#Whatever I hope that guy is doing well. I think he is her son so. I feel sorry for him

[feast-for-the-worms]

Recently had a near 1-to-1 recreation of the 'transphobes will be like "the left is ruining our women!" and show you a picture of the most gorgeous man you've ever seen' which was. Which was interesting. Considering she didn't clock that I was also one of those

[fushitoru]

all i want for christmas is you! a gojo satoru fic

pairing ⸺ bf!gojo x reader

summary ⸺ after a well needed rest from the kids, you and your boyfriend focus on baking christmas cookies for your pta responsibilities. however, it ends up taking a naughty twist when satoru finds out the surprise you've planned out for him.

warnings ⸺ FLUFF, smut in the form of fingering and p i v sex, reader has a vagina, fem reader implied, some jealousy, but mostly crack, pta cookie baking for megumi, very domestic, not edited, “good girl,” teasing, use of pet names like “baby,” gojo is a warning in himself

a/n hbd to my husband and loml 😚😚 i hope you guys enjoy this it kind of made me realize only long fics heal my soul but this is anticipation of holidays :33

general masterlist

You sometimes did not know what to do with Satoru.

When he told you to come over to make Christmas cookies that are part of his PTA commitments for Megumi, you really didn’t expect him to come out of his room with that sweater on. It’s an ugly sweater—so he’s got the holiday spirit nailed down—that has printed “BIG PACKAGE JUST FOR YOU.” Below it, a cartoon Santa stood pantsless, strategically holding a neatly wrapped gift box over his crotch.

You give him a look as he comes out to join you in the kitchen. “Please don’t tell me you wore that in front of Tsumiki and Megumi.”

He has the gall to look offended as he puts on his even stupider “Your opinion wasn’t on the recipe” apron. “Of course, what kind of father do you think I am?”

You sigh, moving to put in the last of the dry ingredients. “I saw Megumi watching Breaking Bad on his iPad last week.”

“What?” he gasps dramatically as he pauses while moving for the fridge. “I swear I downloaded Youtube Kids!”

Look, Satoru is a good dad. Foster-dad. Whatever. He’s been taking care of Megumi and Tsumiki for ages now, ever since that incident happened, and he’s been doing his best. But, unfortunately, his adult life and burdens and responsibilities cause him sometimes to be a absent father. He makes up for it—goes shopping with Tsumiki for her clothes, spends quality time with Megumi.

One thing he’d never miss, however, are those PTA meetings.

He is the PTA mom final boss. No matter what event is being held, he’s going to go all out. You don’t miss the smirk he gives to Karen everytime he brings an even bigger cookie platter for Megumi’s homeroom than she did for her son Sam’s, nor the sassy pursed lips as he donates artist-grade markers from Michael’s instead of Mia’s cheap ones from Walmart.

Yea, he is just petty like that, but it’s always the moms whose sons have gotten into fights with Megumi that he outdoes everytime. You know better than to question his peculiar form of revenge.

“I think that means he found a way to break through the parental controls. He’s definitely your kid,” you reply with a bit of mirth in your voice. Then, you quickly move to intercept Satoru’s journey to get the eggs as soon as you notice a miniscule movement of his. You were not about to let Satoru force another trip to Whole Foods with the clumsiness you’re all too familiar with in your five years of dating.

Grabbing the eggs before he can, you turn around to find him staring at you, a dazzled look on his face.

“What?” you ask, already smirking. The view of the outfit you’d worn today had been obscured by the apron when he first came in, but when you moved to get the eggs in front of him, he definitely got a view of your ass in your tiny red skirt and fuzzy, festive top.

“Why the hell are you wearing a sexy Mrs. Claus outfit?”

“I was thinking we’d watch Christmas movies and chill today after the cookies!” you exclaim, just as Satoru interrupts with, “We’re baking cookies for children, you freak.”

The room went dead silent.

Your cheerful smile dropped instantly. Meanwhile, Satoru’s face lit up like he’s just won the lottery, full of pure glee.

Both of you shout at the same time, “What?”

You slam the eggs down onto the counter with just enough force to make him flinch, narrowing your eyes at him. “Excuse me? Did you just call me a freak?”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” he yelped, backpedaling so fast you were surprised he didn’t trip over his own feet. “It’s just—” He gestured wildly at you. “—that outfit is… is…”

“Is what?” you demand, crossing your arms and daring him to dig himself deeper.

“Babe,” he starts to whine, apologetic like a wet dog and padding his way back over to you while pulling you in for a back hug. “It’s hot, okay? Don’t get me wrong, it’s driving me crazy. I’m trying to focus on cookies, and you’re over here looking like every Christmas fantasy I didn’t know I had.”

“Get off me,” you grumble, shooting him a glare as you try to shake him off. “You are not touching these cookies. Sit on the couch.”

He yelps as you slap his hand. “Babe, but I’ll just be reinforcing the patriarchy if I let you stay and do all the work in the kitchen.” Then, he moves closer to your ear like the chronically online loser he is and whispers, “6’ 3’’ btw.”

“Go away!” you shriek, waving him off. This process would indeed be two times faster if Satoru was on his couch. There wasn’t any rush, but you’d really appreciate getting to the dicking-down part of tonight after much appreciated privacy from the kids for the first time in forever. You take a mental note to thank Yuji’s grandpa and Nobara’s grandmother with extra cookies for the sleepover as you shoo your boyfriend to the couch.

You get back to work on the wet ingredients by cracking the eggs, but not before you hear a “I’ll be reflecting on the systematic oppression women face in the workforce.”

Pulling off the oven mitts on your hands, you wash your hand but not without sneaking a peek over the kitchen counter. You were locked in on the cookies, paying no mind to Satoru’s existential bemoaning, and now that you’re done, you can’t wait for the fun part of tonight.

After waiting a few minutes and checking and rechecking the cookies to make sure they’re done, you set them aside to cool and make sure to turn off the oven. Tonight, you were determined to get that big fucking package Santa owed you, and your boyfriend was going to be the one to deliver it.

As you walk out, you know the strat you’re going to use: innocently suggest a Christmas movie to watch, snuggle close to him, and he’ll fall into the trap you set for him like a bear towards honey. You know your boyfriend all too well, and today, you were feeling coy.

He’s stretched out on the couch, scrolling on his phone, his posture as awful as ever. But the second he hears your footsteps, his head snaps up. His eyes immediately dart to the movement of your bare legs, lingering on the tiny red skirt you’re still wearing, before slowly traveling back up to your chest. Wow. He really wasn’t making this difficult.

You plop down next to him while grabbing the remote, pulling up Netflix. “What movie should we watch today?”

He blinks, clearly distracted. “We’re watching a movie?”

The Princess Switch catches in the side of your eye as you scroll through the options. Without looking at him, you answer, “Yes? What else were we going to do?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he drawls, his voice already dipping into that teasing tone you know so well. “Maybe something that doesn’t involve Vanessa Hudgens playing herself two times.”

You roll your eyes, nudging his shoulder with your own. “Don’t knock it till you try it, Mr. Holiday Spirit.”

His gaze doesn’t leave you, though, and when you finally glance at him, his expression has shifted. He’s not teasing anymore. His eyes are a little darker, his lips twitching like he’s holding back a grin. “What?” you ask, already smirking.

“Nothing,” he says, his voice lower now. “Just... you look really good in that outfit.”

Your cheeks heat, but you play it off with a laugh. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Satoru.”

“Won’t it?” he murmurs, leaning a little closer, his hand brushing against your knee. The heat of his palm lingers even after he pulls it away, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

You’re about to respond—something witty, something to keep the banter going—but then his hand moves again, this time resting firmly on your thigh. “You’re really going to make me sit through a Christmas movie when you look like that?” he asks, his voice a low rumble.

Your breath hitches, and you can’t help the way your body reacts, leaning just a fraction closer to him. “What would you rather do?” you challenge, your voice softer now.

His gaze dips to your lips, and that’s all the invitation he needs. In a second, he’s closing the distance, his mouth pressing against yours in a kiss that’s anything but sweet. It’s hungry and demanding, like he’s been waiting for this all day, and when his hand slides higher up your thigh, you realize you’ve completely forgotten about the movie and the preview playing. Satoru, clearly a little annoyed judging by the pout on his face, moves to close the preview featuring Vanessa Hudgens’ obnoxious British accent and then the room is silent except for the wet sounds of your sloppy kissing.

When you’ve both made out for a while—now with you on his lap—you both pull back with fastened breaths, looking at each other’s glistening lips. Finally, from Satoru comes out a, “That. I wanted to do that.”

Maybe it’s the attention whore in you always looking to rile up Satoru and get his affection, but you couldn’t refrain from blurting out a “Are you sure you wanted to do this with me, or would Linda have sufficed?”

At the scrunch of Satoru’s nose, his face practically spells out a Who the fuck is Linda? “You know, the one that gets really friendly with you when I’m going to the bathroom at those PTA meetings.”

Satoru sometimes did not know what to do with you.

Here he is, trying to make out with you when you’re looking like that, makeup done perfectly and looking beautiful as always. He hasn’t gotten laid with you in a hot minute, and here you are, picking at him. He has no fucking clue who Linda is, but what he does know is that you’re really cute when you get jealous. “Yeah?” he teases, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your cheek. His grin is maddeningly smug, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “Linda sounds nice. Should I call her up?”

Your jaw drops, but the sharp retort forming in your head is lost when his hand slides from your cheek to your neck, his thumb brushing lightly along your jawline. He leans closer, his breath warm against your skin. “You know,” he continues, his voice a low murmur, “if you’re jealous, you could just say so.”

“I’m not jealous,” you shoot back, your voice unconvincing even to yourself. You shift under his gaze, trying to keep up the façade, but it’s hard when his lips hover so close to yours.

Satoru’s grin widens. “No? Then why are you bringing up some imaginary PTA Linda when I’m clearly only interested in you?” His lips press against the corner of your mouth, a slow, deliberate kiss that makes your breath catch.

“You’re clearly only interested in being annoying,” you quip, but the words lack their usual bite as his hand slips lower, trailing down your side until it rests on your bare thigh. His touch is firm, possessive, and it sends a shiver through you.

“Annoying?” he echoes, his tone mock-offended. “That’s a big word for someone who just ruined a perfectly good makeout session to talk about Linda.”

You glare at him, but the effect is ruined when his thumb begins tracing lazy circles on your thigh. “I didn’t ruin anything,” you argue weakly.

“Didn’t you?” He dips his head, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot just below your ear. “Because now, instead of kissing you like I want to, I’m stuck reassuring you that Linda doesn’t stand a chance against my very sexy, very jealous girlfriend.”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, but it turns into a soft gasp as his teeth graze your skin, his tongue soothing the faint sting. “You’re insufferable,” you mutter, but your hands betray you, tangling in his hair and tugging him closer.

“Mm, but you like it,” he murmurs, his lips trailing down your neck. His free hand slides higher, skimming under the hem of your skirt, his fingers teasing against the soft skin of your hip. “Admit it.”

“Shut up,” you manage, though your voice is breathless now. He’s too close, his scent overwhelming, his touch setting your nerves on fire. When his hand tightens on your thigh and he pulls you closer, you give in, letting him capture your lips in a kiss that’s all desperation.

Linda, whoever she may be, is long forgotten as Satoru kisses you like he’s trying to make up for every second you’ve spent apart. His hands roam, his touch firm and confident, and when he pulls back just enough to murmur against your lips, “You’re all I want,” you believe him completely.

A breathless “Satoru” leaves your lips as he gently–but hurriedly–lowers you down to lay on the couch while he bends over you, inching down the hem of your top to bury his head in your tits. “Oh my god,” he groaned. “I missed my girls.” He starts to leaves rough kisses, an occasional bite and suck, and then stops. Takes in a deep breath. “Wow, you smell good babe.”

You look at him, flustered. “Stop smelling my tits, oh my god.” For good measure, you grab his hair to bury his face against your breasts once more.

“No,” smooch, “it’s,” smooch, “smelling good. Like the new holiday scents from Bath and Body Works.” He then abandons your chest to kiss his way down your body, sliding your skirt down as he kisses around the edge of your panties. “I’ve missed her, too.”

Despite yourself, you moan, spreading your legs to give him full access. He takes it enthusiastically, giving you a little kiss in your middle. Then, his eyes don’t leave yours as he uses his teeth to pull your panties down, slowly and sultry. Your pussy leaks even more, and the motherfucker notices, because there’s a faint smirk on his face as he hones back in your wetness, running his fingers to spread your slick. “Wow, my girl must have been sooo pent up,” he croons, eyes not leaving your hole and the way it clenched every time he spoke. “My good girl is soo desperate.”

Without missing a beat, you sneakily reply, “Don’t call me that, that’s so corny oh my god—-“ You’re interrupted with your own gasp as he enters a finger in. When he finally curls it, hitting your g-spot dead on, you suck in your breath. You really missed this.

“Oh, really?” He giggles, clearly amused by you trying to rile him up. “If my baby doesn’t like being called a good girl then why is she clenching so hard on my—“ thrust— “fingers?”

And suddenly the feminist in you leaves as his big, thick fingers ram into you faster than ever, and you start squealing like the slut you are for your incredibly hot boyfriend who’s equally as much of a slut for you, judging based on the rock hard erection against your thigh. Take that, Linda.

You’re in a daze of pleasure, too fucked out to notice Gojo wrenching down his sweats to pull out his throbbing cock, to pump it to full mast. It’s only when he rips his finger away from your cavern that you start to whimper, clawing at his arms to continue fingering you.

And he starts cooing, giving you a small kiss on your cheek as he aligns his dick with your pussy. “I know baby, I know,” and he groans as the soft, wet heat of your pussy grips on him hard as he pushes in. It’s not long before he starts thrusting, wiping your tears while driving in even faster. “Wow, good fucking pussy.”

“Satoru,” you whine, but you don’t even know for what. You were close enough when he was fingering you, but now you’re steadily approaching your climax. But Satoru, who’s attuned to what your body needs, readjusts himself to go even deeper.

It’s when you gasp loudly that a glint lights up in his eyes. “That’s the spot, isn’t it?” He drives into that spot like a jackhammer, savoring in your little squeals and moans of his name, until finally, he feels you climax.

“Oh my god,” you says breathlessly as your orgasm takes over you, convulsing while Satoru doesn’t let up, continuing his pace until his hips become more sloppy. After a few off rhythm thrusts, he comes in you, collapsing on top of you.

He’s breathing heavily from exertion, and you run your nails on his back and hair gently. You both bask in the glow of your orgasm. Of course, that is until Satoru perks his head up. “Do you think I can eat that kid Martin’s cookie? Megumi told me he doesn’t like him and that he’s annoying—-OWWW, what was that for?”

[kamiraaah]

TWST PARENTS! Trappola, Hunt and Ashengrotto!!

⚠️⚠️First of all, I must warn you that these designs may change in the future, either because the game presented us with the official designs, or just because I really wanted to change... Or I could reuse these designs for these characters!⚠️⚠️ Given that warning...

Guys, gals, and non-binary pals. I present to you, the Trappola, Hunt, and Ashengrotto families!

The Trappolas it's a very common family, compared to others. Of course, Ace Trappola and his brother get into a lot of trouble and face their mother's anger very often... But hey! It's good that they have their father to calm things down when things escalate, right? It may not seem like it, but Mrs. Trappola in her youth was just like Ace, always getting into trouble and facing authorities without thinking twice… Which led to many fights with Ace's grandmother. Mr. Trappola, on the other hand, rarely started fights, at least physical ones. Since he has a sharp tongue, always with some offense or something to irritate the other person. Both Ace and his brother inherited these traits from their parents… Although the older one is a little more responsible and is sometimes the one who talks sense into Ace's head. Ace and his brother have always been close, even though they fight or torment each other, they both have great respect for each other, even now that they don't see each other as much…

The Hunt family is a mystery to many.

The members of this family are… Lively, for lack of a better description, and Rook is the best known among them, and yet he is a guy who hides many secrets.

Although they are unknown, they are apparently a family with a certain wealth, many stories surround their members about how the Hunts managed to get so much money and influence in Twisted Wonderland...

But of course none that came close to the truth.I still wonder what kind of people they are.

Mama, Papa and Grandma Ashengrotto! A very loving family that loves young Azul more than he can imagine. Miss Ashengrotto goes to great lengths to demonstrate her love for her son, even though she is a busy woman, always does everything possible and impossible to be present in her son's life. She is a great friend of the Leech family, and always gets in touch to talk or update each other on how the children are doing. Mr. Ashengrotto, Azul's stepfather, is a kind man who has great respect for his wife. At the beginning of his relationship with his current wife, he was afraid that it would end up affecting the relationship between mother and son… The last thing he wanted was to make the young man hate him, but time passed and Azul and him ended up getting very close ( and catching his stepfather off guard when he called him "papa"… who ended up crying with happiness). Unfortunately, he carries the guilt of not having noticed the bullying that Azul went through in his childhood, and whenever he can (or when Azul allows him) he helps him with whatever he can… Always trying to talk and advise the youngest. Grandmother Ashengrotto, like her daughter, is a kind but strict woman. Always wanting the best for her grandson and being one of his biggest supporters in any projects her grandson starts. Always demands that he visits her more often... And preferably with friends! She wants to make sure her precious grandson is being well taken care of!!

AND MORE FAMILIES DONE!! And I'm still going to draw pictures of other members of the TWST families, so please bear with me a little… I'm going as fast as I can!🫠

I'm not 100% satisfied with their designs... They have a big chance of being changed, but I hope you like them! 😚

[writingsbytee]

GET BACK

TOXIC BABY DADDY TERRY x BLACK FEM READER

Photo: @partiallyfuctional7

*Remember you are in charge of your own consumption. 18+ up audiences only; minors please don’t interact!*

WARNINGS / TRIGGERS: Reader has feelings of insecurities; Terry is a big, sexy, toxic, idiot here. 

PAIRING: Terry x Ava (reader)

SUMMARY: Tension develops between you and your baby’s father when he discovers you might be moving on. Terry’s unhinged ass is going to do whatever he can to get her back.

TROPES:  Second chance romance; MDOM or dominant themes

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I’m so excited to share this one with you guys! I’ve wanted to write toxic Terry for forever, but I was just nervous. I really liked writing this one. Maybe it’s the toxicity in me lol. Please tell me what you guys think, but be nice please. Babygirl is sensitive

“TJ get your cleats! Your father’s almost here!,” I shouted up the stairs. I hear the tell-tale thumps of his little feet as he rushes to put everything in his duffle bag. Wandering into the living room, I tighten up the area a bit. Straightening out couch cushions, the coffee table, you get the gist. Looking at the clock, I notice it’s almost two o’clock.

“TJ! Two minute warning!” I exclaim. Within seconds I hear the thunderous steps only a child can make. Then my little boy rounds the corner, a giant beam on his face. 

