#【 WEARING A WARNING SIGN

[wrathstricken]

FILE ;  STRIKER

          an imp born in lust.  raised by hard - working parents who were eventually forced to move to wrath.  parents killed by a lesser goetia,  striker was orphaned as a teen,  made to see the rings  &&  classes for what they were.  he harbors a deep hatred for the nobles  &&  the elite.

                to know your place is a hard lesson to learn.  striker grew up raised by wrath imps who moved through the world by their talents  &&  hardworking methods.  striker's father was a well - known man who eventually ended up hired at the palace,  living in the lust ring when striker was born.  eventually,  though,  he lost his job  &&  the couple were forced to move back home to wrath in his early years.

their marriage fell part,  his father lost his reputation  &&  found it harder to find  &&  keep work.  when he learned in person that his wife was having an affair,  he hit her with his car,  killing her  &&  attempting to attack the goetia she was escorting.  he was shot in front of striker,  who was present,  &&  striker was told to learn that lesson quickly.

striker took over his family's property  &&  worked hard for a long time.  floating between farm work  &&  body guarding,  bartending  &&  bouncing.  it was during that time he would meet aella,  who he fell in love with.  it was a whirlwhind relationship,  but it ended very poorly,  when she turned out to be a goetian in disguise,  trying to take his property out from under him.  he relinquished it in defeat,  &&  his hatred was solidified. 

the elite,  the royals,  those who don't work very hard for what they have  ...  it all pisses him off.  he leans into wrath as his primary trait,  reacts angrily,  &&  has hopes to take out those in power who don't deserve it.

verse  one ;    ‘ I'LL FAKE GOD TODAY ’   (  SHOWTIME  )      this verse is mostly a catch-all.  pre-show,  during show,  after current episodes all go in one place.  au's  &&  large departures from my portrayal would dictate other verses.  striker is an assassin for hire,  as well as other grunt - like work.  has worked for stella  &&  crimson.

[condemnedsouls]

striker tag dump.

[mead-iocre]

Not Like My Mama! | Viviannne Miedema x Wife!Reader

synopsis: a glimpse of Ducky at her football lessons.

warnings: nothing. just pure fluff

word count: 1.0k

————————————

Viv tugs on the laces of the red and white football boots to make sure they’re secure. She had a strict ritual whenever she tied her boots. She would start by aligning her laces, laying them out flat, ensuring there are no twists. This step is essential to her; any sign of imperfection can unsettle her focus.

Viv would always start with her left boot first. She would pulls the laces tight, securing the boot with exactly three knots. The first knot is a standard criss-cross, pulled tightly. The second knot is a loop, ensuring a firm hold. The final knot is a smaller, tight finish, securing the previous loops. To the Arsenal striker, each knot symbolizes control, strength, and precision. 

But the owner of the little boots she was tying did not care about control, strength, or precision. All she probably cared about was running after the ball, scoring a goal or two, and maybe getting an ice-cream after practice. 

“There you go, Ducky!” Viv pats the little boot before smiling at her little footballer. Her daughter was repeatedly glancing over at the pitch to find her friends, clearly eager to join them. Just like her Mama, Evelyn loved football, and she looked forward to all her weekly lessons where she got to wear her special boots. 

When she notices her slightly distracted daughter, Viv gently palms her cherubic face towards her, chuckling when her daughter whines lowly. “Hey. Look at Mama for a second. I have to go to work soon…”

“Quick, Mama. Ducky go play football!” Evie points a chubby finger at where the rest of her teammates are gathering, shouts of glee and excitement filling the park. Viv can see her wiggling her feet into her tiny football boots in anticipation. 

“Okay, okay” Viv admonishes lightly, brushing a hand over her daughter’s hair. Her wife usually did Evelyn’s hair– from pigtails and braids– she was far more skilled than Viv at that department. By some miracle, she had someone managed to tame the little girl’s curls into two, even-ish, pigtails– her preferred hairstyle today. She also managed to attach the little ribbon clips that are the same colours as Evie’s football kit to complete the look. Viv is grateful her daughter did not ask for braids otherwise there would’ve been a meltdown that morning. “Right. Have fun then, Ducky! Mama has to go to work, but Mummy will be here”

Evie perks up slightly, already knowing that she’ll be allowed to run over and join her friends in a bit. “Ducky go now!” 

Viv pulls the very excited toddler into her arms for one last squeeze, raining a few kisses all over her face, and revelling in the sweet giggles she gets in return. With one last kiss to her forehead, Viv stands up on her feet and watches her daughter run onto the pitch and greet her teammates. She turns to you, coming back from buying yourself a drink and a pastry from one of the stalls, and gives you one sweet kiss. You exchange goodbyes and promises to make plans for dinner tonight, and then you watch her walk to towards the carpark. 

————————————

The coach gently rolls a ball towards Evelyn. With determination written all over her face, she takes a few wobbly steps forward and swings her foot at the ball. She misses on the first try but quickly tries again, and this time, she makes contact. The ball rolls a few feet away, and her face lights up. She runs after the ball, her pigtails and ribbons bouncing wildly with each step.

For the next half hour, Evelyn is in her element. She chases the ball, giggles with her friends, and even scores her very first goal. You watch your daughter from the sidelines with a proud smile on your face.

Your little footballer, and your wife's mini me

During a water break, Evie is approached by a new teammate. Evie has never seen the girl before, so she reckons she must be new. 

“My Mama’s good at football” Evie turns to the new girl when she speaks to her. Evie learned earlier that her name is Ashley and she had just moved from up north but Evie doesn’t remember the name of the town. 

“Really?” 

“Mmmhmm. She can kick reeeeally far. Like all the way to the Moon!” Evie tilts her head at that. That sounds very far, but her Mama could probably kick it father than that. “but we only play in the garden when she’s not at the hospital working”

Evelyn makes a noncommittal hum, not disagreeing necessarily but not agreeing either “Hmm. So can my Mama”

“There’s Mummy” Evie points you out amongst the group of other parents. With your sunglasses onto of your head, you were wearing a bright coloured t-shirt so your daughter can easily spot you amongst the crowd. You were chatting with the other parents, but your eyes scanning the pitch, keeping an eye out for her. “But Mama is at work”

“Oh. Just like my Mama! But my Daddy is there” Ashley points to a man who is sitting on one of the benches, chatting to someone else’s parent. “Where’s your Mama?”

“Playing football…” Evie stares at her football boots on her feet. They were red and white and given to her by Auntie Leah. She said she bought them because they were Arsenal colours. 

“Oh! My Mama plays football too! Just like your Mama!” 

“My Mama plays football.” Evie emphasis. Turning her head to find you again, partly for reassurance, and also because she was getting slightly angsty because of her new friend. When you catch her eye, you give her a quick wave from where you were seated, pausing your conversation to focus all your attention on your daughter. When she gives you a quick wave back and turns to her friend, you figured all was fine. “My Mama plays for Arsenal"

Evie looks back at Ashley when she begins to speak again. “Just like Mama! My Mama likes Arsenal too! She likes the colour red very much” 

“No.” Evie stomps her red and white boot once, flattening the grass beneath her boots. She narrows her eyes slightly at her new friend. She didn’t like Ashely anymore. She didn’t get it, she didn’t understand.  

“Not like My Mama. My Mama is Vivianne Miedema”

Short and sweet. I was inspired (and currently have a case of baby fever) so wrote this in like 30 minutes, and have not spelt checked/grammar checked it throughly lol.

next couple of fics will all be leah fics so I wanted to get one more non-leah fic out before I overwhelm you with so much leah w. x reader, so stay tuned for those!

-- butter.

[kingkunigami]

— Shidou Ryusei

Masterlist.

So what if he played dirty to get here, can you really blame him? When the reward is the biggest trophy there is—

Warnings: 18+, dubcon, spanking, no prep, unprotected sex, creampie, cunnilingus, cum eating, cum swapping.

Pairing: Shidou Ryusei x f!reader.

Word Count: 2.0k.

A man who’s reputation preceded him, rumours swirling about the numerous exploits he was involved in that had to be covered up. Non-disclosures paired with hush money meant the internet was buzzing with convoluted theories about what Shidou Ryusei got up to when he was off the pitch.

But no one really knew the truth— for a man that was seemingly so dangerous and depraved, he was always focused on the win. Trophies and titles are only so important when they’re earned, the thrill of the chase almost more exciting than the prize itself.

Not this time, though— this time the prize was well and truly worth the chase. Leaving a line of deflated men hunched over out in the locker rooms as he stalked towards the room you were waiting in, ignoring every word that Ego tried to say to him as he pushed the door open. Slamming it shut behind him as he took in the sight of you sitting so quietly at the foot of the bed, towering over you as though ready to consume you whole.

“So this is what all the fuss was about, huh?” Shidou scoffed, shamelessly leaning forward to hook an index finger between the cups of your lacy bra. Tugging at the thin string as your breasts bounced from the motion, magenta eyes focused on your bare skin as the same maniacal grin that he wears on the field appeared, “No wonder those bozo’s are practically begging for penalties now.”

Shidou wouldn’t admit the lengths he went to in order to be the next one to have you. The desire and drive the other members of the program now had evident to everyone around, the way they all played the game now far more calculated and tenacious. Every man stepping up their game for a chance of claiming you next, which meant that Shidou had to adapt. And now that he was here in the room with you, he’d admit it was worth the yellow card he’d received after shouldering Isagi as he was about to score. The poor fucker trying to jog off a hurt ankle for the rest of the match, while Shidou managed to intercept the penalty given and knocked his own goal into the top left corner.

“Don’t worry, Isagi,” Shidou called across the pitch as the players made their way towards the locker rooms. Holding up his fingers in a peace sign towards Isagi after before moving them to his lips to stick his tongue out between them in a lewd gesture— a reminder to his rival of what reward awaited Shidou tonight, and left the poor striker fucking his fist in the showers at the thought of it, “I’ll tell you how she tastes.”

You could smell him, a virile musk that shrouded his form and clung to his football shirt that made your thighs shudder. Clearly, he hadn’t even bothered to shower after the game before finding his way here to you— deciding this matter was of far higher importance as he shrugged his damp shirt up and over his head.

“Aww, don’t worry,” He cooed as he noticed the way your eyes widened at his bold movement, voice oozing with faux sympathy, “I’ll be gentle.”

Shidou broke off into a laugh after, as though he couldn’t even believe his lie long enough to endorse it. Catching you by surprise as he wrapped a palm around your thigh to flip you over, pulling a surprised squeal from your lips as he took in the view of your round ass.

“Shit, that ass is fuckin’ eating your panties, huh?” He was so crass, the words had an intense heat rushing to your face as he smacked a large palm down on your right cheek hard. Splaying all of his fingers for maximum impact as he palmed your cheek after, letting the meat of it mould around his fingers as he shook roughly, “Can’t wait to make it bounce.”

You cried out when he spanked you the second time, the dull ache from the first now ebbing to a sting as he gave the other cheek the same attention. The sensitive skin darkening from his ministrations as he pushed his hips forward, feeling his naked length now perched between the curve of your ass. When had he even—

You turned your head back to see his football shorts left bunched around his thighs, barely enough to free his hard cock. And although he hadn’t been as big as you’d anticipated him to be, nothing could seemingly be as big as his ego. The length definitely made up for his size, forking veins scattered along him as they melded into a bulging, swollen tip.

“Like what you see, babe? And unlike these other losers, I know how to use it too—” He sneered, wrapping a palm around himself to give a teasing pump before slapping the tip of it against your ass, leaving a silvery line of pre against your skin, “On your knees.”

Shidou slapped the side of your thigh as he leaned back on his calves, watching in amusement as you assembled the position. Bracing yourself on your palms as you kneeled, legs on either side of him as he reached out to run his fingers along the crotch of your panties. A guttural groan rumbling deep in his chest at the sensation, feeling how wet the material was before he’d even really toyed with you.

“Does he make you get yourself wet before, or is this all for me?” Shidou smirked, pinching your labia between his thumb and forefinger as he toyed with your folds, “It’s all because of me, ain’t it?”

Knew it, he murmured beneath his breath as he continued to play with you like a toddler with a new toy at Christmas. Rough hands prodding at you as he did as he pleased, thumbing your clit to pull more pretty moans from between your lips before tugging your panties to the side. Grinning as he watched the glistening strings of your slick stick to the fabric and break off against your skin as your tight hole fluttered around nothing. He pushed his middle finger forward, prodding it against your hole to feel how tight you were. Biting down on his bottom lip as he dragged the calloused pad along your inner walls, watching in amusement as you tried to push back into his touch.

“I thought I’d have to prep you or some shit, but looks like this pretty pussy’s practically begging for me, ain’t she?” He snorted, moving into position as he took himself in a rough fist. Lining himself up with your drooling slit as he dragged his leaky tip through your folds, coating himself in you as he slowly began to push forward, “So fuckin’ easy.”

“Oh,” You exhaled, fingers curling into the sheets beneath you as you felt Shidou push into your tight sex, unbothered about the slight resistance as he rolled his hips.

“Shit,” Shidou grunted, “No wonder those fuckers are actually trying now, you got this perfect angel cunt.”

Shindou was ruthless as he started a brutal pace, hands splayed against your ass as he spread your cheeks apart to watch his cock disappear inside your wet heat. Creamy rings of your slick circling his length as his balls slapped against your clit with each rough thrust. Your arms became weak trying to keep up with the force of his movements, shaking before you collapsed onto your forearms. Changing the angle of his thrusts as he moved to curl over your body, one of his hands now pressed to the sheets beside you while the other curled into the back of your bra. Roughly holding the clasp as the wires dug into your chest, pink eyes watching the swell of your ass ripple with the force of his thrusts.

“Shit, baby. You’re tryin’ to get me to cum fast, ain’tcha?” He trailed off into a groan as he felt your walls clench around him from his tone.

You couldn’t keep your head up, your forehead now against the sheets as he fucked you hard and fast. The tip of his long cock so deep inside you that it gave your cervix a bruising kiss with each forward motion, certain that you’d feel his cum in your guts if he came inside.

It was too much, and not enough at the same time. The pleasure numbing the pain as your cunt cried out for relief, the euphoria swirling inside you as you teetered on the edge of your climax. Embarrassed at the pathetic whines that you couldn’t stop from spilling from your throat as Shidou fucked into your pliant body, overcome by pleasure.

“Oh fuck, baby. That’s it— cum on my cock.” You felt lightheaded as the pleasure finally consumed you whole, crying out in pleasure as your climax crashed down around you. Toes curling as your arms and legs gave way, collapsing onto your stomach as your walls pulsed around him.

Shidou didn’t miss a beat as he followed you down onto the mattress, his cock still buried firmly inside you as he pressed the muscular weight of his body on top of you. Chasing his own pleasure as your cunt continued to pulse around him, trying to milk him of his own release.

“That was so hot,” He grunted, chapped lips pressing wet kisses against the curve of your neck as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin, “Sound so pretty when you cum— I bet the whole locker room heard ya.”

He was relentless as he chased his own pleasure, the change in position had you even tighter as Shidou felt his balls tighten in anticipation, giving a few more rough ruts of his hips against the curve of your ass as he came undone. Coating your walls with ropes of white, hot cum as he emptied himself inside you.

“Fu-uck,” He grunted, his sweaty chest tacking to your back as he nuzzled your neck. Surrounding you completely with the scent of him as he stayed buried inside you for a few moments, cherishing the sensation of your walls continuing to clench around him in the tremours of your climax before he finally pulled out.

Smirking in satisfaction at the way your slick and his cum left messy strings along the length of his cock, glistening in the fluorescent lights of the room as he spread your cheeks apart to see your stretched hole.

“Can’t let it go to waste,” He scoffed, pulling your hips up as he pushed his tongue inside you. Tasting the bitter mixture of his spend laced with the flavour of you as he slurped lecherously at your throbbing cunt, sucking the mixture out if you and into his mouth.

You groaned as he moved to hold the back of your head with his strong palm, fingers digging into the base of your skull at the root of your hair as he tugged your head back. His other hand pulling at your jaw to tug your mouth open as he pressed his lips against yours, letting the debauched combination of your releases trickle into your mouth as he spat. The bitter taste hit your tongue as your eyes rolled back, his fingers moving lower to wrap around your neck as he urged you to swallow. Magenta eyes focused on you with the same depraved smirk on his face as he felt your throat bob, swallowing everything he’d given you.

“God, you’re a bigger freak than me.” He shook his head, leaning forward to give your glossed lips a languid lick before pulling back and making a scene of smacking his lips, “Maybe I’ll let those other fuckers clean you off my cock— see what they’re missing.”

