#but again in vegas after the end game

[jencsi]

I feel you no matter what The rubies that I gave up

[norrisainz33]

home for the holidays || ls18

☆ summary: lance and his partner start a new chapter now that the season is over and take their relationship to the next level

☆ pairing: lance stroll x nonfamous!reader

☆ fc & warnings: none

☆ requested: nope! just a short one bc i don’t see enough lance fics so wanted to write one!!

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

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ynuser: and just like that - the 2024 season has come to an end. this was a tough one but no matter what i am proud of the team and proud of lance. see all you beautiful people again in march 🤍

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astonmartinf1: see you soon y/n/n! we love you ❤️

ynuser: 🤍 you more admin

user1: you are so real for posting the vegas pics of lance

lance_stroll: i love you 😘

ynuser: and i love you 🥹

user4: mama y papa

user2: i’m going to miss this silly season and seeing you practically every weekend smh

francisca.cgomes: see you sooner than march please😭

ynuser: you know i can’t go more than a couple weeks without you 😔

user44: can lance fight?

scottyjames1: no

user44: SCREMING

ynuser has posted to their story

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user1: most canadian thing i’ve ever seen

lance_stroll: missed this and missed you darling

ynuser: i missed you more lance. i’m overjoyed to be back 🤍

yourbff: i’m so glad you and lancey are finally home

ynuser: me too! this season was a long one 😩

yourbff: you both are stronger than i

ynuser: i’m not sure how we made it honestly! but it’s time for new beginnings and rest 🫶🏻

user2: time for some much deserved relaxation

user6: just saw the f1 secret santa and can’t stop thinking about how good of gift giver lance is and how he probably got you the best gifts ever

fernandoalo_official: happy holidays mi amiga

ynuser: gracias nando! i hope you have the best break with all of those you love most 🤍

user3: i hope you have the best break y/n

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yourbff: i can’t wait to visit you in your new home!!!

ynuser: i can’t wait for you to visit!! one of the spare bedrooms has your name on it bestie

user11: ahhh congrats y/n!!!

carmenmundt: congrats on your and lances new home!! looking forward to visiting 😘

ynuser: thank you carmen! i miss you sm already. please come visit soon 🤍

user14: so so happy for you and lance. end game fr

lance_stroll: remind me why i thought moving right after the season ended was a good idea

ynuser: you said, and i quote, “i want to be home for the holidays and host all the people i love in our home.”

lance_stroll: well when you put it like that….

cholestroll: yayyayayay!!!!! can’t wait to see it in a few days

ynuser: can’t wait to see you and scotty and the lovely little bug soon. it’s been too long

astonmartinf1: cheers to new beginnings ✨

lance_stroll posted to his story

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chloestroll: the tree is so cuteeeeee oh i love it

lance_stroll: it is ! y/n is very excited for the holidays

chloestroll: as she should be!! do you have everything set?

lance_stroll: everything should be set up according to plan! im beyond nervous though

chloestroll: don’t be!! it’s going to alllll be ok

user3: y/n is so cute

scottyjames31: glad she’s getting you into the holiday spirit

lance_stroll: between y/n and chloe there’s more than enough holiday spirit! we’ve got hanukah and christmas covered over here

user4: pookie christmas lets goooo

ynuser: i am having the most fun decorating our new house 🫶🏻

lance_stroll: me too my love. building this life with you is everything i could ask for and more ❤️

user5: i’m glad you’re getting the time to relax lancey. you deserve it after this season

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user2: holy crap this is beautiful?????? and she managed this right after you two moved in???? get this girl an award

fernandoalo_official: looks beautiful! can’t wait to hear about how your evening goes

lance_stroll: you’ll be one of the first to know ❤️

user6: this called me broke in about 800 different languages

pierregasly: WOW! can i hire y/n to decorate my house?

lance_stroll: for a hefty price 😉

user9: you better marry this girl i s2g

ynuser: thank you 🥹 🤍😘🎄

lance_stroll: no thank YOU gorgeous! i am so thankful to have you help me host the holidays ❤️

ynuser: 😭 i love being a part of your family lance

lance_stroll: we all love you so very much ❤️

ynuser: you’re going to make me cry 🥹

chloestroll: eeeeek!!!!!! today is THE day 🤍🤍🤍🤍

lance_stroll: she doesn’t suspect a thing 😍

user12: her outfit is everything ??? literal angel

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ynuser: tonight may have been the best night of my life. wishing you the happiest of holidays from the future mr and mrs stroll ❤️

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user18: this is so important to me you have no idea

chloestroll: welcome to the family sis 😘

ynuser: sis 😭 oh i love you chloe

georgerussell63: 🥹 congrats! you two make the perfect couple

ynuser: thank you georgie ❤️

fernandoalo_official: felicidades mis amigos

ynuser: gracias por todo nando 🫶🏻

user32: my mom and dad are getting married im overjoyed

lance_stroll: i can’t wait to make you my wife

ynuser: and i can’t wait for you to be my husband 😘

user23: you look so good in white

astonmartinf1: best news we’ve seen all day

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!! likes and reblogs appreciated.

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[ur-sick-and-married]

BABY FEVER

(Kate Martin x reader)

TW: Mentions of IVF.

Summary: Your girlfriend Kate has baby fever…

Author’s note: Kate is a golden retriever girlfriend and I will not be convinced otherwise.

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

Since the Las Vegas Aces season was over, you could spend so much more time with Kate, your girlfriend. After a week of alone time with her, that you spent reconnecting, you two visited her sister. Which meant you got to see her nephew.

At the end of your first full day with the little family, Kate was quiet as you two made up the bed in the guest room.

“Kate?” You said, watching her.

“Hm?” She finally looked up.

“What’s up, babe?” You asked softly.

“Nothing’s up.” She shrugged, lying. “Why?”

“You’re being all weird and quiet…” You commented.

She sat on her side of the bed, and you sat beside her.

“I want one…” She whispered, looking at her lap.

“What?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“I want a baby.” She said softly. “With you.”

You couldn’t decide whether you wanted to laugh or cry.

“Kate…” You smiled a little.

“I don’t know what’s happening.” She was genuinely surprised. “I just look at that little baby and I want one.”

“It’s only your first year in the WNBA…” You whispered.

“I know, I know,” She groaned.

“Babe…” You grinned, watching her flop back on the bed. “I think you have baby fever.”

“I do.” Kate agreed. “I’m very sick with it.”

You laid beside her, your head on her chest. You couldn’t help but find this amusing, yet endearing.

“You haven’t even popped the question…” You teased.

“Oh, please,” She scoffed. “We’re basically married.”

“You know us having a baby would be difficult, right?” You whispered.

You knew your only option if you wanted a baby that was truly, biologically yours was IVF. And you knew how scary and long the process was.

Kate nodded, silent again.

It was quiet, then she spoke very softly, “But I’d do all that. I’d do whatever. I just want a little baby…I could teach them about basketball. You could come to my games with the kid. Everyone would love you. Well, they already do, but you know what I mean.”

You felt tears in your eyes now. Having a child with Kate was your dream.

“Oh, God, don’t cry!” Kate yelped, pulling you close and holding you tightly.

“I’m not crying.” You mumbled into her chest. “You’re…so cute.”

“You’d be so cute with a little bump…” She lightly touched your stomach.

You let her wipe your eyes.

“Listen, Kate,” You whispered. “We’re gonna have a kid one day. But that’s other stuff that has to happen first. So until we have our own baby, we can just babysit all the damn time.”

She thought for a moment, then sighed, “Deal.”

“Deal? Really? That’s what you say?” You groaned.

“What else do you want me to say?” She laughed, grinning.

You laughed too.

[goldfades]

𝐖𝐍𝐁𝐀 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄 ─ PB⁵

౨ৎ ─ summary | request -> "hi hi hi could u plssss write paige x team mate!reader inspired by paiges proud facebook mom era at the wnba draft where reader gets drafted to her dream team and is one of the top 3 picks 🙏🙏 i just keep rewatching her vids where shes cheering for aaliyah and nika 🥹 omg if u could also include smthn abt the media coverage after like paige bragging abt reader and them at an afterparty or smthn plsplsplspls 🤍"

─ word count | 2k

─ warnings | established relationship, a little angst BUT SOOO MUCH DAMN FLUFF, mention of long distance relationship, mention of drinking, sentimental asf, paige being a softie, nothing else

─ taglist | @xocherishxo @iienstein @yazmunson @euphternal @uraesthete @hello-nah817 @wanderlusturous @plushkhiii @ilovepaigebueckerss @ajcuteee @vi0lentb3rry and here's a link to my taglist if anyone would like to join!!

With the 3rd pick in the 2024 WNBA draft, the Las Vegas Aces are proud to select Y/N L/N ─ University of Connecticut.

You couldn't help but be emotional, all night you'd promised yourself you weren't going to cry; your make-up had cost too much money and this was the start of something new, something you had wanted since you could remember. Everything was finally coming together, so why did it feel so bittersweet? As you step onto the stage, the bright lights shining down on you, you take a deep breath to steady your nerves. This is it, the culmination of years of hard work and dedication.

But as you reach out to shake hands with the team representatives, a wave of emotions washes over you. There's excitement, of course, but also a twinge of sadness. You were leaving what you'd known for four years, all your teammates, your coaches, your friends. You wiped your tears as you smiled brightly, swallowing down all the emotion until the end of the night.

"So, Y/N, your coach tells me that the Aces have been your dream team since you were younger. How does it feel, being selected by them tonight and finally getting the chance to wear their jersey?" The interviewer asks, her voice amplified by the microphone.

You take a moment to compose yourself, pushing aside the emotions threatening to overwhelm you. You laugh nervously as you blink away the stinging tears. "It's a, uh... a dream come true. As long as I can remember, the Aces have always been my team. To have the opportunity to play for them at the professional level is an honor beyond words."

The interviewer smiles, sensing the depth of your emotions. "Your family and friends are here with you tonight, supporting you every step of the way. How does their presence make this moment even more special for you?"

Your gaze softens as you think about your loved ones in the crowd. You feel your eyes begin to sting with more unshed tears as you blinked them away, another nervous laugh leaving your lips before your brushed away the stray tears.

"Having my family and-and friends here means everything to me," you say, your voice filled with emotion as you swallowed. "They've been my biggest supporters since day one, cheering me on through every win and every loss. My dad, who stayed up late after every loss and talked me through it, and my mom who's always worn my jersey proudly regardless of the outcome of any game, my teammates who have been there with me through every step of the way," you pause as you take a breath to compose yourself as the tears began to fall.

"And my girlfriend Paige who's my number one hype woman," you pause again as the entire crowd cheers loudly, causing a teary laugh to ripple through you. "She's been there for me through it all, always believing in me even when I doubted myself. Paige, you're my rock, and I couldn't have made it here without you."

The interviewer nods, her eyes reflecting the emotion in your own as she laughed. "Wow, that is quite the list. You have an amazing support system behind you!"

"That's right," you reply, a genuine smile gracing your lips despite the tears still lingering in your eyes. "I truly am blessed with an incredible support system. They've been my backbone, my hype squad, and my shoulder to lean on throughout this journey. I couldn't have asked for a better group of people to have by my side."

──

"Paige, what a night it's been," the interviewer begins, her voice brimming with enthusiasm. "Your girlfriend, Y/N, just got drafted to the Las Vegas Aces. How does it feel to witness this incredible milestone in her career?"

Paige's eyes sparkle with pride as she leans forward, a grin on her lips. "It's uh, honestly surreal,"she begins, her gaze drifting towards where Y/N stands amidst a sea of people. "I've watched Y/N pour her heart and soul into the game since the day I met her, and to see her dreams finally coming true is just insane. She's worked so hard for this moment, and I couldn't be happier to see her hard work pay off."

The interviewer nods. "And what do you think Y/N will bring to the Aces as a player?"

Paige's grin widens as she thinks about your talents on the court. "I mean, Y/N is an incredible athlete, first and foremost," she says. "She has this drive that pushes her to always give 110%. But it's not just about her skills on the court because I think that's pretty obvious, with her being picked in the Top Three She's not just really talented, but she's also one of the most dedicated and hardworking players I've ever had the privilege of playing with and knowing,"

The interviewer nods in understanding. "And what can you tell us about Y/N's journey to this point? What sets her apart as a player and a person?"

"She's incredibly dedicated and loyal," she explains as she smiles. "She's faced countless challenges along the way, but she's never let anything deter her from pursuing her passion. As a player, she's not only incredibly talented but also competitive which adds to the whole dynamic of the team. I don't even know how I'm gonna be able to play without her,"

Paige sighs as she looks down, trying to get a hold of her emotions before she gets too emotional. She laughs as she shakes her head, "Sorry, I'm just really proud of her," her voice comes out shaky as the interviewer nods sympathetically.

"You should be, she's an amazing player," the interviewer gives her a sad smile as Paige straightens up. "Okay one last thing, the fans have noticed the matching diamond rings on your pinkies, what are they? Promise rings?"

Paige laughs as she shakes her head. "Something like that, but I got them for her custom made before the draft so she knows I'm always with her, even if I'm halfway across the country. I also just wanted to spoil her on her big day," she shrugged as the interviewer laughed.

"Can we get a closer look?" The interviewer asked as Paige nodded and held out her hand, the camera zooming in on the flashy ring. "It's big, wow. That looks really expensive,"

"It wasn't that much, anything for my girl." Paige shrugged as a smirk enveloped her lips. She turns her hand slightly, the diamond catching the light and sparkling. "I wanted Y/N to have something special to remind her of us, especially as she starts this new chapter of her life. And yeah, maybe I went a little overboard with the diamonds," she admits with a playful grin, "but she's worth every penny."

The interviewer nods in understanding, impressed by Paige's gesture. "It's a beautiful ring, Paige. Y/N is lucky to have someone like you supporting her."

Paige's smile widens, her heart swelling with pride. "And I'm lucky to have her," she replies sincerely. "She's my rock, my inspiration, and my everything."

"Well, thank you for speaking with us tonight, Paige. Have fun with your girl and don't lose the rings."

"Thank you," Paige says with a nod. "And don't worry, these rings aren't going anywhere," she adds with a playful smirk, tapping her pinky where the dazzling diamond rests as she walks away.

──

Paige pulls your hand toward the hotel room, stumbling with the card before she opened it. You both were slightly tipsy, the after-party got a little out of control but none of you had cared ─ two of your best friends had gotten drafted, you were now an official member of the Aces and you had a sexy and supportive girlfriend, you deserved to be celebrating.

Nika, Aaliyah and Azzi were still downstairs drinking but Paige wanted some alone time with you. She hadn't had a moment to really talk to you since yesterday. The whole day was spent in a whirlwind of getting ready, interviews, and photo ops. But now, as Paige ushers you into the hotel room, the chaos of the outside world fades away, leaving just the two of you in your own little world.

With a soft click, Paige closes the door behind you and her gaze meets yours, filled with a mixture of love and admiration. "Finally, some alone time," she murmurs, her voice low as she draws you closer, her hands tracing gentle patterns on your skin. "I've been dying to have you all to myself."

You can't help but smile at her eagerness, your heart swelling with affection for this woman who means everything to you. "Me too," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper as you lean in to press a soft kiss against her lips.

She pulls away as her hand gently tugging yours as she guides you to the edge of the bed, urging you to sit down before her. You took a seat as she looked down at you, her hand cupping your face. She took in every detail of your face; your bright make-up, your pretty hair and the dress you wore. You looked beautiful, absolutely stunning in the soft glow of the room. Paige's heart swells with adoration as she takes in the sight of you, her girlfriend, her love, her everything.

"You look absolutely stunning," she murmurs, her voice filled with genuine awe as her fingers trail delicately along your cheek. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone more beautiful."

Her thumb brushes gently against your cheek, tracing the curve of your jawline as she leans in to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. In that moment, all the words in the world couldn't express the depth of her feelings for you, the way you make her heart race with every glance, every touch, every shared moment.

You both leaned away slowly, catching your breath as Paige's forehead fell against yours. "I thank God everyday that He brought someone so perfect in my life, I don't even know... how I'm gonna be able to breathe with you 2,000 miles away."

"Me neither," your voice came out shaky as tears threatened to fall as you looked up at your girlfriend.

Paige shook her head as her gaze lingered on you. "Don't cry, baby. I'm so fucking proud of you, don't let anything dim that light in your eyes," Paige murmurs, her voice filled with warmness as she brushes away a stray tear from your cheek.

She leans in to press a kiss to your forehead, her arms wrapping around you in a comforting embrace. "And until then, we'll make the most of every moment we have together," she murmurs, her voice soft but determined.

You and Paige showered and an hour later, you were in bed in her arms. Wrapped in the warmth of her embrace, you feel a sense of calm wash over you, the worries of the day melting away as you sink deeper into the comfort of her love.

Paige's fingers trace soothing patterns on your back, her touch gentle and reassuring as she presses a tender kiss to the top of your head. "I love you," she whispers, her voice barely above a whisper. "And I know you're gonna make us proud,"

"I love you too," you reply, your voice soft and filled with emotion as you nestle closer to her, your heart overflowing with gratitude for her. "I know, and I finally made you a WNBA girlfriend."

Paige laughed softly as she grabbed your hand, bringing it up to her lips and pressing a kiss. "You mean wife? Have you seen this damn ring?"

You chuckle softly, feeling a warmth spread through you at the mention of the ring on your finger. "Wife, girlfriend, partner in crime, you name it," you tease, intertwining your fingers with hers. "And yeah, I've seen the ring. It's pretty hard to miss," you add with a playful smirk, admiring the glimmering diamond on your hand.

Paige grins, her eyes sparkling with affection as she gazes at the ring. "Well, I couldn't let my future wife go without a little ice," she quips, leaning in to press a loving kiss to your lips.

As you melt into the kiss, a sense of completeness washes over you, knowing that you're exactly where you're meant to be ─ in Paige's arms, surrounded by love and the promise of a lifetime together.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[caitified]

i fear i desperately need a kate fic where she has a wife and at least one baby

domestic

kate martin x reader

warnings:none

this one is like my favourite request, i’m going to build a whole au around this. here’s some backstory and present time, let me know when and what you want from these two!!!! thanks🩷

kate martin had always been your biggest source of pride, but now, as you watched her on the court playing for the las vegas aces, that pride swelled into something even deeper. sitting courtside with eva, your one-year-old daughter, bundled in your lap, you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the life you’d built together. it had been years since you first met kate at iowa—back when you were a college student, focused on building your career, and she was making a name for herself on the basketball team. now, she was 29, a professional athlete, and your wife.

you smiled to yourself as you remembered that first time you saw her play. you had no idea who she was at the time. you’d gone to the game with a few friends, not expecting much, but the moment kate stepped on the court, your attention shifted entirely to her. it wasn’t just her skill that drew you in—it was her presence. the way she carried herself, the passion she played with, her smile when she celebrated with her teammates. you were captivated, though you hadn’t known then just how much she would come to mean to you.

after the game, you’d bumped into her at a party on campus. kate had been shy, almost awkward, and definitely not the loud, confident player you’d seen on the court. you two had exchanged small talk, but there was something there, something that made you want to get to know her more. and you did. from coffee dates to long walks around campus, your friendship grew into something undeniable. by the time she graduated, you were inseparable.

three years ago, kate had proposed to you on a quiet evening during a trip to iowa city. she’d taken you to your favorite spot overlooking the river, the same place you’d had one of your first real conversations about your future together. her proposal had been simple, heartfelt. “i can’t imagine my life without you,” she had said, tears in her eyes. “will you marry me?”

of course, you had said yes. and two years ago, you stood in front of family and friends, exchanging vows that solidified what you both had known for a long time—that you were in this together, forever. soon after came eva, your daughter, the light of both of your lives.

watching kate as a mother had made you fall in love with her all over again. she was patient, attentive, and so incredibly loving. even with her busy schedule in the wnba, kate always made time for eva. you could tell how much she adored her, how she’d drop everything just to spend time with her daughter. and eva, well, she was already a mama’s girl.

today was no different. eva was squirming in your lap, her tiny hands reaching out every time she caught a glimpse of kate on the court. “mama!” she giggled, pointing excitedly as kate dribbled past her opponents. you smiled, brushing a stray curl away from eva’s face.

