#p; First Day Football Fun

[joelmillerisapunk]

Bfd/dbf catches u showering and/or masterbating please 🤲

you got me thinkin' nonsense

Dbf!Joel Miller x F!reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 2,478

Summary: Joel's asked to watch you and your parents' house while they're away, and boy, does he take watching you seriously.

Warnings: 18+, f!oral receiving, unprotected p in v, reader has pullable hair, implied age gap (make it your own) use of darlin, sweetheart, baby, a bit of Joel convincing you.

Notes: my first request! Thank you, thank you, sweet nonnie 🥰 I hope you enjoy. I love a good dbf catching you doing anything. Also about to hit a milestone with followers and I'm hoping to do a lil fun thing for it 🥰 thank you to everyone for being so amazing and kind and lovely and welcoming. My short time here has been so so warm 💚 tysm @saradika-graphics for the dividers

It had been a long day for Joel Miller. He just finished a grueling shift at the fire station and was looking forward to some much-needed rest and relaxation. But his plans were quickly dashed when he received a call from his best buddy, your dad.

"Hey, Joel. I hate to ask, but I need a favor," Al says, his voice sounds strained.

Joel sits up in his chair, immediately alert. "What's goin’ on?"

"Jen and I are taking a trip to the Bahamas for a week, and we were wondering if you could check up on the house and our daughter while we're gone.”

Joel sighs, running a hand through his greying hair. "Sure. But you know she’s not a little girl anymore, right? She's a grown woman now."

Your dad chuckles. "I know, I know. But she's still my little girl, and I just want to make sure she's okay while we're gone."

Joel smiles, feeling a surge of affection for his friend. "No problem. I'll keep an eye on her."

A week later Joel finds himself standing outside of his best friend Al's house, the keys jingling in his hand. He takes a deep breath and inserts the key into the lock, turning it until he hears the satisfying click of the door opening. Joel walks into the house, taking in the familiar sights and smells. He feels a pang of nostalgia as he looks around the living room, remembering all the times he and Al hung out here, watching football and drinking beer.

But there's no sight of you. so he makes his way down the hall, peeking into each room until he comes to your door.

But you're not in your room.

He frowns, wondering where you are. It's not like you to wander off without telling anyone. Even as a grown adult, you still always made sure someone knew your whereabouts. He checks his phone, but there are no messages or missed calls. As he turns back to the hall, he hears the faint sound of a voice coming from what sounds like the bathroom. So he decides to check just in case.

As he approaches, he hears the sound of water running and the faint sound of moaning. He pauses, his heart racing as he realises what's happening behind the closed door. He knows he shouldn't, but he can't help it. Without thinking, he reaches out and turns the doorknob, pushing the door open just a crack. He can see you through the foggy glass, your naked body glistening with water.

His eyes widen as he takes in the sight before him. You're standing under the pulsing stream of water, your hand between your legs as you bring yourself to climax. He knows he shouldn't be watching this, but he can't bring himself to look away. He feels a surge of desire course through his veins as he watches you pleasure yourself.

You tilt your head back, letting the water run down your neck and body, and he can't help but stare. His eyes are drawn to the way your hips move as you touch yourself. The way you're grasping the walls to get some leverage. He feels his own body responding, his cock growing painfully hard in his pants.

He reaches down and unzips his jeans, pulling out his thick, ready erection, filling his hand. He starts to stroke himself, his eyes never leaving your body. He can feel his balls tighten as he watches you get closer and closer to your own orgasm.

But just as you're about to come, your eyes widen in shock as you catch sight of Joel standing in the doorway, his jeans unzipped and his thick, hard cock in his hand. You gasp, your body freezing in surprise as you realize that he's been watching you.

"Joel, what the fuck are you doing here?" you demand, trying to cover yourself with your hands.

But Joel doesn't seem to hear you. His eyes are fixed on your body, his hand moving a little faster as he strokes himself.

"Don't stop on my account, sweetheart," he says, his voice low and husky. "You look so fuckin' hot, touchin' yourself like that."

You feel a surge of anger and embarrassment, but there's something else there too – something that makes your heart race and your body tingle. You've always had a bit of a crush on Joel, and now here he is, watching you pleasure yourself.

"Fuck you," you say, trying to sound angry. But your voice comes out breathless and shaky, betraying your arousal.

Joel chuckles, stepping into the bathroom and closing the door behind him. "Oh, I fully intend to fuck you, sweetheart," he says, his eyes blazing with desire. Joel advances towards you, his cock still in his hand. You back away, your heart pounding in your chest. You know you should be angry, but all you can feel is a deep, primal desire.

"Joel, this is wrong," you say, but your voice is weak and uncertain.

Joel reaches out and strokes your cheek, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "Sometimes, wrong can feel so right," he murmurs.

But you don't budge.

Joel's eyes soften as he looks at you. "Hey, hey," he says softly. "I'm not here to cause any trouble. Your dad asked me to check up on you while they're gone, that's all. I didn't mean to intrude." He pauses for a moment, then continues. "But I can't deny what I saw just now. You looked so beautiful, so alive. I'm not saying this is how things have to be, but I want you to know that I'm here for you, in whatever way you need me."

You can feel your heart racing as you look at Joel, your body trembling with a mixture of embarrassment, anger, and desire. You know that what he's suggesting is wrong, that it could ruin your relationship with your dad. But there's something about the way he's looking at you, that makes you want to throw caution to the wind.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "Joel, I don't w -”

He takes a step back before you finish, putting his hands up like you're playing cops and robbers. You can see the disappointment in his eyes as he puts himself back into his jeans and turns to leave. But just as he reaches for the doorknob, you hear yourself say something unexpected.

"Wait," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I - I do want this, Joel, please. I just, I really don't know -"

Joel's expression darkens as he turns back around and walks up to you. He reaches out to grab a handful of your hair, pulling your head back so that you're looking up at him. "You don't have to know, sweetheart," he growls. "You just have to feel." He leans down to kiss you, his lips crushing against yours as his tongue demands entry into your mouth. You moan softly, your body melting against his as you kiss him back, your hands reaching up to clutch at his shoulders.

When the kiss breaks, you see Joel smile, his eyes burning with desire. "Let's not waste any more time." He takes your hand, pulling you toward the bathtub. "Get on the edge, darlin’," he orders, his voice rough with desire.

You do as he says, your heart pounding in your chest as you watch him move around the bathtub, positioning himself between your legs. He looks at you, his eyes blazing with desire as he reaches out and touches you, his fingers sliding easily between your wet folds.

"You're so wet," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. "You want this as much as I do dont’cha?” Joel's fingers explore your body, teasing and tantalizing you as he strokes your slick folds. You moan softly, your hips bucking up to meet his touch as he brings you closer and closer to the edge. "Please, Joel," you gasp, your voice desperate with need. "Need more."

Joel smirks, his eyes glinting with mischief. "More, huh? Well, let's see if we can't take care of that for ya, baby." He leans down, his mouth replacing his fingers as he starts to lick and suck at your clit. You cry out, your hands reaching down to clutch at his head as he devours you with an intensity that takes your breath away.

"Fuck, Joel," you gasp, your body trembling with pleasure. "Don't stop, please, don't stop."

Joel chuckles, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine. "I have no intention of stopping, sweetheart," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin. "I'm going to make you come harder than you ever have before."

True to his word, Joel doesn't stop, his tongue works magic on your clit as his fingers plunge deep inside you, curling up to hit the sweetest spot. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body tensing up as you approach your climax.

"Joel, I'm gonna come," you gasp.

Joel doesn't respond, his mouth and fingers continuing their relentless assault on your body. You can feel yourself spiraling out of control, your climax building up inside of you like a tidal wave.

"Joel, I'm coming!" You scream, your body convulsing with pleasure as you shatter into a thousand pieces. You grip onto Joel as hard as you can but doesn't let up, his tongue continues to lap at your clit as you ride out your orgasm, your body trembling with aftershocks.

When it's over, Joel pulls back, a satisfied smile on his face as he looks up at you. "See? Told you I'd make you come harder than you ever have."

You can't help but smile back, your body still tingling with pleasure. "You definitely did," you admit, your voice soft and dreamy.

Joel stands up, his cock hard and ready again beneath his jeans. "Good, I'm not done with you yet." He takes your hand leading you to your bed, instructing you to sit on the edge while he undresses. He steps closer, his body pressing against yours, you can feel his cock pressing against you too.

Joel's lips find yours, his tongue plunging deep into your mouth as he kisses you with a passion that takes your breath away again. You can feel the heat of his body against yours, and the sensation of his hard cock pressing against you sends a shiver down your spine.

"I want you, Joel," you gasp, your voice hoarse with desire as you break the kiss.

Joel smirks, "Then take me, sweetheart," he growls, his voice rough with lust.

You don't need any more encouragement. You reach down, grabbing his cock and guiding it to your entrance. Joel doesn't wait, his hips thrusting forward as he impales you on his thick, hard length. You cry out as Joel starts to thrust in and out of you, his hips moving with a rhythm that drives you wild. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to another climax, your body tensing up as you get close.

"Fuck, Joel," you gasp. "Harder, please."

Joel doesn't disappoint. His thrusts become more and more intense as he brings you closer. "Come for me, sweetheart," he growls, his voice rough with desire. "Come all over my cock, come on darlin I gotcha."

You can't help but obey, your climax building up inside you as Joel's thrusts become more and more intense. "Joel, m'gonna come again." You get out as your body convulses with pleasure as you shatter into a thousand pieces once again. Joel follows you over the edge, his cock twitching inside you as he comes with a low growl. When it's over, Joel pulls back, his cock slipping out of you with a wet sound. He looks down at you, his eyes softening as he takes in your dreamy state and disheveled hair.

"Are you okay, sweetheart?" he asks, his voice gentle.

You can't help but smile up at him, your heart still racing with pleasure. "I'm more than okay," you admit, your voice soft and dreamy.

Joel chuckles, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. "I'm glad," he murmurs. "Because I have to admit, I've been wanting to do that for a long time."

You can feel your heart racing as you look up at him, your body trembling with a mixture of embarrassment and desire. "You have?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel nods, "I've always had a thing for you, sweetheart. But I never wanted to ruin your relationship with your dad or my friendship with your dad."

You can understand where he's coming from, but you can't deny the way you feel. You've always had a crush on Joel, and now that you've experienced the passion that burns between you, there's no going back.

"I want this, Joel," you say, your voice firm and determined. "I want you."

Joel's expression softens, and he reaches out to stroke your cheek, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. "Are you sure, sweetheart?" he asks, his voice gentle. "I don't want you to do anything you're not ready for."

You nod, your heart racing with excitement and desire. "I'm sure, Joel," you say, your voice firm and determined. "I want you." You stroke his patchy beard, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you.

Joel's eyes light up, and he presses a gentle kiss to your lips. "I want to spend the rest of the week exploring every inch of your beautiful body."

And he does, taking you to heights of pleasure you never thought possible. By the time your dad and his wife come back from their trip, you and Joel have become inseparable, and you find yourself at his place more than not.

After a week of passion and exploration, you and Joel have grown even closer. You find yourself falling for him hard. You never thought you could feel this way about your dad's best friend, but here you are, head over heels for the man.

But you know that this is a secret that can never come out. You and Joel have talked about it at length, and you both know that the consequences would be disastrous. You're both aware of the potential fallout, and you're both committed to keeping your relationship a secret.

It's not easy to keep your relationship a secret from the world. But every time you're together, every time Joel touches you, every time he whispers sweet nothings in your ear, you know that it's all worth it.

You know that this was never meant to be, forged in the most unlikely of circumstances. But you also know that this is real and true and strong. And you're willing to do whatever it takes to protect it.

So you continue to see each other in secret, stealing moments of passion whenever you can. It's not perfect, but it's something. And for now, that's enough.

[mynameismckenziemae]

All of Me

Part 1

(next part here)

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x OFC/You

Summary: You find yourself bored at the beach on a rare day of R & R. Things get a lot more interesting when Jake runs into you (literally). One thing leads to another and you find yourself back at Jake’s for a steamy, fun filled night.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Non-explicit smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), slight mentions of losing a spouse, alcohol use, etc.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•

Relaxation has never been your forte.

Starting when you were a little girl; always having to sleep with one eye open to avoid your drug-addict mom’s unpredictable moods and the men she brought home. That unwanted attention only increased with age and the way you began to fill out your clothes which only fueled the resentment your mom had for you.

That resentment came to a head shortly after you turned 16 when one of her ‘friends’ made a pass at you and she subsequently kicked you out. Because it was your fault, of course.

Your best friend's family had taken you in with open arms and while it was the first time you felt like you had a home, you couldn’t help but feel guilty that her parents had another mouth to feed and another body to clothe even with their constant reassurance.

So you put your head down and continued to work hard to graduate high school early with honors. You joined the Navy at 17 shortly after with nothing but a backpack and $368 to your name.

Boot camp wasn’t a walk in the park, nor was the next 12 years of medical school and residency. During that time you fell in love, married the love of your life, got pregnant, and then watched your husband wither away from a debilitating, aggressive disease to pass away shortly after the birth of your son.

With the help from your in-laws and best friend, Maggie, you were able to stay enlisted for the past 8 years as you had navigated being a single mother and widow while also pursuing and achieving your dream of becoming a doctor.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•

Late last night you arrived home from an endless 6 (and hopefully your last) month deployment-a week earlier than expected. Normally coming back from deployments early is ideal, but your son, Drew, was at Disney with grandma and grandpa for a few more days.

So here you sit on the beach with a cold beer catching some rays while trying and failing to relax.

A rowdy group of guys playing some version of football down the beach keeps creeping closer with each play and the hot, sandy-haired quarterback keeps catching your eye. He’s peacocking for you; flexing and glancing your way. You pointedly ignore it and have to bite back your smile when he deflates.

It doesn’t stop you from sneaking peeks at his sweaty chest under the cover of your sunglasses though as you pull out the smutty book Maggie’s been begging you to read.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•

Just as you’re getting to the good part of your book, something flies over the top of you; a foot knocks the beer that was nearly to your lips down the front of your white coverup.

“Shit! I’m so sorry,” there’s an apology before he’s even on his feet. “I didn’t see you ‘till the last second.”

Liar.

“It’s alright,” you reply, looking down as you try to soak up some of the liquid with your towel but it’s no use; it’s saturated with beer, and the wet fabric clings to your torso.

“Sorry!” One of his friends yells, likely the one who threw the football. “Let me buy you an apology drink?”

“No worries,” you call back, glancing back down with a grimace. “I’m good, but thanks anyway!”

“We’ll meet you at the Hard Deck then,” his friend calls before jogging over to the rest of the group already heading that way.

“I really am sorry,” the culprit repeats. Your breath catches when you turn back to him. He’s even more good-looking up close, especially with that sheepish grin. Even though his eyes are hidden by his sunglasses, it’s obvious he’s checking you out. Your nipples are now standing to attention, pushing against your bikini top through the newly see-through fabric of your top. “I knew you were here but I hadn’t realized how close we’d gotten. Are you sure I can’t buy you a drink?”

“I was thinking about taking your friend up on the offer,” you answer truthfully, “but most of the bars around here have a strict “no shirt no service policy.”

You know Penny wouldn’t care but still.

“I’ve got more in the cooler though. You can have one if you get me one too,” you wink before peeling off the soaking garment.

He swallows thickly as he watches before he shakes himself out of it. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•

“So, I, uh…I’m Jake,” he says, handing you a beer. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, I’m Reese,” you reply, shaking his hand after taking the bottle from him.

“Like the peanut butter cups?” He asks with a cheeky grin as he sits beside you in the sand.

“Wow,” you deadpan before taking a pull of your beer. “Never heard that one before.”You laugh at the dejected look on his face. “Yes, like the peanut butter cups.”

He laughs too, finally loosening up.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•

It doesn’t take long for you to piece together that Jake’s younger than you and it’s obvious that he has no trouble keeping his bed warm. He learns quickly that you’re not easily impressed and changes his tune, turning the conversation toward you. You keep it vague, telling him you work in healthcare when he asks, knowing some men are easily intimidated by your degree, and in turn, he tells you he works in aviation.

Your heart pinches more than once as the afternoon passes. Your late husband, Andrew, had taken you to the beach for your first date and Jake reminds you so much of him; the way he makes you laugh; the charming cockiness when he talks about flying, the way he flirts and strokes your ego just right.

You hope your ego isn’t the only thing getting stroked when the sun begins to set. A shiver works through you, making you miss its warmth.

“Cold?” He asks as he rubs his rough, calloused palm over your arm. More goosebumps rise at his touch.

“A little,” you admit with a smile, but it quickly turns into a frown when you press your phone to check the time but it doesn’t light up. “Shoot, my phone died. So much for calling an Uber.”

“You can charge it at my place if you want. It’s not far,” he offers, brushing a strand of hair off your forehead.

“Sure, that’d be great,” you agree, knowing he’s offering more than a charger.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•

He learn he was definitely offering more than the phone charger.

You ache in places you forgot existed as you reach for your phone buzzing on Jake’s nightstand.

Jake was better in bed than you expected.

He was a little quick on the draw the first time he had you with your back pressed against his front door, but he surprised you by dropping to his knees after he came, not even bothering to take the condom off. He’d paused at the thin line marring your lower stomach and you held your breath as you waited for him to comment or kick you out but he surprised you again by kissing your c-section scar instead before feasting between your legs like a man starved.

While you showered the sand and sticky residue of the beer off, he had ordered pizza.

