#las vegas braces

[lewisinho]

‘nighttime chill’ is putting it mildly, they are not a serious organisation that’s for sure

[mimikyusrealform]

six degrees of separation

Spencer Reid x Reader. Word Count: 1781. Summary: While circulating the photo of a serial killer around a bar in New York, Spencer gets distracted by the sight of someone who used to only exist in his memories. Notes and Warnings: Set around Season 2 before Revelations, because S2 Reid is the loveliest he's ever been. There's a bit of cussing, and mentions of bullying (not particularly explicit), so read at your own discretion.

The man in front of you is familiar. It's better to say that his face is familiar to you, but not the man himself.

He's asking something, “Have you seen this guy?” In a nervous way, his left hand's fingers, the ones not holding up a fairly young guy's picture, twist and untwist. It's like there's electricity under his skin, and a fuzz in his head. He can't stay still. “Ma'am?” he prompts at your silence.

“What did you say your name was again?” you are asking before you can think it over.

“Uh, I'm Doctor—but you don't have to call me that, it's optional, actually, forget that—Spencer Reid.” He is flustered. You can tell it's not because of you, but because you're a person. Still looking at him, you sip from your Gin and Tonic. His brown hair is smooth and carefully parted, no apparent use of gel, but brushed nicely so it shines, even under the bar's poor lighting. He wears professor clothes: a brown vest, a white button-up and low-rise slacks. He's sinewy and wiry, and you wonder if his bones are naturally thin or it's because he doesn't eat enough. You guess that it might be both.

“Are you from Las Vegas?” you ask him.

“Y-yeah.” He's changed the picture to his left hand, and his right one rubs at the back of his neck. “How did you know? Nevermind. I need to know if you've seen this man?”

It clicks, then. You think it's because of that gesture. You squint your eyes at the picture. “No, I haven't.” You stab him in the chest with your index finger. He recoils as if you had actually stabbed him. “Doesn't matter. It's you who I've seen before; I remember now. You're that kid that graduated from high-school at twelve years old. I was a freshman when that happened.”

He blinks owlishly; it's kind of cute. Then, he blinks again, and a third time. With a start, he miraculously says your name. “I didn't recognize you,” he admits shamefully; you wave your hand dismissively. “I-it's good to see you.”

It truly is—good to see you. Spencer doesn't have many fond memories of his time in high-school. But you're certainly one of the few. He never imagined you would remember him, though, he wasn't important to you the way you were, are to him.

You were short, once, this he can picture clearly, with round and rosy cheeks, and crowded teeth. You must have gone through braces, he notes. That, too, he can picture clearly; well, imagine it. You've grown up. Of course, you've grown up. It's such a menial observation that it makes him embarrassed, somehow. You're a good memory that he's kept dearly, close to his heart. After all, you saved him, twice. Twice! The first time from himself, and the second time from others. How he hadn't immediately recognized you, it was beyond him. You are just as pretty and impossible as an adult as when you were a kid.

The first time, he had been walking out of school with a dejected drag of the feet. Mary Clarkson had made fun of him in Math class because he stammered when answering a complex question, and that had been enough to dim the sun in the sky. He needed to cross the street, and he vaguely checked both ways, head still hung low, before attempting to cross. And then, a hand pulled him by the scruff, harshly and violently, almost throwing him over his back on the ground. He reacted accordingly, jolting out of the hold, thinking he was about to get beaten up. But what he came face-to-face with was your scowl at the same time that behind him, a car exceeding the speed limit whipped through the street.

You had said, in an extremely high-pitched voice while digging your index finger into his chest, “Are you actually dumb? They say you're a genius, but geniuses look both sides before crossing the street! You're just silly, after all!” Your intonation was kind of obnoxious, but then you grabbed his wrist, the right one, pried his fingers open and gently deposited a Hershey's Kiss from your backpack on his palm. “Get better,” you had said, and bolted away to join your own friends, who were all giggling at the display. He always looks both ways after that. And sometimes, he feels true warmth in his chest, where your fingertip had marked him an eternity ago.