“yeah, baby, that’s mama,” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her head.

eva clapped, imitating the crowd’s excitement whenever kate scored. you couldn’t help but laugh at how much eva mirrored kate’s passion, even at just one year old. it warmed your heart to see how connected they already were.

as the game went on, kate’s energy never wavered. she was in her element—focused, competitive, and unstoppable. the aces were leading, but the game was still tight, and you could see the determination in kate’s eyes every time she sprinted down the court. you’d always admired her dedication to the game, but it was moments like these that reminded you just how incredible she truly was.

near the end of the game, kate glanced your way, her eyes searching for you in the crowd. she found you almost instantly, her gaze softening as soon as she saw you and eva. the connection between the three of you was palpable, even in an arena full of cheering fans. kate’s smile was brief, but it was enough to make your heart flutter. she winked at you before turning back to the game.

“mama’s gonna win this one, isn’t she, eva?” you whispered, bouncing her gently on your knee. eva babbled in response, still mesmerized by the action on the court.

when the final buzzer sounded, signaling a win for the aces, the crowd erupted. you stood up, cheering alongside the fans, holding eva high so she could see. kate was celebrating with her teammates, but her eyes kept darting to where you were standing. she jogged over, still catching her breath, but her smile was wide and contagious.

“there’s my two favorite girls,” she called out, her voice warm despite the noise.

eva squealed in delight as kate scooped her up from your arms. “did you see mama win, baby?” kate asked, pressing kisses to eva’s chubby cheeks. eva giggled, grabbing onto kate’s jersey with her tiny hands.

you couldn’t help but smile, watching them together. kate was everything to you, and seeing her in this role—both as a star on the court and as the mother of your child—filled you with a kind of love that was hard to put into words. “you were amazing out there,” you said softly, reaching out to smooth a hand over her back.

kate leaned in, kissing you gently. “couldn’t have done it without you two,” she murmured against your lips.

you laughed, shaking your head. “i think that was all you.”

kate chuckled, her arm wrapping around your waist as the three of you made your way towards the locker rooms. eva, still clinging to kate, was babbling away, pointing at everything around her with wide, curious eyes. you watched kate’s face soften as she listened to eva’s excited chatter, her hand gently rubbing your back as you walked.

“you know,” kate said softly, glancing down at you, “every time i’m out there, i’m thinking about you and eva. it makes me play harder, knowing you’re both here. it reminds me of why i’m doing this.”

you smiled, leaning into her touch. “and we’ll always be here.”

kate stopped walking, turning to face you fully. “i’m so lucky to have you,” she whispered, her eyes full of love. “you’ve given me everything i could have ever wanted.”

you reached up, cupping her face in your hand. “we’re the lucky ones, kate.”

kate kissed you again, slow and deliberate, before pulling back with a soft smile. “i love you.”

“i love you too,” you whispered, your heart full as you stood there with your little family, knowing that this—this life you’d built together—was more than you’d ever dreamed of.

more to come

[madlori]

Tevan Timeline

This is a work in progress for figuring out how long these two have been dating. Please feel free to contribute.

Cruise ship disaster was said to have been "last March." 7x03 aired on March 28, so let's use that for lack of a better alternative.

Time between the rescue and the events of 7x04? Has to be long enough for Tommy and Eddie to have done kind of a lot of stuff together. Then the events OF 7x04 seem to cover about a week? They fly to Vegas, the sewer rescue, the Wednesday night karaoke trivia, then the basketball game. So that puts us like...third week of April.

Time between the kiss and the first date, probably no more than a few days (Tommy says "what are you doing Saturday" not "NEXT Saturday")

Time between the first date and the coffee date? Again probably not long. A few more days, maybe a week.

Let's say for the sake of argument that after 7x05 we're at the end of April. And let's start the clock on the relationship then.

Time between 7x05 and the wedding? I've gone with three weeks, the actual time between episodes. So that puts us third week of May.

Time between 7x06 and 7x07? I'm gonna say a month. Chimney is back and healed and they said three weeks for that. That puts us in the third week of June.

Time between 7x07 and 7x08? Maybe a week? Time for Amir to find Bobby's meeting and then for there to be another one for him to attend. Events of the episode seem to take a day or two. So now we're at the end of June.

Then it's gotta be at least a month until 7x09. Bobby's sunburn is all healed, and Amir also seems healed from his gunshot wound. So now we're at the end of July (this tracks better with the Chief saying "last march" which you wouldn't say if it was only like...April)

And 7x10 follows right on its heels and takes only a couple of days in itself. So we can surmise that it's now the end of July.

That means that in 7x10, Buck and Tommy have been dating for 3 months.

[hcsiqs]

| the love club

• pairing: kate martin x youngmom!reader

• summary: you take your daughter to a las vegas aces game, but before it can even start she runs to her favorite player, kate martin

• warnings: none ? ? i don’t think

“Thank you!” you beamed at the worker who handed you your slushes for you and your daughter.

You had finally found a free weekend from your busy job to take your daughter, Aurora, to an Aces game, which she had been begging to go to for what seemed like months now, after she had gotten to go to a game the last two years. But, when you turned around to hand the girl her slushy she was no where to be found.

“Rory!” you called out, panic settling in your voice as you moved away from the stand and tried to seek out her curly hair that had been tied into pigtails.

You searched around what felt like forever until you saw the back of your daughter’s head and immediately ran over to her, not noticing who she was even talking to. “Rory, you can’t walk off like that. Someone could’ve got you,” you frowned as you bent down in front of your daughter.

“It’s ok, I got her,” a girl’s voice said, you looked up for a moment and thanked her, not even realizing who it was before doing a double take.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” you covered your mouth as you stood up from the ground, grabbing ahold of Rory’s hand. “You’re probably so busy, sorry for this.”

“No, no, it’s ok!” the blonde nodded quickly, trying to make sure you knew that she wasn’t upset by the situation at all.

“It’s just she should know not to walk off,” you told the blonde before looking down at your daughter, “Baby, I know you think you’re all grown up, but that doesn’t mean you can walk off into big crowds.”

“But Mom! It’s Kate!” Rory pouted as she looked up at you.

“Just don’t do it again, please,” you rubbed her shoulder softly before looking up at the basketball player. “I am so, so, sorry”

“It’s fine, really,” Kate let out a small laugh before she bent down in front of your daughter, straightening out the small Iowa jersey that fit her body, “How would you like to sit court side?” she asked, cocking her head to the side before looking up at you. “Only if that’s ok with your mom, of course.”

Your mouth fell open slightly, a loss for words as you shook your head. “Oh, I could never afford that,” you replied, shaking your head slightly.

“It’s on me,” Kate smiled as she picking your daughter up, a small giggle falling from her mouth as the blonde tickled her softly.

“I can’t ask you to do that—”

“You’re not, I’m offering,” she smiled.

You bit down on your bottom lip as you looked at the girl in front of you, what could go wrong?

“Ok,” you nodded, a smile taking over your face as Rory clapped her hands together excitedly. You handed Rory her slushie before grabbing her from Kate, settling her on your hip.

“Let me text some people,” she smiled, taking her phone out, “Two court side seats for Rory and…?” she left the end opened as she realized she still hadn’t gotten your name.

“Y/N,” you smiled.

“And Mrs. Y/N.”

You let out an awkward laugh shaking your head, “No Mrs.”

“Good to know,” the blonde smiled before she typed something into her phone. “I—uh—gotta go but I’ll see y’all in there”

“Mhm,” you nodded.

“Bye Rory,” she smiled at your daughter before going off into a hallway.

You stood there, not even believing what had just happened. Running into the player you’d been following since college and then her giving you and your daughter court side seats, it all seemed too good to be true.

But, what you didn’t know was that Kate was currently searching her following for you. She wasn’t sure what it was, but she could see herself being around you and Rory a lot more.

this is lowkey ass cheeks i’m sorry😭😭

[tjwritesfanfics]

Every Universe NSFW Masterlist 🌌❤️‍🔥

A collection of burbs where you fuck MGG in every universe.

Note that all of these are smut.

Will not be written in order. Written as inspiration comes.

Ones that are left blank plz feel free to suggest stuff!

Main Masterlist | Every Universe SFW Version

Universe One: Criminal Minds (Spencer Reid) 👓

Title: Texts messages

Summary: Spencer is not happy with your choice of texts while he’s away.

Universe Two: 68 Kill (Chip Taylor) 💰

Title: Mine to use

Summary: After being a toy for everyone, Chip wanted a toy of his own.

Universe Three: Trash Fire (Caleb) ⛪

Title: Oh Goddess

Summary: There was only one thing that tempted Caleb away from his faith and that was you.

Read Here

Universe Four: Zoe (Micheal) 💊

Title: For the (actual) first time

Summary: You and Micheal have sex for the first time without the effects of Benysol.

Universe Five: RV (Joe Joe) 🚙

Title: Popsicle

Summary: Joe Joe wonders just how skilled you are with your tongue.

Universe Six: Beginner's Luck (Franklin) 🎳

Title: BabyDoll

Summary: It wasn't easy to love Franklin, but you were tired of trying. He just didn't seem to be done with you.

Universe Seven: Life after Beth (Kyle Orfman) 🧟

Title: Prom Night

Summary: You couldn't stand Kyle Orfman, but for some reason you couldn't stand it when others picked on him more. You save your enemy from prom night and also make an interesting proposition.

Universe Eight: Band of Robbers (Joe) 💪🏻

Title: Suggest a title!

Summary: Suggest a concept!

Universe Nine: King Knight (Thorton Adams) ✝️

Title: Let's start a cult family

Summary: Thorn was really wanted kids. Maybe more than you realized.

Universe Ten: Excision (Mr. Claybaugh) 👨🏻‍🏫

Title: A+

Summary: You were willing to do anything to get an A in Mr. Claybaugh's class

Universe Eleven: Magic Valley (Mok) ⛓️

Title: Let me help you

Summary: When Mok was having a hard time getting off, you, his best friend, decide to help him despite his (very weak) protests.

Universe Twelve: 500 Days of Summer (Paul) ☀️

Title: 500 days of tennis

Summary: Paul thought Robin was his end game until he met the cute tennis coach.

Universe Thirteen: Babyface (Wes) 🐈‍⬛

Title: Merry Christmas to me

Summary: It's you first Christmas with your boyfriend, Wes. And his gift of a collar may be more for him than for you.

Universe Fourteen: Hot Air (Lesley) 🎈

Title: Marry me Mr. Stranger

Summary: After a wild night in Vegas, you wake up married to a very attractive, yet terrified, stranger. After getting to know him all over again, maybe you could see yourself staying with him.

Universe Fifteen: Desire (James) 🔥

Title: More than the screen

Summary: James seemed to like his costar than he let on and the sex scene seemed more real than EITHER of them let on.

Universe Sixteen: Beautiful Girl (Ziggy) 📹

Title: My girl my camera

Summary: Once Ziggy meets famed camgirl, he has to film her.

Universe Seventeen: How to be a serial killer (Bart)🔪

Title: Sweet but psycho

Summary: Bart never thought he would find anyone else that would share in his… lifestyle, but there you were, covered in blood and knife in hand.

Universe Eighteen: The life aquatic with Steve Zissou (Nico)🌊

Title: Rocking the boat

Summary: It can be lonely out at sea. Thankfully you have the new cute intern to keep your company.

Universe Nineteen: Suburban Gothic (Raymond) 👻

Title: On the way out

Summary: On your last day in town, you decide there is one last thing you want to do. Or well someone.

[itiswhatitisboi]

Golden Years.

synopsis: thinking back on being teammates with kate after she gets drafted, considering them the golden years — and regretting not doing anything about your feelings for her and thinking it’s just too late

warning(s): nothing except good ole’ angst

pairing (s): kate martin x iowa!reader

a/n: first time writing a fic and i kinda blacked out bc this is a doozy

the night your best friends got drafted had to be one of the best nights of your life. you, jada, gabbie and kate had gone to support caitlin and while you, of course, had deep down hoped that a certain blonde would get picked — it was still such a shock when her name got called from the audience. you all got to cheer her on as she walked up to a jersey that would hopefully have her name on the back.

it had ended in a night of celebration, the alcohol making you extra flirty, and kate extra touchy. a dangerous combo considering the feelings you had for. the same feelings you had downplayed for the past two years because this was kate. your captain, your teammate, one of your best friends at iowa.

“i can’t believe you got drafted tonight,” you had hiccuped into her ear with her arm dangling lazily around you as you sat in the booth next to her. the feel of her touch against you had caused you to tune all other conversation out, your attention solely her’s.

she had chuckled and you had felt her body rumble against you, “las vegas here i come.”

“i knew you could do it.” it had been such a light-hearted comment but if only kate knew the weight behind it. ever since she had introduced herself to you your freshman year at iowa, officially welcoming you to the team, it had been an instant connection. one that had grown into a powerful friendship until it eventually left you wanting something more. seeing the type of person she was, you fell for her smile, her kind heart, her laugh, the compassion she had so much of to give, her obsession with hot sauce — all of her. she had become the most attractive person to you and she was all you ever wanted. so when it came to pursuing her dreams, which she had very little vocalized, you were her biggest cheerleader and number one supporter. you always claimed she deserved more recognition, to which she would brush your words off with a bashful laugh, ducking her head humbly.

“i take it you knew i’d get drafted tonight then?” she had teased with you, nudging you with her body.

“without a doubt. they’re lucky to have you, you know that? you deserve this and so much more.”

she had beamed at you and pressed a tender kiss to your temple as thank you. you had no idea but it had take everything in her not to kiss you on the lips right then and there, your words being everything she had longed to ever hear. yes, her family was always proud of her but hearing praises from you just mattered so much more.

but following the draft you had gotten back and were instantly swamped with schoolwork, practically drowning in it. and kate had gotten so busy with packing up her life in iowa. you two had barely seen each other.

one morning you had been sitting at your desk, glaring at the notes that stared back up at you. your mind had naturally wandered to who you always thought about, which was kate. you found yourself dwelling on the seasons you’ve had during the years you had to play together. after that first year you had become an unstoppable duo, elevating the game in such a way that was noticeable to everyone around you, encouraging your teammates to be the best they could be, and overall improving the team. kate may have been the captain but you were damn near equally as important — bluder always liked to call kate the head and you the heart of the team. you both just worked like that.

and as your mind lingered on the thought of kate, you realized that you’d never get that chance to play with her again. that you’d never be out there on the same court with her, chest-bumping her after a crucial block, or giving her a high five following a beautiful three-pointer. you both would never wear the same uniform again. never be teammates again.

and then a horrible thought crossed your mind as you thought about how kate would be finishing her chapter there— would you two remain in each other’s lives?

maybe that was how you found yourself outside her apartment door that morning, knowing she was leaving for good later that day. leaving you behind as she started a new life. your hand hovered in the air until you forced yourself to knock, knowing that the worst that could happen was that you lost touch after she moved and you stayed acquaintances. as long as she’d be in your life, no matter how distant, you’d be able to manage. but one thing was for certain, you wouldn’t be able to handle not saying goodbye.

she opened the door shortly after you knocked softly. her hair was slightly disheveled in a way that made you think she’d been rushing around all morning until just then.

“hey, can i come in?”

kate blinked, as if surprised you were standing right there in front of her before she snapped out of it and stepped aside. “of course.”

the apartment felt like a ghost town the moment you stepped over its threshold. no pictures on the fridge, no display of hot sauces above a the cabinets, nothing.

“what’s up? i thought we said i’d stop by your’s before i left.”

you faced her and watched as she scratched at her brow like the was trying to rid herself of the slight confusion that nestled between her brows. “yeah i know- we did. i just.. i don’t know, i needed to see you.”

kate nodded slowly as you licked your lips, suddenly unsure of what to say. you hadn’t even intended to come here because you knew it’d make you too emotional, that was why you had made the plans to meet up in the first place.

“i guess it’s just really hit me that you’re gonna be across the world and i’m gonna miss you.”

“i’m gonna miss you too,” she smiles softly as she stuffed her hands in her pockets.

“no like, i don’t think you get it- i’m gonna miss you a lot. like really miss you.” you began to fidget with her hands as your heart began to beat loudly inside your chest.

you saw the confusion yet appreciation wash across her face. she was definitely confused on why you were so adamant that she didn’t understand where you were coming from. realistically though, she didn’t want to overthink your words because there was no way you returned the same feelings she had for you— right?

“i mean, how am i supposed to go about my day without my favorite person by my side? instead you’re a call away and if i want to see you i have to catch a flight- which they’re so pricy, what is up with that?” you felt yourself begin to ramble and you honestly had no idea why. you just felt like spilling your guts to her and you had no clue if you were going to stop or not.

“what are you saying,” she said softly. she walked closer to you so that she could place a gentle hand on your shoulder, in efforts to comfort you. it hurt late to see you so antsy and she had no idea her move would have so much of an impact on you. “we can call, facetime, text— whatever it is, we can talk as much as you want? okay?”

“it’s not okay— i just want to be with you,” you confessed, the words slipping from your lips without even giving it too much of a second thought. you watch kate’s eyes widen at your words but there was no going back now. “fuck it. kate, i want to be with you. like with you, with you.”

unknowingly to you, that was the best news kate had heard in a long time. hell, it might even beat the draft because hearing what you wanted was the same as what she wanted? nothing could be better.

“i have feelings for you, and i have for a while now.” you confessed. “and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same, but jesus— i think i was gonna go crazy if you left without at least knowing how i felt.”

you studied kate’s face as she said nothing, simply looking at you. you wondered if you broke her before wondering if you should just leave before you dealt with the embarrassment— or dealt with the reality of losing her friendship over this. fuck, maybe you should’ve watched your damn mouth.

but kate crossing the room and crashing her lips onto yours caught you by surprise and had you staggering back slightly. her hands came to cup your face as she bent down to you. she pulled you as close to her as possible as you came to your senses and wrapped your arms around her neck. you relished in this new feeling, a touch undiscovered as her lips moved against your own.

when you both finally pulled away, breathless, you both wore the brightest smiles on your faces.

kate’s breath fanned your face as she let out an airy laugh. you could’ve sworn she even had a smirk on her face, “who said i didn’t have feelings for you too?”

[ctimenefic]

omg i am not above begging for that conceptual mean dom george gax part two holy fuck i’m hooked so badly

part two of what i am tentatively titling 'that monday feeling' aka the dom george gax rollercoaster. many thanks to @latecomersprivilege and @lagerloutfic for reading this over and stopping it being just pass agg gax chatting

part one here

They are in the same fucking hotel as Mercedes again at Qatar, which is fucking ridiculous, Qatar is maybe 40% hotels, all as overdone and ugly as each other. It's not a coincidence, of course. It's a Christian thing, rubbing it in Toto's face that they're not the competition now; that McLaren and Ferrari are worth treating as a threat, but not them.