“Did it Mommy!”, he said proudly handing his soccer bag to me so I could double check everything. Rifling through the items I notice his epipen isn’t in there. Before I can ask my little man where it is, I hear the familiar chime from the ‘ring’ app on my phone. Grabbing it from the charger, I see my son’s father through the pixelated lens. I take a calming breath before walking to the door. 

“Hey baby girl, TJ ready?” Terry asked, smiling down at me. It’s truly unfair how fine this man is. Standing at his full height on our porch in a navy blue tee and olive cargo pants with asics. He could make a trash bag look good. I ignore the flutter in my belly at his smile and step aside to let him in. 

“He’s just about ready, but I can’t find his epipen. Can you come in while I run upstairs really quick?” I ask moving back so Terry can cross the threshold. He steps in like he owns the place (well technically he does).

“We gotta get going soon, I’m taking TJ to ‘Winter Wonderland’ after practice,”  Terry said, sweeping his eyes over the living room. 

I nodded, “Well I’ll find it and meet you guys there or at practice. Thanks for taking him,” I say, trying to be civil. 

“Just to let you know, Brandy’s going to be there,” Terry said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

I feel my back molars grind, “That’s fine.” I can’t fucking stand Brandy. She’s Terry’s new situationship and we didn’t get off on the best foot. That sour taste has never really left my mouth when it comes to her. Why Terry’s bringing her around our son, I’ll never understand.

“I trust you’ll keep it civil,” Terry says, looking down his nose at me. I roll my eyes and head toward the stairs completely ignoring him. Who the fuck does he think he is telling me to behave? She better fucking behave, I’m liable to beat a bitch. When I reach the bottom of the stairs Terry grabs my hand, spinning me to face him.

“Ava, I’m serious, keep it cool,” Terry’s voice had a slight edge to it which I didn’t appreciate.

“Listen, as long as she plays nice I’ll play nice. Matter of fact I’ll pretend she’s not even there. That work for you Terry?” I asked in a sickeningly sweet voice. I never wanted us to end up in this tumultuous cycle, but it wasn’t my decision. Terry broke up with me, said he didn’t want to be tied down. Vowing to be a good father he gets Terrence Junior (TJ) every other week. He’s the best dad and I won’t take that away from him, I just thought we’d be a family. I was holding out hope for a year hoping he'd change his mind and we’d get back together. 

Ultimately, I shattered my own heart, scrolling on facebook. I saw that he’d been tagged  in a photo hugged up on another woman. I stopped hoping after that. I stopped trying to get a man to see that I was enough, stopped trying to get him to stay when he so clearly was happy elsewhere. 

“Terry, the last thing I want to do is fight with you right now, yes I’ll be nice. Please just take TJ and leave, he'll be late for practice,” I say on the verge of tears. 

Terry’s eyes soften as he takes a step toward me, “Bunny…”, he starts. I hold my hand up stopping him and shake my head. I can hear our son make his way towards us obviously hearing his father’s voice as he barrels toward him. 

“Daddy! Daddy!,” TJ yells, launching himself into his arms.

“There my little striker! C’mere man,” Terry’s face blooms into a megawatt smile as he reaches for our son. He picks him up and blows a raspberry on TJ’s cheeks, causing him to burst into giggles. A small smile forms on my lips as a warm feeling spreads in my chest. Moments like these made me wish that we could be a little family again. But I can’t think like that anymore, Terry made his choice. He wants to be in the streets, that’s where he can stay. 

“You ready to go little man? I’ve got a surprise for you after practice,” Terry said, putting TJ down. Spotting the epipen on the kitchen island, I grab it, and pass it to Terry

“Well I’m going upstairs to shower and change, and I’ll meet you guys there,” I say, turning toward the stairs.

“TJ, go hug your mama before we leave,” Terry says looking at me.  TJ comes barreling towards me, goofy smile and arms outstretched. A warm smile blooms on my face as I hug my gentle little man.

“Hey, mama loves you, be good and listen to your dad ok?” I ask straightening his backpack. 

“I always listen mama,” TJ giggles, with a playful roll of his eyes. Terry grabs his son’s hand and with a half- assed ‘see ya later’ from Terry, they’re both out the door. I grab my airpods and head upstairs. Needing the comfort of a dominant mafia boss, my current audible obsession to ease some of the tension I feel creeping up my neck. Pressing play on my audiobook I begin getting ready. After the grueling arm workout of trying to tame my curls, I place it in a slick back bun with a few face framing curls to enhance my beauty (ref). Then I put on some light makeup and a simple outfit for this bipolar Georgia winter weather (ref). Grabbing my purse and keys, I head outside to my bronco, mentally preparing myself for the next few hours. 

When I pull up to the soccer field, I see that practice is in full swing. I immediately spot Terry standing off to the side with all the other parents. Why does he have to look so fucking good just standing on the sidelines. Brandy’s standing next to him ear pressed against her phone, what a shocker. Getting out, I pop my trunk to grab my lawn chair.

“Ava! Let me!,” I turn to see Lance, another one of the dad’s lightly jogging toward me. A small smile forms on my lips. Lance is fine don’t get me wrong, he just gets around the bookclub if you know what I’m saying. Hmm, maybe my bookshelf could use a good dusting off. I think it’s about time I had a little fun. I haven’t been with anyone since Terry, that needs to change. 

“Aww, that’s nice of you. Thank you Lance,” I say in a sickeningly sweet voice. Lance grabs my lawn chair out of the trunk and we head toward the soccer field. 

“I assumed you weren’t coming, since Terry brought TJ,” Lance said.

“Oh, so you checking for me now?”, I say, smirking at him. 

A small blush forms on the apples of his cheeks, “I look forward to seeing you at practices, sue me.”

A small giggle burst from my lips, “I’m just picking Lance.” He grins at me as we finally make it to the sidelines where the other parents are. My eyes find Terry to see him mugging Lance down. Lance isn’t paying him any attention as he sets up my lawn chair for me. 

“A throne fit for a queen,” Lance says, gesturing toward the chair. 

“Thank you Lance,” I say with a small smile before taking a seat. Okay so far so good, I just hope I can get through the rest of this evening unscathed.

TERRY

Since when did Ava and Lance become cool? That motherfucker has been sniffing behind her for over a year now. I subtly inch closer to the two, trying to listen in on their conversation without being detected. I hear him ask her what she had planned later. A pit forms in the bottom of my stomach dropping anchor and forming an uncomfortable weight there. I recognize the feeling in an instant, jealousy. Fuck. 

“Oh, Terry and his girlfriend are taking TJ to ‘Winter Wonderland’ downtown. I’m probably just going to tagalong with them so I can get pictures of TJ,” Ava says. Girlfriend? She thought Brandy was my girlfriend? Fuck no, I’m just having fun with her. I just didn’t want TJ to see the two of them arguing since they obviously didn’t like each other.

“Do you mind if Max (Lance’s son) and I join you? And maybe after I treat you and TJ to dinner?,”Lance said, smirking at Ava. My fucking Ava, and she’s smiling back?! Fuck nah, I ain’t about to have that. I take a step to interrupt their conversation when a hand on my shoulder grabs my attention. 

“Sorry boo, but I have to go. Family emergency,” Brandy said, before laying a kiss on my cheek and then she left so fast I would’ve thought her ass evaporated. I locked back in on Ava and Lance seeming to be in just a friendly conversation but I couldn’t shake the fact that Ava was entertaining him. As long as I’ve known her she’s only ever wanted me. So, to see her chatting it up with another man is really rubbing me the wrong way. 

She jumps up out of her chair, jumping up and down cheering for TJ. I damn near go cross-eyed trying to keep an eye on TJ and the jiggle of her ass when she jumps. Don’t get me wrong, I love Ava, she gave me my son, and she’s a fantastic mother, friend, and support system. I don’t know why seeing her potentially move on is fucking with me so bad. I pull out my phone and text my younger sister Trinity, I need advice ASAP.

ME: Trin I need your help. Fast

TRIN: Damn, no hi lol. What’s up Terry?

ME: It’s Ava, she’s going on a date tonight I think.

TRIN: Ok…what’s the problem?

ME: I don’t want her to.

TRIN: Aren’t you actively fucking that brittney chick??????

ME: ..yeah

TRIN: Ok so let me get this straight. Ava has to sit back while you fuck through all of Savannah, but the minute she gets a little bit of attention, you can’t deal?

ME: Well, when you put it like that..

TRIN:  I love you bro, but you’re a fucking idiot.

AVA

“We’d love to have dinner with you and Max tonight” you say, smiling at Lance. He smirks down at me, “I can’t believe that worked.”

Your brows furrowed, “What do you mean?” you asked.

“I’ve been trying to get you to look my way for months, what changed?” Lance asked, leaning in. ‘I’m trying to get over my baby’s father’ , you thought. But you can’t just say that out loud so instead you just smile and say, “I thought it was time I put you out of your misery.”

Lance laughs and says, “Well thank you for that pretty lady.”

A throat clears behind you and you glance over your shoulder to see Terry standing there.

“Can I talk to you real quick?”, he looks with anxious eyes darting back and forth between you and Lance. 

You glance back toward Lance, “I’ll be right back” you say, getting up from my chair. You follow Terry a few feet away to the edge of the field, but still able to keep an eye on TJ.

“What’s up?” you say, raising a brow.

“We need to talk, Bunny,” Terry said, wringing his hands. What’s going on? This nigga is never nervous. You raise both eyebrows this time, indicating that he can continue.

“What’s going on with you and Lance?” he asked, crossing his arms. Your eyes widen in disbelief, there’s no way his ass is questioning you about who you’re seeing.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” you reply, crossing my arms. 

Terry scoffs and rolls his eyes, “It’s my business if his ass is going to be around my son.”

You could feel the attitude crawling up your spine gripping your throat in a vice grip. “So you can prance all the bitches you want around our son? But when his friend’s dad; someone he’s familiar with, is around more often all of sudden it’s an issue?” you roll your eyes, Terry is really starting to piss you off. Just when you decide it’s time to try and move on he comes back with this.

“Terry what is this really about? You know Lance, you should be happy for me” you say pleading with him. His eyes soften, and he shuts them giving his head a rough shake.

“Happy? You can do way better than Lance!” he whispers.

A sarcastic laugh leaves your lips, “Mind your business Terry. I stay out of your love life, you stay out of mine.” you turn to leave but Terry reaches out and grabs your wrist.

“C’mon Bunny, you know I didn’t mean it like that. All I’m trying to say is he better kiss the ground you walk on, anything less is an insult.” 

You roll my eyes yet again, a small smile on my lips, “You’ll get him right if he doesn’t?” you ask with a subtle pop of my hip.

A smirk grows on his lips, “Bunny, you know how I’m coming behind you,” Terry said, crossing his arms. 

You shake your head to slow the smile from forming, “It’s nothing serious between Lance and I. I just need a little fun right now.”

“You know, we used to have fun,” Terry said, taking a step toward you. You could see it in his eyes. The way he was looking at you, he’s going to bend you over the first surface he can get his hands on. 

You reach your hand out, slowing his advancement toward you. “No, Terry. Don’t do this here.”

His smirk widens, taking in your panicked yet aroused features. You still wanted him , that he could see. “Don’t you miss me Bunny? We were good together. I could always tell what you needed before you knew yourself and vice versa.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “Where is all this coming from? Less than two hours ago, you were telling me I needed to be nice to Brandy and now you wanna reminisce? We’ll talk about this later, I’m not doing this right now.” 

You couldn’t believe Terry!  ‘We used to have fun’, he thinks he can just walk in here all gorgeous and muscled and you’ll just roll over? Well you will but you want to make him work for it at least. You spin, prepared to return to your seat when Terry grabs your wrist. 

“Don’t go out with him tonight, Bunny. Let me treat you and our son to dinner instead, and I can explain everything.”

“What if I don’t want to hear your explanations Terry? I’ve waited and waited for you to finally come to the realization that we should be together. Now that I have the potential to find something with someone new, you can’t handle it. How do you think I felt watching you parade girl after girl in front of my face? If you’re serious about me, you and TJ becoming a family again, you’re going to have to prove it to us. The back and forth shit isn’t going to work, and TJ deserves stability,” crossing my arms, I finish my rant and turn to head back to my chair. 

TERRY

Fuck, I need to get my family back 

Okay, so I wanted to make this a little short and to the point So I can set you guys up for the next part. Let me know if Terry is toxic enough for y’all or should I crank it up a little. I wasn’t expecting to turn this into a series but I think I just might *winks* As always let me know what you guys think, if we’re feeling this or not. Happy new year beautiful people! Sending you all love I hope this year is better than your last and you get everything you want!

Happy New Year! Until next time

TEE <3

TAGLIST

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[apomaro-mellow]

steddie falls into porn cliches on accident

Steve was in the middle of washing the conditioner out of his hair, loving the silky smooth feeling and watching the water turn from cloudy to clear as it was all rinsed out. He was ready to start washing his body in earnest now, when he heard the doorbell ring.

For a second, he was ready to just ignore it, thinking it might be a delivery or someone trying to solicit. They could leave whatever they had on the doorstep or keep moving. Then the bell rang a second time and Steve remembered that he was in fact supposed to answer it.

Robin had hired a plumber to fix their sink. She told him they'd be coming between 8 am to noon. Steve had gotten in the shower exactly at eight, thinking surely he had enough time in that window. What kind of plumber showed up this promptly!?

Steve turned the shower off and grabbed the first robe off the hook. It wasn't his, he knew that. But in his defense, Robin wasn't home and he liked to air dry when he could. She could get mad at him later for snagging hers. He tied it hastily, rushing to the door before the plumber left.

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

Eddie waited for the door to be answered, checking his watch while he did. Today was his only appointment, so he thought he was doing well by showing up on the early end of the window. He was ready to spout the rehearsed script when the door opened. Good morning, Munson and Son Plumbing. You got a problem with your drain pipe? Well I'm here to fix it. Fun fact, I'm a guitarist, so I'm pretty good with my hands. Anyone you know looking for lessons?

His uncle didn't always like him plugging his side gig, but putting up posters around neighborhoods wasn't quite as successful as actual face time. Then the door fully opened and he got an entire eyeful. A dripping wet god of a man, his modesty just barely preserved in a bath robe. It did nothing to hide his thick, hairy thighs or impressive chest.

"Hi I'm here to handle your pipe!", Eddie blurted out. "I'm mean I'm good with my hands! P...plumbing! I'm the plumber, I'm here for your plumbing."

"Oh, y-yeah, we've been expecting you", Steve tried to close the top of his robe more and that made Eddie self conscious about staring.

Steve introduced himself and Eddie did the same as he was let into the house, somehow not putting his foot in his mouth as he did. Steve took him to the problem sink and Eddie got to work while Steve excused himself.

He went into his room, looking for something presentable only to find it was mostly his stuff for the club. Definitely not appropriate for a plumber visit. Then he remembered why. He had started a load of laundry last night. And when he woke up this morning, putting it in the dryer so it'd be ready once he was done with his shower.

He went to the laundry room to do just that, emptying the contents of the dryer into his hamper, bending over to do so. Once he was done, he'd be able to put together an outfit that didn't make him look like a desperate housewife.

Eddie had just finished tangling with the pipe. It didn't take as long as he had expected but his shirt was drenched now. He listened out for Steve, hoping he was nearby so that he didn't have to call for him, only to hear something...odd.

He followed the sound until he came to an open door and realized what the sounds were - little grunts of effort. Eddie bit his lip, letting logic and reason work themselves out. Steve knew he had someone in the house and the door was wide open so he couldn't be-

Eddie walked through the door and there was Steve, bent over, top half in the dryer, bottom half sticking out. His robe had began to hitch up, revealing just the bottom of that perfect ass.

"Holy shit", Eddie squeaked out.

"Hey? Plumber guy? I know this is awkward but would you mind helping me out? My robe got caught on something and I can't-I can't free myself."

"Um, okay? So should I just...should I just?", Eddie got behind Steve, hands fumbling. Should he adjust the robe or would that be rude?

"Just grab me and pull", Steve said, wriggling around more and stopping when he heard a rip.

"Yeah, okay, yeah I'll just", Eddie grabbed Steve's hips and pulled, to no avail.

"Gonna have to do it a bit harder than that", Steve said. "Here I'll, I'll try and push too."

Eddie swallowed as he pulled again, Steve's hips coming flush with his own and eliciting a gasp from the other man.

"A...again."

Eddie pulled again, harder this time. He had kind of been working with a half chub. The kind Steve had to feel right between his cheeks every time Eddie pulled on him.

Steve gasped with each time their hips came together and it was getting hard to pretend his asshole didn't flutter with each movement.

"Fuck, just fuck me already", Steve whined.

Eddie wasted no time in dropping his pants and rubbing his cock against Steve's ass, precum dripping and Steve still wet from the shower. The tip slipped in with ease and then the rest of him and Steve's hips wouldn't stay still and then he was fucking him oh shit he was fucking him he was fucking a client while on the clock.

Steve's voice sounded goddamn ethereal, echoing inside the tub of the dryer. He was giving as good as he got, pushing back with each thrust and Eddie got to watch his dotted cheeks jiggle with each impact.

Eddie pushed the robe up more, licking his lips as he was rewarded with the sluttiest back arch that he'd ever seen. He wasn't going to last and this Steve guy wasn't either. Eddie came first, one hand on Steve's hip and the other bracing itself on the dryer so that he didn't fall over. Steve's cock spilled into the floor, a mess to be dealt with later.

"Fuck...you really are good at handling pipes", Steve laughed through his panting.

When Eddie left that day, he didn't get Steve's number. But a week later their company got a call about a clogged toilet and specifically requested that Eddie come over, that they only trusted his expertise. This time, Eddie wouldn't let it slip through his fingers. And this time when Steve greeted him in a half open robe, it was on purpose.

[obx-paradise]

How Did I Get Here?

Summary: JJ couldn't imagine a life without his girl by his side

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Pogue!reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Spoilers for season 4 part 2, fluff, not proofread, and that's all I can think of

a/n: Inspired by a post by @adrienneleclerc I hope I did it justice

~~~

“Mom, I’m going out!” Jackson yelled across the house to his mother in the kitchen preparing a snack.

He was going to meet up with Rafe and Topper at Rafe’s house. The 3 of them have been a trio since they were young. Although he doesn’t always agree with what they say or how they act, they’ve always stuck by him so he continues to do the same.

“Okay, sweety! Come say bye properly!”

Rolling his eyes, Jackson stepped away from the door and made his way to the kitchen. Jackson considered his mother his hero. His dad had left before he was born so it was just him, his mom, and his grandpa. 

Walking into the kitchen he found his mother. “Bye, Mom”

She turned around to face her son with a warm smile on her face, one that always made Jackson feel safe. Walking towards him, she wrapped her arms around him, “Bye, honey. When will you be back?”

“Umm… I don’t really know. Definitely before dinner, though” Jackson rushed his words knowing that Rafe and Topper would be annoyed with him for being late

“Alright, well have a good time… Be safe!” she yelled after him as he rushed out the door. 

