#I’d thank the opposing team

[doremimosasol]

SWEATY AFTER A QUIDDITCH GAME, FRUSTRATED AND STORMING INTO YOUR DORM ROOM

YES? YES

[sunrizef1]

The Way

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Ex!reader, Charles Leclerc x reader

Authors Note: yo soy tired | multiple fics in a week who is this diva

Warnings: Break-ups, cursing, max is an angsty boy, not proofread

Word Count: 4.5k

Requested: Yes/No

Summary: You and max had been in love once upon a time. Now, well…. It was never supposed to be this way.

It was never supposed to be this way.

When you and Max had started dating, you hadn’t planned for it to end with a messy breakup that had both of you looking the other way with even a mention of the other’s name.

You’d like to preface by saying the breakup wasn’t your fault. At least, not entirely. You were just done dealing with the way Max constantly put you on the back burner for racing, even with you in a car just a few garages down from his own.

Last season, it hadn’t been that much of a problem. In a Williams, you weren’t often faced with the Red Bull drivers. They were fighting for podiums, you were fighting to even be in the points.

But in the offseason, you had been moved to Mercedes. Now, he was all you could see.

The press seemed to have caught wind of your break-up as well because, as opposed to before, now it felt like you were placed in the same conference as him every. Single. Time.

You’re not sure if it’s all bad, though. Because now, you get to see the look on his face when reporters comment on the unprecedented pace of the Mercedes while Max is stuck with comments on Red Bull’s recent dip in performance.

“You’ve won again,” The reporter starts, smiling at you as he stands, “That’s three wins in a row and three 1-2’s in a row as well. What do you have to credit for this sudden switch in Mercedes’s luck?”

You smile as he talks, lips forming a sharp grin, your thoughts barely held back, “Well, we could start with thanking me, no?”

You say it jokingly, some laughs echoing around the small one as you say it. George, who’s sat next to you, pats your shoulder proudly. Max is sat on his other side, having gotten a p-3 in the race. But, from what you heard, it was no easy feat, he’d fought the car the entire time, having had to rely on both the Ferrari’s DNFing to get the podium. Even then, he’d finished thirty seconds off of George.

“But I’d say it’s a combination of things,” you begin again, taking the question seriously this time, “The team is great, the car gets better every weekend, me and George are both putting in maximum effort week in and week out to maximize our performance. It also sometimes just comes down to relying on our competition to do worse than us. Recently, it has seemed like we are just running better than some other teams.”

If people want to see that as a did, you’ll let them. You were never one to mince words. Especially not about Max. Never about him.

The journalist seems pleased, most likely already picking out adjectives he’ll use to describe your tone when he writes his article. Snide, petty, confident, arrogant. You wouldn’t mind any of the above, truly.

The line of questioning moves, reporters turning to Max. That’s when you stop listening. You didn’t mind knowing he could see you succeeding right in front of him but even looking in his direction still makes your stomach turn.

You don’t look his way, don’t listen when they ask him about the race, don’t want to hear his voice, don’t want to see his features, set up in a way he only looks when he’s deep in focus. A face you had stared at many a night, watching as he told you every detail about the race from his point of view, his fingers fidgeting with whatever was nearest by. You were never sure if he even knew he was doing it. You’d stare and he’d talk. Then, he’d pause his rambling, noticing your stare, and a grin would paint his face. Then he’d lean in, laughing as you tried to pretend you hadn’t been enchanted by his features as he talked.

So, when Max starts talking, you lean back in your seat, hiding behind George. Your eyes drift close and you try to pretend you're anywhere else, not listening to your ex-boyfriend try to save face in front of tens of cameras.

You can’t really believe that, at one point, you’d been happy. Mentioning his name had once upon a time made you the happiest person on earth. Now, the name fills you with a sense of dread and you can feel the unresolved anger bubbling just under the surface.

It was never supposed to be this way.

——

Max is fuming.

It seemed, these days, he always was. But, right now, at this moment, he’s angrier than usual.

He’d finally won. Thirteen races deep into the season, he had finally won. It hadn’t been easy. He wouldn’t have won, if it weren’t for Mercedes double pitting just before a safety car had given the rest of the grid free pit stops.

Then, you and George had gotten taken out by a rogue Alpine and a Haas, the pink car trying to overtake the Haas and missing, sending the American car into the back of George, who had no choice but to watch as his car careened into your own.

So, having no sight of a black race suit on the podium, Max was happy.

He’d won, getting to celebrate with the Ferraris, a pair of people he held in the highest esteem, a racing legend and one of his closest friends.

It was a nice podium too! His team had come, he’d relished in the sound of the Dutch anthem as it blasted around the track, fans and team members in Red Bull gear all celebrating the long-awaited win.

It was what happened after that had made his anger spike so badly.

Max is walking off the podium when it happens. His skin is sticky and his hair is damp, his face still flushed with the heat of the race. He’s a little light-headed, the warmth in the car still sticking around to make him a little dizzy.

But he’s happy, a feeling he could get used to feeling again. It seemed like it had been so long. So long since he truly felt joy coursing through his veins.

He walks down the steps, prepared to hand his trophy off to a Red Bull employee to handle it for him. The empty champagne bottle had already been taken from him, whisked off to be discarded.

Lewis is walking just in front of him and he knows Charles is drifting behind him, having walked off last. Lewis gets down the steps, waving a goodbye to the Dutch man with a smile, walking off to, no-doubt, clean up from the event.

After saying bye to the Brit, Max turns to where he knew Charles had been, ready to comment on the race. But where Charles should be is nothing but empty air.

He glances around, looking for his friend. What he’s met with makes his eye practically twitch. Maybe it does twitch, he’s not in a right enough mind to know.

He sees Charles, turned away from his gaze, his red suit the only thing on display to the room. What gets max, though, is the arms wrapped around the Monagasque’s neck, black sleeves adorned with sponsors making it obvious just who the arms belong to.

Max isn’t sure if Charles knows that he can see the two of you. If he does know, he’d surely be getting an earful from the Dutch man for knowingly putting him through this. But Max is pretty sure he’s unaware when a laugh echoes between the two of you and suddenly you’re unwrapping yourself from around his neck and grasping his hand in your own, promptly setting off down the hall, pulling him along with you. He lets you, prompting a wide smile on your lips, something he hadn’t seen in such close proximity in a while.

It makes him angry. Everything about it.

The way you don’t seem to care that you lost, when every loss of his own had plagued Max’s mind like a disease, resting in the back of his head and ruining every thought.

The way you seem happy now, even without Max. You seem to have moved on, finding happiness somewhere else when Max hadn’t even gotten a whiff of it until he had crossed that finish line first.

The way Charles seems to think this is okay, letting himself get involved with his close friend’s ex-girlfriend, someone he knew Max wasn’t completely detached from.

More than anything, it’s the way that Max can’t stop thinking about it. The sight is burned into his mind, he can practically see it on the back of his eyelids when he closes his eyes. The sound of your laugh mixed with Charles’s echoes in his brain, taunting him, making him insane. He can still see your hands, running through the hair at the nape of Charles’s neck, not even caring that he was, no doubt, dripping with sweat and champagne. It’s the sight of you two running off, Charles letting you lead him away immediately after the race, something Max had never let you do, the Dutch man too laser-focused on celebrating his win to indulge you for even a second.

In hindsight, he should have been celebrating with you. The love of his life. That’s what these guys lived for, right? Stepping out of the car or off the podium and straight into the arms of the person they love, all cares forgotten in that hold.

Now that he no longer had the thrill of winning to hold him over, he truly felt the absence you had left in his life. Every day, he tried to move on. But you were still ingrained in his life, in him.

He found hair ties sometimes. In the glove box of a car he hadn’t driven in a while, hiding on a ledge in his shower, deep in the pockets of his jeans. They all reminded him of you. They all got thrown away.

You haunt him.

It was never supposed to be this way.

——

“Charles!” You’re laughing, running through the paddock, Charles hot on your heels.

It had started as a joke. He’d made some self-deprecating comment about his hair, made in passing. You, apparently to your detriment, had agreed with his comment, causing your own giggle.

Charles, ever the prideful, had scoffed, promptly trying to tackle you onto the couch of his driver's room. You’d escaped, running out of his room.

That’s how you got to this point, laughing loudly as Charles tried to navigate his way past the crowd, weaving between bodies and people who just couldn’t seem to get the hint that they should get out of the way.

You look behind you to see how close he is, not realizing until it’s too late that you’re about to run into someone. The someone in question moves away after the impact but you’re still hurtling toward the ground. But the hit never comes. Instead, your arm is caught and suddenly you're pulled up and spun into a pair of arms, holding you close, strong but gentle.

Charles looks down at you, a smile ghosting onto his lips, “Got you.”

You smile softly as well, looking up into his eyes, “You did.”

You stay there for a few moments, simply basking in the other’s presence. It had been a while since you had let yourself be happy like this.

What had started as a way to get back at Max had become your life, body, and soul. The way Charles held you could become your religion, the words he whispered at night your bible. You could worship at the altar of this love until the end of your days, your only sin being not devoting yourself sooner.

Charles is perfect. Attentive, kind, caring, a good listener, and, most importantly, he didn’t ignore you. Didn’t pretend like you didn’t exist at the paddock, knowing just as well as you do that this world is as much your own as it is his.

Your hands, that had been resting against his chest, reach back to pull his arm off of your shoulder, your fingers ghosting along the skin of his arm until they reach his wrist. You look up at him for a moment, eyes twinkling, before your attention turns back to his arm or, more specifically, the dainty black band around it. You hook your finger on the edge of it, pulling it off of his wrist and holding the hair tie between your fingers.

You were about to put your hair up, knowing you were about to escape and run from him again. But he didn’t need to know your motives, he just carried a hair tie with him all the time, having barely taken it off since the first time you’d handed it to him.

Once the hair tie is securely in your hair, you’re off again, Charles figuring out your ruse just a second too late. His realization is accompanied by the shout of your name, a laugh, and his own run as he tries, and mostly fails, to catch up to you.

It was lovely.

For everyone except one person. The very person you had run into a few minutes prior before not even noticing who you’d clashed with, not even bothering to utter an apology in his direction.

For what it’s worth, Max had walked away as soon as he could, retreating to the Red Bull hospitality he’d just come out of, having to pretend he wasn’t staring (or seething).

He had tried so hard not to think about you. God, he’d actually thought he was succeeding too!

Then the very god who’s name he’d just used in vain had quite literally thrown you at him, your perfect boyfriend in tow. If that’s even what you guys are. Neither of you had commented on it and the media hadn’t gotten enough of a rumour to ask.

Had he done something to deserve this? Had he cursed some god that had come back to haunt him? They wouldn’t be the only one haunting him, it seemed. You are everywhere.

On podiums, in interviews, on billboards, magazines, social media, parades, events completely unrelated to F1, everywhere. He couldn’t avoid you. No matter how hard he tried.

This had to be some sort of eternal punishment.

He used to be the person you’d run to after a good result, looking for solace in his arms.

Now, you didn’t even notice it was him even when you ran smack-dab into him.

It was never supposed to be this way.

——

If there was some deity out there that hates Max, the same one must love you.

Because you couldn’t think of a better conference than the one you were in right now. The top three: you, Charles, Max. All together on one couch. What could go wrong?

Max’s jaw is set, his eyebrows forming a straight line, betraying just how angry he is to be up here with the two of you.

Charles, on the other hand, couldn’t be happier. A grin is on his lips, his hair ruffled from his helmet (and your hands), his face full of the post-podium glow, his skin flushed and, thankfully, no longer sticky with champagne. He occasionally leans over to whisper something to you, his words much quieter than the giggles they cause.

You don’t know if Max is looking. You don’t care, really. Well, you care in the sense that you would love for max to be fuming on the other side of that couch. But you don’t care in the sense that it wasn’t your priority in your interactions with Charles. Not anymore.

The questions start, most being aimed toward the winner of the race, Charles, sitting next to you.

A question gets aimed at Max and Charles, not truly listening, takes the distraction of the audience to lightly grasp your hand in his own, before looking back to Max. You know he isn’t doing it to rile things up. He’s just happy and he wants to be happy with you.

It’s when Max is done talking and the attention is brought back to you for a question, does the reporter take pause. You can see the gears turning in his head, eyes flickering between your faces and your intertwined hands.

You pretend they haven’t noticed, raising your eyebrows to prompt the reporter to ask a question.

He does, an edge of humor in his voice, “First off, you two have anything you want to tell us?”

Laughs echo around the small room and you shake your head, a soft smile on your lips, “Nope.”

The reporter narrows his eyes, his grin not fading in the slightest, “Well then, I want to ask what fuels you when you race. You seemed so alive out there, so exciting, I wanted to ask what has changed.”

You can’t help yourself, your smile widening exponentially despite your best efforts, “Well, I’m just very happy, I guess. I know I’m not known as the most smiley person but life has just…. Been treating me very well recently.”

The reporter nods, smirking as his eyes pass between you and Charles, “Anything to do with a certain Monegasque?”

Charles, ever the comedian, furrows his eyebrows, muttering a quick “Who?” Under his breath, making you snort.

“Um-,” you start, trying your hardest not to laugh. Then, you look to your side and Charles is just staring at you, the softest look on his face as he watches you speak, “No comment.”

That’s enough for the reporter, who sits down, happy with the information he had managed to get.

The rest of the conference runs quickly, questions being split between the three of you pretty evenly.

You and Charles leave together, hands clasped together as he spins you around, asking you questions about evening plans between well-timed spins, both of you moving in some kind of child-like joy.

There’s a song playing from a speaker somewhere, a soft, floaty rhythm that fuels your movements. It’s almost psychic, the way you both move in tune with the other.

Max had never liked to dance, writing it off as silly or frivolous. You’d offer him your hand and he’d wave it away, leaning away from your hand and unknowingly leaning farther away from your relationship as he did. It couldn’t have hurt him to entertain your happiness just for once during your time together. But apparently it did, based on how he’d react like you had burnt him whenever you even suggested dancing.

Now, Charles was spinning you around without you even having to ask, humming along to the song playing through a speaker in an unknown location, eyes locked on you to trail your every movement.

It wouldn’t be so bad if this isthe way it was always meant to be.

——

The last time you think about Max in any significant way is a relatively inconspicuous day.

It’s a race weekend, just like any other. But this time, your home race. You were always fond of these weekends, when you get to be in your own country, racing on home soil, knowing the people in the stands, the people of your country, are rooting for you.

The past two seasons you’d been racing at the track, Max had won both times, getting to raise his fist in celebration in front of your fans, in front of your country.

Maybe that’s what makes you want the win so bad. What makes you try and overtake just a tad bit too aggressively, what makes Max go off the track, losing the position to you, Charles and Lewis funneling past him as well.

To anyone watching the race, it would look like a clean overtake, Max just having lost control over the car. But you knew what it was. You had known Max. Maybe not now, but once upon a time you had, and you also knew exactly what to do to make him stumble.

You hadn’t meant to do it, hadn’t meant to send him off. You also knew you weren’t going to get penalized for it. If you had any focus that wasn’t already on the race, you’d probably feel decently guilty. But your race engineer chalks it up to a racing incident, focusing your attention on Carlos in front of you, the only thing between yourself and a win.

In the end, after a well-executed overtake and your simply outpacing the Ferraris, you take the win.

It’s euphoric, if you had to describe it. Flags of your country wave in the stands, signs with your face and shirts adorned with the Mercedes logo decorate the crowds.

You quickly stand on top of your car, holding your arms out to the crowd around you, relishing in the sound of their cheers and screams.