Whatever, Max leaves that mind games shit to Christian - it's still fucking annoying, Monday morning, to head down to the gym and see George fucking Russell there.

He will talk to Christian about it, for Abu Dhabi. Never mind that they travel out tonight. It is not acceptable.

They were meant to play padel. Him and George, and two RB mechanics. But obviously, Max told him it was cancelled (well, to fuck off, if he’s being specific), and Lando hadn’t wanted to take the court. So.

George is just getting off the treadmill, some stupid distance at a high incline, like next week is Singapore instead of Abu Dhabi. He looks pleased with himself, of course. Then he spots Max, and that nearly blank, faintly amused expression glides onto his face. He’d worn it since they’d stepped out of the stewards room, all the way through Sunday, even in the fucking media after the race. Max had watched, afterwards, to see George prove his point. So polite.

It was the same face he’d pulled in Las Vegas, when he’d trapped Max in his duvet and his desire, caught him off-guard with a cheap trick.

Max doesn’t share space. He doesn’t yield.

He racks up 20kg below his maximum on the bench. Starts a set too fast, hips not sat quite right, grunting with it by the end.

“Need a spotter?” comes George’s voice, too light. Like he’s smiling. Max doesn’t look.

“Fuck off.”

A hum. Max pretends not to hear it over the low techno of the gym’s sound system. “Still on one, then?”

Max ignores him. His second set is smoother, a gradual build to the burn, even if he shouldn’t be lifting this heavy. It’s not today’s program. But his way tends to work, regardless.

That stupid blank face appears at the bottom of his vision, George lurking at the end of the bench. Max wants to kick him. Instead, he keeps his eyes on the bar. It’s only when he reaches up for his third set, and George straightens, suddenly tall and broad in Max’s eyeline, that he realises what a picture they make. Max, flat on his back, arms above his head. George, watching.

“Don’t let me interrupt. Hands on the bar, now.” He does that obnoxious head tilt, tongue wedged in front of his teeth, bottom lip bulging. Max glares, pulls his hands back to his chest like the bar is white hot.

It’s a mistake, looking at George. It just makes him angrier, that mild look, the smug superiority. Like Max hadn’t been there in the stewards room, watching him frown and grouse and whinge his way to nothing at all, in the end, nothing that lasted more than ten seconds off the line. All that bitching replaced by joking and smiling and his fingers on Max’s neck afterwards, like Max hadn’t seen.

He should be embarrassed, to want it so much. Max would be, if he wanted like that. Needed.

He doesn’t, of course.

He should’ve started his next set by now. His thirty seconds rest are long gone. But George is still watching, neck bent like one of those ugly wader birds, all legs and beak.

“Are you angry that I screwed you in the stewards room, or that I didn’t fuck you in Vegas?” he asks, voice low and measured. 

“I don’t want you to fuck me!” The gym’s mostly empty, but Max still sounds too loud to his own ears. There’s warmth prickling up the back of his neck that mingles with the exertion, even as it feels distinct. Dangerous.

“If you say so.” George checks his watch. Max’s eyes track down as he drops his wrist back to his side. George’s t-shirt hangs close to his body. Probably too small, showing off. Needing, again. His shorts are the same. Light grey. Light enough to show a shadow where they’re stretching over-

“If you change your mind, I’m in room 402,” George adds. “My flight leaves after lunch.”

Max stares at weights racked above him. Breathes through his nose, the way his mother taught him, the way that wouldn’t let on that he was hurt, or angry, or scared. Reaches up for the bar.

Before he can start, the toe of George’s right foot digs into the side of Max’s. Right into the edge of the inner arch. It doesn’t hurt, not through inches of rubber and whatever scientific innovations their trainers are built out of, but the pressure is sudden, deep. It jolts up Max’s leg, through the nerves in his knee, to his hip. When he jerks his foot away, he knocks against George’s other trainer. Penned in.

They’re big, he remembers from nowhere. Clown feet. It doesn’t seem as funny now as it had when Crane had sent him all the grid’s Wikifeet entries.

“Don’t touch me,” he snarls.

The pressure stops at once. George’s eyebrows flick up, but he doesn’t step away. “We can play it that way, if you’d like. 402, remember.”

He leaves, then. Abrupt. Rude.

The bar is cool under Max’s hot palms. He has to adjust his grip twice. He finishes his third set puffing, arms shaking. Hard in his shorts.

---

The workout doesn’t ease the buzz under his skin. The last of the Kinder bars, snaffled away for a treat, goes down chalky. When he shuts his eyes, he can feel his stomach lurching about. Like the swoop of a lift, rising fast.

---

It’s eleven o’clock when George answers the door. It feels like a long time, between Max knocking and him opening it. Not a good wait, not the easy time between green and lights out. Like a rain stoppage, when the FIA are being cowardly, no sense of when he can get back in the car.

He wants Brazil. Rain under his wheels. Certainty. George Russell kicked off the podium and seething about it.

Or-

He pushes gold handrails and gilt mirrors out of his mind. The sensation remains, though, the press on his chest that had made his lungs unfurl, warm and open. Floating. His heels lifting off the floor.

He’s- he shouldn’t feel skittish. He won. He’ll win again, but for now, 63 is a satisfying number. He could ask the graphics team for a post with it in the middle. They’d laugh with him. They always laugh at George. Everyone does.

The door opens. Max jumps a little.

George’s smirk is an ugly thing.

“Cutting it a bit fine.”

Max scoffs. “I do not have much to say to you.” Still, he ends up inside. George closes the door behind him, leans up against it, disgustingly casual, as Max takes the middle of the room for himself. It’s not as nice as Max’s. Less spacious. The bed’s too close. 

“Of course you don’t. You ’didn’t come here to talk’, did you? It’s fine, I don’t mind a cliche. Oh,” and there it is, that fancy polite tone the FIA rolls over for, “shoes off, please.”

It’s not obeying if George says please, Max tells himself. If it is what he would do anyway. When his toes dig into the carpet, it feels new, plush. Some of the soft fibres sneak through the weave of his socks.

“If you cannot beat me on the track-”

“No,” George cuts him off. Not loud, but determined. Maybe angry underneath. That second face, lurking. “You didn’t come here to argue, don’t pretend you did.”

Max doesn’t pretend. That’s all George. He tells him as much – “a fucking princess for the cameras, a prick in private”. “And,” he adds, “all the time you are hiding this, what you were- how you were in- in-”

He can feel it again, the press against his sternum. It clings, hot as tar. 

“In Vegas?” George smiles, mean. “Would you rather I told you to strip in the stewards office? Bent you over your rear wing on the grid? There’s a time and a place, Max.” George pauses. Runs his tongue round the inside of his mouth, then outside. Considering. Then: “Maxxy.”

It’s like being hit. “Don’t call-”

“Oh, shut up. You’ve made your rules, I’ll make mine. You want to call me names, I’ll do the same.”

“My rules?” Max is incredulous. He hasn’t done anything but show up. He didn’t even say he wanted-

George ticks off on his long fingers. “Don’t fuck you. Don’t touch you. Rule anything else out and I’ll be down to ASMR and obscene gestures. Unless,” he looks at Max through his eyelashes. It is probably meant to be sexy. Max snorts. “Unless you’ve changed your mind?”

Max juts his jaw. “No.”

It is stupid, of course. That is not what George will want. Max’d seen him. The twist of his mouth as he stabbed through his evidence in front of the stewards, delta data and past decisions, all of it wrong but pointless. Max had seen him skinny and hungry and desperate for the kill. Max had seen the clench of his jaw and imagined the strength of his bite.

Max had seen him in Vegas too, even if he’d forgotten, for a bit. Fuzzy. Frustrated. Until George had reminded him in the media pen, grin sharp. Crisp orders. Looming and bullying his way into Max’s space, Max’s mouth.

Max knows a cruel man when he sees one. A violent man.

Max has wanted them anyway, sometimes.

George cannot beat him on the track, has to pull dirty tricks. He’ll want to beat Max off it. Bruise him. 

He pushes off the door, pads towards Max. He’s not wearing shoes either, Max realises, feet bare. Just as big as he thought. “Is there anything else I should know? That’s off the table?” He sounds solicitous, the English gentleman. Fake. 

Max shrugs. “You don’t scare me.” He resents being interrogated. “What do you want?”

George looks surprised to be asked. Good. Max is sick of being the one off balance. “I want to race hard and safely. I want to win whenever I can. And I want to put you on your knees until you’re sweet and drooling for it. I think you’ve got quite a fuckable mouth. But you’ve taken that off the table, so I’ll settle for getting you down and getting you off.”

Liar. “I will not be- sweet,” Max grits out. 

“You already have been,” George muses. “Trying to suck my neck in a public lift like a proper little slut, weren’t you?”

Max flinches. His mouth is dry. “I thought- I was drunk. And you- we didn’t. It does not count.”

“Maybe not for you. I found it enlightening.” He’s looming again. Max tilts his chin up.

“Are you going to do anything or is this just talking again? Because I had enough of that on Saturday.”

George pinches the bridge of his nose. It’s a gesture familiar from half a dozen teachers, before karting took over. Max bristles. “You’re going to make this difficult, aren’t you?”

Max shrugs his lower lip. His smile has too many teeth; George makes a small disgusted noise in the back of his throat. 

“Get on your knees.”

Max squares his shoulders. Smiles again. “No.”

George looks incredulous; then, briefly, apoplectic. It flashes over his face as fast as the streak of passing a yellow flag. Then that horrible blankness is back. No amusement this time, just pure neutrality. It makes Max want to scream.

“Fine. Stand there and be quiet until you have something useful to contribute.” 

“Wha-” He can’t even get the word out before George fucking waves a hand at him, dismissive. He sits down in one of the godawful hotel chairs, ankle popped on his knee, and picks up an iPad. 

“You can stand there or you can go, but don’t pretend you got what you wanted if you do.”

He doesn’t like it, this trap George has built around him. Leave, and George will say he is a coward, pretending; that they are the same, faking, two-faced. Stay, and George will say he is- can be- sweet. Not like George on the face of it, but similar deep down. Needy. 

Max’s feet curl in the carpet. He stays still. 

“Finally. Now, no talking for ten minutes. I know self-control isn’t your strong suit, but I’m sick of the sound of you.” 

When he opens his mouth to protest, George shoots him a quelling look. It turns into a long stare, both of them motionless. George’s disdain is etched on his face. Something is juddering in Max’s belly like a loose part. 

“If you’re going to behave like a child, I’ll treat you like one. I’ve had enough of that from your lot today.” There’s a real spark of irritation to his face; Max feels glee at putting it there. Of course, George ruins it when he keeps talking. “Hysterical, honestly, am I a woman or am I gay, Horner needs to pick one side eventually.”

Max frowns. “Obviously you are gay.” Everyone knows it, despite the pretty girlfriend.

“I didn’t say you could speak. Shirt off.” Max folds his arms. “Now, Maxxy.”

It hurts, the nickname. An achey, hot sort of hurt, somewhere in his chest. Embarrassing, too, to realise that when he’d seen George, the rotting wolf at the heart of him, George had been looking back. He struggles out of his shirt, throws it at George’s feet. 

George keeps scrolling through the iPad, but he says, “Thank you, Max,” and there's a gentleness to it that soothes the ache, a little. 

He lasts another four minutes after that, toes curling under him. The weight of being ignored builds on his shoulders slowly but surely – every flick of George’s finger across the screen another slight. The ache is ebbing away, but a hot and wet feeling lingers on the inside of his chest, like his ribcage is a half-boiled egg, fresh and leaking. He wants to pace, or drive, bleed it out of himself. 

He stays still. But he can’t keep his mouth shut. 

“This is boring,” he tells George, even if it isn’t - not entirely. “Aren’t you going to do something? Use something?”

“Jeans,” George orders. Max wrestles them down as far as he can without lifting his feet; when he does, his balance is lower than he expects. He wobbles. It’s a relief to get both of them under him again. It almost beats the rush when George’s eyes flick up from the screen. His gaze travels up the length of Max, once, twice, then settles – Max’s neck heats – on his crotch. “Thank you. And funnily enough, I did not spend my morning trying to buy sex toys in Qatar on the off-chance you came over. Anyway, you don’t seem bored,” George adds, dryly. 

George can tell, then. That he’s hard. Max wears boxers; sometimes it isn’t obvious. Not- Not because-

“You know, I’d heard it was smaller? But below average is perfectly respectable.” George laughs. The egg-cracks in Max’s chest splinter wider, down his thighs, his arms. “But you really were made to be fucked. Hm. Shame.”

Max chews his bottom lip. His stupid normal-sized dick is getting harder. But he won’t speak. He won’t give George the satisfaction. 

“Do you like being fucked, Maxxy?” That whine- it’s not a word, it doesn’t count, and George seems to agree, because he doesn’t order Max to take his boxers off, just tilts his head. His tongue is tucked in the side of his cheek - when he smiles, it’s all lopsided. “Oh, you haven’t. What, just shoved fingers in yourself without enough lube and wriggled about like an amateur? Fucking yourself in your drivers’ room hoping someone would come in and sort you out-”

“Suck my balls,” he blurts. 

“Suck mine,” George retorts, far less petulance and far more authority to it. To Max’s horror, his mouth waters. “But that’s off the table, of course.” 

Max’s hands go to his boxers, but George tuts. “Socks next, please.” And that’s not fair, socks don’t count, Max wants- he wants- 

He balls them up, chucks them at George’s stupid iPad. The corner of George’s mouth lifts. “Thank you, brat.”

He’s starting to leak a little, in his boxers. Enough that the wet cotton drags over the head of his dick if he adjusts his balance. It is bad, he knows, being this naked in George’s room. He should not want George to look at him so badly. His dick shouldn’t jerk every time George presses a long finger to the screen instead. 

He can be still. He can be quiet. He can win.

He doesn’t want-

He won’t-

“George,” he-

His mind shunts away from the word. But it’s there, in the tone. In the hitch of it. 

“George,” he begs. 

“Boxers,” George says, far too indulgent. Max rushes to comply. His hands tremble, a little. And then: “Thank you. Now. Get on your knees.”

He drops. 

George sets the iPad aside, looks at Max properly. The runny-egg feeling intensifies. Max feels his mouth fall open, damningly wet. George’s fingers lift from his knees for a moment, like he might shove them inside, tell Max to suck, before he recollects himself. He adjusts himself in the chair, both feet on the ground, a space between them big enough for- for Max.

George is hard too. Thick, spoiling the line of his slacks. 

“There you are,” George croons. “Come here, Max.”

He doesn’t even have to say it. Max crawls. 

As he does, George draws himself out of his slacks. His dick is curved, a little pinker than Max had expected. His mouth is still open. His teeth click when he shuts it, and George grins. “Maybe next time. Head down now, hands and knees.”

Something soft lands on his back. Velvety. A cushion. And then two points of pressure pushing it down into his spine. George’s heels. He’s a footstool. 

And still, George isn’t touching him. 

Above him, he hears the slick sound of George taking himself in hand. Slow strokes. Long. 

His own dick jerks, hard enough to tap against the low swell of his belly. When he looks down his body, he can see it twitching. Desperate. 

“Eyes on the ground,” George reminds him, not unkindly. Max’s arms are starting to shake. He can feel the morning’s workout, and so much more besides. His eyes are hot. But the shell around his chest is gone now, no cracks, no shards, nothing to stop the runny mess at the core of him pouring out and out and out. He’s so full, and soon he’ll be so empty, so light.

“Can you hold this with one arm?” George asks. It’s patronising, so fucking patronising, Max is an athlete. A better athlete than George. He nods anyway. “Use your words, Max.”

“Yes.” Can George hear how wet his mouth is, the drool pooling behind his teeth? “Yes, I can. George.”

“Good. Do it. Touch yourself. Get yourself off.”

Max shakes his head, side to side like a dog. “You should.”

“Off the table,” George hisses between clenched teeth. The sounds are faster, now, slicker. Max can see How George’s legs are tensing either side of his head. “You’ll have to ask nicely next time.”

Max gets a hand on himself. It feels horribly too much just to touch. “I won’t,” he wails. He knows himself too well; knows he can’t give like this, yield like this, without a fight. “But you should anyway. I want it. I want it.” He comes as he says it, all over his belly, a single stroke enough; too much and then perfect and too much again.

“Fuck,” George pants above him, “Fuck, Max, sit back and let me come on your face, please, I won’t touch just-”

Max falls forward instead, his chin on George’s knee. Like a pet. It doesn’t count as touching, if it is through George’s clothes. If it is Max who starts it. He opens his mouth, and drool drips down his chin. It’s warm, but not as hot as the splatter of George over him, his nose and cheeks and thick waiting tongue. 

They are both quiet, in the aftermath. They are alike in this. Max turns to rest against the side of the chair; George eases out of it, tucks himself away. 

He’s careful, still, not to touch Max. He floats in and out of Max’s vision; a bottle of water appears on the side table, cap already cracked open. A hot flannel. There are new spaces in Max’s chest he has to fill with cool, dry air. His bones feel light. He appreciates the space. 

It takes him a few minutes to register George has somehow magicked an iron out of thin air. A few more to realise he’s running it gently over Max’s clothes. 

“You are psychotic,” Max croaks out. George’s long face quivers, so he explains: “Ironing jeans. And a t-shirt. These are not ironing clothes.”

“Just warming them up. It’ll help with- well. It’s my cuddle-free approach.”

Normality is beginning to restore itself. George is a freak who irons jeans. Max does not find this an attractive quality. 

Still, yes. It is nice to put them on and be warm. 

“The penalty was still bullshit,” he tells George as he laces up his shoes. 

George’s groan is theatrical. “Oh, good, I was worried we might have finished the argument for a second there.” 

Max folds his arms. George isn’t listening properly. The penalty was bullshit. But perhaps George is not all bullshit, all the time. “I am done.” 

“Not quite,” George says, almost to himself. Then his gaze snaps back into focus, back to Max. “You off then?” He crosses back to Max in a few strides, hovers a safe six inches away. “May I?”

His hand reaches out to Max’s cheek. Not quite touching. Max swallows. Nods. 

The kiss is filthier than he expects, like George is chasing the taste of his own come in Max’s mouth. He goes gentler at the end, though, his grip on Max’s face sliding down to his neck and softening. 

Max just catches the whine in time. 

“Thank you,” George says. His eyes are glinting; Max senses trouble a hundredth too late. “For being so sweet.”

Max tries to slam the door behind him, but there’s a soft-close mechanism. He charges down the corridor as fast as he can, George’s laughter far too loud behind him. 

[dilemmaontwolegs]

And Carlos having to watch in Abu Dhabi as they get to publicly be together. Maybe that’s why he crashed out in FP2, she was on his mind…

This is now canon.

Can it be an epilogue?

Lady in Red {4} || CS55 & CL16

Summary: It's the final event of the season and plans are being made for winter, but first there's some mind games going on at Ferrari Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, bj, fingering, toxic behaviour WC: 2.4k One || Two || Three || Four

Charles felt your fingers slip away from his as you neared the entrance to the track. Confused, he reached for them again and looked at your reflection in the car window. Turning away from the lines of fans waiting for a glimpse of the drivers, you met his green eyes. “Sorry, force of habit,” you apologised sheepishly. 