~~~

As Jackson arrived at Rafe’s house, he let himself in and made his way to the living room.

“Hey, guys” Jackson found Rafe and Topper sitting around the coffee table with drinks around them.

“Hey, man. You’re late.”

“Yeah, I know. I didn't realize the time. Anyway, are y’all ready to go?” Jackson questioned knowing that they had plans to go out on The Druthers.

“Yeah, let's go”

The three of them made their way outside, all the way out to the dock before realizing that there was maintenance being done on it. 

“Yo, who’s that?” Jackson asked

“Some pogue my dad hired to take care of the boat. John B Routledge.”

Jackson has heard that name before. That’s the guy whose dad went missing months ago. Everyone knew about it, about him, but he’d never talked to him before.

“Hey, you wanna have some fun?” Rafe asked with a smirk on his face, looking at Topper on his left and Jackson on his right

“Fuck yeah”

“Nah man,”

Topper and Jackson spoke at the same time.

“C’mon let’s leave him be,” he said, trying to get them to leave the pogue alone

“Whatever,” the pair said while walking back inside, Jackson following them

~~~

It was a couple of days later when Jackson caught wind of a boneyard party that was happening that night. He wanted to go so he (obviously) told Rafe and Topper. Rafe turned him down not wanting to “party with the pogues” but Topper was all for it.

They got to the party at around 8 p.m. just as the sun had set. Jackson had gone to hundreds of parties just like this one, yet he felt something different with this one. 

It was late into the night when Jackson and Topper went to get more drinks. On the way to the keg, Topper bumped into a girl which caused her to spill her beer all over him.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed

Topper wasn’t one to accept apologies easily, especially from a pogue, “Ugh! What is wrong with you?! This shit was expensive!”

She looked up at Topper and then to Jackon who was standing next to him. “Look, I said I was sorry. There’s not much else I can do for you.”

Despite the situation, Jackson couldn’t help but feel like he’d seen her before. Possibly around the island but still.

“Stupid pogues! Always ruining everything!” Topper spat out

The whole scene caught the attention of people around them. 

“Hey, back off man!” John B ran to defend his friend, pushing Topper back by his shoulders

After that things escalated quickly. John B and Topper went at it,  fighting and eventually ending up in the sand. Jackson tried to de-escalate the situation and eventually managed to pry Topper off of the poor pogue. “C’mon, man let’s go”

“Really Jackson? What? They’re just gonna get away with it? No! I don’t know if you forgot but you’re a kook! You were born a kook, and you’ll die a kook! So, whose side are you on?”

Jackson looked around, hating having all the attention on him. Already knowing his answer, he walked over and stood by John B and the mystery girl who had spilled her drink. He was just trying to do the right thing like his mother always taught him to.

Topper scoffed and stormed off, Jackson’s actions giving him his answer. With him gone, John B and the girl went to thank Jackson. John B’s thank you is much shorter than hers.

“Thank you so much,” she engulfed him in a tight hug

“Yeah, no problem. I know it’s not an excuse but he’s really drunk,” he said hesitantly wrapping his arms around her. Again, he got this weird feeling around her. “Hey, what’s your name?”

“Oh,” she pulled away from him, “Sorry, it's y/n. You’re JJ, right?”

“Umm… no I’m Jackson,” he said confused. Looking around he saw that everything around him was faded. All he could see was her. Y/n.

“Yeah, JJ. That’s what I said.”

Jackson couldn’t help but wonder “What is going on?”

“No… see– I don’t think you’re hearing me correctly. It’s Jackson.”

“JJ,”

“No…”

“JJ,”

~~~

“JJ! Baby wake up!”

JJ shot up with a loud gasp. He looked around and saw all his friends (plus Rafe) gathered around him but more specifically, Y/n. His girlfriend. 

“What happened?”

Y/n had tears of joy in her eyes, she was just relieved he was okay. “That son of a bitch Groff stabbed you. I managed to get you somewhere safe before anything bad happened but you still passed out. How do you feel?”

“I’m ok. Better now that I’m with you again…” He looked around at all his friends with a tired yet playful smile on his face, “...and you guys too, I guess”

They all laughed and spent time together before the sunset, they had to start a fire. They sat around the fire sharing stories, anything to lighten the mood after the day they had. 

“Okay so get this. I had a dream while I was out. And you were there, and you were there, and you were there, you weren’t there… it was really weird.” He said while pointing his finger at whoever he was directing his words to.

“...Y’all know how Groff is my real dad?” he spoke so calmly, almost lightheartedly as if that same man hadn’t almost killed him earlier. “Well, I dreamt that I had grown up as a kook. Went to the kook academy, had a nice house, Rafe and I were friends… eww. Anyways, I realized I would’ve hated growing up like that. Even though I’ve had a tough time growing up I wouldn’t trade it for anything because it gave me you guys. My real family.”

As he finished his rant, everyone fell silent. The first one to speak up was Pope. “That was really deep, man.” The group burst out in laughter. The atmosphere felt light and happy for once.

Quietly, as everyone went back to their conversations, JJ turned to you and whispered, “You wanna know one more reason I would’ve hated being a kook?”

“Sure,” 

“I would’ve never met you,” he spoke with a small smile on his lips

You let out a small playful gasp, “Me? Wait, you don’t… love me, do you?”

“Maybe a little”

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 132 (Solving the Brindletons' Murder)

Though spring had sprung just about everywhere, the snow stuck around in Brindleton Bay. With Ash in the city and Heather in Selvadorada, Hazel spent time with her girlfriend, and Conrad spent time bonding with Lavender.

He had been hard at work on George and June Brindleton's murder case since his return from Sulani, on top of trying to keep his detectives in line with their own cases. With Easter fast approaching, he finally made the breakthrough he'd been searching for.

He entered Brindleton County Prison and greeted the staff. They'd grown accustomed to his visits, but he wasn't here hoping to finally break Ximena. With Hazel watching Lavender at home, Conrad had come this evening to talk to John Brindleton.

The inmate entered the room with a scowl, avoiding a greeting when he recognized his visitor. "Did you need something, Lieutenant Gordon?"

"I'm going to cut right to the chase, John. Why did you hire guys to kill your parents? Did you not think they'd give you up if they were caught?"

John Brindleton scoffed in his orange jumpsuit. "They're lying."

"We found receipts from the money transfer. How did you move it from in here?"

"My mother was generous, and bankers do whatever you want if you have enough money."

"So she shifted the money you used to pay the hitmen, and you killed her for...her generosity?"

"No, I killed her for siding with him, staying with him even though she swore she hated him. She stayed with him and he kept abusing me. So I got rid of both of them."

"But why? You were almost done your sentence."

"It's not so bad in here," he sniffed. "I met someone."

"I'm happy for you." He shook his head with a pitiful glance. "They're in here?"

"They had nothing to do with my decision to rid the world of my parents, so we don't need to talk about them."

The embattled lieutenant shook his head with a frown. "Be careful in there, John. You're going to be behind bars a long time, and there are a lot of snakes in there."

"The Brindletons aren't snakes?" John barked, offended that Conrad clearly saw him as a loser. "Look where I came from. My father wasn't the first Brindleton to wreak havoc in that town, and the name's been a poison for me since I was born. The Brindletons have plundered through the Bay from the moment the first ship from Windenburg landed two hundred fifty years ago."

"I'm not here for a history lesson."

"Why not? The name Francis Gordon means nothing to you?"

Conrad's blank expression made John Brindleton laugh. "He was the real captain of the ship my ancestor, Silas Brindleton, claimed to be sailing when the town was founded. Apparently Francis financed the boat, found the settlers, and would've been the town's first mayor, but he got sick on the way and Silas saw an opportunity. The Gordons were resourceful, and Francis' wife stayed in the town to raise her children, but the Gordons and Brindletons were bitter rivals until most of Francis Gordon's descendants picked up and moved to San Myshuno. The last Gordon living in town was..."

"Ben Gordon..."

John grinned. "I'm surprised you know that, but none of the rest. My ancestors did a great job covering up the truth. They wiped Francis' name from every artefact in the town museum, but the original documents are inside my family's safe deposit box in Windenburg Bank. Made themselves into the prodigal sons, 'saviours of the Bay' and all that crap."

His story unfolded as Conrad listened closely, slightly incredulous to the whole tale. "The funny thing is, Lieutenant Gordon...if not for the Brindletons, your good, honest, kind ancestors would have founded the town, instead. Who knows what sort of paradise the place might've been. But since I'll be stuck in here for decades, you might as well know. If Brindleton Bay has a real 'prodigal son', it's you."

Conrad laughed, but John pressed on. "It's no wonder my father hated you so much. You joined the force and it's like he's been haunted ever since. You threw him off his game. Left him hiding out in Sulani too long, and that made it easier for me to execute my plan. You've already done better for Brindleton Bay than we ever did, which I can say as the snake you just put away for life."

John was taken back to the cells as Conrad reeled. Family history didn't mean more to him than doing the right thing, and he had no interest in wearing his badge as any sort of prodigal son. Though he'd closed the case on the Brindletons' murder, the place was still at risk of crumbling now that George's hands weren't reaching into every corner of the town.

He was even more resolved to keep safe his family and the people of the Bay he'd come to care for.

His thoughts turned to Ximena, who was somewhere inside the large prison counting the days until he'd run out of time to keep her behind bars. He needed something ironclad, and Rafa hadn't reached out since Conrad left him in Sulani.

He needed a distraction and considered calling Heather, but he wanted her to have her fun. Instead, he placed a call to someone he hoped could help him solve a few of his problems.

"Conrad Gordon, my favourite grumpy lieutenant!" Felix Psyded laughed into the phone. "I was just with some new acquaintances, but I'll always have a minute for you, my friend." ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

WCIF Police Station: Used in this installment and the episode when Conrad saw Ximena behind bars, it's available on the Sims 4 Gallery by MarmeladArt. I've used it exclusively in second saves so it doesn't accidentally become the default police station Conrad goes to work to every day. I would use it for that purpose if I did the detective career again (many, many, many generations from now...)

[ladykailitha]

The Au Pair Boy Part 6

We're back on schedule with this and for whatever reason, it always seems to get ahead of the other stories so I have a lot in backlog for this one.

In this we have Steve trying to find people to work for Eddie.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

~

The gardeners were the first people he hired. A brother duo named Jonathan and Will Byers. The younger brother would design what they wanted the garden to look like, which they would email to Eddie to get checked off on and then both of them would go to town.

Within their first week a lot the debris had been cleared away and they had began trimming back the foliage that would do damage to the property.

Steve immediately bargained for more money for them after that. They deserved it after the mess they had to clean up was quickly and efficiently taken care of.

The groundsman was a gruff, older guy who looked like he had just walked off the set of “The Secret Garden”. His name was Jim Hopper and was happy to move into the groundskeeper’s house on the property. It had been there since the house had been built and Eddie had revamped into to a sort of mother-in-law suite.

The problem he was running into was finding a pool company that hadn’t black listed the address because apparently Ethan liked harassing them, male or female. Asking them to wear skimpy clothes to clean it, putting leaves in the pool so they would have to fish it out with their long nets meaning they would have to lean over a lot, and so on.

Steve was about ready to give up when he found a guy just starting out. He didn’t have any clients yet and was willing to at least take a look at the pool.

He nearly sobbed with relief.

When the man arrived, Steve was pleased to find a well-dressed black man with a shiny new truck and all new equipment. In bright blue lettering on the side of the truck was Sinclair’s Cleaning Service and underneath was a couple of the things they did, like gutters, driveways, gullies, and of course pools.

He wore cargo pants and a polo shirt with the logo on the front with the name Charles underneath and had a bright smile on his face when he greeted Steve with a firm handshake.

“I hope you don’t mind me bringing my son along,” Charles said indicating his meek shadow. “My daughter Erica caught a cold so my wife is taking her to the doctor’s to see if we can’t get her some medicine. But I couldn’t leave him at home and Sue didn’t want to take him with her.”

“Because I would be bored, Dad,” the boy huffed.

Charles chuckled. “Because he would be bored. Say hello, Lucas.”

“Hi, Mr. Harrington,” Lucas said. “This is a pretty nice house you’ve got here.”

Steve smiled at him. “It’s not my house,” he said wistfully, “I’m just a cog in the machine that helps it run. Think of me as...” he tapped his lips thoughtfully, “the house steward. I’m taking care of all the hiring of staff for the owner, Eddie Munson.”

“And he’ll be the one paying the bill?” Charles asked as Steve led them all the way to the back where the pool was.

“That’s right,” Steve said, opening the back gate to let them through. “There is place to store anything you need so that you don’t have lug heavy stuff back here every time.” He pointed to the shack off the side of the pool. He had paid Jonathan and Hopper extra to help him clean it out.

“Looks good,” Charles said, opening the door to see inside. “The pool isn’t a weird shape, so that helps. Strange color of the water though.”

“Water’s clear,” Steve assured him. “The owner just had the floor of the pool painted red instead of blue.”

Charles and Lucas shared raised eyebrows. “Did he now?”

“Yup!” Steve said with a grin. “You’ll be able to see for yourself on the times you have to drain it.”

Lucas picked up a plastic measuring cup and dipped it in the water, clearly not quite believing Steve that the water wasn’t red. The giggle he gave when the water came out clear made Steve grin.

“Well, I’ll be,” Charles huffed. He turned to Steve. “I think I’m the man for the job.” He stuck out his hand and Steve shook it.

“It appears you are,” he said with a smile. “Hey, Lucas, there’s another boy here around your age, helping his older brother with the gardening. Would you like to meet him?”

Lucas looked over at his dad, who nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

Steve led the way to the main garden where Will and Jonathan trimming the shrubbery. The one they were currently working on was the Beetlejuice snake.

“Hey, Jonathan!” Steve called out. “Will! Come meet our new pool peeps.”

Both boys shared a glance but put their trimmers down and came over.

“Will and Jonathan Byers, our gardeners extraordinaire,” Steve introduced. “Meet Charles and Lucas Sinclair. If you need anything you can ask each other if you can’t find me.”

“Lucas is about start high school,” Charles prompted. “How old are you, Will?”

Will looked over at Jonathan unsure if he should say.

“He’s fourteen,” Jonathan answered for him, ruffling his hair. “He’s starting high school this year, too. He’s just a March baby, so he’ll be younger then his peers.”

Will stuck his tongue out at his brother.

“You’ll forgive me, Jonathan,” Charles said gently, “but you don’t look much older than he is.”

Jonathan laughed. “I’m older than I look. I went to high school with Steve-o here. My parents had Will as ‘let’s a have another baby to fix our failing relationship’ ploy. The business was my dad’s.”

Charles looked over at Steve and raised an eyebrow. Steve didn’t look much older than the two teens either.

“I’m twenty-five,” Steve said, putting his hands on his hips. “I am,” he insisted when Charles and Lucas gave him matching disbelieving looks.

Jonathan cleared his throat in to the resulting awkwardness. “Yeah, let’s just say that didn’t work out and my mom got the lawn and garden business in the divorce because she put the time and effort into it, and he drank the profits. Then when I turned eighteen, I took it over. This is Will’s first year helping me out.”

“You two the only employees?” Lucas asked tilting his head to the side. “I mean I get with my dad, he’s just starting out, but you’ve been doing this for years.”

“No,” Jonathan snorted. “But to gardens this impressive and important, I’m not going to let anyone near them but me and Will. I had the whole team out to clean things up but for maintenance and design I take care of it and Will helps.”

Lucas just shrugged his shoulders. “It’s your funeral, man.”

“Bigger places than this,” Steve huffed, “have been handled by lesser men than Jonathan Byers. I wouldn’t have hired him if I didn’t think he could do the job.” He patted Jonathan on the arm.

Jonathan blushed and ducked his head. “Thanks, Steve.”

“Do you like D&D?” Will suddenly blurted out like he couldn’t contain his nerdiness any longer.

Both Jonathan and Steve braced for rejection, but Lucas lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Hell yeah!” he cried. “I have a level thirteen half-elf ranger. But the other half isn’t human, it’s a teifling!”

“Whoa!” Will said, eyes wide. “I didn’t know you could do that!”

Suddenly both boys were off rambling about stat blocks and armor proficiency and the three adults turned to each other.

“Do you have any idea what they’re talking about?” Charles asked with a grimace. “He always goes too fast for me to understand.”

Jonathan held up his hands in surrender. “Don’t look at me, I was the loner artsy type in high school, I didn’t do that nerd crap.”

Steve held his thumb and forefinger close together. “I know a little bit. It’s really popular with the kids now days. Especially after that TV show came out and had all the main characters playing it.”

“Better you than me,” Jonathan huffed. “Nancy’s little brother and Will used to play all the time, but they lost their GM or something and haven’t been able to play since.”

Steve nodded. “I think they prefer DM in D&D, but GM works.” He stopped and turned to interrupt the stream of D&D coming from Will and Lucas. “How many people do you need to play again?”

Lucas and Will paused for a moment.

“Counting the DM?” Will asked and Steve nodded. “Um...four to five ideally but can have up to seven comfortably.”

“So if you, Lucas and Mike all play,” Steve said slowly, licking his lips over his sly smile, “then you would want to have one more to make it ideal?”

“Why?” Lucas scoffed, “Do you just happen to have someone who could play?”

“Yes.”

Both boys looked at each other and then back at Steve, aghast.

“There is no way,” Lucas huffed, putting his hand on his hips.

“I’d have to ask Eddie,” Steve said, motioning all of them to follow him. He led them through the house, “but I’m pretty sure he’d be thrilled to let you use it.”

He opened a door that was just off from the kitchen on the other side of the theater room. In it was everything a tabletop gamer could want. It had row upon row of books on the shelves. Tables to put snacks on. Dice of every color imaginable and figures of every race, class, and monster type were in carefully labeled small drawers. But the centerpiece, the crowning glory of the room; a long table that had a town laid out on it, complete with the squares for combat and movement.

“Holy shit!” Lucas swore, his eyes wide, blocking the doorway.

Charles, who could see over the top of his son. “I’ll allow it this once, but otherwise, watch your language.”

Will pushed Lucas out of the way to see into the room, too. “Oh. Um. That’s just...wow.”

Steve ushered them into the room. “I don’t doubt there would be certain things off limits and I would have to be here to supervise, at least while Eddie is gone. But feel free to look around. I wouldn’t touch though.”

Lucas and Will ran into the room filled with glee. Will went straight the mini-figures and Lucas went to the table.

