#he can’t take his teammates ANYWHERE

[whatareyoudoingwithamaserati]

princezam in trad goth makeup. roshambogames with corpsepaint. there is corn starch all over the team awesome base and mapicc keeps having coughing fits

[5sospenguinqueen]

Mean Left Hook | Charles Leclerc x Ferrari! Reader

Summary: Silly season brings forward more children for Charles and YN. And how best to welcome into the world of F1 than to crochet them a gift. 

2024 silly season. Fluff. Humour

Pinterest pics

Requested: Yes by @illyrianprincess

F1 Masterlist

I have so many fics to finish off but i saw this request and it possessed me lol

This can be read as a standalone but for more fluff, crochet and terrible puns, read Needle Little Love

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haasf1team just posted

liked by its_ynln, charles_leclerc and others

haasf1team ollie’s on the grid for ‘25

5,027 comments

its_ynln amazing news! well done, ollie

→ olliebearman thanks, y/n/n

charles_leclerc can’t wait to have you on the grid next year, mate

→ olliebearman thank you. i hope to put all your tips to good use

→ user father and son reunited once more  

→ user okay i didn’t know how badly i needed these two to be on the grid until right now

→ user yes! we know she’d take such good care of him

→ its_ynln @/charles_leclerc we’ve got another child

→ charles_leclerc well, you did agree to a big family

→ user they’ve talked about kids!! 

oscarpiastri well done, ollie. looking forward to spending time with you on the grid and at family dinner

user poor ollie is going to find out just how slow that haas is 

jackdoohan congratulations, mate

→ user @/alpinef1team jack announcement next?

→ its_ynln yes, please 

→ jackdoohan being nice doesn’t erase the fact that i still don’t have a dinosaur 

→ its_ynln 🖕🏻🖕🏻

its_ynln just posted

liked by olliebearman, pierregasly and others

its_ynln welcome to the grid, ollie BEARman. you must be BEARy excited to be joining the world of f1

3,316 comments

its_ynln i tried to make him haas style but turns out i didn’t have red, white or black

→ scuderiaferrari no red?! where’s your team pride? where’s your forza ferrari sempre

→ user girly isn’t gonna get renewed after this scandal 

olliebearman thank you, yn! now my most prized possession. Fluff Von Haas will be attending every race weekend

→ user fluff von haas 😍

user charles and yn really are his parents lol

arthur_leclerc good luck @/olliebearman, you’re going to need it dealing with her puns

→ its_ynln charles doesn’t do the dad jokes so i have to

→ oscarpiastri she’s the dad who stepped up 

→ charles_leclerc whoa, stop trying to take my role in this family 

user look at how sweet she is @/scuderiaferrari. now renew her contract 

user you can’t break up the family @/scuderiaferrari. announce her seat for next year

jackdoohan okay, i see how it is. i’ve got to get an f1 seat to get a dinosaur 

→ user haha poor jack still doesn’t have his dinosaur

→ user i bet it’s because he said he couldn't wait to get rid of her before she was announced for ferrari last year 

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scuderiaferrari just posted

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and others

scuderiaferrari signed, sealed and delivered. ferrari are pleased to announce @/its_ynln has renewed her contract. we look forward to racing with you for seasons to come

5,547 comments

user finally! 

user seasons?! queen got that multi-year contract

→ user she’s not going ANYWHERE

charles_leclerc oh mon dieu, i’m going to have to deal with her for many years

→ its_ynln don’t act like you didn’t know before me

→ oscarpiastri oh fuck, i’m going to have to deal with her for many years

→ arthur_leclerc @/oscarpiastri try having her be part of your family 

→ user i think arthur is forgetting that oscar is their son 

→ user not the leclercs acting like she won't be with them forever. we've seen the way charles looks at her, he ain't ever letting her go liked by charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc i couldn't imagine anyone else being my teammate ❤️

→ pierregasly it’s because no one else can “cheer you up” after they beat you 

→ its_ynln well, they could but i can’t imagine i’ll forgive him for cheating on me with one of you

user omg charles and yn racing side by side for multi years

→ user il predestinato and la principessa

olliebearman yay! can’t wait to share the track with you next year

→ its_ynln me too! it was so hard not to comment that when haas announced you 

→ user excuse me, you’ve known for a month and you let us suffer! 

arthur_leclerc like they would ever pick anybody else for that seat

→ its_ynln is this you being nice to me?

→ arthur_leclerc no. it’s just the forza ferrari running through me

francisca.cgomes woo! that’s my girl. i’d have built you a team myself if they hadn’t taken you back

→ pierregasly you’ve never offered to build me a team

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alpinef1team just posted

liked by its_ynln, pierregasly and others

alpinef1team dreams doo come true jack doohan will complete our line-up for 2025

3,310 comments

its_ynln and you thought you were rid of me! 

→ its_ynln although it’s on you this time because you’ve followed me to f1

user i swear yn was the first like

→ user and comment

→ its_ynln shh, i’m secretly really proud and happy, but don't tell him that

→ user i love how she went from “i’m not babysitting” to getting charles to adopt more grid kids

pierregasly félicitations, jack. welcome to the team

oscarpiastri aussie aussie aussie

→ jackdoohan oi oi oi

→ danielricciardo oi oi oi

→ user they’ve been summoned 

user yn’s been liking these rookie announcement posts so fast 

→ user gotta ensure she’s up-to-date on her grid kids 

user omg guys do you think jack will finally get his dinosaur now

→ its_ynln no

→ jackdoohan can you tell i’m the least favourite child

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charles_leclerc just posted

liked by lilymhe, scuderiaferrari and others

charles_insta weekend away with mon amour, without the kids (and the crochet needles)

2,211 comments

arthur_leclerc it sickens me how much you love each other 

→ charles_leclerc you were the one begging me to tell her how i feel 

→ its_ynln and you were the one constantly telling me how attractive he was, and how funny, and how kind, and blah blah

oscarpiastri come back, the other two scare me

→ olliebearman oi

→ jackdoohan i resent that statement

→ user when did they adopt jack?

user love how the only relationship content we get is from charles 

carlossainz55 wow, did she let you drive?

→ its_ynln yes, and i tell you, death himself was riding in the back seat 

→ charles_leclerc oi! 

→ user we've all seen the hairpin video charles

user always forget how stunning yn is until charles posts her liked by charles_leclerc 

francisca.cgomes the prettiest girl 

→ charles_leclerc yes, yes she is

→ its_ynln love you lots

→ user i love how we can’t tell whether she’s talking to kika or charles

→ pierregasly definitely kiks 

its_ynln i could spend forever with you and never get bored 

→ charles_leclerc tu es tout mon cœur

→ user the perfect couple on and off the track

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jackdoohan just posted

liked by its_ynln, alpinef1team and others 

jackdoohan fucking finally i said getting a seat would be when i got a dinosaur, didn't i

1,647 comments

it’s_ynln will you leave me alone now? i made you three!

→ jackdoohan i mean, i saw a really cool crochet koala the other day ;)

→ its_ynln you know, i have a mean left hook 🪡

→ oscarpiastri i thought getting to f1 meant i was free from your bickering but you’ve followed me 

→ scuderiaferrari @/its_ynln you were told last year that you’re not allowed to publicly threaten drivers. do we have to make you sit through the powerpoint presentation again?

user at least you didn’t have to sleep with her

→ jackdoohan i thought i deleted that comment

→ charles_leclerc ha, like he could do a better job than me

its_ynln seriously though, congrats jack. It’ll be totally ROARsome to have you on the grid next year 

→ jackdoohan thanks mum

→ charles_leclerc mum? is there something you’re not telling me?

→ jackdoohan you’re my dad, boogie woogie woogie

→ user f1 rookies, getting adopted by the ferrari power couple since 2023

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Requests open! Just delayed lol

Tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury @c-losur3 @heavy-vettel @evie-119

[heavyhitterheaux]

Sorry For My Actions, All That I Projected (NSFW)

Synopsis: An argument ensues between you and your husband making you pull away from him when you were only trying to lift his spirits. You give him space just as he requested, but he was soon asking for forgiveness and thinking of the best possible way to make it up to you

Pairing: Husband!Joe Burrow x Wife!Reader

Requested by: a gorgeous anon 😘💕

DO NOT ENGAGE IF UNDERAGE

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

The door slammed once again to your shared house with your husband, indicating his frustrations as you were sitting in the living room watching the highlights from the most recent game that he played in. This had been the running theme for what was now three weeks in a row. The lights had been turned down low as you anxiously awaited his return and you already knew that he wasn’t going to be in the best mood. You hadn't been feeling very well and told him earlier that day that you would probably watch the game from home. He nodded his head when you told him as he kissed you goodbye and went on his way.

“Babe…” You started to say once you finally spotted him in the foyer as you sat up and looked in that direction, but he immediately cut you off.

“Not now.” Joe quickly said as he threw his bag to the side of him and let out a sigh.

“I just…”

“Y/N, I can’t right now, okay? I need a minute.”

“Um, okay.” You quietly answered as you went back to looking at the television and quickly decided to change the channel so Joe didn’t have to hear people possibly questioning his abilities. As far as you were concerned, he was the best quarterback ever in the history of the NFL and didn't care what anyone else said about it.

Joe then picked his bag up off the floor before heading upstairs as you continued to sit there and think of ways that you could possibly lift his spirits. He didn't get like this often, but not having a win for three straight weeks after working your ass off in order to get to this point, there was reason for him to be upset. He had confided in you before the season started and this was one of his biggest fears.

But the game that was just played honestly wasn't his fault. He played amazing and you could tell he was frustrated by the actions of some of his teammates. The blame could be put on the defense, but it was well known that it didn't matter. Because of him being the quarterback, the blame would be put on him.

It was now reaching twelve at night and you started making your way upstairs so that you could check on Joe. You found him in your shared bedroom watching the anchors on ESPN practically picking him apart at every chance they got while very few were defending him. You simply tried to take the remote away from him, but he held onto it tighter.

“Baby, this isn’t helping. You don't need to be watching this.”

“I'm fine.”

“No you aren't. You are nowhere near fine, and that's okay. You're frustrated and pissed off and for good reason. I get that.”

“I said I was fine, now can we drop it?”

“I'm just trying to help. I see my husband is upset and I'm trying to make it better.” You told him as you attempted to brush your hand through his hair, but he moved away from you.

The gesture definitely hurt your feelings but you did your best not to let it show.

“I'm going to sleep.” He simply told you as he turned the television off and got under the comforter.

You sighed before making your way into the bathroom to brush your teeth and do your nighttime skin care routine. Most nights Joe would do it with you, but you figured that he would rather not participate tonight and that you were better off not asking him.

While washing the face mask off, a few tears couldn't help but to slip out. The start of the season had been extremely hard on him and it seemed as if nothing good so far had come out of it. You tried not to let it get to you that he was being distant, but all in all it did. You knew he had to focus and having less distractions was important and by now you honestly should be used to it.

Once you were finished and changed into your pajamas, you climbed in bed next to him and could tell that he was still awake from his breathing since it hadn't slowed and debated on whether you should say anything to him.

“Babe?” You softly said and Joe turned around to face you.

“Hmm?”

“Still proud of you.”

It was now Monday night and excitement was evident as you were making dinner and planned to tell Joe after the two of you had eaten about the little one that was now growing in your belly. You hadn't been feeling well for the past two weeks and finally got a doctor's appointment earlier that day leaving Joe at home to sulk and also go to practice which he just recently got back from. After your appointment, you had stopped at the store and got a Bengals onesie along with a tiny football since you also found out that the baby was a boy. The two of you had been trying for a while and it seemed as if when you were about to give up that it finally happened.

Joe had taken up residence at the table once you told him that dinner was ready. You could tell that he was still in a mood, but it didn’t seem as bad as it was the day before and was hoping that hearing the news would turn his bad mood around. You were trying your best to give him space, but also be supportive at the same time. You understood that he had a lot of pressure on his shoulders at the moment.

“Babe, I made your favorite. I was hoping that this would help you feel better.” You told him as you kissed his cheek and he sighed before answering you as you set the plate in front of him before walking back over to the stove to make a plate for yourself.

“Y/N, you seriously don't know how to take a hint do you?”

“What? Joseph, what are you even talking about?”

“You have been all up under me for the past twenty four hours when I want to be left the fuck alone. What is it that you aren't getting?”

Hearing this, you turned around to look at him and noticed that he pushed his plate of food in the middle of the table, indicating that he in fact did not want it.

“Are you serious right now?” You asked, looking at your husband in disbelief.

As many games as he had lost in the past and the injuries he had gone through along with the surgeries, he had never blown up at you and you were not understanding what his issue was. Yes, he was frustrated but the last thing he needed to do was take it out on his wife.

“You act like you need to be under me every waking moment of every day and follow me around like some little lost ass puppy when I lose a game. I already have a mother and don't need another one. Last time I checked, you were my wife.”

“I'm only trying to help and want for you to feel better. I understand that you’re frustrated, but this is not the way we go about things and you know that.” You told him as you were trying to do your best to even your breathing. Because it was only a matter of time before you started to yell at him. You didn't want to do that, but he honestly deserved it because of how he was speaking to you.

“Well I guess this is news to you that you're not helping. None of this is fucking helping. What would help is my wife giving me space when I ask for it.”

That was the last straw and you knew that it was necessary for you to walk away when you looked down at your watch to see that it alerted you about a high heart rate.

“Hmm, noted.” Was all you said before walking out of the kitchen and leaving Joe there with his thoughts.

