#We hate Grace club

[thomashelbyswife]

Rewatching Peaky and yeah, yeah I really dislike Grace

I know right, js cannot stand her at all ! !

[megamindsecretlair]

Sweet Escape, Part 1

Pairing: Bodyguard!Terry Richmond x Singer!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, trying out some angst, teasing, mentions of loneliness, suicide, depression, power imbalance. Mentions of blood, knife, and violence, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some.

Summary: You are on top of the world as one of the world’s most popular R&B singers. But behind the glitz and glam, you were unmoored, lonely, and aching for something you couldn’t put a name to. With freakish threats escalating, you turn to your stoic bodyguard, Terry, in hopes that you’ll finally feel safe and like you belong.

Word Count: 5,102k

AO3 Link

A/N: I know we all have bodyguard Terry on our brains so here's my contribution! I'd love to know your thoughts on the angst, I wanna get better at it. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

You felt like a damn doll. You’d been plucked, prodded, lifted, and separated so many times, you felt like you were melting beneath the studio lights. This was the last interview of the morning and you were ready to slip back into your slippers and call it a fucking day. 

As production assistants flittered around like chickens with their heads cut off, you scanned the room. The lights prevented you from seeing much, but you were able to make out your best friend and manager, Mirage, and your personal assistant, Joya standing by the monitors. Mirage gave you a thumbs up and you sighed.

Mirage knew you inside and out. She giggled, knowing that you wanted to turn all this shit over by now. They wanted you to be here on time but the messy host, A’Kierra West, was nowhere to be found. And if there was one thing you hated, it was to be kept waiting. 

A makeup assistant came up to you and blotted you with a napkin. You smiled at her. “Thank you,” you said. 

The assistant blinked and got startled and you lifted an eyebrow at her. You’d been nothing but nice so you didn’t know where that reaction was coming from. The assistant fled from the stage and you put it out of your mind.

You bit the corners of your cheeks to keep from exploding. Right as you were about to call out to Mirage, A’Kierra waltzed into the room in a cloud of hairspray and her defining feature, her big ass boobs. The boobs preceded her into the room, tucked into a too small red dress that was better suited for clubbing than a talk show. 

A’Kierra took her sweet, precious, slow time making her way to the stage, stopping to talk to the directors and producers, before finally gracing the stage with her presence. You stood up, since it was technically polite, and gave her the fake Hollywood kiss to both cheeks. 

She smelled like an old white lady at Macy’s. The cloying, flowery scent tickled your nose. You wrinkled your nose and sniffed.

“It’s new! I’m so glad you love it. I’ll send your assistant a bottle!” A’Kierra said. She grinned, showing a row of veneers too large for her face. You smiled to keep your face from showing your true emotions. This bitch was nuts.

“Thank you! I can’t wait!” You said and sat back down in your seat. “So we did the promo and the commercial, now we just do the whole intro and get into it,” A’Kierra explained.

“I’ve done a few of these,” you said.

A’Kierra laughed, the shrill sound like nails on a chalkboard. Her deep brown skin glowed with shimmery lotion but it only served to make her look washed out in the dress. Whoever was dressing her must hate her. 

“Yes, but you’ve never done my show before,” she sniffed. A makeup assistant floated onto the stage out of the shadows and touched up A’Kierra’s lipstick. “Thank you, darling. Make sure my coffee is nice and hot when we’re done?” 

The director emerged between the cameras giving his final notes on the taping. He instructed you to be natural and relaxed. You glance slid towards Mirage who hid a grin behind her hand. The phone that was permanently glued to her hand hid most of her face, but you already knew what she was laughing at. 

Optics…Optics…

The director counted down and then the popular theme song of the show played. The audience you couldn’t see began clapping loudly, wildly, as if you were on stage for a concert rather than an interview taping.

A’Kierra cued up the questions Mirage had you go over earlier. You handled each question well, playing to the crowd, and leaning into the persona you crafted for the world. The carefree, girl power, rah-rah, confident diva with strong knees and an even stronger pair of lungs. 

“But what do you say to all of these mommy coalitions calling for your head, saying you’re a bad influence on their children? Saying you’re over-sexed, lewd, and not lady like at all?” 

It was only your media training that kept you from unleashing your pent up fury. You giggled and shook your head. This was not in the script. “What do you mean?” You asked, giving yourself time to answer. 

“Some may say that the rise in your career also gave rise to all these conservative groups, using you to fund their message of protecting their children from your explicit lyrics and lifestyle. It’s no secret that girls and young women look up to you. Is this really the message you want to send out?” A’Kierra smirked, leaning back in her seat. She crossed her legs, and tapped her notecards against her knee. 

You smiled and chuckled. “I’d say…I’m not responsible for your kids. Maybe if they spent more time paying attention to what their kids are listening to than up my perfect ass, there wouldn’t be an issue. I promote self-confidence for adults. I make grown music for adults. At no point have I ever claimed to be a role model for young girls and I’m not responsible for what these mommy coalitions think of me,” you said with a sweet, saccharine grin. 

A’Kierra kept a smile plastered to her face but there was more than enough ooh’s and aww’s coming from the audience. You stared A’Kierra down, communicating with just looks. She blinked first, clearing her throat and organizing her cards. “Well, that’s certainly a take!” A’Kierra said and laughed along with the audience.

You giggled with her, feeding into all the fake bullshit. This was the last show you wanted to be on. But the optics. Fuck the fucking optics. This show trafficked in gossip and rumors, more focused on catching people on lies and half-truths than speaking about something normal. 

Once the cameras stopped rolling, you waved to the audience and then removed the mic pack from your hip. You passed it to the nearest production assistant, wanting to be free of wires for a long, long time. Well, at least until your next city stop.

Mirage and Joya fell in step beside you, going over the next few items on your list today. When you were done here, you had a small promo shoot for the next city you were going to be in. It’d been a while since you were in LA and you were looking forward to the In and Out burger you were going to inhale at the first chance you got. 

By the door to the studio, your heart skipped a beat looking over the scrumptious, delectable piece of meat you had for a bodyguard. Terry Richmond came highly recommended through the agency you typically used. You ran through their sorry excuse for bodyguards like a kid went through candy. 

But Terry was different. From the first meeting, he was completely professional, calm, and courteous. He didn’t bullshit you with flattery, he didn’t flirt to get with his dream girl, and he treated you like a normal person. That alone had you saying yes before the ink could dry on the contract. 

Add in the fact that he was a former Marine and prepared for…just about everything, you’d felt safe in his presence in a way that you hadn’t with other bodyguards. You didn’t know what led him to this position, but you were glad fate was looking out for you.

“Careful Mr. Terry, stand any straighter, and your back might hurt,” you said. 

Terry stood ready with his hands in front of him, one hand holding the other wrist. He dressed plainly in a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt, showing off huge, bulging muscles. He slanted his ever-changing eyes towards you but there was no other sign that he heard you. 

He went through the door first, taking his job a smidgen too seriously. “Would it kill you to talk, Mr. Terry?” You asked.

Joya handed you your phone and you absently went through your texts as you walked. “No, ma’am,” he said. 

You nearly faltered in your steps. He actually answered. You shook your head in amazement, feeling a thrill that he was in a chatty mood today. You glanced up from your phone to watch his ass move in his jeans. 

He was unreal. A fantasy in a male body that he honed to perfection. Bless his genes, seriously, because there wasn’t a single flaw on the man. 

“See, we’re almost having a conversation,” you said. You handed Joya back your phone with your thanks and followed Terry to the greenroom. You couldn’t wait to take off the fugly silver outfit. Why were you so damn shiny?

“We have plenty of conversations, princess,” he said. You giggled and rolled your eyes at his back. He called you that when he thought you were being a little shit. He approached your dressing room and entered first, doing a quick scan for any potential threats. You waited in the cramped hallway for his inspection to get done. He emerged back out turned those sinful eyes on you. 

“It’s safe to go in,” he said.

You smirked at him. “Try not to miss me for the thirty minutes it’ll take to get all of this off,” you said. You tilted your head at him. Terry blinked at you. You sighed.  “You’re no fun!” 

Terry’s lips lifted in the corners. “I’m plenty of fun. Thirty minutes,” he said, his rich, deep voice soothing. 

“Yes, sir,” you said. You gave him a stern, no-nonsense nod and grinned at him. He did the little smirking thing of his and let you walk into the room with Joya and Mirage hot on your heels. 

Once the door closed, Joya collapsed against the door frame with a wistful sigh. “I wanna pass out every time I get near that man,” she said, fanning herself with the planner she always carried around. It suited her more to write all of your appointments down rather than inputting it into a digital calendar anyone could hack. She never put the thing down. You half suspected that she slept with it under her pillow.

All of the safety measures were sweet, but after a month of no contact from your supposed stalker, you were starting to feel out of sorts. Like this life wasn’t real and you were watching your life pass by on a television set somewhere in a white room. 

The first thing you did was take off your platform heels, sighing as your feet sank into the plush paisley rug. “Zip, please,” you said to Mirage. 

Mirage chuckled at Joya and helped unzip the tight dress you wore. Air returned to your lungs with every inch gained and you sighed again. “He really is too pretty,” Mirage said quietly. 

“Too damn pretty!” You agreed. That was definitely a concern for you when you met up with him. But after twenty minutes of conversation, you were able to glean two things from the mysterious Mr. Richmond. For one, he didn’t play, ever. He was as stoic as any soldier you’d ever run across. And two, something happened to him. Something…soul changing. 

Maybe it was a lost love, maybe it was a personal tragedy. Whatever it was, it made him immune to you. You flirted, you teased, you harassed the man. And he kept his attention on guarding your body. Like you hired him to do. 

You pouted as you approached a cabinet in the room that stored your real clothes. Next to it, there was a clothing rack with outfit choices that you had discarded. Thoughts of how you could get under Terry’s skin kept you occupied as you opened the cabinet doors and shrieked at the gruesome sight before you. 

Your clothes were cut up to shreds, a confetti of fabric at the bottom of the cabinet. Joya and Mirage joined you and shrieked in their own horror. There was a replica mask of your own face staring back at you pinned to the door with a large, very illegal knife. Blood – or god, what you hoped wasn’t real blood – dripped from the mask and down the cabinet door.

The mask was uncanny. One of the most realistic ones you’d ever seen. Terry rushed into the room, gun in his hand but pointed towards the floor. He scanned the room with a flick of his eyes, immediately moving in front of you, and shielding you from the mask. 

It was too late. The image was already burned into your retinas. His massive back took up your field of vision, but due to the black t-shirt, it only let your mind drift. Your mind’s eye recalled the mask in every finite detail and your stomach turned with churning bile. 

“I’m gonna be sick,” you whispered. 

Terry closed the cabinet with his elbow, turning around to you. You looked at him, just in time to feel dizzy. Your knees buckled and Terry caught you, yelling to Mirage and Joya for a doctor. 

Terry hefted you into his arms and left the room. Outside, the cold blast of air in the hallway shocked you enough to not slip into unconsciousness. Terry positioned you on the nearest crate.

The air in your chest began to boil, clawing its way through your clogged throat. Distantly, you knew that you were hyperventilating. But all you saw was your own face. Your own soulless slouched face, rubbery, with makeup stains on the teeth, and a giant knife through the forehead. 

“Hey, don’t do that,” Terry said. He grabbed both sides of your face. You grunted, trying to shake your head. Trying to shake him off of you. His foreboding presence was screaming for you to run. 

“Breathe. Breathe, princess,” he said. 

You groaned, turning your head away. You couldn’t stop seeing it. Your face. Your face. Your face. 

“Count with me. Six, two, four, nine, one, five,” Terry counted.

“What?” You whispered. Terry tightened his grip on your face and forced you to look at him. His startling light eyes bore into yours. 

“Count. Six,” he said. He was so close that you could count every single one of his long, pretty eyelashes. 

Your body shook uncontrollably. A lone tear dripped from your eye and you rubbed it away. “Don’t do that. Let yourself feel it,” he coached.

You shook your head. “Never cry,” you whispered. You narrowed your eyes at him. Whatever he saw in your eyes, he backed off. He nodded. 

“Count then. Six, two, four, nine, one, five,” he said.

“Six…four…”

“Start again,” he said.

He repeated the numbers easily, remembering whatever asinine digits he wanted you to repeat. You needed away. You needed to be free. You groaned and jerked in his hold. The image of your face twisted and melted in your eyes. Turning your memory into slush. What was even real anymore?

“If you can’t do it, I’ll start with three numbers,” he said.

You huffed as you turned your attention back to him, repeating his damn numbers. You had to slow down, had to think about which number came next. Nine and one were the easiest to remember. For some reason, you kept wanting to throw a seven in there.

When you were able to repeat it three times without stopping to think, Terry lowered his hands from your face. You shivered at the lack of contact. His big paws covered your entire face, generating heat. Now that you no longer had it, you felt colder than ever. 

Another tear threatened to fall but you were much calmer now. Better able to hold back the raging tempest inside. Later. Later you could break down. But it wouldn’t be here.

“Who would do…”

“Someone who doesn’t know the difference between a fantasy and a reality,” he said. 

It was quiet in the hallway. The studio was on the other side, down the hall. At the T-instersection where you were, there weren’t even assistants carrying things. It was just the two of you. 

Terry stood directly in front of you, pushed in between your legs so that he could bend and cup your face. Now, you were acutely aware of how close he was. How his chest rose and fell as if he were the one calming down from the scariest shit of his life. And you were the one who found a fan had attempted to kill himself in your swimming pool a month ago. This far surpassed that harrowing night.

“I just wanted to sing. I wanted to stop being invisible. I never asked for this,” you said, the back of your eyes burning with the need to cry. You hadn’t cried in years. The well had long dried. And now twice within Terry’s presence, you wanted to break down and lay it all at his feet.

“You were never invisible,” he said softly. 

Terry gave you a look you couldn’t quite describe but knew instantly. Almost like for a brief moment, he knew you inside and out and didn’t flinch. You cleared your throat and straightened up a little. You grabbed the front of your dress and crossed your arms. The air from the closest vent blew across your back and made you shiver.

Mirage jogged down the hallway with a paramedic close on her heels. She was scrambling, practically in tears, as she ran down. Terry cleared his throat and stepped back, finally turning those crystal eyes away from you. The spell he’d woven broke, stealing your breath. 

You took a deep breath to get it back and fended off Mirage after she clung to you, telling you how worried she was. “I’m fine, babe, I promise,” you said. You waved off the EMT and Terry pushed the EMT forward.

“Let him do his job,” Terry ordered. And for some reason, that didn’t bother you a bit. You shut your mouth and stared at Terry while the EMT went through his preliminary workup. He shined light in your eyes, asking you basic questions like your name, age, and where you were. 

You answered all of his questions, without attitude. For once feeling like you didn’t have to come out swinging first. The EMT cleared you for shock, telling you to get some rest. “I have a photo shoot to keep,” you said, shaking your head. 

“Not anymore,” Terry said. 

“You don’t get to make that call,” you shot back. The EMT looked between the both of you, the subtle daggers you were throwing each other. The EMT quickly put up his supplies and slipped from between you and Terry. 

“I’m tasked with protecting you. Let me,” he said. 

You hopped off of the crate and watched two officers arrive, stepping into your dressing room with security guards from the studio. You stood up straight and pulled on that bitchy persona you were known for. You wore it like a well-used coat, broken in and comfortable. 

“Your job is to guard me wherever I may be. I only have a few more stops on this tour and this incel isn’t going to ruin my dream. If that’s going to be a problem for you, I can call your agency,” you said. You looked at him from beneath your eyelashes. Wondered if you were able to fool him after he’d gotten a peek behind your four inch thick walls. 

Terry leaned back, his stare turning hard. Judging. Your lips parted on a silent gasp. “No need. We’re clear,” he said, his voice just as hard as his eyes. Cold like diamonds. His jaw flexed and he stared straight ahead, giving you a blank, thousand yard stare.

Joya ran into the hallway, pushing past looky-loos and producers. Everybody had a phone out. It’d only be a matter of time before the press caught wind and accosted you outside. You couldn’t leave in this stupid dress. 

Joya finally poked her tiny head up from between the gathering crowd. She held a bag in her hand and handed it to Mirage, leaning over to grab her knees and huff. “Emergency stash,” she huffed.

“You’re a genius, Joya,” Mirage said. 

You avoided Terry’s gaze as you walked further down the hall to a different dressing room. Terry cleared this one first, moving about the room more thoroughly than he did the last. He opened the cabinet and you flinched, half expecting another doppelganger staring at you. 

Nothing jumped out so Terry brushed past. “All clear,” he said. 

He closed the door and you sighed, closing your eyes for a brief moment. That was bitchy of you. Hella bitchy and he didn’t deserve it. You paid him to worry about your safety. You snorted. You were paying people to care about you now. That’s how far you’d fallen. 

“Dare we ask?” Joya asked. 

Mirage turned to her, making a cut it out gesture. “You can say it. I was mean for no reason,” you said. You peeled the silver dress off of your body and shivered. Felt like shedding snake skin. That was the last thing you needed to visualize. 

“It wasn’t…not..for a good reason,” Mirage said.

“It was out of line,” you said. You didn’t typically feel guilty this soon after pulling the diva card. It usually took a few days. After you were half deep into your favorite bottle of wine with only Mirage and Joya as your company.

Joya handed you a pair of leggings, an oversized orange sweater, and a pair of socks. You quickly got dressed, pulling your hair into the best ponytail you could manage. She handed you a hat and a pair of sunglasses. You sighed, feeling more like yourself. You liked dressing up in your costumes for the tour, liked getting pretty like the dolls you used to play with. But there came a time when you just wanted to pig out in a pair of sweats or shorts. 

You slipped on a pair of tennis shoes and Joya draped the silver dress over the back of the couch. She took out her planner, flipping to a sticky pad that she scribbled a note on. She stuck the paper to the door of the dressing room.

Terry looked you up and down, noting your wardrobe change. He looked at Joya and nodded and she giggled breathlessly. 

“Look, Terry,” you began, ready to own up to what you did. 

“We’re good. Stay on me, okay?” He asked. 

You nodded. Terry used his full height to stalk down the hallway. You avoided looking at your dressing room. At the…you were going to be sick. Your stomach twisted as you passed the room, passed the police. 

“I already talked to them. They know about the, um, you know. They won’t need to question you,” Mirage said.

“Thank God,” you said. 

Terry pushed and ordered people to move as he led you out of the studio and to the black truck parked in the connected parking lot. He opened the door for you and you paused before climbing in. 

“I’m sorry about what I said. Truly,” you said. Terry’s eyes defrosted a fraction. He glanced at you and nodded. 

“We’re good,” he said. 

You nodded and hopped in the car. Mirage and Joya hopped in on the other side. Terry walked around to the driver’s side and climbed in, pulling out of the driveway just as the first news cameras were arriving. 

You sighed and leaned against the backseat. “Great thinking, Joya,” you commended. 

“Thanks, but it was Mirage. She made the point that the press was going to have a field day and I took off,” she said. She had her pen and phone out, staring down at your calendar. 

“I called ahead and told them that we were going to be late because of what happened. They said they can move the shoot if you–”

“No. I can’t slow down,” you said. Your schedule was held together by glue, paperclips, and chewing gum. Together with Mirage, you managed to carve out true rest periods. Slots of entire hours where you didn’t have to go anywhere, didn’t have to smile at this, or endorse that. 

Your mind drifted back to what you told Terry in the studio. All you ever wanted to do was sing. You watched countless videos of your favorite singers, sung your heart out whenever you had the chance, snuck and took singing lessons because you knew that this was where you wanted to be.

Hollywood never showed the uglier parts. The parts where it felt like there would always be a thousand hands crawling all over your skin. Thousands of fans taking it too far. Sending you disturbing videos of either their tiny dicks, feet, moles, chest hairs, or telling you how much you sucked at singing. They said you were overrated. Mannish. Too full of yourself. Every one of them had a different fantasy of you in their heads. Every one of them wanted a piece of you. And whoever this maniac was, they weren’t going to stop until they succeeded in killing you. 

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this. It might be time to step down from singing for a while,” you said.

“What! Noooo. Why? Because of this loser?” Mirage asked. 

“It’s everything. I’m just so tired,” you whispered. Terry’s eyes flicked to yours in the rearview mirror. Your eyes burned again and you looked away from him. Curse him and his damn hypnotizing eyes. 

Terry got you to the photoshoot without breaking any traffic laws. But he was close. He escorted you to the door, a steady presence the entire way. No one was getting through Terry. That thought put you at ease as you turned your mind off and went back to the doll everyone wanted you to be.

Hours later, Terry was at the receptionist’s desk at the hotel coordinating your move. You were switching hotel rooms, again. You were packed up and loaded up into the truck, again. You were checking into a different hotel, classier than the last, under a different name and was once again in the elevator with Terry by your side. 

He hardly carried a duffle bag. A small thing that looked silly bouncing against his big ass. Terry escorted you to the room, dropping his bag to the floor. He unsheathed his gun and pressed it close to his body. 

“Wait here,” he said. He opened the door with the keycard and let himself in first. He turned on the light and swept through the entire suite, checking behind every nook and cranny. You followed behind him anyway. Even if your stalker did manage to find the place, there was no way he had enough time to set a trap. 

Terry came back into the foyer and stopped up short when he saw you looking at the complimentary wine bottle. You read over the standard hotel note. “I told you to wait outside,” he said and put up his gun. 

“I’m tired and I want to lay down.” You waved him off. What you really wanted to do was take a hot fucking bath and bawl your eyes out. The “later” had finally come and you wanted to break down in peace. 

Terry moved to the door and grabbed his duffle, bringing it inside. He closed and locked the door, putting on the safety latch for good measure. He slung the duffle over his shoulder and walked to the adjoining suite door. He opened it and then stopped across to his side of it.

“I’ll be right on the other side if you need anything,” he said. You leaned against the open door and gave him a small smile. 

“Thanks, Terry. For today,” you said.

“It’s my job right?” He asked.

You groaned and rolled your eyes. “You are never going to let me live that down, are you?” You asked. 

Terry smiled tightly, like he wasn’t quite used to it anymore. “Not a chance, princess,” he said. 

You rolled your eyes again, pinching your lips together to keep from smiling. All it did was bunch up your cheeks and give away the rising heat in your cheeks. “Goodnight, Mr. Terry,” you said.

“Goodnight,” he said. He closed the door and you stood on the other side of it. Wondering what it must be like to know him intimately. To know what made him smile or laugh. What made his eyes light up with joy. Or what brought such sadness to his eyes. 

You wondered what it would be like to fall into his arms, easily, readily, and have him embrace you like you were the most precious thing in the world. For a brief moment, you let yourself daydream. Let the fantasy take shape in your mind.

That was a much more comforting image to hold onto than the crushing weight of the day. You turned away from the door, heading to your side of the suite. You entered your room and ran yourself a bath.

The room steamed up with heat from the bath you ran. The clawfoot tub was pristine, with an ornate faucet. The rug underneath felt like clouds. You focused on the strangeness around you. 

The few trips you did take were nothing like this. You stayed in nice hotels, hotels your family was able to afford, but not like this. It didn’t stink like mold. The opposite. There was some kind of subtle, expensive perfume in the air. 

The bathroom was so spacious, you could fit three clawfoot bathtubs in it and still have room left over. You were in the lap of luxury and it felt like a gilded cage, designed to keep you in a perpetual state of “other”. Temporary. In the world but never of it. 

You turned off the hot water and swirled your hands through the foamy bubbles. It was the perfect temperature so you took off your clothes, threw on a bonnet, and sank in. The heated water was a welcome balm, soothing the tension you carried in your body. 

The tears came too easily, just under the surface. It slipped down your cheeks and you finally let yourself break down. Allowed yourself to feel the stress and loneliness of the day. You had one of the most horrific days of your life and everybody who mattered already knew about it. 

There was no one to vent to. No one who wasn’t already on your payroll. And to be honest, that hurt most of all. 

Ya'll know what I'm about. The Secret Terry Richmond Files

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[inuyashaluver]

Firstly wanted to say thank you for your fics, they NEVER disappoint 🫶

And I wanted to request something with Grace Clinton, maybe a soft/hard launch with a non-footballer gf?

girlfriend - grace clinton

grace clinton x reader

description: in which your girlfriend is tired of keeping the love of her life a secret, thus, you get a special invitation to her debut with her national team

warnings: nothing really!! not proofread because its me

a/n: STOPPP, thank you so much for the love and support you are so incredibly sweet, please enjoyyyyy, i'm rusty like don't mind me AHHAHAH, clearing out my drafts and requests as we speak!!

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you and your girlfriend, grace, long story short are soulmates. you have known grace pretty much your entire life and have never felt such a huge amount of love for anyone as much as you did with her. 

grace has always been in love with you, she doesn’t remember a time where she hasn’t been. and that just sums up your entire relationship, completely and utterly in love.

—

you and grace have known each other ever since you were 7. you were both placed in the same class at school, grace known for her class clown personality while you just smiled at her antics while working on your studies.

you two gravitated towards each other quicker than ever expected, being the best of friends until you were both 17 and grace finally asked you to be her girlfriend. an absolute surprise to not only the both of you, but everyone else around you. 

while grace was playing football, you were her biggest cheerleader on the side, her ‘lucky charm’ as she loved to call you. you did absolutely everything together, the best partner for life.

in your adult lives, you moved in together, grace playing football while you were in veterinarian school. it worked so well, it was so effortless, so easy and it was absolutely the best.

—

you had the privilege of being able to travel around the uk as grace joined different clubs, and grace was so incredibly grateful for you. 

something to know about your girlfriend, she was incredibly private. grace hated the thought of you being a secret but she was so protective.

she often had nightmares of you being found by crazy friends and getting harassed, and that was why she kept you private. her work and social life completely separate.

you didn’t mind it, you and grace were secure amongst yoursleves and within your relationship to not find it offensive. you both loved each other and that was all that really mattered.

all her teammates, your friends and family knew about your relationship and knew how much you meant to each other, and that was enough for both of you.

there were subtle hints here and there, people knew grace had a partner, she just didn’t want to give anyone details. both of your instagrams had soft hints towards your relationship, but nothing too obvious or completely out there.

you would come to every match without fail, always waiting for her at the end of the match.

—

she spots you sitting in the stands, clad in her jersey with a proud smile on your face as you watched her sign things and take photos with fans. she felt herself grow shy at the pure look of admiration on your face.

when people began to leave, she smiles over at you, you smile at the girl, nodding your head flirtily as she gave you a cheeky wave with a wink.

she gestures to the tunnel, meaning to follow her to the back later on. you nod, laughing at her cheeky antics, you pucker your lips up jokingly and she rolls her finger in a circle to hint for you to hurry up so she could say hello.

you wait for her in the carpark, perched up against your shared car, she rushes out excitedly, clearly out of breath but she smiles so brightly when she sees you, her most favourite person in the entire world.

you open your arms out to her expectantly and she walks into them with a relieved breath, hugging you around the middle tightly.

“hi, baby” she whispered in your ear, her lips giving you a subtle kiss on the shell of your ear. “hi, gracie girl”, you chuckle, rubbing your hands up and down her back before you pulled apart, puckering your lips up at her teasingly. she smirks, her hand cupping the underside of your jaw to pull you into a loving kiss. 

“i missed you” she breathes out against your lips, you smile, pecking them, “i missed you too, baby, two hours is way too long” you chuckle mockingly, kissing her a little longer this time.

she smiles in the kiss, drawing you in closer with her hands on your waist, “two hours felt like two days” she mocks, giving your hips a gentle squeeze as she walked you to the passenger side of the car, opening the door for you and closing it once you were seated.

“you played so well today, gracie baby” you smile at her when she puts her seatbelt on, she grins so sheepishly, cheeks pink no matter the time or place when it came to you.

“cause you were there” she shakes her head in your face, kissing your lips tenderly before she grabbed your hand to hold as she drove.

—

when grace got transferred to tottenham, things fast tracked. 

“baby, it’s only fair” grace groans, flopped on top of you as you were under the covers in the early hours of the morning. “gracie, i love you, but please, no” you beg, speaking up from under the blanket.

she sighs, smushing her face into your stomach over the blanket, “babe!” she yells, muffled by the blankets, you rip the blankets off your face, giving her your best scowl when she looked up at you from the movement.