“Gosh, Steve,” Charles said, “are you sure that the owner will be all right letting the boys play in here? It all looks so expensive, I shudder to think what would happen if they broke something.”

To Charles’s surprise it was Jonathan that chuckled and shook his head. “Nothing. He buys a new one and carries on like nothing happened. Will broke one of the two Gate of Kings statues at the opening of the hedge maze. He had a new one out the next day. Didn’t say shit about Will breaking it. Just it happened, move on.”

Charles still looked skeptical so Steve pulled out his phone. “Hey, Eddie. I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time. Yep, he’s taking the job. Yeah, he has a fifteen year old son named Lucas who is going to be helping out. No, no. Nothing like that. Will let it slip he likes D&D and that spawned Lucas liking it. Of course I did. I didn’t even have to ask, yes. That’s why I’m calling. Brilliant, thank you. Yep. We’ll talk at bed time as always. Bye.”

“Now all I have to do is call my friend Dustin,” he said with broad smile. “He was my first nannying job and is about their age. I kept in contact with him and his mom because they’re good people. He was just complaining the other day that his school shut down their D&D club and none of the other former members were interested in trying to keep it alive.”

Just then Will came up to him and hugged him. “Thanks, Steve. This is going to be so awesome. Mike is absolutely going to flip his shit.”

Steve ruffled Will’s hair and smiled. “Oh yeah, I totally have to be there when he sees it for the first time.”

Charles brought his chin in and looked at Steve for a moment. “It sounds as though you hired your friend to the do the gardening job instead of the best man for the job.”

“Dad,” Lucas warned, “if you ruin this for me, I will never speak to you again. He already said that Jonathan and his team was the best for the job. Youth doesn’t mean lack of experience. He’s been doing the landscaping thing for seven years. You’ve only been doing the cleaning thing for a month.”

Charles ducked his head. “I’m sorry. That was out of line. Especially just having agreed to the job for you and all.”

“Apology accepted,” Jonathan said with a nod. “Come on, Will we really do have to get back to work. I’ll get you Steve’s number later and he can help you coordinate this all for you guys.”

Will nodded and after swapping numbers with Lucas, followed his brother out the door.

Charles smiled at Lucas. “Aren’t you glad I made you come today?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he huffed. “I only set off the fire alarm that once and that was because the bacon grease dripped onto the gas flame. It’s not my fault you and mom decided to come home at that exact moment.”

Steve burst out laughing. “That’s the worst, kid. But yeah, it’ll be in your thirties before you live that one down.”

Charles shook hands with Steve and said they would be back on Saturday to start the pool cleaning.

Steve watched as they walked away. He just need to call Dustin and lure him over here. A picture of the D&D room would do just the trick.

~

Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Tag List: SEVEN REMAINING

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @tartarusknight @gregre369

2- ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi

3- @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch

4- @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @ollieolive @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon

5- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

6- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

7- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

8- @sadisticaltarts @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @dolphincliffs @steddie-as-they-go @steddieislife

9- @kultiras @morallyundefined @themoonagainstmers @fearieshadow @blondie1006

10- @thesecondfate

[lowkeyrobin]

hiii!! you are literally blessing tumblr rn with your trevor fics omg... anyways!! i was wondering if i could request a trevor spengler x fem!reader in which reader comes in with a ghost issue and the ghostbusters have to help her and almost immediately trevor wants to impress her with his "skills"... i think that would be super cute!! just her explaining the situation with the ghost and trevor is trying to act all cool and collected.. i hope that makes sense!!! thank you so much!

awe thank you!! glad to be serving you guys ; and yeah ofc ! only thing is I only write gn readers so I apologize for that, but I don't think I referenced pronouns or anything referring to gender at all so 👍 ; thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy

TREVOR SPENGLER ; impression

summary ; Trevor trying to win you over with his "skills" and knowledge of being a ghostbuster

warnings ; language

word count ; 665

masterlist

"It's in the kitchen" You say, leaning against the door as you close it behind Trevor and Phoebe. Callie and Gary look to the kids, silently asking if they could do it on their own.

The pair nod, letting the adults sit on the stairs in front of the door. You lead the teens into the kitchen, showing them Slimer, eating everything out of your fridge.

"Fourth time this month. It stayed long enough for me to able to call" You inform quietly, watching Trevor beside you nod, Phoebe looking on with a bit of disgust and confusion. "He's a nice little guy, but I can't afford it in this economy"

"Yeah, we can take care of that for you," the boy replies, a quiet tone shaping his words so as not to scare the ghoulish creature raiding your fridge. He looks over at you, clearly a look in his eyes like he wanted to impress you for some reason.

Phoebe rolls her eyes and grabs a trap off the side of her proton pack, handing it to Trevor. "Go on, impress them"

"I'm not-" Trevor quickly speaks, then sighs, "Whatever"

He quietly sets up the trap, avoiding Slimer, now sitting on the floor, infecting the floorboards with its green goop. He stands back, crouched down in the doorway, foot on the lever of the trap. The proton thrower rests in his arms, finger on the trigger as he tries to lure Slimer toward the trap, hidden behind the doorway.

Unfortunately, the plan didn't work how Trevor wanted, now covered in green slime.

"Shit" He mumbles, wiping the goo off of his face.

You chuckle with a little smile, looking to Phoebe who gave you that "make him stop" look.

"Sorry, uh.." Trevor awkwardly says, gathering the trap to hand it back to Phoebe. "That obviously didn't go how it was intended"

"It was still impressive, I've never seen someone with so much patience try to do this before" You say, purposefully trying to boost his ego.

He smiles, "Yeah, uh, well... I'll clean all this up for you." He wipes some more slime off of himself, trying to move it to the floor for easier cleaning. "Uh, where's your mop?"

You point to a closet in the hallway, leading him to the cleaning supplies. Phoebe pulls you away, telling Trevor that you needed to speak with Callie and Gary for a moment.

"You've got an impressive son out there, ma'am," you say with a smile, quickly catching focus of her kind and comforting presence. "He's a real gem"

"Oh, yeah" She smiles, "He's a special one. Kind boy, I swear"

Phoebe looks at her mom with the same look. "Are you trying to wingman for Trevor?"

👻🕸️☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★👻🕸️☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★👻🕸️☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

"This is the power level indicator, and that's the intensification button, to like, up the anti, yknow?" Trevor explains, showing you how the proton thrower worked, trying to find any sense of interest in your eyes.

Luckily, your facial expression showed that clearly, as you were actually paying attention to him and the explanation of how his gear worked. You nod in response to him, trying to think of a question to ask to not make things weird.

"So, like, what do protons do? Like, to ghosts?"

"Oh!" He smiles, thanking whatever force was out there that you asked a question he could answer. "Basically-"

"Basically, he wants to go on a date with you" Phoebe quickly buts in, walking past with a smug smile for Trevor.

He quickly looks back to you, eyes widened. "Uh, don't listen to her!"

"I mean, I'd like that," you shrugged. "I'm impressed. That's what you wanted, right? I'll go out with you"

He blinks a few times, trying to make sure he'd heard you correctly. "Uh, oh my God, uhm, okay!" He nods. "Did I actually impress you?"

You smile and nod, giving him the answer he wanted, and you knew was the truth.

"You owe me twenty dollars, Phoebe!"

[coco-loco-nut]

The Albatross

pairing: Lance Stroll x reader

summary: You have quite the reputation, but maybe all the danger Lance has been warned about is a lie

masterlist ttpd masterlist

—————

“A pleasure doing business with you,” you stand up from behind your desk, letting the representative extend their hand to you first. Only then, do you shake their hand, letting your perfectly manicured nails scratch them ever so slightly so they remember who is in charge.

You just closed an acquisition deal, further sealing your reputation as a ruthless business leader. When you want something you go after it, a force of nature that leads to others downfall.

That’s what happens when you are the heir to one of the largest business families in the world. You were raised to be cutthroat yet savvy from birth. You are a L/n, your name strikes fear.

Lance Stroll was lucky. Any other guy in his position would be working under their father. Well, he is, but as an F1 driver, not some c-suite executive. That doesn’t mean he is obvious to other powerful business families, he reads business news often.

“Y/n L/n closes another deal in a string of acquisitions to her portfolio,” the headline says one morning as Lance reads before a team meeting. He’s heard your name, either cursed out or praised by his father, Lance is unsure which. That isn’t the only place, Lance has heard the warnings about you, how you cause death to whatever you set your sights to. Maybe that’s what intrigues him. How can a 25 year old be so feared?

“Lance, I need you to woo Miss L/n. She is interested in sponsoring a team, we need to get her money,” Lawrence says, knowing his son will understand the business side. He hopes that Lance’s business talk will appeal to you. Lawrence heard the mumbling of warning and apprehension across the paddock, likening you to an albatross who will bring death.

“What if she tempts our drivers away, distracting them and killing their career. Or she takes a majority stake and ruins the team,” one team leader had said, more worried about your looks than your money as he added the afterthought. To them, you are the seed that can kill a garden.

Lance finds you walking through the paddock, speaking rapidly in a foreign language into your phone. He waits carefully for you to finish before approaching. You are strikingly beautiful, it disguises your lethal edge. You immediately clock him, knowing who he is before he opens his mouth.

“Mr. Stroll, I assume you want my money, like everyone else here. What make you special? Doesn’t your family have enough money to sponsor the team?” your words cut through the air, a nonchalant air around you. Lance’s brain freezes for a second, he didn’t quite believe your reputation. You weren’t wrong either.

“I’m not here to talk sponsorship. I admire how you conduct business, you know exactly what you want, and you go for it. You probably already know who you will sponsor, you just want to make everyone sweat,” Lance says without thinking, not seeing the ghost of smile on your face.

“Because I am the devil? The albatross? I believe that’s what they call me. Tell me, Mister Stroll, why should I sponsor your team. I could easily buy a whole team, say Haas, get my name out there as the main sponsor. What is in it for me?” you question, curious as to how much Lance knows about deals and negotiations.

“There isn’t, but you’d be partnering with a brand that is known for luxury and class. My family has money in it, meaning it is a safe choice, but you don’t always like safe,” Lance says aloud, knowing there is no way to swing you his way completely.

“I like you, you are honest,” you say before walking away. His point is moot when looking at Mercedes and Ferrari are options. The money isn’t completely yours to spend either, you will propose the sponsorship to your father.

You spend the rest of the warm summer day in the Paddock making the smaller teams sweat. You are unlikely to sponsor a small team, but it is good to check out the options of buying a team.

Lance finds his thoughts drifting to you, you visit his daydreams. He finds you alluring, despite any warning he’s gotten about you. Meanwhile, you sit in your bland hotel room, notes strewn across the bed as you go over the day. Neither of you are aware of your father’s meeting with one another.

The next morning you are sitting in a cafe near the track. It’s cozy, the kind of place with rugs, plants, books, and other decor filling the space. It’s nice, different from your office and the upscale hotels you stay at. You are focused on the book in your hand, so much so that you don’t notice Lance sit across from you.

“I didn’t expect to find you here,” Lance says, a tired smile on his face. You raise your eyebrow, placing a bookmark in the book. You are a naturally curious person.

“Were you searching? Perhaps you can answer some questions for me regarding your team,” you say, setting the book on the table and leaning in ever so slightly.

“I guess so, yeah,” Lance sips his coffee, trying to recall what he can about sponsorship numbers.

“Why are you in Formula One? Every article that I’ve read says you are a pay driver and don’t deserve your spot,” you stare him down, but stop him before he can defend himself. “Luckily, I don’t believe every article I read, and you have okay results, but convince me why I should fund your team,” you suddenly seem so closed off to him, a sharpened dagger ready to kill. Lance feels a thrill run through him, ready to go head to head with you.

“I won’t lie and say my father didn’t help me, but I worked hard to drive with Aston Martin. Bad drivers in good cars consistently don’t place well, but I average a qualifying position of 13 and average a finish of 11. I work hard to improve and move up through the midfield,” Lance watches your body language closely. He can tell by the way you slightly relax and your eyes aren’t narrowed that you are satisfied with his answer.

“Good. Now, partnerships are a two sided deal, ask me what you want,” you lay down what most people believe to be a trap. Those willing to take the opportunity tend to see a reward.

“Are you really that bad? Why do people call you the she-devil of business?” Lance asks the hard hitting question, but you appear unfazed as you sip your coffee.

“I have been known to raise hell and kill a business if needed, but you of all people should know what it is like being the heir to a large corporation. Half of it is exaggerated, and the other half is misogyny. I know what I want, it is unsettling to people,” you answer. Lance feels a strange feeling in his heart, and he knows he is in danger if he falls for you.

“One more. Besides the money, how will I benefit from the partnership, hypothetically,” Lance asks, leaning in slightly, careful not to rest his elbows on the wooden table.

“I will help you with your PR, or at least how to handle the negativity. We seem to be more similar than many realize,” you tell him, catching him off guard. You know how to handle the hate, something he could benefit from. “Even if I don’t sponsor your team, I will help you. Consider a gift, from one nepo baby to another,” you wave your hand between you.

“There is always a catch, nothing is free,” Lance says warily, catching your smirk.

“Ah, yes. Consider it a favor that will be returned someday then,” you don’t show your complete hand, but it is enough to satisfy Lance. You gather your items and leave him at the table. He watches you leave the cafe, the warm atmosphere lacking something without you. Little does he know, he’s slowly worming his way into your thoughtless heart, making you care a little and want to help.

You make your way to the paddock, ready to be wooed by teams as you narrow your decision. As the day progresses, you keep open ears about anyone and any team, needing to know what you may get yourself into. As you take a private lunch in some team’s hospitality, your father joins you.

“Daddy,” you stand up and greet him with a hug. He mentioned that he may stop by to help in your pursuit of an investment.

“Hello, sweetheart. How are things going so far?” he sits down across from you, immediately being served lunch.

“It is going well, I have narrowed it to three teams. The pitch will be complete in a week. How have your meetings been?” you ask in return, knowing your father is hiding something regarding them from you.

“Good, I reached a deal with the Strolls,” you stare at your father, silently requesting more information. You knew he was meeting with Lance’s father, but you were unsure what it was about.

“We have arranged a marriage, of course you can back out at any time, but it does give us access to luxury fashion brands,” your father says. It is a smart business deal, one you had thought of before. The only issue is that your family is better off and more powerful than the Strolls.

“Interesting. I will read over the agreed upon contract and give me thoughts,” you take the tablet from your father, reading the main points of the contract. Of course, it will be combed through and revised by your family’s lawyers, but you appreciate where the deal is at.

You see Lance next later that day. It was a complete accident, you were on a phone call sternly telling off a director who royally fucked up when you walked into the Canadian.

“Consider this your one and only warning,” you say before hanging up.

“Bad day?” Lance holds your arm to prevent you from falling.

“Average. I’ll get out of your hair, I’m sure you have plenty of people wanting to talk to you,” you hide a grimace as you sidestep Lance who follows you anyway.

“That’s okay, I have a feeling you need to vent and no one really wants me around here anyway,” Lance says, you get the same feeling that he had. He’s definitely hiding something. Lance leads you to the rooftop bar of the Aston Martin motorhome.

“It really wasn’t anything serious, well, it was. One of the directors screwed up, but I have a team fixing it. You heard me on the phone chastising him. Your turn to share,” you explain, drinking the complimentary booze.

“I usually try to not let the fans get to me, but sometimes it hurts. It’s not easy having people telling you that you suck at your job and shouldn’t be here,” Lance vents, trusting you enough to be vulnerable. It’s risky, but you both have a silent understanding of the tentative marriage contract.

“I’ve been there, the persona non grata. Have you tried being a business mogul as a young woman? It’s hard getting respect, especially when running and expanding family businesses,” you smile bitterly, looking out over the paddock before continuing.

“None of what they say matters. Every choice we make has gotten us here. Those fans don’t know how hard you’ve worked to get here. I made a ruthless reputation for myself to protect myself because I thought that was how I gained respect that never came. Don’t let that be you,” You finish the drink and stand.

“Wait, can we talk about-“ Lance starts and you know exactly what he wants to bring up.

“This isn’t the right place or time, perhaps after the race,” you say, turning and heading towards the exit, leaving Lance on the roof to think about your advice.

“Ah, Miss L/n, visiting your future family?” Lawrence says quietly, a little humor in his voice, but you see through it.

“Not at all, simply observing. If you think that the contract would gain you my money for sponsorship, then you’d be wrong. Good day, Mr. Stroll,” you say firmly, continuing your journey to the next team.

In the end, your decision surprises everyone. You provide a large sponsorship deal to Mercedes, after many teams expected you to sponsor Aston Martin having being spotted around Lance.

You renegotiated the marriage contract, agreeing to marry by the age 35, but it will be on yours and Lances terms and allows both of you to pull out before then.

Lance convinced you to go on one date, claiming it would be beneficial to have a good foundation for a potential marriage, a claim you couldn’t deny. One, turned into two, then three, then four, which turned into both of you quietly dating one another. You both we each others escapes and rocks.

Everything was going fine until media captured you and reserve driver Fred Vesti laughing at a sponsorship event. Apparently you two looked too cozy and the media was going to run a story on it. You are lucky enough to have connections that saw it before it was send off to publishing.

“Y/n L/n seen with reserve driver, Fred Vesti, at a sponsorship event for her company. We can’t help but wonder if she sponsored the team to get with a driver,” you read aloud part of the article to Lance, it’s the snippet you were sent as a warning, and from your experience there is usually more to whatever rumor they are spreading.

“They are vultures,” Lance huffs, holding you tighter in his arms.

“This is only the start. People read fake news like this and they believe it, then they get mad about it. You wouldn’t believe it,” you shake your head, might as well let it run, trying to kill it will make it worse.

“Is that why you want to wait?” Lance asks, running his thumb over your engagement ring, the one you only wear around your family and close friends, never in public.

“Consider this your warning about what will happen, but ten times worse,” you can only think of what the headlines will be. And if they get wind it started because of a contract? Inconceivable.

To Lance though, it would be worth it. He could go out and defend your relationship and to hell and back. You don’t know about how dark of a place he was in when you met him, and how you were able to help pull him out simply with your presence and your advice.

You may be a devil to the business world, but to him, you are an angel, his savior. He chose this life with you and he would do it again and again, even if there is danger being in a relationship with you.

He helped you too. You were thoughtless, didn’t quite care if you were mean and cold hearted. To you, the business world hated you, so you didn’t show them any care, only focusing on bettering your company and making a name for yourself. You may have swept in and rescued him, but he returned the favor.

A year later you announce your engagement and subsequent marriage. Of course. there are questions about your sponsorship interfering with your relationship -it won’t and it hasn’t- and assumptions it is all PR. Despite all the “warnings” about you, the two of you find the once thing you both wanted in each other. Happiness.