If Shidou had risked a red card to get a chance with you today, before he’d even had you, you dread to think what he would do to get another taste. Stuffing his cock back inside his shorts as he pulled them back up, scratching at his chest as he gave himself a final look at your spent body lax against the messy sheets. Knowing that every single man inside Blue Lock would be jealous of him and the stench of you that permeated from him when he walked back into the room. That Shidou Ryusei currently held the biggest prize in the program.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

And he intended to hold onto that trophy.

[wosoimagines]

Alone - Arsenal W.F.C./Reader

prompt: R, one of the newest signings, is going to be alone for the holidays.

warnings: none

words: 2313

(Y/N) POV

I tried not to pay attention as the rest of the team discussed their own holiday plans. I really did try to make sure that it didn’t get to me. I hadn’t celebrated any holidays in such a long time that it normally didn’t faze me.

Maybe it was because I was already starting to see the rest of the team as my own family. Or because I had grown so used to seeing some of my teammates every day and I knew that I wouldn’t get to see any of them during the holidays like I currently was able to.

“What about you, Yankee?”

I scowled at the nickname as I sent Katie a glare. It didn’t even make sense considering I wasn’t a Yankee fan or from the North.

“Thought I told you not to call me that.”

“Oh, come on, Yankee Doodle!”

Before I could say anything else, I felt someone nudge my shoulder.

“What are you doing for next week?” Lotte asked. I furrowed my brow because I wasn't entirely sure what she meant. “Don’t we have a game on Thanksgiving? I’m sure the team’s granted you a leave to go spend it with your family.”

“Why would they do that?” I asked.

It wouldn’t have made sense for the team to give me leave, especially when I didn’t ask for one.

“Next week would be when fall break is,” Alessia pointed out causing me to turn my head to where the blonde striker was sitting. I had honestly forgotten that Alessia and Lotte would both know when Thanksgiving was due to their time in America. “Don’t you want to go home and spend Thanksgiving with your parents?”

I only gave a small shrug. I’d much rather play on Thanksgiving Day than spend it with my family. I especially didn’t want to be ignored on a day that was supposed be enjoyed with your family.

“You don’t want to see your family?” Kyra asked as she tilted her head to the side. “I thought that was like the whole point of Thanksgiving?”

“Yeah, well, it’s not that fun when you’re the one who has to cook everything and then everyone wants to complain about it all being made wrong,” I said as I turned away from the team so that I could put my shoes up. “Even better is when everyone ignores you if they’re not complaining about your cooking.”

“(Y/N)…”

“Real great considering that last year I tried to tell everyone that I was gonna accept a scholarship to play with UNC only for everyone to ignore me and tell me to shut up,” I continued as if I hadn’t heard Beth. “Then turn around after everyone leaves and your parents explode on you telling you there’s no way you can go to college because you’re supposed to turn pro so that you can pay them back for everything they did to make sure you succeeded as if I didn’t have to fight them tooth and nail to get them to support me.”

“You were going to be a Tar Heel?”

My eyes met Alessia’s before I nodded.

Where I was looking at going to college had been heavily debated with my own national team. Everyone had their own opinions of where I should go except for Lindsey and Mal since they both had skipped college to turn pro immediately out of high school. But that wasn’t what I had wanted. I wanted to go to college so that I could get my degree because I knew that I wouldn’t be playing forever.

Thankfully, Arsenal had offered to support me through my studies. It wasn’t exactly what I had wanted, but it did give me the ability to get away from my family.

Still, I was upset that I hadn’t been able to go to the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill like I had dreamed of. UNC had been my favorite college ever since I had discovered who Tobin Heath was and I had wanted to follow in her footsteps as well. So much so that I had even reached out to her when I joined the national team to make sure that she was okay with me wearing the number seventeen like she did.

“Hey, (Y/N), you know you can talk to us about anything that’s going on, right?” Viv started to say as she moved closer to me. “You don’t have to shut –“

“What I would like is for you all to drop it. I’m a big girl. I don’t need any of you to coddle me like I’m some child.”

I pushed past Viv as I headed out of the locker room. I knew it was harsh and that I’d have to apologize later, but I just didn’t want to deal with it right now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m sorry.”

Viv looked over her shoulder at me. I had been avoiding her since we got into it late last week. It hadn’t been too hard to avoid the Dutch striker since she gave me my space.

“You were just trying to help me, and I was a bitch.”

“We shouldn’t have tried pushing you so hard.” Viv shrugged before turning around to actually face me rather than just look over her shoulder at me. “We aren’t trying to coddle you. But it’s hard being your age and being away from the only support system you’ve ever known. We just want to make sure that you know we’re all here for you.”

“I really do appreciate it,” I admitted. Viv sent me a soft smile. “I guess it’s just weird since I’ve never had a support system. My parents got me into soccer to keep me busy after school ended so that they didn’t have to pick me up as early in the afternoon. And it wasn’t like either of them were actually happy to make sure that I did as good as I could with soccer until I got called up to the national team.”

“First off, it’s football. That’s the first thing we’re going to have to fix,” Viv corrected causing me to let out a laugh. It had been an argument we often had during training as I had yet to start calling it anything other than soccer. “Second off, I’m always going to be here for you. It won’t ever matter if you leave Arsenal or if I do. I’ll always have your back. Got it?”

“Got it,” I saluted Viv, “Dad.”

Viv rolled her eyes at that. I had been hanging around Laura lately.

“And third off, you stop hanging around Laura so much.”

“Oh, come on,” I said as I followed behind Viv as we both moved to get back into the line that was warming up. “You and Beth are totally parents to Laura now. And you’re definitely the dad.”

“How do you figure that?”

“You just have Dad Vibes.”

I wasn’t sure how to explain it, but Viv really did have all the Dad Vibes. It just made sense once you hung around Beth and Viv long enough.

“So, are you coming tomorrow?”

I furrowed my brow as Beth joined the two of us. I wasn’t sure what she was talking about.

“I hadn’t asked yet.”

My eyes darted between Viv and Beth. I wasn’t sure what either of them were talking about.

“If you really want to make it up to me,” Viv started as Beth grinned at me, “you’ll come over tomorrow for lunch.”

“For lunch?”

“Yeah, for lunch.”

I shrugged at that. I didn’t really have any plans for tomorrow, but I wasn’t sure that I would actually want to do something. Especially with it being so close to Thanksgiving.

“I don’t know.”

“None of that,” Viv said as she shook her head. I sighed as my shoulders slumped forward. There was no way that I was going to get out of this. “Lunch tomorrow at mine and Beth’s.”

“Fine. Lunch at your place tomorrow.”

Beth grinned before she ruffled my hair and took off to join some of the others. Viv only smiled as she threw an arm around my shoulder and pulled me along the line we were in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Has Viv started to Dad you yet?” Laura asked as she took a seat next to me on the couch. Both of us looked over to where Viv was cooking in the kitchen with Beth watching. “Or has Beth been able to Mom you yet?”

“They keep trying,” I admitted. Neither Viv or Beth would let me help them cook. Viv wasn’t even letting Beth help. “Beth asked me today if I was eating enough.”

“Yeah, they’ll grow on you.”

The two of us fell into silence as we turned our attention back to the game that was playing on the tv.

“What are they even cooking?” I asked causing Laura to look at me. “They wouldn’t tell me, and Viv has forbidden me from going into the kitchen.”

“I’ve been sworn to secrecy,” Laura said before she pretended to zip her mouth shut. I frowned as I gave her a shove. “Mom! (Y/N)’s being mean to me.”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Can we put them up for adoption?”

Both Laura and I whipped our heads around to look at Beth as we cried out in complaint. Beth only stuck her tongue out at us as we both grumbled. Neither of us had any real time to respond though as there was a knock at the door.

I furrowed my brow at that. Laura being here wasn’t too surprising considering that Viv and Beth had taken young defender in when she tore her ACL. But no one had told me that others would be coming over.

“Get the door?”

“Why me? You’re their kid.”

“You are too! And you’re not injured.”

I rolled my eyes at that. I was hardly Viv and Beth’s kid. I couldn’t wait for Laura to get back to training with the rest of this so that she wouldn’t be able to use her injury as an excuse. I got up though and got the door.

“Happy Thanksgiving,” Alessia said as soon as I opened the door. I tilted my head in confusion at that. Thanksgiving had definitely been yesterday, but I also had no idea why she was here. “The others aren’t that far behind me.”

I hadn’t even realized that it seemed like the rest of the team was either behind Alessia or getting out of their own cars or pulling down the road. Alessia pushed past me as she ruffled my hair. It wasn’t until a few more of our teammates made their way inside that I finally left where I was standing at the door to move further inside.

“What’s going on?”

Viv and Beth grinned at me before Viv bent down to pull something out of the oven.

“Thanksgiving lunch,” Beth announced once I could see the turkey that Viv had pulled from the oven.

I shook my head with a small chuckle, but I moved to help Viv get everything plated up and presented as she pulled a ham out of the oven as well.

“What all did you make?” Katie asked as she was the last one who came inside.

“All of the traditional foods for Thanksgiving,” Viv said as she motioned to everything. “At least according to Google.”

“You did a pretty good job,” I told her as I looked at everything we had out. “Oh! I call dibs on the wishbone!”

“The what?”

“You don’t know what a wishbone is?” I asked as I turned to look at Kyra. She shook her head and I huffed. “Every turkey has a wishbone. We’ll find it when we carve the turkey. Once the meal is done, two of us will make a wish and we’ll break the wishbone. Whoever has the bigger piece will have their wish come true and good luck for the next year.”

“And how many of your wishes have ever come true?” Kyra asked as she nudged my shoulder before she reached and tried to steal some of the stuffing only for Viv to slap her hand away.

“I’ve never gotten to break the wishbone before,” I admitted. It was usually my cousins who got to break the wishbone.

“Can I break it with (Y/N) since Dad cooked?” Laura asked.

“Stop calling me that.”

“Yeah, whatever, Dad.”

I snorted at Viv’s scowl. My attention was drawn away as I was quick to catch the football that had been tossed my way.

“Hey! Not near the food!”

Viv’s scowl had turned from Laura to Lotte who was guilty of tossing the football.

“You brought a football?” I asked her.

Lotte shrugged as she threw an arm around Alessia’s shoulders. I knew that they were both probably the most familiar with Thanksgiving and the traditions we had with the holiday since they were the two who had actually gone to college in the States.

“Figured you could show us how to throw it since the big football game was on yesterday,” Lotte explained.

“And then we can make plans for Christmas,” Alessia added. I furrowed my brow at that. I knew that we would be having some kind of party for the team, but we still had time to plan it. “Cause Mum already told me that I have to bring you with me.”

“Wait, what?”

“Well, I was telling Mum how you weren’t going to spend the holidays with your family cause they were assholes and she told me that I have to bring you,” Alessia explained. Alessia’s mom wanted me to join them for Christmas. “And before you try to say no, Mum has already told me that you are not weaseling your way out of it. So, you will be coming to the Russo Family Christmas.”

[katelynnwrites]

Hold On To The Memories (They Will Hold On To You) | Laura Freigang

warnings: fluffy pancakes kind of fluff

word count: 1114

summary: five memories with laura, you'll hold on to them, they'll hold on to you and you will hold on to her

a/n: happy new year's 🎉

Your first memory of Laura is of her catching you as you quite literally fall for her.

The both of you are only thirteen and it is your very first summer football camp.

You had tripped over your laces and luckily for you, the blonde is there.

‘I’m s-sorry.’ You stammer with bright red cheeks but the taller girl only laughs as she sets you on your feet properly.

‘It’s okay. I’m Laura and it’s nice to meet you.’

Her hair is up in braids and her blue eyes are sparkling. The socks she is wearing are mismatched, they are different colours and one is longer than the other.

Right, there and then, you think she is the prettiest girl you have ever seen.

Laura sticks her hand out and you shake it with a shy smile.

‘Nice to meet you.’

******

You don’t see her at any other summer camp for years.

It’s not till she walks into Penn State’s locker room that you meet her for the second time.

You recognise her immediately. Her hair is darker but those eyes are the same.

Bright and full of excitement.

You had heard that the newest member of your team is named Laura and that she’s from Germany like you but it never crossed your mind that it would be your Laura.

Your Laura that you had spent every day at that one summer camp with, having water fights with your bottles and pranking the other children.

She spots you and her smile appears. The same brilliant smile that she had back then and the butterflies in your stomach get all fluttery again.

The striker walks up to you, holding out her hand for you to shake again.

You do so with a grin and she giggles, ‘You’re not falling for me this time?’

‘No.’ You blush as you shake her hand.

Little does she know that you’ve already fallen for her.

******

After Laura leaves Penn State to sign for Frankfurt, she takes your heart with her.

You’d grown close in the two years spent as teammates and life is not the same without her.

The two of you call all the time and while you continue completing your degree in the States, Laura realises that the way she feels about you is not entirely platonic.

She doesn’t tell you though but the phone calls get longer and longer, more and more frequent till you graduate.

Then you end up signing for Frankfurt and the striker picks you up at the airport.

One glance at you and the words are tumbling out of her mouth.

‘I missed you. I love you.’

She gasps and covers her mouth, not trusting herself to speak any further.

You smile softly and simply say, ‘I missed you too. I love you too.’

******

The first New Year’s day that you spend with Laura is special.

Both of you had shared a long and meaningful kiss in the middle of your apartment, your club teammates cheering all around.

Your favourite person’s hands rested gently on your waist and she had ignored them all, her attention on you and you alone.

‘I love you. Thank you for being mine.’

That is how it is with the blonde. She’s straightforward and clear about the depth of her feelings for you.

Your girlfriend is not afraid of expressing them and effortlessly shows you every chance she gets.

Laura Freigang is everything to you and when you look up at her with nothing but affection and adoration, she knows.

The entire team is in your shared apartment for the New Year’s party but you and her might as well be in your own world.

When all your guests have left and it’s truly just you and the striker, she pulls you close and holds you for a moment.

You let her, content to rest your head against her chest and listen to her steady heartbeat.

‘My New Year’s resolution is to love you. To never stop loving you.’ She softly says.

‘I think we share similar resolutions schatz.’

She giggles and brings her lips down to yours.

‘I love loving you.’ You tell her as the two of you look around the apartment you share.

There’s glitter on the floor after the party. You don't know where it's come from but it makes Laura sigh.

‘I’ll get the vacuum out.’ You offer.

‘Let's start on the empty bottles first?’ She counter suggests.

You agree. You’ll agree to anything as long as it's with the German woman.

As you clean up the bottles with her on New Year's day, you know for certain that you will do your best to hold onto this memory and her.

She's your person.

******

This most recent New Year’s day that you share with Laura is by far your favourite. It’s the most special to you.

You have had a fair number with her already and over the past few years, you have grown more and more in love with her.

When Laura pulls you out onto the balcony of your shared apartment, away from the party that you two have somehow ended up hosting again, she gets down on one knee.

‘Marry me? Please don’t ever become a stranger whose laugh I can recognise anywhere. I can’t live with that. I want your midnights. I will stay with you when you’re lost, when I’m scared, when it’s hard and even when it’s wrong and we’re making mistakes. I love you and I promise you I will never stop.’

You have always thought her eyes are beautiful.

But now as they are looking up at you, with all the hope in the world as she trusts you not to break her heart? They’re radiant.

There isn’t a way for you to put into words how you are feeling but you try your very hardest for the blonde.

‘Yes. Of course I will Laura. I fell for you the very first time we met, at thirteen and you caught me then. You have caught me every day since and even when I think I can’t possibly love you more, you show me that I can.’

Your soon to be wife is choking back her tears as she slides the ring onto your finger.

You can’t help but laugh. You don’t even know why you’re laughing but your shoulders are shaking as the striker leans in to kiss you.

‘Silly you schatz. You and I could never be strangers. It’s you and me, forevermore.’ You promise against her lips.

‘Forevermore. Happy New Year baby.' Laura breathes, kissing you again with every ounce of emotion she possesses as fireworks go off in the background.

German Translation:

schatz - sweetheart

[running2reanimation]

For @cindersnows - for the AVA/M gift event!

Formality

"It's a formality," Victim reassured, gesturing with a glove-covered hand to the bespectacled stick, "We all know I'll be hiring your crew no matter how this dinner goes."

"Of course, sir."

--

Striker was pretty sure this was actually yet another test from the enigmatic head of the Rocket Corporation. Inviting a bunch of mercenaries to dinner at the most expensive restaurant in Stick City could be nothing less than the ultimate test of his leadership abilities.