You had confessed everything to him when he tried to kiss you at the end of the night in Vegas. Ever the gentleman, he had walked you to your room but when he leaned closer, just like you wanted him to, the words had tumbled out. He knew everything; how you had been played by Carlos and, even worse, what you had done knowing he was in a relationship.

Lacing your fingers tighter, he raised them to his lips and kissed them. “You don’t have to hide with me.”

You smiled at the truth and leaned into his side as the car came to a stop. “I know.”

It felt strange stepping out into the spotlight with all of your clothes on. You were used to the wind kissing your skin through the thin lingerie you were being paid to promote with your body, pretending you weren’t freezing cold when night fell. It was comfortable to walk hand in hand with Charles, in a fairly plain dress that you had chosen. You weren’t here for business, it was purely pleasure.

“What are your plans for the break?” you asked as he settled into his driver's room. 

He pulled his t-shirt off and traded it for the fireproof long sleeved shirt you had grabbed from the shelf. Your eyes lingered on the toned skin that disappeared beneath the shirt and he combed a hand through his hair that had messed up. “My plans or our plans?”

“I didn’t know we had plans,” you said coyly. 

He kicked off his jeans and smirked as you hid the fireproof pants behind your back. His body pressed to yours as he dominated your space, reaching around your back and catching your hands in his much larger ones. 

“Then we will have to change that, chérie. Unless you have something already planned?”

He pulled you closer and dipped his head to yours, kissing you until your body relaxed and your hands released his clothes. 

“I suppose I can clear my schedule for you,” you sighed jokingly, smiling when his lips tugged up again. 

“Don’t go out of your way,” he said sarcastically as he pulled his fireproofs up and jumped to get the tight leggings into place. “I would hate to be a nuisance.”

“Such a pest,” you noted, dropping onto his couch and tucking your legs up. You rested your chin on your knees and watched him sip from his bottle to keep hydrated. “What did you have in mind?”

“Do you like skiing?”

“Never tried. I’ll probably be terrible and complain about the cold,” you admitted with a laugh. “I hope you are a good teacher.”

“The best, chérie.” He winked your way as he pulled his racing suit on, shrugging the shoulders up so he could close the velcro collar. When he had his boots on and his balaclava in his hands, he bent down and kissed you goodbye. “I’ll see you after practice.”

“Drive safe.”

Charles had done well to avoid Carlos for most of the week. The two drivers had been on separate media panels and had barely spoken outside of team meetings or whatever silly games they were told to play by management. Those had been tense to say the least. 

There was no avoiding him however when they finished FP1 and spoke to the media. They had both finished their interviews at the same time and were heading in the same direction to hospitality.

“Did your girlfriend tell you about me? About the things we did?” Carlos goaded his teammate as they walked along. They both smiled and waved to the fans and the cameras but Carlos’ one was straining under the force of his.

“She told me everything, but we all make mistakes,” Charles replied calmly, his smile never wavering as he signed autographs for the young fans. “That’s all you are to her, a mistake.”

“We’ll see about that: once a whore, always a whore.” Carlos threw his arm over Charles’ shoulders and pulled him closer, slapping his chest patronisingly. “You’re vanilla, Chuck. Vanilla is boring once you’ve had a bit of spice. Why do you think they call me Chilli?” 

Carlos pushed away with a laugh and left the Monegasque with the words playing on his mind. Charles was still thinking about them when he met you in his driver's room. He closed the door a little too hard and you frowned at the change in him. He had been smiling in the media pit, proud of how the first practice went, but now he was sour as he started to strip his clothes off.

“Is everything okay?” you asked as you touched his back lightly, feeling his move out of your touch. “Oh, okay. I’ll leave you alone then.”

You grabbed your handbag and reached for the door but Charles stretched over you to plant his hand on the top, the press of his chest against your back. His lips brushed the shell of your ear and his other hand snaked over your hip, drifting down your abdomen. “Am I boring?”

Your head fell back to his shoulder as his fingers followed the shape of your body and slipped between your legs. “No,” you whispered as you remembered he had asked you a question. “Did Carlos say something?”

Charles' hand disappeared as he pushed away from you with a huff. “Were you seriously thinking about him?”

“I think you were,” you pointed out as you turned to face him and leaned against the door, crossing your arms. You stared at him for a moment and he looked away first, brushing a hand angrily through his hair - but the anger wasn’t aimed at you. 

“Fuck, he got in my head.”You crossed the room and caught his face in your hands, brushing your thumbs over the beard he sported. “Forget about him, Charles, I’m with you. You’re good for me, healthy.”

“Vanilla,” he muttered as he twisted his face away and sighed. 

“I’m going for a walk,” you murmured as he sank into the couch. “Give you some space.”

“Wait,” he said as you opened the door. “Come back.”

“I will, soon. Promise.” You closed the door behind you before marching across the motorhome to the other driver room and pounding your fist on Carlos’ door. “Open up.”

It swung open quickly, like he had been waiting for your visit and smirked as you stepped inside. “Hermosa, you look disappointed. Does Charles leave you unsatisfied?”

“I am disappointed, Carlos,” you said as you crossed your arms but quickly unfolded then when his eyes fell to the swell of your breasts. “Do you really have nothing better to do with your time?”

“There’s one improvement I can think of, and it isn’t talking, cariña.”

Your hands turned to fists at your side as he undressed you with his eyes, his tongue rolling across his bottom lip. “Don’t talk to Charles, don’t talk to me, don’t even think about me, okay?”

Carlos shrugged nonchalantly. “Hard to do, he’s my teammate.”

“You’ll find a way, or Rebecca will find out the truth. Wouldn’t that be fun? Imagine that, Carlos, she would drop you in an instant and once again you would be all alone - because I won’t be answering your call,” you threatened coldly as you took a step closer. “I will be too busy on holiday with my boyfriend - the one I will fuck in every possible way so no one could ever call him vanilla again.”

“He’ll never be enough,” Carlos called out as you stepped towards the door. “That thrill, of knowing you might be caught, you’ll never get that with him.”

“There’s other thrills to be had,” you smirked over your shoulder. “Maybe I’ll take a page out of your book and mess with your girlfriend. I could send Rebecca that two piece you loved so much. You remember, the red one, delicate, lace. The one that had you on your knees begging to fuck me in. Yeah…I think I like this new game, it’s just so thrilling.”

“You're not wearing red today,” he muttered.

“No, I’m not being paid to support Ferrari, I’m here for Charles.”

You left him unable to articulate a response and closed the door behind you with a dark smile. Charles was where you left him, fidgeting with his rings, and his head snapped up when you walked in. 

“You went to him?” It wasn’t an accusation, merely curiosity that filled his tone and he patted the space beside him.

“I did,” you confirmed, taking the seat he offered. His hand laced with yours and he settled them on his thigh as he leaned back into the couch with a heavy sigh. “I needed to clarify some things that he didn’t seem to understand.”

“I didn’t mean to push you away, or pin you to the door.”

“You didn’t,” you assured him as you rested your head on his shoulder. “Was kind of hot though.”

Charles laughed nervously. “Yeah, it was. Would it be alright if I did that?”

You peeked up under your lashes to see him looking intently at you. You didn’t realise he felt he needed permission but your heart skipped a beat over the fact he asked. You hadn’t really had that before and your body burned in response as you shifted on the seat to straddle his hips. “Yes, Charles.”

“Not too vanilla,” he teased, but the laughter never reached his eyes.

“I don’t know why you are so hung up on that,” you tutted. “Vanilla isn’t an insult. It’s classic and timeless, and perfect for all occasions.”

“I suppose so,” he mused, half convinced.

“You know what wouldn’t be vanilla?” He shook his head and watched you sink to the floor between his legs. Your hands found the waistband of his fireproofs and dragged them down as he lifted his hips. You wet your lips at the sight of his semi that was growing harder by the second. “Letting me do this, with the door unlocked.”

His eyes widened and his lips parted but before he could think better and ask you to stop your lips sealed around his cock and the only sound that escaped was a sated sigh. “Putain, tu te sens si bien.”

You hummed at the taste of him in your mouth and you pressed your tongue against his shaft as you took him deeper. Incoherent French filled the room and you delighted in the sounds as you ignored the need to breathe. There was nothing prettier than rolling your eyes up his body to see the complete awe on his face as he watched you pleasure him, your name on his lips. Not a nickname or an endearment, your name, because you weren’t a secret to hide.

“Je vais…je vais foutre,” he moaned loudly. His hands gripped your head and he snapped his hips up, choking you with his cock as he buried himself in your throat. A thick stream of cum filled your mouth as he sagged back into the couch, his cock twitching as you milked every last drop on your tongue and swallowed it. 

You sat back on your heels pleased with yourself. He was thoroughly relaxed as he curled his fingers to draw you back up onto his lap. 

“Thank you,” he said softly, his confidence completely restored. “I’m sorry I have to get ready to go, chérie, or I would happily return the favour.”

“I can wait,” you hummed as he started to tease you with his fingers anyway. He eased one into your cunt to find it already wet and ready for him, then he added a second and pressed his thumb to your clit. “Someone might walk in,” you whispered, but it turned to a moan at the circles he drew around your clit.

“Someone might,” he chuckled, clearly enjoying the idea as much as you were. 

His fingers worked you to a frenzy and you rode your hips over them as you chased your release. He swallowed the cries of your release with a deep kiss, his tongue dominating yours and sharing the taste of his musk that coated your tongue. Lifting his fingers to his lips, he held your eyes as he licked them clean and your pussy clenched at the sight.

“That’s not vanilla,” you said as you bit your lip and climbed off. “Not vanilla at all, baby.”

He grinned at the compliment and tucked himself away before standing up too. “I’ll see you after practice.”

“Drive safe.”

Charles didn’t stop smiling that night. His practice may not have had the top time but it was still a positive indicator that he was going to have a good pace for the race and better yet Carlos had crashed out. They had passed each other in the media pit and Charles didn’t have the ability to hide his smirk as he watched his teammate saunter off with a scowl on his face.

“I don’t know what you said to him, chérie,” Charles laughed at dinner with his friends, Carlos’ table much more reserved on the other side of the restaurant. “But I haven’t seen him that quiet, ever.”

“I just reminded him of his values,” you said with a sweet smile, and you fluttered your eyelashes too. “And what will happen if he tries to fuck with us again.”

“God, winter break can’t come soon enough,” Charles said as he took your hand and kissed it before draping his arm over your shoulders. Carlos shifted in his seat, eyebrows furrowing at you before he did the same to his girlfriend. “I don’t know if I will even want to leave the chalet.”

“One ski lesson with me and that might be the wise decision.”

Charles shook his head. “You’re not getting out of it, I told you, chérie, I’m the best.”

You smirked as your hand came to rest high up his thigh under the table. “Yes, yes you are.”

[lelelego]

is there a canon ending you have in mind for Eli and Boone?

god yeah. i'm gonna put this under a cut because it turned into a long one. this is not just the ending but the stuff leading up to it. word vomit galore

just want to reiterate this is all in my insaneo mode head and simply fnv eli's timeline as far as i'm concerned

in a nutshell eli decides an independent vegas is ultimately the best for the residents. he has a hard time deciding between an ncr rule (a somewhat more organized freeside and new vegas, and potentially more resources aside from energy), but seeing firsthand the idiocy operating under the monolith, incompetence, and corruption, does he decide to help the followers of the apocalypse establish control over the area with the help of the king, since julie farkas and the king are both actual people of authority who the people of freeside respect.

when eli tells boone he's not going to help the ncr, boone's conflicted. he's been following eli around because (1) eli makes good on his promise re:fighting the legion, (2) eli is a legion magnet because caesar + lanius hate his guts and keep sending hit squads after his ass, and (3) he genuinely thinks eli will die without him. (none of this is related to the fact that boone enjoys his company, obviously. not even a little bit. obviously.) he's torn between the ncr, the only system he knows, and the person who stands as the trigger of the largest political change in the region. is he responsible for changing this person's mind? does he want to change eli's mind? he doesn't know shit about the ramifications of the ncr leaving, nor the ncr staying. is he just following orders again? despite what happens at bitter springs (hopeful ending) he can't really let the idea of the nation he grew up with go.

so at the end of second battle of hoover dam, the ncr gets chased out (mostly). eli still doesn't really know where boone stands regarding the ncr, because for all his talk and bluster he doesn't want boone to dislike him for prying (which has happened already before). forgive him, he's got a big fat crush that won't go away on the guy. he's tired. he's hungry. he's thirsty. but all he can do is think, "boone's going to follow them back." which is when the picture above happens. he snaps back to his senses obviously, because what right does he have to ask something like that?

but boone stays. eli goes to talk to julie and he's there. eli sits at the tops in benny's workshop for days, programming and reprogramming systems for the securitrons and tinkering with finer motor controls and he's there. eli negotiates with the crimson caravan and he's there. eli is confused but yknow. what is he going to do talk to the brick wall of a man about his feelings??

boone sees what eli does for the people of freeside. even helps, sometimes, even though the only thing he thinks he's good at is killing. he thinks, is this what being better is? is this what amends are? but like a reoccuring rash he gets the Itch. thinks about the ncr. about manny. they could enlist back into first recon, easy. he goes back to novac to look over things he'd left there, things he used when he'd freshly left first recon, spends the night in his old room.

only he can't sleep. he can't sleep because he can't hear the sound of eli playing some shitty video game on his pipboy. he can't hear eli and veronica arguing over which snack is the best for the road, or eli tuning ED-E to different frequencies to see what he can pick up. he can't see eli going to the bathroom what feels like every 5 minutes because of his wacked out digestive system. he can't hear eli cursing as he tries to take off his leg brace only for something to get stuck, and then him rustling around for his tools, not being able to find the right one, and then jamming whatever he can find in the joint to get it unstuck.

so he goes back to new vegas, and when he sees eli's smile when eli sees him, dirty and sweaty from working, he knows it's an easy choice to make.

(yes they eventually do h*ld h*nds. when is that? i don't know. when IS that. someone tell me please)

after that eli and boone stay in vegas for a bit to get everything as stable as possible, even though it's an uphill, impossible challenge, and then i think eventually eli's curiosity would get the better of them when he's a little older and he'd leave to find different things to prod and look at with boone at his side :^)

[isak-dot-gov]

Mic'd Up Pt.2

Pairing: Kelsey Plum x Reader

Word count: 1208

Part 1 - My Masterlist

.................................................

The next morning, you were jolted awake by your phone vibrating non-stop. Squinting at the screen, you saw a barrage of notifications—Twitter mentions, Instagram tags, and text messages from both friends and strangers alike. Dread mixed with curiosity as you opened your phone to see what all the fuss was about.

There it was: a notification from the Las Vegas Aces’ official YouTube channel.

“Kelsey's Biggest Fan: Mic’d Up!” the title read.

You bit your lip, heart racing as you clicked on the video. The screen lit up with the intro, and it didn’t take long before you saw yourself, front and centre. The video started with a slow-motion clip of you, wide-eyed and jumping out of your seat, shouting, “That’s my girl!” after Kelsey hit a three-pointer. A heart graphic floated above your head, and a cute caption popped up: “Biggest supporter in the house.”

As the video continued, it cut between clips of you and Kelsey’s jaw-dropping plays. Every reaction you’d had—cheering, fist-pumping, gasping at the refs’ bad calls—was captured in vivid detail. Your face flashed on the screen, excitement radiating, while the crowd erupted behind you. The editors had even added a dramatic slow-motion replay of you standing up and yelling, “Let’s go, Kelsey!” during a key moment in the game, complete with epic music in the background.

Your hands flew to your face, cringing at the full display of your emotions. The internet had seen it all. Your love for Kelsey. Your passion for the team. Your inability to sit still for more than five seconds when the Aces were on fire.

By the time the video ended, you were red-faced and laughing, even as the embarrassment settled in. The comments section was blowing up with fans reacting to your over-the-top enthusiasm:

“This is what love looks like!”

“Relationship goals AF.”

“Kelsey's girl is all of us when the Aces play!”

There were even memes already circulating. One showed you passionately screaming with the caption, “When you’re more hyped than the players themselves.” Another zoomed in on your face during a tense moment with the caption, “Me when the refs make a bad call.”

Your phone buzzed again, this time with a call from Kelsey. You braced yourself for the inevitable teasing.

“Hey, YouTube star!” Kelsey greeted, laughter bubbling in her voice. “Seen the video yet?”

You sighed dramatically, still blushing from the experience. “Yeah... I don’t know whether to be flattered or hide under a rock.”

Kelsey’s chuckle was warm, affectionate. “Oh, come on. It’s adorable. I think it’s safe to say the fans love you almost as much as I do.”

“‘Almost’?” you teased. “I think they might love me more after this.”

Kelsey laughed louder, her voice full of mischief. “Don’t push it. But seriously, the whole team’s seen it. A’ja’s been texting me non stop. She’s already planning ways to roast you at practice.”

You groaned, but you couldn’t help the smile forming. “Great. Just what I needed—A’ja Wilson making me the butt of every joke.”

“Oh, it���s not just A’ja,” Kelsey said, her tone almost too gleeful. “Chelsea’s already called dibs on the post-game interview next time, and Kate and Syd are coming up with new chants for you to yell. The whole team’s in on this.”

A notification popped up from A’ja’s Twitter: “Mic’d up AND famous? You’re a LEGEND now! #BringTheHype #CheerCaptain”

Before you could respond, Kelsey continued, “Anyway, we’ve got a team meeting later today. You might want to brace yourself.”

You hung up with a pit in your stomach, knowing full well you were about to walk into the lion’s den. Sure enough, when you arrived at the Aces’ training facility later that afternoon, the team was waiting for you.

The second you stepped into the locker room, A’ja’s booming voice greeted you. “Ayyy, here she is! The real MVP of last night’s game!”

The entire room erupted in laughter and cheers as the team gathered around you. A’ja threw her arm around your shoulders, pulling you into the centre of the locker room. “Y’all seen this video, right? Our girl was more hyped than the entire crowd combined!”

Jackie was right behind her, shaking her head with a grin. “Honestly, I don’t think we’ve ever had this much energy coming from the stands. We might need to mic her up every game.”

AC leaned casually against her locker, smirking. “I’ve been saying it since last night—she’s got more hype than the bench squad. We’re going to need her on the sidelines full-time.”

“Forget the mascot,” Megan added, laughing. “We’ve got our own hype woman.”

You could feel your face growing hotter by the second, but their teasing was good-natured, filled with warmth and camaraderie. The fact that the whole team had seen the video—and was getting this much joy from it—made it all the more embarrassing and heartwarming at the same time.

“Okay, okay, enough roasting,” Kelsey said, stepping forward with a playful smile. “I mean, I think we can all agree that having my personal cheerleader on blast last night helped us win, right?”

A chorus of agreement filled the room, and A’ja, never one to miss a moment, pointed at you dramatically. “You’re the reason we secured that dub! We need that energy every night.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, throwing your hands up. “Fine, I’ll accept the title of unofficial hype woman. But you better believe I’m charging for appearances.”

Chelsea winked at you. “First paycheck is going to be in popcorn and court-side seats.”

As the laughter died down, the team started gathering for their meeting, but A’ja wasn’t done just yet. “Yo, before we get serious, can we all agree that the next time she’s mic’d up, we get to pick the lines she has to yell?”