Tears couldn't help but make their way down your cheeks as you walked down to where your mini library was and you angrily wiped them away. It was a gift from Joe last Valentine's day and that was your place of peace when you wanted to get away from everything. A lot of times when Joe couldn't find you, he knew that more than likely that is where you would be and would always cuddle with you while he also grabbed a book to read or he always loved when you read to him.

Curling up in the corner with your pillow, you placed your phone next to you and opened your book at the place where you left off earlier. If he wanted to be left alone, you didn't have any problem with it. But you knew for a fact that he would come crawling back sooner or later asking for forgiveness.

And you weren't sure if he deserved it.

Regret filled Joe instantly when he saw you walk away from him. He debated on if he should go after you, but he knew better. He would give you time and give you your space to cool off. He got up and began putting all the food away so that it could be eaten tomorrow because he simply didn't have an appetite.

He could admit that the last thing that he ever wanted to do was take something out on you, but he did. He knew that you were only trying to help and the blame couldn't be placed on anything except for him being an asshole who clearly didn't deserve you.

The thoughts were running through his mind as he was going through his ideas of what he could possibly do for you in order to receive your forgiveness for how he had acted, but he was coming up short.

He would simply sleep on it tonight and hoped that things would be better in the morning and that you two could talk and be able to get on the same page.

Waking up, Joe reached for you since you were never one to get up early unless absolutely necessary and instantly frowned when he noticed that you weren't next to him and probably weren't for the entire night when he saw that your side of the bed was completely untouched. He got up and immediately went on the hunt to look for you and found you in the kitchen sipping what looked like tea and reading your book.

Joe cautiously approached you before saying anything, anticipating that you were immediately going to shut him down.

“Babe, can we talk?” He quietly asked and you glanced up at him before putting your attention back onto your book.

“For what?” You replied and Joe muttered a quiet ‘fuck’ under his breath.

“I need to apologize for how I've been acting towards you. You didn't deserve that when you were only trying to be supportive and help me.” He told you as he came and sat across from you. He wanted to grab your hand, but decided against it since you were holding your book and more than likely you would pull back from him.

“I don't want to talk to you right now.”

“Okay… I get it. But um, later?” Joe wasn't surprised at all by your answer and knew that he deserved it.

“No, I'm busy.”

“With?”

You simply placed your bookmark to keep your place in your book before looking up at your husband and folding your hands as you leaned on the kitchen table.

“When that becomes your concern, I'll let you know. And I have things that I have to do. So, therefore this conversation is now over.”

“Baby….”

“No. Immediately no. You do not get to do that. You were an asshole to me and quite frankly, I don't have to put up with it. So like I said, I don't want to talk to you. Matter of fact, I don't even want to be in the same house as you so I'm leaving.” You replied as you got up from the table, put your cup in the sink and walked out of the kitchen leaving Joe sitting at the table just like you did last night.

It was now Friday afternoon and once again Joe was blowing up your phone and had been for the past three days. You had decided to stay with your best friend Jazmine for the time being to let Joe think about what he did. Besides, he did tell you that he wanted his space, so he got what he asked for. You were sitting on her bed while the two of you were watching The Nightmare Before Christmas which happened to be one of your favorite Halloween movies that Joe would watch with you every year. You could feel her eyes on you as she saw you looking down at your phone.

Husband- Baby, can we please talk? I told you that I was sorry. I understand why you're mad but it's been three days since you've been home.

You- You pissed me off so much so don't be surprised if you don't see me until the playoffs and even then you’d be lucky if that even happens. You asked for space, so that's what I'm giving you. Get off my phone Joseph.

Husband- What can I do to make this up to you? I miss you.

You- Oh, now you miss me? Give me my space. Oh my, doesn't that sound familiar? Goodnight.

Husband- Babe, it's only 1 in the afternoon

You- And? I said goodnight Joseph Lee Burrow.

Jazmine glanced over at you before looking back towards the movie on the screen and sighed.

“He still doesn't know? Does he?” She asked inquiring if he knew about the pregnancy.

“No, simply because I was going to tell him that same night that he decided to have a temper tantrum.”

“Well maybe….” She started to say and you eyed her.

“Maybe what?”

“You need to tell him and the two of you need to make up and make up soon. I am not taking up for him in any way, shape, or form, but he has apologized multiple times and quite frankly, I am tired of him also blowing up my phone to check on you.”

“I'll text him the sonogram picture.” You told her as you shrugged and went to your phone gallery.

“NO Y/N! That is not what I meant.”

“And throw the mini football I got at his throat. It won't hurt, it's soft.”

“Okay, I sense that you're still angry, but you need to calm down and stop being petty.”

“You're taking his side.”

“No I'm not! I'm just saying that man loves you and will do absolutely anything for you. He messed up big time, but wants to make it up to you. It is literally only a matter of time before he shows up on my doorstep.”

“You have a ring camera so you can see him. You don't have to open the door.”

“We are finishing this movie and then you are going home to talk to your husband.”

“You're kicking me out? WOOOOOWWWW.” You exclaimed as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“You have a literal mansion to go to! Yes, I'm kicking you out.”

“Will you at least feed me first?”

“You're getting McDonald's and that's it.”

“I'll make sure it takes me three hours to eat it.”

Jazmine simply rolled her eyes in response.

It was now around four in the afternoon when you were finally pulling into the driveway of your house. Sighing, you grabbed your bag from the passenger and made your way inside. You went through the garage and then through the kitchen in order to make your way upstairs in the hopes of Joe not seeing you. You still didn't feel ready to talk to him. As you made your way upstairs into your bedroom, you were surprised to see Joe sitting there scrolling on his phone and sighed. When he heard your footsteps, he immediately stood up and walked over to you.

“Only reason I'm here is because Jazmine kicked me out. I am still extremely pissed off at you.”

“I know because I told her to.”

You did a double take and looked at your husband in disbelief.

“I was desperate and wanted you here so we could talk. Besides, she told me you kept eating all of her snacks.”

Rolling your eyes, you dumped your clothes into the hamper and set your overnight bag in the bottom of the walk-In closet with Joe following behind you. You reached up behind a pair of your shoes on the second shelf and got the Bengals onesie along with the mini football and handed it to Joe who looked confused.

“Uh? Who is this for?”

“You. Even though I should throw the football at your head for how you talked to me.”

“I… wait… you're pregnant?”

“Yes and you would have found out on Monday if you weren't busy being an asshole. I was so excited to tell you, but that quickly went out the window.”

“Babe…. I… I'm sorry. I promise that it will never happen again. You were only trying to help me and I took that for granted. And I also ruined this.” He said as he held up the onesie to examine it.

“Hmm.”

“I bought you some peonies. They're downstairs in the kitchen.” He quietly told you as he played with the football you had handed him.

“I'll look at them later. The baby is a boy and I hope you teach him how and how not to speak to his significant other so he can learn from your mistakes.”

It was still awkward between the two of you after you had come back home from being with Jazmine for a few days. Now that he knew about the little life inside of you, It seemed like every waking moment he was asking you if you were okay and getting you anything that you might need and bringing it to you. You could admit that it was nice and he was trying to do his best in order to make it up to you.

Since you had somewhat finally got your nausea under control, you decided that you would go to the game this week and see him play but made sure to have meds and ginger ale on stand by. It was an away game as they were playing the Carolina Panthers and Jazmine quickly volunteered to go with you. She told you that she wanted to keep you company, but deep down you knew it was because of her huge crush that she had on Ja'Marr even though she would probably never admit it.

The two of you had just gotten situated in your suite because you knew for a fact that if Joe caught you in the stands with regular fans that he would have a fit. An incident occurred last season before his wrist injury which included so called ‘fans’ harassing you. He knew how much you liked being near the action, but from that point on, in order to not compromise your safety, you always needed to be in a suite for his peace of mind.

“Oh! There's your man!” Jazmine said as she nudged you, but rolled your eyes.

“You only noticed because of who he's standing next to.”

“I… don’t ever know what you mean bestie.” She replied as she was heavily eyeing Ja'Marr.

“Sure, sure. I need to get you two to go on a date so that we can all be put out of this misery.”

“He's cute!”

“And single, so shoot your shot.” You told her as you felt a wave of nausea come over you and quickly grabbed your ginger ale taking a sip.

“Tell his bestie a.k.a. your husband to put in a good word for me.”

“I'll see what I can do.”

“I literally can't wait for the double dates.”

It was nearing the end of the game and it looked like for the first time this season that the Bengals would actually have a win which you knew Joe would finally be excited about.

“You know what you should do?” Jazmine asked as she turned to look at you.

“What?”

“He already doesn't know you're here so surprise him in his hotel room. You know where he's staying so….”

“And he always leaves a key for me at the front desk just in case I decide to come to an away game.”

“See? Perfect. Yall need to have make up sex because both of you are still acting awkward around each other when you've seen each other naked and his private parts have been in your mouth and yours in his which is still so weird to me.”

“Jazmine….”

“Like I remember the first time you told me you deep throated him.”

“Jazmine….”

“Had him seeing stars and shit.”

“Jazmine….”

“Just saying. You need to get dicked down. And his first win of the season? Oh girl the paint on the walls needs to be peeling by the time yall get finished.”

“JAZMINE!” You called her name for the fourth time before you busted out laughing.

“What!? What'd I say!? You know it's true. He might end up putting another one in you.”

“Don't you wish that on me!”

“That man is about to turn you every way but loose. You always said you wanted a lot so don't switch it up now. I'm actually surprised yall don't have ten kids already.” She said as she held her hands up in defense.

You rolled your eyes before laughing at her and unlocked your phone to go to your text messages. You read where Joe had sent you which hotel that they were staying at and saw that it wasn't very far from the actual stadium. If you didn't want to hit the stadium traffic, you decided that you should leave now to give yourself enough time.

“What's that look for?” Jazmine asked as she saw the wheels in your head turning.

“I'm about to head to the hotel. That way it'll be easier for me to maneuver because everyone else is still watching the game.”

“Well don't let me stop you. Go and spend time with your man. Just lay on the bed with nothing on. I'll text you when my flight is about to take off.”

Getting to the hotel and getting the key to his room wasn't a problem and you were waiting patiently for him to get there as you were laying down on the bed and scrolling through your phone.

You then noticed that you didn't have a lot of battery left and stood up to get your charger out of your bag when you heard the door open.

Joe walked in and was surprised to see his wife in front of him and instantly smiled.

“I didn't realize that I was going to have a special guest.” He said as he walked over to you and wrapped his arms around you as he placed a kiss on top of your head.

“I decided at the last minute to come and Jazmine volunteered to come with me.” You told him as you stepped back to stare up at him.

“Congratulations by the way. I'm very proud of you. Even though I was proud of you before.” You told him as you reached up to kiss him.

“Thank you. I think because you’re here is why we probably won.”

“I don't know about that. You give me too much credit.”

It was quiet for a few minutes as the two of you simply stared at each other before Joe was the first one to break the silence.

“I hate fighting with you and I'm sorry. The entire thing is my fault and you were just trying to help. Are you still mad at me?”

“How many times are you going to apologize? It happened, we moved on from it. And no. It takes too much energy for me to be mad at you.”

“But I still feel like shit. I can't believe that I talked to my own wife like that. I see why you wanted to throw the football at my head. You had a good reason.” Joe muttered and you stifled a laugh.

“You can make it up to me now, though ” You told him as you let go of him and reached behind you to undo the clasp on your bra.

“How and what are you doing?”

Instead of you answering him with words, you simply pulled your bra out from underneath your shirt and threw it onto the floor after you had taken it off without taking off your shirt.

Joe simply bit his lip before he reached down to kiss you as he backed you up until the back of your legs hit the bed. He gently laid you down and told you to move until you got to the top.

“Move up higher for me.”

Once you did and got settled, Joe was playing with the bottom of your shirt which happened to be his jersey before pulling it up over your head leaving your top half bare in front of him.

Soft kisses were placed all along your body starting from your collar bone and working all the way down until he got to your shorts quickly unbuttoning them. You lifted your hips so that he could pull them away from your body along with your panties and spread your legs wide as he placed kisses along each thigh.

“You're so beautiful, baby. You know that?”

“Hmm, I think that you've told me once or twice before. But I always love hearing you say it.”

“And I'll never get tired of saying it.”

As he held onto your thighs, you instantly felt his mouth on you and a quiet moan couldn't help but to escape your lips.

“Shh. Stay quiet for me, baby. The last thing I want is to hear Ja'Marr complaining that you were too loud because his room is next to mine. I won't hear the end of it.”

“You shouldn't make me feel so good then. And it's not like he hasn't heard us before.” You replied as Joe immediately scoffed.

“Like that's ever going to happen. Keep those legs spread for me or I'll do it for you. You’re already so wet and I've barely done anything.” Joe quietly said as he was running his fingers along your folds making you buck your hips forward.

“I think my wife is growing impatient and she better behave herself because if she doesn't I'll edge her all night. You know I love you, right?”

“Yes and I love you right back.”

“Good, remember that because I'm about to fuck you like I don't.”

—

“Oh shiiit.” You blurted out as Joe was pounding into you as you wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him closer to you so that your noses were touching.

He quickly took advantage of the opportunity and brought you into a kiss before placing your legs on top of his shoulders.

You had lost count of how many times you had hit your peak that night and was surprised that Joe still had so much energy. Seeing as it was now close to two in the morning. You guess you can blame it on the high from winning the game.