After, he invited you to his bed with the excuse that your clothes were still in the dryer (even though you had both hard the buzzer). You’re not sure who fell asleep first, but you woke up a few hours later with his arms around you and his hard-on pressing against your ass.

You fell asleep after riding him, more relaxed than you had felt in years.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•

You sit up as you read the messages from your son.

Drew: Mom!! Grandma and Grandpa said we could home early!

Drew: They said we’d be home by 10 with our new flight.

Drew: Is that okay? I just missed you so much.

Drew: Mommmmm

Drew: We’re boarding now.

Mom: I missed you too! Of course, it’s okay! I can’t wait to see you. I love you so much.

You look at the time when your text fails to deliver, 9:18 AM.

Shit. Time to go.

Resisting the urge to whip off the covers and scramble, you slowly get out of Jake’s bed, not wanting to wake him.

You’re quiet as you find your clothes in the dryer and gather your things.

There’s a notepad and pen on the small table near the door and your heart stutters when you see the dog tags hanging next to his keys.

Lt. Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin

US Naval Aviator.

Well. He did say he was in aviation.

Your phone buzzes again and you quickly scribble a note before heading out the door.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•

“Reese?” Jake murmurs, cracking his eyes open when he pats the bed, finding it cold.

“No way,” he mutters grumpily as he heads out of the bedroom to find the house empty and quiet.

The first woman he’d felt anything for in years snuck out while he was sleeping.

An orange sticky note stuck to the door catches his eye and he walks over to read:

Sorry to run out-something came up and I had to get home. I have a feeling I’ll be seeing you again soon though, lieutenant.

Jake smiles despite himself at the smiley face you drew beside your name and sighs before heading back to bed.

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•

A/N: Wellllll here’s the first part! I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it ☺️

I’m leaving early tomorrow morning for a 6 day girls trip (to the beach) so I might be slow to respond/update but who knows, maybe I’ll get bored 🤷🏻‍♀️

Thank you to @lexixstewart again for the meet-cute at the beach idea 🫶🏻

As always, any interaction is appreciated but I love hearing what you think in comments/reblogs!

Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist (sorry if I forget anyone, I won’t be mad if you remind me).

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[discokicks]

BAD IDEAS (ON THE SAME PAGE) — JAMIE TARTT

a fic inspired by bad idea right by olivia rodrigo!

masterlist! song inspo! AO3!

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader (no use of y/n!)

summary: football star jamie tartt is an asshole. he’s the one ex of yours that your friends always hated, one that you now all joke about, and one you haven’t spoken to in four years. however, after a chance encounter, the two of you reconnect, and he leaves you with his new number and a hundred questions about his reformed personality. but seeing him tonight would be a bad idea, right?

word count & rating: 11k (wowza), M! (18+! minors get away or i’ll narc on you to your guardians)

warnings: SMUUUUUUT, porn with plot, lots of suggestive language, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, sprinkling of a handjob, unprotected p in v (wrap it up kids), angst, mentions of alcohol, probable secondhand embarrassment, exes reuniting (it needs a warning sometimes), jamie tartt was an asshole and is now just a prick (in the best way possible), reader is a physio, major fluff, and swearing. also reader is american (bc the author is too. sorry </3)

authors note: well. i wrote it. olivia wrote this song for teenage girls in their twenties (me) only and i immediately thought of this fic the second i heard it. i'm calling this an exercise in smut writing before i embark on my aces (my roy kent series for my new friends) eventual-smut-adventure, so this evolved into something i wasn’t expecting but i had so much fucking fun writing it. god, i love jamie tartt. also! this is my first smut fic at this type of level, so go easy on me. hope you all enjoy. love you all tons! -mags

There are two universal truths in life. 

The first is that the coffee shop you frequent on your way to work will and will always have the best cold brew you’ve ever tasted. The second is that Jamie Tartt will and will always be a massive fucking prick, and you’ll never see him again for as long as you live.

These are two things you live by, and while they may seem rather mundane or petty in the grand scheme of things, they are the only truths you can count on these days. Especially when everything else is so up in the air.

However, the universe doesn’t seem to believe in these things as blindly as you do, and this becomes evident the moment that you step into the shop on a gloomy Wednesday morning. Because these two truths (well, they’re fucking bald-faced lies now aren’t they, huh?) are broken within approximately two minutes of each other with seven words.

It began when you greeted Natalia, the barista who was here every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday before your shift at the clinic with a wide smile. As soon as she saw your face, her expression turned apologetic, albeit a bit dazed.

“You’re gonna hate me,” she says, putting her hands on either side of the register. Your brows shot up at her words. “We just ran out of cold brew.”

Your face falls. “You’re kidding.”

“We were low on it this morning,” she starts to explain, “our stupid night-shifters didn’t prep enough last night. And it’s been selling like crazy today.”

“Seriously?” you nearly whine. “I might cry.”

“I’m sorry, Doc,” she apologizes, but she doesn’t sound too apologetic. Natalia’s eyes keep shifting to your left, the dazed look in her eye never faltering. Then, she says the fated seven words. “But he took the last of it.”

You turn your head in the direction she’s been looking, and your blood runs completely cold. You think you could drop dead and go to hell at this very moment, and it’d be a better existence than what awaits you in the next five minutes. And while this all may sound dramatic, you don’t care. 

You don’t care because Jamie fucking Tartt is standing across from you, newly long hair peeking out from beneath his hood. He’s engrossed in whatever’s on his phone, fingers flying back and forth like he’s texting. 

You think you could run. You’re pretty sure you could successfully make a break for it and leave Natalia high and dry without him seeing you. It’d be an easy exit, and you’d never have to see him again.

But then, as if he can feel your eyes on him, he looks up. And the second he meets your gaze, his face falls in what you can imagine was a similar fashion to yours. 

Fuck.

Luckily, Natalia is none the wiser. She barely notices your expression, and with Jamie by the pick-up area, she can’t see the way he’s looking at you. So, instead of questioning you, she straight-up giggles.

“I know,” she practically squeals. “I was totally going to save you the last of it, but he asked for it. And I mean, c’mon. It’s Jamie Tartt. I couldn’t possibly say no to him.”

You tragically know that feeling all too well. Knowing you probably would have had a snappier, more cutting response to that if you weren’t in the most debilitating phase of shock, you settle for a quiet, “It’s okay.” You nod at her, brushing it off in an attempt to be casual. “I can settle for an espresso today.”

Natalia nods, tapping it into her register. “Same size as usual?”

“Yeah,” you say, not completely sure what you’re agreeing to. You glance over again at Jamie and find that he’s still standing there, staring at you, and you immediately blink away. “That’s fine.”

The rest of the transaction feels as though it takes a millennium and three seconds all at once. You’re still caught off guard by the time Natalia gives you your receipt with a dazed look in your eye that now matches hers. 

However, yours isn’t because you just saw your favorite Richmond player or your favorite reality show villain. It’s because you’ve just seen your ex-boyfriend and you’re about to walk over and stand next to him for a prolonged period of time.

Nothing about this scenario feels real. You hadn’t seen him in four years. Not since things ended as ugly as they had, with him leaving you sobbing outside of a club at three in the morning, letting you know that things were over between you two. And he hadn’t even given you a reason. It was just that he wasn’t ‘feeling’ it anymore.

You saw in a tabloid about three months later that he was now seeing Keeley Jones (yeah, having to compete with that did not sit well with you at all) and had drawn your assumptions from there. Whether or not he’d been seeing her behind your back or had broken up with you to be with her, you didn’t know. You didn’t care. You were in your anger stage of the break-up and only knew one thing.

Jamie Tartt was a massive fucking prick, and you’d sooner walk on a bed of nails before you saw him again.

But now here he was. And there were no nails to be found.

You avoid eye contact as you pass him to wait for your coffee. There’s a piece of you that wants to say hi and play it cool, just to put on a show for him about how unaffected you were by everything that had happened. The other piece of you hopes that not a word is said for your entire time here.

Unfortunately, neither of those happen.

Jamie slides over to be near you, awkwardly rocking back and forth on his heels. His hands are stuffed in his sweatshirt pocket, and you wait for him to say something. Anything. But he doesn’t.

Instead, you can feel the ‘play it cool’ part of you rise up to the surface. You could do this. You could feign indifference. Fuck him, you could be cool.

You glance over at him and see that he’s pressing his lips together, eyes shifting around the coffee shop. It’s crazy how familiar you still are with his tells to know he’s desperately looking for a way to say something. 

You say it for him. “Hi,” you say simply. Cool and unaffected.

It’s as if the one word alone makes him flinch. He clearly wasn’t expecting you to say anything. “Hi—” He clears his throat after his greeting comes out cracked, and he stuffs his hands further in his pockets. “Hey.”

The awkwardness of this moment is killing you, and it’s taking everything in you to pretend like it's not. As you search for something else to say, you land on, “You took my cold brew.”

You can see his brows shoot up out of the corner of your eye. “Oh, fuck, did I?” 

You nod slowly. “Yeah,” you tell him. “I come in here every morning. Friends with the barista. Said she was going to save me the last of it, but…” You trail off and finally look at him. “She couldn’t say no to Jamie Tartt, apparently.”

You want to jump up and down about how well you’re doing right now. Maybe you are over him. Maybe you’ve finally moved past this shit, and seeing him once more is all you needed to solidify that. Maybe—

The second he chuckles softly with an apologetic smile, your confidence in those things shoots down. “I’m sorry,” he says.

“Since when do you drink cold brew, anyway?” you ask, frustrated with the fact that he’s fucking laughing in front of you. “You were always a like, caramel macchiato or frappuccino asshole.”

The names make him laugh harder, shaking his head. “Don’t like those anymore,” he responds. “Sugar hurts me teeth. Tryin’ somethin’ new.”

“Yeah,” you mutter. “My fucking coffee.”

That chuckle continues with a shrug. “I’m sorry.” he says again. Then he pauses. “But it’s not like your name was on it, or anythin’.”

Your face draws blank, and immediately, Jamie can tell he’s made a misstep. And it’s not that you’re angry about the joke, it’s just the… everything. Him. The situation. Everything you can remember that you wonder if he bothers to remember too.

Before you can walk away, you feel his hand on your arm. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he repeats for a third time, turning you so that you’ll look at him. Your pissed-off expression meets his easy smile and it only fuels your anger more. “I was jokin’. I’m sorry I took your coffee. We can get ‘em to put your name on it if you want.”

“Whatever,” you mutter. It’s not the most mature thing you could have said, but frankly, you don’t care. You just want to get your consolation espresso and get the hell out of here. “What are you even doing over here anyway?”

You’re not sure why you ask it. You don’t know why you keep the conversation going. Jamie looks just as surprised as you are. “I moved over here a couple weeks ago,” he answers. “Got sick of the old place.”

“Can’t imagine why,” you reply. By the way that Jamie snorts, you know he recalls just how much you hated his apartment when you knew him. It screamed twenty-two-year-old AFC-money shithead and you would tease him about it constantly. “Was the empty beer bottle sculpture finally giving you mold poisoning?”

He chuckles again. “That came down shortly after we stopped talking.”

“Oh, so I was just lucky enough to see it in its final days?”

“Oi,” he says, pointing at you. “That thing was fuckin’ impressive and you know it.”

“Impressive in a dorm,” you shoot back. “Not a seven million pound flat.”

He bows his head in a guilty manner. “You remember that, huh?”

“Hard not to,” you answer. “You never stopped talking about it.”

He at least has the decency to wince at that one. “I know,” he says earnestly. It makes you look at him. He shrugs once more. “I wanted to impress ya.”

He did impress you. But not with things like that. He’d impress you when you watched him play, he’d impress you when he made you laugh, and he’d impress you on the rare occasion that he’d just be himself in front of you. Not some asshole footballer. Just him.

But you don’t say that. You say, “That wasn’t the way.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles mirthlessly. “Got that now.” He rocks back on his heels again, like he’s not sure if he should say whatever he wants to. “I was a proper fucking dick to you, wasn’t I?”

That almost makes you fall over. Did he just say that? Did he actually just admit that? Out loud, here, for everyone to hear? Accountability? Unprompted? From Jamie Tartt? 

You want to glance around to see if Rod Sterling’s going to emerge from the bathroom to narrate the next couple of minutes of your life, but are too shocked to do so. 

Your surprise must show in your eyes, because Jamie laughs to himself. “Yeah. Wild, innit?” He shakes his head. “On a bit of an apology tour this year. Trying to build back some bridges, or whatever.”

The nod you give him is slow, still reeling from all of this. “Right,” you say lamely. “Building bridges.”

“I’m serious,” he tells you and for a brief moment, you think he may just mean it. The sincerity in his eyes is clear. “I was terrible to you. And I’m sorry.”

Whatever you were expecting when you stepped into this coffee shop on this rainy Wednesday, it certainly wasn’t this. And you certainly weren’t expecting your first time reuniting with him to go this way— with him apologizing to you. The actual words ‘I’m sorry’ just left his mouth. 

You genuinely don’t know who this is. Because it’s certainly not the Jamie you knew.

You saw flashes of this guy. Quiet moments during your short-lived relationship, typically when it was just the two of you. It’s the type of guy you always knew he could be if he tried. The type of guy you pushed him to be. 

(Your friends always taunted you about having the ever-horrendous I-can-fix-him gene, and they never quite let go of it. But it’s not like it wasn’t true.)

Those flashes are why you held out for as long as you did. If it were anyone else, any other asshole who treated you the way he did, you would have dropped them in a second. But he wasn’t like that. Not always, at least.

It was terrible to think like that. You’d been in a low spot when you’d met him and had taken even lower when he left you. You’d recovered tenfold from that and now knew your worth. 

But as he stands in front of you, apologizing, genuinely apologizing, and looking at you like that, you start to question it.

No! the logical part of your brain practically screams. Don’t you fucking dare.

You’re keen to listen to that for the time being. It hardens you. And all you can do is nod at him again. “Well, uh—” Your voice comes out hoarse. You cough awkwardly. “Yeah. You were. Terrible to me. And, uh… thank you. For saying that.”

So much for playing it cool. You want to slam your head up against the wall but hold yourself back from doing so.

He nods at you, opening his mouth to say something else before he’s interrupted by one of the baristas calling your name. His cold brew’s sitting on the counter too, something the two of you clearly missed in the middle of your conversation.

When you reach for your drink, he grabs his too. He’s still staring at you, biting the inside of his cheek like he wants to say something. When you go to move around him, he stops you.

“Look, I just—” You look up at him expectantly, and his shoulders deflate. “I know you probably want nothin' to do with me. But, I just… I want to talk to you.”

Your espresso is hot in your hands. “Well, that sounds like a you problem.”

That’s when he says your name. Your actual name. Not the nickname that everyone calls you, not a pet name that he used to use, he says your name. And it makes you stop in your tracks.

It’s so stupid. It’s so fucking dumb that your fucking name can send you back to the day you first met him and were completely taken with him. You hate it. And you hate the way it makes your walls come crumbling down.

“Please,” he begs. “Can we… Can I at least give you my number? It’s a new one, but I-I think I’ve still got yours. You don’t have to use it if you don’t want to. But just so you can… I don’t know? Think about it?”

You wouldn’t know if he still had your number. You blocked him ages ago. But you doubt it. 

However, the more you think about it, the more you consider it. It’s the product of your resolve falling and well, everything else about him now. You think about it.

If you allowed him to give you his number, the ball would be in your court. You could do what you wanted with it. You could text him, you could tell him to fuck off, you could ignore him. It was up to you. 

And you don’t know if that’s worse or better.

You decide on better. The second you sigh, Jamie knows he’s got you. A wide grin breaks out on his face as you hand him your phone. “I’ll think about it,” you mutter. 

That’s good enough for him. He gives your phone back to you, new number inserted and new contact created. You’re glad he didn’t search for his old one. That one just says ASSHOLE in big capital letters with about a million gun emojis. 

(That was done by your previous roommates in an effort to get you to move on from him. You thought it was a bit overdramatic. You were never one for emojis.)

He’s smiling when he holds his coffee out for you. You stare at him blankly, thinking he’s attempting to cheers you. Instead, he shakes his head and says, “Take it.”

You blink at him. “What?”

“Trade with me,” he clarifies and your expression turns to one of shock. “C’mon. You said it’s yours anyway, right?” When you don’t move he rolls his eyes. “Offer’s only good for another second. Me arm’s getting tired.”

At that, you sigh rather dramatically and grumble to yourself, trying not to act pleased by the gesture. You hand him your coffee and he gives you his. “Thanks,” you say. It was kind of him. 

His grin returns and he nods at you. “Alright,” he says. After a slightly awkward beat, he steps back from you. “It was good to see you, Doc. Really.” You’re taken back by how genuine his voice sounds and say nothing in return. “I’ll talk to you later?”

He says it as a question, hopeful and well-meaning. “Yeah,” you tell him noncommittally. “Maybe.”

That too, is good enough for him. Because he sends you one more smile, then walks out of the coffee shop with your espresso in hand. 

You’re still reeling from the interaction when you glance down at his your cold brew and see Natalia’s handwriting. She’s made it just as you like it, down to the milk and everything.

But below it is a small drawing. It’s a tiny shark fin with a #9 written inside, with little lettering circling around it.

Doo-doo-do-doo-do-do-doo.

You’re fucked.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” is the question that your best friend and former roommate Leah screams at you over drinks at a busy rooftop bar. So busy, in fact, that barely anyone looks over at the two of you.

You’d made the mistake of telling Leah that not only had you run into Jamie on Wednesday, but you’d let him give you his number. 

And you’d texted him after hours of deliberation.