Charles is standing next to your car when you turn to the side and you let him catch you as you jump down. You throw yourself into his hug, grasping him tightly as he rocks you back and forth. You can barely hear him through both your helmets, the words “I love you” just barely passing through.

He leans back, flipping up his visor and pushing yours up as well. His eyes lock on your own, fueling the tears already pooling in your eyes.

You know you have to pull away eventually and when you do, Lewis is standing behind you, quick to pull you into a tight hug. He knows how much this means to you. In your time in the Ferrari hospitality, he had become quite close to you, quickly becoming one of your closest friends.

He lets you go after a few seconds, shouting something about being proud of you through your helmets.

Once he’s dropped you, you turn toward your team, running straight into their arms. It’s something that could never be replicated, the joy you feel in this moment. You were with the people you love the most, succeeding at the thing you love the most in the place you love the most. It’s a perfect moment.

You eventually have to pull yourself from the grasps of their team, Toto landing a particularly spirited pat on your head as you do, making you laugh.

You let Charles walk you over to get weighed, throwing his arm around your shoulder, Lewis walking along on their other side. It’s nice, having people that care about you like this.

George is in the room when you go to get weighed. He hugs you, you smile and hug him back, whispering a quick “thank you” to the older man. He smiles back, patting you on the back before falling back into conversation with Lewis.

You pass through the process passively, not bothering to pay too much attention to the room around you, your brain somewhere else. Somewhere floating.

Then you’re up on the podium and everything comes back into focus.

Your anthem is playing, the music floating through your head, bringing every happy memory here back into the forefront of your mind.

They hand you your trophy. It feels like it fits in your hands perfectly. You stare down at it, trying to memorize every detail before you set it down, replacing it with the oversized bottle of champagne.

Charles is standing beside you, though you’re not looking at him. You know he’s looking at you but you can’t tear your gaze away from the crowd below, spreading out across the track, shouting your name.

Then, the champagne comes. You don’t even fight it as Lewis and Charles both immediately aim for you. You can’t do anything to get away so you let the alcohol hit you, the liquid seeping into the fabric of your fireproofs and causing a chill to run through your skin.

You try your hardest to aim the bottle onto the Ferrari’s, giving up when you can’t beat them, instead aiming the bottle onto your team down below.

After the bottles have run out, you’re left standing, sipping on the champagne that is left and trying not to feel the cold liquid on your skin. It almost feels lonely, just for a second.

But then Charles is there, wrapping an arm around your waist and looking out onto the crowd with you. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, letting you bask in the sound of your name being cheered by thousands of people.

Lewis pats you on the back as he walks by, prompting you both to snap out of your staring, looking at each other with matching smiles.

As for Max, he’s below, standing on the edge of the crowd, not a part of the celebration, not sharing in the joy.

He had finished fifth, but he didn’t care about that now. Now, he only cares about you. The vision of you, grinning on the podium, eyes welling with tears as you look out on the crowd chanting your name. The sight of Charles pulling you into his arms, landing a warm kiss on the top of your head just before he pulls you off the podium, disappearing down the steps.

He wanted to be mad, he really did. He wanted to storm over and yell at you for passing him the way you had. But, to the outward eye, there was nothing wrong with the pass. Yelling at you would involve admitting that your only crime here was knowing him better than anyone, a fact he absolutely refused to acknowledge.

Besides, he couldn’t be mad. No matter how much he tried to be, he just isn’t. Not at you, at least. Maybe at Charles. Maybe at Carlos who had fended him off for 6 laps at the end. Maybe at the car for just being disappointing. But not at you. The anger would be misplaced. Fueled by the fact that he had lost you and couldn’t do anything about it.

His race engineer had tried to support him, Liam had tried to distract him. But he wasn’t having it. He couldn’t have it when you were looking at Charles like that.

He knows that, in another life, it would have been him standing next to you, by your side for your big moment. He refuses to acknowledge the idea that he probably wouldn’t have stayed by your side, his feet carrying him off the podium quickly, racking his brain to figure out why he hadn’t won instead of celebrating the fact that you had.

But it could have been him. It should have been.

But it wasn’t. It isn’t.

You have moved on. Found happiness in Charles. True, real happiness.

That’s when Max realizes, maybe this is the way it was always meant to be.

——

Tags: @casperlikej @evie-119

[lucijawriteswords]

locker room | luke hughes

summary: you find an angry luke in the locker room after a loss and figure out exactly how to help him.

warnings: 18+!!!! SMUT. oral (m receiving), swearing, slightly angry luke, whimpering, begging if you look hard enough. a little fluff. poor rutger gets caught in the crossfire. pretty tame (just wait for my next one. it’s on its way.) not edited, i’m impatient

word count: 2.5k

A/N: hello! welcome to my new venture. i’ve not written anything like this before so please, give me some grace- and feedback, if you’d like. tell me how you feel, who you want me to write about, what you want me to write about. with that, let’s get into it, shall we?

18+ below the cut

you heard laughs echoing from the press stand where the opposing team was giving post game interviews. you scoffed as you strode by, muttering to yourself. absolute ref show.

the path to the locker room was second nature to you, ingrained in your head, as familiar as your own bed. you’d been there enough times. familiar faces passed you as players quickly headed out, a few gracing you with a look, even fewer with a smile. you smiled back at those who did. one caught your arm, a freshman who’s name you hadn’t learned yet, right as you were about to turn the final corner, and gave you a warning glance. “he’s really upset, y/n. really upset. just thought i’d warn you. i’m not sure if he’s sad upset or mad upset but regardless i figured i’d let you know.”

you knew this. you knew it the second the buzzer screeched at the end of the third and luke stormed off the bench, shaking his head. you knew when you heard a loud snap and then the angry voice of an equipment manager, scolding luke about breaking a stick.

you knew luke.

“thanks, kid.” he smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. you reached up to gently pat his shoulder; friendly, comforting. “hey, don’t do that. you played amazing. the refs were horrid.”

he nodded, releasing your arm and bringing his hand up to wipe under his nose, followed by a loud sniffle. at the same time, you heard a scoff echo from around the corner and turned your head to find a brown, curly head and a bare shoulder disappearing back through the locker room door.

the freshman- who’s name you still couldn’t remember- looked at you, panicked. you just huffed out a sigh and drew your hand away from his shoulder. “oh, goodie.”

“i- y/n, he’s gonna think- shit,” he breathed out, letting his head drop backwards.

“hey, whatever he thinks doesn’t mean shit because it’s not true. he’s upset anyways and now he’s gonna spiral cause he thinks i’m messing with his freshman teammate. so, good game, honestly, but i’m gonna go figure out that situation before it’s too late.” you rushed out, pointing towards where luke’s head had disappeared to.

the freshman- you really had to learn his name- nodded and muttered a tiny ‘bye’ before making his way down the rest of the hall. you offered a quick wave as you stepped around the corner and pushed the door to the locker room open.

upon your immediate surveillance, there was no luke. but, you heard water streaming against tile, and the showers don’t shut off or turn on automatically, so that means that someone turned it on and was still in there. you did a quick second scan of the stalls, and upon seeing that everyone’s jerseys were hung up, bags folded, and there were no shoes resting underneath a stall- except luke’s- decided that it must be, could only be, luke in the shower.

“luke?” you called, making your way across the maize and blue carpeting.

“in here,” he answered, voice clipped. impatient. upset.

“can i come in?”

“yeah, i don’t care. ‘less you have rut with you, in which case, stay out there.”

“rut?” who the hell names their child rut?

“rutger, honey. my replacement, apparently.”

you surmised that rutger must be the freshman, and decided that yes, rutger was a name you’d have a hard time remembering.

“baby, he’s not your replacement. we were just talking.” the water shut off as you were talking and you heard bare feet slapping against the wet tile, followed by a low ‘fuck.’

“why are you swearing, lu?” you wondered, taking another stop towards the showers.

“forgot my towel. would you grab it for me? it’s hanging in my stall.”

you chuckled, walking back towards his stall and grabbing the towel. it was rough, pilled. threadbare on one end. “ew. gotta get you a new towel, babe.” you giggled, sticking your finger through a hole in the corner and turning, wiggling it at him.

“can you just bring it over here you weirdo?” he grumbled, but a small smile graced his lips as he poked his head around the wall.

“can i explain?”

“honey, i’m soaking wet. can it wait?” still upset, then.

“no.”

“go, then.” he bit out, exasperated, angrily gesturing at you to explain. you made a face at him before speaking.

“he was just warning me that you were upset, lu. i was thanking him and he looked sad so i told him he played well and that it was a ref show, ‘kay? just talking.” you finished, tossing the towel to him. his head disappeared behind the wall briefly before he made his way fully out, towel wrapped around his hips.

“alright. just don’t want him getting any ideas.”

“wait, lu, doesn’t he have a girlfriend? i swear, one of the freshmen this year has a girlfriend.” you thought out loud, following him towards his stall before plopping yourself onto the ground, electing to sit rather than stand as he got dry and dressed.

“oh. yeah.”

you laughed without humor, watching his back flex as he undid and redid the towel around his waist.

“glad i got you that shitty towel. didn’t feel like getting dripped all over, if i’m being honest.” you said, pulling your knees to your chest and resting your chin on them.

luke froze, turning his head with a devilish smile on his lips. your playful expression dropped as he turned all the way around, water slowly trailing down the planes of his chest. you gulped.

“lu, don’t even think about it- LUKE!” you started, trying to get up, but it was to no avail, because in a split second he was standing over you, shaking his head like a dog, sending water all over you- and the rest of the locker room, for that matter. “you little shit!” you screeched, holding your hands up to your face, the water splattering unceremoniously on you.

you heard his hoarse laugh as he finished tormenting you, turning back to his stall and pulling a sweatshirt over his body. you heard the rustling of fabric as he reached into his bag and pulled out a pair of sweatpants. your hands still covered your face, trying to be prepared if your child of a boyfriend got a second wind, but by the wet thump of the towel against the ground, you assumed he’d pulled the sweatpants on.

“i’m not gonna splash you again, baby. you can move your hands.” luke said, his voice calmer than it was a few minutes ago.

“why aren’t you putting your suit back on?” you asked, taking in his outfit.

“not going out the front, so nobody’s gonna see. just gonna go out the back, s’where i parked anyways.” he spoke towards the ground, pulling on socks and slipping his feet into a worn pair of birkenstocks.

“nobody’s even here anymore,” you added absentmindedly, looking down at your apple watch. 11:37. “it’s late.”

“yeah, honey, i know. you got a date with rutger at 11:45 or something?” he mumbled, the sass making its way back into his voice at in response to your apparently stupid statement.

“oh well, pardon me, mr. perfect. wasn’t sure if you were too busy being mad at me for talking to someone to look at your watch. oh, boy, am i excited to walk to the car, freezing and wet with your mopey ass.” you cut out, voice raising at the end, having had enough of him. “i get that you’re upset about losing but come on, luke. he’s got a girlfriend, he’s younger than me, and i would never do that to you.”

“oh, so you admit that i was right for thinking that? you’re defending yourself pretty heavily, y/n, i dunno. you sure he’s not waiting for you?” he whipped around. there was no more playfulness.

“you’re kidding, right?” you returned, voice emotionless.

he simply shrugged, nostrils flared slightly, anger written all over him. tense shoulders, arms crossed. wide stance.

“god, luke, you’re such a child sometimes.”

“oh, i’m a child for being protective over my girlfriend, but it’s fine for you to get all up on him and touch his arm? fucking double standard if you ask me.” he was harsh, accusatory.

your mouth dropped, incredulous at his words, but more so his tone. “don’t you fucking DARE talk to me like that. once you’re thinking straight and decide to not be an asshole, text me. i’m gonna go to my dorm tonight.”

you shook your head, pulling your phone out of your pocket and clicking into snapchat, swiping into your roommate’s chat, starting to type a message to her to ask her to pick you up, but you felt a hand close around your arm, spinning you back. you were ready to fire off more words but said words were nipped in the bud as you felt luke’s mouth on yours, hot and heavy. any anger you had took a backseat as you felt his tongue on yours, his hands finding their place on your hips, pulling you into him.

he kissed you desperately, hard enough to almost hurt. you moaned when he bit lightly on your lip, sticking the tip of your tongue out to flick his upper lip. a type of retribution. something between a moan and a growl clawed it’s way from his throat, angry and ready to be released.

you pulled away, shoving him firmly backwards by the chest. his eyes were apologetic and he looked like her was about to say something but you quieted him by pushing him down into the bench in front of his stall. “talk later,” you muttered, kneeling in front of him.

“baby, i was mean to you, you don’t have to-” he cut himself off as you undid his sweatpants and pulled him out, felt him heavy in your hand. you pulled slow, languid strokes over his cock, relished the way his head tipped back, the way his adams apple bobbed, the way he whimpered when your thumb ghosted over his angry tip. you grinned at the noise, deciding to tease him even more. his breath caught in his throat, a wet, choked, noise, as you dragged your tongue across his slit, letting your saliva mix with the precum that was gushing out of him. he looked down at you then, bringing a hand to the back of your head to gather your hair. “don’t tease me, baby. can’t take it.”

“gotta ask nice, pretty boy.”

“please, y/n. i need your mouth, i need to feel you on my cock, please.”

a wicked grin carved itself onto your face as you spat into your hand and gave him three long, hard strokes from the base. “all you had to do was ask, lu.” you purred, taking him into your mouth, moaning around him at the taste, the weight, the relief of feeling him in your mouth, on you tongue.

you heard his head thump against the wood of the stall, his breathing ragged as your moan vibrated around him. you felt him twitch in your mouth as you pressed your tongue flat against the underside of his dick and swallowed around him, curses falling from his lips.

“god, y/n, not gonna last. take me so good, baby,” he cut out, voice strained as he bucked into your mouth, hips and words stuttering in some sort of fucked up prayer to your mouth.

you smiled as much as you could with a mouth full of dick, moaning around him to try to get him there faster. his fist tightened in your hair and a whine escaped your lips, buzzing on his cock.

you looked up at him through your lashes, saw the flush on his neck making his way up to his cheeks, pride in the fact that you made him like that, that you could have him like this. that you could reduce him to a moaning, whimpering mess with only your mouth. you moaned at the mere thought, feeling him swell in your mouth.

you tapped his thigh twice, knowing he was getting close. his eyes met yours, hazy and hooded and drowning in lust, in you. you nodded, wanting, needing to see him when he finished.

his chest heaved, eyes trained on you as you worked him, bobbing up and down his cock, spit coating him at the base.

“fuck, y/n, look so pretty like this. so pretty, baby.” he whimpered, impossibly close. you moaned around him, long and loud, wanting to taste him. “so close, baby, so close.”

you took a deep breath, steadying yourself, before pushing your head down further, feeling his head hit the back of your throat, your nose pressing into the soft skin of his pelvis, feeling him tense under you. a long, drawn out call of your name left his lips as you swallowed around him, trying not to choke.

“fuck, gonna cum,” he whispered, lightly pushing his hips into your mouth, thighs shaking as he finally let go, warmth filling your mouth, his cock jumping wildly. you moaned, tasting him, feeling his hot cum coat your tongue and throat, swallowing it down as much as you could with his dick still in your mouth. he hissed, pulling your head off, overstimulated. you swallowed again, not wanting to miss a drop, settling back onto your knees, looking at him trying to collect himself.