Without warning he slipped out of you making you whimper before he moved down to be face to face with your core once more and began to eat you out again which felt like the millionth time this evening.

“Mmm, baby. Right there, stay right there.” You gasped as he began moving his tongue in and out making you squirm.

Joe could tell you were close as he held you down in place and began to suck on your clit.

“Fuck! Babe, I can’t take it.”

“Yes you can. Give me one more.” Joe answered you as he went back to sucking on your clit.

Your back arched off of the bed as no sounds were coming out of your mouth and knew that it was only a matter of time before you came all over his face, as you've done so many times already. Sure enough you felt it building up and tried to push Joe away from you, but he just held onto you tighter.

“I know your ass is not trying to run away from me. I thought you were my good girl. Good girls don't do that.”

Your response to Joe was you squirming all over his face.

“And there it is. I knew you had one more in you.” Joe told you as he placed small kisses all along your thighs. You didn't even bother responding as you were trying to regulate your breathing and Joe crawled back up your body to kiss you before laying his head on your chest.

“Do you forgive me now?” He asked as he nipped at your breasts before taking one in his mouth and lightly sucking.

“Yes, but I had already forgiven you. This was just a plus. But promise me that nothing like that will ever happen again no matter what the circumstances are. We communicate better than that.”

“Promise.”

The two of you laid in silence for a few minutes with your arms wrapped around each other when Joe's phone went off. He reached over to grab it while still holding onto you and unlocked his screen to see that it was a text from Ja'Marr.

Ja'Marr- are yall done yet? Because I have YET to go to sleep. I knew she was mad at you, but got damn.

“See? Baby, I told you that you were too loud.” Joe said as he was trying not to laugh.

[enchi-elm]

Inception is funny because the final heist is a wildly different experience for everyone involved.

Yusuf drives across town under gunfire and voluntarily drives off the edge of a bridge. He probably has a resting heart rate of 180 for the duration and it’s over in, say, 15 minutes.

Arthur finally gets to snap at his boss, something we get the sense he’s been wanting to do for a solid year now. He vents the rest of his frustrations on unsuspecting goons, then spends the rest of the heist quietly problem solving around his unconscious and therefore uncomplaining teammates. This is probably his preferred way of dealing with people.

Saito gets shot and dies an agonizing death for anywhere from a few minutes to about an hour. Instead of being allowed to peacefully suffer, he volunteers to lead his business rival on a mountain expedition that involves driving pitons into rock, then survives a free fall down the same mountain before holding off enemy fire with his dying breath. His reward for finally kicking the bucket is aging fifty fucking years.

Cobb literally goes through every stage of grief and dies twice. I mean he’s not my favourite but he’s certainly suffering for his art.

Ariadne is on the steepest learning curve of her life: by the end of this learning abroad experience, she’s a certified psychiatrist and also she’s shot someone.

Eames is going through every single one of his employable skills like an intern hoping to be promoted at the end of term. This includes hitting on two billionaires and firing a grenade launcher to impress a coworker. By far having the most fun.

Robert Fischer has been the CEO of a Fortune 500 company for a week. He’s been sedated, kidnapped, conned, betrayed, led mountain-climbing, shot, resuscitated, and resolves an adult life time worth of daddy issues in the time it takes to order coffee. Possibly fires his uncle when he lands for reasons he can’t explain even to himself.

[callsigns-haze]

The quiet ones

Summary: You surprise the Dagger Squad by revealing your secret to Bob, who shyly but lovingly melts into your kiss as the others watch in shock, as shy guys are your type.

Chapter Warning: Secret relationship reveal, unexpected PDA, and flustered teammates, drinking.

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x reader

The sun is barely up, casting a soft glow over the empty beach outside The Hard Deck as you pull open the doors and step into the familiar dimness of the bar.

You've been doing this for years—unlocking before the heat of the day sets in, setting up stools, and sliding glasses onto the shelves with the smooth rhythm you've perfected. Today feels the same, but something in the air hints it won't be an ordinary shift. There's a buzz, the sort that comes with Navy missions brewing, whispered over drinks in tones low enough that only bartenders know how to hear.

You're wiping down the bar when the door creaks open. You look up and spot a guy with dark-rimmed glasses, a touch of shyness evident in the way he stands at the door, scanning the place like he’s about to get reprimanded just for being here early. He's tall but sort of unassuming, a guy who'd rather fade into the background. He's a contrast to the pilots who usually come in loud, all bravado and swagger. You recognize him instantly: Bob, the quiet one who stands at the edges of the Dagger Squad.

As he approaches, you give him a slow, easy smile and cross your arms, leaning back. "Hey there. Early start for you guys?"

He swallows hard, adjusting his glasses. “Uh…yeah. Just…getting a round for the squad.” His voice is barely audible, like he’s half-hoping you’ll mishear and let him walk away without much fuss.

Your eyes flick over him, taking in his nervous fidgeting. It’s endearing, really, the way he seems like he'd rather be anywhere but standing across from you. And maybe it’s because he's the polar opposite of the loud types, but you can’t help teasing him a little.

“So…who’s in charge of this little mission?” you ask, setting down a few glasses with a subtle clink.

He hesitates, caught off guard by the question. “Uh…Admiral Simpson.”

You chuckle. “Beau? That's my uncle."

Bob's eyes widen, his mouth hanging open for a moment before he stammers out a response. "Oh. Uh, wow. I… I didn’t know." The faintest blush creeps up his cheeks, and he looks down, almost embarrassed to be caught off guard like that.

You can’t resist needling him just a bit more, leaning in just close enough to watch him fluster. You know the effect you have—the low neckline of your top, the tattoos trailing down your arm, the glint of your piercings just visible through the thin fabric. He’s doing his best not to stare, but his eyes flick down for a split second before he yanks his gaze back up, his face turning redder by the second.

“Don’t worry,” you say with a smirk, letting your fingers trace the rim of a glass, “your secret’s safe with me.”

“Uh…thanks. I just—um, I’ll take…uh, the round,” he manages, his voice catching as you pour the drinks.

You can see his struggle—the way he wants to say something, but every time he opens his mouth, he clams up. He's never met anyone like you before, that’s obvious. The confidence, the tattoos, the piercings peeking through the fabric—it all ties together into something that leaves him completely off balance. And he’s… well, adorable.

As you slide the last glass across the bar to him, you give him a wink. “See you around, Bob. Bring your friends by sometime.”

He mutters a quiet “thank you” and shuffles out, beers in hand and cheeks flushed. And as he heads out the door, you can't help but grin to yourself, wondering if he’ll find the nerve to say more next time.

---

It’s a typical night at The Hard Deck, the bar buzzing with energy, filled with the sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and rock music blaring from the jukebox. The place is packed with Navy types, just as it always is when there’s no active mission holding them back. You’re behind the bar, quick on your feet, sliding drinks to customers and catching up with the regulars. Then, through the crowd, you spot him.

Hangman strides up to the bar with that cocky swagger he’s famous for. Tall, blond, and all confidence, he’s got a grin that could charm the devil himself. And he knows it. Tonight, he’s dressed in his usual off-duty look—just tight enough T-shirt and a leather jacket slung over his shoulder, looking every bit the guy who doesn’t take “no” for an answer. But that’s the game he plays, and tonight you’re ready for him.

“Evening, sweetheart,” he drawls, leaning across the bar just a little too close. “Thought you’d be closed by now.”

You raise an eyebrow, resting your hands on the bar and meeting his gaze without flinching. “Well, I thought you’d be up in the air by now,” you shoot back, your tone teasing. “Guess we’re both full of surprises.”

He chuckles, clearly delighted by the challenge. “All right, you got me there,” he says, glancing around. “But I’ve got a list for you. The squad’s thirsty tonight.”

“Let’s hear it, then,” you say, pulling out a row of glasses, ready to work but giving him your full attention.

He leans in even closer, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial tone. “Well, let’s start with two beers for Phoenix and Bob. Can’t have ‘em dehydrating, right?” There’s a slight pause, and he gives you a smirk, his gaze lingering a bit longer than necessary. “Make sure Bob’s is extra cold—he’s, uh, still cooling off after the last time you talked to him.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you start on the beers. “Don’t tell me he’s still flustered from that., it's been years.”

“Poor guy doesn’t stand a chance with you around, no matter the time,” Hangman says with a wink. “But hey, he’ll survive. Next up, Coyote wants a whiskey—neat. You know how he is. And Rooster…” He pauses, rolling his eyes in that way he does whenever he brings up Rooster. “Rooster’s a beer guy, as usual. But let’s give him the lighter stuff. Don’t want him trying to prove anything tonight.”

You slide the beers across to him, already pouring the whiskey as he keeps going. “And what about you, Hangman?” you ask, tossing him a smirk. “Anything special, or do you just want a mirror to stare into?”

He laughs, clearly enjoying this back-and-forth. “Ouch, darlin’. That one stings.” He places a hand over his heart, feigning offense before letting his gaze flick down to the line of tattoos trailing up your arm, then back to meet your eyes with a mischievous glint. “But as long as you’re the one serving, I’ll take whatever you recommend.”

You pour him a whiskey, sliding it over the bar with a raised brow. “Think you can handle it?”

He picks up the glass, holding it up to you with that easy, confident grin. “Oh, I can handle a lot more than that. But I like a bartender who can keep me on my toes.” He takes a sip, never breaking eye contact, letting the moment hang in the air.

The bar is still loud around you, but there’s a beat where it’s just you and him, his gaze heavy and flirtatious, yours daring him to keep going. He leans in a little closer, his voice a quiet murmur. “You know, we should get a drink somewhere else sometime. Just you and me.”

You lean back, letting a slow smile spread across your face, but truly this guy is not for you. “Oh, is that an invitation?”

“Consider it an open one,” he replies, giving you a wink before stepping back to gather up the drinks. “But hey, don’t take too long thinking it over. I don’t like waiting.”

It’s been a busy night, the bar still packed as the crowd buzzes with the kind of energy that only comes when there’s no telling when the next mission will roll around. You’re behind the bar, catching your breath after that last round, when you catch sight of Rooster winding his way through the crowd, headed straight for you.

He’s wearing his usual laid-back style—well-worn jeans, a vintage band T-shirt, and that aviator jacket slung over his shoulders. He looks like something out of a different time, especially with those sunglasses perched up in his curls, even though it’s night. Rooster always has this quiet, steady confidence, like he knows he doesn’t need to announce himself. And there’s something a little different in his step as he approaches you, maybe a touch of playfulness in the way he’s looking at you, a half-smile already curving on his lips.

“Hey, bartender,” he says, leaning onto the bar with an easy grin. “I’m back for the squad’s refills, but this time I think we’re changing things up.”

“Oh yeah?” You give him an amused look, resting your hands on the bar and leaning in just enough to close the space between you. “Guessing Hangman finally realized he can order something other than whiskey?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, Hangman’s hard to change. But the rest of us? We’re open to suggestions. Figured you might know what we need better than we do.”

You raise a brow, sensing the tease in his tone. “Oh, so now I’m in charge of drinks? Guess I must be moving up in the world.”

“Better believe it.” He flashes you a quick grin. “But you still gotta keep me entertained while you’re at it.”

You laugh, reaching for a row of glasses. “Let me see… Something tells me you could handle a little extra kick tonight.” You pour a round of tequila for Phoenix and Coyote, grabbing lime wedges and a sprinkle of salt for the rims.

“Tequila for Phoenix and Coyote,” you announce, lining them up. “And… let’s do something different for Bob. A Moscow Mule might be more his speed—something smooth but not too strong, I know he likes it.”

“Perfect,” Rooster nods, his eyes catching on the way your hands move as you pour, clearly fascinated. “And what do you recommend for me?”

“Hmm,” you say, pretending to consider as you tilt your head, catching his gaze. “Something with a bit of bite, I think. Something… classic.”

You reach for the whiskey, but instead of neat, you add a twist of orange, pouring a well-balanced Old Fashioned. You slide it over to him, catching his eye with a smirk. “Think you’re ready for that?”

He picks up the glass, turning it slowly in his hand, that same lazy smile lingering on his face. “Only if you’re ready to join me for one sometime,” he says, his voice low enough to make sure you catch the hint. He takes a sip, and his gaze stays fixed on you, watching your reaction, clearly testing the waters.

You raise an eyebrow, not about to let him off easy. “And what makes you think I’d go for a guy who takes drink recommendations from the bartender?”

He chuckles, not missing a beat. “Because I don’t think you’d waste your time with just any guy.” He holds your gaze, letting the words hang in the air, something challenging in his smile. “You seem a little… particular.”

“And you think you’re up to the standards?” You tilt your head, leaning on the bar just close enough that he has to take in every word.

His eyes flick down to your arm, where your tattoos catch the light, and then back up to meet yours, a flicker of mischief in his gaze. “I think I’d be willing to try,” he says, his voice smooth, steady. “But I’ll leave it up to you if I get the chance.”

You shake your head, suppressing a grin, and reach for another glass, pouring yourself a splash of soda as you lean back. “How about you focus on delivering those drinks first, hotshot?”

Rooster raises his glass in a mock salute, his eyes never leaving yours. “Alright, boss,” he says, clearly amused. “But don’t think I’m letting this go that easily.”

He picks up the tray, balancing it with practiced ease as he throws one last look over his shoulder before heading back to the squad. You’re left behind the bar, catching your breath with a smile as you watch him go, knowing full well he’ll be back for another round—and maybe another shot at breaking through.