It was something innocent, something you’d thought way too much about, but innocent still. You weren’t sure if you were ready to actually talk to him, but there was something about texting him that wasn’t so scary. Your guard was clearly still up, evident by how dry you were in your messages, and you were keeping your distance. You never texted back too quickly, didn’t ask many questions, and often left him on read. 

(Yeah, you’d turned your read receipts on for him. What about it?)

Your first text was a simple enough question, something that you’d been genuinely wondering about since you saw him. It was open enough for a conversation but not too forward. how’d you know my coffee order?

His response came in minutes later. Is that yours? Good taste. It was shortly followed up with, That espresso you drink was fucking disgusting though.

And that was that. That was how you started texting your ex again. That’s how you reconnected yourself with Jamie Tartt. That’s how you knew it was over for you.

And that’s how you’re pretty sure you’re about to kill your best friend.

Leah’s eyes were wild, somehow angry yet still disbelieving yet intrigued. But the intrigue was very minimal. Very minimal. It was hidden well by how pissed off she was at you.

She had every right to be pissed at you. She was the one who always warned you about him. She’d straight-up nursed you back to health when you broke up. She was the one who had to hear about him 24 hours a day until you were finally over him.

Leah had had a year of peace. And now you were killing her for good.

“You’re kidding, right?” she follows up with. Her grip on your arm is tight. “Please tell me your kidding.”

“Leah…” Your voice is weak.

It tells her everything she needs to know. “Oh, my God! Oh, my. God.” She puts her face in her hands. “You’re insane. You’re fucking losing it and we need to have you checked out right now.”

“I’m completely sentient and in control of my own body.”

“Are you sure?”

You sip at your cocktail. “I reset a knee today. I’m pretty sure.”

“I think you might need to reconsider,” she says. “Because you just told me that not only are you talking to Jamie Tartt again, but you were the one who instigated it!”

You deserve this verbal beatdown and you know it. But all you can do is shrug. “Technically, he gave me his number. He’s the one who instigated it.”

“I’m gonna throw my fucking drink in your face,” Leah threatens, gripping her glass in warning. 

You roll your eyes at her. “Nothing’s gonna happen,” you say, even though you know you’re probably lying. Leah knows this too. “We’ve just been texting a little. It’s nothing serious.”

“Yeah, sure,” she deadpans. “Right. And even if I did believe you, what happens if it does? What happens if you get back in your weird, scary Jamie phase and he kills you again? I can’t deal with that.”

“That’s not going to happen,” you assure her, and this time it’s more confident. Because you know you won’t. Not this time. Not if anything happens.

You’d met Jamie when you were twenty-two. You were in your first year of your Masters program, slightly lost as in your move to London to finish your journey to become a physical therapist. Or a physio, as they called it here. Whatever. You couldn’t keep up with the names. 

You were shadowing a physio at the clinic you now worked at, assisting him as a part of your internship at one of the football tournaments the clinic worked at. It was a ton of big-wig footballers, some names you recognized, others you didn’t. But it didn’t matter. They were precious fucking cargo and you were so paranoid about screwing up that you barely registered who they were when you worked on them.

That was, until a twenty-two-year-old Jamie Tartt sprained his ankle and plopped himself down on your doctor’s bench. He looked at you, you assisted him, and you were wrapped up in what you were doing that you didn’t even notice he was flirting with you. 

You didn’t realize until he asked you out. And the rest was history, for better or for worse.

You were surprised he went for you. You knew who Jamie was, what type of girls he liked to be seen with. They were singers and models and actresses. They weren’t you. 

(Perhaps that’s one of the reasons you liked him so much. Because he chose you. You didn’t like to think about that phase of your life.) 

But after six months of seeing him, he ended things out of nowhere. Right when you’d settled on the idea that despite it all, you might be in love with him. And that was that.

You hadn’t seen him since. Not until this week.

“Not gonna happen my ass,” Leah scoffs, bringing you back into the conversation at hand.

A sigh of frustration leaves your lips. “Listen, I know it’s a bad idea;” you tell her. “I know it is. But, I don’t know. There was something different about him, Leah. He was just… like not someone I recognized.”

“Maybe because his hair is fucking long and stupid now.” She brings her glass to her lips. “His highlights look horrendous.”

“I actually like his hair like this,” you admit, earning yet another eye roll. “Listen. I’m not saying he’s changed. He probably hasn’t. But I…” You trail off with a shrug. “I don’t know. What if he has?”

Leah’s looking at you like you’re the dumbest person she’s ever met in her life. “Are you hearing yourself right now?” she asks incredulously. “Babe, he was a prick to you. Like, category-five, prestige-level twat. Like, worst boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

“I know,” you repeat. “And I said nothing’s going to happen. But if it does, and it goes south, I give you full permission to say I-told-you-so for the rest of my life, alright?”

Leah bites the inside of her cheek, shaking her head. “Whatever,” she says. After a moment, she glances over at you. “I’m just looking out for you, y’know. I don’t want to see you hurt again. And I definitely don’t want him to be the reason for that hurt again.”

You grab her hand. “I know,” you say once more. “And I love you for it. But if I’m gonna be stupid, I’m fully aware of when I’m gonna do it. And it’s gonna be my own fault.”

There’s a moment of silence between the two of you before Leah nods. “Okay,” she finally says. “Okay. Fine. Your fucking funeral.”

“I’ll let you give the eulogy and allow you to call me a dumb bitch for ten minutes straight.”

“Sold,” Leah says, pointing at you. That slight intrigue you previously saw in her eye returns. “Okay, now that I’ve yelled at you, you need to tell me everything.”

And so you do. You tell her how he took your coffee, how you nearly threw up the second you saw him, how you played it cool until you didn’t. How he apologized to you. Joked around with you. Apologized some more. And then he gave you his coffee. 

You despise how excited you sound about it. Again, you’re trying to play it cool, but the people that know you the best can always see right through you. You’re excited about it. Excited about him.

It’s a bad idea to be excited about him.

It’s a bad idea to look down at your phone after you and Leah order another drink. Your heart stops when you see he’s texted you. 

It’s a bad idea to open the message when Leah excuses herself to go to the bathroom. What are you up to tonight? 

It’s past midnight on a Saturday and he’s texting you. It’s still preseason for him, so he might be drunk, he may not be. You’re three drinks deep and aren’t sure if you are.

It’s a bad idea to respond to him. getting drinks with a friend. You keep it dry.

It’s a bad idea to not look down at your phone until you finish the drinks you ordered. Because now, you’re definitely drunk and looking at it all with new eyes. 

Would you want to hang out tonight? No pressure.

It’s a bad idea to consider it. 

But it’s a worse idea to agree.

text me your new address. i can be there by 1:30.

Before you know what you’re doing, you’re knocking on Jamie’s door, intertwining your fingers together when you realize you’re shaking.

The second you do it, you regret it. You’re no longer feeling the effects of your drinks. It wore off on the Uber ride over here. And everything seems like a terrible idea now.

God, what were you doing? He treated you like that and the second you see him again, you go running back? He was an asshole. He’d made you question everything about yourself, he’d made you cry, he’d made you experience every fucking emotion in the book and all it took is one text for you to be back on his doorstep?

Your roommate was right. This was a horrendous idea and you were an idiot.

However, none of that matters. It doesn’t matter because Jamie Tartt’s opening his door and he’s got a stupid fucking smile on his face. And the second you see it, you know there’s no turning back.

“Hey,” he says as he opens the door. “You alright, love?”

You clench your jaw at the name, at his smile, about how casual he’s being, about everything. “Hey,” you say, avoiding his eyes to look around his flat. 

It’s a complete 180 from what he had when he first joined Richmond and what he had when you knew him. It’s a bit less mojo-dojo-casa-house-looking and something more mature. While you can still tell that a twenty-something guy definitely lives here, it’s decorated well, it’s put together, and it’s clean. No beer bottle sculptures in sight. He’s even got a fucking candle burning on his counter. Who the fuck is this and what did he do with the guy you knew?

Jamie follows you as you enter, wiping his hands on his sweatpants. “You find the place okay?”

His question snaps you out of your flat-induced haze. “Yeah,” you reply. You clear your throat. “This is nice.”

That same, stupid smile returns, but it looks a bit nervous. “Yeah. I told you it was a bit different, huh?” he chuckles. He walks toward his island, rounding it as he speaks. “Needed a fresh start or whatever. The old one was gettin’... old.” He watches you as you nod, continuing to look around. “You still in the same place with the same people?”

“Uh, no. Different place. No people,” you answer. You’ve stayed on your side of the counter, actively keeping your distance. “Willa moved to New York last year and Leah moved with her boyfriend. We live in the same building, though, which is nice.”

The small talk is fucking killing you. You’re not even sure if he cared to remember your previous roommates' names, so this all could be pointless. You can’t believe you’re here. You can’t believe you’re actually standing here, talking to him about the past. 

But as you finish speaking, he nods like he’s listening. Maybe he is listening. Maybe he does remember. 

“I’ll have to see that sometime,” he ends up saying, and the implication of it makes your head spin. He wants to see you again. Or he just learned small talk common courtesy. Whatever it is, it’s driving you insane. You have so many questions for him, so many things to say, and as he wipes his hands on his pants again and nods over to his kitchen, he asks, “Can I get you something to drink? I’ve got—”

“Why did you invite me here, Jamie?” The question comes spilling out of you, rushed as if it were waiting on the tip of your tongue and simply couldn’t stand to stay in any longer. Jamie stops in his tracks to blink at you. The look on his face encourages you to go on. “I mean, I know I texted you first. But why… why did you text me tonight? Why’d you—” You grimace, trying to find the right words. “Why’d you give me your number?”

He’s silent for a moment. Thinking. Evaluating. But his eyes haven’t left you. “Because I wanted you here,” he finally says. You cross your arms over your chest as he takes a step toward you. “Because I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I saw you.”

You want to say that you’ve been driven crazy all week because you feel same, but decide against it. Instead, you look away from him and scoff. “Right.”

“I’m serious,” he tells you, and your heart stops with every step he takes. “I felt like I was goin’ insane. I didn’t…” For a flash of a second, he looks shy. “I didn’t think I’d see you again. And I didn’t think you’d actually text me. I mean, I hoped you would, but…”

He’s right in front of you, but you still refuse to look at him. Your gaze has shifted to the floor. “I shouldn’t have,” you mutter.

The asshole has the nerve to chuckle, but it’s nervous. Your stomach churns. You’re not sure if you’ve ever heard him nervous. “No, you probably shouldn’t have,” he agrees. “I don’t deserve it.” He pauses and your throat starts to tighten. “I didn’t deserve you.”

That makes you look at him. Either he’s actually apologetic about everything, or he’s gotten really good at knowing everything you want to hear. “No. You didn’t.”

His fingers tentatively brush your arm and you allow him to take your hand. “I know,” he says. “I was a fucking prick. I get that now. I should never have… done that shit to ya.” You’re close enough to him now that if you moved an inch, his forehead would be up against yours. He brings your hand up to his mouth, pressing a feather-light kiss to the back of it. The action makes your throat tighten. “And I can’t fix it. But I…” He trails off again and looks you dead in the eye once he has the words. “I want to make it up to you.”

Your resolve is getting weaker and you hate yourself for it. You lean back against the counter, like that will put space between you two. “Jamie…”

“Please,” he whispers. His forehead finally meets yours. You can feel his breath on your lips. You don’t pull away. “Let me make it up to you.”

The last front you have standing weakly presents itself. “If you think,” you begin, breath shuddering as his hand meets your neck, “that one 2 AM hookup is going to make up for what you did, I—”

“I know it won’t,” he says, and it sounds like he does know. “But I want it to be a start.” The fingers on your neck are now tracing your jaw. And they tighten when he says, “Let me show you just how sorry I am, yeah? Let me make it fucking good for you.”

Jesus fucking Christ. That last front dissolves the second he says that, and your logic flips on itself. You came over here for a reason. You knew what this was. At least you got an overdue apology. Whether or not he meant it, is still up in the air, but if he’s promising things like that, then you might as well get something out of it.

You struggle to get a word out, so you nod against his hand. “O-Okay,” you finally stammer out. The way he’s looking at you gives you enough confidence to say, “Fine. Make it up to me.”

Jamie’s lips curl into a smirk and say, “As you wish,” before they’re on yours.

He’s softer than you remember. His lips aren’t chapped, he isn’t as aggressive with it, and he isn’t as rushed. Everything about him feels more mature and you struggle to understand how fast he could have changed in four years. But you’re not complaining. Not when he’s kissing you like this, with more practice and passion than you can ever recall.

His hand unlocks from yours to slide it up your sweatshirt, and it’s surprisingly warm against your back. Still, you shiver from the contact and you can feel him smirk once more against your lips. 

The action alone prompts you to fork a hand in his hair and tug at it slightly, reveling in the soft sound that escapes him. Everything about him comes back to you at once, and you’ve never been happier to know that the same things still get him. If he wants to play it like that, you can keep up.

His hands drop to grab your thighs and lift you onto the counter, breaking the kiss momentarily. Your chest is heaving up and down, lips swollen and wet. Jamie appears to be in the same boat. “Fuck,” he whispers, sounding even more out of breath than you. He dips his head to press a kiss to your neck, nose rubbing against it as he makes his way down. “You look fucking gorgeous, by the way. Meant to tell you that at the shop.”

You’re too caught up in it all to play it cool, especially as he works at that one spot on your neck. “You look— fuck, you look good too. The long hair suits you.”

You feel him grin against your neck. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree breathily. “Looked like a prick with the old cut.”

You feel his teeth dig into your skin at that one, and you hiss. “You liked that prick,” he reminds you.

You were in love with that prick, but you ignore that thought. “I liked a lot of things about him,” you respond. While it’s honest, the accidental double meaning of it isn’t lost on you.

It’s certainly not lost on Jamie. “Yeah?” he asks again. He lifts his head to look at you, hand creeping up your leg. “What’d you like?” You grip his arm as it rises beneath your sweatshirt once more. “C’mon love. Tell me what you want.”

You hate the way your breath hitches the second his fingers meet your back. You know what you want. You want to see what he’s learned since you last had him. What he’s like four years later. What’s changed, what’s stayed the same. But you’re too embarrassed and much too proud to ask.

Instead, you decide to say, much too shyly for your liking, “You know what I want.”

He hums in agreement, other hand creeping dangerously close to the inside of your thigh. “I do, don’t I?” he murmurs. “Bet I know everything ya want. But I wanna hear you say it.”

“Oh my, God,” you say under your breath, frustration creeping into your voice. The asshole fucking laughs at you. “I want you to make good on your promise. This seems far from it.”

“Right, right, I’m sorry,” he tells you. He doesn’t sound sorry at all. “Just making sure we’re still, y’know. On the same page.” He glances at you. “Right?”

You blink at him. You’re not sure you could have been clearer about what page you’re on. But that’s not what surprises you. What surprises you is the seriousness in his eyes. How he’s searching for assurance in yours. And you know that if, for whatever godly reason, you wanted to stop, he’d pull away immediately, despite how worked up he clearly is. 

It's the bare fucking minimum, but it's more than you’re used to getting.

So, you nod. “Yeah,” you say. “Definitely on the same page.” 

The grin he breaks out to is nothing short of breathtaking. “Good.”

“But—” you suddenly say, stopping him from leaning in once more. He freezes beneath your touch, brows furrowing. “This is… This is a one-time thing. You’re…” You trail off to find the word. “You’re apologizing to me. That’s all this is.”

His smile falters, dropping momentarily before returning with a bit less radiance. It’s his turn to nod. “Okay,” he says, fingers now toying with the edge of your sweatshirt. “Gotta make it count, then.”

And with that, Jamie presses his lips back to yours, grabbing you securely and pulling you off the counter. Your legs wrap around his waist, grabbing the sides of his face, like that’ll stable you against him. 

This time, it’s more desperate. It’s more tongues and teeth, more force and intention behind each movement. He’s setting the pace, but you’re keeping up tenfold. While it’d been four years, you’re not sure if he’d ever kissed you like this. He’s passionate instead of aggressive. While he knows what he wants, he’s definitely not just going to take it. He may be leading but he’s listening to you. And that stirs something inside you that you haven’t felt in a long time.

That much is clear, because you unconsciously let out a quiet sound against his lips. You can feel him smiling once more as he walks you slowly to wherever the hell his bedroom is. You’re caught up in him. And by the way he’s gripping you, you can tell he’s just as caught up in you.

So much so, that he completely loses track of where he’s going and accidentally slams you into his doorframe. You yelp, more because of shock than pain, and pull away to glare at him.

Jamie’s already apologizing. “Sorry, sorry,” he says. “Still gettin’ used to this place.”

“Well, figure out how to navigate better,” you respond, verging on a pout as you rub the back of your head.

“I’m sorry!” he repeats. He’s still got you against the doorframe. “It’s hard to see with your big head in me face. And I can’t kiss ya with, like, my eyes open. It’d be freaky.”

“I’ll give you a pass for that one,” you reply dryly. “Be weird instead of giving me a concussion.”

He’s walking you toward the bed when he mutters, “I’ll give you something, alright.”

Your back meets the mattress and you try to ignore the way he held his hand behind your head when he laid you down. You have under a second to adjust before he’s on top of you. The desperation returns and it almost takes your breath away.

He’s essentially straddling you, tugging at the waist of your leggings before he leaves one last kiss on your lips. He finally gets to pull your sweatshirt off, something he’d clearly been dying to rid you of since he first kissed you. You lift your arms up to help him, finding that you quickly start to do the same to him. You hear him chuckle as you attempt to get it up his back.

