’re trying to fight your intuition. your body is on the verge of coming, and when that tip of his tongue, barely, hits your clit it all comes pouring out.
he pulls away, getting a look at you. your chest visibly rising and falling, sweat glimmering across your forehead, and hair all over the mattress, “you’re such a good girl for me.” he moves up your body, lips beginning to trail up your chest all the way to your lips.
“you always know how to take care of me.” you say, he rolls off the bed and you watch the suit jacket fly off, he tosses it in the hamper and you watch him unbutton his top, you lick your lips feeling that same warmth come back. it seems to never go away with him.
“on your knees, gasly, we aren’t finished just yet.” you do as he demands, he complied to your wishes, it’s time for you to do the same.
his pants and boxers are casted off to the side, his finger tips push your chin upwards to face him, “did you know this is my favorite view of you?”
you just roll your eyes ever so badly wanting to flip him off, but you just take his tip in your mouth and begin to swirl your tongue around, doing everything he likes.
it’s his turn to be a mess. his legs shake, finger tips knot your perfectly done hair, your name rolls off his tongue while he begs for more. it’s so easy to get him like this.
“y-y/n,” his breathing is heavy, chest rising and falling this is the best he’s ever had, and if he could write home about it and scream about it at the top of his lungs he would.
it’s not much longer that you keep swirling your tongue until your mouth is met with his earthy cum. when you finally pull away you catch a glimpse of yourself in his mirror, your hair looks like a rats nest.
he helps you up from your knees, pressing sweet kisses to your knuckles,“come on, amour let’s shower. we still have dinner with your brother to make.”
“then dessert?” you ask bitting your bottom lip brushing some of the hairs that stuck to his sweaty forehead. he nods pressing a kiss to your lips.
“then dessert.”
#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc drabble#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fic#charles leclerc smut#cl16 x reader#cl16#f1 x you#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 driver x reader#f1 driver x you#f1 imagines#f1#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1 smut#formula 1 x reader#formula 1#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 x you
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Quick Meeting
Day 18 of celebrating marathon
Platonic! Poseidon & Brother!Persy Jackson x Fem!reader
-♡ ask: poseidon x reader... him saving her and Percy from some monster, and in the end family moment
-♡ this is so bad and I apologize. And it was rushed. (Update this is the worst thing I have ever written)
-♡ warnings: short, family moments, family problems too, idk what this is but I tried.
“Just take my hand.” You scream and grab your younger brothers hand and tug him with you. You’d be damn if he was left behind or you weren’t with him, this monster was ruthless.
the monster roared behind you both and shook the ground with it’s footsteps. you could practically smell the gross air coming from its mouth. monster didn’t have dental hygiene to your knowledge and this one definitely need it.
“Percy, get in front of me.” You practically throw him in front of you and slow yourself down and reach for a weapon of your own. “You run as fast as you can.”
“Like hell I’ll leave you.” He turns and huffs from exhaustion from all the running.
“I’m older so you have to listen to me. Plus, I can buy us some time..” you come to a stop and glare at the beast rushing towards you. Percy tried to pull you from your still placement but you didn’t allow him.
Honestly it all happened so fast.
Water come from no where and covered the ground, you both lost sight of the beast before the waves pushed you both back. Your instinct was to look around for Percy as soon as the water leveled itself and you found him coughing and slowly getting up with his clothes soaked.
You rush to him and pat his back, “what did you do?” You ask amazed and surprised. He looked up at you with his skin covered in water and tilts his head, “Me? I thought that was you.”
Turning around slowly at the sound of footsteps against the water and expecting to see the beast return to attack you. But you didn’t find the giant creature but a man. A normal looking man. Percy pulled away slowly from your arms and looked at the man like he knew him.
Then it clicked when you stared into his eyes…you knew those eyes from a distance dream. And you knew that smile, Percy had one similar.
“Dad?” Your voice was cracked and slight terrified.
Percy looked at you and realized you have never met him before. And Poseidon was memorized by the sight of you for the first time since you were younger and running after your brother.
“You both like to get into trouble don’t you?” His smirk was almost proud.
“That’s the life of a half-blood.” You walked to your brother and closer to the god you called your father. You thought he would be scary, but he looked like a normal dude. Though, that didn’t stop your stomach from getting upset with nerves.
He looked down at you with admiration in his eyes, Percy let you both have this moment like he did.
“You look just like your mother.” The closer he got the more you wanted to embrace him and cry, or punch him and cry.
“I clearly got the looks.” You poked fun at Percy and he playfully rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath.
“You’re both very lucky I got here in time for you would have been food,” he looks back at the knocked out creature on the ground. “He’s going back to where he belongs, I suggest you both do that same.” You both look at each other and then back at him.
“But I am very proud of you both. Know that.” You reach out to touch him but he disappears with a shining light with the monster. You sigh and stare where he used to be and feel disappointed, there was still so much you wanted to ask.
“He didn’t drop you through the floor. Better then my first time.”
#Poseidon x reader#Poseidon#Percy Jackson x reader#platonic!percy jackson x reader#platonic percy jackson x reader#platonic reader#platonic x reader#percy jackson and the olympians x reader
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proud husband | sebastian vettel
director!reader
Liked by sebastianvettel, estebanocon and 5,636,986 others
Marvel BREAKING: Y/N Vettel confirmed to direct Marvel Studio’s Black Widow.
y/nvettel glad i get to be apart of this amazing experience!!
mothery/n that’s my mom
sebastianvettel that’s my wife
formulabitch he’s having his proud husband moment
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y/nvettel Just so you all know, he’s doing research on black widow. He even sent me a picture of him buying a black widow comic. I love my husband.
estebanocon can i visit the set?
y/nvettel whenever you’re free! i’m sure i can make some calls so you can meet Spider-Man😁
estebanocon this is why you’re my favorite vettel
florencepugh the old man knows how to use a phone?
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Marvelstudios guess who dropped by? four time world champion, sebastian vettel, surprised his wife, y/n vettel, on the first day of filming for black widow!
f1rue waiting until award season so we can have more seb and y/n red carpet content
redbullreject my two worlds omg f1 and marvel
capsshield mom and dad
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Liked by f1gossip, leclercstype and 4,278 others
vettelupdates y/n and sebastian have arrived at the black widow world premiere and i’m screaming they look so good 😭😩
sv5fan it’s so unfair how good looking they both are
paddockgirlies imagine waking up and you realize you’re married to THE y/n vettel
l4ndo they’re so parents
alexxa.55 THE HAND PLACEMENT
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#sebastian vettel imagine#aston martin#formula 1#f1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#f1 imagine#f1 x you#sebastian vettel#sv5#sebastian vettel x reader#f1 instagram au#Sebastian vettel instagram au#director!reader
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Not Some Innocent Kid
Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Based on @reidswhore post about “innocent” Spencer vs. not so innocent Spencer and fic semi-requested by @reiderrambles
Warnings: 18+ MDNI fairly neutral dynamic but sub!reader and soft!dom Spencer if you wanted to label it, Derek talking about his “conquests”, teasing Spencer about being inexperienced, loss of virginity mention, mention of reader “not being a screamer”, orgasm denial mentioned, overstimulating mentioned, neck nibbling/kissing, orgasm denial depicted, reader screaming, condom mentioned, no birth control mentioned, affectionate sex, lots of terms of endearment used, slightly insecure Spencer, praise kink, slightly OOC Derek, slightly OOC Spencer
Summary: While Derek is talking about a woman he recently slept with, he makes a comment about her and then about Spencer (and his inexperience with women and pleasure), causing Spencer to get lost in a daydream that directly contradicted what Derek just said (Spencer is very capable of bringing a woman pleasure)
WC: ~1.2k
Disclaimer: not the most polished or finished it could be but…here we are lol screw dialogue tags…who needs them? (Me…I need them)
Gif not necessarily indicative of timeline placement…but it’s an estimate
Shut up. Shut up. Shut the fuck up, Derek.
Spencer thought this but couldn’t quite bring himself to say it. Derek was going on and on about how great he was in bed and took every opportunity to tease Spencer about how virginal he seemed. But Spencer was far from a virgin. Not long after he’d turned 24, he’d lost his virginity to his equally as quiet and reserved team member. No one would have suspected, least of all the two of them, that the dam would break that night for them and they’d be insatiable for each other.
They couldn’t stop. Every private moment was spent together mostly naked with their hands and lips all over each other.
“Yeah, I had her screaming my name. Bet you don’t know what that’s like, do you, kid? Well…your time will come.” Derek teased him.
Spencer suppressed a smirk as he thought of the most recent intimate encounter with his friend with benefits…or lover…or partner (he wasn’t quite sure what they were if he was being honest).
-
“You like that, baby? You like it when I don’t show you mercy? When I use you like a little toy?” Spencer husked into your ear as his hips snapped into you from behind as he had you on your hands and knees on the bed while he supported you with an arm around your middle and his hand on your hip. He had found sexual encounters with you to be rather liberating. You trusted him completely and he cared about you a lot. He’d never hurt you. But this dynamic really allowed him to exercise a degree of control over and with another person that he didn’t really have anywhere else in his life. The degree of control he had over his mother was not voluntary although he took that just as seriously as he took this.
“Y-yes.” You whimpered.
“Say my name, sweetheart. I wanna hear you say it.” The hand on your hip snaked around to rub at your already sensitive clit.
“S-Spencer.” You say breathily.
He gives your clit a little slap.
“Louder, hon. Let me get my first noise complaint from old Mrs. Davis across the hall. She’s always going on about how respectful and quiet I am. Just like Derek goes on about how much of a kid I still am. I’m sick of it. Aren’t I good enough, darling? Can’t I make you scream and cum for me?”
He rubs your clit faster as he snaps his hips faster.
“I dunno…I’m not-“
“A screamer. I know, angel. But maybe we can change that, huh? I’ve made you cum before. I’ll do it again. I’ll do it better. I’ll make you feel so good.” Despite him being slightly dominant right now, he was almost pleading with you to meet him half way.
“I-I’ll try.”
“I know you will, sweetie, I know you will. You’re so good for me.” He buries his face in your neck to press kisses to it, hoping to add to the sensations you were feeling.
He picks up the pace of his hips and his fingers, rubbing your clit in circles.
“I wanna try something, honey. Will you let me try something?” He murmurs against your ear, having kissed his way up to it..
“Y-yeah…what do you wanna try?”
“Can I deny you your orgasm? Can you be my good girl and cum when I tell you to? Not before? Maybe that’ll make it feel better. I know it’s different for every woman but I’ve read that it can make it feel better.” He says, again seeming a bit desperate now, willing to do anything to enhance this experience for himself and for his partner.
“I…I can try. You can try to overstimulate me if you’d like.” You offered, also trying to pitch ideas that could help the experience.
“One thing at a time, love. One thing at a time.”
“Ok…One thing…orgasm denial.”
“One thing…orgasm denial.” He agrees. “If that doesn’t work…then we can try overstimulation.”
“Ok…that sounds good.”
“Yeah? Good.”
Once you two were in agreement, effort was put back into achieving pleasure. Spencer continued to snap his hips against yours (for a skinny guy who didn’t work out, he sure had a good amount of stamina). His fingers continued to work at your clit. Your warm and soft walls suck his cock in like it’s afraid to let it leave the sanctuary.
“Remember, love, you’re not allowed to cum until I say you can. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?” He rasps in your ear.
“Y-yeah…I can do that. I can try.”
“Good girl. Tell me when you’re close so I can delay it just a bit. It won’t be long, I promise.”
With the way his cock is hitting just the right spot inside you, the way his fingers are working your clit, and the way he’s nibbling your neck lightly all combine to help you get close to the edge.
“Spence…I-I’m close, baby.” You pant lightly.
“Hmm…yeah? Don’t cum yet, ok?” He murmurs in your ear.
“Ok…I won’t. I won’t until you tell me to.”
“That’s my good girl. It won’t be too torturous, I promise.” He increases the pace of his fingers on your clit and his thrusts are deep and calculated but not feral. They are a nice even pace that’s not too overwhelmingly fast.
Your whines and whimpers increase as your legs shake. “S-Spencer…I…I can’t…”
“You can. You will, love. You can do it. I believe in you. Just a little longer, ok? Not too much longer.” He lovingly rubs his nose against your neck as he picks up his thrust pace just a bit, going just as deep as he continues to rub your clit at an increased pace.
“Spence…please.” Your voice raises in pitch.
“Few more seconds, hon. Just a few more seconds.”
You could almost cry with how much pleasure you’re feeling.
“Sp-“ you go to say again, your voice slightly increasing in volume.
“Now.” He commands.
Your body obeys him without you having to do anything. It just…lets go.
“Oh my god, Spencer, fuck!” You shout, a lot louder than intended. You cling to him as you shake.
“That’s what I’m doing, sweetness.” You can’t see his smirk but you can feel it against your neck as he continues to work you through your orgasm. It doesn’t take long before he’s emptying his load into the condom. He pants against your neck as he peppers it with kisses.
“Do you know…what you…just did for me, darling?” He slowly pulls out of you.
“Screamed louder than I should’ve?” You chuckle softly.
“Besides that.”
“Besides that?”
“Mhm…besides that.”
“N-no…what?”
“Look at the condom, hon.”
“‘M too…tired.”
He chuckles. “It’s soaked, love. I think you squirted over it a bit.”
“Wha-? Really?”
“Mhm. You did such a great job for me, love.”
-
“Kid…hey, Reid!” Derek waves in front of Spencer’s face.
“You still with us? You looked a little spaced out.” JJ states, chuckling slightly.
“I’m fine. I just zoned out after Morgan related his fifth conquest in a week to us.”
“Do you have something you’d like to talk about, then?” Derek scoffs.
“No.” Spencer says simply, shaking his head.
“You will one day, kid. You will one day.”
“‘M not a kid.” Spencer mutters. You and he share a quick glance and a small smirk.
“Oh? You’re not? You got any spicy stories to tell?”
“Maybe one day…when I think you can handle it.”
“Ooh…ok, ok.”
#Spencer Reid#criminal minds#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid smut#criminal minds smut#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds x reader
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confessions | han jisung | fem reader | with fwb Hyunjin
Pairing: softdom!hanjisung x fem!reader x fwb!hyunjin
Synopsis: you are visiting your bf Han who has a secret to share and you end up in a sweet threesome with Hyunjin.
Word Count: I think about 4k, not sure.
CW BELOW //MDNI
CW: unprotected p in v sex, sex in front of others, cum eating, m x m stuff, tit fuck, threesome, hand job, han soft doms.
“Baby, I don’t want to spend our precious time watching a movie, when we could be enjoying each other.” you purred.
You didn’t know how or when it happened, but you'd stopped watching the movie and you were straddling Han’s lap.
He growled and grabbed your ass, his hand sliding up under your skater skirt skimming the edge of your underwear. “Well you know I can’t get enough of you right?” he nuzzled into your neck. It felt so good to be physically close.
You started to grind yourself over his hardening cock and kissed him greedily.
“Han baby, I need you inside me.” you groaned. It felt like it was all you ever said since you arrived back in town. Han smirked and shuffled you back a little so he could free his cock from his sweatpants. With your tongue poking out in excitement you positioned your entrance over him as he tugged your underwear to the side as you sunk down over him.
Han hissed through his teeth and grinned like a fool as he pushed himself deep inside you. “This is naughty.” you whispered. “What if someone comes in?” you rolled my hips so that your clitoris rubbed over his hard muscles.
“They wouldn’t be able to tell we’re actually fucking though.” he said as he rocked his hips up into you. “Our clothes are covering us. They’ll never know.” And he tugged at the hem of your skirt to make sure it was providing the coverage you needed.
“But still… are you willing to risk one of your band mates catching us?”
“Do you want to stop?” Han raised and eyebrow.
You shook your head. “No.” you didn’t want to stop. You couldn’t stop. Everything felt so perfect when you were connected.
“Who cares if someone sees us?” His hand drifted up to cup your clothed breast and he rolled his hips in particularly delicious way making you moan. “Let ‘em see how beautiful you are when you’re being fucked.”
Han’s eyes glazed over with desire as you slowly rode him. It felt a little naughty knowing that if someone were to come in the room you could just be making out. No one would really know that Han was buried inside of you.
“Gees guys, you have a fucking room, you know!” Your eyes snapped up to see Chan who had his hands thrown up in the air and desperately looking anywhere but directly at you. “We’re just kissing!” Han whined defensively. “Whatever! I’m going out and when I get back I don’t want you naked all over the living room. Or… get bodily fluids on the couch!” and with grimace Chan was out the door.
Han started giggling, making you laugh too. “Now where were we?” he grinned. He wrapped his arms around your waist and started to rock you slowly again on his cock.