-

The Dagger Squad is clustered around a corner table, the drinks you just served scattered across the tabletop. Conversation and laughter flow easily, but the energy shifts the second Hangman and Rooster start eyeing each other, sizing each other up with cocky grins and sidelong glances. Bob, meanwhile, is trying his best to blend into the background, clutching his Moscow Mule and looking more than a little flustered as he watches his teammates' latest standoff unfold.

“You know, Rooster,” Jake drawls, leaning back in his chair and raising his whiskey with an infuriatingly smug smile, “you’re wasting your time here. She’s clearly more into a guy with… confidence.” He emphasizes the last word, smirking as he takes a slow sip, his eyes flicking over to the bar where you’re serving another customer.

Rooster snorts, crossing his arms as he leans forward. “Confidence? Is that what you call whatever it is you do?” He shakes his head, trying to keep his voice casual, but the competitive gleam in his eyes betrays him. “Trust me, Bagman, she’s not going for the guy who struts around like a damn peacock.”

Phoenix snickers, sipping her tequila and watching the scene unfold like it’s her favourite soap opera. “This is priceless,” she mutters to Coyote, who nods, clearly entertained.

“Oh, please,” Jake fires back, unfazed. “You think that ‘slow burn’ routine of yours is going to win her over? Women don’t want to wait around forever. They like a guy who knows what he wants.” He casts another confident glance toward the bar, and Rooster follows his gaze, jaw tightening just slightly.

Bob, meanwhile, is turning a shade of red that nearly matches his squadmate’s call sign. He keeps his eyes firmly on his drink, but Phoenix catches the flush creeping up his neck and nudges him with her elbow.

“Hey, Bob,” she says with a mischievous grin, “you’re awfully quiet over there. What do you think? Who’s got the better shot?”

Bob’s eyes widen as every head at the table turns to look at him. He stammers, his grip tightening on his glass. “I—I don’t know,” he mumbles, his voice barely audible. “I, uh… I think she’d go for someone… respectful. Kind of… uh…”

Rooster grins, reaching over to pat Bob’s shoulder, his tone almost affectionate. “See, Bob gets it. A guy who’s not all in her face about it.”

Jake rolls his eyes, scoffing as he leans back. “Right. Because nothing says ‘charming’ like shyly staring into your drink.”

Bob just blushes harder, sinking a little lower in his seat as Phoenix pats his back in a show of support. “Ignore them, Bob. They’re just scared you’re the dark horse here,” she teases, sending Jake and Bradley a challenging look.

“Oh, is that it?” Hangman laughs, tipping his glass toward Bob in mock salute. “Tell you what, Bob—if she turns me down, I’ll let you take a shot.”

Rooster shakes his head, chuckling. “Sure, Bob. If Jake somehow fails—and trust me, he will—you’ve got my blessing.”

Bob’s face is now a deep shade of crimson, and he lets out a nervous laugh, clearly mortified. But he can’t resist glancing over toward the bar, where you’re moving easily between customers, completely unaware of the mini-drama playing out across the room.

“You know what?” Rooster says, straightening up and giving Jake a look that’s half-challenge, half-smirk. “Why don’t we let her decide who’s worth her time?”

Jake’s eyes narrow, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Fine by me, Rooster. May the best man win.”

Bob practically melts into his seat, but despite his obvious embarrassment, there’s the smallest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he glances at you.

-

You’ve been keeping an eye on the Dagger Squad from behind the bar, and you’ve caught enough of the banter to know they’re up to something. You can feel the weight of their stares now, so you decide to put them out of their misery. With a knowing smile, you grab a couple of fresh napkins and make your way over to the table, letting your gaze linger on one person in particular.

Bob’s leaning on the railing, doing his best to stay out of the spotlight as Jake and Bradley bicker, each too wrapped up in their little rivalry to notice you coming. Only Phoenix catches your approach, her eyes widening in excitement as she realizes what’s about to happen. She’s the only one who knows, after all.

“Hey, Bobby,” you say with a playful lilt, giving him a warm smile. His head snaps up, his cheeks turning an immediate shade of pink.

You can tell he’s trying to play it cool, but there’s a flicker of pure adoration in his eyes as he takes you in. Without a word, he leans in, brushing his lips softly against yours, his hand finding your waist as he pulls you in. His usual shyness fades as he melts into the kiss, his touch growing just a little bolder, like he’s letting himself savour every second.

Around you, the entire squad has gone silent. Rooster, Hangman, and Coyote are all staring, mouths slightly open in complete disbelief. But it’s not the kiss that has them in shock. It’s the glint of your engagement ring—hanging on a delicate chain around your neck, tucked just under the collar of your shirt. The light catches it as you pull back from Bob, and you see the realization dawn on each of their faces.

“Oh, my god,” Phoenix gasps, covering her mouth, trying to stifle her laughter as she watches Jake and Bradley try to process what they’re seeing. “No way. All this time, and she’s been with… Bobby?” Her eyes sparkle with pure delight as she glances back at you, unable to contain her excitement.

Bob, still flushed from the kiss, shifts awkwardly as he catches sight of his teammates’ stunned expressions. He ducks his head, clearly overwhelmed by all the attention, but there’s a shy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he wraps an arm around your waist, holding you close.

“Wait…you’re with Bob?” Hangman says, still sounding completely baffled. He shakes his head, his usual confidence gone. “And you’re engaged?”

“Guess we kept it under wraps a little too well,” you say with a smirk, running a hand affectionately through Bob’s hair, watching as he blushes even deeper but relaxes into your touch. He looks at you with such genuine, quiet adoration that it’s impossible not to smile.

Rooster, still processing, lets out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Wow. And here I was thinking shy guys didn’t stand a chance.”

Phoenix is practically beside herself with joy, and she can’t help but gloat just a little. “Well, guess what, boys?” You grin, crossing your arms. “Turns out all I wanted was the quiet one.”

[little-pondhead]

DP x DC Prompt

…

There are no more heroes.

Well, okay. Rewind a bit.

Danny has been doing the hero thing for a while now. He’s had a big reveal; everyone has accepted him (including his parents), the GIW disbanded, the Anti-Ecto acts repealed, and generally, everything is going great. Some of the A-Listers are even training as junior ghost hunters to help give him a break from his rogues! (Being Ghost King makes things hectic sometimes, and he just needs the extra help. Sue him!)

The point is, literally nothing is wrong with Danny Phantom’s afterlife.

And then Valerie Gray, the Red Huntress, disappears in front of his eyes.

Danny is baffled! She’s just…gone! Valerie just popped out of existence, like she was never there. But no matter how hard he searches in the Ghost Zone, he can’t find her soul anywhere. His core isn't broken in grief. So she’s not dead. Which is good. So then, where is she?

Some of the others come forward with ideas on how to find her. A few ghosts volunteer to go out into the mortal realm, an area Danny had declared off-limits, to see if she was out there. Danny approves it. He rounds up some of the friendlier (i.e., discreet) ghosts and Amity Parkers and demolishes the outside travel ban.

So everyone spreads out, looking for their dear frenemy and teammate. But it becomes apparent very quickly that something is wrong with the rest of the world.

There are no more heroes.

Every single living superhero on the face of the Earth has just…vanished. Villains are running amok; the countries are in chaos! Some aliens are invading Earth, mythical deities are trying to take over, and society is crumbling to the ground. Everything is on the brink of collapse.

Well, Danny was still there. And so were his people. They were pretty spread out, so could they just…take up the mantles? He also knew where to find the souls of dead heroes in the Zone; surely they wouldn't mind coming out of retirement for a little bit, especially if they couldn't die again. Oh! And that skeleton army leftover from Pariah Dark's reign might be useful in repelling those invading forces.

Honestly, there were more than enough hands to go around! And with the heroes gone, Danny didn't mind letting everyone out for a little break, as long as they followed his rules. They wouldn't stop the search for the other heroes, but hopefully, when they found them, the heroes wouldn't mind Danny's intervention too much. :)

In other words:

Someone fucks up, and all of Earth's living heroes are either wished out of existence or are whisked away to some far-off realm where Danny hasn't checked yet. In the attempt to figure out what's going on, Danny lets the dead run amok over the Earth as they search for clues. The skeleton army repels the invading armies, the souls of dead heroes deal with the world leaders, and his rogues and other Amity Parkers set up shop in place of famous heroes, trying to get the cities under control again.

Basically, they just do their best to keep everything from imploding until the Justice League and others are back.

(And why is it that Danny hasn't disappeared? Well, whatever caused everyone to go poof! only affected living heroes. Anyone heroes that were dead in the first place, or even just half-dead, stayed behind.)

[pucksandpower]

Family Feud

Charles Leclerc x Verstappen!Reader

Summary: Max thinks it’s bad enough that his sister is dating his emotional support rival … but did they really have to rub salt in the wound by making him want to puke on national tv?

Warnings: 18+ content mildly implied

You take a deep breath as you walk onto the Family Feud stage, trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach. You never expected to be here, about to face off against your brother and his Red Bull Racing teammates in a battle of wits. But when Fred Vasseur talked to you about potentially doing an episode of the show for charity, you jumped at the chance.

Especially since it meant spending time with your boyfriend.

You glance over at Charles and he winks at you, his smile making your heart flutter.

You could stare into each other’s eyes all day so you force yourself to look away and turn to face the host Steve Harvey as he introduces the teams.

“Welcome to Celebrity Family Feud!” Steve announces. “Today we’ve got two Formula 1 teams ready to compete. Let’s meet the teams!”

Steve starts with the Red Bull Racing team. “We’ve got Team Principal Christian Horner, Red Bull drivers Max Verstappen and Sergio Perez, and AlphaTauri drivers Daniel Ricciardo and Yuki Tsunoda!”

The crowd cheers as the guys wave. Max shifts awkwardly, clearly not comfortable being on stage. You stifle a laugh, knowing he would rather be anywhere than here right now.

“And the Scuderia Ferrari team,” Steve continues, “led by Team Principal Fred Vasseur, with drivers Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz, Chief Technical Officer Y/N Verstappen, and reserve driver Antonio Giovinazzi!”

You and your teammates greet the audience. As you pass Max, you ruffle his hair teasingly. “Ready to lose?”

He swats your hand away, rolling his eyes. “You wish.”

Steve explains the rules and then it’s time for the face-off. You and Charles step up to represent Ferrari while Daniel and Max come forward for Red Bull.

“Alright, we surveyed 100 people, top five answers are on the board,” Steve says. “Name something you do to get pumped up before a race.”

You ring the buzzer just before Max. “Listen to hype music!” You shout.

“Listen to hype music!” Steve repeats. “Let’s see if it’s up there!”

You hold your breath as the board flips, revealing your answer in the #2 spot. You and Charles high-five triumphantly.

“Alright, Red Bull, you can steal if you have a better answer,” Steve prompts.

Max thinks for a moment. “Visualize winning,” he tries.

“Good answer, good answer,” Steve nods. But it’s not there. You grin at Charles, knowing Ferrari has taken round one.

The game continues, both teams battling it out trying to guess the survey answers.

You and Charles can’t resist teasing your brother every chance you get.

“What might a Formula 1 driver do to unwind after a long race?” Steve asks next.

You buzz in with a sly smile. “Make love to their partner!”

Charles doubles over laughing as Max makes gagging noises, his face turning bright red.

“Wooowee, let’s see if our survey takers agree! Is making sweet sweet love to their partner on the board?” Steve chuckles. Unbelievably, it shows up as the #4 answer.

“Yes!” You shout, kissing Charles on the cheek. Max is shaking his head, looking like he wants to disappear. You blow him a taunting kiss, which just makes him cringe more.

“Red Bull, you gotta come back from this,” Steve says.

“Uhhh ... play video games,” Daniel guesses but the large red X that appears on the screen shows that Ferrari maintains the lead as you head into the final round.

“Alright, this is for the win. Ferrari just needs 9 points to end this right here,” Steve announces dramatically. “Name something you might find in an F1 driver’s motorhome.”

Charles rings in first. “Condoms!” He calls out, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

You laugh as Max lets out an anguished yell. “Stoooooop!”

“Survey says ... number three answer!” Steve announces. “Ferrari wins!”

Charles grabs you in a celebratory hug, spinning you around happily. You kiss him deeply, not caring that Max is fake vomiting behind you.

You break apart from your boyfriend, glancing back at Max still pretending to gag.

“Ugh get a room,” Max complains.

“Don’t worry, we plan to as soon as we get done with this,” you wink.

Max looks utterly disgusted as always.

“Alright folks, time for the Fast Money round!” Steve announces. “First up for Ferrari is Charles Leclerc!”

You blow Charles a flirty kiss as he takes the stage.

“Name something an F1 driver might eat before a race,” Steve begins.

Charles shoots you a shit-eating grin before winking at the camera. “Their beautiful girlfriend.”

You giggle as Max turns an unnatural shade of red alarmingly similar to your Ferrari branded shirt.

“Let’s see if the survey agrees!” Steve turns to the board.

No match but you don’t care.

Charles fires through the next few questions.

“Name something you’d pack for a race weekend.”

“Handcuffs,” he laughs at Steve’s scandalized expression.

You pretend to fan yourself while Max bangs his head against the podium in agony.

The buzzer sounds and Charles finishes strong. You give him a hug as you take the stage instead.

“Name something associated with F1,” Steve says.

“Fast cars and sexy drivers,” you reply with a wink towards Charles.

Charles blows you a kiss. Max looks ready to walk off stage or stab a mechanic with a fork.