“you still mad?” you quipped, cocking your head. he rolled his eyes at you, still trying to catch his breath as he tucked himself back into his pants. “gonna take that as a no,” you answered yourself, pushing yourself up, brushing your hands over your knees, feeling the imprint of the carpet and your jeans on the skin.

he stood up, gathering you into his arms and pulling your head into his chest. you nestled your head there, arms draping lazily around his waist, leaning all your weight onto him, the lateness of this rendezvous catching up with you. you smiled into the softness of his hoodie. “i’m sorry, babe. just get jealous, you know how i am.”

“i know, lukey. it’s okay. but you know i would never do that to you, to us, so i got defensive.”

he pressed a quick kiss into your hair, muttering an ‘i know,’ tapping your butt lightly so you would jump. you did so, weakly wrapping your legs around his waist, clinging to him lightly, knowing he had you. you rested your head on his shoulder, pressing a light kiss to the column of his throat. “can we go home? i’m tired.”

he smiled, readjusting you so he could grab his keys from the hook in his stall. “‘course we can, baby.” he kissed the side of your face, and you felt the smile still gracing his lips.

[gay-dorito-dust]

okay so if jace and aemond are both in love with reader how do you think they would react if reader was on the other side of the war and they had to fight them on dragon back???

Jace felt his heart break upon realising that he has to fight you. He doesn’t wish to be the reason you are brought to harm that he had once promised to keep you away from, he doesn’t think his heart would be able to handle it, but the realm was being plunged into war and you were unfortunately on the opposite side thanks to your father for pledging your house for Aegon.

Jace had tried to offer you his hand in marriage but your father wasn’t having it, proclaiming that you were already betrothed to someone else. Your father was aware of Jace’s feelings for you but wasn’t about to let his child marry the bastard son of Rhaenyra.

So without any options for him to take to secure your safety, Jace had come to terms with the reality that he had to kill you in order to help his mother sit the throne she was promised, would this war away at him for the rest of his days? Absolutely. You were his heart, his light, his breath of fresh air but now you were the thorn in his side that he couldn’t remove for he didn’t want to forget the delicious pain you brought him by making him love you.

He didn’t want to do this but his family had lost too much to the greens, so seeing you take their side without so much of a fight has to be the greatest betrayal he’s ever experienced, his heart hurt with the notion that he hasn’t once crossed your mind when you had been nothing but all consuming in his. Jace could only hope that the next life would be more merciful for the both of you as you both lunged for the other.

Aemond valued duty above all else for he didn’t have anything else, he was a kinslayer, the worst thing that you could possibly hope to be in Westeros. He had doomed himself from the start by claiming Vhagar that night on driftmark but he didn’t care because for the first time he felt like someone and felt useful for his family.

I wish I could say that he’d wouldn’t dare engage with you in combat but I’d be lying, if anyone before him opposes his family, then they are as good as dead regardless of how he felt in the past. However apart of him was certain you have come to hate him with a rage as blistering as dragonfire for what he had done to Lucaerys at Storm’s End.

He had ruined any and all hopes of your future together for good that day and drove you into siding with his half sister, the true heir to the throne, as you screamed with your whole chest upon Cannibal. Your mind has been made up as had his along time ago, his family needed him to win the war, he was there biggest asset and you were team black’s greatest asset they had at their disposal; your clash was an inevitable one.

Aemond know his heart might always belong to you but you were never his to claim, it wasn’t fate as you were promised to the likes of Benjicot Blackwood. Aemond had caught you both exchanging pleasantries beforehand once but didn’t think much of it until war finally broke across the realm, only then did it started to make sense. You were never his when your heart belonged to another and he wasn’t fully yours either when his heart was set on brining victory to his family over the love that could’ve been.

[katemoneymartinsgf]

Caitlin Clark x Swimmer Reader

A/N : This has been unfinished in my drafts for a week. I’m just projecting atp.

…..



You stood quietly, watching as everyone gathered behind the blocks for the men’s 500m race. Your eyes followed the swimmers as they lined up, but your mind was elsewhere.

“How many until the 200 fly?” you asked your friend Cami, who stood beside you, slightly tapping her foot.

“This race, then a 15-minute break. The boys have their 200, and then you’re up,” she replied.

You nodded, nerves tingling in your stomach. Walking to the warm-up pool, you noticed a familiar figure getting ready in the lane next to you.

Abby Reed.

You and Abby had swum together your entire life—well, technically, against each other. Every club team, every meet growing up, she was always on the opposing side. Abby was an incredible swimmer, you couldn’t deny it, and for some reason, you were always second to her. No matter how hard you tried, she was a step ahead, and she never let you forget it. She had this hold over you, but no one ever truly looked into it. No one knew the self-doubt that gnawed at you every time you faced her.

Your fingers absentmindedly traced the block in front of you as you fought the wave of doubt. You needed to place at least 5th in prelims to secure a spot in finals. Fifth place—that’s all you needed. But all you could think about was her. Abby. In the lane right next to you.

A gentle hand rested on your shoulder, pulling you from your thoughts. You turned to see Cami, her expression encouraging.

“You’ve got this, dude. They don’t stand a chance,” she said with a grin.

They did. They all stood a chance, especially Abby. You knew Cami was just trying to be supportive, but you were thinking practically.

“Yeah, I’ll be back,” you mumbled, needing some space. You walked away toward the empty locker room. You didn’t mean to be rude, but you hated anyone talking to you before a race—especially now.

“Hey,” came a soft voice from behind you.

Anybody but her.

“Hi, Cait,” you sighed, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease just a little.

“Is this a bad time for me to say you’re gonna do great?” she asked, reading you perfectly, as she always did.

You let out a breath, the weight of the day pressing down. “Abby Reed is in the lane next to me. The gap between her and the person ahead of her is three seconds, and I’ve never beaten her. I don’t stand a chance. This isn’t even my main event. I can’t get started fast enough, and this is my last–”

“Okay, okay, slow down. Breathe,” she interrupted, taking your hand and pulling you to sit on the bench.

She knelt in front of you, her eyes meeting yours. “None of that matters. You can have the best swim of your life today, but you’re putting too much pressure on yourself. Don’t think about Abby. Don’t think about anyone but you. You’re so incredibly fast, but you’re stuck up here,” she tapped your forehead gently, “instead of just swimming.”

You exhaled deeply, leaning your forehead against hers. Caitlin had been your rock through everything. She had this way of making you feel like it was okay to let your walls down, even if just for a moment. You hated being vulnerable, but with her, it felt... safe.

“Thank you, Cait. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Honestly, the number of times I’ve kept you from crashing out should be rewarded,” she teased with a smile.

You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, feeling her melt into you instantly.

“Best reward,” she murmured as you pulled away.

“I love you.”

“I love you more. Now, go warm up. You’ve got 15 minutes before your race,” she reminded you, giving you a reassuring nudge.

You grabbed your goggles and stood up, but before you could walk away, she caught you by the waist and pulled you back for another kiss. This one was a little rougher, but the way she held you made it so sweet.

“Okay, now you can lock in,” she smirked, letting you go.

…

The whistle blew, signaling the end of the break. The men’s 200m fly was up first. You stood off to the side, watching the water ripple as the swimmers took their marks.

Fifth place—that’s all you needed. Just 5th. But as you stood there, every part of you screamed that it wouldn’t be enough if you didn’t beat Abby.

A familiar pair of hands settled on your shoulders, and you tensed for a moment before relaxing, realizing it was Caitlin.

“Remember what I said. Don’t personify the competition. Head down for as long as you can,” she whispered.

You nodded slightly, eyes still locked on the block in front of you.

“One more 50 for the boys. Y/N, get to your lane,” Cami’s voice broke your trance.

You turned back to Caitlin, locking eyes. Her steady gaze gave you all the reassurance you needed. She believed in you.

You walked toward your block, hand brushing hers until you were forced to let go.

“Swimmers, you may exit the pool,” the referee called, signaling the end of the men’s race.

You stepped up onto your block, glancing to your left. Abby was there.

“Good luck, Y/L/N,” she said, but you didn’t acknowledge her. Don’t personify the competition.

“Swimmers, take your mark.”

Beep.

The starting buzzer sounded, and you launched from the block, your body moving on instinct. You focused on the water in front of you, refusing to let yourself check the lanes around you. You didn’t think. You just swam.

The race was over before you even realized it. You hit the wall and looked up at the board.

1:57.48. Sixth place.

In any other circumstance, you would’ve been proud of yourself. But there it was—Abby Reed, 1:55.32, second place. Four places ahead of you.

A pang of disappointment shot through your chest. She’d beaten you. Again.

“Swimmers, please exit the water,” the announcer called.

You pulled yourself out and immediately walked toward the warm-down pool, avoiding eye contact with everyone.

“Hey, Y/N, it’s okay. It happens...” Cami started, but Caitlin cut her off.

“Let her cool down. She’ll be okay.”

You were so grateful for her at that moment.

…

After warming down, you retreated to the locker room, seeking a quiet corner where you could be alone. The race kept replaying in your head. This was supposed to be your moment, your chance to prove you belonged here. And it was gone.

You heard soft footsteps approaching, followed by Caitlin’s voice.

“Red, yellow, or green zone?” she asked, her tone gentle.

It was your code. Red meant leave you alone. Yellow meant you were upset but could be talked down. Green meant you were okay enough to joke.

“Red... but I need you,” you whispered.

Without hesitation, she pulled you into her arms as you let the tears fall.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you,” she murmured, pressing soft kisses to your head.

“I suck,” you mumbled into her chest.

She pulled back slightly, cupping your face with her hands. “No, we’re not doing that. You are a talented swimmer. So what if you didn’t beat her today? That doesn’t make you any less amazing.”

“But if I can’t beat Abby Reed, how can I ever be considered good?” you questioned, voice cracking.

“Because…” Caitlin paused, gathering her thoughts. “Because you’re more than a race. You’re more than Abby Reed. You’ve been so focused on her that you’ve lost sight of what makes you great. You’ve got the talent, but you’re too caught up in her to see it.”

You exhaled shakily,still hiccuping over your tears.

“breathe my love” she instructed

You finally released a full breath her words slowly sinking in. She wiped the tears from your cheeks, pressing a kiss to your nose.

“Thank you,” you began, but she cut you off with a kiss.

“No need to thank me. Just remember, I think you’re incredible. But I’m not gay or anything, so don’t get any ideas,” she teased, making you giggle as she kissed you again.

You rested your head on her chest, taking a deep breath as her warmth surrounded you.

“Not to bring it up again, but if I had one more chance, I’d dust her,” you muttered.

“Keep that energy because… you’re in the finals,” Caitlin said calmly.

“What? How?” you asked, jumping away from her in disbelief.

“Third place DQ’d. You bumped up to eighth for the finals,” she explained, smirking.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“Because I needed you to process everything first. You were too caught up in it. Now, you can go into the race with a clear head.”

“Caitlin Clark, you’re something else,” you said, kissing her passionately.

You pulled away, doing a little happy dance. “I’m gonna smoke her.”

Caitlin grinned. “That’s better.”

She leaned in close. “Now, go eat, stay off your feet, and get ready. I’ll be back after picking up some packages and dropping something off with Kate.”

“You got my pickles, right?”

“They’re in Cami’s cooler, with a lemon lime gatorade.”

Your heart warmed. To be loved is to be known, and Caitlin truly knew you.

You pulled her in for another kiss, then peppered her face with quick, playful ones right after.

“Remember when you said you weren’t gay…?”

“Shut up,” she says, pushing you away with a laugh, walking off with a teasing smile.

“I love youuu!” you call out after her.

“I love you… STAY OFF YOUR FEET!” she yells as she gets farther away.

...

! Cut to the race because I said so !

You hear your coach's voice as you walk behind the blocks. “You got this, Y/N. Head down, don’t breathe, don’t think—just swim.”

You nod, scanning the crowd with a sudden surge of fear. You need her here.

Finally, your eyes find Caitlin, standing with Kate and the rest of the Iowa basketball team. Your gaze locks with hers, and she nods, arms crossed around her chest as always. She’s just as locked in as you are.

You walk to your place behind the block. The announcers call out each swimmer’s name, but you try hard not to listen when her name is announced.

“Hey, Y/L/N… don’t embarrass your girlfriend. That would be a shame,” Abby calls out from two blocks away.

Your body freezes for a moment. Abby knew exactly how to push your buttons, especially the ones that made you feel like you weren't good enough for Caitlin. It's been a while since those thoughts crept in, but leave it to Abby to bring them back. What a bitch.

You glance back at the crowd, locking eyes with Caitlin once more. She sees the nervous look on your face but returns it with a stare that says, deal with it later. It’s crazy how the two of you could communicate without speaking. You nod again, pushing all other distractions aside.

“Swimmers, step up.”

You take your place on the block, just like you’ve done a million times before.

“Come on, Y/N. Outside smoke… you got this,” you whisper to yourself.

“Swimmers, take your mark.”

BZZZ

Before you know it, the race has begun. And in what feels like a blink, it’s almost over.

As you approach the final 10 meters, you put your head down and give it everything you have. Every ounce of strength left in your body goes into the last push. You hit the wall and immediately look to see if anyone has finished ahead of you.

Two swimmers… and one of them is Abby Reed.

The crowd erupts.

For a split second, your heart sinks, until you catch the same look of heartbreak on Abby’s face. You turn toward the monitor.

Y/L/N - 1st place. 1:54.27. Meet Record.

“No way…” you whisper to yourself. You glance up to see the entire Iowa swim team behind the blocks, cheering like crazy.

“And that is a new meet record, folks! Outside smoke never fails! The medal is yours, kid!” the announcer shouts over the mic.

You pull yourself out of the water, immediately engulfed by your teammates’ hugs. But there’s only one person on your mind.

Breaking free from the crowd, you head toward the stands. Caitlin is already making her way down to you.

You leap into her arms as she spins you around.

“I’m so fucking proud of you! Look at you—MY 200 FLY GOAT!”

“I love you so much. Thank you for always believing in me.”

She pulls you in for a deep kiss. “I love you even more,” she says between kisses.

This is the most public you’ve ever been with her. Cameras flash all around, and you know this will be all over social media by tomorrow.

But right now, nothing can take away from the high you’re on.

As the adrenaline from the race begins to fade, the weight of everything that led you here settles in. All the early mornings, the grueling practices, the moments of doubt—all worth it for this moment. But more than the medal or the meet record, what makes this feel so monumental is having Caitlin by your side. It wasn’t just about winning; it was about knowing that, no matter the outcome, she would be there, arms open, heart full. And now, in front of the world, there’s no more hiding, no more fear. You’ve always been enough for her—just as you are.

You pull back slightly, resting your forehead against hers, the noise of the crowd fading into the background. Caitlin smiles, that familiar sparkle in her eyes, and you feel your heart swell. This is where you’re meant to be—both in the pool and in her arms. As you stand together, the cameras flashing, the team cheering behind you, one thing is clear: the journey, the victories, the challenges—all of it means more with her by your side. And in this moment, everything feels exactly as it should.

[m4tthewmurd0ck]

stand and fight

��─ jacaerys velaryon x fem!targaryen reader

surprise i can’t contain myself so this is a series shdbxndjfvnsj

little a/n before we begin ── CHANGING AGES!! jace is only 13 when aegon is crowned king but in this, you and he are both 18. as with my aegon piece, i know everyone’s long names and titles but for the sake of not typing it out each time i use first names (i.e. criston instead of ser criston cole). reader is alicent and viserys’ child, but is living with rhaenyra and her family because she was always of the opinion that her father wanted rhaenyra to be queen. even once aegon was crowned, she refused to refer to him as king. as a result this caused a huge feud with reader against alicent, aegon, and aemond and she was all but banished from her home. about 2 weeks after aegon is crowned, reader and dragon (stormfyre) ran away and have been with rhaenyra and fam ever since. of everyone on team black, you’re closest with jace. everyone suspects something romantic between you both, but nothing has happened as of the start of this. takes place before, and during season 2 episode 4. you’ve been warned

wc: 1.6k (future chapters will be much longer and feature a lot more of jace, promise!)

