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whocaresstillthelouvre · 3 months ago

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The Return

Batter Up Chapter 7

Pairing: Baseball player Joel Miller x Female Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: After a month of being away from the game and the girl he loves, Joel Miller is back and ready to play. Warnings: smut, making a sex tape, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v (reader has an IUD), cream pie, also regular pie, joel miller's dirty mouth, wine. Words: 5,000

A/N: Thank you to my dearest @devineconjuring and her beautiful brain for beta'ing and being my grammar goddess.

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The crowd chants Joel’s name, lights flicker through the stadium, the ground feels like it’s shaking beneath his feet. He loves this feeling—the rush of adrenaline coursing through him, the loud crowd drowning out every doubt he’s ever felt. After three weeks on the injured list and another week rehabbing in the minors–a month away from the big leagues–Joel Miller is back.

He walks to the plate, digging his heels into the dirt and tapping his bat against the plate as he soaks in the moment.

“Miller, good to see you back,” the catcher says.

Joel nods, and grunts an acknowledgment back.

His eyes settle on the pitcher, some young phenom throwing 99-mph with almost every pitch. Don’t worry kid, you’ll get old like me.

The first pitch whooshes past him—ball one.

Ball two.

Strike one.

The pitcher’s keeping it a little outside, Joel inches closer to the plate, squaring up. The pitcher winds up again, Joel takes a deep breath, feeling the vibration of the bat as it connects with the ball. The crack of the bat reverberates through the stadium as the ball soars past the infield, over the outfield, and disappears beyond the right-field fence.

Home run.

The crowd erupts, the celebratory bell tolls as he rounds the bases. His eyes scan the club box above third base, finding you amidst the cheering fans, your arms raised high, that smile of yours lighting up his heart.

Joel Miller is back, doing what he loves, and now in front of the woman he loves.

You’re so proud of him. You wipe the tears from your eyes as Joel’s feet touch home base. His recovery wasn’t easy. Every week away from the game for someone as old as him means double the work versus a young kid just in the game. Forty year olds aren’t known for being pro athletes.

With the long Labor Day weekend, you were able to take time off from work and travel by train to Philadelphia to witness Joel's celebrated comeback, which had turned into a legend after his grand slam. Suddenly, all of your worries are lifted away. The stress of telling your families that you're a couple, your demanding job as a column writer at Sporting Digest that revolves around the ebb and flow of games, trades, and record breaking moments–none of it matters now.

Your responsibilities at work have been stacking up over the past few weeks. Churning out articles on everything from college football predictions to analyses of NBA draft picks. When you were hired you agreed to not cover baseball, what with the conflict of interest and all. Now, you dream of the headlines you could write about your boyfriend’s triumphant return.

You’ve barely been able to leave your laptop. Last week, you spent three days shadowing a tennis star at the US Open, scribbling notes on her training and the pressure of being labeled the “next big thing.” You’ve barely had time to breathe, let alone do laundry, go grocery shopping, and, most importantly, be there for Joel. You put in countless hours of work to make this long weekend possible, just so you could witness his big comeback firsthand.

“Heck of a player that Miller is,” you hear the TV in the corner say. “He sure knows how to show everyone he’s still got it, doesn’t he?”

You clutch his number dangling from your neck, you’re so proud of him, always proving everybody wrong. Well worth every sacrifice.

The Liberties win, 4-0, all thanks to Joel’s grand slam in the first inning. Sports radio is going to have a field day with this.

You make your way down to the stadium’s corridors, where staff rush around with more important tasks than yours.

The Liberties clubhouse sits just ahead of you, the two large blue doors stay closed to onlookers. You rest your back against the cold cinder block wall and send Joel a text, telling him to take his time.

A year ago, you never could’ve imagined this. Joel Miller—rugged, no-nonsense baseball star, the man who occupied your teenage dreams—now your boyfriend. The man who keeps your favorite pasta sauce in his pantry. The man who goes mattress shopping with you. It feels surreal, yet so real at the same time.

Every time that damn blue door opens your heart skips a beat, hoping you’ll find Joel walking out. False alarm after false alarm.

Until…

Joel emerges, hair slicked back, wearing a gray Liberties shirt, khaki pants, and those cheesy white New Balance sneakers you tease him relentlessly about. Joel, you’re way too rich to be wearing these damn ragged shoes.

“Hi baby,” he smiles as he wraps his arms around you, pushing you further against the wall.

“Hi,” you breathlessly respond, smelling the body wash on his skin. Damn, he showered. “Good game.”

“It was, wasn’t it?”

You can’t help but smile at how happy he is, back where he belongs, doing what he loves.

“Come on,” he says, pulling you close. “Let’s go celebrate.” His arm stays around your waist as he leads you through the corridors to his car.

It’s so freeing now, being able to cheer for—and love—Joel out in the open, for all eyes to see.

“You know you made me cry today, right?” you say, reaching for his hand resting on your thigh.

“I did, huh?” he replies with a smirk on his face.

He always looks so confident as he drives. Philly’s narrow streets, filled with potholes and pedestrians, are nothing like Austin’s, but he navigates them as effortlessly as he does everything else—injuries, tough teammates, media storms. He handles it all like he handles a fastball: with ease.

“Yeah, I’m really proud of you,” you tell him softly, grabbing his hand harder. “I know I’ve said it a hundred times, but I’m just so happy to be here for you.”

He smiles that quiet Joel smile. “That’s how I feel watching you handle everything too.”

"So, where are we headed?" you ask, noticing you're not on the route to his apartment. “I hope I’m dressed okay,” you say, looking down at your simple red gingham dress.

"It’s a surprise. You’ll be fine, you look beautiful baby," he says.

The car winds through the city. You glance over, watching the city lights flicker across his face as the car turns off the main road, slipping into a quieter neighborhood.

The car pulls up to a small, unassuming brick building tucked away on a quiet side street. No flashy sign, no valet—just a discreet, vintage lantern hangs above the door. It’s definitely a place Joel prefers.

He turns off the car and turns to you, his hand still resting on your thigh. “Thought we’d keep it low-key,” his deep voice rumbles in the quiet of the car.

You nod, your smile widening. “Perfect.”

He steps out of the car and, ever the gentleman, comes around to open your door before guiding you toward the entrance. You wrap your arm around his, leaning into his warmth as he leads you inside.

—

“Mr. Miller, welcome to Vetri Cucina. We’re happy to have you here. Let me show you to your table.”

“Silvio," Joel says with a firm handshake. "Good to see you. Thanks."

Your eyes scan the cozy space. Shiny worn floorboards, warm amber walls, a glistening chandelier that hangs from the low ceiling–you’ve never seen a place like this before. Little did you know that behind the unassuming brick row home exterior there would be a whole functional restaurant. It feels like the perfect mix of a place for the two of you, rustic and intimate.

Silvio leads you both up a narrow staircase to a private room on the second floor. A table for two sits in the center of the room. A red glass chandelier hangs above it, candlelights flickering shadows across the golden walls..

“So, we’re still hiding our dinners with each other away from prying eyes?” you tease as Joel pulls the chair out for you and you take a seat.

“Not exactly,” he says, taking your hand in his. “I just wanted to show off that I can get us a private table at one of the best restaurants in Philly.”

You laugh. “I’m sure there’s a Golden Corral around here.”

Joel chuckles. “Very funny. But trust me—you’ll love it here. They’ve got all the fancy dishes with those French words you like.”

“You know me too well.”

“Better than you think,” he says, his eyes gleaming under the golden light.

—

A waiter approaches, a polished smile on his face. “Good evening, and welcome. My name is Royal, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight. We have a special tasting menu prepared just for you, personally selected by our chef. It’ll start with an appetizer, followed by a pasta course, a main, and dessert.”