All you wanted to do was beg him to fuck you hard, to lift you up off his length and brutally slam you down. You wanted him to make you scream. And because this wasn’t the time or place for loud, hard sex, it made this moment feel more intense. Resisting and holding back was what made it feel so good. With every slow thrust, you savoured the drag of his cock against your walls. Every time the head of his dick pushed up against your cervix you felt yourself melting like hot lava around him. The friction of your clit against his hard body sent shivers through you. The firm but considerate placement of his hands on your hips made you feel loved.
You loved this man underneath you. Han fucking Jisung. Your Han fucking Jisung.
You closed your eyes and tossed your head back, losing yourself in the rhythm of Han’s hips. You could do this forever. Han slowed down to a stop and you opened my eyes. Hyunjin had wandered into the living room, seemingly oblivious to our presence. With headphones on he was staring at his phone as he absentmindedly made his way to the arm chair to the left of us and sat down.
Han and you looked at each other with expressions of disbelief. You were literally impaled on his cock while his friend sat less than three metres away from you.
“Just kiss me.” He whispered, and so you met his lips in a soft kiss. But you couldn’t stop grinning and snickering. It seemed that you both felt that despite this being an awkward situation, it was also kind of thrilling too. You continued to grind on him for a good two minutes before you peeled your smiling lips away and leaned your cheek against Han’s as you both turned to observe Hyunjin.
The dancer, sensing eyes were on him, glanced up at you both. His eyes almost bulged right out his head and he dropped his phone in surprise. Or shock. Or panic. He pulled his headphones off and flailed around trying to retrieve his phone off the floor.
“Oh my God! Are you two actually fucking?” he asked shrilly. You couldn’t tell whether he was appalled or thrilled, but more importantly, was it really that obvious what you were doing? You bit your lip and looked to Han for guidance. You locked eyes and came to some unspoken understanding on how you were going to handle this.
Han could be so fucking cheeky and devious in the bedroom when he wanted to be. And from your many video calls you could tell there was a bit of an exhibitionist in him. But there was a bit of an exhibitionist in you too. So you weren't surprised, or disappointed with how he answered his friend.
“Yes Hyunjin.” Han grinned “we are actually fucking.” Your mouth opened in a big O from excitement and you looked to Hyunjin to gauge his reaction. Hyunjin couldn’t actually see anything, so what harm could it do?
Hyunjin was speechless, and visibly conflicted. He didn’t know where to look, or what to do with his hands and he kept licking and sucking his lips nervously.
You leaned in close to Han’s ear. “Baby? Do you want to keep going? Or should we go to your room? Do you want him to stay and watch? Do you want to stop?”
“I want him to watch.” He breathed. “I… I mean… if you are oka-”
“Shh” you put a finger to his lips, and sat up tall resting your hands on his chest. You sucked your bottom lip into your mouth and then started to rock again on your most favourite cock in the entire world.
Hyunjin’s mouth hung open as he watched you ride his friend. He kept swallowing hard, and biting his lip. His face looked pained and conflicted. His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes looked worried. Yet he couldn’t take his eyes off you and Han.
“Hyunjin,” Han panted. God he sounded good saying his name. “Look how perfect she looks when she’s riding me.”
“I…Uh…Um..” Hyunjin couldn’t speak.
“Hyunjin,” it was your turn to say something. “You can stay and watch if you like.” you pulled up high off Han’s cock and dropped back down somewhat forcefully, drawing a loud moan from Han. “But, you don’t have to either. We don’t mind…. We don’t want to make things weird.”
“C-can I… touch myself?” Hyunjin’s voice sounded tiny and unsure. With his eyes still focused on you, Han gave the dancer permission. “Of course.” He said not taking his eyes off yours.
In your peripheral vision you could see Hyunjin reach for his fly, unzipping it and releasing his rapidly growing dick. You tried to remain focused on Han, but at the same time you were curious to watch your watcher. Han picked up the pace, as his breaths became heavier. His mouth became ravenous and his hands slid under your skirt to hold onto your ass, sliding your skirt up revealing your entire thigh.
Hyunjin let out a whimper and quickly bit his luscious lip (again) to stop more from sounds from escaping. Hyunjin liked to involve his lips in his facial expressions.
With your hands cupped around Han’s face you leaned your head against his and closed your eyes, losing yourself to this moment. Every time you had sex, you would try to memorise the feeling of him, the way he completed you so perfectly. You'd try to memorise the smell of him and how it would make every single one of your cells dance. Oh and the taste of him! You were addicted to it. Since the day you got home you couldn’t keep your mouth off him.
There were so many things you wanted to explore with Han. It was evident we both had an exploratory side from those nights when you spanked him while he had a toy up his ass, or when he videoed himself fucking you.
You had an idea. “Han, baby…” you purred. Han opened his eyes “Yes baby?”
“I was thinking…maybe…you’d wanna try that tit-fuck we talked about?” Han’s eyes widened and his mouth opened in disbelief. You knew that look. It was a look of You are naughty. And I love it. And fuck yes lets do it.
With a devilish grin you slid off his cock and down to the floor in front of him. With all of your attention on Han, you slowly brought yoiur hands to the hem of your top and pulled it off over your head and threw it on the floor by Hyunjin’s feet. You felt both the men’s eyes on you as you reached behind your back and unclipped your bra, letting it slide off and reveal your breasts. A rush of adrenaline came over you at the realisation that you had just exposed yourself to your boyfriend’s friend. You searched Han’s face to see what he was thinking. If, for even a second, you thought he was uncomfortable you'd have stopped immediately. But he didn’t look like he was a man who wanted to stop.
His eyes were playful, and the overly keen look on his face made it hard for you to play a seductive role. But you tried nonetheless, sliding your hands up your stomach to brush over your breasts and gently squeezing your nipples. Han’s stupid ass grin quickly disappeared and he subconsciously licked his lips. What is it with their tongue’s and lips?
“Fuck!” It was Hyunjin that whispered under his breath as you watched him out of the corner of your eye. His hand gripped around his cock, ready for the show.
Han shuffled closer to edge of the couch offering himself to you. He had the prettiest cock you'd ever seen. You grasped it in your hand and teased the tip with your tongue. “I just gotta get you slicked up again.” you said and slid your mouth down over his length. you could taste yourself on him. He was yours.
“Fuck… your mouth… aahhhh!” Han’s eyes rolled back as you bobbed up and down on him for a few moments. After you'd done teasing him, you removed your mouth and positioned his swollen cock between your breasts, placing your hand across the front of them to hold it in place. “You’re so soft babe!” Han managed to say before you started to massage him with your breasts. You slowly built a steady rhythm of sliding up and down up his shaft whilst trying to put on your best pornographic facial expressions. It seemed to be driving Han crazy. You stole a glance at Hyunjin, he was pumping his cock now and his eyes were glazed over, his lips were slightly parted as he stared at your breasts wrapped around his band mates dick.
Han began to pant, and started buck his hips up to get more friction. “That’s it honey, fuck my tits.” you encouraged him. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut as his hips moved faster. “I… I’m gonna… oh shiiiitttt!” Spurts of cum painted your breasts, chest and even reached your chin.
“Oh my fucking god” he cried and slumped back in the couch. You leaned back resting on your hands. You loved pleasuring Han.
“C-can… um… I … can I lick that off you?” Hyunjin said quietly.
Han and you looked at each other, then at Hyunjin and back to each other. Of all the things Hyunjin could have said, that was not what you expected to come out of his mouth.
“Ummm…” you started. Hyunjin looked desperate, like he’d fall apart in despair if he didn’t get what he needed in the moment.
“I’m okay with it.” Han whispered with certainty staring at the mess he’d made on you.
“Uh… okay. Hyunjin. It’s okay. You can… lick… yeah.” You weren't really sure what was happening, or why. But you wanted to give Hyunjin what he craved, which seemed to be Han’s cum on your tits. Hyunjin moved like a feline as he crawled his way over to you, and you immediately presented him your chest. You didn’t know what to expect. Would he be greedy and hurried? Or would he be slow and deliberate?
The dancer sat beside you and slowly brought his face close to your breast. You could feel his breath on you and it sent shivers through your body. He parted his luscious pouty lips and slid that obnoxious fucking tongue out of his mouth and leaned in to delicately lick the cum on the top of your beast.
Hyunjin paused after the first lick and closed his eyes as though savouring, no, remembering, the taste. He sighed and opened his eyes. Then he slowly started to lap up the cum. He looked like he was losing himself to to moment, and it seemed that the fact that the cum was on you wasn’t what was important. It could have been on the floor and he’d still be lapping it up.
You felt an urge to put your arm around the back of Hyunjin’s head and gently hold him against you. But you weren't sure if you should. You looked up to Han for guidance but he was fixated on Hyunjin. It was almost like he was looking at him endearingly, but with lust in his eyes.
You decided to go with your instinct to hold Hyunjin, and carefully wrapped your arm around to hold the back of his head. He gradually made his way up your neck. He was so close to you, he smelled like roses and chocolate, like Turkish delight. Hyunjin had cleaned all of Han’s cum off your breasts and neck, and all that was left was your jawline. He kept his eyes downcast as he brought his sweet lips close to your skin. You could feel his breath on you, as he ever so tenderly licked along your jaw to catch the remainder of cum. You closed your eyes. And then it was over.
Hyunjin abruptly pulled away. “Thank you… but I think I need to…go…um…” He seemed embarrassed about what had just happened. He couldn’t get out of the room fast enough, stumbling a little as he disappeared down the hall.
You and Han sat in silence as you processed what had just happened. “So…” you said as you fumbled for your bra and top. “I wasn’t expecting that, hey?” You looked up to find Han frowning, his expression comparable to a lost boy.
“Baby?” you pushed. Han snapped out of his thoughts and he looked back at you softly. “That was really, really hot, babe” he began.
“But?” You knew he was holding back. “Han, I hope I didn’t do something wrong?”
Han shook his head “Oh babe, no!!!! No. You were perfect as always.” He scratched his head “it’s just… I’ve got something I want to tell you. Can we talk in my room?”
“I haven’t been entirely honest with you.” Han said sitting cross legged on the bed. You sat in front of him, giving him your undivided attention.
“Babe you can tell me anything.” you reassured him, but inside you were panicking. What could be possibly need to tell you?
He took a deep breath and then let out a long sigh. “Ok… so before we met… there’s been times when I’d feel… lonely…” he paused trying to find the courage to continue. He fiddled with the hem of his shirt nervously and kept his gaze downcast as he eventually continued. “Well… sometimes Hyunjin… he’d” Han sighed again and started blinking back tears.
“Hey…” you took his hands in yours and stroked them reassuringly. “Sometimes he’d give me blow jobs.” Han bravely lifted his gaze to meet yours. “Are you angry?”.
You let out a sigh. You didn’t know you were holding your breath. “I’m not angry. I’m glad you had someone to comfort you.” You were surprised, but at the same time not surprised.
“There’s more.”
You swallowed. More?
“One time when you and me couldn’t have our video call…oh fuck, please don’t hate me…” Han started to look visibly panicked. His breathing started to become laboured and tears he’d been holding back sprung free from his eyes.
“Han… please. Please calm down. Just breathe, okay." What could he possibly need to say to be causing him so much distress? Although, you thought you knew what he was about to say.
“Hyunjin asked if I needed anything… any comfort. He knew I missed you and he thought that it could help. He told me to imagine it was you sucking me off. Even told me to play that video I took of you through my headphones. I felt so bad afterwards.” He cried.
Wow! You took a few moments to process what he just told you. How were you supposed to feel?
Han sobbed openly now, wailing and apologising. You watched the man in front of you. How could you be angry with him? Was it wrong to not be angry? Was there something wrong with you for not being angry? All you wanted was for Han to feel happy, accepted and loved. And if Hyunjin had helped, could help, then you couldn’t be angry.
“Say something Soph! Anything!” He wailed. Your poor Han. You threw your arms around him. You could process this properly later.
“Babe! Han. I’m not angry.” Han leaned back to look at you, searching your face for any trace that you were lying. His cheeks were puffy and wet, his eyes red.
“I mean it. I’m not angry. But… please don’t be scared to tell me things. I want to know all of it. Okay?” You kissed him softly. He nodded and allowed you to hold him.
“Is everything okay?” Hyunjin was in the doorway. In fresh clothes. “Fuck! Han? Are you okay, man?” he strode into the room and sat himself next to Han and wrapped an arm around him. Han just sat sniffling, looking down at the blue bedspread.
“Is this about before? I’m sorr… it’s my fault, I shouldn’t have… you know… out there?”
Han shook his head. “It’s not that…” he looked up at Hyunjin “I told her about… you know… how you help me.” Hyunjin’s eyes widened and he sucked in a breath. His eyes flickered to yours and he looked down, swallowing hard.
“Oh.” He finally managed to say.
The awkwardness was thick. No one knew where to go from here. But you had questions.
“So,” you said finally. “I just need to get everything straight in my head.” You exhaled to prepare yourself. “Do you have feelings for each other?” You asked looking from Han to Hyunjin. “Hyunjin, how do you feel about all this… situation… with me and Han? You don’t hate me for being with Han do you?” You didn’t want to come between them, but what if Hyunjin had romantic feelings for your boyfriend?
Hyunjin chuckled lightly. “I help all the guys out when they need it. It’s part of how I support them.” He smiled. A pure, happy, honest smile.
Your eyes widened. “Oh, okay.” you answered dumbfounded, letting that sink in too.
Hyunjin leaned in towards you and smiled. “Don’t worry, I don’t want to steal your boyfriend.” He looked back at Han. “But I enjoy satisfying him.”
Your mouth fell open, and something stirred inside of you. You were fucking turned on by Hyunjin’s words, and the images that came to mind surprised you.
Images of Hyunjin taking Han’s pretty cock in his mouth. Han tangling his fingers in Hyunjin’s hair while he slides his mouth down Han’s length. Hyunjin swallowing every last drop of Han’s cum. Han and Hyunjin kissing. Hyunjin spanking Han. Han and Hyunjin fucking.
You shook your head and squeezed you eyes tight. Why were you so turned on and not jealous?
You looked at the two young men in front of you, and considered whether to ask the next question you had on your mind. They both looked back at you expectantly, waiting to see how you felt about the bombshell they just dropped.
“Well… I have one more question.” Now you were staring at the bedspread, too afraid to look at them as you asked your question. “Did you both like what happened earlier in the living room.” You bit your lip and stole a glance at the men, before returning your gaze to the mattress. “Because I did.” You added. You felt like your heartbeat filled the room it was so loud, and you knew your cheeks were burning red. You hoped that Han wouldn’t be upset.
“I liked it too.” Whispered Han. He reached out and touched your leg, and you looked up at him hopefully.
“Well… I liked it too.” Added Hyunjin. “It was fun watching Han get laid.” And he playfully punched Han in the arm.
But Han didn’t even register. His eyes were firmly on yours. He wanted to say something. And it was clear from his expression that he was mustering the courage to ask.
“What is it baby?” you whispered.
“Would you be open to…maybe having Hyunjin here… just once?”
You raised an eyebrow and looked at Hyunjin out of the corner of your eye. Were you open to having Hyunjin with you? Just once? Actually, you couldn’t think of anything more perfect.
“Baby, you still haven’t come yet. Can I please take care of you?” Han begged as he shuffled down the bed.
After your discussion on having Hyunjin join you “just once”, Hyunjin talked a little more about the dynamic and role he played in the band. He seemed to be a giver of love and he felt nothing but happiness when he saw his brothers happy. And for him the best way to support them was through physical comfort.
Somehow, during your conversation, Hyunjin decided he wanted to watch Han and you “make out” while he laid close to your side. And fuck did he watch? He didn’t take those curious, seductive eyes off of the pair of you. His expression flicking from pained, to soft, to turned on, all in a matter of seconds. It was like he was taking it all in, everything Han and you were doing, so that he could somehow use the information for later use.
Next thing you knew you were all naked and Han was between your legs eating you out whilst Hyunjin remained laying next to you, just gazing at your face, absorbing all the micro-expressions you made as Han pleasured you.
Hyunjin?” You whispered. “Don’t you think Han has the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen?”
“He does. It is the prettiest in the whole world.” He whispered back, like you were sharing a secret that no one else should know. Han whined from between your legs.
“Ahhh fuck baby that feels…. God. Han. Please. I need you inside me. I need that pretty cock inside me!” You cried.
Han knelt up and lined himself up with your entrance, and you gasped when he sunk himself into you in one swift thrust. It always felt so right with him inside you. You threw your head back relishing the stretch when your bodies connected. Han was your absolute everything. All you wanted was to please him.
Hyunjin’s attention turned to Han fucking you and he edged his way down the bed to get a closer look.
“Fuck, Han.” he sighed looking down at his cock pushing in and out of you. “She takes you so well. You really know how to fuck her good, bro.” Hyunjin bit his delicious lips, eyes fixated on watching the cock that was disappearing into your pussy. He ran his fingers through his hair and glanced up at you to see your reaction to each thrust. “
She’s so perfect on my cock.” Han panted looking up and smiling at you. Your heart melted. You closed your eyes and lost yourself to the feeling of Han’s movements.