[etherealily]

ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴏʟᴅᴇɴ // ​ɴ.ᴊ [2]

Hi everyone! Hope you're fine. If not, enjoy being better than Nate (you always were, but this is just confirmation)!

This is part two of a two-part fic. [Queued + not proofread]

[Part 1 here.]

Nate Jacobs x fem!reader. SFW, but discretion advised. Masochism(?), violence, delusion.

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc. : He's in way over his head.

═══════════════════ ⋆⋅🥂⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

The shadows of cars passing by his window infuriated him. The sound of McKay's breathing on the ground below him set his teeth on edge. The thought of you getting felt up by some hot rich actor guy made him want to end it all.

"Chris."

A hum.

"McKay."

"Kill yourself, Jacobs.", he whined, turning away from the bed and burying his face in the pillow he'd laid for himself on the ground. Hangovers suck ass.

"I'm going to that fucking party, dude."

"What party?", he groaned, petulantly, eyes still squeezed shut, but he sat up to humour him.

"The one at The Golden."

"Why?"

"Why do you think?"

"Y/N? For real, man?"

"We know each other. She'll let me in."

"Oh, after a thirty second interaction you're homies? Chill, man."

"You know Maddy's babysitting job? Well, they hosted some party. And Maddy met Y/N. And now they're, like tight."

"Nah, you're bullshittin'."

"We went to Y/N's birthday."

McKay scoffed, muttering 'cap' under his breath as he reached in the dark for his phone, looking up your name followed by 'birthday'.

Nate rolled his eyes, getting down onto the floor to scroll past all the meaningless rich twinks to find himself and Maddy. "There."

McKay's eyes widened and he laughed in shock. "No fucking way! You could've introduced me, FUCK. She wanted me bad, too."

"You think she wanted you?'

"Fuck yeah, man, you saw how she was look- CHRIST, man, you'd have been invited to our wedding. Our billion dollar wedding."

Nate laughed, smacking McKay's arm a little too hard for it to be joking. "Not if she's out there gettin' felt up by, like, Justin-what's-his-face."

"So you think I have a shot?" Whatever got this guy out of bed and up with him.

"Yeah, man. You might dick her down tonight, if we're fast enough."

McKay leaped up. "What's in it for you, though?", he questioned, as he put on a shirt.

"She's one of Maddy's girlfriends. If she gets roofied, Maddy's gonna kill me."

Lies rolled so easily off his tongue that he had to genuinely wonder when the lessons he learnt in elementary school had eroded away to the back of his conscience.

That seemed acceptable enough for McKay.

Good. Because now he was gonna have to deal with Ray, and he couldn't do that shit alone.

══════════════════ ⋆⋅🥂⋅⋆ ══════════════════

"Man, I don't even know how long it's been seein' you, dawg!"

What the fuck? What the FUCK? McKay and Ray were homies?

"Nate, man, this is my uncle, bro!"

OH. OH FUCK, YEAH!

The hug between the two lasted a little longer and then McKay turned to Ray again. "We can go in, yeah, Uncle Ray? C'mon. Y'ain't gonna ID us, are you?"

"Not you, son, but I can't let him in."

"Why not?"

"He's been banned from the club."

McKay frowned, licking his lips as he looked between Nate and Ray. Fuck. "Nah, nah, you're trippin', Uncle R. Ain't no way. He's, like, nobody, he's never even been here before."

A silent conversation happened between Ray and Nate, one spoken through their eyes, and then Ray huffed. "If anyone asks, you snuck in.", he said, unclasping the barrier so they could walk in. Clearly guilt was a useful blackmail tool.

Nate immediately found you. McKay was still searching.

"Hey, during the party, she spent a lot of time in the bathrooms with her girlfriends, man, maybe you should check there."

McKay shrugged, nodding. "Let me know if you find her here, though, alright?", he asked, patting him on the back before weaving through the crowd towards the bathrooms, aka, the opposite side of the club to where you were.

Was it a dick move? Yeah.

But did he give a shit? No.

He shouldered through the hordes of whores, trying to keep his eyes on you. And before long, he was standing in front of you.

"How the hell did you get in here?"

"Do you wanna fuck McKay?"

"Who the fuck's McKay?"

"McKay. Don't fuck with me, you know him."

"No, dude, who the fuck's McKay?"

"The guy with me in the car tonight, he's my homie, and I don't want him to get his heart broken!"

"Dude- he hasn't even asked me out yet! I'm not breaking his fuckin' heart! Chill, man! It's like you have a fucking vendetta against me, and I don't think that's righ--"

He didn't know why he thought kissing you would smooth your temper over. Okay, no, that was a lie. He knew. He definitely knew. He often used that trick with Maddy to calm her down, but he hadn't remembered that you weren't a girlfriend, and you were entirely well within your rights to-

Yup. You slapped him.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!"

"Sorry, Jesus, I'm sorry, I'm still a bit tipsy!"

"Who the fuck even let you in? And aren't you with Maddy?"

That he wanted to answer. "NO! No, I'm not! Because someone convinced her I was 'toxic' and 'abusive'!"

"What? Who?"

"YOU!"

"I didn't say that shit! I don't know half of your guys' story, dude!"

He paused. "Bullshit."

"You think Maddy tells me all that shit? I didn't even know you guys were together until my party!"

"So, you weren't out to break us up?"

You scoffed, sipping on your vodka spritz as you glared up at him. "For what purpose?"

"I dunno, you hated me."

"I didn't hate you. I was pissed at you. There's a difference."

His eyes darted around the room for a moment before they landed back on yours. "Sorry. I… sorry."

Ew, ew, ew. He hated saying that shit.

"What the fuck are you even doing back here? Shouldn't you be at home? 'S a school night!"

"I'm in some trouble!", he yelled over the sound of the bass dropping. "I got mugged!"

No, seriously. His elementary school teacher who diligently wrote 'honesty is the best policy' on the board every morning would have an aneurysm.

"You WHAT?!"

He turned out his pockets. "No wallet, no keys, no nothing!"

"Why'd you even come back out?! Did you call the police?"

"Yeah, my buddy McKay did! They're tracking my phone but I need somewhere to crash!"

"What about where I dropped you off? Maddy's?"

Those options would be good if he was actually in that situation. He decided to ignore them.

"Your place?" His alibi was not airtight, but he knew you were too pissed to actually put two and two together right now.

"My place is in New York!"

"What? Where was your party, then?!", he shouted, watching you sip your drink.

"That's my parents' place. Y'know, the one whose floor you covered in champagne and glass?"

"Sorry about that."

You ignored him, instead huffing and taking out your phone.

"Call Henry Donovan.", you instructed, and the sound of ringing emerged.

"Hey, what's up, gorgeous?"

"I'm at The Golden, but a friend needs help, so I gotta cancel, we should reschedule!"

"You got it."

The call ended and Nate's jaw dropped. "You're fucking Henry Donovan?"

"Shut up."

"You're not denying it."

"I'm not confirming it either."

"Schrodinger's dick, then."

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🥂⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

Nate lost sleep that entire night.

He almost lost his mind when he heard echoes of what sounded like plates sliding over each other. Sitting up, he squinted his eyes.

"Did I wake you?", you asked, looking up from your phone.

"No."

"You want pizza?"

Your hand gripped a wine bottle, of which, like, half had been drunk already.

Fuck. He had to be extra careful. He'd never seen you drunk, and he didn't know if you'd be more mellow or more volatile. With his luck, it was the latter.

"It's three in the morning.", he scoffed, removing the blanket before standing up to join you at the island - the fucking beautiful kitchen island - while rubbing his face. "Yes."

You slid the plate of pizza over to him.

"So, how come Mr. Donovan didn't spend the night giving you mediocre sex and LV gifts?"

You snickered, incredulously. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, what?"

"What?", he asked, defensively.

"You've got some incredible stereotypes attributed to me, y'know that?"

"C'mon, you're denying it? Okay, listen, you're a total smokeshow, you know that, but the problem with that is that you get cocky about it."

"Do I?"

"Mhm. Like right now. You didn't deny the fact that you're a smokeshow. You're not even pretending to be humble."

"Should I have?"

He frowned, eyes dancing around the room for a second. "No. Would've been obvious."

Silence, a painful one.

"Dude, this is so weird.", you laughed, shaking your head and rubbing your hands over your face. "You're the last person I'd have ever let into my house." He opened his mouth to retort, so you quickly added, "For a second time."

"Okay, but… I mean." he began, swallowing before continuing, "Henry Donovan, really? Look at him, Jesus.'

"Exactly. Jesus."

Uh, no. That's not what you're supposed to be saying. "No, I mean, he's hot and all, but you were right. He's just a dick and abs. What else does he got?"

You frowned, plucking a tomato off and tossing it to the side of the pizza box. "What else do you got?"

"A personality, for one thing? Balls, for the other. Face it, the guy's a dork trapped in a frat boy body, blessed with Daddy's money and Mommy's estate."

"Why do you know so much about him?"

Why did he know so much about him? He wanted to say Maddy, that would make it better, but he knew that if he did, well, you'd definitely catch onto the lie. So he decided bending the truth would be better.

"I looked him up. For some research project for Econ, I had to go through his family's financial history." First part : true. Second part : false, but no regrets.

"Oh. What kinda weird ass Econ proj-"

He waved you off. "My teacher's a psycho. Uh, so, what movie are you shooting in Scotland?"

"We're trying to keep it under wraps, so I'm obligated to not tell you."

"That's no fun. C'mon, okay, wait, at least gimme a hint."

You licked your lips, narrowing your eyes for a moment before letting them dance around the room. "Your best friend, Mr. Donovan will be in it.'

Jesus Christ. He scoffed, leaning his forearms on the counter next to you. "And you thought that was a good investment? He can't act for shit."

"He did well in-"

"Those were all sappy romance movies where the character just had to be hot enough to impress lonely, middle aged women. But isn't this movie a serious one?"

You shrugged, popping open a coke as you sat up on the counter, looking down at him, "Yeah, but he's the popular thing this season. So he'll sell."

"What about the art, though?"

"The art?"

"You're directing this one, too, right? So, what about your artistic vision?"

You stayed silent for a while, and Nate decided that was the perfect opportunity to swoop in with the final blow. "His bad acting will fuck the entire thing up."

"You really think so?"

"This is his, what, third movie? And the first two were bought by Daddy's connections. He didn't exactly get in on his acting chops."

Yes, he was talking him down when he had never seen a single one of his movies, but no, he didn't even feel the slightest bit guilty about it, because honestly, FUCK HENRY DONOVAN.

"It's too late, though. There's no way I can just kick him off the project now."

"Then minimize his role."

The corners of your lips turned downwards. You were considering it. "Are you sure he's that shitty at acting? I mean, I've seen his movies, he isn't that-"

He nodded. "Totally."

You bit the inside of your cheek as you listened to him.

He decided moving closer wouldn't really hurt, yeah? So he did. And you glared at him so hard, he felt like it was the first time he'd ever seen you all over again. An angel staring at dirt under her gaze.

And he fucking loved it. He loved being nothing. Because him being nothing to you was so unnecessarily sexy to him, he almost got a semi because of it.

"What did you mean when you said The Golden wasn't my world?"

You frowned, looking down at him as he sat on the chair with his forearms just barely brushing the side of your knee. "You really need that one analyzed?"

"It doesn't make sense. I fit right in there."

"Nate, if you fit in, you'd have been let in, instead of having to sneak in."

"Okay, so I'm not, like, uber-rich. So what? Most people aren't. But I'm well off. My family owns half of East Highland. Past Kemper, all the apartments are mine."

"Mine owns half the city." As cold and badass of a line that might have been, it was evident to him that that was meant to be gentle, and lacking in conceit.

He sighed. "So if I had money, that would be fine? I could get into The Golden?"

"No. Y- no. It's not just money. Duncan Martin? The little stocky brunette? He's got no money, but it's… his family used to have money, so he-"

"You realize how fucking elitist you sound right now, right?"

You huffed, running your hands through your hair in frustration. "I know, trust me, but it's-"

"It's fucking discriminatory."

"Look! You can't just come to a club for celebrities and ask why they only let in celebrities! It's STUPID! Like, asking why a high school doesn't let in toddlers! It just doesn't make sense! High schoolers should be in high school, toddlers should be in preschool, celebrities should be in The Golden, and you-"

"Should be with the rest of the normie peasants. Right?"

"It's not- I'm not the enemy, Jacobs. Okay? It's just how it is. It's not an attack on you." That was the only thing you'd said the entire night that made even an iota of sense.

Okay. Acceptable.

A while later, he's back with the bullshit. "So. Henry Donovan. You're fucking?"

"What is your problem?"

"He's just not… I dunno. Doesn't seem your type."

You scoffed. "And how would you know my type?"

"I can tell.", he replied, holding your jaw and moving your head from side to side, laughing as you slapped his hand away. "I'm guessing you're not into gays."

"He's not gay!"

"Denial, Madam Celebrity, isn't just a river in Egypt, y'know?", he stated, in an accent he wished he could take back immediately.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes and he tilted his head, looking up at you.

He moved even closer, shaking his head. "Trust me. I'm a guy. We've got a radar for this thing. Look, if you put me and him in a room, you'll see I have higher levels of both talent and heterosexuality in my little finger than he has in his whole twink body."

You snickered. "You're a dick."

"And he likes dick."

"Hey, I got kind of a gay vibe from you, too."

His smile dropped momentarily. "What?"

"I dunno, like, I thought you were, at the very least, like, bi. How would you like it if I said denial isn't a river in Egypt to that?"

"I'm not.'

You narrowed your eyes, and he almost scoffed. "I'm talented."

"And gay people aren't talented?"

"They are, but I'm talented in manly shit. Shit that requires testosterone."

"In what, football?"

"Yeah, you should come to our game."

'Hm?"

"This Saturday. Show up."

"I'll try."

He smiled, genuinely, and you almost felt guilty.

You didn't have the heart to tell him that the only reason you'd be there is because the fucking tabloid rumours hadn't actually been put to rest.

People thought you were dating, and you were, like, 100% sure you'd have to have pictures of you guys together just to get people to stop saying you fucked him and then had him beat up.

You had to fake date someone who didn't even know about it.

Which is why, later that night, you texted his ex, asking both permission and advice.

Because if anyone knows how to manipulate, it's Maddy Perez.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🥂⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

It did not bode well for Nate's mental health that he saw you there in the stands the day he fucked up.

God wasn't real. The universe was fucking with him. And the worst part? McKay had come to watch, too , last game of the season and shit, and he was sitting next to you.

Maybe that's why he fucked up.

Sitting in your hoodie and stupid huge sunglasses. He could kiss you and hit you at the same time. You just had to show up when he fucked up?

"Hey, man, look, I think you did fine, you just gotta--"

"Oh, fuck off, McKay, seriously."

"Hey, no, he's right. I'm pretty sure what that ginger kid over there did was a foul."

No, it wasn't. Nate was just weak. "Yeah, probably."

"'Least you still won. There's an afterparty, right?", you asked.

Thankfully, though, the universe came through in the form of getting you absolutely shitfaced.

"Remind me why you and Maddy used to be friends again?", he asked, watching you adjust the stereo.

"Used to be? We're still-"

"Not anymore.", he muttered, before his hand grabbed your throat to pull you closer to him as he kissed you for the, what, third time in his life? - more than he ever thought would be possible.

For some reason, though, you didn't immediately hit him over the head with the pizza box or knee him in the crotch.

For some reason (alcohol, but Nate liked to think you could handle your liquor, at least for his own conscience), you kissed back.

Good. Fuck Maddy, Fuck McKay, and, honestly, fuck Nate from a month ago. All losers.

He was just about ready to unbutton your shirt, but something told him to wait. And thank fuck he did, because you pulled away almost instantaneously. "Shit."

"What? What?"

"We're so drunk."

We, you'd said. You, for some reason, had thought he was drinking with you. Alright. That's fine. You can think that.

"Agreed."

This was odd, to say the least. He'd never acted drunk before. He'd acted sober, yeah. But drunk was a whole weird thing.

But then again, you weren't exactly just another hookup. You were a celebrity. A star. He'd attained the unattainable.

Anything for you.

So he counted himself lucky to be able to lie next to you and intertwine his fingers with yours after the fact.

"You still going out with Henry?"

You nodded, watching him press kisses to your knuckles.

"You still going with him for the lead of your movie?"

"Mm? Yeah, I mean, it's short notice and he isn't that bad."

He snorted softly, his lips now at your wrist and moving up your forearm. "You've seen much better actors, admit it."

"Yeah, but I can't really--"

He tsked. "Come on. I'm not sure you should alter the role to fit the actor. It's supposed to be the other way around."

"Yeah, but Nate, I really think it's going to rub people the wrong way.", you muttered.

"Fine, cast him. See if I care."

You fell asleep on his arm and he almost kissed your forehead.

Almost.

════════════════════ ⋆⋅🥂⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

Regret was the last thing he felt.

Who'd regret anything when in between the legs of an angel?

Of course, he couldn't expect the angel herself to understand this.

So, like a good little sycophant, he dodged everything you threw at him in the aftermath.

"You're a FUCKING predator!", you accused. He dodged the book. Okay, mildly, but-

"YOU FUCKING USED ME AS A REBOUND!" He dodged his wallet. No, but Maddy being pissed was a bonus.

"Get the fuck outta my sight, you-"

"Hey, hey, the sex was good and you know it."

"SO?! I WAS DRUNK AND YOU WERE NOT!"

"Okay, I'd say tipsy."

"You think you're getting off on a technicality?!"

He thought reminding you that he spent hours on his knees in front of you and hence, never actually 'got off' would result in him as a chalk outline.

"Look, there's something there."

You did something to him when you scoffed again this time.

Because he was suddenly under your dirt gaze again, but instead of Ray, it was you beating him up and looking down at him, you being the reason his insides were churning, you wanting him so badly, inside and out, that you couldn't help but spill his blood, just to sneak a glimpse.

You wanted him just as bad. And he could finally tell. You were mad because you liked it.

"Between us?", you asked, snorting as if you didn't feel it, too. He almost grinned at your denial. Cute. "We fucked once, and I was drunk!"

"And instead of drunkenly calling me names, you fucked me."

"Oh, my god, get out, you delusional… fuckass!"

"This is McKay's house."

You scoffed, snatching your clothes from his bedside and stepping over all the passed out kids outside his room.

Huh. Huh. He'd just fucked you. The celebrity.

He'd won the fucking bet.

But still. You'd be back.

They always came back.

═══════════════════ ⋆⋅🥂⋅⋆ ═══════════════════

You almost laughed as you slammed your car door. Please. Like he was anything more than a deluded dick your friend had dated.

In fact, is was Maddy who told you to try to get the rumours to rest.

"He doesn't give a shit about anyone, why should you care? At least save your career. Come to the game. I'll get press there, too."