“please, no, it’s too early” you exclaim, grace smiles at you, clearly amused by your attempt at anger on your features. “you got to pick dinner, and the movie last night” grace reminds, “i knew you let me pick because you wanted something,” you tutt, shaking your head.

she gasps, her hand clutching her chest, “i would do no such thing!” she moves up to straddle your waist as you hold yourself up by your elbows.

“my ass” you whisper, letting your girlfriend press a sweet kiss to your lips, “please” she pouts. her hands moving the blanket off you to hold your waist, kissing you again. you hum against her, clearly her little plan had worked.

“please come to training” she whispers, her words fluttering over your lips. you roll your eyes fondly, nodding and letting your girlfriend kiss your cheeks repeatedly, pulling you up from the bed excitedly.

the girl had already picked out your clothes, that’s how confident she was that she could get you to come to training with her. her separation anxiety was real.

you laugh when you see the ‘clinton’ hoodie on the top of the pile of clothes, shaking your head but putting it on anyway.

and when you both arrived at training, and you were seen in the training video wearing that hoodie, the questions and speculation were growing tenfold. who was this girl grace brought to training?

you and grace had been chatting after all the bombarding questions reached both of your phones. and you both decided, maybe it was time to put your relationship out in the open. although you both had your worries, you just didn’t want to hide anymore. 

and so after careful deliberation, you and grace would make your relationship official in her debut match for the senior lioness team.

—

grace was so jittery in her hotel room this morning, aggie had to message you that your girlfriend was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. you call her and she picks up a couple seconds after you press the call button.

“baby” she breathes out, clutching onto the phone as she talked to you, “hi, babe, you okay?” you ask her, phone on speaker as you get ready for the game. “i’m okay, just nervous” you hum at her words, “and that’s okay, baby” you remind her and she instantly calms down.

“yeah, i know” she sighs, “i miss you, i can’t wait to see you tonight” she grins, fiddling with the ends of her shorts. you giggle into the phone, “i miss you too baby, i’m very excited to see you” you both chatter back and forth before you hung up.

“i better see clinton on your back, babe, i love you!” she calls out into the phone before she hangs up, getting rushed onto the bus. you laugh, already wearing the england jersey with your girl’s name on the back. like you were a rooke, tsk.

—

you sat with her family in the stands, understanding why grace was so jittery. you watch her train and she looks pale, there’s so much riding on this. she wants to do well, she needs to do well. she needs to impress you.

she waves at you shyly when she spots you, you smile at her brightly, holding your hands up in a heart shape to make her giggle, and it thankfully works. she mimics your gesture, making you giggle as well. you both calmed down after that.

—

the match concludes and she does extremely well, the look of pride on both of your faces was infectious. you cheer loudly when they do a lap of appreciation. and like usual, when she completes her signatures and pictures and walks over to the friends and family section. 

she smiles up at you from the bottom of the pitch, ushering with her hand to come down to where she was.

you smile at her shyly, walking around others to reach her, and when you do, you don't think you’ve ever seen her smile so brightly. “hello, beautiful” she pulls you in by your waste to hug you tenderly, kissing your cheek before she rests her head on your shoulder to feel closer to you. 

“hi, superstar” you hug her tightly, the barrier making it a little difficult but you both didn’t care. she pulls back to look at you, to really look at you. she may have just debut and reached one of biggest goals of her life, but you’re really the best achievement in her life.

“you’re sure about this?” grace questions, eyes flickering between your own in concern, you smile softly, brushing a stray hair from her forehead and tucking it tenderly behind her ear.

“i’m sure, lovey” she smiles at your words, breathing out happily as she took in your appearance before she placed her hand onto your jaw.

she pulls you into a soft kiss, tame for the public but so incredibly meaningful. you hear the distant cheering of everyone, but it's drowned out with feeling grace’s lips move with yours. it lasts for a couple seconds before she pulls away, resting her forehead on yours.

both of you smile, holding each other tightly, slightly in shock that you were both now official to the public. “finally” she teases, pinching your hip, you laugh, hitting her arm softly before leaning in to peck her lips.

you both see people holding up phones, chattering and talking about the two of you but you both really didn’t care. you had each other and that is all that matters.

though, what you both didn’t expect was the overwhelming amount of support you both gained out of this. the worry was honestly for nothing.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill - pretend it’s you!! ily celin

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graceclinton_x: she's a big softy

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yourname: says you!!

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↳ graceclinton_x: thanks guys.

[inkdrinkerworld]

𝓒𝓤𝓟𝓘𝓓'𝓢 𝓒𝓤𝓡𝓢𝓔

Synopsis: James can make your days trying to get a story for your company really hard, he gets under your skin and knows exactly what buttons to poke and you hate it.

cw: a bit of an axious!reader, rugby!james, i used the house names for the clubs but it is not at all set in the HP universe.

wc: 1.1k

-`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´-

Sports journalism is fun and rewarding. 

You love going to the post and pre-match interviews and talking to the players and managers and getting all the insight you can to then write your story. What you don’t like is having to interview James Potter. 

Everytime James sees you in the press room, he decides it’s his time to be the most non-descriptive, non-responsive to all of your questions and make it difficult for you to even write a story. He loves giving you vague answers that don’t answer any of your questions and it gets under your skin like nothing else. 

It’s even more tiresome when he’s the team’s go to media-man because of his looks. He’s England’s current heartthrob first and their best flanker second. He’s beefy and burly, with curls that look like they’ve been ink dipped individually and dimples that throw a wrench into many a woman’s plan. It also doesn’t help you, mostly, that he’s the perfect gentleman the minute the cameras are on and everything he says takes on this sugary, colying tone.

Dread fills you as you walk into the media room, finding a few familiar faces before you sit to the back. You hope in vain that James isn’t on media today, maybe they’ll put his sweet teammate Remus on media duty. He’s always sweet and succinct, answering all the questions, no matter how ridiculous, with a grace and precision you suspect makes him perfect for being the team’s fly-half. 

You’d even interview his rowdy teammate Sirius, possibly the best winger in the game right now, and endure his loudness and even his flirtations with the camera so long as you just got good answers. 

Your hope is shattered when you hear James talking as he rounds the corner, your hands grow cold knowing that today is the day you write a half decent story about the Gryffindor team. 

“Morning,” he calls as he enters, his eyes find you immediately and the smile he shoots you makes you scowl. It’s going to be a long press day. “It’s great to be back.” 

“How have you and your team prepared for the start of the season? Knowing it’s a derby game must make it all the more exciting to be back.” One journalist starts, sweat already pebbling on your brow. 

James answers perfectly, in depth and with the knowledge that you sometimes forget these players possess. 

“What about the injured players from last season? Can we look out for their names on the starting squad? What sort of system can we look forward to this season?” You ask, hands shaking as you prepare for the worst. You hate how much anxiety courses through you nowadays in these interviews. They used to be far more fun. 

“I can’t well say what we’re going to play this weekend, it’d be a bit of a helping hand to the Slytherin team.” The media room laughs and you have to bite your tongue to keep the scowl off your face. “However, we’ve got a lot of key players back in the squad, so I’ll say keep your ears open for some names you haven’t heard in a couple months.” 

By the time you’re finished with the conference, you’ve got sufficient answers for the hopes of the beginning of the season but every other question was bypassed or you’d received a roundabout answer. 

You’re picking up all your equipment, the other journalists all gone already. James hovers near the door, watching you for whatever reason but it makes your skin crawl. He has to know what he’s done. 

“Can I help you, Potter?” You ask, lifting your head to catch a peek at him. His arms are folded across his chest and he’s leaning against the doorframe, something sort of like a smile on his face. 

“Just waiting for you to be done. Wouldn’t feel right to just leave you in here alone.” There’s a bit of sincerity but mostly amusement in his tone and you roll your eyes. James laughs and pushes off the door frame moving towards you, “All done?” you huff and sigh, hoisting your bag over your shoulder and walking past him. 

“Have a good training session, James.” he nods, watching you go with a smile on his face, one that spreads bigger when your perfume lingers in the room after you. 

-

When you hit submit on your report you feel good but stressed. 

What usually takes you an hour and a half to get done, took you twice as long because reports have been so slow during the off-season that you wanted to get it perfect before the opening match. Stretching, you make your way into the kitchen. 

You’re sure half the worry was unnecessary and the other half was about impressing your boss. God knows you need that woman to be pleased with something you do this year. 

Your phone rings before you can give in to that anxiety inducing thought, your stomach pits and the cup of tea you had to your lips lower. “This is Y/n.” 

“Hi, I want to talk about the interview you just submitted,” Your boss is a bit of a hardass. She’s always harping about things being ‘perfect’ and stories being complete, so in the two years you’ve worked there, though you’ve climbed to higher and higher positions, you’re still the fresh and sort of peppy girl you were to her when you’d handed in your resume and appeared in her office in a blue suit. 

“Sure,” you set down the tea and open your laptop, ready for a slew of changes or to change whatever she wanted you to. 

“It’s great,” that’s high praise, yet you sense something in her tone. You’re almost certain she’s going to make you rewrite the entire thing to make the opening game of the season, a derby game no less, seem even more anticipated than it already is. “I just want you to add a little more about the history of both teams. Potter’s already brought in an influx of new fans, we want to make it easy for them to get into the season and get behind either team and feel the rivalry.” 

That’s not what you’d been expecting. Not what you were expecting in the least. 

“I’ll resubmit tonight by eight.” is what you say but inside you’re twirling and jumping around your apartment while morning sun streaks through your living and early 2000s pop music is blasting through the house. 

James Potter and his non-answers be damned, you just got the best compliment of your work life.

[briseroyawritingsblog]

𝒃𝒆𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔

𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒎𝒂𝒏!𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

• +18 minors do not interact. faul language, inappropriate thoughts, mutual attraction, large age gap, etc.

𝒃𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 / 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

divider by @anitalenia

Working in red light district was nothing but dangerous. Even though it paid your bills perfectly you hated your job. You hated the fact that men gawked at your body, sticking their drunk ugly faces on the window. Your job was to stand behind the glass and to lure more men inside the pleasure house. It was called bordello but it was a bar, strip club, and much more. It was filthy, men were disgusting. Treating women like objects. You would never let men treat you that way or even touch you. Applying cherry lipstick to your lips it was your turn to stand behind the glass— few hours of misery. This time there was a chair where you could sit but you had to give a little show to desperate married men who came in and threw dollar bills at your box because you were so damn pretty for them. Behind all that makeup and pretty stockings was just a normal woman. A woman who had a normal soul and who was never touched by a man before.

Logan groaned as he parked his black Chrysler just in front of the bordello. Your gaze immediately landing on the men who were stepping out of the limo. Chatting and holding bottle of dark liquor. The driver seemed to be a tall man dressed in black. His grey hair complimented his outgrown beard and the specs on top of his nose only added to his handsomeness. You sat down on your chair, parting your legs biting your lower lip. The men which came out of his limo were already glued to the window swooning at your legs and your high heels. One of them even licked the window and you smiled. Logan met your gaze, your beauty mesmerised him— you were there like a doll. So small.. he grunted shutting the door on his limo lighting a cigar leaning against his car. He was told to wait so even if he would wait for hours he was getting paid for it. He didn’t mind that- it just really gave him some time to drink away his worries and aches in his body. Holding the cigar between his lips he looked at his phone. The more you observed him, the more he reminded you of someone. Taking your time to observe his trembling hands, his cough gave you a tiny worry. Maybe he was sick? But why so much liquor?

“Come on sweetheart give us a twirl maybe bend over so we can see those pretty thongs are you wet for us? Are we getting lucky? look at you let me pay you for the night. How much do you want?” One of the men approached your glass and you smiled. How did you want? You wanted to get out of the box and just go home. “I am not a toy” you replied making him chuckle gulping on the whiskey which he held in his hand telling his friends that somehow he wants only you. “Of course you’re a fucking toy, now get out of the glass and suck my dick.” Logan heard it, oh he heard what they were saying. Choosing to ignore the thunder in his chest he sighed. You looked at the man by his limo and then back at the rude men tears filling your eyes. How long did you have to endure this torture. Your line of work came with so much hatred. “Nah dude she’s not going to move, let her go. Let’s go inside” you sighed with a relief as they disappeared inside the club. Your heart nearly jumping out of your chest.

Logan didn’t look at you. He couldn’t look at you because you were too beautiful to look at. You were a sin and he was an old man who would never have a chance to be graced by your presence. You weren’t a stripper for sure and you weren’t a ‘working’ girl either. You were just… you.

The next following days you had the same customers coming to the bordello. You cringed at the sounds which could be heard from the down the hall as you walked out your closet. You wore a black mesh dress, your neck occupied black beads with a cross. Your hair was straightened this time and you had a black matte lipstick on your lips. Stepping inside your box you gazed outside, men were standing outside drinking and smoking and there it was. The black limo parked just opposite the club, smoke coming out the window. Logan was watching you again, he waited until you came on. He could indulge gazing at you all night long if time would allow him. You were gorgeous— your outfit was different and he understood that you had to dress up to meet men’s expectations but hell you looked like a sin. The way your lips wrapped around the cross he groaned and looked away. Why was he even there? Why did he stay? You knew he was looking at you and it was nothing wrong with it. In fact he was giving you a sense of safety. You were desired and hungered for but this man was different wasn’t he?

Finishing your shift three hours later, you changed out of the clothes which you hated the most and slipped on a pair of jeans. An oversized shirt, pair of fluffy socks and uggs. Wrapping yourself in a hoodie you grabbed your bag and car keys to leave. Like this you were almost unrecognisable— walking out the club using the back door of course you heard men nearby. You hurried to your car until they stopped you by pushing you against it.

“Here she is! Are we getting what we want tonight?” You wanted to scream. A hand came up to your lips shushing your whimpers and screams tears rolling down your cheeks. No.. you didn’t want to die. You didn’t want to be hit. Closing your eyes you prayed..

Oh god.. help me..

[sp0o0kylights]

Adopt a Jock Part 1 

Part 2 

Part 4

Shoutout to @bloomingconflagration for the title!!! And a HUGE thank you to everyone who left comments or gave suggestions!! I love you all you amazing, silly humans <3 <3 

There comes a time during a long work shift were your average overworked and underpaid employee starts to think they’re hallucinating. 

In Gareth’s case, it was when Steve Harrington walked through the doors of Palace Arcade, making a beeline right for him. 

“Gareth?” Steve asked, like he was the one out of place. “What are you doing here?” 

As if people just randomly stood behind the counter of retail and entertainment spaces with a nametag on. 

You know, for fun.

With a great deal of restraint, Gareth managed to hold the sass back, instead opting for a far more polite; ‘I work here, Harrington. What are you doing here?” 

Because no matter how much Hellfire had adopted Steve into its fold, Gareth could just not see the guy choosing to spend his free time at the local arcade. 

Not of his own free will, anyway. 

“Pick up duty.” Steve said, proving him right not even a second later. 

“Of what?” Gareth asked, puzzled, right before Steve’s name was shouted in stereo.

A miniature stampede took place as several children proceeded to swarm him like oversized puppies, most of them trying to talk at once. 

“One at a time, we talked about this!” Steve barked, loud enough to be heard over the commotion. “You’re giving me and Gareth here a headache!” 

He waved his hands in a “calm down” gesture, shaking his head and looking at Gareth in exasperation. “Probably giving the people in the video store next door one too, lord.”  

“Wait.” A curly-haired kid said, looking between the two older teens like he was watching the laws of the universe rewrite themselves in front of him. “You know Gary? How?”

“We are not close enough for you to call me Gary.” Gareth said dryly, for what felt like the fifteenth time that day. 

This was a regular battle between him and the kids who haunted the arcade.

(One had overheard Grant call him Gary the last time he was in, and ever since, every single child that graced this fine establishment with Cheeto-dusted fingers and candy-induced sugar rushes had decided to replace his actual name with his nickname.

The fact it clearly frustrated him only egged them on. )

“We go to school together Dustin,” Steve said, as if he were talking to someone particularly dense. 

“Yeah? You go to school with lots of people. You bitch about most of them.” Dustin fired back.”Plus Gary’s a total nerd. I bet you call him names.” 

"Hey, language!" 

Gareth’s eyes narrowed as he glared down at the little fucker. He was definitely going to remember Dustin (and equally going to watch and see what arcade games the younger teen played-- and top the score chart of every single fucking one.

He might be a nerd but he wasn’t gonna take that shit from a middle schooler.) 

“Hate to break it to you brats, but your babysitter here just joined our D&D club.” Gareth replied, if only to finally one-up the little bastards. “Our DM is building him a character as we speak.” 

(Which wasn't even a lie. Eddie was building a character for Steve. The guy just refused to give any input on grounds that he "wasn't going to play anyways." )

Abrupt and sudden silence, as several stunned faces stared at him. 

“Oh goddammit.” Harrington cursed, as the entire herd of children turned on him in unison like some kind of hivemind horror monster. 

“You joined the D&D club,” Dustin said slowly, outraged. “And you let them make you a character sheet, but you won’t play with us!?” 

“What the hell Steve!” The sporty-looking one whined, clearly hurt. “You won’t sit in on our games! You said they were lame!” 

“They are lame.” Steve defended immediately, pushing at sporty-kids head. It was fond though, the kind of gentle shove an elder brother gave to a younger one. It caused the kid's camo banana to fall into his eyes, which he adjusted quickly with a grumble. “Turns out the high school version’s cooler.” 

“He’s lying.” That from the bitchy one, whose arms were crossed over his chest, a glare on his face. “Steve probably paid Gary to say that” 

Gareth had seen that exact same stance on Steve at lunch that day, and wondered if the little asshole knew who he was copying when he did it. 

“Who cares about D&D?” This from the redhead, standing with another girl giggling in her ear. “I’m just amazed Steve has friends.” 

“Really Mayfield?” Steve said, looking almost betrayed. As if he thought she was going to be the one to defend him in this weird little showdown.

The girl leaning on her giggled harder, making Mayfield grin (even if she tried to hide it.)  She whispered something, which the redhead outright laughed at before repeating; “Adult friends even!” 

“Okay.” Steve said, clearly cutting the kids off before they could embarrass him further. “Thank you, unwanted peanut gallery, for all of that lovely commentary. Now go back to playing the games you little shits robbed me of all my quarters for, or we’re leaving.” 

Henderson’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you were here to pick us up?” 

“Oh I’m sorry, did Jonathan magically appear behind me in the last five seconds?” Steve turned around pretending to search the parking lot through the windows. “No? Then I guess we’re still waiting. Unless you, Lucas and Max want to leave first.” 

“You’re such an ass.” Dustin huffed, rolling his eyes. “Why aren’t you waiting in the car anyway?” 

“It’s raining, it’s cold, and I thought I’d come in to say hi to my friend.” Steve replied, so quickly it took Gareth a moment to realize what Steve referred to him as. 

He'd gotten the friend title before Eddie. 

His best friend was going to fucking freak. 

“Are you done drilling me or are you going to let Max kick your ass at DigDug again?” 

“Shit!” Henderson cursed, spinning to intercept the redhead as she bent to put a coin in said arcade machine. “Max, you said you’d let me keep my leaderboard score today! Max!” 

“I know you said you watched kids, but this wasn’t exactly what I was imagining.” Gareth said, slumping against the counter.  

(He'd been thinking of Steve watching much younger kids for one, and two, he was starting to get the idea the babysitter thing was used as an insult. 

Gareth knew a big brother vibe when he saw it.) 

Steve gave him a tired look. “Me neither man. Me neither.”

 Then; “You fucking owe me for that D&D comment, they’re never going to shut up about it now.”

Gareth winced. “Sorry. I was trying to help.” 

Steve blew out a breath. “I know. I appreciate the attempt.” 

Which was better than Steve bitching at him for it, not that he’d really ever done that to Gareth. 

The two of them hadn’t quite worked up the nerve to be playful like that with each other, though they had occasionally jumped in on opposing sides to arguments Eddie caused. Gareth figured they’d get there in time, but even with all the progress Steve made, he still had more off days than on. 

It was a fragile line to walk with him. Especially when there wasn’t a single member of Hellfire who wanted to ruin the progress they made. 

(Even if half of them would never admit to it.) 

“Steve?” A voice interrupted, quiet in a way that contrasted directly with how loud the rest of the brat pack was. 

Steve closed his eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose with his hand as if to starve off a headache. 

“Yes, Baby Byers?” He asked after a long, painful pause, turning to look at the saddest looking kid in the bunch. 

“Is there actually a D&D club at the high school?” 

The kid looked at Steve like he wasn’t entirely certain he wanted to hear the answer, but was hopeful for the outcome he wanted anyway. 

It was the kind of thing that pulled even on Gareth’s heartstrings, and he was almost immune to anything involving giant, sad eyes after a solid year of working at the arcade. 

(Never mind Eddie’s own puppy dog looks.)

Steve’s voice gentled, in a way Gareth had never quite heard him use before. “There is. You’d love it, it’s called Hellfire. I’m sure it’ll still be there next year when you come in as a freshman.” 

He nudged him with his shoulder playfully, smiling when the younger boy perked up. “If you’re nice, Garebear here might even put in a good word for you.” 

“Garebear?” Max repeated with a burst of laughter, appearing behind Steve like a fucking ghost. “Oh my god.” 

“No.” Gareth said, bolting upright from his slouch as he stared at her in horror. “Do not call me that.” 

“Sure thing, Garebear.” She outright cackled, as Steve sent him a wide-eyed, apologetic face. 

“What did you just call Gary?” The sporty one--Lucas, asked, a wide grin overtaking his face. 

“I swear to God.” Gareth threatened, as Steve took another dramatic look over his shoulder. 

“Hey look Jonathan’s here!” He yelled, jerking a thumb over his shoulder as he started quickly walking backwards. “Come on, dipshits, we're leaving!” 

“Bye Garebear!” Lucas and Max sang together, following after him. 

“Harrington!” Gareth howled, as Steve mouthed ‘Sorry’ over his shoulder, all but bolting out the door. 

“I like Garebear a lot better than Gary.” Another, random child informed him with a grin as he sauntered past, arcade tickets in hand. 

Steve Harrington, Gareth decided, was a dead man. 

Not even Eddie’s fucking crush on the guy could save him now. 

xXx

“Did you know Harrington has a literal pack of kids he watches?” Gareth asked a few hours later, messing with his drum kit as he set up for band practice. "He even drives them around." 

More than that though--he’d seemed almost normal around them. That was the most Gareth had seen the guy banter or act relaxed since Eddie had dragged him over. 

“He’s mentioned it multiple times.” Grant replied, tuning his bass. “You have ears Gareth, use them.” 

“Gareth? Listen?” Jeff teased as he dragged an amp into the garage. “I don’t think I’ll live to see the day.” 

"Oh screw you guys.” Gareth growled, winging a drumstick toward his friends for the insult.

Grant, long used to Gareth's tantrums (and Eddie's dramatics)  didn't look up from his bass.

Not even when the drumstick hit the wall with a bang!-- allll the way near the opposite end of the couch, entirely opposite of either him or Jeff. 

"As usual, your aim is dead on." Jeff appraised sarcastically. 

"Like I'd ever actually hit you." Gareth grumbled with a pout. "I was gonna say the kids are older than I expected."

He reached down, blindly fishing for another drumstick from the bucket of them next to his kit. 

He came up empty. 

"Hey Grantman." Gareth asked, tone changing to something mildly embarrassed. "Could I uh, could I get the drumstick back?" 

He got a flat stare back. "No." 

"What did I do to get stuck with such dramatic friends?" Jeff joked as he began moving all the amps he’d pulled in back into their usual places. 

They hadn't had time to unload anything other than the drums after their last show and the regret was real. 

"Eddie’s been standing on tables since seventh grade, you knew what you were getting into." Gareth fired back, making grabby hands for his drumstick. 

"And you never grew out of being that dorky middle schooler who snuck into Hellfire games and screamed we were all going to die every time anyone made a bad play." Jeff shot back. "Yet here I am, once again wondering if I should just permanently confiscate Eddie's snacks, your drumsticks, and now Harrington's fricken spatula." 

"One year. I am one year younger than you and you act like it's an entire century!" Gareth muttered, as Grant relented and leaned over to fetch said drumstick. 

"We all know Eddie chucks food at people, but what'd Steve do with a spatula?"  Grant asked as he tossed it back to Gareth.

He missed and nearly took out a cymbal in the process. 

"He had a snit while we were making chocolate roulade cause it wouldn’t roll right. Flung the spatula around so much it splattered whip cream on his ceiling." Jeff shook his head as he finished hooking an amp up to his guitar. "I had to rescue it from him." 

"His ceiling?" Gareth said in disbelief. "Wait, you were in Harrington’s kitchen?" 

"Yeah?" Jeff looked up to find his friends staring at him. 

Grant blinked. "The fuck?" 

“Can we just play?” Jeff complained, just as embarrassed as Gareth had been.

“No.” Gareth said, retrieved drumstick nearly falling from his hands in shock. “You don’t get to casually drop that you went to Harrington’s house to help him bake and then try to get us to play right after!” 

Jeff, who had done exactly that, blushed, skin darkening as he fiddled with his guitar.

“It wasn’t a big deal.” He said finally with a shrug, as if this was something he did all the time and not the groundbreaking revelation that it was.

“Did you meet his parents?” Grant said, sitting up from the couch. “What did his house look like?”

Jeff finally gave up the pretense of playing his instrument.

“I didn't, and it was kinda sad, actually.” He said, as if he didn’t live for this kind of shit. 

Gareth knew better than anyone how much of a fricken gossip Jeff could be. 

“His house was enormous. I only saw the first floor, and his kitchen is huge.” He set his hands apart at a good distance, showcasing just how large “huge” was, before continuing. 

“But it was weird. It was like a model home. No pictures on the walls, no art, no personality to the place at all.” 

“What are we talking about?” Eddie asked, finally returning to Gareth’s garage from where he’d been gathering up all the wires they’d thrown haphazardly into his van. 

“Jeff went to Harrington’s house.” Grant and Gareth tattled as one. 

“To help bake stuff for this Friday!” Jeff defended, the blush creeping back onto his face. “I was curious about his chocolate roulade recipe and he invited me over!” 

“When was this?” Eddie asked, staring at Jeff like he’d grown a second head. 

Or more likely, Gareth knew, in jealousy. But he wasn’t going to call Eddie out on that just yet. 

“Yesterday. We got to talking about it in the parking lot after school.” Jeff said with an embarrassed shrug. “He said he wasn’t the best at explaining how to do things and that he’d rather show me instead.” 

“Kinky.” Grant deadpanned, making Jeff sputter. 

“You sure you didn’t see his bedroom, Jeff? It’s okay if you fell for the ‘wanna see my music collection’ line. We won’t judge you.” Gareth waggled his eyebrows, ducking with a laugh when Jeff went to whack him. 

“Shut up, we just made the chocolate roulade!” Jeff’s ears were red now, and huh, maybe Eddie wasn’t the only person with a crush.  

“Guys.” Eddie reprimanded, tone warning. 

“Sorry Eds, you know we don’t mean it.” Gareth soothed. Of course, his best friend's anger was less about the gay comments or Steve’s reputation as Hawkin’s man whore than it was about Steve fucking Jeff (and not Eddie) but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be appreciated if he pointed that out either. 

Eddie didn’t respond, eyes already back on Jeff. "Details, Jeffery, give us the details!"  

He dropped onto the couch, flapping his hands at Jeff in his version of a "sit down" gesture. 

Jeff sighed, but repeated what he'd just said for Eddie as he took a seat on the edge of an amp, placing his guitar down gently. 

 "I think Wayne was right. I don't think anyone else lives there but Steve. Not full-time anyway." He finished. 

Which sounded like the best fucking thing ever until Gareth thought about it for more than two seconds. 

Tried to imagine what his life would be like if his parents and siblings were gone. Not for a day, or even a weekend, but always. 

How silent his normally loud house would be. 

Thought instantly that he'd be inviting Eddie, his friends, and hell, l even Wayne, over as often as they could handle. 

"The way he looked when I showed up, and how quiet he got when I left I just…" Jeff fiddled with his guitar’s strap. "I think he's lonely." 

