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whocaresstillthelouvre · 14 days 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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theminecraftbee · 7 months ago

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actually, out of the tags and further explanation: so I actually REALLY LOVE that mcc is like, canonizing making predictions about game and event winners like this, as well as making stats more accessible and explicitly part of the game like this.

the thing is—okay so I know stats are blamed for a lot of what’s wrong with mcc fandom but stats are FUN. sports predictions are FUN. being kind of competitive about sports predictions is FUN. have you ever done an ncaa bracket with your family. or played fantasy baseball. or fantasy football. or hell, have you watched a jon bois video that’s actually some of his sports writing. FUN, RIGHT? and stats are a really common way for a sports/competition fan to engage with their hobby, so like, there is no avoiding “people will try to make mcc predictions” and “people will stat out the teams” and “people will be competitive about those predictions”, it’s one of the most common modes of the sports fan, it’s an accessible form of engagement even when the team you are personally a fan of isn’t in the game (because you can be temporarily a fan of the one you’ve decided to gamble on winning), and it’s not gonna go away.

(the actual stakes of gambling aren’t required and I actually do not recommend outside of like, you get a stupid gold plastic trophy from a friend, do not get involved in sports gambling it’s a predatory industry and there is basically no “safe” threshold there, I am talking more about the inherent fun of “getting competitive about your team winning”.)

the problem has in the past been that players see it and get placed under pressure/upset/etc about it, because unlike Sports, the mcc players have very direct lines of interaction with their fandom. it’s VERY EASY to take a prediction as an attack, especially when combined with competitiveness, which is why I think a lot of people suggest forbidding talking about stats or tiers, getting rid of stats, etc.

but the thing is that won’t work. for one, it’s removing one of the biggest sports fan modes of engagement and therefore removing your own fandom. but also people aren’t going to NOT do stats! like, even the players will probably start keeping track of stats if stats were removed! so the solution instead needs to be to make stats more individual, to remove some of the pressure of the stats, and to lean into the stuff about it that makes it FUN.

therefore: the kudos system and predictions. it’s not trying to get rid of the inevitable fandom interaction, it’s embracing it, but it’s doing it in a way that removes pressure from players.

for example, note that the kudos have a focus on personal bests! this encourages players to compete but means even “lower-tier” players will probably get them! at the same time, by globally sharing overall records, it continues to celebrate and encourage great performances! plus, by making some of the stats really stupid, it both gives statheads NEW things to focus on that aren’t coins—the punching statistic for example is gonna be so fun—removing some of the pure pressure to perform in score alone and the centralization of discussion around it—and also gives players silly records to aim for if they aren’t the kind of player who’d aim for a more “traditional” high score.

as for the predictions, they’re gonna do two things. first, it embraces “yeah the community loves doing predictions” by adding a competitive aspect to it—can you beat the odds and predict who will win everything? the wordle-like ability to copy/paste how you did at the end of the event is truly genius because it makes it SUPER EASY to share and discuss for even casual fans. it will increase engagement and discussion. it’ll ALSO help demonstrate to players, by showing the percentage of correct predictions on screen, how… inaccurate… predictions often are. sure, you can guess who the better players and teams will be, but as anyone who did sexyman knows, single-round games can have upsets. and it celebrates those upsets! it turns it from “no one believed in us” (sad) to “we were the underdogs hell yeah look at us go!”

anyway as someone who likes engaging with sports and competitions by being a little competitive and watching the stories the numbers tell: I adore these changes FANTASTIC changes they’re gonna be so fun day-of let’s go mcc,

#mcc #I DONT KNOW IF IM PHRASING THIS ALL WELL #BUT HONESTLY I ADORE THIS DIRECTION. EXCELLENT STUFF.

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nytb · 2 years ago

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One Of Your Kind

A hopeless romantic lost in a world where everything seems transactional. Talented, tenacious, temporary. That was the best description of Y/N, an upcoming actress.

Playing the main character in am exploding Netflix Original series came with it's benefits. Invitations to the most prestigious fashion shows, VIP tickets for concerts, but most importantly - special treatment when it came to visiting Arsenal when Y/N so wished.

Realising how much of a football fanatic Y/N was came as a sweet surprise. Childhood fotos wearing the Arsenal kit, following the whole women and men's squad on social media, interactions with the players, a true gunner.