Could he make these idiots presentable? Behave in ways that were at least semi-appropriate?

"I want to wear my cape; the nobility of the past used to, it counts as formal wear, right?" Ballista folded his arms as his summoned cape billowed behind him as Primal nodded in agreement;

"They did, so it should count."

"No, you will wear a suit or dress. Those are your options," Striker could already feel the pressure pulsing behind his shades, "That goes for you too, Primal. Suit or dress only."

"I refuse, they both hinder my movement too much," Primal shook her head stubbornly, "What if this is some sort of trap? Or what if we have to defend our new client from would be assassins?"

"It isn't a trap," Striker put his foot down resolutely, though he couldn't discount the possibility of assassins. Or that there would be some type of test of their abilities mid-dining. Victim was capricious like that, "You can wear a loose dress with a slit for more mobility, but you have to wear a dress."

"..." Primal at the very least didn't flat out refuse, so Striker was going to count that as a win.

"Any crazy requests from you, Logo?" Striker turned to the bulky yet-paper-thin stick who shook his head in two quick frames.

"I have a suit from the last undercover thing we did."

Striker heaved a small sigh of relief - at least one of them could be reasonable and logical and knew how to behave in public.

"I'm gonna wear my cape!" Ballista insisted, intentionally billowing it into their leader's face.

"You'd better not," Striker warned, pausing the cape's movement and stepping out of it.

--

"Lemme wear my cape!" Was the refrain Striker got to listen to for the next several days, every single time he laid eyes on the bitcrushed warrior.

The smaller stick had even ambushed him from one of the upper cupboards - Striker suspected Primal had put him in there, since there was no sign of a chair he would have used to make the climb into them.

"Just let me wear my cape and I'll stop," He pleaded and Striker realized that chances were that Ballista would wear it regardless, and at least this way he might be able to set a few rules.

"On the condition that you keep it from billowing - I know you can control it."

"...Fine, even if that's half the point of wearing it," Bit sagged as though he'd not just gotten what he'd wanted.

--

"Less than 15 minutes until the transportation arrives, is everyone dressed appropriately?" Striker looked over his assorted group, adjusting the tie of his usual black suit.

Primal had worn a dress, the slit was maybe a bit higher up the thigh than was appropriate for fine dining, but it was too late to do anything about about that. The way the silky black dress caught the light looked very nice with her scribbled style. Her usual ponytail was pulled up into a bun.

Logo was in his white suit with the black tie; looking sharp literally and figuratively.

Ballista still hadn't left his room yet, "Ballista, please tell me you're almost ready."

Striker couldn't imagine what was taking him so long; it wasn't like he'd exactly gotten the impression Ballista owned a lot of formal wear to choose between. He'd probably just left getting dressed until the last moment as usual.

"Ready!" Ballista announced, throwing open the bedroom door. He'd picked out a white suit, it almost seemed somewhat military in style, but the white cape went with it at least, "Oh hey, we've got a black-and-white colour co-ordination thing going on, gang. Nice."

"Limo's here," Logo announced, heading out the door, Primal close behind them. Ballista dashed out past Striker while he grabbed the keys and locked the door.

Striker ducked into the vehicle and a grey stick closed the door behind him. The limo was surprisingly spacious inside, though still not quite tall enough to comfortably accommodate Primal.

And seated in the back with them was their new employer: Victim. He seemed dressed in the same suit as usual, but Striker made a mental note of the black cufflinks that weren't part of the usual ensemble.

"Thank you all for coming to dinner tonight. I know this is a bit unusual for you."

"Thank you for inviting us," Logo bobbed his head in gratitude, taking the lead when it came to socializing, "It's nice not to have to cook for once and I've never been to this place before, Olive and Wine?"

"Yes, I'm not surprised, it is fairly new, but I can assure you it's quite good."

"You're paying, right?" Ballista piped up from Logo's elbow and Striker and Logo both glared at the guy but Victim just laughed.

"Of course, though with your reputation for success, I'm sure you could afford it regardless."

"Oh, totally," Bit grinned, as the limo pulled to a stop, "Looks like we're here."

The exterior of the restaurant was fairly plain and unassuming, with the curtains drawn, a soft golden glow shining from beyond them and a green neon sign proclaimed the place was 'open' in flowing cursive.

The grey stick opened the door and the mercenaries stepped out single file, but they paused to let Victim pass them. Primal once again had to duck, but that was almost expected everywhere.

"Reservations for Victim and company," Victim declared and the mulberry employee guided the group to one of the private rooms in the back.

"Your server will be with you shortly," they bowed and the group was left alone with the menus, simple things with a front for food and a back side for drinks.

"Not a big menu," Primal seemed unimpressed, looking it over.

"They have a steak board for two," Logo pointed out and Primal immediately scoured the menu for it. Having found it, she set hers in the middle of the table, atop Victim's, who hadn't even looked at it.

Logo continued looking, clapping his hands in delight, "Oooh, I've never tried arancini before!"

"Go ahead, if you don't like it you can always order something else," Victim took the menu from Logo and placed it in the pile with a broad grin, "I insist."

"Alright, sir, thank you," Logo smiled back at little nervously and glanced at Ballista who was still reading the menu, "What about you Ballista.

"I think I'm gonna get the cannelloni," Bit said, tossing his menu into the growing pile, "What about you, Striker?"

Striker had been so focused on making sure everyone else knew what they were ordering he hadn't even looked at the menu, "I'm still looking."

"Surely something appeals to you?" Victim asked and Striker could feel the pressure of the older stick's gaze upon him.

"Of course - I'll get the charcuterie board," Striker placed his menu upon the stack as Victim nodded in approval.

"An excellent choice when one is feeling indecisive."

Almost as if summoned by the stack of menus the server appeared, another reddish stick whose smile was too wide, "Have you all decided what you'd like to order?"

"Yes," Victim confirmed, "I'll have the pan fried haddock with potatoes with a Godfather and a glass of water, please and thank you."

After going around the table, the server took the menus and left to go place their orders.

"So, I got a question, Boss," Ballista piped up as soon as the server left and Striker and Logo tensed. Ballista wasn't exactly... good at polite conversation or asking appropriate questions.

"Yes?" Victim tilted his head, either oblivious to the tension or perhaps enjoying it.

"Why is every stick that works for you grey - not only that, they're all the exact same shade. They come from a game or something? Thought you couldn't discriminate like that."

"Oh, you can get away with any form of discrimination if you have enough money... but that's not the case here. Think of it like a uniform of sorts - we dye our workers grey and then at the end of the day we return their colour to them."

"Seems like that might make infiltration easy," Logo frowned, a hand to his chin.

"Never had a problem with it before," Victim shrugged as the server placed their meals down, confirmed they didn't need anything else and left.

Once the food was in front of them, the mercenaries all went quiet - not that most of them were particularly talkative in the first place, but they all focused on their meals intensely.

"Do you not get enough to eat?" Victim asked, and Logo looked up from their meal.

"Oh, yes, but this is a real treat, so we're really making sure we take it all in, you know? Speaking of, thank you for convincing me to try them, the arancini are fantastic."

"Ah, well, good, I'm glad," Victim nodded, going back to his plate.

At the midpoint of the meal a server came in again and asked how everything was.

Striker stared at the server, and immediately noticed that something was off - this one wasn't green or red, the only two colours he'd seen the staff here possess. They were a pale brown and their uniform didn't match the other one's he'd seen earlier in the night, the buttons were simple black, instead of the red roses the rest of the staff sported.

"You're not staff," Striker commented, getting to his feet, Primal immediately following suit with a growl.

In the time it took Striker to draw a line and Primal to vault over the table, three more non-staff members came through the door - these ones were armed with guns.

"Ballista, Logo, get Victim back to the limo and wait for us," Striker directed, deflecting a spray of bullets with his select tool, "As non-lethally as possible."

"You got it, sir," Ballista gave a salute and charged ahead, sword drawn, clearing a path for Logo and Victim to follow while Primal and Striker dealt with the initial ambush.

By the time Striker and Primal made it to the limo, Primal was only a little blood-soaked and her dress a little torn.

Logo sat in the driver's seat, the original grey driver unconscious in the chair next to him, while Ballista kept watch out of the sunroof.

"The driver was an impostor too. I'd appreciate it if you tied them up, please," Logo explained, starting the vehicle.

"Do you know how to drive a limo?" Victim asked as Striker tied up the driver as suggested and Primal joined Ballista, keeping watch out of the sunroof.

"Do I know how to drive a limo? Yes. Do I have a license for it? No," Logo laughed as they started moving.

--

The drive back to Victim's penthouse was quiet. They turned the driver over to Victim's security, "Are you sure you'll be alright on your own? How confident are you in your security?"

"...You know, maybe I should hire you for the occasional security detail too. But for tonight, I think I have it handled, though you all have clearly shown your aptitude," Ballista grinned with pride and Striker couldn't help his own proud smile. The team had done well tonight.

"Of course, we'll talk the contract over tomorrow, sir," Striker bowed, and nudging the others out.

"Primal, how'd you know there'd be assassins?" Ballista shook his head with a chuckle as they opened the gate and she shrugged with a little laugh of her own.

"Lucky guess."

"Hey guys, we didn't bring our car," Logo pointed out once the gate shut behind them.

"Dammit!"

[musicjester05]

Helluva Boss Character growth : slight spoiler warning ahead ⚠️⛔️Season 2 episode 2

Also some use of foul language!

the Characters I want to talk about are Blitzø, Moxie and Millie.

I just want to take a minute and look at the series as a whole. Just to realize just how much these characters have grown from the pilot episode to now.

Moxies and Blitzøs relationship

In the pilot episode we notice Moxies annoyance with Blitzø constantly barging in on the couples personal affairs. To which Blitzø doesn’t give a shit.

In episodes 1 through 5 Moxie and Blitzø the two have this roundabout constant mocking of each other. Moxie disrespects Blitzø and Blitzø makes fun of Moxie’s love life.

it’s not until episode 6 they begin to see eye to eye. It��s then we realize that deep down Blitzø really does respect moxie and his skills but he just wishes Moxie was more confident in what he does. It’s also at this point where Moxie finally begins to show some compassion for his boss.

From the point on , Blitzø is making his efforts to be included more on the down low. When He hears of the Couple going to Ozzie’s for their first anniversary he doesn’t go on to guilt trip Moxie or Millie. When Moxie sings his love song to Millie and begins to be harassed for it Blitzø goes out of his way to defend them. In Season 2 episode 2 Blitzø is having a talk with Loona, all while Moxie is giving him advice and support!

HUGE CONTRAST TO THE BEGINNING!!!!

the two are finally getting along and actually getting to know each other!

Pt 2: The Millie problem

If you have been with the Hazbin/Helluva Fandom you know there have been many critiques about Millie’s character not having enough depth. It’s my personal belief the Viz actually wanted that to happen. Allow me to explain, In Episode 7 we learn that Millie and Moxie have been married for 1 year. With that in mind I believe the reason Millie was nothing more then a supportive wife is because she and Moxie were going through the “Honeymoon Phase”. Now that our favorite couple have been married for a year I’d imagine the phase is beginning to wear off. And believe it or not but I believe we have some proof of it as well. Some key highlights to this theory is in Episode 5 and Season 2 episode 2.

episode 5 when we see Moxie trying to prove his worth to the in-laws Millie is being he typically loving self, later in the episode when Striker throws both Millie and Moxie in the basement, Millie gets stuck on a bear trap. After encouraging her husband she starts to show signs of impatience ( Although she was in a bear trap so I can’t blame the girl)

Season 2 episode 2 however when the group get to LA Moxie becomes a total sucker to everyone around him that claim to be artist. Moxie and Millie go through this whole subplot of singing songs to earn money to pay “artist” only to see Moxie become victim to anyone person. At the end where all the main issues have been resolved Millie is trying to get to the portal but Moxie is stuck trying to carry a giant bag of “art”. Millie becomes agitated and orders Moxie to march into the portal, at first moxie relents but Millie picks him up and away they go without all the junk they worked so hard for.

This is just an assumption but I’m thinking that in future episodes we will begin to see a more independent Millie when Moxie is away doing his own hyjinx.

[pixiesfz]

HI BBY

i was wondering if you could do something where jess is like infatuated w reader and her teammates tease her for being blushy around the reader all the time?!

Hey darlin, of course, I will write about Jess I have the fattest crush on her right now like literally think I would run away out of nerves if I ever saw her.

blushing beauty j.f

plot: Jessie seems to have a crush on y/n and everyone knows except you

warnings: nothing just kinda fluff but I write my warnings before actually writing the imagine so who tf knows whats going to happen

You were an unexpected player to join Chelsea, you had no drama at Manchester United and you played a lot of minutes on the field sometimes playing the full 90.

It could've been the way your Australian captain was begging you to join the blues as Steph did your best friend Kyra to Arsenal or it also could have been the fact that Chelsea were winners.

At least that's what the media thought.

But you were always wearing the blue shirt when you were little. Your mum told you that Chelsea was your favorite because it had a girl's name.

So when you posted the photo of your signing next to a childhood photo of you in the blue kit and your face painted as you sat next to your TV watching the boys play the media shut up about your 'team hopping' ways and thought it was cute instead.

You were now in fame after the world cup after all, everyone had different opinions about you.

But when you started playing with the team you knew you had made the right decision. Sam made you feel comfortable straight away and Millie was becoming your favorite partner to run defending drills with as she would always just pick you up over her shoulder and run away.

You remember that photo of training went viral on tik tok as well as a photo you weren't aware of.

It was of you and Jessie at the drink bottle station You looked like you were explaining something and Jessie was looking at you in awe.

"J Flem!" Sam called out to the Canadian as you were all out at a team bonding session, it was December and you had been with the Chelsea club for a couple of months now.

"In the kitchen!" Sam yelled as the Australian came over to her "where's y/n?" she asked and Jessie blushed "oh my god" Sam groaned "what?" Jessie said "I say her name and you blush"

"No I don't" Jessie rolled her eyes "You are blushing right now" Sam said and Jessie just looked down "Is it that obvious?" and Niamh walked in "To everybody except her" Niamh told her best friend "What do you mean everybody knows?" Jessie now whispered and Sam and the the English girl looked at eachother.

"You look at her with those lovey eyes whenever you two are together" Sam pointed out "no I don't" Jessie said and Sam pulled out the training photo on her phone and Jessie put her mouth into an 'o' shape "that is like the only thing" she said, trying to defend herself.

"You turn red whenever she speaks to you, let alone touches you" Niamh said "name one time when?" Jessie said and Niamh told the story of her first 90 minute game.

You were nervous to play the full 90 minutes, when Emma told you your heart started beating really fast and you weren't sure if you were going to have a heart attack.

It was against Manchester United and Sam was injured so you were playing the role of Striker. The reactions of the crowds whenever you had a touch on the ball were horrendous, the United fans obviously not happy that you left their club.

Slurs, boo's, cat-calling you name it and it was flying at you from the red side.

But it only made your desire to score grow.

Jessie was in the midfield, grossed out and mad at the disgusting fans, ( as were almost all the players on the field ) if anything she made it her plan to get you a screamer.

And she did in the 34th minute.

She found her footing with the ball as she was entering the middle, she watched as you created space before your player lost you for a second and she shot you a long pass.

You bounced it from your chest to your feet before you dribbled to the corner and smashed the ball with your left foot with hopefully enough power to get it past the goal keeper.

You seemed to watch it in slow motion as it went just over Mary Earps fingertips and swooshed into the net before the Chelsea girls ran towards you in cheers.

You yelled out a cheer as you turned to Jessie who made her way over, you grabbed out to her and gave her a fast kiss on the cheek "I really needed that you groaned as you squeezed her tight.

Unbeknownst to you, Jessie's face turned crimson red and Niamh swore she was the same colour as her Canada jersey.

"Yeah- I- I uhm Yeah good job!" she whispered out and swore to herself.

Good job?

"Couldn't have done it without your assist!" you smiled brightly before running back to your position, running past your ex team mate and still good friend Ella who shot you a look.

"What?" you asked and she shook her head "Oh my- you are dumb y/n" she rolled her eyes and you just smiled, still ecstatic over your goal which ended up leading Chelsea to their victory.

Jessie looked to her friend as she told the story in the kitchen as Millie Bright walked in "Oooh are we telling stories of how Jessie is like in love with y/n?" she smiled and Jessie opened her mouth "Can we stop" she urged "y/n could be here soon" she urged and the three of them laughed.

"What about when Jessie thought she was on a date with Alessia Russo?" Sam asked and the three laughed, match to the Canadians dismay "Oh please don't remind me she was sulking around the apartment for days" Niamh groaned.