The four of them sat in silence for a long moment as they digested that. 

“Hargrove kicked his ass right? And Byers?” Grant said finally, breaking the silence ad he stared up at the ceiling. 

“Old news.” Eddie replied absently, jiggling his leg.

“You think his parents were around for that?” Grant continued, slowly.

No one answered outside of Eddie's leg loudly jiggling faster. 

 "Did you see the kids hug him or anything?"

"They're like thirteen. I seriously doubt they're pestering Steve for hugs." Gareth answered flatly.  

 "So he got his ass kicked, his parents are gone, he was supposed involved in that whole has leak thing…" Grant trailed off with an air of someone who expected the end of his sentence to be obvious. 

“You’re doing that thing again where you think what you’re saying is obvious and its fucking not.” Eddie grumped. "Just spit it out." 

His friend's head finally tipped back down from the ceiling, to face the rest of them. “Maybe the flinching is because no one ever touches him anymore unless it’s to kick his ass.” 

“Oh.” Eddie blinked, body going rigid. “Oh shit.” 

“That…would make sense. A lot of sense.” Jeff said slowly. 

Grant put on a face that read “Duh” loud and clear. 

“So what do we do about it?" Gareth asked after a moment. 

"Touch him, obviously." Grant replied, like he couldn't believe the drummer was even asking.

Gareth and Eddie shared a look while Eddie rolled his eyes.  

"The guy almost fell down the stairs last time I tried that." Gareth pointed out. 

Never mind any other time Steve got weird over the lightest of touches. Eddie couldn't even clap the guy on the shoulder without getting major side-eye. 

"No."  Eddie cut in, sitting up suddenly. His eyes had gone bright, "We're going to trick him into it." 

"We're going to trick Harrington into being okay with, what? Shoulder pats?"  Gareth echoed, like Eddie might hear himself if his words were repeated back to him. “You realize how stupid that sounds right?" 

"Shut up, listen. It's like getting a stray to trust you. You just gotta be calm and so obvious about it that they get confused and let it happen." Eddie had begun practically vibrating, causing his friends to trade uneasy glances. 

They knew that look. Eddie only got it when he thought up a plan that was going to cause problems. 

"Eddie, that makes zero sense." Jeff told him.

Gareth just shook his head, because only Eddie Munson could compare Hawkins golden boy with a fucking stray animal. 

Even if the guy kinda acted like one sometimes. 

"I just need an opening." Eddie continued, the little hamster wheel spinning in his head so fast the rest of the band could almost hear it. 

If Gareth had been told two months ago he was going to be sitting in his garage, discussing the best way to acclimate Steve Harrington to casual touch, he’d have actually smacked whatever idiot dared spew such nonsense with his drumsticks. 

"I did tell tell the kids today you were making him a D&D character." He said, before his best friend could truly go off on some half cocked plot. 

Eddie lit up like a kid on Christmas. "Gary, I could kiss you."

Gareth made a face. "Please don't."

He clapped hard before springing to his feet. "Huddle up boys, I've got a plan." 

"God help us all." Jeff muttered. 

(He huddled up anyway, any thoughts of playing guitar that night fully forgotten.) 

Bonus: 

"Why don't you just get high and watch a movie with Steve? You're a fucking cling-on when you're high." Gareth complained the next morning, when Eddie swung by to pick him up for school. 

Mostly because the plan Eddie had come up with was ridiculous.

 Eddie took both hands off the wheel, pressing them against his chest in mock offense while he stared at Gareth and not at the street. “That would be taking advantage of him and I, as a gentleman, would never." He gasped, dramatically. 

In his normal voice, he added: "Plus it doesn't count." 

“Eyes on the road!” Gareth yelped, swatting an arm. “And you know I didn’t mean it like that. People relax more when they're high and maybe Steve needs something like that as an excuse to allow it. Hell he doesn’t even need to be high, just you.”

Which Gareth personally thought was a very insightful thing to say, so of course he had to ruin it with; “or whatever.” 

"Do you recall how you kissed Jeff on the cheek when you were high and then spent the entire next month swearing up and down that you weren't attracted to men last summer?" 

"That was different. I was discovering myself." 

Eddie outright cackled. "Discovering yourself? What self help book did you pick that gem out of?"

"I was quoting you, you moron!" Gareth sputtered. 

"If I said anything like that then I was definitely high and it just proves my point. Steve would just be uncomfortable."Eddie stuck his tongue out. "So there." 

"Fine." Gareth sighed. "If we ever get high with Harrington, I'll sit in his lap."

Eddie's eye twitched. "No you will not."

Thrilled to have something to tease the elder metalhead about, a smile graced Gareth's face. "In fact, I'm calling dibs." 

"You can't call dibs on a lap! And besides, you don't even like him like that!" 

"So?" Gareth retorted. "It's a nice lap, looks comfortable. You don't want it, so I'll take it."

Eddie grit his teeth, grasping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles went white. 

"I know what you're doing Gary. This is some bullshit reverse psychology shit and I will not be falling for it." 

"Oh contraire, this is sibling bullshit, Munson. You want it, so I want it." Gareth crossed his arms and looked at Eddie smugly. "And unless you do something about it, I'm getting it." 

"I hate you." 

Gareth grinned, delighted. "I know." 

[trulyhblue]

STARGIRL

Georgia Stanway x Reader

Warnings — smut 18+, buildup, mean! Boyfriend! Kind of toxic! Georgia, dom/sub dynamics, drinking, partying, jealousy, strap, millie bright hate but not hate but pls I love you millie bright so flirt with me x, kind of dumb reader but like she actually doesn't know, praise kink, degradation kink, breeding kink.

_______________________

Your dress had hitched to an unethical height, but the state of your tipsiness provoked a desolated ignorance accompanied by the thunderous beat of the club. Grace was behind you, swaying her hips with yours, the two of you celebrating your most recent win with the Lionesses.

The room was crowded with dancing bodies, mashed together with the concoction of sweat, alcohol, and oblivion. You had seen Less, Ella and Niamh nearby only a while ago, and an ample group of your teammates were sitting in the back corner surrounded by a booth, projecting their triumph in the form of the burn down their throats, the drinks they nursed holding to a product of victory.

“Ugh, I'm so sweaty,” Grace whined, loud enough in order to be heard over the booming rave. “I need a drink.”

“Same, let's go.” You nodded, feeling the girl’s hands snake around your waist, pulling you closer to her figure as the crowd collapsed further into your figure.

The two of you sauntered through the crowd, giggling at the mob of people struggling to find enough space to properly function. Your cheeks were stained a vibrant pink from the flush of adrenaline. Grace was humming along to the tune in your ear, her arms still holding onto you tightly so that you wouldn't lose each other.

It wasn't often that the team went out for drinks, especially not the likes of such a mix of the different friend groups. Lucy and Keira weren't set to go back to Spain for another three days, and most of the girls would seek refuge in the comfort of their own beds tonight, as the match held in Wembley sought itself in the midst of the WSL.

Georgia and you were set to leave for Munich two days from now after spending the last two weeks preparing and playing for your national team here in England. While Gee had transferred from City a while ago, you had only just moved to Bayern from Chelsea, where someone like Grace had become your closest friend in the WSL. As one of the younger players on the team, you wanted to make sure the debutant felt welcome and comfortable in the senior squad, despite her training with the team long before her match debut.

Over the last couple of months, you had been working really hard in order to aid your club to victory, but after the nasty blow in the Champions League, and some defeats sprinkled here and there throughout the season, this night was long awaited.

Once Grace and you had finally woven your way through, you were quick to find refuge on Georgia’s lap, leaving Grace to sit on the opposite side of the booth next to Mary. Gee found her hands secured on your waist, ignoring the way your hips wiggled in her lap.

“Having fun, are we?” She asked, watching as you hummed in reply, taking it upon yourself to take a sip of her drink. You failed to notice your girlfriend's fimble hands tugging down the fabric of your skirt, hiding the notion by massaging your thighs and kissing your exposed shoulder.

The enriching taste of lemonade made you turn to straddle her, holding the drink up to her lips while the straw was still lingering close to yours.

“You’re not drinking?”

“I’m driving us back, baby.” Gee shook her head. “Do you want me to get you another drink?”

You thought to yourself before slowly reaching down to where your girlfriend’s collar met her throat, toying with the cloth in your hands before pressing your lips to her pulse point, letting her take the drink, placing it back on the table as you ran your tongue along the column of her throat.

“Y/N, baby.” You heard Gee mutter. You lifted your hips off her lap, combing your hair out of your face as you counted to speckled freckles on Georgia’s cheeks. She took out her wallet, handing you her card. “Do you ‘wanna go buy yourself something? The girls and I were ‘gonna go play pool over there if you want to meet us there.”

“Do you want anything?” Shaking her head in reply, keeping a prolonged stare down the trajectory of your low-cut top. You tugged at the bottom of her shirt, letting your hands roam freely across the waistband of her trousers. Rocking your hips, you found Grace already standing behind you, grabbing your hands and leading you over to the bar.

It wasn't unusual for Georgia to brush off your public affection like that, especially when you were obviously tipsy, and the lingering eyes of your friends were all at your disposal. If you had kissed her in a secluded corner of this club, she would've taken you up against the nearest wall as fast as she could. She had been eyeing that dress — or moreso the skin it was hardly concealing — and wanting so desperately to take you home and show you how much she loved you.

The games against Sweden and Italy were both masterclasses on your behalf, and Georgia was merely waiting for the right time to reward you for scoring in both of them.

“You need to get a room.” Grace teased, her eyes peering back to where Georgia shamelessly looked at your arse. “No wonder the fans found out so quickly.”

You turned to face the younger girl, a smirk adorned on your face. “Two months was a struggle in itself.”

Gee and you had tried to keep your relationship well out of the media. But after your move to Munich, and a few too many proper English celebrations, the media had caught on to your affection and adoration for each other far too quickly than what you had hoped. Nevertheless, both of you sprinkled your private lives into your Instagram every once and a while. Save some photos of you that Georgia was not willing to share with the world.

“No, I know.” She replied, pivoting through the crowd. “But it's cute. Traumatic for me… But cute.”

You used Georgia’s card to buy yourself and her two lemonades and Grace a drink of her own. Grace’s regard for your relationship was an unusual sentiment because while you strived to hold your private life out of the fame and publicity of football, there was an inevitable spark between the two of you that fans caught onto long before you ever thought of Georgia in the way you do now.

Despite what is displayed, you were two very reserved people, with Georgia being the more talkative of the two of you when it came to interviews. You loved your social life — your friends both at home and away. However, there were many differences that distinguished a shift in personas.

You liked to push the boundaries. If you could test your luck, it was impossible to tempt you otherwise. Georgia liked routine. You didn't mind testing the waters and going with the flow. Life was more enjoyable that way.

At least for you.

Georgia had watched you make your way to the bar, hoping you’d return with something a lot less strong than what you had been downing previously. Grace was hung by your side, the younger woman holding onto your arm with giggles leaving her lips. Gee waited for you to inch down your skirt before following Mary and the others over to where Leah was lining up for a game of pool.

“Any reason you're easing off the drinks tonight, Stanway?”

Millie was lingering by the group, nursing her own drink while Rach and Lucy talked beside her. Georgia shrugged, moving her hands to her pockets as she watched Leah take the first shot against Keira.

“I'm driving home.”

Millie snorted. “Will you make it home?”

If Gee was drinking, she would've choked. “What?”

“Well, you were pretty much eating each other’s faces off just before. Figured you couldn't wait.”

Georgia shrugged again. She wasn't too keen on the conversation, especially when the topic didn't deem either you or her in the highest regard. Everyone knew that Georgia wasn't into that type of PDA, but it was also noted that given the right reasons, she’d be worse than you.

“You’re a lucky one, Gee.” The Chelsea Defender clapped the Midfielder on the back, downing the rest of her drink. “Enjoy your night.”

Millie left Georgia to stand a few feet away from the rest of the group — leaving her to mull over her teammate’s words. For some reason, she couldn't shake Millie’s comments off. What did she mean — enjoy your night? What was she implying? Of course, she was going to enjoy her night with her girlfriend. Of course Gee was lucky, but why was Millie saying that? Normally, these comments were used as a compliment, and with Millie’s best intentions, everyone knew she was only pure. But when Georgia saw the way the Chelsea player flung her arm over your shoulder upon your return, talking down at you amid the booming music, something in Georgia flicked.

Everyone had gotten progressively more drunk as the night went on, but you were fully immersed in the way everyone was interacting, holding your own conversation with Millie, who was going on about some football thing happening at Chelsea.

Leah was swearing at Keira, who was cheekily laughing away at the ratio of her balls to Leah’s left in the game. You had left Georgia’s drink in front of you, and you continued to keep it by your side as you watched the bickering between Lee and Keira transpire.

“You're a right cheat, Walsh, go home.” Williamson quipped, shoving Keira playfully by the shoulder. The Barcelona player poked out her tongue, jabbing the Arsenal protege's side. “Oh, cry me a river, Leah. You're just a sore losers who’s downright shit.”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Oh, piss off.”

“You first.”

“Right give someone else a go!” Lucy called, her accent slightly rasped and slurred. She scanned the room, looking straight across to where you and Millie stood. “Go on, you two. Show ‘em how to play normally.”

You felt yourself sober up a little from the attention of everyone’s stares. You felt your ears go a bit red, shaking your head by the time Millie had already picked up her cue.

“I'm no good at it.” You spoke.

Georgia watched you saunter over to the side of the table, using your arms to lean, stabilising your ditzy figure. She could tell by the blush across your face that you had sobered up significantly, but she knew that the alcohol still held a prominent hold over you.

“It’ll be an easy win for me then, gorgeous.” Millie taunted, readying herself for the first shot. You shook your head, caving by grabbing the spare cue Keira was holding, all while Georgia looked on with her hands fisted in her pockets.

She wasn't usually the type to get like this. Georgia and you held great independence in your respective lives. Both of you enjoyed letting the other do stuff without the prodding of the other. You trusted each other too much to breach any boundaries, but if there was one thing Georgia had trouble keeping to herself, it was her jealousy.

Millie took the first hit, causing the object balls to cascade across the green fabric. Leah was standing behind you, muttering something into your ear. You stood there with your figure half leaning against her, the other half fidgeting with the cue.

“Wait, so, I don't remember-”

“Well, don't be asking Leah for advice,” Keira’s teasing voice came from nearby. “She’ll just tell you how to lose.”

Leah looked utterly exasperated, glaring at her best friend with annoyance plastered across her face. “Oh, give it up, Walsh, will you?”

“Alright, Milton Keynes, it's okay to admit defeat, y’know.”

The England Captain marched over to a laughing Keira, punching the girl’s shoulder. Everyone watched in amusement when Keira retaliated, using her arms to poke Leah in the ribs.

You were left fiddling with the stick, laughing along at the sight in front of you while internally pondering. You had never properly played pool before — obviously with friends, of course, but never taking it as far as playing by the rules. You had no idea what strategy to use, or what ball you were meant to hit. It wasn't like anyone cared, but the perfectionist in you just couldn't wrap your head around it.

“Give it here.”

It wasn't until you felt familiar arms wrap themselves around your waist, pulling you instantly closer to her hips. You let yourself fall limp against her, chewing on your bottom lip as you stared at the game you were clueless at.

“I don't know how to play.” You spoke, handing the cue to your girlfriend, who took the stick from you, moving her head down to your shoulder, letting her breath fan over your neck as she spoke.

“How ‘bout I show you then, hm? I’ll teach you.”

You sighed at the goosebumps running down your neck, nodding as Gee kept you in front of her, maneuvering the two of you in a way that made it possible for her to play while keeping your arse against her hips. You watched as Millie made the next move. Georgia waited for a moment, letting everything station before proceeding. With one arm circled around your waist, she bent over to make the next move. You felt her body press into yours, stuck between the table and her.

After her shot, she slotted back upright. She leant down once more, combing back the loose hairs that framed your face.

“How are you feeling, Baby?”

Her voice was deeper, more grounded by the time of night.

You couldn't help but look up at her, licking your lips as you nodded. “Good, why?”

Georgia held your hips, moving them so that they were glued to the table. “Just wondering, pretty girl.”

Her body loomed over yours, her arms sanctioned on either side of you as Millie thought through her next move. You tried to conceal your neediness, the feeling of Georgia’s body pressed against yours sending heat down your spine. “Gee.”

“What is it, baby?”

You struggled to focus, hoping Millie would hurry up so that Georgia would move away from her unrelenting pressure.

You managed to swallow your whine as her hand moved to fondle your thigh. “Nothing.”

It was soon Georgia’s turn, the game becoming more fluent as both sides successfully slotted in balls left and right. Though, as the game went on, you could feel your girlfriend grow more and more handsy. After every shot, she’d kiss the alcove of your neck, whispering a sweet nothing about how you looked, or the way you felt against her, that was borderline testing the innocence she often preserved out in public.

“Looking so good tonight, darling…”

“Can't believe you're all mine, babygirl…”

“So perfect for me, all to myself…”

In between turns, Georgia let you lean on her, loving the way you sighed at every ounce of affection she would give you, making sure it was obvious enough for Millie to catch on, while discrete enough for you to not feel like it was truly public for anyone to actually notice.

You nearly lost it when she slotted her hand in between your thighs and squeezed them while you kept a watchful eye on the game in front of you. Her body covered your back, hiding her obvious display of desire by letting you push your arse against her front.

“Feel so good, don't you?”

“Georgia, please.”

“You're doing so well, baby. Might have to reward you for being so good.”

You should've known that she would keep a straight face the whole time, refusing to give you the reaction you so desperately hungered for by the ache between your legs. You had tried everything as she massaged your shoulders, and whispered passive teasing that sent shivers down your neck. Despite your honest belief that Georgia was unfazed by your antics, she made it clear that your actions were heard when she dug her hands into your hips.

She had beaten Millie by an easy mile, though she did not bother to make any celebration, instead looking down at you, grabbing the back of your neck and kissing you softly.

“Can we go, Gee?”

“Why, baby?” She asked, a knowing smirk plastered across her lips.

You whined for the first time that night, making sure Georgia heard it by lifting yourself up to her height. “Just want you right now.”

“Want me? But I'm right here.”

“Georgia, please. I need your help.”

That was enough for Georgia to bid everyone good night, sending farewells as quickly as she could while you tried to forget about the growing arousal in your core. By the time you had both gotten into the empty car park, your lips had started to attack hers. Georgia pretty much coerced you into the car, moving the driver's seat all the way back so that you could sit comfortably on her lap.

She shut the door promptly, knowing that her tinted windows were enough to hide the way her hands played with your arse, your clit immediately rubbing against her hips.

You started tugging off your shirt, leaving your breasts on full display. Georgia couldn't even register the sight before you grabbed one of her hands, pulling it towards your nipple, groaning at the way she pinched it.

“Where is your phone?” You uttered, moving your chest closer to Georgia so that your tits were pretty much in her face. She took one of your nipples in her mouth, moaning when you moved your breasts around her face, making them bounce erratically with the lack of bra you had worn. She grabbed her phone from her back pocket, handing it to you without a second thought. You didn't waste any time in pushing back, opening the device before swiping to the camera, hastily pressing play on the video, and moving the phone so that it showed your tits in Georgia’s mouth on full display.

“You’re such a good girl for me.” She groaned. “So thoughtful, aren't you? Gonna watch this when you're not with me. Need to see these tits every day, don't I? Gonna watch you every day.”

“Need you to fuck me, baby. Need your cum in me so bad.”

You grabbed the top button on her shirt, moaning out when Georgia grabbed both of your tits, sitting upright and playing with both of them with her mouth and hands. Her cold rings pressed into the delicate skin of you nipples, the distant pain of her pinches making you squirm irresistibly in her lap. Your skirt had ridden up to your hips, where your g-string went exposed to the camera’s lense.

You moved across to the console, using your spare hand that wasn't tugging Georgia’s hair to find a hair elastic, though you graw impatient when Gee stopped kissing your breasts for you neck. Instead, she found the all-too-familiar toy hidden neatly underneath the lube you definitely wouldn't need, and you moaned as your hand squeezed around the strap that you pulled out once Georgia pinched your nipple once more.

“Haven't used this one before.” Your girlfriend whispered, nibbling dark, callous marks across your neck. “Bit too big for your small little hole, darling. It can't fit, can't it?”

“Try it, please.” You muttered, unbuttoning the woman’s pants and letting them fall to the floor. You buckled the harness around her waist to the best of your ability, giving up when Georgia took over, letting you discard the short, flimsy fabric of your skirt. “Make it fit.”

“You're so desperate for my cum, aren't you darling?” She rutted, fastening the harness so the strap only just missed your folds. “Want me to fill you up with kids so bad, don't you? Want me to make you full and pregnant, yeah?”

You moaned. “Want to have your babies inside of me. Fill me up, please. So bad, baby. Need your help cause it aches.”

Georgia bunched your hair up into a makeshift pony, pushing you down so that your mouth hovered over the strap. Your arse in the air, your tits kneaded by your own hands. Georgia moaned at the sight of you so desperate, the notion of the camera recording making it all the more sporadic.

You wasted no time licking the dick, holding the base of the silicone toy with one hand, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked the tip and first quarter of the strap in your mouth. Gee pulled your hair, letting you move up and down on her dick. The vibrations of your gagging mixed with moans made her sigh at her newfound, growing release.

“Fuck, keep going, Y/N.” She groaned. “Just like that.”

You continued until tears pricked your eyes. You could tell by the way Georgia’s grip on your scalp tightened and your tongue flicked along the tip, your cheeks hollowing and allowing more of the strap to fill your throat. It didn't take long until Georgia’s breathing had staggered. Short, uneven breaths mixed with erratic sweet nothings. You pushed yourself down her dick one last time, feeling Gee’s body collapse from all tension as her orgasm washed over her. You pulled yourself up, wiping the spit and cum off your face with your fingers, prodding them towards your mouth. Georgia watched you lick them clean, rolling your head back at the taste alongside the subtle pang of your throat.

The car windows were not only tinted but misted due to the humidity inside the vehicle. Your hips shadowed the strap, Georgia falling back into the rhythm of toying with your hips, kneading them as she kissed your neck.

You could feel the ache between your legs grow at the sight of your girlfriend beneath you, maneuvering you to where she wanted you most, giving you incredible amounts of pleasure at your disposal. You were starting to moan at the simplest of movements like the way she gripped your hips, or the way she licked over the bruises down your neck and chest. The last piece of clothing you had on was your underwear, Georgia now discarding her shirt so that you were both in states of nudity. Sweat beaded from your forehead.

Your legs started shaking from the mere want for the woman below you. It didn't take you long for your desire to take over as you grabbed one of Gee’s hands, slipping it down your stomach and along the fabric of your underwear. You painstakingly pushed her hand underneath, letting her move her fingers up and down your folds. The slick covered them instantly, and she rolled her head back when you began to rock on her hand.

“Do you feel how wet I am, baby?” You asked, Georgia nodded. She watched you bounce up and down, grateful at the way Gee pushed one of her fingers into you, letting you ride it in short pulsates. You whimpered when she entered her second finger, crying out when she entered her third. Georgia took one of your breasts in her mouth, groaning as you bobbed up and down. You felt your pussy clench around her, your arousal coating her fingers each time you pushed deeper into your strategic strokes. Georgia continued to hold one of your hips, helping your shaking legs hold yourself up as you neared your climax.

“Fuck, you're such a slut, aren't you?” Georgia uttered, her fourth finger nudging your clit as you sunk in once more. You rocked yourself back and forth now, relishing the way your nub ran itself over her hand, the coil in your core tightening as your climax neared.

“Grinding on me at the pool table cause you're so needy for me… everyone could tell that you just wanted me inside you. You made sure to show everyone who you belonged to.”

You were a blabbering mess. Your stokes became sloppy, your legs non-stop shaking as your body tensed at the pleasure running through you. Georgia curled her fingers inside of you, assaulting your clit as you struggled to keep your pace. There was no way you could reply as all your thoughts were focused on the sounds of your juices being leaked out from your hole, Georgia’s fingers forcing them in and out as she spoke to you in rasps. Your noises became pornographic, and you no longer cared about the thought of someone hearing you.

“Need me to do everything for you. I didn't even need to fuck you dumb. All I need to do is bend you over.”

You could finally feel your orgasm washing over you when Georgia pulled her fingers out, laughing at your instant cry out.

“Aw, baby.” She muttered, wiping your sweaty flyaways out of your face, tears fell from your eyes, your cheeks reddening as you fell onto her lap, your legs no longer able to hold you up. You looked down at your girlfriend, finding no remorse on her smug face.

“Why didn't you cum, pretty girl?” She tutted, pulling your body up from her chest so it was exposed to her view. You shook your head, fully dumbfounded at her actions. It wasn't like you had done anything wrong.

“I— Gee— I’ve been good.”

You sounded pathetic. Normally, if you had been a brat, you’d have said that as a joke to put on an innocent facade and get the sex you had desperately craved. You would pretend to be nice and suck her dick or eat her out just because you had done something to provoke it. There were countless times when Gee had edged you for doing something provocative, but tonight you had no idea why she had done it.

“Really, baby? You think so?” You looked at her with the saddest eyes you could muster. “You sure you've been good all night?”

In terms of your sex life, you had your fair share of dominant and submissive moments, but with Georgia, you found yourself subbing out to new extremes. Your girlfriend would do anything for you, on and off the pitch. You could act dumb and she’d fuck it out of you. You would fall over on the pitch, cry out even if it was a fair play, and Georgia would be the one receiving the yellow for defending you. When you were at a bar, or anywhere for the matter, and felt someone look at you in even the slightest wrong way, Gee would hold you in front of her and make sure you were always safe in her arms.

But Georgia could be mean, even if you hadn't necessarily done anything to make her mean. She usually got like this when you had hugged someone for too long, or made a joke about yourself that she thought was too far.

That made it all click.

“Are you jealous?”

Georgia scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You can't flirt with Bright then bend over for me two minutes later.”

She grabbed your waist and lifted you, switching positions so that you were lying in the driver’s seat and she was hovering above you.

“I wasn't flirting. I was talking.” You moaned at the contact of the strap’s tip brushing against your folds, moving up and down as Georgia’s hands massaged your arse.

“She called you gorgeous, you know.” You felt her breath fan over your face, her lips ghosting down your neck. “Said I should enjoy my night with you.”

“She did?” It was probably not the right way to phrase that response, but it didn't seem to phase Georgia anyway. “We were just talking, Geor-”

“I bet she wouldn't fuck you as good.” Georgia spat, using one hand to circle your clit. You threw your head back, moaning at the small discomfort from your prior denied orgasm, writhing at the sudden pressure on your sensitive nub. “If I showed her all the videos of you screaming my name I doubt she’d try that shit again.”

“Georgia…”

“What videos would I show her, hm?” Georgia started dragging one of her fingers into your pussy, beginning with slow, painful strokes that squelched with the sound of your juices. “Maybe she’d like the mirror one. Y’know, when we won against Wolfsburg and I fucked you in the bathroom?”

“Fuck, please Gee.”

“You were so hot in that one… bent over like the slut you are… came three times for your three goals.” She added the second finger in now, speeding up just a smidge all while kissing over your chest. “Do you think she’d like if I sent that one?”

You moaned at the third finger, tears pricking your eyes as Georgia entered your pussy hard and fast, enjoying your pleas and begs through mindless mumbles. You were so far gone that everything she was saying was only making you closer. The sound of her voice was enough to help you closer to release.

“Or maybe I should send the one after your first game with Munich.” She snarled, admiring the darkened marks on your neck. “Do you remember who we played against that game?”

Of course you did, you thought. The game has been one you were stressing over for weeks in advance. You and Georgia had only just moved in together, and there was significant pressure on you to succeed and prove to everyone that you could perform under intimidation.

“Chelsea.”

“Good girl, baby, that's right.” She cooed. “Scored in the first fifteen minutes, and I had to reward my Stargirl for that. That's what they all used to call you, didn't they? She called you Stargirl back then, now it's me who says it, isn't it?”

That was enough to push you closer to the edge. You gripped hard onto her shoulders, crying out as you felt your climax rush over you.