Your mouth waters as Royal pours you a glass of wine.

”Each course will be paired with a wine from our grand collection. Your first course will be out shortly. In the meantime, is there anything else I can bring you?”

Joel shakes his head. “We’re all set, thanks.”

“Wow,” you say once the waiter leaves, glancing around the elegantly set table. “I feel a little underdressed for a tasting menu.”

Joel shrugs. “I have a feeling they won’t care what we’re wearing once I pay the bill. Besides,” he says with a smile, “I like you in that red dress.”

“Atta boy, Texas,” you say, smiling as you sip your wine.

—

After a couple courses of delicious appetizers that you happily eat, but Joel barely touches, the water returns, presenting the main course with a flourish.

"For your entrée, we have our signature dish: salt-crusted tilapia with a bread salad of parsley and tomatoes, alongside grilled artichokes on a bed of smoked squash puree."

You glance at Joel as the waiter expertly cracks the salt crust, revealing the perfectly cooked fish underneath. You know Joel hates fish and artichokes. The waiter sets down two glasses of white wine and disappears, leaving you both alone with the dish.

"Baby, what are you going to do?" you ask, eyes wide as Joel picks up his fork.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m here to impress you,” he says with determination before spearing a piece of the fish. He takes a bite, his nose crinkling ever so slightly as he chews.

“How is it?” you ask, biting back a smile.

Joel grimaces. “I’ve had better.”

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “Please don’t eat it. I know the only fish you like is fried.”

“Always been more of a Filet O Fish man myself.”

“I don’t think they’ve got tartar sauce here, so please, for me, don’t force yourself.”

He sets down his fork with a relieved sigh, his hand finding yours again. “Anything for you.”

When the waiter returns, he doesn’t comment on Joel’s barely touched plate, but you notice a subtle, appreciative smile as he clears away your empty dish.

“Well,” you say, leaning back, happy and full from dinner. “At least there’s dessert.”

“Never said no to dessert,” he chuckles, before looking you in the eyes with adoration.

"You know," he begins, his voice low and serious, "I couldn't have done this without you. Coming back after my injury—”

Joel's voice trails off as he searches for the right words. His eyes stare into yours. You squeeze his hand encouragingly, needing to hear more.

“It wasn’t just physical,” he continues. “It was mental. Wondering if I still had it within me, if I was too old, if it was time for me to hang up my cleats. But you—you never doubted me for a second.”

Tears pool in your eyes as his thumb brushes back and forth against your knuckles.

"I’ve always been your fan, Joel. I’ll always believe in you.”

He nods, a small smile lighting his face. “I know, and that’s what got me through. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you smile through tears.

The waiter approaches with dessert, you silently thank the interruption so you’re not left sobbing in the middle of this beautiful restaurant over how much you love your boyfriend.

A familiar slice of pie is placed in front of you and Joel.

“Uppercrust?” you excitedly ask, your eyes widening at the large, glazed pecans laying atop the golden crust.

Joel gives a shy, satisfied nod, his lips curving into that familiar, gentle smile. "Thought we’d end the night with our favorite. Had Sarah overnight it to the restaurant."

“Jooooel,” you breathe out, overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness. You stare at the pie, stunned by how deeply he cares for you.

“All for you baby,” he says softly as he lifts his fork and cheers with a playful smile. “Cheers to Austin and that hotel bar.”

You laugh, grabbing your own fork and tapping it against his. “Cheers,” you whisper, trying to steady your voice.

“Oh my god,” you moan around the fork at the first taste of sweet pie. “I can’t believe you got this. You’re too good to me.”

He barks a laugh. “Baby, this is nothing, I owe you so much.”

The pie is sweet, but your boyfriend is sweeter.

The sweet wine served with the pie warms your body, Joel’s smile from across the table warms you even more. You sneakily slip your foot out of its sandal, and run it up his leg, making your way up to his crotch. He jumps in surprise, his eyes leer at you as he takes a sip of wine. Your foot finds its target, against the soft fabric of his pants, thankful for the white tablecloth that hangs from the table. He places a hand on your foot, pushing it closer to his crotch. You giggle as your toes wiggle back and forth, teasing him.

“So, what’s next?” you ask, with a mischievous grin.

"Well, after we finish dinner, I'll pay the bill, grab some leftover pie for later...and then take you home and fuck you," he responds confidently.

A small hmph escapes your lips at the promise. “Is that so?”

“Oh, it absolutely is,” he replies, a sly grin spreading across his face. He leans in close, his voice lowering to a secretive whisper. “Just think about it—my place, those fancy sheets of mine you love so much…”

His hand wraps around your foot, pressing it harder against him.

“Now you’re just making me impatient,” you tease.

—-

The plates are cleared, the leftover pie is boxed up, Joel settles the bill and rises from his seat, extending his hand to help you up.

Your fingers lace together as you step out into the warm summer night. Joel leads you to his car, unlocking it and opening the door for you. You lean over and seal your mouth over his, relishing in being able to kiss him out in the open. You pull away and give him a smirk before getting in and sliding across the passenger seat, your heart racing with anticipation for the next stop—Joel’s apartment.

Your time together has been precious and few. Your career keeps you north in New York, Joel’s training and rehabilitation game have kept him busy and all over the states. But now, you finally have three nights together—the most time you've had since his injury a month ago.

He glances over at you and winks before he adjusts the rearview mirror. You miss his truck back in Austin, the front bench seat allowing you to slide over and cuddle him close. You curse the existence of the center console.

“Buckle up, baby,” he says with a grin. Your heart races at the double entendre.

—-

Taking the elevator up to Joel's penthouse brings back memories of that first night together, when you couldn't believe how handsome he looked in that golden elevator at the hotel, not believing you were about to sleep with Joel Miller. Now, his body presses against yours as you lean on him, his head nestled in the crook of your neck as he leaves sweet kisses down your skin to the matching pendant of his number you wear, leaving a kiss against it before his eyes meet yours.

“I can’t tell you how much I love seeing this on you, baby,” he says before licking his way up to your mouth, sealing his over yours. He grabs your ass, lifting you into his hold, your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, your arms wrap around his wide shoulders.

The elevator doors open and he carries you into his penthouse, crowding you against the entryway wall. His mouth moves against yours with fervor, deepening the kiss as your fingers tangle in his hair. You gasp against his mouth, the cool wall chilling your overheated skin.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmurs between kisses, his breath warm and sweet against your lips. “I’ve missed this—missed you.”

He turns and carries you to the living room. The ambient city lights shining in from the floor-to-ceiling windows light Joel’s way. He gently sets you down on the couch and slides his hand to the back of your neck, pulling you closer for another kiss.

“Let me show you how much I’ve missed you, baby,” he whispers against your lips, pausing to look into your eyes.

You nod, breathless and eyes wide. “Please,” you whisper.

He grins, standing back slightly, taking in the sight of you sprawled on his couch, dress askew. “You look so damn good.”

His hands rest on the hem of your dress and, with a cocky grin, he slowly lifts it up, exposing the soft skin of your thighs.

“God, this is all I’ve been thinking about. Drove to the ballpark thinking about you, stepped up to the plate thinking about you, and, baby,when I saw you in the stands… all I could think about was you naked in my arms.”

“Joel…” you struggle to find the words, already lust-drunk on his words.

“I need to taste you.”

He drops down to his knees in front of you, his large fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your underwear and sliding them off.

You bite your lip as he grips your thighs and spreads them apart.

He breathes out a deep sigh at the sight of you. A low whistle leaves his lips. “There she is, she’s so fuckin’ pretty.”

