#good ys morning

[yngseung]

[lightwing-s]

𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐎 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐑

pairing: dick grayson x fem! reader

summary: as an intern at the police department you should know how to separate work from personal life, but when officer dreamy comes after you, you can't help it but mix them together

rating: 18+ (MDNI)

word count: 6,2k warnings: unprotected sex, cum eating, handjob (f receiving), slight overstimulation, a lot of pinning for each other

a/n: i gave up proof reading halfway because i was sleepy, so it might be okay at first and then become messy. sorta base on my experience working at a police precinct earlier this year, but not faithful (at all) to reality.

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! ♡

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Jumping off the last step down the bus, you rush into the streets, swerving through the crowds, bumping against people, getting sworn at by some, and somehow managing your way through the busy mess that was Gotham’s early mornings.

The headphones glued to your ear were the only thing trying to distract you from all the chaos that was the start of your day, but as the shuffle merged bossa nova into 2000s punk rock, you felt your body react and jump into a faster pace on your way to work. Within each step, the Greek columns of the old imposing building of the Gotham City’s Police Department grew bigger in the horizon, letting you know your commute was close to its end.

Beep beep, your watch announced the start of your shift. Damn it, you were late again. Trying to speed up your steps, you felt your calves start to burn, but the building soon was right in front of you, a couple of steps separating you both.

“Good morning, Yn.” greeted one of the officers, as you passed by him in a rush, as you made your way up the large steps without somehow managing to trip as he was bound somewhere else, already deep into the rash routine of being a police officer at the country’s most dangerous city.

Bursting through the doors, you look around to see if your supervisor, officer McCaffrey, was anywhere near. He hated you and had been on your ass since you started arriving a bit later than you were supposed to, a move further away from the precinct ruining your commute times.

Not seeing his growing bald head anywhere around, you jump ahead and find your way to your desk, stacked with piles and piles of papers, old cases handed to you to be typed and launched into this new software funded by Mr. Bruce Wayne.

Interning at a police station wasn’t exactly a part of your meticulously drawn up plan to get into law school, as law enforcement was on the far bottom of your list of possible careers to choose for your future. However, from day one you were surprised by how much you enjoyed working at the department, by how much you enjoyed the people, both your co-workers and, weirdly, the criminals you got to meet on a daily basis. 

Sometimes it was too much, juggling school work and the internship, plus all the side hustles you had to take just to make it through college without starving to death. But it all had its good sides. Sometimes, some really good ones.

Placing your bag over the pile of cases, you were about to go around your desk and sit down on the rather uncomfortable chair to start typing those damned cases away, when the rough voice of the main antagonist of this current season of your life reached your ears. 

“Miss, Ys,” your supervisor called. Rolling your eyes, you forced yourself to remain still, a lot of effort put into not throwing your head back in defeat as you turned around to meet face of your tormentor for the first time that day. “Thought you started your program at…” he dragged himself out, looking at his clock. “Exactly fifteen minutes ago.”

“Hello, officer McCaffrey.” you forced out a smile while greeting him. “Well, I was here fifteen minutes ago, you must have missed me.”

You confidently tried to lie, hoping the time spent with suspected criminals had taught you something, but being sure your face must have told him the opposite of what you meant. “I’m pretty sure I looked all over for you.”

“Are you sure?” you feigned innocence when trying once more.

“Miss Yn, this is a serious institution and if you’re not going to cooperate by doing your job properly I’m sorry to inform you that…” 

“You won’t need it, Christian.” a deeper voice cut your supervisor off as he started to scold you again. The voice, a tone you could easily identify from how much you’d heard it and dreamed of it in the past few months. “I stopped Miss Yn outside for a talk. I did not think there would be any problem.”

Sounding much more confident in his lie than you did, you were sure you could’ve fallen for it if it wasn’t of you he was talking about.

“Officer Grayson, Miss Ys has got a job to finish, she doesn’t need to go around having conversations with what I imagine are busy policemen.” officer Tormentor replied, not even caring to turn around and face the other voice’s owner, disdain covering each and everyone of his words.

“We were just discussing a case, it’s not that big of a deal. Right, Yn?” Officer Grayson called you by your first name along with a wink, the remaining energy left from not rolling your eyes at officer McCaffrey earlier keeping you from melting at how sweet your name sounded coming out of his mouth. 

McCaffrey finally turned to face your white night in a white button-up, only his back in your line of view now as you were still paralyzed in your spot, the image of Officer Grayson trapping your attention from anything else in the precinct.

“Dick,” your supervisor continued, the name sounding off of him like an annoyance. ”You’re not supposed to share confidential information with the students.” He told him bitterly.

“Aren’t they here to learn about our job, Christian?” Officer Grayson replied, the same annoyance playing on his tongue, but at the same time full of an uplifting fun only Dick Grayson could master and that you were sure only annoyed Christian more.

Facing the sudden silence between you three, you noticed Officer Grayson’s eyebrow raising, challenging his fellow officer to complain about you one more time.

“Sure, but…”

“I was doing just that, making sure Yn’s internship actually brings some value to her future.” Grayson cut him once more. “No sensitive information was shared, just the look of an investigation through a detective’s eye. And even so, miss Yn is one of the most competent interns we’ve had in a while and I’m sure she would’ve been able to keep any information she might’ve gotten. I’m sure talking with actual officers is much more beneficial than typing old cases into a system.”

Silence overcame you three again, Grayson’s words having a certain impact on you. Your shoes, stained and in desperate need of a wash, suddenly became interesting as you lowered your face to hide the burning red on your cheeks. The insides of your lips were chewed on, stopping the smile from spreading on your face.

Finally looking up, your eyes briefly met Officer Grayson’s, but you moved away quickly, afraid of what they might’ve done to you. 

Officer McCaffrey opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, his mind certainly trying to muster a comeback to Grayson’s defense of you but clearly failing to do so. His eyes moved from you to his coworker, and you wondered what was going through his head.

Whatever it was, it would never live up to Officer Dick Grayson. He just never would.

“Very well,” McCaffrey finally spoke, turning to face you with a displeased expression. “Get on with your typing.”

Turning on his heel, McCaffrey walked away from the two of you, the hardness of his hips making his walk look funny and with the bald spot growing in his head the both of you let out a soft chuckle.

Resting your butt on the desk behind you, the need of formality gone with your supervisor, you took this time to eye up the man left with you. 

That man didn’t have a bad looking day, showing up like a greek god every single day at work. He wore his usual white button-up shirt, rolled up to his elbows and exposing his thick forearms, built effortlessly at the gym - you were sure -, and decorated with veins you secretly wanted to map with your fingertips. 

He wore gray pants today, a color he often varied with either dark blue, black or beige, but the latter, thankfully, becoming rarer with each passing day. It didn’t compliment him, making his look rather boring in your opinion, nor did it match well with any of his shoes, probably more expensive than anything you owned. 

His badge and gun hang on his hips, held on the black belt made of the most sophisticated leather in the world, or so you’d bet. He seemed to take good care of himself, as not only his skin glistened like a glazed donut, but he exuded a strong woody smell, following him along to every room he entered.

However, the lack of a tie and the untidy hair signaled to you he might’ve been just as late as you were. And still, he looked majestic. The highlight of your long hours at the precinct.

“Hello, officer Grayson.” you greeted him shyly. You certainly should not have spent too much of your days simply just watching him go on about his work, but it was a habit you had created and that was hard not to do, his simple presence was enough to overwhelm you.

“Good morning, Yn. Haven’t had an easy morning, I see?” he raised his eyebrow at you this time, a playful smiling playing on his face. 

“You too, right?” slipped out of your mouth quicker than you’d wished, almost slapping your face out of sheer frustration.

His head bent to the side, a question forming on his eyes, eyebrows furrowed, but soon returning to the playful expression you were used to. “I see your detective skills have been improving.”

“I-I just noticed you’re not wearing a t-tie like you usually do and your hair seems messy, that’s all.” you said without pausing for air and his smile only seemed to grow.

“Relax, Yn,” he dragged out. “I just had to stay up till late last night. What’s your excuse?”

“Commuting has been hell. I just moved to a new apartment.” you told him, nodding for absolutely no reason. He didn’t seem pleased with your answer, eagerly waiting for you to continue. “At the Amusement Mile.”

“Amusement Mile?!” he exclaimed. “That’s basically on the other side of the city.”

Yep, you worded, or not. You were not sure.

“And really dangerous, Yn.” he sounded worried. “Make sure to not leave too late, okay?”

“I’ll try.” you replied, but he still didn’t seem pleased. “I promise?”

You were not sure what kind of tone this conversation had. You and Officer Grayson had always been friendly, as he always came by your desk to wish you a good day or night, to bring you coffee as he did with his coworkers, or to ask you about how classes were going and if the internship wasn’t getting in the way of your studies.

It all sounded friendly to you, as if he only saw you as a younger sister or something like that. Sadly to you, that seemed to be a reality. But today, the friendliness sounded less friendly, for some reason, or maybe they were just the voices of hope playing with your mind.

“Good, I’ll have to work now, and I think so do you. Having fun with typing?”

“It really could be worse.” You joked, bringing out a laugh from him, filling your ears and making your heart pump faster.

“Have a nice day, Yn.” 

“You too, officer.” you eagerly replied, watching as he too walked away from you.

Finally sitting down on your chair, you let out a huge sigh, Officer Dreamy, as you kindly nicknamed him to yourself, stuck in your head. You knew it was inappropriate to harvest a crush on a superior at work, but gosh was it hard to.

“And Yn?” his voice startled you. 

“Hmm” you managed to hum as you found his head poking out from behind a wall.

“Call me Dick.”

Lights went off one by one around you, as you still sat on your desk, files of cases long forgotten, while you typed in a class project you were due very soon. 

As life worked conspired to put you down, your laptop had given up on you, deciding that the smokey life was the way to go now and simply choosing not to work ever again. So, you had to stick around the precinct or the library till the wee hours of the night if you wanted to get any uni work done.

“Yn” a voice called you, starling you out of your seat. “Still here?”

Officer Grayson, looking as tired as you must have looked, made his way to your desk. In his hands, some papers you’d come to know were cases he took frequently to study at home.

“I have to finish an essay.” you informed, voice almost not making it out, as you had neglected your health and hadn’t gotten a single sip of water all day.

“What happened to your computer? I remember you bringing one before.”

“Decided to give out smoke signals, I guess.” you joked, managing to steal a smile from him. “It broke, and I’m too broke to fix it, so I have to stay here if I want to finish this essay tonight.”

Your eyes itched from the extensive exposure to the computer lights, your back also causing you discomfort. But you still had work to do, so there was no way you were leaving any time soon, and quickly you returned your attention to your essay ignoring, for once, your favorite male presence in the precinct as you didn’t want to miss the peak of energy and creativity you had gotten to.

As you typed unaware of his lingering presence, Officer Grayson stood by your desk for a while, watching as you swiftly typed word after word of your homework. “You aren’t going to stay here till too late, right?”

“I’m not sure.” you moaned, rubbing your eyes with the palm of your hands. “I really have to finish this but I’m not even close.”

Returning your gaze to him, you found his eyes and they bore into your, making your breath get caught up in your throat and your heart to skip a beat. You wanted to focus on your school work and go home, get some much needed sleep before starting your routine all over again, but Dick’s mere presence  pushed away all your academic thoughts.

It was like his body irradiated an energy, a gravity field, that pulled you in from wherever you were. That trapped your attention, leaving you breathless even though you hadn’t run, leaving your head heavy as the most painful headache, leaving you completely, deeply, under his spell.

As you focused on him, you noticed the bags forming under his eyes and his much messier hair, as if he had, and he did, spent hours running his fingers through it as an attempt to concentrate. His clothes were ruffled, and you swore his belt seemed to have been loosed at some point during the day. 

To you, he was like a painting at an art gallery. Exquisite, expensive, beautifully breathtaking… and forever unreachable.

On a scale from one to ten, you were minus forty in the levels of importance inside the department. Nobody really cared for the interns. They were nice and all, but they knew they wouldn’t last long, so why bother connecting, why bother giving them too much attention. And yet, officer Grayson would come over to you, every single day, saying his “his” and “goodbyes”, wishing you a good morning, a good night, a great weekend.

He was truly a being out of this world. A gentleman amongst mere humans, too kind, too sweet for this world, for this city. You often wondered how the hell did he, the son of a billionaire, end up working with the police, and the answered you always came up with was that he must have been the only truly good and altruistic person alive, opting to care for the people instead of being a pretentious heir like many others.

If he had looked over at your computer screen, he’d have found a soup of words that together made zero sense, as your mind couldn’t only write Dick Dick Dick Dick, in both meanings of the word.

“A-hem.” he coughed breaking your awkward stare competition. “I have to get going, Yn. Please don’t stay up too late, and message me when you get home.”

“I don’t have your number.” you mindlessly blurted out.

“I have yours,” he stated, catching you off guard. “I��ll text you. See you tomorrow?” he asked, seeming actually interested in a positive answer.

“Uh-huh.”

“See you, then. Goodbye, Miss Ys.”

“Goodbye, officer.”

It was past midnight when you eventually turned off your computer and headed out of the police department. Sleepiness weighs your body down, making each step a harder task than it should've been.

Saying your goodbyes to the officers working the night shift, many of those telling you to be careful as they feared the dangerous Gotham nights would turn you into one more of its victims, you made your way down the large set of steps, an activity much easier than climbing them in the morning.

As you step into the sidewalk you’re embraced by the darkness. The cold breeze hitting you, making you wrap your jacket tightly around your body, a shield from the freezing weather and the demons of the night. Your bag is glued to your hips and your eyes scanning the area for any strange movement.

You’re glad some of those police officers had been kind enough to teach you how to realize some signs before anything bad happens, applying it to your everyday life as you could never be sure of your surroundings in this city.

When you turned right on the first corner, a moving shadow had your neck hairs up and a shiver running up your spine. Your fight or flight instincts overcoming you as your steps grew faster and faster.

“Yn, wait!” you heard the shadow owner scream, your heart skipping a beat before your mind could make up the situation. It took you a while to figure out who the scream belonged to, the fear blinding your senses and preventing you from forming any type of judgment, but something in you clicked and upon turning around it everything was all made clear.

“Officer Grayson?” you questioned, confused by his appearance as he had gone home almost two hours earlier. He now wore a pair of dark gray or black sweatpants, the faint light hindering your perception, a black t-shirt and a thick overall to shield him from the cold. The tips of his hair dripped with a few droplets of water, and even in the darkness you could make up his red nose gifted by the freezing weather. 

He looked cozy, huggable, like a plushie pillow you hugged to go to bed. This look on him made your chest warm up and you swore you wouldn’t need a jacket soon.

“Why are you following me? Why are you here?”

“I’m sorry if I scared you, Yn. I thought it’d be better if I didn’t scream, but maybe I was wrong,” he apologized, rushing the words out of his mouth.

“I just didn’t expect to see you here.” you smiled, unable to hide the joy from seeing him again. Your smile made him feel less bad for scaring you, but his eyes still looked into yours like he apologized for it. 

“I didn’t get your text.” he said, his statement confusing you a little. “That you were going home?”

Oh, that! It was your turn to feel bad, your cheeks, if possible for him to see, painted red but not from the coldness.

“I was expecting your text and didn’t get it, so I showered and came here to see if you’d gone home and I found you still in your computer. I was waiting for you to come out.”

YOU WERE WAITING FOR ME?!, you wanted to scream, his words making your head spin, trying to work out the reason why they came out of his pretty lips. The idea of him waiting for god knows how long till you finished your essay making you dizzy.

“It didn’t feel right letting you go home alone at this hour.” he continued to explain, seemingly aware of the questions inside your head. “So I came back after taking a shower to pick you up.”

HE CAME BACK. HE WENT HOME. TOOK A SHOWER, A SHOWER HE PROBABLY, DEFINITELY, TOOK NAKED. AND CAME BACK TO PICK ME UP????

Oh lord, your head was truly spinning and you hoped you weren’t dizzy enough to end up falling and making a fool of yourself. No single sentence was merged in your mind, your lips blurting out whatever overcame them without any filter: “The subway isn’t empty.”

He chuckled at your silly response and reaching for his coat’s pocket, he picked up his car keys, shaking them in front of your eyes. “Are you declining a ride home? Thought you’d love to ride in a Porsche tonight.”

At the sound of “Porsche”, you let out an excited giggle. You always wanted to find out what car Dick drove, a man’s choice of vehicle being a way into understanding his lifestyle and tastes, and not only were you finding out now but you were also getting to ride in it with him.

“I think it’s an offer I can’t really let pass.”

Showing you the way to his car with his head, he let you walk past him, and when you did his hand met your waist as he guided you in its direction. 

It was like you entered into another reality when you crossed the Police Department’s doors, meeting an Officer Dick Grayson that you always dreamed of but never expected to become a reality.

The warm touch of his hand on the small of your back gave you shivers along with a sense of safety not even a room full of police officers had given you. It was different, somehow, in a way you found hard to explain, but that made your heart beat nervously, your breathing to get hectic and your stomach to take turns.

Soon, the silvery car was beside you and the man opened the passenger door for you with his free hand. You thanked him and slid inside the car, the warmed leather seats a comfortable welcome after hours spent on the painful cheap chair by your desk, and when he closed the door you took the few seconds until he was sat beside you to at least try to recollect yourself.

Richard John Grayson isn’t just giving you a ride, he came all the way from his home to do so. You didn’t know where he lives, but it couldn’t be too close. He went out of his way to do that for you, and what that meant frightened you a little.