It was after one of your National camps and Alessia and Ella were free to come to one of your Chelsea games. You hadn't seen them in ages since both you and Alessia had left United, which Ella never let you two forget.

"Ahh it's the second betrayer!" she screamed out after the match as they came down onto the pitch "Hey Tooney" you smiled as she hugged you and then you turned to Alessia "I assume she's been talking ya ear off" you laughed and she smiled "at least I was cheering you on" Ella said and you hugged Alessia "missed you Less" you said into her shoulder.

"Who's the brunette looking at us funny?" Ella asked and you turned around to see Jessie who quickly looked away after being caught "Oh that's Jessie" you smiled brightly "she's really nice, let me introduce her" you said and you ran up to her.

Ella looked at Alessia "Did you see her smile go 'pop'" she laughed and Alessia hummed in agreement "She's happy" she agreed and they smiled, knowing that you were doing better at Chelsea then what you were for United.

When you returned with a red Jessie Alessia and Ella introduced themselves "I know- I mean y/n talks about you guys a lot" she said and she looked away out of discomfort, after a small conversation Ella looked at her watch "I got to go" she said and you all said your goodbyes, you were walking away when Alessia called out to you.

"We still on for tonight?" she yelled and you nodded "of course" you yelled back.

Jessie looked down from next to you, assuming you were going on a date with the girl "What's tonight?" she asked out of curiosity "We're going out to dinner then watching a movie at the new drive in" you shrugged "oh" was all Jessie said before she scurried off quickly.

"It's not a date or any-" you said but saw the brunette no where in sight "Jessie?"

Niamh laughed as she remembered Jessie's face "Guys c'mon" Jessie moaned to her three friends.

Millie piped up this time "Why don't you just ask the girl on a date?" she asked and Jessie looked down "because she doesn't feel the same" "How do you know that?" Sam asked and Jessie shrugged

"I just know, she could be straight as well I don't even know" she sighed as she started cutting up the cucumber for the salad.

"Well I know for a fact that she's not straight" Sam said "after a camp we went clubbing and I can for sure say that-" after looking at Jessies face she stopped talking "she- she likes girls" Sam shrugged.

"But I think you should go for it" she said and Jessie stopped cutting the cucumber to look up at the Australia "You just said she hooked up with someone like a couple of weeks ago and you're telling me to ask her out" she asked like it was the stupidest thing in the world.

"Trust me" was all Sam said as she remembered back to the night.

All the Matilda's were in a cramped bar and you were in the corner on your phone waiting for a good morning text from Jessie as it was morning where she was.

"Whacha looking at?" Sam asked and you closed your phone quickly "nothing" you hummed before you looked at the shot Sam had brang over for you "thanks" you murmured before throwing it down your throat.

You felt watched before you looked to your side and saw a girl with short brown hair watching you "she is totally checking you out" Sam said before pushing you forward "Sam!" you cursed before you almost fell into the girl.

"Sorry" you apologized and she smirked "can I get you a drink?" she asked and you looked at her closely.

She looked like Jessie.

"sure".

You forgot her name in the first twenty minutes before you found yourselves stuck in the corner of the club, it was insane how much she looked like Jessie at the moment, maybe that was why you were attracted to her.

Then her lips where on hers, your drunken thoughts took over as she took dominance

"jessie" you moaned before the feeling stopped and you opened your eyes.

"Who the fucks Jessie?"

You widened your eyes before you ran out of the club and grabbed Sam with you who was in a discussion with Mackenzie and Caitlin.

"Woah y/n/n" she said with a laugh before she saw your state "what's wrong?" she asked and you shook your head "I think I like Jessie" you admitted and Sam rose her brows "how-"

"I moaned out her name whilst I was kissing that girl" you practically shouted with your hands on your head and Sam grabbed you "okay I think it's time to go home, can't have a gay Chrysis in public"

It was in the cab ride when Sam turned to you "you really moaned out her name?" she asked only to be met with your glare.

"You are not helping Sam" Jessie said as she washed the cutting board "y/n will probably never like me and I'll just be awkward and apparently blush whenever she speaks to me" she said with her back to everyone.

"I think it's cute when you blush Jess"

Jessie's posture straightened at the sound of your voice as Sam smirked and Niamh and Millie opened their mouths out of amazement.

"Uh you heard that?" Jessie asked as she slowly turned around to see you at the door with bags of chips in your hands, Jessie was blushing madly and you heard it "I've been here for a little bit actually" you admitted and placed the chips on the table before looking at the three girls who were sitting down "can we-"

"yep!"

"see ya later"

"Do it!"

You gave Sam a pointed look as she left and she gave you both a thumbs up.

You closed the door behind them and turned to Jess who still hadn't moved. You stepped towards her "earth to Jessie" you smiled and waved your hand in her face and she turned her head "sorry" she apologized "what for?" you asked and she looked down

"I uhm I don't- I don't know" she admitted and you laughed "Jessie" you said and she looked up at you "It's fine if you don't like me back" she said and your smile brightened "hey who said I didn't like you back" you told her and she looked up at you.

"You do?" she asked "don't act so surprised" you smiled and she smiled as well "well what do we do know?" she asked and you stepped towards her "Well I say we go on a date, finally spend some time together which don't have our team mates at the door listening"

Millie opened the door "how did you know?" she asked and you turned to Jessie with a smirk.

"I know everything".

[spotofimagines]

Rivals Last ~ Jadon Sancho

A/N: So I had this in my drafts before he signed with man united but that's fine, we move, we adapt. A third piece for the @footballffbarbiex summer challenge. Hope you enjoy it :)

Warnings: none - reader is female

Summary: You love both your brothers dearly, but being in the football world with them can make some things a little complicated.

gif by @archivesbvb - gif by @ermuellert - gif by @italynt

Being a footballer meant living in a special world. Being in a footballing family meant living in a special world too. Being the younger sister of Lucas and Theo Hernandez meant living in a really special world. But nobody told you just how crazy it would be for all three of those things to apply to you.

You truly love watching your older brothers play football. They teach you something new during every match you see; even though you play as a striker, their movements and handling of the ball always inspire you to play better. After all, it was their defensive skills that helped you become a good goal scorer growing up since they never let a tackle go unchallenged in the park and you had to find out how to manoeuvre around them. A lot easier said than done.

Currently Lucas is signed with Bayern Munich. In his time there so far, he has learnt the heritage, history, and importance of wearing the badge and defending its honour in every match they play, especially derbies. Having supported Lucas, it quickly became easy for you to support Bayern Munich too and celebrate their victories like it was your own team. You'd always managed to do it with the clubs both your brothers played for, letting the atmosphere of the fanbase carry you away.

You have just finished your second season in England with Manchester City women's team. You'd settled in nicely now, having learnt a lot of the English language and culture already. The experience was made so much easier because of the help given by your welcoming teammates and the staff that translated things into French and Spanish during your first months there.

Fans were a little disappointed during the 2019 summer transfer window when it was confirmed all three Hernandez siblings would be leaving Spain to play separately in England, Germany and Italy, joking that no one could know what might happen with you all so far away. However, to you, it made things easier, as Lucas and Theo would stop making so many awful jokes about each other's clubs, only to join forces to diss your club even more afterward. Now the only connection you have to the clubs you all play for is the want for your sibling to win with them. And it is a great feeling. A welcome change of pace.

But no new change to your life felt as good as your blossoming "relationship", situationship, whatevership, you have with Jadon Sancho.

It all started with you flirting back and forth on social media, which turned itself into countless hours of DMs no one else could see. You congratulated his goals and he congratulated your wins. All the light-hearted teasing and the warm-hearted compliments stayed in your own little bubble. The only thing peeking out was your silly inside rule that if you were going to comment on a post, it had to be emojis only, stretching to a few words if you really couldn't help yourself - but it would earn you taunts from the other for the rest of the night.

Some eagle-eyed fans noticed how you'd been liking each other's posts every time they appeared for a while now, but it just added to the fun and thrill you got from flirting with him so much.

You weren't meant to be forming a bond with Jadon. He played for your brother’s rival. He was supposed to be the enemy. Someone you should dislike with a snap of your fingers. Certainly not a boy to fall for like you have.

You couldn't help yourself. Lucas and Theo had helped you since you moved to England by being the steady rocks they always were, cheering you on from afar. Your new teammates had helped you since you moved to England by introducing fun things for you all to do together and taking you under their wings. But Jadon had helped you in a different kind of way. He gave you a new kind of comfort and reassurance when you talked. He became someone to turn to with all your interesting news and your curious problems. He told you the good places to visit around the city that he remembered from his time there and taught you English slang to make your teammates laugh. You spoke three languages to varying degrees now, and you'd managed to pick up more German vicariously through Lucas in two years faster than Jadon had done living in Germany in four years, so you'd clue him into rude German phrases you had asked Lucas about, alongside the French and Spanish swear words he used more often than English ones now when you text. 

Even though a language barrier comes up once in a while, you have both learnt behaviours from each other and crave the contact you share. Jadon was starting to drop everything to send replies to you, a change his teammates have noticed and jokingly mock him for. Little did they know the unknown girl they joke he is smitten over is the sister of their rival.

Theo is the one in your family you usually tell about the boys you go out with; boyfriends and dates have been shared with him since you were 13 and doting on your first crush. He does the same with his girlfriends; asking advice and telling you more than you need to know at times. So, when you all went home for a bit of family time around Christmas, nothing could stop him from noticing the tell-tale signs that you had something going on. He already figured out through persistence that it was another player you were getting involved with, and his insistent questioning hasn't stopped in his search for who the player is.

But you keep it hidden from Lucas, and you don't know when you'll tell him. He has been your protector since you were kids, comforting you on sad nights when no one else was there, teaching you little secrets about how to navigate through the world, he even punched a boy who teased you once at school. The idea of telling him you were chatting romantically to another player would be trouble enough, but telling him it was a Dortmund player might just end up in another schoolground incident. You hadn't wanted Theo to know for fear he'd go dishing your dirt to Lucas, but he discovered it on his own and there was nothing you could do.

Who knows what might become of this thing you have with Jadon, and lord knows your eldest brother owns a hard as nails death stare that just might do Jadon in, but for now you actually quite like having the secret. A little mystery tucked away up your sleeve.

The rush you always get when Lucas calls your phone as you're typing a text to the Englishman,  feeling as though the first words from the other end will be shouts of how he knows everything and he'll never speak to you again for keeping it a secret, fills you with dread at times. But it never is the reason he calls, and it turns out he is just making plans or has something funny to tell you. But the way your heart thumps as you go back to texting Jadon, that is part of the chase you have to admit you enjoy.

Hardcore fans online have noticed the past few months that when you do interviews in English, the odd slang term comes up during jokes - terms you hadn't used before and stem more from London boroughs than northen towns - so speculation of how you'd learnt these things easily coincided with dating rumors.

Lucas had seen the speculation online; seen fans trying to put your interactions with the Dortmund player together through both your instagram stories and comments and the tweets you both had liked about the other. Lucas had even grown suspicious of the little questions you asked him about Germany, German phrases and his lifestyle there, not knowing why you would need nor want to know those things. But Lucas doesn't believe it. He knows that you know better to mix with a Dortmund boy.

Sometimes an older brother just doesn't get it quite right…

Soon, the chance will come to really see if your connection is something you can build on. Jadon's new signing with Manchester United has been confirmed and he will be moving back to England. It is a great opportunity to get to see him more often, rather than the odd rendezvous point or clandestine trip during small breaks in the season. You'll spend more time face to face instead of over the phone. You'll get to wake up in his bed and him in yours, without needing to sneak away from hotel rooms afterwards. You'll maybe even get to go on a proper date, just the two of you, where you can flirt across the table your joined hands rest upon. Hanging out with Jadon won't be the first time you've spent time together in person. However, getting a full day with only the two of you where you won't have to pretend you hardly know who he is, and you won't have to pretend your eyes aren't meeting across the group of people you're in - it fills your stomach with knots and butterflies.

A certain pressure has fallen off you now Jadon has no growing rivalry with Lucas, but not completely. You won't be able to take back the way their teams made the other feel in the past, but the fact there won't be more of it next season comforts you a little. The biggest thing that will hold you back from going public before the new season starts will be the media, but that is an issue you can't even begin to worry about yet. You are too caught up in the excitement of being in the same town as Jadon to care. Rumours are spinning crazier than ever about you two as some of your liked tweets about his move got reposted by sports pages and fan blogs - now joking about him being your rival instead of your brother's - and yet it didn't stop you, no longer all that bothered about keeping a low profile now you both will be living away from Lucas. If he gets mad, all he will be able to do is shout down the phone, and whilst you never want that to happen, you know the time to flourish with Jadon and capitalise on the foundation you have already built is better than ever, brothers be damned.

There are big changes coming for the both of you, yet one thing will remain the same no matter the outcome of your relationship. You can't quite stop being football rivals.

[mi6-cafe]

WEEK 2 DRABBLES ARE HERE!

Now, let’s refresh your memory.

For the second week of LDWS, our true l- our writers were asked to write a drabble between 150 and 200 words, based on the word deck from the point of view of an outsider.

THEY DID SUCH A GREAT JOB!

(this is a purely illustrative gif of an outside observer of the goings on at Q’s flat, not a prompt)

READ THE DRABBLES AND VOTE!

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Read the drabbles below the line.

#1

Title: Eulogy for the Aston Martin Author: Misha / artsytarts Warnings: Canon Typical Violence (mainly directed at vehicles) Summary: Around 007, life and death go hand in hand.

The moment I leave solid ground and fly, pointed directly at the deck of the ship, I know my life is forfeit.

I realize now why the other machines pitied me after I was assigned to the man they call 007. I see his blue eyes blazing as he concentrates, gripping my steering wheel. They say he’s careless, but judging from the few days I’ve carried him, I know different. He’s not careless. His destruction is calculated. Only once I was obsolete, once he depleted my ammunition, blew my doors off, and pushed my motor to breaking point did he make his decision: To use me as his missile.

I count the milliseconds as the deck rushes towards me. Without a word, 007 pushes the ejector button and I fling him out into the open air, out into safety and freedom.

I am to be his sacrifice.

Before I hit the ship to perish in a blaze, I decide: I have no use for resentment. Like so many machines before me, I have granted him life.

That must count for something.

#2

Title: All In Author: sorion Warnings: none Summary: Bond is handy with cards, and Felix likes to watch.

There are few things as satisfying as watching James Bond clean a table in poker. Felix has learned that pretty much the moment he's met Bond, and the entertainment value hasn't changed in the years that have passed.  

On the contrary: Felix has learned some of Bond's tells. Not the kind of tells that would let him win against the insufferably unbeatable agent, but Felix recognises the spark that lights up in Bond's eyes, only seconds before he wipes the confident smirk off an opponent's face with a winning hand.  

Another thing he can see is whether Bond enjoys the game for its own sake or just really hates one of the other players. He knows it's the latter when the opponent asks for a rematch and offers the deed to a hotel in lieu of liquid funds, and Bond agrees, provided that they use a new, unopened deck of cards.  

The opponent blanches near imperceptibly, and Felix smirks into his drink. Oh, yes. Very satisfying.

#3

Title: Voyeuristic Displeasure Author: sunaddicted Warnings: none Summary: seeing everything is not so fun

Bond's hands were big and rough, stronger than they had any right to be.

He had been observing them with varying degrees of interest over the years, stuck behind his computers or out in the field - air straining in his lungs with the knowledge that the other's life depended on how fast and how smart he could be.

He watched Bond strut along the deck, hand poised low on someone's lower back, head tilted down in a way that suggested he was focusing on whatever he was being told, seemingly enraptured in them - Bond played the part well but he knew what signs to look for, to spot the seams of the almost perfect façade: he darted glances around, favoring his right side, trying to keep under the eye of the cameras that he knew to be in friendly hands.

The hand slipped lower, fingers teasingly dipping beneath the edge of the brightly colored bathing suit his companion was wearing - shameless.

Almost teasing.

He stood up with a weary sigh, empty mug held aloft: he was going to need a strongly brewed cup of tea, if he had to watch Bond flirt his way into another bed.

#4

Title: International Man Of Mystery Author: Merc / moon_of_mercury Warnings: none Summary: Some players never make it to places like Casino Royale. Others... acquire nice cars on the way.

She has encountered many interesting characters in her career, some more remarkable than others. Poker tends to attract extraordinary people. It isn’t always easily definable: something about this man arrests her attention the moment he walks up to the table, asking to join the game even though she’s already cutting the deck. 