“I got it, love, hold on,” he says softly, tossing your hoodie to the side to take off his own. Your eyes immediately go to his chest and stomach and you refrain from reaching out to touch him. When you look up at him, you expect him to be smirking. However, he’s doing the exact opposite.

Jamie’s looking down at you like he can’t fucking believe you’re real. It’s jarring, seeing him like this, but you figure he’s in the same headspace as you and is still struggling to process that this is happening. It doesn’t matter, because before you can question it, he’s moving to press a kiss to your collarbone.

Your hand falls into his hair as he works his way down, mouthing the area of your chest. He pauses before he gets to the bra you’re wearing. His eyes flick up to yours. “Can I—”

You’re nodding before he can even get the words out, shifting to make it easier for him. He discards it to the floor with the rest. When he looks back at you, he releases a shaky breath and just stares.

He stares so intently that you begin to get self-conscious. “What?” you ask.

The question takes Jamie out of his trance. He shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says. “I just— I… Fuck. I forgot how beautiful you were.”

That spreads a warmth through you, one that pulls at your core. As you feel your face heat, you realize you have nothing to say to that. Luckily, he’s already moving on.

Jamie’s different. Really different. And you don’t realize how different he is until you start looking at him like you are right now. You were trying to convince yourself when you told Leah that he’d changed, you’ll admit that. But right now, you think you may have been telling the truth.

He grabs the waist of your leggings once more, lifting your legs to pull them off. You can’t help the laugh that leaves your lips as he struggles to do so. He shakes his head with a soft smile. “Missed that.”

“What?” you ask again.

“Your laugh,” he replies. “Missed that more than you know.”

The sweet words hit you like a bullet. The vulnerability in his voice is what gets you. Goddammit, when did he get so fucking nice? It drives you insane. But it also makes you quietly admit, “I think I’ve got an idea.”

With your leggings now gone, Jamie’s smile turns fonder. Gentler. He presses a kiss to your leg but says nothing in response. He simply places your legs down, eyes flicking down. He lifts his hand to trace down your stomach, stopping at the edge of your panties. The feeling makes you flinch.

He hooks a finger in the band, and your hips buck up to encourage him. His other hand spreads across your hip in a poor effort to keep you still. “Easy,” he murmurs. 

You huff out a breath. “You can—” Your breath hitches as two of his fingers push into your underwear. “Fuck, you can take them off.”

His lips quirk up. “Well, thank you for the permission,” he says. “But not yet. I wanna take it slow with ya.”

Your mouth parts. “Why?”

“Because it’s been years since I’ve seen you,” he answers, moving up to kiss you softly. He speaks against your lips as he says, “And I’ve apparently only got one shot to do this right. So I’m gonna make this last.”

You roll your eyes at his terribly disguised jab. “You’re a dick,” you mutter against him.

“And you’re—” He cuts himself off and a gasp escapes your lips as he cups your core and rubs his palm against it. “Fuck, love. You’re really fucking wet.” He’s positioned on you so that you can feel him getting harder against you thigh. “This all for me, yeah?”

His voice is cocky, while still sounding awestruck. The remaining dignity you have left makes you roll your eyes, albeit a bit embarrassed. “It’s for whoever doesn’t take their fucking time to give me what I want,” you bite.

Jamie draws back from you with a full smirk on his face. “That so?” he asks. The hand against you starts creeping up to the band of your panties. “And what is it that you want? You still haven’t told me.”

You scoff. “I told you.”

He pulls your underwear down your legs and the air around you suddenly makes you realize just how exposed you are. You told yourself you’d never give him the satisfaction of seeing you like this again. But here you were.

His fingers brush against the inside of your thigh, and you shiver once more. “No,” he tells you gently. “You didn’t. You just said you wanted me to keep my promise. You didn’t tell me what you wanted.”

He’s moving closer and closer to the place you want him and you don’t know if you can take it anymore. You shift uncomfortably, as if that will cease the ache. But you know only one thing will.

So, you give him the answer he’s been waiting for this entire time. “You.” His gaze meets yours. “I want you, Jamie. Please.”

That breathtaking grin returns. “Just because you asked so nicely.”

And then he puts his mouth on you without warning.

You spasm at the contact, crying out as he uses both arms to hold you still. The second you calm down, one hand leaves your thigh and you feel him work two fingers into you. Fuck. He didn’t know that before.

And it’s not like he was ever bad in bed when you two were together. You’re not sure you would have stayed with him if that were the case. It’s just… he’s better now. He’s hitting everything nearly perfectly, not stumbling like he used to. He’s more confident. More assured. He knows what he’s doing.

And it’s fucking hot.

The sounds that fill his room are downright obscene. He’s gripping one side of you to keep you in place, splitting you open on his knuckles with the other. His mouth zeroes in on your clit, alternating between licking and sucking in a way that honestly has you close already.

“F-fuck,” you breathe. “Fuck, Jamie. Don’t st— shit. Don’t stop. Please.”

Of course, the fucking shit he is, stops. He grins up at you, but continues to slowly pump his fingers in and out. “You sound so fucking pretty begging like that,” he tells you. He’s just as out of breath as you are. He feels you clench around his fingers at the praise and it only eggs him on further. “Look so pretty too. Fucking gorgeous.”

“Jamie,” you whine again. He’s going too slow. Teasing. It’s not fucking fair. He’s supposed to be the one apologizing to you. “I need— Ngh. I need—”

“What do you need?” he asks. “Tell me.”

You think you’d kill him if you weren’t completely incapacitated. “More,” you manage to get out, wincing as he continues at his slow pace. You’re close. Embarrassingly close. “Just fucking more. Please. I’m—” You interrupt yourself with a moan as he shoves his fingers deeper into you.

“I know,” he nearly coos. “I’ve got you.”

And got you he does. Because not only does he pick up the pace, he stretches you with a third finger. The sting of it is momentary, and it subsides as soon as he bends down and swipes your clit with his tongue.

Your back arches. “Jesus fucking— Jamie. Oh, my God.”

He’s good. Of course, he’s fucking good. He’s Jamie Tartt. You’re not sure he’s ever been bad at anything physical in his life. Emotionally was another story. But that story didn’t matter right now. Not when he’s got you like this, and you’re teetering over the edge.

He pulls away from you, breath tickling your core as he speaks. “C’mon,” he chides. “I can feel it. You’re right there, aren’t you, love?” He takes your breathy silence as confirmation and nods to himself. “Yeah. You just need—”

He removes one finger and crooks the rest a certain way, deeper than before. Your heart may stop beating. He’s done something he did to you time and time again, something that he was actually really fucking good at, something he knew you liked years ago. When he looks up at you, he searches your eyes. And by the way they roll back, he knows he’s struck gold.

The smirk returns and he continues to work his fingers into you, smirk growing each time he hears you say his name. “Yeah,” he whispers. “That’s it. That’s still it.”

You could finish at any moment. The telltale heat is rising in your stomach, and you’re just waiting for the cord to snap. And then, as if your muscle memory takes over, you reach out for his arm.

But instead of letting you do it like before, he does something completely different. He intertwines his free hand with the back of yours and guides it to your stomach. And then he presses on your hand.

The pressure builds. You’re barely able to make any noise. And then—

“C’mon,” Jamie repeats. “Come for me, angel. I wanna see it.”

The cord snaps, and you do as you’re told. You come. Hard.

Jamie talks you through it, fingers still moving to coax your climax out of you. You’re sure you look pathetic, crying out and thrashing around in his bed, but you don’t care. You can barely fucking see right now.

It’s been a while for you. Or at least been a while since you’ve had anything that good. And it completely strips away any sort of attitude or frustration you had before.

When you finally come back down, you laugh softly, shaking your head and throwing your arm over your face. “Fuck,” you say through a chuckle.

You feel him shift, moving up the bed to hover over you once more. When he removes your arm from your eyes, you see that he’s smiling. “Nobody’s ever laughed after I’ve done that,” he tells you, a faux pout pulling at his lips. He bends down to press them to yours and you can taste yourself. “It better be a good fuckin’ sign.”

You laugh again, reaching up to cup his cheek and pull him into another kiss. “Very good sign,” you assure him. It’s muffled against him, but you think he gets the point. 

It’s then that you catch him by surprise and flip the two of you over, straddling him in a way that makes him release a breathy sound that you’d missed dearly. But, something feels off.

Your glance down at him, expecting to feel or see fabric once you reach his leg. But there’s not much. Only what feels like boxer shorts. It catches you off guard. When did he take off his—

It doesn’t matter. It’s easier for you now. Especially as your fingers move across his abdomen, biting back a grin at the way he shudders. He looks up at you from his pillow.

“What are you doing?” he asks leadingly.

You shrug innocently, fingers toying with the band hanging low on his hips. “Returning the favor,” you reply. 

Jamie makes a noise of disapproval, placing a hand on your thigh like that’ll stop you. “I’m supposed to be the one making it up to you,” he states, but his voice gets less firm as you cup him through the fabric. “Fuck. Y-You don’t owe me anythin’. No favors.”

You shake your head, pulling at his boxers so that he springs free from inside. Your eyes travel back to his as you reach out and gently grab his cock, staring down at him with a smirk dancing on your lips. “You sure?”

He looks pained. You don’t know why. You’re offering a way to take him out of his misery. But still, he shakes his head and moves his arm from your leg to your back. 

He takes his turn to flip you over next. He swears under his breath as he does so, shaking his head when you land on your back.

“I told you,” he says, taking his boxers all the way off now. “It’s about you. Not me.” He shakes his head again, but this time it’s a bit more frustrated. When he speaks, it’s mostly to himself. “Can’t believe I just fuckin’ said no to that.”

A snort escapes you. “You’re a changed man, Jamie Tartt,” you joke.

He shrugs before placing his arms on either side of you. His voice teeters on teasing and earnest. “I’ve been trying to tell ya that.”

You’re not sure if it’s him, or the situation, or the sex, but you think you believe him. It makes your chest heavy. But you can’t admit that. You won’t let yourself. So, you keep that feeling tucked away, way in the back of your mind for safekeeping. You know it’s better like that. For your emotional sake, at least.

You allow yourself to prop yourself up on your elbow and kiss him instead of responding to that, bringing him in closer. You can feel the length of him press against your stomach, and his groan vibrates against your lips. 

He pulls away, grinding into you. The heat of your body is making him go wild. “Can I—”

You know what he wants. And you want it too. “Please,” you say. 

He nods, moving to angle himself against you. You glance down to watch him, heat flooding your face as he strokes himself before glancing up at you. You nod in return, giving him the confirmation he needs. Jamie grins.

He slides in you slowly. The stretch is mild but grows as he hovers over you once more. It’s easy to adjust, having been warmed up moments before. But for Jamie, it’s not as easy.

He bottoms out almost immediately, tensing over you. His head bows, chin falling to his chest. “Fuck,” he curses. It’s quiet but straight-up sinful. “God, fucking— you’re so—” You grip onto his bicep as he steadies himself. “I’m sorry. It’s just— i-it’s been a minute. And you’re f-fucking tight. Jesus.”

You don’t mind. He feels good like this, despite the fact he’s not moving. Your hand travels from his arm to his hair, tucking a piece of it behind his ear before settling on his jaw. “It’s alright,” you tell him. “We’ve got time.”

Jamie’s eyes snap open at that, but he’s not looking at you like you thought he would. You were expecting a cheeky sort of smile, a smirk, something in that realm. But he’s not. He’s looking at you like…

It’s something you can’t define. Something you’ve never seen before. It churns your stomach yet makes your heart race. Neither of you says a word.

He just dips down to kiss you again and slowly begins to move inside you. Your lips part in a gasp, and he slides his tongue in your mouth. Your back arches into him.

Before you know it, he's breaking from you and is breathing heavy against your neck. “Shit,” he groans. “You’re just— fuck. You…” He trails off, mouth hovering over your collarbone. “You drive me f-fucking mad. God, everything about you. Y-you don’t even know, do you?”

The pace picks up. He’s thrusting into you harder now and your nails dig into his back. You hear him hiss at the contact, but neither of you seem to care. “Fuck.” It’s all you can say. “Fuck, Jamie.”

He’s clearly not done talking. “How’d I-I fuck this up? Huh?” You can’t tell if he’s talking to you or himself. His mouth is on your chest now and the feeling runs through you like fire. “Fucking idiot. Didn’t know what I had. Can’t believe I let you go.”

You clench around him and it throws him off kilter. You watch his jaw clench, hand beside you gripping the pillow you’re on. “You w-were an idiot.” Your agreement is much less effective when it’s closed out by a high-pitched moan.

“I know. Fuck, I know,” he says. “I’m sorry. Deserved better.” He continues to slam into you. “I wanna gi—” A strangled sound erupts from his lips. “Give you better. You’re so—” When he shakes his head, he looks wrecked. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

Something about that sends a shock to your system. It makes you cry out and you can feel it. Your legs tremble around him. You’re close again. You’re really fucking close. 

He kisses you once more, deeper than before. It’s more frantic. Everything about him is more erratic. You can tell he’s getting there too. “Couldn’t stop,” he manages to get out, hot against your lips. “Couldn’t s-stop thinking about you. I missed you.” 

You clench around him again, the admission inching you closer. “Shit,” you say. “Fuck, Jamie, keep going.”

And keep going he does. His hand moves down your stomach, fingers finding your clit. He rubs circles into it and that sends you into a fucking tailspin. He swallows the sound you make. 

“Missed you,” he says again, but it’s more helpless. Jamie fucking whimpers. “God, I f-fucking missed you, angel. Missed you so fucking much, I—”

You don’t hear the rest of what he says because you come the second he makes that sound. It’s white-hot. Blinding. Your legs twitch around him and you claw at him as he continues to rub your clit. You’re loud, but you don’t give a shit. It seems to spur him on.

He’s not far behind you. He spills into you with a groan, stomach flexing as he heaves over you, twitching inside of you. You’re still recovering from your own high as you open your eyes to watch him. You catch his expression for a moment before he’s collapsing into you.

You release a soft ‘oof’ at the sudden weight of him. He doesn’t say anything for a moment and neither do you. You just breathe together. But after a moment you allow yourself to put a hand in his hair.

“You’re fucking heavy,” you tell him, but there’s not much bite in it.

You feel him chuckle. “Give me second,” he says. “Not as fuckin’ agile as I used to be. Took a lot out of me, alright?”

You roll your eyes but continue to run your fingers through his hair. “You’re twenty-six and like, the face of the AFC,” you tell him. “Richmond might have to shorten your contract if you’re dying after that.”

He presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Take that up with me Chairwoman then.”

You can’t help but laugh as you push him off of you, wincing as you feel him slip out. He lands with the same noise you did. “If she heard you complaining like that, she’d be on my side.”

Jamie grins at you, joining in on your laughter. He shifts toward you, grabbing your hand to play with your fingers. “You’re probably right. Shouldn’t be complainin’,” he says. He lifts your hand to his lips. “Not when you’re here.”

They’re sweet words. The casualty of them makes your heart swell. But that anxiety about him returns. One time thing, you tell yourself. Apology. One time. That’s all.

You pull your hand back softly and he glances over at you. There’s a hint of worry in his eyes, like that one movement set off alarm bells in his head. You give him an uneasy smile.

Before you can move to get up or say anything or do something, he’s talking. And you have to refrain from wincing. 

“I know…” He looks away from you. Shy. “I know you said one time,” he says, as if he can read your fucking mind. “And that’s… That’s okay. I get that, yeah? But I—” Jamie wipes a hand down his face, staring at the ceiling. “I meant what I said. I missed ya. Really.”

You missed him too. But your walls have been rising back up since he started talking again. “I don’t know what you want me to do with that,” you tell him, only partially lying.

You feel like an asshole when he winces. Maybe you were being an asshole. Maybe it was finally your turn to do so. 

“Just…” He finally looks at you. “If you ever… don’t want this to be just a one-time thing.” He waves it off in an attempt to look casual. You know he’s anything but. “You’ve got my number. Or whatever.”

The timidness in his voice makes your resolve soften. Even if you don’t see him again, you suppose you can let him down easy. He’s been kind enough tonight to deserve that. You nod at him as you sit up. “Okay,” you say. “I’ll let you know.”

It’s only slightly awkward as you get out of his bed and search for your clothes. He asks if he can call you an Uber home and you reject it, letting him know that you’ve got one on the way.

You can feel his eyes on you as you dress, ignoring the way they burn into you. You can tell he’s searching for something to say, or something to talk to you about but doesn’t know what.

You’re half-dressed before he can shoot himself in the foot and say something stupid. “Hey,” he finally says. You glance over your shoulder at him after you slip your sweatshirt on. “I’m really glad you texted me.”

The nice streak you’re riding on continues and you offer a small but genuine smile in return. “Me too,” you admit, ignoring the way that his own soft smile pulls at your heartstrings. 

Before you leave his room, you offer one more admission. You stop in the doorframe he hit you against, lips curling further upward. “It was really good to see you, Jamie.”

He props himself up on his elbow, smile growing. “Good,” he says, nodding. Then, like a prick, he winks at you. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

You physically cannot stop yourself from rolling your eyes and you hear him laugh to himself as you walkdown his hall. “Goodbye, asshole.”

He shouts a tired-sounding ‘bye!’ when you slip your shoes on, shaking your head as you look around his apartment once more. The candle on his counter is still burning, smelling of amber moss and palo santo.

You blow it out before you leave, knowing he’ll forget.

And as you do so, you feel yourself regress. Or grow. You’re not quite sure which one.

But it makes you curse under your breath and leave his flat immediately.

There is one more universal truth you forgot to mention. 