“How bout I send both those videos… show her who I enjoy my night with. Fucking you for being mine.”

“I— I'm yours, Gee. Fuck, please, I'm-”

The release left you reeling. You felt your orgasm leak out all over Georgia’s hand, your head falling against the headrest as you rode out your high with her consistent deep strokes in and out of your pussy. You didn't care about the mess you were making, nor the inflammatory noises you had been making as soon as you felt Georgia touch you. Your body shook from the much-needed release, and by the time you had somewhat caught your breath, the familiar pressure on your nub resurfaced.

You cried out, whining when the silicone dick entered your folds. Georgia looked down at you, kissing you passionately to silence your post-orgasm conscious. She made sure that you didn't push her away before moving the tip of the strap into your hole, smirking when you stretched open for her like you had been calling for it to be filled.

“Gee, its too big, I can't.” You whined, squirming as your hair stuck to your skin. Your girlfriend held your hips down, lowering herself down to where your pussy clenched around the toy as it moved.

“You’ll take it.” She growled. “You said it before. If you can suck me off I can fuck you with it.”

She kept an even pace as her hips finally reached yours, the strap filling your pussy with your slick. Your eyes were firmly clasped shut, your whines filling the car as the aching pain slowly turned into lust. Georgia waited for you to start rocking on it gently. The way you rode her dick so desperately turned her on to extreme lengths. She was somewhat surprised that you could take the length as well as you were, and when your hips met hers, and she felt the toy being bounced on, she realised that she had been still for a few minutes. She wanted to feel bad, but she knew that teasing was good for your ego.

“Gee, can you move?”

Georgia caught sight of the camera, the video still recording the vulgar sight. She groaned at the sight of your shaking legs, and the way you could go longer see the strap that was filled in between your legs. The camera showed the way your tits bounced so perkily every time you tried to gain friction. Your body was enclosed by Georgia’s arms, her thighs overlapping yours, her muscles on full display. Sweat beaded off both of you, moans cascading from your puffy red lips.

With one hand holding her up, she grabbed her phone that was sitting by the console. Her sudden movement sent shockwaves through you, causing you to scream out when the strap pushed into you impossibly closer. Georgia positioned the phone so that it was leaning on the seat, right where the strap was. When she knew that the angle caught all of your body, she lifted her lips slowly before pounding into you.

Your cries were music to her ears, and she thought it sinful to cover them with her hand in fear of being heard. If anything, people would be blessed with the sound, for she thought if heavenly. Your sounds mixed with her groans mixed with your slick against the strap. If any other size, Georgia would move even faster, but her pace was already hard, and you struggled to keep up as your pussy clenched around her.

“So gorgeous.” She uttered, feeling you near your climax for the third time that night. “Such a good girl for taking it.”

“Fuck, Georgia-”

“Gonna fill you up so that you get pregnant, baby. You tell me when and I’ll fill that beautiful body with a baby of our own. Fuck, you’d look so hot with our baby.”

You couldn't even begin to speak, your moans now babble, your speech completely incoherent. Georgia could feel her own release overcoming her, but she waited knowing that you were only seconds away.

“My pretty girl.”

You cried out her name for the last time, your cum coating her cock as she rode out both your high with sloppy deep strokes. You were in a state of pure bliss that you didn't even have the energy to push her off your overstimulated clit. Though, from all the times before, Georgia knew you would be sore, and after keeping still and waiting for both of you to even your breathing, she began to pull out.

You winced, waiting for Georgia to discard the toy and hakt the video before pulling her body into yours.

“I love you, Gee. No one else, baby.”

“I know, my pretty girl. I was only joking.”

You couldn't help but laugh, finding that statement ludicrous. “Yeah, alright, Stanway.”

“Okay, touche.” She replied smugly.

Maybe Millie was right — Georgia couldn't wait till she got home. And she did enjoy her fucking night.

_______________________

[probablyintensemuses]

Tiny Little Good Things-

A. Aretas

PAIRING: ARMANDO X READER

synopsis: You and Armando get sent on a mission to stop a vicious drugs and arms dealer. Chaos ensues and you two find out why the lines between love and hate are constantly blurring for you both.

theme(s): eventual smut (+18), gore and blood, cursing, graphic imagery, angst, enemies to lovers, Armando is a dick and really hot when he speaks Spanish.

warnings: there is smut in this fic as well as many bloody scenes, if you can’t handle either, I wouldn’t read on!

authors note: hi, yes I know this fic is long as shit, but I felt it was necessary for what unfolds. There is more than 12k words here, so sorry to all my short attention span people. ❤️love you, k bye!

word count: 12.5k

“Ramos Malik, age thirty-seven and Miami’s biggest up and coming arms and drug dealer.’ Kelly says, fingers gracing her iPad as she swivels through pictures, displaying them on the plasma screen ahead.

“He’s a big fucking problem. 3D printing' slugs that are hitting the streets faster than crack in the seventies.’ Mike Lowery, head of AMMO, interjects. “Shells the size of a thumbs, sharper than lions teeth, are being pulled out of rival gang members, bystanders, and law enforcement all around the city.”

You turn in your chair, pushing away from your computer screen. “So, how do we stop him?”

Dorn rounds the steel table, a slab of guns, gear, and tech, gently taking the iPad from Kelly’s hand, and you don’t miss the way she blushes. It’s cute, those two. Kelly and you had grown close ever since you joined AMMO as their new technical analyst months ago. Dorn gave up the position, wanting to be present in the field—mostly to have Kelly’s six—he and his therapist had been making great progress and he felt it was time to be more than the brawny guy in the chair.

So that lead to you taking over and eventually many girls nights full of red wine, cheese, and pillow talking. A slip of a wine-jaded tongue later and you were the first on the team to know of their love affair. Sometimes you desired to have that of your own, but life and fate, as Marcus would say, hadn’t given that to you yet.

“Good question, followed by an even better answer.’ Dorn sails and the screen changes and a new scene plays. “This is Moxy, a new club on the strip. It’s where Ramos Malik and his crew hang out. Rumor has it he’ll be there tonight, and we're going to bind him with a sting.”

Intrigued you stand. “You need me to make inconspicuous body cams, don’t you?’ You gasp and breath deeply, a smile spreading on your face. “God I love it when you guys want me to make inconspicuous body cams.”

Dorn coughs and Kelly looks off to the side, biting at her nails. Mike walks over slowly, slapping a hand onto both your shoulders.

“Now, we know how much our sweet little, non-violent, girl here loves to just stay in her lane and chill here while we get into all the bloody action.’ Mike massages your shoulders, displaying you off to the group like a fresh piece of wagyu. You scan the crew's faces—mischief, panic, fear—but the one that snipes you the most is the one of Armando Aretas. He sits perched on a table on the far side of the room, combat boot clad feet planted on a chair as his brown eyes pierce into you, sending tiny, invisible sparks flocking on your skin. You suck in a sharp breath and look away. He always stared, so why did it bother you now?

When your ears finally stop buzzing, you dial back into Mike's speech. “But this time, it’ll be different. You’ll be out in the field.”

As if you were just tased, you jut away from his grip. “What?”

“Ramos can sniff cops a mile away. It’s what makes him so good at what he does.’ Marcus cuts in. “He knows our faces, too. The only face he doesn’t know, is yours.”

You take another step back, heart racing, completely stupefied. “So you want me to go and trick that bastard…by myself?!”

“No! Never!” Mike says. “Armando will be with you.”

A clatter echos through the room, all eyes snapping to where Armando was sitting, the little black stool wobbling on the floor. “The fuck I will!” He growls.

Your eyes narrow and you jut your chin up. What the hell was he so mad for?

“Okay, son, calm down. It’s a simple sting operation. If you’re careful, it’s an in-and- out kind of thing.”

Armando circles close, and out of habit you cower behind the wall of Mike and Dorn. You may have a high IQ but you’re no match physically for anyone on this team, especially not Armando. You’ve seen what he can do countless times. He was the silent beast, he always just stared and hardly spoke. No matter how much you tried to warm up to him, make him feel accepted, you two just never clicked.

You thought it might just be his past, how he was manipulated by his father and lied to by his mother, that made him so closed off, but with the way fury rumbles off of him so strong right now, pushing you deeper into Dorn and Mike, it makes you think there’s more unspoken. And if so, what?

Caged between Mike and Dorn Armando finds your eyes again, scolding your cheeks hot with his glare. It was as if he needed you to not only hear his words but feel them too. “I’m not going on any mission with the princesa. All she does is type and sit in that fucking chair all day. It’ll be suicide.”

Mike takes his son's shoulder, massaging them similar to how he’d done your own. “She’s the only choice right now, okay? She’s just the arm candy to fill out the picture we’re setting for Malik, alright?”

For some reason his words— “just the arm candy?”and “the only choice right now,” —sting. You may not be skilled in the field or in combat, but you were vital to this team and you spent months trying to prove your strengths otherwise. When you first joined the team, everyone insisted on making you their baby bird, some wounded thing they needed to protect in a gilded cage. You were the new young and stary-eyed cop, and they are all jaded-old bags who need someone to shelter. It happened authentically and you still couldn’t shake the box they put you in. You aren’t helpless, you are capable and strong and maybe this is what you need, an opportunity outside to finally prove yourself.

“If he doesn’t want to do it, I’m sure there is someone else in the field we can find.’ A surge of confidence flushes through you as you push past the Mike-Dorn barricade, chin help up high with defiance as you brush past Armando. “Whatever the case, I’ll do it. I can do it. I’m capable Mike, so let’s see my cover.”

A smirk peels on Kelly’s face as she passes you your file. “Okay, Ms. Bad-ass. I’m loving this energy.”

Armando scoffs, planting himself next to you, his broad shoulders brush up against your frail ones. The slight gesture sends a hear through you. Quickly you scoot away, no need to sweat through a perfectly good cardigan over mean-ass Armando Aretas.

You flip through your file. You’ll be playing Jenna Combs. A twenty-six year old dancer and model who is the new girlfriend of—

“You hijos de puta’s got me playing myself?” Armando argues. “What kind of shit disguise is that?”

Dorn shrugs. “It’s not. That’s the point. The Aretas name is still feared and no one knows you’re in with the cops. It’s a pretty believable story, you need new armory and he can supply it.”

“Last anyone in this circles heard, you was killing cops and slinging a new dope empire. Just get em’ to confess to making this bullets and where he does it, so we can get em’ off the streets for good.” Marcus chimes in with a smile.

Armando’s grumbles a few curses under his breath before his attention turns and latches onto you. Suddenly you feel hot again, like a solar flares are swallowing you whole. Armando’s eyes rack over your form, slow and tentative.

His gaze latches onto your lips before he says, “And she’s supposed to be my date? Suicide mission.”

“For who? You or me? Because the way I see it, with your attitude you’ll be made in minutes.”

The gap between you and Armando closes in an instant. Your faces mere inches from each other. His cool breath trickles down the crest of your neck and frosts the tips of your ears when he whispers, “Careful when you speak to me, Princesa. You’ll be alone out there with me, and anything could happen to you.”

Was he…threatening you?

Your balls must have really dropped in the matter of minutes, because instead of keeping quiet and apologizing, like you normally would if you managed to anger Armando, you bite back.

“Stop calling me that.” You grit your teeth.

“¿Por qué, eh?’ Armando whispers, pulling back from you and taking a seat on a nearby stool. His eyes are drunk with a flavor you can’t distinguish. “Only princesas get to sit up in their castle all day, shielded, while everyone else goes out and does all the heavy lifting.”

“I never asked to be shielded!’ You stamp your foot, moving in on him with a swiftness. Armando invites your challenge with grace, folding his muscular arms slowly over his wide chest, watching you stalk nearer.

You don’t know how, but you find yourself in between him, his legs two thick gates around you. Where it should bother you, in the moment it doesn’t because It’s your turn to invade his space. In this moment, the great Armando Aretas doesn’t scare you.

You poke at his chest with each syllable. “Rather you like it or not, Aretas, this princesa is going on this sting with or without you, and I don’t give a shit what you think, not anymore. Cool?”

A small smirk pulls on his face as he peels your finger off his chest, the digit so small in his his hand, his movements making you keenly aware of your closeness.

“Cool.” He stands, boxing you in with his large build before brushing past you and walking out of the compound.

You watch as the last bits of daylight leave with him as the door slams closed. This confidence was like adrenal coursing through you and suddenly you felt tired and zapped, being strong is exhausting. You take a seat, pulling at a loose curl atop your head, thoughts burrowing into your mind like a splinter.

To this day, you couldn’t understand the hatred he had for you. In the begging, when Mike had negotiated a deal with the D.A’s office and the department to allow Armando to work for AMMO, not wanting his raw talents to go to waste, no one trusted him. But still, you gave him a chance, because you knew how it felt to be the underdog and you didn’t want the same for him. Still, in his own fashion, he warmed up to the others…but never to you. But maybe he was right, everyone else here has put so much of themselves of the line, risked it all for the greater good, and what have you done? Nothing. You haven’t saved anyone or changed a life. You’ve sat and watched from the comforts of the compound. Their eyes and ears, that’s all.

You push to standing and gather your file. You may not be the strongest, or fastest on the team, but you had strengths and you’d make use of them tonight for once, no matter what.

Suddenly snickers and chuckle fill the room, bouncing off the walls of your mind and bringing you back to the room glazed with the smell of oil and pinesol.

Marcus breaks through the laughter. “Next time you two want to engage in some foreplay, ask for the room first.”

Your skin nearly peels off at his words. You could burn alive right now.

You and Armando?

“Never would that ever happen.” You shiver at the thought of being with any man, let alone him.

Armando is a mean man. A mean man you suddenly have to trust you life with.

But if that’s the case. Why does your heart not fall to your feet at the thought?

###

“You’ve memorized your role, right?” Kelly asks, tightening the final fixings of your dress.

“Yes,’ you nod. “I’m Armando’s new girlfriend, Jenna. I don’t speak, I just sit quietly and listen. I shadow him, basically. Anything he does, I do.”

“Good girl.’ Kelly winks. “One last thing.’ She digs into her pockets before brandishing a small knife. “Here, just in case things go south.”

Your eyes widen and you nearly flinch. “I thought you and Mike said this was an easy in-and-out kind of deal.”

Kelly sighs. “Nothing like this is ever easy. All things have the potential to go south.’ She grabs your face in her hands. “I just want my girl safe, that’s all.”

Reluctantly, you accept the knife, shoving it into your purse. “What about Armando? Isn’t he supposed to protect me—I mean Jenna?”

“And he will,” Kelly assures. “But you can never be too sure.”

You nod. “Right, whose to say he won’t abandon me if shit oops off,” your snicker is laced with fear.

Kelly walks you out of the compound and toward the front where you’ll be meeting the rest of the team. “He won’t. Trust me.”

“He did allude to it early, Kels.”

Kelly rolls her eyes, stopping you and giving your curls one last fluff. “Aretas is all talk when it comes to you, don’t take him for a grain of salt.”

You frown. “What’s that supposed to be mean.”

Kelly smirks. “See for yourself.”

She steps out of the way and in the shinning exterior of Mikes Ferrari, you see yourself.

Do you look like a slut, yes, but nonetheless gorgeous.

Your curls are loose and defined, a cascade of shea butter and hibiscus around you. Your makeup is layered, yet light, elevating your high cheekbones, wide lips, and honey-brown eyes. And your plum colored dress pops against your warm-brown skin, somehow making even your thin body look full and figured.

You look fucking hot.

And for the first time in forever, you feel fucking hot.

Apparently you’re not the only one who thinks so as a whistle breaks loose in the yard.

“Goddamn girl!’ Mike claps. “If I wasn’t some old dog, I’d ask you on a date myself.”

“I’ll keep my comments to myself,’ Marcus smiles. “You know Theresa be listening.” He looks over his shoulders, head on a swivel.

“Dorn don’t say a word.” Kelly scolds her boyfriend, Dorn holds his hands up in defense.

“Staying silent.” He whimpers.

Your cheeks flush. “Stop, you guys.” You giggle. “This was all Kelly, besides you know I look better in a cardigan and jeans.”

“I agree.” A voice emerges from the darkness. A wide berth breaks before you as Armando strolls over.

Your throat goes dry and suddenly your head is dizzy with a feeling hard to explain, as you take him in.

He’s fresh with a new hair cut, faded low on the sides and thick, raven black up top. His beard is full and more manicured, enunciating the sharp cuts of his jaw.

He’s graced in a suit, black-on-black. The undershirt unbuttoned exposing much of his chiseled chest and the gold, cross necklace that dangles there. His suit jacket fits perfectly over the swells of his biceps and his pants expose every aching muscle in his thigh.

Like gravity, it’s hard to pull your eyes away from him. But somehow you become the void of space and manage to.

You can’t say the same for him though, because despite his insults that same burning, tingling sensation finds its way tip-toeing down your back and to the swell of your ass. One quick spin and you catch Armando’s eyes lifting from your backside to face you.

“I thought I looked better in a cardigan?” You say, breathing heavy.

Was he just? No…

Armando swings open the passenger door for you. “Get in.” He grumbles.

Not wanting to test his patience, you oblige, taking a step into the Farrier.

Armando closes the door behind you before climbing into the passenger side.

At the window, Mike approaches.

“Get in ask Ramos about the bullets, say you heard about them from word of mouth and you’re interested in them. You’ll pay top dollar. Once he confirms he can give them to you, we’ll move in. Got it?” Mike explains to Armando before turning his attention to you. “And for you, just be silent, pretty, and say nothing, okay?”

“Won’t be hard for her.” Armando grumbles as he starts the car.

You roll your eyes, ignoring his comment. “You guys will tail us, right.”

Dorn nods. “You should be fine though, you’ve got Armando.”

Armando reeves the engine, slowly idling off and away from your friends. And for some reason, when you whip off, you can’t help but wonder if he was right. This was a suicide mission, just not for him.

Fuck.

###

The drive is silent and smooth. You really could see why Mike insisted on such expensive cars, they rode well.

Your heel-clad feet tap against the bottom of the car, humming a tune in your head, making you realize just how much this ride needed some music.

Slowly, you turn to face Armando. His eyes are focused on the long road ahead, his jaw is clenched and he doesn’t seems to be paying you the slightest bit of attention.

As smooth as you can be you carefully lift your hand up and turn on the radio. Soon enough Ariana Grandes, The Boy is Mine, blasts from the radio.

You squeal and find a small groove with your fingers against your purse, humming the lyrics and bopping your head to the beat. The song is just reaching its second run through the chorus when the radio goes dead.

You turn, seeing Armando’s hand leaking from the controls. Annoyed, you give him a look before turning the radio back on, louder this time.

Armando’s jaw clenches tighter, like he might actually collapse through it with his bite force. He slams the radio off…again.

This time you don’t bite your tongue.

“Would you stop doing that!” You shout.

“No.”

“Why not? I was listening to that.”

“I don’t care. I need to focus.” Armando grumbles.

“Focus on what?”

“I don’t know, Princesa, making sure we both come out of this alive, because I damn sure can’t count on you to do that.”

His words bite, but if he wants to play a snake you have venom for him. “Why don’t you like me, huh? What have I ever done to you?” You hide.

Armando stays silent, his knuckles whitening as his grip strengthens on the steering wheel.

You snap at him. “I’m not talking to myself, Armando. Why do you hate me, huh?!”

“Cállte!” He shouts

You don't know much Spanish, but you’ve heard him say it enough to know it’s time to walk away from the conversation.

So you do, resting your head against the window seal, counting the number of streetlights you see flash and shimmer as you zoom by.

When you were younger your mother couldn’t afford fancy candles so she used a flashlight instead. You imagine the streetlights as just that, wishing that one day you’d know what you did to anger Armando so much.

Not soon enough, the car comes to a halt. The only sounds filling the cabin are those of Armando undoing his seatbelt.

Annoyed, you don’t even look at him as he speaks. All he’s done is tear you down in the past few hours, you’re done giving him the energy you need to conserve.

“When we go inside, don’t say a word. I don’t care how many questions he throws your way, you don’t say shit. Am I clear?”

Slowly, you turn towards him. Your mouth is scrunched and your eyes filled with no sympathy for the devil in front of you.

“Crystal.” You whisper, venom leaking off your tongue as you speak.

Armando’s chest rises and falls as he takes in your anger. He squeezes Mikes keys between his hands, and you you really do your best to ignore the heat that unfurls inside of you when he bites his plump lip between his teeth and runs a hand over his dark, full beard.

You adjust in your seat, because despite his constant cold front, It looks as if he has something to say. You wait in contemplating silence, the only sounds in the cabin being your breathing and Armando’s hesitant taps on the keys.

Part of you just wants to go in a get this over with and never speak to him again, but another part is desperate for him to say something meaningful to you. Something like the things you say to him before a mission.

“Don’t die.”

“Come back in one piece.”

“Be careful.”

“We should all have pizza when you come back.”

You knew how scary things could get on missions and you just wanted your team to know you were there, to take away even a slither of the darkness clouding them in that moment. And for your first time, you thought Armando might do the same—say something meaningful—but he doesn’t.

In a flash he’s out of the car, handing the keys over to valet, threatening them about what will happen if any scratches and dents are found.

You take in a deep breath and look down at the camera, disguised as a gold necklace resting above the cut of your breast.

“You guys getting all this?” You whisper, stepping out of the car.

“Do you mean Moxy, or your fight with Hotmando?” Dorn says over the earpiece.

You come to a halt. “Shit, I’m sorry guys. I’ll keep it professional, okay. From here on out, I won’t let him get to me…that’s not what’s important.”

“Good, get in and come back to us. I need my girl and our wine down Sundays.” Kelly says.

You smile, making your way over to wear Armando stands at the mouth of the nightclub, hoping he heard your words.

The sour look on his face as you walk through the door he holds open for you—sure to flip my hair as you do, giving him a nice taste of your leave in conditioner—tells you he certainly did, and perhaps he didn’t like what you had to say, but nonetheless…

He wont bother you anymore. Not tonight, at least.

Inside Moxy tore hit with a wave of a scent that nearly makes you gag—weed, sweat, and criminal activity. The club its self is large in scale, high ceilings with rope dancers stringing off the tops and flashing red and blue lights melting to make a purple haze over the club. Smoke and bubble guns are in constant effect and you’re pretty sure you can feel the bass of Wiz Khalifa’s Black and Yellow in your thoracic cavity.

From what you can see there are three floors, the first and second appear to be where the actual clubbing takes place. You watch the sweaty bodies corralled into dance floors, babbling nonsense either too drunk or too high for their own good.

But above, on the third, it is caged in and covered by glass. Yellow lights, different from the multi-colored ones below, remain at a halt and big , burly men with guns at their hips wander the halls. No doubt looking to take out any threat that comes for their boss—Ramos Malik.

“The glass. It’s bullet proof.” Armando says, eyeing the scene above, just as you do.

You would praise him for the impressive catch. But you’re Jenna now, and Jenna doesn’t speak.

“Any sign of Malik?” Mike asks.

“Not yet,’ Armando places a hand on the small of your back, making you flinch. “But we’re about to find out.”

Never moving his hands from your waist, Armando guides the two of you through the sweaty pillage of bodies and towards the elevators.

The ride up is quick, quiet. That’s not shocking. But what is shocking, as soon as the elevator comes to a screeching halt, Armando grabs your hand in his, completely engulfing your own with his size.

The burning sensation wraps up your wrist and shoots straight to your cheeks where you flush.

“What are you doing?” You gasps, trying to pull away. You did not sign up for this kind of role play.

Armando turns to look at you. “If you’re my girlfriend, we’ve got to play the part. Other than that you just look like someone who I brought out on a hit with me.” He squeezes your hand.

You suck in a deep breath at the motion, looking away.

“What’s wrong, princesa? This too much for you?” For a second, you thought he meant the fact that he was holding your hand, and in that case he wouldn’t be wrong, but soon enough the doors open and you shortly realize what he means.

The two burly men from early, dapper in black and white suits, wait outside the elevator, fingers in the triggers of their guns.

“Aretas.’ They nod, tuning your attention to you. “Whose this?”

“My girl, Jenna.” Armando says, gruffly.

One of the men nods, motioning you forward. You swallow, backing up a bit, hesitant on what to do.

Armando nudges you forward. “Esta bien bebe.”

You nod and walk towards them. They grab you up, calloused hands running up and down your body, and your pretty sure they linger to long on your untouchables on purpose.

Sweat begins to pile in your hands as a thought burst into your mind. What would happen if they found the knife Kelly gave you? She’d shoved it in a pretty good spot, but still, these guys were being thorough…and not in a good way.

You make eye contact with Armando as one of the guards continues to fill you up with what feels like excessive force.

In a blur, Armando pushes off the wall with his foot, slapping a hand on the guards shoulder.

“She’s clear, eh?”

The guard nods.

Armando grips his collar and pulls him in close. “The why the fuck are you still touching her, hm?”

The guard swallows, fear evident in his eyes.

“Just covering the bases, that’s all, sir.” He whimpers.

“Cover the bases again like that with my girl, and I’ll cut your fucking hand off and feed it to your other fat fuck of a friend.” Armando notions to the guard behind.

The guard nods and swallows, caressing his hand.

“The boss is this way,” he guides us with a motion.

Armando grips your hand once more, leading your down the long hallway.

“You okay?” He asks, holding his gaze forward.

You look up at him, even in heels he still manages to be taller than you. “Don’t pretend to care.” You scoff.

That makes him halt, conjoined with him you have no choice but to face each other. His mouth opens and closes like a fish, yet no words come out.

You roll your eyes, looking past his shoulders. Inside the bright room, you can see a shadow of Ramos. “Let’s just get this over with.” You say.

Armando’s gaze lingers on your longer than you’d like, giving you the shivers despite the fire leaking off him.

Soon enough, he pushes open the door and you follow behind him.

The room is small, club girls linger around either serving drinks or being felt up on. Ramos’s men, stand at each corner of the room searching for the next threat to their boss. Luckily they haven’t figured it is you yet.

“Armando Aretas,” Ramos claps his hands, jumping off of the white couch he’s sat on.

He stalks over, cigar between his lips, and you take him in. He is nowhere near as stalky as Armando, and his curly blonde hair is put up into a bun, exposing the undercut beneath. You can’t catch the colors of his eyes because they are covered by dark, Fendi shades.

His business definitely makes money, and lots of it. His three piece black and burgundy suit screams it all.

“To what do I owe such great pleasures?” He bows, lifting your hand up and placing a kiss on the back. “That goes for you too, sugar.”

Armando squeezes your hand a bit tighter at the pet name. You want to bite back and tell him to go easy, but you’re on stage now, and for your own safety and his, it’s best if you don’t break the act.

“I’m in the business of buying something from you. Streets are hot down in Mexico right now, and I need to establish some new territories…with a little force.” Armando says smoothly, sometimes you forget he was a hardened criminal not too long ago.

Ramos clicks his tongue between his teeth. “Ah. Come sit.” He motions you two over to one of his coaches.

“Good job. Keep em’ talking.” Mike says over the coms.

Armando takes a seat across from Ramos and you do the same.

A chuckle leaves Ramos’s lips. “I don’t think your pet likes you very much,” he motions to the space between you two.

Armando smacks his lips. “Nonsense. Ven aquí, bebé.”

You swallow and scoot towards him. When you’re close enough, in one swift moment, Armando’s slips you in his lap, running a rough hand up and down the exposed parts of your thigh, sending shivers down your spine and goosebumps all over your body.

What the hell was happening.

Ramos chuckles, pouring himself and Armando a drink. He pushes it across the glass table, just out of reach.

Armando gives your ass a light slap, you turn and flare your nose, giving him your best “don't push it,” it glare.

He ignores it.

“Tráeme eso, mamá.” He says, motioning towards the glass.

You pick up the tumbler, suddenly realizing what he’s playing at. Ramos is watching because he isn't convinced. So you suck up your pride and do some convincing.

You grip Armando by his chin, rubbing the pad of your thumb in circles over his gruff beard before putting the glass against his lips, assisting him as he drinks.

Never once do his eyes leave you as he swallows the amber liquid, and the shivers that were once in your spine travel lower, much lower. You have to blink away the awful, dirty thoughts of you being in place of the glass out of your mind as you swipe away the spillage off his beard and plump, pink lips.

