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yayeetsonny · 5 years ago

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Teamwork Makes The Dream Work~USWNT x Baby reader

Prompt: Baby reader gets injured during the World Cup final

Requested by: @defenseless-squad Enjoy!

Y/N PRO//

If you had told me a year ago that I would be walking on to the field where the women’s soccer World Cup final was being held and that I was starting in the game, I would have laughed in your face and called you crazy. This has been my dream since I was 4 years old, and now here I am suiting up along side some of the greats of this generation, Alex Morgan, Christen Press, Tobin Heath, Megan Rapinoe and so many more. My teammates are my idols and I look up to all of them tremendously. At 17 years old I never thought that I’d make it here, or if I did it was going to be several years down the line. I was trying to remain calm and focused but I was practically buzzing with nervousness and excitement.

“You good, kid?” Megan asked as she wrapped her arms around me from behind.

“Yeah, Yeah. Just a little nervous is all.”

“I know. We all feel that way, but don’t let it overshadow this. You can do this and you deserve to start today.”

“Thanks Pinoe, I’ll play my very best.”

“I know you will. We all believe in you.”

She squeezed me once more before letting go, as she did Alex turned around to give me a pep talk too.

“You have nothing to prove, you earned your spot on this team and you are gonna kill it out there.” She said while giving me a quick hug, kissing me on the head.

I always thought it was crazy how all of my teammates seemed to know what I was thinking or feeling without me having to say anything. It was a blessing more often than not because I struggled with explaining how I felt a lot of the time.

“What are we?” She asked

“One nation. One team” I said proudly

“That’s right. We play as a team, whatever happens out there, win or lose we do it together.”

And with that It was time for us to walk out of the tunnel onto the field. After we lined up for the anthems, greeted the Netherland’s national team and did the coin toss it was time for kick off. Alex was the captain this game so she started in the circle with a Netherland’s player opposite her. She turned to look at me briefly, winking at me and then the referee blew the whistle and the game was on.

From the start we controlled the game, we wanted to find the back of the net as soon as possible. The Netherland’s had other plans however and were able to hold us off, it was nearing the end of the first half already, I could tell some of my teammates were getting frustrated and I was too. I hadn’t been able to hold onto the ball long and when I did I was taken down with a foul. The entire team, including those on the bench were getting more fired up as time went on. They definitely did not take kindly to people hurting me in any way. After another particularly brutal foul Tobin was in the offending player, Vivianne Miedema’s face while Alex was yelling at the ref to card her.

“Dude, What the hell was that?!”

“I’m just playing the game Heath, Take a chill pill.”

“What did you just say?”

“You heard me.”

At this point several players from both sides were trying to get in between the two but they were determined to keep going.

“Don’t you even care that you could’ve seriously hurt her?”

She gestured to me as I stayed on the ground clutching my ankle with several of our teammates crowding me. They all fussed over me and nearly bit the head off of a Netherlands player who tried to see if I was okay.

“Don’t touch her. This is your fault.”

“How is this my fault?! I didn’t even touch her.” Jill Roord said.

“Your team has been picking on her all game. Don’t act like you don’t know.”

“I’m sorry some of my teammates are being extra rough, Especially Vivianne but don’t blame all of us.”

“Whatever. Just leave her alone.” Julie said a bite to her tone.

“Look, I’m just trying to be nice. I just wanted to see if she’s okay.”

“She isn’t, thanks to you. Just leave.”

“I already told you this isn’t my fault.”

At this point I was worried this was going to turn into an all out brawl on the field as I looked up at my teammates. They all had a fire in their eyes and they looked extremely angry at the entire Netherlands team.

Several Players on both sides were arguing with each other and some looked close to throwing a punch but luckily when I called out to them they all shifted their focus to making sure I was safe and okay. Well, all except for Tobin, she was still giving Miedema a piece of her mind.

“Where on your ankle does it hurt?”

“Do you need to be subbed out?”

“Don’t get up, stay down until the medics come check you out.”

The medics rushed out asking me if I needed to be taken off but I said I was okay and that all I needed was some of that numbing spray and I’d be good to go. The girls didn’t like the idea of me staying in the game because they thought

“You need to ice your ankle little one.”

But I needed to convinced them that I was okay to keep going. I could do this, I needed to do this.

“T, It’s not worth it. Please calm down.” I said as Kelley helped me to my feet.

“Easy, put your weight on me babe.”

“I’m okay Kel, I promise.”

“But your ankle- ”

“I know, it didn’t feel great but I can do this. please let me.”

“Y/N, we really think should- ”

“Guys, I promise I’m okay.”

I finally got them to let up and they agreed to let me keep playing as long as I asked to be subbed out if I needed to.

I was afraid Tobin was going to punch our opponent if I didn’t stop her.

“Tobin, I’m okay. Please let it go.”

“No, she hurt you.”

“Tobin, please.”

I went up to where they were standing, continuing to stare each other down and put my hand on her shoulder.

“I’m good T. It’s okay. Drop it before you get in trouble.”

“Fine. If you pull anything like that again I won’t be so kind.” She said while shoulder checking Miedema as she walked passed her.

The ref blew her whistle impatiently and we all went back to our positions so we could restart. The rest of the half went on without a hitch and after the pep talks in the locker room we headed back out onto the field. Jill decided to keep me in for the second half as well and I was beyond thrilled to have the chance to play a full 90 minutes. We kept trying to find the back of the net almost immediately as the second started and after 62 minutes we finally got the break through we were looking for. Alex drew a foul in the box that led to the referee awarding us with a penalty.

Pinoe being the legend she is of course, stepped up to take it and just like I knew she would, she sunk it in the bottom right corner of the net. We cheered wildly as we had finally gotten what we were after and we could feel ourselves getting closer to being champions for the second straight time.

After Megan scored there was a renewed energy to the game and we were ready to close it out. 7 minutes later Rose made the score 2-0 as she shot the ball just out of reach of Sari Van Veenendaal. We once again went crazy with the players on the bench joining us in our celebration. We knew at this point that the game was ours to win as long as we remained focused and saw it out.

Miedema was still going after me, clearly not having learned anything from the first half. I did my best to stay away from her or find my way around her but it wasn’t enough. As I crossed the ball to Alex she slid into me, taking my legs out from under me, causing me to land face first in the turf and then as I stayed down she proceeded to step on my back, digging her cleat in as much as she could.

“Stay down, kid. You know you deserve this.” She spit at me as she walked away.

I didn’t reply as I was too busy holding my back and crying from the pain. My face throbbed and I didn’t doubt that my nose was bleeding, if not broken as well. My teammates were furious and several of them were up in her face and protesting as it looked like she’d once again get let off the hook. Alex was by my side immediately, telling me not to move.

“Y/N, it’s gonna be okay. The medics are coming.” She said as she leaned down by my head.

“Al, my back and my face hurt so bad. Please make it stop.” I cried

“I know babe, I know. They’re coming, you’ll be okay.”

She got up after telling Chris, Julie, and Alyssa who had come up field to make sure the medics knew everything while she went to go talk to the ref.

“Come on! That’s a red!” I heard Alex yell

After more protesting on both sides, the ref finally showed Miedema a red and she walked off the field. At this point the medics had gotten me up and on a gurney and I was being wheeled off the field. Alex ran up next to us before I could completely leave the field.

“It’s okay little one. We got it from here, you did so good. I’m proud of you.”

She kissed me on the forehead and ran back to the rest of the team. I was holding a cloth on my nose and I was strapped to the gurney with something supporting my back. As I was wheeled off the crowd cheered for me and several of the players on the bench came up to pat me on the shoulder. Telling me I did good and that it was okay. I was crying a lot now and it wasn’t just because I had gotten hurt. I had wanted so badly to stay on the whole game and I was frustrated and angry.

I was taken back to the medical room by our locker room and there they examined me for a concussion and any other injuries besides my nose and my back. They determined that neither was broken but that they were both pretty bruised. After getting my nose cleaned up and ice for both I was allowed to go back out and sit on the bench. As soon as I sat down I was swarmed by my concerned teammates.

“How’re you feeling Y/N?” Mal asked

“You played so well.” Ashlyn said

“It’s okay, we know you’re bummed about being injured but we’re so proud of you.” said Emily.

They all started to ask me a bunch of questions about my injuries and after a moment I snapped.

“Will you guys cut it out?! Please.”

“We’re sorry we’re all just a little worried about you.” Morgan said

“I’m sorry. I know, I shouldn’t have snapped at you guys like that.”

“It’s okay, we get it.”

“I’m so tired.” I whined

“It’s okay. The game is almost over.”

Just like they said, the game came to an end shortly after and when that final whistle was blown I was overflowing with pride and joy for everything we accomplished. We all charged the field and celebrated together, many of us were crying and overcome with emotion, in shock of what we had just managed to do.

“We did it!” I yelled as I jumped on Alex and wrapped my legs around her.

My tiredness long forgotten as I enjoyed the moment.

“Yeah we did, baby! We’re world champs!”

She spun me around and then let me down so I could run off to the group of young players gathered in the center of the field.

“Guys! Holy shit, we’re world champions!”

“Hell yeah!”

We continued to celebrate and after the trophy presentation we were allowed to go back to the locker room to continue celebrating there. My back and my nose were bothering me but I wasn’t going to tell the others that. I was bummed I couldn’t drink but I still enjoyed watching everyone else (Minus Christen and Alyssa) get absolutely trashed. I got so many videos of my drunk teammates doing stupid things. They were gonna kill me when they were sober enough but it was totally worth it.

“You okay bub?” Christen asked, coming and sitting next to me on the bench.

“Yeah I’m good.”

“You sure? I saw you rubbing your nose and you look uncomfortable sitting here.”

“I uhh… am a little sore.” I admitted

“Y/N L/N, you should have told me sooner. I would have found a way to help you. Come on, we’re gonna go somewhere a little quieter.”

“No what about the celebrations? I don’t wanna take you away from that- ”

“It’s okay, Y/N. We aren’t gonna stop celebrating for several days, I won’t miss much.”

After she convinced me to go with her somewhere we ended up just going to a spot close to the locker room but away from prying eyes. She grabbed a couple ice packs and we got settled on the ground outside one of the many bathrooms in the facility. She had me lay down with my head in her lap, she placed the ice pack under my back and held the other gently against my nose. We stayed there together until it was finally time to get on the bus and head back to the hotel.

Once we got there her, Alyssa and a few of our more sober teammates had decided to lay down in my room with me for awhile before we had to take off again to another party. Just as Chris had said, we partied and those who could; drank for several days after winning, we appeared on good morning America and we had our own ticker tape parade. These experiences were some of the best of my life and being able to do them along side my 22 best friends was all I could ever ask for.

Many days later when everyone was finally sober again and drinking water only for the next several weeks they all coddled and dotted on me. They were determined to help me heal and feel better even though it wasn’t that serious and I’d be good to play in a couple weeks time. Becoming a world champion was certainly the biggest and best thing to ever happen to me and I couldn’t wait to get back out on the field and play the sport I loved with the people I loved.

Sorry for any mistakes, mostly unedited.

#uswnt #uswnt imagines #uswnt x reader #alex morgan #tobin heath #christen press #alyssa naeher #emily sonnett #mal pugh #ashyln harris #megan rapinoe #kelly o’hara #vivianne miedema #netherlands

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thecreaturecodex · 4 years ago

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Nyctolock

“Necromancer Ranged Attack” © Red Hook Games, accessed at the Darkest Dungeon Wiki here

[Commissioned by @arachcobra. Darkest Dungeon is one of those games I’ve never played, but I admire its aesthetic and bestiary. Obviously, I couldn’t just port the name “Necromancer” over--that means something else in D&D/PF. I decided to tie these guys to the deathlock I converted way back in the day, making the “like a lich, but not” connection they share explicit. I also cut out the tentacles that the Necromancer displays when it uses a claw attack; I wanted to avoid making this too similar to the recent red wraith. Part of my goal with the flavor text is to give nightshades something to do: although they’re very intelligent and described as having their own agendas, they only seem to turn up in Pathfinder modules as guardians and goons, rather than masterminds.]

Nyctolock CR 10 NE Undead This robed, hooded figure has clawed, skeletal hands and a bloodstained, spiked collar. There doesn’t seem to be anything beneath its tightly drawn hood, just a void of darkness.

The vain and petty undead known as deathlocks clamor for more necromantic power. Most pursue their quest alone, but a few swear allegiance to greater evils in return for an easy boost. The nyctolocks are forsworn to the nightshades, those beings of pure negative energy, and they work for these masters to extinguish life and commit atrocities on a wide scale. As a sign of their servitude, every nyctolock wears a spiked collar and bleeds real blood. They are susceptible to bleeding effects, and canny adventurers can take advantage of this weakness. Unlike the heavily decorated and vain deathlocks, nyctolocks typically care little for their physical appearance, which is just as well, for they have little appearance to mention. Beneath their robes and hoods they are nothing more than a humanoid agglutination of bones held together by shadowy flesh, with no facial features to speak of.

Nyctolocks are savage combatants, as they seek to kill interesting and powerful creatures to add them as undead to their forces. They rarely fight alone, shielding themselves behind waves of undead thralls and allies. Their touch causes the flesh of the living to try to escape from its bones, causing grievous injuries and making the process of cleaning skeletons for reanimation easier. Like a lesser deathlock, nyctolocks can fire bolts of eldritch energy, but they also have access to a wide array of potent necromantic spells. They are always shifting across the battlefield, using magically enhanced strides to keep out of melee with stronger combatants and put pressure on healers or mages.

Nyctolocks are often the spies and agents for nightshades on the Material Plane, informing them of developments and researching ways to exterminate living beings on a wide scale. Each nyctolock is given free reign to pursue their own projects and necromantic research, as long as it furthers the goals of the nightshades as well in some small way. Most nyctolocks hide themselves deep in dungeon complexes guarded with undead monsters and traps. Many spread rumors that they are liches, both to distract foes into seeking out fake “phylacteries” and out of some jealousy of those undead spellcasters who achieved great power on their own merits. Nyctolocks rarely work with each other.

A nyctolock varies in size as a human does, but is much lighter for their height due to their shadowstuff bodies.

Nyctolock CR 10 XP 9,600 NE Medium undead Init +9; Senses darkvision 60 ft., detect magic, Perception +18, see in darkness Defense AC 25, touch 16, flat-footed 19 (+5 Dex, +1 dodge, +4 armor, +5 natural) hp 138 (12d8+84) Fort +10, Ref +9, Will +12; channel resistance +4 Immune cold, electricity, undead traits; SR 21 Defensive Abilities jaunt; Weakness susceptible to bleed Offense Speed 30 ft. Melee 2 claws +13 (1d8+4) Ranged arcane bolt +14 touch (6d6) Special Attacks arcane bolt, the flesh is willing Spell-like Abilities CL 12th, concentration +18 (+22 casting defensively) Constant—detect magic, mage armor, read magic At will—command undead (DC 18), darkness, spectral hand 3/day—animate dead, contagion (DC 20), inflict critical wounds (DC 20), vampiric touch 1/day—enervation, slay living (DC 21), summon skeletal horde Statistics Str 18, Dex 21, Con -, Int 20, Wis 19, Cha 22 Base Atk +9; CMB +13; CMD 29 Feats Combat Casting, Dodge, Improved Initiative, Point-Blank Shot, Precise Shot, Toughness Skills Acrobatics +15, Disguise +17, Intimidate +17, Knowledge (arcana) +18, Knowledge (religion) +18, Knowledge (planes) +15, Linguistics +13, Perception +18, Sense Motive +18, Spellcraft +19, Stealth +19 Languages Common, Necril, 8 others SQ item mastery Ecology Environment any land or underground Organization solitary or army (1 plus 4-48 HD of skeletons and zombies) Treasure double standard Special Abilities Arcane Bolt (Su) As a standard action that does not provoke attacks of opportunity, a nyctolock can fire a ray of pure magical energy at an opponent within 60 feet. This functions as a ranged touch attack that deals 1d6 points of damage for every two Hit Dice the nyctolock has (6d6 for the typical specimen). Item Mastery (Ex) A nyctolock can use spell trigger and spell completion items as if it had all spells on its spell list. Jaunt (Su) Three times per day, a nyctolock can move up to 15 feet when it takes a five foot step. This movement does not provoke attacks of opportunity. Summon Skeletal Horde (Sp) Once per day as a standard action, a nyctolock can summon 1d4+1 skeletal champion warriors within 60 feet. These skeletons obey its commands and fight for 12 rounds or until destroyed. This is the equivalent of a 5th level spell. Susceptibility to Bleed (Ex) Unlike other undead creatures, a nyctolock can take bleed damage. It can halt the bleeding with a successful DC 25 Spellcraft check as a standard action. The Flesh is Willing (Su) As a swift action when it hits a living creature with its claw attack, a nyctolock can deal an extra 5d8 points of damage (Fort DC 22 half). A nyctolock can deliver this effect through a spectral hand, but not as part of the same action as delivering a touch spell. A creature slain by this effect is stripped down to a skeleton, and cannot be returned to life with a raise dead or any other effect that requires an intact body. The save DC is Charisma based.

#nyctolock #necromancer #darkest dungeon #pathfinder 1e #commissions

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blkgirlcafe · 4 years ago

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Home PT. 8

iktor Drago x Cyra (Black OFC)

Cyra (Ky-Ra) -Sun or throne

Kazimir (Kah-Zee-Meer) - Bringer or Announcer of peace

Viktor Drago is married to the love of his life, they have a 5 year old son. He is willing to do anything to keep them safe.

Warning: Kidnapping, abuse, mentions of child abuse

Flashback #8

Viktor couldn’t shake the feeling something was wrong. As usual he meet her at the gym when she was finished. She had been quiet, normally she had a story to tell him about her day.

Now they were eating dinner together and she hadn’t tried to steal food off his his plate.

“Vik…” she stopped looking at him before looking away.

“What’s wrong?”

“I leave in two months, I go back home.”

Everything stopped for Viktor. He knew this day was coming but still was not prepared at all. 2 months, he would no longer have his girlfriend here to hold. Surely when she got back to America she would forgot all about him.

“Viktor did you hear me?” She had set her fork down.

“No, I’m sorry.”

“I said, I don’t want to leave you, I love you.”

Cyra has never been shy, but telling a man that she loved him made her feel bashful.

“I love you too Cyra, how can we make this work?”

“Come with me?” She perked up, “I already got offered a job.”

“That would mean I would have to leave…”

“Ivan.” She said a scowl on her face, she never cared for the man.

“And my home, this is the only place I have ever know.”

Vik bounced around the ring, he was throwing light punches, not ready to down his opponent, they wanted a fight, he would give them a fight. He could already tell that his opponent was tired, his opponent threw sloppy shots that left him open. The bell dinged signaling the end of round 4, Viktor sat in his corner, looking around the ring into the crowd, he wanted to see his wife face.

“Damm you are doing good, two more rounds then lay him out.” his trainer said.

Viktor just nodded, spitting in the bucket before drinking some water.

“Is she coming?” his trainer asked.

“I hope so.” was all he said before shoving the mouth guard back into his mouth. The bell dinged and Viktor stood, this time he took his frustration out on his opponent, hit after hit to his middle, making him double over before Viktor hit him with a uppercut, his opponent went down, hitting the mat hard, blood spraying from his mouth.

____

“Cyra are you sure?”

This was Trey's third time asking her so she ignored him. Yes she was sure, she didn’t need medical care, neither did Kazi, they both just wanted to see Viktor.

“Fine.” Trey gave up.

The traffic around the arena was hell. Trey double parked in a spot meant for law enforcement, Cyra jumped out before he even turned the car off. She grabbed Kazi and walked towards the entrance.

She was stopped at the door, someone asking for tickets. She never had tickets, she tried to tell the guy but he stood firm. Until Trey caught up with her, he flashed a badge and they were let in.

“Hold him.” Cyra handed Kazi over to his uncle.

The arena was packed, seats filled to capacity with spectators. Cyra learned from Viktor that people loved violence, they liked seeing two men fight almost to death for their entertainment.

Trey walked in front of her, moving people out the way easily. They made to the section right behind the announcer table, Cyra leaned against the barrier on her tippy toes.