PART ONE

Your relationship with Jacaerys (not that you could really call it a relationship), wasn’t always how it is now. He wasn’t the one you sought out when you wanted quiet but not alone time, and you weren’t the first person he searched for when he entered the room. Certainly not when you first arrived and Rhaenyra announced that you’d be staying with them.

In fact, in the beginning, you were sure he hated you.

Being on opposing sides of this ‘war’, part of the reason why he took such a strong disliking to you was because he thought he had to. You, on the other hand, were the complete opposite. You’d long since grown tired of hating people simply because you were told to.

On the evening you and Stormfyre ran away, the entire time you were flying was spent worrying and just praying to the Gods that you wouldn’t be turned away, or killed.

Rhaenyra was there to greet you when Stormfyre finally landed, and once you told her how bad things had gotten at home and that you didn’t know where else to go, she immediately offered you a room. Though you were Alicent’s daughter, you were still her half sister and had always been kind to her and her children. She knew you wanted no part in this feud, that you and Helaena were innocent in all of it.

After you wrote a note and Rhaenyra sent a raven to deliver it to Alicent, she informed you that they were just about to sit down and have dinner and she’d love for you to join them.

The first thing you noticed as you took your seat across from Lucerys, was how Jacaerys was glaring at you.

No one had taken more than a few bites before he put his fork down and loudly stood up.

“Why is she here?” He pointed at you, not even bothering to hide his anger.

“Jacaerys sit down,” Rhaenyra shook her head. “You know as well as I do that she is innocent in all of this. I have invited her—”

“To stay with us? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, she’s one of them! How do you know—”

Hearing that last part, Rhaenyra pushed her chair back and stood up. “Do not speak to me in that way, I will not tolerate it. I have invited her to stay for as long as she’d like and that is final. Now sit down.”

“Yes Your Grace.” The sarcasm was loud and clear, but Rhaenyra opted to ignore it since he did in fact sit down again.

You had your worries, but this confirmed it. You couldn’t stay. On the way over you told yourself that if anyone showed hesitation or anger at you being there, you’d leave as soon as you felt safe to do so. To live in a place where you were in fear of saying the wrong thing or suddenly being asked to leave, was no different than if you’d remained at home.

“Your Grace, I am a bit tired. Thank you for the lovely meal but if it’s alright I’d like to retire for the evening.”

Jacaerys once again didn’t even attempt to hide his anger. He rolled his eyes as he continued to eat.

“Of course, please don’t hesitate to ask if there’s anything you need.” She gave you a small smile, and as soon as you turned the corner you could hear her beginning to bicker with her eldest son.

After you’d been in your room about an hour, there was a series of soft knocks at your door. If you’d been doing anything other than laying in bed, you probably wouldn’t have heard.

When you opened the door and were greeted by Lucerys, to say you were surprised was an understatement.

“My Prince, I —”

He gave you that look, the I’m a kid please don’t use my title it’s weird look, and when you tried again and called him by his first name, he smiled. His hands had previously been behind his back and when he brought them forward, in each was a small plate with what appeared to be some sort of cake.

“Jace was rude and I know that’s why you didn’t finish dinner,” he said simply.

You opened your mouth to say that wasn’t true, but when he gave you that look again you couldn’t help but laugh.

“For being so young, you’re quite perceptive.”

He nodded as he sat down and handed you a plate. “Mom says I’m good at reading people. I forgot forks so we’ll have to use our hands.”

“You wish to stay and eat with me?”

Again, the young boy nodded. “It’s not fun to eat alone.”

The first few minutes, the 2 of you simply enjoyed the desserts in silence. You were relieved to find that it was a comfortable silence. When you were both finished, Lucerys, who insisted you call him Luke, took the plates and said he’d be right back. When he returned only a moment later, his first question surprised you.

“Why did you run away?”

“I — it’s complicated. Since Aegon was crowned king, there have been a lot of… fights.”

“You don’t think he should be king?”

You wondered how much to tell him, seeing as he was only 11. “No,” you decided to just tell the truth. “I think your mom should be.”

“She’s your… half sister, right?”

You nodded. “Yes, she’s my half sister. The same way that Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond are her other half siblings.”

“Do you not like them?”

“My other siblings?”

He nodded.

“I’m using this word too much, but it’s complicated. My relationship with each of them is different. Or was, before things went bad. Aegon and I used to be inseparable when we were really little. Everyone used to joke that we were twins. Though I’m a year older than Aemond, I always looked up to him. He’s the one who taught me how to use a sword, and I will always be grateful for that. Helaena and I are still close, she understands why I left. In fact that reminds me I need to ask your mom if I may send a raven to her tomorrow.”

“Even if you don’t think he should be king, why did you leave? Did they hurt you?”

“No, not yet anyway,” you gave a sad smile. “But it wasn’t just them that made me fearful. Other people haven’t been so kind. It’s why I’m so grateful that I’m allowed to be here, even if it’s only temporary.”

Luke looked surprised, as if it hadn’t occurred to him that you’d leave. “But you’ll stay with us for a while right? I’ll talk to Jace, I swear it.”

You quickly wiped a tear and smiled at the young boy in front of you. “That means a lot to me, truly. But please don’t talk to your brother on my behalf. He has made it clear I’m unwelcome and I fear that anything you say will make him angry with you as well.”

“If you don’t stay, will you have to return home?”

That was something you hadn’t even thought about. Initially while flying you feared being rejected. But even if that did happen, what would your plan have been?

“Possibly. I do not know where else I would go.”

“Jacer— there you are, you’ve had us searching everywhere,” Rhaenyra smiling as she saw how comfortable her son was around you. “Why don’t you let her get some sleep, hmm? You can see her in the morning.”

He groaned, but Luke did give you a hug and a “goodnight” before heading out of your room.

Rhaenyra turned to follow her son, then turned back around to face you again as she thought of something she wanted to say.

“I’d just like to apologize for my older son. I do not know what has gotten into him as of late but he had no right to speak to or about you that way. I will see to it that he—”

“Please, Your Grace—” she gives you that same look that Luke did, and you smile at how similar they look. “Rhaenyra, you and he have nothing to apologize for. I am technically one of them, and I’m intruding on your home.”

She is quick to shake her head. “You’re not intruding. I know what it can be like over there, and for your wellbeing I am glad that you felt safe enough to come here. We will think of next steps for tomorrow, although I really do hope you’ll stay a while. It seems Luke does too. I’ll let you get some rest now.”

“Thank you, I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you,” you get off of the bed and embrace your sister for the first time in who knows how long. She rubs circles on your back and it brings tears to your eyes, your own mom wouldn’t ever embrace you like this.

Rhaenyra leaves a few minutes later, and you finally crawl into bed.

As you lay there and wait for sleep to come, you think about the events of today. And you can’t help it, eventually your mind drifts to the boy who sat across from you.

With the dirty looks he gave you, how he spoke about you as if you weren’t there, there’s no doubt in your mind that he hates you.

It’s hard to believe that if Aegon weren’t crowned King, and Rhaenyra held her place on the iron throne, that Jacaerys would’ve been the next heir.

Even harder to believe is that to ensure both families remained united, you and he would’ve already gotten married.

You finally start to feel sleepy, and just before you drift off, your final thoughts are of Jacerys. If you do end up staying, you wonder if things will always be like this.

TAGLIST ──

@simpingbigtime | @chillingyuh | @themoon-mine | @greenvita | @frostooo | @darylspersonalwhore | @athxnss | @thatbird-fromrio | @yohanseyebrowmole | @koobratzy | @ganertys | @kodzuvk | @lovelyteenagebeard | @m1lilachp | @lotus-888

[silent-sanctum]

hiii mijin! hope you are doing well 💕 can i req a beach day with jotaro and the crusaders, y/n getting hit on, joot getting jealous, pol and kak clowning him, those shoujo anime cliche we all know and love 😂 thanks !

Hello anon! Your beach day request has been heard! Initially, I had this planned to only be at most 600+ words, but then I went ahead and found the plot to be... a lot more 😬 Also this takes place in an au where everyone survives post-DIO's World. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! ♡

Volleyball - Jotaro x Reader

word count: 2.2k

It’s been 3 months since DIO’s defeat and no one else deserves a break more than the Crusaders.

Everyone had time to recover from their injuries and although some had worse wounds than others, they still managed to make it out of the otherwise deadly voyage alive.

It was Joseph’s idea for the team to meet-up once more in a popular beach near New York-to hang out as friends for once rather than just allies or colleagues. He promised that any expenses in relation to this one-time hangout would be covered using the “good old Joestar funds” as the old man put it.

And since the new school year wouldn’t start until a month after, and that being around familiar faces was a nice experience, Jotaro wasn’t opposed into joining, more so after knowing you were going too.

Speaking off, a part of him held onto this ounce of pride when you and Jotaro decided to be something more than being “just close friends” and who would’ve guessed that this decision would be made in the middle of a mission to save his mother.

Now, not only is Holly alive and well but he also gained a new lover for her to dote on and gush with.

And whether it was conscious or not, you both stuck around for each other, often finding ways to meet one way or another. It felt nice to have you here with him no matter the place.

So having to hop on board a plane yet again and fly off to the States for a day or two wouldn’t be too excruciating when he knew you’d be there to make the sudden meeting a bit more tolerable.

Day after arrival, here he was- sitting underneath a beach umbrella in his dark shorts, drinking juice while watching his grandfather and Polnareff compete at a game of volleyball. You were there beside him in the shade, dressed in a loose blouse and shorts, applying sun screen as you attempted to convince him to play a game with the crew.

I’d rather be at home. Despite your many tries, Jotaro stayed stubborn and said he’d be fine watching you play with the guys. You didn’t push the offer again and after a sip of your citrus drink and a quick peck on his cheek, off you went to lead a waiting Kakyoin to the playing field.

And for the next few hours, it mostly stayed like this- Jotaro and Avdol resting underneath the shade, him watching the volleyball match with his Walkman in hand listening to music, the Egyptian reading a worn-out book that’s most probably from his archives, and the rest of the group out in the sun playing their 3rd round.

Throughout his time there, Jotaro kept his eye on the game and on you specifically, mirroring your excited smile and laughter with his more subtle lip curl and huffs. In an addition to having himself be yours, the relationship helped him negate all the passing girls who took interest in him and tried to approach him.

Not that he had a hard time ignoring them to begin with it.

What Jotaro hadn’t considered was the onlooking men taking interest of you, and the thought struck him square in head when as a volleyball match ended, one of the nearby boys- an American with a blonde mop of hair and tan skin- walked over to you all smiling and shit.

Normally, you conversing with someone with the opposing sex wouldn’t bother him this much, but the second he watched the guy offering you an ice cream cone bought from the nearby vendor, he could hear himself scoff and scowl. “Why’d you accept that?” He muttered, continuing to glare at the man consistently keeping up a lively conversation with you. “What are they even talking about this long?”

“Such an irritating sight that is, right?” Jotaro glanced at Polnareff coming over to be annoying and take part in this dilemma. Behind him, Kakyoin followed. Both of them crouched by the delinquent and joined him in watching you talk with a stranger. “Can’t be helped when she’s just as attractive as you are.”

“You didn’t seem to mind it when boys from our school approached her though,” Kakyoin said.

“It’s because I know they won’t risk meeting me when they think of trying,” Jotaro replied. “But I got a feeling that guys from here are more gutsy than in Japan.”

To hammer down on that point, the blond began to point to his biceps and not-so-subtly flexed them for you to see, and you responded with a calm, wide-eyed “woah”. Jotaro rolled his eyes, rubbing a hand over his thick bicep once. “Why not head over there then? If you’re this jealous?” Polnareff said.

“I’m not jealous.” Both the cherry-haired and Frenchman stayed silent, giving him a mere deadpan. “… Fine. Just a bit.”

“So go there and introduce yourself as her boyfriend in your-” Kakyoin gestured over Jotaro’s frame. “-punk delinquent-esque ways.”

“And you can’t judge us for poor advice anymore when Nori here upgraded from telling you how to do things to instead doing things your way!” Kakyoin nodded, bumping fists with Polnareff.

Jotaro judged them regardless with one vertical look-over at the both of them. “I still don’t trust any of your advises. Besides,” he sighed. “After knowing her more, I don’t think she’d like me suddenly walking there and getting possessive.”

“But it’s not being possessive when you’re establishing boundaries monsieur Kujo,” Pol said.

“Don’t call me that,” Jotaro scowled. “Also I don’t get why you two are always in my business. It’s annoying. Leave me alone.”

Not that his “threats” were effective against this duo, who simply shared a look with each other before replying. “What are you talking about? We’re buddies!” Polnareff chuckled, wrapping an arm around the raven-haired teenager. “Who am I to leave a pal behind to wallow in their own self-pity?”

“Also to be honest, it’s entertaining to see you struggle over stuff like this,” Kakyoin said with a smirk. That and paired with those shades he bought from Egypt just made him all the more smug. “Gets all the ladies but can’t handle one-”

“You shut-”

“Hey!” All three paused to look at you waving from a distance with that damn American and his friends still standing near you. “These guys want to play a round but Grandpa Joseph’s tapping out for the day. I’m afraid his bones have become too brittle-”

“No it’s not!” Said the groaning old man plopping down on the sand the moment he reached his and Avdol’s shared blanket. “I didn’t want to overpower those kids that’s all!”

“L-”

“We’re tougher than we look gramps!” The blond called out in return just as Jotaro was about to say something to you. And that didn’t help alleviate any increasing irritation boiling in him. “How about you guys?”

“Us?” Pol asked.

“Yeah! A friendly competition between us youngsters sound good?” He said, ball already in hand. “Just one set of 2v2!”

“I’m down-”

Whatever Kakyoin had to say about accepting the invite got cut off as Jotaro stood from his spot and walked over to your side with his hands in his short pockets. By the time you were beside him, the blond and his posse faltered for a second when they saw how much taller, built, and intimidating this supposed teenager from Japan was compared to them.

“I’m joining.”

You gazed up at him with widened eyes and a dash of pink to your cheeks. “Jotaro-ssi…”

“O-Oh for sure man,” the American cleared his throat, nervous as he looked over his shoulder to his friends. “How about you guys-”

“You chickening out?” Jotaro said in his characteristic blunt mannerisms. “You wanted to play volleyball, looked for a player, and now that he’s here, you’re passing the torch to your buddies?” From the corner of his vision, you crossed your arms facing them, more amused than pissed at his intervention.

He could spot the single bead of sweat dripping down the side of his face and his Adam’s apple bobbing as he tried to play off his cold feet with false bravado. “Nothing wrong than wanting to let my pals have a shot at a game, but since you’re asking for it,” he made show as he tossed and caught the ball. “It’s game on. Though I got to warn you, I have a nasty spike.”

“It’s true!” Polnareff yelled out from the sidelines. “I saw how he moves on the other net.”

Jotaro rolled his eyes and walked off to your side of the field. “Hey, do you even know how to play volleyball?” You said with a whisper. “You haven’t played once during our time here.”

“I’ve watched you and the others play this entire afternoon enough times for me to figure out how to do it,” he said with casual ease, glancing down at you with a shrug. “If a novice can beat an expert Darby at his favorite baseball game, then this will be nothing.”