The second time was just a month before senior graduation. His senior graduation. Mark Brown and his two friends-slash-lackeys had been throwing him around the lockers, and everyone else either ignored them or hid their smirks behind their hands. Brown was saying something like, “C'mon, I got to teach you. You like learning, don't you, freak? Hold him, you gu—” Brown was a senior, so he was about seventeen years old, almost eighteen. And you were just a freshman, freshly fourteen-years-old. And yet you had walked up behind Brown, gripping the straps of your backpack between your bony fingers, and hurled it at the back of his head, almost knocking him down. Spencer vividly remembers the tingle that ran up his spine at the sound of your shrill yet demanding voice telling Brown to, “Move out of the way, skank! You're crowding my goddamn locker! Filthy, stupid bitch, are you blind or did your junkie father finally beat all the braincells out of your head?”

Then, you forcefully hit the other two guys with your backpack as well until they dispersed. Years later, Spencer would come to know why Brown couldn't hit you. Why Brown would never hit a girl, and instead of fighting you, he scattered. You had placed your hands on your hips and glared at him, before saying, “If you like to learn so much, then why don't you learn how to throw a punch? How to kick a roundhouse. No school director is expelling you. Or, at least, learn how to talk back at stupid skanks. If you can not be stronger, then be smarter, silly.”

Silly, silly, silly. That was the second time you called him silly, the second time you saved him.

“Is that so,” you are saying now. “Then, I suppose it's nice seeing you, too. Who's that man, anyway?”

He glances down at the picture in his own hand, like he had forgotten it was there. “Oh, yeah. Um, this is a suspect in a case I—”

“Are you the police?” you interrupt.

“O-oh, no. No, I'm not. FBI,” he explains, pulling out his badge and showing it to you. 

There's a glint in your eyes. “FBI,” you repeat, voice a tiny bit as shrill as he remembered it being. “How old are you?”

“I'm twenty-four,” he tells you earnestly. Does that impress you? It embarrasses him how much he wants it to impress you. “I, uh, joined when I was twenty-two.”

“I'm twenty-six,” you tell him, expectantly.

He isn't sure how he knows what you want him to say, but he says, “Congratulations. You look younger.”

You don't preen at his words, but you smile at him, and it's the first time he's seen your smile, despite having daydreamed about what it would look like many times before. It's nothing like his imagination. It's not wide and smooth nor is it sweet. It's lopsided, crooked; and he can see your canines are a bit askew and sharp. When you turn your head to the side to take a sip from your white-night drink, he memorizes the planes of your profile. The valley of your cheek, the crest of the bone under your eye, the cliff of your nose bone. He sees the very naked neck, the precipice between your collarbones. Your face is lovely and curious, and so is the slope of your bare shoulders. He wants to run his fingers down the spaghetti-straps of your dress, that dig into your skin. He wonders if the straps are drawing red lines.

He wants to say something, maybe all he wants is for you to listen to him, but then he hears Morgan calling him.

You hear it, too; you don't know who's calling for him, but you know it's more important than you. So you tilt your head towards him in acknowledgement that he has to go. “Goodbye, Doctor,” you say, smiling again. “Goodbye, silly.”

“No, wait,” he stumbles. “We—I still have some time. Let me—”

“Time?” you interrupt him again. “Funny business, time. It delights frustrating your plans. Don't you know?”

His brain catches up to the reference before himself. “The Seventh Doctor,” he mutters. He sounds surprised to his own ears. “From Dragonfire; Season 24, Serial 4. Broadcasted from November 23 to December 7 of 1987. I was six years old when it came out. The Doctor said it to Mel at the end of the third part.”

You are looking at him with amusement at the same time Morgan calls for him again. “What, do you think I can't like Doctor Who?”

“No, not at all,” he recomposes himself, clears his throat, and almost trips back when you grab his wrist, the right one. “W-what are you doing?” His voice is a couple semitones higher.

You don't answer him. Instead, you take a pen from your dress' pocket and write something on his soft skin.

When he lifts his hand in front of his face, he blushes terribly at the sight of what he assumes—hopes—is your phone number.

“Call me,” you say. You pause, and then add, “Don't be silly and start overthinking it. Good night, Doctor.”

You leave after that.

He's left dazzled and dazed, standing there. He feels like a raw wire, and there's a pleasant flow of warmth spreading through his body from where your fingers curled around his joint.

He runs away when he sees Morgan's arched eyebrows and mirthful expression. Not before catching the mocking mimic of, “Good night, Doctor.” He groans a quick shut up in his haste to leave the establishment.

He's such a coward. But he's not coward enough not to call you later that night during the flight back to Quantico. He texts, “Who's your favorite Doctor?” And feels like kicking himself. Who starts a conversation like that? Before he can delete it and disappear, you reply, “I'm not sure, Dr. Reid. I don't think he exists yet. Why, did you want me to say you are my favorite Doctor?”