Y/N was known to visit the Emirates Stadium, but she was a regular at Meadow Park, having a soft spot for the women's team.

Having been introduced to Alex Scott, an Arsenal legend, Y/N had great company for the home games. The players got used to her regular assistance, getting post game chats with the star. Every encounter, everybody would end up fangirling on whoever they ended up talking to, but when it came to Y/N and Leah, they always managed to keep the chats down to earth, interesting, flirty but playful.

Over months, Y/N would bring her co-stars, friends, rumoured romances to watch Arsenal. Y/N's sexuality being mostly a secret to the public eye, fans would end up shipping their star with everybody she came in contact with. Leah wasn't an exception. The difference : Leah's fanbase.

Both groups managed to gel like they were supposed to merge into one, both sides cheering for the possibility of their favourite power-couple.

On a home game, the fandom's wishes became true - or as true as rumoured relationships get to be.

Leah's injury made her watch the games from the stands, but this time she was sat next to Y/N. Talking all throughout the game, cheering, screaming, complaining and shouting their lugs out together. The both of them seemed to have a great time, so much so, that a post match dinner became a requirement. This occurrence soon became a tradition, posting their evening shennanigans to their social medias.

After Leah's return from injury, Arsenal went on a winning streak, getting on a title chase against Manchester United. The gunners were the favourites, but when it came to facing the Red Devils, they had to show why they were backed by so many to win the league. Tied at 28 points with them and Chelsea - it was the gunner's chance to capitalise.

The match in itself wasn't as exciting as most had predicted, at least result wise. Sure, both teams getting their chances in front of goal, missing sitters, giving away dumb fouls, but it all ended on a narrow win for Arsenal. Some would agree that it was an undeserved one.

Post match, Leah was called for media duties. Y/N not far behind, hearing the Arsenal's captain defend her girls to the press "It wasn't a great match, but in times like these, we have to regroup, correct our mistakes and grow as a team" she declared before saying her goodbyes to the press.

"Not happy about the game huh" Y/N stated, keeping her eyes to the ground, knowing that Leah wouldn't be in a great mood after her team's performance.

"We are better than that you know" Leah seamed angry, but kept her tone very calm around Y/N "I won't let that take anything away from tonight though" the midfielder added opening her car door for the actress.

"Quite the gentlewoman I got here" replied, giving Leah a kiss on the cheek before getting into the midfielders car "So, where are we off to tonight?" Y/N questioned the Arsenal skipper as she entered the drivers seat "I'm feeling sushi tonight" she answered "How about we go to your favourite sushi place?", a suggestion that came with implications.

"Are you sure?" Y/N asked "People have been narrowing in on us you know" It was true, at some point, so many outings together started to make less sense when both chucked it down to being just friends. Especially when most of these outings were of just the two of them. "What could go wrong?" Leah asked, a mischevious look in her face.

What about a whole lot - paparazzis flooding the restaurants entrance as the outing became public knowledge. Going out with famous people sure got thrilling, but leaving places out the back door to avoid paps wasn't as glamorous.

"Ok.. in hindsight" Leah grabbed onto Y/N's hands "it might have been a silly idea" she joked, trying to lighten the mood from a night that was clearly turning sour by the minute "Why are we hiding this" Y/N questioned, pointing to the both of them. Leah left speechless. Was there a reason? They surely knew what they were getting into after the first couple of dates... right?

"Now that you ask..." the midfielder rambled "we never really talked about what we are" she struggled to get words out. Y/N on the other hand had enough courage for the both of them "Well after the what... 20 dates?" Y/N guessed, having lost the count of the sleepless nights spent in Leah's apartment "I kinda guessed that we were well into dating" she finished, clearly not scared about the consequences this situationship would entail.