“Well yeah but you know playing a video game is drastically different than playing an actual game, right?”

He huffed, unbothered. “Makes this better for me.”

With everyone in their respective spots, one of the blond’s friends served as the referee and starting from the other guy’s side, the whistle blew and the ball flew.

True to his word and his ability to study and adapt on the spot, Jotaro managed to keep up with you and his opponents on the playing field, exchanging the ball countless times without break. All the while, the Crusaders watched this one game like die-hard fans at the Superbowl.

It shouldn’t be that much of a shocker when he knew that both of you had physical advantages: Your lithe self allowing you to be more agile and nimble to traverse the court and catch the ball before it fell, while he had the strength and height to send the ball back to the other side, often times targeted to the edges.

And just as the timer was about to hit the 29 minute mark, Jotaro noticed the American get into a stance with a smirk plastered over his tan face. He cocked his head and rose a brow. The nasty spike I assume.

You sent the ball flying to their side and just as he predicted, the blond took over center field and leapt, arm reared and hand poised to deliver his so-called “nasty spike”.

His palm got into contact with the ball’s surface and with a clear smack, the ball was sent flying over to your side. But as he was about to receive, a glint of rose gold zipped past his vision and next thing he knew, the ball was up in the air as if it was caught mid flight to the ground.

One second glimpse at your knowing look, Jotaro didn’t hesitate to follow your footsteps. He leapt off the sand and rose his hand. In that split second, Star Platinum’s purple gloved hand enveloped his and upon contact with its surface, the ball practically launched itself at the American at a raging speed akin to an incoming missile.

The sand erupted in a loud boom, causing a shallow crater with plumes of sand flying off in many directions as the ball hit the ground. It rolled off the now-incapacitated blond stranger’s body.

His friends couldn’t even move nor make the effort to blow the whistle from the shock of it all.

Jotaro tongued the inside of his cheek, casually pocketing his hands back in his shorts as he glared at the American. “Nasty spike ,” he scoffed. “What a joke.”

You whistled, impressed as you looked down the crater. “You did a number on him.”

He reached over to grab your wrist. “Let’s get out of here.” With a gentle tug, you complied to his wish and followed him out the sandy court. He didn’t even bother meeting up with the Crusaders, who were equally stunned at what had happened.

“You’re not at all questioning why I’m not at all offended at you knocking the man out?”

“I’m questioning why you decided to cheat and use Sanctuary midway.”

“The game was ending in a minute anyways,” you said. “And I wanted to finish it off with a bang.”

“By letting me launch a ball at his face?” You smiled and nodded. “And you’re okay with that?”

“He’s a weirdo,” you grimaced. “His fetishes were showing when he said something about how exotic and pretty I was, and it pissed me off.”

Hearing that made Jotaro want to turn around to the guy for one more solid punch to the face. “But I saw you talking to him for that long.”

“Made you jealous, didn’t it?” You said, smug. “I lowkey wanted to bait you into playing a game with me by riling you up a bit, and for you to finish off that creep with what he deserved.”

“I wasn’t-” He bit his tongue, not finishing his train of thought. “I was a bit jealous and I’m glad I got to wreck that shit-eating face of his in the process, but can you not make me feel like this on purpose? It doesn’t sit right with me.”

“Duly noted and I’m sorry,” you said, eyes cast downward as you bowed your head a bit in sincere apology. “I’ll just tell you outright who and when to punch someone next time, promise!”

Jotaro paused in his tracks and with one good look at your determined sparkling eyes, couldn’t help but sigh and smile at you with uncharacteristic fondness.

“Yeah... I’d prefer that.”

[allzelemonz]

Might As Well: Negan Smith X FTM Reader

Fictober Prompt: Day 4, Forced Proximity Pronouns: he/him, Reader referred to as ‘man’ and ‘guy’ Physical Sex: AFAB, neutral wording used except in warnings section Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Negan says trans people are hot, Negan being gay, Negan has a dick size fixation, Negan is his own warning, cave in, trapped together, trans reader, trans male reader, vaginal sex, mention of pregnancy possibility but nothing positive, brief masturbation, top Negan and bottom Reader, mention of Reader being thick, mention of future oral sex Summary: While scouting through a cave system, you and Negan get cut off from the others.

The cave-in happened without a lot of warning. Just enough rumbling for everyone to panic, not nearly enough to get Negan out. The rocks fell, filling the whole passage and leaving the rest of the scout team on the other side while you and Negan stand between the fallen rocks and a natural dead end. You can faintly hear Simon and Regina shouting at the rest to shut up, but nothing beyond that.

You look back at Negan, eyes searching for injuries on your boss. “You good?”

He nods. “Dandy, just fucking dandy.”

“Alright!” Simon shouts from the other side of the rocks. “We’re gonna need some tools, probably wood to prop up the cave, get the fuck back to the truck.”

Negan smirks, leaning against the wall. “That’s my Simon, getting shit done.”

“Still gonna be a while.” You run a hand along the rocks. “Shit’s pretty thick, boss.”

“It ain’t the only thing.” Negan mutters, tilting his head as he looks you over. “Would you be absolutely offended if I said I wanted to stuff whatever hole you got, man?”

“Funny, boss.” You mutter, still scanning the rocks to find some kind of opening.

“You think I’d joke about that?” Negan huffs. “You’re a good lieutenant, don’t get me wrong, but my first pick for you was husband. And since we got a while, well… we might as well, huh?”

You look back at him, finding his face oddly steady as opposed to that typical bullshit expression.

“Now.” He sighs, setting Lucielle aside and starting to unbuckle his belt. “Either I beat it to your handsome fucking face or I get to stick this uncomfortable problem between your legs. But I am gonna get off either way, cause you’ve had me hard for like an hour.”

You watch with a bit of a swirling mind as he pulls himself from his pants and starts to stroke.

“Feel free to jump in.” He groans lightly as his head rests back against the cave wall.

You feel a dryness in your throat, a throbbing below the waist, and the immediate image of your boss fucking you into the rocks beneath your feet.

“Okay…” Your voice comes out scratchy and low enough that, in the back of your mind, you wish it would always sound like that.

He pauses, smiling over at you. “Any boundaries I need to know about?”

You crinkle your brow, not fully expecting him to care about something like that.

“Look, man…” He sighs, shaking out his hand. “You ain’t the first guy in that situation I’ve had and you definitely won’t be the last. All I wanna know is if I can touch everything without a lotta grief or if I should just hold your hips and fuck.”

It surprises you for half a second before you realize that, of course, Negan has not only fucked the occasional non-traditional guy but knows how to make that fuck go over well enough that he can empty his balls. “Second one.” You mutter, unbuttoning your pants.

“I’ll keep that in mind. You okay on your stomach?”

You nod, carefully kneeling on the rocks and pulling your pants down your thighs.

“And as far as I’m concerned your dick would probably be huge.” He chuckles as he takes your hips and guides you to prop them up as you settle on your stomach. “You got the biggest balls kinda attitude, but it’s like you don’t give a shit and that’s hot as fuck for me.”

“Thanks…” You mutter quietly, trying not to feel any particular way about the small affirmation.

“Anytime.” He presses his tip up against you, dragging it gently. “Maybe we can find you a nice big dick so you can fuck me next time. One that suits you, gotta be at least eight inches and nice round nuts for a guy as hot as you.”

He presses in, sinking in one thrust as he groans and squeezes your hips. Your back arches on instinct, the filling sensation making everything throb and heat in seconds. Your hand goes to your mouth as he starts to move, not wanting to make anything echo through the other caves.

“Taking it like a champ.” Negan mutters. “Fuck, I can get real deep with you.” He grinds into you, his balls pressing firmly against your skin. “Ya gotta let me cum inside, baby, it’s too good. Dr. Carson’s got pills and shit, just say I can.”

You nod lightly. “It’s fine, boss.”

“Yeah…” He picks up his pace, hunching over you to get deeper. “That’s my guy, huh? Giving the boss everything he can.”

You press your head against the cool rock floor and bite deep into your hand to keep the sounds at bay. Negan’s good. He knows how to fuck and fuck good. Every shove forward now brings you close and it’s one final thrust that brings Negan over that gets you too. He floods you, warm and already leaking out around his dick as it’s settled as deep in you as it can go. You shutter and groan into your hand as your body milks him dry. The two of you lay for a moment, Negan lowers your hips to rest on the ground and hums into your neck as he rests lightly on top of you.

“Next time we’re stuck, I’m sucking whatever dick you got.” He mutters against your skin, giving you a small kiss. “I know there’s shit to make it bigger, and I’ll be damned if I can’t find something. You got no idea how much I wanna get my mouth around it.”

“You plan on getting us stuck in a cave again?” You mumble, a bit tired from the intensity as you lazily shift under him to get more comfortable.

“You could just come see me.” Negan smiles against your neck. “I’d suck you off anytime.”

[amazinglystay]

Curveballs and Close Calls

‧‎₊˚✧ Bf!Seungmin x reader ✧˚₊‧

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

warnings!:

Mild language (playful insults like "loser") and a intense sports game with some fluff

(not proof read)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The sun dipped low in the sky, casting the baseball field in hues of amber and gold. The energy was electric, the kind that made your chest tight and your palms clammy. You stood just outside the dugout, bouncing on your heels, arms crossed as you squinted at the mound. Seungmin adjusted his cap, his familiar sharp gaze locked on the batter.

The bases were loaded, the score tied, and there were two outs in the bottom of the ninth. A classic baseball cliché, but it didn’t make it any easier to watch.

“Don’t choke, loser,” you muttered, knowing full well he couldn’t hear you. But a small part of you hoped he could.

One of his teammates, sitting next to you on the bench, snorted. “You’re brutal. Isn’t he your boyfriend?”

You smirked, not taking your eyes off Seungmin. “That’s exactly why I can say it. Besides, if he screws this up, he’s walking home.”

That got a laugh from the guys around you, though you didn’t miss the way your fingers tightened nervously around the edge of your jacket.

Out on the mound, Seungmin wound up for the pitch, his form as effortless as ever. You watched as he threw a blistering fastball, the kind you’d seen him perfect over countless late-night practices. The batter swung—and missed. Strike two.

Seungmin stepped off the mound for a moment, his eyes scanning the dugout. You rolled your eyes when he found you, tilting your head as if to say, Get on with it already.

He grinned—just the faintest twitch of his lips—before turning his attention back to the plate. He knew you were freaking out, even if you’d never admit it.

“Show-off,” you muttered, even as your heart flipped.

The next pitch flew out of his hand, a slider that curved wickedly. The batter swung and connected, the crack of the bat sending the ball soaring into the night sky. Your stomach dropped as you watched it arc toward the outfield, where the center fielder sprinted back, his glove raised high.

“Catch it, catch it, catch it,” you whispered under your breath, the words tumbling out like a prayer.

The fielder leaped, his glove snagging the ball just before it could clear the fence. The crowd erupted, cheers drowning out groans from the opposing side. The game was over. Seungmin’s team had won.

The dugout exploded with shouts as his teammates rushed the field, surrounding Seungmin on the mound. You stayed put, leaning against the fence with a small smile tugging at your lips. You’d never admit how proud you were, not right away, anyway.

It didn’t take long for Seungmin to break away from the chaos, jogging toward you with his cap in one hand and a cocky grin plastered across his face. His hair was damp with sweat, his jersey streaked with dirt, and yet he still somehow managed to look annoyingly good.

“Thought you were gonna walk home if you screwed that up,” you teased as he stopped in front of you, his breath still coming fast.

He raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “Guess I’ll be driving us home, then. You can thank me anytime now.”

“Thank you? For what? Nearly giving me a heart attack?”

“For winning the game,” he replied, leaning down slightly so your faces were inches apart. “Or is that too much to ask from my very supportive girlfriend?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat at the proximity. “Don’t get used to it, Kim. I’m only sticking around because I promised your mom I’d make sure you don’t starve.”

“Aw, so you do care,” he said, his grin widening.

“Barely.”

But before you could fire off another jab, he reached out, his hand cupping the side of your face. The playful glint in his eyes softened, replaced by something far more sincere.

“You know,” he said, his voice quieter now, “I was nervous for a second there. But then I looked over at you, and… I don’t know. You kind of make everything feel easier.”

Your heart melted, the teasing retort you’d been ready to throw at him dissolving on your tongue.

“Well, someone has to keep you from falling apart,” you murmured, your voice softening despite yourself.

He smiled, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “Good thing I’ve got you, then.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get all mushy on me now,” you muttered, though your cheeks betrayed you with a telltale blush.

As the celebration roared on behind you, Seungmin laced his fingers with yours, tugging you gently toward the field. “Come on, you’re part of this, too.”

“Pretty sure I didn’t throw the winning pitch,” you said, letting him pull you along.

“Maybe not, but you’re the reason I did.”

And as the two of you stepped onto the field, surrounded by cheers and laughter, you couldn’t help but think that Seungmin was worth all the mean jokes and every heart-stopping moment in between.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

A/n 🖤 : make sure to like or reblog if u enjoyed it and to make sure u eat sleep and drink 👌🏾Okie bye bye now!

Masterlist ist here

[deonsx]

*Sips wolfberry + red dates tea*

Good morning, I noticed your pinned post and decided to submit my first request. Chigiri and Reader are schoolmates with opposing personalities; Chigiri is an athlete, Reader prefers to stay indoors with a novel; Chigiri is in the soccer team, Reader is in the library club; Reader is always at the top in the school rankings, Chigiri tends to hover between the 4th spot to the 6th spot. As fate would have it, Chigiri and Reader ends up crossing paths with each other when he becomes the latest patient at the rehabilitation center Reader volunteers at.

Hiii finally here ig lol (´-ω-`) Chigiri Hyoma

Chigiri Hyoma, known for his speed and skill on the soccer field, found himself stuck in the rehab center after an injury. He wasn’t thrilled about the interruption to his training but fate seemed to have other plans that involved meeting someone entirely outside his world: You, the quiet book-loving girl who preferred the company of novels to people

You were the star of the library club, always at the top of the school rankings, thriving in the peace and solitude of your academic world. Chigiri, with his vibrant energy and social circle, couldn’t have been more different. Under normal circumstances your paths would never have crossed but the rehab center had a way of making the impossible happen

One rainy afternoon as you went about your usual tasks as a volunteer, you heard the familiar sound of uneven footsteps. Turning around, you saw Chigiri entering the room, his crutches tapping against the tiled floor

“Hey Bookworm” he greeted, his trademark smirk firmly in place

You frowned but kept your composure “I have a name you know”

“Yeah, I know” he said with a shrug, settling into a nearby chair “But ‘Bookworm’ fits you better. You’re always lugging around those thick novels” Your grip on the clipboard tightened “And you’re always limping in here like it’s your personal playground”

Chigiri laughed, his voice filling the quiet room “Touchy” Trying to ignore him, you focused on your tasks but you couldn’t help glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. He was adjusting the brace on his leg, his movements careful but practiced

“Does it still hurt?” you asked, the words slipping out before you could stop yourself

Chigiri looked up, slightly surprised, but his expression softened “Not too much. It’s more annoying than anything” He paused then added with a grin “You’re pretty good at this volunteer thing huh? Taking care of people and all”

“It’s not hard” you replied, keeping your tone neutral “You just have to pay attention to what they need” Chigiri tilted his head, studying you with curiosity “So, what do I need Bookworm?”