She didn’t say anything, just looked at her husband. Kazi started whining, he never been to a fight, it was too much for a child. When Kazi spotted his father he shouted out his name, causing Viktor to turn.

The slip cost him a punch that landed squarely on his jaw, making him stumble into the ropes. He leaned against the ropes, looking at them. Cyra smiled at him, tears in her eyes.

He pushed himself off the ropes, more energy in his step than before. He was going to finish this and now.

——

Flashback #9

“It’s our last night together.” Cyra was cuddled in Viktor arms.

“I got you a present.” He said quietly.

He gently moved behind her, reaching for something in his gym bag.

“Close your eyes please.”

Cyra did as he asked, eyes closed firmly.

“I never really gave you an answer on if I would go with you or not. I thought it over and yes I would love to go with you.”

Cyra eyes popped open in shock, she turned to face him, “what did you say?”

“Your eyes are supposed to be closed.”

“Forget the gift Vik, what did you say?”

He grinned at her, she would never get enough of this smile.

“I said I want to go with you, my gift to you is my passport and my plane ticket.”

Out of an Manila envelope he pulled out his brand new passport and an online ticket for a flight to Atlanta, the same flight she was on.

“Vik…”

“Yes?”

“Are you serious? Like this isn’t a joke.”

“I wouldn’t joke like this Cyra. I love you and I would miss you a lot, plus it’s time for me to go, I need to leave the nest.”

“Oh my god Ivan will kill me.”

Viktor eyes turned dark in front of her, his eyes were so expressive. You could read them like a picture book.

“I wouldn’t let any harm come to you.”

“I ment it like a figure of speech. But surly he is upset?”

“Yes, very much so. But it isn’t his choice, it’s mine. I can’t live my life for him and his goals.”

Cyra flung herself at him, looping her arms around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss.

He threw the papers down and gently laid her down on the bed. Cyra legs wrapped around his torso, bringing him closer.

Viktor was a passionate lover, his rough hands trailed under her shirt. Cyra gave a little whine when he detached from her lips, but quickly changed to a whimper when he kissed her neck. Viktor pulled her shirt off, throwing it to the side.

-----

Viktor was done playing, he quickly hit his opponent with a 3 punch combo, two to the ribs and as he bent over a left hook that laid him out.

He referee did his count, at the count of 10 the ref stood declaring Viktor the winner. The referee tried to do the traditional hold the boxer arms up thing, but Vikor quickly snatched away from his, running out the ring to get to his wife and child.

Cyra ran into his arms, Viktor held her so close, hugging her tighter than he ment to.

“Babe…” she squeaked out.

“Sorry, what are you doing here? You and Kazi should be getting check out.”

“We are fine, baby we are fine, not hurt at all.”

They walked over to the barrier so she could grab Kazi, Viktor took him as soon as he crossed. Kazi never seen Viktor like this, he wasnt allowed to watch the fight, never come to the arena, and by the time Viktor got home he was already cleaned up, taped up, bruises covered.

“Tata!!!!!” Somehow Kazi voice rose over all the cheers, boos, and talking of the crowd.

Trey hopped the barrier, being the voice of reason, herding the family to the back, past all the eyes, the reporters, and other spectators.

Behind closed door they broke down, until now Kazi hadn't seen her cry, but she could help it. The tears just flowed even thought she was smiling. Viktor had his nose in Kazi hair, pecking his forehead with kisses.

“God I missed you two so much.”

“I wanna get down Tata.”

Kazi wiggled his way down, already more interested in the locker room more than his parents. Cyra hugged her husband once again, needing to feel his mass, even if he was sweaty. They stood there quiet and in an embrace, just happy to be reunited.

There was a knock on the door and Trey got it, it was Viktor manger and trainer. She pulled away from his arms.

“Congrats on the win baby, I am so proud of you.”

Viktor didnt let her move out of her arms, Kazi came over to hug his dad legs.

“Let me get those gloves off Champ.” his trainer said.

Viktor reluctantly let her go, and sat in one of the chairs, letting his trainer take off his gloves and the tape underneath it.

“I cant wait to get home Vik, our home.”

“I know babe, me either.”

Cyra waited patiently while Viktor did his after fight routine, taking his gloves off, getting checked by a doctor, his eye was starting to swell and his ribs looked bruised.

He declined to do his post fight interview rescheduling for two days later, he skipped his shower, getting dressed quickly. Viktor picked Kazi up, wincing at the pain he was in. As a family they left to go home.

Later that night…

Cyra couldn't sleep, she kept checking on Kazi just to make sure he was there, after her third trip she slid back into bed quietly, not wanting to wake Viktor.

“You dont have to keep checking on him, you guys are safe.” he said quietly.

“I know, its just that I keep thinking this is all a dream.”

“Come here.”

Cyra snuggled into his side, Viktor wrapped her arm around her, not caring about his own discomfort, to be close to her.

“You know Ivan did this all, he was sill mad I left, left him, left my home.”

“You didnt leave home, you left him and built your own family and home. You have a happiness that he will never know.”

A tear rolled down Viktor cheek, “He could have hurt you two, I will never forgive him.”

“You dont have to we both know he is trash babe.”

“I love you so much Cyra, thank you for coming into my life, loving me, and having my son.”

“I love you to Vik, we are in this together until the end.”

Flashback #9

Viktor was overwhelmed, Cyra tried to prepare him for a new city, but he didnt expect this. they had landed at the busiest airport in America, Hartsfield Airport.

The walk from the plane to the baggage claim took them underground into a train to be transported to the other side of the airport. Viktor tried not to take up to much pace, but he couldn't help it. At the curb they waited for Cyra brother, another thing for him to be nervous about.

When a tall guy walked their way, he could tell it was Trey by the way she jumped to hug him. Introduction were made and Viktor helped load the bags, not saying much.

He opened the door for her, catching Trey staring him down.

“Ayy bruh you good, you being real quiet.” they pulled of into traffic.

“Stop Trey, he isn't much of a talker.”

Heat flushed his cheeks, “I am fine, just soaking in the new scenery.”

Trey proceeded to put him through 21 questions and Viktor answered them in honesty. Every now and then, Cyra jumped in telling him he didnt have to answer anything.

They stopped in front of a apartment building, Cyra seemed to be confused as to why.

“Whats going on Trey.”

“Aight so check it, I did something for you and I hope you like it. Like I know you already got a job lined up but I didnt want you stressing about anything, so I found you a apartment and paid it up for 6 months.”

“Wait, are you serious?”

“Yeah, come on.” Cyra got out the car so fast, Vikor didnt have the time to open it for her. He followed behind the siblings, as they chatted. The apartment was on the first floor and Trey let them in, stepping back so Cyra could inspect it.

Cyra grabbed Vikor hand, pulling him around the apartment, even small it was bigger than where him and Ivan home, old home he thought to himself.

“Babe this is perfect.”

He nodded in agreement, he didnt care where he slept as long as Cyra was by his side.

“This is our home now.”

“Yes, Home.” Viktor said.

Kazi splashed in the tub, getting water everywhere, Cyra let him, not caring he was making a mess.

Cyra had the news on in the background but wasnt paying attention to it at all.

Broadcaster: Ivan Drago, the famous boxer and father of Viktor Drago was arrested approximate 72 hours ago, He had been indicated on charges of kidnapping, child endangerment, assault to just name a few. Ivan Drago along with 4 other people have not entered any plea agreement at this point. Reached out to Vikor Drago for a statement and was turned down by his management.

The End

#Viktor Drago #viktor drago x cyra #viktor drago x black woman #viktor drago x OFC #smutty writer #smuttywriter #black wrtiers

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lunaschild2016 · 5 years ago

Text

Belief - Part 3 (Edit)

Rating: M

Devi is Dauntless. Through blood sweat and tears she made a place for herself three years ago when she left her life in Amity behind. Not once in that three years has Eric Coulter even deigned to look her way. Not until that night. Now she has nothing but his attention. Eric/OC AU [Smut, Language, Romance]

Part 3

I decided that I'm not going to eat the food Eric pushed on me. After he left I felt furious at how presumptuous he had been and that pushed aside any pleasant feelings I had when I opened the bag to peek inside.

I'm angry at my reaction to him.

I'm still furious at Four for letting Rain go.

My head is killing me and I'm completely exhausted.

I'm just pissed and grumpy in general. I walk out of that room still clutching the bag tightly and fully intend to toss it in the trash then start back to work.

As soon as I get to the waiting room I see that most of it cleared out and that Kari is rushing towards me with wide eyes. They're darting between me, the bag, and then the cameras.

I grumble under my breath, already knowing what's coming. "What did he say to you?"

It's not Kari who answers her but Devon, the other aid on staff. "He said that if you didn't do what he said he would hold the two of us responsible. That he would be more than happy to arrange for an extended visit for one or both of us at the fence."

Kari is pale and shaking, confirming that everything Devon said is true. My fury explodes and I start muttering in a combination of English and Spanish. Mainly curse words.

I refuse to give in! I know there is no way he's going to get away with taking away the staff we need here at the clinic. I push past Devon and go to throw the bag in the trash but he stops me by pulling my arm back and scowling at me.

"Fine! If you're so dead set on seeing one of us being sent to the fence, at least I can see what the mighty Eric brought to you. Better yet, I'll just eat it myself and then I can say I was treated to something by the man that never does anything for anyone other than himself."

He goes to actually grab the bag but this makes me snap and I punch him the gut before clasping the bag, the one I was about to toss just seconds ago, close to my chest. "Culo! No one is touching this!"

He smirked through holding his stomach. "Told you." He said looking back at Kari.

"Told who what?" I snapped.

Kari shakes her head and raises her hands while still shooting glances at the camera. "Seriously though, could you just go eat, Devi? Go to the office and we can handle things while you are gone. You know you get all grouchy when you haven't eaten anyway."

I narrow my eyes but went ahead to the office. Kari isn't wrong and I can become a complete bitch when I haven't eaten. Today it is so much worse because I'm also hungover and tired as hell. I slam the office door and fling myself in the chair after tossing the bag on the desk. It doesn't take me long to give in to the temptation of the smells and the urgings of my growling stomach.

I tear into the bag then lunch eagerly.

It isn't just the sandwich, but also a bag of cheese crisps, a cake brownie, and then one of the whole dill pickles that are shipped in from Amity.

It’s all perfect food to fill me up and soak up the alcohol that I'm sure is still running through my system. For that reason, and that reason alone, I decided not to feel guilty about taking my time eating every bit of lunch. There is also paperwork and charts that needed to be completed or filed, so I took this time to get that all done since I was already in the office.

In between bites, I worked happily and with the occasional hum of pleasure.

I hate the fact that my mood started to improve as I went along. When I emerged from the office I felt loads better but wasn't about to comment on it. The first time Devon cast a knowing smirk at me I sent him a glare that shut him up very quickly and sent him hustling to get the areas that needed it cleaned up.

The rest of the day was spent catching up with normal things.

Members or dependents that needed to be seen for one thing or another, but couldn't during the week, they always come in during the weekend for appointments. That makes my morning packed with those visits on top of anyone that might come in that hasn’t been scheduled.

Things calm down eventually, but we still have to push people we didn't get to during the day to be seen tomorrow. Which means another of my days off will be spent in the clinic.

Shauna finally comes in to relieve me for the evening shift but I stay to help clean things up and go over the charts of the unlucky few that have an overnight stay with us ahead of them. She chatters the entire time.

What Tori said about Dauntless and gossip is completely true. The 'head bitch', although she herself would never be considered a bitch, in the gossip food chain is none other than my friend and co-worker. Her information is usually on point and reliable. She can usually call or predict something before it ever becomes official.

Part of that has to be because her fiancé and his brother are both working in Intel or work closely with leadership. Tonight she's going on about what had happened in the faction so far and the big story going on is about the brawl.

Turns out the former champ at Big Shots, Razor, did sort of throw the fight. He was wasted out of his mind and nowhere near the condition to handle the level of fights he was scheduled to face that night. The brawl happened when the refs, manager, and judges all made the decision that the wins were void and the fights would be scheduled for another night.

The people that won big were livid. The ones that were all for the rematches got pissed when the other group started calling them, and the champ, out for cheating in some way. Honestly, it sounded like even if he won there would have been an explosion of some kind. We’re all fighters after all, and it doesn't take much for us to want to get in on the action too.

In the middle of cleaning a room together, Shauna stops and looks over at me with a frown.

"Hey, you really should take off and get some sleep. You had a long night from what I heard and it isn't going to get better for you tomorrow."

I snapped up from making the bed and whip around to look at her. "What the hell does that mean?"

I already have dread running through me, and when she shrugs with a knowing smile, I know. I just know.

"Something I heard but I'm not supposed to talk about. I can tell you that tomorrow will probably be a long day for you."

If Tori and Shauna could be put side by side, at least the Tori from this morning and Shauna right now, their tones and smiles would be a complete imitation of the other.

"You can't say? Why?" I pop my hip out and my hand goes on it.

I might be tiny but I can be fierce if you piss me off enough and I'm right there at the edge with the only thing in my line of sight being Shauna. Friend or not it's tempting. I guess she recognizes this look enough and the smile drops.

"Look, I want to tell. I had every intention of telling you, actually. That's why he ordered me not too when he saw I was listening in to his conversation with Uri at lunch."

I don't even need to ask who gave that order. Her expression matches the one Kari had from earlier.

"Hijo de puta! Esto es un montón de mierda de caballo. Durante tres años, apenas sabe que existo, ¿pero ahora decide que merezco otra mirada?" I fume and stomp my foot in a huff.

I jerk around and finish making the bed.

"Sorry," Shauna says softly from the other side of the room. I wave that off and shake my head.

"Not your fault," I mutter with a sigh.

When the bed is made we make our way out of the room and she looks to me as I am gathering my things from the office.

"I don't think he didn't see you all those years, Devi." She calls to me softly as I was walking out of the room. "I don't know for sure, but sometimes I thought I caught him watching you. It's hard to know with Eric though."

I sigh wearily and smile back at her. "I'll see you in the morning. Thanks for the heads up."

I head home and grab something to eat after I take a much-needed bath. My roommate and friend Sadie apologized profusely for the night before.

It turns out they were there with me all along but when they tried to approach Eric when he was taking me from the pit, he turned his famous glare on them, warning them away. They hadn't dared to try and stop him after that. I would have told her off for not even trying, but it isn't worth my energy. I know all that would have done is get them on Eric's shit list.

By the time I finally crawl into bed I've gone into denial mode and coming up with anything that could be causing Eric's behavior besides what my body is telling me it might be.

This was all just an amusing distraction for him. Sadie told me what happened and how Four also tried to get me away from Eric. This is his way to get back at Four after he tried to keep me from Eric in the Pit. Eric knew it would be a button he could push on Four and had done that.

Come tomorrow he'll be bored of it and move on to some other much more willing victim.

He doesn't really have any interest in me and I refuse to let myself feel any kind of hurt about that realization.

Tomorrow I'll wake up, go to work, and then go out with my girls.

Maybe I'll even take Ash up on that offer to hang out. I could use a pick me up.

I go to sleep feeling more confident and with a smile on my face.

But there is the faint thought that if there is real interest, Eric is about to get another wound to that overinflated ego of his.

**********************************************************

The morning dawns once again, and way too soon for my liking.

Over my morning coffee, I send off a few texts to make plans for that night.

Sadie, Vera, and AJ are all willing. Even Lynn said she could be counted in for a few drinks and dancing. I also send one to Ash telling him where I would be for the night. If he wants to stop by, have a few drinks and maybe dance he's more than welcome too.

Ash is someone I see from time to time.

He works patrols and has a rotating schedule where he's out of the compound for two weeks before coming back for two.

We've never tried for anything serious between us for various reasons. Some of it’s because of our schedules and dedication to our jobs, but that isn't all of it. We are honestly more just friends with the occasional side of benefits. We don't always hook up when we hang out though.

It's just nice to have someone to cuddle or dance with, without them being a total creep. Just someone to have fun with, be myself, and not worry about either of us wanting more than we are capable of providing.

I don't expect him to be up to reply right away, neither of us expects the other to drop whatever we might be doing just because we call, but he does and he happily agrees to meet me for the night. It will be his last night to out before he goes back on rotation.

There is a pep in my step as I head out to work. I even stop by the combination deli and bakery to pick up some treats for me and the others.

I have to be careful how often I do this, but I've never been one to try and deny myself just because of what someone else thinks will be bad for me.

It's nice to be able to get things like muffins, cake or other baked goods again now that I don't have to worry about them being dosed with peace serum. It took a while for me to be able to eat anything even remotely close to bread once I got to Dauntless. They don't talk about what happens to the people that have been living on that mierda.

On the day of my choosing ceremony, my family made a big breakfast for me. I didn't give it a thought when I was eating my fill of sweetbreads right along with the fruit they had that morning. They were both normal things for our meals, and we had sweetbreads at least a few times a week. Mi Abuela loved to bake and garden. Those had been her pleasures, so there was always something for us to eat from that.

I've always wondered if they knew what would happen to me that first week of being in Dauntless.

I wondered if my family had known, as I loaded up on the bread, that once I left there I would suffer. Did they know I would go through something called withdrawal? Did they think it was only right that I go through hell for betraying them and leaving?

I don't want to believe that they would do that to someone they loved, but I have my doubts about their love because of that suffering. Someone had to know that living for so long on a drug-induced set of false feelings would throw me off so badly. Someone had to know that I would struggle with trying to deal with all of the feelings that I had never been allowed to deal with on my own before.

Initiation would have been hell on anyone but a girl with my physicality coming from Amity made it a certainty. Adding that I had the emotional stability of a pubescent teen and it just amplified that.

It took me almost an entire year before I would even touch something with bread in it at all.

Have I mentioned how much I love bread and sweets?

That by itself was enough to make me completely moody, especially when all around me the Dauntless cake was taunting me. I may have punched someone once when they seemed to take pleasure in teasing me while they slowly ate their cake across from me at dinner once.

Uriah Pedrad still won't eat cake if I'm around.

Keri and Devon fall on the donuts and muffins once I make it into the office. This is where we gather every morning to be debriefed by the night staff on everything that happened during the night and the status of anyone staying.

It's another busy day for me. All the appointments or people that got turned away and told to come back yesterday are expected today. Some of the ones leftover from the mess the brawl created came back during the night, so thankfully most of that mess was taken care of by the night crew. There are a few walk-ins with cuts or broken bones but none of the crap that I was seeing yesterday morning.

Overall, while work does keep me busy, I'm still holding onto the good mood I woke up in. It's looking like I'm going to get out earlier than I expected, and since this is supposed to be my day off anyway, it just improves my mood even more.

So much so that I almost forget about yesterday completely.

I mean, I've only daydreamed about that kiss and Eric a few times today, so I think I'm doing pretty good.

The last appointment of my day is a young dependent. It's just a simple one, being seen for a persistent cough and congestion that turned out to be an ear infection.

We don’t have a doctor on staff from Erudite and while I am qualified for many things, there are some of them that are just beyond me.

Instead of sending a doctor over, we have a computer station that has a scanner along with other various places where we can put in any blood draws or other things of that nature. That allows us to send and receive information to staff over at the Erudite hospital. It’s fairly old and can take an absurdly long time, so it becomes fairly useless in true emergencies. For simple cases like this, it works fairly well. I send over a few cultures, a blood draw and a scan of her chest for the doctor to look at and diagnose.

With a shot of antibiotics and a script for a syrup to help with a cough, I send the little girl and her mom on their way. As I'm doing a clean up of the room they were in Kari comes rushing in with a harried look in her eyes.

"He's here." She says simply and with no need to elaborate who ‘he’ is.

I huff and close my eyes tightly, my good mood going right out of the window. "Any idea what he wants?"

I open my eyes and roll them when I see her horrified expression. Like it was horrifying to her that I even suggested she try and ask him what he wanted. So I shove past her and make my way out into the waiting room, but Eric isn't there.

Devon points the office and then the nerves hit. I was hoping he would stay out in the open here in the waiting room where I wouldn't have to be alone with him. Which is probably exactly why he went into that office.