He flashes a cocky smile at everyone, reads his opponents like a professional, and pleads with her to let the unlucky Mr. Dimitrios bet his car to win his money back. She complies, amused. Such self-sufficient arrogance would be offending if not for his friendly politeness. The way he eyes the man’s wife is not mere casual interest either. Those intense ice-blue eyes have already seen every opportunity. His body language may seem relaxed, but there’s an awareness in his movements that hints at explosive potential underneath the calm surface. 

For an exhilarating moment, she revels in being a part of this man’s story. It’s as clear as day that he’s used to playing for much higher stakes. She wonders what the real prize here is.

Dimitrios has lost again even before this stranger shows his cards. Men like him bend luck to their will. 

#5

Title: Crossroads Author: Hexiva Warnings: None Summary: James Bond visits a fortune teller.

The man’s cold blue eyes look past Serenity as he steps into her fortune-telling tent, and she shivers. His aura is like ice, a vast glacier with life frozen deep down inside it. He reminds her of a mobster from some old movie, wealthy but brutal. 

“What do you want to learn?” she asks.

“The future,” he says, distractedly. She follows his eyes to a bearded man standing at the high striker, speaking in Russian. 

She shuffles her deck. “There are two paths before everyone,” she says. “This choice is yours.” She draws two. “First path - The Lovers, the Star. Companionship and connection bringing hope. Choose the Lovers' path, and you will find a new beginning. A second chance.”

“And the other?” he asks. His tone is flat and apathetic. He doesn't believe in hope.

She draws again.  “The Emperor, the Hermit, both reversed. Rigidity and repression bringing isolation and misery. Choose the Emperor's path and you will end up alone.”

But the man is looking past her at the Russian, and he stands. “Thanks." A wry little smile. "But I think I already know what path I’m on.”

She watches him go. In his shadow, she sees the Emperor.

#6

Title: Observation Deck Author: Anyawen Warnings: none Summary: Mallory and Tanner contemplate employee relations.

Mallory surveyed the scene before him, sipping his scotch and trying, fruitlessly, to tune out the horrid rendition of 'Deck the Halls' playing overhead.

"We should do something about that," Tanner said, coming to stand beside him.

"About what?"

"That," Tanner replied, gesturing in the direction of Bond and Q. "Them."

The Quartermaster, decked out in a horrible Christmas jumper, looked exasperated. Bond, naturally, looked smug. They appeared to have entirely forgotten the holiday party happening around them as they argued. Flirted. Whatever.

"Trying to stop that from happening would be an exercise in rearranging deckchairs on the Titanic," Mallory said with a bemused smile. "Utterly futile."

"I don't want to discourage them," Tanner protested as Q cracked an unwilling smile at something Bond said.

"What, then?"

"A little push? Mistletoe? Lock them in a closet?" Tanner suggested hopefully.

"That might be construed as stacking the deck in your favor," Mallory observed mildly.

"You know about the bet?" Tanner spluttered as Q stole Bond's champagne glass and drained it to Bond's mock outrage.

"Spy," Mallory explained succinctly.

Tanner nodded wry acknowledgement.

They continued their silent observations a few minutes more, then Tanner asked, "What day did you pick?"

"April first."

#7

Title: Nighttime Invasion Author: SouffleGirl91 Warnings: vague references to blood, swearing Summary: Q’s cat is not impressed by 3am visitors

Thunk.

A crumpled heap hit the floor. She hissed, tail bushy, ready to pounce on the intruder.

“Oof!”

Gunpowder Man was invading her space.

Again.

“Q?” Gunpowder Man whisper-shouted. He sounded different. “Are you awake?”

Something dark dripped from his nose.

She sniffed cautiously. He stank of copper and salt. Still, it was better than the strong, sour reek of last time.

A light came on in Father’s bedroom.

Gunpowder Man lifted himself up and wobbled to the sofa. Walking on two legs seemed harder for him than usual.

“Bond?” Father came traipsing up behind him, making the room light up. “What the fuck? It’s 3 in the bloody morning. You couldn’t wait?”

“What, you’re not happy to see me?” Gunpowder Man used the false-happy tone Father used when he tricked her into The Basket.

Another dark drip.

“Don’t be stupid,” Father tsked, petting Gunpowder Man softly on the shoulder. That should help; Father gave the best pets. “Why don’t I put the - Christ, Bond! What happened to your nose?”

“It’s not broken. She hit me when I told her I was staying.”

“I thought psychologists were meant to keep their cool,” Father sighed. “Come on, let’s clean you up.”

#8

Title: A confession of a deck Author: scarytheory Warnings: none Summary: James Bond would be lost without me.

I'd like to think that James and I are not just colleagues, but friends.

You know, we’ve been through a lot together. Cottages in forgotten lands, first-class casinos, important fights – I’d always been with him and helped him along the way.

But this game is different.

“That’s not fair, James,” the opponent says, watching his stack of cards.

“I’m not cheating, Q.”

The opponent snorts. “You may be the best player the MI6’s ever had, but even you can’t be THAT good, 007. Aces again? That’s not very subtle.”

“You were the one who said poker is just basic math and all about the art of reading people. So stop whinging and take off your shirt.”

Beg your pardon?

There is something disturbing in the air. I don’t think I want to give the good cards to James anymore. “Happy?”

The shirt falls to the floor.

“Immensely.”

The next round, Q loses his pants. I’m starting to think that this isn’t even about poker!

“I won.”

Finally, it’s over and I can relax again. Even though I’m not sure what this young lad can have that James Bond would be interested in… oh.

#9

Title: Camouflage Author: IrishWitch58 Warnings: None Summary: A certain agent and their partner are in the field. The local perspective.

Grace's eyes were drawn to her first customers on the deck overlooking the harbor. They were as unlike as could be but Grace would have known they were together with just a glance. The subtle leaning in, the eye contact, the briefest brush of a hand. Not honeymooners but the established kind of connection that took time and patience. The younger man was dark and slender and had a tan that was honey gold. The older one was broader and blond and that one sent tingles up her spine. Her brother and his military buddies were like that, poised and watchful. She didn't see a weapon but suspected he was armed. They'd arrived three days ago in a beautifully restored vintage sailboat, walking the less traveled portions of the island.

Passing Grace, Mimi muttered “Spies posing as tourists.”

Gracie scoffed at Mimi's imagination. What were they spying on here, conch recipes? Then a new boat dropped anchor. The blond saw it first and the dark haired one checked the tablet he always seemed to have before nodding and finishing his chowder.

The pretty sailboat pulled up anchor the next dawn and the new boat was found derelict two days later.

#10

Title: Missing Him Author: Nana-chan Warnings: Summary: Austen the cat watches as her human pines for the Blond One

From her perch on the living room sofa, Austen looks disapprovingly at her bespectacled human. He is out on the deck again, smoking and no doubt pining for the Blond One. He is a relatively new addition to the household and has been gone for several days now, as is his habit. Keats—that dummy—misses him, too, as he meows and gazes forlornly at the front door.

She herself is unsure of the Blond One, but she doesn’t like it when her human is all sad and distracted, reeking of cigarette smoke and unresponsive to feline overtures of comfort. She feels powerless to help him. How did one man become so essential to her human’s happiness?

Then a key turns, the door opens, and there he is. The Blond One dumps his bag in the foyer and heads straight for the deck, pausing only to give her a brief head scritch. She watches as he folds her human into his arms and starts grooming him in that strange way humans have, with their mouths fused.

She hears her human laugh, gladness and relief evident in his tones, and finally, she makes up her mind about the Blond One.

#11

Title: Origin of a Voyeur Author: stormofsharpthings Warnings: none Summary: There was a legitimate reason to start going through all the Q Branch security footage, dammit!

After the small accidental volcano destroyed lab 7b, no one could recall who’d last checked the fire suppression system. Exasperated, R pulled up the security videos in hopes of spotting someone. The recording of Q and 007 was entirely unrelated, but she just couldn’t look away.

Q had been helping Bond dress for some formal event, tuxedo carefully tailored to conceal the equipment Q was arranging around his body. The scene resembled a squire helping his knight, except...

R bit her lip at the way Q stroked his fingertips down the front of Bond’s suit to check the drape of the fabric, evading Bond’s hungry gaze with a sly little quirk to his mouth. Then Q leaned close, reaching around to run his hands over the back of the jacket, lingering a little over Bond’s well-proportioned backside before he sank to one knee and brushed along the sides of the trousers.

“There, all decked out,” Q murmured.

Bond reached down to cradle Q’s chin in his hand and Q looked up with a provocative lick of his lips, the heat almost visibly simmering between them. Bond took a deep breath, his fingers tightening, and Q ‘s eyes widened and then slid shut as he turned to brush his lips against Bond’s thumb. When Bond made a low rough sound, both Q and Rani swallowed at the same time.

Then the outer office door slammed and she hurriedly shut her computer down, blushing. But she saved a private copy first.

#12

Title: The Bet Author: Venstar Warnings: none Summary: Bets are made, there will be blood.

Oh, yes. It was going to happen. The tension was palpable in the room, yes he said palpable in his interior monologue. Just fucking get closer. Do it already. He was going to win that bet today by fuck. He leaned forward in anticipation, eyes locked on target. Yes. Yes….Keep going...almost….

*AH-OOH-GA!! AH-OOH-GAH!! AH-OOH-GAH!!*

Fuck, goddammit. Not again! He narrowed his eyes. There was no way another attack by water was happening. Dammit. Fake or not they were going to have to clear the god damned building. He sighed heavily as he turned sad eyes back to where 007 and Q had been quietly eyeing each other. They were gone. “What the fuck?” Where? There! The orange of Q’s cardigan turned a corner.  He was not about to lose the 'THEY FINALLY MADE OUT DAY' be! He ignored the rest of Q’branch’s leads as they ordered the evacuation.

“Davis?”

Fuck. It was R.

“And just where are you going? Exit is that way.”

He turned with hunched shoulders to find R smiling at him. Her eyes flitted past him to where Q and 007 had disappeared to. “THAT bet will only be won when it’s officially my day.”

#13

Title: Specs and the Lady Author: solarmorrigan Warnings: None. Summary: Louis has been a bartender for a long time, but occasionally patrons can still surprise him.

The Friday night crowd seethes around the bar in waves, laughing and calling out their orders. Louis has been a bartender a long time, which means he can keep up with the steady roll of vodka-tonic-scotch-and-soda-bottle-bottle-pint and still keep an eye on the floor for trouble.

Trouble like the man in specs and a loud jumper bumping into an over-drunk man in a worn football jersey, spilling both their drinks.

Specs’ mouth forms the word ‘sorry,’ but Jersey isn’t having it. He grabs Specs’ jumper, but before Louis can even call for Paul—their unofficial bouncer-bartender—a lady slides in between them, curly hair and cunning eyes, and pulls Jersey’s hand away.

Jersey shoves the lady, and viper-quick, she decks him. Jersey goes down.

Louis lets out a surprised laugh. The lady looks quite pleased. Specs looks exasperated, though Louis doesn’t know why; if he had someone like that in his corner, all squared shoulders and terrifying heels, he’d be delighted. Then again, from Specs’ half-laughing attempt at chastisement that carries in the surprised lull in noise (“Really, Eve?”), this isn’t the first time it’s happened.

“Just take Jersey out,” Louis bids as Paul moves in, “Specs and the lady are fine.”

#14

Title: Eyes on You Author: oldestcharm Warnings: n/a Summary: The Quartermaster is enjoying his afternoon and Bond is far too concerned about his garden.

She's good at her job. So good, in fact, that she's currently hidden from sight with her scope right on MI6's Quartermaster himself. He's sitting on the deck of his house, enjoying the sunny weather with a girly drink in one hand and a laptop resting on his thighs. He's typing furiously, paying no attention to his surroundings. All she has to do is take one shot.  

Then, the sprinklers turn on.  

She does her best to not make a sound even as her phone buzzes.

4:27 pm:

There are over twenty cameras on the property.

4:28 pm:

I suggest you get out of my hydrangea bush. James worked rather hard on the garden and he won't be pleased to find you there.

A click behind her — probably a gun. "You've ruined my garden."

She turns around and finds herself face to face with the legendary agent. She cringes. "I'm... very sorry?"

Bond does not look amused. "You're fixing this before you leave."

"You're not going to kill me?" she asks, heart pounding.

"Q wants you for his team." Bond sighs, looking more annoyed than anything. "Either you accept or I'll shoot you."

Well, it's not exactly a choice.

#15

Title: Over It Author: MrKsan / starrboned Warnings: Canon-Typical language Summary: Tanner is nervous.

Ferrying through the maze of the Thames tunnels was often a nerve-wracking job. More so when his passengers were nervous. More so when it was the Chief of Staff who was sitting across from him, restless, tap-tap-tapping on his cardboard box.

Tanner gave Jack an awkward smile as they docked, climbing the narrow ladder just as the Quartermaster stormed into view.

“I’m going to skin the twat alive, Bill!“ he hissed, making Tanner stumble to a stop. “Didn’t even try to cover his tracks.”

Jack grinned. Only one man could piss Q off that much.

Tanner sighed, resigned. “I’ll inform M-”

“Already did,” Q huffed.

"Oh?"

"Not risking my career for him again, Bill."

Jack dared a peek at the couple; the conversation was taking an unexpected turn.

Tanner blinked, once, twice, before seeming to come to a decision. He shoved the cardboard box at Q.

“Thought we could share breakfast, since our dinner last night was interrupted? Bad timing, of course- ”

"Bill,” Q said, and Jack saw the silver of a smirk. "I would love to."

Pulling a crumpled cigarette from under his heavy coat, Jack couldn't help but grin to himself.

MI6 and their drama.

Go vote!

[wrathstricken]

character tags

[footballfanfictions]

The thrill of the chase - Chapter One

Pairings: Mason Mount/OC, Ben Chilwell/OC

Warnings: None for now but you know me, I like a little smut here and there...

-------------------------------------------------

"If I have to edit and upload one more post about golden boy, I'm going to scream" I groaned, rubbing my temples. It's not even 10am on Monday morning and I already want to quit my job.

Brianna is sat on a chair, flipping through a magazine opposite my desk, and although her job doesn't require her to be in an office, she spends most of her time here.

"At least your job involves more than just washing and folding sweaty socks with your dad." She mused.

I rolled my eyes at her. She didn't quite get how annoying it is to be a graphic designer and social media manager that is only given the same images to work with over and over. My eyes flick back to my computer screen and the grinning Male on it. He isn't completely unattractive but him being a footballer and what all the praise he has been getting lately must be doing to his ego was enough to put me off. I would go as far as to say I disliked the guy.

"So if you don't like Mason, who do you watch from this window?" Bri was suddenly up on her feet and standing at my office window. It was floor to ceiling and had a good view of the training complex and sliding door access. The office had used to belong to Jose Mourinho both times he had been the manager here, shunning the actual managers office for one where he could see the pitches clearer. The first team trained about 5ft from where she was standing and if one of them were to look up from their drills they would see her staring out at them.

I pulled her away from the window by her arm.

"I don't sit here looking out of the window all the time, I have a job to do"

Occasionally, if I was on a particularly boring phone call I would let my eyes wander over to the window just to see what they were up to, but never watched any one player in particular. I didn't even know who some of the new faces were.

"Personally I think all the ones around our age are really hot -" Bri then started listing the names off and it sounded like she named the entire 23 man squad by the time she was finished.

We were then interrupted by a knock on my office door and Bri's father Dave stuck his head round it and said "sorry to interrupt girls but Bri and I have some kits to organise." He looked more amused than angry, being pretty used to his daughter avoiding her duties by now. "You wouldn't mind bringing us two of those fancy coffees of yours would you Katie?" He asked.

One of the other perks of having Jose's old office was the coffee machine. He had it installed and compared to the muck that came out of the cafeteria's coffee machines, it produced gold.

"Will do." I replied as Bri scurried over to her father and out of the door.

I decided coffee delivery was a good way to get out of having to stare at all the social media channels for a few minutes.

Once the coffees were made I tipped them from the plastic cups into two mugs from the cupboard beneath the machine, it felt nicer to take them to my friend and her dad that way.

It was tricky negotiating opening my office door with each hand occupied by a steaming hot mug, but I managed to nudge it open with a combination of my elbow and the heel of my shoe. I was just praising myself internally for getting the door open when something knocked into the side of me, tipping the contents of the mug into my right hand over whatever it had been.

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry."

I looked up from the hallway carpet which I was worried was stained with coffee, into the smiling face of someone wearing a training kit.