He leans closer and places soft kisses along your inner thighs, teasingly slow, making your heart race even faster.

“Joel…” you plead.

He spreads you wider, warm breath teasing against your core. He licks a long, slow line from bottom to top, humming appreciatively at the first taste of you.

Your back arches, a gasp escaping your lips. "Oh my God," you breathe.

His rough palms grip your thighs, thick fingers digging into the flesh as he holds you steady. His hot breath tickles your skin as he licks you. "God, you taste so good," he murmurs against you, his voice vibrating against your cunt. “Missed this taste.”

His tongue explores you as your fingers tangle in his hair, gripping the soft waves of his dark strands.

Two thick fingers slide inside you, stretching you perfectly. Plush lips close around your clit, sucking and lapping at your sensitive nub.

It's been almost a month since he last touched you like this, and now with his skilled mouth and fingers all over you, your body is ready to let go.

“Joel,” you moan. “C-close.”

He enthusiastically hums against you, deep brown eyes staring into yours from under furrowed brows. His fingers pumping in and out of you as his tongue flicks rapidly over your clit. Your pussy pulses against his thick fingers, squeezing them as you bloom under the pleasure of finally feeling his touch. Goosebumps rise all over your skin, cheeks heating, legs trembling, and your eyes tightly shut… and when he curls his fingers upwards inside you, your orgasm crashes into you, your pussy soaking his hand and your voice screaming his name. He doesn't stop, continuing to lick and tease you through your orgasm until it's all too much and you're pulling at his hair.

He pulls back with a satisfied smile and kisses your inner thigh before standing and placing a kiss on your lips. You taste yourself as he licks into your mouth. His plush lips sucking against yours.

Before you can catch your breath, Joel scoops you up in his strong arms, throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you into his bedroom. You giggle as he smacks your ass and growls.

He sets you on the edge of his bed, the crisp white sheets cool against your overheated skin. He steps back, his eyes roaming over your body.

“Stay right there,” he says as he moves to the closet, rummaging around for a moment before returning with a black camera and tripod in hand.

Your breath catches at the sight as he sets them up, carefully adjusting the angle.

The tiny red recording light blinks on and the little screen lights up. There you are, all disheveled—dress hiked up, your lips full and swollen from Joel’s mouth.

His eyes meet yours. “Is this okay?” he asks softly.

You nod, excitement running through your body. “Yes,” you breathe.

He grins as he removes his shirt, tossing it to the side before he steps out of his pants. He stays behind the camera, standing in the shadows like a director. “Go ahead baby, take it all off.”

You stand slowly, your heart racing at Joel and the camera’s attention. Dark brown eyes watch you intently from behind the camera, his eyes never leaving your every movement. You reach back and unzip your dress, pulling it down, as you slowly slip the straps off, letting the dress fall to the floor, the red gingham fabric pooling at your feet.

"God, you're gorgeous,” he whispers.

You reach behind to unclasp your bra, staring at Joel as you let it fall away. Your breasts are exposed to his eyes and the camera, your nipples hardening in the cool air. You’re completely bare now except for the necklace with his number.

"Touch yourself for me, baby," he instructs softly.

You smile, running your hands slowly up your sides, cupping your breasts. Your fingers glide over your nipples, teasing them to stiff peaks before you back up against the bed and lay across it, spreading your legs wide for the camera and Joel. Your hand snakes down your body, across your stomach, down to the apex of your thighs.

You lock eyes with Joel as you slowly circle your clit, your breath hitching. His gaze is dark from behind the camera, his chest rising and falling rapidly. You can see the outline of his cock straining against his boxer briefs as he watches you pleasure yourself. Your fingers dip lower, sliding into your wet heat.

"That's it, baby," he groans. "Show me how you like to be touched."

Your other hand kneads your breast, pinching and rolling your nipple.

Joel steps out from behind the camera, moving to the edge of the bed. He strips off his boxers, his thick cock springing free. He strokes himself slowly as he watches you.

"You're so fucking sexy," he growls.

You whimper at his words, your fingers moving faster. "Please, baby,” you whine, “I need you."

He grabs your foot and turns you on the cool, slick sheets. Glancing over at the camera’s small display screen to check the angle of your body.

He climbs on the bed and you instantly welcome the warmth of his presence and his broad body. He positions himself between your legs, gripping his cock and running the head through your folds, coating himself in your wetness. Your breath catches as he slowly pushes inside, a smile lighting your face at finally feeling him inside you.

"Fuck," he groans, his eyes fluttering closed as he bottoms out. "You feel so good, baby. So tight and wet for me."

You moan as he starts to move, his hips rolling against yours in a steady rhythm. Your hands glide over the expanse of his shoulders and down his muscular back, relishing in feeling the flex of his strong muscles with each thrust.

He leans down, capturing your lips. His tongue tangles with yours as he picks up the pace, fucking you harder.

"Look at the camera, baby," Joel murmurs against your neck. "Let's show it how good I make you feel."

You tilt your head, looking directly at the camera lens with heavy-lidded eyes. The knowledge that you are being recorded, that Joel will watch this later, that the two of you will get off while watching yourselves… it’s a new thrill for you. You moan louder, arching your back higher as Joel fucks you.

"Touch yourself for me," he commands.

Your hand snakes between your bodies, fingers finding your clit.

"Oh god, baby," you moan, your fingers working furiously at your clit as he pounds into you. "I'm so close."

Joel's rhythm falters slightly as he watches you touch yourself, sweat glistening on his brow. "That's it. Cum for me. Let me feel you."

Your voice echoes through the room as you cry out Joel’s name, your body trembling as your walls clench tightly around him.

“Fuck,” he grunts, his hips snapping against yours. “So fucking good, you cum so fucking good for me. So fucking tight.”

He pulls your body towards him, sitting up on the bed, his cock still buried deep inside of you. You take control and ride him, your legs wrapping around his waist as you grind down on him. His hands grip your hips firmly, guiding you.

“That’s it baby. Take what you need from me,” he growls.

Your hands tangle in the short waves of his hair, pulling him in for a kiss. Your tongues exploring each other’s mouths, bodies glistening with sweat.

He breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against yours, his nose bumping against yours. “I love you. God damn baby, I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you moan as he thrusts up into you.

He captures your lips again. “I’m close,” he groans against your mouth. “Cum with me baby. Give me one more.”

His hand snakes down between your bodies, his thumb finds your clit, rubbing firm circles against it as you bounce on his cock.

You cry out his name as you orgasm, Joel’s fingers and cock working in tandem to push you over the ledge. You turn your head to the camera, staring into it as you chant Joel’s name while your walls clench around his cock.

“Oh fuck baby,” Joel groans, his hips stuttering. “I’m gonna cum for you.”

In one swift motion, he flips you onto your back, your legs instinctively wrap around his waist as he buries his face into the crook of your neck, his hot breath fanning across your skin as he chases his own release. Your hands run down his back, feeling the flex of his muscles with each thrust.

"Cum for me, Joel, I want to feel you cum inside me."

With a final and deep thrust, Joel stills above you. He groans your name as he empties himself inside you, his cock pulsing with each spurt. He fills you with his release, still gently fucking you with soft thrusts, pushing his seed deeper inside you.

He leans over and grabs the camera, his cock still plunged deep inside you. With a sly smile, he films your face, capturing the bliss across it.

“Look at you,” he admires, “smiling all sweetly, all drunk on my cock and cum, aren’t you baby?”

You moan a response and nod eagerly.

He chuckles as he pulls out, shuffling his body down to settle in between your legs. Joel positions the camera between your thighs, spreading them apart and running a finger through your cunt, swollen and slick with his spend pulsating out of you.