I groan quietly at this realization before determination sets in and I grit my teeth and give myself a short internal pep talk. I push my shoulders back and walk into the office with as much of a calm and uncaring demeanor as I'm capable of pulling off right now.

Eric is sitting behind the desk and has a file in his hands with a few others laid out in front of him and with his feet propped up on the desk. He looks way too at home in the place I consider my domain, for my liking. That calm demeanor snapped straight out of the window. I slam the door and put a hand on my hip as I glare at him.

"Did something happen to the staples? One pop out of place or something?"

He looks up from the file in his hand and smirks. "Nope. They're still intact." He tilts his head and that infuriating smirk gets wider. "Sorry if that ruins your hope for getting my shirt off again. Although, if you ask nicely enough…."

I sputter and glare at the gall of the man. "Hate to burst your ego but that was the furthest thing from my mind."

Mentira! As soon as he said it, that’s all I wanted.

I walk closer and shove the feet he has propped up on the desk off then go to snatch the file in his hand away. He jerks it back and makes a tutting noise.

"Leaders have full and complete access to any and all data or files." The smirk is gone though his words are full of it.

"What do you want, Eric?" I snap at him.

"I looked at your personnel file," He states simply, putting the file down he was reading and I get a good look at it for the first time.

This one isn't my personnel file but the one I have full of my proposals and requests for the clinic from over the last few years. I frown at that and his statement trying to connect the two and my tangle of thoughts.

"Okay?"

"You haven't taken part of the yearly physical training and assessments yet. In fact, you didn't for last year either."

I sigh tiredly and rub the back of my neck. "Eric, I don't know if you’ve noticed or if you even care, but the clinic is running on a tight budget and limited staff. Most of the people qualified to do the things beyond basic aid are Erudite, and they are only here for eight hours of the day. Those hours are early ones that most of the people in Dauntless aren't even awake for half the time, not to mention they aren’t here on weekends. Patrol medics have to come from somewhere and the weekends that takes them from the small staff we have here. I guess it isn't surprising you don't know this considering any and all requests I’ve made are either rejected out of hand or just ignored. Perdóname if I don't make it into maldito training when I'm too busy stitching up or setting bones for everyone else who is able to."

Eric starts tapping his fingers on the table, his jaw clenched and looking around. He stands and grabs the file he was looking at before he turns his cold eyes on me. "Follow me."

I've probably pushed my luck just once too often with him while I was unloading my anger and frustration. In fact, I'm sure of it as he stomps to the door and rips it open, then stalks out. I can hear him barking something to Devon and Kari but not what. I scramble to grab my bag, just in case I need it, and follow after him. Both of the staff are looking at me with worried eyes but they make no moves to say anything or help.

They couldn't help even if they tried to be honest.

I follow after Eric but he stops at some point and waits for me to catch up to him. "You might be short on staff but I can't excuse missing the training. I especially can't excuse missing the assessment. Normally, you would need to do it with one of the qualified staff, and during their hours, but that isn't going to work, obviously." He pauses in speaking even as we are walking and glances over at me. "So, I’m going to take that on myself. We'll be starting with weapons at the firing range today. You won't need to change into workout clothes for now, but I will expect you to have some on you for when we next train."

My fists are clenched at my side as I walk beside him. There is a tiny part of me that's thrilled with this development while the majority of me is pissed at being dictated to like this.

I bite my lip and decide to pick my battles.

Eric’s right and the reason for the lapse in training doesn't really matter. Here in Dauntless, it is expected and the standard unspoken rule is you always make time for training.

We don't go right to the gun range.

First, we stop by his office where he deposits the file on top of his desk. I immediately know I'm never going to see it again and am thankful I have backups of all the information on my laptop.

His desk seems to be one big pile of paperwork. Organized piles, but still.

The desk has a towering stack of files in a tray with a label indicating they still need to be looked over and a matching stack of ones that have the label indicating they are complete. It would take counting each one to know which one has more as they seem to be at the same level.

I don't know what he intends to do with my file but I have a feeling it's just going to get shoved in with one of those enormous stacks and get lost.

I do feel a tinge of pity that he seems to be swamped with work.

I guess I never really wondered what it's like for any of the leaders. Tori never complains, and that isn't something Four is likely to do either. I just always looked at the power they hold along with the perks that come with holding that position, and never considered what needed to be done behind the scenes. Logically I know there is work, but I never considered they would be as buried under as it appears he is.

"Is that always like that?" I ask as I wave towards his desk. Eric unlocks a cabinet at the back of the room and starts pulling out things.

He glances at me and then to where I'm indicating and shrugs. There is a tiredness that etched itself onto his face for just a second before it's gone just as quickly to be replaced by a slight scowl. "It's usually worse."

I frown as my eyes wander over the file names, reading them quickly and seeing that some of the labels are things I would think would be taken care of someone else. "So why don't you have an assistant or something to help?"

"You aren't the only one that has to deal with budget cuts and short staff, Devi. We have the same issues up here. Everyone thinks it will be such a fucking cakewalk to work in leadership or as one of the assistants. Then they get a face full of reality and we find out they aren't cut out for it and have to find someone else or do without."

I should feel ashamed of my words to him earlier but leadership could at least explain that to their departments. Especially ones that are so vital to the faction.

"I didn't know," I start out saying then narrow my eyes at him when he snorts and is probably about to make some smart ass comment. "That could be solved by someone just telling us all this." I wave again but this time between the desk and him. Making it clear I'm meaning him specifically.

It turns out he had been pulling out his handguns. Now he started to slip those into holsters he had on his hip and thigh after checking them. "Would it have made any difference if we had? Knowing that we have little in the way of budget to work with and even less staff?"

I put my hand on my hip and frown while looking down slightly. "Of course. That would have been much better than thinking I've been ignored for the last three years."

I glance back up briefly but quickly look away and blush when I realize how hurt my tone sounded and I caught the flicker of something in his eyes as he caught it too. Eric came closer until he is standing right in front of me. He reaches out a hand and uses his fingers to gently grip my chin and raise my head until I'm looking him in the eyes once again.

"Devi, you were never ignored." He says softly while he runs his thumb over my lips lightly then drops his hand along the soft expression in his eyes and sighs. "Circumstances have had my hands tied until recently. We're working to make up for everything the previous leaders did to destroy the faction."

I nod when his eyebrow raises, seeming to ask if I understand, but can't find the words to reply. I don't trust my voice to speak because of the fluttering in my stomach. It seems good enough for him and he moves to the door, holding it open for me to pass through first before closing it behind him. He sets a brisk pace but not one I'm unable to keep up with. Soon we are entering into the gun range.

The people in the gun range at the moment look at us curiously as we pass. A few of the guys I know from their frequent visits to the clinic, and they start to wave or smile at me. They stop immediately and turn away quickly after a glare from Eric.

He sets us up about as far away from everyone else as he can get while still being in the same room.

It's clear any and all focus is going to be put on me and he isn’t going to tolerate any kind of distractions or interference. I found out it’s entirely possible to be in a large room full of other people and activity and it still feels like I am completely alone with Eric.

This just ramped up my nerves that were already frazzled.

It's also obvious that my lack of training has clearly affected my aim. Something he's all too quick to point out, rather gleefully, and then insisted on physically correcting me while informing that my performance is so abysmal that he might as well start me out like he would a beginner.

That's about how the next two hours progress, with him acting as if I've never even held a gun. He has been pressed against me, or at least uncomfortably close, almost the entire time. Shoving me this way or that. Pressing his legs between mine to correct my stance or wrapping his entire top half around mine while he stands behind me.

He also won’t shut up!

He keeps assaulting me with question after question. When I said something about it, snapping out that I didn’t realize he had so many words in his vocabulary, he just grinned wickedly and said he’s just testing my ability to maintain my skill through distractions and then continued on.

He spent the next hour or so grilling me about anything from my life in Amity before I transferred all the way up to my life now, my friends and things I do with them.

"You said you were considered the perfect Amity. Why did you transfer if you were happy there?"

"You never wondered how you were able to kill chickens? I mean come on that had to be a red flag right there."

"How often did you find a wild horse beyond the fence?"

"Did you really spend that long out of the fence on those trips?"

"How did you get into healing if you worked with animals?"

"How can working with animals and their recovery be compared to a person?"

"Explain all this massage and herb therapy crap. I don't get why it is such a big deal or help."

“Are you actually friends with your roommate, because I remember her being in our initiation and never saw her talking to you?”

“How did Lynn end up in your circle of friends?”

“So, you aren’t all that close to Number Boy?”

“You dance? Where do you go?”

On and on the interrogation went, and all while he's physically distracting me as well.

Between the verbal and physical invasions going on, I quickly become exhausted. By the end of the two hours, I reach the end of my patience.

It's when the questions start to get slightly more personal and trying to pry into past relationships, that it snaps completely. I start responding in sarcasm and Spanish.

Eric just looks amused while his hands start to do things along my back and hips and I realize that I've only been speaking in Spanish for the last thirty minutes of that time and Eric understood every word, even if he only responded back in English.

"Alright, we're done here for the night." He says, stepping back abruptly after having just been brushing his fingers down my neck while his breath tickled my ear. "Let's go to the mess hall and get dinner."

I watch as he holsters the gun and let out a frustrated puff of air while calling him every kind of bastard I can in my mind. I can't decide if I want to turn around and slap him or push him against the wall and relieve all this frustration he’s built up in me.

The first one I dismiss, because even I am not loca enough to slap a leader, and definitely not this one.

There is still the second option.

I snort quietly and shake my head, dismissing that. I’ll just need to find another way to relieve this frustration because there is no way it’s happening with Eric.

My plans for the night flash in my mind suddenly. Hair from my ponytail came loose at some point during Eric’s pawing at me and has fallen in my face. I shove some of the hair back from my face and start to grin then look at Eric as he finally faces towards me after cleaning up our area.

I flash a smug smile at him as I shake my head then grab my bag up. “Thanks, but no thanks. I have plans for the night already.”

“Plans?” Up until my statement, he had been wearing his own smug smirk after stepping back and seeing how flushed I was. That smirk drops as soon as I shoot him down. His eyes move over me cooly but then he just gives me a slight shrug of his shoulders. “Cancel them then.”

His tone is so fucking flippant and as if he’s presuming this would be what is obviously going to happen.

I let out a scoffed laugh. “No. I don’t think so. I’m meeting up with my girls for drinks and dancing before Lynn goes back out on patrol rotation.”

“Your girls, huh?” He drawls slowly while narrowing his eyes and looking me over slowly before his eyes meet mine.

We spend the next few seconds in a stare-off and I think he might be waiting for me to back down and just go along with him.

Clearly, he has learned nothing about me.

Then he surprises me by shrugging casually and gives a small nod of acceptance. “Okay. Just remember what I said though and be prepared for me at any time, little one.”

I ignore the flush of warmth at his nickname for me and narrow my eyes.

He’s up to something. I know it. But whatever is going behind those blue eyes of his is a mystery. I just know there is an intensity to him that makes me want to lick my lips and return the action of looking him up and down like he just did me. It’s so strong that it makes me whip around instead and sashay my ass out of there as fast as possible.

“Will do, Sir!” I toss over my shoulder to him with a grin.

His chuckle after seemed to follow me for the entire walk to my apartment. It sounded like more than just a laugh or simple amusement.

It was dark, rich, and raspy. Like it held a promise of something to come.

Something that shouldn’t have my nipples going hard or my knees going weak. But it did and I think I knew then that I am well and truly fucked.

*****************************************************

“Damn! You are going all out tonight.” Lynn says as she looks me over and walks further into my bathroom where I’m still getting ready.

I’m already dressed, other than my chosen heels for the night, but I’m putting the final touches on my make up. I smile at her through the mirror and lean over the bathroom sink and counter to get closer to the mirror so I can swipe the mascara on in a way that it won’t clump the eyelashes together.

“Damn straight,” I finally reply to her then quickly finish with the other eye.

I put my makeup down and step back to take a look at myself in the floor-length mirror on the other wall, turning this way and that to get a better look.

I wouldn’t say that I don’t dress up when we go out, but I don’t usually go all out like I am tonight. Most of the time I’m wearing something a bit more relaxed. Like the other night, my dress was just a simple black dress; long-sleeved and with a slightly rounded neckline that went to just above my knees and had a tiny slit on the right side. It was just the right amount of casual and sexy. Something I threw on right after work and used my new shoes to add spice and color to the mix. I didn’t even do anything with my makeup or hair really other than fixing my ponytail and adding a bit of lip gloss.

Something about tonight seemed to call for a bit more….well, everything. Something a bit more...Dauntless...and daring.

I left my hair down tonight and let it fall into my natural waves, but added a little product to smooth the hair and make it slightly shiny. My lipstick is a wicked red color and I lined my eyes so that the chocolate brown looks a bit more sultry. I have the same shade of red on my finger and toenails that I used for my lipstick.

My shorts are a little shorter and my cleavage a little more revealed than I would normally display.

The outfit is almost all black in color. The top is a deep v-neck silk wrap top that I have to tape down to make sure the sides stay in place and I don’t end up flashing everyone since I’m not wearing a bra underneath. I have that tucked into the black silk shorts that provide me full coverage of the assets...my ass...but mold to it nicely.

To add some color, and to break up the black and highlight my waist, I added a wide belt made of silver metal that is thick enough to draw attention to the waist and what I consider my best feature, my butt.

The real feature of the outfit is my shoes.

As always they are high heels, four inches, but the style is a roman sandal with leather straps that go all the way up to the knees. I sit on the toilet to slip those on and secure all the little black leather straps.

Lynn has her arms crossed over her chest and is shaking her head at me with a knowing grin.

She knows this look. This is my going out to get mine, look. When I’m feeling sassy and sexy and want to let loose.

“Well, let's go then. Did you eat something?” She frowns at me worriedly while I pop my lipstick into my clutch purse that already has my keys, phone, and some protection (in case I get lucky) in it.

“Yes, mami. I had a grilled cheese when I got home.”

Lynn rolls her eyes but chuckles and shrugs. “Well, that’s better than nothing. We can just order some bar food when we get there.”

I sigh but admit that’s a good idea. I don’t do well with drinks if I haven’t had anything too substantial to eat.

Lynn has a reputation for being hard, and she definitely can be, but we both have the habit of being the ‘mothers’ for our group of friends. We’re the ones that usually make sure everyone doesn’t completely overdo it and that they make it home at the end of the night.

So, I would have normally heard something from her about what happened to me, but I guess since she knows I’m now dealing with Eric, she also figures I have enough torture ahead of me.

If she only knew.

Sadie was waiting for the two of us in our living room while our other two friends that said they could make it, Vera and AJ, already headed over to the club to get us a place.

Vera is currently dating the guy that manages the bar we are going to tonight and managed to sweet-talk him into setting aside one of the balcony areas that overlook the dance floor. Those spaces are usually reserved for officers and leaders in the extremely popular club, so it was a surprise when she messaged us earlier saying she managed to get us a spot.

This will be a treat, because normally we grab whatever spots are available on the lower level and pray there is enough seating. There never is.

We head out and talk as we go, catching up on what’s going on with each other along the way. Once we reach the club we spot the section Vera told us we would be at and can just faintly make her out waving at us from there.

I stick close to Lynn who seems to have this ability to make the crowds just kind of move for her with little to no effort, and in no time we’re across the already full dance floor and at the stairs. We quickly pass the guy that serves as a guard that makes sure no one gets up there that isn’t supposed to.

The upper level is amazing and has a very polished look to it while the lower levels seem to go with a raw kind of approach to decorations. There are already other groups gathered in their own little lounges that we pass on the way to where our group is set up at the far end.

I slide onto the seat of one of the sleek black couches and take in our set up. There is a huge lighted table in the shape of a cube that alternates colors sitting in the center of the L shaped sectional and a collection of four armchairs in dark red of the same material of the couch. On the table itself there are a few buckets filled with ice. Two of them have a bottle of a wine of some kind and the other two have juice. I reach forward and deposit my clutch onto the table and reach for a bottle, examining it and raising an eyebrow when I see that it’s a sparkling white wine from Amity. One that is very popular and is usually reserved for trade with any one of the factions that want it. Erudite is very fond of it and is known to be the one to buy it up after each production year.

I raise my eyebrow at the bottle while looking over at my friend in question. Vera just giggles then shrugs. The pulsing music of the club can still clearly be heard but it’s not so overwhelming up here that we can’t hear each other talking.

“Blaine said they’re for us, so I guess he just wants to make sure we have a good time. It’s one of your favorites right? That wine from Amity?”

I shrug with a smile and start to crack it open but Lynn glares at me and slaps my hand away. “Food for all of us first before we start downing this.” She grabs it from me and shoves it back into the ice bucket.

“Oh good idea!” Sadie coos and then eyes the bar, more specifically the bartender, on this level. “I’ll just go order us some snacks.” She is already up and waggling her fingers at us before I can even tell her what I want.

“Ash is here.” AJ says as she comes up from dancing on the floor with some guy she’s decided is going to be her date for the night. “I told him we’re up here.”

“Thanks.” I reply with a smile and look around.

The club is amazing and has always been my favorite here. That might be because it was the first club I ever went to in Dauntless.

I always loved dancing back in Amity.

They would have days filled with music out on the open fields. Nights where we all just got together and danced with the stars and moon shining down on us.

I would drink and dance my ass off. Then I would go off somewhere with Vicente. We would spend hours more just touching each other or later on as I got older, making love. It’s hard to not be bitter after I realized that all of that was drug-induced.

At the dances where all the young but of age were encouraged to attend, they served drinks laced with shit that I can’t even stomach the name of now. It wasn’t bad enough to be on peace serum all the time but they also gave us other things. I didn’t know that back then. It wasn’t until I got to Dauntless that I was informed about what I was exposed to and what it did to me.

It tainted all of those memories for me. Even the relationship with the man I had hoped to marry. It made me question how much of it was real and how much was the drugs.

After getting through initiation and becoming a member, I resisted going out. Still bitter and upset about so much of my previous life. Doing anything that was remotely similar to my old life was out of the question. I worked and went back to the apartment I shared with Sadie, refusing attempts to be friends or hang out with anyone.

I knew it was fear holding me back. Facing your fears in sims doesn’t make them go away, it just makes you super aware of them.

So I knew that I was afraid to get close to anyone but I was also afraid that I wasn’t able to get close to anyone or love them. Afraid that everything from my life in Amity, who I was, had been fake. Tori brought me out of that and said I wouldn’t know if I didn’t try. Was I Dauntless enough to do that? Of course, I couldn’t back down from her challenge.

So, one night I got dressed up and found myself standing in Club Onyx for the first time.

It’s a literal cave. Stalagmites and stalactites can be found everywhere. The ceiling is high enough up that at places it disappears into the dark. The walls are mostly the natural stone of the cave, but in other places it’s smoothed out to make way for different decorations, furniture or built-in rooms, like the restrooms.

I’m told there are little nooks and crannies all over the place that people like to go and explore. Tori once said there is some type of water in one of them, a grotto she called it. I haven’t explored the big cavern yet so I haven’t discovered if that’s true or not for myself.

The club is a cross between the primal aspect that defines Dauntless and the tech and polished aesthetics from Erudite. That means it has lights, sounds systems, and other little luxuries that make it easier to let go and enjoy.

I enjoyed myself so much that first time. I found my rhythm again and danced long into the morning hours with Tori. Since then, I love to come back here when I can.

Ash finds us just as Sadie comes back with a smirk and a drink. She informs us the food will be here shortly. I pour myself out a glass but at a look from Lynn, I also add some of the juice that was in another bucket being chilled.

I sip my drink and laugh along with the others as we talk over the music. The food is delivered by the bartender, who then joins Sadie. Now we all have partners to dance with. Even Lynn called in one of her girlfriends to be with her tonight.

I can never go right into dancing. I’m not sure why this is, but I always have to have at least a drink before I feel relaxed enough to let go. Tonight it seems to take more for me to be loose enough, and I draw it out by eating and talking with Ash or the others when they make their way back to us.

If he’s picking up on how I’m even more nervous than usual he doesn’t say. We just talk and catch up, comfortable enough with that and each other, that it isn’t awkward at all. Even when he brings up Eric.