"No that was me, shit sorry. Have I just poured boiling hot coffee all over the star striker or something? Marina will kill me." I put both of the mugs down on the floor and ran back into my office, coming back out a few seconds later with a wad of tissues. I tried to dab the stain on his top with the tissues but they were pretty useless and he knew it too because he put his hand over mine to stop me.

"Don't worry about it love, I'm not star striker, I'm just the left back."

He didn’t seem mad about having coffee thrown all over him. Being a footballer I was half expecting him to throw a fit and go all ‘do you know who I am?’. But he didn’t. Instead, he gave me the nicest smile.

“Please let me get you another training shirt at least? I was just heading to the kit room with the coffees.” I balled up the wad of tissues and put them in the bin in the hallway just to the side of us and picked the mug that I hadn’t dropped back up. Brianna would have to go without and it served her right really for avoiding her job for most of the morning.

“Alright then.” He agreed. “Lead the way, I haven’t been here long, so not sure where to go if I’m honest.”

“Oh right yeah, of course.” I pretended like I knew who he was and that he had only just signed, unsure of whether he could actually tell that I had no idea. He probably did know that as I asked if he was the star striker, when in fact he’s a left back.

He followed me silently down the corridor to the kit room. I knocked once before entering.

“Is that you Katie?” Dave called from inside.

“No, it’s Starbucks” I laughed.

He opened the door, a pair of socks slung over his shoulder.

“Cheers love, come in.” He said.

I looked back at the footballer behind me and gestured for him to follow.

“I had a bit of an accident on the way here Dave and ended up pouring Brianna’s all over…” I was about to ask his name when Dave cut me off.

“Ben Chilwell! I was so chuffed that you’d signed. It’s about time we got an English core to this team back. God Katie did do a number on your shirt didn’t she?” he laughed, clapping Ben on the back, before he went over to a stack of the blue and white training tops.

Ben. Yeah he looked like a Ben. Undeniably he was quite handsome. I saw Brianna out of the corner of my eye, she was sat gawping at him with her mouth half open.

I tried to gesture to Brianna that she needed to put her tongue back in her mouth. She seemed to get the hit and straightened the way she was sat, playing it cool. I tried not to laugh.

Dave passed Ben a fresh shirt, and I got a whiff of the freshly laundered scent as it passed in front of me.

“Thank you so much.” Ben said, accepting the new shirt gratefully. “I’ll try my best to watch where I’m going in the future.”

He gave us all a smile and apologetically said that he needed to get back to training before he left the kit room.

“Blimey!” Brianna sighed once he was gone.

“What?” I asked.

“Sorry that you have to hear this dad, but bloody hell he was fit. I’m disappointed that he didn’t want to change here.” we both started laughing and Dave shook his head, muttering a ‘you two’ under his breath before going back to matching the socks up.

“I’m going to go too, do you want to get lunch later Bri?” I asked, hoping that she would want to walk to the shops with me. I needed a few things and I wouldn’t have much time after work to go.

“Only if we’re getting it here because I want to be in the canteen when they all come in from training.” she was gazing toward the tiny window in the kit room dreamily as she spoke.

I rolled my eyes but agreed.

I spent the walk back to my office wondering if Ben Chilwell actually was as fit as Brianna was making him out to be.

Sitting back down at my desk, I logged back into my computer. I had new emails sat in the inbox. One of them happened to be pictures of the new players for me to edit. I had an edit of every player in the team that I had ready for match days. On a match day I would be in charge of adding time stamps for any goals and then uploading the goal scorer’s picture. Recently, more often than not I had been having to upload the same few pictures of Mason Mount and it was getting a bit boring. The fans loved it though, he was our most retweeted player and often I would read the social media comments, all singing his praises. Especially the young women.

———————————————————————————————————

By the time it got to lunchtime I was sick of photoshop. My program wasn’t running very smoothly, probably in need of an update and I had grown more and more frustrated as the morning went on, having to restart it twice.

Brianna came to my office just before 1 and waited for me to finish off my last edit and lock my computer.

“Good morning?” she asked. “Because no offence you look mega stressed and we don’t need that kind of vibe if we are going to be around fit footballers for the next hour.”

I wanted to eye roll for the millionth time but I cut her some slack. She had recently had a really bad break up and her ex had been a proper bellend. Unfortunately for Bri, she didn’t have the greatest amount of luck when it came to guys. Her ex had broken up with her for another girl and had then continued to hook up with Bri, who had stupidly let him until I had convinced her what a bad idea that was. She was clearly feeling really lonely.

“Someone will come along you know, it doesn’t have to be a footballer.” I said, putting my hand on her arm and squeezing reassuringly.

“But Liam supports Chelsea, so how mad would he be if I got off with one of his favourite players? He’d be begging me to take him back then.” she smirked.

“That’s not what you want though right? To get back with him I mean.” I opened the door and we started to walk down the hallway towards the canteen while we chatted.

“No, I just want him to feel the sting of rejection and know how it feels for once.” she shrugged.

When we reached the door to the canteen there was a young lad with mousey brown hair kind of hanging around. His face lit up at the sight of us and I was slightly taken aback by it.

“After you.” He said, opening the door for us. He had a really strong Scottish accent that I hadn’t heard before. I guessed he must be part of the youth team. He’d probably end up out on loan after loan and we’d never see him again.

“That was strange.” I mumbled to Bri.

She shrugged, walking over to the back of the queue to get food. I followed her and grabbed a tray for myself.

I reached into the chilled drinks cabinet and picked out an iced coffee placing it on my tray.

“Glad to see that isn’t a hot coffee!”

Turning my head to the side, I saw that it was Ben again, standing behind me in the queue and then just behind him, my favourite person of all, Mason Mount.

“Yeah I’m on a final warning about spilling hot drinks over footballers so I’m only allowed cold coffees from now on”. I joked.

“I’m sure Benj will keep you warm in the winter.” Mason piped up.

I tried not to curse under my breath that he was butting into our conversation.

“Mate.” Ben said to Mason, shaking his head.

“What? she is fitter than you said.” Mason bantered back, looking at me rather than Ben.

“Thanks but I don’t need validation from you.” I bantered back, before moving along to the next chiller and picking out a caesar salad and an apple.

I heard the word “feisty” from behind me, but couldn’t tell which one of them had said it as I caught Brianna up in the queue.

She gave me a puzzled look and I shrugged, simply mouthing the word ‘boys’.

As employees we didn’t have to pay for any of our food which was a nice perk of the job and saved me a lot of money in eating out and packed lunches.

We took our food over to one of the tables that we usually sat at whenever we used the canteen and we were joined as usual by some of the other members of support staff.

Brianna was filling them in on my mishap with the coffee that morning while I scrolled through twitter on my phone. I liked to check how our social media platforms looked from the perspective fo the intended audience.

“You’re such a workaholic” Bri scolded me.

I looked up and apologised, tucking my phone away into my pocket.

“You two are polar opposites” Jane, one of the physios said. “I do agree with Brianna to an extent about some of the new faces. If I were a few years younger…”

Jane was a bit like our work mother. She was in her mid 50s and happily married with two teenage boys of her own to contend with. Because she had never had any daughters, she took particular care of me and Bri and loved to join in with our girl talk.

“I don���t think it would be worth the hassle personally” I shrugged.

Jane grinned. “You’re so sensible Katie, and probably right. Young men with too much fame and money probably don’t make the best partners. I tried to say that about my Martin too, back in the day. He was in the army and you know what they say about them!”

We both looked at her waiting for her to give us the answer.

“You know, a girl in every base town.” she laughed. “I tamed him though. Maybe don’t write them off completely.”

I wasn’t sure that I wanted to attempt to find a partner at all. I had been single since things that fallen apart with my ex when we both left uni. At uni we had a lot more time for each other, despite the different schedules and studying. When I had started working for Chelsea I put everything that I had into my job, desperately wanting to make a good impression. Hundreds of people had applied for the position and I wanted to make them feel like they had made the right choice in hiring me. So long days in the office turned into long days and evenings in the office, especially when Chelsea had late kick offs. I just found it easier to be in my office with the radio commentary on, sending out the tweets as the goals went in.

“Katie, are you listening? You zoned out a bit again.” Jane said, waving her hand in front of my face.

“Sorry just thinking about my to do list” I mumbled, trying not to admit to them that I had been thinking about Rory again. Sometimes it isn’t the person that you miss, just the feeling of having someone.

“I was just making you aware that are three young men constantly looking over here.” she said, trying to keep her voice low.

I was curious so I looked, there were a few of them sat at the furthest table, but none of them were looking in our direction.

“Who?” I asked.

“Oh I don’t know the names, I just deal with the injuries.” she shrugged.

“Well that’s helpful then” Bri said, pouting. “I wanted to know which ones fancied me so that I could target my flirting.”

———————————————————————————————————

Ben

“Go and talk to her.” Mason encouraged me.

I shook my head, trying to focus on eating my food, although I hadn’t really been able to. I had just been using my fork to move it around my plate aimlessly.

“No.” I mumbled. “I barely even know the girl. She spilt her coffee on me then got me another training shirt.”

“Oh yeah.” Mason smirked. “Did she help you put it on too?”

“She got you a new training shirt?” It was Billy that spoke now. He looked really nervous and was pretty much doing the same as me, forking his food around rather than actually eating it.

“Yeah from that room with all the kits in” I responded.

“Oh.” he said quietly, looking down.

I caught on then. Billy had been ahead of us coming off the training pitch and I had seen him wait and then open the door for the girls with a big grin on his face. I had thought he was just being polite, but I now realised it was more than that. He had waited on purpose and obviously liked one of them.

“It was the brunette one. The little blonde was in the room too but it wasn’t here that me and Mase were talking about” as I explained I watched Billy brighten back up again. It was the other one that he fancied, not Katie, and for some reason I was relieved.

Mason caught on then too.

“Hang on, do you like that one or something? The kit man’s daughter?” Mason asked him.

He had raised his voice a bit in excitement so I gestured for him to speak quieter.

“Yeah only for the last few years, you know.” Billy responded, blushing a bit.

Mason would probably take the piss out of him for the rest of the afternoon and god forbid if Tammy or Jorginho found out, poor Billy would absolutely never hear the end of it.

“Have you ever tried to tell her?” I asked him.

“Only once, but I chickened out because I heard she had a fella” he shrugged.

“When was that?” I pressed.

“Couple of years ago, but then I kept being sent out on loan so couldnae’ really have asked her out any way” he sighed and put his fork down at the side of his plate.

I decided then that I was going to make it my mission to get Billy to ask that girl out. The worst she could say was no and he wouldn’t be any worse off than he was now. I could even use it to my advantage and casually speak to Katie about the two of them.

I looked over at her table again, she looked a little sad.

I had promised myself that I would focus on my career for a bit and not get involved with any girls for a bit, but here I was on day bloody one simping over a girl I’d only just met. I cursed myself for it.

[bjy-on-ao3]

Fic Friday: Hungry Like The Wolf

As usual, you can find the AO3 version of all my uploads [and some things I don’t post here to tumblr] via my Masterlist blog page.)

Bit of a suspension of belief involved in the setup here. I don’t really have a viable reason WHY this would be happening here, but it felt like the best place for this particular concept, so bear with me. Title is after the Duran, Duran song, because the lyrics seemed fitting on the surface, and the name ends being kind of punny.

(Also a thank you to Petaldances for basically beta'ing this for me and catching all my weird little mistakes.)

Summary Reader gets caught up in a passionate and primal game with a certain detective turned Phantom Thief.

Tags/Warnings

Biting, Creampie, Metaverse, Metaverse S*x, Outdoor S*x, Persona 5 Strikers Spoilers, Predator/Prey, Reader-Insert, Rough S*x, Shameless Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal S*x

Hungry Like The Wolf (F! Reader/Zenkichi Hasegawa)

You couldn’t count how long it had been since you started running. Had it been a minute? Five? Fifteen? You weren’t sure. Time was the last thing on your mind as you bolted down the empty streets. All that was on your mind was to run as far and fast as you could. All you had to go on was the burning in your legs and chest and the swiftly passing city blocks.

You stopped, spinning in place so quickly it nearly made you dizzy, and you stumbled, catching yourself before you toppled over.  Your eyes darted about wildly, heart pounding in your chest and your breath coming in out in short, panting puffs. Even if you didn’t know how long you had run for, you had to have at least gained a good deal of headway, right? There was no sign of anyone or anything around you, save for the eerie atmosphere of the metaverse itself. No people, no shadows, no nothing, simply you and the silence of a false city. Though still you felt unsettled, ever sense wired and on alert, waiting for when the silence would shatter into a million fragile pieces.

It was the sound of boot heels scuffing the pavement that broke the silence and set you off again, bolting off down the route you thought best with a quick glance. Yet the sound of boots didn’t die away, as it had when you had first ran, no matter how hard you pushed yourself. No, it echoed in your ears, growing louder and clearer even, and you willed yourself to run faster, lest the game come to an abrupt end. But even with the added talents that came with the strange world of cognition, you could only run so fast and so far before you were caught. Your last choice was to hide, even if it there was no true escape. The thought of capture made your heart drum a somehow heavier rhythm, and wracked your body with pins and needles of adrenaline.

Even if hiding was likely to be a fruitless effort in the end, you had to try. You couldn’t give up without exhausting every avenue available to you and using every bit of your wits. You had no other choice either, not when the sound of your tail was so hot in pursuit, and steadily gaining no matter how much ground you covered. At this rate, it would be only a couple minutes, if you were lucky, before your pursuer caught up with you.

You veered sharply, ducking and weaving past cars and light posts and distorted obstacles otherwise out of place in a typical cityscape. With one final burst of speed, you sprinted through a narrow alley and past the corners of several buildings. Finally, you spied a small alcove amongst one of the building exteriors, and hurriedly tucked yourself into it and the shadows it provided. You flattened yourself back against the bricks, trying to blend in with the darkness. You covered your mouth and nose with one gloved hand to suppress the ragged breaths spilling from your lips, and cast your gaze warily out on the cognitive city.

For an instant, all was still, though the sounds that alerted you to your pursuer’s presence were evident nearby even then. Your breath stalled in your throat as you watched him come into sight, slowing from a run to a cautious walk. Clad from head to toe in black leather and silver trim and metal, he cut an imposing figure. Your eyes lingered over the various weapons strapped and holstered on his person, adding a greater air of menace, before turning your attention to his masked face. Even with the mask, you could tell he was watching keenly, searching for even the tiniest sign of where you had gone. You thought your heart might erupt from your chest when he looked straight at you, or rather straight at your hiding place. You didn’t dare make a sound, didn’t dare breathe, didn’t dare even blink, lest he find you somehow.

But he looked away, and you could breathe again, still trying to stifle it against your palm. You couldn’t make yourself move a muscle yet, though. Not until he broke into a jog again, and then a sprint, heading down the block. You waited in your hiding spot a while longer, wanting to be positive he was far gone enough that you could no longer hear him anywhere nearby. Finally, you withdrew from your cover, eyes wide as if if it would help you peer more easily through the dusky light. Your heart raged in your chest, unwilling to calm down, and your mouth was dry, your body hot and tingly and jittery all over.

You swept the area once, twice, three times, and nothing met your eyes. Nor did anything alert your ears. A light fog was settling over the area, making it hard to see very far away. Though the same fog would likely impair his sight, too. Staying on edge, you went about getting your bearings to head back to your rendezvous point. Your thought processes were abruptly interrupted, however, by the sudden gnawing sense you weren’t alone anymore. The hair on the back of your neck and arms stood on end, and you whirled in place once more, coming face-to-face, or mask-to-mask, rather, with the man clad in archaic black leather and metal.

Instinctively, you tried to make a break for it. But he seemed to have been expecting that, and before you could dart away again, resuming the chase, his arms lashed out. He caught you half-turned, looping his arms around your midsection and pulling you fast against you. You squirmed and struggled for a moment against the tight embrace, gloved fingers digging roughly but uselessly into the leather of his clothes and failing to accomplish much. His strength suppressed yours, and his hold was a vice you couldn’t pry apart. All your effort gained you was knocking off the wide-brimmed hat topping his head. You stopped, deciding to save your energy, eyeing the man with full attention.

“You know, you’re a lot faster than you look.” His voice was smooth and level, as if he hadn’t been pelting after you in hot pursuit for god knows how long. “But being fast isn’t enough,” he informed you, releasing part of his hold to reach up and pull down the sharply angled mask hiding his face. Mischief and satisfaction gleamed in the dark eyes behind it.