“Han, baby.” You panted.
“Mmmhhm” he purred. You opened your eyes again. “I want you to Dom me and Hyunjin.”
Han did his classic wide eyed look of surprise and Hyunjin’s expression was one of confusion like he’d misheard you.
“I don’t know if I know how to Dom?” He responded shyly.
Hyunjin smirked “Bro! You have two people here who want to please you and do anything you say… I have faith in you!” He declared. Han looked at you.
You nodded. “Yeah. Boss us around babe!” you said and batted your eyelids mischievously.
“Okay…” Han paused to think. “Hyunjin. I need you to kiss her.. use that fucking tongue of yours.” He panted.
Hyunjin licked his lip, his expression showed that he got exactly what he wanted. He laid alongside you again and cupped your face and connected his lips with yours.
He kissed you tentatively at first, testing the waters, learning the landscape of your lips. Slowly he parted them with a nudge of his tongue and then slipped it into your mouth. Hwang Hyunjin was made for kissing. It was like he could draw so much information from you just by kissing you. His tongue danced with yours tenderly. Your head sunk back into the pillow and Hyunjin followed, still attached to your lips. Han’s rhythm matched the intensity of Hyunjin’s kisses. Tender, slow, rhythmical.
“Now I need you to touch her tits… suck them. She loves that.” Han instructed. Hyunjin took his attention to your breasts, latching on to a nipple while slowly massaging and squeezing the other. You cried out at how good it felt. Han’s hands explored your hips, your thighs, your ass. You started to writhe on the bed. Having four hands all over you was overwhelming in the most blissful way.
The two men were being so delicate and slow, but you couldn’t wait for Han to give more instructions. You could sense Hyunjin was getting needy too. He was whimpering and squeezing his eyes closed, furrowing his brow as he tried to hold back the pace. Han knew how to make you squirm, and it seemed he knew what made Hyunjin needy.
You gripped one hand around Hyunjin’s neck, the other around Han’s ass so you could grind you hips up against him.
“You wanna come do you baby?” Han asked.
“Fuck… yes please.”
“Hyunjin, touch her clit for me.” Hyunjin reached down between your legs to find your clit. The intensity of the sudden pressure shot jolts of electricity through your body. You hadn’t realised how much tension you already had in your core, and were on the brink of an orgasm.
Your moans got louder, but you didn’t care. You needed the release.
“Do you need me to fuck you harder?” Han teased. He knew you'd been dying for a hard fuck for hours. “Okay baby, I need you to come on my cock for me while Hyunjin gives your clit attention okay… and Hyunjin don’t stop till I tell you.” Hyunjin nodded. “And Hyunjin,… kiss me.” He added. “And baby… grab Hyunjin’s cock”.
Holy shit. You almost came on the spot. Han looked and sounded so hot directing you and Hyunjin like that. And so confidently too. It was cute how sometimes he’d be so shy to bring up something sexual, and other times he was fucking bold.
Within moments you were all entwined and connected. Han was rolling his hips into you at a steady but forceful pace. Hyunjin held his fingers to Han’s mouth and Han sucked his fingers, then he brought them down to your clit, pressing circles against it. Han wrapped an arm around Hyunjin’s shoulder and brought him in close.
Their eyes locked and Han swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbed up and down. Hyunjin closed the space and caught Han in a messy kiss. It was different to how Hyunjin kissed you. Hyunjin already knew Han’s lips and mouth so well.
For a moment you thought Han had forgotten about you, lost in the spell of Hyunjin. “Don’t stop touching her clit, okay” he whispered gently between kisses. “Take his cock babe.” He added. You licked your hand and grasped Hyunjin’s cock. He let out a shudder. His dick was already beginning to leak. You smeared the pre-cum around to help your hand slide up and down easier, and he moaned as you began to pump him.
Hyunjin gently tugged at Han directing him to come lay on top of you, as Hyunjin moved to lay back down by your side. Han kissed you as Hyunjin nibbled your ear, his hot wet breath felt delicious against your skin. Then he’d nibble Han’s ear. Somehow, Hyunjin still had his fingers on your clit, trapped between yours and Han’s body.
Your hand continued pumping Hyunjin’s cock, and his eyes rolled back in his head as he felt his high building. You tangled your hands in Han’s hair as he continued to bury his cock in your. You wrapped your legs around his waist to hold him as close as possible, making Hyunjin’s fingers push hard in to your clit. The kisses started to become frantic. The three of you kissing each other messily, like feral animals, lost in pleasure.
“Own her Han.” Hyunjin encouraged. That tipped your over the edge and felt like liquid as you melted and pulsed around Han’s cock, sending ripples through your body.
Han came next his face contorted and strained. painting your insides just the way you like and then slumped down on you. You could tell his orgasm was intense not just physically, but emotionally too. It’d been a big afternoon for him.
Hyunjin was close too and it only took another moment before he was pulsing ropes of cum on your hand and Han’s side. It took you a while to recover, and eventually Hyunjin got up to get aftercare supplies.
“Han, baby?” you purred. He nuzzled in close to your neck. “You were perfect.”
“Baby. You are perfect.” He whispered. It seemed to be what you always told each other after sex.
“Should we let Hyunjin stay for cuddles?” You asked squeezing Han tight.
“I’d like that. I want him to spoon you.” He giggled and he closed his eyes. Hyunjin stayed for a while, curled up by your side, an arm draped over you to caress Han’s shoulder.
Han fucking Jisung. You didn’t expect this was going to happen when you came home to see him. You smiled to yourself and drifted off to sleep between the two men.
A/N This is a rework of one my very first fics from about a year ago. So it might be familiar to some. If it's your first time reading it I hope you enjoyed x. Sorsha.
@channieandhisgoonsquad @itshannjisung @noellllslut @weareapackofstrays @kangnina @queen-in-the-shadows @wolfennracha @bethanysnow @hanjisunglover
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i need smut with ethan landry pls 😵💫😵💫
Request: Pervy panty stealer Ethan
Warnings: 18+, perv!Ethan, panties stealing, mention of masturbation
my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time
—
‘’What are you doing in my room?’’ Ethan asked as he returned home from his study group, seeing you sitting on his bed. His eyebrows furrowed, confusion painted across his face. This was a scenario straight out of his wet dreams.
‘’Chad let me in,’’ you replied matter-of-factly. ‘’He said I could wait for you here.’’
Ethan set his backpack down and entered the room, trying to maintain an outward appearance of calm and composure, even though he was secretly freaking out. ‘’Did you need help with calculus again?’’
You shook your head. You usually came to him for school related stuff, but not tonight.
‘’I’ve lost something of mine. Could you help me find it?’’
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Sure," he agreed cautiously. ‘’What did you lose?’’
‘’My panties.’’
Ethan blinked in disbelief, his cheeks flushing a deep shade of red. Oh shit.
You stood from the bed and walked toward Ethan, his heart beating faster each step you took. ‘’I know what you’re been doing, Ethan. You can tell me the truth.’’
He stammered, his mind was racing as he struggled to find the right words to respond. ‘’I-I don't know what you're talking about,’’ Ethan chose to deny, averting his eyes from the incriminating drawers.
You interrupted him, ghosting your hand up his thigh over his jeans. ‘’I know you’ve been stealing my panties and using them to jerk off.’’
Ethan was so embarrassed, not daring to look you in the eyes. He wished he could’ve just disappeared at that moment. He couldn’t believe he got caught. He had hoped to keep his secret fantasies a secret.
‘’Does it feel good when you do it?’’ You moved your hand even higher on his thigh, now just inches away from his cock should be resting. ‘’Do you come hard when thinking of me?’’
He held his breath, trying to ignore your hand placement.
‘’Do you?’’ you pressed. Ethan nodded. ‘’Wouldn’t you rather fuck me instead or my panties?’’
‘’Y-yes,’’ he admitted, holding back a whimper when you brushed your finger over his length.
‘’Why didn’t you ask me out, then?’’ you asked, your voice so soft and sweet, sounding right out of his fantasies.
‘’Because I was scared you would reject me.’’
‘’Aw, you’re too shy to come and ask me out so you steal my panties to jerk off with?’’
‘’I’m sorry.’’
You shook your head. ‘’No, you’re not.’’ With your other hand, you reached for Ethan’s and guided it under your skirt, his eyes widening when he touched your bare pussy. ‘’I don’t really care that you took my panties, Ethan. But since you took them all, I have to walk around campus with no panties on and that’s a bit cold for late October.’’
‘’You can have them back, they’re in my drawer—’’
‘’No, baby,’’ you said, shutting his lips with a finger. ‘’I want you to warm me up.’’
—
Scream taglist: @misfityanii @beautybyfire @iluvscream191 @mariposa555 @bella7866 @o638 @lulubelle14 @luvvtxinityy @frasersgf @Eddiefrickenmunson @jasperr-the-friendly-ghost @ghostf4cee @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @wandaswigglywoos @xjennyx2 @jennasslut @thatonesblog @mikaelsonsstuff @icarly23 @tcddszn @bt.oliana @skyesthebomb @a1mzcruml3y @red1culous @iluurmom @popeheywardssecretgf @michaelangdonsslut @byhrxb @kamthecoolest @kattybug @ravenstrueluv @landryslxys @die4niyahhh @sl4sh3rfuck3r @radiant-whore @Meadzy21 @luci1fer @nomorespahgetti @bloodyhw @depthsofdespairr @bellysbeach @wilmalovegood @loupiotesworld @wenvierismycomfort @t-candy @s-al-em @darylscvmdumpster @tommysaxes @adaydreamaway08 @johannelis2302nely @aqshua @lynbubble @luiise @planetkt @vampyrgoff @adrluvh @mymultiveres @miqi-16 @not-liah @lovenats01 @doestalker @lonelywitchv2
All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @marzipaanz @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @Heartsforneteyamsully @aerangi @hallecarey1 @bxbyyyjocelyn @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark
#ethan landry#ethan landry x reader#ethan landry imagine#ethan landry x you#ethan landry x y/n#scream#scream imagine#i have not reread this pefore posting
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ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS PART SEVEN (roast edition)
Libra Suns are soo oblivious sometimes. I can never tell if they’re doing it to get something or if they’re actually having a dumb blond moment.
People with Mars in the 2nd house need to learn how to share. They become territorial over their possessions. As children, they were the types of kids to show off a cool toy and then go, “but you can’t play with this one because it's special.”
Mars in Pisces are the types to make a passive aggressive comment under their breath, and then when someone calls them out, they go, “I didn’t say anything!”
When people who have Mercury in the 8th house become obsessed about something, they will never shut up about it. Just when you think you’ve managed to steer conversation into a new direction, they will find a way to bring up whatever topic is plaguing their mind.
Pluto in Sagittarius generation is so self-righteous. Everyone is overly aggressive with their opinions, everyone thinks they’re right, and everyone is under the impression that we’re going to be these revolutionary radicals who will serve justice to those oppressed when most spend their time on the internet trying to cancel people. Like seriously we get so heated over nothing sometimes. I think that's because this generation really struggles with misdirected passion. I’m excited for these Pluto in Aquarius babies tho
Aries Moons and their temper tantrums, that's all.
People who have their Mars in Taurus will destroy things when they get angry, literally like a raging bull. They make a mess and fling things around, like what is that accomplishing?? And then afterwards they clean it up like nothing ever happened.
The uncomfortable look on a Gemini Moon's face when someone starts to cry, they wanna leave asap and are looking for the nearest exit.
Leos will cry, scream, and throw a fit over their hair. DO NOT MESS WITH THEIR HAIR. It's the one quality they like about themselves. A bad haircut or color treatment will have them SPIRALING. Like a serious identity crisis. They die inside when someone goes, “It's just hair, it will grow back.”
Mercury Libras and the lies they spread! They lie about the smallest things and it's usually in an effort to people-please.
People with their Mars in Sagittarius are psychos when they're mad. They lack the foresight to see how they’re putting themselves and others in danger. I’d say they are the most likely to carry out some form of revenge.
If you’re dealing with someone who has their Venus in the 8th house, make sure to establish some firm boundaries. They will just keep taking if you let them.
Venus 11th housers cause so much drama every time they develop feelings for one of their friends, I never seen this not cause tension within a friend group.
12th house stelliums and the way they always maintain distance, and everytime you get too close they pull back, actually super frustrating. Also the silent treatments they pull! They’re not even doing it to punish, they're just doing it because they’re uncomfortable, but it still ends up feeling like a punishment for the other person.
Mercury in Taurus individuals are sometimes too blunt. I honestly really love this quality hehe, but I have to admit they’ve offended me just by pointing out the obvious.
Aries 11th housers always feel like they’re in competition with their friends.
Moon Trine Uranus and crying at the most unexpected things. I have this friend that I’ve known since middle school, never saw her cry once. Even when we graduated and said our goodbyes for college, nothing. Then a year later, we were watching the finale for Euphoria together, and this girl started bawling at the end. I was like out of all the things to make you cry this is it?? Haha, I love her.
The Pluto in Virgo generation hands out criticisms left and right. If my friend's parents had this placement, I always felt like they were judging me.
Capricorns and their obsession with money, and also how they fail to realize that not everyone else is driven by monetary gains.
Aquarius’s love to act like their egos aren’t big. The only reason why Leos get checked more on this is because of their bold sense of expression.
#astrology observations#astro observations#astrological houses#astro notes#aspects#astrology#astro community#astrological observations#astrology notes#astrology placements#birth chart placements#birth chart aspects#birth chart analysis#birth chart#natal chart analysis#natal aspects#natal astrology#natal chart#libra#libra sun#mars in the second house#mars in the 2nd house#mars in pisces#mercury in the eighth house#mercury in the 8th house#sagittarius pluto#pluto in sagittarius#venus in the 8th house#venus in the eighth house#venus in the 11th house
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PitBabe Ep 3. Kissing etc.
Can I just say that these two know how to kiss like no other. I’m absolutely floored by their chemistry. I definitely underestimated how well they go together.
Although most BLs now generally have pretty good kiss scenes. (If you’re a 2018-2020 BL watcher you know what I mean) Personally I feel like sometimes there’s just always something missing or off about a particular kiss scene. BUT OML pavel and pooh did not come to mess around. They brought so much into these characters.
Kissing in general is in my opinion extremely intimate. Because really it doesn’t satisfy a need like sex does. This nature of kissing is the reason why Babe refused to kiss Charlie at first. So it breaks my heart now to see him bare his heart out. Not just by telling Charlie his childhood trauma, but for initiating the kiss. AND THEN WHAT GOT ME WAS THE WAY THEY KISSED. I expected it to be a lot more rough and instead I was met with the softest, sweetest kiss scene ever.
THIS PECK RIGHT HERE, I had to pause this moment and scream because I felt so lonely. This was so incredibly intimate. These types of kisses are usually how I what I would expect from a couple that has been together for months if not years. BUT SEX BUDDIES?? I’m just at a loss for words
Babe just looked so happy in this scene I feel my heart shattering. And also going back to the execution of kiss scenes. The issue I have with most kiss scenes isn’t even usually the kissing itself but rather the poor hand and body placement. A lot of actors don’t even react with their body, and this instantly takes away from the scene.
BUT OMFG pavel and pooh preformed so well. I love that Charlie is the one the wraps his arm around to pull Babe closer. The way they curl into each other is so so satisfying.
THESE KISSES ALSO DID IT FOR ME. THEYRE JUST SO SOFT. It makes me so sad. For someone so closed off and supposedly cold hearted, Babe is so soft. He just want to love someone and he wants them to love him back. And I feel so sad.
I have so much to say about this but I’m so tired and I need to wake up early tomorrow so that’s the end of my little rant. I did not expect to write this much.
#this show is so good#they make me so mentally unwell#pit babe the series#thai bl#bl series#pit babe#babecharlie#pavel phoom#pooh krittin#pavelpooh
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Take Care: Chapter One
Fic Masterpost | AO3 | Chapter List
Warnings: swearing, eventual smut, emotional themes.
Word Count: 13k+
Chapter One
“Thank you so much for accepting me,” you said, stepping into Shannon Hart’s office, Head of Applications at Richmond university. “I’ve been so looking forward to finally getting into publishing and writing.”
Shannon gestured for you to sit opposite her. You dropped yourself down into the swivel chair facing her desk, as she cleared her throat and adjusted her sleeves. You stared at her thoughtfully, taking in the slight twitch of her brow and the vein popping out on her forehead.
“Are you okay, Shannon?” You frowned.
She intertwined her fingers and placed them on the desktop before her. “We’ve asked you here today to let you know, with great regret, that your placement at Pluto Press has been… mixed up.”
“Mixed up?”