The warmness of the seats couldn’t compare to what his touch had made you feel. As his hand slid off of your skin you let out a low moan you hoped he didn’t have the time to listen to, already missing the feeling he had given you.

It made you both afraid, nervous and excited, and you couldn’t help the smile from spreading on your lips, even when biting down on them or chewing the insides of your cheeks. You sat still, spine straight and hands resting on top of your bag laid up on your lap, while he calmly walked to the driver’s side, the opposite reflection of how he made you feel.

“Amusement Mile?” he looked at you for confirmation, the engine of the car warming up. Your eyes were glued to his every movement, admiring every single breath he took.

You simply shook your head to answer, biting on your bottom lip in contemplation.

“It’s gonna be a long ride, so make yourself comfortable.” he told you before continuing. “And I almost forgot…”

Reaching for something behind your seat, you felt his breath on your neck, sending more shiver up your spine, a recurring thing tonight. “I got you some soup. To warm up.”

“Wow. Thank you, officer.”

“Yn?” he called you and you hummed, letting him continue. “What did I tell you to call me?”

“I’m sorry.” you apologized, remembering the moment you’d shared earlier. “Thank you, Dick.”

“Perfect.” 

Turned just enough to face you, it was his time to bite on his lip, the sight sending your hormones to overdrive. 

The ride was mostly silent, as you both felt comfortable in just each other’s presence. You drank your soup and he drove carefully to not make it spill. He left his playlist on shuffle and you commented on a few surprising tunes.

“I didn’t take you for a reggaeton kind of guy.”

“Hey, I appreciate the sounds of many different cultures!”

 And faster than you had wished for, you two were parked by your front door.

“Thank you, offic… Dick, really. I would have taken at least double the time to arrive by subway, so I really cannot thank you enough for this, you really didn’t have to.”

“Nonsense, I’m always here to help, and I wouldn’t sleep well knowing you could be in danger.”

For the 1000th time tonight, your cheeks grew scarlet and you avoided Dick’s eyes. The yawn coming out of you the perfect getaway from the situation you didn’t not know how to handle.

“I better get going, or else I’m just gonna take a nap before having to go back to the precinct all over again.” you sent him a smile before opening the door, but before you stepped outside you felt his hand touch you again, this time reaching for you tight.

“If you want to, I can pick you up tomorrow morning.” his thumb lightly drew patterns in your jeans, and you could feel a hit of sweat on the palm of his hands and the spot on your tight grew humid.

“It would be asking for too much.”

“No it wouldn’t.” he didn’t wait for you to finish. “I’d love to.”

He had your full attention, his eyes trapping yours in a drunken haze. The air around you got thicker, warmer, too hot, as if the winter night was just a mere illusion outside the car. You had sat back in your seat, not sure if the door was open or closed because only him mattered now, only his eyes drifting from yours to your lips, only his tongue moistening his own, only the slow movement of his head getting closer to yours.

You wouldn’t remember the next few seconds even if described to you in the smallest details, you just remember meeting his lips halfway. At first, a hasty kiss, your lips barely moving but already igniting you with an electric feeling. His teeth pulled on your bottom lip, causing a moan to escape off of you.

His hand went to your neck and the kiss deepened, his tongue immediately sliding inside your mouth, playing with yours as your hands found his waist in search for balance, even though you remained at your seat.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” you cut the kiss, your own mind betraying you with the words that flew out of your mouth. “But I really want to.”

“I don’t see why we shouldn't,” he said, connecting your lips once again. 

He sucked and nibbled at your lips, certainly leaving small bruises on it, but who were you to complain. All night, your anxiousness tried to get the best of you, but his kiss and his touch held you hostage in a passionate haze.

“It’s dangerous to be on the streets this late.” he told you between kisses.

“We can go upstairs.” you offered, wanting to extend the moment as much as you could.

“I wouldn’t wanna bother your roommate.”

“I don’t have a roommate.” you informed, eyes meeting his once more in search of confirmation.

Kissing where your neck met your ears, he whispered. “I’ll park the car.”

“You can leave it right here.” you moaned, desperately wanting to move things inside. He chuckled, pulled you in for another kiss and then quickly jumped out of the car. He followed you as you climbed the stairs to your floor, managing to control himself and stay far enough as to not throw you against the walls and fuck you right then and there, but the gentleman inside of him held him together and he anxiously watched you unlock your apartment door.

You threw your bag somewhere, and walked inside your home aimlessly. You didn’t bring many guys over, so you always struggled to figure out what to do at this point.

“Yn.” you heard Dick calling, spinning on your heels to meet him. 

Throwing his key on a table, he came over to you without wasting time, hands grabbing your face and smashing your lips together for a hotter, wetter, dirtier kiss.

His tongue sucked you yours as your hands traveled on his chiseled torso, sliding inside his shirt for the full experience. You scratch the skin with your nails and he quivered under your touch. “Fuck.” he let out, pushing you against the head of the sofa.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you shortened the distance between your bodies even more and his hands moved down your body, from your back to your ass, to your tight where he grabbed and entangled them around his waist. He placed you on top of the sofa, magically not letting your lips grow apart.

You could feel the bulge on his pants hardening with each touch, so you lowered one hand to cup his member in it’s entirety, but not managing to get a hold of half of it. Shit. You tried to pull at his waistband, but he pushed your hand away. “I’m not wasting time.” he said, taking you off of your seat. “I need to be inside you.”

Shit, shit, shit, shit. The thought of his words becoming a reality soaking your panties more than they already were, as you had to grind on his clothed crotch to get the friction, the sensation you so desperately needed. You wanted him inside of you now, not a minute later.

“Your room?” he asked.

“First door to the right.” you said, gasping for air between his kisses.

With ease, he walked to your bedroom as if he knew you home by heart, and as if he didn’t carry a girl but just a stuffed toy. His only struggle came at the door handle, but reaching behind you you managed to open it up for him, a group effort for a group pleasure.

Dick let go of your legs, letting your feet hit the floor once again. His hands were quick to find the hem of your shirt, tugging at it before you broke the kiss to allow him to pull it over your head, your bra being ripped off your skin not much later. His shirt and sweatpants flew behind him too in just a few seconds, and he soon had you pinned on the bed, hands trapped by his on top of your head.

Dick had an urgency in him you’d never seen before, more used to his calm demeanor. He grunted on your ear as he sucked on your neck, leaving marks you knew you wouldn’t be able to hide at work, and he grinded his clothed dick on your bare pussy.

“You don’t know how much I’ve been wanting this.” he groaned, one hand grabbing tightly at your boob. “Some days beside you were pure torture.”

You couldn’t imagine an Officer Dreamy having dreams about you, just like you did with him, but from the sound of it, he had plenty. All you could do was moan out his name, his mouth doing magic on your neck as his hands finally reached where you needed him more.

Rubbing slowly at your clit, you tried humping it, wanting it faster, wanting release, but his movements remained slow, torturous. 

“D-dick.” you cried out his name, begging him to speed up his touch.

“Say it again, darling. Say it.” he requested. “Let my fucking name slip out of your dirty little mouth.”

“Dick. Dick, please!” you obeyed, little the silly little slut you were for him. If your friends or coworkers found out about this, they’d be very disapproving, they’d tell you it was wrong to fuck your superior, but fuck it, fuck him you will.

He moaned loudly in your ear and his movements gained speed. He rubbed at your clit harshly, making it bruise, but the pain only added to the growing sensation on your core. He lowered his head and his lip grabbed your nipple, and his sucks were enough to bring you to the edge.

“You came so hard for me, darling.”

Moving away from your skin, setting your hands free, he admired your cum glistening on his hands before bringing them to his mouth and licking it off his finger. “I knew you’d taste fucking delicious.”

This idea of him wanting to fuck you for so long did wonders to your ego and booted any confidence you still had. The man you so desperately wanted for so long had wanted you as desperately for just as long. Your heart beat so fast you were sure he could hear it, but you wanted him too, no secrets lying between you two anymore.

Without you noticing, his boxers were gone and his hard dick bounced on his crotch, the rosy tip, dripping with precum, staining his stomach. Lining up outside your entrance, rubbing his tip on your clit just to tease you a little more, his eyes met yours. They trapped you as they did inside the car, but now they didn’t stare at you with simple desire. It burned, it consumed him and needed to find a way to release it. And his way was you.

With no warning, he thrusted into you, his size ripping you open and you let out a scream as you prayed your neighbors were heavy sleepers. Dick, as soon as his member was fully within you, let out a guttural groan, the sexiest moan you’d ever heard come out of a man.

“F-fuck you’re so tight.” he moaned. “Just like I imagined.”

Lying on top of you, he met your lips, he wrapped your fingers in his and slid your hands to the top of your head again. His thrusts were fast, hard, reaching you deeper and deeper, taking out of you a scream louder than the other, only muffled by his mouth that refused to leave yours.

You wrapped your leg around his waist, wanting him to go deeper, if it was even possible, so consumed with lust that all logic melted out of your mind.

It wasn’t a fuck, it was love making, sensual and nearly animalistic love making, and the idea of it made the butterflies in your stomach go feral just as you were. If he loved you or not, even it was even something else more the pure lust, was a discussion for later, but he fucked you like no one else did, and you only hoped it was a sign he was not like the others. That he wasn’t just a single page in a large book.

The wet sound of your skins meeting each other filled the room, but only because your mouths were glued together, all sound not allowed to make it out.

“You’re taking me in so good, aren’t you Yn?”

“Yes, y-yes. You’re filling me so good.” you cried back.

“Are you gonna come on my dick, Yn? Are you gonna let me feel you coming?” he teased, nearly as desperate for your orgasm as you were.

“Yes.” you replied, louder than you’d wished. With a few more thrusts, you came all over his hard dick, your body shaking ferociously, reaching a high you’d never reached before. “Uuh, yes!” you screamed, as he continued to pump into you, his own orgasm imminent.

“I’m gonna come, Yn.” he announced, thrusting once more before taking his member out of your pussy and stroking it up and down with his hands. His milky load hit your belly, painting you in sin, as your tongue extended out for a little drip of it.

Exhausted, Dick threw himself on the bed beside you, both your breath audibly out of pace. Your body was covered in sweat, your bed sheet sticking to your back as you tried your best to recollect yourself.

“Officer McCaffrey would be so disappointed.” you joked, getting a loud laugh out of the man beside you. Crossing his arm over your waist, he pulled you closer to him, kissing the wet baby hairs at your temple.

“Wanna disappoint him again?” he asked, turning your face to meet your eyes, his new found favorite thing to look at.

“All night?” you asked in return.

“All fucking night.”

It was safe to say you were late for work again the next morning, and would be late a few more times, as Officer Dreamy would gladly keep you up for as long as you wished.

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

You Are In Love (Superstar Chapter 10)

You kiss on sidewalks

You fight and you talk

One night he wakes

Strange look on his face

Pauses, then says

You're my best friend

And you knew what it was

He is in love

Roy and the Reader settle into their life together.

Roy Kent x Reader

9.7k words

Warnings: Language, allusions to smutty things, adults drinking, teeny tiny talk about insecurities, some of the most self-indulgent and fluffy writing I have ever done in my entire life

Author's note: I'm feeling really emotional about posting this final chapter, and I just really want to say THANK YOU. This story really helped get me out of a writing slump, and your love & support has been a huge part of that. I've loved spending so much time with these characters, but more than that, I loved getting to share this story with you. From the bottom of my heart, THANK YOU. I hope you enjoy all this sugary sweet fluff!

~

Roy stared at me in utter disgust, as if I had just told him I was becoming a Man City supporter or hated The Sound of Music. “That is the fucking worst combination of words in the history of the fucking world.”

I rolled my eyes at his dramatics. “Brunch with Keeley and Jamie is not torture, Roy.”

“To me it is,” he growled, pulling back the blankets and crawling into bed.

“Come on. It’ll be fun. Keeley’s one of my closest girlfriends, and Jamie’s your best friend,” I pointed out as I followed suit, pulling the blankets over us.

Roy let out a deep groan. “Why the fuck does everyone keep fucking saying that?” He turned to face me, propping himself up on his elbow. “I want to really, actually, literally murder him. I fantasize about it almost as much as I fantasize about you. How the fuck is that friendship?”

I shrugged and kissed the tip of his nose. “Everyone has their own love language. And violence towards Jamie Tartt is yours.”

“Want to know my love language when it comes to you?” he asked suggestively, his hand snaking its way under the t-shirt I wore. “I’m fucking fluent.”

“I’d prefer if your love language was going to brunch,” I teased, giving him a playful shove.

He grunted, annoyed at my lack of response to his flirting. “Fine. But I’m drinking as many fucking mimosas as I want.”

The next morning, Roy begrudgingly sat at a patio table across from Jamie, listening to Keeley and I gossip and giggle over mimosas and a ridiculous amount of food. Suddenly, she lit up.

“Oh! Roy, there was something I wanted to run by you.” She took his grunt as the signal to continue. “So, with the Greyhounds doing so well, there’ve been lots of requests for interviews and stuff, y’know? And there’s this hot new talk show, hosted by…” She took a quick look at her mobile. “Ryley Sharp. Two Ys. And his people reached out to see if they could get a gaffer to come on for a chat.” She shrugged. “Would you be interested?”

Roy narrowed his eyes and downed the mimosa in front of him. “Why me? Doesn’t this seem more Ted’s kind of shit?”

Keeley shifted, shooting Jamie a glance. Jamie nodded encouragingly; he’d clearly heard this whole pitch already. “I could ask Ted, but…” She thought a moment. “I mean, you’re a household name, so it would be very good ratings. And, as a friend, I was thinking it would be a good opportunity for you to…” She trailed off, her eyes flickering to me.

“For me to do what exactly?” Curiosity floated behind his stony expression.

“To control your own narrative,” Keeley finally said. When she saw the confusion on both our faces, she continued. “Listen, I know you hate the media-”

“I wish they’d all die in a fiery explosion and then have all their ashes fed to feral hogs who eat their own shit so there’s just an endless cycle of their ashes being eaten and shit out for all eternity,” Roy confirmed.

Keeley nodded slowly, glancing at me as if to ask ‘This is your boyfriend?’ “Right. But think about it this way. You’re a very public figure, Roy. And now that the two of you are done pretending you’re capable of hiding your relationship, you’re going to be going out in public together. And you are going to be photographed together. And your name-” She turned to me. “-is going to become known as well. And I assume none of us want a repeat of… you know what.”

A snort flew out of Jamie’s nose. “Boy-toy Roy,” he cheeked.

Roy bared his teeth. “I have my taxidermist on speed-dial.”

“Boys,” I scolded. “Keeley, please continue.”

“Thank you,” she hummed. “Now, Roy, if you go on this show, you’ll talk about Richmond of course. All about how well they’re doing, how great Ted is, how you see yourself in the lads, that sort of thing. And then, Ryley’ll ask you about yourself. Particularly…” She gestured towards me. “This way you get to decide what people know about you. No room for speculation from the press, no room for making shit up to sell a magazine. Just ‘I’m Roy Kent, I’m in a very happy relationship with the world’s fittest woman, and we have an adorable dog’.” She offered up a hopeful smile. “What d’you think?”

All three of us looked at Roy expectantly. He shoved a piece of fruit into his mouth, then reached over and grabbed my mimosa and gulped it down.

“Tell me about this Ryley Sharp prick,” he finally muttered, taking my hand under the table.

Keeley perked up and gestured to a passing waiter to bring more drinks. “He’s not too bad actually. I’ve watched his show before. Bit of an airhead, but very sweet. And I’ve asked around to see what people have to say about him. Not a bad word from anyone. He’s absolutely not the gotcha kind of guy. He’ll ask you lots of easy, soft questions, make you look good, give you the opportunity to gush about this one here-” She winked at me. “-and he won’t go into anything you don’t want to go into.”

Roy grunted, tapping the table. He glanced at me. “What d’you think?” he asked earnestly.

I looked back at him. His eyes were unsure, eyebrows all scrunched. He’ll do whatever I ask, I realized. He wanted to make me happy, to help me feel safe and secure. And fuck, I wanted to do the same for him.

“I think,” I started carefully. “I think you should do what you want. Keeley makes some really good points about getting out in front of things and not giving the media room to speculate, but if it’s going to kill you, don’t do it.” I squeezed his hand. “I’ll support whatever you decide.”

“Hmmf.” He looked my face over, thoughtfulness in his expression. “Fuck it.” He looked at Keeley. “I’ll do it, but I’m not saying nice things about that prat.” He nodded at Jamie.

Keeley squealed, ignoring the outraged look on her boyfriend’s pretty face. “Ahh! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She grabbed her phone and began typing rapidly. “I’ll pop by tomorrow with all the details. And a backstage pass for you,” she added, winking at me. “And don’t you worry, Roy, I’ll be there the whole time to make sure it goes well, I promise.”

He nodded curtly. “Yeah, well.” He cleared his throat. “I can still swear and shit, yeah?”

~

I smiled watching Roy through the mirror as the makeup woman attempted to powder his face. He was wearing his signature scowl, along with a charcoal suit that hugged him beautifully. At Keeley’s insistence and my prodding, he had gotten a haircut and tidied his beard. All in all, he managed to look even better than he did on any of my old posters.

I really get to go home with this man, I thought with a giggle as I nestled further into the couch I shared with Keeley in the greenroom. Noticing the giddy way I was watching him, he met my eyes in the mirror and cracked a smile.

“No, you’re not putting makeup on me when we get home,” he warned.

“Spoilsport,” I teased as the door opened and a production assistant entered to let Roy know that he would be on after the commercial break, which meant it was time for all of us to leave the greenroom.