The cocky tone in his voice reinvigorated your will to escape, out of sheer stubbornness or a second wind, you weren’t sure. You punished against his grasp again suddenly, weakened now that he held onto you with only one arm. His mask slipped through his fingers and tumbled to the ground when you tried to take advantage of the perceived moment of overconfidence. But his hand snapped out in a flash, and the arm still wrapped around you squeezed tighter. His fingers curled back to grasp the base of your skull, catching in your hair. Between the strengthened coil of his arm and the new grip above your neck, your chances of breaking free became even more abysmal in an instant.

“It’d be enough for someone who doesn’t know me, Wolf,” you argued. Your words sounded irritable and casual, though the thundering pulse in your ears threatened to block out your voice.

“Shame for you I do then, huh?” Wolf - or Zenkichi, as you knew outside the confines of the metaverse - sounded very pleased with himself.

Between the smooth sound of his voice and how close you were caught against him, the tingling feeling of adrenaline that had rolled through you before during the chase had morphed into something stronger, though just as primal. Ravenous and hot, it let you tense and burning up, waiting to see what would happen next.

He didn’t give you time to retort to his quip, spinning around with you still held tight in his grasp. He leapt forward, and the world lurched and shifted, until you felt the familiar scrape and snag of rugged stone catching your clothes. You were breathless as Zenkichi leaned in, releasing you from his embrace in favor of caging you in against the building wall with his body. A sidelong glance revealed you were back in the alcove you had hidden in before. Looking to Zenkichi, wearing a grin that was equal parts knowing and cheeky, told you he had been well aware of your hiding spot. He had known where you were as soon as he looked straight toward you.Failing to notice you had been only a pretense to lure you into letting down your guard. You had walked right into his hands.

But there was little time to dwell on your mistakes; the hunt had come to a close, and it was time for the hunter to indulge in his prey. Zenkichi reminded you of that clearly as he bent down with his fingers remaining snared in your hair, using his grip to coax your head back. He left a trail of fervent kisses and sharp nips along your throat, left bare by your outfit. Beaten in your game, you gave in, leaning back against the brick, letting him pin your body there. And arching into the fiery touch of his lips. He said nothing, but as his lips skated over your pulse, hammering in your throat, you felt his lips quirk. A satisfied smile that was forgotten about as quickly as it had come as he continued to ravage your neck.

It wasn’t long before the assault on your skin turned you into a mewling mess pushed against the stone, plaint and hot under his lips. There was a fervor fueling the press of his lips, the stroke of his tongue, the pinch of his teeth. The same fervor burning in you as well, roaring through you and boiling your blood. The unyielding buckles of his several belts were hard and unpleasant, pressing into you so forcefully, but another hardness stood out as well, one far more pleasant and enticing.

Your hips twitched reflexively against his when a well-placed bit made you moan openly into the empty air. A hiss slipped through Zenkichi’s lips, and his actions paused for an instant, before renewing with a vigor. The new effort made you cry out all over again. But he was only satisfied with the small tastes of kisses and bites for so long. He was hungry for so much more, and you were all too pleased to surrender and let him devour you.

The world whirled again, and your eyes shot wide with surprise for a second, before Zenkichi’s hand between your shoulders pressed you forward, back against the wall, pinning you place once more. Your cheek and chest met the stone, your mask shielding you from some of the scrape of the bricks, and you stilled again. A shudder of anticipation rolled through you at the slow creep of his hand lower, and lower, tracing over the curve of your back and the swell of your ass. The wandering hand moved back up, joining its twin and curling beneath the waist of your pants, and tugging them down swiftly.

Your own hands, now lying flat against the bricks, dug at the rough service when his hands inched back up, one stopping to roughly knead a handful of your ass, while the other cupped your center through damp panties. Two leather-clad fingers hooked beneath the fabric, pushing it aside before disappearing past it and between your lips, searching. They found their quarry smoothly enough, sinking into your hole to the knuckles, before pumping in and out. A whine a murmured ‘ fuck ’ burst from you, and you clung to the wall tighter, desperate for something the latch onto, even if the abrasive surface made your fingertips sting.

The finger-fucking didn’t last very long though, enough to make you needy and tense, and when he withdrew his fingers from your slick cunt you managed to turn your gaze back and peek at him. You swallowed hard and your pussy throbbed when th sight of him putting two fingers to his lips met your eyes, the material glistening with your wetness. He cleaned each finger quickly, at the same time seeming to relish the taste of you on the leather.

His glance met yours, pupils dilated so wide you could barely made out the color beyond them, hunger and ardor boring into you. It was a wild and intense expression, borne from the cocktail of lust and adrenaline the lust had filled you bow with; one you hadn’t seen before on Zekichi’s face. But it wasn’t frightful, save for perhaps how much it ignited your own desire. Unabled to hold his gaze any longer, you turned back to eye the bricks, another shiver wracking you.

The crunch of leather and the clink of metal behind you made you even more taut with excitement, and you squeezed your thighs together to quiet the demanding ache between them as you waited. The mood was running too hot - searing you both - for you to need to wait very long, though. Even that brief wait felt like far too much, far too long long in your heated mind and surely in his.

You nearly groaned in relief as the thick head of his cock pushed through your soaked lips, and you weren’t sure how you resisted the urge to slam your hips back and impale yourself on his length. Greedy hands latched onto your hips, fingertips digging hard into your skin with each new inch that entered you. A sharp inhale and a heady, feral groan drew your attention, but you didn’t dare capture that primal gaze again, not when you were already so on edge. You might explode from the sheer desire coursing through you if you chanced it.

Hallways inside, Zenkichi threw any shred of remaining patience to the wind, rolling his hips forward and sheathing himself the rest of the way inside, jostling you against the wall. You ignored the jolt and the burn in your fingertips, clinging to the bricks as if they were your lifeline. The only thing on your mind was the length of him buried hard and deep inside, the fullness complemented by a hot ache. He leaned forward, his body pushing more flush against yours, pressing his lips back to your neck.

Words ghosts over your skin, muffled, and when they reached you, they were gravelly and breathless, but shaky. “Didn’t think you’d be so into this.” The words were quiet, almost as if he were speaking to himself rather than you. “Fuck, didn’t think I’d be so into this.” The rest came as an afterthought, punctuated by a growling moan.

You couldn’t bring yourself to refute his words, even silently, nor did you want to. Your moans half-stifled by the bricks were enough on their own, not even considering your inability to think about much else other than his dick driving in and out of you.

His hips rocked harder, faster, and his breath grew heavier, broken when he pressed more sloppy bites and kisses to your skin. Some were careless enough that might have caused you to wince, had you been in a less aroused state of mind. As it was, each new sensation, whether painful or enjoyable, blended together into a swirling ball of desire and heat that made you more lost with each one. The desperate rut of him against you, the tight grip on your hips sure to leave a few finger-shaped marks, and the smothering heat of his body, contrasting with the cool, rough stone in places where your bare skin touched it. It was all pushing you faster and faster towards the peak and threatening to shove you over.

Beyond the pair of you, the world stayed silent and still, shattered by the myriad of shamelessly obscene sounds pouring from your mouth and Zenkichi’s. The rustle of leather joined the sound of skin slapping together rhythmically and the gasp of panting breath. He was saying something in your ear, something you couldn’t quite make out, unsure whether it was a curse or praise or complete gibberish. You cried out his name, or rather, the name you were supposed to call him then, ‘ Wolf’. The word rolled so easily off your tongue, again and again, like some strange prayer.

Everything was adding up, your breathing shorter and more ragged, and you couldn’t keep yourself from grinding back into every hard thrust. A sharp, unexpected slap on your ass made you hiss between your teeth, but otherwise just encouraged you to buck back into him with more enthusiasm. Your belly and the muscles in your thighs felt so achingly tense, and your legs quivered beneath you. You found yourself fleetingly thankful the weight of his body held you to the wall. The thought was swept away though as the sensations peaked, and you weren’t sure if you could it much longer.

In a single, smooth motion, Zenkichi wrapped one arm around your waist, his fingertips skimming over your skin until the gloved digits found your clit, rubbing quick, tight circles. It was the final puzzle piece you needed to come undone, nearly screaming your satisfaction to the empty block. Zenkichi cursed into your shoulder, your cunt intent on enticing him to spill himself inside of you and join you in ecstasy. By the pitch of his hot breath, and the several following crass words, he was having a hard time resisting it.

His fingers stroked you through your orgasm, the waves of bliss ebbing into oversensitive pulses that made you squirm and try not to thrash your head against the stone, whimpering. His hands stiffened and stilled with his hips as he finished, a few last thrusts pumping you so full of cum that when he stopped moving, a warmth trickled down one of your inner thighs.

You whined when he moved to pull back, unsure if you were protesting his withdrawal or how it made you shudder with lingering oversensitivty. Zenkichi rested a hand on your shoulder after pulling out, and you felt his breath washing over your skin, making goosebumps rise on it all over again. You were loathe to move and shattered the serene, exhausted moment, and the pleasant haze that accompanied it. But there was a time to bask and relax, and you could do that later, once you had taken your leave from the metaverse.

Zenkichi stepped back, and you heard him redoing his belts and adjusting and smoothing his own outfit. You turned to face him, slowly, leaning against the wall and holding onto the bricks to ensure you stayed on your feet. You realized your mask was crooked, half on, half off of your face, surely thanks to the position you had been in.

When he looked up from tucking himself away and sorting out his clothes, Zenkichi’s face twisted into an expression of concern, a hint of guilt tinging the look. You matched the expression with one of confusion, unsure what was its cause. “What’s that look for? What’s wrong?” you asked worriedly, though it came out tired and soft. You glanced all around you, unable to discern what had made him so concerned.

“Shit, can’t you feel it. Your cheek.. and your hands.” he began, and you lifted one hand, palm up to see what was trying to get across.

Looking at your palm, you realized what had caused his distress. The stone had taken more of a toll on your hands than you had noticed in the moment. You winced, out of reflex rather than real pain, the high of your orgasm still faintly lingering and dulling your own concerns. They were going to hurt tomorrow though, you were sure of that. Reaching up to your face gingerly, you found it was similarly scraped and scuffed, though only on the side your mask had been askew.

“Ah, it’s fine, it’ll heal.. and it was totally worth it,” you dismissed, trying to dissuade the guilt mixed with the concern.

“Are you sure I didn-”

“I promise, I’m alright,” you interrupted him before he could fuss any more. You had wanted your little game as much as him, maybe more, and you weren’t going to let either of you regret it over a few scrapes and bruises.

“We should get out here though,” you noted, at least fixing your own clothes. “That was fun, but we probably shouldn’t stick around.”

[sykilik101]

Syk’s Snippets #3

So I may have been spending WAY too much time on Persona 5 Strikers and not enough on writing (and by not enough, I mean no time at all), so I wanna keep the creative muscle strong and see what I can put out tonight. (And by tonight I mean it’s currently 3:30 in the morning when I’m starting this, so god please let this be good when I wake up tomorrow to reread it with a more awake brain.)

“Misty, do you like me?”

“Huh?!”

He knew the question was out of left field enough to warrant a flabbergasted response out of Misty, and he was ready for the angry denial. Though her face had started to redden, he was surprised to find a defensiveness in her voice as opposed to irritation. He turned his gaze to the lake in front of them, admiring the stars swirling around in its waves; something in his gut told him Misty would have a hard time answering him if he met her eyes.

“I...wanna know if you like me.”

The silence was far too loud between them, and he internally pleaded for one of her trademark instant retorts. Her hesitation to respond seemed to be its own answer, her way of acknowledging what he was asking but not willing to give him what he was looking for.

“W-Why do you ask?”

The stutter was familiar; the stutter in this context wasn’t. Had she just immediately said no, everything would have been simple and easy. He could’ve dismissed his suspicions and left things as they were, but that tone in her voice alluded to feelings that didn’t fit a girl waiting for payback for a bike.

“Well,” he started, gripping at his pants, “I just had this feeling that you did. I suddenly started thinking about it, and I wasn’t really sure, so I figured I should just ask you.”

He finally allowed himself a glance at her out of the corner of his eye. Her blush had darkened the tiniest bit, her arms crossed as her mouth pouted. She took a breath, then exhaled sharply.

“That’s a dumb question.”

That wasn’t a denial.

“I wanted to ask because, if you did, I wanted to understand.”

He couldn’t tell what it was, but something about what he said earned a look from her, her arms relaxing. “What do you mean?”

He looked down at the grass between them, then to the moon, and finally to the water once more. “I know things like romance and liking someone are important to you, even if we don’t talk about it at all. I guess, if it really means that much to you, I’d wanna understand it better.”

Her cheeks had simmered down to pink, though she looked to be struggling to maintain eye contact. She bit at her lip as she inevitably found interest in the lake as well, her hands falling into each other. “Well...what do you know about romance and dating right now?”

“Well, I know that people hold hands and kiss and stuff, and eventually they get married, but I never thought about it too much beyond that.”

She nodded, allowing another few moments to pass by where only the sounds of distant Hoothoot and sloshes on the shore were heard. Without warning, however, she scooted closer to him, wrapping her fingers around his. “Ash, right now, my heart is beating pretty fast. Um...how do you feel?”

Their connection drew his attention, finding a novel delight in the way his hand was slightly bigger than hers. Lifting his gaze to her face, something about the returning flush on her cheeks stirred a warm feeling in his chest.

Misty likes me.

The thought was shiny and new, an affirmation rather than a suspicion. Moonlight shone in her viridian eyes, and the way he watched his friend’s lips fumble and contort roused an instinctive protectiveness in him. He felt his grip tighten around hers, and her pupils dilated in response.

“I...”

He wanted to answer, but his vocal chords suddenly went on vacation; though, the sudden grin she began wearing meant she somehow knew what he wanted to say. She suddenly seemed emboldened, her face moving towards him what must’ve been only an inch but seemed much more.

“It’s not just that I think about liking someone, Ash. I also think about them liking me, too.”

She’d yet to give him a direct answer to his original question, though by that point it was obvious to both that it would simply be redundant. The next few words seemed to flow from him instinctively. “Does holding hands like this always make your heart go crazy?”

Her grin softened, though she looked as though she almost wanted to laugh. “If it’s with someone you like, I hope it always does.”

He nodded, giving her fingers another gentle squeeze. Breathing had become less a background function and more a battle of conscious effort. “W-Well, I...” The stutter was unexpected, but also another sign that he was beginning to understand. “I like how it feels. So, um...if, y’know, on another day, I wanted to hold hands again, would...would you want to?”

He didn’t know when their roles as the brave and the bashful were reversed, but her gaze was all courage as she nodded, closing the distance between them until their shoulders touched. She leaned into him, resting the side of her head against his. “I’d love to, Ash.”

[nekojitachan]

Okay, so, the urge to write this hit me (maybe in part because of the new fic). Though I’ve been thinking of it off and on since I wrote it... two or three years ago? I finally got back to it. Raven!Andrew soulmate fic with Raven!Neil (Nathaniel). First part can be found here (I managed to find it).

Uhm, warnings for the Nest (vaguely) and for threats of non-con (that are not carried out). Mention of Nathan, too.

******

Andrew felt a manic, medicated smile spread across his face when Aaron chose not to sit next to him in the Intro to Biology class they’d both signed up for; he was tempted to throw a pen at his twin’s head before he slumped down in his seat and barely paid any attention to what was a blow-off class for him. As soon as the bell rang, he was out the door and waited in the hallway for Aaron to come out. When his brother cautiously stepped outside, he grabbed onto Aaron’s left arm and dragged him aside.

“What, no brotherly love today?” Andrew asked with a bright (false) grin. “Do I stink? I swear I showered after morning practice.” The other students gave them a wide berth, especially when they caught sight of Andrew’s black and red track jacket that all the Ravens had to wear outside of the Nest.

Aaron cursed beneath his breath as he shook his head, then switched to German. “Look, it’s for the best, okay? Just leave me alone.”

“Why?” Andrew’s eyes narrowed as he thought about Riko. “Did someone say something to you?”

Aaron ran his right hand through his hair, which was shaggier than Andrew’s (than his ‘nice’, Raven-styled haircut). “Do any of the other students talk to you? Sit next to you?” When Andrew scoffed at that, Aaron scowled. “It’s not because you’re an asshole, but because everyone here leaves the Ravens alone, it’s like you’re part of some special clique and they don’t like anyone messing with the status quo even if they’re a Raven’s brother. So just… call me or something, maybe we’ll get together on the weekends someplace away from campus, but I can’t chance losing this scholarship. I’m sorry.” Aaron gave him a casual wave as he walked away.