“Royally.” Shannon stared you down.
“Royally how?” You leaned forward, all decorum going out the window immediately.
“Our paperwork was sorted wrong. It’s an internal admin error, one that’s– frankly– deeply embarrassing–”
“Just tell me what the deal is, okay, Shannon?” you said, trying not to yell at her to just say it.
Shannon cleared her throat again. “You weren’t the name that we sent to the Pluto Press administration. Which means… well, it means–”
You smacked your hand upon her desk, making her flinch. “I mean this in the nicest way, but for the love of God, spit it out.”
“Your placement at Pluto Press was filled by someone else.”
You squinted at her. “Someone else?”
“Yes.”
“But, I can still get a spot, right?” you asked.
“Regrettably not.”
“Not?”
Shannon nodded. “Not.”
You toyed between the urge to scream at the ceiling, or round-house kick the woman sat in front of you. Both seemed appealing, both seemed necessary, but instead you did nothing. You sat like a rock before her, ignoring the upbeat dump-dump of your heart beneath your ribcage. You weren’t an angry person, no, but this was the closest you’d been to booking into a rage room.
“So… you’re saying, I won’t be an intern at Pluto Press starting next week?” you said, trying to comprehend it fully yourself.
“Correct.” Shannon stayed frozen.
“So…” You leant forward, fully, leaning down on your arms and looking Shannon directly in the face. She gulped anxiously, with nerves, and for good reason. “What the fuck am I supposed to do now, Shannon?”
“Ah, well.” Shannon squeaked out. Sweat dotted her brow and as quickly leaned back in her chair. “This is what I wanted to discuss. Your options.”
“My options,” you repeated.
“Of which there are a few. One, you could defer the year and be ensured a space on this masters next year, with your original placement at Pluto Press–”
“Fuck no,” you said immediately. “Listen, Shannon. I’ve put off this masters for four fucking years. I’m not waiting another year. I mean, I’ve already moved to Richmond. I’ve taken out my student loans. So, abso-fucking-lutely not.”
Shannon’s eyebrow twitched intensely. “I was hoping you wouldn’t say that,” she whispered. “So, your second option.”
“How many options are there?”
“...Two.”
“So, this is my final option?”
“If you don’t wish to drop out completely, yes.” Shannon was a stone-cold fox, you could tell. As much as her eyebrow twitched and her brow glistened, she was certainly blunt and to the point. It was something you could admire, despite the want to storm out of her office.
“So, my final option is?”
Shannon leaned forward again, strongly. “There is one other placement available for this course. They’re new, and we were originally going to try them out with a student who wished to be a sports journalist, but…”
“But?”
“He changed his mind about the course and went into the fried chicken industry, instead.” You squinted at her quizzically. Shannon’s face stayed as still as a gargoyle. “It’s a social placement. You do Instagram uploads, copywriting, player profiles and articles, things like that.”
“Player profiles? For what?”
“Football.”
“Football?”
“AFC Richmond, to be exact.”
The day had gone from bad to worse within a matter of seconds. Not only had you been wrongfully pushed out of your publishing placement, but now your only option was to work for a fucking football team. Football had been something that went over your head from the start. If it wasn’t the fact that boys from the school football team, when you were twelve, laughed at you incessantly, then it was the visuals of grown men clutching their knees and whining on a pitch that made you hate it completely. Football was not your thing. Football wouldn’t allow you to publish your first novel.
You widened your eyes. “A fucking football team?”
Shannon winced, and it was like a layer shed off her in an instant. “Can I be utterly transparent with you?”
“Please.”
“I know it’s shit,” she said bluntly. You let out a huff in agreement. “But, you still have the opportunity to network. Big name footballers have connections, as does Rebecca Welton, the club owner. You’ll still have all the access to publishing opportunities that you’d get through Pluto Press, just… in a slightly unorthodox way. Your coursework will be slightly changed, and the term structures will be different to match up with the league, but.” Shannon shrugged. “This is still something worth doing. You can write on the side, too. And who doesn’t want to be around some attractive footballers?”
“Me,” you said plainly.
“Scratch that last part, then,” Shannon replied. For the first time since entering her office, she attempted to smile at you. It was almost frightening to look at.
So, it was fuck all. You had no choice. You’d moved into your flat two days before, a tube ride away from Pluto Press, and coincidentally a walk away from the Dogtrack. There was no way you were backing out now, not when you’d been deferring your application for years. This was a time where you had inspiration, motivation, and wanted to succeed. You had to strike while the iron was hot, even if that meant dealing with footballers, of all fucking people.
As much as you’d batted away Shannon’s comment about them, you had already heard of a few players that Richmond. Jamie Tartt was well-known, and you’d be lying if you hadn’t thought he was fit when you’d seen him on his girlfriends’ socials a while back. They were a different breed, though, so entirely excluded from the world that you existed in; far away from the stoicism of footballers and their swinging dicks that fell into one too many vaginas. You didn’t want to be another working woman in the background, especially in an industry that you knew fuck all about. But– this was the best option. It still got you the same opportunities, still gave you the time to write and work on your own novel.
You inhaled sharply and sighed deeply. Shannon stayed put, eyeing you up as she pursed her lips.
“Fine,” you said. “I’ll do it.”
You had less than a week to prepare. Not in terms of your masters or education, but mentally. You were thrusting yourself into the proverbial belly of the beast, a football club full of men who, most likely, smelled really fucking bad. You made a list in your head– Febreeze was right at the top. It wasn’t just about the uncertainty and horror of it all, it was also something that transcended that. What if they didn’t like you? What if this entire experiment went drastically wrong? You knew fuck all about football, and would be surrounded by those whose literal entire lives revolved around the sport.
You felt like an imposter more than anything. More than the rage of the fuck up. More than the fear of things going wrong with your degree. You were an imposter, entering into a world that wasn’t your own, being handed opportunities that others would die for.
That’s all that went through your head as you stood outside AFC Richmond, just off Nelson Road. It looked like a typical football ground from the outside– a green and vibrant field directly to the right, where someone on an industrial mower was cutting the grass. The car park was full of expensive vehicles; Lambos, Jags, Martins. As you focused your breathing, a hulking pitch black Jeep came careening around the corner. You flinched as the driver parked it in one of the top spots, next to a bright green monstrosity, so low to the ground that your knees felt weak just looking at it.
The driver side door of the Jeep burst open, and a man, dressed exactly like his fucking car, jumped out. His jeans were black, his t-shirt black, his leather jacket– black. Atop his head sat a close cut mop of black hair, and his beard was trimmed to absolute perfection, almost to the point of robotism. It was, you guessed it, black.
You stared at him with a mixture of confusion and utter amazement. Was this the Grim Reaper, come to take you away for your sins and tell you your life was all but over? He looked back at you with an indifferent sort of stare, one that penetrated deep into your chest and made you want to violently throw up, or run away immediately.
As he approached the double doored entrance, his back to you, he stopped suddenly. He turned around slowly and laid his dark eyes upon you. “You a fan?” he asked.
“What?” you stuttered out, taken aback by the deepness of his voice. There was a scratch to it, one that resembled a growl. Was this man actually real? He came across as some kind of mythical creature that represented a bad omen, or someone gruff enough to mend the goalposts with his bare hands.
“Meet and greets only happen after games,” he continued. Your face soured with amusement.
“I’m not here for a bloody meet and greet,” you let out. “Do I look like a football fan?” you added quickly, suddenly afraid that you looked like the kind of person to wait outside football stadiums, just to see players.
He shrugged. “I don’t fucking know.”
You took a step forward. “I’m here to see Rebecca Welton, actually. I just…” You glanced around the car park, trying to find the right words to say that you’d been afraid to go inside. “I just didn’t know whether to wait outside or not.”
He followed your eye movements, looking around at the cars alongside you. “Well, she doesn’t seem to have an office in the car park, does she,” he stated. You let out a small huff, embarrassed.
“No, I guess not.” You looked into his eyes, tracing the outline of his stoic face. He was sort of… soft around the edges. If that was even possible. “Do you know where her office is?”
“Do I look like a fucking tour guide?” he said bluntly, and you flinched backwards. Your expression dropped, replaced with something other than the tinge of softness you had before. This guy was an arsehole. An utter arsehole, wearing leather and too tight jeans. When it rained, you bet droplets trickled off him in grey washes, picking up the black dye off his stupid fucking clothes.
“Well,” you said, regarding him. “No, not a tour guide. Maybe the caretaker?”
He raised his brows. “The fucking caretaker?”
“Yeah.” You squinted at him. “I can picture you mowing some grass, fixing some posts, DIY and all that.”
He shuffled on his spot. “Who the fuck are you?”
You crossed your arms. “Someone who’s trying to find Rebecca Welton’s office. And you are?”
“Not the fucking caretaker,” he said, before he turned on his heels and headed to the door.
“Hey, wait!” you yelled. “Hold on!” You rushed towards the door, flashing him a vaguely apologetic stare, but you didn’t dare say one outloud. He didn’t deserve one.
He peered down at you, letting out a literal growl. You backed up slightly, looking at him in absolute awe. “Did you just growl at me?”
“I growl at everyone,” he said.
“Has anyone ever told you that’s a bit weird?”
“All the time. I don’t fucking care,” he said bluntly.
You shrugged. “Fair enough.”
A moment of awkwardly comfortable silence followed. He continued to peer down at you, flicking his eyes across your own, perhaps in an attempt to intimidate you. It didn’t work, not after you’d got under his skin by mistaking him for the caretaker. You raised your brows at him silently, pleading with him to just fucking tell you where to go. You understood that they probably didn’t have many mid-twenties girls around the club, but the least he could do was help, just this once.
He rolled his eyes quickly. “All the way down the corridor, up the stairs. Her office is right there.”
He pulled open the door, reluctantly standing to the side for you to go first. You smiled. “Thank you!” you exclaimed. You rushed inside, fast-walking down the corridor until you found the set of steps up to Rebecca’s office.
He stayed back, peering at you as you went on your way. Before he turned to head down the stairs, he found himself subtly smiling at the scene that played out priorly. You had guts, that’s what he gauged. You had guts and you weren’t afraid to use them.
Rebecca Welton was the most intimidating, yet beautiful, woman you’d ever laid eyes upon. As you sat opposite her in her office, cup of tea in her grasp and hand moving through the air as she talked, you couldn’t take your eyes off the alarming look on her face. She was glowing, talking smartly and confidently, while you all but cowered before her like another male suitor.
“Did you catch any of that?” she asked abruptly, bringing you back into the room. You’d heard nothing, not when you’d been looking at the almost perfect way her face moved when she spoke.
You widened your eyes. “Yes. All of it. In perfect detail.”
“Great.” She stood up quickly, downing the remaining contents of her teacup. “I’ll introduce you to the team. Come on,” she said, rounding her desk.
You scrambled up from your seat and followed her immediately. Her shoes clicked upon the floor dramatically, as you made your way down the stairs and back through the corridor you came from. She took you down another set of stairs to the lower portion of the stadium. You passed multiple offices, and a gym, before she whisked you past a few back rooms.
“Locker room here.” She pointed to her left as you passed. You stuck your head around the corner quickly, taking in a wave of red and blue. “Manager’s office,” she added from a bit further up. “Beyond that is the kit room, and physio on the right.” Rebecca stopped in the corridor suddenly, making you gasp. She let out a breath, before turning on her heels and heading back down the way you both came.
You followed her without question, clutching onto your tote bag for dear life as she whisked you through the grounds. Her legs were too long to keep up with fully, so you were forced to partially jog behind her every few seconds.
“Um, Rebecca?” you asked.
“Hmm.”
“Do I get an office space?”
She stopped again, next to the gym. “Of course,” she said, peering down at you. “It’s there.” She pointed to the right, further away from the gym. A small room is all you saw, devoid of windows, with nothing more than a desk sat in the partial darkness. “I’m sure you can make it… homely.”
“Yes,” you said, smiling up at her from fear. Now wasn’t the time to be criticising your workplace amenities. Maybe when you’d paid your dues, or done a good job, could you ask for something more.
Besides, Rebecca seemed incredibly eager to be done with this tour. She hadn’t exactly been enthralled at your arrival, nor did she seem keen to talk to you for longer than she had to. You’d heard things about her before– a cheating husband, enough money to buy a skyscraper in Dubai, probably. You did your best to keep up with her, avoiding personal questions and trying to retain everything she told you.
The two of you turned the corner, headed for a long corridor, with daylight streaming in at the end. This was obviously the tunnel where players entered onto the pitch. You’d never stepped foot in a stadium of any kind, let alone been on the under-layers like the players themselves. As the both of you made your way to the doors, you imagined what it would be like for them– anticipation, nerves. You’d be shitting yourself, probably.
“I’ll take you to the team, now,” Rebecca explained. “Do you like football?”
“No,” you said immediately. From the look on her face, she wasn’t mad. Maybe this was as good a time as any to explain that you knew fuck all about all this, and actually didn’t want it.
Rebecca peered back at you. “Not at all?”
You sighed. “I know nothing about football, if I’m being honest. I’m a writer, not a sportswoman. I don’t care for sweaty men, or their reasons for fighting one another on a field. I’ll do my job, that I can assure you Ms. Welton, but I won’t deny that I couldn’t give a shit about this game.”
Rebecca slowed her speed, letting you catch up with her. Her quizzical expression quickly turned into a triumphant smile. “Fantastic,” she said. She was being genuine, and you had no idea why. “Well, come on!” she exclaimed, as the two of you burst through the double doors and onto the pitch.
The players bundled up and down the pitch with speed, kicking about a ball as they were split into two teams. You watched them for a few moments, following their movements as they scrambled up and down, kicking the ball between them, until someone finally went for a shot– he got it, but no one seemed happy about it. That was number nine, Jamie Tartt.
“I was wide open!” number twenty-four exclaimed.
“Well, so was I. So, I went for it. Sue me,” Tartt replied, in his staunch Mancunian accent. He stuck out his tongue like a schoolboy as he walked away, leaving number twenty-four with a sour expression on his face. He was comforted by a few others, telling him to brush it off.
You and Rebecca approached the coaches. “Coach Lasso,” Rebecca began, prompting the men to turn around. “This here is our new placement from Richmond university. The one I told you about last week.”
A man with the largest moustache you’d ever seen regarded you. “Oh, yes! I remember now. Welcome!” he said happily, shaking your hand abruptly. You shuffled your falling tote bag back onto your arm, smiling at him awkwardly as he kept shaking your hand.
“Great to be here,” you muttered.
“Call me Ted. You and I are both newbies, you know. Same as Coach here,” Ted said, gesturing to a man beside him. He wore mirrored glasses and crossed his arms intimidatingly. He said nothing, only sent you a nod in hello. “So, what brought you to us, huh? Got a love for football? Got a burning Tobey Maguire for the beautiful game?”
Tobey Maguire?
You looked to the other coach for help. “Burning desire,” he said bluntly.
“I’m trying out my own version of Cockney rhyming slang. Tobey Maguire, desire. Sylvester Stallone, the phone. So far it’s all actors, but we’re getting somewhere.” Ted peered down at you with a cartoonish smile. He was like no one you’d ever met before, someone so overly happy that you could hardly believe it.
“You’re doing… great,” you let out, from lack of what else to say. “But, well– I don’t know a lot about football, but–”
“You and me both, sister,” Ted interrupted.
You laughed awkwardly. “But, I’m happy to be here, and excited for the next year.” A lie, but one that needed to be said. You weren’t here to fuck up this club, or get overly buddy-buddy with its players. You were going to do your job, get your degree and use it afterwards. That was the goal, but during that, you had no Tobey Maguire to upset the team or the management.
Ted and his second in command, Coach Beard, turned around to the pitch. You stood next to Rebecca, who stood next to them, looking out at the players like they were being judged for the next season of So, you think you can dance?
Ted blew on his whistle shrilly. “Gather around, boys!” he yelled. The men obeyed, halting play as they all gathered before their new coaches, with some of them looking more than exhausted.
You couldn’t imagine the physical damage all of them went through, or how fit they had to actually be. You could hardly reach a level six in your bleep test at school, let alone be able to sprint up and down a pitch for two forty-five minute halves.
“Where’s Roy?” Ted asked, prompting one player to appear through the hubbub. When you met his eye, you almost choked on air. It was the guy, the not caretaker. The one that growled at you not an hour ago. “Ah, there he is. Listen up fellas! This little lady here is the placement from Richmond college–”
“Uni!” one of the players yelled.
Ted shot him a wide-eyed look. “God, you call college something different, too? Anyway, yes. Richmond uni. She’ll be doing a few things around here for us. Not PR, but keeping up with player profiles on the website, small updates, and all that jazz about the season coming up, maybe an article or two.”