“Look at you, leakin’ everywhere,” he groans, collecting himself across his fingers and sticking it inside you. “Can’t have that, now can we?”

His eyes stay focused on the little screen, watching his fingers pump in and out of your overworked cunt.

“Fuckin’ filthy baby,” he angles his fingers, your slick squelches loudly across the room.

Writhing and whining under his touch, your skin is overheated, your pussy radiating heat across your body.

He pulls his soaked finger out, wiping it across your folds. “Show me how you drip baby, let me see.”

A gush of his cum leaks out of you, the warm liquid runs down your ass, pooling on the bed.

“Fucccccccccck,” he growls. “Can’t stop looking at this.”

He zooms out, capturing your whole body in the frame.

“Tell me whose pussy this is,” he instructs.

“Yours,” you breathlessly respond.

“That’s it baby,” he growls, before his eyes lift from the camera and into yours. “I love you,” he softly says, his eyes rounding in reverence.

“I love you too.”

He grins, standing up from the bed and switching off the camera before placing it down on the bedside table.

“That was incredible,” you sigh. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

A smile spreads across his face as he leans down to give you a tender kiss on the lips. "We'll have to watch it later," he says before heading to the bathroom. He returns with a damp towel and gently wipes between your legs, before planting a kiss on your forehead and turning to leave the room.

“Where are you going?” you slur, too blissed out of your mind.

“To get pie. I’m starving.”

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Series Masterlist

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel the last of us #baseball au #baseball joel #joel miller tlou

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nameless-jamie · 4 days ago

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You And Me As Always

Valentine's Day Special - Day 5 - FINALE

Jamie Tartt x PA reader

Masterlist Valentine' Special

TW: cursing, jealousy

A/N: Hi guys I wanted to end this Valentine'S Special strong, so here's a ff with yall's fav pining pair Jamie and his assistant. Thank you for all the love this series received. I deem this series officially finished now! Maybe I will do something like this more often! I love you all. Happy Valentine's Day!

Valentine’s Day at AFC Richmond was always a bit of a spectacle.

Between the lads showing off their grand romantic gestures, the inevitable teasing in the locker room, and the ridiculous amounts of chocolate that somehow ended up in Jamie’s locker (half from fans, half from the team just to wind him up), it was always a thing.

And for the past few years, Jamie and Y/N had their own little thing too.

Every Valentine’s, without fail, they’d surprise each other with something small—nothing fancy, just a little reminder that they thought about each other. A coffee waiting on her desk with a heart drawn in the foam, a sticky note in his locker that said Try not to be a dick today—Happy Valentine’s. It was never a big deal.

At least, that’s what Y/N kept telling herself.

Because it wasn’t a big deal.

Except, maybe, it sort of was.

Because she was hopelessly, stupidly in love with Jamie Tartt. And he, being Jamie, had no clue.

Which was why she had tried so hard this year to actually do something different. Both of them actually didn't do a thing for each other this year...

She had a blind date tonight. To get her mind of their thing.

Rebecca had set it up, going on and on about how Y/N needed to “get out there” and “stop wasting time waiting for things that might never happen.” Which was fair. It was probably about time she tried dating again.

So why did she feel like bailing?

Maybe it was because she knew how tonight would go. She’d go on the date, make polite conversation, and the whole time, she’d just be thinking about how much she’d rather be spending the evening bantering with Jamie.

But whatever. It was fine.

It wasn’t like Jamie actually wanted to spend Valentine’s with her.

Right?

The locker room was full of buzzing energy that afternoon.

The lads were in rare form, all hyped up and comparing their plans for the night.

“Gonna be massive, lads,” Isaac declared, clapping his hands together. “Got a whole weekend planned—spa day, private dinner, the works.”

“Mate,” Bumbercatch shook his head. “You just won Valentine’s Day.”

“Oi, I always win Valentine’s Day.”

The guys laughed, each chiming in about their own plans. Sam had something elegant planned—dinner and dancing. Dani, of course, was “taking Valentine’s Day as an opportunity to celebrate love with the whole world!” Which, for him, probably meant a party with half of Richmond.

And then, predictably, someone turned to Jamie.

“What about you, Tartt?” Colin smirked. “Surely the great Jamie Tartt’s got a big night planned.”

Jamie, lacing up his boots, just smirked.

“Oh, yeah. Got a hot date.”

The guys whistled.

“Ooohhh, Tartt’s got a mystery girl,” Jan teased.

“She’s well fit, right?” Isaac asked.

Jamie leaned back, completely unbothered. “Fittest girl I know. A model.”

And then, without meaning to, his eyes immediately flicked toward Y/N, who was busy folding Jamie's dirty football kits... That was certainly not her job.

She hadn’t looked up. Hadn’t reacted at all.

Was she even listening?

He frowned slightly. Not that he wanted her to react.

Except, maybe, he did.

“You’re being weird about it, boyo” Colin teased. “That means it’s someone we know, yeah?”

“Maybe.” Jamie smirked. “Maybe not.”

The guys groaned.

“Such a prick,” Isaac muttered.

“Yeah, yeah.” Jamie rolled his eyes. “What about Y/N? You got plans tonight?”

Y/N, overhearing her name, turned around just in time to see all the lads looking at her expectantly.

“Oh. Uh… yeah, actually,” she said, clearing her throat. “I have a date.”

Jamie’s smirk immediately dropped.

The fuck?

Since when did Y/N have a date? Since when did Y/N go on dates in general?

“Wait, wait, wait.” Dani waved his hands. “You? A date? But it’s always you and Jamie on Valentine’s Day!”

Y/N blinked. “What?”

“Yeah, you two always do your little… thing.” Sam smiled. “The coffee and the notes, the little looks you give each other. It’s like a tradition.”

“That’s—” Y/N faltered. “That’s not… I mean, yeah, but it’s not like a thing.”

“Sounds like a thing,” Colin grinned.

“Shut up.” Y/N rolled her eyes. “And yes, I have a date. Rebecca set it up.”

Jamie frowned, arms crossing.

“A blind date?” he asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.

“Yeah.”

Jamie scoffed. “That’s fuckin’ stupid, love.”

Y/N frowned. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, c’mon,” Jamie said, leaning back against his locker. “You don’t even know the bloke. Could be a proper weirdo.”

“Or he could be great,” she shot back. “Not everyone’s a weirdo, Jamie.”

Jamie shrugged, hating the way his chest felt tight. “Still think it’s stupid.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Of course you do.”

He wanted to say Don’t go.

Instead, he just huffed, looking away.

And for the first time, Y/N really thought about canceling.

She lasted exactly seven minutes at the restaurant.

She had shown up, sat at the table, and listened to her date talk about his favorite wine pairings for way too long before realizing she wasn’t even really there. Physically, sure. But her mind? It was somewhere else entirely—somewhere that smelled like expensive cologne and fabric softener, somewhere that had an annoying yet undeniably attractive accent teasing her about how stupid blind dates were.

She had barely muttered an excuse before she was out the door, coat wrapped tightly around her as she stepped into the cold night air. But now what? Going home felt wrong. Like she was admitting defeat. And if she was being honest, there was only one place she really wanted to be.

So she found herself in front of Jamie’s door, hands shoved deep into her coat pockets as she bit her lip, debating whether this was a really bad idea or just a regular bad idea. She hadn’t even texted him. Had no clue if he was home. But for some reason, her feet had taken her here anyway. Maybe because, no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise, this is where she belonged.

When the door finally swung open, Jamie leaned against the frame, raising an eyebrow as a slow smirk played on his lips. “Well, well. Thought you had a hot date.”

She rolled her eyes. “Thought you did.”