Keeley linked her arm through mine as another assistant led us to a pair of audience seats that had been reserved for us to watch the interview. “I made sure they told Roy exactly where we’re sitting,” Keeley assured me as we settled in.

Sure enough, as soon as Roy walked out onto the set to thunderous applause, his gaze found mine. I wondered if the viewers at home would also notice the tiny twitch of his mouth when our eyes locked. He plopped down into the stylish chair by Ryley Sharp’s desk.

We had gotten to meet Ryley Sharp before the show, and Keeley had been right about him; sweet and a bit of an airhead, in the best possible way. He was very excited to have Roy on the show and was thrilled to know I’d be sitting out in the audience with Keeley. He was completely onboard with everything Keeley had discussed with us and thought that Roy wanting to chat about me during the interview was simply “adorable”.

Keeley gripped my hand as Roy was interviewed. I was hugely impressed; he was almost charming and nearly friendly, he actually answered questions, and he even managed to keep his “fucks” to a minimum. It was the best interview I’d ever seen him do, and I’d probably watched every single one he’d done in his entire career. Multiple times.

My cheeks hurt from smiling so much as I listened to the audience laugh at some cheeky comment he made about Ted.

Ryley Sharp shifted in his seat, running a hand through his bleached hair. “Alright, so it looks like things are going well for you, Roy. Happily retired from a massively successful career, coaching Richmond to one of the great underdog stories of our time. What about in your personal life?” He raised his eyebrows. “Got a girl?”

Roy shifted in his seat, clearing his throat. “I actually do,” he admitted, his eyes flicking in my direction as the studio audience ooohed.

“Roy Kent, are you squirming?” Ryley Sharp humorously gasped, leaning forward.

“Do I have to answer that?” Roy asked, a teasing edge in his voice.

Ryley Sharp shook his head. “Not if you agree to tell us about this girl of yours..”

Roy nodded. “Sounds like a deal to me.” He gave a small cough. “She’s, uh, she’s amazing, yeah. We work at Richmond together and, I dunno, we clicked. Decided to give it a go, and so far, so good.”

“Descriptive as always,” Ryley Sharp teased, eliciting some light chuckles from the audience. “Mind if we do some lightning-round questions to learn more?”

Roy nodded firmly. “Fuck it, let’s do it.”

Ryley Sharp cleared his throat. “She like football?”

“Loves it.”

“Fan of yours?”

A smirk graced Roy’s face. “Huge.”

“Her parents like you?”

“I like to think so.”

“She smart?”

“Brilliant.”

“Funny?”

Roy bobbled his head. “She thinks she is.”  He winked in my direction as the audience chuckled.

Ryley Sharp’s friendly smile widened. “She pretty?”

“Fucking gorgeous.”

“And am I to understand…” Ryley Sharp perked up a little. “She’s here in our studio audience?”

Sharp had come up with this idea, explaining that the audience would find it charming as hell. Keeley had left it completely up to us whether we wanted to go along with it, and I’d left it up to Roy, who surprised us all with his yes. My heart skipped a beat when I saw Roy sit up straight and turn his gaze back to me.

“Um, yeah, yeah she’s here.” He gave a little nod in my direction. “Sitting right over there with our friend Keeley.”

Sharp waved to someone off-stage. “Could we get a mic out there?” he called.

In an instant, the same production assistant from earlier was standing next to my seat, holding a microphone. Roy gave me a thumbs up as Ryley Sharp turned his attention to me.

“Why don’t you stand up, love?” he asked as the house lights came on and a camera turned my way.

Keeley pushed me to my feet as my face burned. I smiled and gave Roy a little wave as the production assistant handed me the mic. “Hi,” I said timidly, suddenly hating the sound of my own voice.

Roy smiled, a full smile, and nodded back. “Hey,” he called tenderly. Even from my seat, I could see his eyes were full of affection.

Ryley Sharp cleared his throat playfully. “Alright, lovebirds, back to the interview.” He focused on me. “So, Roy Kent’s girl, eh?” I nodded, suddenly bashful. “What’s it like dating this guy, hmm?”

I lifted the microphone to my face. “Lovely, actually. He’s a pretty good one.” The wink Roy sent me bolstered my confidence.

“Alright, I’m sure all the hardcore football fans out there are dying to know.” Sharp looked at me with mock seriousness. “What is the most romantic thing Roy Kent has ever done?”

My eyes drifted from Ryley to Roy who raised his eyebrows at me. He spoke up. “It’s Paris, innit?”

I nodded, biting back a grin. “Can I tell them about it?”

Roy sat back in his seat and shrugged, as if it were totally normal for us to have a conversation on national television. “Why the fuck not?”

I turned my attention back to Sharp. “Um, well Richmond had gone to Paris for a friendly. And after the match, Roy here surprised me by taking me to the Louvre.” More ooohs from the audience. “After hours,” I added cheekily, garnering more hooting. “And we had a lovely time. Dinner and champagne, the kind of thing only a retired footballer can afford to do.”

Sharp joined in the audience’s chuckles. “Goodness. If that’s a date, I can’t wait to see what his proposal’ll look like!”

My cheeks burned, but I tried to maintain my composure. “Yeah, well, you and my mother have something in common then,” I joked, earning a laugh from the whole room- most especially Roy, who was shaking his head and looking at me like I was the most wonderful, special thing he’d ever seen in his life.

Ryley Sharp asked me a couple more questions- about Oscar and about what Roy and I liked to do when we weren’t at work- before wrapping it up. “Ladies and gentlemen, please give it up for Roy Kent and his lovely girlfriend!”

As the audience gave a hearty round of applause, I handed the microphone back to the assistant and looked at Roy, who was still staring at me. I blew him a kiss, and he looked down, clearly blushing. He turned back to Sharp, shaking his hand and looking uncharacteristically cheerful.

After the show wrapped, Keeley and I made our way back to the greenroom, where Roy was chatting with Ryley Sharp. He offered me a smirk when he saw me and placed a kiss on my forehead.

“You were fucking brilliant,” he murmured in my ear.

Ryley Sharp reached out and shook my hand. “How’d it feel?”

I cleared my throat. “It was fun,” I admitted. “But not something I could do every day. Don’t know how you all live with being famous.”

Keeley giggled and nudged me. “Oh, so you don’t want me to set you up with a modeling contract then?”

“Hell no,” I laughed. “Being Roy Kent’s girl is more than enough attention for me.”

~

Life became predictable. Easy. Routine. And I loved every moment of it.

We’d spend our days at Nelson Road, with Roy in training and me doing my best to bring some semblance of order to the coaching staff, eating lunch together almost every day. Our evenings were often spent with Phoebe and Oscar, making dinner together, playing, and watching movies until Roy’s sister came for pickup. Nearly every night was spent together, either at his place or mine, and our mornings were spent waking up in each other’s arms. On weekends we were with the Greyhounds, or taking Phoebe on outings, or meeting up with friends, or just sitting on the couch and reading.

From time to time our picture would end up online or in a magazine: playing at the park with Oscar, or sharing an embrace after a Richmond victory, or getting drinks with Keeley and Jamie. More often than not, the picture featured a blurred gesture on Roy’s part, but he could always be counted on to point out how stunning he thought I looked in the photos.

Amidst this domestic bliss- or “the boring life of dating an old geezer”, as Roy called it- was one thrilling constant: Richmond was still winning. They’d bounced around the top four spots over the course of the season, but there was actual expectation for them. More than one pundit even selected them as their pick to win the “whole enchilada”, as Ted and Dani loved to say in unison. Things came down, in true dramatic fashion, to the last match of the season, which would be against Arsenal.

Roy had already gone running with Jamie and was showered and set to go by the time I woke up, so he sat on the bed with Oscar and read as I got myself ready. He not-so-stealthily watched me over the top of his book as I dug through the half of the closet I was slowly taking up and cleared his throat.

“Wear the sweater,” he mumbled, absently turning the page of his book.

I turned to him. “Hmm?”

He glanced up at me again. “The fucking lucky sweater,” he repeated. “We could use all the fucking help we can get. Wear it.”

“Oh.” I looked at the sweater that was always in his closet. I wore it at home all the time, wore it out for errands occasionally, but had never worn it to a match. It felt a little silly, and I didn’t feel the need to give anyone fodder to tease us with. I turned back to Roy, who had set his book down by now. “Won’t I look a bit funny, wearing your name with you there in the dugout next to me?"

Roy sat up, his face soft. “I mean, people should get used to seeing you wearing my name.” He paused, tilting his head. “Right?”

I felt myself blush. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t thought about marrying Roy someday; I’d been thinking of that pretty much since I hit puberty. And the topic had been one that our friends and colleagues teased about from time to time. And it was something I felt myself wondering about more and more lately.

“Oi.” Roy was grinning at me, clearly amused by my silence. “Don’t worry, I’m not fucking proposing after the match or anything like that.” He stood up and came over to where I was, wrapping his arms around me. “I mean, someday, sure. But not today.” He kissed my forehead. “Alright with you?”

Roy Kent wants to marry me someday. Roy Kent wants to marry me. Roy Kent wants to fucking marry me.

I gave an embarrassed laugh and returned his hug, pretending that he hadn’t just filled my heart with more love than I knew how to carry. “Alright. I’ll wear the fucking sweater then.”

Clad in my dark blue sweater, KENT screaming across the back in white lettering, I stood by the coaches all game long, screaming and cheering louder than usual. Rebecca had been lovely enough to get my family amazing seats, and I swore I could hear my father’s shouts above the rest of the crowd. I tore my eyes away from the gameplay to check the clock, which was fast approaching the 100th minute. By some incredible miracle, we were up 2-1 and just needed the ref to blow the fucking whistle.

As we watched the boys do all they could to keep possession of the ball and push towards Arsenal’s goal, I felt Roy grip my hand tightly and heard him muttering “Come on, fuck, come on,” under his breath non-stop.

Fweet fweet fweeeeeeeeeet!

“Holy fuck!” At the sound of the final whistle, Roy picked me up and spun me around, squeezing me so tight I swore I’d have bruises the next day. Everyone from the dugout raced onto the pitch, where the team was screaming their heads off, jumping on each other like children.

I spent God knows how long on that field, hugging sweaty men and kissing their faces, shouting out expressions of pride over the roar of the fans who were forcing their way onto the pitch. Roy finally pulled me back to himself with urgency, as if he couldn’t bear to be far from me for long.

“Are you fucking crying?” There was a loving edge of teasing in his voice as his thumb swiped across my cheek, which I hadn’t even realized was wet.

I nodded, not caring that I was full grown woman weeping over a football match. “Fuck yeah I am,” I confirmed. “They fucking did it, Roy.”

He shook his head and wiped away more of my tears. “We fucking did it. You’re part of this team. Don’t you ever fucking forget that.” He kissed my forehead, my cheeks, my nose, my chin, every square inch of my face. “I love you,” he mumbled as his mouth finally found mine.

“Love you too,” I managed to huff out between kisses that were slowly becoming heated as the boys began shouting the Richmond chant at the top of their lungs and formed a conga line. “Watch it, or Jamie’s gonna give you another warning about keeping things family-friendly.”

“Fuck it. If they wanna broadcast this, we might as well give ’em something worthwhile.” With that, he dipped me backwards, latching his lips to mine in a way that could only be described as cinematic.

That kiss was as if he’d managed to peer into every girlhood fantasy of mine and decided it wasn’t enough. As if he’d taken every great rom-com kiss and wanted to show them how it was done. I knew my girlfriends were sitting in a pub, cackling with glee about how I had twenty-eight posters of this man in my childhood bedroom and was now snogging him on national television. I knew my parents were in the stands, my mum beaming with joy at seeing me so in love, my dad playfully grumbling and asking if Roy really had to kiss her like that, but unable to help the smile on his own face. I knew we’d have to endure lots of teasing at the team celebration, with the guys egging Roy on to kiss me like that again, and with Roy giving in after having just the right amount of shots that would make him forget to be grumpy. And I knew I’d be thinking about this particular kiss for a very, very long time.

As I touched his face, wondering how long we could get away with this embrace before we crossed over into truly insufferable, my mind drifted back to our conversation that morning, and an obvious realization hit me: I want to kiss Roy Kent for the rest of my life.

~

Rebecca’s email took me off guard. It was a week since the Arsenal match, and Roy was outside putting our suitcases in the car while I double checked the reservations for the weekend holiday we’d planned to celebrate the end of the season. It was supposed to be a simple, easy weekend, full of food and drinks, relaxing, reading, maybe a little sightseeing if I could convince Roy, and no football whatsoever. Just us, a normal couple. But now Rebecca’s email would be looming over my head the whole time.

Roy noticed. Of course he noticed, he noticed everything when it came to me. We had stopped to have lunch and for once, I was quiet. He tilted his head at me as I poked at my food.

“Alright. What the fuck is wrong?”

I looked up at him, the concern in his eyes contrasting with the harsh way he spoke. “Nothin’,” I lied.

He shook his head. “Come off it. I’m not going to spend my first chance to actually relax in months with you not talking to me. You’ve got me too used to all your fucking prattling.” He reached out and took my free hand as his voice softened. “Come on. We’re supposed to tell each other things. Fucking vulnerable, remember?”

Despite myself, I smiled at our favorite word. “I, um, got an email from Rebecca this morning.” I squirmed, not quite looking at Roy.

“Doesn’t she know it’s your fucking break?” he teased, clearly trying to help me relax. “Fuck does she want?”

I set my fork down and took a deep breath before I spoke at hyper speed. “Rebecca wants to make me the Assistant to the Director of Football Operations. Working directly under Higgins. She says they both were very impressed with everything I did this season, and they want to see what I can do with more responsibility. And Higgins wants more time with his family, and he and I get along so well already, and it would be a really great opportunity-”

“I know.”

His suddenness caught me off-guard. “What d’you mean you know?”

He bobbled his head in that nervous manner of his, half-smile playing on his lips. “Rebecca and Higgins came to the gaffers before the Arsenal match and asked what we’d think of the move.”

My stomach fluttered as I stared at him. Fuck, I should have ordered a drink.“And what did you tell her?”

Roy sipped the beer he’d been smart enough to order. “Told her she could fuck right off if she thought she could move you out of our office.” He smirked and shrugged. “And that you completely fucking deserve it.” He leaned forward earnestly. “You’re too fucking good to stay down there with us, babe. You should be running the whole fucking club, not just bossing around me and Ted and Beard. You are going to be amazing. I’ll fucking manage to figure out how to get to interviews and press conferences on time, I promise.”

Tears I didn’t realize had formed threatened to fall when I saw the excitement and pride glowing on his face. “Just put a fucking reminder on your phone, you idiot,” I managed to choke out.

“See, it’s that loving, patient guidance I’m going to miss when you’re upstairs plotting your hostile takeover of the football world.” Roy lifted my hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to my knuckles. “Almost as much as I’ll miss seeing your gorgeous face every time I walk into our office.” He squeezed my hand. “Take the fucking job.”

“It’s a pretty great job,” I murmured, gazing at our hands. “And I mean, who knows, maybe someday I could have Higgins’s post.”

Roy’s smile widened when he saw me seriously considering the position. “Ruthless woman. I’ll let Higgins know you’re coming for his job.”

He earned a laugh from me. “We’ll see how I like being his assistant first,” I assured Roy. I squeezed his hand, thinking. “I’m just really going to miss sharing an office with you, y’know?”

He shrugged. “Guess we gotta figure out a way to make up for all that lost time.” He paused, taking a sip of his beer as his eyes suddenly became shifty. “Say, what do you think of that flat of yours?”

I almost choked on the sudden shift in the conversation. “My flat? It’s fine. I like it well enough.”

Roy’s face became serious. “But d’you really like it? Because I’d be willing to move in, but fucking Oscar’s spoiled and likes having a yard. I really think he’d prefer it if you moved in with us.” He licked his lips anxiously. “I’d fucking like it too.”

Roy wants to live together. Roy wants to live together. Roy wants to live together. “You want me to move in with you?” I squeaked, wondering, as I often did, when I would wake up from the dream I was living in.

“You already have your own key. You’re there even more than your own flat. Half your shit is already in my closet. I fucking hate it when you’re not there. Besides, you can’t fucking cook, so I’d like to make sure you’re well-fed.” He shrugged. “D’you want to?”

He was doing that thing. That thing where he acted like something was insignificant and casual, like it didn’t matter too much, when underneath he was a ball of nerves, anxiously waiting for an answer. It was a defense mechanism, for sure. A way to make sure people knew that whatever they said didn’t matter to Roy, even though I knew that what I said mattered to him very much. It was, in my opinion, one of the most adorable and attractive things he did.

I didn’t make him sit in that nervousness for long. “Yeah. Yes. Definitely.” My smile was probably the dopiest, silliest one I’d ever worn. “I’d love to.”

“You sure? You don’t seem too thrilled.” Roy grinned and leaned back in his seat, staring at me for a moment. “Look at you. Kickass new job, moving in with your dishy boyfriend. Your life fucking rocks.”

“I’m sorry, did you just call yourself dishy?” I snorted.

He cleared his throat, cheeks tinted pink. “Fucking saw someone call me that on Twitter the other day. Figured my girlfriend would agree.”

I shook my head and laughed. “God, what’re you going to do without me in the office telling you when you sound like an absolute wanker?”

~

The off-season involved a lot of moving on my part. First, I had to pack up my entire flat and move everything into Roy’s house; luckily, Roy was right when he said that half of my things were already at his place. He’d managed to wrangle the players who weren’t away on holiday to help us move all the boxes one afternoon, rewarding them with pizza and beer, which somehow evolved into a karaoke party in Roy’s- our­- living room, with Oscar jumping from person to person, just waiting for someone to drop a slice of pizza.

