You had no idea how you ended up with the photographer gig for AFC Richmond. One minute, you were just a regular photographer for the club’s socials—snapping the usual shots of the lads playing, chilling, and celebrating. Then, outta nowhere, you were also in the locker room, the training ground, or getting smacked with stray balls in the middle of a tackle. Honestly, you spent half your time dodging players, trying to stay out of their way but never really succeeding.

And now? Now you were on the training ground, giving orders to the lads as you set up for the team photo. Everyone was in their kit, sweaty, still buzzing from the session. Your job? Make them all look good—no small feat, considering most of them were still trying to catch their breath and weren’t exactly thrilled at the idea of posing.

“Alright, Roy, you’re front and center, mate,” you called, pointing at the empty space in the middle. “Captain’s spot.”

Roy Kent just shot you a side-eye. “Great, more bloody photos. Just make it quick.”

You chuckled. “If you’d just sit down, maybe this won’t take forever.”

He grumbled but finally dropped into the middle of the group, his usual scowl replaced by an exasperated look. He wasn’t a fan of this kinda thing, but you weren’t gonna let him off the hook.

“Alright, lads, let’s get it together,” you yelled, stepping back to get the perfect shot. “Roy, can you stop looking like you wanna strangle someone for two seconds?”

He rolled his eyes but straightened up. “You better make me look good, yeah?”