You hope it’s the first option. One mechanic stabber in the family is more than enough, thank you very much.

You match Charles’ style, giving mostly normal answers until …

“Name something you pack for a weekend trip.”

You tap your chin playfully. “Lots and lots of lingerie.”

Charles whistles and cheers as you curtsy. Max is nearly crimson with embarrassment.

“And that’s the game!” Steve concludes. “Congratulations to Ferrari for their big win today on Celebrity Family Feud! $46,000 will be donated to Racing For Kids on your behalf.”

You leap into Charles arms, kissing him deeply. “That’s how it’s done, schatje!”

“We make an unstoppable team,” Charles smiles, dimples on full display, and you swear that some of the women in the audience swoon.

Max just shakes his head as he stomps to the exit. “You two need Jesus.”

But you’re too busy gazing adoringly at Charles to notice. Winning the show was fun but the real prize is having the love of your life by your side.

[anadiasmount]

learned from the best - jb blurb

quick sum: jude can’t help but thank the best teacher he’s ever had. the one who taught him the language he wants to ever share and speak with you.

“tu español a mejorado bastante,” you say, placing a kiss on his cheek, letting your lips linger for a few seconds. you were sat on his lap, jude looking up and rubbing his hand on your thigh “no pensé que ibas hacer eso mi amor.” (your spanish has gotten better… i didn’t think you’d do that, my love.)

“le quería enseñar a todos lo tanto que eh aprendido,” he says cheeky making you roll your eyes at his demeanor. “además era el momento perfecto, no crees?” he raises his brow as you watch in amusement, jude still a bit tipsy from the drinks he had. (i wanted to show everyone how much i have learned… also, it was the perfect time, don’t you think?)

“gracias por ser la mejor maestra que eh tenido,” jude smirks feeling your tiny slap on the side of his head. “solo lo dices por los recompensas que te daba después,” you squint your eyes while having a straight smile, yet having the urge to laugh. (thank you for being the best teacher i’ve ever had… you’re only saying that because of the rewards i gave you after…)

“in all seriousness, thank you. i wouldn’t have been able to do this without you. i know i was a pain in the ass most of the times, and you pushed me more than anyone else, but in the end you taught me a new language. your native language, and i can see how much that means to you,” jude says. “and now it means so much to me…”

“entonces eso significa que ahora vas a hablar con mi familia el español en la casa?” you deadpanned, jude’s face dropping as he shook his head immediately, frantic about your suggestion. “ah no…” jude chuckled nervously, “i learned but i haven’t perfected it pretty girl. not just yet, i want them to be amazed,” he kisses your hand, over the small “j” charm on your bracelet. (so that means you’ll finally talk to my family in spanish at home?)

“i guess that’s fair…”

“i want our kids to learn spanish though,” jude says seriously, making your heart race at his topic of kids. the whole day he spent appreciating, thanking, carrying kids, including his teammates new baby that had your heart fluttering with nerves but overall joy. “you mean it?” your eyes soften knowing that no matter if he’s drunk off his ass or sober he serious about it. serious about you, his future that involves you.

“cien por ciento. yo quiero una familia grande contigo. y que nos hijos hablen español,” he stutters nervously, yet it brings small tears in your eyes. “aras mi madre la mujer más feliz del mundo,” you joke, making him laugh. (one hundred percent. i want a big family with you. and that our kids speak spanish… you’ll make my mother the happiest woman in the world.)

“y tu? tu también serás la mujer más feliz del mundo?” jude asks resting his head on your shoulder. tired from the blissful game, the traveling, celebrating, yet for you, he felt more alive than anything. he pictured his future exactly like this, you on his lap, watching your babies play on the pitch, their giggles making the both of you grateful. (and you? will you also be the happiest woman in the world?)

“ya lo soy,” you whisper, brushing your hand on his forehead and placing a kiss. (i already am…)

“te amo, mi amor,” jude says with a tiny accent that has you laughing happily. you would never ever take for granted how since learning those two words, he used them anytime and anywhere. (i love you, my love…)

“y yo más.” (and i more.)

[ghostgirl-22]

https://www.tumblr.com/ghostgirl-22/767591680266436608/vibratoranon-you-made-me-write-this-too-for-some?source=share

Okkkk pls tell me I'm not the only one who wanted this to turn into a lil locker room gang bang... just slutty suggestible Art getting so riled up by the teasing touches of his team mates he finds himself bent over the bench being used in both holes.

Patrick just there watching the whole thing knowing he controls Art's orgasm. It's his cock that'll make his girl squirt back in their dorm and that's it.

Thoughts?

(love your writing so much you're so talented oml 💖)

Nope, you were not the only one my darling 💫

CW: 18+ !NSFW! Explicit

—-

Patrick knows Art.

How silly he gets when boys want him. When boys really, really fucking want him. Surprisingly it happens all the time. Maybe it’s all the all boys dorm, all the hormones. Close quarters. And Art’s always been pretty. Tall and blonde, baby blue eyes, long lashes with his boy next door charm and stupid little know it all smirk. The kinda stuff wet dreams are made out of.

Patrick starts it actually. Right after practice. Arts pulling his socks up over his calves and Patrick starts teasing him in front of everyone in the locker room. Touching his legs and asking why they’re so soft and hairless.

“They really are soft,” another boy chimes in, smirking and stealing a touch.

“And pale,” one more teammate says.

“Do you shave them? They’re so smooth like a girl,” Another boy laughs.

“No, no I don’t… stop it,” Art pushes them off and they’re off to the races. The touching leads to playing with his hair, leads to asking if he’s smooth anywhere else, everywhere else. Art starts flushing as the rest of the boys pile on. They start teasing and touching and then it's easy. So easy.

He goes mindless so fast from the attention. Boys, half naked, playing with him and he’s sitting there—chewing on his hoodie strings, eyes all soft, wetting his lips on every other word. Not even aware he’s doing it.

Patrick gets so fucking hard watching him. It’s why he did it in the first place.

He knows he’s not the only one. Half the boys in school already want to fuck him. Though if Patrick pointed that out (when Art wasn’t cockstupid) he would just laugh and say “you just think everyone wants to fuck me.”

He doesn’t have the intuition for this kinda thing the way Patrick does. Didn’t even understand why he’d get so hard for the teasing.

Even so Patrick doesn’t expect it.

He’s chatting with one of their teammates, Jesse, laughing about something that happened at a party over the weekend. He’s got an eye on Art. Always has an eye on Art. Especially when he’s in this state. Jesse follows his gaze and leans in whispering… “He’s too pretty right? Like girl pretty.”

Patrick smirks, tilting his head to the side, so he can stare at Art properly. “I dunno.”

The locker room has mostly cleared but for Patrick, Art, Jesse and a couple of other guys, Craig and Justin, who are still teasing Art while he’s leaning up against the locker. Art is flirting. Always flirting. Silly, slutty, mindless, flirting. He can’t turn it off.

One of the boys has his fingers in Arts hair. One with hands on his waist.

“You know you should probably let me kiss you,” Patrick can hear Craig say. Arts all flushed, glassy eyes and stammering as Craig leans in, taking his mouth. Justin starts rubbing Art through his shorts.

“Mm shit, you’re so hard, aren’t you?” Justin says quietly.

Patrick feels something in his brain start to malfunction. Getting stuck on this image.

Holy fuck.

The teasing has never ever gone this far.

Art is whiny through the kissing. “I think I’m…” He looks around breathlessly when Craig lets up for a minute. He looks like he’s trying to find some kind of semblance of control but he can’t focus. Can’t stop letting them touch him. Hands everywhere. Lips all over him. Fingers in his mouth on his body, under his hoodie. Even as Justin starts grinding up against him. He’s pushing back. Dizzy, drunk with need.

Patrick can feel his dick growing achingly hard along his pant leg.

Craig pulls Art down on the bench, onto his lap, Art’s moving his hips before he’s even on him properly. Its like they’re already fucking but they’ve still got clothes on. “You should come to my room. Sleep in my bed.” Craig says, biting, kissing, touching while Justin is kissing Art’s mouth.

Art groans, riding against whatever Craig is giving him. Patrick can’t help but wonder if its big.

“Jesus,” Jesse sighs next to Patrick. Patrick can see that he’s also visibly aroused. “He’s so…”

“Yeah,” Patrick agrees.

“What about you?” Jesse whispers. “You ever fuck him, Zweig? You ever fuck your roommate?”

Patrick rubs his palms along his thighs, over his dick (yes, yes, fuck yes, but only after years of breaking, breaking, and breaking through sexual tension, is what he doesn’t say). He takes a deep breath and shrugs picking up his water bottle. “What do you think?” He asks, biting down on the cap.

“Of course you did.” Jesse says, lightly. “Better question, can I fuck him?” He asks.

Patrick smirks. “Why are you asking me?”

“Because… everyone knows he belongs to you.”

Patrick thinks he’s gonna lose his mind.

He’s not mad or angry or jealous. Just suddenly so… so hungry. He gets up from the bench seat to grab his stuff out of his locker. “Art are you ready?” He asks, like Art’s not two steps away from letting their teammates use both of his holes to slut him out properly.

For whatever reason his words register for Art. “Mm Patrick?” He looks up, empty headed, still settled on Craig’s lap. “I can’t find my…” he trails off, hopeless.

“I know,” Patrick says.

“And I’m all…” Art shivers as Patrick helps him to his feet.

“I know. Come on,” Patrick says.

Craig is grinning at Patrick, he tries to grab at Art’s leg one more time. “You can come over whenever you want Donaldson,” he says.

“Anytime,” Justin agrees with a sigh, looking at his ass.

“I think I need to…to go home,” Art says, stumbling forward in his little adidas slides. Patrick steadies him.

And oh god is he a mess.

Hickeys blooming all over, sexed up hair in his eyes, lips pink and kiss swollen. Hoodie halfway unzipped, falling off his bare chest and shoulders. He starts biting idly at the sleeve of his hoodie, (fucking oral fixation) while Patrick grabs at it and zips him back up.

“Yeah sweetheart, you need to go home,” Patrick agrees, breathless, grabbing the fabric and pulling him close. “Hey look at me.”

Art’s gaze is cloudy but he tries to follow Patrick as much as he can.

“You can tease them all you want, fuck them if you need to, but I only want you to come for me okay?” He whispers in Art’s ear.

Art nods, still chewing on his sleeve and as brainless as he is right now Patrick thinks he gets it.

It happens the second they get back in the dorm room. Just inside the doorway and Art’s all over him. He wants to be fucked, fucked, fucked for real. They do it up against the wall, on the bed, till Patrick rolls over all sticky and wet with lube and spit and come.

Art is all lucid now. Getting ready to go clean up. Doesn’t say sorry, probably doesn’t even remember how he got so desperate he almost let his teammates fuck him raw in the locker room. He’s just sated and warm, barely any clothes on, socks sliding off his calves and laughing at some dumb movie on the television.

And yeah. Patrick thinks he’d probably die for him.

Blergh, I have to admit this was kinda difficult to write because I don’t think Patrick really wanted to share but these OCs got farther than most methinks! One day I’ll just go for it… full on gangbang for that blonde boy.

[andriel-islife]

Even though I didn’t mention Neil’s narration is what really got me thinking about Aaron differently, it did. (Only fair to make in this post about Neil)

In the same portion of the extra content (Aaron’s portion about Randy) there are just as many different views for Neil as there are for Aaron( at least for me).

—Neil immediately feeling uncomfortable when Aaron pulled away from Randy because he could relate to the gesture. Anndd he felt a sort of fear from Randy’s response because of his past experiences. “Randy’s smile vanished and the look she gave Aaron was heavy enough to make Neil uncomfortable ten feet away. Last summer, Neil had recoiled from Wymack much the same way, so certain of being hurt for his transgressions and stupidity.” This kid never fails to remind me that he is “just a kid”. None of the events in the first three books, no matter how severe or heartwarming, wiped away the feelings he has regarding certain traumas(because this cut scene would take place in TKM).

—“Only now did Neil understand that a person could fear an older woman the same way.” Do I even have to explain this cause omg😭😭 we all know Neil is smart (setting aside his “attitude problems” and impulsive behavior) but man I DID NOT need his intelligence to pitch this in. I want to cry for him every time I read this line. He knows his fear and he recognizes this same fear in Aaron. This is one of the main quotes that got me to look at Aaron as a character on the same level as Neil and Andrew. Also “Neil’s mother had hit him and screamed at him, but she’d always been on his side. She’d always been his mother first...Neil couldn’t imagine a world where mothers weren’t actually mothers.” I DID NOT NEED THIS EITHER. Not only does this make me want to cry for Neil but also for Aaron, and Andrew, and any other fox with mother issues/trauma. I can’t fight for them but I can cry for them campaign.

—“Neil finally understood…He’d[Aaron] gotten this far in life on his own, surviving on willpower and sheer desperation.” If you read anywhere on a different point that Neil could relate to Aaron, no you didn’t. If you read anywhere on the post that I would cry, no you didn’t. BECAUSE THIS. THIS is a parallel between characters. THIS is a reason to cry. Neil TRULY seeing himself in the one teammate he dislikes. Seeing that shoving all this ‘mother’ business in Aaron’s face for months was wrong because “a person could fear an older woman the same way”😭😞 This is not okay..