It was well past midnight by the time everyone left; I assumed Roy would want to go straight to sleep after the exhausting day we’d had. Instead, he dragged me into the kitchen once I’d changed into an old Sunderland shirt of his.

“Didn’t you have enough pizza already?” I asked, stifling a yawn. “’m ready for bed.”

“Just have one thing to do first,” he mumbled, rummaging through the fridge. “Grab a couple of glasses from the bar, yeah?”

Rolling my eyes, I did as I was told, picking up a pair of wine glasses that Keeley had gifted us in honor of the move. When I brought them back to Roy, I stopped in my tracks.

On the counter was a chilled bottle of champagne and a tiny cake, just perfect for two. Roy leaned on the counter, eyeing me carefully, a smirk playing on his lips.

“What’s all this then?” I breathed, blinking from either the tiredness or the surprise. Maybe both.

Roy shrugged, picking up the bottle. “Fucking celebrating of course.” He opened the bottle with ease, but not without champagne starting to flow out. “Shit, bring me the glasses,” he laughed, trying to avoid spilling everywhere.

The kitchen filled with sleepy giggles as we managed to get most of the champagne into the glasses rather than on the countertop. Once we’d finally gotten our glasses filled properly, I sat in my usual spot, with Roy opting to stand next to me, gazing at me softly. He held up his glass.

“Welcome home,” he murmured, tapping his glass to mine with a small clink.

My cheeks warmed as I sipped my champagne, staring at Roy as he did the same. Maybe it was the late hour and my tiredness, but it didn’t feel real, moving in with Roy. And it wasn’t even because it was Roy freaking Kent; rather, it was because I found it hard to believe anyone was capable of feeling the intense love that burned in my chest as Roy handed me a fork and slid the little cake towards me.

We ate and drank in a comfortable silence, the only sounds being the clinking of forks against the plate and Oscar pattering around and our soft chuckles every time our eyes met. After Roy put everything in the sink, mumbling something about taking care of the dishes in the morning, he turned to me, sleepy smile on his face.

“Oi, you brought the blanket, right?”

I had this one particular blanket that had always laid on my couch in my flat. My gran had made it, and it was, without a doubt, the warmest, comfiest blanket in the universe. Roy had gotten in the habit of stealing it from the first time he’d come over to watch The Sound of Music and often brought it to bed when he spent the night. Honestly, there was a very real chance he asked me to move in just so he could have the blanket at his house.

“Um, yeah, it’s one of these boxes somewhere…” I ran my fingers through my hair, eyeing the ridiculous number of cardboard boxes that now decorated Roy’s- our­- house.

Before I could suggest he waited until the morning to look for it, he had already walked over to one of the boxes and started digging. Since he clearly was not going to bed until he found it, I figured I might as well do the dishes. I was rinsing the glasses we’d drank champagne out of when I heard-

“What the absolute fuck is this?”

When I turned around, there were two Roy Kents in the doorway. One was my boyfriend, shirtless and ready for bed, eyebrows raised higher than I’d ever seen them, his mouth wide open in amusement, laughter bursting out of him. The other was cardboard, clad in his Richmond uniform and wearing a scowl.

“Oh fuck!” I nearly dropped the glass I was holding. “You weren’t- that box was supposed to go to my mum’s- shit!” I was choking on embarrassment as my face turned redder than a tomato.

In all the years I’d spent watching him on television and the countless hours I’d now spent in his presence, I had never heard Roy Kent laugh so damn much. He was doubled over with laughter, wiping away tears and making so much noise he woke up Oscar.

I turned off the sink and stormed over, folding the cardboard cutout back up and tossing it on top of the box it had come out of. With a huff, I turned to Roy, who was finally starting to breathe again.

“It was a gag gift from my dad for my birthday a few years ago,” I mumbled, not looking at his smug face. “Kept it because my mates and I thought it was funny to bring out when we watched matches at my place. I was going to take it to my mum’s, figured one of these days I’d sort through all my… football things and throw some stuff out and decide what to do with the rest.”

Seeing the humiliation on my face, Roy sobered up and grabbed my shoulders. “C’mere,” he chuckled, tugging me close to himself. “Please tell me you were not going to throw that thing away.”

I shrugged, still avoiding his gaze. “Probably. I dunno. Wasn’t planning on deciding that right now.”

“Hey.” He lifted my chin, forcing me to look at the tenderness in his eyes. “Don’t you dare be fucking embarrassed.” He tilted his head when I let out a little hmmf. “Did I… did I ever apologize for bringing up your posters that night?”

We both knew what he was referring to.

“Dunno,” I muttered, knowing full well that the answer was no. We’d never brought up that particular comment.

“Oh.” Roy’s hands slid off my shoulders and he grabbed my hand, leading me to the couch. We sat, and he kept my hand in his. “I’m sorry. I… I never want you to feel embarrassed about having a fucking crush on me, alright?”

I shrugged, glancing away. “It’s… it’s silly. All those posters and the sweater and now the freaking cardboard cutout. It just reminds me what a crazed stalker fan I was before we met. Makes me feel a bit embarrassed.”

He smiled and shifted closer. “It might be a little silly,” he agreed. “But it’s also fucking flattering.” He brushed some hair out of my face. “Y’know, when I first saw all that stuff in your room, I thought my heart was going to fucking stop. Because there you were, my stunning new officemate, with my stupid fucking face on your walls. Even the really bad pictures.” He shrugged, suddenly bashful. “Made me realize I had a real fucking shot with you.” He gestured towards the folded-up cutout. “So, I know when you see that shit, you feel embarrassed and all, but when I see it, I remember how fucking excited I got when I realized that you were at least attracted to me. And how seeing you get all flustered, just like you are right now-” He poked my nose affectionately. “-gave me the guts to kiss you.”

To punctuate his point, he leaned over and gently pressed his lips to mine, reminding me of that moment in my bedroom, where he sat on my bed and asked if he was still hot and kissed me for the first time. It felt just as surreal now as it did then, and I asked whatever god was out there to not let me wake up from this dream.

When Roy pulled back, he wore that same fucking smile, the one I didn’t think I’d ever get used to seeing. “Right. Help me find the fucking blanket so we can get some sleep, hmm?” Holding my hand, he helped me to my feet, and the two of us set to work, looking for the blanket so we could finally go to our bed.

~

Working for Higgins was an easy adjustment. I loved my new office upstairs; I had put up photos of Roy, both of my little orange sticky notes, a couple drawings from Phoebe, pictures with Keeley and Rebecca, Oscar, the team, my family, Roy’s family. The handmade card that Ted, Beard, Roy, and the whole team had signed to congratulate me on the promotion sat on my desk, alongside a framed photo of Roy kissing me after the final game against Arsenal, courtesy of Keeley, who’d found it in a tabloid.

I loved having my office right next to Higgins, who liked to pop in for a chat in the late mornings, and brought in treats that his wife made for us to share, and tapped out a beat on our shared wall when I played my music loud enough for him to hear. He listened excitedly to my ideas and suggestions, and he quickly stopped referring to me as “Assistant to the Director of Football Operations” and began calling me “Assistant Director of Football Operations”; it was a change everyone at the Dog Track was quick to adopt.

But I had to admit, my favorite thing about my new office was the window by my desk. As much as I missed my office that I had shared with Roy, this office had one great advantage: the view. My window overlooked the pitch, where I could watch training. Meaning, I could watch Roy. When my window was cracked open, the way it always happened to be when the team was on the pitch, I could hear him screaming “Whistle!” and swearing at Jamie. Sometimes I’d just stand by the window and watch for a bit; that always managed to catch his eye, and I was always rewarded with a smirk and a wave from Roy, sometimes some teasing whistles from the team or a cheerful “Howdy!” from Ted.

After a bit more than a full season working upstairs, I found myself skipping from Higgins’s office to mine. We’d been pursuing a great young player out of Mexico, someone Dani had brought to our attention, and we’d finally signed him. And, despite my insistence that this was a team effort, I had been instrumental in making it happen. So, Keeley and Rebecca decided to take me out to a celebratory lunch, one that Rebecca informed me would take the rest of the afternoon and also required me to dress nice. Accordingly, I had worn heels and a springy little dress that had made Roy’s jaw drop with a soft “Whoa” that morning as we got ready for work. Seeing that man check me out still managed to make my heart flutter with delight.

After popping into Higgins’s office to let him know I was heading out, I went back to mine to open the window and shout down a quick goodbye to Roy. Instead, I found an empty pitch. Weird.

I figured they must have gone into the weight room or something, just a spontaneous change of plans. Par for the course with Ted in charge. So, I made my way downstairs, thinking I’d pop into Roy’s office to see if I could get a proper goodbye.

The changing room was eerily quiet, as was Ted and Beard’s office. I poked my head into Roy’s office, which I hated to admit looked empty since I’d moved upstairs. It was especially empty without Roy. With a small hmmf, I paused to glance over his desk, smiling when I glimpsed the picture of us that sat on his desk, a selfie in front of the Mona Lisa that he’d grumbled good-naturedly about.

“That’s a great picture of us.”

Roy stood in the doorway, kebab takeaway container in hand. He smiled and walked over to me, placing the Styrofoam box on his desk. He kissed my forehead sweetly and let his eyes trail over my face.

“Just wanted to say bye before I head to lunch,” I explained, giving his leather jacket a friendly tug. “You look nice, by the way. Interview today?”

He shrugged. “Just didn’t want to be in fucking workout clothes all day,” he mumbled. He nodded towards the takeaway box. “Got you somethin’.”

I frowned. “Kebabs? Roy, I told you I’ve got lunch plans with Keeley and Rebecca.”

“Open the box.”

I rolled my eyes. “Seriously, Roy, I’m gonna be late. Can’t you just toss these in the fridge, and I’ll eat them tonight? Or you can eat them. Or-”

“Just open the fucking box,” Roy said with a laugh, eyebrows raised. “Shit, you really never fucking shut up.”

Narrowing my eyes, I picked up the surprisingly light container. I glanced back at Roy, who nodded at me, encouraging me to open it. With a sigh I opened the lid. Instead of finding our usual lunch, there was a small, velvet box inside and a little orange sticky note that simply read:

To my future wife

XOXO Roy

I snapped my head up to look at Roy, whose smile had grown. Hands shaking slightly, I picked up the black box, letting the Styrofoam container plop back onto Roy’s desk. When I opened the little box, I gasped.

Inside was a diamond ring. It was simple, a small diamond, the exact kind I’d described to Keeley and Rebecca at our sleepover so long ago. I looked back up at Roy, whose eyes had that old anxiety swimming in them, alongside affection and tenderness.

“I’d get down on one knee, but, y’know,” he mumbled, offering up a bashful smile. He cleared his throat. “If I could go back to the first time I bought you kebabs for lunch, I’d have done this. Because every minute of not being married to you is a big fucking waste of time.”

My breath caught in my throat as I blinked back tears. “Roy,” I gasped, my eyes shifting back to the beautiful ring.

He reached over and took the ring out of the box and held it up to me. “What d’you say?” His voice was soft, tender, full of adoration to an extent I’d never heard. “Please say yes.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the familiar phrase. “Yes.” I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips, my heart bursting at the feeling of his smile against mine.

To my surprise, he pulled back. “She fucking said yes!” he hollered, slipping the ring on my finger.

In an instant, every Greyhound player, along with Ted, Beard, Rebecca, Higgins, and Keeley, burst into the tiny office, shouting and cheering and hugging each other with even more joy than when they’d finished first. Someone- Dani and Colin and Sam, I presumed- started throwing confetti around the office while we were ambushed with hugs and kisses and congratulations.

Keeley and Rebecca smothered me in their arms, offering their own words of excitement and joy. I looked at them suspiciously.

“There was no lunch, was there?”

Rebecca scrunched her nose and shook her head. “Roy asked if we could find an excuse to dress you up,” she admitted, tears in her eyes.

Keeley, who was openly crying, held up her phone. “And a good thing! Look how fucking beautiful you look!” Sure enough, I looked gorgeous in the photos Keeley had managed to take of the proposal. But my eyes were drawn to Roy’s face and the absolute joy that could be seen there.

I felt someone grab my hand and tug; Roy smiled down at me as he pulled me close. “Did I do good?” he murmured. When I nodded, he grunted. “Good. I’m actually impressed that these muppets could keep a fucking secret.”

As he pulled me into a proper kiss, Jamie and Sam started a chant that everyone quickly joined in: “He’s here, he’s there, he’s gonna marry her! Roy Kent! Roy Kent!”

~

The night before the wedding, I packed a bag to go stay at my parents’ house, where Keeley, my maid of honor, insisted on having a sleepover so she could see the shrine, as my childhood bedroom was often called.

Her mouth widened into that Cheshire-cat grin as she took in all the posters. “Holy shit, it’s even better than I imagined!” she giggled, setting her things down. “You’re telling me that Roy saw this, and that’s what made him decide to kiss you?”

Sitting down on my bed, I chuckled. “I know. He must’ve really fucking liked me.”

Instead of joining me, Keeley meandered around my room, pointing out different posters and tittering at them. She turned to me, eyebrow cocked. “Alright. Which one is your absolute favorite?”

I bobbled my head, grinning. “Well, there’s always this one.” I pointed above me to the poster of a young Roy that my dad and I had argued over the placement of. I stood and skipped over to the closet. “Or this one.” Taped inside my closet was a picture of a shirtless Roy running, the one that I’d secretly ripped out of a magazine when I was sixteen and spent far too many hours drooling over.

Keeley howled with laughter at the sight of it. “Holy shit, no wonder you’re marrying him, he looks fit as fuck there. Has he seen this one?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely not,” I answered, joining in her snickering. “That’s the one secret I’m going to keep from my husband, thank you very much.”

We spent the rest of the night sitting on my bed, gabbing and giggling and sharing the champagne Keeley had packed in her overnight bag, until Keeley knocked out next to me. I gazed up at the ceiling, staring at Roy, unable to believe what my life had become. When I had put that poster up, I was a giggling young girl, fantasizing about what it would be like to meet the guy on the poster, the one who made me betray my family and watch Chelsea matches. And in mere hours, I’d be standing in front of that same man and marrying him.

Oh, if only my teenage self could see me now.

As excited as teenage me would be about marrying Roy freaking Kent (and the fact that we got to shag that gorgeous man), she’d be even more excited to find out that he was kind. And loving. And funny. And good with dogs and kids, despite himself. And that he loved The Sound of Music and reading. And that he was a damn good cook. And that he begrudgingly sang Spice Girls songs on road trips. And that he loved us.

Before I drifted off to sleep, I blew a kiss to the Roy on my ceiling, silently thanking him for his role in introducing me to the real Roy Kent.

~

My hands started to sweat as I heard the violins playing. Keeley had squeezed me tight and shoved my bouquet in my hands before walking down the aisle, where Roy stood with Jamie, who he’d asked to be best man through gritted teeth. After Keeley went Phoebe, in her poofy dress, who, at this point, was probably more excited about the wedding than anyone else.

As I took my position in front of the closed doors, my dad linked our arms, smiling at me with gentle pride. “You ready?” With my mouth insanely dry, all I could manage was a firm nod. “Roy Kent,” he clucked, shaking his head. “You’re really marrying Roy fucking Kent.” He kissed my cheek. “And more importantly, you’re marrying someone who loves you the way you deserve.”

“That I am,” I managed, taking a deep breath as the doors opened.

Roy’s eyes lit up the moment he saw me, just like I knew mine did at the sight of him. As a surprise, I’d asked the violinists to play the wedding march from The Sound of Music for my walk down the aisle; I could see the moment Roy realized it, because he threw his head back and rolled his eyes cheekily.

After my dad kissed my cheek and placed my hand on Roy’s, Roy leaned forward. “My fucking Maria,” he whispered, shaking his head.

“My Captain von Trapp,” I countered with a wink.

~

Rebecca had meant it as a joke when she offered to let us use the Dog Track as our reception venue. But Roy and I jumped at the offer, thinking it was fitting, considering how central A.F.C. Richmond was to our relationship. In the days leading up to our wedding day, we spent hours transforming the pitch into a proper party space, surpassing all of our expectations.

After allowing people to mingle with appetizers and drinks, Ted, who we’d allowed to play emcee for the night, called us forward for toasts. Roy sighed and rolled his eyes, more of a reflex than anything else, and gripped my hand tight as we walked to the stage that Keeley had managed to have brought in.

Roy took the microphone from Ted with a grunt and a curt nod. He let out a deep breath and brought the microphone to his mouth. “Right. So, for some reason, everyone thinks that prick over there is my best friend.” He pointed at Jamie, who stood up, looking prouder than when he was named Player of the Year. “But honestly, this right here is my best friend in the world.” He turned back to me, ignoring the offended scoff from Jamie. “From the moment I crashed her father’s birthday dinner, she’s become my very best friend.” He cleared his throat and gave his head a little nervous scratch. “So, most people who know us know the story of how we got together. Dad’s birthday dinner, posters in the childhood bedroom, secret relationship that apparently everyone at Nelson Road fucking knew about. But, I’ve never told anyone about how I was basically a fucking stalker before any of that.”

I looked over at Roy quizzically. He smirked and continued.