And that’s that the second you think you’re over Jamie Tartt, he comes back into your life and flips everything on its head. And it’s the only truth that’s been confirmed to you all week.

Because the second you arrive home and see that you have a text waiting for you, your heart picks up. You hate the way you get excited to see it.

I had a really good time tonight.

And the second he comes back into your life, you’re reminded that you’re not over him. Not even in the slightest. And it’s fucking debilitating. 

me too. 

And you know your friends are going to kill you the second you follow up with.

i’m free friday if you want to grab a drink.

[melanieph321]

heyy i love your writing and just wanted to say i appreciate your work💖

my request is something like you are best friends with fermin (or gavi) and he’s madly in love with you but you don’t know about it so when you start seeing someone (possibly another footballer) he gets jealous and does something outrageous like posts a story with a photo of yours which is odd considering he’s never done it before and the person you’re seeing gets mad and you also get mad because it’s obvious he’s doing it for another reason and have an argument with him when he confesses his true feelings in a moment of weakness which causes you to take a step back but you soon realize you’re actually more into him than you knew and go to him late at night and make out

i don’t know if this is something you’d be interested in but i’d love to read it

SEVEN DAYS OF REQUEST (DAY 2)

Ugh, I hate you for making such a good request. Took me all day to finish this. And I had to make it a four part series since I put my own spin on it. Hope that's okay.

Fermin Lopez x Reader - You or Me Part 1/4

Part 2 part 3 part 4

Enjoy!

It was just a silly youth camp for all the Barca Academy's boys and girls. How it turned out so ugly, you had no idea.

It was a Friday morning when all of the players were put on a bus to a Boot Camp four hours outside of Barcelona. You were thankful that the academy boys did not share the same bus as the girls, but trailed in their own vehicle not too far behind. However it was bound to get messy at the camp grounds since the girls and boys were sharing the same hotel.

"Who are you texting?" Camilla asked.

"No one." You muttered, but nudged your phone out of her view.

"Come on, don't be shy, tell me who you're texting."

You perked up, peering over your seat to make sure that none of the other players could hear you. "Okay but promise not to tell anyone." 

"I promise." She grinned, giddy with excitement.

"Alejandro Garnacho."

"What! You little…"

"Shhhhh!" You exclaimed, slapping your hand against Camilla's mouth. However, 

that did not stop her from running her mouth behind the palm of your hand.  

"Huh?" You frowned, her mumbles inaudible. You removed your hand.

"I said, doesn't he have a girlfriend now?"

"And a baby." You nodded.

Camila gasped. "You slut!" 

"Relax." You said, leaning back in your seat. "We're just friends and you know that. We've been friends forever."

"Yes, but before that you had the biggest crush on him, no?"

"Yes, but that's in the past. He's happy in England with his new family. I told you about last summer, didn't I? Garnacho and his girlfriend let me stay with them while I was over there trying out for Manchester United's U21 youth team. Garnacho and I have become really close since then. Close friends." You added, before Camilla could call you a slut again. 

The two of you sat back in silence. The road ahead was bumpy and almost made you car sick. Good thing you and Camilla were seated up front where you could see the road. You dreaded sitting in the back, since some of the girls thought it would be funny to make faces at the boys bus trailing behind you. They were having a laugh, however you found it very annoying.

"Did you hear that Fermin and Gavi are joining us on Saturday?" Camilla said.

"Hurray….." You mumbled and kept scrolling through your phone.

"I know." She snorted. "They've gotten pretty stuck up since they started playing for the first team, but I've heard that they're holding a seminar on mental health. It could be fun?"

"Mental health?" You put down your phone to glance at Camilla. Her lips twitched into a smile seeing your not-so-convinced expression. "I know Fermin Lopez of all people is not holding a seminar on mental health." you laughed. "That boy has caused me nothing but severe anxiety and depression and now he wants to talk about mental health? I guess pigs do fly."

"I dunno." Camilla shrugged. "Don't you think he has matured since he started playing for the first team? I know Gavi has."

"Please, don't get me started on Pablo Gavi." You sighed. "Fermin and Gavi were the worst of the worst when they were playing for the academy. Don't you remember Boot Camp 2019?"

Camilla chuckled. "Whatever you say. I for one am excited."

And she had the right to be. No one enjoyed drama more than Camilla. This year's Boot Camp had nothing but drama.

Part 2

Part 3

part 4

[punkshort]

i had an idea to add to the ‘str’ extras post. i came across an insta account that details “things ____ loves/hates” (i will link an example, credit to them for the idea), thought it could be an interesting, insightful look into sheriff!joel, of things you haven’t touched on but that makes up the wonderful man we have grown to love!

no rush if you decide to do it just a fun lil thing i thought of <3

https://www.instagram.com/p/C3BLN86OquE/?igsh=MWF0aG0ydzA4c3BnZg==

I like this idea! And I am very much looking for a distraction so I decided to have a little fun with it and make a photo collage to go along with my answers:

Likes:

Classic romance novels. I think he likes to keep it a secret but he has a soft spot for the classics (I thought wuthering heights was kind of apt... two people unable to be together, etc...)

Coffee. It's an obvious one, but maybe not so obvious is he prefers to share coffee with someone else. That's why he always found himself going to the diner, even before reader came on the scene. He just likes to be around others, even if it is his annoying younger brother.

Texas - duh. Sheriff Joel couldn't imagine living anywhere else, especially up north. He is a southern boy through and through.

Lazy mornings. Those are rare for him. Sarah tends to have a busy schedule, even on the weekends, so when he gets the chance to sleep in a little or just lounge around before having to get up, he really enjoys that (especially if reader is there, although he hasn't been able to have many mornings with her... yet 👀). To go along with this, he also really likes kissing. Just making out with no goal in mind. Slow, lazy licks and soft little noises under a warm blanket on a Sunday morning with nowhere to be? Perfection.

Old movies. Especially at the drive in. Something about the nostalgia of it really makes him happy. And that romantic side of him can't help himself. It's usually his go-to first date idea.

Football. As Sarah mentioned once before, he really enjoys American football and annoys her with it. Sarah really looks forward to the spring and summer because there's no football on TV and she doesn't have to listen to him yelling in the living room every ten minutes.

His favorite pair of jeans. He's had them for years, the knees are getting worn out but he loves them and won't part with them.

Sarah - obviously. Even though she keeps him on his toes and super busy all the time, he would drop anything for her. He is always struggling to balance work and home and he tends to stretch himself too thin and not take enough time for himself, but he tries to make every single soccer game and school event because he loves seeing how talented Sarah is.

Hiking, specifically with Sarah. It's something they like to do in the summer, at least one weekend a month. Occasionally he can convince her to camp out overnight, but she hates sleeping in a tent so it's a hard sell.

Dislikes:

People who don't use their seatbelts. It's so easy. Just do it. He's seen too many accidents in his line of work and he hates when people don't use them.

Snakes. Sarah never lets him forget about the time when he was nine years old and he went to put on his boot to go play outside and was surprised to find a snake sleeping inside. To this day, he can't put his shoes on without checking them first.

Oysters. It's a texture thing, he thinks they're gross. He doesn't care they are an aphrodisiac, he doesn't need it 😉

Line dancing. Even though he's from Texas, it makes him cringe every time he sees people doing it.

Snow/being cold. He prefers the heat. It's what he's used to and he doesn't like shoveling snow on the rare occasion Texas gets any accumulation.

Lip Gloss. He likes kissing. A lot. And he thinks lip gloss is too sticky.

Wool Sweaters. Because he runs hot as it is and wool just makes it worse. Plus, it's itchy.

People who talk about themselves too much. Especially women he's been on dates with. He likes learning about other people, but when it becomes apparent they have no interest in learning about him, it's a turn off.

Golf. Because all my Joels hate golf. For no particular reason at all.

Thank you so much for this ask! It was a lot of fun putting together.

[agaypanic]

hi hi! so i've never requested before so i was wondering if i could request for reese wilkerson ?? i was hoping you could write something where he sees reader getting bullied and he defends her 🥹 i think it'd be so cute ! if not it's ok 👍🏼 love your work thank you 😊💕

To The Rescue (Reese Wilkerson X Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Reese may be a bully, but he has to draw the line somewhere. That line is bullying girls, whether it’s him or someone else doing it.

***

You didn’t know what you did wrong. Maybe you accidentally gave a dirty look or said something that was taken the wrong way. All you knew was that Steve Richards hated your guts, and made a point of showing you that every day at school.

It was small things at first. Bumping into you in hallways, nudging a book or pencil off your desk. Annoying, but relatively harmless things.

But then he would start taunting and teasing you. Making fun of different little things about you, pulling your hair when he sat behind you in class. He never did it when a teacher would see; instead, he would wait until the two of you were alone or when he had his little posse around him.

Like now.

“Hey, dork face.” It was a stupid insult, pretty unoriginal if you were being honest. But you didn’t say that. You figured trying to fight back would only make the encounter worse. “How’s it goin’?”

“Fine.” You reply in a deadpan tone. Suddenly, the walk across campus that you took every day seemed even longer as Steve followed you. 

“Geez, someone’s uptight.” He laughed, crossing his arms and leaning down closer to your level. “You know, maybe if you did something about that face of yours-”

“Excuse me?” You stopped walking, turning to face him.

“You heard me.” Steve looked you up and down with a shrug. “And if you dress less like you’re trying to repel guys, maybe one would give you a little stress relief, and you wouldn’t be such a stuck-up bitch all the time.”

“You’re a pig!” You yelled, trying to push him. In response, Steve pushed you back. Being the strong football player he was, a slight nudge was enough to make you stumble into the wall behind you. “What’s your deal?!”

“I’m only trying to help, L/n.”

“Well, stop!” You tried walking away, but Steve grabbed your arm so you wouldn’t get too far.

“Didn’t your parents ever tell you not to walk away from someone when they’re talking to you?”

“Leave me alone!”

“You heard her, Richards.” A new voice entered the conversation, and Steve stepped back from you. You both looked to the side to see Reese Wilkerson glaring Steve down. “Leave her alone.”

“This is none of your business, Reese.” Steve tried to seem like he had the upper hand in the situation, but you could see him discreetly take a few more steps away from you. You’ve seen Reese fight before; he was known to show no mercy when someone really pissed him off. You just didn’t know why he seemed so mad about Steve bothering you.

“Let me make it my business then.” Reese walked closer to the two of you, gaze focused on the football player. “Scram.”

“Or what?” Steve put on a brave facade. But it quickly diminished when Reese gave him a good right hook in the face. You jumped away with a yelp, unable to do anything but watch the two fight. Despite Steve being bigger, Reese was clearly going to walk away from this with less damage.

It must’ve been another minute or so before Reese finally stopped pummeling Steve. He left the boy lying on the ground, face an array of different colors and a scared look in his eyes. Reese moved as if he was gonna go in on Steve again, and the boy scrambled up and off of the ground before running.

Reese gave you a quick once over, maybe to see if you were okay, before walking away. You sped after him, tapping his shoulder to make him stop.

“Thanks.” You said. A look of confusion flashed across Reese’s face, but it was gone as fast as it came. He must’ve never been thanked for beating the shit out of someone before. “For... You know, for the help.”

“No problem.” He said. 

You saw the smallest hint of a smile before he turned back around and kept walking. You knew you should’ve continued your journey to class, but you felt like you couldn’t move. Instead, you watched the boy who had defended you walk until he was out of sight.

***

Malcolm in the Middle Taglist: @rattilol

Reese Wilkerson Taglist: @hollymaybank

[jamneuromain]

Jam, in honor to the song I was just listening I propose a battle for our reader.

😠 + 😉 with Andy VS Steve. Steve was your first love, Andy is your current amazing love. Fight fight fight (not physical obviously lol🥊!

hmmm.... It's such a tough call! But since Andy is your current amazing love, I rule for-

Ugh I hate ex-bf being all gloating and smug when you meet again

Not Him

Previous Steve Rogers x You; Andy Barber x You

Warning: Ex-Steve, Reader is in her late 20s, Andy a few years older than reader (but not mentioned specifically). None?

Summary: You met someone unexpected, your ex, Steve, on your way to your class. What's the worst that could happen? Answer: Andy happened.

A/N: Hiya! Sorry it took so long to get it out :( I've been clearing my draftbox as best as I can.

Someone called out your name behind your back, and you instinctively snapped your head in that direction.

Blonde, built, and that smile-

"Oh, Steve. Hi." You instantly recognized the man from your past.

You met Steve when you attended high school. While he was the famous football quarterback for the school team, you were practically nobody, and if it weren't for a class you shared, you wouldn't even know each other in your separate lives.

One thing led to another, and you became high school sweethearts, before breaking up a few months later.

"Hey." He jogged up to you. That sunshine-dazzling smile nearly splitting his face in two, "It's been... what, ten years? Wow..." He exclaims, carefully observing you from head to toe.

"Yeah, I mean, I haven't seen you since ... the prom?" You casually switched the pile in your hand to the other, smoothing your T-shirt.

Oh yes, the high school prom where you had two dances before he spent the whole night with the pretty British girl with a posh accent. What's her name? Petra? Penny? Next day, your phone was blasted with Instagram notifications telling you from all aspects and angles how they kissed as Prom King and Queen. Not that you didn't know it already, when you were there, under the stage.

"You-uh heading somewhere?" He pointed at your stack of papers, teasing ever so slightly, "I've seen you still not giving up on studying, huh?"

"Well, I-"

"I'm working as a coach now," He interrupted before you could finish your sentence, flashing his team jacket before your eyes, even tapping on the chest where the team name is visible to any man within eight feet if they weren't complete blind.

"Wow." You nodded, playing along, "Uni team, impressive."

Too bad you were never a decent sports fan that could share Steve's enthusiasm as to which legendary figure saved the day with a ball in their hands - nor did you find being a coach "impressive" ... or intrigued, for that matter, because being in front of glamouring Steve fucking Rogers made you shrink back to your high school self-image again: a small, inconspicuous, socially unidentifiable shadow of a being that you could barely recognize. And yet, the contrast between Steve and you reminded you every single time, that you do not belong to a world of his, a world where books and glasses are symbols of "nerds" or "geeks" and are perfectly fine to make fun of, a world where if you don't like sports - or not being a potential athlete, you should be eliminated in every social context.

"Yup." He popped the "p" with his full lips, "If you want the tickets next season-" Steve pointed towards himself with both thumbs, the lop-sided smile made him look smug as ever, "This guy is your go-to-guy."

More like your never-go-to guy. You scoffed, adjusting your expression to a small smile as soon as he turned his focus on you, "Sorry, I think I need to head to my next class."

"C'mon-" Steve dragged his tone almost annoyingly, "Skip it. Don't you have some time for me, for old time's sake?"

You could have ten more minutes for him before the next class. But you didn't want to. Which was the point.

"Hey, honey." Came a voice behind your back, startling you just a little. An arm draped around your shoulders, squishing you into a familiar embrace, "I've been calling."

You let out a sigh of relief. More so when the owner of this familiar voice took the stack of papers from your arms into his own, and rubbed your sore arm for having to hold the pile for quite a while.

"Sorry." You apologized to your beloved boyfriend Andy, "I must've silenced my phone during the class."

" 's okay." Andy pressed a kiss to your temple, whispering, "Wanted to ask you about lunch anyway. Nothing important." Andy slowly moved his eyes away from yours, and acted as if he had just seen Steve, a 6-foot man who appeared out of nowhere, "Who do we have here? Honey, would you mind introducing?"

"Sure. This is my ex, Steve, from high school. Steve, this is Andy, my boyfriend."

The moment the word "ex" escaped from your lips, you became aware instantly that your boyfriend had entered his suit mode, every available muscle tensing up in his body, and like a good huntsman, ready to strike when he sees the glimpse of a failure of his opponent. Where you hoped that "high school" from your introduction would calm his nerves, it certainly achieved the opposite when you heard your boyfriend say: "Oh..." in a thoughtful way, "the quarterback-captain, am I right?" as he extended his hand to shake Steve's.

Yup. It definitely made Andy slightly on edge.

"I'm part of the coaching team on campus, actually." Steve flashed his identity proudly before Andy, shaking Andy's hand in an equally firm grip, "Go Falcons."

"Oh..." said Andy again, more thoughtfully, "I'm a professor here in the Law School - You wouldn't happen to be the coach assistant of Karl?"

This just turned more competitive than you would think. Yet, it did bring a tinge of amusement when Andy confirmed your suspicion that Steve was too young to be made a coach, while the position of coach assistant was for brainless jocks who did all the dirty work coaches didn't want to, the heavy-lifting and paperworks, for instance.

"Well," Steve sneered, "I thought dating a student was improper conduct, Professor."

"Excuse me?" Andy raised his brows. So did you.

"You heard me." Steve nodded towards you, "Her, a student, obviously. It would be a great unfortunate if the dean might hear about such a rumour somewhere, wouldn't it?"

He said almost challengingly.

Wow. Typical Steve as ever. The girl he dated after prom, the British girl, was rumoured to have had a bad break-up previously. According to gossip that ran in the school bathroom, the British girl was told that her ex was cheating - which turned out to be a false alarm, but they broke up anyway.

Now you guessed you knew who was the little birdie that shared the false information with that poor girl.

Andy snorted out laughter. The corner of his lips could barely contain themselves as he struggled to keep a straight face, "Marvelous." Andy clapped - more like tapping his palm with the other hand, before asking for your permission, "Should you do this or should I?"

You scoffed. Really scoffed in front of the glorious quarterback that you liked a decade ago, "For your information, Steve, I'm working as a lecturer at this university. So, go start your devious little plan elsewhere. If you don't mind, I have a class to teach - C'mon, Andy."