Jamie shrugged, stepping aside to let her in. “Yeah, well. She bailed. Some last-minute modeling thing.”

She snorted, kicking off her shoes as she walked past him into the warmth of his flat. “You’re full of shit.”

“Am not.”

“Jamie.” She turned to him, arms crossed. “You never had a date, did you?”

He hesitated for only a second before giving her a lopsided grin. “Maybe. Maybe not. Guess we'll never know.”

A laugh bubbled out of her, and Jamie took that as a win.

“So what happened?” he asked, flopping onto the couch, patting the empty space beside him. “Blind date bloke turn out to be a twat?”

She sighed, sitting down next to him. “No. He was… nice.”

Jamie made a face. “Nice?”

“Yes, nice.” She pulled a throw blanket over her lap. “But I didn’t want nice.”

Jamie’s smirk faltered slightly. “No?”

She shook her head. “No. I wanted this. Our Valentine's thing.”

Jamie’s throat went dry.

“Not normal Valentine’s Day, or big grand gestures, or some random guy Rebecca thinks I’d like,” she continued, voice softer now. “Just… this.”

Jamie swallowed hard.

They sat on her couch, watching dumb movies, sharing cheap chocolates, and teasing each other relentlessly.

And when she dozed off halfway through the film, leaning against Jamie’s shoulder, he barely breathed.

Because it was always them.

And no matter how much they tried to pretend otherwise, it always would be.

#jamie tartt #ted lasso #ted lasso show #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #afc richmond #jamie tartt imagine #Jamie Tartt x PA #valentine's day

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dc-polls · 5 months ago

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Hello hello! I sat down to put together our next event but wasn't sure which, so let's put it to a poll, as is our custom. Descriptions of each below!

If you like more than one, vote your preference but put other picks in the tags so i can count those too.

Biggest DC misconception - could be about a character, a series, a media type, a bit of history, etc

Coolest DC fact - the inverse of option 1, something true and interesting. Could be in-universe, could be meta

Most heroic/surprising/dumbest character death - one event with three categories. Could be a fun way to learn some lore.

Best story arc - another fun way to learn lore

DC playlist - not sure how to incorporate polls into this but I like the idea of putting it together as a big group

DC alphabet - 26 polls, one for every letter in the english alphabet.

DC tarot deck - disclaimer: i dont know much about tarot, so would need input from someone who does. One poll per card for major and minor arcana. Difficulty would be getting people to submit enough characters.

Fantasy or Eliminator League - tournament for who wins in a fight (or something simple like that), but twist is.. you predict who's going to win, and we see who can make it the farthest. Same rules as fantasy football.

Best DC merch - kind of a weird one, but could be fun?? Any official item through history

Best comics cover - "best" is subjective, could be iconic or impactful, artistic, unusual

#dc-polls-bts #poll-ideas

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cosmerelists · 2 years ago

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If Cosmere characters had mundane hobbies...

And by “mundane” I just mean “non-extreme” (aka, no base jumping, no paragliding); we’re talking, like, doing puzzles or going for a pleasant hike. If all these hobbies existed and Cosmere characters weren’t busy fending for their lives all the time, what might they get up to?

1. Szeth: Frisbee golf

We already know that Szeth is great at paintball; I just feel like he’d be weirdly good at frisbee golf as well.

2. Renarin: Speed Rubik’s Cube

Renarin likes to fiddle and have something for his hands to do--I think solving a Rubik’s Cube would be fun for him. And I threw in “speed” (aka, trying to do it as fast as possible) because Renarin loves to jump into things wholeheartedly.

3. Kaladin: Indoor Rock Climbing

Kaladin has already gone rock climbing in two books--he makes his own rock wall in the chasms in Book 1 and climbs down Urithiru in Book 4. He even knows that he should be using “rock dust” for his hands. I think some nice, non-extreme, indoor rock climbing would be good for Kaladin. Bonus: he’s not afraid of heights!

4. Shai: Stamp Collecting

(I’m sorry)

5. Eshonai: Hiking

Eshonai loves to go out into the woods and explore, see new places and people and things. I can see her getting into hiking.

6. Raoden: Coding

Before he even had powers, Raoden already liked to memorize Aons--and from what I understand, AonDor is basically coding.

7. Tien: Rock Collecting

I mean, this is literally just canon. I have to imagine that he’d also enjoy whittling since that is again, simply canon.

8. Shallan: Crochet

Okay, so Shallan does already have hobbies in canon: like drawing, for example. But I think she’d also enjoy crochet--all those patterns coming together, her Spren humming excitedly...

9. Adolin: Sewing

Even while trapped in Shadesmar, Adolin is able to sew himself a new outfit. If he had time and materials, he could definitely make some cool clothing.

10. Mare: Gardening

I mean, she loves flowers. If she were alive when her planet could support flowers, I think she’d love to grow some.

11. Sixth of the Dusk: Birdwatching

If he wasn’t, you know, desperately trying to survive at all times, I feel like Sixth of the Dusk might enjoy some nice, relaxed birdwatching.

12. Wax: Puzzling

Normally Wax is putting together the pieces of deadly mysteries that will impact the fate of his planet. Maybe he’d find it a nice change of pace to just put together colorful cardboard instead!

13. Rysn: Extreme Couponing

Listen, Rysn once leapt off of a cliff to talk to a god to make a deal. Clipping coupons would at least have the advantage of being safer than that, no matter how “extreme” she gets.

14. Rlain: Amateur Radio

Amateur radio tends to use morse code, which is a form of communication Rlain might find comfortingly rhythmic. Plus, amateur radio lets you connect with people, but no one can see you or judge you for being a crab person.

15. Vin: Parkour

Even without powers, I can see Vin running across buildings and climbing things she’s not supposed to climb. I think she’d have a good time.

16. Jasnah: Crossword puzzles

Yes, I am basically calling Jasnah a nerd here, but also, I think she’d probably really like crossword puzzles--knowing things, understanding obscure trivia, solving puzzles that aren’t about the end of the world...

17. Dalinar: Tunnelling

I dunno if this is just a Reddit phenomenon, but apparently some people just really like to dig long tunnels underground? And Dalinar sure had a great time digging out that latrine that one time. Perhaps that was a sign that his true love is burrowing deep, deep underground.

18. Taravangian: Fantasy Football

I don’t know a whole lot about Fantasy Football, but I believe it involves creating your own imaginary team of players and then using their actual, real-life performance to get points. So you have to be good at predicting how people will act, skilled at long-term planning, and have a deep desire to win. It’s like Taravangian’s diagram, only nobody (hopefully) dies!

#cosmerelists #cosmere #Szeth #Renarin #Kaladin #Shai #Eshonai #Raoden #Tien #Shallan #Adolin #Mare #Sixth of the dusk #Wax #Rysn #Rlain #Vin #Jasnah #Dalinar #Taravangian

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russellius · 2 months ago

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KLmagazine

Now in his second season driving for the Mercedes-AMG PETRONAS Formula One Team, 25-year-old George Russell has his sights set on becoming an F1 World Champion. Russell took his first victory for the Mercedes team in São Paulo, Brazil in November 2022, eventually finishing the season fourth in the championship standings.

Following that first Grand Prix win, Russell took time to wholeheartedly recognise all those that had supported him throughout his journey, not least his family. “My father and mother supported me a huge amount,” Russell reflects. “It was a real family team effort. I think as a child that is all you can ask for, that support and that chance from your family.”

Like many young boys and girls, Russell tried a range of sports in his youth. “If you have the opportunity to try out more than one sport that’s great,” he says. “I used to play football when I was a youngster until I learnt that go karting was my passion. The advice I would give to any parent whether their child wants to be a racing driver or footballer is firstly to encourage whatever their passion is.”