Morgan laughs the whole flight after reading over his shoulder.

Surprisingly, he finds he can't be embarrassed about it. Not when you spend the rest of the night texting him.

[dearstvckyx]

───────────────────────

Riley Leclerc x TwinBrother!Charles Leclerc / YoungerBrother!Arthur Leclerc / F1 Drivers (angst/fluff ending)

───────────────────────

“We Got This”

The Las Vegas Grand Prix was supposed to be another race to chalk up experience, another step forward for Riley Leclerc in her Williams car (standing in for Alex Albon). But under the flashing lights of the Strip, chaos erupted in a split second.

Esteban Ocon had mistimed a move into Turn 3, clipping Riley’s rear wheel. The impact sent her spinning, helplessly colliding with Lando Norris, whose car smashed into hers like a missile. The radio went silent. Riley’s car was a crumpled mess in the middle of the track.

“Riley, are you okay? Riley, can you hear me?” her race engineer’s voice cracked through the radio. No response.

───────────────────────

When the helicopter lifted off, carrying Riley to the University Medical Center in Vegas, Arthur Leclerc sat on the tarmac, knees drawn to his chest, hands trembling. His older sister was somewhere up there, fighting, and he couldn’t do anything to help. His heart ached with an unrelenting weight.

“Come on, Ri,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “You’re stronger than this. We got this, okay? Breathe. Just breathe.” He stared at the sky, as if his words could reach her through sheer force of will.

───────────────────────

The paddock had erupted into chaos. Max Verstappen, Charles Leclerc, George Russell, Logan Sargeant, and Lewis Hamilton stormed into the Alpine garage where Esteban sat, guilt etched across his face.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Charles roared, shoving past George to get face-to-face with Esteban. “You could’ve killed her!”

“Charles,” Lewis placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him down, though his own eyes burned with anger. “This isn’t how we handle it.”

“No, he needs to hear this!” Charles snapped, voice trembling. “That’s my sister out there! My twin!”

Logan’s voice cut through the shouting. “And Lando’s hurt too! You made a reckless move that put two people in the hospital!”

Esteban sat silently, shame consuming him, as Max shook his head and muttered, “Unbelievable.”

───────────────────────

At the hospital, Lando sat in a wheelchair, his arm in a sling, his leg wrapped in a brace. Despite his injuries, his focus was entirely on Riley.

“She’s going to be okay,” Lando said, more to himself than anyone else. “She has to be.”

Arthur paced the waiting room, muttering under his breath. “You’re not allowed to leave me, Ri. You hear me? You don’t get to do this.” He pressed his hands against his forehead, as if he could push away the fear clawing at his chest.

The entire F1 grid had gathered, their camaraderie evident even in the face of tragedy. Max leaned against a wall, arms crossed, his face filled with worry as he grew up with Riley and Charles, while Checo placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. Charles sat with Alexandra, her hand gripping his as tightly as she could and trying not to cry for her “sister”. George and Lewis were deep in conversation with the doctors, while Logan and Alex Albon passed water bottles around. Even Fernando Alonso, usually distant, looked visibly shaken.

When the doctor finally emerged, the room fell silent. Everyone standing.

“She’s stable,” the doctor announced. “The surgery went well. She’ll be okay, but it’ll be a long recovery.”

The collective sigh of relief was palpable.

───────────────────────

When Riley finally opened her eyes, the harsh white light of the hospital room stung, but the sight of Arthur sitting beside her made her heart ache in a different way. His head was resting on the edge of her bed, his hand gripping hers tightly.

“You’re really annoying, you know that?” Riley croaked, her voice weak but teasing.

Arthur’s head shot up, his red-rimmed eyes widening. “You’re awake.”

“No kidding.”

Tears spilled over as Arthur let out a shaky laugh. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

“I’ll try petit frère,” she whispered, squeezing his hand.

As the rest of the drivers filtered in, the room became a patchwork of laughter and relief. Lando, hobbling in with the help of Oscar, grinned through his pain. “Next time, Riley, maybe let me know before you try to kill me on track.”

Riley chuckled weakly. “Noted.”

Lewis leaned over, brushing her hair away from her face. “You gave us all a heart attack, kid.”

“Just keeping things interesting,” she replied, earning a collective groan from the room.

Charles sat on her other side, his hand never leaving hers. “You’re never driving again,” he muttered, though his voice was thick with emotion.