Jackie nodded, grinning. “Oh, for sure. I’m already writing down some good ones.”

Kelsey groaned, shaking her head but smiling. “I don’t know if I’m ready for this.”

After the meeting, Kelsey found you in the hallway, still laughing from the whirlwind of teasing. “You good?” she asked, sliding her arm around your waist.

“Yeah, I think I survived.” You leaned into her, feeling a wave of contentment settle over you. “Your teammates are ruthless, though.”

“Oh, trust me, I know,” she said, grinning. “But seriously, they love you. You’re part of the family now.”

As you walked toward the parking lot, your phone buzzed again, this time with a text from A’ja: “We need a full mic’d-up session next game. You down?”

You showed Kelsey the message, and she chuckled. “You gonna do it?”

You grinned. “You know what? I might just. But next time, I’m going even harder.”

Kelsey laughed, squeezing your hand. “Deal. Just don’t make me laugh too much while I’m trying to play.”

As you left the arena together, the warmth of being embraced by not just Kelsey but the whole Aces family stayed with you. Sure, you were the butt of some jokes now, but you wouldn’t trade that for anything. Being part of their world—even as the loud, slightly embarrassing cheerleader—felt like you belonged, and that meant more than anything. 

Plus, next game? You were definitely going to be the loudest fan in the building.

............................................................

[zegrasdrysdale]

More Jamie angst please 🙏🙏

[ last season ] j. drysdale

paring : Jamie Drysdale x fem!reader

summary : Jamie reaggravates his shoulder injury from last season two games into the 23-24 season. (Y/N) tries to be there for him but taking care of him isn't as easy as it was last time

warning(s) : angst (w a happy ending) ! injured Jamie

author’s note : y’all are just as bad as me w angst. you can’t blame me for this one if tears are shed. one of you asked for this and your wish is my command. also, yes ik that jamie technically has a lower body injury rn but a shoulder injury just works better with this plot

༺═──────────────═༻

(Y/N) has been to dozens of hockey games in her life, and watched thousands more. She's watched games where players return after an injury that kept them out long term. She has never personally known a player that has returned from long term injury. She's never watched someone she knows return to the ice after nearly a year away from the NHL.

Until now.

The lights in the Honda Center are dimmed and the starting lineup for the Ducks is being announced. Trevor's line is starting the game. He's centering Adam Henrique and Troy Terry. The defensemen who are starting are about to be announced. She gets her phone ready to go because she knows her boyfriend is on the starting defensive pair.

"Your starting defensemen for the Anaheim Ducks," the announcer says. "Number four. Cam Fowler." The crowd cheers and (Y/N) smiles as she brings her phone up to hit record. "Playing in his first game in the Honda Center in 354 days, number six. Jamie Drysdale."

Jamie skates onto the ice and (Y/N) cheers and screams along with the crowd. She bangs on the glass while Jamie raises his stick to acknowledge the crowd.

He has a look of disbelief on his face as he looks around and skates up next to Cam. She smiles and looks at her boyfriend. He looks at the crowd around him and takes it all in.

She takes Jamie in on the ice in his new plum colored uniform. She knows how far he's come since getting hurt last year.

They had just gotten together when Jamie got hurt against Vegas and she saw him at his lowest. She saw him the day he got cleared to play again. (Y/N) can't help but smile as the lights come on and the Ducks begin to skate around to get ready for the game. The other lines and defensive parings skate to the bench.

Trevor gets into the circle at center ice against one of the Hurricanes players to take the first faceoff of the game. Trevor wins it and gets the puck back to Jamie.

(Y/N) watches with focused eyes, especially when Jamie gets the puck on his stick.

The first goal of the game goes to Sam Carrick nearly seven minutes into the first period. The second goal of the game comes less than two minutes later from Frank Vatrano. He slapped the puck into the net after Jamie passed him the puck.

She probably screams the loudest out of everyone in the Honda Center when she realizes that Jamie is going to get a point for that primary assist.

The boys celly right in front of her so she bangs on the glass. Jamie looks up at her and fist pumps the glass. She brings her fist up to meet his before he skates away to go fist bump his teammates on the bench.

"Anaheim Ducks goal!" comes over the loud speaker a minute later. "His first of the season, scored by number 77 Frank Vatrano! Assisted by number 6 Jamie Drysdale and number 4 Cam Fowler."

Her celebration is short lived because she watches Jamie get tripped by a Carolina player less than a minute later right in front of her. She stands up and sees Jamie go shoulder first into the boards.

The same shoulder he got surgery on and spent the last year rehabbing.

A gasp passes her lips when she hears the thud of his body hitting the boards. A penalty is called on Carolina and Jamie stays down on the ice. A hush falls over Honda Center.

Trevor is quick to skate up to him and get down beside him. She bangs the glass and Trevor looks up at her. He taps his shoulder as the trainer gets over to him. Her eyes widen and she runs up the stairs as soon as Jamie skates off the ice with help from the trainer and Trevor.

The first thought she has is that he tore his surgically repaired shoulder when he collided with the boards. The sound of Jamie’s body hitting the boards replays in her mind and the more she thinks about it, the more nervous she gets.

She makes her way down to the medical area by the locker room. She pulls out her pass that Jamie got her last year that tells security who she is. She shows the guard her pass to get into the players only area. He lets her through and she sprints to medical.

The doctor is checking out Jamie’s shoulder when she bursts into the room. The bottom part of his uniform is on but his sweater, undershirt, and gear are off the upper part of his body. He looks like he’s in a lot of pain as the doctor evaluates him.

“Jamie,” she pants. He looks over at her and relaxes. “I got down here as soon as I could.” (Y/N) walks over to him and grabs his hand.

“I need to learn how to hit the boards with my back,” he jokes. The doctor lifts his arm and he hisses in pain. “So this stops happening.”

She frowns and opens her mouth to say something but the doctor starts speaking first. “Fortunately, I don’t think you tore your labrum again. I don’t think anything is torn. I think it is just a moderate sprain but I want to get imaging done this week to make sure,” he tells Jamie. “Can you come in on Monday?”

Jamie nods, quiet. “I guess I’m done for the night,” he eventually says.

“I’m sorry, Jamie,” the doctor replies. “I think you’re done for a few weeks. Recovery time for this injury is six to eight weeks, sometimes less with rehabilitation and rest. Given your past history with your shoulder, I think rest is the best option right now. Don’t push it until the four or six week mark. Wear a sling and don’t try to rehabilitate it on your own. We’ll talk about that in a few weeks.”

With another quiet nod, he gets off the table and grabs his jersey, t-shirt, and gear. He sulks out of the medical area.

She looks at the doctor and asks, “What can I do? He had a hard time with the last shoulder injury. How can I help him with this one?”

“Be there for him,” he replies. “Physically. Emotionally. This is going to be twice as hard. He’s going to blame himself and take out how he’s feeling on you. He won’t mean it but sometimes he’ll need to let out how he is feeling. Try your best and take care of yourself while you take care of him.”

With a curt nod, (Y/N) follows Jamie out the door. She finds him in the locker room putting on his arrival suit. He groans with pain every time he moves to pull on a piece of clothing. She walks up to him to help him and he sighs.

“Here I am again,” he says as (Y/N) helps him put his jacket back on. “Leaving in the middle of another game because I hurt my shoulder.”

She frowns and fixes his collar. “I’m sorry, baby,” she softly says. “Do you want to go get something to eat and bring it home? Do you want to go up to the suite to watch the rest of the game? Whatever you want.”

“I want to get back on the fucking ice,” he snaps. “But instead I’m leaving to go home and put my arm back in a stupid sling for four weeks.” Jamie grabs the first thing he can get his hands on — his helmet.

With his good arm, he chucks the helmet across the room. It hits a wall with a loud bang and falls to the ground. He strings a bunch of curses out in frustration as the helmet flies through the air. (Y/N) lets him get out how he’s feeling. If that means he throws around his equipment then he throws around his equipment. She isn’t going to stop him. She can’t even begin to imagine how he feels right now.

Jamie sits in his stall and (Y/N) crouches in front of him. Her hands run up and down his thighs. She sees tears in his eyes and frowns. “This isn’t how I wanted this season to go,” Jamie mumbles. “I didn’t want to be out for the first two months. I didn’t want to sit for a long period of time again. I don’t understand why I can’t stay healthy. It's so frustrating. I wanted this season to be different and it's almost exactly like last season."

"It's not like last season," she tells him. "You can do two months. Two months is nothing compared to last season. I promise." There's a horn on the ice and she realizes that the period is over. "Go talk to whoever you need to. I'll be out in the car waiting for you, okay?"

He nods and they both stand up. She gives his hand a quick squeeze before leaving the locker room. She probably isn't allowed to be in there to begin with so she shouldn't be here when the guys come in.

She doesn't run into anyone that's on the Ducks or works for them on the way to the car. She drove in with Jamie so he should know where it is whenever he's done talking to his coach and teammates.

Until then, she scrolls through her social media feed.

There are a lot of tweets on her timeline and in her notifications that are about Jamie. There are multiple clips of the trip and Jamie going into the boards. There are even more clips of Jamie getting up while holding his arm. There are even pictures of (Y/N) watching behind the glass. In all of them, she has a worried look on her face.

A lot of people are upset that Jamie got hurt because he just came back. There are a lot more that are wishing Jamie a speedy recovery.

Reports are already circulating that Jamie reinjured his shoulder. Not returning to the game and out six to eight weeks.

She decides to send out a little tweet since Jamie doesn't have Twitter.

y/n @/yourusername jamie's okay. a little banged up but he'll be back. gonna wrap him up in bubble wrap as soon as we get home, dpn't worry

As soon as she tweets it, her notifications begin to blow up.

The door opening beside her makes her jump a little. She looks over and watches Jamie get into the car. He slams the door shut and lets out a heavy sigh. "Are you-"

"Don't ask me if I'm okay," Jamie snaps. "Let's just go home."

With a nod, she starts the car and begins the ten minute drive from the Honda Center to their apartment. It's probably the quietest ride she's ever experienced.

༺═──────────────═༻

The Ducks aren't doing too bad this season. They're on five game winning streak, but it seems like the more the Ducks win, the more upset Jamie gets.

To hopefully make him feel better, (Y/N) takes him to the Honda Center nearly three weeks after he gets hurt to watch his friends and teammates play against the reigning Stanley Cup champs.

Hopefully they can make it a six game winning streak.

As soon as they pull into the parking lot, Jamie's mood sours. It's like he doesn't want to even be in the vicinity of the arena. He looks out the window at the building with a sigh. He has on a Ducks hoodie with a pair of jeans because it's actually kind of cold in California at the moment. His arm is in the sling. It's been there for three weeks.

"Hey," she says with a smile. "I think it'll be nice to see everyone. You haven't really been out since you got hurt so I think it'll be nice to see your friends and teammates. I'm sure Z misses having you around. Mason too."

Jamie just nods, sighs, and gets out of the car. She feels a surge of something that feels like annoyance as she follows him out of the car.

She's been trying her hardest to make things easier for him. She has been helping him with a lot, including beginning his rehab so he can get back on the ice. Clearly he misses playing so she went against the doctor's wishes and has started helping him rehab his shoulder.

And she's gotten nothing in return. All Jamie does is snap at her and tell her to go away when she's been trying to help him.

"You know, a little 'thank you for taking me out' wouldn't hurt," she says behind Jamie as he walks toward the back entrance.

"Thank you for dragging me out of the apartment against my will," he says in reply. "Really appreciate it."

(Y/N) stops walking and just stares at the back of Jamie. "I'm trying to help you, Jamie," she calls after him. "I know how hard it is for you to-"

Jamie whips around so quickly she's afraid that he gave himself whiplash. "No, (Y/N)," he snaps, interrupting her. He starts to walk back toward her. "You don't know how hard it is for me. You have no idea how it feels to be taken out of play again because you hurt your shoulder. You have no idea how it feels to sit back and watch your teammates win five fucking games without you. It's like they don't even need me and it shows. I'm supposed to be out there and instead, I'm stuck inside doing nothing but rehab and resting. Don't tell me you know how hard it is for me because you don't. You will never understand how hard it is for me."

Her eyes widen. She's never seen this side of him. Not even when he was hurt last season.

"I'm sorry," she softly says. Her voice cracks. "I'm just trying to help."

"No you're not," Jamie replies. "You wouldn't have dragged me here if you were." Those words stung. She felt them with her entire chest and it causes tears to well in her eyes.

"Jamie," she tries to say but he turns around and walks toward the arena.

"Go home, (Y/N). I'll get a ride back with Trevor or Mason."

She watches Jamie as he opens and door walks into the Honda Center. She's left standing in the middle of the parking lot with nothing but the tears that roll down her cheeks as soon as Jamie can't see her. She tries to blink and wipe away the tears but they don't seem to stop. She walks toward the car so she isn't crying in the middle of the parking lot.

This is nothing like last season. Not the injury, and not Jamie.

(Y/N) drives back to the apartment in complete silence. The tears haven't stopped rolling down her face. It might be dangerous to drive while crying but she doesn't care. She just wants to get home and lay in bed.

As soon as she's back in the apartment, she walks right to the room she shares with Jamie. She passes the small room that they turned into a gym. Jamie's equipment is in the room too. She stops and walks into the room. Her eyes are on the equipment that's thrown in the corner by the closet.

She walks over and picks up the helmet that has a dent in it from when Jamie threw it in the locker room the day he got hurt. She runs her thumb over the 6 on the front of the helmet and bites down on her lip to keep it from wobbling.

All she wants to do is watch Jamie play hockey. She wants to watch him zoom around the ice and do what he does best. She wants to watch him do what he loves. That's all. She hasn't been able to watch him play the sport he loves to play, and it breaks her heart.

With the helmet in her hand, she walks out of the gym and into their bedroom. She kicks off her sneakers and crawls on top of the covers. (Y/N) sits with her knees up and the helmet on her lap. Her fingers run over the number and tears begin to roll down her cheeks again. They continue to roll down her cheeks until she dozes off.

She didn't mean to fall asleep though.

It's nearly midnight when a door opens and wakes her up. She looks at the time and realizes that she missed the entire Ducks game. The bedroom door opens and Jamie stands in the doorway. The helmet has rolled onto the mattress beside her. The sight of Jamie angers her and causes her to chuck the helmet at him.

She's no longer upset with him. She's angry at him for the way he's been treating her.

"Jesus, (Y/N)," he gasps as he catches it with his free arm. "Why did you-"

"I've tried to be here for you," she interrupts. "The past three weeks, I've been nothing but your emotional punching bag and I'm tired of it. I've gotten nothing in return and I try to do something with you by taking you to the game, you tell me to go home. No, I will never understand how hard it is for you to be hurt and watch your friends win games without you, but you don't understand that I'm hurting too, Jamie. I want nothing more than to watch you play hockey. I have yet to watch you play a full game of hockey and that's all I want to do because I want to support you. If you don't think that I'm trying to help you get back on the ice then I'll stop because I'm so tired of being the person you take your feelings out on. Tell me to go and I'll go stay somewhere until you heal and are able to play again."

Jamie's eyes are on her the entire time she's talking. He holds the helmet she threw at him in his hand while she finishes what she has to say.

He looks down at the helmet in his hands when she's done. "I didn't know you felt that way," he says.

"I'm frustrated too," she tells him. "I don't have anyone I can go to like you do. You have me, you have an entire team. I don't have anyone because I only have you and I didn't want to burden you with how I'm feeling. I have no one to talk to because the one person i want to talk to has so much going on and I didn't want to make it worse."

She watches his face soften through the tears that have formed in her eyes for what feels like the hundredth time that night. He drops the helmet and walks over to her side of the bed.

Jamie sighs and puts a hand on her knee. "I haven't been very fair to you, have I?" he asks. She shakes her head in reply while she wipes away the tears that have started to roll down her cheeks again. "I'm sorry, baby. I didn't realize that this has been hard on you too. I didn't realize that I've been such an asshole to you. I'm just frustrated and I'm taking all of that out on you when you've been nothing but there for me. You don't deserve that."

"I don't like seeing you hurt," she cries. "I want you to get better. I want to watch you play so I can be the supportive hockey girlfriend I've wanted to be since day one. I love watching you on the ice and I want to watch you under the NHL lights."

He frowns and moves so he can envelope her in a hug. She buries her face into his good shoulder and lets out a couple sobs. Her tears wet his hoodie but she doesn't care right now. It'll dry.

Jamie wraps his free arm around her neck and holds her close. "I don't want you to go anywhere, (Y/N)," he whispers. "I need you here. I won't be able to get through this if you aren't here. I know I haven't been the best boyfriend recently and I'm so sorry. You'll never be a burden with how you feel. You can talk to me, okay?"

She backs away and wipes away her tears. Jamie swipes one away with his thumb. "Okay."

"I love you," Jamie tells her. "Even if I don't show it. I love you and I'm very happy you've stuck around despite me being an asshole to you."

"I stayed because I love you too," she replies. "I'll always love you."

He presses a soft kiss to her lips before resting his forehead against hers. "I can't wait for you to watch me kill it on the ice when I'm all healed."

"I'll be in the stands cheering for you the entire time."

༺═──────────────═༻

MASTERLIST

have a request ? check out the guidelines !

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part fourteen

authors note: this one is loaded, and there are some hints/tidbits spread throughout, but also.....please don't hate me. 😭

status: in progress // masterlist

warnings: fluff, language, suggestive themes, angst

song inspo: with me by destiny’s child

faceclaims

words: 12k

taglist: @pixiedust4000 @yolobloggers @southerngirl41 @msbigredmachine @wanderingreigns

Bianca: Hi. I know you asked for space, and I will respect that. I just want you to know I talked to dad. I made him be honest with me, and I know the truth now.  I completely understand if your decision is that you want nothing to do with me. But please know, I had no idea, and I would love the chance to be in your life. I am not our father.

Bianca: It may have started with him, but it can end with us.

Rereading the text for what must be the 18th time, you feel just as conflicted and confused as you were when you first received it a few days prior. It’s been a bit easy to ignore it, to let it sit unanswered as you focused on getting as much work done as you could before leaving for Vegas. 

Thankfully, as the game is on a Sunday, you, Callie, and Alexis got an early morning flight to Vegas where you were met by Joe at the airport. After Callie had her sweet meltdown at seeing Joe again, the three of ya’ll met up with the twins, Trin, Kaylah, Jon’s wife, and the rest of the kids at the hotel.

You were a little nervous about Callie meeting her other cousins, as you know kids don’t always get along right away. But all anxiety is melted away the minute Callie and Jon’s daughter, Ellie, bonded over a common love of Disney. It’s a wrap from there, so much so that Callie feels comfortable enough to be left with them while you and Joe leave to get your tattoos.

Your current location. 

“Let's play a game.”

Joe’s suggestion is greatly appreciated because it pulls you away from hyper-fixating on this text and just what to do with said text. However, it’s also questioned because what the hell kind of games do people play at ya’ll’s big ages?

“Joe, we are too damn old for games—but what is it?”

He laughs at your quick change of tune. He must know that inner competitiveness never really goes away, even if you haven’t been in that competition space in literal years. “I'm gonna show you a house, and all you have to say is either you like it or not. But, you can't ask any questions.”

“A house? Like an actual house?”

“Yes, baby. An actual house.”

His sarcastic tone doesn’t help. Asshole. “And I can’t ask you any questions about a literal house we’re thinking of buying?”

“Yup.” 