“So I hear Eric is breathing down your neck.” Ash says with concern.

I almost choke on the mouthful of wine I had but managed to gulp it down and breathe again.

“Where did you hear that?”

“I had to go to the administration offices to get some paperwork settled for a new patrolman being assigned to my unit and heard some chatter about Eric being after you or something like that.”

Oh, he’s after me alright.

I wave my hand casually and dismiss that thought as well as Ash’s worry.

“I missed the last few assessments and he’s having to handle it. No big deal.” I down the last bit of my drink and plop the glass on the table then reach for his hand. “Let’s dance,” I say even as I start to stand, wobbling only a little, and tug him up with me.

He doesn’t protest and soon we’ve made our way to the dance floor. I enjoy myself, I do, but something about Ash’s hands feel off. I can’t help this uneasy feeling that surges up every once in a while.

Normally, I can lose myself in the music and have no qualms about Ash being close or touching me. Ash even notices and asks me if I’m feeling okay. I just tell him I’m fine but that I need another drink. So we go back up to the lounge and he gets a few drinks from the bar for us. Once I have that downed, I drag him back onto the dance floor.

It seems to work and I dance until my feet can’t stand it anymore. He almost has to carry me back up to the balcony and the couch, where I plop down laughing and into his waiting arms.

I’m drunk and headed to well past drunk, but I really don’t care at this point.

“Wanna get out of here?” Ash asks as he leans in close to my ear brushing some of the hair away from it with his fingertips.

I giggle a little and nod. “Yeah, I just wanna go freshen up first.”

“Okay.” Ash agrees and helps to push me up from my seat, chuckling a little as I groan when my feet throb a little.

He makes a comment about the dangers of wearing such high heels that I ignore after a playful glare over my shoulder at him.

“Be right back,” I say and then weave my way to the bathroom.

The one on the balcony is occupied with a few girls waiting outside for it. I decide to not wait and go down to one of the ones on the main floor that I found a while back that is usually empty. It has two stalls with a well-lit vanity area that I would think would make this a popular bathroom, but it’s well away from the dance area so maybe that’s why it isn’t packed like the others always are.

I take care of nature’s call first. Grateful that the toilets in places like this are nothing like the ones in the dorm or training room from when I first came to Dauntless. You need a shot just to prevent diseases from being near those.

I finish quickly and wash my hands then can’t resist using the vanity to check my lipstick and makeup. I’m so absorbed in finding my lipstick and reapplying it that I don’t notice the door opening, but I definitely hear it closing. And I definitely hear the lock being flipped.

The first, brief, thought I have is that someone’s decided to use this as a place to be intimate so for a few seconds I don’t get worried. It isn’t until the feeling I’ve had, but denied, all night surges through me with a vengeance. The one that felt like I was being watched. The one that had the hair on the back of my neck standing at attention and my senses buzzing. Only this is much worse and it finally gets my attention enough to turn to look out of the little vanity area that is in its own little nook.

Eric is standing there, leaning against one side of the archway, and the expression on his face makes my legs tremble slightly while I swallow heavily.

Eric Coulter isn’t an expressionless, emotionless robot but at times it certainly seems that way. But there are times when that mask breaks. I’ve always thought that the reputation he earned, even as far back as our initiation, didn’t come from the cold, calculating and the ruthless man he can be, but from these moments when whatever he is feeling is unrestrained and intense, overwhelming even.

The expression he is wearing now isn’t far off from one that I’ve seen before when he lost it on someone but I haven’t seen that since our initiation. His forehead is screwed up in wrinkles while his jaw is gritted and his lips turned into a scowl. He’s breathing hard, chest heaving, and his vein in his neck is pulsing as his fists clench and his muscles bunch up. That too is something I’ve seen before when he unleashed his body and showed just how lethal it can be.

I’ve seen all this before. I’ve just never been the one it’s all directed at.

“Just drinks with the girls, right?” He advances on me, all sinuous menace and the words are a hiss.

Despite the feeling that I just want to melt into the floor, I don’t let myself. He’s a beast. I’ve tamed larger and more powerful than him. I raise my chin and stand my ground.

“What business it of yours what I do with my free time? Yes, I’m having drinks with my girls and having fun. I never said there wouldn’t be others involved.”

Standing my ground means that I also didn’t move and he was on me in seconds. My butt hits the counter of the vanity as he brackets me in with his hands gripping it on the sides of my hips. He leans in so close that I can smell the aftershave he must have used before he got dressed for the night.

Dios ayúdame is the man dressed.

He’s wearing a black skin-tight, short-sleeved shirt with a v neck that clings to his skin so much that I can make out the muscles of his abdomen underneath it. It tapers in so that his waist is clearly defined by the belt showing since it’s tucked into black jeans that might as well be painted on him. They look to be barely containing the things he calls legs.

All of that is definitely drool-worthy but it’s not what has my mouth salivating and going dry at the same time. It’s his arms and those fucking veins that are pulsing. It’s the bunching of the muscles of his forearms up into his biceps. It’s the sound of his hands rubbing against the stone of the countertops as he grips them tighter.

It all made me want to lick my way up his arm, starting from his tattoos, until I reach his neck and then down the other until I reach….well….

If at all possible, his breathing goes even more ragged and his chest rumbles in a growl. “I’m not happy, at all, little Devi. You’re fucking drunk again.” He hisses and moves even closer making me gasp and flush. “And you let him touch you.

His powerful thigh shoves its way between mine, opening my legs. Much like he did at the firing range but this time he’s facing me and it brushes up against my bare thighs, pressing into the silk shorts I’m wearing.

I let out a moan and reach out to grab his shirt, pulling him even closer. He finally lets go of the counter and uses one of his large, rough hands to grip the back of my neck after moving until the curtain of my hair.

“What am I going to do with you, Devi?” He growls out the question.

And it is a question.

Said in a tone that lets me know he’s at a loss for what to do, maybe even at the end of whatever control he is trying to keep right now. That and the drinks make me much braver than I would ever normally feel. It has me feeling smug even, knowing that I’m the one doing this to him. That I have the unshakable mountain of arrogance and confidence feeling unsettled, unsure.

“Take me home with you, Eric,” I demand forcefully.

As the words come out I feel a brief moment of astonishment. But yes. This is what I want. I wanted it all day when I’ve relived the kiss. I wanted it last night when I touched myself thinking of him and what could have happened in that exam room. I wanted him even more as he touched and teased me at the gun range.

Dammit, I want him and I will get what I want!

The grip on the back of my neck tightens even more and the rumble in his chest deepens before he shoves away from me. He steps back, his eyes a little wild, and runs a hand through his hair.

I bite my lip and start to step forward, to press the advantage I feel I have but stop as soon as I see the change in him. He was looking down for a second, just one second, but that was all it took.

The wild out of control Eric is gone. He is back to the cold and calculating one. Wearing a wide smirk and his head raises.

“Okay.” His tone is a strange combination that I can’t even describe. All I know is it sends both anticipation and worry through me.

Then he steps forward again and that heat I felt just yesterday envelops me making me feel nothing but raw hunger and need. He grabs my wrist and starts to lead me out. This time he barely takes into account my height as he sets the pace. It takes us no time to make it from the almost empty area the bathroom was into the overcrowded dance floor and bar set up.

Some rational thinking kicks in and I realize I need to let someone know what’s going on.

“I have to tell my friends…”

“They’ll figure it out.” He interrupts me with a smirk and looks over his shoulder a little.

I crane my neck and look to see that a few of my friends are on the dance floor and looking at us with wide eyes. Ash is one of them.

I send him an apologetic smile and then gasp when Eric jerks me back around. This time he pulls me completely against his side and wraps his arm around my waist. He all but picks me up and carries me the rest of the way out of Club Onyx.

I debate telling him I changed my mind but the drunken loss of inhibitions doesn’t allow me. My drunkenness is mortifyingly confirmed when I almost twist my ankle twice and finally my legs almost buckle while trying to keep up the pace he set.

Eric stops me from falling with a curse and whips me up into his arms, bridal style, without even really breaking stride. A strong moment of deja vu stops me from protesting as a faint and hazy memory emerges.

The memory a night when Eric caught me in his arms and held me close, refusing to let me down. Pleasure and warmth from the memory add the desire.

“You could have taken me home that night. I wouldn’t have minded then. Why didn't you?” I ask as we walk and he’s keeping his eyes on the dark and winding path out of the part where the Club is housed.

“I told you before. You were drunk and I don’t take advantage of drunk girls, no matter how fucking tempting they are.” At this last part, he turns his head towards me. I see his blue blazing with the same hunger I’m feeling.

I can’t speak for what I think is only for a few seconds. It turns out to be much longer because he had long ago looked away and now we’re in front of a door. He glances at me with a frown as he lowers me to my feet. As soon as they touch solid ground he pulls me tight to his side again. Once he has me tucked in like he wants me, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out keys. He almost kicks the door in before he ushers me through and I hear it slam behind as he does kick it closed.

He moves us so fast I barely notice anything about his apartment other than it is definitely an apartment. He rushes me through the living area and into a dark bedroom. He flicks on a light switch and finally releases his hold on me.

“Wait here.” He demands and then disappears back out of it. He’s back again before I have time to get my bearings or even move, holding something black in his hands. He moves past me into another dark room that is revealed to be a bathroom when he flicks on that light.

I frown and take a step when I hear what must be the faucet running and cabinets being opened and slammed shut. He comes back out with a scowl on his face.

“There are pills on the counter. Take those and drink the water. Get a shower and I left a shirt for you to put on to sleep in.”

My jaw drops a little and I shake my head in confusion. “What?”

He advances again and takes my clutch from me. He roots around in it, takes my keys and the phone, then pockets them both before tossing the whole thing to the side on a chair in the room.

He then jerks me against his body and crashes his mouth against mine. Our teeth gnash against each other as we both let loose the hunger we’re feeling. By the time he releases me from the kiss I’m panting and spinning.

Not all of it from the kiss either.

He steadies me and scowls as he holds me close. “It won’t be when your drunk or have even had anything to drink, Devi. I want you, but I won’t have you like this.”

I have to lay my head on his chest due to the spinning, dizziness and burning of tears in my eyes. “So why bring me here dammit.”

“Because the fucking thought of you out there like this is enough to drive me to want to hurt someone. I wouldn’t care if they were a friend of yours or not. I want you in with me in my bed, but I don’t trust myself enough to even allow that right now. This is my spare room. In here, I’ll know you’re safe from me and everything else.”

Something about that touches me and I sigh out his name. I let out a shuddering breath and his arms circle around me. The embrace is comforting and claiming all at the same time. It ends too soon though because he pulls back and lifts my chin once more to look at him. “I said you are different and if you can remember this in the morning, maybe you will see I’m proving that to you.”

He places a small gentle kiss to the tip of my nose and then gently pushes me towards the bathroom. I walk in and look at him over my shoulder as I grab the door to close it. The wild look is back. So is the chest heaving and clenched fists. I hesitate to close it but he shakes his head and backs away.

“Tomorrow, Devi. I’ll be here when you wake up tomorrow.” Then it seems like he melts into the darkness and I hear the door to the room click.

I close the bathroom door and lean against it.

The mirror in front of me shows the reflection of a girl I don’t even know right now. Who is this girl that’s feeling hunger like I have never felt before?

It’s almost like I’m the old me. The one from back in Amity that lived and loved with such wild and passion.

Was it always there and the serum just brought it, and only it, forth? Is that what Eric is to me now? Some kind of drug that brings out a side I thought I might have lost forever.

All the questions and events of the night have my mind spinning.

There isn’t an answer for me right now. The only way I can get one is to move forward and find out.

But, in the light of day will I remember this? In that harsh morning after light am I going to want to find out as much as I do now?

I take the pills, drink the water, step into the shower and then put on the shirt that smells so much like Eric it makes me feel like I wrapped in his arms again. I almost think that I won’t be able to sleep at all but it finds me sooner than I would have liked.

#fanfiction #divergent fanfiction #eric x oc #divergent au #smut #romance #humor #eric coulter #oc #jai courtney #diane guerrero

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myhockeyworld87 · 5 years ago

Text

Nervous Regrets - Tyler Seguin - Part 6

Requested: No

Word Count: 3922

Warning: Cursing

POV: Reader

Notes: Total fluff piece. Currently finishing part 7.

The last twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind; to call it a roller coaster of emotions would be too cliché. It was more like that carnival ride, the one called the Zipper; the long-armed ferris wheel type ride that held several free flipping cars, that caged your body in, as it rotated around and around. Spinning constantly, flipping you through the air when you would reach the peak of the arm; the ride left you giddy and nauseous all at the same time. In your teens, it was your favorite ride; now in your late twenties it was a metaphor for your life.

Last night you had no intentions of telling Tyler you were pregnant; in your circle of friends you were known as everyone’s confidant. The fact that you couldn’t keep your own secret wasn’t lost on you. There was no going back now, but what your next move with Tyler was going to be still had you guessing. From the moment you’d found out, you knew Tyler would be a part of the baby’s life; never questioned that. Clearly you hadn’t anticipated the joy he would experience; while not at first, it was quite evident at the end of the night he was excited about being a father.

So, here you were, sitting on your couch in an old pair of Dallas Stars sweats; eating ice cream straight from the container, while you watched your baby daddy play hockey. While said baby, could not be seen yet; you were obviously taking this mom indulging in her favorite foods’ thing seriously. The only thing missing was the pickles, and since they made you nauseous even before you were pregnant; you had an inkling you wouldn’t be running to the store any time soon. It felt good to watch the Stars play again; you’d blocked them out of your life, just as you had Tyler. Oh, you still kept in touch with some of the wives and girlfriends, not so much now; but the first few weeks you did. It felt odd sitting in front of the television, when it was a home game; the norm usually being sitting in the designated wags section. While you didn’t quite belong there anymore now; this didn’t feel quite right either. But really was there anything in between?

“Come on ref, that’s a fucking horrible call?” you yelled at the tv, then spooned another bite in your mouth, as you watched Rads get called on some bullshit high stick. Thankfully Tyler wasn’t on the penalty kill unit; it was added stress neither him or you needed. With about four minutes into the second, a bad turnover by the Kings had Tyler dangling the puck around the goalie. Weaving in and out looking for the perfect shot; you hadn’t realized you were on the edge of your seat. Faking to his left he shifted at the last minute, completely fooling Quick in the process; the puck skidded over the goal line, sounding the horn. “Score,” shouting at the empty living room, you cheered.

Finishing the game, and the container of ice cream, you turned off the tv and headed to bed. Weeks of sleeping, still hadn’t prepared you for this tired feeling pregnancy brought with it; your body was exhausted. Mentally however, you couldn’t make your mind stop spinning; thoughts of Tyler occupying them. When you met him, he’d been your Prince Charming; sweeping you off your feet into a love so grand there was no other possible ending then happily ever after. That Cinderella wasn’t knocked up at the end of movie, after the prince had cheated on her; was something Disney must have omitted. Being the heroine of this fairy tale was going to take more than a pair of glass slippers that was for sure; hopefully, in sleep you’d find a godmother, that brought you sage advice and wisdom instead of a dress.

When morning came however, you were no further ahead than you’d been the night before; so, getting up, you headed to work. The day went blessed easy in the morning; it was the afternoon that turned into a cluster fuck. First, Andrea brought you in a beautiful bouquet of red roses, long stemmed placed in an exquisite vase; they were the classic, something every woman dreams of receiving. It was who they were from that had you frowning. The card read simply, Hope you are feeling better, Always, Robert. Somehow you had pushed thoughts of him to the recesses of your brain. Despite his possessive nature, Robert deep down was a good person. He deserved to be told face to face, that things between the two of you weren’t going to happen.

The second time she walked in, Andrea wasn’t carrying anything; which didn’t disturb you; that was not until she held your office door open for not one, not two, not even three; but ten gorgeous arrangements of flowers; all in hues of lilac. That the color was a melding of both blues and pinks wasn’t lost on you; though it surprised you Tyler would come up with it. Delicate blooms of roses, hydrangea dotted with small sprigs of baby’s breath adorn most of the vases. However, one stood out, while it still contained roses, this one had a unique flower interlaced in it; star shaped little blossoms ran up and down the stem. What stood out was the fragrance, sweet smells of springtime filled the air; giving off an aroma of new beginnings.

Apparently, the florist had come along to deliver the massive number of flowers; she saw you take interest in the bloom. “It’s a hyacinth, the flower of forgiveness. In the world of magic, it is said to symbolize love and happiness as well as protect it’s recipient from harm.” Handing you the card that went with the arrangements, she turned to leave. It read simply, I’m sorry. I’ll never fuck up again. Love For All Eternity, Tyler. That’s when you noticed that damn single tear was back.

“Thank you, so much. They’re all so extraordinary.”

“Your welcome my dear. You must be very special and he must be extremely sorry. It’s not every day I get a call with such specific requests. Most men think the rose covers it all. But yours, he knew what he wanted before I could even make suggestions. Trust me they weren’t easy to find at this time of year either, or I would’ve done more than one bouquet.” She walked out the door, and that’s when you lost it. Dropping down into your chair, you sat there and sobbed. Sure, Tyler had sent you flowers after he cheated; now that you thought about it, they’d all been roses. Always in various shades and color, but always just vase after vase of roses. That he had specifically requested these for you this time, meant more to you than every rose he had ever bought you. Your heart melted a little more, the ice thawing so that even you weren’t sure if it existed. He’d said he was sorry, practically begged for your forgiveness, swore it wouldn’t happen again; you weren’t sure it was possible, but this, this was telling you that perhaps you should at least try. It wouldn’t be easy but maybe, just maybe if you did you both could find peace and be able to move forward together.

The hour you took to collect yourself, put you behind with work and had you staying later than you anticipated; which meant you were running late when Tyler showed up. The small apartment was something you rented on a month to month basis as you tried to determine what the best living arrangement for you and the baby would be; it was nowhere near the house you’d lived in with Ty. Running to the door to answer it; you were still in your work clothes. “Hi Ty! Sorry I got caught up at work and ran late. I just need to change.” He stepped into the apartment, taking in all the surroundings. It had been furnished when you rented it, everything very clinical and clean, nothing that spoke to the person that lived there. All your belongings still in storage. “Have a seat, do you want a drink or anything? God, I think I have some wine or something here, not that I’ll be joining you.”

“I’m good babe. I’m not drinking anymore either.”

You were halfway back the hall to your bedroom, when what he said actually registered in your brain. Sliding your heels off, you had to know more “What? Why aren’t you drinking?”

“I just…I don’t know. You can’t drink, I kind of feel like it’s something I can do with you; at least until the baby’s born.” No wonder you loved this man; that he wanted to do even something this tiny meant more than words could ever say. Entering the bedroom, you quickly grabbed a pair of jeans and a loose flowy top; thank god jeans were made with spandex in them nowadays, not knowing how many more times you’d be able to put them on this easily. Grabbing a pair of chunky wedged sandals, you headed back out to the living room; back to Tyler.

“So where are we headed?”

“I already told you, that’s a secret. You ready to go.” Excitement was radiating off of him; it was contagious.

“Yeah, I just want to grab a quick protein bar. I think someone’s feeling a little snackish.”

Chuckling he responded back, “Would that be you or the baby? Because I distinctly remember you used to always have snacks in that suitcase you call a purse.”

Playfully, you swatted his arm. “So, I like my snacks, nothing wrong with that. Besides I also remember a particular someone, who would dig in that so-called suitcase, for something to eat on a regular basis.”

“You got me there, babe. You did pack two didn’t you,” this while winking at you.

“Of course.” With that, the two of you strode out the door, to the car. Being ever the gentleman, Tyler came over and opened the door for you; that he took the seatbelt and proceed to buckle you in was new. “What are you doing? You know; I can buckle the seatbelt.”

“Just making sure you’re both safe and snug in here.” This over-protective thing was going to take some getting used to; though it did tear down yet another wall that you had built up against him.

The drive was silent; soft music playing in the background; nothing like the drives you used to take. When his hand would be in yours or on your thigh; music as loud as it could be, you both singing the whole way, Tyler mainly off key. Reaching your hand over you began to scan for a station you both enjoyed. “What, you didn’t like what I had on?”