The current 2023 season has seen Russell continue to deliver ambitious performances, with championship points often just slipping from his grasp. At the time of writing, Russell sits 8th in the Driver Standings, having taken to the podium in Spain and crossing the finish line 5th at his home Grand Prix in Silverstone.

So what is it that makes Russell such a great F1 driver? “Firstly talent,” says Aleix Casanovas, Russell’s Performance Coach. “There is no doubt that he can drive faster than anybody and that skill is there for sure. Then of course his commitment. His professionalism. His desire to do well. His desire to win. He is not afraid to do the job.”

Committing to fulfil his maximum potential day in and day out is the work ethic that keeps Russell at the top. “My ambition, stating the obvious of course, is to become a Formula 1 world champion,” he says. “The landscape of Formula One makes it very difficult to fight for a world championship unless all things are pointing in the right direction for you. But I take satisfaction from leaving a weekend knowing that I gave it my all, I prepared as best as possible and achieved the maximum result that was available. There’s nothing more you can do from there.”

Born in King’s Lynn, Russell grew up in Tydd St Giles and Castle Rising. His drive for speed began young as he took to karting aged seven, inspired by his brother, Benjy. “Because of my older brother’s influence it was natural for me to go into karting from a young age,” Russell says. “And I enjoyed it right from the start.” Russell’s Formula One race number, 63, originates from the rental kart number that Benjy always raced with before he had a kart of his own.

“I miss spending time in Norfolk,” Russell says. “I used to go to Hunstanton a lot when I was younger. We lived in King’s Lynn for a period of time and I have some very close family still in the region. I want to make time to get back to the place I grew up.”

In 2017, KL Magazine featured a teenage Russell who was even then predicted to be Britain’s future Formula One star. He had just been signed to Mercedes junior driver programme and was competing in the GP3 series which he went on to win with two races to spare.

Casanovas explains that even a driver with natural talent needs time to develop. “He has learnt things along the way like everybody does. It’s a natural process in life,” he says. “As you get older you learn things. The more experiences you go through the more you learn. But I think that raw talent and raw driving skills were there then and they’re still there now.”

Russell’s career has been a whirlwind of success that looks set to continue. “Obviously getting into Formula One was the biggest step, that’s the dream,” Casanovas says. “Only 20 guys make it that far. But I think George is here to stay for many, many, many years and that’s a thing only very few can achieve.”

#george russell #f1 #*m #23 #q #(aleix ❤️)

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nestasgalpal · 1 year ago

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Can't think straight when we are together Pt. 2 [Nessian smut]

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4

Nesta’s Gal Pal masterlist | AO3

Tagging:@zoyaslai@champanheandluxxury@pataytayo@nessiantrashh@dustjacketmusings@saltydreamcollector@generalnesta@simpingfornestaarcheron@arinbelle@a-court-of-valkyries@azrielsgirl@swoopingoccamy@vasudharaghavan@vidalinav@sv0430@nessianforlife@claralady@sayosdreams@malluzia@dealfea@kylosmomm

A/N: Don't mind me, I'm just posting a second part to this a year after because I think I know what I want to do with this fic. It's been a year, so if you want to be removed or added to the tagging list, let me know, I just copied the one I had.

He had played well enough to celebrate the victory and mean it. It had been a great game. Tense, to say the least, but in a good way. The type of tense that pushed Cassian to do better. He was not the captain of the football team, Rhy was, but Cassian had been named MVP of the college league the last two seasons, and he planned on keeping the title this year as well now that graduation time was approaching and the draft peaked on the horizon. Preassure to give his all on the field was always welcomed. And if a certain pretty brunette showed up to watch, even if she was accompanied by some other dude, then his teammates could count on Cassian pushing himself to the limit.

Cassian slurred each syllable when he spoke, even if he wasn't drunk yet. "It's too hot in here, I need some air." Az only nodded. Not that the music being blasted through the speakers would have allowed him to be heard anyway.

The crowd dancing in Feyre's basement, drinking and making out in the darkest corners of the room, forced him to use his elbows to push people in reaching for the stairs. Circumventing these college students proved as challenging as dodging some of his rivals hours earlier. Cassian tightly secured his red cup as he made his way up. Although Feyre's house was not their most frequent meetup place, Cassian had been in there enough times to know where each room was. To know the basement had a door to the garden behind the house, but if he instead used the stairs, he would find himself in the entry hall at the top.

So he went up, and just as he emerged in the predicted space, the front door was being opened by one of his best friends. Mor gave a squeak and jumped to hug him. "Congrats on the win, big boy!" Cassian hugged her back, and she had to go on her tiptoes so her arms could reach around his neck. He thanked her with a shit-eating grin. Both knew this had been one of his best games this season.

"Where were you? I was starting to think I would have to drain the keg all by myself." He joked, momentarily postponing his planned trip for this quick chat.

"The cheer team had a pre-party I couldn't miss." Mor explained. Cassian didn't believed her, though, as most of the cheer team had arrived before him at the party.

"Excuse me." The soft voice behind them was followed by an even softer touch as Gwyneth Berdara slightly pushed his arm.

Only then did Cassian realize Mor and he were blocking the front door. He quickly let go of his friend's waist and took a step back, leaving enough room between the blond cheerleader and himself for Gwyneth to walk out. She did so without a word or a second look at them. The sudden panic taking over Cassian was enough to block the shame he should have felt instead. He saw the redhead reach for her phone as soon as she stepped outside, right before the door closed behind her. His widen his eyes went back to his friend, who seemed oblivious to the gravity of what had just happened. Only then did he notice who the varsity jacket Mor was wearing belonged to. A siren went off inside his head. Shit. Cassian hadn't noticed she was wearing his name and number. He had assumed it belonged to whatever player she had been screwing before coming to the party.

Surely Gwyn had noticed as well.

Shit.

"It that my jacket?" Obviously, it was.

"Oh, yeah, sorry, I was cold and kept it. Do you want it back?" She offered it, but didn't take it off. She pouted, knowing he would let her keep it. It would be useless to ask for it now, anyway.

"I thought you gave it to Nesta. Like I asked you to."

How tight had he and Mor been hugging when Gwyn appeared out of thin air? He wasn't sure. He tried to remember if his name on the back of the jacket had been visible to the girl, but soon discovered that he couldn't. A message had probably been sent from Gwyn's phone to Nesta's describing what she thought she had seen. She would be wrong in her assumption, but it kind of made his planned trip to the second floor redundant now, nevertheless.

"She didn't want it, Cass. I promise I offered it to her, and she said she already had a jacket. Now, I don't know if she meant hers or the jacket that guy besides her was wearing."

Cassian closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Shit Mor, you should have told me. I thought she had taken it."

"Hey, don't be upset with me. It's not my fault." She protested, her pouting lips now more exaggerated. "To be honest, I think this was for the best. Please, Cass, I am begging you to put two and two together and realize that she didn't want your name on her back because she simply doesn't want you. Or else, she wouldn't have gone to the game with a date."

His head snapped at that. "So it was a date? How would you know?" Cassian had always trusted Mor's intuition in this area. She understood girls' behavior way better than he did.

Taking the red cup from his hand and sipping from it, Mor rolled her eyes. "Listen, I don't want to hurt your feelings, especially not tonight, but Nesta Archeron doesn't give a fuck about football, so if her pretty ass was there, it had to be that guy's idea. And she must like him a lot to agree to the plan. Did she tell you she would be there?" He said no with his head. "And why is that? Because she..." Mor pushed a finger against his chest. "Doesn't. Care. About. You."