And then the press came as far as they were allowed outside his house party.

To his window.

To your back as he kissed you against it.

To your departure the next morning, face filled with rage so that they could capture it.

And 100%, he'd be named the bad guy because the world loved you.

Of course they did, you've never done anything wrong. Ever.

Except this.

But it was his fault.

You'd warned him.

The Golden isn't his world, and you try to overstep your bounds, this is what happens.

You get burned.

[reminiscingtonight]

What She Doesn't Know Won't Hurt

Lia Wälti x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Fully inspired by all of the team pics with Myles

[WOSO Masterlist]

She’s gone. 

Despite nearly spending all your time joined at the hip, Lia’s not here. 

While normally heartbreaking and unbearable, today it’s exactly what you were hoping for. 

“Make sure to be quiet.”

The sound of something instantly crashing to the ground has you shooting a withering glare at the younger girl by your side. 

“What did I just say?” you sigh, knowing very well you’re going to have to clean up whatever just spilt later.

Alessia gives you a sheepish smile. “Sorry, hazard that comes from having long limbs.”

You ignore the dig at your height. “Do you want to see the surprise or not?”

She perks up at that, quickly scrambling to keep up with your pace. 

When you push open the door to the guest room, there’s a quiet whine before a sharp nose pokes out. 

You’re instantly plowed over by a brown blur, wet tongue dragging all over your face. Laughing, you have to fight to get back to a seated position, fingers digging through short fur. 

Next to you Alessia’s staring, barely able to hide her excitement at the sight of your new puppy. “Oh my god, he’s gorgeous,” she gasps. 

“You want to pet him? Bear doesn’t bite.”

Alessia reaches out without hesitation. Bear takes one look at the striker before his mouth closes around her fingers, lightly nipping at her digits. 

“Much,” you grin as Alessia yelps in surprise. 

She shoots your dog a dirty look as he sits down next to you with a proud look. “Aw, don’t be mad, Lessi. He’s just a baby.”

Whatever Alessia’s going to say is interrupted when he tilts his head at her, beady eyes trained on her face. You can practically hear her gulp, the blonde stiffening in front of you. 

Scooching forward, he gives Alessia an exploratory sniff. 

Whatever Bear finds next must satisfy him because suddenly he’s rolling over, offering up his stomach for some scratches. 

Alessia hesitantly reaches forward, smile breaking out on her face when he wiggles around in excitement at first contact.

For the next hour or so the two of you give Bear all the cuddles and love he could want. He’s all tuckered out, curled up in his dog bed with a new toy when Alessia finally gets up to grab her jacket, ready to leave for the day. 

“Remember, we have to keep this a secret.”

Alessia’s just slipped on her shoes when you remind her of the promise you made her make before taking her to your place after practice today. Lia had gone out with Leah for some light shopping, giving you all the time you needed to sneak Alessia in to see the new addition to your family. 

Something you and Lia agreed on when you first adopted Bear was keeping him a secret for the time-being. Of course there was no worry of the girls treating him poorly, all of your teammates being such dog-lovers, but what worried you guys was the possibility of not having another moment of peace and time alone once they all found out about him. 

So for the past two weeks both of you keep quiet about Bear. What the girls don’t know about won’t hurt them. 

But then there was Alessia. Ever since her move from Manchester she’s just seemed a little off, a little sad. She’s been spending a lot of time with Steph and Calvin to keep her spirits up, so when you adopted Bear it was a no-brainer who your first guest would be. 

So yes, maybe you lied through your teeth when you promised your girlfriend to wait a month before introducing anyone to him. But a month was a long time and you were just dying to confide in someone about your new son.

Alessia nods, pinky hooking around yours. “Just between you and me.”

---

It is decidedly not kept just between you and her.

Alessia’s got an apologetic look on her face when you run into her and a very gleeful Victoria after practice the next day. The way they’re standing by your spot in the nearly empty locker room makes you think they’ve been waiting for you to finish up.

You eye the two of them with suspicion. “Lessi. Vic. What can I do for you?”

Alessia does a quick scan of the room before deciding it’s empty enough to have this conversation. She leans in close to you, lowering her voice.

“I know you said it was just between us,” she starts, hands nervously wringing together.

“Alessia,” you groan, knowing exactly what she’s going to tell you before she does.

“The Dutch can be very convincing!” Alessia looks absolutely terrified. Of you or Victoria, you’re not really sure.

“I can be very convincing,” Victoria echos, not looking ashamed in the slightest. She gives you a wide grin before hooking an arm through yours. “Now what’s this I hear about a new addition to your family?”

You thank the stars that Lia’s gone to get her nails done with some of the other girls. 

You sigh. “Do you want to go in my car or yours?”

---

You’re not quite sure how you got here. Here being your living room, surrounded by most of the younger players on the team, superseded only by the likes of Kim, Cloé, and Jen. 

Alessia and Kyra are engaging Bear in a game of tug-o-war, Victoria egging them on while the rest of you, the older players and Lotte, are chilling with a couple of drinks. The air is light as you quietly joke around, basking in the feel of a small team get-together. 

You don’t really remember why Lia couldn’t be home today, but you ran with it, quickly inviting Alessia over. Only inviting Alessia apparently meant inviting Victoria which meant inviting Kyra which meant… well you get the point. Suddenly you were housing seven football players when you initially only intended for one. The only upside was that the girls all brought over food and drinks so who were you to turn them away?

You’re so caught up in conversations and laughs that you don’t hear the sound of the key turning in the lock. Nor the opening of said door. Or the confused murmur at all of the shoes by the door. 

What you do hear is your full name coming out of a voice you’ve come to associate with love and warmth. Only the sound of her voice tonight is followed by your heart sinking to the bottom of your gut. 

Spinning around you come face to face with an unamused Lia, arms crossed as she looks on at the sight of the living room. Alessia instantly lets go of the rope, sending Kyra flying when Bear pulls with all of his might. The Australian grumbles out some swear words as Bear sits up proudly, toy hanging loosely in his jaws. He trots over to Lia, tail thumping in excitement at the sight of her. 

“Lia, babe, it’s not what it looks like.”

Your girlfriend raises an eyebrow at you. “It looks like you invited people over to see Bear when we agreed not to.”

“Okay. It's exactly what it looks like.” There’s no point in denying what you both know is true. But that doesn’t mean you don’t try to deflect. “But it’s all Lessi’s fault!”

Alessia lets out a cry of dismay. “Is not! You’re the one who invited me over!”

“I wasn’t the one who invited everyone else now was I?”

The striker looks ready to argue, but whatever she’s going to say is interrupted when another familiar but unexpected figure comes flying in behind Lia. 

“I’m ready to see my favorite little pookie bea--” Leah breaks off when she sees the crowd of women already in your living room. Her feet come to a skidding stop, eyes darting between you and your girlfriend. 

“Oh hey, (Y/N). I didn’t realize you were going to be here…” Her eyes sweep the room. “Or half the team either.”

“Right.” Your lip pinches into a line, a sinking suspicion that you’re being played by your girlfriend. “And what pray tell are you doing here, Leah?” Though the question is directed towards your vice captain, your eyes never leave your girlfriend’s. 

Leah’s eyes also dart towards Lia, the defender not quite sure what to say or do. 

Your girlfriend on the other hand has suddenly found your dog very interesting, hands planted firmly in his fur as she avoids all eye-contact. 

“You’re such a hypocrite!” you laugh, pulling your girlfriend into your arms. Leave it up to Lia to try to sneak people in to see Bear just like you have been. Between you sneaking girls in when Lia’s gone and Lia sneaking in others while you’ve been out, there’s no telling how many Arsenal girls have already been by to see him. 

It isn’t until nearly thirty minutes later, when you and Lia have already laughed off your apparent inability to keep Bear to yourselves that Leah breaks the peace. 

“So I shouldn’t tell Beth to come over?” Leah whispers to the Swiss girl, albeit a bit too loudly. 

An offended sounding gasp escapes your lips, tilting your head to meet Lia’s embarrassed gaze. 

“You told me you only told Leah!”

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

A Perfect Score - Chapter 10 - A Song of Ice and Fire | FigureSkating!AU

Summary: The moment has arrived for you and Aemond to prove yourselves against the Martells. You can only hope you've done enough to earn your place | Word Count: 7.7k~ | Warnings under the cut~

Series Masterlist | Links to my Taglists: General Taglist | Aemond Targaryen Taglist

Warnings: teasing, hair pulling, mile high club (oop), voyeurism, degradation, daddy kink, oral (m receiving), ass slapping, orgasm denial, threatening behaviour, mentions of a broken family, mentions of chronic pain, blood, slight angst, injury in relation to chronic condition, trigeminal neuralgia, hospitals

A/N: I can't believe this is the LAST CHAPTER FUCK 😭😭😭 i love these two sm, would die for them 🥰 I really hope you guys enjoyed this series, it was so fun to write! If you're lucky there might even be an Epilogue 😉

Sunspear.

That’s where the finals would be.

Cocky fuckers. Thinking that they had the win, by having it on Martell turf.

At this point, the prospect of winning was low on the priority list. The top spot had been somewhat taken over, by carrying out the plan you had in store, which Aemond was increasingly becoming more and more suspicious of.

You and Helaena would play dumb whenever he walked past her room, hiding whatever you were doing. As much as Helaena prefaced that what you had planned was a terrible idea, she’d grinned and told you to do it anyway.

She’d even given her opinion when you modelled it.

“Perfect” she said with a proud smile, leaning back in her chair.

You’d packed the suitcase well enough that Aemond wouldn’t see it even if he opened it by accident.

When it was time to load up the car for the flight to Sunspear, staying in a hotel overnight before the finals tomorrow, there was a finality to it that widened the pit in your chest. Helaena had barely had you out of her arms, intent on hugging every last bit out of you so that she could savour the feeling.

“We’ll all be watching the match tomorrow” she smiled, “try not to get into too much trouble before then”

As much as you’re happy that she and her family will be there, as your manager, he will too.

Aemond had pre-warned you about that.

But to be honest, you were expecting it.

“You know me, can’t keep out of it it seems” you smile back at her, hand slipping out of hers as you move onto Alicent, who stands straight, pink lips pressed together, like one touch and she’ll just crumble into tears.

Alicent nods, picking at the top of her turtleneck, “It was so nice to have you here, sweet girl. You are welcome back whenever you like” she manages, her voice wavering with emotion.

Smiling gratefully, nothing else need be said when Alicent opens her arms to pull you into a hug, as if you were her own. She smells like expensive perfume, probably YLS, as you’d often seen the bottle poking out of her bag. At first, when you met, you found the scent overpowering, and somewhat tart. But now, as the perfume enveloped you in a warm, motherly hug, it was entirely comforting. And your heart strained in your chest, knowing that it may be a while before you get to come back.

Your face pulls into a smile as Alicent then moves onto her son, bringing a comically tall Aemond in comparison into a warm embrace. No person is more surprised than you when Aegon walks over, trying to hide how nice he’s being with humour.

“Come in. Bring it in then”

You laugh through your nose, giving him a quick hug.

“Alright, that’s enough”

You shrug, smirking, “Fine, you smell anyway”

“Ouch, I’m so fucking wounded”

You pick up your bag, slinging it over your shoulder.

“I’ll be watching as well. Can’t wait to see what happens” Aegon winks.

You turn awake, feigning ignorance, “Dunno what you mean”

You fought the urge to tear up as you looked in the mirror, watching the three of them wave you away. With lips pressed together to force a smile to your face, strained with emotion, you spare them a wave back, bidding the large Targaryen House goodbye.

Once past the security gates a deep exhale exits your lungs, and Aemond’s hand wraps around your knee, stealing your attention.

You smile at him, giving a soft nod, “I’m alright”

Aemond laughs through his nose, “You’re acting like you’ll never go back” he chuckles, “I know Mum would be very offended if you didn’t”

Smiling, you know it’s probably true. That they would like you back as often as possible, no matter the outcome of the finals.

Aemond scrolls through his phone, biting the inside of his cheek, “Applications are closing soon” he muses, almost so quietly you don’t hear him unless you’re leaning close.

“For what?”

He clicks his phone off, shoving it into his sweatpants pocket, “For the new academic year” he replied anxiously.

“Philosophy and History right?” you smile, putting your hand on his to calm him, “You’ll love it, Aemond”

“I know, it’s just-” he adds, “I don’t know if I’ll be good at the whole academic side of it. It’s one thing to be interested-”

“You’ll do great because you’re interested in it” you smile, “besides there’ll be plenty of workshops on essay writing and such”

He sighs, like the idea of doing all of that is just so overwhelming right now. Not knowing what to expect, has his whole body tense.

“Finals first. Then I’ll apply” he states, turning to flash you a small, Aemond-smile. One you return with warmth.

“I’ll help you with your Personal Statement”

He laughs, “Then I’ll never get in” he jokes, making you swat his arm playfully.

It was a couple of hours on a plane to Sunspear, and with the assistance of the private jet supplied by Hightower Management, it was a simple process. The car even pulled up right next to it, allowing you both to largely avoid the media who stood behind the chain-link fence, trying to get a word or a photo from the mysterious couple.

You’d barely looked at the news. But every now and then, a notification would inevitably pop up on your phone, about your outburst and subsequent removal from the Targaryen House. Frustration boiled in your veins.

That wasn’t true.

But then again, not a lot they wrote about was true.

It happened so often, each time affected you less and less, and the quicker it was to push that aside.

An ‘unnamed insider’ had also offered their opinion.

‘There was an altercation with the Chairman of Hightower Management, in what I understand was a lapse of morals’.

You had laughed when you read it.

And so did Aemond.

Alys Rivers.

Still trying to dig her claws in, desperate for even a slither of that limelight. Of Aemond’s attention.

She wouldn’t fucking get it. No fucking way.

Aemond had joked that you’d beat her in a fist fight if need be. And you didn’t doubt it. In fact, the mental image somewhat amused you.

You looked up from your phone, the hum of the incessant jet engine vibrated through the seats. Arryk was fast asleep in the front of the jet, slumped back in his seat, with his hands clasped on his chest. His suit, inevitably crumpled with the awkward sleeping position he found himself in.

Aemond was seated next to you, earphones in, leaning back to only appear as if he were dozing.

You bite your lip, looking back down the aisle and then to Aemond.

He cracks open his eye as you stand up from your seat, a suspicious look rakes over you as you pull the jumper you were wearing over your head and huffing it onto the seat.

“Where are you going?” he asks gruffly, to which the only thing you can do is smile, seeing the way his gaze absorbs the image of what you’re wearing stuck tight to your skin.

Knowing he fucking hates it.

Hates it.

You roll your eyes.

“The toilet?” you reply sarcastically.

Gods, you know you’re pushing your luck but you just can’t help it.

You can practically feel the irritation radiating off Aemond. His lips part to say something but you’re gone with a smirk on your face before he can say anything. His harsh, determined gaze bores into the back of your head, burning a bright hole through it. You sway your hips as you walk down the aisle to the bathroom, closing the door, but not locking it.

10 seconds.

That’s how long you give it.

You pretend to wash your hands, looking in the mirror and smoothing your palms over the ponytail that sits semi-loosely at the back of your head.

5, 4, 3…

The door opens quickly and with a click it’s shut again, but this time Aemond slides the lock across. He had to duck to get into the cramped bathroom, and now with two people inside, it feels utterly stifling.

You have to bite back a smile that you’d guessed him so spot on. It hadn’t even been ten seconds. And here he stood, putting on a stoic, blank face, as if he had no intention of doing anything at all.

Your lips part to speak, but your throat is instead met with pressure, his palm flush to it and his fingers around the sides as he pushes you further into the bathroom.

“You want to get fucked?” he suggests in a dark, husky voice, the muscles in his arm tensing and untensing as his control begins to wane, “Hm?”

You can see the way he expects you to respond, but as his fingers press on the sides of your neck, it only serves to make your mind swirl with want, seeing how frustrated he is. Nothing seems to want to come out of your mouth, shock pleasantly blocking your throat.

“Think I didn’t see that? The way you rolled your eyes? Acting like a little slut?”

You swallow under his hand, his words sending a bolt of arousal straight between your legs, throbbing with desire. The way your cheeks burn makes it clear to him what you really want, coupled with the tremble that has now managed to worm its way up your legs.

In a smooth moment, your thighs hit the counter in front of the mirror, his arm now reaching widely around you to hold your head up to see his expression in the mirror. You shiver at the sensation of his hair on your skin, his nose dragging up the side of your neck, his breath eventually hot on the shell of your ear.

“You just want it, don’t you?” he grunts, pressing his now noticeable erection against your backside, his hips moving torturously slow, as if to make you wait, to tease you.

Pride rings in your body at the way he’s just so easily fallen apart the way you predicted.

“No” you tease, biting back a smile which he sees in the mirror.

His mouth drawn tightly into a line, not revealing at all what he’s thinking.

Aemond’s large hands go to your leggings, tearing them down harshly like he can’t get a good grip on them. The speed, the sheer neediness of the gesture, has arousal pooling where you need him most and your skin prickling with desire.

“We’ll see about that”

You have to spread your hands on the counter to keep yourself up as Aemond tugs your leggings down just enough and bends you over, exposing you just enough that the cool air against your core makes you shiver.

“No” he gruffs, wrapping your hair around his knuckles and tugging back to make you look in the mirror at him, “You’re going to watch”

You barely have time to think about his threat before you feel the fat head of his cock kiss your folds, pushing forward, Aemond moans breathily as he looks down to watch you take the entirety of him, squeezing his length tightly.

It feels like the air is being constantly pushed from your lungs, he doesn’t even give a moment of reprieve, one hand tugging your hair and the other kneading the fleshy globe of your ass to spread you open for him to see. His cock pistons so quickly and with such a lewd sound that for a moment, it makes you embarrassed that Arryk might actually hear from the front of the plane.

“Keep your eyes open, princess” she breathes, leaning over your neck and giving a harsh tug to remind you. You whimper as his teeth graze over your skin, combined with the way he bullies that sensitive spot inside you in this position, it all feels very too much.

“Just my little fucktoy aren’t you, hm?” he grunts against your ear. And without even thinking you nod quickly, not trusting yourself to speak, your eyes dragging down to watch the ceaseless rocking of his hips slapping against you.

He delivers a hard slap to your ass, “Say it”.

“ - yes, I am - I am -”

Aemond groans, burying himself as deep as he can inside you with each devastating thrust, “Yeah, that’s right -”

You gasp loudly, eyes slipping shut as his hand makes his way to your front, his thumb drawing harsh circles against your clit. It’s more pressure than you anticipated to such a sensitive area, and it has your body pushing back to meet his, desperate.

“ - fuck, Aemond -”

“ - not my name, princess-”

Just when you’re about to lose it, he ceases his movements to your clit and slows his pace dramatically and he chuckles darkly when you whine with annoyance.