“Ummm, no, not really. I thought we were in a freaking elevator,” chuckling you added “in a museum, run by dead people.”

“It’s supposed to be soothing and create a loving environment for the baby.” Raising an eyebrow, you looked at him, like he had just grown three heads.

“Where did you come up with that?”

“I read it in one of my daddy baby books.”

“Oh!,” it was the only response you could think of; your mind still grasping at the fact that he was reading a book for expecting fathers. That wall you thought about earlier was definitely crumbling now. “So, did you learn anything else,” this said while you worked your way back to the station with the elevator music on it.

“Hmm, that you should start to show soon. That the kid is the size of an apple, pear or orange; that seems to vary depending on what book I read. Oh, and that we should be able to find out the sex at that next ultrasound you mentioned.” He seemed to really be doing his homework. “Do you want to find out the sex?”

“Ummm, I hadn’t given it much thought. What do you want to do? I think it’s a decision we both have to make. Like I don’t think I could stand it, if you knew and I didn’t. It would drive me insane.” People always said that life was full of surprises; you kind of felt that statement contradictory. There truly weren’t many really authentic surprises left in life, but the miracle of life itself. However, knowing would make things so much easier, you’d be able to pick out the color of the baby’s room, buy all his or her clothes in appropriate colors, even have his or her name all ready. You really could go either way, and maybe this decision could be up to Tyler.

“Hmmm, I think it would be fun to know. I kind of remember one of the guys talking about doing a baby reveal or something; which sounds like a lot of fun.” Well that decision was made; we’d be finding out at the next ultrasound it seemed. “But you know, when are we ever gonna get a surprise like this. Maybe when we have the second one, we can find out the sex, but I think this first one I don’t want to know. If that’s ok with you?” Woah, and here you thought that there were no real surprises in life, that statement right there was one; first that he didn’t want to know, second, that he was already planning your next child, together.

Your stunned silence, had Tyler looking over at you wondering if you’d heard him. “Yeah, I agree, I don’t want to know. Unless it’s like super obvious or something.” Staring out the window, you tried not to focus on images his words evoked; a happy loving family, Tyler playing with your toddler on the floor of the living room, while you fed child number two. It was something you hadn’t let yourself think about; hadn’t seen this as your future after everything that had happened. But here, now, hearing his words; the picture was so real, you felt you could reach out and touch it. Shaking yourself, you brought yourself back to the present; seeing familiar homes pass by. “Are we going to the house?” While you’d made headway today; you weren’t completely sure you were ready to walk back into the home you once shared.

“Umm, no.” His short answer was all you received. A few more turns had you slowing down to the apparent destination. The large house loomed in front of you; recognition dawning on your face as the vehicle made its way through the gate. You’d been here before, probably driven past it over a hundred or more times; always with this same man by your side, but never up the drive to the house itself. To say that the look you gave him was questioning was an understatement. “Surprise!” That, that was the only word he said, it really didn’t give you any answers.

He seemed so pleased with himself; yet you had no clue as to why. “Ok, I’m gonna need a little more than that Ty. Surprise, what?”

“It’s the house, the one we always talked about raising our family in.”

“I can see that. Why are we here?”

“I bought it, for us.” He stated it that simply; smiling brilliantly at you. That you needed a deep cleansing breath before you even thought about replying back to him should have made him at least sense your mood; instead the lovable idiot just continued to smile.

Massaging your temple, from the headache you could feel forming; you spoke as calmly as possible. “You did what? Tyler, what the hell are you thinking?”

The smile that lit up his face dropped instantaneously. “I thought this could be a fresh start for us. Plus, we’ve always wanted this house. It came up on the market a few weeks ago; obviously I didn’t buy it then, we weren’t together. But I called yesterday and it was still for sale, so I had the realtor start working on everything, it’s practically ours.”

“We’re not together now Ty. Why would you have him start the whole process? What the hell were you thinking?” That wall, which had been crumbling before, was now being rebuilt by a dozen stonemasons; their incessant pounding making your brain hurt. “Is this some grand gesture to get me to forgive you?”

“Yes…no. God I can’t do anything fucking right with you; can I?” His head crashed against the back of the seat and he blew out a frustrated breath; hands clenching the steering wheel in front of him. “I’m trying here. I really am. Can you just go inside and look at the place? Not for me, hell not even for you; but for the baby?” The pleading sound in his voice had you halting progress on the barrier around your heart.

“Ok,” you relented; it wouldn’t hurt to just look at the place. The door to the house opened then and Tyler’s realtor stepped out; suit and tie all business like, ready to make the sale of the year. Opening the car door, you got out walking around, matching strides with Tyler. Greeting the realtor, you tried to keep an open mind; you’d dreamed about what the interior would look like, this was finally your chance to see it. The massive double doors opened to an understated entry way; an elegant dining room off to your right. The place was tastefully decorated; not ornate or too elaborate, more relaxed as if the people who lived here truly made this a home and not some decorated show piece. The office on the left, was light and airy, not heavy with wall to wall bookshelves; a family portrait hung above the fireplace. You couldn’t help but imagine your own family’s photo hanging there.

Continuing the tour, next you saw the kitchen; flashes of you baking and preparing meals for Tyler and your children popped into your head. It opened up to a family room; where you saw the kids playing with the dogs. Walking down the hall, you entered the master suite, enormous in size it looked out onto the pool; a king size bed fit easily into the room. Images of you and Tyler rolling around on the bed took control of your brain, arms entangled, bodies sweaty, moans filling the air; you looked away needing to shake the thoughts from your head. A sitting area off in the corner offered an opportunity to enjoy your coffee in the morning light. French doors leading outside to a private alcove overlooking the pool; a lounger large enough for two people covered most of the area. It was intimate, shielding its inhabitants from small prying eyes; a place the two of you could make love for hours on end. It was too much; you were standing outside and yet you needed air. Falling back on the sunbed you’d just sexually fantasied about being on with Tyler; you sat, taking deep breaths.

Tyler whispered something to the realtor, who strode back inside the house; leaving the two of you alone. Sitting beside you, he quietly asked, “you ok?”

It was a loaded question, physically you were fine; mentally you thought you were going to explode. “I don’t know Ty.” The look of concern that crossed his face, had you quickly following that up. “It’s not the baby, we’re ok. It’s just this…” waving your hand at the beautifully manicured landscape in front of you. “This is supposed to be our dream home and we’re just not in that place right now. I won’t lie to you; I wish we were.”

Taking his hand, he made soothing circles up and down your back; the movement evoking all those images from just moments ago. “Babe, we’re going to get there. I know it’ll be hard, but just try to have some faith in me.” Turning your head, you stared into his eyes, searching for the trust he spoke of; wanting so much more. There was hope there, hope for a future the two of you could build. Love, so much love it made you ache; even a tinge of sadness for what had been lost. Finally, you saw it, that small glimpse of faith; that it came from the reflection of your eyes in his, is what surprised you. His hand stopped; simultaneously your breathing sped up. Even though the small voice in the back of your brain told you not to surrender; you pressed forward anyway. Taking his face in the palm of your hands, you brought his lips to yours; it was a sweet caress, filled with promises. Slow and gentle, the kiss left you dizzy; neither one of you fighting for control, just relishing the touch of each other. Mouths fussed together as one; you could’ve stayed like this for hours, but softly you pulled away, resting your forehead against his.

His eyes were closed, lids hooded so you couldn’t tell what was going through his mind. Why you thought you’d be able to know what he was thinking, when you didn’t even know where your mind was; you couldn’t comprehend. All you knew was that it was a start; a tiny move in hopefully the right direction. Taking a second waiting for him to look at you; when he didn’t, finally you said, “I’m still not sure you should buy this place.”

Eyes flying open, he looked at you; grabbing your hands, he helped you to your feet. He drew you to the edge of the water by the pool. Standing behind you, he turned you to look at the expansive lawns. His hands encircled your waist, caressing your stomach, where your child grew. Resting his chin on your shoulder; he spoke, his voice low, “Can you see it? Right over where the water’s real shallow. The kids are splashing around with the dogs. I’m over there by the grill, cooking up some burgers for dinner. And right there,” pointing to edge of the pool. “You have our newest little one in your arms, rocking back and forth near the kids in case they need you.” That you could almost smell the burgers, bespoke of how vivid the image became in your head. You wanted, no needed it all; could only pray for it to become reality.

That’s when it happened, you weren’t entirely sure what it was at first; but then it fluttered again. “Did you feel that?”

“Was that the baby?”

Tears sprang to your eyes; only this time they were tears of joy. “Yeah, I really think it was.”

“Think he’ll do it again?”

“I don’t know, maybe? Wait did you say, him?”

“Did I? Hmmm, maybe I did.” Then as if the little one knew we were discussing him or her; it happened again. “I think he or she likes their new house.”

“Tyler, don’t you think we should talk about this?”

“Mmmm, too late, I already told the realtor to have the papers ready, for when we go back inside.” With that he took off running before you could smack him; playfully of course. Shaking your head at what had transpired in the last thirty minutes or so; you wandered around the property. Tyler, had gone inside, you assumed to sign said papers. Maybe, just maybe, he was right and this could be the new beginning you were searching for.

#tyler seguin #tyler seguin imagine #tyler seguin imagines #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfic #dallas stars #dallas stars imagine #dallas stars imagines #fanfic #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #nervous regrets

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irwinkitten · 6 years ago

Text

knockout round | a.i

(gif credit to @asht0ns-world )

pairing: reader x boxer!ashton notes: so the who do you love video lowkey inspired this. even tho the majority of the video is lowkey pointless, the looks that ashton was giving the camera gave me such a boxer!ash vibe and lets be real i’m a hoe for possessive and jealous ash. thank u to @asht0ns-world @singledadharrington, @gorgeouslygrace, @sugarcoated-pain and @5sosnsfw for letting me throw out my ideas of this and killing you all with the potential plot ideas. also thank u christa for being the best cheerleader, i love u angel. and massive thank u to lena for finding the gif bc my laptop has issues warnings: violence, smut word count: 3.1k!!

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Boxing had always been apart of Ashton’s life. He’d never really known a part of his life without it.

As a child, his temperament was always short. Teachers called him the problem child and people never wanted to be his friend. But he still managed to find three friends and forge a tight bond with them that people often called them brothers without even realising there was no familial resemblance to the quartet.

When his mother had enrolled him into boxing classes, after expressing an interest in the programs that he watched with his parents, they soon realised that with the lessons that he went to, his anger simmered down and his fuse seemed to get longer with each passing year.

By the time that Ashton had reached his late teens, he was the lightweight champion of the area. As he continued to grow, put on the muscle, and move up in the divisions, he was making a name for himself. He was one that wasn’t to be messed with.

As his name gained traction with the media, so did stories of his childhood, his anger. And he was a lot more honest about his childhood than most boxers.

“I had a good environment. But I have anger issues and I know that I have them. It’s taken years of hard work to get to where I am today, but I know that the driving force has always been my anger. It’s both a blessing and a curse.”

His competitors could never find his achilles heel. His love life was never a subject that he talked or posted about, and despite a few competitors going below the belt and making remarks about his mother that would’ve angered any man, he’d held his cool and then thoroughly beaten them the next day.

When she came into his life, it was steady. She’d just come from a bad relationship, her heart in tatters and the two of them shopping late night. He’d been running for last minute prep and she’d decided to drown her sorrows in alcohol and ice cream. She knew his name, knew his title that he held in the boxing world.

But she didn’t care. All she cared about was he’d picked up the last tub of her favourite ice cream and just at her absolutely defeated look, it prompted him to offer her a deal.

“Let me at least take you out somewhere for the day where we can be kids again. I’ve got some days off coming up anyway.”

His words had prompted the smallest of smiles as she accepted his offer as he handed her the ice cream and she gave him her number, under the stipulation that he wouldn’t be creepy about it.

And despite giving her a mock offended look, he understood her wariness of giving her number to someone who was essentially a complete stranger.

From then on, she became a rock in his life who seemed to have his back regardless. His three friends from childhood who’d all become apart of his management team as he gained status with his boxing, noticed how he was always in better moods, he stuck to the plans before fights and before long the friendship blossomed into a relationship that he was protective of.

But of course, whilst in the media spotlight, he knew that keeping such a relationship quiet was always going to be impossible.

But the day that it’d been announced that he was against her ex, the very one who left her a broken woman in the ice cream aisle, he knew that this fight was going to be important, whether she acknowledged it or not, this was payback for hurting the beautiful woman he was resolutely in love with.

He’d never been so revved for a match before.

Ashton knew that she was worried, that her bottom lip would be shredded beyond belief from her teeth. But he wasn’t.

Dean Martin has gone the wrong way to rile him up, to use his girl as verbal bait. And hearing the derogatory terms, Ashton wasn’t too sure if he was grateful that Calum’s hand on his bicep reminded him where he was, or if he was still annoyed over it.

He was certainly annoyed that the hand turned into a restraining arm when Martin had made a comment of bedding his girl, with or without her permission. He’d seen red and as rage flooded his body, his muscles locked up, ready to pound the fucker down.

Calum had hastily pulled Ashton away from his opponent, opting to keep the distance between them so that Ashton wouldn’t be tempted to knock Martin out before the match.

The headlines went wild with those shots and the look of undiluted rage on Ashton’s features. People were very quickly realising that even he has his limits and Dean Martin had managed to break those limits clean.

Being with her before the match, his hands were firmly around her waist as she stood between his legs. Despite his trainer telling him no distractions, she was never a distraction. Only an anchor. And right now he needed to ground himself because the last thing he wanted to do was lose this fight to someone like Dean Martin.

“Baby, you’ve got this fight in the bag.” She hummed softly, her lips ghosting across his cheek. Ashton sighed.

“I hate the fact that it’s your ex I’m fighting.” He finally admitted and she sighed, her fingers running through his hair. His eyes fell shut of their own accord, her touch soothing the rage that was bubbling under the surface. Martin’s comments still rang in his ears.

“He wasn’t a good man. You’re the better man, better partner.” The words were soft, almost caressing his soul and he felt reassured.

“Only because of you, sweet girl. I’m better because of you.” Her lips curved up into a wry grin as she leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

“I’m proud of you Ash. You’ve got this fight in the bag, and if that boy tries what he did for the weigh in, I won’t be angry or upset. Lord knows you’ve told me time and again that anyone disrespecting me within earshot of you will earn them either a verbal lashing or a physical one depending on their words.” Her tone was teasing, reminding him that she wouldn’t be angry with him.

It’d been an issue at first, his verbal and physical responses to people being either disrespectful or derogatory about his girl. But only when he told her his reasons, how he was raised to respect a woman, regardless of any kinds of relationship, she understood that it was something that he could tone down but not necessarily control.

And they compromised on it. He tried to keep it to verbal smackdowns, and only if someone threw the first punch, did he defend himself. His reputation grew within months and soon when they’d been together for two years, he was at the top of his career.

“Irwin, ten minutes. Your girl needs to go.” Calum had re-entered the locker room, giving her a brief smile. “Seats for you are close to ringside. He’s on the blue corner.” She nodded, pressing another gentle kiss to his forehead before making her way, ruffling Calum’s hair as she did.

Ashton laughed at the disgruntled look on Calum’s face and he could feel his body begin to gear as he did the last minute stretches.

“Martin’s going to hit hard and fast. You need to be swift. Don’t use everything you have until he starts to wear down.” Ashton nodded, focusing on the aspect of the fight, rather than who he was fighting. He couldn’t let his anger cloud his judgement or moves, not so early on into the match.

Calum was soon hustling him to the entrance corner, both of them knocking fists together before he rushed ahead to prep his area. As the music began playing, he pulled the silk robe on, the hood falling just over his eyes as he made his way out, loud screams causing a smirk to slip on his features as he began the walk through, Luke and Michael following behind at this point and keeping people on the floor seats from mobbing him.

Martin was stood scowling, doing a last minute stretch as his gloves were being put on. Once Ashton was in the ring, Calum was there, pulling the robe off and getting the gloves onto his wrapped up hands.

“Remember, you might be fucking angry with him, but I swear to god Irwin, if you let this fucker beat you, I’ll kick your ass myself.” This caused Ashton to crack a smile before Calum put the mouth guard in and Ashton went and met the ref in the middle. He and Martin touched gloves before the bell went and the first swing came from Martin, aiming for the jaw, causing Ashton to bend backwards to avoid getting clocked.

The noise was deafening and Ashton knew his focus was slipping as Martin landed in some good punches. It was getting close and he could feel himself dropping as he lost the round, his lip bloody and a cut on his cheek, half staggering back to Calum who seemed to be trying his best not to berate him.

But then she was there beside Calum, her hands on his cheeks once he’d been checked over.

“Do me proud, Ashton Fletcher. I know you can beat him.” And his second wind came as the next round got ready.

“Gonna let your bitch lean over for me later when I win? It’s all she ever really was good for.” The comment was crass, but the fuse was lit.

“Irwin, don’t let anger cloud your judgement here.” Calum snapped harshly. The last thing they needed was his focus to be lost, but if anything, his focus was sharpening. And he could feel the anger bubble under his skin.

“C’mon Irwin. Make sure to share the spoils. I mean, she’s second hand goods, surely you’re not still with her?” Ashton’s eyes caught hers and he could see she’d heard his calls. His fuse seemingly got shorter as he gave her a reassuring smile, taking the offered water and taking a few seconds to calm his racing heart.

“How about this, I share her with some buddies and drop her back to you. She might be in reasonable condition if she doesn’t fight like she used to. Always feisty until I got her to see sense, if you catch my drift.” The smirk on Martin’s lips as the words left his mouth snapped something inside of Ashton and the anger that had been bubbling, flooded.

And he was furious.

The bell went and Ashton immediately had Martin on his back foot, unable to even get close for a hit as Ashton’s fists repeatedly went for him, reminding himself to not murder his opponent.

It didn’t take long before there became a real look of fear in Martin’s eyes and Ashton felt no ounce of sympathy as he landed a knockout and the crowd roared in approval. It didn’t take long before the last round was won and his arm was being raised, a bruised rib protesting as he was handed the belt and his lips curved into the widest smirk.

Martin was lucky to get away with the injuries that he got. Two visible black eyes, a few cuts and Ashton was almost certain he managed to at least fracture a rib with the force of his hit at one point. Part of him wished that he broke something clean but he’d take what he could get in this fight. Knowing that he’d gotten what he deserved, settled the anger to a simmer, the adrenaline still flooding his body.

As he exited the ring, he couldn’t stop himself from pulling his girl into his side, his lips meeting hers in a soft, sweet kiss, ignoring the disappointed noises. Once he pulled away, his gaze moved to Martin, staring at him out, his grip only getting marginally tighter until he left the opposite side.

Ashton retreated back to his side, his arms still firmly around her as the medic double checked the rib to make sure it was only bruised and not broken, before clearing him to go and get cleaned up.

She didn’t protest as he pulled her with, her back pressed against the cold tiles as his lips met her neck, the hot water beating down on his back.

“All mine to care for, to love on.” He murmured against her skin, lips and teeth gently pulling at the skin. Her fingers lifted up to run through his hair, gripping the damp strands gently.

“All yours.” She whispered in return, a sharp gasp escaping as his lips had moved to her breasts, his teeth pulling on one nipple carefully as his hand worked the other. She was whining softly, his name escaping occasionally.

His lips moved from her breasts, trailing down as he got to his knees, a whine escaping her lips.

“Shouldn’t it be me rewarding you, handsome?” He shook his head at her words, moving her fingers back to his hair.

“All about you tonight, doll.” She was about to argue, but his tongue licked a stripe up her folds, a startled noise escaping her instead as she gripped his hair, his lips attaching to her clit. He worked two fingers inside of her as he nipped and sucked on her clit, the noises were somewhat beautiful sounds to his ears as she got closer to her orgasm.

Her fingers got tighter around his hair as she called out his name, his lips immediately beginning a journey back up her body slowly sliding his fingers out as he stood up, lifting his fingers to her lips, tapping them gently.

They parted under his touch and her tongue swirled around his digits, a groan escaping his lips as she cleaned them. He wasted no time as he pulled them free, his lips meeting hers as he lined up against her entrance.