[caitified]

hi! could you write something about caitlin x teammate established relationship where the reader gets hurt? love your writing!

hurt

caitlin clark x reader

warnings:hurt reader

caitlin clark and you had been inseparable since the first day you both stepped onto the court at iowa. your chemistry, both on and off the court, was undeniable, forged through three years of shared dreams, laughter, and love. every practice, late-night study session, and celebratory dinner after hard-fought victories had deepened your bond. as star players, every time you took the court together, the energy was electric, drawing the attention of fans and coaches alike.

one evening, as the sun dipped low over the horizon, the anticipation for the game filled the air. the locker room buzzed with excitement as your teammates geared up, and you felt a mix of nerves and eagerness. caitlin, with her signature smile, turned to you and said, “we’ve got this. just play our game.”

“with you by my side, how can we not?” you replied, leaning in for a quick kiss that sent warmth through your body. the familiar connection steadied you as you both stepped onto the court.

the arena was electric, the crowd roaring with excitement as the game began. from the first whistle, you and caitlin played flawlessly, moving in sync as if you were connected by an unbreakable thread. you felt invincible, weaving through defenders, scoring baskets, and creating a rhythm that made it seem effortless.

but as the game progressed, the energy shifted. halfway through the second quarter, you drove to the basket, adrenaline coursing through your veins. as you went for a layup, an opposing player collided with you, sending you crashing to the hardwood floor. pain shot through your leg, sharp and immediate, and you crumpled, unable to get up.

the gym fell silent, and all you could hear was the pounding of your heart and the gasps from the crowd. caitlin rushed to your side, panic etched on her face. “hey, stay with me,” she urged, kneeling beside you. “can you move?”

you tried to shift, but the pain was overwhelming. tears filled your eyes as you shook your head. “i can’t.”

“just hold on; i’m getting help,” she said, her voice steady but laced with concern. the next few moments felt like an eternity as coaches rushed onto the court, and you were carefully lifted onto a stretcher. caitlin held your hand tightly, refusing to let go even as they wheeled you away.

the hospital atmosphere was starkly different from the game. the sterile smell and bright lights did little to calm your nerves. caitlin was by your side, a comforting presence in the chaos. “you’re going to be okay,” she assured you, squeezing your hand. “they’re going to fix this.”

“what if it’s bad?” you whispered, fear creeping into your voice.

“it’s just an injury. we’ve faced tougher things together,” she replied, confidence radiating from her. “i’m not going anywhere.”

after what felt like hours, the doctor entered with the results. “you’ve sustained a sprained ankle. it’s not as severe as it could be, but you’ll need some time to recover,” he explained. relief washed over you, but the weight of missing games pressed down on your heart.

“how long?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“a few weeks at least, possibly longer depending on your recovery,” the doctor said, and a pang of disappointment shot through you.

caitlin sensed your distress and leaned in closer. “hey, it’s just a setback. we’ll get through this together. i’ll be right there on the sidelines cheering you on,” she said, her eyes sparkling with determination.

“you promise?” you asked, looking into her eyes.

“i promise,” she said, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “and when you’re back, we’re taking this team to the championship. just wait and see.”

the following weeks were challenging. rehabilitation was tough, filled with pain and frustration, but caitlin was your rock. she attended every appointment, cheering you on, bringing snacks, and even helping you study for classes. her unwavering support made the hard days more bearable.

one evening, as you sat on the couch with your ankle propped up on ice, you sighed. “i hate being stuck here,” you admitted, frustration seeping into your voice.

“i know, but you’re doing everything you can to get back on the court,” caitlin said, wrapping her arm around you. “trust me, i’m holding down the fort while you’re gone.”

“how’s the team doing?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“we’re hanging in there. but it’s not the same without you,” she replied, her gaze locking onto yours. “we need your energy and spirit.”

“i miss you all so much,” you said, leaning your head against her shoulder. “and i miss playing with you.”

“we’ll get back to that,” she said confidently, tilting your chin up so you could meet her eyes. “and when we do, we’re going to be unstoppable.”

finally, the day came when you were cleared to return to the court. caitlin practically vibrated with excitement, and as you slipped back into your jersey, you felt the familiar rush of adrenaline. the team gathered for a pep talk, and you could sense the energy shift as they welcomed you back.

caitlin stood by your side, pride radiating from her. “you ready to show them what we’ve got?” she asked, her voice low and filled with determination.

“always,” you replied, heart racing.

as the game unfolded, your bond felt stronger than ever. every pass, every shot felt like poetry in motion. caitlin and you flowed together effortlessly, a perfect synergy. when you scored your first basket, the crowd erupted, but the loudest cheer came from caitlin, her voice echoing above the rest.

after the game, you found her waiting for you by the locker room. “you were incredible!” she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around you in a tight embrace.

“i couldn’t have done it without you,” you admitted, feeling a rush of gratitude. “you believed in me even when i didn’t believe in myself.”

“that’s what we do,” she said, pulling back to look into your eyes. “we lift each other up.”

leaning in, you shared a passionate kiss that spoke of everything you had overcome together. in that moment, the world faded away, and it was just the two of you—stronger than ever, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.

[azzibuckets]

this isn’t the end or anything part 3 [pazzi]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

a/n: this is probably my favorite series i’ve ever written so i like to take my time writing each part. apologies for the wait!

word count: 1.7k

masterlist

“Seat taken?”

Paige hovers over the fifth row of seats on the bus, mouth going dry as she anticipates Azzi’s answer. She doesn’t really know what she’s doing; she didn’t board the bus planning to be stupid and try to sit next to Azzi, but when she saw how pretty the younger girl looked all bundled up in her beanie and overcoat, she knew she had to at least try.

Azzi doesn’t look up from her phone. “You know I’m not gonna talk to you.”

“That’s fine.”

Azzi sighs, and after a moment’s hesitation she picks up her backpack from the seat next to her, setting it on the floor instead. Trying to fight back a smile, Paige plops down and casts a quick glance at Azzi’s phone, wondering if the younger girl’s fixation to her screen the past few days is due to a new love interest. When Azzi doesn’t seem to notice her prying eyes, Paige moves a little bit closer, craning her neck to try to decipher who exactly Azzi is texting.

All of a sudden, Azzi looks up, making eye contact with Paige as the blonde quickly sits back with a guilty look on her face.

“Seriously?” Azzi says irritatedly.

“Sorry,” Paige replies meekly, knowing that it’s pointless to deny the obvious.

Azzi shakes her head before shutting off her phone and staring intensely out the window. Paige knows she should be more upset about Azzi’s coldness towards her, especially after what she admitted two nights ago, but right now she’s just happy to be in Azzi’s presence. And although being crammed in a bus surrounded by their teammates and coaches isn’t the most optimal privacy, it’s the closest they’ve gotten to being alone since that night and Paige is willing to take whatever she gets.

“You know I like you, right?” Once the words come out and Paige realizes what she’s just said, she fights the urge to clamp her hand over her own mouth.

Azzi’s head snaps up.

Paige shifts in her seat. She knows she’s probably going about this wrong, but the words she’s said to Azzi months ago is still weighing on her mind, and technically Azzi can’t go anywhere when she’s trapped between her and the window. So she forges on. “You said you needed space.”

“No, you said you needed space,” Azzi says evenly.

Paige rubs her eyes. “Okay, so we both said we needed space.”

Azzi is silent.

“I just…I miss you, you know? And I’ve figured out my feelings, and I don’t want space anymore.”

Azzi folds her arms over herself, as if she’s trying to burrow into herself and disappear completely. “I don’t wanna talk about this right now.”

“Can we talk about it later?”

“I don’t know.”

“Azzi-,”

“I’m not ready, Paige, okay?” Azzi’s voice is tired, and Paige doesn’t like it, doesn’t like how Azzi doesn’t just seem tired, she seems tired of her.

“Okay.” A beat. “I’m sorry.”

Azzi tips her head back and exhales slowly. “Not your fault.”

“I can switch seats, if you’re uncomfortable.”

“You’re fine.”

Paige wants to throw up. This is why she hasn’t tried approaching Azzi - no contact with her is better then whatever this awkward tension is. Paige can feel her sinuses tightening, her throat closing, that familiar feeling pricking at the corner of her eyes. But she can’t cry, not now, when there’s five hours of road ahead of them. So she puts in her airpods and tries to think of everything but Azzi. She fails.

•••••••••••••

“I don’t care about what’s going on off the court, but you better get your shit together. I didn’t make you captain for no goddamn reason.”

Geno slams the door on his way out. He’s furious, and Paige is too. 10 points, 3 assists and 5 turnovers. She knows it’s not about the stats, that Geno cares more about her effort and the way she seemed to just give up during the last quarter. But the numbers are engrained into her brain, and the persistent ache at the back of her head is throbbing now. She tries to reflect on the game, to recall the moments she’d slipped up, the moments she’d gotten too comfortable. But despite the sweat still fresh on her neck, the memories are foggy and she feels dizzy just thinking about it.

Paige’s phone lights up with a text from Nika asking her if she’s going to the bar with the rest of the team, but she ignores it. Alcohol would make her headache worse, and all she wants to do right now is lie in her bed and mourn over how bad she played. She knows it’s not a healthy way to cope. Azzi used to always get on her ass about how getting in her own head wouldn’t make it better. Azzi would force Paige out of bed, set up a laptop with film to go over every single play, both of them writing notes on their observations and then sharing it at the end. By the time their debrief finished, Paige always felt lighter, determined and ready for the next practice now with a new list of things to work on. But Azzi wasn’t here, and now Paige was spiraling.

When she gets back to her hotel room, Paige slumps into clean white sheets. She knows she should respond to her teammates’ messages, but before she knows it she’s out.

•••••••••••••••••

“You look hot tonight,” Amari cheers, hip bumping her friend.

Azzi blushes, hands smoothing down her top. “Thank you.” She looks around the bar, trying to enjoy the lively atmosphere after their tough win, but a pit of guilt settles in the bottom of her stomach when she thinks about Paige. Their teammates assumed that Paige had fallen asleep by her lack of response to their texts, but Azzi knew better than that. She felt physically sick thinking of Paige huddled in her room all alone while the rest of them were out celebrating.

Before she knows it, she’s left the bar and she’s back at the hotel, hand reaching out to knock. When she finally summons her courage to give a couple short raps on the door, a groggy Paige opens the door. Surprise flickers across her face before she straightens up. “Azzi?” Her voice is subdued with sleep, soft, a little bit hoarse.

Azzi takes in Paige’s bloodshot eyes and red nose. “You look like shit.”

Paige harrumphs. “Thanks.”

Without an invitation, Azzi barrels through the door, pretending to be curious about the layout of the room when hers is the exact same. “You didn’t come tonight.”

“Yeah, sorry. Wasn’t feeling it.” Paige goes back to her bed and wraps the blanket around herself.

“Did you eat yet?”

Paige shakes her head.

“Do you want me to order anything?”

Another shake of the head. “Not hungry.”

“You haven’t eaten in 12 hours, you have to eat something.”

Paige finally looks up, making eye contact with Azzi. “Stop,” she says, her tone worn out, her voice a little rough at the edges. “Stop pretending like you care about me.”

Azzi’s veins turn ice cold. “What?”

“I know you can’t stand me anymore. I was fucking delusional thinking that forcing you to sit next to me on the bus would change anything. But it’s fine.” Paige lies down and rolls over with her back to her best friend, hoping that Azzi won’t be able to sense the fact that she’s about to burst into tears. “I took some Nyquil. I’ll be good. You can go.”

There’s silence, and Paige closes her eyes, willing herself to hold back her tears for just a few more seconds. But the bed dips, and the touch on her face is so light and gentle that she thinks she’s dreaming before Azzi speaks. “I care about you. You don’t think I care about you? Christ, Paige, you’re all I ever think about.”

The tears slip out of her eyes, and Paige curses herself for being weak. She can’t even keep herself together for one goddamn minute. “Then why are we still like this? We can’t even talk to each other without being normal.”

“I told you, I’m not ready yet, Paige.”

“Will you ever be?”

When Azzi doesn’t respond, Paige sobs harder. She feels Azzi go in to wipe her tears, but she jerks away before the younger girl can reach her. Paige’s heart is already breaking into a thousand little pieces, and feeling Azzi’s touch would make this so much harder than it already is. “Can you please just leave?”

Azzi’s face falls. “Paige, you’re burning up and have a fever, I’m not leaving you.”

“You’re only gonna make this worse.” Paige knows she’s ugly crying now, but she can’t help it. She’s angry and she’s sad and she’s hurt, and Azzi is so close, so close yet so far away.

“You’re sick and you-,”

“Azzi, please just leave me alone.” And Paige doesn’t mean for her words to come out so harsh, but seeing Azzi sitting there forlornly with that look in her eyes is killing her inside, and she can’t take it anymore.

Azzi stands up, pain written all over her face. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“You already did.” Paige turns around, and she has a cold sense of deja vu. She’s been in this exact situation before, her lying on the bed while Azzi leaves. But this time, she’s the one who’s asked her to go, and Paige didn’t know how it could get worse from that night all those months ago but it somehow fucking has.

Despite the physical exhaustion from the game and the emotional turmoil from the day, Paige can’t fall asleep. When she hears a knock on the door a couple hours later, she half hopes it’s Azzi, but when she opens the door it’s just an Uber delivery man. “Chicken noodle soup from Frazo’s for Paige?”

“I didn’t order this.”

“Uh, well it says the person who ordered this is an Azzi Fudd? She ordered it to this room. Do you know her?”

Paige looks tiredly at the man. “No.”

The man furrows his eyebrows. “Um, well...”