“If you want to cum, I want to hear it-”

You can’t help but feel irritated. You are so, so close. It’s unfair.

“Come on, you can do it, baby-”

With a strained, annoyed tone, “-fuck, daddy please - I’m so close-”

You feel him grin against your neck, “better”

Nothing feels more overwhelming than when he picks up the pace again, blood feeling as if it’s on fire as it hums around your body, right to your little bundle of nerves that Aemond hasn’t left alone.

“-that’s it, cum around my cock, princess-”

And you do.

Hard.

So much so that Aemond has to put his hand over your mouth to keep you quiet. Especially when his pace never falters, and he fucks you through your orgasm with the same vigour. Aemond moans as your walls flutter around him, squeezing his length tightly.

He pulls out, fisting his length quickly in his fist, a shuddered groan falling from his glorious lips as his warm cum coats your bare pussy. It’s near-pornographic, the way it feels to be covered by him, and even more so when he smears his cum over your slit with the head of his cock.

You smile tiredly, seeing that this little act is something that Aemond enjoys doing often.

Perhaps it's his way of reminding you you're his.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect-” he praises, “-baby you’ve made such a mess- come on, be a good girl-”

You’re near breathless as he pushes you to your knees in front of him, covering your lips with the cum that glazes his cock before plunging into your mouth. You let your jaw relax as Aemond makes the slow, lazy pace, using your mouth to clean the aftermath off his length.

You moan around him, the taste of him salty and heavy on your tongue.

“That’s it - you like me using your mouth, don’t you-”

You make a noise of confirmation as he continues to use you, making his head tip back at the vibrations stimulating his oversensitive cock.

He pulls you off by your hair, looking down at you reverently, using his thumb to swipe whatever was left on your lips back into your mouth.

As your eyes meet, both of you light up in a smile.

"Seven fucking Hells, what am I going to do with you" he smiles lovingly.

The Dornish heat was nothing compared to that little bathroom.

The air was crisp as you exited the plane, a dull, but satisfied ache between your thighs. In fact, Arryk had looked at you both with some level of barely-contained suspicion when you came out the bathroom on the flight, and you’d flushed bright red when he asked if you were alright, and swatted Aemond when he made no attempt to hide his smugness and laughed out loud.

The hotel was lavish, and entirely different in style from the hotels you were used to on the tour. The floors were marble, the walls largely made of stone, with bright and vibrant colours decorating the tall ceilings and walls.

Even people’s fashion was different. Flowy fabrics of silk and light linens, probably due to the intense heat, which was already making it difficult to concentrate.

You gave Aemond a look when the receptionist gave you one key.

As if being in on an inside joke of sorts.

The last time you were forced to share one room, it was a very different circumstance.

The room was spacious and utterly luxurious, but you’d expect nothing less from the Martells.

The bed was enclosed with panels of delicate details surrounding it, along with silks of various vibrancies to lift it. The floor was marble, and a nice cooling sensation in comparison to the stifling air.

And as Aemond snaked his arms around your waist as you looked out onto the balcony at the lavish gardens, leaning down to bite at your neck softly, your eyes slipped shut.

“Aemond the finals are tomorrow, we have to practi-”

“And I intend to” he whispered back, kissing higher and higher on your neck, while one of his hands sank lower and lower, til they were beneath the waistband of your leggings.

“It’s still early, Princess” he mused.

You had both christened the bed that afternoon, and later on, any available flat surface Aemond could find, he would do things that would make even Aegon blush.

Unlike the other hotels, there was only one ice rink in Sunspear, and it would be the one you’d be using tomorrow to compete against the Martells. It was a bit annoying having to book in a spot to go over the routine, and you and Aemond had already practised beyond measure, but it was still nice to get a few more sessions in before the big day.

Surprisingly, you felt okay, and Aemond was the nervous one. Even though realistically, there was little outcome for Aemond, whether you won or not.

You sigh, the cool air of the rink hitting your skin, “At least it’s nice and cool in here”

Huffing your bag onto the floor, you look behind at him when he doesn’t reply.

Aemond, with a stoic expression, only gestured with his head in the direction of the stands.

Larys Strong sits there, his cane in hand.

His head is angled down, so that he’s looking over the bridge of his brow, his darkened eyes flitting between you and Aemond from where he’s seated in the middle of the rows of seats, which tomorrow, would be filled with people.

Immediately, irritation gnaws at your insides. And the only saving grace is Aemond’s careful hand on your arm, grounding you.

You make no effort to go to him.

He will come to you if he wants to speak.

It almost pleases you that it takes him so long to stand and step down to the ice rink, so that it gives you more time to think of what to say. You go to move away to speak to him, but Aemond’s fingers tighten, holding you close to him.

He wanted to stay with you.

“Aemond” Larys greeted first, leaning on his cane as he stopped before you both, smirking as he searched both of your faces.

Aemond didn’t respond.

“What do you want?” you ask, getting swiftly to the point, as you knew he wouldn’t.

Larys bowed his head, as if briefly embarrassed and wondering what to say, his slick wavy brown hair not moving around his shoulders.

“I am here for the finals-”

“That’s not what I asked” you added quickly, “to the point, please”

You didn’t see the barely-contained smirk that Aemond was struggling to keep at bay behind you. It turned out, he rather liked to see you angry.

Larys floundered noticeably.

“You had seen my emails?”

“I had”

Larys raised an eyebrow, “and it was insufficient?”

Biting your lip, you couldn’t hide your contempt, “You expected me to go to the press?”

“I thought that was the plan”

“There was no plan. Nor an exchange of terms between you and I. I sought your help because I thought you had information on my employment, and you did. There is nothing more to say”

He goes quiet for a moment, before lifting his signature smirk to his face.

“I see the Ice Princess has some fire in her”

Aemond’s grip tightens, as if he’s ready to explode at any moment.

“I do hope Floris is alright” he muses, taking a short step forward, “it’d be a shame for such a capable skater to retire so soon into her career”

Your eyebrows furrow.

Was that a fucking threat?

Larys smirks slightly, appearing to have hit the nerve he was after.

"Good luck with the finals"

"Watch it" Aemond responds, keeping a firm grip on your arm. Now because he's afraid you might actually hurt him.

Larys laughs through his nose.

Fuck you.

You and Aemond watch with bated breath as Larys leaves slowly, the clang of the double doors rattling behind him.

Aemond let's out a breath.

"Should I be watching where I put my skates now?" You ask him, half joking. But it earns a breathy laugh nonetheless.

"You say that. Maybe you should"

Practice goes as expected.

The routine is intricate, perhaps the most technical so far, but in a nice way. Working with Aemond now, when everything had been addressed was nice.

Gods it was so nice.

It almost made you sad that he wanted to retire after the finals.

He was so graceful. For such a tall guy, lined with lean muscle, he had such elegance on the ice. Wasn't afraid to show off, which the judges would no doubt love.

The song?

Swan Lake. The Ending Song.

A bold choice of Otto's.

Was that a threat too? Perhaps?

It didn't bother you too much, as you'd found a perfect place within the song to do what you had planned for weeks.

And gods, it'd all be worth it to see his face.

It was all very surreal.

A flurry of texts crowded your screen on the morning of the finals.

Rhaenys.

Baela. Rhaena.

Floris.

El.

Even some of your family.

Estranged family.

You're certain you blocked their number.

You sigh, pulling the towel around yourself and walking out of the open wet room. Aemond is laid flat on his back on the bed, a damp cold cloth applied to the marred eye.

If you didn't know any better, he looked asleep.

"Still bothering you?" You ask.

He just makes a noise of confirmation. His eye not moving.

You rub his arm lovingly as you sit next to him.

His eye had been bothering him all night, so much so that embarrassingly (his words) he'd had to remove the glass eye he wore and slept without it to alleviate the pain.

He'd looked so vulnerable when he showed you.

As if you'd run away when you saw it.

But instead, your heart leapt. You were more lovey than usual after a little drink at the bar with Aemond after practice, and you'd pressed your lips to his scarred cheek. Lingering.

Little did you know, that his heart leapt as well.

And when you slept, moulded in each other's arms.

It felt like it was always meant to be this way.

It changed something.

"Do you want some painkillers?" You ask softly,

"I'm alright, just took some…waiting for them to kick in"

Patting his arm, you give him a reassuring smile, though he can't see it.

Making sure he's not looking, you sneak the outfit out of your suitcase and into your bag for later. Biting your lip, you try hard to contain the excitement in your veins. And nerves as well.

For a lot of things.

Ping!

You laugh through your nose.

Scrolling, you check the other messages you have.

You laugh at that too.

Gods she's such a boomer. It's kind of painful.

You shoot her a quick text back, clearing the texts from your family without replying.

Not like they deserve it anyway.

Everytime you see a text from them now, it only reminds you of why Otto hired you.

Bad circumstances.

Someone of low background.

Ugh fuck him.

Fuck. Him.

With a barge pole if needed.

Aemond huffs as he gets up, squinting and looking over at you, "ready to dance with the vipers?"

"Oh more than ready" you smile at him.

You're thankful you have your own dressing room at least. To get everything right without Aemond's curious eye constantly looking at you.

No time for quickies this time round.

You look at yourself in the mirror, hair all done into a ponytail with curls falling from it. Decorated with glitter hairspray and little pearls. Your outfit is black, as Otto had said it would be in his email. The corset is almost velvet like, with a slight v at the top (which made it difficult to initiate your plan, but you managed).  And the mesh skirt over the leotard sways like a cloud over your legs.

You steel yourself.

You can do this.

When you go out to the hallway, looking down to the ice rink, where the stands are entirely full with the echoed chatter of the audience, your skin immediately prickles with nerves.

You feel Aemond's hand on the small of your back, making heat crawl up your neck.

"Feeling okay?" He asks in an uncharacteristically soft voice.

You don't think you'll ever get over the feeling you get when you see him with his sapphire eye.

It literally takes your breath away.

But his scar looks reddened somewhat.

You furrow your brows, "Are you?" You ask, concerned, "your eye. It looks sor-"

"I'm fine" he says quickly.

I don't believe that.

You can see the way he's trying to be brave about it. His jaw tight and his good eye looking anywhere but you, as if he knows he'll be found out.

"Aemond we don't have to. If you're in pain-"

"No. I want to do this for you" he urges.

For you.

You swear for a moment your heart skips a beat, stilling in your chest as the rest of you gets warm.

Aemond can never be forced.

He's stubborn like that.

A Targaryen trait, you muse.

But you know deep down, he won't heed your warning. He's headstrong. Completely sure of his own opinion, rightly or wrongly.

There's something about it now though, which doesn't feel right.

"I'm alright, princess. Promise" he adds, taking one of your hands in his while he takes in your outfit.

"You look nice" he says, forcing a smile to his face. His hand goes over your sleeves to the clips at the top. He plays with them briefly, as if wondering what they are before you playfully slap his hand away.

"Off"

He gives you a look.

A suspicious one.

He knows you're up to something.

Then he smiles.

Again a forced one, but stubbornness will kill him first.

As you both walk towards the ice rink, journalists, media, the judges, the faces of the audience as well as the Martells all serve to wake your nerves.

You wave at Rhaenys in the crowd, Baela and Rhaena seated either side of her.

"There they are, the Ice Prince and Princess. Ready for the finals in their all black get up"

"They appear to be closer this time, speaking in hushed voices- oh! Was that a kiss I saw?"

"It was! Perhaps there is more to this mere partnership than meets the eye"

Aemond whispers to you, "up in the stands, to the right"

When you follow his eyeline, your face drops and you turn to avoid the cameras from getting a good look at your expression.

Otto Hightower sits there.

Alone.

Good.

He's looking down at you both, chin high but his gaze looking over his nose like you're shit at the bottom of his shoe. His hands are clasped in expectancy, clearly desiring a favourable outcome to the performance.

But at least now you know where he is, so you can see the look on his face.

The thought of it has an evil smirk rise to your face.

"Are we going first?" You ask.

Aemond nods.

Fuck. You hate going first.

And as if by magic-

"Aemond fucking Targaryen. The One-Eyed wonder!"

Qoren's voice has a tendency to travel. And right now, it's travelling through every nerve in you, jolting them awake. He walks over with a swagger, a slowness, clad entirely in bright mustard and wine tones, akin to his partner who is sat on the bench scrolling through her phone.

Aemond sighs, "Qoren" he greets flatly, rubbing his thumb against his temple on the marred side of his face.

"Just wanted to say good luck" Qoren smirks, nudging a curled wave out his face, "I'm certain you won't need it"

Cunt.

That's what you want to say.

Instead, you roll your eyes and take Aemond's hand leading him to the ice rink.

"Ignore him" you tell him, pulling of the blade guards and tossing them aside.

Aemond huffs a laugh, "Seven Hells, if he's in your bad books he's done for" he replies, joining you as you both go out onto the ice to do a few laps.

"Our Crownlands couple look ready and composed for a challenge today"

"And a challenge it will be. It's never easy going first, especially against the Martells. They'll have to work for it"

You skate next to him for a few warm-up laps, the heat rising again to your face as he takes your hand, giving his signature one sided smile.

Your heart flutters pleasantly.

In front of all these people?

He sees your reaction.

"I'm not going to hide anything anymore, princess" he says softly, "I've done it for far too long"

One part of you wants to cry with joy.

The other wants to drag him to the nearest dark corner.

So instead, you squeeze his hand. A good compromise.

As you skate to a halt in the middle, you mouth the words.

'I love you'

And your heart roars with delight.

He mouths it back.

"Our couple seem utterly smitten with each other"

"Their chemistry rivals the Martells, for sure!"

Taking a deep breath, you and Aemond nod to each other, getting in position to wait until the music starts.

It's quiet.

You could hear a pin drop.

His hand is warm.

The clarinets begin to play, the opening sequence of violins accompanying the music as you and Aemond begin the medium paced routine. The only sound you both can hear is the blades tearing through the ice, the rustle of your clothing against each other and the shallow breaths between each movement of the routine, moving swiftly hand in hand, twirling and feeling light and airy as Aemond lifts you effortlessly.

The music is almost frantic, the trumpets are getting so loud that they almost vibrate the ice beneath you. But you concentrate on the routine at hand, letting Aemond take your weight with each quick lift into the air, each synchronised motion perfectly executed.

“Quite a quick routine from the couple. Good choice of song and good technical ability so far”

“Yes, they really look like a proper team now, don’t they?”

As the music picks up momentum, you briefly glance at the stands mid-spin, smirking when you spot Otto’s eyes half closed, looking right at you. As if wondering what it is you are thinking.

Drums.

As Aemond moves in front of you for a split second, your hands lift to your shoulders, unpopping the buttons there.

No going back now.

Aemond looks over you in brief shock as the black is completely encompassed, a sheet of dark green falling over it like a curtain, replacing the beaded darkness with the bright forest colour he was so used to seeing his mother wear on her old performances.

It quickly changes to a barely-contained smile as the fabric laps at your thighs, the green mesh replacing the translucent black, right as the music hits its crescendo.

"Oh my-is that what I think it is!"

"Hightower Green looks very good on our Ice Princess!"

You don’t even have time to look at Otto.

The audience is a mix of clapping, awes and shouting of support. Never wavering for a moment.

Aemond continues the routine with a big, boyish smile plastered onto his face, performing the rest of the moves and lifts with a renewed vigour and passion that was not there before.

The rest of it seems to fly by, assisted by the smitten way you look at one another. Before you even know it, the music has died out. You and Aemond face each other, foreheads almost touching as the applause roars around you, several items like flowers and flags being thrown onto the ice around you.

It’s difficult to describe Aemond’s expression. Awe? Affection? Lust?

Love.

All you know is that you love it. And that all this was worth it.

You’re about to open your mouth, when his hands find each side of your face, his fingers holding the back of your head desperately, as he crashes his lips to yours.

In front of everyone.

In front of all of Westeros.

It feels exhilarating. Adrenaline boils the blood inside you, burning for him. And when you part, breathless after not only that, but the energy of the routine, all you can do is smile. Feeling so in love with him it’s honestly disgraceful.

Hand in hand, you bow to the audience, a massive grin plastered on your face. Rhaenys, Baela and Rhaena are all stood, clapping passionately. Larys is seated at the end of a particular row, both hands clasped on his cane, smirking beneath it, as if he just loves watching the drama unfold.

And then Otto.

You’re happy to find he looks absolutely livid.

That's right, you think. This is where my loyalties lie.

Aemond’s grip tightens on you as you give your bow to the judges. But it’s not a tight, comforting hold. Not one of victory, or love.

“Aemond?..” you ask, turning to him.

He’s breathing heavily, his other hand pressed to the scarred side of his face, his good eye blinking quickly as he turns to you.

Your face blanches, “Aemond, what’s wrong-”

“I’m fine, it’s just-ah fuck”

He nearly doubles over in pain, his hand pressed painfully to the left side of his face, the faintest bit of blood trickling between his fingers.

Panic rings through you, and with your hands on his sides, you guide him on the ice towards the edge, helping him sit, ignoring the muffled whispers and rumours that echo around the atrium, “let me see, Aemond..”

He shakes his head erratically, “No, no, just-I’m okay”

“Aemond you are not okay” you urge, watching the way his other eye waters from the pain, his face going pink as he encourages himself to take deep breaths.

“It appears he may have some sort of injury. We’re waiting on some updates from management”

“Who do you need me to call?” you ask him hurriedly,

“I don’t know-fucking-call Mum, please” he replies pitifully, bending over in searing, hot pain that radiates from his eye socket.

Spotting Arryk, you rush over and grab his phone that he throws, pulling it to your ear while rubbing Aemond’s shoulder.

“Aemond, take the sapphire out, it’s just going to hurt you more-”

“No, no, I can’t-” he shakes his head, panicked and scared.

“Aemond”

When his good eye meets you, he looks so vulnerable and unsure you almost regret your tone.

But you just want him to be okay.

Turning away, he dislodges the sapphire, his hand still covering his face, despite having the utmost trust in you, he still doesn’t want you to see it, all red and sore.

“Hello, Alicent? Yeah I think Aemond is having one of his neurological-fuck-I don’t know-episodes? I don’t know what to do?” you speak nervously into the phone.

“I know, I know, sweet girl. He needs to go to Urgent Care right away, and needs his glycerol injections, alright? Where’s my father?”

“I don’t know, I can’t see him!”

“He has Aemond’s health insurance card, okay, find him and get him to hospital as soon as you can. okay? Has he taken the sapphire out?”

“Yes, I made him”

“Good. Until he gets to hospital, just apply a warm compress and keep him calm, okay? You can do this”

You hang up quickly, looking around and spotting Otto as he paves his way through the crowd of people. Still rubbing Aemond’s shoulder, all notions of hating him are gone in favour of helping the quivering, vulnerable man in front of you, whining pitifully as his nerves are set aflame.