Pouting, you murmur, “This game sucks.”

“Okay, Callie.” He messes around on his phone, giving a couple touches before he hands you his phone.

You nearly drop the damn thing, mouth ajar in awe. “Joe, how much—”

“No questions, remember?”

Sucking your teeth, you continue to scroll, each photo evoking another level of wonder. The house is stunning and huge. A literal mansion with landscape and design that looks like it was ripped right out of a luxury HGTV special. Swiping through the photos, each allow you to see that the beauty is not only matched but in many ways exceeded on the inside. A massive kitchen with two ovens, spacious bedrooms, almost equally large bathrooms, movie theater room, a separate building in the humongous backyard that you could easily see Joe turning into a personal gym, and so much more.

You really focus on the outside photos, eyes softening. “She's always wanted a backyard….” It's so easy for you to imagine Callie running around freely, swinging on a swing, maybe even helping you tend to a garden you see more than enough room to plant.

You can see yourself in this house.

“I like it,” you finally answer. There's no need to lie to him, and you're pretty sure he could tell you love it based on your facial expressions alone. “Now can you tell me how much—”

“Nope.”

Sitting up, you shove on his shoulder. “Come on, that's not fair.”

“Mmmhmm.”

“Leati.” You can't remember the last time you called this man by his first name. Years, most likely. You used it sparingly, far and few in between, mostly reserved for moments like this when he was pissing you off. 

“You can complain all you want. I'm not telling you shit.” That only irks you more, and he’s indifferent to your obvious irritation, which pisses you off even more. If anything, he sounds almost amused at your frustration. “I'm gonna ask the realtor to arrange a tour. You can ask her then.”

Suspicious, you accuse, “your ass will probably tell her not to tell me or to lie.”

“Maybe.” 

It’s the fact that you know that’s something he would do too. “So my name wouldn’t be on the house? Is that what you’re saying?”

At that, he looks your way, clearly confused but mostly offended. “Of course, it would. Your name will be on everything. I just can’t give you too much information now because you’ll push back and say it’s too much.”

“So, it is expensive,” you conclude. He sighs, heavily. “Joe, we don’t need anything too extravagant or over the top. You know I’m not materialistic like that. I don’t want you feeling like you have to—”

“How many times do we have to have this conversation?” There’s a hint of irritation in his tone, but it’s not entirely unwarranted. Joe has told and showed you multiple times that there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you and Callie. It’s just you being…..well, you. “Anything I do for you, anything I do for Callie is because I want to. You should know by now that I’m a man who won’t do anything he doesn’t want to.”

Sitting on his words, you answer, “I know.” And you do, you’re just so damn slow in actually accepting this. “I’m sorry, I just—I’m stubborn. You know this.”

“Yeah, well get un-stubborn.” His hand on your thigh gives a teasing squeeze but before you can inquire about just what kind of alone time you two will have over this weekend, a man walks out, heavily tatted, dressed in semi traditional Samoan attire and wearing a friendly smile.

Joe stands up to greet the man, introducing him as Mike. It’s a name you’re familiar with as you recall eons ago when Joe would rave about his tattoo artist and the man’s insane talent. 

“This is my girlfriend, Y/N.” It’s both strange and welcomed hearing Joe introduce you as such, like it’s almost too good to be true, even if there’s not an ounce of reluctance in his voice.

“Nice to meet you,” you greet, accepting his handshake. “And for getting us in on short notice.”

He waves it off. “Joe’s always welcomed here anytime and as his girlfriend, so are you.”

It stands out to you just how many people speak so highly of Joe. You've always thought he was a genuinely nice guy, but hearing it co-signed by others definitely shows what a gem you’ve got. “Great design choice, by the way,” he compliments, directing his next question toward you. “Joe mentioned you were a bit nervous about the placement….”

“I think I’m good now,” you answer. Tattoo pain is temporary, but placement is forever. You especially don’t want to “settle” for something that has so much meaning. “Same placement as his, but he can go first.”

Mike laughs, clapping his hands together. “Sounds great. Let’s get started.” 

________

You’d completely forgotten how extremely frustrating it is to get ready to go clubbing, and understandably so given at your big age, that’s not really a thing. However, Alexis absolutely refused to accept your decline to go out with her and even convinced Trinity and Kaylah to tag along. 

The bitch even took it upon herself to bring an outfit for you, knowing you definitely didn’t pack for this kind of outing. 

And while the dress is definitely fire, it’s a pain to get on given the cutouts and need to clasp the chest part. Not to mention, your arm is still a bit sore from the tattoo. Granted, Callie’s excitement at seeing how both you and Joe got her name tatted on you was more than worth all the pain. 

This dress though….it’s not worth shit.

“Fuck.” This was so much easier two bra sizes ago, but between trying to hold them together and clasp the hook on the dress, you’re just about ready to call it a night before the night can even truly begin. Settling frustration aside, you grab the robe off the counter and slide it on as you stick your head out the door. “Babe?”

His deep voice replies seconds later. “Yeah?” 

“Can you come help me with something real quick?”

“Mommy,” Callie groans, and you can only imagine the scowl on her face. She loves spending time with her daddy. “We’re playing.”

Your lips curve into a smile, assuring her, “it’ll only take a second, baby.” 

Joe walks into the bathroom and shuts the door behind him. “What’s up?”

“I need you to clasp my dress for me,” you explain, removing the robe and holding your breast with your forearm. “I’m gonna hold them up, and I just need you to—what?”

His eyes slowly travel up and down your body, but his overall gaze reeks of confusion and a level of disapproval. “Where’s the rest of it?”

You’re not stupid, very much aware of what he’s asking. But, you’re also stubborn, a fact he’s well aware of given the fact that you talked about just that this morning. “The rest of what?”

His answer is simple. “Your outfit.”

Muscle twitching in your jaw, you attempt to divert the conversation. “Come on, everyone else is almost ready—“

“I’m serious.” 

Huffing, you slap on that sweet, teacher voice and bring your hands to his chest, allowing your breast to fall open and freely. It doesn’t miss you how his gaze moves downward and lingers. “Joe, I love you, but you met me post-college. Trust me, this is tame compared to what I used to wear clubbing. And we both know I’m gonna wear what I want, regardless, so I just need you to swallow that annoying ass male pride, which I know you will, because you love me enough to do so, and just strap my titties down for me, okay?” Leaning up to kiss his cheek, your finger moves in a figure eight down his body. “Besides, when I get back tonight, you get to rip this same dress off me, bend me over this very same counter right next to us, and make me watch as you fuck me, hard, from behind.”

Your sex drive has always been on the higher end, but it’s been even more intense in the past couple days, and while your last few intimate encounters with Joe have been more loving and sweet…..that’s not what you need right now. 

You need this man to fuck you in the way only he can. Choking, spanking, biting, a tad bit of degrading, hips bruised from how tight he holds you with backshots that have you speaking in a different language. The whole nine yards. 

Your words paint such a vivid picture that’s clearly too far out for his comfort as his hands move to your ass, squeezing roughly. “And what’s stopping me from doing just that right now?”

God has a cruel sense of humor because before you can even fix your mouth to respond, the very reason why makes her presence known. She knocks on the door with all the irritation in her little body. “Daddy, are you almost done?”

Eyes twinkling with mischief as you step back to hold your breast together, you remind him. “that is why not. You’re on daddy duty tonight.” Joe doesn’t say anything and instead finally hooks it for you. “Thank you.”

“At least pull it down in the back or something,” he grumbles and actually tries to pull down the back of the dress.

“Baby, I have an ass. It’s gon’ shift right back up as soon as I move.” Sure enough, one step is all it takes for it to roll up just a few centimeters below your ass. Unlocking and opening the door, you beam at Callie. “He’s all yours, baby girl.”

“You look so pretty, mommy!”

“Thank you, baby.” You lean down for a kiss on her cheek right as Alexis walks in. Callie goes to lead Joe back into the “living room” area as Alexis welcomes herself into the hotel room. You’re not even gonna bother asking how she got a key. Her dress, unlike your all black little piece, is sparkly, short, and strapless. It’s very much Alexis.

She gasps. “Girl, that dress is fitting and your boobs are sitting.” 

Winking and lifting your breasts, you laugh, complementing, “you look amazing.”

“Duh. I’m me.” She brushes her shoulders before peeping past you to say hi to Joe and Callie. “Hi, future brother-in-law and part time child.”

All you can hear is Callie asking Joe what a part time child is as Alexis grabs you by your wrist and starts dragging you toward the door. “Come on, Trin wants us to do a TikTok before we leave.”

Instantly, you’re scowling. “A TikTok? Girl, we are too old for that.”

“I swear, you act like you’re 75 sometimes,” she dismisses, walking you out the room and across the hall to the other room where Jimmy and Trin are staying. You’re still impressed how they all managed to get rooms not only on the same floor but literally all across each other.

Must be a rich people thing.

Walking into the room, you see Trin and Kaylah are dressed a bit more modestly then you and Alexis, not as much skin showing but still very much giving club vibes. 

Compliments are again exchanged among the four of you, but Kaylah is the first to say, “girl, I’m surprised Joe didn’t have nothing to say about your outfit.”

Chuckling, you inform, “he tried, but he knows I don’t play that. I’m a grown woman. Imma wear what I want. Besides, I know how to shut him up.” 

What’s implied doesn’t need to be explained but not according to Alexis who of course blurts out, “that’s right. Sitting on your man’s face will do it every time.”

“Please excuse her. She ran out of her Lithium.”

“Ehh, they tried that. Didn’t work for me.” It’s the fact that she’s probably dead serious too. “Okay, now which trend are we doing, Trin?”

Trinity's smile, like everything else about her, is bright and beautiful. “I was thinking the Wanna Be one by Meg and Glo.”

Instantly, you know Alexis is sold. “That is my damn song.” She then points to you. “This one needs to go last though, because when I tell you that thing moves like water. This bitch can twerk like Megan.”

One thing you’ve never been is a liar, so you can’t find it in you to call bullshit on Alexis exclamation. You’ve always been super flexible, courtesy of cheer, and twerking has always come a bit natural to you. But, it was really when you started hitting up the strip clubs in college and made acquaintances with the strippers that you learned all of the tricks. 

However, it’s also been years since you last stepped out on the town, and your joints start to hurt from just sitting too long, so the hype may be a little bit undeserved after all.

“That was also before I had a baby, Lex.”

Alexis brushes off your downplay. “She can even do the hand thing. You know, where you put your hand in between your ass cheeks while you still shaking? Iconic.”

Studying her closely, you realize why she’s so amped already. “You pre-gramed, didn’t you?”

She presses her lips together and then goes into denial. “I plead the fifth.” Laughing, she tugs on your arm. “Come onnnn.”

“Fine.” Caving to Alexis is typically the best outcome because the bitch is relentless when she wants something, especially when she’s already tipsy. 

However, Trinity seems just as excited as she directs the three of you to the bathroom where she already has the phone propped up and everything. 

It ends up being a fun time that reminds you so much of those days back in college where you and Lex and a few other girlfriends would spend a damn near hour taking the “perfect” photos for the “gram” and even longer to come up with a witty caption. You even show off a little bit of your twerking skills, nothing too crazy, much to Alexis chagrin. 

Arriving at the club and being escorted to the VIP section, courtesy of Alexis, the ladies order a round of drinks while you settle for a simple bottle, never glass, of water. After your whole fiasco during Christmas, you can’t see yourself sipping even a glass of wine for a while.

It’s a nice blast from the past but also suddenly a bit irritating with how noisy and boisterous everything is. The club is packed, and you’re grateful to be seated up and away from everyone else. While Alexis starts to get her buzz going, Trin partially surprises you by asking for your approval to upload one of the videos to TikTok and a photo to post on Instagram. It’s only partially surprising, because Trin has always been a real one. 

You agree and even helping her with a caption. 

Something bout’ that melanin ✨

Pulling out your own phone to check in on Joe and Callie, you’re surprised to see you have a bunch of IG notifications. This leads to you realizing that Alexis, at some point, posted a couple of photos she made you take on your profile. She even took it upon herself to come up with a caption that makes you both chuckle and shake your head. 

ya favorite athlete’s favorite athlete 😌

It’s not a huge deal to you, as you’d went ahead and made your Instagram private again a couple months prior. It’s a feature you toggle on and off, knowing that only the people you want knowing and seeing your page would even know how to find you. However, with Joe being back in your life and having a few posts with Callie’s face in them, you lean on the side of caution and just plan to keep it private from here on out.

It’s the comments though that really make you pause. 

@user1 omg y/n!!! That body been giving, sis! 

@user2 HA! Always was that girl. Still that girl. Miss you, cuz!

@Mariaaahhhh___92: This really how you wanna do this?

@BigLexPurr: Say it louder for the BITCH in the comments before me. I mean, in the back. 😃

@user3: If only I looked like that after having my baby lmao You look amazing, Y/N!

@RomanReigns Damn straight.

With all the swiftness and quickness, you block Mariah, not needing or wanting her and Alexis to get into a whole spat under your post. But Joe’s comment is definitely one that takes you for surprise, and you wrestle with whether or not you should acknowledge it but eventually decide to do so with a simple reply. 

@yourusername @RomanReigns 😘

You make a mental note to roast his ass for being in your IG comments like that but put your phone away when WAP comes on. Of course, it’s only appropriate that the four of you rap along to every iconic, spiritual lyric spit by Meg and Cardi. Alexis even influences you into doing a little twerk on her that she absolutely captures on Snapchat.

You don’t even need to ask her to know she’s gonna waste no time in sending that over to Joe. How she managed to get him to accept her add on Snapchat is something you’ll never understand. 

“I need some more drink, but I don’t want to get up,” Alexis whines, shooting you the puppy dog eyes.

“Gee, why don’t I—”

“Thank you, friend!”

Shaking your head, you make your way out of the VIP and through the crowd to the bar. Placing the order, you wait patiently, praying that what you know is bound to happen doesn’t happen. A waste of a prayer, because that unwanted happening appears in the form of a crooked smile, bad haircut, and height that can’t exceed 5’9.

He just leans back against the bar, as if waiting for you to, of all things, acknowledge him. That makes you laugh aloud. The fucking irony. 

You decide to take the lead and dead this thing before he can run whatever play he thinks will work on you. “No, I don't want or need you to pay for my drink, and I don't need anything put on your tab. I'm good.”

His smile doesn't deter. If anything, he looks even more intrigued. This was always the part you hated about clubbing. Men who can’t seem to conceive that you “playing hard to get” is actually and really just complete and utter disinterest.

“Oh, you more than good, ma.” His gaze resting on your chest much longer than what's appropriate is both irritating but expected. Men see titties and lose all sense of self-control, the little that some actually do possess, that is. “I'm just trying to see how good.”

You were over this conversation before it even started, hence your readiness to put an end to his fruitless hopes and your irritation.

“My man is 6’3, 287lbs and fights niggas for a living.” Tone both bored and casual as you list off basic facts, you ask, “He's home right now watching our 6 kids. Still wanna do this?”

It's the way his eyes go wide that makes it hard for you not to laugh. That should definitely do the trick. “Naw, I'm good. You fine, but you ain't that damn fine.”

“That's what I thought.” Taking the Martini from the bartender, you saunter your way back over to your section and hand it to Alexis.

“I take it homeboy was trying to take you home.”

Chuckling, you nod. “But, I handled it.”

“Oh, I'm sure you did.” She then turns to the group. “This one was always vicious when turning down bums at the club.”

“Cause sir, why are you talking to me with your uneven fade and height that starts with a 5?”

Trinity and Kay fall out laughing, but you’re dead serious. You’d been called arrogant a couple of times, but it never really affected you because you know you just have standards and refuse to settle.

And clearly…..it worked out.

“I really wish we could do this more often,” Kay suddenly shares, and it takes you a bit by surprise. There was a level of trepidation regarding meeting Josh’s wife. You know they’ve been together since they were in high school, which means there’s a good chance she knows Joe’s ex-wife. A chance they could be friends.

And if she’s anything unlike Mariah, she wouldn’t want to chop it up with the woman who slept with and had a whole baby for her friend’s husband. But so far, Kay has been nothing but kind, a bit on the quiet and reserved side. It’s an interesting dynamic considering Josh is anything but. 

“Do you live in Florida too?” Alexis suddenly asks, sipping her Martini. When Kay nods, Lex slaps you on the arm. “Well, this one will be moving there probably before the end of summer, so maybe ya’ll can link up more often.”

Intrigue paints both Trin and Kay’s faces, as the former asks, “seriously?”

“Yeah, umm, Joe and I were actually looking at a house earlier.” A thin layer of excitement re-emerges as you reflect on the photos you saw. You really do like that house, but it feels so much like a dream, like the expensive houses you look at and critique on Zillow knowing damn well you can’t afford them. 

And you can’t, but he probably can. 

You know he can, or he wouldn’t be showing you in the first place. 

“How do you really feel about moving?” Trin questions. “You still live in your hometown, right?”

“I do.” It’s a valid question, one you, if you’re being honest, sometimes go back and forth on. You know you want to move and ultimately will, but there are still some moments where you feel a bit unsure. It’s to be given, you’re sure, as change can be difficult. “There’s a lot of things I’ll miss, like being away from my mom, but….I want to be with Joe, and it’s what’s best for Callie.”

“She really is a sweet child. You did an amazing job with her.” 

Kay’s compliment warms your heart. “Thank you….that means a lot to me.” Callie is your pride and joy, so to hear others speak highly of her, of how you raised her thus far will always be the best kind of compliment. 

“You’re a teacher, so you’re off for the summer, right?” Trinity suddenly asks. Nodding, she continues, “you and Callie should go on the road with Joe this summer then. Maybe not the whole summer, but a portion. It’ll be fun. I’d love to have ya’ll, and you know he would too.” 

It’s a suggestion that you find yourself actually considering. Outside of PD, which can be done virtually with some prior arrangements, there really would be nothing stopping you from tagging along. Callie would be ecstatic, and something tells you Joe would too. 

Kay then shoots Trinity a look that you can’t quite decipher. “isn’t he….” 

As if awareness dawns, Trinity mutters, “oh, shit, I forgot.” 

Understandably curious, and always uncomfortable with being kept out of the communication loop, you inquire, “what?”

Trinity looks a bit nervous but then answers casually, “Oh nothing, I just forgot they’ve, uhh, gotten a little strict now about family coming on the road. Something about it being too distracting for the wrestlers.”

Alexis seems as skeptical as you are. There’s something they’re not saying. “Isn’t he literally like the face of the whole company? I feel like if he wants them there, then they’ll be there.” She has a fair point. “Look how he takes time off to come fly and see them.”

That actually brings on a question you’ve been wondering about for a while. Directed to Trinity, you ask, “do you know if he gets in trouble for that?” Trinity looks a bit unsure of how to respond, and you know immediately it’s because she’s trying to figure out how much to say. “The truth, please. I can handle it.” 

With a heavy sigh, she relents, “Jon mentioned Joe said something about them talking with him, but I get the sense Joe told them to fuck off. Professionally, of course.”

You’re not sure how to feel about this. The last thing you want is for Joe to risk all of his hard work for you. And you know it’s more for Callie than anything, which you get, but he still has contractual obligations he needs to fulfill.

“I can tell you this…..they can say what they want, but Joe doesn’t play about you and Callie, so he gon keep hopping on flights as much as he needs to.”