“You can just take it. Free dinner, yay. Here’s a 20 for the trouble.” Paige shoves the bill into the man’s hand and closes the door. She leans on the counter with her face in her hands, a million questions running through her mind. She doesn’t understand why Azzi is so hot and cold. Why Azzi still can’t figure out her feelings after months and months of space. Why Azzi can’t just love her back. She curses, wishing she’d never met the dark haired girl in the first place. But then she thinks about Azzi’s smile, and she takes it back.

Christ. Everything hurts. Paige thought she knew heartbreak when her seventh grade crush turned out to be straight, but this is different. This is all-consuming. It’s like every cell of her body knows she’s missing something. Her heart physically hurts. Head pounding, nose sniffling, eyes watering, Paige lies down on the floor, wishing the granite would absorb her.

[youcouldmakealife]

Owen/Willy, ScratchnMoney; team huddle (for warmth)

For the prompt: Anything Willy/Owen

Feat. shenanigans, as contractually required of all Scouts prompts.

Sometimes Tate thinks it’s a very good thing that Owen got to know the Scouts before anything ever happened between them.

This would be one of them.

Owen’s pretty accustomed to all of them by now, unfazed by the usual antics, but when he opens the door to the three of them, Tate shivering and dripping wet, flanked by Scratch and Money, like particularly negligent bodyguards, his eyes go a little wide.

“Um,” Owen says. “Hi?”

“It wasn’t my fault!” Money yells over Scratch’s, “It was Money’s fault.”

“No one’s at fault,” Tate says.

His teeth are starting to chatter. He has a decent cold tolerance, and Missouri winters are a far cry from some of the ones he’s endured — pretty much anywhere will feel balmy after you spend some of your formative years in Winnipeg — but it’s certainly too cold for what he’s wearing. Well, it was perfectly fine, but that was when it wasn't sopping wet.

“Why don’t we get you inside?” Owen says, and Tate gratefully steps into the relative warmth, struggling to get his shoes off with stiff hands as Owen and the Tweedles talk, Money’s last insistence that it wasn’t his fault cut off by either Scratch hauling him off or the door closing on him mid-sentence. Scratch, probably. Owen’s too polite to close the door on anyone. Scratch is absolutely not too polite to stick his hand over Money’s mouth and drag him forcefully back to the car.

“Was it Joey’s fault?” Owen asks. He’s trying to look solemn, but his lips are trembling with the laugh he’s trying to suppress.

“It wasn’t not his fault,” Tate chatters.

“Why don’t you tell me after you take a shower?” Owen says, because he is, in fact, the most perfect man alive, then, “Do you want some tea?”

Like Tate said.

*

Even after a hot shower long enough that the tea Owen’s made him is bitter and tepid, changing into sweats and a hoodie, thick wool socks, grabbing a throw off the couch and bundling it around himself like a cape, Tate can’t seem to get warm.

Owen disappears from the table, returning with a beanie he tucks over Tate’s wet hair.

“Lose 40% of my body heat, right?” Tate asks. “Or is that a myth?”

“A myth,” Owen says. “But you’re still shivering, and it’s just about the only skin left uncovered. If this doesn’t help, the next step is going to grab you some mittens.”

“Then a balaclava?” Tate asks.

“As if you’d let anything cover your pretty face,” Owen says, and Tate laughs. “The step after that is probably body heat.”

“We can skip straight to that one,” Tate says, and this time Owen’s laughing.

“Drink your tea,” he says.

“It’s not hot,” Tate protests, and Owen disappears into the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with a fresh cup of tea, a warm compress he wraps around Tate’s neck and shoulders like a scarf. Tate tucks his face into the warmth, tucks his fingers around the mug.

“Was there another fountain?” Owen asks. And he's officially used to the Scouts by now, because he says it with weary humor, but absolutely zero surprise.

“It wasn’t a fountain,” Tate says. Which is a major silver lining, considering showing guys the fountain video is one of the way he prepares new teammates to meet the team. He thinks it gives a pretty good idea of the general vibe, and then he can add the proposal video to give them an even better idea, along with a pretty good litmus test on how well a guy's going to fit in the room, watching the way they watch it. But he’s sure, given the circumstances, ScratchnMoney — well, mostly Money — would show no mercy if they had video of Tate in a similarly compromising position — location? — as would be their right.

Which leads to the second silver lining: that ScratchnMoney were both panicking far too much at the time to think about pulling their phones out and hitting ‘record’.

“Don’t tell me you—“ Owen says, pure, undiluted horror on his face now.

“If I fell in the Missouri I’d still be in the shower,” Tate says. Possibly forever.

Owen lets out an audible sigh of relief. Tate takes a sip of tea. It’s just shy of boiling, and he’d usually wait, but that’s perfect right now.

“There may have been a pond,” Tate admits.

Owen’s smiling again. “Why was there a pond?”

“Someone was complaining his dinner was too heavy and he needed a digestive walk,” Tate says. A far cry from the drunken pizza run that lead to The Fountain Incident. They’ve all gotten old. Old men who need digestive walks.

“Somehow I don’t think Nick was the one suggesting it,” Owen says.

Tate tilts his head, giving him the point. Scratch spent the entire time grumbling that some people didn’t need digestive walks, and bickering with Money about how his ‘shit diet’ seemed to suit his digestion better than Money’s ‘rabbit food’ did. Tate did not get involved. He was honestly just glad Money had suggested before he did.

“Is that why it was Joey’s fault?” Owen asks.

“Oh,” Tate says. “No. It’s his fault because he pushed me in the pond.”

“Tate!” Owen says. “Why did you say it wasn’t his fault?”

“Because he would have stuck around to argue and I would have said or done just about anything for a hot shower at that point,” Tate says.

“And that’s why they made you the captain,” Owen says.

“I think it’s more that everyone else had too much sense to take it,” Tate says.

“You’ve stopped shivering,” Owen observes.

“Is that a good sign or a bad one?” Tate asks.

“Depends on the circumstances,” Owen says.

“Do you think we need to try the huddling for warmth part of the plan?” Tate asks. It’s a come on, sort of, but he’s a little embarrassed to admit just how nice it sounds, crawling under the covers right now. It’s far too early for that — if it were a game night, he’d still be out on the ice — and Tate is very serious about his sleep hygiene, but if Owen thinks they should huddle for warmth, then, well — he’s the expert. That’s biochemical, isn’t it? Biological, at the very least.

Owen traces his finger over the palm of Tate’s hand, and Tate shivers. It’s entirely unintentional on his part, as are the goosebumps rising in wake of Owen’s touch, but he couldn’t have timed it better if he tried.

“If you think it’ll help,” Owen says, then takes his hand away. Tate feels cold everywhere Owen’s touched him, overheated everywhere else.

“I think it’d be very helpful,” Tate says, all honesty.

“Then finish your tea,” Owen says, and Tate curses himself for requesting another cup, because if it were lukewarm he’d be able to swallow it in two gulps. As it is, he sips it as quickly as he can, and between the hot drink, layer after layer of clothing, and Owen puttering around now, turning lights out, setting the security system, he feels very warm indeed.

“Coming up?” Owen asks from the hall.

Tate takes one final gulp. He’d usually bring it back to the kitchen, but he thinks he can make an exception tonight, the same way he made an exception for the clothing puddled in the master bathroom, wearing a hat over wet hair, which he’s pretty sure his grandmother told him was fatal, though maybe she just meant outside.

“Right behind you,” he says, and flips the last light off as he follows Owen upstairs.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。HANDS — ITOSHI SAE.

sae doesn’t understand the purpose of holding hands. it’s a bit annoying to try and move around while you’re practically chained to someone else, it feels a bit odd to have someone’s hand lace with yours and keep it occupied, and it just draws this unwarranted attention that he doesn’t like.

he doesn’t hold hands, and you don’t seem to mind, so it’s never really been a concern of his.

not until today at least.

“are you nervous?” you ask, standing next to him as you stare out at the field. it’s a large stadium—there’s a bigger audience here than you’ve ever seen at any of the last few games you’ve been to.

it makes sense, you suppose. you’ve really only been to a handful of sae’s games—and even if you haven’t dated long, you’re well accustomed now to the occasional mic in your face as they as you how you feel about your boyfriend’s win. but now that he officially doesn’t play for a youth team anymore, now that he’s in the big shots with the adults, there’s bound to be more people, right? it makes you a bit nervous, all the eyes on you, but it doesn’t keep you from standing next to him as he waits with his team just minutes before starting the game.

sae only raises a brow at you, looks at you like you’ve grown two heads, “what do you take me for? they’re lucky to even play against me,” he mutters.

from a distance, you can hear a few amused chuckles and a few scoffs of disbelief from his older teammates. for the youngest on the team, sae has the largest presence. he’s already the talk of the hour—you can hear reporters buzzing for an interview and fans chanting his name already.

but he’s unbothered, sipping on his water bottle like it’s child’s play he’s preparing for.

“i know, baby,” you mumble, “you’ll crush them but…there’s just so many people,” you mumble. “what if you trip and fall? that’ll be so many people seeing.”

“i’m not gonna trip and fall,” he grumbles, lips twitching into a small frown that’s almost—almost—a pout, like the fact that you think he’d do something like that is an insult to his pride.

“oh my gosh,” you gasp, “i think someone just took a picture of us,” you ramble, not even paying attention to him. “what if i looked ugly?”

he wants to tell you there are a lot of people taking pictures, and that it’s a dumb thing to say—since when have you ever looked ugly? even your bad angles are better than the average person’s best, but before he can even say anything, your hand tightly grasps his.

he looks down, furrows his brows, opens his mouth to say something when you cut in.

“don’t be nervous, sae,” you babble away, “you got this, okay? there’s not even that many people here, they look like ants from down here anyway. you won’t even notice them.”

and then your hand squeezes his tightly, like it’s for reassurance, like it’s to tell him it’s okay, i’m here. except, he’s sure you’re doing it more for yourself than him—since he’s quite literally fine, quite literally standing here with as bored of an expression as always.

“i’m not nervous, idiot,” he mumbles.

and sae doesn’t like holding hands. your hands are a bit clammy and cold and they’re squeezing a bit too tight for his liking and he can’t move around as freely now. but your thumb is rubbing circles into the back of his hand and…it’s nice. for some reason, it’s kind of nice and he likes it.

he gives your hand an experimental squeeze, and when you squeeze right back, he finds that oddly enough, it’s kind of comforting to be able to communicate with you like this without actually saying words.

it’s okay. i’m here. you’ve got this. i’m not going anywhere. i’m proud of you. you’re all i need. you make me happiest. did you see that? i think that was another camera flash. i’m scared. i believe in you. it’s almost time for you to go. play your best. i love you.

i love you. i love you. i love you.

every tightening of your hand and every small squeeze tells him something that he finds he can understand for some reason—even without words. even without looking at your eyes or your face or seeing your expression. it’s so simple—so easy and…and he likes it.

why does he like it?

“good luck, baby,” you whisper, turning to face him, giving him a look that’s so nervous, yet so filled with conviction, he almost feels that to not play better than his best is of a disservice to you.

“thanks,” he murmurs, tugging you a bit closer by your hand. he finds that’s also a nice added perk of holding your hand—being able to pull your body impossibly closer whenever he wants. “but i won’t need it.”

“no,” you huff, rolling your eyes, “because you’re mister itoshi-sae-the-best-ever-who-never-gets-nervous. my bad.”

he huffs a small chuckle, gives your hand a squeeze and lets out a small sigh of content when he realizes the circles you’re rubbing over his knuckles have turned into hearts.

“don’t be nervous,” he says quietly, “‘s just us. everyone else’s background noise.”

“i know, but—”

“and don’t answer any reporters till i come back, okay? don’t need you having a breakdown on national television.”

“sae!” you whine, “that doesn’t help.”

“see you after my win,” he grins ever so slightly. it’s the biggest smile any of his teammates have ever seen from him—a few of them even gape in shock, but he pays no mind. he contemplates for a small moment before he decides—brings up your laced fingers and presses a small, short kiss to the back of your hand.

“see you after your win,” you agree, giving one more squeeze to his hand.

i love you.

he squeezes back. i love you too.

and then he’s off, and he almost hesitates before he lets his hand leave your grasp while he runs onto the field. he glances back at you, sees the way your hands are clutched tightly together to your chest as you stare at him with hope in your eyes and awe in your expression.

itoshi sae has never liked holding hands—but then your hands hold out his entire universe, and how could he not change his mind?

hi everyone. pls take this very self indulgent and very me coded reader as they overthink sae’s entire game more than he even thinks about it 💀

[c0wb0ylikem3]

Our Song

•summary: in which mercedes drivers y/n l/n and lewis hamilton are to compete in another youtube challenge

•authors note: this is an old draft!! Not proofread 😭

•pairings: (y/n x lewis hamilton!platonic)

Compared to other Formula One teams Mercedes were not know for there social media presence, unlike other teams such as Ferrari with their infamous C2 videos and McLaren with there two drivers constantly uploading a new video every week. However when Y/n L/n replaced Valteri Bottas seat in the latest season the fans demanded more content with the girl and her teammate, Lewis Hamilton.

The rain fell as Y/n made her way to the Mercedes media building. She was told to be there fifteen minutes ago however she got caught up by fans who seem to find her anywhere. Entering the building she quickly said hello to the front desk as she dashed to the room she was needed in.