“Otto, he needs to go to a hospital. Do you have his health card?”

Stoically, he nods, his eyes ignoring you, “I do, Arryk will take us. Come on”

He assists Aemond to his feet, leading him to the exit with urgency.

The fire doors open and Aemond turns to you, “You have to stay”

“What? No! I’m coming with you!”

“One of us has to stay, we’ll get disqualified” he reasons, with a wavering voice.

“Aemond, I don’t care about-”

“Well I do. Stay” he urges.

You go quiet, staring at him in disbelief and also shock. And seeing it all over your face, how conflicted both of you are, he leans forward pressing a kiss to your forehead, his fingers stroking your hair lovingly.

“I’ll be fine, baby..” he adds softly, “Stay”

You watch him hurry out of the fire escape, and straight into the back of Arryk’s car with Otto. He’s so doubled over in pain, clutching the sapphire in one fist, that he barely has any time to look back at you standing there, the warm air making the mesh skirt lap at your legs.

You only meet his worried gaze at the last second.

A shuddered breath tumbles from your lips, the adrenaline and panic of the last few minutes just sinking in. You feel a bit helpless, unable to do anything for him as he’s driven to hospital.

“Hey” the soothing voice of Rhaenys at your side pulls you out, and you look at her with bleary eyes, “are you alright?”

You nod quickly, “Yeah, I think so..”

She guides you back inside, sitting at the sidelines, “Sit here, I’ll get you a drink”

You can’t relax. The room feels like it’s spinning.

“Just a little update. Aemond Targaryen has been rushed to hospital in what we believe is an episode of acute pain due to a long-standing condition”

“We’ll wish him all the best in hospital and hope it isn’t anything too serious”

Rhaenys gives you a warm cup of coffee, but you can’t drink it, you’re too on edge already. And if any caffeine is pumped into your already hammering heart, you think it might explode.

You don’t even concentrate on the performance the Martells are doing, eyes nowhere near the scoreboard. Your leg bounces nervously, fully aware that you are probably being scrutinised endlessly by the media, with hundreds of articles already written about you.

Their orange and red outfits dance in your periphery. Spins, twists, lifts. Things that right now, don’t mean an awful lot to you. All you can think about is when Aemond turned to you, blood trickling between his fingers, face twisted in pain.

“Hey…”

You don’t even realise you’ve zoned out until Rhaenys taps your arm excitedly.

Shaking your head, you look around, everyone’s stood. Smiling. Clapping. The Martells are lazily skating their way to their end of the rink, talking with their manager, with bowed heads.

“Wha?..” you reply, completely dazed, “what’s happened?..”

“Qoren’s partner fucked her landing. They’re a whole 10 points short on the technical. Not including the penalty they’re likely to get” she replies, leaning closely to whisper it, a victorious smirk on her face.

Oh shit.

Your eyes meet the scoreboard, watching as the rest of the scores come in.

With the penalty, they’re tragically low. But your breath feels hot in your throat still.

This was always the part you hated.

Rhaenys’ ring-clad hand grips yours tightly.

The crowd's cheer, applause and shouts of support are nothing compared to the roaring in your ears.

"We won"

Entirely shocked beyond words and comprehension, Rhaenys pulls you into a hug, jumping up and down excitedly. Your face is blanched with shock, eyes still, and you realise you must look a total idiot to everyone else. The reality of the situation still not entirely dawning on you.

"The Crownlands have done it. The Championship title is theirs!"

"Shame our Ice Prince cannot be there to receive his trophy"

"Go! Go!" Rhaenys urges, pushing you by your shoulders to the stands where the judges are all grinning, holding the trophy, medals and large bouquet of gloriously colourful flowers.

It's a blurred slew of 'well done' and 'congratulations'.

The Martells, though devastated, nod in your direction in congratulations. And you barely hear it, but Qoren even seems to offer some sort of kind words for Aemond's condition.

Still doesn't make him less of a twat.

The trophy, long and golden, is heavy in your hands, rested against your shoulder, with the flowers pushed into your other, shoulders sagging with the weight of two medals around your neck.

Aemond.

With a few quick thank yous and bows of your head, your panicked, searching eyes find Rhaenys, who already has her car keys and your jacket in her grip.

"Come on" she utters, "quickly"

It feels utterly silly to still be wearing the green outfit for the competition while riding in the passenger seat of Rhaenys' Mercedes. But at least your black jacket provides some semblance of normality. You didn't even have time to take the medals off.

You did however, change your shoes, shucking your skates off in the footwell of her car.

She's driving well over the speed limit. But hey, most of Sunspear are as well. Through several junctions, she even graces some of the locals with her middle finger.

If you weren't so taut with nerves, it'd make you laugh.

The tyres screech loudly as she pulls into the hospital car park, the trophy nestled between your legs nearly making you trip over yourself as you hurl yourself out the car door.

Those tell-tale clicks of camera shutters and the echo of incessant questions are instantly upon you.

With the trophy loosely in one hand, all you can do is run to the entrance of the hospital, where the media are not allowed.

This time, they part a path for you.

The security guards at the front who have been fending them off, see your outfit, medals and trophy and immediately slip the door open, "Room 47"

You nod in thanks, your breath feeling like blood in your throat from the effort of running so fast and so suddenly. The lights inside the hospital hallways are stark, clinical, and far too bright. Your trainers thud against the linoleum floor, eyes desperately searching for the numbers on the rooms.

"25...24...shit, I'm going the wrong way-"

Aemond.

It doesn't help in the slightest that the hospital is a complete maze. You probably look a complete mess, pink in the face, hair all mussed up from running, but it's the last thing on your mind.

At the end of the hallway, you spot Otto, chatting with a dark-haired man in a white coat. Engaged in conversation, only looking up when the tide of loud footsteps comes closer to them.

You don't care about that either.

Otto tries to reach out to stop you from going in, but you're too fast, fiddling with the handle of the door before he has a chance to pull you back.

It's quiet. Your hurried breathing sounds so loud in your chest.

The door slams into the wall and Aemond looks up, seated sideways on the hospital bed. His cheeks are pink, from the remnants of pain that still linger, but he looks calmer, relaxed, with his brows unfrowned and sitting comfortably on his forehead. His hair, that was so neatly styled for the competition in his signature bun is somewhat curled from the sweat on his forehead and back of his neck.

A surgical patch is taped over his left eye.

His lips twitch when he sees you there, his right eye gleaming with affection, clearly out of breath, having ran the entire length of the hospital to get to him.

"Hey Princess..." he says softly, in a way that never fails to make your heart lurch into your throat.

You almost cry with relief that he's alright.

He licks his dry lips, "Did we do it?..."

With a relieved smile, a lump forming in your throat with emotion, you nod quickly, "Yeah...yeah we did..."

The breath is expelled from your lungs near-painfully when you surge towards each other, throwing your arms around one another, the trophy propped on the floor where you were previously stood.

He feels warm, with his hands around you like this, his heart thrumming fast in his chest. Your body sags against him.

He feels like home.

You hear him inhale, the familiar scent of you immediately having a calming effect on his body, his hand raising to brush your hair from your face as his palms cup either side of it, pressing a light feather-like kiss to your forehead.

His thumb wipes your undereye of moisture. But his smile says it all, his eyes crinkling, briefly irritating the spot where he's obviously had his glycerol injections not a moment before.

"I never doubted you" he utters quietly, "...not for a second"

You give a watery laugh. Hardly recognising this Aemond compared to the one you first met.

Competitions.

Scores.

Drama.

It all means fucking nothing.

The future. Happiness. It's all right here.

"Aemond Targaryen, don't ever scare me like that again..." you smile at him, half-joking, fingers tenderly stroking along his jawline, prickles of regrowth rubbing comfortingly along your skin.

He huffs a laugh through his nose, his mouth opening slightly as he smiles.

"No promises, princess"

And finally, with a pleased little muffled sound crawling up your throat, his tender, full lips descend onto yours, sealing whatever is felt between you right now and all that has happened before.

It doesn't even need to be said. Those three little words.

Because they're just not enough.

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard | @bellstwd | @blairfox04 | @hb8301 | @jamespotterismydaddy | @mochi-rose | @nenelysian | @natty2017 | @randomdragonfires | @risefallrise | @theoneeyedprince | @thelittleswanao3 | @tsujifreya | @urmomsgirlfriend1 | @valeskafics | @watercolorskyy

Aemond Taglist (1): @asp3nxx | @avidreader73 | @bellaisasleep | @boofy1998

[willmiwi]

I'm gonna drop this out there. Buddie being endgame just. Makes sense. The series being on season 8 and having already major relationships Bobby/Athena Maddie/chimney Hen/Karen and Buck and Eddie being the only ones that still seem to struggle finding the right person is not a coincidence. We're supposed to get to this point and think to ourselves "Hey man ... Everyone's happy and in a relationship but these two... I want them to be happy too, they deserve it" and it's supposed to hit hard being as we've seen throughout the show how much Buck and Eddie have struggled in their lives but also bc having a significant other is something both Eddie and Buck crave like nothing else in the world (if them looking for the right person non stop throughout the seasons is anything to go by). They want to find that person so badly and they always try. So so hard. So why aren't they getting that? Bc it's supposed to feel as even a sweeter victory once they finally get it.

Eddie on one side, doesn't seem to click with any woman he's ever dated and feels like he's failing somehow bc it's what he's supposed to have. He's supposed to be happily married to a woman and have christoper by his side. Being a happy little traditional family. But every time, no matter how much he tries, it still feels wrong. He even admits he dated a woman bc his son loved her and he was hoping he could too at some point.

And then there's buck, that has spent 8 seasons on and off relationships, but it's different this time. It's not like Eddie. He creates an actual bond w these women. He sees a future w them. But again they're not right. Not because he's not trying but bc he does and they don't try hard enough. Or think he's too much. There's always an imbalance of some sort.

And before any of u come at me saying how bucks dating t*mmy now, i just want to point out he's very obviously a plot device sent in to introduce buck's bisexuality (and even possibly, buddie's feelings realization arc). And it will be over soon enough too, like all the other romantic relationships bucks had so far, bc it's not supposed to last.

You can tell that much by the fact that they were never off to a great start, their relationship is literally a result of buck reflecting his feelings for Eddie (we get an entire episode of Buck going insane from jealousy being desperate for Eddie's attention, him telling Maddie about it. And then the last minute change of course w buck saying "trying to get your attention has been kind of exhausting." "My attention?" "Yeah, I guess so")

well bud, you've evidently guessed wrong, that's what we were told the entire episode, he made a wrong guess.

And things don't do so great after that either. What with t*mmy almost outing him to Eddie on their first date, dumping him on the side of the road after said date (if you can even call it that). The calling Buck "Evan" thing, after we've explicitly been told that people that truly know him call him Buck. Not having his back on things aka the refusal to dress up for the bachelor party (isn't that what truly matters though? Having a partner and knowing that they have your back?).

Anyway ! Fear not buddie enthusiasts ! whatever this season brings us, know that these guys are definitely getting their much deserved happy ending <3

[sydnieminty]

Ares, the god of war 🩸

Also including an Aphrodite ref sheet that I've had 90% finished for like the last 8 months but hadn't bothered to finish until just recently lol

Anyways buckle up because I'm about to start YAPPIN

I wasn't sure how this was gonna go at first because I don't have a lot of experience with designing male characters and it's not something I typically enjoy but I really like how he turned out and I really enjoyed the process. I was like wait this is fun actually, it's different than what I usually draw.

I've been wanting to do something with Ares for a long time because I think he's really slept on in the Greek mythology community. I think Ares and Aphrodite probably have the healthiest relationship in Greek mythology and I've always found it interesting that the ancient Greeks paired Love with War

I've seen people talk shit about Aphrodite like "oh she cheats on her husband, that's so shitty" like,, you mean the husband she was forced to marry? Ok... But on that note I think Aphrodite and Hephaestus's marriage is interesting and it is something I plan on doing something with. Hephaestus is another one of the few seemingly upstanding men in Greek mythology so I feel like he treats Aphrodite with respect and they find love between each other after some time, in their own way.

Something I always think about is Ares is such a good dad?? He's often depicted in statues with Eros and in war is almost always accompanied by Deimos and Phobos. like yes, spend quality time with your children, so cute <3 Also he supports his Amazon daughters. He unalives a man who assaulted his daughter and it pisses off Poseidon so bad that they INVENT court to put him on trial just for Ares to go "Yeah I did it, and I'd fuckin do it again" and gets acquitted

Back to my Ares design. I thought it would be interesting if his scars were transient, as in not really permanent scars but more like very slowly healing wounds filling with ichor. The only way he can scar permanently is if the injury is inflicted on him by another immortal...

Stole the glowy hair from Disney's Hercules because that shit is peak character design

I was not going to draw any helmets at first because... I didn't want to lol but I read that he like almost always had his helmet. Like he's showing up to fancy dinners carrying his helmet. So I was like okay fine have your emotional support helmet lol

His spear is a gift from Aphrodite, it has a little heart design engraved into it <3 I find Warlike Aphrodite VERY interesting and I like to imagine her having a surprisingly strong affinity for conflict

Personality wise, Ares tries to put up a tough guy "whatever. I don't care act" but he is actually very much a people pleaser and has a distinct desire to be accepted. He is keenly aware that he is not well liked among the gods nor the mortals. He is not the beloved, wise, tactical Athena. He is Bloodlust and Carnage, he is the ugliest sides of war. To most mortals he is a god to appease, not worship.

He loves his mother, and he is her favorite child. He has spent his life defending her, even as a child and even against his father. He is not well liked by his father, but this is typical of Zeus, who is paranoid that one of his sons will eventually continue the family's proclivity for patricide.

Anyways thank you for reading my essay. I will be making more Aphrodite/Ares content very soon. I hope you enjoy

[peachhcs]

https://www.tumblr.com/peachhcs/766739881092415488/httpswwwtumblrcompeachhcs766558720067043328

okay okay thank god that talked kinda finally!!!

ahhh another part your spoiling us !!!

part 8!! let me know if we wanna continue and how i should take this side plot if we do want it to continue on or leave it here bc technically will and samy have resolved their minor conflict LOL

au masterlist

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

samy was at home for a few days after emailing her professors that she hurt her shoulder and was a bit immobile when it came to typing and trying to write. it was nice being in her own bed in the comfort of her own room, but boy did she not miss having her mom all over her every second of the day.

ellen poked her head into samy’s room probably ever fifteen minutes as if her daughter’s state had changed since she last checked-in. samy knew she meant well, but sometimes it felt like she couldn’t even breathe without her mom asking if she was okay.

“it’s because you’re the baby of the family,” jack teased when him and quinn called to check-in that afternoon. the girl rolled her eyes.

“is this how you felt when you broke your shoulder?” she mumbled while the older brunette laughed.

“yeah, basically. she’ll baby any of us when something’s wrong, but you more because you’re the youngest.”

“it’s so annoying. i can’t even like..do anything without her down my neck,” samy huffed.

“yeah, sorry squirt. how are you otherwise?” jack wondered.

“i’m fine, i guess. disappointed. sad. bored. in pain.”

“when do you think you’ll play again?” quinn wondered.

“i’m hoping before the championships start, but it depends on how i heal,” the younger girl explained and the older boys nodded.

“crossing my fingers for you then. that girl was so fucking annoying with the way she played. can’t believe she didn’t get a red card,” jack shook his head in frustration.

“tell me about it, but it’s whatever. can’t do anything about it now,” samy shrugged with her good arm.

meanwhile, will had just gotten into michigan and was downstairs saying hi to ellen and jim. he’d been conversing with luke all morning who went to pick the blonde up without samy’s knowledge.

“it’s so good to see you, will. how have you been?” ellen gushed, excited to see her “fourth” son.

“i’ve been pretty good. it’s good to see you guys too,” will smiled.

“samy’s upstairs. she might be talking to her brothers, but you can go knock,” ellen grinned as she pushed the boy to the stairs. he flushed a bit, waving awkwardly before slowly making his way up.

samy’s door was closed and he could hear her soft voice coming from inside. for some reason, will was nervous. what if she didn’t want him here? what if she told him to go home? what if she didn’t want to see him?

will shook himself from the negative thoughts. he couldn’t think like that. it was samy. his girlfriend. she’d never say those things to him he carefully lifted his hand and tapped three times against the hardwood.

“mom, i promise i’m fine since the last time you asked,” samy called from inside and will heard sounds of quinn and jack laughing.

the blonde smiled a bit as he slowly pushed the door open. samy rolled her eyes that her mom didn’t take the hint until she caught a familiar mop of blonde curls and her boyfriend’s face instead of her mom’s. the brunette’s eyes widened and the shock washed over her that he was standing 10 feet from her bed.

“holy shit. w-will?” samy pushed her computer down her legs, swinging them over the bed and took three big strides towards him.

the blonde embraced her as best as he could without hurting her. samy hugged him tightly, drowning in his scent and familiarity. she couldn't believe he was here in her bedroom.

"hi, baby," the blonde hummed while fully melting into her arms.

"what are you doing here? why are you here? aren't you supposed to be in san jose right now?" samy pushed all of her questions as she stepped out of the boy's embrace much to his dismay.

"i wanted to come see you and check in on you after surgery," will explained with a half smile.

"aren't you gonna get in trouble for just skipping practice?" she couldn't believe that will would skip practice just to come see her, especially now that he was in the nhl.

"i mean, probably," the blonde shrugged like he didn't care which took the girl by surprise.

"you don't care? you're not gonna get to play or something."

"i mean, i do, but i care more about you. i wanted to make sure you knew that and knew you'll never be a burden to me," will cupped her cheeks and tilted her face up to his.

samy's expression softened at her boyfriend's admission, "you ditched practice and risked getting in trouble just for me?"

"i did and i always will for you. running lines and being forced to do conditioning is not as worse as making you think you'd be too much for me or something again. i love you and i'm sorry you thought that," will frowned making samy frown too.

"i love you too, will. i'm sorry again i didn't call sooner," samy said and all will did was lean down to press a sweet kiss to her lips.

they melted into one another, savoring the feeling of their lips pressed together after being a part for so long. when they pulled away the mood felt a lot lighter in the room and so did the smiles.

"glad to have you here for a weekend. anything is better than my mom babying me 24/7," the two shared a laugh.

"don't worry, i'll 100% be babying you," will grinned as samy pulled him towards her bed to cuddle for a bit.

they got under the covers while the brunette reached for the remote to turn something onto the tv. will's big arms wrapped themselves around the girl, squeezing her close as he could without hurting her shoulder. once they landed on a tv show for the time being, samy snuggled in closer and let herself finally completely relax. she breathed will in—the scent of his cologne and laundry detergent filling her nose and quickly putting her to sleep.