Your eyes narrowed, though you felt a slight warmth creeping into your cheeks “For starters to stop calling me that” He chuckled, leaning back in his chair “I’ll think about it”

Outside, the rain intensified and a low rumble of thunder accompanied it. You glanced at the clock and realized your shift was nearly over “You brought an umbrella, right?” you asked as you put the clipboard aside

Chigiri scratched the back of his neck, looking sheepish “Didn’t think I’d need one. Guess I’ll have to wait it out” With a quiet sigh, you grabbed your own umbrella and handed it to him “Here. I’ll figure something out”

Chigiri stared at the umbrella, then back at you. “What about you?”

“I’ll be fine” you said, avoiding his gaze. He took the umbrella, his usual smirk replaced by a softer smile “Thanks Bookw- i mean [name] I owe you one” As he left the rehab center, you watched him disappear into the rain, shaking your head at the strange warmth blooming in your chest

Enjoy!

[phoebejaysims]

Social Clubs Mod - DOWNLOAD

Tired of your sims walking aimlessly through town? No friends, no hobbies, no purpose? Put an end to their lack of a fulfilling social life by creating a million and one clubs for them to join and/or get kicked out of! 

With 50+ activities for you to push, including activities from over 10 different mods, and 4 specialised club types, you can create almost any club you can think of: book clubs, invite-only hangouts, afterschool clubs and more! Grow memberships, take part in tournaments and ship cute little subscription gifts straight to your sim’s door.

Note: This mod is very extensive, so please thoroughly read the documentation in the download that I’ve painstakingly written up.

Compatibility: Should be base game compatible however expansion packs, store content and mods add more content.

7 New Objects: Credit to @aroundthesims who has generously allowed me to use her items as well as @twinsimming who converted 2 items for me. Full credit in the documentation.

Testers: @desiree-uk who not only tested the mod, but contributed ideas for club activities, the banking system and the subscription gift system. @simsdeogloria who kindly offered to test the mod and caught some bugs that I had completely missed.

Credits: Full credit in documentation. However, thank you to @olomayasims​, IcarusAllsorts, Arsil, Buzzler & @zoeoe-sims​, @anitmb​, @greenplumbboblover​, @flotheory​ as I push some of their mods as activities.

Club Types

Custom Club: Push specific activities (or no activity at all) and watch your active and inactive club members congregate and do said activities. Push bowling, swimming, rumba, nectar drinking, collecting, studying, music lessons, among many other things. 

Subscription-Only Club: While members won’t meet up, force them to pay a subscription fee to the club owner for your own purposes. Consider: food subscription service, council-tax payments, school fees.

Book Club: Choose a book for the book club. Your sims will sit together, have discussions, and read said book.

Formal Gathering Club: Set musicians and/or a speaker (podium or pulpit). Have your club members sit down and act like they’re listening to said musicians and speaker. Choose a skill to increase while the club is in operation.

Club Vibes

Clubs can have different vibes depending on the cost and activities, attracting or repelling different types of sims. There are sports, games, intellectual, low-brow and high class clubs. Some personalities will be more inclined to join than others.

Customising Clubs

Set different open days, open hours, required club outfits, subscription fees, gender, age, career and trait requirements/restrictions, forbidden actions etc.

Autonomy

Allow or restrict autonomy in different ways. Make clubs open or closed invite, allowing or disallowing sims to join, leave, or be kicked out of clubs with or without your own input. Put club boards around town and let sims browse. Impress observers by having a great club session and watch them beg to join!

Tournaments

Win tournaments and gain club acclaim. Get cash prizes, find yourself in the newspaper, and find out if any of your fellow club members are playing for the opposing team. Your own sim isn’t exempt from the repercussions of being a club traitor!

Banking

Create Bronzo accounts for your sims. You can link these accounts to schedulers and have the club fee delivered straight into the account. Take out loans, find the best interest rates online and stay out of your overdraft. Try not to get your account details stolen at the all new ATMs that you can place around town and don’t leave your debit card laying around near strangers!

Download MTS: http://www.modthesims.info/d/677428

Conflicts: None.

If you would like to donate to say thank you, you can do that at my Ko-fi, here.

It’s been a long 8 months getting this mod done; thank you all for your patience and enjoy! @ me if you post any pictures of your clubs—I’d love to see your pictures.

[burnthoneydrops]

Could you do a fluff Jamie Tartt imagine where the reader takes care of a drunk Jamie who forgets that they've been dating for months and thinks they're back in their crush phase after they and the boys went out celebrating a win?

Drunk in the Back of the Car (j.t. x fem!reader)

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

word count: 654

warnings: language, alcohol

a/n: here you go love! i hope you like it and requests continue to be open!! (also first time writing for jamie so pls be kind lol)

The early 2000’s pop music blasting through the speakers was about to make your brain explode. The boys were celebrating a great victory in their match earlier that day and had all decided to crash this club that Colin had found. The flashing lights and sticky floors were slightly off-putting but the boys just wanted to celebrate and Jamie had insisted you came along too. Keeley and Roy were somewhere, probably at a table stuffed in a corner as Roy hated anyone spotting him. Isaac immediately bought a round of drinks upon entry and thus started the flow of alcohol. You were just glad that you and Jamie had agreed that you would drive home so he could properly celebrate. 

Speaking of your boyfriend, he was nowhere to be seen. A group of you had been gathered in front of the bar, chatting and drinking and dancing- though somewhat badly- and then as the night aged on and people found different things that piqued their interests, the group dispersed into smaller groups across the club. You were clumped together with Colin and Sam, chatting about the opposing team from the earlier match, while Colin interspersed some lyrics from the rap songs that were playing overhead. While laughing at Colin doing this weird dance while rapping, you felt a tap on your shoulder. 

“Your boyfriend is smashed,” Roy commented as he held Jamie under his arms. He was clearly having a hard time standing on his own and it seemed like Roy had dragged him from wherever they were previously stationed. 

“I’m fine grandad,” Jamie retorted, though slurred and he clearly had to put a lot of thought into the short sentence. 

“I’ll take him,” you smiled at Roy, silently thanking him for making sure Jamie got back to you. He nodded and passed Jamie over to you before he walked off, probably going back to find Keeley again. You grabbed one of Jamie’s arms and threw it over your shoulders, leaning his weight into you. “Looks like I’d better get this one home. Enjoy the rest of your night lads”. Sam and Colin say their goodbyes before going to find the other boys. 

“Woah, you better be careful there. I’ve got a girlfriend and I don’t think she’d like you touching me like this,” Jamie tries to stand up straighter to get away from you, but almost immediately tips back over. 

“I am your girlfriend,” you laugh. 

“No way,” Jamie says quietly, in an ‘I can’t believe it’ type of way. 

“Come on Jams, let’s get you home”. 

Despite the copious amounts of effort it took to get Jamie through your front door- which included him almost throwing up in the back seat of your car- you finally got him in bed in a semi-comfortable position. Once you were sure he wasn’t going to throw up in the bed, at least long enough for you to get ready for bed, you headed to the bathroom to take your makeup off and change out of your clubbing outfit. 

“Y/N?” You heard Jamie call from the bed. 

“Yes love?” you question, sticking your head out of the bathroom doorway. 

“How’d you get into my house?” 

“I have a key Jams,” you laugh. 

“Did I give you that?” He tilts his head. 

“How sloshed did you get Jamie?” You move closer to him, sitting down next to him on the bed. 

“Oh my god I’ve got Y/N in my bed,” he whispers more to himself. 

“I’ve been sharing a bed with you for the past two months, love,” you remind him, moving his hair away from his sticky forehead. 

“Holy shit, no way,” he mutters before passing out again. You laugh at his antics and go back to the bathroom, finishing your nighttime routine before grabbing some water and aspirin for the morning. You were so going to make fun of him tomorrow for this.

[sc0tters]

When You Love Someone | Trevor Zegras

summary: Trevor made one of the biggest decisions in your relationship today, so it’s only right that a look back in time at some of the highlights in your relationship happened.

song: Dive - Ed Sheeran

request: yes/no

warnings: none.

word count: 1.85k

authors note: with everything that I’ve written and have planned for Trevor, it’s only fair I give him one good piece where he’s cute. If you want to check out more of the celly playlist, you can do so here.

The perfect fairytale.

That was how you described your three and a half year relationship with Trevor. The two of you met at Boston University where you two were in the same classes for your journalism degree. He had sat next to you in the last seat available in the hall, asked you for a pencil and the rest was history.

December 16th 2019

It was a cold day in Boston, but that didn’t stop your from making sure that you were there to support Trevor for game day. He had been through the game of his life, literally. The New York native was bruised and battered and still managed to pull off a hatty despite the constant hits from the opposing team “Trev!” You called out with a grin as you spotted him. It was a post game tradition for him that you were the first non teammate that he hugged.

The boy picked you up as he squeezed your body in the hug “you wanna put me down?” You asked with a giggle, somewhat taken aback by the fact that he had done that, sure Trevor was clingy but he wasn’t usually one for showing it to the world.

He just looked at you as he smiled “we should go out to celebrate,” Trevor announced causing you to agree with him “I could do with some food.”

The hockey player shook his head “like on a date,” he corrected himself causing you to blink repeatedly.

Yeah you liked Trevor, a lot too, but the idea of him liking you back? Now that was something you didn’t plan for “I’d like that,” you tried your best to remain calm as you placed a kiss on his cheek.

That night he asked you to be his girlfriend.

March 27th 2020

Trevor had told you that he needed to talk to you. You would have been alright with it but he had been so vague that you grew nervous.

It wasn’t that you thought he was hiding something but you had grown sick to your stomach with worry. The text was sent last night but you had crashed early after being sat with your notebooks as a blanket deep in studying for finals.

So as you almost knocked his dorm down, you prepared for the worst “oh thank god,” you murmured as you pulled him into a hug.

Trevor laughed as he wrapped his arms around you “you okay?” He asked as her and his fingers through your hair.

You looked up at him as your chin softly dug into his chest “are you?” You shot back as you smiled.

The boy pulled you into his room as he knew it was a conversation for the private “I gotta tell you something,” he confessed as he tucked the loose strands of your hair behind your ear.

The hockey player sighed as he sat you down “you promise you won’t be mad?” It wouldn’t take a genius to know that you wouldn’t take it too well and that was what terrified him.

A soft laugh fell from your lips “of course I won’t.” You nodded as you placed your hand on his knee.

After seeing that he was physically okay you had grown calmer “I can take whatever you say.” You added as you motioned to him continue.

Trevor took a deep breath before he continued “an agent from the ducks is coming tonight,” there was a major home game for Boston and Trevor was set to have the game of his life.

You let out a gasp “that’s great!” You smiled as you couldn’t understand why he was so scared reveal it to you.

But when the hockey player still had the frown on his face you knew there was more to the story “why isn’t it great?” You furrowed your eyebrows as your lips formed a pout.

Trevor sighed “they want me to sign,” he explained as he tapped his fingers on your thigh, something he did when he was nervous “tonight, win or lose.” The way your facial expressions dropped were something that Trevor was never going to forget.

You forced a smile onto your lips “I’m proud of you.” You mumbled as you pecked his lips.

The hockey cocked his head “you are?” He was surprised that you weren’t upset “I’ll always be proud of you.” You spoke in a duh tone.

January 25th 2022

It had been weird adjusting back to the hockey season at Boston University without Trevor on the team. You missed your boyfriend like crazy so when Jamie asked if you wanted to come to their game against the Bruins to surprise him, you jumped at the opportunity.

The thirty minute car ride felt like the first eternity of your night. The second was when Trevor had been knocked over by one of the Bruins players and he had to take a minute before he got up.

It was fairly safe to say that you still never knew how to handle Trevor getting hurt. When you watched his games in front of your tv or laptop you always had to have a blanket nearby that you could just throw over your head as you’d shove your fingers into your ears to avoid hearing what the commentators had to say about the hits.

Thankfully just like usual Trevor got up as he sent the Ducks bench a thumbs up to show them that he was okay. Being able to play for the rest of the third and even helped the team get a victory from it.

Unfortunately for you it took you longer than you expected to get down to the locker rooms so it meant you had to wait for a bit for him to come out.

Trevor’s hair looked damp as he came out with Jamie who he was in the middle of a conversation with but when the Canadian flashed you a smile, the New York native almost lost it “thought you couldn’t make it,” Trevor murmured as he threw his arms around you engulfing you into his massive hug.

You giggled as you nodded “found a way,” you motioned to Jamie as you mouth a thank you to the younger boy.

The hockey player couldn’t seem to get enough of you “wanna show me your dorm?” He asked as he placed kisses against your forehead going down to your temple.

It was a room he had seem plenty of times before “you saw the tour video!” You scoffed in a duh tone.

Your boyfriend just smirked as he brought his lips down to your ear “yeah but we haven’t done it in there.” He mumbled letting his breath hit the shell of your ear.

Something about the distance always seemed to make you two so horny!

May 3rd 2023

Your big day had finally come, not the wedding one, or one where you had a child. You were graduating.

Sure it was a little upsetting that Trevor wasn’t going to be there but he had a game the next day in New York so you weren’t going to complain.

Your parents rented an AirBnB near the university and that was where you had spent the night before graduation so that you could get ready with your family.

You were busy lining your lips when someone knocked on the door “can someone get that!” You called out as your room was the closest to the front door but you were busy.

There was a laugh as your mom opened the front door “it’s for you honey!” She smiled as she motioned to you to hurry up.

Although it was unintentional you rolled your eyes “what could possibly be so important that-” you stopped in your tracks as your eyes went wide “oh my gosh!” You gasped as Trevor smirked “hi baby,” he smiled as he held his arms out causing you to hug him.

It was a moment that took you by surprise “what are you doing here?” You asked as you couldn’t believe that he was stood in Boston.

Trevor kissed your forehead “couldn’t let my girl graduate without me being here.” He explained as he took in his pretty you were. The boy loved how your grin was toothy as you looked up at him “I love you so much,” you mumbled as you leaned onto you tippy toes to kiss his lips.

The Ducks player swore that you could kill him each time your lips touch his “I love you too,” he smiled as he fixed the smudged lip liner “now let’s go watch my baby graduate,” he added being careful to not your your lip makeup again when he kissed you for a second time.

August 11th 2023

You were staying at a resort in Bali, a trip you had convinced Trevor to go on as you were desperate to see the island. It was a trip that you had both been counting down on as you needed some serious bonding time.

It had been the best few days of your life but today Trevor had sent you down to the spa to have a ‘relaxing day’ which as peaceful as it was, you missed your boyfriend. So as you watched the floor counter in the elevator increase, there was a level of excitement that grew in your bones.

You had been so excited to tell him about your day that you didn’t even noticed the rose petals on the floor or the scented candles that were lit “you will not believe-” you were cut off at the sight of Trevor down on one knee with a ring box in his hand.

Trevor couldn’t help but smile when he saw your glowing skin from the facial that you had done during your time at the spa. He had forgotten that he hadn’t started talking when you had tears in your eyes as you nodded “I remember the first time I met you,”the Ducks player began as he had never told you the story “called my mom after class to tell her I met the girl I was gonna marry.” You were the only girl he had spoken to during that lecture. You made your way to him as he continued “every fight, every kiss, every moment made me fall more in love with you.” That first year of Trevor being in Anaheim almost broke the two of you up, but once you got through it as a couple you were better than ever.

It made you giggle “yes,” you nodded causing the boy to laugh.

The hockey players tongue darted out of his mouth “haven’t even asked you yet.” He pointed out causing you to scoff “hurry up then,” you joked as you cupped his cheek with your hand.

Trevor took the ring from the box as he smiled “marry me?” He asked as you nodded. The boy slipped the ring onto your finger, almost being knocked off of his feet when you kissed him.

The kiss was soft and warm, like it was content and full.