Cassian just stood there, unconvinced. He wished Mor had insisted more.

"But I still went up there to their seats and offered, like you asked me to, because I do care about you." She kept going. "As does Rhys. Do you think he would like to find out you are trying to get into Nesta's pants?" She arched an eyebrow. "You know he is not precisely fond of her."

The silence, Cassian hoped, let Mor know he was not in the mood to get deeper into that conversation right now. "Yeah, you are right." He considered taking his cup back, but decided not to. Mor could keep his cup and take it downstairs with her advice and opinions. He had to go up, he was now determined. "Az was asking for you down there." The cheerleader's face lightened when he changed the subject, suddenly reminded that there was, in fact, a party waiting for her in the basement.

"Shall we go?" She offered.

"I was actually looking for a bathroom." Cassian excused himself. "I don't trust the one downstairs." He joked. She didn't push it, she simply gave him another quick hug and headed towards the music.

He gave himself a second to clear his head. To mentally curse himself, Mor and this night that had seemed so full of potential until five minutes ago. The stairs to the second floor of the Archeron's house were right there. I should go to her room, Cassian told himself. To explain myself. And so, with the confidence only a guy like him could have, he resumed his original route towards Nesta Archeron's bedroom.

Unknown territory.

It would be easy for him to pitch himself tonight. Pitching both of them, actually, presents Nesta with the idea of what they could become. In a perfect scenario, Nesta would listen. In the case that Gwyneth had misinformed her of what she thought she had seen in the hall, it might require a little more convincing. But Cassian made his way up, truly believing this would be the night he told Nesta what he wanted.

Loud and clear.

The hallway he ended up in was silent, as if there was no party happening in the basement at that very moment. It was pitch dark, and wanting to be as sneaky as possible, instead of turning on the lights, Cassian used his phone's flashlight to find Nesta's bedroom door. A decorative piece of wood in the shape of a perfect "N" hang from the door. Knowing all the residents of the house except Feyre —downstairs— and Nesta herself —at the other side of the wooden panel— were away, he knocked, not allowing his confidence to slip away.

Yes, Nesta had refused to take his jacket when Mor offered it in his name, but not once had she said no to fucking him. If she knew he was on the other side of the door, she would open it for him. When she didn't answer, Cassian knocked again. "Nes, it's me." He had to wait again, but this time he heard the muffled footsteps getting closer. Then, the door opened, and Cassian's grin returned to his face. "Hey." He leaned on the door, knowing from experience that women found the way his muscles flexed to be sexy.

Nesta's half-closed eyes didn't really react, though. "What do you want?" She asked bluntly.

"Were you sleeping?" The question was a courtesy. He could smell in the thick air of the room what she had been up to, despite the open window by the bed. The red eyes were proof as well.

"Yes." She lied. "Did you get lost?" Her sexy lack of patience was amusing and just what he had wanted to be greeted by.

There was soft music playing from her phone on the bed. "I'm almost where I want to be, actually." Cassian said, his eyes wandering through the room behind his girl.

The eye contact that followed was intense. Cassian wouldn't break it, he could stare at her annoyed frown for ages and never get tired. And Nesta wouldn't either, as she simply couldn't stand to lose. She had her hair up in a ponytail that had been perfectly neat maybe an hour ago and now struggled to contain a few pieces of hair that were too short in the front and framed her face. Although Cassian was sure there were a pair of shorts on her legs, they weren't visible under the big t-shirt she used as pajamas. The band logo was unrecognizable after so many trips to the washing machine over the years.

Knowing very few people were allowed to see the perfect Nesta Archeron looking this disheveled, but he was, only filled his chest with excitement. Because not only was he allowed to see it, he was also allowed to take her out of those clothes and make an even bigger mess of her.

"Are you going to stand there forever?"

"Until you invite me in." He retorted.

She rolled her eyes, but stepped to the side and opened the door enough for him to enter. He walked to the middle of the room and heard the door close behind him. "I don't think I've ever seen your bedroom." She didn't answer, nor did she address his presence when she walked back to her bed and jumped in. Cassian just stood there, taking in the empty white walls, the blue stripes of her sheets, and the fluffy rug in the middle of the room.

"I hate shoes inside the house." Cassian needn't be told twice. His socks were stark white, and Nesta took notice. Hers were as well. "Matching," she mumbled distractedly.

The only light came from a round lamp by her bed. It was warm and threw yellowy shades across the walls, the bed and her face. She looked relaxed, and Cassian wondered if he had ever seen her like this. So calm and comfortable. He absolutely hadn't. He would remember. Like he remembered the first and only time he had made her laugh out loud —and actually chuckle. Cassian felt like he should have, though. Hadn't he made her feel good in his arms? He had. Six times, no less.

But Nesta hadn't looked this at ease. Almost the opposite, he realized. She had wanted to get out of his embrace as soon as they were done. She always ran from him.

Well, not anymore. Tonight, he would demand she give him more —at least a chance—, or else they would be done forever.

Please, prove them wrong, he begged her. Prove you do care about me.

From the bed, Nesta stretched her arm to open a drawer. "Do you want some?" An untouched joint was offered to him.

"I've been told I am insufferable when I am drunk and high." He joked. Nesta's lips curled up, remembering the moment she spoke those words.

"You really are." She scouted to the side, leaving room for him on the bed. "But you are not drunk, though."

Absolutely not. He needed his mind to be clear for this. Nesta's parted lips were distracting enough. Her smell. The skin of her thigh hot against the back of his hand when he sat down. Their eyes met, and Cassian cursed himself for accepting the silent offer and getting in her bed. This was not what he had come up here for.

Had she not leaned in, Cassian might had found in him the strength to get up again. But she did lean in, and his body followed suit. She kissed him. He kissed her back, and Nesta was quick to make it deeper, to make it hungry and needy. His hand cupping her face was meant to steady them, as surely were Nesta's on his hair. And his arm finding its place around her waist, or her legs now straddling him.

Yes, when his hand left her pretty face and met its double on Nesta's other hip, his goal was to make sure she was comfortably sitting on top of him. The grinding it caused was collateral damage. The seam of his jeans rubbed the right inch on her body, and soon Nesta was moaning in his mouth.

Hadn't she leaned in, Cassian would be standing on the fluffy carpet, pouring his heart out for her. But she did. And so he was now stripping her of her t-shirt and delighting himself in the realization that Nesta had not been wearing any kind of shorts under it. Just some lovely black panties he was quick to pull aside.

"Fuck!" She let out when his fingers pushed inside her. She was soaking wet just from making out.

There was no excuse for that.

"Tell me what you want." He demanded.

With her mouth open in a silent exclamation, Nesta rode his hand like she should be riding his cock. He curled his two fingers inside her, making her tremble. To keep her balance, Nesta's palms came to rest on his chest, supporting her weight. With her arms at her sides and her back arched, Nesta's tits were pushed right to his face. Not wanting to disrespect his host, Cassian's mouth was on them in an instant.

Hadn't she leaned in...

Nesta tried her best to contain her whimpers, and he did his best to steal new ones from her lips. "Tell me what you want." He repeated, now that Nesta was approaching her climax.

"I just want to come." She pleaded. Her gray eyes found his and gave him that look that almost had him coming in his pants. "Please, Cassian, make me come."

"And what do I get?" He teased, freeing her nipples from the pleasure and torture of his tongue on them. She shuddered, probably feeling the cold now that they were wet with his saliva.