When you turn, Ramos’ shoulders drop and his smile is so wide it’s nearly reckless.

“So you’re in the business of buying my most popular product from me?”

“That’s right.” Armando says, a hand still caressing you slow and smooth.

“I am curious, though,’ Ramos takes a swig of his drink. “How did you hear about it?”

Armando shifts, the movement forcing you closer to his center. Your eyes go wide as saucers, your new position doing nothing for the growing pain massing within your heat.

“I’m an Aretas. Nothing in the streets goes past my ears…nothing.” Armando's confidence radiates off of him.

“Very well,” Ramos chuckles. “Let’s establish two parameters of this deal, then. One, you pay me before I give you any product. Two, you get caught with my product, you don’t tell a soul who you the fuck got it from. Sounds good?” He smiles.

Armando nods. “Just one thing,’ his hands enclose over your hips, sliding you off to the side, as he leans forward. “How do you make them? The bullets.”

Ramos frowns. “Why? You trying to steal my swag or something, Aretas?”

Armando chuckles. “Nah, just curious.”

“Feed his ego, he’s going to talk.” Kelly says.

“I mean, they're sharp, large, fast, quiet. It’s impressive. I just want to know how you do it before I invest any of my money into it.” Armando leans back, arms spread in a wide arch on the back of the couch.

“In our world now, with a little money, the right connections, and a fuck ton of fortitude, anything you can think of is a possibility.’ Ramos says, lighting another cigar. “It’s rare and hard to get everything right. But if you really want to know how I do it,’ he leans in, voice dropping to a whisper.

Armando does the same, you make the conscious effort not to. Instead you play with your necklace, making sure the camera catches his face and his face only when he confesses.

“It’s a three—,”

A sudden buzz swallows the conversation whole, swirling it down the dirty sink it had come up from. The buzz echoes once more before you realize where it comes from…your purse

Fuck.

Ramos straightens, likes a dog on guard, eyeing you fiercely. Your chest rises and falls with a weight heavier than gravity as your ringtone continues to blare out for everyone to hear.

Ramos licks his lips, like he’s hungry for what comes next. “Well don’t be shy, Ms. Jenna, answer the phone.”

You swallow and tuck a curl behind your ear. “I don’t think that’s appropriate right now. Let’s just finish up the deal—“

In a blur of fury, Ramos stands brandishing a gun, pointing it right at your chest.

“Make you perra answer the fucking phone, or I put holes in you both.”

“Answer the phone,” Mike calls to you. “Do what he asks.”

Armando gives you a cautious look as you slip your phone out of your purse. Your fingers are shaking, so answering takes a few tries but when you finally do get it, you see that it’s your sister calling.

“Make sure it’s on speaker too.” Ramos demands, clocking his gun.

You inhale deeply, press the speaker button, then answer, “Hey, sister, this isn’t really a good time.”

“Hey, I know you’re probably working late and all, but this is kind of important. My routers are not really working and I have a date with that guy, David, I told you about and I really need my tv to work.” She explains.

You bite your lip and lick the sweat that forms around them. “Have you tried turning your tv on and off again? You know I’m not really a whiz at that tech stuff.”

A pause, then your sister erupts in laughter. “Girl, are you high?’ She laughs. “You’ve been messing with wires and the internet since we were kids. That’s the whole reason twelve wanted you anyways”

Your hear sinks the moment she says those words, you hang up because the last thing you want is for your sister to hear you die.

“Well fuck me, Jenna, I’ll be damned.” Ramos growls, pushing his gun into your skull.

You pierce your eyes shut, brace for the burning impact of the bullet and pray for a quick death.

But it never happens, instead in a swift motion Armando pushes you off to the side causing you to collapse onto the ground. He makes a quick sweep of his leg, sending Ramos crashing onto his ass and the bullet that was meant for you soaring up and hitting the rafters, lodging into some wood.

Your breath is heavy as you watch all out war unfold before you. Armando takes on five men at once. The first man takes two tumblers over the head and one shard of glass to the neck, scarlett liquid oozing from the wound before he drops like dead weight beside you.

You let out a scream, backing away from the scene that moves like a riptide before you.

“Get out of there, now!” Kelly screams in your ear.

“I—I can’t just leave him!” You shout back.

“You have no training! We’re coming in, go, now!” Mike yells.

You gather yourself, undoing your heels, still watching Armando skillfully take out guys and keep clear of the gunshots that ring in the tiny room. You watch as he dropkicks one man, then shoots him in the face before stalking over to another man, dishing out a few punches, before finally gutting him with a knife.

He’s still on the move when you finally slip out of your heels. More of Ramos’s men are filing in and the fight expands,moving from the small room you were just in into the hallway where any innocent person could be hurt.

Unlike most times you weren’t in your gilded chair. You were in the field and you would help as many people as you could. So, you don’t think, you let the adrenaline cloud you as you bound down the hallway in hopes to get back downstairs and direct clubbers from the chaos.

Setting the golden elevator in your sites, you push faster. People below were already screaming, running wild. Who knows what could happen? How many people could be trampled and hurt. This only fuels you, quickening your stride. You nearly make it but a gunshot slows you, and the body of a bleeding girl drops before you, putting you into a full halt.

“Oh my god,” your voice is breathy and shaky.

“Why are you still in there!” Dorns’ voice becomes a far void as you rip at the bottom of your dress and use the fabric to compress her wound.

Two gunshots to the chests. The girl, who can’t be any older than yourself, gurgles blood which sprays onto her porcelain skin and leaks into her brown hair, sticking strands to the marble floor.

The girl coughs, sending blood splattering onto the side of your face, and claws at your arms, streaks of crimson standing out against your brown skin.

She murmurs, but it’s hard to hear.

You press deeper into her wounds. “Shh, it’ll be alright,’ You tell her “guys, I need a medic on the third floor when you get here. She’s…she’s in really bad shape.” You whimper.

The girl whines again, her eyes open and closing in two second intervals.

she raises her arm pointing a shaking finger in the direction behind you.

You wipe your eyes, blood no doubt trailing on your face now.

“What?” You croak. “What is it?” You turn around and see Ramos Malik limping over to you, a large knife in his hand.

You stand, putting distance between him, yourself and the girl.

“You’re a real bitch, you know that?’ An injured Ramos says, limping toward you with his knife pointed. “Trying to get me caught up in some trap, but you weren’t even smart enough to shut off your phone!” He screams, lunging at you with the knife.

You tumble backwards, your back and head hitting the marble floor with the weight of you both. You cry out as pain sears through you, especially your hand.

It takes you a moment of readjusting to the bright lights and sounds to realize why. You caught the fucking knife in your hand.

You scream, as Ramos pulls it from your palm in a slice. Your hand open and bleeding, you cry out and roll away from another vicious attack by Ramos.

He growls and lunges at you again, grabbing a tuft full of your curls. You beat at his legs with your good hand, squirming in his grip. He pulls at your hair, making you scream, lowering his knife to your neck, pressing inward.

You let out an animalistic scream, pressing your thumb into the oozing wound on his leg. He screeches, falling to his knees.

Wasting no time, you crawl away.

You think you’ve gotten far enough.

You rise up on your knees and push the elevator button, but the cold hand on your ankle snatches you back.

You claw at the marble floors, leaving a trail of blood, as Ramos drags you like a rag doll. He stops, flipping you over and planting his weight on top of you.

You flail, kicking the ground and scratching at his face, desperate for him to let go. But he doesn’t. Instead, he cages you with his legs and wraps both hands around your neck, applying so much pressure that your vision blurs.

Under his grip, your breaths become distant and faint. Your muscles relax, and your eyes bulge. Turning your head to the side, you can barely make out the flashing blue and red lights from outside.

The team is here. But you're not sure they'll find you in time because Ramos is relentless, and the air in your lungs is vanishing. Your skull feels like it’s being crushed, the pressure intense.

You feel yourself slipping away, losing focus on your surroundings. Ramos moves your head to face him, and he’s a mass of incoherent clouds above you, the only clear thing are his dark, empty eyes.

“Look at me, baby. I like my victims to look at me before they die,” he growls, spit slipping from his mouth. “I hope Aretas finds you like—”

Ramos drops, and oxygen rushes back into your lungs like a clap of thunder.

You shudder on the ground, scraping at your neck and slapping your chest.

Warm hands engulf your cheeks, and it takes a minute for the blur to leave your vision. When it does, you see Armando before you, a smoking gun at his side.

“¿Estás bien, mamá?”

His voice barely registers before oxygen slips from your lungs again, and you slump over, hitting the ground.

Armando scoops you up, and even though it should be a relief, you can’t help but be saddened by the way your team jumps over the girl you couldn’t save.

Darkness swallows you whole as your team swarms you and Armando.

###

“The stitches will dissolve on their own in time as your wound heals itself.’ Kelly says, tightening the last of the bandages on the hand Ramos had sliced.

“Thanks, Kelly.’ You smiled softly, rubbing at the soreness that still lingered all over your body, especially your neck.

Ramos and his men had been arrested, not on the charges the team had planned, but still, getting him locked away for attempted murder of a police officer and soliciting drugs would have to be good enough for now.

Kelly rubs your shoulders, a soft sigh leaving her lips. “I’m really sorry this happened to you,’ she says, eyeing your injuries, the bandages on your knees and hands, the purple-ish bruise on your neck, and the small scratches and scrapes all over your body. You definitely weren’t as hot as you were that night.

“It’s okay.” You smile. “I’m still here, so.” You shrug.

“You were brave that night, saving that girl. We’re all so proud of you.” Kelly says.

You shake your head. “But I didn't save her, Kels. She died. Right there, she bled out.’ Tears start to rim your eyes as the memories of the girl and her blood in your hands flare in your mind. “Fuck,” you cover your eyes with your palms. “I could hardly save myself that night…if it wasn’t for Armando, I’d be dead.”

You sniffle, taking a seat on a nearby stool. “I’m not cut of for the field, and I don’t think I should ever do it again.”

Kelly swarms you. “No. Don’t say that.’ She shakes her head. “We’ve all been there, helpless, but that’s why we’re a team. We cover each other's six when shit gets rough. So don’t feel bad, we won’t let you.”

You nod slowly, trying to let her words penetrate your soul so that you could really believe them. But right now, you couldn’t. You put everyone at risk because you made a rookie mistake by leaving your phone on.

You were to blame for all the carnage, all the bloodshed and chaos.

Armando was right, it was a suicide mission. And it was all your fault.

Kelly’s phone ringing thrusts you out of your thoughts.

She reads the screen number and looks at you. 'I got to go,’ she motions. “But if you need me, call me, seriously.”

You nod and wave her goodbye. You turn and fully expect to hear the compound's heavy, steel doors slam shut and lock, but they never do.

On high alert you turn and meet eyes with Armando. He’s in his typical black on black, head to toe. The only thing different about him is the white bandage covering the bulge of his arm.

You try not to stare too hard at the way his black shirt clings to his body, flexing every taunt muscle as he strides down the steps and towards you with a force.

Refocusing, you work on the project at hand—Dorns broken drone. You mesh wires together and a spark comes alive, something like the sparks you feel when Armando takes a seat next to you, leaving up against the steel work table.

“So that’s it, eh?” He says, staring at you. “Gonna ignore me.”

You keep fussing with your wires. “Not sure there is much to say.”

Armando chuckles bitterly. “I’m sure I could find some words. How about we start with, lo siento or soy un maldito idiota.”

You slam down your tools and turn to face him, fire blazing in your eyes. “I don’t even know what the fuck you just said.” You growl.

Armando stands, towering over you. “I’d be happy to translate for you, princesa. It means you fucked up and cost alot of people their lives.”

You flinch at his words, more reality of your mistake clouding over you. “You don’t think I know that? I’ve regretted my mistake every night when I cry myself to sleep because all I can see is that girl's face.

Your voice wavers. “Her blood.”

“If you feel like that then you should have listened to me when I told you that mission was suicide.” He growls.

“Fuck you.” You spat, walking away.

Armando catches your forearm, pulling you back towards him. “I’m not done, so don’t walk away from me.”

“Let me the hell go!” You try jerking from his grip but it’s no use, you’re stuck, stuck taking his abuse.

“No, you need to know that it was your fault out there. That your place is in the chair,’ he motions to your desk behind you. “You can’t handle the field, you’re not built for it.”

The need to prove him wrong boils in your gut causing you to lift your hand and swing it out towards Armando’s face.

Bad idea.

He catches your arm with ease and now both your limbs are in his hands. You try to snatch away, but Armando keeps you steady, pulling you closer until the two of you are breaths away from each other.

The heat in your chest spreads like wildfire as you watch Armando’s eyes linger on your bruised lips, then trailing down slowly to your hands and legs, accessing all your injuries as if they matter to him.

“Besides,’ he trails on, his index finger glazing cautiously over the ring bruise on your neck. “If it wasn’t more me out there, princesa, you’d be dead.”

“I didn’t think…”

“That’s the point,’ Armando holds you steady. “You didn’t think, and you not using your head almost got you killed. And if you would have died I—.”

There's a quivering pause in Armando’s voice, his eyes slam shut tight. You don’t know what to make of this, one second he hates you and the next he cares if you’re dead or not. Armando is a mystery you’re too tired to decode.

You jerk from his grasps once more and this shocks his eyes back open.

“Are you done?” You manage to say.

Armando licks his lips, slowly releasing you from his grasp.

“I’m done,’ he says, backing away from you.

You hold onto the steel table for support, the scorch of his touch slowly fleeting.

You hear the steel door crack open and turn to watch him leave, but he’s halted at the precipice, “One last thing, stay in the chair next time. It’s where you belong.”

With that he leaves, the steel door slamming shut and your confidence crumbling down.

You tried your hardest to not let Armando affect you, but he does. His words cut you deeper than Ramos’s knife. Maybe he was right, maybe you should just stay in the chair. But what if there was another time they needed you in the field? Could you just say no without feeling immense guilt? Probably not.

So when you write your resignation and leave it on your desk and walk away from the compound, you do it because you can’t stand to see the people you care about get hurt, all because you’re not a good enough cop.

###

“Okay, seriously! Are you really going to be that stupid and go back into the house where you know the killer is! Come on Noah!” You shout at your television screen.

It’s been a week since you put in your resignation and the amount of discourse behind it has resulted in you shutting off your phone and locking yourself inside, watching shitty horror movies to pass the time.

Because if you step foot outside, you’ll be mobbed by friends from the department and your friends from AMMO who, to say the least, weren’t happy about your resignation.

All but one.

Not that he mattered anyway.

They all hated that you quit, saying you needed to come back immediately and talk this out. But you couldn’t.

How could you face them when you were such a coward and created all that chaos? They worked so hard to save lives and keep order and you did nothing but fuck shit up.

It was time to jump ship before someone else got hurt in the crossfires of your neglect.

The thought pushes you deeper into your plush green couch that sits far back into your home, well renovated garage. But hey, Miami is expensive, and this place was renting out, so you just renovated it. A little love all around and it became an actual home.

You let loose a small smile looking around, the walls, once bare and industrial, now are splattered with a lively palette of bright yellows, deep blues, and playful greens. They are decorated with framed posters of all the things you love: vintage video games, classic sci-fi movies, and beloved comic book covers, each one a nod to your past. Strings of fairy lights crisscross the ceiling, casting a soft, whimsical glow that contrasts beautifully with your high-gear equipment scattered throughout.

Your floor is a patchwork of colorful rugs, each with its own story. Some are intricately patterned, those are the ones your parents gifted you, while others are simple yet bold, adding a splash of color to the room. Together, they might be your favorite part of the whole place, just because they keep your bare feet warm on lazy nights like these.

In one corner, a plush, oversized bean bag chair sits next to a low coffee table cluttered with all your retro memorabilia – old gaming cartridges, Rubik's cubes, and a couple of well-worn graphic novels.

The heart of your home garage is the tech haven. Your large, custom-built desk stretches along one wall, supporting your impressive army of monitors in various sizes. High-end computers hum quietly, their cases glowing with neon lights. Cables and wires, though numerous, are neatly organized, snaking their way through the room in an orderly fashion.

Shelves above and around the desk hold a treasure trove of tech gadgets and components – everything from VR headsets and drones to soldering kits and spare parts. A 3D printer sits in a place of honor, its latest creation still cooling on the print bed.

Your home made you feel complete, but still after you quit you do feel a little empty. You miss the small talks at work, the laughter, the bickering, the teasing. It just wasn’t the same alone. But again, it was for the best, because if there is one thing you know—keeping your family safe is the most important thing, above all.

And you’d hate to be their reckoning.

Flipping open your laptop you continue to scroll through your job search.

“What do you think, Chester?’ You say to your golden retriever. “Tech support job? Or maybe we go dark and get into hacking for higher companies.”

Chester whines, fidgeting in his spot next to you.

“You’re right, no going bad. Tech support it is.’ Chester rummages around a bit more before springing over your coach, darting towards the door. “Hey, I can work from home with this one!” You say.

Chester’s barks ring out, bouncing off the walls relentlessly.

You stand and make your way over to what’s got him so riled up. At the door, you bend down and pet him, still doing nothing to soothe his barks.

“Chessy, what’s wrong, huh?” You grab his collar, pulling him towards the door and opening it.

You stick both your heads out the door, turning them left and right, the only thing you see and hear is darkness and the bad storm slamming outside. You pull back inside and Chester sticks to you like glue. “See, nothing to worry about.’ You squat down to love on your dog, who's growling like crazy right now. “We aren’t like Noah, we don’t go into scary houses for fun. We’re safe here, Ramos is gone. ” You pat his head, but that only makes him bark more.

“Chester, enough already.” you stand, moving towards the kitchen and getting yourself a glass out of the cabinet, flicking on the sink, and filling it with water.

Your just about to take a sip when a loud crack of lighting explodes, illuminating your dark house, revealing a cloaked figure behind you.

You scream and drop your cup, shards exploding on the ground around your feet. Chester is in a full on frenzy right now, and rightfully so. Could this be Ramos’s men, did he send them to finish you off?

“You’re one crazy bitch, you know that?”

“Look at me, baby. I like my victims to look at me before they die.”

You scrape at your neck, the tender bruise making you hiss as if the pressure of Ramos choking you has never left.

The figure steps forward and you screech, ripping a butcher knife from your kitchen sink, and pointing it at them.

“Back the fuck up!” You scream. “I’m a fucking cop!” You take wobbly steps back, watching Chester go up the figure and sniff them…then roll over?

Chester by no means is an aggressive dog, but he loves you, and if he sensed you were in danger he’d protect you with his life. So when he begins to receive pets from the intruder, you lower your knife.

“Kelly?” You say, she knows Chester, you’ve brought him to the compound many times before, but she’s the only one on your team who has a key to your place.

The figure doesn’t answer, they just move over to the corner of the kitchen, flipping on the light.

Your shoulders drop the moment you see his thick beard and warm-brown skin peeking from underneath his black hoodie.

Armando.

“How the fuck did you get in?” You cross your arms over your chest.

Armando shrugs off his jacket, tossing it onto your kitchen stools. “It’s not exactly a place with state of the art security.”

“I could have killed you, Chester too.”

Armando snickers. “You and your pooch wouldn’t have done a thing.”

You grumble, crossing the kitchen landscape and moving towards the coaches. “What do you want, you're interrupting my movie night.”

Armando follows, hot on your trail. “I can see that. By the way, is that hello kitty on your pajamas?”

You look down and groan. Of course you’d be wearing something totally embarrassing when your least favorite ex-coworker breaks into your house.

“Stop switching the subject. Why are you here?”

Armando rustles in his pocket before pulling out a paper and shoving it into your hands.

You’re careful to unfold it because there is rain damage from the storm, but when you get it open, despite the smooshed ink on the page, you see it’s your resignation letter.

“Okay, and?” You shrug.

“Okay, and, take it back.” He says.

You chuckle. “You’re joking, right. Like you have to be joking.”

Armando’s face is straight. “I’m not.”

You plop down on your couch. “I’m not taking it back, I'm already looking at different jobs.”

A scoff leaves his lips. “So that’s it, eh? You’re just going to run away.”

You close your eyes and let out a deep sigh. “Weren't you the one who told me I should quit?”

“I never said that. I said you needed to stay in the chair, and still, you did the opposite of that.” He says.

You stand. “What’s the point of saying I’m a cop, if I don’t actually save people. You said that entire night was on me, so I backed away from the situation and now you’re mad?”

Armando sits quietly for a moment, tapping his leg against the ground. “I never said quit.”

“It doesn’t matter what you said. I did what I felt I needed to do.”

Armando scoffs, turning in his seat. “Yeah I can see that, real egoísta if you ask me.”

You stand, marching over towards the kitchen. “You know I have no clue what you’re saying.”

Armando turns, follows you, taking a seat at the bar. And before you know it, just like that compound before, you're caged between his legs.

“I called you selfish.”

You let out a gasp. “How the hell am I selfish?”

“Because you left the team!”

“I left the team to keep everyone safe! Not because I’m selfish!”

“We're safe! And we’ll be safer knowing that you’re safe, too, especially with some of Ramos’s associates still out there! I—we need to keep tabs on you.”

You stumble back. “What?’ You swallow. “Are you telling me my life is in danger? That Ramos will send people after me?”

“It’s a possibility we’re considering,’ Armando says, his eyes never leaving you as you sit across from him. “But if you come back to work we can keep you safe.”

“And what’s to say they won’t come for me any other time?” You croak. “Being in that compound doesn’t guarantee my safety.”

Armando rubs a slow hand over his face. “But I can.” He says, hardly above a whisper.

“You. Protect me?”

“Why is that so far-fetched?” He says.

“Armando, you hate me.”

“You keep putting words in my mouth, princesa, and I don’t like it.”

“I’m not putting words in your mouth. It’s just, actions speak louder.’ You shrug. “Ever since you got into AMMO, we’ve been the least close out of everybody. No matter how hard I tried, we just never connected. So yes, I’m sorry if I find you putting yourself on the line for me, unprovoked, a little hard to believe.”

Armando stands, his frame opposing against yours. He lifts his shirt and you hiss at what you see. Bandages, dried blood, and purple bruises litter his torso.

You look away but he catches your chin with his thumb, pulling your attention back to him.

“I wouldn’t put myself on the line for you,’ he said, pulling his shirt back down. “I already fucking did.”

“I never asked you too.” You mutter, looking away ashamed that you caused that.

“You didn’t have to.’ He sighs. “I couldn’t stand to see you get hurt.”

“What?” You turn, slow tears building, blurring your vision now.

“I didn’t want you to go out there because, as much as I try to hide it, I care about you.” Armando says, hot brown eyes melting into you.

You blink, stalling and stepping back. Armando…cares about you? Those two things shouldn’t even be in conjunction and your brain can’t process that they are.

The man in front of you has never been anything but harsh towards you, now he comes to your home in the middle of the night begging you to come back to work and confessing his feelings for you.

You truly must be dreaming…this can’t be real. Not that you’d be mad if it was. Despite all your bickering and misunderstandings, you still held a soft spot for Armando. You could see he was trying to be a better person, a more open person, regardless of his flaws.

And there were moments when he was kind to you, like opening doors for you, walking side by side with you to your car late at night, never forgetting to get your lunch along with the teams if you couldn’t make it. You knew he had a nice side to him and that’s why you showed him yours time and time again. Showed him it was okay to be vulnerable, but now he is, truly is, and you can’t even compute it.

“Why would you say something like that?” You swallow, something weird stirring inside of you, making you step closer towards him.

Armando does the same, closing the gap between you two. “Say what, princesa? The truth.”

You don’t mean to, but you whimper as the nickname leaves his lips. You look down, heat flushing in your cheeks. “Please don’t call me that.”

Armando scoops your chin with his index finger, your eyes latching and twinkling under the soft glow of your house's lights. “¿Por qué? no puedo manejarlo.”

“No.” You breath, studying every bridge and sharp angle of his face. This close, his beauty is unbelievable.

Armando’s thick, kept beard, is just as dark as his hair. His brown eyes are surrounded by a shade of full lashes, and his plump pink lips, glistening in the soft light. Armando Aretas was hard to resist and that’s why you feel yourself falling closer into him.

Like your mind is on autopilot, your hands fall to his chest, resting there and feeling every muscle he’s worked so hard for.

“I can see that.” Armando smirks. “I can also see that you care for me, too.”

“I—,”

“Want me to show you how I know?” He whispers, lips touching your ear and making you gasp.

You nod. There was no point in resisting him at that moment. Not that you wanted to either.

In one swift motion, Armando bends down and then you're airborne. His hands rest underneath your thighs as he carries you to your bedroom.

Walking over, your eyes never leave each other. You open your mouth to speak as a thought holds you captive.

“Is this why you said all those mean things? To discourage me because you didn’t want me to get hurt?” You ask, caressing his face in your hands.

Armando leans into the touch, nodding his head just as you two pass through the door of your bedroom.

He sets you down gently and you cling your arms around his neck.

“Why didn’t you just tell me that?” You ask.

Armando’s hands encircle your waist as he sighs. “I didn’t know how. I was just so angry that they’d even ask you to do something like that anyway.”

“And you were angry because you liked me?”

Armando nods.

“And when I was pretending to be Jenna…were you acting then, too?”

Armando chuckles, biting his lip, you look away to keep from melting. “You mean when I smacked your ass? I might have taken advantage of the situation then.”

You hit his chest and laugh. “I can’t believe you. That’s a violation!”

Armando leans in close. “I’d be happy to violate you some more, princesa.”

You chuckle lightly and wither out of his grip, taking a seat on the bed.

Armando frowns, sitting next to you. “What’s wrong? Was it something I sa—,”

“No. It’s fine. It’s just…I’ve never actually been with anyone before.”

Armando stills. “Oh. I was just joking with you,” he stands. “I can leave.”

Quickly, you grab his wrist, pulling him back. “No. I don’t want you to.’ You stand, taking his face in your hands and pulling him close. His lips are inches from yours and you can feel his nose brush against yours. “I want you to show me, just like you said.” You moan, placing your lips onto his.

Armando shutters, placing a hand on the nape of your neck. He opens his mouth, swiping his tongue over the bottom of your lips, asking for entry. You oblige and he slips inside, turning the kiss hot and fierce.

Armando swallows every moan you release, gripping your hips and pushing you back against the bed, his weight gently hovering on top of you.

He uses his legs, he spreads you open, you gasp at the motion allowing him access to your neck.

Like a man starving, Armando attacks your neck with hot-trailed kisses, lingering sucks and suckles, and licks that drive you wild, the heat between your legs pulsing now with desire.

“Fuck,’ you gasps and he palms over one of your breasts, sucking on the tender spot beneath your ear.

“Te gusta ese, bebe?” Armando whispers against your skin.

You shake your head “Yes.” You whimper.

Armando leans back, pulling at your top. “Let’s get this off of you, eh?”

You sit up just enough, allowing him access to pull the fabric off of you.

In a flash he peels your shirt off of you, leaving you bare in front of him.

Impulse has you covering yourself, but Armando reaches out, slowly moving your arms away from your chest.

“Don’t hide from me, mama.” He says, eyes darkening when he finally has a full view of your boobs.

“Mierda, you’re so beautiful baby.” He moans.

You shutter as he talks one breast in his hands, rubbing circles with it, while the other he latches his plump lips onto, sucking at your nipples.

The sensation causes your head to snap back and a deep, repressed moan to fly from your lips. Armando was doing the lords work with both his hand and tongue.

You squirm, squeezing your legs together and stimulating your spot, making your pants leak with want.

You had never had to opportunity to be with a man before, but in this moment you wanted nothing more than to fuck Armando.

“Fuck me,” you moan out. “Please.”

Armando chuckles, the sensation against your nipple makes you hiss. “Estás tan impaciente, princesa.’ He smacks your ass. “But eh, if that’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get.” He smirks, pushing you down against the bed.

He hovers on top, snatching his shirt off. All of his rippling muscles on display before you. You bite your lip at the site, hoping to see more and soon.

“If you want me to fuck you, will have to get rid of these, no?” He pulls at the strings of your pajama bottoms.

You nod, eager to have him inside of you.

In a blur, Armando pulls off your pants, tossing them to the side.