You dragged Andy by his arm and led him out of the battlefield.

"Nice." Andy commented, not bothering to look back at his opponent, with a pleasing grin that was probably going to mold on his face for all eternity. "Did you see the look on that guy's face? Spectacular. So proud of you, Honey."

"Yeah, not my best moment having to face a dickhead-ex." You huffed out, "Jesus, why didn't I know he was that big of a jerk when I started dating him?"

"I know," Andy said, sympathetically, "Don't worry though, I noticed that your choice of man has had a significant change for the better."

You shot him a dirty glare, which Andy took, feigning he just got hit on the chest.

"Sorry, no joking, got it." Andy made a pained face which caused you to involuntarily grin. Quickly abandoning the idea of the ex in his mind, Andy finally returned to the topic for which he came to find you, "What's for lunch again? Cafeteria?"

Find Jammy's 500 Follower's Celebration here 👈

Questions? Comments? Requests? 👉Send them to my inbox 👂

[lucy90712]

Pedri- Just another day at work

A/n: this is based on when Pedri met Joan Mir the motogp rider, if you don't know who/what that is you can ask me anything as I love the sport

wc: 2700+

Being entirely responsible for the social media of a motogp team is a lot as it is let alone when they add an extra event to the schedule but that's exactly what they have gone and done. In the midst of pre season testing the team have had to fly to Barcelona for some special event with Joan and a guest who I haven't been told about. Since finding out about this extra media day I haven't been too happy as it just involves a whole load more work for me and sometimes the people they bring can be extremely rude which I have learnt from experience. Safe to say these things aren't my favourite but I have to go and I will put on a smile the whole time.

Arriving at the circuit felt really weird as it was so quiet it was almost creepy as usually the paddock is full of people running around at all times but today it was pretty much deserted. When I made it to the garage we were using there was only a few people there but they were all waiting as the person we were filming with was yet to arrive. Despite me asking many times still no one would tell me who it was and none of the other crew knew either so we all sat and speculated who it could be based on the fact that we were in Barcelona. Many names were thrown around but most of them were footballers as of course the Barcelona football club is a big deal. Half of the people the crew suggested I'd never heard of and the ones I had I didn't think it would be as they are too famous to be here for the day.

After a while of speculating there was a bit of commotion out the back of the garage so all of us stood up and finally a few people walked in. To start with I had no idea who the guy was as I hadn't seen him before but one of the crew quickly told me he was an up and coming Barcelona player named Pedri. That didn't really bother me but what did was the fact that I thought he was so attractive I'm not sure exactly what it was about him but instantly my brain was flooded with thoughts about how attractive he was. Those thoughts had to be pushed to the back of my mind pretty quickly though as he came round to introduce himself to everyone which was very nice of him as usual the people who come don't do that. When he got to me I expected him to just shake my hand like he did with everyone else put he pulled me into a hug which made me blush but I think I managed to hide it pretty well.

Once everyone had introduced themselves we went through the schedule for the day and then got to work. The first thing we were going to do was film videos so I went to set up all the cameras and everything on the track which didn't take me too long as I got the cameras ready while waiting earlier. Barcelona wanted to do a 7 second challenge so we filmed that and I just got to sit and watch as the guys both had cards with the challenges on them so I didn't have to be doing anything other than making sure the cameras were working. The hardest part was trying not to laugh as the both of them were absolutely useless at the game but I managed to keep it together but my cheeks started to hurt from smiling so much by the end.

When we were done with filming we had a load of other things to do so I grabbed my other two cameras so that I could take pictures and film little bits to put together at a later date. First Joan got his leathers on and did a few laps around the track so I filmed him and Pedri but mostly Pedri because well I can and because his reactions seemed like a better thing to film. We did some more content with the normal bike before getting the motogp bike out of the garage. Pedri put on some of Joan's leathers and they played football together which I took pictures of although I was a little scared for getting hit by the ball. It was fun watching them mess around and I got a lot of good pictures of the both of them and Pedri which I'm excited to edit later.

Just when I thought we were done I was told I needed to go to the ranch where Joan trains on the dirt track to take more pictures. That was a problem because I don't live in Barcelona so have a hotel room near the track and walked here this morning so I have no way of getting to the ranch. Seeing as its just a dirt track none of the engineers needed to go so it was just me that needed to figure out a way there. While walking out of the paddock I was trying to phone a taxi but none of them wanted to come to the circuit so I was stuck having to walk so then I started looking at maps to find out where I needed to go. It was going to take me a while but it was my only option if I wanted to get there at all. Just as I was leaving I was stopped by a tap on my shoulder which made me turn around to see Pedri.

"Hey I overheard you on the phone earlier do you want to ride with me to the ranch?" He asked

"Oh um if thats alright then yeah that would be great" I replied getting nervous all of the sudden

"It's no problem" he said

I thanked him and we went over to his car which was a little green mini which wasn't what I was expecting as I thought he'd own some big expensive sports car but no he just had a regular car. He opened the passenger door for me which again took me by surprise but I thanked him anyway and got in the car. While he was driving we got to talking and I learnt a bit about his journey to play at Barcelona but also about him as a person and he asked about my life so I told him a bit about myself. Even once we arrived we just kept talking and laughing with each other which was so nice especially as I was nervous about him being rude but he's the complete opposite in real life.

We kept talking to each other until everyone arrived and was ready which is when I had to go back to work so I got my cameras and started taking pictures of Pedri watching Joan out on the dirt track. At some point I felt that I got enough pictures so I put my cameras away and just stood with Pedri to watch what was going on. He was asking me all sorts of questions about motogp and what Joan was doing even though I really don't know too much as I just do media during the season so don't know anything about the training process. It was fun to talk about my job though as I truly do love it and the sport so it was great getting to share that with someone.

The two of us watched for ages until it started to get cold as the wind began to get up which is when I regretted not bringing a jacket out with me but it was too late now. Once I got cold I couldn't think of much else which Pedri must have noticed as he took off his jacket and put it around my shoulders. I tried to refuse it and give his jacket back but he insisted as he didn't want to me to get cold. As he put the jacket back on my shoulders his hand grazed my skin which instantly sent shivers down my spine and made goosebumps appear all over my skin. The feelings I have for him and the amount that just a simple touch from him affects me is really bad because we were only supposed to work together for one day but now I want to see more of him. The worst part about it is that there is absolutely no way he would ever think the same way about me I mean he could have any girl he wanted being that attractive and a successful footballer so there's no way he would want me.

Pedri and I stayed for a bit longer before he offered to drive me back to my hotel which I accepted as it saved walking and it was a way to spend more time with him. Walking back there was a lot more people around the ranch as we weren't using it to film anymore so there was other people there to train. I'm used to the busy paddock during a race weekend but this was different every few seconds you had to watch out for a bike or a person which meant having to weave through the crowds. I kept losing Pedri when groups walked across my path so when I found him again he grabbed hold of my hand and led me through the crowd until we got to the car park. Even once out of the crowd he kept hold of my hand as we just walked next to each other he only let go once we got to his car as he used it to opened the door for me again.

The drive was pretty quiet as we just listened to music we listened to some of his favourite songs and some of mine to compare music tastes. His taste was different from mine but all of the songs he played I would definitely listen to again and who knows he may he's converted my tastes. When we made it back to my hotel I gave him his jacket back and then just stood in front of him staring. I didn't want him to leave but I couldn't think of anything to say that could get him to stay that didn't sound weird or like I was being desperate which I definitely don't want. He didn't say anything either and I could tell he was thinking but I couldn't tell what it was about. I didn't have much longer to contemplate it though as he broke the silence.

"Would you mind if I look at the pictures you took today?" He asked

"Of course not if you're ok with it you can come to my room and check them out" I said trying to act like I wasn't freaking out inside

He followed me up to my room and just stood next to the bed while I sat down and got my laptop out to transfer the pictures across. To try and make things less awkward I patted the bed next to me and he finally sat down and started to lean across to see the pictures on my screen. Like any photoshoot some of the pictures didn't come out great but he complimented every single one of them anyway. He was so interested that I decided to show him a few of the things I will do to edit the pictures but not everything as that would take too long but he was still so mesmerised at what I was doing. After doing a few I gave him the laptop and showed him how to do it and sure it didn't turn out perfect but I will definitely be keeping that picture for a long time. Once I had showed him how to edit and showed him a few that I'd done previously but that hadn't been posted yet I put my laptop down and just sat next to Pedri.

"Do you have any plans for this evening?" Pedri asked

"No other than maybe some editing" I replied

"Then would you like to go get some food with me of course you don't have to if you don't feel comfortable I get that" he started to ramble

"I'd love to just let me get changed first" I interrupted him

I got up and grabbed some other clothes from my little suitcase although I don't really have anything nice to wear as I mostly packed comfy clothes because when I didn't have work clothes on I thought I'd be traveling. Internally I was cursing my past self for not thinking that I might want to go out somewhere but then I realised that never in a million years would I have thought that I'd be in this exact situation. Somehow I managed to find something that wasn't too bad and luckily I had brought some makeup so I put some on quickly which definitely helped me not look as awful. When I was ready I left the bathroom and Pedri was waiting for me by the door so I grabbed my bag and we headed out together.

He drove us to a restaurant I'd never heard of before but that's no surprise as I don't spend much time in Barcelona but when we got inside I found another reason I had never heard of it and thats because it was incredibly fancy. Right away I felt out of place in there especially when people looked at me as we walked to our table but I tried to ignore it as I wanted to enjoy my time with Pedri. Once we sat down and got to talking I forgot all about how uncomfortable I was as Pedri had all of my attention to the point that I barely even noticed the waiter coming to give us our food. We ate and talked for a bit longer before he got the bill and I tried to pay at least half but he insisted that he pay as he invited me out so I didn't fight it too much as I knew he wouldn't give in.

Getting back to the hotel again I knew we would have to say goodbye to each other this time as it was getting dark and he had his life to get back to and I have a flight early in the morning. I really didn't want him to leave as I've loved spending time with him and as much as I don't want it to be this way I know we won't get to spend time together like this again. The both of us were just looking at each other stood in the doorway of my hotel room which probably looked strange to anyone walking by but to me it was a nice moment.

"I've loved today thank you for helping me out earlier and paying for dinner" I said breaking the silence

"Its all good I've just loved spending time with such a beautiful girl" he said complimenting me for the first time

"I'm flattered that you think I'm pretty in probably the worst clothes I own" I joked

"I'm being serious you looked gorgeous all day today from the second I saw you I knew I wanted to get to know you thats why I'm still here" he admitted

"I know you don't live here and we won't see each other often but I can't not see you again so can I have you number and maybe arrange a proper date?" He asked

"Of course I'd love that" I replied with the biggest smile on my face

We swapped phones and put our numbers in before finding a few days that the both of us aren't as busy and agreed to see each other again but until then he promised to FaceTime me at least a few times a week which I'm more than happy with. After arranging everything he pressed a kiss to my cheek before leaving to go home which left me stood in my hotel room wondering how all of this just happened and how my life could get any better.

[choking-on-ice]

South Park College Headcanons

I lost power for most to the day today, so I sat at a coffee shop and just killed time writing down headcanons for every SP character I could think of.

there's alot of them, but hopefully somebody out there finds these fun

Butters

Gender fluid / non-conforming

Saved up enough to move into dorms away from their parents

Autistic and very gullible still

has learned to stand up for themself and their friends better

Got fed up in senior year and spiked Cartman's drink w/ laxatives and locked him outside at a house party

Ppl secretly fear them a lil after that

Kept their baby face and a bit of chub

Still plays for Stan's death metal band

has a strange relationship w/ Kyle (who's grappling w/ some denied queerness)

still an absolute sweetheart

drinks at parties and smokes w/ friends, even tho everyone assumes they dont

their parents still totally suck

Kenny

revolving door of jobs cuz he gets bored easily, but is always selling weed on the side

Ran into more drug problems through highschool after his troubles cheesing

Went to rehab with Tweek and Stan, got clean, and is closer to them than ever before now

Butters stood by him at the peak of his addiction and now he would (and probably has) jump in front of a bullet for him

Joined the robotics club in HS

Pursuing an engineering degree w/ an academic scholarship

Still works as Mysterion, just w/out the undies over his pants

thinks it's funny to cockblock his friends

is kind of a player, but not a dick abt it

flirts alot, thinks it's fun to flirt w/ Tweek and Butters bc they never grew immune to his BS like the others

the idea of one of them reciprocating any flirting is terrifying to him tho

cuz he has a massive inferiority complex and lives in denial that he has real romantic feelings for anyone

ultimate rizz

Stan

Still fronts his death metal band

hopeless romentic

Bonded w/ Tweek over their crappy home lives when Tweek starts delivering to Tegridy Farm

Grew closer w/ Kenny when he found out he was in the same rehab program as him and Tweek

stronk farmboy, also p tanned which juxtaposes his alt style

Opens up to smoking weed in college now that he's sober

emotionally intelligent

NOT emotionally communicative / available tho

bottles stuff up

only knows how to vent when drunk, then later thru music

Kyle

jaded w/ a chip on his shoulder

prone to knee jerk reactions

throws hands at the drop of a hat

usually throws the first punch

kept playing sports after hs - football in college and basketball recreationally

did debate w/ wendy in HS

still bffs with stan, even tho they dont have many shared hobbies anymore

Craig

autistic

rizzless

doesn't rlly need game tho cuz he's only had eyes for Tweek, and Tweek's a mess

monotone + flat expression intimidates some people

has rep of being an asshole, it's only half true

is considered rebellious, but he just sees it as doing what he wants to do not what other ppl want him to

slow to anger, has never thrown the first punch

grew up to be tall and broad like his father at his age

his dad pushed him into playing football, after HS he only plays bc his friends are on the team and doesn't care much about winning

likes old school indie music, underground shows, and obscure bands, isn't pretentious about it tho

when Kenny tells him about the Tweek's drugging Tweek (and the rest of town) he loses it and has to get talked down from strangling Mr Tweek

Tweek

autistic + adhd

loves deathmetal, hardstyle EDM, death rap, and hardcore music in gen

bonds w/ Stan in late HS as he makes deliveries for the coffee shop up to the farm

Kenny and him are acquainted since Kenny delivers ingerdients to the shop

loves fantasy - LoTR, D&D, etc.

Trans FtM (cuz i am and i project onto my faves lol)

Finds out from Craig and Kenny that his parents have been drugging him w/ meth in the coffee since he was a child

spirals after this and has trouble trusting people, questioning everything and everyone in his life

becomes rlly close w/ Kenny and Stan when they all attend rehab together

moves out before HS even ends, couch surfing for the summer until he can move into the dorms

sobering up lets him gain some weight and he begins to look less sickly

I have more on the other characters, but I have arthritis and typing this much killed my fingers already. Hope u enjoyed if u got this far

[beansterpie]

ES21 japanese volumes part 2/??

< part 1 || part 3 >

Thanks for the warm reception on part 1! Honestly wasn't expecting anyone other than me and maybe a couple of friends to read, so it's nice to know that people enjoyed it! Also @blaka-smoko provided me with a link to scans of the VIS translation here-- it has up to volume 29 I believe for anyone interested (you'll have to make an account on the site to borrow the volumes though! but it's all free)

Now, to pick up where we left off--

Sena has just managed to escape the bullies, but they're in pursuit. He ends up running into a busy shopping street, where Hiruma, Sena's demonic upperclassman, happens to witness the following...

(First page -> Kuroki: "Alright! I caught...")

I love these pages sm, they're SO silly. This is the beginning of 'these kids might as well have superpowers', and I love that for them. And to be perfectly honest, I think the extra dramatic action scenes make for a really engaging sports manga, which is a genre where I tend get very bored of the whole, you know, Sports™ of it all. But ES21 always keeps me really engaged during the matches, and the super dynamic art is definitely one of the reasons.

Putting the rest under a cut!

I think I'm just gonna go ahead and post the next few pages because I love this bit lol

(Panel 3 -> Juumonji: "Shit-!" Kuroki: "I SAID MOVE!!!" Old Man: "That hurts you BRAT"

Panel 4 -> Hiruma: "That cut...." (note that the kanji here is 走り方 which is pronounced ha-shi-ri-ka-ta and means 'way of running' or 'running style', but the romaji says カット (ka-tto) which is just the English 'cut' as a loanword. I told you Hiruma does this a lot!))

Love how they somehow make Sena navigating a crowd really well into something so cool lol. But I love this entire segment.

(Panel 2 -> Togano: "Aaallright, now sto--"

Panel 4 -> Togano: "--p??"

Panel 5 -> Hiruma: "Whoa, a spin!"

Panel 6 -> The Bullies: *sounds of struggle and pain*)

(Panel 1 -> Sena: "Hiieeee-- (this is just a sound of anxiety he makes a lot) It's no good--!!"

Panel 2 -> Hiruma: "No, you can make it"

Panel 4 -> Hiruma: "With your legs, you can make it!"

Panel 6 -> Hiruma: "FLY!" (also means 'jump', but fly feels more apt))

TOUCHDOWN!!! (of getting on the train yayyy!)

I just love this whole segment-- how good the art is, how intense and dynamic and fun they managed to make a simple chase scene, how it works so well with the football visuals that Hiruma is laying over Sena's movements in his mind, Hiruma's weird omniscient presence cementing itself into the narrative lol. Properly introducing the One Thing™ that Sena is crazy good at to the audience, and that is running (usually away from something lmao).

(Panel 2 -> Juumonji: "GUHO!?" (sound of surprised pain)

Panel 3 -> Hiruma: "Toooouchdooooown! Ya-ha--!")