“You’re far too good to me, princess.” He groaned as he slid in, her legs lifting off the ground to wrap around his waist. His hands immediately moved to cup her ass as his hips began to move against hers, moans escaping the both of them.

He knew that he wasn’t going to last too long, not with the protesting rib, so one hand slid from her ass, moving to her clit as he picked up his pace. Her words were half begging, incoherent as he brought her closer and closer to the edge.

As she came, her eyes falling shut, his head dropped to her shoulder as he reached his own orgasm, her name tumbling from his lips like a prayer, her fingers still working through his hair, their breathing heavy as he pressed gentle kisses on the marks he’d left on her skin.

“I love it when you mark me like that. I know I’m always yours, but seeing them, just sets my insides on fire.” She murmured as he pulled out from her, finally allowing her under the stream of hot water. She kept her hair from the stream of the water as she allowed it to hit her skin.

“Just as I’m yours, sweet girl. I’m sorry if I hurt you though.” His fingers ghosted across the red marks left by his fingers, and she shook her head at him.

“You of all people know that I love seeing them.” She murmured as she reached over, taking the shampoo and working it into his hair. His eyes fell shut at her ministrations and didn’t argue with her. She always told him she loved seeing the marks, but sometimes it didn’t stop the guilt flooding him.

He worked the shower gel along her body as she conditioned his hair. They worked in silence until she’d gotten the suds of the shower gel off his body. His hands switched the water off as her lips slowly moved across from his shoulder, along his collarbone before finding the junction of his neck and shoulder, trailing her lips along the column of his throat.

A soft noise escaped his lips as she reached his jaw, before her lips reached his once more, her hands taking a hold of his head, her palms firmly planted against his cheeks. He knew better than to look away from her when she was this determined.

“I love you, Ashton Irwin, and that won’t ever change. We have words for a reason, and you know I use them. Please don’t beat yourself up, sweetheart.” His lips met hers briefly before a sigh escaped.

“Sorry angel.”

“Your forgiven. Now, we need to get ready and head back home. I know that the boys will want to at least spend a quiet night in celebrating with you.” Her voice held amusement, knowing that despite her want for the two of them to continue their own celebrations, the other three would deliberately ruin that.

Ashton laughed.

“They’re too frightened to cross you, y’know. If you said that you were taking me home, they wouldn’t argue.” He commented as the two stepped from the shower and dried off. She lifted her shoulders into a shrug as she got re-dressed.

“I know, but I don't want them bitching at me, because I want days with you, not just a few hours. So they get the few hours and then I get days. And they know better than to show up unannounced after a match.” The grin that she wore made him laugh as he got dressed.

Once they were ready, his hand slid into hers, fingers interlacing as they headed out back to the waiting cars to get the two of them home. Michael was the first to throw his arm across Ashton’s shoulders as they trio caught up with the two.

“So, we’re drinking at yours then?” She raised an eyebrow pointedly at Ashton, Michael’s words simply proving her point. He rolled his eyes before grinning.

“Of course. M’lookin’ forward to the headlines that are gonna come out from this fight.” Calum laughed as he threw his own arm around her shoulders.

“They’re gonna point out how no one can seemingly knock you down. You’re like a rock.” Luke teased and Ashton rolled his eye as Michael moved his arm from his friends shoulders.

Once they reached his place, the other three didn’t protest as she helped check him over before all but ordering him to put his feet up. The others were about to make a comment, but one look stopped the thoughts dead in their tracks and she received sheepish smiles in return as she finally settled into his good side.

It was worth it all in her eyes.

---

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lilhemmo · 5 years ago

Note

35 and 96 AU for sweet pea

send me two au’s from THIS list + a ship/character

a/n: this one ended up being pretty long so read more under the cut!

It’s not unusual for you to come home bloody and battered.

You spend your nights at the Southside boxing rink, racking up a reputation and moving your way to the top. You end the night with a busted lip and some bloody knuckles, but it’s worth it.

The cash that lines your pocket makes the bruised ribs and split cheek much easier to handle.

“I can’t believe you won’t just friggin’ listen to me,” he grumbles, tossing some epsom salt into the warm bath water to help dull the ache. He made you a glass of water as well, a few ibuprofen on the counter to accompany the drink. You try not to laugh; it’ll make your ribs hurt.

Sweet Pea has been your only constant in life ever since you’ve been in the Southside. He lives in the trailer next to yours, so he always offers to drive you to and from the gym because you’re never in any shape to drive yourself home when the match is over. Pea also is the one to take care of you because your parents couldn’t be bothered to stick around after your teen years.

“Can we skip the parental speech tonight, Sweets?” you ask through breathless pants. You wince as you try and get into the tub without reopening every wound on your body.

He glances over at you once you’ve tapped on the edge of the tub to let him know you’re in, “But that’s my favorite part - I love how you don’t ever listen to me.”

“Save the self-righteous, hypocritical bull crap, Pea,” you scoff, tilting your head back. “You and Fangs are out at night, beating up Ghoulies and protecting your own. Don’t act like I don’t hear your motorcycle rev up at night when you leave.”

Sweet Pea licks his lips and rubs his hands over his face in exasperation. You don’t ever let him get away with anything, that’s for sure.

You wave your hand, “I can take care of myself, Pea. If it bothers you this much, then just go home.”

“I can’t leave you,” he says quickly, grabbing the first aid kit and a couple of rags out of the drawers. Pea gets down on his knees beside the tub and gets to work on scrubbing the crusted blood from your wounds.

“How’s things going with Jos?” you ask, looking over your shoulder as he cleans the split skin on your shoulder. “You sleeping together yet?”

You’re sure that when he runs the sponge over the cut that he’s being extra thorough. You wince, but he speaks, “I saw Josie and Archie making out in the music room the other day. It’s pretty clear how she feels - or doesn’t.”

“Pea,” you turn to face him, your wet hand cupping his cheek. You feel your eyes soften the longer you look at him, “She didn’t deserve you. She made that abundantly clear the second she called you a fling.”

“That’s all it was,” SP shrugs, a mundane look on his face. “Maybe Andrews can help her out, he likes music and all that. I’m just a Serpent.”

You grab him by the jaw and force him to look you in the eyes, “Don’t you ever let someone else define you. Not anyone, and especially not Josie. You’re so much more than just a Serpent, Sweets.”

His eyes dart downward but you don’t make it out to be anything special. You release him and let your hand fall back into the bubbly water. You sigh, “I don’t know how people can treat one another like that, Pea. I’m sorry you had to be on the receiving end of it all.”

“It’s okay,” Sweet Pea shrugs nonchalantly. He doesn’t look you in the eyes as he cleans the wound on your cheekbone. It’s leaking crimson and he winces as he rolls the rag against the open cut.

“If this is about money, I-”

“This ain’t about anything, Pea. This is about me. It’s what I want.”

“You and Andrews make quite the pair,” he scoffs, replacing the bloody rag for a clean one.

You choose not to respond, and he finishes mopping up your blood, cleaning it out and watching as the water slowly turns red.

“Time for stitches.”

He walks out of the bathroom long enough to let you drain the water and dry yourself off. Pea even laid out fresh clothes for you on the counter. How he has time to do these things for you, you’ll never know. What you do know is that all you have in this life is each other now. Toni has run off to be with Cheryl, to partner with the Pretty Poisons to clean up the Southside. Fangs has been missing for years, ever since the Farm chose their ascension night. FP and Jughead moved to the Northside years ago, and Pea can’t fault them for trying to give Jellybean a better life.

The thin t-shirt you’re sporting was Sweet Pea’s at some point in life. It’s threadbare, but it’s perfect to wear after a match because it doesn’t suffocate you in your sleep. The arms are cut out, so it makes it easy for the both of you to apply bandages and wraps to the various parts of your body that usually end up battered and bruised. The neck is wide, stretched from use, and it’s fraying at the edges.

SP unloads a decent amount of the medical supplies, ready to get to work on the cuts on your face first. He takes a q-tip with ointment laden on it and starts to smear it onto every inch of broken skin that mars your face and neck.

“Sooner or later you’re going to have too many scars to count,” he mutters, cinching together a butterfly stitch on your forehead. Sweet Pea brushes your hair away from your face, his fingertips lingering on your jaw and neck.

“Scars are cool,” you shrug, dismissing his worried tone. “All the Serpents have them.”

Sweet Pea shakes his head, “You don’t have to do this, you can make more of yourself in better ways. You don’t have to just punch your way out.”

“S’the only thing I’m good at, Sweets.” You look up at him through your lashes. His brown eyes are warm, asking you silent questions just with the colors swirling around in his irises.

His thumb brushes over a bruise on your jaw, “I can’t watch you kill yourself for the rest of your life.”

“Then don’t watch,” you snap, your voice steely and quiet.

Sweet Pea’s teeth wrap around his bottom lip, trying hard to keep his commentary to himself. Instead, he moves on to wrapping up your knuckles in gauze, taping them at the wrists.

He puts away the supplies in your cabinet and then turns to walk out the bathroom door, but you limp towards him to grab his wrist.

“Pea?” You cough at the exertion. “You don’t wanna stay and watch a movie like always?”

The last person you have in this world licks his lips and shrugs his shoulders, “You told me not to watch anymore. I’m just listening to your advice.”

And then he leaves without another word.

Weeks pass, and you throw yourself into your boxing matches. You fight opponents much stronger than you, you take hits harder than you ever should have. You don’t care because you don’t feel anything until you land inside that ring.

“Come at me, c’mon!” you scream, slapping your gloves together and bearing your teeth. “Is that all you got?!”

She rages at you and manages to get a good uppercut in before you slam into her chest and throw her onto the mat. Her back cracks and your body heaves in exhaustion.

“Yeah, that’s right! Stay down!” You seethe between your mouthguard, stalking her in circles, praying that she gets up so you can lay into her again.

Moments pass, and the referee declares you the winner.

The crowd goes wild, you receive your wad of cash, and then you trudge home.

It’s harder to ride your motorcycle with your injuries, but you manage. There are nights that you want to miss Sweet Pea’s truck, but you force yourself to wince and bear it.

That’s how your days replay. You have nothing but your fists, absolutely nothing, but you have to be okay with that because it’s your own fault.

It takes another two weeks for a fight to get too violent.

The girl has you against the ropes, her fists drilling into your abdomen. You can hear your ribs crunching as she piles into you. The crowd is so loud that it hurts your ears, but the throbbing in your head drowns most of the sound into a blur of screams. You shout in pain and double over, giving her a clean shot at your head.

Your body flounders to the ground and the ref pushes her off to the other end of the ring so he can count you down. With every number that he rattles off, you feel a piece of your soul die. Tears are streaming down your face as you force yourself to slam your fists into the mat and push your body upright.

“You can fight?” the referee asks you.

“I’m good.”

He doesn’t look like he believes you, so you scream at him, “I’m good, ref! Now let me go!”

The referee claps his hands together and you’re back at one another’s throats. You get a string of punches in, surely she’s hurting, but it does not stop her from slamming her knee into your gut.

You hear someone scream out in the crowd, but you barely have time to take notice of it as she grabs you around the waist and throws you down onto the mat.

“Get up!” she screams in your face, spit and blood flying all over you. You wince at the contact, but she screams at you again.

Her foot connects with your ribs, again and again, but you can’t find it in you to tap out, to tell everyone that you’re finished.

“Stop the fight!” you hear from the stands. It gets closer as it repeats itself, “Stop the damn fight!”

You reach up to try and punch her in the face, but instead she is straddling you and pinning your arms above your head with one hand and continuously punching you with the other.

“Get off her!”

You recognize the voice, turning your face just enough to catch a glimpse of his brown eyes. A tear drips down your cheek and the final punch lands across your face.

All you see is darkness.

When you wake, your whole body is weighted, tied down to a bed that you cannot escape from. Your eyelids are heavy, your breath is short. You want to sit up, but find that you aren’t in control of your own limbs.

You push yourself until finally your eyes are unglued and you can blearily glance around the room you’re in.

It’s very bland.

The room is painted white, the curtains made of fabric that looks like it is from decades past, and the scent of antiseptic fills your nostrils until they burn. There is a blanket covering your body, a machine beeping in your ear as it tracks your vitals. You’re not sure how you got here or how long you’ve been out, but as soon as your eyes focus, you zero in on the figure sleeping on the couch next to your bed.

You want to laugh, but your chest is in catastrophic pain. Instead, you focus on examining your roommate as he sleeps curled in on himself, a blanket laid over the top of him but still unable to cover his tall form.

His hair is a mess, covering his forehead and falling in his eyes. His cheek is pressed into the pillow, lips full and parted as he breathes steadily through them. The tattoo on his neck draws your attention and you find your eyes drawn to it like never before.

He is dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, the sleeves cut off to expose his tan skin and cut muscles. You wish that he were closer, but you’re glad that he’s not as the tears begin to leak from the corners of your eyes.

As if he has some sort of super power to sense whenever you’re in pain, Sweet Pea stirs from his sleep and sits up on the couch. He grunts as he stretches out his limbs, pops echoing in the room.

You sniffle against your will, the movement making you cry out in pain, and in a flash, Sweet Pea is by your side.

“Hey,” he reaches out and grabs your hand. “Hey, you’re okay now. We got you here in time.”

Sweet’s gentle fingers brush over your cheeks and he wipes the tears away. He smiles but you can tell he’s in pain himself, “Don’t cry.”

The doctors separate you as they flood the room, rattling off medical terms to one another so much that they make your head spin. Sweet Pea is constant, holding your hand tightly in his own no matter how inconvenient it may be for the nurses who are hovering by your bedside.

They leave, eventually, and the two of you settle into an uncomfortable silence. His thumb brushes over the back of your hand and it makes you tear up all over again. All of the nightmares and the anger come rushing back at once, overwhelming your soul and forcing a bubble of fear through your throat.

“I’m so s-sorry, Pea.”

You break down into tears, your shoulders shaking despite the pain. Your sobs echo in the hospital room, the walls doing little to dim the noise. You sniffle, shaking your head, “I should have never said that to you. I-It was stupid and it was selfish and I was angry.”

“I know,” he brings your knuckles to his lips. “I forgive you, okay? It’s okay, just-”

“No, it’s not okay! It isn’t okay. I pushed away the only person who cared for me, who put me back together after I was done tearing myself apart. I-I can’t believe,” your voice falters and you fear it may break. “I just want to go home.”

Sweet Pea nods, chewing on his lower lip. “I know. Just give it some time.”

You throw your head back and stare up at the ceiling, wonder just how much longer that may be.

You’re tucked away in your bed when you hear him pacing in the living room. You sit up, your sleeveless shirt pooling at your waist. You stand, holding onto your side as you make your way to where Sweet Pea is mumbling to himself the next room over.

“Hey,” you murmur, leaning into the doorway.

He looks up from his pacing, his hand covering his face. His eyes wander over your frame and you try your hardest not to blush. He’s seen you practically naked before as he washes your wounds and stitches you back to your whole self. How is this any different?

“Hey,” Pea echoes. He takes a few steps towards you, “Why aren’t you in bed?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Heard you in here, figured I’d give you some company.”

Sweet Pea reaches out and runs his thumb over the scar on your cheek bone. You watch as his eyes soften the longer his touch lingers. You lean into his fingers and he catches you with his hand.

“I’m sorry I left that night,” he whispers as if afraid of breaking the atmosphere. “I should’ve stayed.”

“I should have never told you to leave,” you admit, turning to kiss his wrist. You take a deep breath, “I-I was scared, and I didn’t like what you were saying and so I pushed you away. That’s not how you treat people - definitely not the people you love.”

His eyes connect with yours, a certain electricity running through them now. The touch of his hand expands to your neck, the base of your hair, and your fingers tremble as you press your palms to his chest. He smiles, a rare sight, and he cups your cheeks in his hands as he brings his lips down on yours.

Sweet Pea’s mouth is warm, his touch gentle, and he captivates you in a way that you know you’ll never find in anyone else. Your body aches as you sway in his arms, but you disregard the strain as you push yourself onto your toes to kiss him harder.

Your hands travel to his shoulders, fingernails digging into his back as you desperately try to convey your feelings through your lips. You can’t help but gasp as his teeth sink into your lower lip. Your fingernails bite further into his shoulder blades at the action and then it is his turn to wince into your touch.

“I missed you,” he breathes against your neck. His lips trail over your jugular and you find yourself ready to fly. Your back is pressed to the wall as his confessions fall over you, “I thought that you were dead that night, that I would never see you again. I thought I would never get the chance-”

His tongue presses flat against your collarbone and you press yourself closer to him. You drop your forehead to his chest in just enough time to hear him say, “I love you.”

As soon as the words are free, it’s like the two of you cannot get enough of one another. His hands travel your body like his kisses, unable to be satiated as they map out the contours and edges of your bones and skin and muscle. Your lips tangle together and your teeth clack against one another. You do not care how sloppy this is because this is all you’ve ever wanted.

Sweet Pea maneuvers the two of you back towards your bedroom, hoisting you up onto the bed as he runs his hands over your thighs. He hooks his hands under your knees and pushes you back so your head is close to the headboard. The look he sends you makes your blood boil and your cheeks burn.

“Wait,” you grab him by the nape of his neck, “I-I love you too.”

His index finger travels over the scars on your chest. He stops at a few, investigating them further. His thumbnail trails along hairline scars, his pinky finger dipping over deeper cuts. The pads of his fingers dance across the bruises on your ribs, staining them purple and yellow.

You reach up and cup his cheek in your hand, your own thumb brushing over the scar that mars his lip. He catches your finger between the bite of his teeth and playfully smirks down at you as you try to force him to release it. You burst into laughter and tuck your head under his chin, feeling him pull your body closer.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” he whispers into your hair. He kisses the top of your head and burrows his nose into the crown of your head. “I’ve wanted to, for years, but I never could force myself to do it.”

“It’s okay, it’s my own fault for being so stubborn.” You look up at him and he steals a kiss from your lips. His palms are flat against your back, fingerprints finding the scars on your back as he continues his exploration.

“I love you,” he smiles as he looks down at you. The expression lightens his eyes, darkens his cheeks. He kisses your lips and murmurs the words again and again, “I love you, I love you, I love you-”

You laugh against his mouth and he does not relent as he slips his tongue between your teeth. Your bodies are flush against one another under the sheets and you’re not sure why you ever put this off.

Sweet Pea kisses his way down your jaw to your throat, “I love you.”

“I-I love yo-you too,” you manage, your eyes shuttering closed as his lips make swift work of your body. His hands are all over you and suddenly you’re drowning in him and you don’t want to come up for air.

#sweet pea x reader #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea one shot #sweet pea fanfic #sweet pea fanfiction #riverdale x reader #riverdale #riverdale imagine #riverdale one shot #riverdale fanfic #riverdale fanfiction #riverdale blurb #sweet pea blurb #my writing

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justlightthefirstspark · 5 years ago

Text

United vs Chelsea - Conti Cup Semi Final - 29/01/2020

So the line up and bench for this one was interesting. Aimee Palmer was cup tied for this one, having already lined out for Sheffield United earlier in the season, Ella Toone is currently serving a 3 game suspension following a (questionable) red card vs Spurs, and both Kirsty Hanson and Leah Galton are out injured, which led to a very sparse bench, and pretty much the same XI as vs City. Lauren James started in place of Jane Ross, which was very clearly a good idea.

First half:

This game was a little cagey to start with, but ultimately a lot better than Saturday’s showing vs City. LJ had a decent shot around 6 mins, after some great build work from Groenen.

Abbie’s constant back passes to Earps returned, as did my anxiety. To be honest, Earps never looks completely comfortable to be on the receiving end of back passes so I don’t understand why the majority of that back 4 insist on playing that way so often?

Aside from those back passes, I though Abbie had a really good game. At least until she was forced off injured deep into the second half. She played an absolute stormer from the first whistle, and she was literally everywhere. Had a decent chance to get the first goal too around the 25 minute mark, very unfortunate to have that header go straight at Telford. She really, really redeemed herself after that performance vs City at the weekend.