If you thought you saw darkness in his eyes when he saw your boobs, the look he has now is nothing in comparison. His eyes are nearly pitch black as he takes in what is soon to be his.

Armando spreads open your legs, hissing once he gets a glimpse at your glistening cunt.

You moan just at the thought of bearing it all in front of him.

“God, fuck.” He says, pulling down his pants and revealing a surprise of his own that makes you gasp.

Though covered in boxers, you can see just what he was working with. And to say the least, he was huge, and thick.

“Come here, baby.’ He moans, pulling you by your thighs to the edge of the bed. “Let me taste you.” He says.

You watch as Armando’s head lowers between your legs and the second his mouth touches your pussy, you fell back into the bed.

His mouth makes quick work of you, versing between sucking on your clit and licking your slit in a rhythm that builds a euphoria inside your gut.

The force of his tongue against your pussy and the pressure of his lips wrapped around your swollen clit has your back arching and screaming out.

Your toys had nothing on Armando.

“Please,” you whimper and try to squirm, but Armando holds you in place, slapping your ass twice as hard as a repercussion.

With each pass of his tongue, circling arcs on your pussy you can feel yourself climbing to the edge. Armando must feel it too because he puts the cherry on top when he sinks a thick finger inside of you.

“Oh my—ugh!”

You’re a whimpering, whining mess. The sheets beneath you turning a new shade of green as you soak them with your slick.

Armando adds another finger in for good measure only adding to the build up in your stomach. Each pump, suck, and lick causes a buckle to snap inside of you and a high only the man eating you out right now can give you is climbing.

You reach higher, and higher. Your orgasm just around the bend.

One last pump and suck, and you come undone, all over Armando’s face.

Armando comes back up from the floor, crawling over top of you. With the little moonlight that shines into your bedroom you can see yourself covering his beard, droplets of cum covering most of it.

“Taste yourself for me.” He growls, lowering his lips into yours.

You latch on and a sweet, yet neutral, flavor slips onto your lips as you and Armando kiss in a harmonious rhythm.

You never let go from his grasps as your hand travels down. You grab a hold of his massive, bulging cock.

Armando hisses and whimpers as you begins to stroke it with a various pressures: soft, hard, slow, the soft again. He shutters above you, his faces desperate and pleading.

“You’ll make me come like that.’ He breaths, gripping your hands. “I thought you were a virgin?”

“I am,’ you hiss, still squirming. “But I think it’s a bullshit construct. I’m still highly sexual,’ you say, pulling at his cock, bringing it forth. “And I want to be highly sexual with you.”

Armando bites his lips, pulling you into his lap. “Eres un problema, princesa.”

“I know,” you say, kissing him once more.

You rock back and forth, feeling his cock press against your needing pussy. The pressure making you both shake in anticipation.

Armando breaks the kiss. “Do you have a condom?”

You shake your head. “No, but I’m on birth control.”

He nods. “Good, you’re going to need it.”

He flips you over so that he is on top. Finally, he reaches down and slips out of his boxers, his cock, thick, long and full, springs to life and you can’t help but moan. Your pussy is aching with the need to be filled.

Armando spreads your legs open, angling the tip of his cock with your pussy’s pulsing entrance.

“Are you sure about this, baby?” He asks.

“I’m sure. Now fuck me, please.”

Armando obeys, slowly slipping his cock inside of you.

You hiss at the burning, stretching pain, digging your nails into his back as he pushes in, your pussy swallowing him inch by inch.

“Mm,” you croak.

Armando stops. “Are you okay?” He shakes

You grip at his ass, forcing him inside deeper, despite the burn you’re desperate to feel all of him. “Don’t stop.” You moan. “Please keep going.”

Armando pushes in further and deeper, tearing you open, until you’re fully stretched and he’s reached the depths of your ocean.

You two stay still for a moment, him allowing you time to adjust to the new stretching sensation and his size.

You lean up to kiss him. He deepens it, molding his mouth to yours, before slowly moving.

You moan, holding onto him as he picks up the pace, thrusting into you faster.

You can feel the pain melting into pleasure the more he pounds into you.

Harder and faster you begin to feel yourself loose control, your euphoria coming to hit its second peak.

“Fuck me, ugh! Please, Armando!” You shot, lifting your legs, granting him deeper access.

Armando grips the tiny mound between your hip and leg, using it as leverage to drive his thick cock deeper into your soaking wet pussy.

Animalistic groans leave his lips as he drives into you at an unholy pace. The sounds of skin slapping and drawn out, breathy moans fill the room, reaching a devilish peak when you scream out, coming and pulsing around his cock.

Armando follows you not shortly after, his dick pulsing and pumping his spillage into you.

He rolls off of you, taking you in his arms and placing a sweaty kiss on your forehead.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” He murmurs on your forehead.

“Okay.” You smile, your legs sore and your middle aching.

Armando lifts you up bridal-style and carries you into the bathroom.

Soon you’re surrounded by steam and soap as you two bathe each other down.

Showered, you two snuggle in bed, a burning question still at the forefront of your mind.

“Armando?” You say.

“Hm,’ he is hardly awake at this point.

“When did you realize you cared about me?” You ask, angling your head to head to get a good look at him.

Armando chuckles, stroking your curls you have yet to put in a bonnet. “I think I always did. I was just scared.”

“Scared? Of what?”

“Maybe that you wouldn’t see me the way i see you.” He sighs. “I see only the good in you, and maybe that makes me a blind man, but I’m certain you’re a woman who can see through facades, and you wouldn’t see any goodness in me.”

You sit up. “That’s not true. Armando, of course you’ve done terrible things, but that’s not what I see when I look at you.”

Armando takes a hold of your bandaged hand, placing a small kiss on the palm. “So what do you see?”

“Now? I just see you, and all the tiny little good things that I love.”

A small smile graces Armando’s face before he leans in, kissing you softly. You sigh against his lips, not wanting this moment to end.

Though you two had some struggles, you wouldn’t have this pairing any other way.

You just wished you’d checked your blind spot early to see all the little signs you were missing.

[enwoso]

blurb request of reader being too hyper/boisterous or getting way too competitive and taking things too far so having to constantly be warned of told to play nice by her older teammates?

WIN OR LOSE — reader x engwnt

masterlist

“t’was stupid anyway! i should have won!” you sulked walking back into the canteen with grace who was boasting about her win in the little game you were playing with the media team for the england tiktok.

the rest of the england girls watched on at your two polar opposite moods, grace’s being a big grin from ear to ear while yours was a scowl as your eyebrows deepened.

“oh shush y/n, just admit your a sore loser!” grace teased bumping your shoulder into hers as you gave her your signature death stare.

everyone who you played with knew how much you hated to loose and that came down to both football matches and silly little games that meant absolutely nothing like the one you had just done hence your mood.

your mood usually being happy, giggly as well as winding everyone up on the team being know as the pest of the team, but put you in a losing position and your attitude and mood will change quicker than you can blink.

you constantly being reminded by the older player at both club and country about your competitiveness sometimes taking it a little two far when trying to win. but in your mind why wouldn’t you want to win, losing is boring!

“i’m not a sore loser, you literally were cheating!” you voice was starting to sound a little harsher and a little louder as you were just about to open your mouth to retaliate you were being pulled by the arm by leah who pulled you into a seat next to her, millie and beth.

“get off me!” you huffed, your arms folded across you chest. your scowl still being present and probably deepening. the three looking at you with the same look, you knew what was coming.

“oi huffy pants, quit with the attitude!” millie quipped back as you rolled your eyes earning you a slap on the arm from leah, the perks of being the youngest on the team!

“ow! what was that for?” you questioned rubbing your hand over where the captain had just slapped you, the three still giving you the same stern look.

“right kid, we aren’t here to dampen your spirits cause we love that you want to win everything-” mille started as you sighed knowing there was a but, there always was.

“-but not every little silly challenge matter, yeah?” leah continued after milke your stone face still there as you were unsure what their point was.

“we know you know, but just don’t take it too far. okay?” beth smiled at you, a small shrug came from you “would rather win though, wouldn’t i” you mumble as you hear the three sigh.

“yeah but you never really lose” beth said as you looked at her as if she had just told you that grass was purple. your eyes wide at what you he’d just heard the girl say urging for her to continue with her explanation

“well the saying goes, you never lose cause you either win or your learn”

“i think i’ll stick to my way” you smiled while leah gave you a pointed look. unsure of beth’s inspiration quote she most definitely just plucked out of thin air. both leah and mille looking confused at the blondes attempt.

“but i’ll remember not to take it too far!” you grinned as the three jumped up celebrating and high fiving each other as you rolled your eyes playfully at their silly antics.

“right race you to the changing rooms!” you called out over the top of the three, jumping out of your seat as the three sat back in theirs.

“that lasted for all of three seconds!”

[miguelsslvt]

friends- chase atlantic

nerd! ex! miguel o’hara x popular! reader college au

word count: 1335

TW: mild smut under cut, overstimulation, smoking, drvg use, manipulative friends.

A/N: so basically, this is my interpretation of a scenario that happened in the nerd! miguel lore!! obviously this isn't 'canon', this is just my interpretation of the wonderful storyline by @nymphomatique !! always go check her out, her stories are honestly the best <33 hope you all enjoy and welcome to the club!!^^

'he's not good for you y/n!' 'he's a freak y/n!' 'he's such a weirdo compared to you y/n!' 'get rid of him y/n!' 'get rid of his ass y/n!'

that's all your 'friends' ever said to you about miguel o'hara. they hated your relationship with him. he was a nerd sure, but all your 'best friends' were adamant that he was no good for you. or your name, for that matter

he was a bit of an outcast and nerd, sure, he used to sit alone at lunch, he would get bullied by the football team, he never got invited to parties, and don't even get started on his glasses.

but, no matter what, you wanted him. you had a reputation of popularity and cockiness sure, but you wanted to introverted freak nonetheless. he was just so.. sweet. and no matter what, you wanted him.

eventually you listened to your friends, cutting off everything you had with miguel so you could stop hearing the constant nagging of 'when are you gonna get rid of him?'

miguel being miguel, he was heartbroken. he cried for days, while you were enjoying your free time partying or sleeping with randomers.

a few weeks swings by, and parker's usual summer party is just tonight. he has one every year, and without a doubt they're the best parties of the whole school year. you were obviously first invite, and you happily agreed. but what you didn't expect, was the conversation in chemistry class that parker and his other 'popular' football friends were saying.

'yeah i invited that o'hara kid, it's gonna be so funny!' peter said, as one of the boys joined in. 'i say we throw him into the pool!' he said, as you chimed in. 'don't be dicks you think you're all so cool and popular bullying a kid? grow up.' you snapped.

peter smirked. 'aw, is little y/n getting possessive over her little ex fuck toy? i swear if you two are gonna fuck in my bed-' 'even if we do i'm sure it'll be better then having another night with your 2 incher. at least he knows where the clit is.' you replied snarkily, the boys laughing as peter went red in the face in anger.

'you're such a slut!' he snapped, you smiled. 'yeah well at least i didn't fuck mandy simpson in the back of english lit last semester.' you said, as peter was livid. he turned around, as you and your friends laughed.

the party arrived, and you wore your favourite black tight dress. it was a spaghetti strap, paired with gold hoop earrings, a gold necklace and some black strap heels. you packed a black and gold bikini just in case the boys decided their usual 2am pool dip.

you grabbed a bottle of vodka, pouring 50% in, mixing it with some coca cola. you noticed the usual hockey boys sniffing some sort of substance you didn't really care, you then saw the pick me girls all over peter and his friends. your friends were smoking back in the garden, beside the pool. you decided to walk over to them.

'hey girl! you want a smoke?' gracie asked, as you smiled and lit a cigarette, smoking it with your friends.

'hey, is that.. o'hara?' kate said, pointing to a corner. you turned around quickly, seeing the boy you oh so fondly missed (but you would never tell anyone that).

he looked more ripped. he had been going to the gym, you noticed that when you stalked his instagram story last week. he wore a pair of black jeans, and a polo shirt that was a little too tight for him. his hair was slicked back, and his glasses were a little crooked as usual.

'what a nerd, who invited him?' grace whispered. 'i heard peter invited him just to take the piss outta him. a little far fetched if you ask me.' maddy said, as abbie chimed in. 'well after making y/n look like an absolute freak for dating him, i'm sure the nicest thing o'hara could do is at least look popular so y/n doesn't look like a complete moron.'

'say that again?' you swung your head to abbie, who immediately shut her mouth. 'you can't talk abbie. i swear you fucked hobie brown during spring break?' you replied, as your friends laughed, abbie nodding. 'i deserved that.'

a few hours rolled by, and you were.. tipsy. your friends were either dancing, drinking or making out with one of the hockey dudes. you however, was searching for miguel. and when you found him, your heart boiled.

'cmon o'hara! we so kindly invited you to our party, why don't you just take a little swim with us?!' peter said, pinning miguel up to a wall. miguel was a shaking mess. you sighed, walking up to peter. 'hands off him.' you said, sternly.

'cmon y/n, you two ain't even together anymore. let's just show this little freak what parties are really about hm?' peter replied, as you smacked him swiftly, causing peter to lose his grip on miguel.

'WHAT THE FUCK?!' he snapped. 'touch my boy again, and i'll fucking end your career. you hear me?! one snapchat story and you could lose everything parker, you hear me?! now fuck off, enjoy your little party, and leave me and MY man alone!' you yelled, as peter's friends were awe-struck. they knew you were mouthy, but jeez.

'stupid bitch!' peter yelled, before walking away. tears welled miguel's eyes, as y/n grabbed his hand, taking him into her car.

she started the car, as the two were silent on the way home. 'w..where are we going?' miguel asked. 'my dorm.' you said in reply. '..i'm not your boy y'know. not anymore.' miguel mumbled. that made you raise a brow. 'i'm sorry, what?'

'you said i was 'yours' earlier, a-and..' tears fell down miguel's face. 'i'm not. n-not adfter y-you dumped me.' he said, as you sighed.

'..you're supposed to be smart, o'hara. why the fuck can't you see why i dumped you?' you said, as miguel looked away. 'i do know. i- i know it's because your friends said so. th-they didn't want you to be unpopular and weird.' he said.

'..i'm.. fuck man.' you mumbled, sighing. 'you know me, miguel. you know i hate saying this. but.. i'm sorry.' you said, that made his heart stop. you're.. sorry?

'i do want you. i've always fucking wanted you. but my friends they.. they just- they were in my ear for so long i-' 'tell me.' he cut you off. 'what?' you asked. 'what were we? we weren't exactly together, b-but we weren't not? i.. all i know is that we weren't just friends.' miguel stated.

he had a point. technically speaking, you two were just fuck buddies. 'we.. we were just fuck buddies.' you said honestly. 'and i stopped that because of my.. stupid fucking friends.' you parked outside the dorm. 'and y'know? i don't give two shits what anyone thinks about us.' you said, looking at miguel. he wiped his tears.

'do-does that make us.. something again?' he asked. '..get out.' you stated, as you got out the car, grabbing his hand and dragging him into the dorm.

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

'm..mistress p-please..' he begged, his legs shaking. you had been sucking him off for about an hour now, not stopping. it was his nth orgasm, and he couldn't feel anything.tears were streaming down his face, but you weren't done. not yet.

'let your mistress please you, yeah baby? i've been neglecting you for so long..' you cooed, stroking his cock as his eyes rolled back. you tutted. 'aww, so sensitive.. is my little dweeb tapping out before even touching mistress?' you teased, as he shook his head.

'n..no.. w-want to feel y-you mistress.. p-lease..' he whimpered, as you let go, moving to sit on his lap.

'trust me baby, we aren't stopping until i say so.'

[skipper1331]

Is it too late to make things right? // Grace Clinton

a/n: based off this request. Hope you enjoy it!

Everything Grace Clinton did, made you furious.

It didn’t matter if it was the way she talked, laughed or played - even just her breathing, blinking or existing made you more than angry.

You hated Grace Clinton with a passion and no, not without any reason, as everybody always said.

"Don’t be so rude to Gracie, she did nothing wrong"

"Can‘t you be nice to her for once?"

"It‘s her debut show some respect"

You hated Grace Clinton for what she did to you and the way she had humiliated you.

But in fact, you respected her debut, she played phenomenally but obviously you didn’t tell her that - you didn’t talk to her at all.

After the game, you walked to the changing room, not looking at the midfielder or giving her congratulations for her game.

"What the fuck is your problem?" the voice of Alessia shrilled through the hall.

"Are you talking to me?" you asked dumbfounded, confused on what the problem was.

"Who else?"

Shrugging your shoulders, you looked at her. "Come on, out of everybody you were the first one to flee the scene"

"and apparently, you the second one, hm?" you cut her off, "Alessia, say what you want to say or leave me alone" you stated firmly, even though you already knew what the problem was: Grace Clinton.

Taken back from your firm voice and the use of Alessia instead of Less made her crumble under your gaze - you loved nicknames, you rarely called people by their actual name.

"What is your problem with Grace?" she asked anyways.

"I don’t have a problem with Clinton"

There it was - Clinton, it clearly showed your disliking.

Alessia knew you well enough to know that that was a lie, not only because you were a terrible liar but the Clinton gave it away. If Lessi had to describe you, she would say "When she calls you by a nickname, she loves you - you’re her friend. When she calls you by your actual name, she a) doesn’t know you yet or b) the situation is serious. When you get called by your surname, there is a problem."

"Didn’t think you’d be a liar" she replied, slowly getting annoyed at your behavior. Grace was like a little sister to her, she had to be protected at all costs.

"And I don’t think I have asked for your opinion"

With that you turned back around and continued your walk to the changing room.

"Ever since Grace is here you’re an absolute ass!" the blonde yelled after you.

-

You avoided Alessia, and Grace even more after your encounter with the blonde. Out of everyone, you didn’t expect Alessia to be rude to you. Not only because she‘s a sunshine herself but because she‘s your club teammate too. But it’s about Clinton, of course she would protect her.

What Alessia didn’t know was that her sweet Gracie was an ass herself, rude and mean.

-

"Hey"

You looked up from your book, seeing Less in front of you, before taking a seat beside you.

"Can I help you?" you asked, turning the page in your book, focusing on the words there.

The striker sighed, thinking about what to say - she stayed silent.

"I‘m not in the mood for being yelled at again, so with all respect, please leave me alone"

"I‘m sorry for my outburst" she apologized, "I’m just trying to understand what the problem is.."

This time it was you who sighed, closing the book, "Less, I don’t want to be rude, but it‘s none of your business. Gracie is not the person she used to be and neither am I. We play for the same country and that‘s it" you stood up from your seat, intending to leave - running away.

Alessia was shocked, not about the part where you said it’s none of her business - she knew you were right - you didn’t call the current Tottenham player Clinton but Gracie. You could have chosen anything yet you said Gracie, a nickname.

"What happened between the two of you?" Her hand on your arm stopped you, Lessi‘s voice caring.

On clue, said person came into view, locking eyes with you.

"We grew apart"

It was the longest eye contact you had with her since what? maybe years. Familiar feelings rummaged through your body - looking into the eyes you once loved so dearly.

Anger was displayed on her face, marching over as she purposely and aggressively bumped into you, "watch where you‘re going" she spat which you only ignored.

"What the fuck, Alessia" the midfielder growled, pulling her somewhere more private.

"Why are you talking to her about me!"

"Grace-"

"No, Alessia! This is absolutely none of your fucking business. She broke up with me years ago, so let her be!"

"Who broke up with whom?" The noisy voice of Ella chipped in. The place Grace chose wasn‘t as private as she had thought.

"Y/n was your girlfriend?"

The young lioness inhaled, closing her eyes for a brief moment, "no.. she ended things before I could ask her."

"Why?" Tooney asked as the best friends shared a look.

"We should go on a walk" the blonde striker then proposed, to which Grace surprisingly agreed. The topic had been bothering her for years, not knowing what she had done wrong, that you didn't want anything to do with her anymore. From one day to the next you ignored her, stopped talking to her - didn't even look at her. What had she done wrong? Her heart still breaks when she thinks back to the evening when everything went downhill. She wanted to ask you that night if you would like to be her girlfriend. You had danced around your feelings quite a while, even though you both knew there was something there - the stolen kisses, the sneaky touches, the love letters - but you broke her heart before she could ask you, even though the real reason was that she had broken your heart first.

"Why haven’t you talked to us?" Lessi asked as the three of them walked outside of the facility in Spain.

Shrugging her shoulders, "there was never a reason to" she replied, "we never played at the same club, so it was easy for her to avoid me, same goes with the call up - she got hers earlier, so we didn’t see each other at camps either"

"How do you feel now? Seeing her?" this time it was Ella who asked.

"I‘m being rude to her. And I know that‘s not right, but it‘s- I don’t even know, unspoken anger I guess, because she just broke my heart and because that‘s the only attention I will get from her…"

"You loved her, didn’t you?"

"I do"

"Do?"

"Did? Have? Do? I don’t know" she mumbled, "how could I not? You know her, she‘s more than incredible"

Years later, Grace still wasn’t over you, being near you made it clear. She couldn’t get over the things she felt for you. You were the first girl she‘s kind of been with. You were her first love story and her first love.

Putting her feelings aside, busying herself with work didn’t heal her, it just made her feelings more intense as they came crashing down now.

"Have you ever tried talking to her?"

"Of course! I asked her so many times what I did wrong, she never answered me" she sighed.

Alessia and Ella had never seen their friend so vulnerable and tired. Her facade had dropped, she deeply cared about you yet all the unanswered questions turned into anger - she just didn’t know how to deal with her feelings and the struggle of not having you in her life.

She missed you.

-

To say that Ella and Alessia saw you differently now was only partly correct. Both of them had many questions, what did happen? What was the reason you ended things before they even started? Has Grace done something wrong? But most importantly: Was there a way to make amends?

It was the next day after training when the best friends decided to take matters into their own hands. You two had to sort things out. The rudeness started getting more and more while the tension grew thicker each second. To be fair, it didn’t affect either of your or the teams playing performance as you kept things professional on the pitch yet off the pitch both of you acted like angry toddlers towards each other.

"We need to do something" Ella huffed at Alessia, both of them watching you growling at Grace.

"Do what? Lock them in a room??" Alessia intended to joke which the midfielder took seriously. "That‘s an awesome idea!", pulling the girl towards Mary - they definitely needed her help.

And when Mary was introduced to the idea, the three, so called master minds, came up with a perfect plan.

-

"Grace, wanna play darts?" Ella asked the young lioness, grinning.

"Um, maybe later" asked person replied as she relaxed on one of the bean bags in the 'movie' room.

"Are you afraid you‘ll loose?" Tooney challenged - she knew Grace could never back down a challenge and not even the slightest when it was something as simple as darts. It can’t be that hard to throw a dart, can it?

Meanwhile Mary asked you the exact same, the only difference that you agreed in an instant, darts something you loved to play in camps.

Walking to the 'game' room of the facility - a room with darts, pool and table football - the gk and you talked about the last upcoming friendly.

Arriving in the room, "I forgot my lucky dart!" Mary suddenly stated, leaving the room quickly, "I’m back in a moment" she called.

Not thinking anything about it, you waited for her to come back.

She didn’t.

In fact, when the door opened again, someone stumbled into the room before the door was quickly locked.

"Ella?!"

"Sorry for pushing you!" the man united player answered behind the closed door.

"Why are you locking me in this room?"

"Turn around" you answered.

The current Tottenham player jumped, "don‘t scare me like that!" her hand clutching over her heart, trying to calm down.

"You have to sort things out" Alessia joined the conversation.

"We can play darts after that" Mary added.

"We‘ll be back in an hour"

You grumbled under your breath, marching away from Grace who stood in front of the door hoping it would open magically.

"I guess, we have to talk if we want to leave this room today" Grace said after 10 minutes of an awkward silence.

"No thanks" you responded nonchalantly. You didn‘t want to talk to Grace ever again unless it was work related.

"Come on, don’t be so stubborn" the midfielder slowly walked towards you sitting on the pool table.

"Grow up, Clinton"

"I grew up while we grew apart" she mocked your words - words that hadn’t left her mind ever since you said them. What did you even mean by that? You haven’t grown apart - you ended things out of nowhere!

"Clinton, leave me alone"

That was the last straw, "can you fucking stop with the Clinton?!" she snapped, stepping right in front of you. She hated it. Yes, it was her surname and she loved to see it on the back of jerseys but she hated it when you called her that. What happened to Gracie? Lovely girl? Or love?

"Get a grip, Clinton"

There was no point in making an effort - you wouldn’t talk, you‘ve made that very clear.

Grace walked to the other side of the room, sitting down on the little bench that was the next to the dartboard.

She felt helpless. And even though she was in the same room, it felt like the two of you were oceans apart.

The silence was deafening.

You didn’t mind that - as long as Grace was shutting her mouth, you‘d be fine with everything.

Grace did mind it - it made her anxious. She was closer to you than she had been in years. This was her opportunity to find out what she did wrong and what the reason was that you hated her now. What happened to being friends? Secret Lovers? What’s happened to the chance of being together forever?

"Y/n/n, please" the young lioness almost whispered. You froze, you hadn’t heard that one in years - the midfielder, the only one who ever used that nickname.

"Just answer one question and I promise you to never talk to you again off pitch"

"You better keep that promise" you said firmly, turning around as the Tottenham player jumped up, walking towards you.

Leaning against the table football, she thought about her questions - which would be the best to ask.

"What did I do wrong?" It was the most obvious question to ask but maybe the answer would finally give Grace some inner peace.

"Seriously? Of all the questions you could have asked, you chose one where you already know the answer-"

"But I don‘t! I don’t know anything! Out of nowhere you cut me off! Pretending I don’t exist!"

"You don‘t exist to me anymore" you stated rather calmly while Grace was gesticulating wildly, frown and the wrinkle between her brows deepening.

"How can you say that?! I used to be important to you"

Lowly, you empathized "Used to" which was only partly true. Parts of your heart always yearned for Grace, hoping she was doing well and achieving all of her dreams.

A part of you still loved Grace Clinton, and forever will.

"Just- just answer the question, please"

"You humiliated me, Grace, you humiliated me in the worst way you ever could."

"How? I‘m so in love with you, i would never dream of upsetting you in any way."

You laughed, clapping your hands, "You‘re funny"

"What‘s wrong with you?!"

"What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you?" You felt yourself getting angry, starting to match her furios energy. As if Grace didn‘t know what she had done - what sick game was she playing?

"You humiliated me, Grace, that’s what wrong. How could you? I thought- i thought you liked me. At least enough to keep private things private and not to read them out loud in the fucking locker room!" your voice took many changes in that short statement. It started off calm, before it turned sad, almost vulnerable as the last part was full of venom.

The midfielder froze on the spot, arms falling to her sides as she realized what the problem had been years ago and still was.

The unknown feeling exposed now, flashbacks crossing her mind from that day, "the letters" left her mouth, eyes wide. How could it be that she hadn't thought of this sooner? Now everything made sense! Your anger and hostility towards her, the abrupt break in contact. The world was no longer your enemy, your only enemy was someone you believed would never break your heart. A someone that had promised you to fight with you against the world but instead, she had weakened you so much that you no longer had the strength to do so - your last strength was directed against her.

"Exactly. I‘ve heard what you said, Grace. And the worst part? You didn’t even read them. Our friend read them out loud and you laughed about them, telling the whole locker room that i was weirdly obsessed with you 'Nah. I don‘t stand her - she follows me around like a lost puppy. I don‘t even like girls' I remember everything, word for word, Clinton"

Your eyes turned glossy, you never healed from that humiliation.

"Listen to me-"

"No, you will listen to me." you growled, your voice was so full of anger, stepping towards her to intimidate her, "stay away from me"

Grace was breathing heavily, her eyes darting around your face - you were so close to her.

Not in control of her soul, mind or body, Grace smashed her lips against yours, hands gripping your hips as she pulled you close.

You couldn’t even register what was happening before your body responded in kissing her back - matching her energy.

The kiss was nothing like the kisses you shared before - it was feisty, all anger purred into this one kiss.

Yet it felt so good, your heart felt peace, an old familiar feeling you only ever felt when you were with the lioness. The walls you had built around it were gone. So even though Gracie was the reason why you had built them in the first place, she was now the reason why they collapsed.