As Ted spoke, you forced yourself to look anywhere but at number six– Roy Kent. He was staring you down like you’d done something ungodly, like you’d burned down his house or kicked his dog. His stance was one that you’d never seen either, like he was constantly on high alert and ready to strike a punch if needed.
“This here is Roy Kent, the captain of the team.” Ted gestured to Roy. He growled at you. You frowned at him. “You’ll be working with Roy for the next week on player profiles–”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Roy stepped forward. I’ve told you all before, I don’t get involved in PR or website shit,” Roy spoke up. “Get one of the other lads to do it.”
“It’s just for the time being, Roy. Just until she gets acquainted with the grounds.” Ted tried. “As much as I’m happy not to have you in front of a camera– believe me, that’s up to you– as a captain, and as your coach, I’m asking you to do this for the newest member of the Richmond family. Okay?”
You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. All you wanted was to start and not stop for a year, so time could go faster. All you wanted was twenty pairs of eyes to stop looking you up and down like something shiny and brand-new.
Roy’s fists balled tightly, until his knuckles went white. “Fine.”
You let out a long breath. “Great,” you muttered. Roy’s eyes found your face, and you looked at him with no effort to be nice. You and he both knew that this was going to be long and annoying. It was better to get it out in the first place than to keep it all in for a year.
After meeting the team, you headed to your shoebox of an office. You had the day to set it up and make your own, before things kicked off. Ted and Beard were still running coaching for the rest of the day, so you were effectively on the lower floor by yourself. You set up your office, popped down your laptop and made a new folder in your documents. You went through your upcoming assignments, and started planning for what you could do. Rebecca gave you the various passwords for the social accounts, which you started filing through to get a sense of what they posted.
It was all the type of shit that your mum would like on Facebook. Brilliant.
If this was what you had to do to get to where you wanted, then so be it. It would all be worth it when you had connections and a network around you. That was the goal.
You opened your ongoing novel on your computer and scanned the pages. This was the endgame; to get the baby published. It was fiction, not once mentioning any sport, but it was all you wanted. Years of delay had led you here, so you had to embrace it while you had the chance to. Downtime was something that you’d have an abundance of, which was another perk, you supposed.
By four in the afternoon, the players tickled back inside. They passed your office with subtle curiosity, peering around the corner as you sat at your desk, filing through emails and starting on a subtle plan for your first assignment, due in at the end of the week. As soon as you’d got the courage up to grab Roy for a quick chat, you could get started.
When the players began filing out of the locker room to head home, you packed up your own belongings. You passed a few of them in the corridor, smiling sweetly and saying subtle hellos as you made your way through, until you almost slammed into one of them.
“Oof!” you exclaimed before him; it was number twenty-four, the one you’d seen before on the pitch.
Gently, he held you steady by your shoulders to stop you falling. “My apologies,” he said kindly.
“Don’t worry. I’m still getting used to this place.”
“It can be a lot to begin with, but I’m sure you’ll get used to it very soon,” he reassured you. You smiled up at him, before he stuck out his hand. “I’m Sam Obisanya. It’s nice to meet you properly.”
You took his hand. “You too. I’m excited to get to know you all.”
“Well, if you want, come and join us later this week. It’s Isaac’s birthday, so we’re all going out to celebrate.”
“Oh,” you said bashfully. “I don’t know, I don’t want to intrude.”
“It’s fine, bruv,” another player turned the corner from the locker room. Isaac McAdoo. “Come along. The more the merrier, you get me.”
Player Colin Hughes appeared in the doorway after him. “Definitely. Come and join in on the fun.”
“Especially before the season starts next weekend,” Isaac added. “Gotta get our freak on while we still can.”
McAdoo and Hughes left together, and you got the sense that they were two players who had a long history of friendship. You turned back to Sam and shot him a smile. “Count me in, then,” you said.
“Brilliant. I’ll put it in our group chat,” Sam said sweetly, before he made his leave.
You turned to the locker room, pleasantly surprised at how that had all gone. If all of the guys were like that, then you’d have no issue with them whatsoever. But, then came Roy. You entered the locker room hesitantly, scooting out of the way as other players said their goodbyes for the day. To the right was the manager’s office, where Ted and Beard still sat at their desks. Directly opposite the door, however, was exactly who you wanted.
You approached Roy, as he pulled on a pair of shoes, and cleared your throat. He looked up at you slowly, resting a hand on his thigh as he lazily skittered his eyes across you.
“So, you’re definitely not the caretaker,” you said, in an attempt to diffuse the tension.
“The last lawn I mowed was my grandad’s when I was nine,” he replied bluntly.
“Noted. I can put that in your player profile, if you wanted.” Sarcasm fell from your mouth, but you got the sense that Roy didn’t appreciate it. He growled, going back to doing up his laces. “I just wanted to talk to you about that, actually. About what Ted said.”
“If you think I’m going to gab with you about the team for the next week then you’re a lot dumber than I gave you credit for in the car park,” he said plainly.
You waved at him in dismissal quickly. “No, no, that’s what I meant. I really don’t need you to do that,” you said transparently. Roy looked up at you with interest, waiting for you to continue. You let out a sigh. “I’m not going to pretend that all this is a dream come true for me, the same way that you won’t pretend it’s something you give a fuck about helping me with. I can go around the players on my own, don’t worry.”
Roy finished tying his laces, before he stood. He towered over you, but the intimidation he’d displayed priorly was starting to wear off. You got a sense that he was just like this, all of the time. You’d read a few articles about him earlier, about his start at Sunderland and his triumphant years at Chelsea, before he moved to AFC Richmond. Roy Kent seemed like a player entrenched with respect. He was one of the greats, that’s what every article had said. You wouldn’t admit it out loud, but you were intrigued to see it all for yourself.
“Fair enough,” he finally agreed.
You let out an innate sigh of relief. “Great. Thank you,” you said, before you turned and headed for the door. Before you left, however, you stopped abruptly. The locker room was empty now, bar the coaches in the other office. It was just the two of you, and you had a nagging feeling within your gut. “You can tell, can’t you?” you asked.
You turned back to Roy. “Tell what?” he replied.
“That I don’t want to be here.”
“You were stood outside the building this morning like you were walking to your fucking death,” he said. “Of course, I could fucking tell.”
“Just double checking,” you muttered, subtly embarrassed.
“Why are you here then? If you don’t want to be,” he asked, grabbing his bag from the bench. He stood to full height again and took a few steps toward you. It was only then that you realised he was assuming for you to both walk out the building together.
You stepped out of the locker room, falling into step next to Roy in the corridor. “The university fucked up. This was the only placement they had left,” you admitted.
“That’s fucking shit.” Roy’s candour was something you were growing to appreciate, almost. “So, you don’t like football?”
“I don’t know a single thing about it, besides it being people kicking a ball on a field.”
Roy let out a long, low whistle. “Fucking hell. No wonder you didn’t want to come inside.”
As the two of you emerged into the car park, you felt lighter than you had all day. Roy headed to his Jeep, and you stayed a few paces back. “It’s not… ideal.”
“That’s an overly nice way to put it,” he said, looking back at you. “And it’s a fucking lie. Why are you doing this to yourself?”
You shrugged. “I want to publish my book. This is a way to make it happen.”
“Fair enough,” Roy said, jumping into his Jeep. He rolled the window down and switched on the engine. “Just don’t fucking include me in it, alright?”
You scoffed. “You think I want to write about you? Don’t flatter yourself, Captain.”
Roy winced. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he muttered, before he put his car in gear and sped out of the car park. He left you without a second glance, turning onto the street and careening down the road as fast as he could, just to get away from you.
You found yourself walking home with a strange sense of peace. Yes, the situation wasn’t in your favour. Yes, you’d already fucked up and called the team captain the caretaker before you’d even stepped foot in the club, but things didn’t feel bad. The boys were nice, the coaches were welcoming, and even Rebecca Welton didn’t give a shit that you knew nothing. Things were slotting into place faster than you expected, but you were happy about it. As you made your way through Richmond, back to your flat, you realised that you didn’t feel awful. You felt almost happy, content, ready to take on the remainder of your first week and bosh out your first piece of coursework.
You spent the evening on Google, looking up the history of the Dogtrack, of AFC Richmond, of their star players. You learned that Jamie Tartt was on loan from Manchester City for a season, which made things all the more interesting when it came to his sportsmanship with the rest of the current team. You watched old game highlights, not understanding a single thing they were doing on screen. You gave up after a few hours of them kicking a ball around, too tired from the prior stress of last week to stay awake any longer.
The next morning, you got to work. You made an announcement to the locker room, while the guys pulled on their shin pads and football boots. “Over the next few days, I kindly ask that you all fill in a small worksheet for me. A bit about your backgrounds, your current positions, your birthdays, even. It’s for the updated player profiles on the website, and I’m on a deadline, so please do this as soon as you can!” you explained.
Sam was the first to hand his in, doing it almost immediately after you made your announcement. He dropped it into the small basket on your desk before he headed out to training, shooting you and a small smile as he left you at your desk. Soon after, McAdoo, Hughes, Bumbercatch and Zoreaux followed suit. You had enough information to start.
By the end of the day, you had almost half of the profiles written. You’d expected the workload to be more, or something intensely focused on football plays, but this was piss. You’d definitely be done by the Sunday deadline, just a few days away.
As the days flew by, you got better at approaching players on their own. You made yourself known and didn’t pester (unless they needed it), just reminded them of the task at hand. Isaac's birthday celebrations loomed ever closer, which meant the guys were in a boisterous and excitable mood for the final half of the week. They would play games in the locker room after training, laugh in the gym during work out hours, and pass by your office, waving at you with chuckles on their lips.
By Thursday, you’d cornered Jamie after training.
“Come on, man. It’s not hard to do. I just need it done by tomorrow, so I can write them all up for Sunday, is all,” you pleaded with him.
He took off his football shirt swiftly, making you roll your eyes. “I don’t have the time this evening. Got a prior arrangement, you get me.”
“I really don’t care about your prior arrangement, Jamie. I need this done. It’ll take you two fucking minutes, literally.”
“Sorry, love,” he said, and the patronising tone in his voice was one that you couldn’t stand. You were older than him by a few years, yet he was acting so inherently high and mighty. “I can’t change what evening I get waxed or the lady gets upset.”
“Waxed?” You grimaced.
Suddenly, a shrill high-pitched voice rounded the corner into the locker room. “Alright, boys!” it yelled, and when you turned around, you almost collapsed to the floor. Keeley fucking Jones stood in the middle of the locker room, beaming at all the boys with a genuine smile, and wearing an outfit that you’d never think would work on paper, but it absolutely worked in practice; on her.
You froze where you were, as she peered around the room and met Jamie’s face. “Ready to go, babe?” she asked, before she caught your eye. She smiled and shrugged her shoulders in greeting. “Who’s this?”
Jamie shrugged on a new shirt, packing some of his belongings. “New social person, or somethin’.”
“Social placement,” you corrected him, looking only at Keeley. “Sorry to stare, it’s just… you’re Keeley Jones, aren’t you?”
“The one and only!” she exclaimed. “You’re a newbie, are you? Welcome to Richmond.” She leant towards you warmly, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder in greeting. “Now, I’ve gotta get this one here to his waxing appointment.”
“Oh, sure,” you muttered, peering back at Jamie and trying not to imagine exactly what needed waxing. It was almost traumatising. “Before you go, take this, though,” you added, before you handed her one of your worksheets to her. “I really need him to fill this out by tomorrow.”
“Don’t worry,” Keeley said, folding it neatly and putting it in her bag. “I’ll make sure he gets it done.” She winked at you, making you blush.
The final lads trickled out of the locker rooms, while you reminded each of them to get the worksheet done. A few picked up a new copy, others nodded at you in agreement, but Roy Kent– he didn’t so much as growl as he passed you for the door.
You followed him immediately, rushing down the hallway to meet him.
“Are you giving me the silent treatment or something?” you asked. He growled in response. You scoffed. “You definitely are.”
“Excuse me if I’m not used to nagging uni students getting on my back,” he replied.
“It’s been years since I stopped being a uni student, Roy. I’m in bed by ten thirty every night, I’ll have you know.”
“A boring, nagging uni student, then.”
“Ouch,” you muttered, feeling a slight sting, but you weren’t going to let him phase you. “Have you done the worksheet yet?” you asked. He let out another growl, to which you peered up at him with a blunt expression. “Please, just get it done by tomorrow.”
“Only if you piss off and leave me alone.”
You stopped in the hallway abruptly. “Done and done,” you said from behind him. He kept walking towards the car park, looking back when he realised you weren’t doing it just for show.
You walked back down the hallway, the way you came, as you went for a different exit. Roy stopped walking without your knowledge, furrowing his brows at you as you turned a corner and disappeared. He readjusted his grip on his gym bag, sighing out of his nose.
“Fucks sake,” he whispered harshly, before he entered the car park, door slamming behind him with an echo.
You woke in the morning feeling anxious. It wasn’t just because today would be the first time you socialised with the lads outside the club, but today was the last, easy day that you had to get the remaining worksheets. Your deadline was in two days, and you wouldn’t see the players after today for the entire weekend. It was crunch time, and as much as you wanted Roy and Jamie to be easy and mouldable, you expected the absolute opposite.
Your anxiety dimmed when you arrived in the morning to a full tray of completed worksheets in your office. All but one had been filled out and left for you– and by no surprise, Roy Kent was the last.
“Fucks sake,” you muttered under your breath. You hoisted yourself from your chair and made your way out the office, headed for the locker room. There was a certain confidence in your walk, reserved only for when you were at the end of your tether.
Roy was a grown man. Was he really incapable of filling out a simple worksheet? It drove you insane that he was one of those people who intentionally didn’t do something, even when he’d been explicitly asked to multiple times. Like a child who did the opposite of what their parents said, or when your mum tells you to do something that you were planning on doing yourself, but now don’t want to because she asked you herself.
As you approached the locker room, you let out a whining “Roy!” loud enough that everyone could hear you. You turned into the room, flickering your eyes across the players.
Roy wasn’t there. “Where the fuck is he?” you asked Isaac.
Isaac shrugged. “Think he’s already out on the pitch.”
You made your way out to the pitch, filling the hallways with the same whine that you’d released previously. If this was what it resorted to, then so be it. If you had to make Roy hate you even more just to do this damn worksheet, then you’d fucking do it.
Ted turned to you as you stormed onto the pitch. “Howdy!” he exclaimed. “Jeesh, did someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning? I did that once, too, when I first moved here and slept on the opposite side of the bed. It was crazy, like the universe was all mixed up and upside down. I almost threw up.”
“Where the hell is Roy?” you asked, ignoring him as you looked out to the pitch. The boys were milled around, waiting for the others to come out so they could start warming up properly.
“Well, he’s right–” Ted began, pointing out to the field. He shimmied his finger around, like a cat obsessed with a laser pointer, before he dropped his hand in defeat. “He was right there before.”
“He’s avoiding me,” you let out with a scoff. “This is fucking unbelievable. He’s a literal child.”
“Hey now,” Ted said. “When I see him, I’ll send him to your office, okay?”
You nodded, pissed off beyond comprehension. “Okay.”
The day went by too quickly, but you managed to get all the other profiles written. Not once did Roy come to your office, and when the guys came back in at the end of training, he was nowhere to be seen. You approached Colin, who said that he’d been right behind him, last he’d seen. That was the same as Sam, as Isaac, as the rest.
Roy Kent’s back up career should have been a magician’s glamorous fucking assistant with how much he’d been able to disappear without a fucking trace.
“That’s it. I’m going to kill him,” you said, leaned against the locker room frame as the guys got themselves ready for the evening.
Sam turned to you reassuringly. “He might come tonight, who knows?”
“I can give you his number, if you want?” Isaac suggested. “Can track him down and make him pay, and that.”
You smiled. “Please do. I don’t care if I have to call him twelve times, I’ll fucking do it.”
“Why do you need it done so badly anyway?” Jamie chimed in, shaking out his football shirt.
You copied Roy’s number into your phone from Isaac’s, sighing as you looked back to the room. The boys stared at you expectantly. “You guys know how this placement is for my masters degree, right? Which means I have certain assignments and coursework to get done. This is my first one, and I need all the players to participate, or it’ll be a big, fat fail.”
“Oh shit,” Isaac said. “So, you get graded for this?” You nodded sullenly. Isaac puffed out his chest abruptly. “Listen here, boys! Any of you see Roy, you get him to fill out this fucking sheet, kapeesh?”
You smiled, feeling bashful. “Thanks, Isaac.”
“No problem, girl. Now, turn that frown upside down. We’re getting drunk tonight!”
The locker room erupted into cheers. Jamie sprayed far too much Lynx in the air, and Colin almost cracked his head open as he jumped up and down on a bench, but even you couldn’t deny the atmosphere was electric. They were all good in their own ways, just some were a lot harder to let their walls down.