Like it was between two people totally in love.

[ssivinee]

❇︎Subtle Vivacity❇︎

BEBE! Bada Lee x OC Team! F Reader: The competition was growing in intensity every single minute that passed. Bada felt like a nervous wreck for the most part, but not because of the competition. It was because of you.

Word Count: 4.1k

Note: I literally haven't posted a fic in so long, my bad guys🫡. but I'm back! AND THANK YOU GUYS FOR 600 FOLLOWERS. IT ACTUALLY MEANS SO MUCH TO ME🥹.

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Lia Kim strode towards the opposing side with a mission in mind, picking Mina Myoung as her no-respect dancer. You stared at the two, already envisioning the scene that was about to unfold. The details of the two old best friends having a fallout were no secret, and as you watched, the feeling of skepticism surged within you. 

As a dance teacher, you weren’t a stranger to young students having bad blood. But these were adults. People who could’ve worked it out behind the scenes, yet here they were, about to battle it out. And you just knew it was gonna be a shitshow.

The crews were absolutely hyped, their excitement filling the fight zone. However, your expression contorted, a grim gaze settling on your face, conveying a different feeling amidst the enthusiasm.

“This match-up is finally happening,” Yoonji says, and Rena of Tsubakill held her hands together, almost hoping for a good match.

“I understand having disagreements, but I’d be highly disappointed if they let their emotions get in the way of dance,” you told the camera during your confessional interview.

Dancing should be fun and full of expression that anyone can enjoy, but your expectations come low with this match-up, as you find your eyes fueling bitterness.

“You seem to have a lot of complaints.” “It’s not that I had complaints. The title of chief choreographer at 1MILLION. I wonder if you earned that solely with your effort.”

“It’s not like I stole it from anyone,” Lia Kim points at herself, her face showing off a slight arrogant feeling. As Mina talks, you begin to space out. The hostility in the air was something you didn’t want to hear.

“This feels like a waste of time and a waste of a battle,” you mumble, but Emi hears it, nodding at your statement. “Maybe they should just have a fistfight to duke it out,” the sub-leader jokes, and you laugh, lowering your head to conceal your reaction.

The battle begins, and as you watch, you can’t help but roll your eyes, eyeing the interaction in disdain. Mina couldn’t properly respect the battle, walking around and almost paying little to no attention to her old friend. She then approaches her opponent, and the two almost hit each other.

You scoff with a laugh, “They can’t be serious right now?”

Some dancers found it cool or scary, but you weren’t entertained, not at all. The rest of your crew could clearly be seen staying seated on your bench with looks of disgust. “Doesn’t look like Doyennes is enjoying the show,” Minah points out to her leader, causing Bada to look over in your direction discreetly.

She stared at your crew, seeing the repulsed faces. Your eyes looked bored yet stern as you watched the two dancers battling it out.

“They look fucking crazy,” you mouth silently, telling yourself, but as if Bada becomes the best mouth reader in the world, she understands as her eyes grow wide at your words.

Your eyes roll back as the battle ends, the scene that occurred leaving a sour taste in your mouth. “Should’ve just fought each other,” Bell says, and the rest just nod, not even having the energy to talk after that.

After a few other dances, the ace battles were about to begin. You find yourself turned around, delegating with your crew. “It's either you or Serena,” Athena says, and the other girls nod. You look over at Serena, your youngest, having the most wins and battles despite not showing everything she’s got.

“You think you’ll be up for it?” You question, and everyone looks at her as she gives you a determined nod. “Well, that fixes it then.”

Serena had gone up and challenged every single ace but wasn't chosen once. When it was her turn to pick, it was only between Waaxcky and Baby Sleek, one more hesitant than the other. Your youngest gives the two a friendly smile, “I’ll go with Baby Sleek.”

As if the whole room freezes at her choice, silence engulfs everyone but your crew, who cheer. “This one's gonna be good,” you hear Maya say as she and Bell giggle from behind you.

You stand up behind Serena, arms crossed, as she starts off hearing, “ZOO” by the artists of SM. The song choice has you smirking as Serena’s innocent eyes transform into an intense gaze. Your eyes glide to the right, staring directly at Bada, who you knew helped choreograph this song. Her eyes didn’t leave the younger dancer, probably wondering how she would dance to the song.

As the pre-chorus hits, Serena moves her body, hitting every tick she can, isolating the upper half of her body. She then goes on her knees, hitting dime stops as the chorus comes up. 

Just like a zoo!

Serena acts like an animal crawling on the floor as she bounces back up, hitting a move that feels almost impossible. She bent her back, showing her face upside down to Baby Sleek, then slid black down smoothly head first.

You were hyped, only showing a smile and little jumps at the tricks she pulled. 

The crowd was gradually getting into it, some cheers filling the air as Serena continued to showcase her dynamic moves. As the second verse approached, she switched to a more fluid style, transitioning between smooth waves and sharp pops. The versatility in her dance style was apparent, and the spectators were captivated by the unexpected yet impressive performance.

Baby Sleek, on the other hand, appeared a bit taken aback, her usually confident demeanor showing signs of uncertainty. The complexity of Serena's routine seemed to catch her off guard. Bada observed from her seat, a raised eyebrow indicating her surprise at the unfolding scene.

As the music reached its climax, Serena unleashed a flurry of quick footwork, perfectly in sync with the beats. The energy in the room heightened, and even those who initially doubted Serena's choice were now nodding in approval.

The final beats of the song echoed, and Serena struck a powerful pose, her eyes locking with Baby Sleek's. The room fell silent for a moment before erupting into cheers. Your crew, especially, erupted into joy, proud of Serena's stellar performance.

Bada's eyes were fixed on you, a subtle acknowledgment of the skill displayed by your crew's youngest member. Serena bowed to Baby Sleek, offering a smile, a gesture that carried sportsmanship.

As Serena returned to your crew, you gave her a nod of approval, “Good job. You killed it.” The younger dancer beamed with pride, her eyes gleaming with accomplishment.

The judges held their cards, and when the results were revealed, it was a unanimous decision in favor of Serena. Other crews had a go, even leading into the crew battles, but they finally revealed rankings for the no-respect battles. The show continued with all the groups having a crew dance battle. The day was now about to end with the rankings of each crew.

The crew rankings were announced, and Doyennes had taken second with ten wins and three losses. So when the girls retreat back to their rooms, they cheered. The adrenaline still lingering in everyone's veins.

“We killed that shit!” Maya squeals and Bell is seen hopping by her side, full of excitement. “If only I didn’t lose twice,” Athena grumbles, and Emi adds, “And if I didn’t lose once.” You shook your head at the girls, “Your battles were both against Wolf’Lo members. They’re tough to beat in battles. You guys did good regardless.”

“People should’ve danced against me more during the ace battles,” Serena mumbled as the other girls were cheering and trying to hype the other two up. You look at the youngest, knowing that look of disappointment anywhere. “Chin up, baby. You did good,” You tell her, taking a seat beside the young dancer as you rest your arm on her shoulders.

“Besides, they were scared of you out there. Take some pride in that,” You told her in Korean, and she smiled a little, feeling better at the words of encouragement.

The Korean was something that only you two bonded over the past few months, and Serena learned a lot from you. She knew you viewed her as your younger sister, and she also saw you as her older one.

“We’re gonna kill this competition,” Serena says, suddenly becoming bold with her words of choice. “We’ll show them who the Professors of Dance are,” You tell her, a confident smirk painted on your face.

Suddenly, the monitor turned on, and everyone saw Daniel. “Here we go again,” you heard Emi voice out. “Street Woman 2, the 1st battle, no respect, battle with the worst dancer. Did it help you figure out the other crews? To try and secure your ranking or go up in the ranking, here’s the next mission you’ll have to face soon.”

Everyone sits up except you, leaning back and relaxing on the sofa, almost knowing what the mission would be. “Your next mission is… the Class Mission.” You smile at the words. The mission where leaders had gone viral multiple times for their pieces. Safe to say you were excited, but you held it in, wanting to hear what the songs were first. 

“In the class mission, the elite members of each crew will be assigned to four classes. The leader class, sub-leader class, middle class, and rookie class. Each class will finish a dance video.”

“These are gonna be hard, but I know my girls are capable enough to hold their own,” you said in your confessionals.

“In each class, there will be one main dancer to be the protagonist in each video. The main dancer will get extra points, stand at the center of the video, and direct the dance video. Individual scores will be given out in the class mission. The points will be distributed differently in each class. The three fight judges will rank the dancers of each class from 1st to 9th places.”

“So we have to stand out regardless of whether we're the main dancer or not?” Maya questions, and you nod. 

Daniel explained the rest and the benefits that Wolf’Lo gets, and then the leaders began picking which dancers to put in which class.

You sat in another room, thinking hard about the next decisions you were about to make. One person from your crew would have to sit out, and 2 positions were already set in stone for the crew. You are in the leader class, and Emi is in the sub-leader class. So, who were the next choices? 

“I have to be smart about this,” you mumbled as the camera rolled and recorded each name you wrote down on your paper.

When thinking about the rookie class, you didn’t think of the least experienced member but the most youthful one, so Bell was your pick. You then contemplated the last three, Serena, Athena, and Maya. You wanted to put Serena in one of these classes, knowing she was such a strong dancer but Athen and Maya seemed to be a duo that worked like yin and yang, so you opted for the two instead.

“Joined by the best producers in South Korea, here are the songs for the class mission.”

“Oh, we get to hear them now?” Bell states, almost jumping in her seat like a rabbit.

The first song was the Dynamic Duo’s ‘Smoke.’ The crew listened and grinned as they stared at you. “The songs are totally your style, Lo,” Emi yelled, and everyone agreed and you sat there, only nodding your head as you listened to the song. It was aggressive and hip, something you were fond of hearing. “I can definitely work with that.”

Then Crush popped up on the screen, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes, not being too fond of the artist. Ehem, with the things he’s done in the past that we don’t talk about.

It was then time to show ‘Click Like,’ and as much as you weren’t fond of the guy, you hated to say that the song was groovy and easy to listen to. “It sounds sexy as hell,” Emi says, almost pondering. It wasn’t exactly her strongest suit, as contemporary was storytelling, but she knew she could make it work somehow.

When ‘Swipe’ and ‘Twerk’ were revealed, you felt a weight come off your shoulders, knowing you picked the right girl for each class for sure.

It was finally the day to choose the choreography for each song and you danced in your designated hideout, doing some final markings for the dance. As the headphones settled comfortably over your ears with bass-boosted music, you didn’t hear the knock on the door. 

Bada peaks her head in, volunteering to get you as every other leader was in the fight zone, already preparing to present their dance. The leader of Bebe didn’t want to intrude and seemed like she was scoping out the competition; however, she couldn't resist gazing at you.

You weren’t facing the door, but Bada felt the immense aura you exuded, the power in your motions clearly pronounced even if you weren’t going all out.

You flaunted remarkable control over your body, a trait Bada undoubtedly possessed. Yet, there was a distinctive quality when it came to your interpretation of dance. The way she clearly saw your muscle flexing, the change in dynamics in certain parts, the way your blonde hair danced with you.

Safe to say, she felt a bit intimidated watching you.

After what felt like forever, Bada decides to step in, tapping your shoulder. You look over, seeing her with a friendly smile as you slip the headphones onto your collarbones, “Everyone else is downstairs now.” Your eyes somewhat widen at the words, and Bada finds your bewildered face adorable. Your siren eyes practically turned into large innocent bubbles.

“Oh god, I’m sorry. Did I make you guys wait for too long?” You ask, settling your devices onto the table as you pat your clothes down a bit. “No, we were gonna start in ten, but I just wanted to let you know,” Bada tells you, not wanting to admit that she basically spent three of those ten minutes staring at your dance. 

“Well, thanks for letting me know,” you tell her, then sipping on your water. “Let’s go down now?” You question, and she nods, moving to the side to let you pass. She closes the door for you. “What a gentlewoman,” you tease, and Bada’s cheeks go pink, making you chuckle at the flustered sight.

As you guys make your way down, you see all the leaders seated on the floor, and the two of you decide to sit next to each other on the rear end. Halo then goes first, and you stare at the dance with dull eyes. She made it work, but as a collective team? It didn’t suit a group performance, or any of the other leaders for that matter.

The feedback was lethal, which was expected in this class. It felt like a barrage of bullets targeting each dancer as they showed their pieces. Nob, Funky Y, Mina, Lia, Kirsten, and Akanen faced the same feat, everyone having more unfavorable things to say about their dances. You stayed quiet for the most part until it was only you and Bada left.

Deciding to go next, you stood on the walkway, rolling your neck a bit. Other crews watched in their hideouts and couldn’t help but compliment you over and over again even if you hadn’t started yet. 

“God, how can someone look so cool?” 

“Doesn’t she look like a Barbie?”

“This mission was probably a piece of cake for her.”

As you began, Bada expected highly of you from what she had already seen from her sneaky preview and you didn’t disappoint. You played it smart, and the choreography was easy to follow. It would appeal to the audience, and Bada knew, with a face like that, you were stealing everyone's hearts as they watched you.

The movement of your hips were fluid, and each move connected perfectly with power and energy. 

This had Bada feeling nervous.

She believed that you and Kirsten were her biggest competitors but for different reasons. Kirsten was a dancer who had the most unique style amongst all the leaders, making any dance her own.

You, on the other hand, were the most similar to her, but almost felt like a better version. You were taller, had more experience, excelled in advanced styles of dance, won competitions, and worked with several global artists.

At this point, you were the only one to look out for.

You ended up blowing out a flame on your pointer finger, and Bada wanted to clap for you but held back. “It definitely felt the coolest as of right now,” Funky Y said, “but I think only some of us can pull this off.”

“This is a dance I would like to do, the power, the fluidity, dynamics. It was entertaining to watch,” Kirsten says, and you nod at her, appreciating your friends feed back. For the most part, everyone said similar things.

Then it was Bada’s turn, and as soon as she began, you knew the fight would be tough. Bada seemed to embody the song perfectly, and it had you smirking. ‘I’m so fucked,’ was what you thought. The tall leader was the definition of charisma and charm, and it irritated you a little bit.

It was a competition, and you were admiring a competitor. 

In most cases, you’d be okay with this, but seeing how you and Bada almost mirrored each other in a way didn’t sit well in your mind. It felt a little unsettling, not realizing the similarities until the she danced.

“While watching Bada, I could find no flaws,” Halo says. That’s when a lot of the compliments were rolling in, and somehow, the two of you were now in the same boat. The votes were evenly split, four for you and four for Bada. Then Mina brings up a point that the choreos chosen seemed to be easy to steal.

That somehow caused a stir for people to reevaluate their decision, but in the end, Bada ended up taking the crown. You pat her on the back, “Congrats.” “Thank you,” she bows at you.

"Your choreography is fun... just don't get too comfortable now," you playfully tease, but she senses a hint of seriousness in your words. "Don't worry, I'm not. I can't be, especially with you in this competition," Bada teases back, and your eyebrow raises at the playful tone.

You held a sly smirk. 

Let the fun begin.

It was now time for the leader class to perform, and you stood beside Kirsten as you waited for your turn. “You ready for this?” Kirsten whispered to you, leaning in a bit. “Always am,” you confidently stated with a smile.

The first group went first, but your attention was fixated on Bada the entire time. You marked the routine as the song played, but your eyes couldn’t stray away from her alluring figure. As Bada rolled her hips, you couldn't help but let out a low groan.

How could someone be so sexy? Bada could quite literally just stand there, and STILL look that good.