When you slowly came to your senses, you pushed her away, lips swollen from kissing each other, feeling dizzy at the intensity and the feeling of happiness it had given you.

"I‘m sorry-"

"A sorry won‘t fix anything!" you shouted. You were so confused.

It was the first time where you ever had raised your voice at Grace. You didn’t mean the kiss but the girl knew exactly what you were referring to. And even though, you didn‘t like shouting or yelling in general, let alone at someone like Gracie, you defended yourself with that - an apology wouldn’t fix anything nor would a kiss.

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to raise my voice" you said, not liking a shouting atmosphere or the sad look in Grace‘s eyes.

"It‘s okay" the midfielder breathed out shakily, "you know, all of your love notes are in my wallet. I read them at least once a day" she admitted, staring at the floor, not being able to trust her voice if she would look you in the eye, "It was stupid to think that I didn‘t know what I have done wrong while it was in fact right in front of me. I broke your heart the day you broke mine." taking a deep breath, she sorted her thoughts, "I have no right to ask for your forgiveness, all I want to do is give you an explanation."

You nodded slightly - you always wanted an explanation but instead of confronting the girl that day, you ran away, protecting yourself more and more over the years.

"One of the girls found your letters in my bag when they searched for something, I don’t even remember what. She read them out loud while I was on the other side of the locker room talking to your friend. I asked her, if I had her blessing to ask you to be my girlfriend. I knew how important it was to you and since she was the only who knew about us, that was the least I could do. We never talked about telling our teammates, so when she read the letters, I panicked. I panicked because I didn‘t want to be outed by someone else. I also panicked because I didn’t know if you‘d be okay with me admitting our- my love for you. I got so scared in that moment, that my self-protection mechanism answered before I could even reflect the situation. It felt like a stranger was controlling me. And you‘re right, 'sorry' won‘t fix anything but I want you to know that it was never my intention to break your heart. I meant it when I said that I want you to be mine forever. I have always loved you and I don’t think, that I will ever love someone who isn‘t you. So, even though it won‘t fix anything; I sincerely want to apologize. I‘m proud of you and the footballer you became - I will always be your number one fan"

Throughout her explanation, three things remained in your mind,

1. I don’t think I will ever love someone else - did that mean she still loved you?

2. Strangely, you believed every word she said. Grace had never lied to you - she was a terrible liar anyways.

3. Ask you to be my girlfriend - she wanted to make things official..?

"I did. I wanted you to be my girlfriend the second you smiled at me. I remember your shy smile, the way you looked everywhere, only briefly stopping at me." she chuckled, a love sick smile on her face.

"I thought I said that only in my head" you mumbled, cheeks turning red.

As Grace took a step closer, her hands cupping your cheeks, so you would look at her instead of the floor. "I never wanted to be your enemy" she whispered, her lips pressing tenderly against your forehead - a confession and a promise.

In that moment, both of you realized that maybe it wasn‘t too late to make things right. But it would take time and patience for you to learn how to love and trust each other again.

[popamolly]

‘ INTERNAL REDEMPTION ’ LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR

summary. In the fiery depths, she captures the attention of Lucifer, who senses a unique purity in her soul. With his help, (Y/N) finds herself on the path to redemption and self-discovery with dangerous trouble along the way.

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE

warnings. lucifer morningstar x stripper!fem!reader, she/her pronouns, valentino exists, eventual smut, mention of death, biblical references, sex work, sexual themes, trauma, abuse, murder

author’s note. inspired by @punching-pentagrams and their amazing ongoing story “Love In as Hopeless Place”, it encouraged me to write my own fic about Lucifer. go check out their story, it is so good and deserves more love!

In the dimly lit, pulsating world of Club Elysium, where the air was thick with anticipation and desire, a mysterious aura surrounded a captivating figure on the stage. Under the flickering neon lights, you moved with a mesmerizing grace that defied the earthly realm. Dressed in glistening attire that caught the reflections of the vibrant hues around her, you became an ethereal presence, drawing the attention of every gaze in the room.

Your movements were a dance of contradictions – an alluring blend of sensuality and innocence. You twirled and swayed to the rhythm of the music, casting a spell upon the enchanted audience.

Unbeknownst to the patrons of Club Elysium, you were more than just an exotic dancer seeking to enthrall with her physical prowess. Your celestial grace, forgotten in the afterlife coil she now inhabited, manifested in the subtle elegance of her performance. As you moved, you felt a distant echo of a certain purpose, an inexplicable connection to something beyond the neon-lit stage.

In the hazy ambiance, Valentino, the enigmatic owner of Club Elysium, watched from the shadows, his eyes reflecting one of red burning lust, but it was more than just lust for you— no, it was something more— it was a thirst for power that had him grinning from ear to ear. Valentino knew that in this corner of Hell he owned everything, even you.

As the music reached its crescendo, your dance reached its zenith. The room held its breath, suspended in a moment where hell and celestial intertwined. You were always the ballerina in the jelwery box, the beautiful antique that Valentino had in his grasp to show off and praise. Though he may own you outside the building you made sure to show him through your dancing, that you were the one that owned the stage. He hated when you went off script or changed the choreography but you made sure to do it on purpose and on nights you knew he was watching you.

That was your little dose of rebellion, a little taste of freedom you could only wish to have. You were content with your situation though, it could’ve been worse. At least with Valentino you were paid, clothed, and feed with an overall decent place to live. Being one of his toys had its perks— you couldn’t complain. Especially when there were those who had it so much worse than you.

“You jus’ love angerin’ him, don’t you doll?” Your coworker, Angel Dust, asked as you entered the dressing room that you and the other dancers shared. The smell of makeup and cheap perfume filled your senses, calming you with the sense of familiarity, “Cause last I checked, that wasn’t what we rehearsed.”

“Well,” You chuckled as you sat on the couch, its fabric ripped and white stuffing nearly popping out the sides, “I just thought that my choreo was better, and by the sound of that crowd and the money on stage, it was.”

“Heh,” Angel couldn’t help but envy your confidence when it came to Valentino, who owned you both in more ways than one and yet you always found a way to yank on the chains without consequence. A part of Angel loathed you for it.

You could sense the mood shift in Angel, not that you cared but you weren’t exactly heartless either. With a sigh, you get up from the couch, ignoring your aching feet as you join Angel’s side, looking into the vanity mirror so you could touch up your makeup, “Trust me, if my act wasn’t purity and innocence it would be a different story. Lucky for me, bruises and marks on my body wouldn’t sell too well.”

“Yeah, count it on luck shortcake.” With that Angel left, pushing another girl out the way angrily while snatching the drink out her hand. You could only sigh, not intending on upsetting him more but as always, your intentions don’t matter when your words spoke otherwise. It had been so long since you had a decent human connection, you were just a bit rusty.

“My sweets,” The sudden sound of Valentino’s voice had the room go silent, the air becoming so thick you were sure you’d might suffocate in it, “Can I have the room please?”

With hushed scared whispers and nervous glances, you and the other girls make your way to the door. You had hoped you could sneak past him under the cover of the other women who all but rushed passed Valentino but his slender hand caught your forearm quick, gripping it with such force that you were slightly shocked by the pain he caused— it wasn’t like him to be rough with you, “Not you, darling. We have to have a chat, don’t we mio caro?”

You turn to look at him with a frown, “About what? My performance?”

“Oh I would love to talk about that little stunt you pulled but I need you for something a bit more important,” Valentino yanks you further into the room, locking the door behind him with his other hand before slinging you against the vanity, bottles of perfume falling over and onto the ground as the desk shakes violently. Your employer towers over you with ease making you shudder beneath his fiery gaze, “I need something done and I need it done right, I trust that you can accomplish this task, yes?”

What shit was he getting you into now? You were done with porn, you had paid a hefty price to alter your contract with him and you weren’t going to slip back into the void now, not when you were so far ahead, “I won’t be one of your pornstars, Val. We had a deal.”

Valentino laughs, his pointy fingernail dragging along your cheek while he licks his lips, “This isn’t about that principessa, this is a more delicate matter. Think you’re up for it?”

“I don’t have much of a choice do I?” You yank your head away from his hands, lowering your gaze into a slight glare.

“This is why I always liked you, dove. You learn quick.”

“If you were going to tell me to send in a whore Val, I wouldv’e just asked you to send Angel Dust!” Vox glitched with anger, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration as he turned around in his chair, his claw like hands gripping onto the table with such force that it left a mark, “What makes this slut is any different from him?!”

It was hard to bite back your tongue but you did, unwillingly submitting to your role as you stood before the V’s with your eyes to the ground, not daring to even look as confident at you usually were. Not because you were scared of them, no, you were scared of embarrassing Valentino. Your boss might have forgiven you for your countless stunts but when it came to matters of business with the V’s, you knew your place.

“Angel dust thinks he is on this path to redemption, let him stay in his delusion but until I can break him fully he will never be loyal to me. Not as loyal as (Y/N) here…” Valentino wraps his hand around your neck, forcing your head up to look at Vox— who for a split second was taken back by your beauty, “I have broken (Y/N) time and time again, she would do anything for me, isn’t that right (Y/N)?”

You closed your eyes, “Yes, Valentino.”

“Good.” Valentino pushes you toward Vox, making you stumble into him, forcing him to catch you in his arms, “Quite the vixen, she would surely catch the eyes of any overlord.”

“Even the King of Hell himself?” Vox tips your chin up with his index finger, looking into your eyes with a devilishly grin that makes you shiver.

“Asmodeus throws the biggest parties in the Pride Ring that is filled with all kinds of debauchery, especially for his birthday.” Valentino explains, leaning back in his chair as he crosses his right leg over the other, exhaling out a long drag of pink smoke, “Every one of importance will be there since it isn’t just a party but a show of status.”

“And..what? Your pretty toy is just supposed to waltz in there and get the attention of any overlord that wants to fuck her?” Velvette finally tears her gaze away from her phone, raising an eyebrow in question.

“Well it is an important party of one of Lucifer’s friends—”

“Which means he is bound to be there.” Vox grins, “Get close to the king and we get closer to controlling Hell.”

“And what makes you so sure he’ll entertain such..” Velvette looks at you with a roll of her eyes, “From what I hear Lucifer is loyal to Lilith, no one has seen him with another woman on his arm and it’s been 7 years, hashtag faithful.”

“Ah, well, 7 years is a long time to go without intimacy…I say the man is touch starved and would like some attention.” Valentino says, “Anyone can still get lonely, no matter how faithful.”

“I like the way you think Val,” Vox grips your chin as you grit your teeth. “And I think your little whore here will do just nicely.”

Before you know it was the day of Asmodeus’ birthday party. The V’s gave you the run down of the plan and how you were supposed to get close to the King of Hell himself— who you haven’t even seen in person for as long as you been hell. Which was a few years by now. You were a simple lowlife, you kept to yourself and tried to survive, only to end up within his grasp. Was he as cruel as people say? ‘What sort of question is that? Of course he was! He was the King of fucking Hell, which last time you checked, wasn’t given to just anyone.’

Of all the people, of everyone in Hell, it just has to be you. Because of your cursed deal with Val, you were stuck in a continuous limbo that you couldn’t escape from. Damn you and your loyalty, damn it all if it will end up with you dead ( again ) on the steps of Lucifer’s palace. This wasn’t fair— but then again, when has your situation ever been fair?

“Oh, you look just like a doll.” Valentino ruffled with the fake angel wings that adorned your back, fixing and prodding with whatever to make you more presentable, “Like an angel. Hell, upon just a glance mio caro you might have been able to get away with actually being one.”

And as you glance at your reflection in the mirror you felt a sudden sharp pain in the center of your forehead. Only fragments of memories came flooding your mind like a crashing wave. It was all so blurry but the word Angel held some sort of weight on you but you couldn’t place exactly what.

You held onto your head, trying to steady your breathing and relaxing your nerves as Valentino continues to add the finishing touches to your look.

“Get it together, dove.” Valentino meets your gaze in the reflection, “I hope you won’t disappoint me.”

“No..” The pain in your head quickly fades away as soon as it came, “I can do this.”

“Good, because it is just about your turn to be presented for the auction.”

The auction. Asmodeus does it for sport at every single one of his parties but now that this is his birthday party, this auction is the biggest one yet. It is where he finds Hell’s most beautiful prized possessions, not limiting to actual sinners. The hope was to capture Lucifer’s attention as he would be in the crowd through this angel facade, and pray that he would bet on you. And if that didn’t work, then you would have to move on to plan B. And you didn’t like plan b.

Valentino wished you luck as you stood behind the curtain to the center stage, disappearing into the shadows to leave you on your own and this mission that was screwed from the get go.

“And last but not least, I present to you—! what is the object’s name again?” The announcer whispers, putting his microphone away from his face to get a confirmation from another employee, “Ah! The pure and innocent, (Y/N)!”

The curtain suddenly opens, the spotlight from above blinding you in away that made you shield your eyes from the brightness. You squint, looking upon a sea of red lustful eyes looking over your figure with curiosity. You take a deep breath, as you played the part of a shy girl, slowly bringing your hands to cover yourself even though the white thin laced gown left little to the imagination.

“Hubba hubba! Would you look at that boys?” Asmodeus’ eyes nearly turn into hearts at the sight of you, “And I thought nothing could even look so angelic in Hell!”

“What a beaut’” Mammon agrees.

“Indeed.” Lucifer sat beside his friends, trying to cover his boredom with peaked interest as he looks in your direction. This whole thing was pretty fucked up to him but that was just the way of life down here, there’s no changing that— no changing people when it is just in their nature. Now usually he wouldn’t indulge such things but he was the King of Hell, and he had to play the part to maintain order even though he longed for nothing but to be constructing rubber ducks right now.

“500!” A man in the crowd closer to the stage shouts.

The announcer points in the man’s direction with enthusiasm, “I hear 500! What about 550? Do I hear 550?”

“600!” Another shouts.

“600 to the gentleman in red! But do I hear a 650? 650?”

Asmodeus sits back in his seat, taking another swig of his whiskey. Mammon looks at his friend in disbelief as the unknown sinners below them begin to shout various of numbers for you, “Is she not to the Lustful Overlords taste?”

“Ah, I have so many who do the innocent act. It gets boring after awhile. But if you’re interested…you should buy her.” Asmodeus smirks, shaking the single ice cube in his glass as he signals to the waitress for another.

“She ain’t my type, but—” Mammon gets a sudden idea, “Lucifer should have her. I’m sure he gets off to the Angel shit don’t you your highness?”

Lucifer tips his hat up with his cane, “I am married.”

“To a woman who you haven’t seen in seven years!” Asmodeus rolls his eyes with a loud groan before raising his hand to join the bid, “Lighten up! Good sir, I say 2500!”

“What a doozy! 2500! 2500! Do I hear 3000!?” The announcer nearly jumps from his stool at the amount offered, “Going once! Going twice—!”

“Asmodeus.” Lucifer warned. Not wanting any part in this sinful behavior.

The sound of a gavel rang through the air, finalizing the amount, “And sold to the gentleman in VIP! Your prize will wait outback until you are ready to retrieve it! Enjoy!”

Just like that the plan was working. In just less than five minutes you were sold off like some prize. Your life being in yet another’s hands that wasn’t your own, it was a bit ironic since this life is almost just the same as the one you led on Earth. It was getting harder and harder to distinguish which one was truly Hell.

© POPAMOLLY 2024 all fanfics belong to me, do not copy, translate, or repost in any other social media.

Be sure to leave a comment & let me know if you want to added to the tag list for this story so you’re updated whenever I drop a new chapter! xo

[autisticempathydaemon]

Hello... again! Are you hyperfixated on RedactedAudio?

Do you want (need) to know who to follow to cultivate your dashboard and feed your gremlin brain good, good boyfriend roleplay content and my first recommendation post of magnificent fan-artists and fan-writers wasn't enough dopamine for you?

Cool, I’ve got you, and I’ve got even more hyperlinks. Buckle up.

(Note: This is by no means a comprehensive, objective, or complete list, as I have biases and favorites and limited time. If you feel I've missed someone, please feel free to reblog with your additions! I just would have loved a guide like this when I got into the fandom back in August 2022 and wanted to spread some positivity~!)

Fanfiction:

@agentplutonium: they/them

Pluto is just one of the many gorgeous people who've migrated to Tumblr now that Twitter is, ya know, on fire. I've been following them on Tiktok for ages, and I'm so pleased they joined us on tumblr now! Highlights: "Constant" and "Inconvenience" mean the world to me, because there are just not enough aspec headcanons in the fandom, we could always have more.

@angelicaether: they/them

Aether is a fucking gem unto this fandom- not only do they run Sky Side, a friendly, closeknit (hehe) server for 21+ Redacted fans but they also were who we have to thank for Redacted Kinktober 2023, bless them~ Highlights: New Job Posting is magnificent if you’re in the mood for some David/Angel smut today and this cute couple crossover fic if you’re feeling more SFW!

@caelumsnuff: they/them

Phoenix is magnificent, creative, and endlessly sweet. I also respect the hell out of anyone that can take the anon hate that they get with as much grace and attitude as they do /gen /pos Highlights: I love this gift for the Quinn-fuckers they wrote, I do, but I have to admit I'm partial to the Imperium!Vincent/Imperium!Asher piece they did, because their tension and hatred was just too palpable to deny, I needed it.

@empydoc: any pronouns

Empy's Soul Eater AU has not only taken over my life but has also got me deeply wanted a Soul Eater rewatch. God forbid xe succeed because this post has already been delayed enough /j Highlights: I love the Marcus/Asset post, because that's my favorite pairing but also because Asset as both an android and a weapon is so, so interesting. Blake/Bestie's is also a particular gem, because being a meister just gives him a new dimension to his manipulation and I love it.

@floofdeloop: she/her

Not only is Floof a beloved fic writer but she's also one of the adored DJs of the fandom. Are you really a fan if you haven't looked up Redacted on Spotify and saved all her playlists? /j Highlights: Her whole playlist page is literally so good, but I love the cute, domestic vibes of this Geordi one or the tragic, angsty, Britrock vibes of this Porter playlist~!

@joshusten: they/them

Sten is one of if not the writer that comes to mind when you're looking for amazing Guy/Honey content! Highlights: Bitter Melon is my personal favorite of their work; what can I say? I'm a sucker for a little jealousy in my fics. You also can't miss Honeysuckle, their most recent piece which gets into Guy's canonically less-than-pure mind~

@pinksparkl: she/her

Gosh, where would we be without her? Pink never has a bad word or thought for anyone and just persists in being a delightful, sweet presence in the fandom. Highlight: I can't decide what I'm more obsessed with- their Adam-centric fic exploring the Progeny/Maker bond or their nsfw Gavin-centric with his tail exploring Freelancer nudge nudge wink wink

@redlikeredacted: they/them

Just as their blog says, they are the CEO of Dasher. In my head, they are the president of both the David/Asher and the Autistic!David fan clubs, and I'd vote for them a second and third term okay I love Red Highlights: Their "David bottoming for the first time" fic is everything to me okay I am here for nothing but this except maybe this Milo fic where he gets Aggro~

@teafairywithabook: she/they

A lovely writer, voice actor, and person, Cheri does it all! With a whole 34 Redacted works on AO3, they are a must-follow. Highlights: I'll provide the masterlist of previously mentioned works, but I must recommend her nsfw Avior/Starlight fic keeping us sated until we finally get an Avior BA and their fic of Alexis's POV of Sam's turning I couldn't not okay I'm just a person I have biases

@tepid-judas: he/they/it

My favorite Adam stan, my friend, and the person who converted me into an Adam/Brighteyes shipper, I thank Judas every day for that. Highlights: I love their series of epistolary fics, because who doesn’t love a good letter, but I would be remiss if I didn’t rec his DAMN polycule plus Xavier fic cause fuck canon let's add frosty the snowman to the orgy /lh

@themonotonysyndrome: she/her

Lady, my dearest friend and greatest foe~ How else do I describe the gorgeous, sociable, friendly person who bought Alexis/Christian into the world and ruined my life? (affectionate) Highlights: Let these two assholes in love take you on a ride, fall in love with them too. If that's not your vibe, I cannot recommend enough her insane, gen z Bright Eyes being an absolute fucking terror /pos

Fanart:

@androgynouspenguinexpert

Can YOU believe Penguin's only been posting art since, like, December? I certainly can't, because it's like they've drawn every boy at this point and each is as smoochable and adorable as the last. Highlights: Their Porter is one of my favorites; what can I say? Who can resist this high ponytail and cape combo? I also love their Hush, cause look at him~! He's adorable! Penguin gives all these boys such luscious, floofable hair; I love them!

@cute-brainz: she/they/it

Kindly, lovingly, respectfully, Cute's listeners designs reduce me to a sniveling, simpering puddle of a simp. I become nothing but a humble, simple straight man, and none of you came blame me good god their listeners are hotter than all the redacted men- Highlights: Like, look at their Lovely: the hair, the singlet, the VIBES? Fuckin irresistible; like Vincent, I'd give them anything their heart desires. And their ANGEL? The MINUTE David Shaw fumbles that bag, I'm on my knees with a ring hello earth angel will you be mine

@darling-solaire

Darl has been posting art for only a month and a half at the writing of the post, and yet I feel like I've loved their Solaires for forever. They, as a unit, are hot and tragic as fuck, and I love them. Highlights: I am obsessed, particularly, with the Solaire family portraits, but maybe that's because my girl Alexis is up there, and I love her. There's also this bust compilation of more Redacted boys in case you didn't find your favorite in the Solaires~!

@free-boundsoul: she/her

Okay so, like, vibe with me did you ever love Lisa Frank products with the bright, saturated colors and sparkling eyes but wish instead of cuddly animals that there were really hot men? Then Savvie is the artist for you~ Highlights: One, it's fun to see a Regulus that's not blue, okay? It's thinkin outside the box. Two, the CRACKS? WITH THE GOLD PEEKING THROUGH? I'm inconsolable my god. Speaking of daemons, Fool!Gavin is sort of everything to me. He's just really rocking that sweater vest!

@hotmcrodz: he/they

I know for a fact that I'm not the only one obsessed with the way Jai draws human anatomy. I have unironically seen a Jai piece in the tag and gone "WOWZA" like I'm Jim Carrey in The Mask; that's what they do to me. Highlights: This Milo was one of the pieces that made my eyes pop out my head like a cartoon wolf; I think it's the shirtlessness plus the muscle pose. I just couldn't handle it. I also reacted like that to their Babe because I am an equal opportunity pervert /hj

@izzuku: he/they

Izzuku designs characters with the most realistic and gorgeous body types; like, I love the soft jawlines and how warm and touchable they draw skin. Every Izzuku design is kissable as hell. Highlights: I have to recommend his Regulus and Hush designs, obviously, they're my favorite men. However, I can't let the world go by another rotation without recommending this special Halloween version of Vincent~!

@kilarthmac: she/they

In case we needed another reason to love and appreciate the iconic timestamping account we all recognize from the Redacted comments, we cannot neglect their fanart! Highlights: Like, look at this brought-back-wrong Vega! This Hush with his cute face and off-putting air! He's so cute and so weird! I also love this piece they've done for one of my favorite rarepairs, Imperium!Lasko/Adam~

@latenightsleeper: he/they/it/she

My kinfolk and my beloved, one of the few people who understand me and the vision that is beautiful, blonde, dumb and lovable Christian. They will give you so many feelings about Darlin and Christian, and they will cause you agony /pos Highlights: Obviously, I'm obsessed with the Tank/Christian art like this one (Christian is just so cuuute), but we're all obsessed with this Sam/Darlin animatic set to Eat Your Young.

@maxpaulll

An amazing artist that I'm so glad we managed to get to migrate to Tumblr from Twitter so I could put them on this list~ Highlights: I am obsessed always with their Indigenous character designs, especially David. Like, look at him, he's indescribably beautiful, outshone by no one except maybe Max's Imp!Vega, because oh my god look at him~

@nortyourself: she/her

I don't think there's anyone who's not obsessed with at least one of Rachel's pieces; like, I believe she'll get to every Redacted man with the speed and beauty she works. Even Reticuli has gotten the Rachel treatment and been made hot af. Highlights: Technically, this Imperium!Damien just takes me breath away; like, it would be blown up and framed in his palace (for all of his short and tempestuous reign). Personally, her Hush has a dear and special place in my heart. He's just my favorite~!

@penncilkid: any pronouns

One of the most gorgeous and darling and non-stop creators in the space! They're a true triple threat, kicking our hearts in the butt with their art, their writing, and their audio roleplay series~ Highlights: With so many mediums under their belt, it's so hard to choose. If you're looking for purely Redacted content, their art is prolific and so creative, I've got to share the whole gallery. If you're in the market for a new VA to fall in love with, you've got to check out their youtube channel~!

@pycth: any pronouns

I dont have anything creative or profound to say here- all of pycth's designs are smoking hot and would render me selectively mute with a glance, 'nuff said. Highlights: How can I PICK? Ugh, hottest of the hot that comes to mind has got to be their President Moore art; like, this pose isn't FAIR. On the other end of the spectrum, if you want your heart kicked in the butt, I don't think any of us are over this Sam piece or ever will be.

@rainingcatsandjune: any pronouns

Another new artist who's only been here since April, and yet- I would die for his and his fine-ass, touchable Sam. Like, hell, render any man pretty like that, and I'll die for him. That's how pretty this art is. Highlights: Like, look at him. How does one do anything but look at him, especially in this pose? Again, look at him! Look at the hands. The soft, touchable glow and how it lights and shades his and Darlin's skin. The broad shoulders good god~

@sainthowlzon: they/he

You can't turn a corner on tumblr without seeing some of Howl's adorable Scribble Dolls or Icons! (Or any other social media actually. I feel like I've deffo seem some of Howl's icons on Tiktok too.) They're cute, they're iconic, and there's one for almost everyone! Highlights: Here's that full set of icons for your perusal; my personal favorite is Asset's. And here's the full set of Redacted Scribble Dolls; my favorite is Regulus, I think, because of his freaky vibes, but it's so hard to pick!

@sincerelywhistler: any pronouns

Like everyone with a working set of eyes and a beating heart, I am obsessed with all of Wes's designs; like, who wouldn't fall in love at first sight with all those beautiful and often shirtless people? Highlights: There's honestly too many to pick from, but I'll TRY. Their Gavin is an absolute must, I share it with the Discord on sight, he's that it girl if you will. Oh, and one cannot neglect Avior's HBS piece; I'm not even an Avior girlie, and I was like daaaaaamnnnnnnn~

@slushiepizza: they/them

Where would all the guy-lovers be without Slushie and their absolute cornucopia of Guy and Honey delights? Like, where else would we get our homemade, MacGyver'd serotonin? Highlights: The "Everyday" series is everything to me, and I mean everything; Guy has become too relatable and has struck me right in the heart. If you're not in a Guy mood, I'm also in love with their older, cozy Anton~!

@s0lairee: she/they

Jo's style is just so clean, so cute, and I really love it when they play with lighting in their pieces. Like, we are almost, almost there to making me stan Vincent if you're gonna drape him in moonlight like that... Highlights: ...thought, if I had to pick, I'd probably lean more towards Vincent's partner. They're rocking the red eyes, I love them! I'm also obsessed with their freckle-y, sweet Lasko, because who isn't?

@strawberrybouvine: he/they

The artistic equivalent of gourmet candy, I am absolutely obsessed with the gorgeous colors of Jasper's art and cannot get enough of the sweetness! Is this sugar running through my veins or unparalleled cuteness? Highlights: I'm not even a David stan but, like, jesus christ, the long hair and hairy chest makes me want to go feral. Don't even get me started on the cuteness of his chibi art, I really will start foaming at the mouth.

@theflowersaremine

I don't know exactly what medium Haylin uses or what colors or effects they use, but goddamn it makes those men so dreamy. I'm not even a Sam stan, but that's a smoochable man right out of Gilmore Girls /pos Highlights: Like, are you seeing the Gilmore Girls vision? That's a handsome man from a wholesome show geared for women- almost as handsome as this art of David. I see this smile in my dreams; it's so beautiful.