As the guys filed out of the room, you peered over at Roy’s cubby. Gently, you walked over and placed an unfilled sheet on his shelf. You stuck a small post-it to the paper– do this for me and i’ll never come to you for anything else.
You left the locker room in silence, trying not to worry too much about having incomplete work for your deadline. You had Roy’s number now, anyway, so even if it was something small over text you were certain you could get something. A crumb, maybe. You didn’t panic, not yet. Panicking would be for the Saturday scaries, and the remainder of your Sunday. Panicking wasn’t for now, as you followed the boys out to the car park and piled into the front seat of Sam’s car. A convoy of you left for Isaac’s house, before you all hit up the club later in the evening.
By the time the sun had set, your legs were jelloid from dancing, and your abs were coming in from laughing. You’d gabbed with Keeley for hours at the house, and were still gabbing now on the way to the club.
“What is it with Roy? I just don’t get it,” you asked.
“What, you mean his rugged good looks, or the fact he’s emotionally constipated to the max?” Keeley replied, and you let out a scoff.
“Definitely emotional constipation. He’s not that hot,” you let out. Keeley’s mouth dropped open.
“Oh, please. I know you don’t like him, but you have to admit that he’s gorgeous.”
“I won’t admit that, because all he’s been to me is ugly.” You stuck out your chin stubbornly.
Keeley smiled deviously. “Call him.”
“Absolutely not,” you said, shaking your head. “Hard pass.”
“Just call him. As soon as you get him on the phone, he can’t avoid you. And if he does, he’s a real arsehole. This is for your degree, for fucks sake.”
“I don’t think he knows that,” you said timidly.
“Then tell him! Yell it at him! Get him to do it.” She urged you, and you had no choice.
As the guys strolled forward towards the club, you and Keeley found yourself leant against a wall in a quiet corner. You found Roy’s number in your phone and dialled before you could chicken out. You tried not to vomit when it rang, and with each dial sound you were close to calling it a day.
After five or so rings, he actually picked up. “Who the fuck is it?” he asked, his voice gravelly over the line.
“Roy!” you and Keeley let out in sync, both equally surprised that he’d actually answered.
“Yeah. Who the hell is this?”
“Roy.” You took over, letting out a shaking breath. “It’s–”
He sighed, cutting you off. “I know who it is, now. I swear to God, if you’re asking me about that fucking sheet again, I’ll blow my top.”
All of your fear dissipated. It turned into immediate rage. “Oh, you fucking arse, Roy Kent,” you let out harshly. “I asked you to do this one thing, something that’s important, and you chose to avoid me all day instead.”
“I wasn’t avoiding you!” he yelled back. “I was busy, and I didn’t need you breathing down my fucking neck even more!”
“Oh, fuck you!” you screamed. “Just fucking get it done– please!”
“Why do you even fucking need it?” he asked, booming his voice over the line. You sucked in a deep breath, trying to control yourself.
“I need it for my d–”
“Know what, I don’t actually care,” he cut you off. “I don’t fucking get involved in club PR shit.”
“This isn’t just for the club, Roy–” you pleaded angrily, but he wouldn’t listen.
“The other guys do, but I don’t. I don’t want the fucking marketing collaborations, the articles, the profiles, whatever the fuck else your job actually is. I’m too old to fucking deal with this shit.”
“Are you fucking serious?” you exploded. “Do you hear yourself right now? You’re a professional footballer, Roy. This is part of the fucking job!”
“Good-fucking-bye,” he said.
“Hey, wa–!” you yelled, but the line went dead before you could get another word in. You called back, but the line went to voicemail immediately. You assumed he’d blocked your number. “I’m going to– I’m going to fucking–”
“Use your words, babe,” Keeley said, trying to calm you down. Soon, though, your anger turned to tears. Your eyes started watering, and you sniffed back snot. Keeley quickly wrapped her arms around you. “Hey now, hey, come on,” she crooned sweetly. “It’ll be okay.”
“My first assignment and I’ve already fucked up. It’ll be docked at 40% for being incomplete,” you explained. Keeley pulled back, looking at you softly.
“I’m sorry, babe. Can you tell them he was being an arse?”
“I don’t know. They might not believe me.”
“It’s Roy Kent. Everyone knows he’s a prick.” Keeley gently brushed a few strands of hair behind your ears. “Come on. Let’s have some fun and try to forget about this tonight, okay?”
“Okay.” You sniffed, breathing out to try and expel the anxiety from your stomach. “I need a drink,” you said.
Keeley twisted her arm in yours. The two of you walked down the street together, with Keeley cracking jokes to cheer you up. “I think you need more than one drink, to be honest,” she whittled on, and you allowed yourself to relax. Just for the evening, just for then.
When you got home, you sent Roy a drunk text. It was short and to the point, and when you woke up, you didn’t have a reply. You weren’t expecting one, not after that phone call. You read over the text, over and over, imagining what Roy must feel like.
This was for my degree, my first assignment is due on Sunday. It’ll be incomplete without you.
You didn’t even know if he’d read it, but you were past the point of trying. You’d done all you could, and still he’d denied you. This was on him, not you.
Roy spent his Friday evening in anguish. Sat at his dining table with a beer, he got out a crumpled version of your worksheet from his gym bag. He looked over the questions he’d already answered– his birthday, his prior positions through the years, but the one question that made him want to rage was still unanswered: What do you want from your career in the future?
The future for Roy was different to that of McAdoo, and Tartt, and Obisanya. Roy Kent’s future was up and coming, and he knew it wouldn’t involve running around a pitch anymore. Seeing that question hadn’t just made him upset, it had ruined his entire week. So, he’d avoided you like the plague, he’d spent every night doing the same thing; trying to fucking answer it and getting nowhere.
So, he’d decided to say fuck it, and not do it at all. After he’d hung up on you that night, his anger at you quickly turned to guilt. On Monday, he’d apologise and hand it in, just without that question answered. But for now, he wanted to sit in silence, read the latest Dan Brown novel he had, and drink beer until he fell asleep on the sofa.
Roy turned off his phone for the rest of the weekend.
You slept with yours the entire weekend, but still got no reply from Roy. You wanted to scream at him, tell him that he was an entitled arse, but you knew it’d be useless. Roy Kent obviously didn’t give a shit about you, so why would he care about your insults? You spent your Sunday compiling the profiles that you had already, putting them together to make something coherent. On the front page, you had to specify that one player had not completed the task, which would be your downfall. When you submitted your assignment, you slammed your laptop shut and immediately went to bed. You didn’t want to stay up thinking about it, or think about the email that you’d have in your inbox tomorrow, saying how it would be docked at 40% for being incomplete.
You slept like shit, but still you rose on Monday morning. The walk to Nelson Road was particularly bleak, with black clouds bustling over Richmond and rain on the forecast for the next few days. The atmosphere at the stadium was tense, too, what with the first game of the season being that weekend. The boys were all conserving their energy, all working hard. When you arrived at your office, you flicked on the light– a crumpled worksheet lay on your desk.
The name at the top– Roy Kent.
He’d done the majority, but crossed out the final question. You wondered if he’d done that as an apology, or as an attempt to piss you off further. You’d texted him about your deadline, told him that it was on Sunday. Had he not even opened your message? You picked up his sheet and read it through, trying to keep at bay the anger that you felt in your chest. Maybe he hadn’t meant it to be, but this was cruel. He’d given you enough to make a decent profile, but a day late. It came across like he was laughing in your face.
Quickly, before you lost your nerve, you picked up the worksheet and booked it to the locker room. You stormed down the corridor, turning into the room strongly. You didn’t look at anyone else, just eyes forward, and latched upon the number six at the top of Roy’s blue cubby opposite the door. The boys stopped talking, going utterly silent at your arrival.
Roy turned to you, shooting you a quizzical look. He peered down at the worksheet in your hands, then back up at your blunt and glassy-eyed expression.
“What?” he asked plainly.
You responded by thrusting the worksheet into his chest. He grabbed hold of it, not expecting an altercation this early in the morning. You stepped back, exhaling from your nose, looking at him with such disappointment, before you left them to it.
Roy looked at the worksheet in his hands, utterly confused as to why you gave it back after trying so hard to get it in the first place. He glanced around the room, taking in the pursed lip expressions of his teammates.
“What the fuck just happened?” he asked them, booming.
“Her deadline was yesterday, bruv,” Isaac said. Tension descended over the room.
“Deadline for what?” Roy asked.
“Her degree, Roy. This was her first assignment,” Sam added.
“How the fuck was I supposed to know that?” Roy said, furrowing his brows.
“She tried to tell you, man,” Colin joined in. “On the phone with Keeley.”
“And in a text.” Jamie pointed to Colin, before looking at Roy. “Keeley told me that she sent you a message that evening, explaining why she needed it.”
“Got docked at 40%, innit,” Isaac added, pulling up his socks.
Roy’s eyes found a spot on the wall and zoned out in realisation. He’d turned his phone off all weekend. “Fuuuuuuuck,” he breathed out.
As much as Roy wanted to be left alone, he wasn’t cruel. If he’d known it was for your degree, he would have grown the fuck up and handed it in sooner. Now, as you sat at your desk and read over the reply from your professor, probably over and over again, he felt awful. It’d only been a week, and he knew you didn’t even want to be doing this specific placement. He felt like an arsehole, a real, fucking arsehole.
At training, he could hardly focus. The thought of you, sat at your desk, pissed off, upset, writing another Instagram caption or article that you couldn’t give a shit about, made him angry at himself. Roy had never gone to uni, or done a masters. From the age of nine, he’d been destined to be a professional footballer. He’d got lucky, alongside working hard for the entirety of his career. He knew you also worked hard, just from the fact you put yourself in a shit position to get what you wanted. That took guts, even Roy could admit that.
When he missed another assist during training, his third miss for the day, he stomped his feet on the pitch and let out a loud, “Fuck this!”
Roy pulled off his bib, throwing it at Nate, the kit man, before he stormed off the pitch. His boots clattered against the concrete floor as he skidded his way through the stadium, all the way to your office. He didn’t knock, but instead bombarded his way inside.
You let out a small gasp at his arrival, but stayed sat down, glued to your spot.
“Why didn’t you fucking tell me it was for your degree?” he boomed. “I would have fucking handed it over sooner if you had.”
“Why would that make any difference?” you said, keeping your voice steady.
“Because it’s not just for the club, it’s for something you’re working towards.”
“So, you’re saying, if it was only for the club and not myself too, you wouldn’t have done it at all?”
“Fuck no. I don’t do PR shit,” he said bluntly.
“Even if it was my job to do it? Even though it was something you had a responsibility to contribute towards?” you said, raising your brows at him. “That’s no fucking better, Roy.”
“I just–” he stuttered. “I didn’t mean to fuck this up for you, that’s what I mean.”
“It is what it is.” You shuffled some papers on your desk, rearranging your notebooks just to keep yourself busy.
“Isaac told me you’d get a bad mark,” Roy said.
“Isaac is right,” you confirmed.
“Well, now I feel like an arsehole.” Roy breathed in deeply, and exhaled sharply.
“You were an arsehole, Roy,” you said immediately, strongly. “But, it’s done now. This was the only assignment I had that included the whole team, anyway. So, from now on, I’ll be sure to stay far far away from you.”
Roy short-circuited for a moment. He opened and shut his mouth a few times, he balled his fists, he shuffled on the spot. He looked like a robot that had lemonade poured on his circuit. His jaw clenched, and you watched in awe at the sheer skill he used to tense his body in such a way.
“Roy?” you asked, concerned.
“Fucks sake!” he exploded, before he left your office immediately. You got up from your desk and zoomed to the door, watching him walk away from the field and to the locker room instead, muttering to himself all the same.
You didn’t see him for the remainder of the day. You bumped into Ted on your way out the stadium, to which he shot you a perked brow look. You let out a long sigh, followed by a slightly awkward chuckle.
“Well, what a day,” you said.
“You could say that again,” he agreed. “The first match is on the horizon, and our captain walked out mid practice session.”
You winced. “Sorry about that,” you apologised.
“Oh, please, it’s not your fault,” Ted reassured you. “Gotta say, it’s not the first time a player has abandoned us halfway through the day, but at least it was today instead of on Saturday.”
“Wait” You stopped in the corridor, right before the doors to the car park. “He didn’t come back afterwards?”
Ted squinted at you. “You didn’t know? He flew off into the wind like one of the Wicked Witch of the East’s monkey henchmen. One second he was yelling obscenities on the pitch, and the next he’d driven off in his Jeep.”
You let out a stuttered breath, trying to compute Ted’s words. Roy had vanished after storming into your office, and no one knew where the fuck he’d disappeared to. It didn’t make sense, and you didn’t think this ordeal would mean that much to him in the aftermath. You weren’t trying to beat him up after what he’d done, as much as it had hurt you and pissed you off about your mark. This was odd, though, and incredibly out of character for Richmond’s captain.
“Weird,” you let out.
“Really weird,” Ted repeated. “But, who are we to question a football star?”
You squinted at him. “Isn’t that your job?”
Ted shrugged. “Hell if I know.”
You walked home, stunned into silence, trying to figure out what was actually going through Roy’s skull. You were half-tempted to text him, but you still didn’t know if he’d blocked you or not. You almost wanted to reassure him that it was fine, even though he was the one that fucked up your assignment. It was odd how that worked, wasn’t it? How those who had been done wrong felt the need to check in after the wrongdoer realised their actions. You had no reason to tell Roy it was fine, but you still wanted to. If his outburst had told you anything, it was that he felt bad about it all. That was good, you supposed. That meant he wasn’t as emotionally constipated as you’d thought.
Roy ignored you for the next three days. It was blindingly obvious to everyone at the club, even including Rebecca, who you met with for lunch on Thursday in her office.
“I think he feels bad,” you explained.
“I suspect he does. That’s no reason to be behaving like a child.” She ate a mouthful of salad.
“I suppose not… but other than that, it’s all going very well!”
Her face soured. “Oh?”
“I’ve given the Instagram captions a revamp, and I’m in the process of updating the website, too. I had this idea to do articles about the employees and why they wanted to get involved with AFC Richmond, and their passions outside of work, too–”
“That all sounds very interesting,” Rebecca cut you off. “But, unfortunately, I have a meeting to attend.”
“Oh,” you said, as she stood up. You followed suit, picking up your salad and juggling the rest of your lunch in your arms. “Well, this was really nice!” you said, as she started herding you out of her office. “Maybe we should do this again–?”
“Maybe,” Rebecca said. “Bye bye, now!”
You stood outside her closed door. It almost touched your nose from where she’d slammed it, your arms full of your belongings. You let out a sigh, and headed back down the stairs to your office sullenly. You found that what you missed the most out of everything– not the sunlight, or the decor– was having a woman work friend. You felt almost isolated being one of the only women who worked in the building. It was lonely sometimes.
You shuffled your belongings back into your bag on the walk down. You passed the gym as you approached your office and took a peek through the window. On the treadmill, facing the corridor by your office, was Roy. He read a book as he did an incline walk, reading the words thoughtfully, before he turned the page.
Suddenly, he looked up and caught your eye. You flinched, but stayed frozen in your spot. Roy’s face flattened into an unreadable expression. You gulped away the shock, and instead raised your hand and waved at him awkwardly.
Without warning, Roy fell off the treadmill. You gasped immediately, letting out a “Roy?!” as you dropped your bag to the floor and made your way to the gym.
You careened through the door and peered at the floor. Roy was there, crumpled, book thrown under a weight bench on the other side of the gym. “Are you alright?” you asked quickly, offering him your hand.
The other boys stopped what they were doing to witness the scene. Not one of them helped Roy up themselves, but instead waited for you to rush to his aid. It was beyond odd. Roy couldn’t even meet your eye, let alone take your hand.
You frowned at him, hurt. “Roy,” you tried again. “You know you can look at me, right?”
“I’m fine,” he croaked, and forced himself to look up and meet your gaze. “Just tripped.” Knees clicking, he got himself up off the floor. That’s when he caught your eye properly, frowning sullenly. You’d never seen him don such an expression, let alone this close.
You stepped back a little, confused as hell. You looked around the room at the others, their silence descending upon the entire stadium floor, not just the gym. They were all acting strange, making you feel like you were on the outside of an inside joke that they all knew well.
You scoffed, annoyed, as you reversed towards the door. “Okay,” you let out. “You’re all acting so fucking strange this week.” You reached the door frame, and went to leave, but stopped. You looked back at them all, before your gaze landed on Roy strongly. “I don’t like it.”
You left, walked back to your office, and shut the door with a bang.
Roy turned to the guys in the gym, still catching his breath from before. The guys looked at him like he was wounded, almost, and not just from the abrupt fall. Roy breathed out deeply, taking in their pitying faces.
“Stop fucking looking at me, alright!” he burst.
“Sorry, Roy,” Isaac said first, followed by some mutters from the others.