I love him your honor.

ANYWAY onto the next day!

(Panel 1 & 2 -> Kurita: "Oh that's right! Yesterday, a new member joined the club!" Hiruma: "Ooohhh, I actually found someone too."

Panel 3 -> Hiruma: "Truly a golden-legged Running Back. He was so full of spirit that he approached me directly, saying that he wanted to join."

Panel 4 -> Kurita: "Wow-- amazing! Good job finding him, Hiruma!"

Panel 5 -> Hiruma: "He should be here already"

Panel 6 -> Hiruma: "K, now fill out the application form~" Kurita: "S-SENA-KUN!!?")

The audacity of Hiruma casually and blatantly lying that Sena joined of his own volition lol. He just lies because it's fun, why not? 😂 Also, when Hiruma says 'running back', it just says "RB" with furigana that says ランニングバック, which is 'running back' as a loan word lol.

(2nd pic -> Kurita: "Whoa number 21! The eyeshield is so cool!" Hiruma: "If we don't hide his face like this during matches, it'll start an all-out-war among the other sports teams.")

Lol I love how shrimpy Sena is <3 In the fan-scans, the idea that the other sports clubs would try to get at Sena wasn't really mentioned until the Cupids match, so I figured I'd include it. Also Hiruma looks SO NORMAL in the first couple of chapters lol, he just increasingly gets more spiky and demonic as the story progresses, and I love that for him, but seeing little babyfaced Hiruma is fun too.

(Panel 1 -> Sena: "But I'm the manager~~!!" Hiruma: "Then, player-and-manager. do both"

Panel 2 -> the posters say: "Stay away from him -- Or the mosaic comes off")

Mosaic meaning the blurred out bits, obv. I feel like there's certain lines from Hiruma where the translation doens't quite capture the like... cavalier command with implicit threat he has in Japanese lol.

Also I get this slight vibe from his Japanese dialogue that Hiruma is like, funny lol. There's more of a deliberate sense of set up and pay off when he talks, which I get a kick out of.

Finally, end of chapter one 😂 the fuck is brevity?

Bit of an aside, but something I never noticed before about this pic of Sena's room is that he seems to collect figures of some kind? And he has a lot of games (or possibly anime) in the tv cabinet. I know in the pilot chapter (which I might post about separately sometime), Sena was characterized as A Gamer™, but that seems to have largely been abandoned in the actual series. It's fun to see the lingering remnants of that aspect of Past-Sena lol.

Moving on to chapter 2!

(Mamori: "The American Football Club!?")

(Panel 1 -> Mamori: "But American Football is... You shouldn't pick something so dangerous!")

Regarding panel 2, there isn't a mistranslation really, but I wanted to point out-- because it's fucking hilarious-- that Mamori uses four separate words that all essentially mean weak and feeble to describe Sena 😭 She's like "--because Sena is (physically) weak, insubstantial, fragile, and The Weakest™!"

Sena: "Y, you don't have to go that far...."

She really didn't 😔 how's a bitch supposed to come back from that...

Then of course Sena reassures her that he's just the shumu/manager (whatever), and won't actually be playing in matches, which she is very relieved to hear.

(Mamori: "Huh? But then why are you here so early in the morning?

Sena: "A meeting about club management!!")

Oh Sena :')

Cut to:

(Hiruma: "Come now, it's morning practice!!!"

Sena: "ALL LIES~~!!")

Soon, soon Sena, you will learn. But man look at the unbridled joy on our demon spawn captain's face <3 we love a chaotic gremlin.

Just wanted to gush a little about how much I love Murata's establishing shots, especially this one. Gives such an excellent vibe of early morning at a school before most students are present-- plus over the course of the series you end up getting such a good sense of the overall layout of the school!

(Panel 1 -> Kurita: "Well-- you know how we haven't had three people since the formation of the club? I was just so happy that I had to wake up early"

Panel 2 -> Kurita: "I was so amped up that I've been at it since 2am!" Hiruma: "An idiot, there's an idiot here.")

All told basically the same as the fan-scans, but I think the Japanese version slyly implies the existence of Musashi a little better. I always wonder with these things just how much of the back stories were hashed out-- like was Musashi's design already established? When we see him for the first time later (unbeknownst to us) did the creators already know That Guy was Musashi? Questions, questions...

(Panel 1 -> Sena: "That was close! I was about to join in on practice without realizing!" Hiruma: "Right, guess we should go through everything once, starting with the ladder."

Panel 2 -> Hiruma: "Since we've got newbies present and all." Sena: "Hiiieeeee!" (he's like a small dog, he whimpers when he's scared)

Panel 3 -> Kurita: "Ah wait. Actually my neck kind of hurts. I think I might call it quits after doing a 40 yard dash or something."

Panel 4 -> Hiruma: "40 yard dash, huh? It's been a while. Alright, let's measure our times.")

K-Kurita.... your head looks like it's gonna pop off.....

(Panel 2 -> Hiruma: "Time?"

Panel 3 -> "Kurita Ryokan: 40 yard run: 6.5 seconds"

Panel 5 -> Hiruma: "This fucking fatty!! What morning practice, you've gotten slower than before!!" Kurita: "I can't help it, I'm already tired--!!")

@blaka-smoko mentioned this in their reblog on the last post, but Hiruma preludes all his nicknames with 糞 (ku-so) which means like, shitty, but the furigana says ファッキン which is just "fucking" as a loan word lol. So all his nicknames canonically and literally start with the English word "fucking". Fucking chibi, Fucking monkey, Fucking manager, etc, etc. The official VIS version changed this to 'damn', which is nothing but a damn shame lol. Let Hiruma say fuck!! He's literally already saying it!!

(Panel 1 -> Hiruma: "Alright, watch how it's done!" Sena: "!? So fast!!"

Panel 4 -> "Hiruma Yoichi: 40 yard run: 5.1 seconds"

Panel 5 -> Hiruma: "Ya-ha-! That's my best time!!" Sena & Kurita: "Whoa--!!")

He's so fucking spiky!! And I love how expressive their physical movements are, like Hiruma's little twist in the last panel is so fun.

The first three panels are basically accurate, (though in panel two, Hiruma is like "What's that? You want to run so bad you can barely contain it?" which made me chuckle) but panels 4 & 5 are different.

(Panel 4 -> Kurita: "But, isn't it weird? If he's that fast (and he uses 爆速 (ba-ku-so-ku) which means like, explosive speed) I think he would have been famous in middle school."

Panel 5 -> Hiruma: "Hmm... now that you mention it.... Well, we'll know for sure once we measure his time.")

I like that Kurita points out something to Hiruma that he didn't consider! These early chapters gives a bit more of a feel of Hiruma and Kurita's friendship imo, before there's more characters that the story needs to focus on, and the two of them solidly enter the Senpai™ realm among their teammates.

Of course, then Sena runs and gets 5.0 seconds, which is already fastest on their little team! But Hiruma isn't satisfied with that....

The fan-scans are aaaalmost right? But confused. It makes it sound like Hiruma is quoting something Sena said/wrote down in the past (that he somehow aquired as Hiruma is wont to do), and then the line in panel 3 just doesn't make sense. In Japanese, it comes across more as like, Hiruma looks up some records of Sena on his laptop, and the rest is him putting together an analysis based off of that.

(Panel 1 -> Hiruma: "In Kobayakawa Sena's middle school physical endurance records-- he came first only in Repetitive Sideways Hopping."

Panel 2 -> Hiruma: "Must be due to the explosive power that you built through your gopher-ing... which is how you have that rocket-start. But you immediately lose speed, which is why you never make any records in a footrace.

Panel 3 -> Hiruma: "So all we have to do is make sure you don't lose speed."

Panel 5 -> Hiruma: "CERBERUS!!!")

BEST BOY BEST BOY BEST BOY!!!

This is basically correct, so I used the scans for visual clarity because taking good pics of a double page spread is hard :')

anyway RUN BOY RUN!! Also love Hiruma's little fist pump in the last panel. Murata being awesome with gestures as usual.

(Panel 1 -> Hiruma: "This is beyond high school records! It's the top speed in the NFL! Nobody can stop this!"

Panel 2 -> "The Golden Legs!!")

I don't know if it's true that 4.2 sec is the NFL record (at least at the time) or not, and frankly I don't care. Within the context of this series, 4.2 secs is the speed of light, and Sena's got it!

I've always liked that Sena's got this glass canon thing going on-- OP in terms of speed only, extremely weak in every other regard. It's funny and unexpected in a shounen protagonist, and it makes for a very satifying arc, even if there aren't any surprises. I actually in part got into B.N.H.A . waaay back in 2014 because Deku reminded me of Sena (well, I got into it because I'd read the artist's previous manga and was curious, but Deku reminding me of Sena is what made me stay (well, until I left again a couple years later lol)). Point is, I'm very fond of Sena, I think he's fun!

Oof I wanted to squeeze in one more pic but I'm at the limit already lol. But chapter 2 ends with excitement all around-- and Hiruma says that they'll be winning the Spring Tournament. (Sena imagines himself as the manager and boy, after all that you still think you're just gonna be the manager? 😭)

Of course this is when Hiruma informs them that the first match is tomorrow lol. A team with 3 players. Good luck!

That's all for part 2-- hope y'all enjoy my ramblings!

[porternash]

Got tagged by @goodsirbeasts in this dope little get to know the blogger thing with a few questions I haven’t seen before so here goes!

Do you make your bed?: *Starbomb Smash! voice* Absolutely fucking not! lmao not even as a kid tbh. Ama learned a looong time ago she was not winning that battle with me, putting the fitted sheet on each corner and the pillows in cases is as ‘made’ as it gets 😂

What’s your favorite number?: Six, and I couldn’t tell you why. It’s my go to tho!

What is your job?: CSRI in Spending Accounts—basically I talk to old people about their money in relation to healthcare. Also known as Dante’s secret 8th circle of hell! 😂

If you could go back to school, would you?: Depends! Does it have to be in America and can it be college? Like in this scenario, I’m assuming it’s my choice without money as an object, hell yeah, I’m going to university in Scotland and actually get my degree in literature. “Vince, you’d make the exact same mistake you did the first time?” Fuck yeah, I had a blast in the classes I actually wanted to take. I love learning. But I’m geographically challenged so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Can you parallel park?: ………………….Theoretically.

A job you had that would surprise people?: Uhhh underage construction worker? lmfao my old man used to take me to jobs with him over the summer because the neighbours kept calling CPS about me being 11 and home alone all day. Fun fact, that’s how I got the scar on my left foot! I jumped from an unfinished deck about four feet down directly onto an upright nail that went through my Super Construction Approved canvas sneakers, the bottom of my foot, the top of my foot, and the top of my shoe! So! 😂 I am my own worst enemy.

Do you think aliens are real?: I think it’s narcissism to assume they’re not, tbh. We know too much about this planet and humanity to believe it’s *just us*. Also I’d kind of like them to go ahead and just pull the trigger piglet.

Can you drive a manual car?: I can probably figure it out tbh. I’m a strangely good driver after I get a feel for the car/area.

What’s your guilty pleasure?: I don’t think I have any? I’m pretty open about what tickles my pickle. Unfortunately for you fuckers.

Tattoos?: Horny. lmao jk I have ….uh….ttttirteeen? 😅 (they said with absolutely no certainty) I’ll do an update post soon with all of them because they’re currently all healed and for the most part complete, but I have covered up my first ever tattoo because it was ugly and shitty and the dumb idea of an 18 year old off their meds lmfao and I have a pic off hand of the cover up here so enjoy~

Favourite colour?: deep greens, teals, pinks, purples, and reds. They’re plural because I’m a bit colorblind and can’t tell shades.

Favourite type of music?: Honestly put it in front of me and I’ll listen to it, but the stuff I tend to keep and replay constantly is on the rock spectrum. But hell I know every word of Dolly’s 9 to 5, Ludacris’ Stand Up, fucking Cab Calloway’s Minnie the Moocher! So yeah, just, throw whatever at the wall see what sticks approach 😂

Do you like puzzles?: Yeh actually! I love puzzle games and like actual jigsaw puzzles and if I’m in the right mood logic puzzles are fun.

Any phobias?: It’s spiders. It’s purely spiders. It’s completely irrational, I know it is, but they fucking terrify me.

Favourite childhood sport?: Soccer and touch football in high school, because it meant we were playing with the weight training guys and that was always a blast.

Do you talk to yourself?: Not out loud normally but yeah in my head constantly. I’m like JD from Scrubs but without the budget for elaborate scenarios 😂

What movie(s) do you adore?: Fuck me dead. Okay. No order of preference these are just my top five.

1. The Brothers Bloom - My first exposure to Rian Johnson and a day I will genuinely never forget at the theater with @goodsirbeasts 💜

2. Pacific Rim - I was excited for this movie for years before it came out because all I knew was the cast list and the premise (GDT making giant monsters? say fucking less) Then it actually came out and I saw it in IMAX with that bitch *gestures to @goodsirbeasts* and again, fucking transformative.

3. Blitz - okay hear me out 😭

4. Inglorious Basterds - God fucking shit I saw this in theaters with @goodsirbeasts too, on my 19th birthday! Bitch we need to start going to the movies again I miss it.

5. Silent Hill (2006) - Like PacRim, I pretend the sequel doesn’t exist and they’re both perfect solo films. But it definitely hit something in me as a kid watching this because it’s such a fucking good movie even outside of the adaptation aspect.

6. Bonus mentions; Constantine, Too Wong Foo Thanks For Everything Julie Newmar, the entire Scream series of films, and Ever After. Just to pinball around the entire spectrum lmfao

Coffee or tea?: Coffee, I tend not to like tea for the most part unless it’s milk tea.

First thing you wanted to be growing up?: A drummer, for some godforsaken reason? I couldn’t play drums, at all. Not even a little bit at the beginning 😂 After that it’s never really changed, I always wanted to be a writer :3

This was fun! I’m trying to catch up on these tag games guys I swear 😭 Imma tag @kalgalen @captainsaku @bisexualr2d2 aaand @fuckwritersblock kissing you bitches all on the cheek 🩵

[your-local-baguette]

Julian loki x reader

Warnings: none just julian being the sweetest

Authors note: this is my first time making a julian oneshot. So might and probably will be oc

Summary: oneshot in which you spend a sweet and soft evening with your boyfriend, you went with him to japan.

A speaker was blasting music in the shared apartment of you and your boyfriend. You sang along with the lyrics, it was one out of a millions voice, this one melodious voice was yours. It your version of the version blasting, you loved listening to your own voice, that how confident you were.

You chopped onions in awfully even bits, the sound of the knife hitting the board felt like it was matched with the song. You scraped the knife against the cutting board, the now cut onion bring pushed in a frying pan with layers of beef, pasta, cheese and tomato sauce. It was your version of a lasagna, yes, cooked in a frying pan, it might sound weird but its actually very delicious and you dont even close the frying pan with a glass covering. It was also one of your boyfriends favorite, congratulating him after playing against the blue lock members. The door opened to a someone you knew oh too well, but some people were with him. You stopped your activities to greet your champion, his face lit up at the sight of you, he hugged you tightly while your arms were around his neck. When you tried to back away he held you a little tighter, whispering in your ear" im sorry, i didn't tell you." You backed away booping his nose, " its fine" you said not whispering this time. " Welcome! Make yourself feel at home. Dinner should be ready in thirty minutes" you said taking off the coat of julian shoulders. They nodded, while you hang his cpat properly, you heard a small sniffing sound" you cooked your frying pan lasagna" " yup!" You cooed at your turn popping the p, walking back to the kitchen. His teammates seemed to already to like the ambiance here, you lowered the music a little. " That doesn't sound like nicki minaj, who's version is this?" One of his teammates asked" it's my version" you answered without a second thought preparing the table in advance. You took out some bris and vegetables, cutting them in even bits and placing them on the table. Right after this you took off your apron revealing a much oversized shirt, the owner, julian, recognized it. You went to you and julian shared room to get your laptop, sitting next to him at the dinning table, so you could keep an eye on the cooking dinner. He seemed to be having fun with his teammates, you were glad. Suddenly the volume of the music, the google assistant of your phone now speaking. " Youtube as sent you an important notification. Would you like for me to read it?" The robot questionned" no" you answered clearly so the robot would process your answer easily. The music went back to its original volume, your boyfriend yook hold of your phone typing the pin code quickly, all your notification popped up. He scrolled till he saw youtube, his teammates didn't care and kept talking as an occupation before he dived back in with them. He froze at the notification, you turned your gaze to him, he started smiling whispering the news into your ears. You smiled and nodded thanking him with a peck, he couldn't help but extend his smile.

...

He waved to the last of his teammate, after the door was closed again, his eyes laid on you. He gave you an invitation to picking you up, not verbally of course, you nodded before he effortlessly picked you up bridal style. Carrying you to your shared bedroom, he finally could have his alone time with you and snuggle into your warmth. He laid on top of you, burrying his face in your neck, enjoying the feeling of your fingers running up and down the back of his neck. He waited all day to be able to feel this welcoming warmth, even tho he liked football, you were his world so if he didn't have you welcoming him back home after a match or pratice, what was the point to going the next day. He didn't know, you were his main motivation, you whispered sweet nothings in his ear. Earning a blushing mess hiding in the crook of your neck, words of praise was one of weaknesses, you were his strength as much as you were his weakness. But he was glad either way, because he didn't love eith his mind or heart, he loved you with his soul.

His head left the crook of your neck and your gaze wondered on his even features, he left a soft and loving kiss on your lips. Soon after you both fell asleep, both in an slumber as deep as your shared love...