“Glad you could join us L/n” Lewis spoke and she sent a glare towards the seven time world champion. She was drenched, had no time to stop for her daily coffee and now she was supposed to film a video. “It’s not my fault I actually care for my fans”

He gave a look of shock and rolled his eyes at the girls attitude which currently was resembling one of a teenage girl. “Clearly someone didn’t drink there coffee this morning” she sighed taking off her jacket so it could dry off.

“Okay I’m going to explain what we are doing today, as you know during the beginning of the year we asked you two to create a shared playlist for Race Weekends. We are going to be testing you both seeing who put what song in the playlist” The media director explained pointing to the white desk with two buzzers.

Y/n and Lewis took a seat on opposite sides settling in as they set up to record. “Recording in 3…2…1” the director gave a thumbs up signaling Lewis to start the intro.

“Hello and welcome back to another Mercedes showdown off the track” Lewis spoke looking towards you “Currently I’m in the lead because I won the last two challenges while Y/n has only won once” Y/n playfully rolled her eyes “that’s because you cheated at just dance!”

Lewis retaliated “ How does someone cheat in just dance?! We are not getting into this again.” Y/n laughed continuing the bit “So today we are trying to guess who put what song in our 2023 playlist our lovely Mercedes admin will shuffle the playlist and we will have to hit the buzzer and say who put the song in the playlist”

Round 1

The Mercedes admin grabbed her phone and shuffled the playlist the first song began to play, Y/n heard the first few notes the song seemed familiar but she wasn’t sure. Lewis on the other hand knew what song it was “Too Comfortable Future? It has to be one of my songs look her face”

Y/n hung her head low already off to a bad start, although this isn’t a race she can’t help but be competitive towards any competition. “I don’t listen to future like that” Y/n commented before moving onto the next round

Round 2

The next song began to play and she knew it in a heartbeat. Hitting the buzzer Y/n beat Lewis by milliseconds.

“You know a lot of girls be Thinking my songs are about them but, This is not to get confused This one is for you” she sang along to the popular song

Lewis laughed at the girls actions “Best I Ever Had by Drake” Y/n said as she finished her solo “Obviously I love this song but Lewis put this one on the playlist”

The admin double checked before rewarding Y/n the points and she cheered. “Now we are even Hamilton”

He rolled his eyes “For now”

Round 3

Another familiar song began to play, this was definitely one you put in the playlist. Unfortunately Lewis beat you to it like you had in the previous round.

“It’s a Bad Bunny Song i just don’t know what song” he explained covering is face in frustration trying to think of the song’s name “Is it Tití Me Preguntó?”

Luck was now on the girls side as she laughed “Can I answer!” Y/n asked enthusiastically as the Admin nodded ‘yes’

“Me Porto Bonito and it was one of my songs” She smiled victoriously gaining another point.

Lewis sighed shaking his head “That was my other answer I should’ve went with my gut”

Y/n held Lewis’ hand sympathetically “it’s okay not everyone can be good as me” He pushed her hands back returning his attention the admin to begin the next round.

Round 4

The girl was completely lost when she heard the song play . She was not really into EDM music and that was her first thought when she heard this song it had to be Lewis’ song.

Lewis however looked just as lost until it hit him.

Y/n saw his eyes light up as he hit the buzzer “this is one of my songs right? ‘On My Knees’ I forgot who sings it”

“He shouldn’t get the point then!” Y/n exclaimed but she lost the fight nonetheless

Lewis smirked “we are even now!”

Round 5

“YOU BELONG WITH ME” Y/n screamed the song wasn’t even five seconds in as she hit the buzzer causing her teammate to jump in fear at the girls actions

Lewis looked at her in shock and disbelief, he knew she was a fan of the famous singer but not to that extent.

“I think she really likes that song” the admin laughed

Her teammate continued to laugh at the girls actions as she sung along to the song “remind me never to play Taylor Swift around you”

Round 6

“Right now we have the very enthusiastic Y/n in the lead, However this last round is winner takes it all” the admin explained

Both Mercedes drivers had there hands on the buzzer ready to answer

The introduction of the song already gave it away but the two drivers answered at the same time

“DNA Kendrick Lamar” they shouted

Not knowing who should get the chance to answer which driver put the song in the playlist so they could secure ten points the admin told them to play a game of rock, paper , scissors.

“Rock, Paper, Scissors shoot”

Lewis put our Scissors while Y/n put out Paper.

The girl let out a cry as Lewis answered “It was me right?” He smiled ready to win the game

“Unfortunately you’re wrong with means Y/n won the challenge!”

The girl who was once sitting in sadness stood up in cheers “FINALLY!” She cheered as Lewis was left in disbelief

“That was rigged” Lewis said

“Oh now it’s rigged just take the L” Y/n shot back

The drivers had calmed down before filming the outro “If you enjoyed this video leave and like and comment and make sure you follow so you can check out other videos of me destroying Lewis Hamilton” waving goodbye in waves of laughter the so called “short video” took atleast two hours.

Grabbing her phone Y/n looked up at Lewis as he was met with an equally frightened face, “Did you get a call from Toto too” Lewis asked

Y/n nodded “He’s gonna kill us”

[reidsexual]

Reach

“Earth to Dick?” You wave your hand in front of his faraway expression, helping him get off his knees.

The movement helps snap Dick back to reality, his eyebrows raising and his mouth agape almost as if he’s realized something. He looks up into your direction and laughs awkwardly, accepting your hand whilst pushing himself off the floor.

“Is everything alright?” You ask, puzzled by his change in mood. “Yeah, everything’s fine.” He assures you, flashing a smile that could fool most. “Besides, we got the job done.” He looks around, taking in the ruins of the building.

You had been assigned with Dick, Wonder Girl, and Beast Boy on a mission to stop a supervillain with psychic abilities. Made you wonder why they didn’t bring Miss Martian along.

“Sure…” You say, letting him off the hook for a moment. Just until you and your teammates get back to the base, that is.

“That was totally awesome! Did you see when she was trying to manipulate me into lasso-ing myself and I was like ‘No way, Jose!’ and threw her against the wall!” Cassie enthusiastically plays out the entire fight, with extra hand movements to boot.

“Totally badass.” Gar agrees, smiling ear to ear. “And I bet Dick thought so too.” He turns his head towards Dick’s direction, without a doubt seeking approval from the leader.

But Dick stays silent. His mind seems distant - closed off. He’s been like this since Wally’s death, and it wasn’t a secret to you that these missions he went on were merely distractions to cope with his own grief. Once those missions were over, he was alone again in his own mind.

Gar’s shoulders slump, and his smile slowly fades away. You put a hand on his shoulder, smiling sympathetically. “You all did well. I’m proud of you both.”

Hopefully that gets their spirits up.

Truth be told, you’d had quite a crush on Dick since the team’s been formed. When it was just you 6: Dick, Wally, Kaldur, Artemis, M’gann, and Conner. But it never lead to anything - and you were a fool to think so.

Besides, everyone’s moved on from their lives - why shouldn’t you?

You make it to the headquarters, but before Dick can make his first footsteps on the floor, you place a hand on his shoulder.

Dick turns around to meet your eye, an amused glint in his smile. “Didn’t know we were getting handsy now.”

“Funny.” You give him a quick and sarcastic smile, taking your hand off of him and crossing your arms against your chest. “But I’m not in the mood for jokes, Dick.”

“What are you in the mood for? Chinese takeout?” Dick suggests.

“No. A spar would actually be quite nice.” You can feel a flicker of a smile touch upon your features at the thought. “Like old times?” You add, trying not to sound like you crave the nostalgia.

For the first time this mission, you notice Dick’s teasing expression falter, his face falling. His eyes can’t seem to look anywhere but the ground. “Sure. Like old times.” He says, turning around and stepping foot in headquarters.

By the time you’ve showered and cleaned yourself up, Dick’s already at the training room - waiting for you.

The sight makes you panic by just a little bit. How long have you kept him waiting?

Dick stifles a laugh, almost as if reading your thoughts. “Relax, I just got here.” He says in a good-natured manner.

Rolling your eyes playfully, “Just wondering what’s got you so enthusiastic.” You banter back, stepping into the ring.

“What can I say? Nothing cheers me up like some good ‘ol’ training session.” He shrugs, tossing you a wooden stick that you catch without missing a beat.

“Mind if we share a chat while we’re at it?” You test the waters, positioning yourself into a fighting stance across from him.

“If you can focus.” Dick answers confidently, before you charge at him, striking your stick to the side of his neck before he effectively blocks it, repositions your weapon, nearly making you lose balance.

You do a cartwheel to land on your feet. Both arms stretched out as you crouch on the floor, sticks on each side.

“What was it you wanted to talk about again?” Dick asks in the middle of you launching a kick at him, which he catches with his free hand. While he’s distracted, you deliver a blow to his side with your elbow.

“How are you?” Seems to be the most appropriate way to start the conversation to you right now.

“Fighting an extremely athletic lady. You, on the other hand?” He jokes, and you can almost see a glimpse of the boyish Dick you used to know.

“Repeat that - but replace ‘lady’ with ‘gentleman.’”

“Flattered.”

Dick lands a devastating blow to your jaw, and you have to take a step back and wipe the blood off your lip.

His face morphs from playful and teasing to concerned and worried in less than a millisecond, instantly dropping his sticks and rushing forward to you.

“Are you okay? God, I didn’t think-” You sweep your leg under his, Dick falling back-first with a thump.

“Careful. Might change my mind about you being a gentleman. Might change it to little rascal instead.” You say, reaching your hand out to help Dick as he sits up and rubs his hand behind his neck.

“Never-”

“Lose focus when attacking your opponent. Taught you that our first training session alone.” Dick finishes your sentence for you. His delivery, so lighthearted and playful - can’t even mask the bittersweet undertone in his words.

“Do you ever miss those days?” You ask without thinking.

“My days as Robin?”

“I mean those days of fresh experience. Back when being a superhero felt like playing a video game instead of a world of hurt on your shoulders.” You explain hesitantly, taking a seat on the ground next to him.

Dick’s eyebrows furrow and you can feel him stare at you intently as you are the one now struggling to look into his eyes. “Hey, hey.” He cups your face in both his hands, softly guiding your face to meet his gaze.

“Where’s this coming from?” He asks quietly. You’re only now realizing how intimate this all looks - your faces just inches apart, you could count all of his eyelashes if you wanted to.

Dick Grayson. Why always be there for others when you can’t even be there for yourself?

You grab both his wrists and set his hands on his lap, immediately regretting the action at the loss of his warmth. “This isn’t about me.” You can hear the annoyance seeping in your voice, you hate it. But how can he be so oblivious?

“This is about you.” You point a finger at his chest, before dropping it and sighing. “I mean, what’s going on with you?”

“What’s going on with me?“ He repeats, sounding equal amounts offended and confused.

“Yes! You’ve been acting so differently as of late and-”

“And it’s nothing you have to worry about.” Dick interrupts, his gaze cold as opposed to his warmth of his touch.

“Will you stop interrupting me?” You huff, annoyed. Standing up from the ground, you dust off imaginary dirt on your clothes.

Combing a hand through your hair, you try to calm yourself down. Remind yourself that you shouldn’t lose patience with someone grieving. But it’s so hard when you are too.

“And will you stop worrying?” Dick stands up to the ground, his height towering over you.

“You’ve noticed?” You scoff, sounding childish even in your own ears.

“Oh, I’ve noticed! I notice everything about you, come on!” He’s almost shouting now - you’re not used to Dick losing his temper, especially not with you.

“Why are you so pissed about a friend caring for you?” Your voice cracks at the word ‘friend’ because you’re not even sure if he considers you one with the way he’s talking to you right now.

Sweat drips down the side of his forearm, and you’re not sure if it’s from the heat of your argument or the intense sparring session earlier. But either way, you can feel yourself start to get heat up over the whole ordeal too.

“I’m not mad that you care.” He says pleadingly, his voice calmer now, but the anger still appears. “I’m upset that you treat me like glass. That I’m fragile. That I have to prove myself all over again to show you that I can handle things on my own.”

The way he looks at you, you can tell he’s at battle with his own thoughts. Between desperately trying to convince you he’s fine, and wanting to give into your help and tell you he’s not.

“Nobody’s invulnerable, Dick.” You take a step closer, your frustration simmering down. “And you’re one of the most capable people I know. But that doesn’t mean I don’t notice when you need support by your side.” You take his hand in yours, reassuring him, as a friend. As a friend.

Dick looks at you at loss for words. It’s like he’s asking you what’s the right thing to say, the right thing to feel.

“It’s been tough, I can admit that.” He says somberly, taking his hand out of yours in a way that makes you pretend it didn’t hurt. “But that’s what comes with saving the world. That’s the price there is to pay for.”

You’ve always known that Dick’s life revolved around bettering others. It’s been his life since he was a kid - from performing for others entertainment, to fighting crime for others safety. It’s all he’s known.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t reach out.” You whisper, trying one more time. For someone who doesn’t want to be Batman, he sure is good at avoiding others from seeing his true emotions.

Dick turns his back on you and grabs the sticks on the ground. “I came here because I thought I could shut my mind off. Focus on things that made me forget about work.”

“I guess we’re both disappointed then.” You say in a soft voice, careful not to let it crack.

And with that, Dick’s shadow disappears in the corridors. Leaving you alone in the training room with nothing but wooden sticks for you to reach for.

(hey guys!!! this is my first time writing anything, like, EVER. so if I made any mistakes, please lmk and I do apologize if the portrayal of dick isn’t accurate or if some of the dialogue feels cringy and unnatural)