‘27 - some Wales on Wales crime. Sophie Ingle booked for an almighty challenge on Hayley Ladd. Fair enough, the way Hayley fired herself into Ingle may have made it look more than it was. Entertaining tho. I’m also gonna take this opportunity to confess that I may be a little bit (a lot) in love with Hayley Ladd. I gotta be honest, I didn’t really know much about her before she signed in the summer, but she’s really, really great. I feel like she’s kinda underrated a little bit? Anyway, I genuinely don’t think this girl feels any pressure, like at all. A little bit like LJ I guess. She just gets her head down and does her job - calm and cool 100% of the time. I would very much like her to stay forever. I’m definitely gonna have to start watching more of this Wales team aren’t I?

‘34 - Earps with a cracking save. I feel like she’s more of a shot stopper than anything else, her distribution can be a little off sometimes, but she did really well to deny Chelsea there.

I think James and Arnot linked up quite well last night, especially around the 40 minute mark, unfortunately Lizzie was called just offside. She’s really impressed me (whenever she gets a shot) this season tbh, I hope she manages to get herself in the XI more often from now on.

‘42 - Jess Sigsworth pulling double shifts again. She’s constantly down around that back four, helping out and sometimes doing other people’s jobs for them and I’m kinda terrified that she’s gonna run herself into a brick wall at some stage? Like I think it’s fairly clear that we need to reinforce and add depth and quality defensively but I also think it’s pretty clear that Jess isn’t the answer to that particular problem, as impressive as her drive and her work rate is.

‘43 - United should have been clear and away on the counter there. There was an earlier challenge from Ladd (I’m pretty sure) that the ref took an age to make up her mind on, and by the time she decided to call it back, Groenen (again, I’d have to rewatch to be 100% certain) was up and over the halfway line on the break. Annoying af.

Halftime:

Tbh I thought United did really well to not have conceded and to still be in the game at the half. The first half as a whole was pretty decent, Chelsea ultimately had the better chances and were the slightly stronger team. I just wish we could have taken the few chances we had in the first half and made something from them, Telford isn’t the world’s best keeper and I feel like we could have tested her more and I was kinda disappointed we didn’t.

Second half:

‘47 - a fairly decent (surprisingly. It’s no secret we’re pretty piss poor at set pieces) from Zelem resulted in Amy heading just over, which hurt my soul. (I wanted her to score so bad youse have no idea)

‘52 - Arnot had a decent chance, and was 100% in cause Telford came about 82739 miles off her line, but unfortunately it was cleared away. (Sidenote: I HATE when keepers come off their line and out of their box like that, even opposition keepers. It just really shits me out. Anyway)

‘53 - a decent Chelsea opportunity goes wide. I saw somewhere (twitter probably) that it took a deflection, but I’d have to rewatch to be certain. FA Player get your shit together and upload the game so I can double check challenge 🙄

The game really started to come to life around the 50 minute mark. Both teams had decent chances within about a minute of each other, and United’s intensity really stepped up - they came out guns blazing in the second. Both teams pressing and passing really cleaned up around this time too.

‘61 - decent chance for Sigsworth. Angle was just too tight, but I think the build up was massively overworked. She passed it off the Zelem who held it for a little too long imo, before sending it back to Jess who lashed it into the side netting. Think Jess could have made something of it first time but hey, what’s done is done now.

Game started to get a little scrappy heading into the last 20 mins - back to the rushed and mismatched and intercepted passes of the first half.

‘70 - Chelsea free kick saved well by Earps.

‘71 - Goal - Chelsea. Really tight angle, just about squeezed home. Really good work from Mjelde in hindsight but I feel like Earps could have saved that one. I hate to blame her entirely but she really should have done better with closing that one down.

‘72 - almost an instant response from United. LJ had a fantastic chance to equalise but unfortunately scorched it over the bar. I’m not gonna lie, I expected a little better from her there, but I understand the urgency.

‘73 - pretty soft yellow for Sigsworth

‘74 - Ross 🔁 Arnot.

Seemed like all the wind was sucked out of United after that goal, approaching the 80 minute mark. Most of that intensity and urgency was still kinda there and evident in small bursts, but was mostly lacking.

‘80 - United forced into a change. Harris (don’t talk to me) 🔁 McManus. Abbie took a bit of a blow around 20 minutes in, committing a challenge she was ultimately booked for. Fair play to her, she played through it, but she was definitely struggling for a while there. Apparently she was on crutches after the game, so I hope it’s nothing too serious. Also interested to see what Casey does with that back 4 if she’s out for a while. Amy obviously goes back in and CB but it would appear Martha is higher than Ökvist in the pecking order, which is annoying. I get that Casey is more defensive minded and might not want to play two more attacking FB’s at once (Ökvist & Smith) but Martha... 🤐

‘84 - James had a great ball in that forced a corner that - you guessed it - nothing came of

‘85 - Earps had a great block to deny Chelsea a second (and really and truly kill me off)

‘88 - Harris decides to try her luck from a little way out. It was a decent shot to be fair, given the circumstances, just couldn’t get the dip it needed and never really troubled Telford on it’s way over the bar.

4 minutes at the end of the 90 but United couldn’t get anything to stick, which was massively unfortunate.

Two semi final defeats in a row is absolutely gut wrenching, and very hard to take, but last night taught me a lot about this team. I personally thought that this game was miles better and such an improvement on Arsenal away last season. They were much better all round, in every position than last weekend vs City. To come so close against the 3 best teams in the league 5 times now and walk away with nothing is hard, and I feel so bad for those girls. They give their all everytime they step out on that pitch, and they deserved more. This week in particular. Seeing them all in literal bits at the final whistle nearly broke me tbh.

But it’s becoming more glaringly apparent as the season goes on that we are in desperate need of a more clinical, stone blood killer up top. I’d also be open to giving Mikalen a run in goal to prove herself - I think Earps has been a bit off lately.

Galton and Hanson were massively missed last night, and I think we could have done with Toone as well, but oh well.

I had my issues with the ref as well last night, I have to say. I thought she handled the knocks and (most of) the bookings correctly, as well as the penalty shout (which was not a penalty, sorry Jess) but she missed a clear foul on Jackie (59 mins) as well as a clear tug on Arnot (64 mins) in the second half. I also thought LJ was very lucky to get away with just a yellow for her foul on Ingle at the end of the first half, looked a little more like a red to me 😬

Hopefully Galton will be back for Sunday - she absolutely tore Reading to shreds the last time out and I would very much like to see more of that 🔥, but I’m kinda worried about that midfield trio too. The last thing we need is three defeats on the bounce, but they must be dyinggg cause they literally never, ever stop.

I know this one is a little later than usual and the format is slightly different too, but I was watching the men (for some reason) as well, and it was kinda hard to keep track of two games at once lol. Plus I just wasn’t really in the mood to try and to this last night. Also - if anyone has critiques or corrections or questions about my opinions or anything else pls don’t hesitate to drop them in my ask and I’ll edit things and answer whatever as best as I can ✌🏽

#that was... a lot #this annoyed me more than last year’s SF tbh #i also have seem to have a lot of opinions #sorry - i think #muwfc #manchester united women #my writing

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manrocket-mo · 5 years ago

Note

Would you do a blurb about Mo dating a female hockey player on the leafs?

Morgan didn’t want it to get messy. He knew what the repercussions were if what you had together were to go south. He knew what it would mean for him, for you, for the team and in his head, he knew that he shouldn’t pursue you.

But his heart told him otherwise.

So he did and he was glad to know that from the day you had met at training camp, that you felt the same.

So you snuck around for a bit but soon it became apparent to your teammates what was happening. But they knew how he felt about you and would keep teasing to a minimum, at least when it was just Mo.

Eventually you both had to come clean to senior management and they weren’t too keen on your relationship. In fact, they didn’t like it at all but it was your life as they put it. As long as the Leaf came first, they would allow it.

Thankfully, on the ice, it was simple. You were teammates and that was it. You had kept to that rule pretty well until it was later in the season and things started to get chippy going into the playoffs.

You had always been able to hold your own but this particular game against the Bruins, something snapped within Mo.

Marchand kept getting in your face, taking cheap shots when he could, shoving you around after the whistle, chirping you excessively. Morgan was getting heated but with a pat of your stick against his shin pads, you brought him down to Earth and grounded him. He cooled down.

It wasn’t until Marchand took you down during the faceoff that Morgan lost it and came flying at him, fists coming down on him. You got up, in a daze, your nose bloodied from hitting the ice face first to see Morgan’s blue eyes nearly black as he fought back rabidly, yelling profanities at the Bruin, his face beet red.

“I knew you’d crack, Rielly,” Marchand teased as Morgan got steered away to the penalty box with only three minutes left in the game. “You always do. You couldn’t help but defend your little girlfriend this time.”

Marchand throws a glance over at you and he grins, knowing he’s gotten under your skin and suddenly Mo is charging back at him, only the refs holding him back.

“You’re a real piece of shit! You’re a real PIECE. OF. SHIT.” Eventually the officials had enough and pointed for Morgan to skate down the tunnel. They’d seen enough and for Marchand’s sake, threw Morgan out of the games. The intent behind Morgan’s eyes meant Marchand was dead if he were let back in and the referees could not take a chance.

So you had to go the rest of the game without him. You got patched up on the bench, the trainer stopping your nosebleed and you got back on the ice. Somehow, the team defended a 3-2 lead and got the victory, a huge win going into the playoffs next week. But while the team celebrated on the ice, you couldn’t help yourself as you skated straight for the locker rooms where you knew he was waiting.

And you were right, he was waiting, dressed, pacing the blue carpeted floors.

He raised his eyes to you. “Get dressed. No media for us tonight.” And you nodded, silently, beelining straight to the showers and dressing area. After a quick check with the trainers and nothing but slight bruising, you were released.

He didn’t touch you. He didn’t talk to you the entire way back to his apartment. He would glance over every now and then but not a word.

“I could’ve killed him. I would’ve killed him if they had let me.” He sat down at the foot of your bed and just as you were about to walk away, he settled his hands on your hip, pulling you down to sit on his knee.

“I know you would’ve. I’m glad they pulled you off the ice.”

His facial expression went hard but he continued, his voice soft. “How is your nose?” His hands caressed your face, his thumb running gently along the bruising forming under your eyes.

“Not broken… Mo, you have to let me fight my battles.” You push his hands away.

Mo sighs. “I did… I tried but--I know I have no excuse. I got worried and angry and then I blacked out. I was so mad.”

It was your turn to sigh. “I know, Mo. But we have to figure this out. We can’t… we have to figure out our situation on the ice. You can’t do that again.”

He drops his head and looks down at his hands. “I know… I need to think with my head and not my heart initially. I need to be better.”

You place your hands on his cheek and pull his face back up to look at you. “But thank you for defending me. It was very… heroic of you. And I know that you’d do it for John, for Kappy, for Auston, for Jake, too.” You smile down at him and press a gentle kiss to his cheek, a thank you.

“Let me show you something else that I wouldn’t do for them,” he mutters. You smile into his lips as he brings you down with him onto the bed, his fingers threading through your hair.

Mo Appreciation Night!!

#Morgan Rielly Appreciation Night #Morgan Rielly Imagine #Morgan Asks #morgan rielly

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tealtowntar · 6 years ago

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Heres why the Sharks did deserve to win

First things first: the call

Cody Eakin was given a 5 minute major for crosschecking Joe Pavelski. A play that resulted in Pavelski losing his balance and checked again by Paul Stastny, landing on his head and drawing blood.

This call has been criticized to death by people saying it was not the right call.

1) Drawing blood is a 4 minute double minor on its own

2) Pavelski was knocked out on the ice, a pool of blood coming from his head and had to be half carried to the dressing room

3) If you say Pavelski is weak or exaggerating or playing it up you’re blind. Did you even see the blood? What, did he carry extra blood out on the ice like Logan Couture apparently carries extra teeth(see game 5)?

But sure, lets say it wasn’t the right call.

4) Joe Pavelski is the beloved captain of the Sharks. Every guy in that locker room would fight to their last breaths for him. Joe is the captain, that means so much. There are so many leaders on that team- Joe Thornton, future hall of famer one of them. The coaching staff has their pick of basically anyone there but year after year they pick Pavs. In Worlds, Pavelski was chosen not just to play for the team but to wear the C for Team USA. Of any American hockey player in the nation they chose him to lead their team.

That should give an idea of what Pavs means to us, to them, to the country.

5) When you wear the C, that means you’ve earned respect. It’s a symbol that shows you’re a leader, you’re a mentor, you’re an example of your team, you’re the face of your orginization. The heart of your team. You don’t just knock out a captain with no consequences.

Maybe your argument is the call wasn’t technically correct, but when something like what happened happens, someone has to pay their dues.

Second, the comeback.

The Sharks were down 3-0 in the last period of the series. The team rallied together and scored 4 goals on the Eakin major penalty to give them the lead.

1) Every one of those goals was hardly to fight for their playoff lives. All four goals were for Joe Pavelski. Those boys love their captain, their leader, their mentor, their brother. My mom said “that really lit a fire under their butts!” But she wasn’t quite right, it lit a fire in their guts, in their hearts. The boys said, “You don’t mess with our captain and get away with it. You’ll pay for that one.” Even as a fan, seeing Pavs go down sparked a determination to win for him thay would not be satisfied until it was done.

2) A lot of fans are bitter(extremely) about the comeback, saying that it was all BS. This may be ignoring the fact that Vegas gave up 4 goals on the penalty kill. I think it goes without saying that that means the penalty killers weren’t on top of it. It’s not like taking the major meant Vegas was hopeless to keep the Sharks from catching up.

3) The Sharks would not be denied. Before play resumed after Pavelski went out, Logan Couture told the media Thornton said to them, “Let’s get three”. For him. The Sharks weren’t getting it done for themselves but they did get it done for Pavs.

Third, “The refs handed this one to the Sharks”

1) No. If this is in reference to that one call, the refs did not score four goals. The refs did not give the sharks free shots on Vegas, the refs did not take Vegas out of play and leave them hopeless to do anything. The Sharks beat the penalty killers and the goalie to get them back in the game.

2) If this is in reference to the series, also no. Both teams got some good calls and a lot of bad ones. I might be biased but I’m not unreasonable. Vegas got multiple game changing calls in their favor.

a) Earlier in the game, there was a goal for none other than Cody Eakin. The play was a deflection from his stick into the goal, a stick that was under review for a high touch. If it was ruled that Eakin scored the goal off a stick above the normal height of the shoulder, the goal would be called off and the Sharks would remain at a 1-0 deficit. To many and maybe most people, the touch was blatantly high and should have been called off. It was not. The Sharks went down 2-0.

b) In game 2, a goal from Couture was called off as goaltender interference, a goal that would have given the Sharks the lead in the game for the first time after battling back from another 3 goal deficit. No matter who you’re rooting for or not rooting for, this goal should not have been called off. On any other play I could give the benefit of the doubt but on this play I am confident that this was the wrong call. The reason is that Marc-Andre Fleury was unquestionably out of his crease. If a goaltender is out of the crease and a goal is scored with them being “interfered with” thats on them. If this goal was not called off, the game may have seen a different ending. Eye for an eye Vegas.

c) Both the Knights and the Sharks had penalty calls go their way, myself and other fans would argue that Vegas got more game influencing calls in their favor though I am willing to overlook that in the spirit of just telling Vegas to shut up about a call.

Fourth, it’s not like Vegas didn’t have 3 chances to advance to the second round

Vegas took a 3-1 series lead after game 4. It was win or die for the Sharks three games in a row.

1) Many Vegas supporters after this series have been overlooking the fact that even though game 7 didn’t go the way they expected, they have been blaming it all on the Sharks or the refs, not taking responsibility for the fact that Vegas almost swept us but the Sharks fought harder. They had every opportunity to knock SJ out, not just this game.

Fifth, the Sharks deserved this more

Sure you could say this is subjective. Here’s why it’s true:

1) Despite what Vegas fans might think, you are not oppressed™️. Vegas hasn’t suffered a thing in its whole existance and its time to cash in your crimes. Pay your dues. Your storybook franchise and coddling from the league comes with a big bill of hockey karma.

2) The Sharks have had contrasting treatment. The Sharks orginization has class and is fun and cool and badass. What do we get from the league? Doubt and disrespect. You may say, “It’s because the Sharks are bad and always choke in the playoffs!” You’re right about one of those. The Sharks are not bad. In the past 15 seasons, the Sharks have played the second most playoff games in the entire league. That would make them one of the most consistantly good teams in the last decade and a half. The Sharks are good and they deserve to be acknowledged, they deserved to win this series.

3) Our veteran players deserve to win. There’s a reason we have “Do it for Jumbo” shirts. No matter who your team is or how much you don’t like the Sharks, it is undeniable that Joe Thornton deserves to win the Stanley Cup. He is a legend of hockey and any player or coach or person who knows/has known him says he is an incredible person. But it’s not just him. Vlasic, Burns, Pavs, they’ve been with this team for a long time and they never want to leave. They are all elite at what they do and they deserve to have their names on the Stanley Cup.

4) A lot of hits Vegas put on the Sharks were dirty. I’m not saying SJ played a totally clean game but we got called for it most times. Again and again, Vegas’ dirty plays would be overlooked and the Sharks got beat and bruised. Players like Reaves, McNabb, Stone, even Fleury(bro why tf is your goalie so chippy) put on bad hits, slashes, crosschecks that did not get called. Who paid for it? The Sharks in blood. Their grit pulled them through and they won in spite of all of it.

5) When have you ever seen a stronger example of a team rallying around another teammate like that? You know the boys were so scared for Pavs. They love him so much. Have you ever felt that swell of determination that fills you up and turns your focus into a lazer beam? That’s what the Sharks felt from the time Pavs went down to Goodie getting the OT game winning goal. After the first goal Cooch said “Thats one!!!” They knew they weren’t done. No amount of goals would be repayment for losing Pavs but they were going to try their damn best. They felt the hockey gods in the building at that moment and it was time to make Vegas take their first real L. #ForPavs

So that’s why the Sharks deserved to go to the second round over Vegas.

#sharks #san jose sharks #hockey #sjs #sjs vs vgk #tar.txt #long post #i just had a lot of feelings #salty vegas fans feel free to block me ive said my piece #for pavs

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ryouverua · 6 years ago

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Trial 5 - So about that one thing... (1)

WILL THE ROBOPHOBIA NEVER CEASE FOR EVEN A MOMENT -

Investigation 1 / 2 - second half is where I put my own theories that I penned before playing the trial.

and man was I proven wrong almost instantaneously lmao - but I’m getting ahead of myself. On with the show!

Poor K1-b0, honestly. He had such a great epic speech planned, totally interrupting Monokuma’s normal opening for the trial -

- only for Monokuma to completely undercut him, aka the opening of this post. 8′D You’ll prevail over robophobia one day, K1-b0! One... day....

Good luck trying to pull that on Maki, though. 8′D

H-Hm. The fact that you’re asking that means that you’re either putting on a really good act right now, or I am so very, very wrong right out the gate. But with that said, where is the sixth person? Maybe that’s what I should call them, honestly. The Sixth Person. The Unknown Loudmouth who thrives off others’ attention. The Mysterious Purple Boy Wonder. ‘K’, if you will.

omg they... have question marks... on their faces.... Now this is definitely a first. So we’re actually going to go the whole trial without either of them, huh. Sure, one of them being gone I was half-heartedly prepared for, but both? Damn.

I’m 99% sure ‘Never let a good crisis go to waste’ is like Monokuma’s theme or something.

They are?! Have they been hiding in here the whole time??? That... is actually a really good hiding place? Though I have no idea how they’d be able to get down here before a trial was called...

There’s that same base assumption: Culprit = Mastermind = Kokichi. But what if one of those isn’t true? Or, well, two? Could it be Culprit = Mastermind? Or Culprit = Kokichi? Or just... well, neither?

Man, just... the fact that you’re trying to shut down discussion really lends itself to suspicion. I don’t think I’m drawing the wrong conclusion by saying she was the one who cleaned up after the fact, but I suppose the option of her outright killing Kokichi or mercy-killing Kaito is still a possibility? I still don’t think she’s the culprit because I don’t think she was able to get in until after the crossbow shots were fired (aka let in by Kaito) but...