[johndpg]

MEMORIES OF SCHOOLDAYS #2

PANTS OFF FOR PE

During my first week at grammar school, our form master Mr J told us not to bring in any kit for our first Games lesson and said instead we were to go to the New Sports Hall (that’s what everybody called it, even though it was built at least 20 years ago).

PE was indoors in the gym or the New Sports Hall (lol) and my form had one lesson a week. The whole first form had Games on Wednesday afternoons and, because each form was assigned to one of four Houses, they wanted to mix us up, so the Houses could compete. Lower School boys also got one swimming lesson a week (good times) and I think my form joined with another one for that.

So, that first Wednesday, I lined up with 150 or so other excitable 11-year-olds outside the New Sports Hall. A boy near me in the queue (no idea who he was now) announced conspiratorially that “you’re not allowed to wear pants under your shorts” and that it must be true because he had an older brother at the school. We just laughed at him. Who’d ever heard of such nonsense!

Once the PE teachers had got us inside and settled down, they went through the sports we’d be doing. In the Autumn/Spring terms there was football (excellent), hockey (hmm, okay), rugby (do I have to?) and cross country (fuck off). In Summer there was athletics (great), cricket (excellent) and badminton (sounds fun). They put us in groups of 30 to 40, which included boys from all four Houses.

Mr P took us for PE in the gym. As we were getting changed for our first lesson into our kit of white vest and shorts, he delivered the surprising instruction not to put on our vests. So, of course we didn’t and, in fact, never did. Like every other boy, I had to do PE topless until the sixth form.

He was a middle-aged, taciturn man who used to glower and pull faces at what he called our “pathetic effort” at physical education. But he could be fun too. He’d let us play Pirates if we begged hard enough, where you had to get round the gym without touching the floor. One day, though, he was away and Mr M, the head of PE, took the lesson. He was a stocky, blond man who had played semi-professional football back in the day. As he exited the changing room I can recall his exact words because of the consternation it created then, but more because of what happened later—“Remember, gentlemen, nothing under your shorts.”

There was concerned chatter throughout the changing room, some voices disbelieving, others mutinous. One boy next to me said, “I’m not.” to which I replied, “Well I’m not going to risk it.” Being so young, I’m not sure I can recall any difference wearing my shorts without pants, although maybe things were a bit breezier!

Mr M’s approach to teaching PE was very different to Mr P. He was much more engaged and enthusiastic, and his loud voice was frequently heard booming “Well done!” and “Good!” Over half of us couldn’t climb the ropes, so he showed us his technique; later, he climbed up behind one boy who couldn’t get further than a few feet off the floor and kept pushing him up higher with the top of his head! The boy was probably terrified, but it was very funny to watch, and we cheered and clapped. The other big difference was the large plimsoll he had tucked under his arm when he let us into the gym. I knew boys got the slipper in senior school and eyed it nervously when he slapped it down on a windowsill with some other things he was carrying.

Mr P was back as normal for our next lesson and I guess most of us kept our pants on as before (you know, like we’d been doing for all of our lives).

Flash forward a few months, to maybe after Christmas? It was definitely still winter, as the big gym was fucking freezing. I’m not sure a vest would have added much insulation, but every little helps. We were doing exercises in different spots around the room—running, skipping, jumping, push-ups, that kind of thing. Mr M suddenly appeared and beckoned Mr P over. The latter blew his whistle, so we stopped and waited. There was a muttered conversation and Mr P left and Mr M announced that he was taking over the class.

Five/ten minutes later there was another whistle blast, so we stuttered to a stop again. I remember I was at the back of the gym doing a thing where you had to work your way down a bench by putting your hands flat on it and jumping from one side to the other. I looked over to Mr M who was pointing at a boy. “Are you wearing underpants?” The boy mumbled, “Yes, Sir,” and looked at his feet. The class was frozen in place like an Edwardian tableau—because he wasn’t the only culprit. I remember thinking the 11-year-old equivalent of oh shit. Mr M must have read the room. “Are there any other boys wearing underpants?” he enquired. A couple of hands went up. There was silence as he scanned our faces. “Anyone else?” After some nervous foot shuffling a few more hands were raised. His veiled threat that, “It will be the worst for you if you don’t own up now” was met with a flurry of the remaining hands, mine included. I’m pretty sure he was taken aback but he just said, “All of you go and get changed and get back here. You’ve got two minutes—go!”

My whole form fled the gym, there were no mutineers this time! I had to run the length of the room and then down two flights of stairs to the changing room. The boys who’d been nearest the gym doors were already on their way back up! I was running out of time. Where was my peg? There! Shorts down, pants off, shit they’re caught on my foot, hop, hop, shorts back on, go, go, go! I raced up the two flights of stairs, getting out of breath now, and burst through the gym doors. Was I back in time? At least I wasn’t last.

The boys who had reached the gym ahead of me were in a line facing the doors, so that was a surprise. Many were still red-faced and panting because of our sudden burst of exertion. Well, it was a PE lesson, I suppose! I didn’t need to be told to take the next place in the line, and the boys who came running in after me likewise fell in, huffing and puffing.

Mr M regarded us sternly. I don’t recall what he said exactly, it was so long ago, but he started along the lines of, “You were all told underpants must not be worn during PE or Games lessons” because I remember thinking no, we bloody weren’t (well, certainly not officially lol). Then it was hygiene this blah, blah, having to wear wet or muddy underpants in class that blah, blah. He emphasised his points with the plimsoll that seemed to have magically appeared in his hand. It was white once but now grubby with ingrained dirt, and the laces were missing. Then he told all of us to touch our toes.

I’d never been ordered to bend over before, so at a loss to know exactly what to do, I literally touched the top of my plimsolls, which left me in a wobbly, half-crouching position. My legs were shaking, which didn’t help, and my mouth was dry, because I remember trying to swallow as I stared at the wooden parquet floor between my feet. I can still recall the boy who was bending over to my left, let’s call him Nixon, because of something that happened afterwards. I saw he was grasping his legs above his ankles, so I did the same. That was much better. We exchanged a glance, telepathically communicating our fear, and then both went back to staring at the floor.

I daren’t look up or around to see what was happening, so my ears were working overtime. Suddenly, there was a resounding whack as Mr M slippered the first boy in line to my left, followed by a youthful “Ahh!” “Go to the wallbars.” “Yes, Sir!” Less than five seconds later came the second whack and another boy’s exclamation of pain. “Go to the wallbars.” Five seconds… Another whack. “Go to the wallbars.” By the fifth boy or so it was just “Wallbars” and shortly afterwards the even more direct “Go!”

I was about two-thirds of the way along the line, so it probably took Mr M ninety seconds or so to work his way towards my small backside, protected only by a pair of white, nylon shorts. It seemed to take much longer as I waited, gripping my ankles. Whack, whack, whack!… Unhurried, remorseless… Getting nearer! I was keenly aware of his presence when he finally arrived behind Nixon. I strained my eyeballs to the left to see what was happening. Nixon’s eyes were screwed shut. I could see the bottom of Mr M’s legs and his feet. There was a pause, then the now-familiar whack of the slipper in action, much louder now it was happening right next to me. Nixon jolted and yelped. “Go!” said Mr M and with a “Yes, Sir!” the boy was up and away in a flash. And then Mr M WAS STANDING DIRECTLY BEHIND ME.

I had an upside down view of his feet between my trembling legs. I wanted a piss so badly. I felt him grip my waistband and hitch up my shorts, and then a second later his plimsoll made contact with the middle of my buttocks and there was a bright flash of heat. Now it was my turn to jerk forward with an audible “Ahh!” “Go!” he ordered, “Yes, Sir!” I squeaked and scampered over to the wallbars, rubbing my backside as I went. It wasn’t so much hurting as tingling, and I could feel the spreading warmth from that one whack.

I exchanged a relieved grin with Nixon. We had to stand the other side of the wallbars because of the number of boys waiting there now, and we casually leant back against the wall. We didn’t realise it would be icy cold in the unheated gym in winter and both jumped when it touched our bare skin, but then, oh my God, it felt amazing against our hot bottoms, especially through nylon shorts with no pants! I remember we looked at each other in surprise and delight. Nixon put his hands on his knees and pushed back, so I did likewise, and we pulled silent, laughing faces.

Meanwhile, Mr M was finishing-off the last ten boys or so with the same, measured pace. Whack! “Go!”… Whack! “Go!” It probably took him less than three minutes to slipper every boy in the form. I was 11 (my birthday is at Easter) but some of them would been 12 already. When all of us were assembled at the wallbars he told us, “If I catch another boy in this form wearing underpants, it won’t be the slipper, it’ll be the cane!”, again waving his plimsoll at us for emphasis. During my entire time at the school, I never heard of a PE teacher caning anybody, so I’m sure he only said that to impress upon us the gravity of such a heinous crime. He checked his watch; there was only ten minutes of the lesson left, so he dismissed us early.

For the rest of that year and the whole of the next, winter or summer, indoors or out, rain or shine (or even snow on a few occasions!), I was a committed freeballer. I’m pretty sure the rest of my form was as well. We started to get more cavalier about the no-pants rule in the third form because we were teenagers then and knew everything, and didn’t bother with it at all in the Upper School… Unless you knew for sure you’d got Mr M for a lesson, and then even at 16 it was definitely pants off, just in case.

That was far from the last time my backside got acquainted with Mr M’s slipper. Stay tuned!

[transboysokka]

15 people, 15 questions

tysm @ozais-lobotomist for tagging me, these things are fun

1. are you named after anyone?

yeah my birth name, the middle name is my grandma’s name. she died when my dad was young. my current name is definitely named mostly after chris pine tbhhhhh

2. when was the last time you cried?

don’t remember!! probs when I was getting over my major concussion a couple months ago bc I was just so out of it mentally and it was really frustrating

3. do you have kids?

21 beautiful students and a dog

4. what sports do you play/have you played?

uhhhh I played soccer for yearssss as a kid and was Not Good At All. I wanted to play rugby and football but I wasn’t allowed bc I have a bleeding disorder. I did a season of track and then did fencing a few years as a teen. now I just hike and do yoga

5. do you use sarcasm?

NEVER

6. what’s the first thing you notice about people?

omg idk something about the vibe like niceness/approachability

7. what’s your eye color?

who even knows, green technically?? it’s got pretty much the whole rainbow floating around in there and one of my students is terrified of them and says they’re yellow like a demon bc he’s only ever seen people with “black” eyes his whole life….

8. scary movies or happy endings?

I don’t watch scary movies At All

9. any talents?

pffft I wouldn’t be the one to ask? fine arts in general I guess. languages?

10. where were you born?

a hospital (US America rip)

11. what are your hobbies?

sleeping, hiking, drawing, writing

12. do you have any pets?

YES my dog is my CHILD, the LIGHT of my life

13. how tall are you?

175cm (what is that, 5’9?)

14. favorite subject in school?

p much anything under the social studies umbrella

15. dream job

teaching tbh. The job I have now is prettttty close to dream level, I think I’d just make it 4 days a week

tagging the first 15 mutuals that pop up lol but DONT do it if you don’t want and also if I didn’t tag you and you want to do this, great!

@leafsfromthevine @lillikoifish @sukidude @witchering10123 @apocryphiend @fanfic-gremlin-ft-trauma @lesmiserablol @thatwoodenguineapig @transuncletaylor @tiredlylaughing @aboutiroh @picnicbitchsokka @biboomerangboi @zukkacore @jovialcloudqueenisnotonfire

[pernillemagda]

From the danish podcast "bag om trøjen" with Pernille Harder an Katrine Veje

I have finally listed to the whole podcast, and have tried to translate most of the podcast, not word by word, but just overall what they said, I know it's a bit long 😅

It was recorded back in February

The things in this color is the best parts (at least what I think)

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A post shared by Bag om Trøjen (@bagomtrojen)

Talking about club

03:52 - It's only in Denmark I'm called Harder, everywhere else I'm called P

04:20 - How much do the shirts mean for you Veje?

explains that she only wants to switch her NT jersey with "bigger" teams and not teams like Azerbaijan and Malta. They mean a lot to her. But she never says no.

10:30 - Pernille picks up Veje's Arsenal shirt "ew, I don't think I can do this"

05:20 How much do the shirts mean for you Pernille?

- "My shirts, or the one I swap to"

- They all bring up some good memories.

- It's often in the final rounds that I switch as there are some of the "better" teams

- The one I'm probably the happiest about is Marta da Silva, I think it was in 2012, she also wears number 10. She is one of my biggest idols as a kid.

17:45 - Talking about the FA Cup on 5 December 2021 winning over Veje

13:30 - How was your start in Chelsea

- There was a big pressure as I was the most expensive player and just was named UEFA player of the year, but I think it was pretty well

Talking about worst/toughest player

19:20 - Pernille is asked first, the host and Veje think she's thinking about Troelsgaard as she says it's a teammate, but then she says it's Millie Bright.

- She's just going 100 percent in the tackles no matter if she gets the ball or not. She trains like she plays games. So sometimes you get to feel what she’s capable of

Katrines time in Montpellier

20:10 - Veje is next

- Troelsgaard must be the thought, she also trains as the play's games but has become better over the years

Listeners questions

21:30 - Before we went to the euro's 2017 i signed with Montpellier. I had a good start, played well and came on the world's top 100 list. Then there is a meeting just after the summer where she is told that some English clubs are interested in her and then the club starts not to treat her well.

- At a time, she trained with the U19 team, which was low, she felt it was kind of a punishment.

- Today when she's thinking bad, she still has good memories and good friends. It's not only bad things, but of course they still are there.

- She remembers a friendly against Barcelona where she starts out, then come on the field to play 12 minutes and was taken out again

- She learned a lot in that time and how to handle it. It was a tough time mentally and she considered stopping her career as it wasn't fun at all.

- At the U19 team, she was in the matchday squad, bet then they just take her shirt in front of her and put it back in the bag.

- (Harder interrupts) I don't know how they can treat people like that, it's inhuman, just because they heard she might be interested in moving on in her career to a new club

28:00 - Which shirt would be the biggest to swap to

- Pernille: It's hard to say, in the club we don't have shirts to swap them away, we mostly only have one. But I have the one I want the most.

- 28:55 - I swapped once with Megan Rapinoe and that is the one, I'm the happiest about

Talking early days/debuts with the NT

29:40 - What is it like to experience the development women's football is undergoing

- Pernille, there has happened so much in the last five years, people have started to be more interested and especially the TV streams have become a lot better, in the past, the matches were only filmed with a hand-held camera from one angle and then it is clear that people found it boring to watch women's football. It is something that has irritated me a lot. So, I'm happy that, that part is becoming better.

32:35 - Do you remember your debuts

- Pernille, I think it was a good game to have a debut against, I scored a hat trick and there also was another debutant who did that as well

33:50 - Talking about shirt numbers at NT

33:20 - Pernille

- I played Right back in a pretty important Worldcup playoff match against Switzerland (host: how did what go) well I was put as an attacking midfielder in the second half, I think that says it all about my performance 😂 and i have never played back since

Euros 2017

36:20 Veje had a chance where she was totally alone in front of the goal, without the goalkeeper. She then shot over the goal, and one of the teammates just yells "what the h*ll are you doing"

24:30 - The semifinal was postponed

- Veje, when we were warming up the ball didn't move at all, we have to chip the ball to each other.

- We went down to the changing room and our clothes got tumble-dried, at this time the game wasn't postponed to the day after yet, just a later kickoff.

- Pernille, when we were waiting for the game to start, I remember talking to a club teammate and the game was still not postponed

- Then we go out and warm up for a second time and after that warmup, we were told that the game had been moved to the day after, and I just thought "okay, then let's just go home and sleep" 😂

38:00 - Because of the later kickoff Denmark had packed their bags beforehand, and Germany hadn't

40:30 - After the tournament, my girlfriend and I went on vacation, I was mentally and physically exhausted and she told me I was the most boring to be on vacation with, we didn't do anything, and I just walked around in my own thoughts

38:30 - The final

- Pernille, the final was a special feeling. We were all exhausted, but still proud of what we had achieved

42:22 - Snoring

- Sofie Junge snores and we were roomies under the euro's 2017

- Pernille also sleeps with earplugs at home because Magda snores and takes very deep breaths, and it annoys her too much to not have them in. I think I have become addicted to them when I sleep alone today, I still sleep with earplugs

[sharperthewriter]

Sharper's KP Winter Fanfic Writing Contest

(Note: Yeah, most of this post is a copy and paste. It's basically to save my fingers from cramping up. :P )

Hey y'all and good evening. Hope y'all have a good Thanksgiving (or for those outside the US, hope y'all are having a good Thursday) and enjoyed the turkey (and the football games goin' on today).

With that aside, I am now going to host a fall/winter fanfic contest for the Kimmunity and for all the very talented fanfic writers here.

Here are the rules that will guide the contest

The contest must be specfic to that holiday. The holidays that are specific for this festival are as follows: *Thanksgiving *Hannukah *Christmas *Kwanzaa *Winter Solstice *New Years Eve *New Years Day

Any pairing is welcome, including any crossover pairings to pair with any of the KP characters.

The story must be a stand-alone. This means that the reader should not have to read another story first. Although it may be part of an existing universe.

The fanfic must be rated T and below. No mature fics will be accepted for this contest whatsoever.

The fanfic can be of any story or length BUT it must be turned in by January 7, 2024 at midnight (Central US time).

To enter your story in the contest, please put the hashtag as #winter fanfic contest and also put #kim possible in it so that, again, I can see the fic.

Have fun!