Nesta didn't answer, so he had to be tougher on her. She was lost in her thoughts, bouncing on his hand and enjoying the feeling of his thumb on her clit. With his left hand, Cassian halted her movement just so he could slip his right from under her. Nesta whimpered again, but this time it was unsatisfaction what lingered on her pouting lips. An unexpected swat across her butcheeks made her jump slightly. It had taken her by surprise, although it shouldn't have. She knew what would come when she didn't answer him the first time. "What do I get, Nes?" Cassian was getting tired of repeating himself. She knew better. He spanked her again, just because he wanted to see her tits bounce in his face when she felt it and reacted.

Like a cat, Nesta stretched her body and rested it flat on top of his, gaining access to his neck and covering it in kisses. It was Cassian's turn to groan, more so when she nibbled his earlobe, and he practically melted when Nesta's plump lips sought his again. She was such a smooth kisser, so good at it, Cassian almost forgot she was the one supposed to be begging for his touch, not the other way around. He rolled over, pressing her against the bed now, and grabbed her tits with perhaps more force than needed. Not that Nesta ever complained about sex getting a bit rough. He kneaded them and pulled her nipples to his will, enjoying how hard they got against his palms and how she arched her back for more. When her tongue entered his mouth, Cassian knew she was desperate.

"Anything you want." She promised, thinking she knew exactly what he would take as compensation. "You can have me any way you want, but please," A pause to let out a moan right by his ear, "please, make me come."

Cassian was quick enough in taking down his jeans that Nesta didn't complain about his warm body leaving hers. He wasn't quick enough to put on the condom she handed him from the bedside table, though, so Nesta got on her knees in front of him, matching his pose, and started kissing him again whilst he opened the silver square and wrapped himself in the rubber. When he was done, Cassian wasn't able to tell who was hornier. He only knew one second his hands were in Nesta's ass, taking her in the air, so she could wrap her legs around him, and the next he had slammed their bodies against the mattress again and was fucking her for all he was worth.

It would have been great to say she came quickly and repaid the favor by sucking him, but after all that grinding, Cassian was as close to coming as she was. She squeezed him so tightly he stood no chance, and soon they were both panting, Cassian all the way in and Nesta holding on to him like her life depended on it, needing him even closer. When the climax ran through them, Cassian didn't pull out, nor did she urge him to. Instead, her fingertips started dancing through his back. Making circles at first, then more complicated shapes. Something like triangles, then curves, and more sharp angles right after.

Cassian thanked his past self for staying sober tonight, so he was conscious enough to understand the meaning of the lines she drew.

"Come on a date with me." He whispered against her ear.

"No." Her answer came immediately. Not harshly, at least not with the intention to be harsh. She said the wordas a matter of fact. Empty of feeling.

He closed his eyes. Why? Wasn't this what she wanted? For him to be blunt with his expectations? "You said anything I wanted." Cassian reminded her. He didn't move. Their bodies were still tangled over her bed: him inside her, her legs caging his waist, and her arms hugging his neck. How could Nesta reject him while holding him with such care?

As if she had read his mind, Nesta let go of him completely, and he had no choice but to sit up. Somehow quicker than Cassian had been when he took them out, Nesta gave him his underwear and jeans back for him to put them on. "I meant something like a blowjob and to swallow." Her coarse words hurt his ego more than his feelings. He didn't answer.

Cassian got up and pulled up his pants, then seated himself again and stared at her, a question in his eyes. She could read it—she in fact did—, but didn't answer. Cassian wondered, had she not leaned in, would he have been brave enough to ask her out with the words he had carried from the football field? Would the result have been the same, or was the fact that they always fucked first, talked later what made them go in circles?

"It was a good game. You did good." Her suddenly bringing that up only made things more awkward.

"Yeah." Cassian would rather leave now than sit through the silence that followed. He stayed, though, waiting for who knows what to happen and fix the atmosphere, to turn it into... what, exactly? She must have felt it too —the lack of appropriate words to end this night.

Cassian ran a hand through his hair. Nesta fixed it, her touch a ghost. He looked at her and demanded an explanation with just a stare. Nesta didn't give him that either.

"You should go down." She told him. There was no sharpness in her tone, and maybe that was her way of saying she was sorry.

Accepting his fate and just wanting to leave on a good note, Cassian raised a teasing eyebrow and eyed what was between her legs.

"Not that." There it was: the eye rolling, the cute annoyance. "I meant downstairs, to the party. They are probably looking for you."

Indeed.

"You are saying a lot of things you don't mean tonight, Nes. It's kind of confusing."

The accusation finally woke her up from the post-orgasm haze. She jumped out of bed, leaving her t-shirt behind, and going for the door. "You are confusing." Her voice told Cassian she meant it.

"I think I've made myself pretty clear, though. Haven't I?" He took his shoes in one hand and followed her.

"Haven't I?" She retorted, turning around to face him. The defiance in her eyes burned bright, giving her an intimidating glow that compensated her lack of a top. Cassian didn't even look at her tits.

She opened the door for him. He closed it before the gap was wide enough for him to go through.

"Would it kill you to give me a chance?" He finally spat.

"A chance for what, Cassian? What exactly do you expect? To continue with the fucking, but once a week, grab dinner together?"

"Well, yeah." Cassian still couldn't understand what was so awful about spending time with him outside their bedroom, a small bathroom or an empty classroom. Be seen out in the open, grab her hand and kiss it just because he feels like it. For Nesta to wear his jersey to his games and celebrate with him and his friends afterward. Grab dinner when their schedules allow, and then go home together.

Nesta held his stare, and this time he couldn't read it. Which could only mean she didn't want him to. Cassian sighed.

"Okay, so whatever I want?" He brought up Nesta's sex-induced promise again. "Just give me a reason I can understand." When she opened her mouth, Cassian's finger sealed it again. "If you want a guy to get you drinks at a party, why can't it be me? If you want to hang out with a guy on a Friday night and go watch a game together, why won't you let it be me? And don't give me an I don't like you, because you clearly do. What is so awful about me that you don't want to even try?"

When she closed her eyes, unable to look into his, Cassian's heart sank, understanding that there was a reason after all.

"I've tried." She confessed. "I've seen what spending time with you is like, and I don't want it." Not only didn't Cassian interrupt her, but he urged her to keep going, curious to see where she was going. "I've been in a room with you and your friends and remember what was said to me for even looking in your direction a little too long." She started counting with her fingers. "I've spent the afternoon with you guys and been completely ignored by every single one, including you, although I was invited to be there. We've had lunch, I've been trapped at one of your dinner parties and on Feyre's birthday, and there is nothing you can possibly offer me in a relationship to make up for how awful I've been treated every single time and how you did nothing to stop it from happening. How stupid do you think I am to sign up for that again?"

Cassian was equal parts offended on his friend's behalf and his own. Had it been anyone else in front of him, he wouldn't have bitten his tongue at the insult to his friends. They had never spoken ill of her to her face or purposefully tried to exclude her. She simply didn't fit in with the group, and that was okay. They could spend time alone.

"If that is what I'm getting myself into..." She corrected herself, saying, "If that is what you can offer me, then I don't want it."

"Don't you think a relationship is a little more complicated than liking my friends or not?"

"I am in Pre-Med, Cassian, I don't have the time for complicated. I want easy. This..." She signaled between the two, "This is easy. And I like it a lot."

It was his time to be cold. "Sorry, but this won't do it for me." Cassian took a step back, putting much-needed physical space between them. "Obviously, I can't be with someone who thinks that about my friends."

She agreed and stepped to the side, making room to open the door for him. "And I can't be with someone who would let their friends say exactly the same things about me." It was the brief silence as the words sank in what pushed her to keep going. "To be honest, and I am not saying this to be hurtful, you don't deserve more."

Cassian only nodded, not necessarily in agreement, not fully differing either. He understood.

"Have a good life, Nes." He just walked away.

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