“See, I fancied her the fucking moment I met her. Like, Ted brought her into the office, and I couldn’t say a fucking word. I think I told her not to wear any rank perfume and then just slouched off.” Everyone gave out a light chuckle. “Then I bought her lunch, as a way to, I dunno, make conversation. And we sort of started chatting at work a bit after that. And then this one Friday night she leaves early. And Ted says that he forgot to give her some papers he’d wanted her to work on over the weekend, and he’s all ‘Oh well, she can get it Monday’. But me, being properly whipped at this point, I fucking say ‘I’ll take it to her’.”

My jaw fell slightly; this whole time, I had thought Ted must’ve begged or bribed Roy to bring me those papers. Had he really brought them just to see me?

“I made up some shit about how she told me whereabouts she lived and that it wasn’t too far from my place. And now, looking back, I don’t think he fucking believed me.”

“Nope!” Ted called out with a hearty laugh. “I knew you were in love!”

Roy playfully shot Ted his favorite gesture and continued. “So, I realized I had no clue where she lived. And I felt like an absolute wanker. But then I remembered, we were on some stupid Snapchat group with Ted.”

“You’re welcome!” Ted chimed in again.

Roy rolled his eyes. “And this gorgeous idiot had her location on. So, I did what any sane guy would do: I fucking stalked her. And I turned into fucking Hugh Grant in Love Actually and went knocking on every door in that neighborhood like a right idiot. Until finally, I knocked on a door and saw this beautiful face.” He smiled gently at me. “And I realized right then that I loved that face. And I wanted to see that face every day.” He leaned over and gave me a small kiss. “So, I just want to say, I fucking love you. And I am so happy that I get to see your face and buy you kebabs for the rest of my life.” He took the champagne flute that Ted was holding out to him. “To Mrs. Roy Kent.”

“Mrs. Roy Kent!” everyone repeated, clinking their glasses together and sipping their champagne.

I toasted with Roy and took the microphone he offered me. “All I can say,” I started as everyone quieted, “is that dreams really do come true, and sometimes you get to marry the guy on the poster.” Everyone gave a light chuckle before I went on. “Honestly, though. Anyone who knows me knows that I have had a monstrous crush on this beautiful man for years. Pretty much since the day he made his debut. My poor dad had to watch me put up posters of a Chelsea player on my walls. Best day of his life was when Roy Kent came to Richmond, because it finally meant me putting up Greyhound posters.”

My dad’s laugh was the loudest of all.

“But I realized that today I’m not marrying some guy on a poster.” I turned to Roy and looked into his eyes. “Today I’m marrying Roy. The fit guy I met at work who cooks and who is a wonderful uncle and who loves Dan Brown novels and makes me happy.” I knew my smile was big and silly as I gazed at him. “When I met you, it was a dream come true, getting to know my big celebrity crush. But now, the life I’m living is better than any dream. And I love you for that. I absolutely love you.” I leaned over and planted a heated kiss on his lips, eliciting wolf-whistles from the Greyhounds. Blushing, I raised my glass. “To Roy!”

“To Roy!” came the echo, amidst cheers and sips of champagne.

Rot was relieved when the toasts were over (especially Jamie’s surprisingly tearful speech). We went through the rest of the motions- first dance, dinner, cutting the cake- and finally came to the part of the evening we were most looking forward to: the party. We danced with our friends and drank, reveling in the joy we all shared.

I was enjoying a dance with Beard when Roy grabbed my hand, saying he needed to show me something.

“Roy, can’t you wait until we leave for our honeymoon?” I teased as he led me away from the dance floor.

He rolled his eyes. “Sometimes I think you talk so fucking much just so I kiss you to try to shut you up,” he quipped.

We came to a stop at the edge of the party, where a flat wrapped package sat alone. I stared at Roy quizzically as he picked it up and handed it to me.

“I think your office can use some more décor,” he started slowly. “Especially because I heard some rumors about Higgins thinking about early retirement.”

I sighed and bit back a smile. “There has been talk,” I admitted. “Nothing set in stone, but I am definitely in the running to eventually become the D.F.O. once Higgins is ready to hand over the reins.” I gestured to whatever it was I held in my hands. “But what’s this?”

He bobbled his head. “Wedding gift. For your office. I’ve owed you this for a while now.”

My curiosity growing, I quickly opened the gift, letting the paper fall to the floor. It was something in a frame. I turned it over and threw my head back when I saw it.

It was the poster from my ceiling, the one Roy and I sat under when we kissed for the first time, only now it was framed. And more importantly, autographed.

“You’re an arsehole,” I laughed, cupping Roy’s cheek and pressing a kiss to his lips. “And I fucking love it.”

He shrugged, taking the poster from my hands and laying it down so he could hold me, leaning his forehead to mine. “Told you I’d autograph it for you,” he mumbled before peppering kisses all over my face. “I think it’ll look fucking great in your office, don’t you?”

I laughed and nodded. “Even if I don’t become D.F.O., I’ll still have the best office decorations in the building.”

Roy pulled back, studying my face carefully. “Fuck that. You’re going to get it.” He kissed me again. “After all, you’re a fucking superstar.”

I let out a small huff, embarrassed by the praise. “Roy-”

“Don’t you ever stop talking?”

And with that, he shut me up in the best way he knew how.

~

Taglist: @optimisticsandwichgladiator @giggling-sewer-ginger @katdahlali @sonyume @djarindroid @reading-blogs @thezimi @benedictscanvasmain @wibblywobblyvampywolfystuff @puckyou-forpuckssake @old-enough-to-know-better73 @ladygrey03 @soundofboots @justsomefunshit @geekgirl1996 @tedssweaters @queen-of-dumbasses @miaalltheway @di-essere-amato @shakespeareanwannabe @hotdoglamp @mal-adaptive-dreams @allthetroubleiveseen @netflix-addict @callmecasey81 @forgetmeaway @royalestrellas @kingleahhh @lemoonandlestars @ghxxxf @jill2629-blog @sunderland-6 @janalustare @ellouisa17

[nanawritesit]

ATEEZ: General NSFW Headcanons 🖤 (18+/ MDNI) 🔞🔞🔞

i am currently hard at work on the maknae line ver. of your first time having sex with ateez imagines, BUT i thought i could put this little diddy out to hold y’all over :) this one is more gender neutral too so it’s more inclusive!

TW: switch!HJ, switch!SH, dom!YH, sub!YS, dom!S, dom!MG, sub!WY, switch!JH, sexual intercourse (protection is up in the air,) giving and receiving oral sex, marking up, hair pulling, aftercare, semi-public sex, exhibitionism, missionary, doggy style, mating press, reverse cowgirl, spanking/ impact play, edging/ orgasm denial, choking, manhandling, pet names, sex toys, bondage, praise, degradation, overstimulation, sensory deprivation, jealous sex, thigh riding, size kink, daddy/sir kink, morning sex, wall sex, shower sex, fingering, roleplay, pegging, neck kissing and biting, breast/nipple play, begging, brat taming, rough sex, forced eye contact, phone sex/sexting, leather, food play, breeding kink, body worship, masturbation play, biting, grinding/dry humping, groping, undressing, whimpering/ moaning, kissing, mentions of BDSM, cursing

(god this is a lot, never say i don’t keep you guys FED 😤💞)

Hongjoong:

The switchiest switch that ever switched

He can be the biggest dom, especially when he’s jealous

Like have you seen how possessive he gets over his fans? Imagine how he is about you

All he has to do is see someone looking at you with desire and he sees red

All that’s going through his head is: “mine. mine. mine.”

Fucks you so hard you can’t walk and then goes: “Do you think anyone else could fuck you like that? No, I’m the only one. They can look at you all they want.”

Ooooo and if you’re a brat? He lives for taming you.

He’ll literally just give you a glare and go: “Just wait until we get home. You’re going straight to my room, understand?”

And you’ll be hard/wet in seconds, wishing you never teased him in the first place (except not really because you love it when he punishes you hehe)

LOVES marking you up with hickeys, they’re his favorite way of letting the world know you’re his

Will even try to convince you to wear a low cut top or a v-neck just to show them off

He’ll go crazy anytime you wear something red

Shirts, dresses, underwear, makeup, ANYTHING. if it’s red, he wants to take it off of you ❤️

HOWEVER, he also enjoys being a sub sometimes :) Mostly when he’s exhausted or stressed from work

He likes the freedom of being able to lie back and let you take care of him

And boy, do you 💀

He loooooves watching you ride him, about as much if not more than he loves topping you

Regardless of who’s on top, he loves seeing your face while having sex. Missionary is his favorite for that exact reason

Intimacy is a really big thing for him. I don’t see him as the type to just wildly fuck someone and walk away

The KING of aftercare. He always asks if you’re okay, holds you in his arms, plays with your hair, offers to get you food or water… he’s so soft for you 🥰

He loves to call you “my muse” and “baby” during sex

“Look at you, taking my cock so well… you’re a work of fucking art. It’s no wonder you’re my muse.”

“Oh baby, don’t stop… please don’t stop…”

He doesn’t really have a preference for what you call him… but he loses it whenever you call him “captain”

Especially if you’re the bottom, like if he tells you to do something and you reply, “As you wish, captain.” Holy shit, he’ll probably bust immediately

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Studio sex.

I KNOW it’s overused for him. But I don’t care. It’s not overrated if it’s genuinely good and true 😤

He works so much! It’s the perfect way to multitask 😌

Imagine bouncing up and down on his cock in his chair while he attempts to work on something, making him moan and cry out until he finally abandons his computer and destroys you from underneath…

He doesn’t have a lot of crazy kinks, but he does get some pleasure out of spanking you when you’ve been bratty

Calls you a “bad girl/boy” and makes you count as he slaps your ass over and over until it’s bright red (which only gets him going more ❤️)

He might enjoy some light bondage too, but that’s pretty much it :3

Also, you guys would definitely fuck to music sometimes (slow it down make it bouncy 😜)

Seonghwa:

He’s a switch, but he prefers being a dom

He loves pinning you down

And making you into a mess just with his fingers

Regardless of the role he’s playing, he’ll only cum after you do (Unless he’s had to go weeks without you)

Literally a master at oral… have you seen that tongue? It’s m a g i c a l

Kind of into edging? Like he’ll get you close with his fingers, then stop. Then he’ll get you close with his mouth, but stop again. Finally, he’ll let you cum in his cock

A big fan of neck kisses and biting

He also loves to play with your breasts… groping them, pinching your nipples between his fingers, jiggling them, licking them… it doesn’t matter how big or small they are, he loves them

He’s also into body worship, he’ll kiss every single inch of your body and tell you how beautiful you are

Lowkey has a thing for being called “oppa” or “hyung” during sex but SSHHH DONT TELL ANYONE 🤫

But he also likes to be called sir when he’s domming you 👀

“Does that feel good?” “Yes…” “Yes what?” “Yes sir.” “Very good. That’s a good girl/boy.”

THIGH RIDING

Nothing gets him going more than you humping his leg like a needy animal in heat 🔥

He’ll even tease you by pushing his leg up further against your core to give you more friction

But of course, he won’t let you cum like that. Only on his cock.

Suuuuuper into praise, both giving and receiving. He likes to hear how good he’s making you feel and vice versa

He’ll constantly tell you how pretty you look taking his cock :)

Makes the prettiest little noises when he cums 😭

His eyes never fail to roll back into his head when he finishes (the halazia eye roll OMG 🥵)

You kind of have a voice kink when it comes to him… and who could blame you, he has a sexy ass voice

He could be reading a grocery list and it would turn you on 💀

It pairs well with his masterful dirty talk… seriously, you think he could get you off just by talking to you if he wasn’t so adamant on making you cum on his cock all the time

He likes to kiss you the entire time you’re having sex

Which is fine by you, he’s a great kisser 💋

Is more into romantic sex than the rough kind

But he’ll fuck the shit out of you if he’s needy enough ;)

Likes to call you “darling” 🥰

“My darling, you’re breathtaking when you’re all fucked out… I could look at you like this forever.”

He might ask you to tie him up if he’s feeling extra subby 👀

You can tell he’s needy for you by the way his hands constantly roam over your body… squeezing your thighs, groping your ass, caressing your hips, jiggling your breasts… he’s so touchy when he’s horny

He gets sooooo whiny when he’s subbing. He practically begs you for his release, furrowing his brow and throwing his head back in desperation

“Please darling, please, I need to cum… I need you…”

Yunho:

dom dom dom dom dom.

I seriously don’t see him being a sub unless he’s really desperate

However, I do think he is a soft dom :)

He doesn’t want to throw you around or punish you. He just wants to be in control

Prefers obedient subs over brats, but he can handle a little attitude every now and then to keep things interesting 🔥

SIZE KINK

(another overused trope but it’s not overrated if it’s what??? GOOD AND TRUE.)

He looooves overpowering you with his size and strength, pinning both your wrists down with one of his large hands

Aaaaaand, a daddy kink for sure (the two kind of go together)

When you get whimpery and overstimulated, he just pouts affectionately and goes: “Awh princess, is daddy too big for you? I know you can take it.”

Big dick energy. I just know this man is PACKING

Oh yeah, speaking of which, he loves to call you princess. He could also call you prince depending on your preference :)

With these dynamics, it’s only a short segway into a sugar daddy/ sugar baby roleplay, just sayin 😗

He’ll come home with a super expensive gift for you, and obv you’ll be all excited and ask him what it’s for and he’ll be like: “Daddy’s gotta take care of his baby. Now, how do you plan on thanking me?”

Has the best hands in the world, so obviously he’s great at fingering 👀

Imagine his cold rings pressing against your entrance as he has you bent over one knee…

THIGH RIDING pt. 2

Seriously, have you seen this man’s thighs??? There’s no way he wouldn’t like his partner getting off on them!

Not super into giving you hickeys because he feels like he’s hurting you 🥺

However he DOES like it when you leave scratches down his back 😏

Likes fucking you in front of a mirror so he can watch you take him like a good girl/boy

Sex with him usually starts out slow and sweet but as time goes on he gets more and more rough

You guys had to move your bed forward a few inches because your headboard kept slamming into the wall 💀

He’s also into blindfolds… he loves making you so sensitive to his touch through the sensory deprivation

Also… he’s a gamer boy, so he’d love it if you’d go under the desk and “assist him” while he’s playing 👀

Yeosang:

He’s definitely not the biggest sub in the group (*cough* wooyoung *cough*) but he’s up there for sure

He’s just so delicate, I can’t really picture him as a dom

He’s not a brat at all, he likes to be obedient for you :)

He’d probably enjoy calling you “sir” or “ma’am” more than daddy or mommy

Likes to be praised, so be sure to tell him what a good boy he is and how well he’s doing ❤️

He’s 100% a whimperer 👀

His noises are ADDICTIVE, you just want to keep causing him to make them

Can’t form coherent sentences either

“Sir/Ma’am, I… I can’t, it’s too… I just, Ah!”

I don’t think he’d be into too many kinks, he’s more on the vanilla side

That’s not to say that sex with him is boring, because it most definitely is not 💀 He’s just not going to be into bondage or bdsm

However… he can get behind some roleplay 😏

Likes to play the role of your personal erotic dancer, stripping and grinding on you while you sit in a chair

Enjoys having his hair pulled

He might have a super deep voice, but when he’s close to cumming, it gets higher pitched. You think it’s absolutely adorable and live for the sound.

When you get to a point in your relationship where he feels he can trust you, he lets you take a recording of his voice while you get him off since you love it so much :)

He also likes to be called “pretty boy” ❤️

As you’re ruining him, you’ll lean back and brush some of his hair away from his face and go: “Look at my pretty boy, so fucked out and feeling so good…”

A big fan of oral! He loves watching you go down on him just to work him up before sex, but even more so he loves getting down on his knees and pleasuring you with his tongue

When he’s feeling good, her starts chuckling sexily in that deep ass voice of his. The sound is absolutely melodic, and you can’t get enough of it

Likes to be treated like a prince afterward 👑 He’ll be absolutely smitten if you give him tons of kisses and cuddles, play with his hair, and clean him up 🥰

San:

San can either be the most romantic love maker in the world or the roughest fuck ever

He’s a dom, and he likes brats. Have you seen him with Wooyoung? He’s a tamer for sure.

However, he’s still San. He doesn’t have it in him to be mean to anyone. He still wants to shower you in praise and make you feel good.

It just takes a little breaking sometimes 😗

He’s a big edger. When you’ve been especially bad, he’ll deny your orgasm at least three times before he lets you cum

Speaking of which, his stamina is INSANE. He can go multiple rounds without getting tired

“You want to cum? Well, you’re going to have to be a good girl/boy first. Only good girls/boys get to cum.”

Tease him in public. He won’t admit it, but he loves how bold you are riling him up around all your friends.

Run your hand along his thigh under the table, press your ass against his hips when you walk past him, bend over in front of him… he’ll immediately be thinking of all the ways he could fuck the audacity straight out of you 😈

He goes crazy hard sometimes. You’ve been worried that either you or the bed will break in half with how hard he fucks you sometimes 💀

A big fan of morning sex. It’s usually soft and slow, and he can make love to you delicately, the way he wants to

Also loves shower sex. He loves pressing you up against the glass and taking you from behind, then cleaning you up like a good boyfriend ❤️

CHOKING. This man loves to wrap one of his big hands around your throat when he wants to get your attention or remind you who’s in charge

Forced eye contact. He needs you to look at him the entire time he’s pleasuring you. If you try to squint your eyes shut, he stops and grabs your jaw forcefully.

“Hey, look at me when I’m talking to you. I told you, don’t take your eyes off of me.”

Wants to look straight into your eyes when you cum 🥰

He loves marking you up, which isn’t such a hard thing to do with as hard as he fucks 💀 He also lets you give him hickeys and scratch his back up when you’ve been good :)

Because he can go so hard sometimes, he’s another king of aftercare. All the dom in him melts away and he goes back to your sweet, loving San.