@venuslove-28: any pronouns

Venus's art is strawberry and vanilla soft serve injected straight into my heart; it's so familiar and cute, so charming, and I want to stim and bounce in excitement when I see it. Does that make sense? It'll make sense when you see it. Highlights: Personally, I have never and I will never stop thinking about this Huxley, I am simply not capable. Their Avior is also cuter than all get-out, I must admit.

@wingless-cupid

I don't think anyone does cute and colorful and pastel and kawaii quite like Cupid. You can't help but look and admire all the eye-catching colors and then want to hug their cheery, dynamic characters! Highlights: I'm highkey obsessed with their Freelancer and DAMNily and all their d(a)emons in general. Like, look at this! Minh is such a cutie and a simp, I love them! I'm also constantly thinking about this art in particular, because look at all these PRICELESS EXPRESSIONS!

@yoteako: he/it

Would you like stunning, high quality art and tragic, old man yaoi on your dash? That's a silly question; of course you do which is why we're going to follow and love on Yote. Highlights: See how beautiful, doomed, and intimate this multi-page comic is about two characters who've never canonically spoken? That's devotion. On the less forsaken side of the narrative, their Gavin/Lasko ship art is embedded into my heart.

If you’re reading all the way here, I hope you found the post helpful and smiled while making your way through it! Or both! The RedactedAudio fandom is truly one of my favorite spaces on the internet; it’s so intimate and creative, and I’ve found some amazing, perfect friends here, so I hope you will too 💖

[anniebeemine]

omg omg omg pls can we have a part 2 to baby fever! Like we tell the team!

It’s a little longer than I anticipated but I can definitely do that!

It was a quiet afternoon at the BAU when you received a text from JJ, who was still on maternity leave after the birth of her son, Michael.

Thought I’d bring the little guy to visit the team. Be there in 20.

A smile spread across your face as you read the message. You quickly shared the news with Spencer, who was reviewing some files at his desk. “JJ’s bringing Michael in for a visit today.”

Spencer looked up, a rare, warm smile gracing his features. “That’s great. I’ve missed having her around.”

Twenty minutes later, you heard the unmistakable sound of baby coos echoing through the bullpen. You and Spencer exchanged excited glances and made your way to the entrance, where you found JJ cradling Michael in her arms. The team began to gather around her, everyone eager to see the newest member of the BAU family.

“Look who I brought!” JJ announced, beaming as she gently rocked Michael.

Penelope was the first to rush over, her eyes shining with excitement. “Oh, JJ! He’s gotten so big!” She reached out, her hands fluttering excitedly as she looked at the baby with adoration. “Can I hold him?”

JJ laughed, carefully handing Michael over to Penelope, who took him as if he were made of the most precious glass. “Of course you can. He loves to be held.”

Morgan sidled up next to Penelope, his usual swagger softened by the presence of the little one. “Hey, little man,” he cooed, lightly tickling Michael’s chin. “You’re gonna be a heartbreaker, aren’t you?”

As everyone gathered around, taking turns holding Michael and chatting with JJ, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of anticipation in your chest. You and Spencer had been quietly planning your own family, and seeing JJ with Michael made that dream feel even more real.

You were holding Michael when you were left alone with JJ. She smiled at you, sensing something in the air. “Thinking about joining the club?” She asked.

“We’ve been,” you paused to search for the right word, “trying.” You cringed, always hating the term but how else do you mildly say Spencer had been stuffing you like a pastry every night for the past two weeks.

JJ chuckled. “You’re going to be an amazing mom.”

You ran the pad of your index finger down Michael’s nose. He nuzzled into the warmth offered by your chest. “If you want, I can take him and bring him back when it’s time to pay for college.”

She laughed loudly. “I say go for it, but I’m not sure about Will.”

You smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to Michael’s forehead. “I think I’ll start with a few more practice runs before I take on the full job.”

JJ grinned, leaning in a little closer. “You’ve got this. Besides, you’ve already got Spencer wrapped around your finger. Imagine how he’ll be with a baby.”

You laughed, the thought of Spencer doting over a baby melting your heart. “He’ll probably read every parenting book known to man, twice.”

JJ nodded in agreement. “And quote them word for word.”

The two of you shared a knowing look before Michael let out a tiny yawn, reminding you both just how sweet this new chapter could be. You handed off Michael to JJ as Penelope returned to with a warm bottle.

Later that day, after wrapping up some paperwork, you and Spencer exchanged a glance. It was time. Spencer squeezed your hand as you both walked toward Hotch’s office, nerves and excitement bubbling up in equal measure.

Spencer knocked softly on the door, and Hotch looked up from his desk. “Come in.”

You stepped inside, Spencer right behind you. Hotch’s brow furrowed slightly as he noticed your hesitant smiles. “Is everything okay?”

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “Hotch, we wanted to talk to you about something important.” You glanced at Spencer, who was practically vibrating with energy beside you.

“We’re planning on starting a family,” you said, your voice filled with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

Spencer couldn’t contain himself. “Soon!” he blurted out, his face lighting up.

Hotch’s serious expression softened instantly, a rare smile spreading across his face. He stood up from behind his desk and walked over to you both. “That’s wonderful news.”

Before you knew it, Hotch had wrapped both of you in a warm hug.“Congratulations,” he said, his voice filled with genuine warmth. “You’re going to make incredible parents.”

Spencer’s arms tightened around you as Hotch stepped back, a grin on his face. “Thank you, Hotch,” Spencer said, his eyes shining with excitement. “We’re really excited.”

Hotch nodded, a proud and almost fatherly expression on his face. “I’m happy for you both. And don’t worry, we’ll make sure to support you every step of the way.”

The next few weeks were a whirlwind of passion, anticipation, and a bit of chaos. Nights were filled with eager attempts to conceive, the room often filled with laughter and whispered reassurances between you and Spencer. The connection between you grew stronger, fueled by the shared excitement of what might come.

But it wasn’t just about those intimate moments. Spencer, true to form, buried himself in research, combing through books and articles on fertility and conception. He eagerly shared his findings with you, from scientifically-backed tips to more unconventional methods. You couldn’t help but laugh when he brought up trying different positions or timing based on your body’s natural rhythms. His enthusiasm was contagious, and you found yourself more invested in the process than you ever imagined.

One evening, after yet another round of passionate effort, Spencer surprised you by pulling out a list of old wives' tales he’d discovered in his research. “Did you know that some people swear by eating pineapple or even keeping your feet warm after...?” he said, eyes twinkling with a mix of amusement and curiosity.

You rolled your eyes playfully but agreed to give some of them a try. You both found yourselves experimenting with all sorts of little rituals—drinking pomegranate juice, trying specific positions, even propping up your legs afterward as you laughed together at the absurdity of it all.

“When can I stop?” You asked, your head grazing the floor as you sat upside down on the couch, knees draped over the back. He’d placed a pair of socks on your feet earlier.

Spencer, who was sitting nearby with a book in hand, glanced over at you with a small smile. “Just a few more minutes,” he said, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice.

You groaned, tilting your head to look at him. “You know this is ridiculous, right?”

He chuckled softly, closing his book and setting it aside. “Maybe, but it doesn’t hurt to try. Besides,” he added, moving to sit beside you on the floor, “I think it’s kind of fun.”

You gave him a playful glare, though it was hard to maintain with the blood rushing to your head. “Fun for you, maybe. I’m the one upside down.”

Spencer leaned in, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Think of it as a bonding exercise.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound echoing in the quiet room. “If this works, I’m making you do it next time.”

He grinned, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “Deal.”

A couple of weeks later, the routine of trying, waiting, and hoping had become almost second nature. You had gone in for some routine blood work, not expecting much—just the usual check-up to make sure everything was on track. Spencer had insisted on coming with you, ever the supportive partner.

The nurse had drawn your blood, made small talk, and promised to call with the results in a day or two. It felt like a formality at this point. You and Spencer had become pros at managing expectations, keeping things light despite the heavy anticipation that lingered between you both.

But then the call came.

You were at work, finishing up some paperwork, when your phone buzzed. Seeing the clinic’s number, your heart skipped a beat. With slightly shaky hands, you answered.

“Hi, this is Y/N.”

“Hi, Y/N, this is Nurse Williams from Dr. Peters’ office. I just wanted to let you know that we got your blood work back.”

You held your breath, glancing at Spencer across the room. He was deeply focused on something at his desk, but as if sensing your gaze, he looked up, his eyes narrowing in concern.

“And?” you prompted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Well, everything looks good… and I’m pleased to tell you that it looks like you’re pregnant! It’s very early, but the levels are definitely there.”

You froze, the world around you seeming to still. “Wait, really? I’m… I’m pregnant?” You stood up abruptly, grazing Spencer’s shoulder as you rushed to the conference room for privacy.

“Yes, congratulations! We’ll want to see you again soon to monitor things, but it’s definitely looking positive.”

You barely managed to thank her before ending the call, your hand trembling as you lowered the phone. Spencer was up and across the room in an instant, his eyes filled with concern. “What is it? What did they say?” He asked as he shut the door behind him.

You blinked up at him, your voice catching in your throat as you tried to speak. Finally, you managed a smile, tears of joy welling up in your eyes. “Spence… we’re pregnant. It worked. I’m really early on, but… we’re having a baby.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, the words sinking in. Then, his face broke into the widest grin you’d ever seen, and without hesitation, he wrapped you in a tight hug, lifting you off the ground as he spun you around. “We’re having a baby!” he exclaimed, laughter and tears mingling in his voice.

You clung to him, both of you laughing and crying as the reality of it all settled in. After everything—the anxious waiting, the ups and downs—it was finally happening. You were going to be parents.

Spencer set you down gently, his hands cupping your face as he looked at you with pure adoration. “You’re amazing,” he whispered, kissing you softly. “I can’t believe it… we’re really going to be parents.”

You nodded, tears still streaming down your face. “We are,” you whispered back, feeling a warmth and happiness that you’d never known before.

For a long moment, you just held each other, soaking in the joy of this new beginning. Then, Spencer pulled back slightly, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “We have to tell the team.”

You laughed, nodding in agreement. “But first, let’s just enjoy this moment… just us.”

Spencer smiled, kissing you again, more tenderly this time. “Just us,” he agreed, his hands resting gently on your still-flat stomach, already protective of the life growing inside.

The first trimester had been a mix of excitement, nausea, and fatigue, but as it came to an end, the secret you and Spencer had been keeping became harder and harder to contain. You were both eager to share the news with the team, the people who had become your family over the years.

You’d just wrapped up a tough case, and everyone was exhausted. The jet ride back had been quiet, with most of the team catching up on much-needed rest. Even Spencer had dozed off for a bit, his hand resting protectively over yours the entire time.

Back at the BAU, as the team filed out of the jet and started to wrap up for the day, you exchanged a glance with Spencer. He nodded, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. It was time.

Taking a deep breath, you turned to the group. “Hey, everyone, before you head out, can you meet us in the conference room for a minute? We have something we’d like to share.”

There were curious glances all around, but no one questioned it. They all followed you and Spencer to the conference room. As they entered, they were greeted by the sight of a small cake with candles on the table, and next to it, a framed sonogram image.

Penelope was the first to notice, her eyes widening behind her colorful glasses. “Oh my God,” she whispered, her hand flying to her mouth.

Morgan, standing beside her, looked between you and Spencer, a grin spreading across his face. “Are you two…?”

Spencer smiled, unable to contain his excitement any longer. “We’re having a baby.”

The room erupted in cheers and congratulations. Emily clapped her hands together, her face lit up with a huge smile. JJ immediately pulled you into a tight hug, tears of happiness in her eyes. Hotch and Rossi both stepped forward to shake Spencer’s hand, with Rossi giving him a fatherly pat on the back.

Penelope couldn’t stop bouncing on her toes. “This is the best news ever! We need to celebrate!”

You laughed, feeling overwhelmed with joy as you looked around the room at your team—your family. “That’s what the cake is for,” you said, smiling as you gestured to it. “We wanted to tell you all together.”

Hotch, who rarely showed much emotion, smiled warmly as he looked at the sonogram. “Congratulations, both of you. This is wonderful news.”

Spencer wrapped an arm around you, his face glowing with pride and happiness. “We’re really excited,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “And we’re so glad to share this moment with all of you.”

As everyone gathered around the table, the candles on the cake were lit, and for a moment, you just stood there, taking it all in—the warmth, the love, the sense of family that surrounded you. Spencer leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear. “We did it,” he whispered, his voice full of wonder.

You turned to him, your eyes shining. “We did,” you whispered back, your heart swelling with love for the man beside you and the little life you were about to bring into the world.

[imaginesig]

Dancing under the lights

Oscar Piastri x Ballerina!Reader smau

Platonic!Grid x Ballerina!Reader

These are just some insta posts that you/Oscar would make if he was dating a ballerina

yourusername

Liked by oscarpiastri, y/n_bestie, user5, and 24,097 others

yourusername: tis the season

tagged: y/n_bestie, y/n_friend

y/n_bestie I’m starting a Tchaikovsky hate club

yourusername count me in

y/n_friend1 same

user it’s been a week since Nutcracker rehearsals started and it’s already this had

user2 never underestimate the intensity of ballet

oscarpiastri stunning

yourusername aww love you oz🫶🫶

landonorris simp

landonorris can’t be that hard

yourusername says the one who goes vroom for a living

charles_leclerc 🩰🎄

maxverstappen1 Penelope can’t wait to see you!!

yourusername tell her I can’t wait to see her recital next week!!

load more

oscarpiastri

Liked by yourusername, logansargent, landonorris, and 89,242 others

oscarpiastri: one thing about me, I’m never gonna understand the process of prepping point shoes

tagged: yourusername

yourusername it’s ok babe, I learned what a DRS is you can learn this

oscarpiastri all that money just to cut and glue and crack them up???

maxverstappen1 should I be worried!

yourusername just think when the time comes, Penelope will have me as a guide

maxverstappen1 so should I be worried??

danielriccardo I HAVE to see this process now

y/n_bestie pointe shoes aren’t for the faint of heart

user1 don’t these cost a fortune??

user2 about that yea

user3 stop she’s so pretty even when destroying shoes

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yourusername

Liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, y/n_bestfriend, and 45,947 others

yourusername: My little baby angel is all grown up 🥹 I have never felt so honored as I did when she called me her idol and started this dance journey!! Beautiful Penelope I cannot wait to watch you grow and learn🩰🫶🧸

Tagged maxverstappen1, kellypiquet

oscarpiastri I think you cried more than her actual mom during this recital

charles_leclerc second to Max of course

oscarpiastri you could hear him 3 blocks away

maxverstappen1 this was a nice post celebrating P, how did we get here

yourusername Max always has to be number 1

kellypiquet she absolutely loved having your there!!! Thank you so much for coming

yourusername I adored every second of it

user1 your telling me that Penelope started dance because of y/n

user2 how did they even know each other?? Max and Oscar aren't even that close

user3 through Charles, she's a very popular ballerina and so when she posted a story dancing to one of his pieces they kept in touch-- I wouldn't be surprised if Charles drug Max out to watch her

user2 that's really sweet

user1 now you see why I'm crying over her influence on Penelope

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oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, Charles_leclerc, user1 and 46, 368 others

oscarpiastri: I've never been more in awe of someone before than I am of you. Every new production you steal the audience with your beauty and grace, can't wait to see what the rest of the season holds. To my favorite Sugar Plum fairy, I love you

tagged yourusername

yourusername aww oz 🥹 you're sweeter than all the people in the Kingdom of Sweets

y/n_bestie wow high compliment

oscarpiastri I know 😎

yourusername love ya both 💖💖

landonorris booo sap

yourusername what if you just 🤸🏻🚊

landonorris this is cyberbullying

danielriccardo ya'll see sum 🧑🏻‍🦯🙈

user1 the betrayal is unmatched

yourusername always a good day when Danny Ric is on your side

charles_leclerc beautiful production!!

yourusername number 1 ballet fan has entered the chat

maxverstappen1 Penelope hasn't stopped talking about this all weekend

user2 awww this is adorable

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yourusername

liked by y/n_bestie, lilymhe, y/n_friend, and 23,938 others

yourusername: Sugar Plum Fairy, you've been a dream!! A special shoutout to @/y/n_bestie for being rock through it all, from party guests, to soldiers, to flowers and so many more 🩵🩰 It has been a wild season getting to live out my dream Nutcracker role. Let's see what else is in store...

tagged y/n_bestie, y/n_dancecompany

y/n_bestie IM LITERALY CRYING

y/n_bestie I love you so much 💖💖 its been an absolute honor to grow with you!!

yourusername my favorite Arabian sololist!! I love you much

lilymhe I will never not be impressed by you

yourusername awww I love you bby

lilymhe 😩🤭

alex_albon Oscar come get your girl

oscarpiastri 🫣

user1 stop not them dancing together since chilhood

y/n_friend the last slide 💀💀

oscarpiastri talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique

yourusername who taught him this bc I know damn well it wasn't me 🤔

landonorris @/logansargent

logansargent 🤷🏼‍♂️

charles_leclerc eagerly awaiting the spring run...

youruserame 🤫

y/n_bestie 🫢

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oscarpiastri

liked by user4, mclaren, logansargent, and 97,379 others

oscarpiastri: what a season! Thank you so much Mclaren for helping me create an unforgettable rookie season-- cheers to winter break before its back to the grind 🥂🧡

tagged mclaren, yourusername

mclaren thats our rookie of the year 🏆

landonorris what a ride mate

yourusername so, so proud!!

oscarpiastri ❤️❤️

y/n_bestie she may be supportive but I'm not, why is this INCREDIBLE picture of my girl LAST

user3 get his ass girl

oscarpiastri In my defense I had to thank the job that paid me to take her on a trip

y/n_bestie you better be planning more posts

oscarpiastri pinky promise I do

youruserman did she just threaten you through instagram comments

landonorris your bf's a pussy remember

user1 my addiction can't handle winter break

user2 already started my countdown

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yourusername

liked by

yourusername: "we can leave the Christmas lights up til January"

tagged oscarpiastri, y/n_dancecompany

y/n_dancecompany new year, new routines

y/n_bestie take notes @/oscarpiastri you were the first two slides...

oscarpiastri how many stories and posts have I made of her since break started

user1 NOT HER HOLDING A GRUDGE

y/n_friend first one back to the studio I see

yourusername guilty 🫠

oscarpiastri I enjoyed our winter wonderland

yourusername I love you oz

oscarpiatri I love you too

landonorris bleh 🤢

danielriccardo you dropped this 🔴 put it back on your nose 🤡🥰

user3 who is teaching them these things??

user9 my sneaking suspicion is Logan

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yourusername

liked by kellypiquet, y/n_bestie, danielriccardo, and 45,083 others

yourusername: a kiss can awaken the deepest of dreams ✨🩰🌙

tagged: y/n_dancecompany, y/n_dancepartner

user9 this is so aesthetic I could cry

yourusername I didn't come to mess around

y/n_bestie I cannot wait to put a spell on you

yourusername love my maleficent 💚

oscarpiastri come to a grand prix and you'll spend more time in bed than sleeping beauty 😉

yourusername i'd let you kiss me awake 😏

maxverstappen1 my daughter looks up to you, please stop

danielriccardo wheres Lando with his comments when you need him

landonorris im gonna drink bleach

oscarpiastri you had to summon him didnt you

kellypiquet P can't wait to play little Aurora alongside you

yourusername I wouldn't want anyone else to play little me!! 🩵🩵

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oscarpiastri

liked by mclaren, y/n_bestie, landonorris, and 76,283 others

oscarpiastri: that moment when you girl has a killer opening weekend and you get a podium!! @/yourusername thank you for a beautiful week capped off with 2 big weekends. I love you more than words can tell ❤️

tagged mclaren, yourinstagram, y/n_dancecompany

yourusername awww oz I love you to the moon and back

oscarpiastri who's cutting onions

landonorris if y'all don't get married rn I swear ill fall asleep in oncoming traffic

youruserman oh 😃

oscarpiastri mate...

danielriccardo what a drastic change of attitude

y/n_bestie glad to see you've sorted out your priorities

mclaren we agree

oscarpiastri wow I don't even have admin on my side

user4 aww stop this is adorable

user8 the schedules lining up perfectly is a gift from the dance and F1 gods

user5 fr fr

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yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, y/n_bestie, y/n_dancecompany, and 101,012 others

yourusername: one thing I was never taught why how hard this goodbye is. I've called this company home since I was 4 alongside the best girl in the whole world. I learned so much about dancing, myself, and life. Taking my final bow after Sleeping Beauty I couldn't help but shed a tear- I'm sad to say goodbye to my home and my ballet family, but I'm happy to dance on and make them proud. Thank you for helping me grow and spread my wings 🩵🩰✨

tagged: y/n_bestie, y/n_dancecompany

y/n_bestie I never would've thought the hardest thing I had to do was let you chase your dreams 💖

yourusername youre not far behind 💖

oscarpiastri you are incredible, I love you so much ❤️❤️

yourusername thank you so much for all your support even when it was hard and you had your own career going on ❤️ I love you so so much

landonorris since our introduction, I've only grown more and more as a fan. You have great determination, skill, grace, work ethic, and so many more things I admire, I can't wait to see ho you grow in the next steps

yourusername aww lando, I'm so touched 🥹🧡

charles_leclerc you're going to conquer whoever comes next

yourusername Merci pour votre soutien

*thank you for your support*

charles_leclerc 💖💖

comments have been limited

oscarpiastri

liked by landonorris, mclaren, your username, and 23,088 others

oscarpiatri: i remember when we first met, we would spend late nights talking about our dreams-- its insane to have accomplished them together. You cheered me on throughout my F1 journey and I'm excited to see your first solo in the theatre you've always dreamed of! Break a leg my beautiful dancer ❤️

tagged: your username, newdancecompany

yourusername I'm crying in rehearsals rn

yourusername I love you so much oz ❤️

oscarpiastri I love you too love

landonorris sap

danielriccardo HE'S BACK

landonorris they still need to be endgame tho

user5 he's just like us fr

user1 "my beautiful dancer"

user2 IM CRYING

charles_leclerc the amount of times I almost spilled the surprise

yourusername the wait is almost up

oscarpiastri should I be scared?

maxverstappen1 we cannot wait!! P has been jumping off the walls for this performance

Load more

yourusername

liked by newdancecompany, oscarpiatri, y/n_bestie, and 89,283 others

yourusername: "growing often feels like breaking at first" - a farewell quote from my very first dance teacher.

Tonight I debuted with a new dance company, my second one in all my 22 years of life. Thank you so much Charles for composing a piece that speaks what I cannot. This performance is dedicated to past me, her company, her mentors, her friends, and her supporters. I chose to keep the costuming simple, seeing as I don't feel as complete without them just yet.

I cannot wait to keep growing and dancing with every part of me.

tagged: charles_leclerc, newdancesompany

y/n_dancecompany its an absolute honor to have had you, and an even bigger one to have lost you

yourusermane forever the home of my childhood

oscarpiastri I cannot wait to watch you grow, hopefully forever

yourusername definitely forever

charles_leclerc thank YOU for bringing out the emotion and life in this piece, I've been bouncing off the walls waiting to see the final product. You've made me into your number 1 fan

yourusername we make a pretty good team

oscarpiatri not to break up a sweet moment but this weekend Lelcerc is on site, Im her number 1 fan

maxverstappen1 you didn't leave one dry eye in the place!

kellypiquet i was truly moved by the art you put on stage tonight, you've got a long successful road ahead

yourusername 😭🫶🫶

landonorris you amaze me more and more every dance, best honorary little sister I could ask for

yourusername and I though you'd keep the sister thing private sap

y/n_bestie I never imagined the pain of watching you dance from the audience and not the wings, but I also never imagined the joy in my chest watching you fly like you did tonight. Remember no matter where you go and how much more famous you become, you will always be my best friend.

yourusername in all these years, the best choice I ever made was talking to the girl next to me with the pink dress 💖 I would be nowhere without you, I truly owe all my accomplishments to you and your unwavering support 🫶🫶

comments have been limited

oscarpiastri posted a story

caption: its you and me forever @/yourusername

[alexander-arcturus-black-lupin]

Hanging Out

Spencer wasn’t one to detail his calendar to the last minute. But he liked having a clear idea of when he was going to be doing. He walked out of the office deciding to pass by a little coffee place for a breather, he didn’t dislike paperwork he just hated how much and extensive it was. He was on an indefinite break after just being lied to over and over again by an incredibly annoying suspect.

He watched as you stood outside frowning at your phone.

“Hey, Stranger.” you looked up at him and smiled, his heart skipping a beat.

“Hey Genius, what’s up?”

“I should be asking you?” you shook your head.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Come one now, you know you are a terrible liar.”

“Only when it’s you.” you sighed as you showed him your phone. “My best friend is on a date with my boyfriend, she made him text me to break up.”

Spencer squinted, analysing everything about the picture.

“They look comfortable, his posture leant more into her, this has been going on for a while.”

“So I’m not crazy, thank you.” you slid your phone into your pocket. “I’m trying to figure out what to do now.”

“Would you like to go have lunch together?”

“I just got broken up with Spence don’t you think a grace perios is in order?” Spencer turned slightly red at his ears.

“I-I mean the restaurant they’re at, a-and pretend but-”

“Revenge huh?” you cross your arms and envisioned it. You weren’t a confrontational type infact you hated it which was ironic considering your job but you managed to alienate any feelings towards your criminals and your loved ones.

It might get messy.

“OR you could just enjoy lunch SOMEWHERE ELSE WITHOUT ME i won’t take offence i promise.” Spencer looked genuinely scared that he might have crossed a line.

“I don’t know where the restaurant they are is so-” you held out your hand. “I’m trusting you to take me there and back.”

Spencer grinned and it was the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. “You can think of it as a hangout instead of a date.”

“I actually would like to go on a date with you, a real one.”

He nodded but the shy smile on his face betrayed him.

“I haven’t had the best er dating history.”

“I don’t care, it’s you Spencer, I like you.” He grinned again and you felt your heart beat faster.. “You have a pretty smile Reid.” His grip on your hand tightened.

“You are pretty.”

“Can I get one big bowl of croutons and a glass of railway?” Railway was some new smoothie that had everything I like in one glass.

“Alright, and what about you sir?”

“A club sandwich and a cup of coffee.”

“Your order will be with you in a few,”

You turned to look at them when Spencer stopped you.

“Have you texted him back?’ You shook your head taking out your phone.

“Should I?”

“Call him instead.” you blinked when you realised where he was going with this.

“I think you’ve watched a lot of revenge drama, Dr. Reid.” He looks away, blushing. You lean in and take in the man infront you. “You’re cute when you blush.”

“You are spinning me, sunshine.”

“Sunshine?”

“If you saw yourself in my eyes, I think you’d understand.”

You leaned back. “How the tables have turned.”

You heard glass break to the side but didn’t flinch keeping your eyes on the doctor as he kept his on yours.

��Touché.”

You scrolled through your contact.

Brrr

Brrr

He picked up.

“Hey, listen. I saw your text and honestly no hard feelings. It’s good we didn’t move in together or packing would be so annoying to deal with. I hope you and her are happy, Bye.” you ended the call without a second thought.

You blocked him and put your phone back in your pocket. All the while you were keeping eye contact with Spencer.

“You look way too good for someone who just got dumped.”

“What can I say.” you shrugged before winking at him. “I had someone help me stay steady.”

“You are a flirt.”

“Only for you doctor.” Spencer’s head fell back as he laughed. It was a boyous laugh that also had you laughing too.

“HEY!” you stopped laughing as you had met the eyes of your ex who was fuming above you.

“Why are you here?”

“I should be asking you, why are you on a date with your co-worker?”

“Says the one on a date with my best- ex-best friend. You're funny, don’t you think so, genius?”

Spencer’s eyes were sharp on the two as he nodded, “Funny guy.” his voice chilled up the summer afternoon. “Now if you two would move out the way, our waiter is right behind you.”

Fuming the both of them left and you and Spencer had lunch together. You both received a joint text from Aaron giving everyone the remainder of the day off.

“Hey, Spencer,” He looked at you as you both exited hand in hand. “Do you think you can walk me home?”

“You don’t even have to ask.”

______________________________________________________________

no.3 of spencer reid's firsts