Or... or if she found Kaito dead already, from illness, and then crushed the body to frame Kokichi for it... but if she thought he was the mastermind, then she would think he’d have control of the full trial and would know that selecting him as the culprit would be the wrong answer, right??? Yeah okay following that idea to the end was pointless in the end but at least I got it out of my system. >3> I also don’t think she would disrespect Kaito’s body like that tbh unless she had to, so...

Oh man are we going to get an end-of-trial reveal then? I’m just gonna be vibrating anxiously in my seat then, I suppose. look Sweetcheeks we’re in sync again!

Aaaah, the class is so small now... I mean, we don’t even have the sixth person we should have. This is sixth chapter-levels of small. what is with the number six showing up all of the sudden

I had to grab this screenshot because tell me this doesn’t give off the impression of a sniper scope lens! Maybe that’s just me? I just really like taking a moment to appreciate the design of the text in the trials ~

I didn’t think this was going to come up so early!

And the one to the back looks bad.... Was it just dripping, or do those correspond with the drag marks? It seems to imply that they do...

Shuichi and I are all about those implications and circumstantial evidence lol

Meanwhile Maki is all about that supposed ‘direct’ evidence. Which, you know, fair! .... is what I would say if I didn’t think she was participating in a cover-up. But the motive behind the coverup... just saying ‘she wants to save Kaito’ isn’t really good enough for me, because that means she’s forfeiting everyone else’s lives in the process of the trial proceeds by its own rules - which it seems to be doing.... And, yeah, everything outside is gone, and she did agree to mercy-kill everyone before they saw the flashback light, but -

Oh, that’s an interesting thought. Kaito overthrows Kokichi, accidentally killing him in the process thanks to Maki’s poisoned arrows. Kaito succumbs to illness, or is going to in short order. Monokuma AI is still up and running, and Maki thinks it’s just because it can run independently of Kokichi, maybe? So she takes advantage of it in order to mercy-kill everyone like Gonta (and maybe Kokichi) wanted last chapter, while letting Kaito die without anyone else thinking he was a murderer? Is this her using her Ultimate Assassin ability in the most compassionate way she can, maybe?

I.... don’t know if I’m 100% satisfied with that answer... but it is an answer..........

It’s not a question of wants, my dear Sweetcheeks - she needs to push this narrative. The real question is if she actually believes it herself.

i thought the answer was bloodstain whoops

Thank goodness there wasn’t. 8′\ I don’t think even Danganronpa could stylize the gruesomeness out of that.

OI MAKI WHAT ARE YOU DOING

“You think that comment about ‘the last time you touched a woman’ was bad? I’m going to show you that I can eviscerate you without even lifting a finger.”

Maki is a force to be reckoned with, damn.

ANYONE COULD BE WEARING THOSE CLOTHES! EVEN ME!

too soon? .... yeah okay

ARE THEY.... SERIOUSLY... ARGUING ABOUT HIS FASHION SENSE.... DID MAKI JUST IMPLY SHUICHI DOESN’T KNOW KAITO AT ALL AFTER ALL THIS TIME

I’M LAUGHING HOW MANY SHIP WAR TRIALS ARE WE GOING TO HAVE why can’t we all just ot3 in peace guys

They are low-key fighting about who knows Kaito the best down to how he dresses himself I cannot believe -

“HOW DARE YOU QUESTION MY ENCYCLOPEDIC KNOWLEDGE OF MY BOYRFRIEND BRO!!”

“Have you ever considered he was wearing it like a cape like an absolute no-taste madman? Or reverted to the ‘tied around waist’ trend? When you two broke up, it changed him, Shuichi - it changed him!”

“Just like Kokichi Imeanwhat, you didn’t hear me say that, nope -”

also too soon probably

Defeat... but how does this defeat him? The theory I have addresses why she would be so determined/have more knowledge than she’s letting on, but it definitely doesn’t neatly answer how implicating him as the culprit would ‘defeat’ him outside of letting Kaito out unscathed. :x

Oooh, are we going to address that point now? I feel like once we’ve resolved that, we’ll be ready to start breaking things down into easier-to-solve chunks!

Oh... um... o-okay but -

WAIT REALLY? WE’RE REALLY DOING THIS?!

OH!!!!

OOOOOH HOLY SHIT!! HOLY SHIT!

S-SHROEDINGER’S MOBILE SUIT GUNDAM?!?!

WAIT WHAT

I JUST FUCKING SCREECHED -

WHAT?!?!

KAITO JUST

WHAT?!?!?!

WHAT?!?! AFTER ALL THAT WE’RE JUST - IT’S JUST - HIM?

WHY ARE *YOU* SHOCKED

or is this a ‘WHAT THE HELL WHY ARE YOU REVEALING YOURSELF’ moment?!

“YOU DUMBASS THIS WASN’T PART OF THE PLAN -”

actually oooh she said ‘Momota’ without an `ific behind it - is that a first, or did I only just notice now?

Edit: I’ve been corrected, she’s apparently not used it for a while now. I’m not surprised I just didn’t notice until now. 8′D

I.... I don’t even know what to think right now.... I thought I’d come up with something good in terms of why it was Kaito and not Kokichi, thinking it would be maybe a twist for partway through the trial or something, but then??? he just fucking busts in 15 minutes late with whatever DR’s equivalent of Starbucks is like ‘WHAT UP GUYS WHAT DID I MISS?’

?!?!?!

HOLY SHIT AGAIN

can I just say I really appreciate Hiro Shimono right now holy crap

ALSO YOU KNOW, JUST THROWN ANOTHER GENERAL ‘HOLY CRAP’ ONTO THE PILE MY HEAD IS SPINNING RIGHT NOW

I WANT TO HEAR THE ENGLISH EQUIVALENT OF THIS

but I just heard Kokichi scream something along the lines of (and I’m totally going to butcher this with my limited knowledge, I apologize): “ORE WA SHIMASEN! MINNA WO AISHITERU KARA!” Isn’t that along the lines of ‘I won’t [die], I love all of you?” or ‘Everyone loves me?” or something? man I’m totally butchering this aren’t I lol please feel free to correct me

As for the english reference we have a confirmed Sinatra fan among us - that’s some pretty great taste you’ve got there, kiddo! hey maybe the japanese one was a detective conan ED ref or maybe I’m just reaching as usual

U-Uh I don’t know about that? I find the exisals pretty impressive, personally. I bet Tsumugi is secretly fangirling as an big mecha!anime nerd.

Good question, tbh - why did Kaito’s voice come out of the exisal? I’d consider the idea of them both being in there, but... but we discovered a body, right? And bloodstains? Unless an old body was reused (and there’s precedence in the series for that), but I don’t know how they would manage it???

Also I’m mad at myself WHY did I accidentally delete the ‘cracker’ cap, japanese Kokichi literally just said ‘cracker’ out loud and it was amazing!!!

THIS REALLY IS GOING TO BE SHROEDINGER’S MECHA

..... I.... DAMN IT THAT IS A GOOD REASON. Fine, you win this round, K.

I MEAN... YEAH....

oh shit you did what now

YOU HAVE IT ON CAMERA?!

UM?!?! NO, CAN WE NOT?!?!

Oh.... Oh no.

I have questions about why the video sped up for a moment and also why he isn’t moving at all (is he??? dead before being placed there???) but I’m going to push them to the side for a moment because

oh.... no. I DIDN’T WANT TO SEE THAT ASDFKLJSDF D:

Oh dear :(

how many love interests must this boy be forced to watch die damn it

#Kaito Momota #Kokichi Ouma #Shuichi Saihara #Maki Harukawa #Himiko Yumeno #Tsumugi Shirogane #Ryou plays drv3 #spoilers #drv3 spoilers #K1-b0 #Kiibo #Keebo

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closetofanxiety · 6 years ago

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Nitromare: We Got Some Hot Action in the Ring Tonight

The date: Monday, November 15, 1999

The place: Little Rock, Arkansas, the Alltel Arena

The occasion: One month into the Russo-Ferrara tenure at WCW and “one fo the most important nights of 1999,” according to Tony Schiavone

H/t to Mark for the screen caps

We open up with an actual wrestling match. Or, I guess, an approximation of a wrestling match. Norman Smiley comes out in full football pads. Jimmy Hart comes out in a Renaissance Faire suit of armor. I never understood why they call medieval cosplay events Renaissance fairs. Different time periods, folks.

This is a terrible travesty, and Brian Knobbs comes out to hit Smiley in the head with an unprotected chair shot. The 1990s, ladies and gentlemen. The crowd is hot, at least. They are cheering Norman and booing Hart and Knobbs. I tell you what, Knobbs had a transcendentally cascading mullet deep into the 1990s. Good for him. Norman gets the pin in 4:46 after one of the worst table spots I have ever seen in my life.

“There’s more competition here than you’ll see in the World Series or the Super Bowl,” Bobby Heenan says. That seems preposterous, but the ‘99 Series saw the Yankees sweep the Braves, and the Super Bowl was a lackluster win for the Broncos. So ... maybe? Maybe Brain is correct?

We get recap and a backstage skit where some of the Nitro Girls scuffle. Russo was really eager to make the Nitro Girls into wrestlers.

The Outsiders come out. This is the episode where Nash has a horrific makeup job to make him look like Sid Vicious, which has attained a degree of immortality in wrestling social media circles where people post out-of-context screen captures. In fairness, it’s a pretty uncanny likeness: Big Kev looks like a “Spitting Image” puppet version of Sid.

Sid comes out to a big pop. Ah, this is the one where he says “You are only half the man I am, and I have half the brain you do.” This is kind of a classic episode for devotees of Sid’s unintentional comedy.

Backstage with Russo, who still hasn’t appeared on camera, berating Kim Page and telling her that she has to wrestle Asya. Russo is mad because Kim doesn’t want to be a Nitro Girl anymore. This is ironic, as Russo didn’t want the Nitro Girls to be Nitro Girls anymore.

Booker T comes out for a handicap match against Creative Control, the latest identity for Ron and Don Harris. I believe they were “Skull” and ... “8Ball” (?) in the WWE during the Gang Wars period. Here they are guys in suits enforcing the will of Russo. The crowd is still really hot. They love Booker T. The Harris Twins win clean (well, as clean as you can get in a handicap match) and the crowd is livid. Then the lights go out and the mysterious woman from last week is in the ring. She and Booker T go to town on the Harrises. WCW really wanted their own Chyna, boy.

Backstage with the Harris Twins being berated by Vince, who brings up their unsuccessful WWF gimmicks, namechecks Dutch Mantell and scoffs, “Yeah, remember DOA? That was really over.” If there was one thing WCW’s still-huge TV audience couldn’t get enough of, it was INSIDER MINUTIAE.

Evan Karagias comes out to wrestle your older cousin who never seems to hold a job for more than a couple of weeks. Approximately: a normal-ass guy in jeans and a tank top. This is Johnny Boone, the WCW referee that Karagias scrapped with last week. The commentary team does a bad job of explaining this. Madusa interferes, hypnotizing Johnny Boone with her womanly wiles, and Karagias gets the roll-up win in 2:50.

We cut to Dr. Death Steve Williams coming into the building with “Oklahoma,” one of the worst ideas of the Russo era. This was Ed Ferrara doing an impression of Jim Ross that included mocking Ross’ Bell’s palsy.

We have a five-way Piñata on a Pole match between El Dandy, Juventud Guerrero, Psicosis, Silver King, and Villano V. Most of the match is devoted to Ferrera’s shitty Jim Ross impression. Steve Williams looks like he would rather be getting a root canal. The average “BAH GAWD HE’S BROKEN IN HALF” YouTube parody clip is a better JR impression than Ferrara, who was last heard from teaching creative writing at the for-profit, accreditation-challenged money pit known as Full Sail University.

The match ends in a no-contest when Dr. Death runs in and beats up all the luchadors. It sucks. Everything about this sucks.

Goldberg vs. Curt Hennig with a needlessly complicated stipulation that involves Hennig’s career. It’s a good nasty brawl that starts in the back before the bell rings. Hennig could still perform at a high level even in this shitshow. He taps out to what might charitably be called a figure four in 4:23. Goldberg celebrates his victory by spearing and jackhammering Hennig, who has not lost his WCW contract despite losing the match, because he tapped out rather than getting pinned. Or something.

The Misfits come down with Vampiro, for a match against Berlyn. Or maybe it’s a handicap match? Or a tag match? Berlyn and the Wall (hur hur) are wrestling four guys, although three of them are the Misfits. One of the Misfits who is not Jerry Only (Doyle?) takes a chokeslam from the wall, and lands on his neck rather than his back. That looks extremely painful.

The Wall and Berlyn have the match won, but start fighting amongst themselves instead of getting the pin. Maybe one was from East Germany and one from West Germany. At any rate, after some arguing, the Wall gets the pin on Vampiro, who then gets whipped by a chain-wielding Berlyn.

For some reason, Torrie Wilson is being forced to referee a match by a still-unseen Vince Russo. She has to wear a bikini while doing it, because of course she does. She protests. “Have a cream soda!” Russo says, for some reason. Then he dismisses her by saying “Go on, hit the skids,” probably meaning “hit the bricks,” but “hit the skids” was certainly a fair summation of Nitro’s trajectory under Vince Russo.

Sid Vicious and Rick Steiner are wrestling. It immediately turns into a brawl through the crowd, which the crowd loves. Someone in the audience has a sign that says “Big Johnson, Inc.” This is all Sid, because Rick Steiner had pretty much had it by this point in his career. Sid powerbombs Steiner through the wooden stage, which is pretty great.

“The Millennium is upon us,” Sid tells Tenay backstage.

We’re backstage and the Barbarian and Gerry Flynn (Gary Flynn?) are having an “MMA-style fight” for some reason. There’s no explanation for any of this. “This is WCW’s version of a fight club,” Tony Schiavone says. Tony: the entire wrestling promotion is a fight club.

If this had been a real fight, Barbarian would have killed this guy, whoever he is. Barbarian is one of the famously legitimate tough guys in wrestling history.

I don’t know why this exists on this program. It ends.

Asya and Kim Page are going to have what a fan’s sign describes as a “cat fight,” with a bikini-clad Torrie Wilson officiating. “Oh Lordy!” Tony shouts. She’s not good at being a referee, because she gets into a (JOEY STYLES VOICE) catfight!!!! with Asya. Then the Filthy Animals come out and take Torrie away. Kim puts a sleeper hold on Asya, although there is now no referee, sexxxy or otherwise.

One thing this terrible exercise in self-hatred has taught me: I really like Kim Page.

David Flair comes out with a ref shirt and a crowbar. Kim Page runs away. Asya beats the shit out of Flair, dropping the elbow onto his crotch. “Right in the Man Department!” Heenan says, and I laugh out loud.

Flair turns it around and starts beating on Asya. The Revolution comes out and saves her. A match that started out as Asya vs. Kim Page ends as Dean Malenko vs. David Flair.

Now we have Scott Hall vs. Chris Benoit, another match in the never-ending heavyweight title tournament. “How Bout Those Hogs,” a sign in the crowd asks.

Hall comes out with Nash. Benoit comes out with Bret Hart, because Canadians stick together. Benoit was a Stu Hart guy too, if I recall correctly.

This could be a decent match. Hall still had gas left in the tank at this point, and Benoit was on the road to becoming arguably the best in the world.

It starts well, with both guys trying to take the measure of the other, eventually settling into an exchange of truly brutal chops. Hall gets the upper hand with the help of Nash. Hart is not doing much to help Benoit beyond pointing sternly at Nash.

“Marry Me Julie!” a sign in the crowd pleads. Julie: think hard about this.

Benoit rallies and knocks Hall out of the ring. Nash begins beating on Benoit as referee Nick Patrick looks on. For some reason this is not grounds for a disqualification. Bret Hart walks over and is very cross indeed, but doesn’t do anything. In the ring, Sid runs in and powerbombs Hall. Benoit gets back in the ring and hits his diving headbutt, then gets the win via submission. The whole thing takes 9:38. It’s OK.

Another match in the longest title tournament in history, because this will never end. Ever. This time it’s Bret Hart vs. Billy Kidman, and Rey is joining Tony and Brain on commentary. It’s pretty good, but before long Scott Hall and Kevin Nash walk out and start brawling with Konnan and Eddie Guerrero. For some reason. Kidman taps to the Sharpshooter in 3:46.

How is it possible that there are still matches left in this tournament? It evidently is, because we have another one: Buff Bagwell vs. Jeff Jarrett. Tony starts calling Jeff “The fair-haired child of ...” and then there’s like 10 seconds of silence, probably with Tony trying to remember if he’s allowed to mention Jerry Jarrett’s name on TV. He plays it safe and says, “... of the Powers That Be.”

The match gets off to a good start, and then the Harris twins come down to the ring. They interfere, but the referee doesn’t see it because he’s ... tying his shoe. Jarrett gets the win, and then he and the Harris boys beat on Bagwell. Dustin Rhodes runs in to make the save. The crowd loves it. An old-school babyface tag team of Dustin Rhodes and Bagwell probably would have been really popular, but why would you do something that people would want to see?

Backstage, Bill Goldberg slams his head against a Surge soda pop vending machine, and a can of Surge pops out. There is nothing more Late Nineties than this moment.

We’re getting a cage match now, pitting Malenko and Perry Saturn of the Revolution vs. Konnan and Eddie of the Filthy Animals. This isn’t the main event, meaning they set up and broke down the cage during the show.

Shane Douglas joins the commentary team. “You’re like every other mark on the Internet who thinks they can call this better than me,” Tony says. This sucks so bad.

Eddie gets handcuffed to the cage while Konnan brawls with Malenko and Saturn. “Eddie’s trapped like a bug in a rug!” Douglas says, apparently not understanding that turn of phrase.

Saturn and Malenko now handcuff Konnan to the cage, and we have a sexxxy bondage match. Douglas enters the ring and the referee calls for the bell at 2:57. They set up a steel cage for a match that didn't even last three minutes.

Luger and Liz come down to the ring for, I think, ANOTHER match in the Tournament That Cannot And Will Not End. It’s against Stinger. Luger tried to trick Sting into eating brownies loaded with laxatives before the match, because eating a plate of baked goods is absolutely part of Sting’s pre-match training regimen. Instead, Hacksaw Jim Duggan, trapped in some version of hell, intercepted the brownies and ate them. I hate that I am even typing these sentences.

Sting just starts beating the shit out of Luger, and the crowd loves it. This reminds me that there really was a WCW audience that just stopped following wrestling after 2001, instead of jumping to WWE or picking up on TNA. Sometimes that happens. America used to be full of boxing fans.

“These two men have been friends ever since they came into this sport together,” Tony says, then quickly corrects himself: “I mean, into this business together.” Did Russo ban mentions of wrestling as a sport?

The match is good until it Russofies:

Ref bump - Liz maces Sting - Lex puts Sting in the torture rack - Meng runs in and starts killing Luger - Liz maces Meng - mace means nothing to Meng - Meng puts Sting on top of Luger - ref counts the pin

Backstage, we’re in a toilet stall with Jim Duggan, feeling the effects of the laxatives. Why was I permitted to do this. To do any of this.

Finally, mercifully, it’s time for the main event: a streetfight between Sid and Nash. They start brawling outside the ring even before the bell.

“This is going to be the best pay-per-view in the history of pay-per-views,” Heenan says of the upcoming Mayhem 1999, which, as it would turn out, was not quite that good.

Back when I did a wrestling podcast, one of our running gags was that we were perpetually in search of a good Kevin Nash match. This is not that match. A lot of sluggish brawling around the ring, occasionally in the ring. I think a double axe handle is the only “move” in the first five minutes, apart from punches and knees.

“These two can go all night,” Brain says, perhaps while watching a VHS tape showing a Kawada-Misawa match instead of this.

There can’t be a single match without a run-in, and this time it’s Hall. He and Nash team up and start beating on Sid. It’s legal, because this is a streetfight. Then Goldberg runs in, but that is not legal for some reason. Maybe this is an anti-Semitic street where the fight is happening. The ref calls for the bell. There’s a disqualification. Sid now gives Goldberg a low blow and starts beating on him, and Bret Hart runs out to make the save.

This was completely bad.

#Nitromare #WCW #1990s wrestling #show reviews

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