“Are you alright, beautiful/ handsome? Did I go too hard? Are you hurt? Let me get you some food and water, okay? Just relax, I’ve got you.”

I love him so much I wanna cry.

That reminds me, he loves to call you “beautiful” or “handsome,” depending on your preference!

He doesn’t really like pet names, he prefers you just call him by his name

When you’re having slow, romantic sex, he loves it when you call him “Sannie” 🥺

Mingi:

This man is a FREAK and a mf’in HALF 😤

There’s soooo many things he’s into, I don’t even know where to start…

First off, he’s a dom. He switches between hard and soft depending on his mood and the situation

Most of the time he lets you pick :)

He’s down for whatever! He can spend all night punishing you with a riding crop or belt while you furiously fuck yourself on his cock, or indulge in some slow, romantic love making

He does let you go on top sometimes, but he’s still the power bottom

Bondage. He loves handcuffing you the bed and tying your legs together while he teases you with a sex toy ⛓️

Oh god does he love making you beg for it 😭

To him, there’s no better sound than you groveling beneath him, practically in tears asking him to please fuck you

Certified munch ™️

Seriously though, he looooves giving oral. I also see him being into multiple orgasms, to him, eating you out or sucking you off is the perfect first orgasm ❤️

BUT he also loves receiving just as much… when he’s in hard dom mode, he’ll make you suck him off before he’ll even think of touching you the way you want him to

You’ll be so overstimulated by the time he’s done with you. You’ll be a crying, whimpering mess, and he’s still pulling you onto up onto his lap going: “One more, sweetheart, you can do it.”

Speaking of which, his favorite name to call you is “sweetheart” 🥰

I can see him enjoying being called “sir” or “daddy” equally… probably sir when he’s a hard dom and daddy when he’s a soft dom :)

May or may not have a breeding kink 😗

Something about filling you to the brim with his cum with your legs on his shoulders so you can carry his seed just riles him up like no other

Loves creampies, consensually of course! (Wrap it before you tap it kids ☝🏻)

CHOKING pt. 2 (when he’s a hard dom)

THIGH RIDING pt. 3… he’s also got some thicc, juicy thighs, so he would obviously love letting you get off on them!

Wall fucking… he enjoys hoisting you up in the air, wrapping your legs against his waist, and fucking you right against the wall

Has a goal to fuck you in every single room of the house 💀

Bedroom, kitchen, bathroom, laundry room, living room, dining room…. you name it, he wants you there.

Phone sex and sending each other nudes and detailed descriptions of what you want to do to each other while he’s away 🔥

Also, don’t tell anyone, but he secretly has a thing for leather… whether it’s a jacket, boots, dress, pants, or even lingerie, it gets him GOING 🖤

Exhibitionism… he loves seeing how far he can go without getting caught, and the adrenaline is addictive (Don’t do this irl you can get in a lot of trouble lol)

In public bathrooms, hotels, dark closets, empty hallways… he knows exactly how to get you worked up enough to where you’ll agree

Food play… he loves covering you in whipped cream or hot fudge and licking it all off torturously slow

DOGGY STYLE. This is his favorite position. He loves making you arch your back as he pounds into you from behind, one hand in your hair and the other pressing down on your back 🥵

Big dick energy pt. 2. I fully believe that this man is thoroughly endowed 😗

Damn that was a lot, you’re welcome ;)

Wooyoung:

SUB SUB SUB SUB SUB!!!

Ya’ll already saw this coming who am I kidding

He’s literally outed himself as liking degradation 💀

He’s the world’s biggest brat too… he teases you all day long while you’re out in public, when he knows you can’t do anything until you get home

Loves to be manhandled. Shove him against the wall, yank his hair, grab him by the jaw and force him to look at you… he’ll just giggle euphorically and look up at you with a satisfied smirk

He may be a sub, but he still enjoys riding you. You’ll still have all the control, he’ll just be riding you like a cowboy 🤠

Masturbation play… he’ll literally leave the door open and moan so loud, just so you’ll walk in on him jerking off and punish him :)

Also likes it when you make him get himself off while you just sit there and watch

He’ll whine and complain that he needs you to touch him, but you know part of him loves being watched by your hungry, possessive eyes 💋

BITING… going both ways. He likes biting your shoulder when he’s close to cumming, and he likes when you bite him anywhere

Pegging. Please peg him. He needs it soooo bad.

But seriously, if you don’t have male anatomy, he will gladly buy you a strap-on HIMSELF and let you fuck him with it 😈

As I said earlier, he loves degradation. Tell him what a little slut he is and how naughty he’s been for you

Unlike Yeosang, he DOES enjoy calling you “mommy” or “daddy.” He might even let a “mistress” or “master” slip if the bdsm is cranked up 

Speaking of which, he likes to be tied up. Like, a lot. Whether it’s ropes or handcuffs, he loves it.

As soon as you have him right where you want him, he starts apologizing and telling you how he promises he’ll be a good boy…

Tease him just enough… don’t let him have it so easily

Loves it when you wear long necklaces or chains, so they can dangle down in his face :)

Oh and uh, he’s another whimperer 😳

Seriously, he’s SO loud. You get so worried that one of your neighbors will hear and complain 💀

You might have to get him a gag if he doesn’t quiet down soon… 👀

Jongho:

Like the captain, Jongho is another big switch. He couldn’t possibly pick which role he likes better.

On one hand, he adores towering over you and intimidating you, making you beg for him to fuck you…

He’s used to getting overlooked, so he takes this as a chance to showcase his true power

But on the other hand, he really enjoys letting you take the reigns and use him as your own personal fuck toy 😈

Jongho’s favorite nickname is “angel,” don’t try to tell me otherwise 😤

“You like that angel? Do you want more?”

He can be really possessive as well 👀

Does not like it when other people try to flirt with you and take you away from him… it makes his blood boil

If it’s from someone he hates, he’ll go full dom and fuck you so hard you can’t even remember who was flirting with you

But if it’s someone he actually respects and admires, he needs you to dom him and show him how he’s the only man for you ❤️

He’s super hot when he’s angry btw :) You can’t help yourself once you see him grit his teeth or clench his fists in jealousy

We got another loud one in here!

He swears he doesn’t mean to, but come on, he’s the main vocal! Once he starts feeling himself about to cum, he can’t help the moans and whimpers that spill from his lips

His favorite position is probably the mating press. He loves throwing your legs up over his shoulders and pressing your knees to your chest, pounding into you from up top

Although he also enjoys himself a good reverse cowgirl ;)

How could he not, you get to get off how you like, and he gets a phenomenal view of your backside

Speaking of which…. Choi Jongho is an ass man.

He loves groping it, slapping it, jiggling it, anything

Literally the way to get him worked up ten times out of ten is just to wear something tight that showcases your booty 🍑

I don’t see him being super kinky, but he does enjoy using toys on you

Imagine him running a vibrator over your clit or fucking you with a dildo while dirty talking you 🥵

When he’s feeling subby, he loves being called a “good boy” 💞 He also likes having his hair pulled!

You get to see the whiny side of him that no one else gets to see :)

“Please, angel… I want to cum for you so bad, will you let me, angel? Please?”

And who could possibly resist him when he’s asking so nicely 🥰

[aboutzatanna]

So, when Zatanna debuted in Batman: The Animated Series she was just an ordinary stage magician with no magic powers but later when she appeared in Justice League Unlimited she had actual magical powers. So why didn't she initially have her magical powers?

In the JLU tie in comic, Justice League Unlimited #40 by writer Ben McCool and artist Dario Brizuela (link), we get some answers:

We find out that as a child Zatanna misused her powers so Zatara had them taken away from her:

(Shout out to the artist Dario Brizuela and colorist Heroic Age, this sequence is beautifully drawn)

Zatara comes off as a good parents in sequence; fair but not harsh or stern and willing to correct his child when she does wrong.

In the present day Zatanna wakes up and we learn that her father disappeared at some point and since Zee can use magic, it's likely she figured out how to tap into some of her abilities over the years:

Zatanna and Doctor Fate head to Central City where Shadow Thief has run amok causing everyone's shadow to come alive and attack everyone.

After some light dissing on Captain Boomerang (oh hey, look it's Alan Scott):

The JL takes on the 8 story tall shadow monster whilst Zatanna and Doctor Fate track down who could be responsible for augmenting the Shadow Thief's powers which leads them to....

......the Warlcok of Ys and Zatara himself! The Warlock is from one of the earliest Zatanna stories (link).

Despite Warlock's attempts to restrain them, Zee manages to tap in to her power and take on the Warlock:

"You're so gonna wish I had my morning coffee!" XD Ngl that panel cracked me up.

Sadly the father/daughter reunion doesn't last but we do get a touching moment nonetheless:

Zatara doesn't come off as the best of fathers in this story but I love the continued affirmation that the League members are her family. The power pulsating in Zatanna's mind is obviously referring to the Medulla Gem and the line about 'his people' is a reference to the Homo Magi, both of which are pulled from Sindella's story and Zatara being forced to stay away from Zatanna is pulled from Zatanna's debut story 'Zatanna's Search'. It looks like the writer combined both stories into one.

Sadly, this plot point is never followed up on. But it was cool to see a writer, especially one for a tie in book do a deep dive on a characters history. Usually tie in comics are treated as an after thought but there are times when the stories are as good if not better than the show.

As for Shadow Thief, well no story, especially one with a Green Lantern, is complete without a trebuchet showing up in some form:

[atzupdates]

YS 🌟 [230409] Twitter Update “Good morning TINY 🥰 Fighting today as well!!”

[cheesy-mak]

Incorrect quotes with the five villains!

Menendez: Bye Menèndez! Bye Rorke! Bye Adler! Bye Graves! Bye Menéndez!

Rorke: You said 'bye Menéndez' twice.

Makarov: I like Menéndez.

.

Makarov: What did you guys get in your yearbook?

Menéndez: "Prettiest smile."

Rorke: "Nicest personality."

Adler: "Most likely to start a bar fight."

Graves: "Least likely to start a bar fight, but most likely to win one."

(new hc, adler and graves fight in bars occasionally /j)

.

Graves: Good morning.

Menéndez: Good morning.

Adler: Good morning.

Rorke: You all sound like robots! Try spicing it up a bit—

Makarov: GOOD MORNING MOTHERFUCKERS

.

Makarov: We've been conducting an ongoing study to see what Rorke will and will not eat!

Menéndez: Grass? Yes.

Makarov: Moss? Yep.

Menéndez: Leaves? Yes!

Makarov: Shoelaces? Strangely, yes.

Menéndez: Worms? Occasionally.

Makarov: Rocks? Nope.

Menéndez: Twigs? Usually, for some reason.

Makarov: Graves's cooking? Inconclusive.

Adler: How did you two.. Test this?

Makarov: You just hand him stuff and say "eat this" and if he eats it, he eats it.

Adler: I, don't know how to feel about this.

Graves, VERY concerned: IS THAT WHERE ALL MY SPARE SHOELACES WENT??

.

Graves: What does "take out" mean?

Rorke: Food!

Menèndez: Dating.

Adler: Murder.

Makarov: IT CAN MEAN ALL THREE IF YOU'RE NOT A COWARD.

Graves: Are we really going to let Menéndez keep Makarov?

Adler: We kept Rorke.

(hold on im getting vibes)

.

Menéndez: Poison is a magic transmutation that turns people into corpses.

Rorke: This knife is actually a magic wand.

Makarov: Meet me in the Denny's parking lot for a wizard duel.

Adler: *cocks gun* Magic missile.

Graves: What the fuck is wrong with you people?

Adler and Graves incorrect quotes, because I feel like these two could get along.

Graves, in a beach shirt: So sue me, and I'd like to be on Island Time for a day!

Adler: I have Spotify open right now on my computer, do you want me to blast you? Do you want me to put you on blast? Because I've got your history right here on the sidebar.

Adler: Take it back by Jimmy Buffet, Nautical Wheelers by Jimmy Buffet, Jolly Mon Sing by Jimmy Buffet, Steamer by Jimmy Buffet, TREAT HER LIKE A LADY BY JIMMY BUFFET, MAÑANA BY JIMMY BUFFET, WHEN SALOME PLAYS THE DRUMS BY JAMES BUFFET, HAVANA DAYDREAMIN BY JIMMY BUFFET— What the FUCK happened to you?!

Graves, laughing his ass off: I HAD A CASE OF THE MONDAYS—

Adler: ARE YOU HAUNTED?! ARE YOU FUCKING POSSESSED? DO I NEED TO GET AN EXORCIST?!

Adler: YOU USED TO BE MY FRIEND! WHO A R E YOU?!

Graves, crying and laughing: i ha d a c ase of the mon d a ys

.

Adler: Is something burning?

Graves: Just my love for you. (/j)

Adler: Graves, the toaster is on fire.

.

Adler: You know, I'm starting to regret showing you how that blender works.

Graves, drinking toast: Why do you say that?

Graves: Hey, look, it's efficient!

Adler: No the FUCK it's not.

Adler: Bad things keep happening to me, like I have bad luck or something.

Graves: Adler, you don't have bad luck. The reason bad things happen to you is because you're a dumbass.

Graves: Are you an 'arr' pirate or a 'yo ho ho' pirate?

Adler: I'm a 'I'm not paying $600 for photoshop' pirate.

[clover-writes-poetry]

"promise"

i spent so much time with your head in my lap i forgot what it felt like when it wasn’t there 

maybe i should’ve held onto the wisps of you that were stuck to my sweater and kept them a box inside my heart 

i think i’ll be forever chasing the feeling i left on your back patio two years ago in some version of the past 

the last time i really slept was in your sheets staring up at the constellation of your face  

i find an excuse to bring you up at every chance i get 

mentioning you to the cashier at 7/11, telling my grandma about your latkes 

even when your jaw slipped from my fingers like sand from an hourglass 

and under the cover of night i still listen to songs you like and wish i could banish myself to go live in the field behind the graveyard 

among the skeletons and the dead flowers 

do you ever think about the flowers i gave you that sat on your windowsill for 3 months? 

sometimes i wonder if you look at them while you brush your hair in the morning in front of the photos of us stuck to your mirror 

almost identical to the ones on the corkboard in the kitchen 

breakfast at 7 am, your voice in my ear, the rush that came with boiling water, our favorite plates on the drying rack 

i miss you when you’re next to me and i wish i could reach out to tell you that 

imaginary fingers choke the back of my neck and i settle for watching you make dinner instead 

i loved it when you cooked, i told you that once 

you shrunk away from my voice and went back into the kitchen  

but i could see your face light up in the reflection of the white tile 

when you came home after work with a blue toaster i knew i was done for 

a week later i found us teacups on someone's doorstep 

we put on a record we didn’t care about, and you had your hair tied up in the kitchen 

making a pasta dish we’d had 100 times 

i poured the wine into our mugs, toasting to your hips as i raised my fork to yours 

in the dining room i’d eat your weapons first because i have always been disarming  

with your armor gone maybe you would let it be me who got to hold your hand under the table as if someone was watching us  

we said grace for our own religion and when i opened my eyes your hand was resting on my plate 

that night i put up a shrine to your name in the corner of our living room 

you laughed when i made heart cookies and they turned out as misshapen lumps  

pressing a kiss into my cheek you assured me they were just as good  

i used the nice jam we bought at the farmers market in midtown  

lines blurred between love and need as we spent all weekend writing the laws of our new country  

were you laughing when we walked around the city for three hours trying to find your favorite ramen place? 

i don’t remember but in the photo sitting on my dresser you were smiling, mouth full of noodles, eyes bright with joy 

when i signed the check, you made fun of how i write my ys and i snaked an arm around your waist in a way that seemed almost overfamiliar 

months later i stand in our bedroom door and pretend that i know a thing about love and anger and you 

i think this is what they wrote about, when i read that love is falling 

because i don’t know where the floor is 

because i know it’ll hurt when we hit the ground 

at one point i promised myself that i could be a person without you 

[i broke that promise 3 months and 2 years later when i lay on the cold tile floor and cried]

[abellinthecupboard]

Sawdust & Diamonds

From the top of the flight of the wide, white stairs, through the rest of my life, do you wait for me there? There’s a bell in my ears. There’s the wide, white roar. Drop a bell down the stairs. Hear it fall forevermore. Hear it fall forevermore. Drop a bell off of the dock. Blot it out in the sea. Drowning mute as a rock; and sounding mutiny. There’s a light in the wings, hits the system of strings, from the side, where they swing— see the wires, the wires, the wires. And the articulation in our elbows and knees makes us buckle; and we couple in endless increase as the audience admires. And the little white dove, made with love, made with love; made with glue, and a glove, and some pliers swings a low sickle arc, from its perch in the dark: settle down, settle down, my desire. And the moment I slept, I was swept up in a terrible tremor. Though no longer bereft, how I shook! And I couldn’t remember. And then the furthermost shake drove a murthering stake in, and cleft me right down through my center. And I shouldn’t say so, but I know that it was then, or never. Push me back into a tree. Bind my buttons with salt. Fill my long ears with bees praying please please please love you ought not No you ought not And then the system of strings tugs on the tip of my wings (cut from cardboard and old magazines): makes me warble and rise, like a sparrow. And in the place where I stood, there is a circle of wood— a cord or two—which you chop, and you stack in your barrow. It is terribly good to carry water and chop wood, streaked with soot, heavy-booted and wild-eyed; as I crash through the rafters, and the ropes and the pulleys trail after and the holiest belfry burns sky-high. And then the slow lip of fire moves across the prairie with precision, while, somewhere, with your pliers and glue, you make your first incision. And in a moment of almost-unbearable vision, doubled over with the hunger of lions, Hold me close, cooed the dove, who was stuffed, now, with sawdust and diamonds. I wanted to say: Why the long face. Sparrow, perch and play songs of long face. Burro, buck and bray songs of long face! Sing, I will swallow your sadness, and eat your cold clay, just to lift your long face; And though it may be madness, I will take to the grave your precious longface. And though our bones they may break, and our souls separate— Why the long face? And though our bodies recoil from the grip of the soil— Why the long face? And in the trough of the waves, which are pawing like dogs, pitch we, pale-faced and grave, as I write in my log. Then I hear a noise from the hull, seven days out to sea. And it is the damnable bell! And it tolls—well, I believe that it tolls—it tolls for me. And it tolls for me. And though my wrists and my waist seemed so easy to break, still, my dear, I’d have walked you to the edge of the water. And they will recognize all the lines of your face in the face of the daughter of the daughter of my daughter. And darling, we will be fine; but what was yours and mine appears to me a sandcastle that the gibbering wave takes. But if it’s all just the same, then will you say my name; say my name in the morning, so that I know when the wave breaks. I wasn’t born of a whistle, or milked from a thistle at twilight. No; I was all horns and thorns, sprung out fully formed, knock-kneed and upright. So: enough of this terror. We deserve to know light, and grow evermore lighter and lighter. You would have seen me through, But I could not undo that desire. O, desire! O, desire! O, desire! Desire, desire, desire, desire. From the top of the flight of the wide, white stairs Through the rest of my life Do you wait for me there?