“He was really happy when he found out about Callie,” Kay adds in a soft tone with a kind voice. “I remember overhearing him talking with Josh, and he told him, “she’s the best thing to ever happen to me.”

Crying in the club definitely wasn’t on your agenda for this trip, but here you are, trying to blot your eyes with the back of your hand. “Ya’ll, I didn’t wear waterproof mascara. Don’t have me out here looking like a racoon scaring folks off.”

Alexis chimes, “Joe won’t mind. It’ll keep him from coming up in here beating some poor soul’s ass for trying to holler at you.”

Kaylah snorts. “She’s not too far off. All them fools are super protective and territorial.”

“I’m just trying to figure out when ya’ll are gonna stop being selfish and slide one of them my way. It’s obvious they fertile as hell, so there’s gotta be an eligible cousin or uncle or something.”

It’s the fact you know that Lex is dead serious. Thankfully, Travis Porter comes on and that’s enough to bring all of ya’ll back to your feet like you’re 21 all over again. And that’s the dominant and recurring theme of the entire night: dancing, laughing, talking, Alexis being unhinged. 

Wash, rinse, repeat.

The four of you end up returning to the hotel shortly before midnight, the perfect time as somehow, the guys got all of the kids down for bed and were just waiting to make sure you all returned safely. 

Sitting around one of the hotel rooms, you all just chop it up, sharing various stories, no one really tired enough to call it a night.

“See, that’s the thing that people don’t realize. Ain’t a whole lot of difference between Joe and Roman. Uce been had that dog in him.” Jon starts off, sitting up as he explains. Somehow the topic landed on when they were growing up and how Joe’s always had “parts” of Roman in him. “Like one time when we was kids, we was playing a basketball game and he showed up late talking about “aye, let me join.” We tell him, ‘sorry man, we already started.’ He takes the ball, chucks it over in the neighbor's yard, talking about “ain’t nobody playing now.”

There’s a chorus of laughter, but your jaw drops open as you look at Joe, an easy task as you’re perched on his lap. “Did you really do that?” It’s almost inconceivable to see this man do something like that, especially as a child. “Joe, that was mean as hell.”

It’s the fact that he doesn’t deny it and simply shrugs. “Should have let me join in.”

Covering your mouth and shaking your head, you go to scold him for being such an ass, regardless of how long ago it was. But, Alexis soon adds in her two cents, looking your way. “I don’t know why you looking shocked and disappointed, you weren’t much better when we were in college.” She then directs her attention to the group. “So, we were cheerleaders, and Abby Lee Miller over here was a total nightmare during competition season.”

Gasping, you sit up, Joe’s big arm locked around your waist to keep you on him. “I was not.”

She rolls her eyes and takes a drink before admitting, “girl, I love you, but you were a bitch when you were in competition mode.” This is the first time you’re hearing this, so of course, it takes you by surprise. You won’t deny that you could be a bit…..intense during the season, but as captain, there was a shit ton of responsibility on your shoulders. Someone had to take the lead. “There’s a reason we had a whole group chat without you called, ‘Deliver us from Y/N’.”

“You had what?” This is news to you. As far as you were concerned, you had a great relationship with your teammates. It’s why your head coach let you take charge so much, especially in your junior and senior years. “Because I was doing my job?”

Alexis continues, ignoring your questions which is both annoying and predictable. She loves to tell a good story. “She’s the reason I’m hoping and praying Usher doesn’t perform More. It was the song for our Nationals routine, and when I tell you she was on us like goddamn slaves. That routine was hard as fuck, and she ain’t care one bit. It was hella good, like she choreographed the shit out of it, but it was so technical and draining. Bitches in the corner vomiting during practice, and she like ‘get a bucket and keep it pushing.’”

All eyes land on you, waiting for a response, but it’s hard to retort the truth, so you settle on justification. “Okay, that was their fault. I told ya’ll not to eat an hour before.”

Alexis claps her hands as everyone else around laughs. “I rest my case.”

“No wonder ya’ll go together so well,” Josh mutters, taking a drink of his beer. Kaylah slaps his arm but doesn’t say anything in disagreement. 

“What I’m hearing is it’s gon be a two night A&E special. First night? Surviving Joe. Second night? Surviving Y/N.”

Jon’s delivery is really what sells it. You can’t even hold back your laughter. Leaning back into Joe’s chest, you lift up both hands to flip them off. “Ya’ll not gon’ keep talking about my man.” Partially joking, partially serious, it’s not missed upon you how Joe’s deep chuckle in your ear is followed by his fingers innocently moving against the outside of your thigh. 

“You and your man was clearly out here terrorizing people,” Trinity laughs with a shake of her head. “That’s so crazy too, because you don’t give off that energy, Y/N.”

“I’ve calmed down a lot since I had my daughter.” And it’s the truth. Along with age and an extreme respect for your field along with your professional reputation. “But yeah, college Y/N…..she was something else. A little bit of high school as well, but mostly college.”

Alexis makes a sound and then blurts out, “tell em’ about the time you bust that stripper in the head with a bottle, and she had to get 75 stitches.”

Understandably so, there’s a round of shocked expressions and questions following Alexis so casually dropping one of the wildest experiences you had in college. 

You hear Jon ask something about if you have a criminal record, but it’s really Joe giving you that ‘you gon explain?’ look that makes you cave. 

“Oh lord, I can’t believe I’m about to tell this story.” You turn to Joe, warning. “You’re not allowed to hold it against me either.”

“Let me hear it first, and I’ll let you know after.” You know he’s joking, but still, you hit him on his arm. He’s supposed to hold you down, no matter what. Aggravated assault and all.

“Okay, so were at the strip club—”

Jon can’t help himself, asking, “damn, you got down like that?” 

He has no idea.

“You gotta remember, we were cheerleaders, so we spent a lot of time with the football and basketball teams. And they asses was always there, so we would tag along cause why not? I always had a good time. The food was good as hell too. Anyway, I was dating a football player at the time—”

Alexis slaps Joe on the arm. “She’s always had a type.”

“Yeah, ‘ain’t shit’, clearly.” You grab Joe’s jaw, clarifying. “Except for you, baby.” He mutters his approval, and you continue, “so, I was dating this dude, and he was cheating on me, which was fine. I wasn’t really into him anyway. But, turns out the girl he was cheating with was one of the strippers there and a classmate. I don’t know how the stupid bitch didn’t realize who I was before that night, but whatever. I guess she caught feelings for him or something and saw me as the problem? Mind you, I was dating him before he even started fucking her, but she called herself trying to step to me. And she was talking shit, which I didn’t necessarily care about because one thing I’ve never and will never do is fight over a man. Any fight I ever got into was because they said something about my mama or someone else I love.”

“How many fights you done—” Trinity elbows Jon who grunts and then mutters for you to keep going.

Chuckling, you do so, “so she calls me a bitch….okay, but then calls my mom a bitch, and at that point, I’m seeing red. Cause now my food is cold, I was about to get a lap dance that’s not gon’ happen cause now I gotta beat her ass, and all over some wack ass dick. But now she done bought my mama into it….absolutely not.” A beat. “I didn’t hit her first, because I never hit first, but I did say some slick shit that I knew would provoke her.” You decide to leave out exactly what you said given how graphic it was. “And she hit me, but then this other bitch joins in—”

“And that’s when I get involved,” Alexis chimes, raising her drink high and proud. “Because what you not gon do is jump my motherfucking best friend in front of me.”

Laughing, you continue, “so Alexis crazy ass is beating her friend, I’m on this girl, but then she calls herself trying to stab me with the heel of her shoe or something cause obviously I’m winning—”

“This some WorldStarHipHip shit if I ain’t ever heard—” Trinity hits Jon for his interruption and motions for you to continue going, clearly and deeply invested in the retelling of this wild ass night.

“I’m mixing on this bitch, cause one thing about me, I know how to fight. I just choose not to do it.” And it’s true. Fighting is a last resort, always has been for you, but make no mistake, you know how to throw down. “Anyway, I snatch the shoe out of her hand, grab this bottle of Hennesy I see near me and smash it over her head.”

“And it was lights out.” Alexis says dramatically. “That bitch was laid out like a crime scene. Patrick Star headass.”

Wiping the tears from your eyes from your laughter, you continue, “so someone calls the cops. They show up, and I’m starting to get nervous thinking she’s gonna press charges, because I bust her head open. She had to get stitches and everything. But I had made friends with the owner of the club—-that’s a whole other story—and basically, he refused to provide her with any video footage, made sure no one said anything about what happened, was friends with the cops, and they just chalked it up to a bunch of drunk girls being stupid. And I got off.” Clapping your hand to signify the end, you rest back against Joe. “The end.”

There’s a slightly understandable moment of silence before Kaylah calmly asks, “How drunk were you?”

That’s an easy answer. “Oh, I wasn’t drunk.”

“So….you did all that sober?” Trinity asks, like she needs to just make sure she’s following correctly. 

“Yup.” You pop the ‘p’ and look over at Joe who’s all of the emotions, primarily, amused, surprised, and strangely turned on. “Wild times.”

Jon is the first to speak after that. “Man, I always knew I liked you, Y/N. Your ass a little crazy, but I fucks with it.” 

Laughing, you explain. “You gotta keep in mind, I was like 19 at the time. I was young and definitely dumb in a lot of ways. I’ll be 32 this year and have grown a lot. I have zero desire to put my hands on anyone. I have a child and a career. I may be tempted, but I’m not going to actually do it.  I have too much to lose”

“And that’s why she has me.” Alexis lifts her drink. “I don’t have much to lose cause I’m rich enough to get off. Plus, she’s all boring now. You see how early we’re back. Back in the day, we’d club hop until like 4 in the morning. At least up until Junior year,” she gestures to you with her outstretched thumb. “That’s when this heifer had to get all studious on me.” 

“4.0, Summa Cum Laude.” You make a little pose and laugh. “I just got my shit together, and clearly….” you lean back to look at Joe. “ —it paid off.”

—----------

Obviously, you’ve never attended a professional football game, let alone the fucking Super Bowl, but even knowing that, you’re partially surprised by just how many damn people are there. It’s absolutely jam packed, and you’re suddenly grateful for the security detail that escorts the group of you to your seating area.

Joe holds Callie and keeps your hand in his which impacts you in a strange way that you can’t explain. This whole trip has been him being unabashedly open about you and Callie, and you’re starting to think that’s the part that’s still a bit difficult.

For three years, you felt like some secret he kept hidden and stored away, so to be so “displayed” so publicly is such a stark contrast you’re still trying to sit with. It’s not a bad adjustment, just an adjustment nonetheless. 

The section rented for the group is surprisingly spacious enough for everyone, and you and Kaylah immediately go delegating, having the kids all in the back rows with the men front and center to see the game they’ve been praying for all year. You knew Joe was a huge 49ers fan, hence your not being entirely surprised when you found a box at your apartment door with a bunch of 49ers apparel for you and Callie to pick from for the game. He also, in true Joe fashion, sent you both sneakers with the 49ers team colors of black, red, and gold. 

And one look at Callie as she interacts with her cousins, you can’t deny how adorable she looks, especially as they’re also sporting the apparel because of course his whole family are also fans. Granted, you can’t deny how adorable she looks all decked out like her daddy. You took a more subtle approach, agreeing to the letterman jacket and sneakers, combining them with the 49ers long sleeved crop top and stretch black pants.

There’s a lot of getting everyone settled and you warning Alexis not to make a damn fool of herself, which apparently she’s also dead set on. Something about needing to be ready to be either a consolation or celebration prize for whatever player she was going home with tonight. 

When the game starts though, it’s absolutely fascinating watching how intently focused the men are, not wanting to miss a single second. You’re suddenly really grateful you’d briefly spoke with Callie about how this game was very important to Joe, so his attention may not be on her as much as she wants but that’s okay because he’s just a little busy. She responded well, and you can see how helpful it is for her to be around not only other kids but her cousins.

The ease of their connection and ability to play together is something you’re so grateful for, so happy to see. It definitely makes you even more excited about moving, about her being closer to family. 

That thought reminds you to ask Joe when he wants to talk to Callie about that, about moving. It feels like something the two of you should do together. 

Ironically, you’ve never really been a huge football person, so your interest in the game and who wins is pretty slim to none. You’re there for a good time and, most importantly, Usher’s performance. Kaylah seems to be on a similar wavelength, so while the rest are deeply invested in arguably the most important game of the year, you two engage in casual dialogue. 

She gives you some much appreciated tips on the area, specifically regarding school systems and other resources for Callie. She mentions a dance school her daughter also attends classes at, and that immediately catches your attention cause Callie has given some indications she wants to do ballet. And while you have your reservations, it’s mostly been because of financial reasons.

Not that daddy warbucks over there won’t handle that for you. 

There’s also a lot of photos and videos that get taken to commemorate this moment. Most of which are headed by life of the party, Alexis. You’re grateful though, happy to have her here. She even catches your attention when Callie maneuvers her way over to Joe, tugging on his pants leg for him to pick her up. You start to bring her back by you, but you end up watching Joe pull her up, kissing her cheek as he patiently tries to explain the game to her.

It brings a warm smile on your face, and you use your phone to snap a photo of them. It’s from behind, but the lighting, the way Joe is pointing and Callie following his line of vision, there’s something about it so wholesome and moving.

You set it as your lock screen. 

By the time halftime rolls around, the men are all in great moods given their team is so far dominating. However, you and the rest of the ladies present are in a great mood for entirely different reasons. 

The minute you hear the opening chords of Caught Up, you’re in a completely different world, similar to the happy space of attending concerts in your teens and college days. Alexis is definitely your number one hype woman, but really, Trin and Kaylah are just as lit. The guys are definitely enjoying the show as well, but Usher has been that man for you, so he’s your only focus. 

It only gets exponentially better, and the minute he starts to perform Yeah joined by both Lil John and Ludacris, you and Alexis are shouting out every single damn word of Luda’s iconic verse. 

It’s definitely a moment you’ll absolutely never forget.

Unfortunately, the halftime show seems to be a bit of a climax as the third quarter progresses, and the tide seems to start turning in favor of the Chiefs. Similarly, it’s not missed upon you how the younger kids seem to be slowing down. Callie is definitely ready for bed and understandably so. It’s been a long day and is way past her bedtime. After a brief discussion with Joe and Josh, it’s decided that you and Kaylah will take the younger kids back to the hotel, especially since you both have very little interest in how the game plays out but respect the guys needing to stay. 

And Alexis wild ass most definitely stays behind for….obvious reasons.

Joe, of course, doesn’t let you and Callie leave without a hug, kiss, and telling you both he loves you. A tradition of sorts now, definitely one you’ll never get tired of.

Security escorts the smaller group of you to your vehicles, and by the time you’ve reached the hotel, the younger kids are tapped out. You manage to get Callie out of her clothes, into her jammies, and bonnet on her head before she passes out in her bed. 

Kaylah has a similar experience with her kids, the two of you plopping down on the sofa together. 

“I hope they pull the win. I don’t know if you’ve ever been around Joe when the 49ers lose, but he’s not pleasant. None of them are.”

“I get it,” you chuckle. “I’d be pissed if I paid all that money to see my team lose too.”

“At least we had our good time seeing Usher’s fine ass.”

Laughing, you slap hands with her. “I know that���s right!”

As the laughter dies down, Kaylah gives you an earnest smile. “I hope I’m not being too forward, but I really am glad you came on this trip. I’ve heard both the twins and especially Joe speak so highly of you, and they definitely weren’t wrong. More importantly, I think you’re really good for Joe. I haven’t seen him as happy as he is with you and Callie since we were in high school, really.”

“Can I be honest with you about something?” Her kind words make you feel comfortable enough to be forthcoming with her. “I was a bit nervous you wouldn’t like me.”

Her eyes widen. “Me? Why?”

“I guess…..I worried you would feel a sense of loyalty to Joe’s ex-wife, and given how we got together…..

She nods. “I can understand that, but…if I’m being honest with you, I’ve probably had more meaningful interactions with you in these two days than I did in all of the time they were together. Don’t get me wrong, Jadah was super nice and chill, but she never really interacted with us like that. She mostly kept to herself.”

“What was the deal with their marriage?” It feels a bit off asking her, but given she’s known them for so long, she of all people would be the person to ask. “I know….I know he told me they only got married because she was pregnant and that….that she miscarried.”

It’s when you say that she gives you a strange look. “Y/N…..they didn’t have a miscarriage.” Before the shock fully wears off and you can ask her what happened then, she explains in an understandably sad tone. “It was….it was a stillbirth. She was 8 months pregnant.”

Your stomach…drops. That….that’s not what you expected to leave her mouth. Not at all.

Thinking back to that brief conversation with Joe, he never really specified what happened. Just made sure you knew Callie didn’t have a sibling. You’d just assumed a miscarriage is what happened. 

But a stillbirth….your brain can’t even begin to comprehend the heartbreak they must have experienced. To be in a headspace that you’re welcoming your first child for the better part of a year only to have it so cruelly ripped away in such a horrific manner….it’s devastating.

“I didn’t….”

“He didn’t tell you?” You shake your head, and she offers a sad smile. “I’m not surprised. Joe seems very open with you and obviously trusts you a lot, but that….I know that messed him up real bad.” 

Just like finding out he’d missed out on almost five years of Callie’s life. You’re starting to understand more and more why he came at you so hard initially, it was more than warranted but most likely pulling from his prior trauma as well. 

Kaylah continues, explaining gently, “I don’t know…I don’t know if it’s a good idea to push him too much on discussing it, YN. He’s never even really talked about it to the twins, and they tell each other everything. I’m sure he’s never fully processed it. Then again, I don’t know how you can ever process something like that.”

Hearing this has suddenly entirely soured your mood, and you have no ill feelings toward Kaylah. Just the opposite. You’re grateful she felt comfortable enough to be honest with you. You just wish the truth didn’t have you with this dull ache in your chest.

—----------

The 49ers loss hits you harder for reasons completely different than actual fans. It makes you sad for Joe, a sentiment you were already struggling with, to be honest.

Anticipating he’ll be looking for some sort of distraction, especially with Callie knocked out for the night, you try to get your shower finished before he makes it back to the hotel. It’s a wasted effort, because not only does he make it back before then, but he scares the hell out of you when his hulking frame joins you from behind under the steaming hot water. 

But before a single word can leave your mouth, his lips are on you, and you know instantly that he plans to take his emotions out on you in the only way that’s most appropriate. 

Fucking.

Joe fucks you against the shower wall, on the bathroom counter, in the exact way you promised him the night before but couldn’t follow through on because you were tired. He’s rough, rougher than you’ve had him in a while, and while it’s exactly what you wanted, it also saddens you that you know he’s disappointed. 

It’s just a game, yes, but there’s something about a loss at this level that makes it hit deeper. It also doesn’t help that you were already feeling a tremendous amount of empathy toward him after finding out about his loss. 

Body completely used and thoroughly fucked, the end of your sexscapade finds you both, naked and worn out. Your body is draped upon his as his finger moves around lazily across your back.

It’s a comfortable silence when he asks, “was I too rough with you?”

Lifting your head, you give him the strangest look. How long has it been since ya’ll really fucked? He’s clearly forgotten how you get down. “Did you seriously just ask me that? This is me, Joe..” Laying your head back on his chest, you remind him of your only rules in the bedroom. “Unless I’m bleeding or passed out, never too rough.”

Laughing, he flicks your arm as you kiss his shoulder. Changing gears a bit, his expression softens. “Thank you for coming, for bringing her.” 