As your group took the stage, you casually fixed your hair into a low ponytail. The music started, and during the lighter parts, your expression changed, and your thumb flick signaled the beginning of what promised to be an extraordinary performance. You seemed lost in your own world, drawing everyone's attention with captivating expressions.

You danced with an approach that seemed like a mix of Bada and Kirsten. The power and force were Bada’s style, but the usage of space and foot work were similar to Kirsten.

It wasn’t “their style” but while watching the two practice for a bit, you brain picked up certain portions that you liked from each. The group finishes off and you and Kirsten pose with your left hands on your back, the hand interpreted lighter and its flame, and a little reverb to the movements.

The announcement of a reaudition brought a momentary sigh. Akanen and Bada performed first. Despite Akanen's skill, Bada's towering presence seemed to overshadow her. The tall dancer felt like a lion on that stage, and everyone had to be wary of it.

When it was your turn, dancing with Kirsten felt like a trip down memory lane. The camaraderie and playfulness between you two filled the stage with an energy echoing the past. Both leaders strategically occupied the space, ensuring every eye was fixated on them. Bada, in particular, watched you intently, her gaze never wavering.

You two work so well together, Bada thought. She wasn’t sure if she felt jealousy bubbling within her or anxiety. You and Kirsten were just too good to overlook. Bada would’ve liked to put the two of in your place to show who the better dancer is amongst you three.

But seeing how all these interactions with you… it felt like you were putting Bada in her place without even trying.

The duo of you and Kirsten ended and cheers, screams, and yells could just be heard. Yet when they hear Shownu speak again, the fight zone quiets down.

The announcement of a reaudition between you and Bada sparked more excitement. Speculations about the impending battle buzzed among the crews. "This battle is gonna be intense," Harimu exclaimed. Baby Sleek pondered on the similarities between your dancing styles, a sentiment echoed by Halo, who had a front-row seat to the choreography selection.

As you and Bada stood in the middle of the stage, the energy was electric, ready to set it on fire. The music played and the synchronization of your movements to each lyric showcased a dance battle that promised to be nothing short of thrilling.

Light it up.

As you and Bada approached the flickering flame, there was an undeniable intensity in the air. The atmosphere charged with electric energy as the two of you prepared to unleash pure power onto the dance floor. The crews, judges, and Daniel could sense that something extraordinary was about to happen.

As you both simultaneously blew out the flame, the movements displayed the grand usage the two of you had on your bodies. They were aggressive, energetic, and filled with intensity that seemed unreal to everyone else as they watched on the sidelines.

Your chemistry with Bada was visible, and as the two of you danced side by side, it felt as if the entire room was witnessing a performance by a duo that had been seamlessly engulfed in dance together for years.

The synergy between your movements was more than just coordination; it was a shared language, a non-verbal dialogue that spoke volumes about the connection you shared. The dance floor became a canvas, and each step, each gesture, painted a vivid picture of unity.

The unfolding scene was hypnotic. The onlookers were drawn into a trance as they heard the resounding echoes of your footsteps and witnessed the unparalleled control you both had over your limbs. So when the two of you ended the performance, both facing the judges as you both blow out the flame, you heard the clapping around you, everyone acknowledging the two of you as amazing dancers.

As the judges discussed, the decision felt like it could go either way. Many of the crews pointed out that both of you should just be the main dancer instead, end of story. You peer over to your right, feeling Bada’s ansty movements, as she couldn’t stand still. 

“No matter who wins, you did amazing,” you whisper, leaning into her ear as you pull her into a side hug, gripping her waist ever so slightly. Bada’s body heats up at the feeling of your breath on her ear, and she feels even more nervous. 

But now, it was because of you. 

Your large hands felt warm, and your slender fingers wrapped on one side of her waist, a sensation she didn’t know she needed. Before Bada could respond, the three judges sat back down, and Shownu brought the mic up, “The main dancer we chose for this class is…”

The anticipation seemed to tighten its grip on Bada, making her almost oblivious to her own actions as she subconsciously held your hand. You glanced down, a slight smile playing on your lips as you met her gaze. The announcement of "Bada" prompted a heavy sigh of relief from Bebe's leader.

You clapped, pulling her into a genuine hug. "You were insane," you mumbled, planting a kiss on her temple, feeling honored to engage in such an intense competition.

Monika, beginning to explain the challenging decision, expressed, "You two felt like one person dancing on stage. I still can’t wrap my head around it, in all honesty. The choice ultimately came down to who we felt fit the song better, and that was Bada."

"The two of you, being tall dancers, feels like you’ve started something revolutionary," she continued, and both of you bowed, smiles etched on your faces.

After the competition, you found yourself alone in your hideout, taking a moment to rest. A knock interrupted your light nap, and you welcomed Bada in with a smile. "What’s up, main dancer?" she greeted with a chuckle. "I saw the lights still open in here and just wanted to make sure everything was okay."

"That’s sweet of you," you replied, sitting up. "But I’m fine. Just wanted a little break before heading out." Bada suggested heading out together, and you agreed, ensuring you had everything before leaving.

As you walked together, Bada broke the silence. "The way you dance… It’s so entrancing." You smiled at her. "Dance has been the only thing I’ve known for years, Lee, so I’d hope it feels like that."

“Maybe you can teach me one day?” Bada asks, her face full of mischievousness, but she is being literal.

Who wouldn’t wanna learn from the famous Lotus?

In Bada’s mind, you were someone that people wanted to be. Maybe she wanted something more out of the lessons from you, but only time could tell right now.

Bada had expected you to just laugh and shake off the idea, but while walking, you look at her straight in the eyes, not breaking any eye contact as she sees a smirk on your plush lips.

“When the show doesn’t take up our schedules, I’ll take you up on that offer.” You wink, walking away, into your car, leaving Bada standing there a bit distraught.

Well… I’m screwed, Bada thought while walking away, hands covering her eyes as she shook her head, trying to calm down her flustered self again.

You were dangerous for her, and it felt like you could possibly be Bada’s downfall in this competition.

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[jusst-you-race]

max and charles, 18!

i hope you don't mind that i made this volleyball au (i miss it) and also that it's... not really a kiss <3 thank you for the prompt!!!

a kiss as encouragement

The whistle blows as Charles slams the ball down on the other side of the court, easily breaking through the opposing block. Max swears loudly, and Checo winces, shaking out the hand that the spike had hit. There’s a chorus of cheers behind him from his team but Charles doesn’t turn to them just yet, instead he waits for Max to look his way. It doesn’t take long, they always seem to find each other’s gaze across the net.  

Charles blows a kiss at Max. Max scowls in response.

“Oh my god Charles you need to stop being a menace or the other team is actually going to kill us.”

Charles rolls his eyes.

“It’s for encouragement, Pear.”

“Encouragement?” Pierre asks sceptically.

“Yes. They are playing terribly today. Max always responds well to being pissed off.”

They both watch where Max has pulled the other team into a huddle, and can just hear his angry spitting from where they’re standing. Daniel looks like he’s trying very hard to placate Max, Lando and Oscar look like they're trying very hard not to laugh. 

Satisfied, Charles turns back to his own team. 

Lewis is levelling him with a very unimpressed look. 

“Charles, if you’re done winding up our opponents now? I’d like to actually talk about strategy.” 

A little bit sheepish, Charles worms his way into the group huddle, tucking himself into Pierre’s side. He only half listens to what Lewis is saying; Pierre is setting today and Charles knows his play style back to front so he’s not worried about missing any tactics. Instead his mind wanders, as it so often does, to Max. 

The blown kiss had mostly been a joke, something he knew would get under Max’s skin, which is Charles’ favourite activity after volleyball. But really, deep down, when he forces himself to acknowledge it, he did sort of want to blow Max a kiss.

It’s not just a kiss you want to blow…

Charles ignores his traitorous brain. The little voice in the back of his head that whispers about Max when he’s caught off guard and not violently beating it back with a stick. It’s getting a little bit louder every time they play the other team, and today has been especially bad. Max had shown up in a clearly borrowed t-shirt that must have been from Lando, judging by how it seemed a size too small. The way the shirt hugs the swell of Max’s chest has been incredibly distracting today, and Charles is genuinely glad that Pierre has been setting. He would have been absolutely screwed if Lewis was making him work for it with his clever sets. 

“Charles isn’t listening, he’s clearly thinking about Max.”

Charles winces, caught, and embarrassed that even Valtteri has picked up on it. Lewis just rolls his eyes. 

“Well Charles will just have to keep up,” he says as he waves his hand to dismiss the team and steps back away from the court. Charles flashes him a winning smile in an attempt to placate him, and then strides to his position by the net. 

Max is directly opposite him now. 

They lock eyes as George prepares to serve somewhere behind Charles. He brings his hands up to protect his head without breaking eye contact with Max. 

The whistle blows.

Max blows a kiss.

Charles’ brain short circuits.

[helvegen-s]

crossing lines | epilogue

index

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x OC

Summary: In the dizzying world of Formula 1, where speed and competition dominate every second, Carlos Sainz Jr., a young Spanish driver with undeniable talent, struggles to find his place amidst the pressure and expectations. Livia Visconti, heiress to an Italian fashion empire, moves with the same determination in a universe of elegance and power. Two opposing worlds, two strong personalities, an inevitable clash that will ignite a spark between them. But in a world where image and success are everything, can they risk it all for a love that defies the rules of the game?

WC: 1.2k

Warnings: i think none, just fluff hehe

A/N: THIS IS IT. is the first series i've ever finished. i'm really happy with how it turned out, i hope you got to enjoy it. thank you all <3

The soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains of the hotel room, illuminating Livia’s silhouette as she slept peacefully between the sheets. Her relaxed face, a faint smile on her lips, reflected the peace that only true love can offer. But when she opened her eyes, instinctively reaching for Carlos's warmth beside her, she noticed that his side of the bed was still untouched.

She blinked, momentarily confused. Her gaze wandered around the room, guided by the faint echo of a melody coming from somewhere nearby. Barefoot and wrapped in a thin silk robe, she got up and crossed the space to the balcony.

There he was.

Carlos stood leaning on the railing, gazing at the horizon. The light of the rising sun bathed his skin, outlining his profile in golden hues. From his phone, resting on a small table nearby, played a soft, almost melancholic melody. Livia paused for a moment, watching him in silence. There was something deeply moving about the scene: a man who, despite his strength, bore the weight of a moment that would forever change his life.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Livia asked softly, breaking the silence.

Carlos turned his head toward her, offering a gentle, albeit slightly sad, smile. “I didn’t want to wake my favorite Italian,” he teased, extending a hand to her.

Livia stepped closer and intertwined her fingers with his, placing a kiss on his bare shoulder. “You’re nervous,” she said, more as a statement than a question.

Carlos nodded, turning his gaze back to the horizon. “It’s… strange. Knowing today is my last race with Ferrari. I’ve spent so much of my life dreaming of wearing this uniform, fighting to represent this team. And now, it’s over. It feels like I’m closing a huge chapter of my life.”

“It is a chapter,” Livia replied, standing in front of him and cupping his face with both hands. “But chapters end so others can begin.”

Carlos sighed, leaning into her touch. “The next chapter is… uncertain. Williams will be a different challenge, maybe the biggest of my career. Going from fighting for podiums to fighting just to move up positions… it won’t be easy.”

Livia looked at him with a mix of tenderness and determination. “Carlos, have you stopped to think about everything you’ve achieved? Everything you’ve overcome to get here? It doesn’t matter where you race or what car you’re in; you carry the same heart, the same strength. That’s what defines a champion.”

Carlos let out a small, more relaxed laugh. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Say exactly what I need to hear, exactly when I need to hear it.”

Livia smiled, gently stroking his cheek. “I suppose I’m learning from you. After all, you’ve been my rock so many times.”

The driver pulled her into a tight embrace. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Liv. This year has been the hardest of my life but also the most beautiful. And you’re the reason for that.”

Livia stayed silent for a moment, savoring the warmth of his hug, how his heart beat in time with hers. Then, she lifted her gaze and stole a kiss, soft but full of emotion.

“I’ll be with you, Carlos. In every corner, in every lap, in every new challenge. You’ll never be alone.”

Carlos looked at her as if her words had cleared every cloud from his mind. “You don’t know how much it means to me to hear that.”

“I love you,” Livia whispered, resting her forehead against his.

“And I love you,” Carlos replied, kissing her again, this time with more intensity, as if wanting to etch that moment into his memory forever.

The sun continued to rise, bathing them in its warm light. There, on the balcony of that hotel overlooking Yas Marina, they shared words, kisses, and touches, building a moment of peace before the whirlwind the day would bring. It was the end of an era, but also the beginning of something far greater: a life together.

The atmosphere in the Ferrari garage was electrifying. Music echoed off the walls, the chants of the mechanics and team members blending with the commotion of the press and the flashes of cameras. Although Carlos had finished second in the race, the celebration had nothing to do with the day’s results. It was his farewell, his last day with Ferrari, and everyone wanted to give him the tribute he deserved.

“¡Carlos, Carlos, Carlos!” everyone chanted around him, hands raised high with a fervor reserved for special occasions. Some mechanics waved Ferrari flags, while others held up makeshift champagne glasses.

Surrounded by his team, Carlos couldn’t stop smiling. But with each hug, with every word of gratitude, he felt his emotions rising. His eyes started to glisten, and although he tried to hold back, the lump in his throat was inevitable. Each gesture of affection, each pat on the back, reminded him of everything he had lived through in those years: the victories, the defeats, the moments of glory and struggle.

From a corner of the garage, Livia watched the scene, feeling a whirlwind of emotions inside her. She clapped and sang along with the team, tears streaming down her cheeks. Seeing Carlos in that moment, surrounded by so many people who loved and respected him, filled her with pride but also an indescribable tenderness. In her eyes, he looked like a little boy: happy, loved, but also a bit lost.

When she saw an opening to approach him, Livia slipped through the crowd. Carlos, who had just received another hug from the chief mechanic, barely had time to react before Livia grabbed him by the neck and stole a long, emotion-filled kiss.

“You’re stealing the spotlight,” he joked with a smile, though tears still brimmed in his eyes.

“Let me be part of this,” she replied with a playful smile, wiping away the tears still lingering on his face with her fingertips. “Although I didn’t just come here to kiss you.”

Carlos looked at her, intrigued. “Oh no? Then what are you doing here, Miss Visconti?”

Livia took a deep breath, trying to contain the nervous laughter bubbling up inside her. Her heart pounded, knowing the words she was about to say would change the course of Carlos’s next chapter.

“The contract is signed,” she announced, unable to hide her grin. “Visconti will be Williams’ official sponsor next season.”

For a moment, Carlos blinked, processing what he’d just heard. “What?” he managed to say, incredulous.

“You heard me,” Livia continued, amused by his astonished expression. “Williams will have our family’s backing. That means more resources, more development… and more opportunities for you.”

Carlos brought both hands to his face, incredulous. “It can’t be. Are you serious, Livia? This… this is incredible.”

She nodded, her smile impossible to contain. “It is. And it’s what you deserve. I never doubted for a second that betting everything on you was the right thing to do.”

Carlos hugged her tightly, lifting her off the ground as the chants and laughter continued around them. “I don’t know how to thank you for this, Livia. Really, I don’t know how…”

“You don’t need to thank me for anything, Carlos,” she replied, looking into his eyes. “You do everything yourself. I’m just here to give you a little push when you need it.”

Carlos laughed, a sound broken by emotion. “You’re amazing. I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

She smiled back, gently caressing his face. “You are, Sainz. And I don’t think you’ll ever understand how lucky I am to have you.”

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