— Joanna Newsom, Ys (2006) (X)

[myth-blossom]

MAH GURL!!!!!! I have a song that has never left my ears for the past 3 years. It’s called ‘Undo’ by Cool Joke. The original song is in Japanese, so I here is the song with the English translation.

https://youtu.be/NwaUaO_x-Ys

Hi Magenta! Thank you for the song request, it’s such a good one! I listened to both versions you’ve shared with me, including the English cover I’ve linked below. I hope you enjoy what the song inspired 😊

*Note: Bittersweet; mentions major character death

The brothers basked in the afternoon warmth as the lake shimmered under the sun. Two ducks waddled to the shore and shook the water from their feathers, eager to join the rest of their hungry flock near the bench. 47 tossed more grapes to his new friends before resting the bowl in his lap. 

“So, Agent 47…the world’s deadliest flamingo—I mean, assassin.” 

Grey peered at 47 to gauge his reaction. He briefly closed his eyes and shook his head, the classic sign of one’s internal sigh. Grey chuckled. 

“Diana?” 47 asked, hazarding a guess. 

“No, though I’m sure she has a great deal to say about your unusual exploits,” he grinned. “Olivia found a press photo of your mascot stunt in Miami.”

47 grimaced as he recalled the pink costume he used to pursue Sierra Knox. The flamingo suit had been quite itchy and unbearably hot, which only got worse the longer he wore it in the balmy Florida heat. It wasn’t one of his finer moments, but it had given Diana a good laugh (and, apparently, Grey and Olivia as well).

“Perhaps that’s why these ducks are so friendly towards you,” Grey continued. “Birds of a feather, as they say.”

47 smiled as a chorus of quacks rose around them, ready for more treats. He offered Grey the bowl as the ducks moved in expectantly. Grey took a handful of sliced grapes and tossed them carefully amongst the feathered crowd before taking two pieces for himself. He hummed in approval at their taste.

“These are delicious,” he said, reaching for more as a duck waddled closer to the bench. “It’s no wonder why they like them so much. You grew these yourself?”

“Yes, they’re from my garden,” 47 confirmed with pride.

Grey looked towards the impressive residence behind them and smiled fondly. 

“You’ve done well for yourself here, 47. This is a fine home.”

47’s breath hitched as a cool breeze blew in from the lake. He placed the grape bowl back in his lap, the ceramic feeling heavier than it seemed earlier when it was full. He stared ahead at the shimmering water as he fought to keep his voice firm.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “I wish you were here to see it.”

47 felt a hand clasp his shoulder in comfort.

“I know,” Grey said quietly. “I wish I could.”

“It feels wrong to enjoy this freedom when you never got that chance.”

“There’s no need for survivor’s guilt,” his brother said firmly.

47 stayed silent. The bowl was suddenly empty of grapes despite its hefty weight on his thighs. His feathered friends were gone, their quacks growing distant after having retreated back into the lake.

Grey squeezed the hand on his shoulder, encouraging 47 to face him. He clenched his fist and looked away from the lonely scenery to Grey’s serious expression.

“It’s fine to visit your memories, but…please don’t keep yourself in the past. Enjoy the present you’ve earned and the love that’s waiting for you there. You deserve to be happy.”

47 blinked as hot tears prickled his eyes. He rested his hand over Grey’s and squeezed as the sunlight began to saturate everything around them, his dream signaling its end. Grey smiled warmly, his final words echoing as the world faded into the light.

“You deserve a good life, 47.”

47 slowly awoke from his deep slumber. He found himself in the peaceful morning quiet of their bedroom, his companion snuggled cozily against him under the sheets. He felt the soothing warmth of her hand upon his face as she stroked his cheek, causing a sigh to escape from his lips. She lifted her head off his chest to look up at him as he stirred.

“47?” Diana asked softly.

He must have been speaking in his sleep again, he realized. An occasional side effect of the antidote Grey had administered so long ago. He inhaled deeply to center himself before he met her loving gaze, grateful for the reality that awaited his wounded heart.

“Are you alright?”

47 pulled Diana closer and kissed her deeply in response. He rested his hand upon hers, pulling away slightly from her lips to rest their foreheads against each other.

“I am now.” 

[yngseung]

[awoosmusehorde]

(♫)

The Ascension Trials.

In Scholomance, they are a bi-yearly event where 42 prospective magi summon Heroic Spirits to act as Servants and engage in a free-for-all to be the last seven standing so that they may earn the privilege of being called a Magus and join one of the Six Houses that effectively rule over the city.

Lemuria. Ys. Valhalla. Elysium. Aztlan. Dorado.

These Six Houses control nearly every aspect of the city that has come to see magecraft as normal in their daily lives, seemingly defying the very prospect of Mystery that supposedly defines the art. To this city, the battle of Masters and Servants has become akin to a spectator sport, a grand event where the pinnacle of magecraft can be seen in action, and where futures are either built or violently torn down.

Of course, no mere Holy Grail can supply such vast amounts of prana. For the Six Houses, the Holy Grail’s “miracles” are like child’s play. What fuels these trials is something greater, the very foundation upon which the city of Scholomance thrives - a source of prana so great that one might think they’ve re-entered the Age of Gods.

Yggdrasil.

A massive tree at the heart of the city, named after the Norse tree of legend, its luminescent leaves illuminating the underground cavern’s roof so brilliantly that it seems as though the sky had been forged anew beneath the earth. Consuming od and producing prana like a normal tree might breathe carbon dioxide and exhale oxygen, it is the source of the incredible feats of magecraft that the surface world could only dream of.

But such immense power has always attracted those who covet it. From the Mage’s Association in 1883, who waged war on Scholomance in an effort to claim the city and its heart for themselves, to numerous individuals who thought to usurp control of Yggdrasil from the Six Houses, all have failed.

...Until recently.

==================================================

(♫)

The sound of the automated door to your room can be all it takes you to awaken, these days, at least on the mornings where you didn’t fall too deeply into sleep. It’s usually the days where you’ve had so little to do that you don’t need much rest, and the past week or so has been another one of those days.

“Good morning, Senpai. Did you sleep well?”

It’s the ever-familiar voice of your punctual lavender-haired alarm clock, Mash Kyrielight. You answer in the affirmative, sitting up rather easily and rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Being in a more familiar-looking environment has done wonders for your comfort while sleeping, after all; having a room like your old one at the original Chaldea has made things much easier than sleeping in the Shadow Border, even though it wasn’t all that different. It was just nice to have some measure of stability, again.

“Da Vinci wants to see us in the Command Room once you’ve gotten dressed and eaten, Senpai. It seems they’ve found a new Singularity while we prepare for the next Lostbelt.”

Another Singularity... It worries you that, despite the presence of the Lostbelts, new Singularities continue to appear here and there. For the most part, they’re minor, and tend to go away on their own, but you’ve come across a few that have been rather stubborn, for one reason or another. Still, you’ve been through enough of them that you acknowledge it, asking Mash if she knows anything more about it as you change in your changing room.

“Only that it’s somewhere in Romania... I’m afraid I don’t know any more than that, I’m afraid.”

Romania... You briefly wonder out loud if it’ll have anything to do with Vlad III, to which Mash seems to pause and think, still silent as you emerge in fresh clothes.

“I don’t think so... The staff seemed oddly serious, so if it was something relatively routine like that, I don’t think they’d be so concerned.”

Hearing that did cause you to tense up a bit; was something unusual about this Singularity? You immediately recalled the four Singularities that had been caused by the Demon Pillars before the Crypters’ attack on the original Chaldea, and felt more worried than before - something that Mash immediately caught on to.

“Oh, but I don’t think it’s something so serious! It’s probably just a slightly unusual case! It should be fine!”

You can’t help but chuckle a bit at Mash’s attempts to ease your worries; sure, something in your gut still tells you that something’s not quite right, and that this will be far from routine, but at least you’re reminded that something not being “routine” hasn’t ever stopped you from succeeding before.

(♫)

As you arrive in the Command Room after eating, you’re greeted by the familiar sight of Da Vinci, Sion, Goredolf, and Holmes, all awaiting your and Mash’s arrival. After a brief exchange of greetings, Sion is quick to get down to business.

“So, as Mash has likely informed you, we’ve detected another Singularity, and as you’ve likely guessed, we called you here because this one doesn’t seem likely to just go away on its own.”

You nod and affirm that this is far from your first rodeo, after all. All you need to know is where and when you’ll be going, what Servants you’ll be taking with, and what the objective is, after all. Sion grins in response, replying positively about your confidence, only for the usually-jovial Da Vinci to frown.

“Unfortunately, we can only provide you one of those points at this moment... The where and when.”

Confused, you ask her what she means, to which Holmes interjects.

“What Da Vinci means, is that we’ve detected the Singularity in the present day, approximately 15 miles underneath the Transylvanian mountains in Romania. A couple of our engineers have taken to calling it ‘Scholomance’, after the legendary school of magic supposedly ran by the Devil that was supposedly in that location. Aside from that... what information we’ve been able to uncover has been rather disconcerting.”

Disconcerting? The fact that it has the entire team worried - save Sion, who remains her usual self, either through having no lack of confidence or nerves of steel - immediately puts you on edge, and you ask what the problem is, to which Da Vinci replies.

“Our tools aren’t picking much of anything up, unfortunately. Only a few things; first, that the amount of prana at the location is almost akin to the levels observed during the Age of Gods, nearly matching the Atlantic Lostbelt in sheer prana density. Second, there are a lot of Heroic Spirit signatures. And we mean a lot.”

Goredolf, perhaps predictably, almost instantly panics after Da Vinci’s explanation.

“Wait, you don’t mean that there’s going to be hundreds of Servants to fight?! We can’t send our primary Master Candidate into that! It’s practically suicide!”

You’re more curious as to just how many there are, exactly - after all, “hundreds” seems like something of an exaggeration, a notion that Mash agrees with, and Holmes is all too happy to clear things up.

“Indeed, but it’s still no insignificant number. The last time we checked, there were over 30 Heroic Spirit signatures being observed, and the number has since dwindled to just over 20. Thus, we can surmise that they’re not all allied together, and are instead fighting one another.”

The news does calm Goredolf, but Da Vinci’s expression is still one of concern.

“Of course, that doesn’t mean things are safe for you. More likely than not, sending you in will mean that you’re likely to end up in the middle of a massive Holy Grail War of some kind. It’s not something you’re unused to, of course, but the fact that we can’t detect anything else is the real problem. When we send you in, it’ll likely take everything we have just to keep your existence verified; unless you can find a way to clear up our connection, I’m afraid you’ll be without support from Chaldea.”

That was the part you’d been dreading to hear. Of course, you’d done things without backup before, but it was always much more reassuring to have Da Vinci, Holmes, and Sion there to help you figure things out... Still, you nod in understanding with a grim expression. It won’t be easy, but when has your job ever been easy? In response, Da Vinci’s expression finally relaxes and Sion gives you one of her signature smiles and a nod in return.

“You’ll be fine! And hey, since we don’t have any recommendations on who to bring, why not grab a few of your more recent summons? Let them get their feet wet, so to speak, and get used to working with them in a real Singularity!”

You can't help but agree; there's a few of your newest Servants you've been looking forward to working with, so you already have a few in mind. Taking your leave to go and locate them, it doesn't take long for you to rendezvous in the rayshift chamber. Naturally, coming with you is Mash with her Ortinax gear, but there's four other Servants beside you, some more eager than others, as you enter the coffins and prepare to rayshift...

STARTING UNSUMMON PROGRAM.

COMMENCING SPIRITRON CONVERSION.

RAYSHIFT BEGINS IN 3... 2... 1...

ALL SYSTEMS ARE GO.

ANALYZE LOST ORDER.

COMMENCING BELT RECAST.

[magsmunroe]

11. Do you listen to anything while drawing? If so, what

I am almost always listening to podcasts or youtube videos nowadays. something that has always plagued me is I get LONELY while drawing. why ?? I rly enjoy drawing obviously but I like having ppl talking as I do so lol

current youtube favorites: good mythical morning, t*y g*ys, kaz rowe, peter draws, jack edwards

art youtuber besties get their own category: leigh ellexson, furrylittlepeach, megan wang, radhia rahman, cheyenne barton, fran meneses !!

podcasts: ear biscuits, good children, ghosthoney’s dream machine, patreon podcasts from ppl I support :-]

sometimes I listen to music but drawing already makes me emo so sometimes it’s a little TOO emo but when I do, here’s what I’ve been listening to. the new arctic monkeys album BANGS

[naferty]

Rules: 🎶✨when u get this u have to put 5 songs u actually listen to, publish. then, send this ask/tag 10 of your faves  (non-negotiable, positivity is cool) 🎶

Oooh, little ol' me got tagged. It's been a while. The wonderful @summerpipedream hasn't forgotten me <3

1. Life Will Change - Persona 5

2. Let the Battles Begin! - Final Fantasy VII Remake

3. Good Morning World! - BURNOUT SYNDROMES

4. CHANGEMAKER - Hinano

5. Gria Recollection - Ys IX: Monstrum Nox

I tag any and all who want to do this. And tag me back because I'd love to hear new songs!

[strawberryspotsstuff]

GAH DAMN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HI HENRY ANON BACK FOR HIS DAILY REQUESTS TO KEEP YOU ENTERTAINED AND ME,,ENTERTAINED ASWELL,,,,,, ANYWA YS CAN U WRITE HENRY WITH AN INSECURE TRANS MALE READER FALLS ON KNEES AN D GRIPS CARPET OKAT BYE

well hello hello hellooo!!!!

of course I can!!!!! ;)

henry x insecure! maletrans! reader

"sunflower?" Henry's sweet voice interrupted your grey-clouded thoughts.

You hummed sadly, watching yourself in their mirror. "yes?"

He frowned softly resting his hands on your hip, resting his chin on your slouched shoulder. The morning sun trickled into your room from the opened curtains, giving your room a soft glow to it. The sweet calls and songs from birds, waking up the neighbourhood.

"what's clouding your thoughts my king?" he joked, smiling.

You chuckled softly, shaking your head, rubbing your chin feeling the prickly face fur that started to grow. "it's nothin' just some comments from my co-workers again"

"Linda again?" Henry growled in question, hugging you tighter.

"yeah," you sighed, shuffling your feet in place. "it's nothing really, just her rude comments, like always." you explained, not wanting to talk about it further.

Henry nodded, understanding your boundaries. "well, if she keeps callin' you a "she" again, I'll stick her head through the floorboards" henry purred, giving a toothy grin.

You rolled your eyes, laughing, pushing his face away. "oh please, you would kill her!" you laughed.

"that's the plan!" he shouted back, ruffling your head. Both of you shared a good laugh, before going quiet, looking into each other's eyes.

"really, you don't mind?" you asked softly.

He smiled, titling his head as he watched your flickering gaze. His glossed over eyes stared deep into your soul as he lifted his hand and rested it on your cheek.

"of course I don't mind, you are my king, and I'm yours, you will always be male, you always were." Henry whispered, kissing your cheek.

you sobbed happily, kissing his palm as you leaned into it. "oh stop it, you got me crying" you whispered happily.

He rolled his eyes, embracing you into a tight hug and both of you collapsed onto the queen-sized bed next to you.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

just some short fluff! hopefully this was okay :')

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Mon[day] 10 October 1836

7 35/..