“You never have to thank me for that.” You remind, because it’s the truth. You’d escort Callie to Siberia if that’s where he was. “But we do need to figure out when we’re gonna talk to her about moving.”

He seems to also remember this is a thing, asking, “how do you think she’ll feel?”

You have to take a second to think about his question. It’s something you’ve definitely considered. Callie has only known your town. That’s her home. What would it be like to uproot her? You finally settle on the best, honest answer you can muster. “I think she’ll be a little sad to leave her preschool friends, definitely my mom but what she wants more than anything is to be a family, so she’ll be happy.”

“Does she know we’re together?”

“I—I don’t know actually.” It’s not really something you’ve thought about until this very moment, just kinda assumed that it was a given. “Well, shit, maybe we should tell her that too.” 

He chuckles. “I’m sure she’s probably put two and two together.”

“Probably so.” Callie is definitely one smart cookie, and it wouldn’t be too far fetched to assume she’s realized you and Joe are dating. “Oh, and going back to moving, it’s Florida. Disney is in Florida. That’ll definitely be a selling point for her.”

Joe’s hand moves up and down your side, soothingly. “We’re going the week of her birthday, by the way.” 

Peeking up at him, you double check what’s really obvious but also still so surreal. “To Disney?”

“Yeah.” 

“They let you off for a whole week?” That’s a stunner, for certain. “Coming off a Wrestlemania win? Damn, just how heavy is your pull now?” 

“What?” He seems confused by your question, like he doesn’t understand what you’re saying. And that’s puzzling to you because there’s nothing confusing about what you’re asking. You know enough about WWE to know how this works. He’s gonna retain at WrestleMania and be subsequently thrust deep in promos and segments. “Oh yeah….I’ve got it handled.”

Waiting for more is a waste of time with this man. He can be so coy sometimes. “You’re not gonna tell me anything more, are you?”

“Nope.” 

“Ass.” His elusive behavior is becoming both familiar and given but still annoying nonetheless. Regardless, you take your turn, switching topics a bit. “Have I told you how proud of you I am? Cause I am. So so proud of you, Joe. I always knew you could do it.” You lift up, biting down on your bottom lip as you push some of his hair back. “You’re gonna hold the record for most main events at Wrestlemania. Beating Hulk’s record. Thee fucking Hulk Hogan. And once you whoop Ken doll’s ass, you’re gonna have the third longest title reign in WWE history. Do you know how amazing that is?”

His hand is on your hip, making soft circles. “It’s not everything….”

Scoffing, you dismiss his dismissal. That is quite literally everything he ever told you he wanted. “The hell it isn’t. I remember every conversation we ever had about this, Leati. Your worries. Your hopes. Your dreams. This is what you’ve always wanted and worked your whole life for.” He’d always been so open and vulnerable about where he ultimately wanted his career to go, the burning desire he had to make it happen, and to see him do just that means the world to you. It should mean the world to him.

But there’s something off about his tone, and you can’t quite make out if it’s because he’s still reeling from the loss or something else. It almost feels like everything you’re saying is going in one ear and out the other because it no longer means that much to him. You know that can’t be the case. Not with how long he’s been grinding and working his ass off. 

His tone and expression are both appreciative as he shares, “I don’t think you’ll ever understand how much your support meant to me. You always knew the right thing to say.”

You lean down to kiss him, nice and slow. “I’m just really good at that shit.” Biting down on your bottom lip, you slowly start to snake your hand down his chest. “I’m really good at a lot of shit actually.” Whatever is bothering him, you know one way to help.

A really really good way.

Chuckling, his jaw clenches when you try to wrap your hand around him, fingers unable to connect from his width. He’s already hard for you. “You lock the door?”

You’ve never been so grateful for hotel rooms with bedroom doors that lock.

“Of course.” There’s no time wasted in moving so that you’re on top of him, reaching to align him just right so you can sink down on your favorite pastime. 

“My turn….”

—----------

Someone knocking on your door, loudly, at 11am, just hours after you land back in town wasn’t on your agenda for the day.

You, Callie, and Alexis caught an early morning flight that was difficult for everyone giving how crazy busy the weekend was, but especially for Callie who was already sad at having to say bye to her dad again and was still tired from lack of adequate sleep. 

You’re especially happy you chose to take today off and keep Callie home from preschool. You definitely need time to recover.

But life has a way of lifing. You’re immediately annoyed, looking beside you to see that Alexis is also stirring in her sleep, mumbling something about ‘fuck off.’ Sighing loudly, you stare at the ceiling, almost ready to leave whoever it is outside. But then they knock again, and you know this isn’t someone you can avoid. 

Even if you’re very tempted. Reaching for a robe, you pull it on and tie it around your wait, sliding your slippers on to make your way to the front door. Not even bothering to look through the peephole, you rip it open, ready to curse someone out when you see who it is.

Alyssa’s striking blue eyes are the first thing you noticed followed by the shine of the police badge attached to Officer Austin’s uniform. 

Why the hell is a police officer and one of the town’s social worker at your door?

“Hi….” You have to clear your voice, sleep weighing it down with coarse grit. “Is…is everything alright?” Panic briefly sets in. “Is it one of my students?”

This is the part of being a teacher that guts you, when a child is being harmed or at risk of being harmed and you have to make a call that does both a lot of good and a lot of bad. Alyssa has been the social worker you’ve worked with the most, but this is definitely the first time she’s come to your house about a case.

“Y/N…..” Her expression is grim, and you realize quickly that whatever it is is not good. Not good at all. “We received a report against you.”

“A report?” Your hand is gripping the door so tightly, you’re certain splinters are going to embed themselves into the pads of your fingers. But it’s a much better feeling than what’s starting to grow in the pit of your stomach. “What—what kind of report?”

There’s hesitation, and you understand why when she clarifies. “An immediate danger report.” 

“No.” Your stomach drops. “Alyssa, you can’t—-you can’t be serious.”

Your head is absolutely spinning. This…this can’t be right. A social worker and police officer cannot be standing at your door saying that someone called DCFS on you and made a report that not only is Callie in danger, but she’s in immediate danger. 

You’ve had the unfortunate experience of being the one to make reports, working plenty with Alyssa and the local police to navigate these cases. And it’s in that experience you’ve learned the definition of an immediate danger report and what it requires.

The immediate removal of a child from the accused home and custody.

They want to take Callie from you. 

Officer Austin speaks in an equally sympathetic tone. “Trust me, Y/N. I’ve known you since you were a little girl, and this makes me sick to my stomach. I hate it. I know it’s all lies and a waste of time and resources, but you know the law. We have to—“

However, you’re focused on Alyssa as you know the police are only brought along in case the situation becomes hostile. You have no desire to get physical with law enforcement, but you will get down on your hands and knees if that’s what it takes to keep your baby with you. “Please don’t do this. Alyssa, you know me—“

“I do, and that’s why I arranged where she’ll be released to your mom for custody and I got a hearing scheduled with the judge for you on Wednesday. It’ll only be three days—” If it wasn’t for the pending mental breakdown, you’d be more appreciative. You’d much rather Callie be sent to stay with your mom instead of put in emergency foster care.

You’re not sure if you’d be able to live with that. 

“Oh my god…..” You feel like you’re going to pass out, suddenly aware of Alexis' presence as she too asks more questions about what’s going on and who made this report. She’s, understandably, pissed. But, her last question is a no brainer. 

There’s only one person you know who would have a motive to do something like this.

“Three days without speaking or seeing my child! You know how attached she is to me, Alyssa!” It’s also in your experience with these types of situations that you know zero communication is allowed between the child and parent being accused until the emergency court hearing takes place. 

Three days without being able to speak to Callie….pain like this should never be allowed to be experienced. It’s a nightmare turned into reality. 

She truly looks remorseful, and you know she finds this just as ridiculous as you. “My hands are tied Y/N.”

Voice low, you finally ask, “what are the accusations?” If an answer was given to Alexis, you didn’t hear it, and regardless. You need to ask for yourself.

“Y/N.”

You repeat, no room for argument or refusal in your tone. “What…are the accusations, Alyssa?”

She swallows, answering in a low tone. “Child endangerment. Specifically….you’ve been accused of leaving Callie unintended to meet men for sex, and the accusation that made it immediate danger….is that you plan to prostitute Callie.”

It takes everything in you not to projectile vomit right on the spot, as you move your hand to your stomach, bent over. There aren’t enough words to describe your disgust and revulsion. 

Alyssa starts to provide more basic information regarding getting Callie back, but it's a waste of time.

You know this. You’re more than well aware of how this process works. Just never in a million years did you think you’d be involved in one of your own.

Absolutely defeated and crushed, you ask, “let me talk to her first, please.”

“Of course.” 

Alexis stays behind to follow up with additional questions that you’re partially paying attention to, but the majority of your focus is on staying upright. You could throw up and pass out on cue at this very moment. That’s how overwhelmed you feel, but the second your shaking hand opens Callie’s door, it’s an even bigger battle.

She’s still sleeping. 

Your sweet, innocent child is still sleeping, probably trying to recover from all the festivities from this weekend. And you have to wake her up. You have to wake her up to undoubtedly break her heart.

“Oh God…..” Hand on your stomach, you take three, big, deep breaths to settle your nervous system. Callie can’t see how much of a wreck you are. That’s only going to make it worse.

Sitting on the side of her bed, you clench and unclench your hands to minimize the shaking before gently pushing on her shoulder. “Calista, baby, I need you to get up.” It takes a couple of times, as you knew it would because you know your child like the back of your hand. The child who you would never do anything to endanger or any of the other egregious accusations made against you resulting in this nightmare.

Eyes blinking open, you chuckle at the pout on her face.

“I’m sleepy, mommy….”

“I know, baby.” You clear your throat, playing off the way emotion catches you, almost exposing the seriousness of this moment. “But…mommy needs you to get up. You….you’ve gotta go by grandma, okay?”

She looks at you, still with that pout and very much still partially sleep. “Can we go later?”

“No, baby. I—” This is inarguably one of the hardest things you’ve ever had to do. “I can’t go with you.”

And this is when you see her pout deepen. “Why?”

“Callie….” Hand on her face, you try to ignore the sound of your heart shattering. “You’re not gonna see mommy or be able to talk to me for a couple days, baby.”

And you knew, you knew before even opening your mouth that her eyes would begin to water that telling her this harsh but necessary truth would cause the reaction you’re starting to see. Her face is reddening, mouth dropped into a permanent frown.

It tears you apart to do this to her. “Baby, please don’t cry. It’s only for three days and—and you’ll have grandma, and—and auntie Alexis will visit you, and I’ll make sure daddy talks to you as often as he can—”

“But what about you? You’re my mommy.” She rubs at her eyes, crying harder. “Why are you leaving me?”

Pulling her into your chest, you swear to her, “listen to me, Callie, I will never ever leave you. Okay? The…the people who make sure little kids like you are safe and taken care of just want to make sure I’m a good mommy to you, o-okay?”

“But you’re the best mommy,” she cries into you, and a sob leaves your throat at that. Callie’s heartfelt tears, the fear and confusion in her little voice. It rips your heart to shreds. You hold her as long as you can before helping her get dressed and

gather a little backpack with a few items. 

You know she already has mostly everything she’ll need at your mom’s already.

Everything except you. 

Alyssa allows you to hold her as you walk down to the police car, but it’s when Officer Austin opens the door and Callie begins to cry, asking him, “please don’t take me from my mommy!” that you break again.

It’s impossible to keep your composure with your four-year-old child begging not to be taken from you. Pulling it together, you kiss her cheek and whisper in her ear, reminding her that you love her, and that you’ll see her again before she knows it. It’s the best you can do, it’s the only thing you can do. 

Setting her down on the ground, you crouch in front of her, placing both hands on her cheeks. “Ms. Alyssa and this nice officer are gonna bring you to grandma right now, okay? I promise I’m gonna get you as soon as I can, baby, and no one will ever take you away from me again, okay?” 

She doesn’t say anything, face still full of heartbreak. She hugs you again, holding on tight. “I love you, mommy.”

Voice cracking, you whisper, “I love you too, baby.”

Eventually finding the strength, you break away and stand up to see Alyssa wiping a tear from her eyes. She then forces a sad smile and takes Callie’s hand, leading her into the back of the police car. Even being buckled in, you see Callie continuing to look back at you, sadness morphing with helplessness. 

And that’s the last view you’ll have of your daughter, looking hopeless and confused as to why this is happening. 

But you know exactly why this is happening. 

And you know exactly what you need to do.

“Y/N…..” 

Alexis watery eyes are a brief view you have before dashing up the stairs and throwing open your apartment door. Shaking hands manage to grab you car keys off the kitchen island as you head back for the front door only to find that you can’t march out because Alexis is standing in front of the door. 

“Move out my way, Alexis.” 

“Y/N. You’re upset. Okay—”

Snapping, you shout at her. “Move! Now!”

She doesn’t hesitate to match your energy. “Not until you fucking calm down!”

Snapping, you scream. “She just got my child taken away from me, Alexis! Don’t tell me to calm down! I’m gonna smash her fucking face in!”

Never…..never in a million years did you think Mariah could be capable of something like this. That she could be evil as to call DCFS on you, make up lies so horrific that it sickens you to even think about them, and have your child ripped away from you. Damn what this has done to you. What about Callie? Was she even thinking about how traumatic this would be for Callie?

She’ll be thinking about it when you stomp her head into the fucking pavement.

“Hey! You have every right to be upset, okay? But, this is probably what she wants! She knows they’re not gonna find anything on you, but you go over there and beat her ass, it puts the spotlight on you and then gives them a basis to question your fitness.” Alexis is such a sound voice of reason right now, but it’s hard to heed when your literal heart has just been ripped from your fucking body. “You need to focus on doing what you need to do to get Callie back, okay? Call Joe—”

Joe.

You hadn’t….you hadn’t even thought about him. How can you explain this to him? Explain to him that your child, the child he just found out about not even six months ago is now technically in custody of DCFS because of your friend. Is that even forgivable? Beyond that, how crushing is that going to be for him?

Eyes watering, you shake your head, volume a few octaves lowered. You feel like you’re about to have a panic attack. “No, I can’t—-I can’t tell him.”

Alexis steps to you, placing her hands on your face, centering you. “Yes, you can, and you will. He needs to know, and you need support right now. I’m here for you, of course, but that’s the man you love. You need him.” Her expression then darkens. “And don’t you worry about Mariah. I got that hoe. Believe that. You don’t have to put a hand on her. Imma do it for you.” 

Alexis words do both everything and nothing for you. Granted, you’re not sure if anything will be substantial enough short of having your child returned to your custody or all of this being some sick joke. 

You’re not even sure when Alexis walks away to grab your phone until she’s reaching it to you. “Call him, sweetie. I promise you he’s not going to blame you. He’s going to be upset for the same reasons you are: because this is all bullshit. But please, Y/N, just….call this man.”

Finally taking the phone, she nods with a small smile. She then goes to remove her earrings and pull back her hair. “I’m gonna go curb stump this hoe.”

Alexis goes to the back, and you just stare at your phone. You once thought calling Joe to tell him about Callie’s existence would be one of the hardest phone calls you would ever have to make. 

God, you were so wrong. 

Trembling fingers tap on the phone to bring up his contact, and with tears streaming down your face, you hit call.

Whether for better or worse, he doesn’t answer, forcing you to leave a voicemail message. 

“Hey.” It’s a fruitless and meritless effort to keep your voice strong when you feel anything but. “I–I need you to call me as soon as you get a chance….please.” Hitting end, both you and the phone drop on the floor. On your knees, you finally release the sob you’d been holding in for the past twenty minutes. Moments later, Alexis is besides you, comforting you.

Not that it does any good. 

There is no good left.

Only pain.

[nowiminexileseeingyouout]

short n’sweet (1/?)

kate martin x popstar!reader

contains: flirting (bad flirting)

a/n: nobody talks about how embarrassing writing fanfic is but anyway pls send me feedback or requests!!! also next part coming soon cause this was supposed to be longer im just lazy EDIT: just read this back guys are so fake bc none of the 17 of you who read this and liked it wanted to tell me i posted the unedited version full of mistakes i see how it is ANYWAY it’s all fixed now

Finding musical inspiration isn't always simple for you, for other artists it seemed to come easy all of them having catalogs of unreleased works to release whenever they seem fit, it especially hurts when you feel like you’ve exhausted and exploited every relationship you’ve ever been in, and so naturally you frequently find yourself wishing you could go through a terrible breakup only to write a few words, which was definitely a normal thing people do of course.

So after several hours cooped up in a studio in Vegas, feeling like you're drowning in wasted paper, you decided to gracefully accept the invitation to attend the season's first Las Vegas Aces game. Sports weren't your thing normally, but right now you'd do anything to get a break.

During the game, the camera may occasionally focus on you in an attempt to capture a reaction for an Instagram post or whatever but throughout the forty-minute game, you were so captivated by number 20 you didn't give much thought about anything else, you couldn’t take your eyes off her when she started playing, even though she didn't start until after the first half. Her braided ponytail swung as she moved, and she had total control over the ball as she dribbled up and down the court she had you in the palm of her hand and she had no idea.

After the game your only goal was to meet Kate eyes scanning the whole court after press was done but unfortunately for you kate was gone so the next best thing you could do was the epitome of modern flirting, follow her on instagram it probably made you look desperate considering it was only seconds after the game but it was fine nobody would notice right?

Well Kate did because not long after a notification pops up on your phone.

@/katemartin has followed you on instagram

________________________________________________________

After the game then after doing press and getting changed Kate finally made it to her car ready to head back to her apartment, not before checking her notifications, most of which were boring just her friends checking in with her or congratulating her on the aces win tonight but then she sees you followed her.

She can’t help but smile to herself of course she saw you during the game. How could she not have noticed you when you looked so good? and maybe she did put in a little more effort she was subbed in, call it the Jordan Poole effect. following you back, then taking it upon herself to scroll through your account, pictures of all of your performances and music videos you’ve done, your album cover and a few pictures of you. she likes a few of them before dming you.

@/katemartin

hey thanks for coming to the game !

and for the follow lmao

ahhh youre welcome for coming to the game and for the follow

you played really good btw

showing off??

maybe just a little?? i’m a big fan btw

ohh yeah sure a fan who doesn’t follow me

maybe i’m just a casual fan 💔💔

i guess you could say im a casual fan of you now

cause casual fans follow someone right after the game ends SURE..

Working up the courage, Kate sent you one last message before the conversation naturally halted as she felt she had to take action before this turned into just another lost opportunity.

you looked good court-side btw maybe you should come again if you liked the way i played so much

Before you could even read the message, she launched her phone onto the passenger seat with her nerves at an all time high. All she wanted to do was turn back time so you’d never get a chance to read it.

________________________________________________________

you looked good court-side btw maybe you should come again if you liked the way i played so much

You were blushing, blushing from a message, a message from someone you haven’t even talked to in person.

thanks you looked good playing ON the court ill definitely come to another game

You needed to send one last message before turning off your phone.

idk your game schedule but if your free tomorrow do you wanna grab coffee or something?

Now it was your turn to lose it. You were flirtatious, and it was evident in your music, so normally you wouldn't mind doing this sort of thing, but with Kate, it was different; you wanted to impress her because she was special. So with your Uber driver staring at you in the mirror, as you smile to yourself like an idiot you switch off your phone and relax into the backseat of the car.