“I’m not some fucking baby bird that’s fallen out a fucking tree, alright?”
“Then why are you acting like one?” Jamie said suddenly. He sauntered forwards, and the rest of the team held their breath. “What, am I wrong? You haven’t said two words to her in days, not since you went AWOL on us earlier this week.” There were nods of agreement, some shrugs of confusion. “Where did you even go, like? You just took off.”
The yeah’s of agreement are what made Roy lose it. Everyone wanted to know where he’d gone, why he’d left, but he hadn’t been able to get it out since he’d done it on Monday.
“I went to her fucking uni!” he bellowed over their mutterings. “I went to her uni and spoke with her fucking lecturer, and said how much of a fucking arse I was.” The room went utterly silent. Roy looked to the floor. “That’s why I haven’t said a fucking word, because I don’t know if I made it better, or if I fucked it up even more.”
Roy balled his fists. He’d been feeling ashamed since Monday, more than he’d expected to feel. Guilt was his least favourite thing to feel, even though he often faked being unbothered.
Colin took an abrupt step forward, snapping the tension. “That’s fucking badass.”
Roy sent a confused arch of his brow at the Welshman. “Really?”
“Hell yeah, that’s badass. That’s a proper grand gesture, boyo. One that shows how bad you truly feel about it all,” Colin reassured him. The lads nodded in approval, sealing the deal that Roy had done the right thing. “She doesn’t know?”
Roy shook his head. “She hasn’t said anything. I don’t know if anything’s come of it.”
“Tell her tomorrow,” Sam spoke up. “Tell her tomorrow and I assure you, she will be okay about it all. I do not get the sense that she holds a grudge, you know? She is a kind person.” More hums of agreement filtered around the room. “Also, you cannot do it today. Not after that display on the treadmill,” Sam added, wincing.
“True,” Roy agreed reluctantly.
Isaac approached his captain then, placing a huge but reassuring hand on his shoulder. “She’ll forgive you, bruv. I’m sure of it.”
Roy nodded. “Thanks, Isaac.”
You locked yourself in your office for the remainder of the day. It was too odd out there, both on Roy’s and the guys’ part. You had no idea what had them acting so off-puttingly, but you wanted no fucking part of it. You dived into work, completing a plan for a new article on the website, before writing your novel for the rest of the day. Shannon Hart had been right– you had so much spare time to write that you already felt like an author already. You were on the clock while tapping away, getting paid for writing your book already, it seemed.
Near the end of the day, an email was pinged into your inbox from your lecturer. You had the jitters every time you received an email from him now, after reading what he had to say about your incomplete first assignment. You’d come to accept the 40% outcome over the past few days, but it still stung. You didn’t want to be considered a failure in your course, especially when you’d only just started.
You opened it up nervously, skimming the contents quickly until you realised it was nothing bad– in fact, it was something very good. “Shut the fuck up…” you let out, trailing off as you read it properly.
An impromptu visitor graced the halls of the Richmond university faculty building on Monday in the form of Mr. Roy Kent, number six and Captain at AFC Richmond. He had a lot to say about you, and about your recent assignment, most notably that he’d ‘massively fucked up’ and was a ‘gigantic arsehole’.
He explained everything about why you submitted your work incomplete, and assured us you were not to blame. I’ve taken this into consideration, and have remarked your work today on my own time. When before you were capped at 40/100, I have remarked your work at 87/100; a grade A1.
Congratulations. You must be doing something right for those footballers.
“Shut the fuck up!” you screeched, jumping up from your desk at lightspeed.
You could hardly believe it. This was what Roy had done on Monday, after he’d left training for the day? He’d gone and knocked on the door of your fucking lecturer, not leaving until they understood that he’d messed up the assignment for you. This was immense, and not at all what you’d been expecting. That explained Roy’s aversion to you over the past few days, and the abrupt fall in the gym today.
You let out a shocked cackle. It reverberated around the walls of your square office, bouncing back into your ears and only making you laugh more. This was hilarious– a footballer such as Roy Kent taking it upon himself to do something so rash was incredibly comical. But, it also warmed your heart. He’d felt so bad that he’d taken matters into his own hands.
This was probably the nicest thing anyone had ever done for you, if you thought about it too hard. This was a grand gesture, a proper apology, if you’d ever seen one. It made you smile like the fucking sun in the sky.
Roy left the stadium after everyone else, taking extra care after his fall in the gym. He’d scraped his knee up pretty bad, and even gone to the resident first aider for a knee brace to make sure he was fine before the first match of the season that Saturday. He made his way out, entering into the car park. He was expecting his lone Jeep to be there, but was surprised to find you leaning against the hood. Your arms were crossed, bag on your shoulder, as you looked out at the setting sun over the green grass of the Dogtrack. He slowed to a stroll, tightening his grip on the straps of his gym bag. You turned your gaze and met his eye, shooting him a knowing look.
“Working overtime?” you asked. It was a redundant question. You had a look in your eye that Roy could sense from a mile off– you knew.
“Just making up for lost time at the start of the week,” he replied, coming to stand opposite you.
You stood up straight, and peered up at him. ���Ah, yes. I heard you disappeared on Monday.”
“Did you now?” he said. “Who said that?”
You shrugged, stalling to get the point. You were enjoying the silent amusement between you. Both of you knew what was up, but you had to admit you liked the subtle tension. “Just Ted.”
“Oh,” Roy said, his tone the slightest bit sunken.
“And my lecturer, actually,” you said finally. “He emailed me an hour ago to tell me that you popped in for a visit the other day.”
“Really?” Roy faked confusion.
“Mhm.” You tried not to laugh. “He remarked my assignment. I got an A.”
Just like that, all the stress and tension in Roy’s chest dissipated. It flew into the sky and was caught by the breeze instantly. You smiled at him knowingly, regarding him thoughtfully. He shuffled on his spot awkwardly, looking out towards the setting sun on the horizon, over the pitch.
“That’s great,” he let out genuinely.
You stepped forward. “You didn’t have to do that, Roy.”
He snapped his stare on you. “Yes, I fucking did. I was an arsehole.”
You shrugged, scuffing the ground with your shoe. “You were an arsehole, yeah. But arsehole’s don’t go to my fucking uni and ask my lecturer to remark an assignment.” You scoffed.
“It was the least I could do,” he said, and there was a softness in his tone that you didn’t think he’d been capable of. Roy Kent left you with more question marks the more you spoke to him, but you liked a mystery.
“Well, thank you,” you said, peering up at him sweetly. There was a section of yourself that was different, softer, sweeter, reserved only for those rare moments where people fully exposed themselves to you. Their true intention, their true selves. This was one of those moments. “Really. Thank you, Roy.”
He nodded at you, not knowing what to add. The sun cast an orange glow over the car park, reflecting off his Jeep vibrantly. It looked like the car itself was bright orange, so different from the black paint that stuck out like a sore thumb, usually. His car was so big and bulking, the same as the man that stood before you. But you knew that wasn’t all he was, not after what he’d done for you.
“Heading home?” he asked, changing the subject.
You nodded. “I’m exhausted.”
He scoffed. “You and me both.”
“How are you feeling about Saturday? The Arsenal game?”
Roy shook his head. “Let’s not even go there today,” he said, and you immediately backed off. You knew it was a lot of the team, having both a new management team, in the form of Ted and Beard, on top of someone new skulking around the building– you.
“It’ll be the first football game I’ve ever gone to, you know?” you added.
Roy perked his brow at you. “You really know fuck all about football, don’t you?”
You scoffed abruptly. “Fuck all indeed.”
The smallest smile graced Roy’s face, and you found yourself savouring it. You didn’t want to jinx it, but after almost two weeks of headbutting, you wanted to believe it was over. Perhaps, you and Roy would coexist happily now. Without the meanness, or the miscommunication, or all of the inbetween. In terms of the team, you’d done well with the crew and the boys, bar Roy and Rebecca, but things were looking up.
You felt content again, like you could actually do this after all.
“Need a ride?” Roy asked suddenly.
“Oh,” you let out, looking back at his Jeep. The orange was fading from its reflection. “Sure, I could use a lift.”
“Hop in,” Roy said, as he made his way around to the driver’s side.
He shoved his bag into the backseat, as you opened the passenger side door and jumped in. You slammed it behind you, getting comfortable, as Roy jumped into the driver’s seat next to you. There was a comfortable silence that settled over the car, as the two of you buckled yourselves in. Roy turned on the engine, and the radio turned on harshly, blasting you with an 80s song far too loudly.
You both flinched back, wincing, and Roy clicked a button quickly, turning off the sound. “Fucking hell,” he said. “I think Heart are trying to deafen us.”
You let out a chuckle. “I’ll listen to 80s music over the charts any day.”
Roy perked his brows at you, putting the car in reverse. “Good on you.” He reversed out of the car park and turned onto the main road.
You didn’t talk much, just small talk here and there. It felt oddly intimate being driven home by Roy Kent, but you tried not to let it rattle you. Acquaintanceships always started off patchy, with neither wanting to step over a line, until something resembling friendship ended up shining through. You told yourself that, maybe, a few months down the line, it would be normal for you to catch a lift home with Roy in the week.
You directed him to your street, pointing at your door with a smile. Roy pulled up to the curb, cutting off his engine as you unbuckled your seatbelt. You weren’t expecting him to fully kill the engine, but you didn’t pay it any mind. You jumped out of the car onto the road and rushed onto the pavement, peering up into his, now open, window.
“Thanks for the ride,” you said with a smile.
“It’s fine. I live just around the corner, actually.”
“Don’t tell me you live in one of those big fuck off houses down the street,” you said, pointing down the end of your road. To the left beyond was an array of giant houses, all with blossom trees outside and large gates guarding them. They were gorgeous, huge and expensive.
Roy squinted at you. “I’m a professional footballer. Of course, I fucking do.”
You huffed in amusement. You were about to say I can’t wait to see it in person one day, but stopped yourself short. Was that a weird thing to say, even to a colleague? You bit on your tongue instead and stepped back towards the steps that lead to your door. There was something unsaid in the air, mostly from Roy. You got the sense he wanted to say something more, as his fingers tapped anxiously on the steering wheel.
Instead, you sighed. “See you tomorrow,” you settled on.
Roy inhaled deeply, and raised his hand in goodbye. “See you.”
His window ascended and he started the engine again. He sped off down the road, before he took an abrupt left at the end and disappeared from view. You let yourself into your building and stepped into the hallway. You sighed once more, contentedly, before you closed the door on another interesting day at AFC Richmond.
CHAPTER TWO
#roy kent x reader#roy kent x you#roy kent#ted lasso#brett goldstein#ff#fanfiction#x reader#reader insert#enemies to friends to lovers#angst and fluff#lightyaers#ao3#wattpad#archive of our own#writeblr#jamie tartt
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00. prologue
༊*·˚ ALWAYS HAVE, ALWAYS WILL — task force 141 x reader
featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price
warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, slow burn, friends to lovers, drama, action, hurt/comfort, mystery, polyamory, angst, mental health issues, minor character death, angst w a happy ending
series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.
You’ve been to more funerals than you can count on your blood-stained hands.
Family, friends, teammates, superiors – at the end of the day, you’ve always found yourself staring at a casket being lowered into the earth. Or an urn.
Sometimes, there’s not enough of the body to bury, or burn. Just an arm, a jawbone, a blood splatter with a trace of ripped hair. Even then, the ceremonies are similar – morose and stagnant with the tension that only comes with grieving humans, merely waiting for the moment that their hourglass will fully tip. For when, they too, will be grieved. Lowered into the ground. Cremated.
If there is such a thing as an afterlife, you’re not too sure that you’ll want to endure more living, when the end goal is such a cruel one.
To love, to cherish, and then to wither away into nothing.
A fucked up joke.
The muddy ground squelches as you take a step back, hands tightly clasped together in front of your chest. Not a prayer, but a gesture similar enough to the patrons around you that you won’t be given a second glance.
Rain falls in thick sheets, but there’s no wind, and most of the people around you are underneath the dark grey marquee set up in front of the ceremony.
You aren’t. There’s something familiar about the clothes soaking your body, your body trembling just slightly from the chill, the dampness. A small punishment for your actions, small enough to not be noticed, but enough to repent just a thousandth of what you owe.
The Funeral Director gives his speech. Some religious nonsense, you’re sure, and the words wash over you like the torrents of rain.
You almost wish they could wash the guilt off of your mind, wash the blood that still feels sticky in your hands.
When you look down, they're pure and clean.
There’s crying. You’re not sure who from, how many, where. All that you register is the sound of gut wrenching heartbreak in the most raw, most physical of forms.
You swallow, once, your throat dry and tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth.
Needles, drugs, passing out, cells, torture –
“Sergeant.”
Even years of military training doesn’t keep you from flinching at the title. Turning your head, you’re greeted by a man that’s never failed to make your blood run cold.
His grey hair sticks to his forehead, his wrinkles highlighted by the dreary, bleak sky.
“General,” you incline your head respectfully. He stands to your right, arms folded behind his back. He’s suited in full black, and your stomach roils at the idea of this man grieving.
“You have been assigned a new unit,” he states, as one would discuss last night’s game over morning tea. “You’re set to leave at eighteen-hundred.”
You nod.
What else is there to do? Get down to your knees and beg for some time off, when you know that’ll leave you rotting in your bed for two weeks? Ask for him to be kind in his placement, because you’re not sure you can handle more of the emotional torment you’ve dealt with over the past three years?
Instead, no words fall from your cold-bitten lips, and your legs don’t buckle.
General Shepherd walks away without a simple ‘I’m sorry for your loss’. You’re sure that even if he had said as such, the words would’ve held no earnesty, no warmth.
It’s perhaps better this way.
So, you stand, and the rain hits your body in a relentless rhythm. So different to the torture of waterboarding, the cruelty of drowning.
Although, you can’t say that the mental whirlwind you’re stuck in the eye of is any less impactful. If you open your mouth, you’re sure that water will flood every crevice, leaving you to scream soundlessly for eternity, death sweeping you in with the turn of the waves.
You wonder, for a single moment, how many grievers would attend your ceremony.
By the time the rain stops, if only for a short period, everyone has left. The marquee’s been taken down, and there’s only you and your guilt left behind to stare at the stone. It takes everything in you to walk to it, your legs almost as weak as your will.
The headstone and rectangle of dirt dedicated to the fallen are both covered in flowers.
Bending down to your knees, you softly place a single blue hyacinth at the base. You allow yourself just a moment to close your eyes, deeply exhale, and revel in your guilt.
When you stand once more, it’s with a renewed strength.
Your Captain would have been proud.
The other seven fallen men – the ones that were under your care to heal – would’ve laughed in your face. You would’ve let them.
Now, you can only hope that their bodies will be found soon, so that they too, can be put to rest beside your Captain.
a/n. jus a VERY short prologue/teaser. this is by far my fav piece i've been writing yet. each chapter will be about 7-9k words long, so it'll take much longer to update, but i'm SO excited for it!! i hope u all will enjoy this journey as much as me :)
#love : series#call of duty#cod mw2#ghost cod#cod x reader#ghost mw2#john soap mactavish#mw2#simon ghost riley#soap cod#tf141#tf141 x reader#john price#kyle gaz garrick#captain price#price x reader#gaz x reader#soap x reader#ghost x reader#gaz garrick#cod#kyle garrick#gaz mw2#gaz cod#soap x ghost#soapghost#call of duty x reader#task force 141#task force 141 x reader#cod smut
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Kinktober Day 9
Prompt: Stuck in Wall
Pairing: CampusCrush!Wooyoung x fem!reader
WC: 1.8k
Summary: Instructions unclear, stuck in the new IKEA Bestå.
This is a work of fiction, it does not represent Wooyoung or any Ateez member. On top of this it is an 18+ work. For my comfort and boundaries please if you are under age do not interact with this.
TW/CW Under the Cut!
TW/CW: just so fucking stupid. little bit of ass fixation, slight dry humping, protected sex, really fucking stupid
“I cannot believe I’m stuck in some cheesy porn script. Oh this sucks. Oh my god this sucks,” you yell.
The assembly instructions for your new television console clearly stated that it was a two person job and yet, you were stubborn and went ahead. Now, almost two hours later, you’ve somehow pretzel’d your way through one of the cubbies with no way out.
“Wooyoung help! Can you hear me, you moron, help! You’re going to go deaf if you keep listening to music that loud you little-SHIT,” a sharp slap to your ass interrupts your tirade. “WOOYOUNG!”
His witch cackle gives him away. Presumably somewhere behind you, your leg kicks blindly back.
“I dropped the screwdriver and now- it’s too heavy I’ll get squished if I knock it over,” you gesture at your predicament.
He cackles again. The cold snap of a camera shutter echoing in your mind.
“Did you just take a picture of my ass?” You practically scream. “Help me or the second I get out of this thing I’m going to end your entire short twink-y life you GREMLIN.”