"So you would just.. tell them that? It's surely not that simple" the midfielder clearly had forgotten that like everyone else, Y/N was a person first. "You do know that I am one of your kind right?" Y/N joked getting herself ready to face the media "Let's get into trouble shall we"

#woso imagine #woso x reader #woso #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #woso arsenal #arsenal wfc imagines #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal wfc

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oh-saints · 2 years ago

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fight

rúben dias x you

part of the dad!rúben collection

word count: 1.6k

tw: endometriosis, health issues while pregnant, intrusive paparazis, implied violence

note: hello i'm back from the dead bcs i've absolutely GONE FERAL AT THE THOUGHT OF THIS ashsjklkkjkl but as usual, i happen to write things at dawn so this is certainly not proof-read yet.

similar to any other parents, the moment you and rúben found out you're pregnant sent you both to the moon. for you, it was definitely topping your list of "best moment of my life" by far. and for rúben, it was up there somewhere with the feeling of winning the premier league and the feeling when you walked down the aisle, looking regal in white only for him.

but probably more meaningful for you and rúben because in all honesty, you've been trying to have a baby for almost 2 years now.

your earlier issue with endometriosis didn't allow you to naturally conceive as easy as other wives and girlfriends of rúben's teammates, or as any other healthy women in general. you were actually at the brink of giving up and were actively discussing adoption with your husband, who is nothing more than supportive at the decision, bless him.

rúben being himself, though, had a way of predicting the future. that's your simplified explanation but in professional jargons, one of the reason pep bought him from benefica; his ability to read the game.

your husband suggested for another honeymoon, during the time he was injured, before he'd get swamped with matches again and you'd be busy with the whole adoption procedure. it was a weekend gateway to st barths, a place you both have never been, but the beauty took your breath away. but even more for rúben because goddamn, that man could speak words without actually using words. he's more expressive when his body takes control of the whole speaking thing, and you've never felt so loved and grateful to have found the meaning of love in rúben dias.

and to be loved by him, surely didn't lie. the 2 lines of the test kit stared back at you like they were meant to be taken seriously, like it was supposed to tell you to get a grip of your life instead of gaping so wide at it your mouth could've sucked it in. rúben had to knock on the door to make sure you were alright and didn't slip on anything because you tend to be clumsy—he’d made a habit to check up on you whenever you’re in a bathroom for more than 15 minutes because of your reckless nature.

after endless failed test, you truthfully didn’t know what to do. this kind of result never came to you. so you just opened the door, in hope he’d know what to do—he always does, usually. only to be met by your husband’s concerned face because you didn’t slip on anything but went back outside with an aghast face.

“what’s wrong, coração?”

you handed him the test kit wordlessly, with shaky hands at it.

rúben looked down to see what it was because he’d never actually seen the test kit. you’d always hide in a bathroom and come out shaking your head, and you never let him buy them on his own. why would you—

“what—”

rúben looked up to you and you were already brimming in tears, a silent confirmation he needed. “we’re going to the doctor. now.”

at first, he did it because he wanted to confirm it himself, that the test kit wasn’t lying. but on the second thought, should you be truly pregnant, the purpose of the trip to the hospital was to make sure your pregnancy needs are met and you’ll have a safe and sound journey until you bring the product of rúben’s love for you to the world.

but of course, life being life didn’t give you everything smoothly as expected.

if you want it, earn it kind of life had been rúben’s way of life so when the doctor told you both that you’ll face some dangers throughout the 9-month journey, rúben gained another purpose in life outside football. to flash a fuck you to world, for they can’t let you and rúben have a peaceful moment in life.

rúben made sure to get home early so he’d cook you dinner during your bedrest period on the first trimester, shocking everyone in the etihad perimeter because he always is the first one to come and the last one to leave. he arranges catering for your lunch on top of it all so you don’t have to cook when he’s not home. he flies your mum and his to be there with you on the days he has a match to go to. he keeps a book to track all your craving and blood pressure, as well as a sketchbook for the baby journey “so we can take a look at it again when they’re grown up.”

you and rúben agreed not to let anyone know beside your immediate family the moment you stepped out of the fragile period, as a precaution, having the taste of public eyes first hand. the moment you announce it to the world, your safe space would and should be compromised.

thus, your baggy apparels whenever you come to rúben’s home matches. it wasn’t often, only once a month or only when the big matches are around the corner. the fanbases and fan accounts still talk about your fashion, with coats and cute jackets and everything, and thankfully none of them has noticed your changing preference from high-waist jeans and wool skirts.