Andrew stood there for a minute as bitterness filled him at how easily Aaron cast him aside, focused on himself as always. It didn’t matter that Andrew had crossed the country for him, had risked his own life to get rid of Tilda for him, had joined the Ravens… well, partially for him.

The asshole hadn’t even managed to get hold of any alcohol for him yet.

He was late to his next class, an American History one, but the professor didn’t bat an eye at his arrival even though she’d chewed out another student last week for doing the same thing. Andrew barely paid attention to what was being said again, confident that he’d pass everything like he always did.

Once the class was over, it was time to head back to the Nest, what joy. He ran into Ben on his way to the stadium and basically ignored his ‘partner’ the entire time. Ben was long used to it by then, and appeared happy when they came across other Ravens, ones who would actually talk to the sophomore.

They spent time before afternoon practice working on their class assignments, which never took long for Andrew to complete. He spent the rest of the break reading through the ridiculously long email Nicky had sent him (why did his cousin bother now that he was back in Germany) and glancing through the stats on the Northeastern Huskies, the team the Ravens were to play that Friday. The Huskies weren’t in the overall top three for the NCAA Division I, but they were for the Ravens’ region so it was considered an important game.

Well, by everyone but Andrew.

Practice was the usual ordeal, was Riko acting as if he was the boss of everyone as he barked out drills and plays, as he expected to be thrown the ball as if he was the only striker out on court. It was Tetsuji watching everything with his emotionless, beady eyes as if he was a starving vulture, quick to lash out with his cane at the slightest mistake. It was Nathaniel acting as if Andrew didn’t exist at all.

Andrew was so tempted to say to hell with them all and head off campus to find the nearest liquor store, but he wouldn’t risk Nathaniel showing up the next day beaten again, or Aaron losing his scholarship.

(He didn’t care about Riko or Tetsuji fucking with him, was more than strong enough to handle whatever they threw at him, but refused to let others be punished in his place.)

Instead, he remained in the goal and blocked almost all of Riko’s shots on it just to annoy the asshole.

(He thought he saw Nathaniel smile once when Riko stalked off in anger, but the expression was gone a moment later.)

The rest of the week was spent with Tetsuji and Riko pushing the Ravens to be perfect (or damn near it) by Friday’s game, to memorize the Huskies’ stats and previous games. Considering that it was only the second game of the season, Andrew took to glaring at the soul mark hidden beneath his left armband; he didn’t believe in regret, not exactly… but he had some rather negative thoughts over Riko and Kevin bringing Nathaniel with them when then came to recruit Andrew.

The campus was festooned with black and red (remove the latter and it would fit Andrew’s mood perfectly), with students wearing Ravens jerseys. Most wore Riko’s and Kevin’s, but Andrew rolled his eyes when he saw Aaron sport his; the moron gave him a brief wave and a nod in acknowledgement, then went to sit with a group of what appeared to be new friends.

How nice for him.

Andrew felt his lips twitch then tug back into a mirthless grin when the loose sleeves of the black and red jersey that Aaron was wearing revealed that the black mark on Aaron’s left forearm was still a shapeless blob, that his twin hadn’t found his soulmate yet. Ah, so only Andrew had been inflicted with that particular curse as of yet, though Aaron was like Nicky and actually looked forward to finding his ‘other half’.

The fool.

Soon enough it was time to return to the Nest, to suffer through yet another recap of the Huskies’ players and probable game strategy (which he’d long ago memorized) before a quick lunch and then ordered to get ready for the game. Andrew noticed that Nathaniel wasn’t with the team for once, and managed to hold on to his curiosity until he noticed a man who appeared similar to the young backliner (his soulmate) stride along the outer ring; he was dressed in an expensive suit which was tailored to fit a muscular build, his dark red hair stylishly cut short (and lacking any type of curl), his eyes the same arresting pale blue as Nathaniel’s. Yet they were utterly lacking of emotion when they glanced out at court… and seemed to linger in Andrew’s direction for a few seconds.

Andrew nudged Ben’s left foot. “Who was that?”

Ben appeared stunned that he’d been asked a question. “Eh? Who?” He glanced in the direction Andrew nodded and frowned. “Oh, that’s Nate’s dad, he shows up now and then, usually on a big game day. Comes before the game starts and always leaves right after.” His frown deepened as he gazed at his racquet. “I don’t think they get along well, Nate’s always withdrawn after his visits and….”

Andrew did some frowning of his own. “And?”

Ben jumped a little at his question and pitched his voice lower. “I wouldn’t say anything, but you’re his soulmate. You’ve seen his scars.” Andrew’s jaw clenched at that statement. “Sometimes after his dad visits, he has a new one.” Ben pointedly looked away after that.

It took a minute or two for Andrew to get the urge to go after the man and bash his head in with his racquet under control (the fact that the abusive bastard had been followed by obvious bodyguards helped just the tiniest bit).

(It also raised the question of who the hell was Nathaniel’s father, what was he doing at Castle Evermore, and why Tetsuji allowed him to abuse one of his most talented players?)

Andrew was distracted from thoughts of violence by Tetsuji ordering the Ravens to warm up and participate in drills as Evermore slowly filled up with eager fans. That wasn’t entirely true as he did feel inclined to smash his racquet into one preening Riko Moriyama, busy mugging for the cameras and fans, and yet again wondered just how incompetent the doctor was who put him on his ‘lovely’ meds.

Maybe Aaron could get a nice lawsuit out of him eventually ‘snapping’ when the inanity of it all finally drove him to bash everyone’s heads in.

A boy with a heavy stick, a ton of issues and forever increasing anger management problems could dream, couldn’t he?

He was actually grateful for the damn game starting, just because it meant that soon it would be over. Andrew was slated to guard the goal in the second half, and so got to sit bored on the bench while a bunch of idiots ran around on the court.

At least, until a Huskie sub striker (#17, Donaldson, junior) seemed to grow annoyed at Moreau blocking him from the Ravens’ goal and swung his racquet into the backliner’s side, right below where the protective padding ended. Part of Andrew nodded in approval of the nasty and effective blow while another was annoyed that he wasn’t the one to land it.

Oh, and that it delayed the game’s end while Moreau was checked and carried off the court.

It was clear that the Huskies hoped to take advantage of the Ravens losing their number one backliner to an injury, but the team was composed of some of the best Exy players in the division. Hebig and Federov managed to do a decent job of defense in Moreau’s place, so Andrew didn’t have to work too hard once he was out in the goal; he only let a couple shots through, with the final score being 12-7.

The stadium erupted into cacophony when the final buzzer rang out, with the Ravens smug over their victory and the Huskies disgruntled. Andrew didn’t give a damn, he merely wanted to shower then sleep, done with Exy for the time being.

Riko and Kevin were expected to do their preening for the camera bullshit, but Andrew noticed how an excited Federov went up to Riko before the asshole left and talked to him, a huge leer spreading across his face when Riko nodded.

Something about that expression made Andrew’s skin crawl (it wasn’t the sweat drying on it or his drenched uniform); it sunk in when he was in the shower scrubbing clean.

Federov’s expression resembled Drake’s when he’d come into Andrew’s room at night.

By the time he rinsed the soap away, dried off and put on clothes, Federov was nowhere to be found. Andrew didn’t see any of the male Ravens missing (other than Riko, Kevin and Moreau), so that left the women and… and Nathaniel.

Shit, Nathaniel, whom Federov would stare at from time to time. Whom Federov would try to talk to, but Moreau always interrupted him and pulled his partner away. Andrew thought it was just Moreau being a dick, but now….

He broke into a run towards Nathaniel’s room, and was grateful for once that there weren’t any locks on the doors in the Nest as he threw the door open.

Federov had a struggling Nathaniel pinned to the bed, hand raised to hit him (hit him again, judging from Nathaniel’s bruised face and bleeding lip). The bastard looked up in time for Andrew to punch him on the cheek, which knocked him aside, and yelped in pain as he was hauled off the bed and thrown to the floor, where his ribs were stomped on twice. Hard.

“Stah- ah! Stahhp,” the bastard screeched as Andrew kicked him once more for good measure, only to find himself pulled off balance by Nathaniel.

“Stop it,” Nathaniel said, his voice weak and a bit slurred from the split lip. “You’ll get in trouble.”

“Like I give a shit.” Yet Andrew found himself unable to look away from his battered soulmate, from the hopelessness in Nathaniel’s eyes and the blood on his face; while he was distracted, Federov scurried out of the room like a four-legged crab and slammed the door shut behind him. Andrew clicked his tongue at the thought of having to track down the bastard to slit his throat before he returned his attention back to Nathaniel. “Why’d you stop me?”

“Because Riko would be mad,” Nathaniel said as he slumped back on the bed. “It’ll just make things worse.”

“Worse than someone raping you?” Nathaniel flinched at that but didn’t say anything, just closed his eyes and huddled into a small ball, his black sweatshirt torn to reveal some of the awful scars on the upper right part of his chest, including one which looked like an iron burn on his shoulder.

Andrew felt something turbulent scour through his chest at the sight, felt it rail against the drug in his blood, and spun around on his left heel then stalked into the small bathroom attached to the room where he wet a couple washcloths with cold water and grabbed a towel. When he returned to the bedroom, Nathaniel watched him with a wary gaze as he approached the bed.

“For your face,” he said as he held out the washcloths. “You might want to do something about the swelling.”

Nathaniel was still for a few seconds before he uncoiled enough to accept them. “Jean will-“ He winced when he must have realized that his partner was stuck for the night in the medical department.

“Will what?” Andrew prodded as he smiled, jealousy and anger straining at the chemical chains the damn drug forced upon his impulses. “What’s he gonna do, hmm?”

“Yeah.” Nathaniel wrapped his arms around himself and appeared younger than seventeen years old. “There’s… there’s icepacks in the minifridge.”

Andrew glanced around and found the fridge on the other side of the room, by what he assumed was Moreau’s desk; when he opened it, he found it stocked with a couple bottles of water and several icepacks. Huh, seemed they were prepared for a few booboos, how interesting.

He went back to the bathroom and grabbed a couple hand towels to wrap the icepacks in, and returned to the room to find Nathaniel gingerly wiping the blood from his face. Once it was cleaned up, he handed over the icepacks and got up to grab the large sweatshirt (Moreau’s) which was draped over the back of the nearby chair and threw it on Nathaniel’s bed. “I’m spending the night here.”

Nathaniel’s eyes (well, the right one, the left was swelling shut) widened at that. “I’m fine! You can-“

“I’m not leaving in case the asshole decides to come back,” Andrew stated as he dropped down on Moreau’s bed. “You willing to be smacked around some more?”

That earned him a virulent glare. “You’re the asshole. And how do I know you’re not gonna… gonna take his place, huh?” For all of Nathaniel’s harsh words and nasty looks, his slender fingers plucked at the sweatshirt he’d draped over himself as if it was a safety blanket.

Someone didn’t have a lot of faith in him, did they? Andrew didn’t blame his soulmate, not with everything he learned about the Nest with each passing day. “Because I’m not like anyone you’ve met before,” he said as he kicked off his sneakers and stretched on top of the duvet.

Nathaniel scoffed loud enough that his throat had to ache. “They all say things like that,” he mumbled as he pulled on the sweatshirt, his gaze downcast. “That they’re special, that they’ll treat you nice, that it’ll be wonderful.” He rocked back and forth once the shirt was on, his eyes unfocused as if he was remembering something and the words sounding rote as if they were someone else’s. “It’s nothing but lies.”

Andrew remembered Nathaniel’s father, the man with the emotionless eyes, and wondered if Nathaniel’s parents were soulmates as well. He wondered if they were one of the pairs who served as cautionary tales, as reminders that not all soulmates had happy endings.

He wondered if that’s what Nathaniel had been talking about when he accused Andrew of being just like ‘him’ when Andrew had let his frustration slip, back in the breakroom.

(Why Nathaniel was so comfortable with a man who wasn’t his soulmate.)

Andrew once again struggled with his drug-addled emotions, with the urge to break things, to stomp out of the small, black-walled room and the Nest and Edgar Allan, to carve off the damn soul mark from his arm and… and the thought of leaving Nathaniel defenseless stopped him cold. Instead, he clicked his tongue and rolled over onto his side until he faced the wall. “Shut up and go to sleep.”

Nathaniel muttered something in Japanese, but got up a few minutes later to go into the bathroom, and several minutes after that shuffled back onto his bed and turned off the light. Andrew lay on the bed and finally relaxed when he heard his soulmate’s breathing slow about half an hour later.

He didn’t get much sleep that night, not when he waited for Riko or Federov to break into the room to take Nathaniel from him.

Nathaniel gave him an incredulous look in the morning when all he did was climb off Moreau’s bed, go into the bathroom to take a piss and then leave, desperate for coffee and his medication (not necessarily in that order). He stopped by his room first to take a pill and was on his way to one of the break rooms for caffeine when he had the dubious joy of running into a smiling Riko.

Warning bells went off immediately in his sleep-deprived head, because if Riko appeared happy about something? It rarely was good for anyone but Riko.

“Good morning,” Riko all but purred as he blocked Andrew moving down the hall.

“Not until I have my coffee,” Andrew muttered as he stared toward the break room, determined to walk past the asshole.

“Ah, not quite yet.” Unfortunately, Riko was nimble of foot and one hell of a determined asshole. “I want to talk to you about last night.” When all Andrew did was grunt in response, Riko’s left eye twitched and his smile slipped slightly. “You may be pleased to know that Jean has been declared fit to play in this Friday’s game, after a couple days of light practice. That’s good because Lev will need a few days to recover from your… disagreement last night.”

Andrew focused his attention on the manipulative asshole. “From me ‘disagreeing’ with him raping Nathaniel?”

Riko’s nose scrunched as if he’d heard something disagreeable. “You’re new to the team so you don’t understand how certain things work. And that’s how if someone does very well during a game? They get something nice as a reward.”

Rage flooded through Andrew, made his hands twitch to wrap around Riko’s throat at that ‘reward’ bit despite the latest pill; he only resisted as he thought about Aaron. “Nathaniel isn’t a ‘reward’,” he forced past teeth clenched tight.

The look bestowed upon him was one of immense pity. “There’s so much you don’t know, rookie, including how wrong you are about that.” When Andrew’s hands clenched into fists, Riko wisely took a step back. “But that’s not to say that he can’t be your reward, right? After all, he’s your soulmate,” Riko taunted.

“I don’t-“ About to spit on Riko’s offer, something in Andrew made him stop. “What do you mean?” Was this a way to keep Nathaniel safe? Out of Federov’s reach?

Riko’s smile took on a predatory edge. “I’ll admit, I was skeptical when Kevin claimed you were this amazing goalkeeper, but I’ve seen your ability.” Now the smile was wiped away by something resembling annoyance. “When you bother, that is. So here is what I’m proposing. You shut down the goal while you’re out on court during the game? Nathaniel is yours.”

Andrew was quiet as he thought about that, as he thought about his soulmate being safe. “I can’t always guarantee a complete shutdown, not against some teams.” When Riko opened his mouth to argue, he held up his hand. “Up to three goals, and only during the top three teams,” he bargained. It meant he’d have to push himself, would have to work for it (dammit)… but if it meant that Nathaniel would be safe….

He was such an idiot, wasn’t he? No matter how smart he thought he was, how he’d learned his lesson the hard way, here he was willing to bleed out for a pretty face and wide blue eyes.

(For someone who might be as fucked up as him.)

(For his other half.)

“Two goals,” Riko countered, “and Nathaniel is all yours, no one else is to touch him.” Then he laughed, the sound more cruel than amused. “Well, by a Raven at least.”

“He’s mine,” Andrew bit out as he stepped into Riko’s personal space.

There was a flash of fear in the asshole’s eyes before he flashed his usual wide grin and stepped back. “There’s pre-existing claims on our dear Nate, best get used to it.” Riko gave a mocking laugh as he walked away. “You’re so out of your league, Doe.”

Andrew brushed aside the reference to his previous life as he stared figurative daggers into the asshole’s back (oh for them to be real). Once Riko was out of sight, he headed to the break room for a much-deserved mug (or three) of coffee.

It was when he was on his second refill when he realized that he desperately needed answers, and that they most likely would only come from one of his least liked Ravens – Moreau.

*******

So now I’m trying to figure out - is the Perfect Court 1-10 or 1-9???? Obviously when I wrote this, I thought it was 1-9, but I’ve seen so much artwork since then that shows Andrew as ‘10′ so....

Probably back to the new fic unless another prompt/old fic snatches my attention. Though I’m sure I’ll get back to this at some point because ANDREW AND JEAN.