Sighing, Wooyoung places his phone on the kitchen counter. Appraising what exactly had you helpless in front of him. “You can just go back the way you came?”
“No moron. If it was that easy I would've done it. Now can you please PLEASE pull me?”
One hand bracing the frame of the console, the other holding your waist Wooyoung pulls. You don’t budge an inch. He huffs, blowing a tendril of hair up and away from his face. You bounce on your tippy toes with frustration, the fat of your ass jiggling alluringly. You don’t even know you’re doing it as he’s chubbing up inside of his sweats.
“Help me out on this would yah?” Wooyoung asks as he readjusts his arm placement. “I”m holding the shelf just focus on pulling back with me, three, two, one, GO!” Both of you tug down, your ass grinding into him, adjusting the height as you push back harder and harder. Still you stay trapped between plywood boards and what’s worse is you can feel him slowly hardening in his loungewear and you don’t hate it.
You’d had a soft spot for Wooyoung, how could anyone not. Handsome with the right amount of self awareness and unique strange charm. In part you wanted to surprise him with the fully built furniture as a way of impressing him, showing him how sufficient you were, as if singlehandedly setting up the entire apartment would win his heart. Dumb, but crushes make you do dumb things.
“At least your ass looks great like this,” Wooyoung laughs, taking a handful of flesh in his grasp. “God, I never understood how people could be into those cheesy porn plots but… damn. Really is all out there, vulnerable and whatever.”
You stamp your feet, “Wooyoung it isn’t funny.” It wasn’t how you wanted to catch his attention but if it was working who were you to stop it. “What am I gonna do?”
Having had a fondle with one hand his other joins, grabbing the opposite cheek, massaging in large slow circles. “Maybe if you relax a bit,” he trails off. “Take advantage of the situation, meditate…or something.” As if hypnotized by his own languid touches, his hips drift forward to meet your butt. He rests there just leaning into you as blood rushes from his brain to his dick.
You aren’t doing much better, practically melting in your pants from even this slightest of touches. It was ill advised to move in with him, but you thought that living together would kill the small flame you’d been carrying. Instead the spark had become a full kitchen fire and now it was spreading to the living room. Your head swimming with his suggestion to “take advantage” of your current predicament. “I’m not very good at meditating, could you help me relax?”
“You know, it’s really convenient that I’m home right now. Right when you’re building this. If I’d gone out you’d really be out of luck.” Wooyoung’s teeth catch his lower lip, fighting back a moan as you adjust yourself, ass rubbing against him in the process. “Here’s the problem. I also need help with something,” he pauses, leaning forward and pressing his bulge into you harder. “I think you know what with.”
“Mhm,” you nearly whine, lips pressed together hard, making a thin line across your strained face.
“It’s sort of your fault, if you think about it. So you should be the one to help me. Take responsibility and all.” He fully settles his clothed bulge between your cheeks, dragging them along his length.
“Yes, really, god yes. It’s totally my fault,” you capitulate easily, voice tightening as need sinks heavily into your core. “However you want me to take it, I will. Responsibility I mean. Take responsibility. I can take it in whatever way.”
Wooyoung is ready, just waiting for your word before he drops his waistband to his thighs, a small damp spot already formed in his underwear. Running the length of his shaft along the smooth spandex of your tights gives him goosebumps, a tremor of elation passing through his spine. Tentatively he presses the head into the stretched fabric, watching it dimple and pucker under his microthrusts.
“You can take it however I want you to?” His cheshire smile spread wide across his face, tinting his tone. “Even if it’s just this?”
“Mhm,” you desperately want more than just this. Fingers gripping the slats of wood as he jostles you. A short sad wheeze escapes through your nostrils. Despite your best efforts to tamp down your desire your body betrays you.
Wooyoung laughs again, a short outburst, hand coming down hard on your ass before wrapping you in a hug, as best he can. “You sound so distressed! How will you relax if this is all I give you?” Hand snaking south he presses on your mound, the wet squelch of soaked underwear against his fingers sends another shiver down his spine. “You really want me, don’t you?”
“Fuck Woo, yeah I do.”
The response of your pussy to the telltale crinkle of foil is almost pavlovian, walls fluttering in anticipation of fullness. Feeling the warmth of Wooyoung’s palm on your lower back you can picture the packet between his lips, tearing it open with one hand, not wanting to be too far from you.
The console rocks as he roughly pulls your leggings just under your ass, just enough to give him access to what matters. Strings of your wetness cling and shine as his fingers slide along your slit.
“I was going to prep you but-” he wiggles two fingers in, your walls sucking him deeper. It’s enough to interrupt his train of thought, his persistent teasing. All he can think about is the comfort of your sex. How inviting it is, how ready you are, how much you must want it. “-fuck that’s hot.”
“Please Woo, please, hurry.” You beg. You don’t need to as he quickly replaces his fingers with his cock. Grabbing the frame of the furniture he pulls you back onto him in one smooth thrust. The fullness twists in your gut, knocking the breath from your lungs. “OH! Shit, you feel-why are you so big?” You sound almost offended as you moan, adjusting to the pressure.
“You don’t know that,” he kneads your lower back, rocking closer. “God I wish I could grab your tits. They’ve always looked so fucking delicious. Just sitting there, taunting me.”
“Grab them later fuck me now.” You groan, swirling your hips on him. The wood of the console keeps you from doing much more than rocking and twerking on him.
“Show me how much you want it.” He demands. “I know you can do it. You set all this up. Show me how much you need me to fuck you.”
Whining you arch your back, wiggling your hips side to side. It barely shifts him within you. He still doesn’t move to fuck you. Bouncing on the balls of your feet, you try humping back on him as best you can. Jaw slackening a dry hiccuped sob escapes you. “I’m stuck, you have to. You have to!”
With a smirk he grabs your waist, tugging back on you to hold you in place. Leaning back and away he rolls his hips, the ridges of your walls dragging along his length. Driven by crazed lust, it isn’t enough to feel how you grip him, he needs to see it. Wooyoung holds the hem of his shirt between his teeth, watching how his abs flex as his bodyline rolls again, your lips tugging with the slow thrust of his cock.
“Woo,” you moan as he slowly fucks you. It’s nice to moan his name aloud for once instead of just in your head. “God damn it Woo. Ssooo good.”
“Hmph,” his response is muted by the cotton shirt. Speeding up little by little.
Your eyes glaze over, mind hazy. Getting fucked by your crush in the living room you shared. Nothing matters except for the insistent drag of his cock against your walls. His hips feel like magic, melting your tension with each stroke. Your leg shakes as your orgasm builds, the entire structure swaying.
Wooyoung’s hands migrate from you to the wood, gripping it and using it as leverage to pound into you harder than before. The ripple of your ass with each percussive slap of his hips has him hypnotized. Lost to the friction of your walls, he thrusts deliriously with abandon, uncaring of the precious nature of the situation. Chasing the delight of your punched out moans and groans.
Core contracting, air is forced from your lungs. The wave of pleasure crashes over you, every muscle bracing as it hits hard. At the same time the console creaks, your top half jolting free. A choked yelp escapes you, unable to warn Wooyoung. The structure crashes forward, fear clamping your walls tightly down on him.
“Shit!” He yelps, eyes wide he spills into the condom unceremoniously. “Fuck!” He continues a steady stream of swear words as he pulls from you, stumbling backwards as you crumple to your knees, panting.
“Can’t believe that worked-”
“I came,” Wooyoung sounds dejected, red and panting. “FUCK! I came so quick.”
Your eyes dart under the sofa, a glimmer of the a loose screw hiding underneath. Looking from Wooyoung to the screw you scoot and reach your arm towards the glimmer, instead grabbing the crossbar of the couch. “Uh…I hate to say it Woo but-”
His eyes twinkle, “you’re stuck? What a dummy, getting stuck twice. I’m going to start thinking you’re doing this on purpose.”
I just love giving Wooyoung the most ridiculous of prompts. He’s fun to write for me.
#wooyoung smut#jung wooyoung smut#ateez wooyoung smut#ateez smut#atz smut#ateez kinktober#atz kinktober#kinktober#kinktober 2023#kpop kinktober#kpop smut
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(current) mizu as your childhood friend + lover
this is actually based on my self-insert oc’s story so i hope you guys don’t steal this oc lore idea for your own ocs 😭🙏 btw, these are much more longer headcannons just so you know!
- Both of you first met at Master’s Eiji home.
- Let’s edit the story a little: When Mizu snuck into Master Eiji’s home, you noticed her and tried to tell Master Eiji about it. Of course, he was well-aware (bro practically had super-hearing) about it but just brushed you off, wanting Mizu to make the first move for interaction.
- As she was hiding, you just ambled up to her and would hold her hand when it was freezing. God, just imagine two tiny kids holding hands like the amount of innocence in that is so 😭
- Secret! Secret! Master Eiji smiles everytime he hears you too running and laughing in the field outside
- When you guys play hide-n-seek, she would always hide at somewhere above your eye level so she could jump onto your back to surprise you
- You were her teenage crush but she was too afraid to confess because she was afraid of you seeing her more as a ‘brother’ and of ruining the friendship
- You try to help her out a little in her sparring like leg placement and hand positioning etc *
- Bro, the amount of physical contact is enough to make her explode… like she is NOT listening to you AT ALL when you teach her that
- Master Eiji always comments (when you weren’t around), “hm.. the big boy has a crush, I see…” + snickered just to annoy her further LOL
- He’s literally the gossip guy in an alternate universe 💯
- She honesty hated that she felt this way about you… like she should be devoted to her goal of revenge but her mind was so clouded with you it was difficult to balance her focus 😕
- She’s either (1) trying to impress you by slashing the air in random directions with an unnecessary amount of force and swiftness OR (2) she’s feigning that confused look on her face so that you’d come and assist her ><
- She adored you when you were so set on ensuring her sword fighting skills were the best they can be AA
*
Your fingers brushed down her wrists, shifting the palm further from the other on the hilt. At one glance at her, the redness blossoming on her cheeks was a clear sign of her embarrassment—was she insecure? With a soft sigh, you brush your fingers delicately on her arms. with a soft reassuring smile, “Hey, hey, relax.. make sure not to tense up when you’re fighting.”
At the same time, Mizu was practically internally screaming. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit! Her little teenage heart was practically about to explode from inside of her chest at the amount of embarrassment and nervousness stirring inside. Her cheeks would flush, her breathing would grow heavy, her fingers slightly shaky.
“Mizu? You okay?” Your voice snapped her out from that daze.
“I—.. I’m alright..” she mutters as you shift her legs back a little to maintain her balance. Her skin tingled and before she knew it, she just blabbered out, “your hands are nice and warm.”
Her own words took her a second to process and she could not fucking believe she said that.
“No wonder you liked to hold my hand when we were younger, hm?” You giggled, running a hand down your hair as Mizu watched you with adoration, trying to imagine your hand caressing her own head.
#mizu blue eye samurai#blue eyed samurai#bes mizu#mizu#tumblr fyp#headcannons#mizu bes#childhood friends#childhood friends to lovers#teen crushes#flustered#younger mizu is the most adorable thing in the word#you x mizu#mizu x reader#reader x mizu#cute#fluff#bes fluff
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crying over it all // clement novalak
summary: there are few things in this world more mortifying than failing your drivers test when everyone else your age has a license. it’s made even worse when your boyfriend is a racing driver
pairing: clement novalak x female reader
warnings: reader fails her driving test, which leads to significant self loathing, clem is just trying to be supportive and god I need someone like him right now
authors note: guess who failed her drivers test 🙃 I’ve rebooked it but now I have to commute by way of three buses to my college campus :( and don't even get me started on field placement...i wish i had never left it this long but at this point i need to trust to process and find some sort of way to move past it.
“I’m sorry, but you will need to retake your road driving test. I understand that’s not what you wanted to hear, but you need some more practice. you can see the full list of mistakes inside.”
it had been twenty minutes since she’s heard those words, and she still felt shaky on her feet. her hands had shook and tears fell down her face as she went inside, taking a number and waiting in a notoriously long dmv line to admit to the woman at the desk that she needed to rebook her test.
she didn’t want clement to see her like this, utterly defeated and trying not to scream her lungs out as she watched four teenagers in line in front of her get their licenses.
she was twenty one, for god sakes. she should have been driving by now.
she was sitting on the wooden bench, slouched I gracefully and letting the tears fall as she played with her car keys when clement found her.
what was the point of even owning a fucking car if she couldn’t drive it?
“oh, love." clem frowned, feeling his own stomach sink when he saw how distraught she was. "i take it that things didn't go well."
"could you tell?" she sobbed, trying to wipe her eyes. "was it that obvious? i hate myself, clement. how is it that i can't do something that pretty much everybody my age has been able to do since they were sixteen."
his heart ached as he heard her words. he'd passed his test on the first try, and he drove things for a living, so he's never really thought about what it must have been like for her, having to bum rides off her friends and family or to be bound to the transit schedule. while she was in college, it hadn't been the biggest deal, although it was a minor inconvenience. now that she would be working full time, the stakes were higher.
"i'm sorry, pretty girl." he frowned, pulling her closer, allowing her rest her head on his shoulder. "but you can take it again, and you know what you did wrong, right?"
"i start work next week, clem. i've looked up the commute and if i take public transit, it's almost two hours each way. and i feel like i'm a burden by constantly asking people for rides, or telling them that if they can't pick me up, we can't hang out. hell, my mother had to drive to my first date with you!"
clem chuckled at the memory, the image of a frazzled y/n stepping out of her mother's suv and frantically scanning the parking lot for clement. moments later, her mother had insisted to getting out of the car and introducing herself to clem. y/n thought that she would combust then and there.
"your mother loves me!"
"yeah, but imagine being a grown-ass adult and still having to get your mother to drive you to appointments because you don;t want to chance the bus route not aligning with your appointment time? i feel like my grandmother, and she's ninety, clement. she had her license revoked because she has cataracts."
"i know it hurts right now, but you are never a burden, y/n. your friends love having you in the car when they drive. hell, i feel like i drive better when you're next to me. i don't mind driving you places, you know. it means that i get to spend more time with you."
she smiled at the gesture, turning to allow clem to cup her chin and wipe some of her tears away. her face was flushed, eyes red and puffy. she couldn't shake the idea that she might have made a scene inside the testing center.
"i know. i just wish i could be more independent. transiting gives me so much fucking anxiety. i went over the curb when i three=point-turned and an old lady on a mobility scooter started yelling at me."
"but you never go over the curb."
"exactly! i think i was nervous, when i practiced the route with my dad, there were never any cars on the road. and i think after that happened, i got into my head and it screwed everything else up. i'm such a fuck up. i feel like i've let everybody down, especially you, since you helped pay for my fucking car."
'"hey, hey, don;t talk like that. you'll get it. i promise you. you know jenson button didn't pass his road test on his first try, right?"
she snorted, sitting up straighter, but still clutching clem's hand. "did he really?"
"yeah, and i think lando failed as well."
"yeah well, i've seen how lando drives. that doesn't surprise me at all."
having a laugh seemed to help, and at least now if people mwere staring at her it was because of the f2 driver sitting next to her, not because she was a grown woman who still couldn't drive and decided to cry about it, and then fling her keys onto the grass.
"i have some plans i might have to move around, and then i need to call my parents, and then my dad can take me out to practice a bit more but i have to trust that when i take it again in october, something goes right. because i know exactly what i fucked up."
she moved to get up from the bench, clm following closely behind as she shamefacedly handed him the keys to her volkswagen. well, the volkswagen now, since she couldn't drive it without someone who'd had their license for five years present.
"i'm proud of you for trying. i know that this was something you put off for a long time because of your anxiety, and even though it didn't work out, at least you tried." clem encouraged, his arms comfortably slung around her shoulders as she laced her fingers with his. "hey, it could be worse. you could have had your dad drive you here."
"clement, don't even joke!" she laughed. "you know that i hate taking transit, and that i don't always feel safe going places alone."
"i know. and if you ever feel unsafe, or too anxious to function, or just like you want to see my gorgeous face, call me. as long as im in the country, i will come and get you. and if im not, i'll send someone i trust."
"like who? max fewtrell? his driving is worse than landos."
clem snorted. "i meant ria. or pietra.
"thank you, clement." she sighed, leaning into him as he unlocked the car. "i love you."
"i love you more, pretty girl." he kissed the top of her head softly. "it will all work itself out, love. just you wait. and then you'll be the one driving me places."
TAGS:
@httpiastri @magnummagnussen @oconso @thatsdemko @scuderiamh @libraryofloveletters @diorleclerc @sidcrosbyspuck @cartierre @clemswrld @love4lando
#clement novalak x reader#clement novalak#formula 2 x reader#formula two x reader#f2 x reader#clement novalak imagine#formula 2 imagine
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