11 1/2

No kiss ver[y] rainy morn[in]g - ready in 3/4 h[ou]r - as long as if I h[a]d regul[arl]y undress[e]d and dress[e]d ag[ai]n – b[u]t I mere[l]y wash[e]d

and made mys[elf] comf[orta]ble as well as I c[oul]d and chang[e]d my pelisse – w[e]nt to my a[un]t at 8 20/.. - the h[ou]sem[ai]d h[a]d sat

up till 4 a.m. and Oddy h[a]d h[a]d no sleep - my a[un]t h[a]d been restless all the night and h[a]d been up 3 ti[me]s s[in]ce

I h[a]d left h[e]r - still restless, and w[oul]d be g[o]t up 3 ti[me]s fr[om] my go[in]g to h[e]r at 8 20/.. to my go[in]g d[o]wn to br[eak]f[a]st at 9 10/..  - I h[a]d lift[e]d

230

1836

Oct[obe]r

+

V

h[e]r int[o] bed ag[ai]n the 1st of the 3 ti[me]s w[i]thout her seem[in]g incommod[e]d - the 2[n]d and 3[r]d ti[me] Oddy th[ou]ght it best for me to lift h[e]r

should[e]rs whi[le] the oth[e]r rais[e]d her legs – aft[e]r the 3[r]d ti[me] of gett[in]g up she seem[e]d so exhaust[e]d I th[ou]ght she w[a]s gone

b[u]t she rall[ie]d bef[ore] I w[e]nt to br[eak]f[a]st – perh[aps] I w[a]s so m[u]ch as 20 min[utes] at br[eak]f[a]st - Firth the glaz[ie]r br[ou]ght his bill –

Let[ter] to L[ad]y S- [Stuart]

‘Shibd[e]n hall – Mon[day] ev[enin]g 10 Oct[obe]r 1836 . Surely, my d[ea]r[e]st L[ad]y St[uar]t, you are still w[i]th

‘Vere, and, I hope, m[u]ch the bet[ter] for all h[e]r k[i]nd attent[io]ns, and for the change of air –

‘I trust the weath[e]r h[a]s been bet[ter] w[i]th you than w[i]th us, and that you, at least, and those ar[oun]d

‘you, ha[ve] n[o]t suff[ere]d fr[om] this sickly season - you will n[o]t be surpris[e]d to hear that my

‘poor dear a[un]t is no mo[re] - For the last week her suff[erin]gs ha[ve] seem[e]d to

‘decrease w[i]th her str[en]gth, and she expir[e]d, at five min[ute]s past one this aft[ernoo]n, so

‘quiet[l]y that I w[a]s hardly aware of it at the mom[en]t - my gr[eate]st anx[iet]y is remov[e]d  - its

‘remov[a]l is a bless[in]g to her, b[u]t w[i]th me it leaves a strange feel[in]g of bereavem[en]t –

‘Vere will excuse my writ[in]g just now - you will tell h[e]r that I am well, and

‘alw[a]ys, d[ea]r[e]st L[ad]y St[uar]t, ver[y] truly and ver[y] affect[ionatel]y yours A. [Anne] Lister’

for the lead pip[in]g (the 2[n]d batch) and A- [Ann] p[ai]d h[i]m £59.11.0 in gold exc[ept] one £5 count[r]y note –

I h[a]d s[e]nt John Booth at nine for Mr. Jubb and he ca[me] ab[ou]t 10 or 10 10/.. - my a[un]t h[a]d been up wh[ile]

I w[a]s at br[eak]f[a]st and w[a]s gett[in]g up ag[ai]n as I w[e]nt b[a]ck int[o] the r[oo]m at 9 1/2 b[u]t Oddy and I lift[e]d h[e]r gent[l]y

b[a]ck int[o] bed, and she soon beca[me] mo[re] settl[e]d - by 10 she seem[e]d quiet and compos[e]d, and Mr.

Jubb as he sat by her bedside s[ai]d (at 10 20/..) that her pulse w[a]s gone – h[e]r f[ee]t were gett[in]g

cold - I told h[i]m she w[a]s warm all ov[e]r an h[ou]r bef[ore] - she nev[e]r attempt[e]d to get out of

bed aft[e]r 10 - Mr. Jubb sat by h[e]r 1/4 h[ou]r or 20 min[ute]s – tri[e]d to gi[ve] her brandy and wat[e]r b[u]t

she c[oul]d n[o]t swal[low] it - he s[ai]d if we c[oul]d keep her m[ou]th moist, it w[oul]d be a relief to her

b[u]t wh[a]t c[oul]d we do - the last th[in]g she took (and that w[i]th diffic[ult]y) w[a]s a jelly ab[ou]t noon yest[erda]y

I took Mr. Jubb d[o]wn to see A- [Ann] m[u]ch bet[ter] - now wants good nourish[in]g th[in]gs to get up her

str[en]gth - Cookson bet[ter] – go[in]g on well – m[u]st ta[ke] bark (quinine) - Sarah the kitchen m[ai]d

n[o]t so well this morn[in]g – m[u]ch fev[e]r – ver[y] lucky we s[e]nt h[e]r ho[me] - at 10 50/.. Oddy call[e]d me

(Matty h[a]d been w[i]th my a[un]t s[in]ce 9 1/2 a.m.) she and Matty th[ou]ght my a[un]t go[in]g - Mr. Jubb w[e]nt

up w[i]th me and st[ai]d till 10 55/.. when I s[ai]d that as he c[oul]d do no good I w[oul]d n[o]t detain him - he

th[ou]ght my poor a[un]t c[oul]d n[o]t contin[ue] ver[y] long - she breath[e]d ag[ai]n and contin[ue]d breath[in]g rath[e]r short

b[u]t pret[ty] eq[uall]y and n[o]t ver[y] loud - A- [Ann] call[e]d me d[o]wn ab[ou]t 12 1/2 to sp[ea]k to Mr. Husb[an]d - the hall clos[e]t door

h[a]d co[me] op[e]n and left the wine to the mercy of the workmen - Mr. Husb[an]d help[e]d me to move the

19 bot[tle]s left there of the York port w[hi]ch I put in the store-r[oo]m - I h[a]d just done when A- [Ann] ca[me] for

me, and I w[a]s just in ti[me] to see my poor a[un]t in her last mom[en]t of life in this world –

it w[a]s just 5 min[ute]s fr[om] my ret[ur]n upst[ai]rs to her breath[in]g h[e]r last at 1 5/.. p.m. - for an inst[an]t

her mouth h[a]d an express[io]n of pain, b[u]t that express[io]n w[a]s gone ere the last breath escap[e]d –

there w[a]s a slight catch b[u]t no groan or sigh - the last intellig[i]ble words were (last night)

‘I dont kno[w] wh[a]t to do’ and this morn[in]g (I th[in]k it w[a]s) ‘I m[u]st go out’ - my a[un]t h[a]d spoken

 my a[un]t’s d[ea]th

  231

1836

Oct[obe]r

V

sev[era]l ti[me]s yes[terda]y ev[enin]g and this morn[in]g b[u]t n[o]t intellig[i]bly - I sh[oul]d suppo[se] she h[a]d n[o]t mo[re] pain than m[o]st

necess[ar]y accomp[an]y the increas[in]g of breath[in]g as d[ea]th appr[oa]ches - her count[enan]ce w[a]s tranq[ui]l when

the vital spark w[a]s gone - Matty w[a]s at din[ner] and on[l]y Oddy and I pres[en]t - my a[un]t remind[e]d me of my

a[un]t Martha - I w[e]nt int[o] the r[oo]m at 6 50/.. p.m. w[i]th Matty - the knees were n[o]t qui[te] str[ai]ght nor the lips

clos[e]d - the latt[e]r c[oul]d n[o]t close for the upp[e]r teeth - it w[a]s the sa[me] w[i]th my a[un]t Martha - A- [Ann] h[a]d sat by me

so[me] ti[me] this morn[in]g in my a[un]t’s r[oo]m b[u]t d[i]d n[o]t stay whi[le] Mr. Jubb w[a]s there - she h[a]s exert[e]d hers[elf]

and done ver[y] well - took h[e]r out and we walk[e]d on the flags 1/4 h[ou]r till 2 - then h[a]d Mr. Husb[an]d

ga[ve] ord[e]rs for the hall to be board[e]d up and made decent by Sat[urday] aft[ernoo]n - the fun[era]l to be on Mon[day] –

then h[a]d Rob[er]t Mann (Rob[er]t + 4 today) (in the gard[e]n) and ga[ve] h[i]m ord[e]rs for tomor[row] - the gard[ene]r and Hemingway the Wyke gard[ene]r who ca[me] to sp[ea]k to me yest[erday] morn[in]g – h[a]d beg[u]n this morn[in]g tak[in]g off the sod fr[om] the intended back Lodge road –

told Rob[er]t to look aft[e]r them - to see that the road w[a]s right set out, etc etc – Ingh[a]m and his man

and boy at topp[in]g up the dry arch walls - Mark Hepw[or]th and Binns 2 one h[or]se carts cart[in]g stuff

addit[iona]l fr[om] the hall floor and fr[om] n[ea]r the west tow[e]r – fr[om] 2 50/.. to 4 walk[e]d (up and d[o]wn fr[om] the hut

to the rustic chair many ti[me]s) in the walk, mus[in]g - I rem[em]b[e]r my feel[in]gs on the loss of my unc[le] –

the d[ea]th of my fath[e]r is qui[te] recent – b[u]t my a[un]t is the last of the last generat[io]n - she w[a]s alw[a]ys

good and k[i]nd to me - none will ev[e]r th[in]k so high[l]y of me - none w[a]s mo[re] interest[e]d in my interest –

none ............. I th[ou]ght till the tears start[e]d - my head beg[a]n to ache, and I ca[me] in to wr[ite] let[ter]s –

chang[e]d my pelisse etc - a few min[ute]s w[i]th A- [Ann] at my desk at 4 40/..  and wr[ote] quick[l]y the let[ter]

to L[ad]y S- [Stuart] (vid[e] line 4 et seq. of the last p[age]) - then w[e]nt and sat by A- [Ann] and wr[ote] the oth[e]r 3 let[ter]s

w[i]th less ease bec[ause] she talk[e]d to me - ‘Shibd[e]n hall – Mon[day] ev[enin]g 10 Oct[obe]r 1836. I th[in]k,

‘my d[ea]r[e]st Mary, I ha[ve] n[o]t yet thank[e]d you for your kind, useful let[ter] of the 22[n]d of last m[on]th - I

‘rem[em]b[e]r you told me, you were go[in]g int[o] Devonsh[ire] on the 27th ult[imo], and w[oul]d n[o]t be ver[y]

‘long away - I sh[oul]d, at any rate, ha[ve] giv[e]n you a fortn[i]ght – Perh[aps] you ha[ve] at this mom[en]t your

‘h[ou]se full of comp[an]y - ours is ag[ai]n in mourn[in]g - my a[un]t’s suff[erin]gs seem to ha[ve] decreas[e]d w[i]th

‘h[e]r str[en]gth for the last week, yet the fatal change d[i]d n[o]t pos[itivel]y app[ea]r to be tak[in]g place

‘till ab[ou]t noon yest[erday], fr[om] w[hi]ch ti[me] to ab[ou]t nine this morn[in]g she w[a]s restless, w[i]thout, howev[e]r,

‘seem[in]g to be in g[rea]t pain – Fr[om] ab[ou]t 10, she w[a]s ver[y] quiet, and, at five min[ute]s aft[e]r one, breath[e]d

‘last so gent[l]y, that I w[a]s n[o]t, at the mom[en]t, qui[te] cert[ai]n she w[a]s gone, and that h[e]r place sh[oul]d kno[w]

‘her no mo[re] - the last of the last generat[io]n is now swept away - Mary! you, and I, and those we

‘love, m[u]st now st[a]nd forem[o]st in the gap - you kno[w] how good and k[i]nd my poor a[un]t alw[a]ys w[a]s to

‘me - she h[a]s n[o]t liv[e]d to profit by the alterat[io]ns be[g]an so soon, on h[e]r acc[oun]t and at h[e]r own req[ue]st –

‘the h[ou]se is in sad uproar - this ma[ke]s it look mo[re] lorn, and casts a deeper shade over our

‘bereavem[en]t - we shall exp[ec]t you at the end of the m[on]th – sure[l]y we shall then be mo[re] ab[le] to gi[ve] you

‘the comm[o]n comf[or]ts of home - Cookson is laid up - the kitchen m[ai]d is gone away ill - the h[ou]sekeep[e]r

‘we h[a]d hir[e]d, died, d[i]d I n[o]t tell you? very sudd[enl]y, a few days bef[ore] she ought to ha[ve] co[me] - God

‘bless you, Mary – alw[a]ys ver[y] espec[iall]y and aff[ectionatel]y yours AL- [Anne Lister]’

 232

1836

Oct[obe]r

LL

LL

‘Shibd[e]n hall – Mon[day] ev[enin]g 10 Oct[obe]r 1836 - my d[ea]r Mar[ia]n - you w[oul]d supp[ose], fr[om] my n[o]t writ[in]g ag[ai]n,

‘that my a[un]t contin[ue]d m[u]ch of the sa[me] state as when I wr[ote] to you last – H[e]r suff[erin]gs app[eare]d to

‘decrease w[i]th h[e]r str[en]gth, b[u]t we h[a]d no reas[o]n to suppo[se] she m[i]ght n[o]t ha[ve] contin[ue]d long[e]r, till ab[ou]t

‘yest[erday] noon, or afternoon, when h[e]r str[en]gth seem[e]d fail[in]g fast[e]r than it h[a]d done bef[ore] - she took

‘a jelly at noon w[i]th diff[icult]y, the last th[in]g she d[i]d take - she h[a]d  a rest[le]ss night, b[u]t d[i]d n[o]t seem to

‘be in gr[ea]t pain – Fr[om] 8 to 10 this morn[in]g, she w[oul]d be g[o]t out of bed half a doz[e]n ti[me]s – aft[e]r this, she

‘beca[me] more quiet, and breath[e]d h[e]r last at 5 min[ute]s past one, so gent[l]y that I w[a]s n[o]t qui[te] cert[ai]n, at

‘the mom[en]t, that all w[a]s ov[e]r - the sad state of confus[io]n the h[ou]se is in, on[l]y adds to our melanch[ol]y –

‘our rem[em]b[ran]ces to your fr[ie]nd, and love to yours[elf], and bel[ieve] me, my d[ea]r Mar[ia]n, alw[a]ys affect[ionatel]y yours AL [Anne Lister]’ –

‘Shibd[e]n hall – Mon[day] ev[enin]g 10 Oct[obe]r 1836 - My d[ea]r[e]st Isabella – aft[e]r my a[un]t’s long and severe

‘suff[eri]ngs, you will n[o]t be surpris[e]d to hear of h[e]r release - she h[a]s been rapid[l]y losing str[en]gth for the

‘last w[ee]k, and this aft[ernoo]n, at five min[ute]s p[a]st one, expir[e]d so gent[l]y, I w[a]s scarce[l]y aware, at the

‘mom[en]t, that all w[a]s ov[e]r - the sad confus[io]n the h[ou]se is in, on[l]y adds to our melanch[ol]y - alas!

‘she for wh[o]m the alterat[io]ns were so hurr[ie]d on, h[a]s n[o]t liv[e]d to benefit by them! we sh[oul]d ha[ve]

‘ask[e]d you to co[me] now, b[u]t we ha[ve] hard[l]y r[oo]m for ours[elves], or peop[le] to do the work we are in absol[u]te

‘need of - Cookson is laid up - the kitchen m[ai]d is gone ho[me] ill - the h[ou]sekeep[e]r is dead –

‘we ha[ve] on[l]y the strange that is, the newly-co[me] h[ou]sem[ai]d and char wom[a]n - we are expect[in]g

‘Mrs. Lawt[o]n at the end of the m[on]th, if we can manage it - can you tell us of any

‘trusty pers[o]n to co[me] and help us – Gi[ve] my love to Mr. and Mrs. Duffin, and tell them of our trouble –

‘my gr[ea]t anx[iet]y is gone; b[u]t it is a gr[ea]t bereavem[en]t - Love to Charlotte – Ev[e]r ver[y] faith[full]y

‘and affect[ionatel]y yours AL [Anne Lister]’ - at 6 50/.. and h[a]d seal[e]d and giv[e]n A-  [Ann] for the Let[ter] bag my let[ter] to ‘the honourable

‘Lady Stuart Brafield h[ou]se Oulney Bucks’ - to ‘Mrs. Lawton, Lawton hall, Lawton,

Cheshire’ to ‘Miss Marian Lister M[arke]t Weighton’ and to ‘Miss Norcliffe, Petergate, York’

w[e]nt w[i]th Matty Pollard int[o] my a[un]t’s r[oo]m for 10 min[ute]s - How chang[e]d s[in]ce this morn[in]g! – s[ai]d Matty

‘a more respectab[le] Lady d[i]d n[o]t live anywhere here’ - all look[e]d solemn - I m[i]ght

ha[ve] s[ai]d ‘It is good for us to be here’ - It is a relief to me to ha[ve] writ[te]n my journ[a]l –

din[ner] at 7 – coff[ee] upst[ai]rs – fr[om] 8 1/2 to 9 55/.. wr[ote] all b[u]t the cop[y] of the let[ter] to L[ad]y S- [Stuart] w[hi]ch I wr[ote]

bef[ore] 6 3/4 – ver[y] rainy morn[in]g - fair b[u]t damp by 10 – ver[y] heavy show[e]r bet[ween] 11 and 12

or ab[ou]t 12 – ver[y] show[er]y morn[in]g - fine in aft[ernoo]n fr[om] ab[ou]t 1 p.m. a lit[tl]e rain in the ev[enin]g

ab[ou]t 7 p.m. and aft[er]w[ar]ds – F[ahrenheit] 49° at 10 p.m. – No[te] last night (print[e]d circular) fr[om] Mr. Ja[me]s Highley

by order of the committee to ann[oun]ce a meet[in]g on the 14th of the subscribers in aid of the ch[ur]ch rate

to determ[ine] as to the dispos[a]l of the Bal[an]ce of the subs[criptio]n –