but rúben scores a fantastic header and you see no reason not to jump from your seat. you know he’s been working so hard on set pieces and his headers, only now does it pay off. ivan has to remind you to sit down and not overdo yourself because “rúben will kill me if anything happens to you.”

however, the camera catches your celebration and in less than 5 minutes, your phone rings like the world’s ending. well in a way, it is.

everyone called netizens immediately shoots out their fire, on the speculation you might be pregnant. some congratulate you already, some believe your pregnancy is the reason rúben’s scoring and his gigantic performances as of late, some criticizes you, some questions your decision to come to the match like you’re not carrying rúben’s world. your head aches not long after scrolling down the internet that ivan had to submit rúben upstairs to your box instead of you coming down to the tunnel like usual.

your husband crouches in front of you as soon as he sees your deflated figure, eyes closed in resignation. that’s when he knows the intensity level has reached emergency status because he knows you well and he knows you’re strong enough for both of you to make it through a catastrophe—it’s the reason he’s adamant to marry you anyway—so the word fucking hell escaped his mouth before he even realised it himself.

they didn’t say anything as he shared you his tightest hug, the kind you love the most after a tiring day at work. had she said one word about killing those people behind the screen, he would’ve done so in a heartbeat. only when you pull away, indicating you’re now good to go home, does rúben let go of you and the issue at hand.

he tells you to head to the car first because he needs to pick up his bag from the locker room. but that decision would hunt him down for life, as he watched you being swarmed and surrounded by reporters on the parking lot, camera shoved up on your face and flashes and clicks blinded your vision that you steps on your own feet and fall down.

the idiots don’t stop harassing her, though.

rúben’s feet had never run faster than that moment. pep might be calling him a deceit for never being able to break sprint records. and thank god he was a footballer, a centre back at that, so pushing and shoving people out of his way is within his job description.

rúben lifts his wife from the ground, and the shattering sound of his heart don’t escape him as he notices you’re in the position to protect their child even when you’re in danger herself from the ambush. he brings this to you, he brings this to you and his child, and rage takes over at the thought they both shouldn’t have suffered this side of rúben’s professional life.

if these brainless fuckers are suing him for collateral damages on the cameras he throw to the asphalt, rúben’s so ready to hire a hitman on each and every head count.

rúben doesn’t see anything else than red and only when he’s done strapping the seatbelt on you, you bring him back to life like natasha romanov brings back hulk to serenity. you hold him by his face, staring him down like he’s not capable of bloodbath until his breaths return to normalcy.

“enough, my love.”

and all the sudden, there was the calm, collected rúben you married 3 years ago. the one who loves you when you brush the strands escaping his perfectly styled hair after the match, so you do it and he rests his head on your palm when you’re done tucking the strands back in and hands now tracing his unshaved stubbles.

even when you’d just been tackled down, you’re the one who saves him. he’s not wrong at all about you being the stronger one for the 3 of you, strong enough for the family you both are building. and with the thought you have to still play death with god later during labour, he can’t help but fall in love with you all over again.

“te amo, meu amor,” he brings his head closer to yours to feel his world on his hands. “always and forever.”

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dc-polls · 3 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 · 1 year 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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soccer-tips1x2 · 26 days ago

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#tomorrow sure win #tomorrow best odd #best football predictions #best betting #football #betting formula #football tips #soccer #betting strategies #betting

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100percentsurewins · 6 months ago

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Unbeatable Football Forecasts: 100 Sure Wins Only Football Prediction for Today

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text css=””] 100 Sure Wins Only Football Prediction for Today Discover our unbeatable guide to football forecasts with 100 sure wins only football prediction for today! Get insights, tips, and expert analysis to stay ahead of the game and guarantee your winning streak. Introduction Football is more than just a sport; it’s a passion, a lifestyle, and for many, a…

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#100 Sure Wins Only Football Prediction for Today

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mycryptosuite · 1 year ago

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Play This Free 3 Odds For Today 23/06/2023

Play This Free 3 Odds For Today 23/06/2023 Play This Free 3 Odds – We provide daily simulated reality league predictions ranging from; full-time Correct Score tip – Our sure 3 odds daily tips are so accurate you’ll wonder if the matches are fixed. Track Odds Bet Tips for today and you can aswell have a look at our free expert Football betting tips from professional tipsters around the world &…

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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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