“Not happening,” she retorted.

Arthur laughed. “She’s back.”

And in that moment, surrounded by her twin, her team, and the entire F1 family, Riley felt the weight of their love. It didn’t matter how broken she was; together, they would piece her back together again.

Translate : petit frère - little brother

[taytriestohardd]

Can you do reader and kp are rival’s and they both like each other and when y’all play against each other her and reader flirt the whole Time.

No Snarky Remark?

Kelsey Plum x reader

———————————————————————

Summary: Reader plays for the Indiana Fevers against the Las Vegas Aces and continues her flirtatious rivalry with Kelsey Plum.

Warnings: a few jokingly mean comments? Let me know if I missed anything

———————————————————————

Readers POV:

Kelsey and I are two of the greatest basketball players in the WNBA. With that being said the media has had us against each other since my Fevers debut. We’ve had many games against each other, making sure we keep the media entertained with some playful banter.

Today, we have a game at 7pm against the Aces so all the Fevers have been shooting around for about an hour before we decided to get something to eat before the game. We all agreed on something simple and quick as we made our way to the restaurant.

As I pull out the seat between Caitlin and Aliyah, I hear someone next to me ask “So Y/N, how are you and Kelsey doing?” I look to where it came from to see Caitlin smirking as I sit down. “Um the same as always. I still think she’s annoying and over confident and I plan to show her that at the game tonight.” While yes, I do think Kelsey is absolutely gorgeous and a great ball player her ego plus her attitude do not mix well with such.

“Oh I see you just wanna show off for your girl tonight. I’ll make sure to pass you the ball a few extra times tonight.” I hear Caitlin say as I see a few of my teammates laugh and nod along as if they agree. I look at them confused before saying “Okay woah one, Kelsey is not my girl and I don’t think she ever will be, two you won’t have to pass me the ball because I’m gonna get way more rebounds than you.”

After a few more jokes were cracked and dinner was finished we all made our way back to the team bus to head towards the arena. Along the way me and Caitlin agreed that whoever got more rebounds in tonight’s game would get 20 bucks which I agreed to immediately, knowing I’d win that bet.

Once inside the gym me and Cait shot around with each other for a few minutes until the Aces arrived and she decided to go look at some film before the game. Leaving me to go stretch and fix my hair whilst making a mental note to slide my ankle braces on before entering the court.

Just as I slid my ankle brace and shoe back on a see a figure in front of me causing me to look up quickly. “You’re gonna need those braces for when I break your ankles tonight.” I see Kelsey standing there confidently as she crosses her arms across her chest. “Yea I hear you. What that sticking out of your shoe right there, is that an ankle brace?” I say slyly pointing to her foot.

She shoots her head down quickly as she goes to see if she was indeed wearing an ankle brace. “Made you look! Can’t remember if you put on ankle braces or not Plum? That’s not good might wanna stop by the memory doctor on the way to the E.R after I break your ankles.” I say patting her head as I stand up. Before she can get another word in Aliyah came and told me it was time to get on the court. As I’m walking away I turn around and ask with a smile “What no snarky remark? I must really have an effect on you then.” As I’m turning back around I see Kelsey’s flushed face as well as her teammate coming to tell her to get on the court.

———————————————————————

After jump ball, which we surprisingly got, Caitlin carried the ball up the court before getting double teamed. I ran up closer to give her an easy pass and caught the ball before planting my feet and shooting from right behind the 3 point line. As I let go of the ball I see Kelsey run up to block me a second to late as I blow her kiss right before the ball goes in. I can see a small pink tint on her cheeks before she runs to get the ball.

As she runs the ball up the court, I widen my stance as to guard a little heavier. She dribbles for a second before passing inside the paint giving an easy lay up to her teammate A’ja. I see her smile out of the corner of my eye and decide to step up my game just a little.

With about 3 minutes left in the second quarter I dribble the ball up the court before stopping in front of her. “You’re a little to pretty to be getting beat like this Kelsey. You’re not going easy on me are you?” I say smirking. “Never.” I see her eyes lock on mine but Aliyah has already set me a screen so I run to the left and shoot a three making the score 16-23. She looks like she’s ready to fight me but I just turn around as I smile and get ready to guard her.

As she brings the ball up the court I see her look to the left and the right observing her teammates. “Hey L/N, miss me already? It’s okay I’ll make a shot for you.” She dribbles to the right but passes left before going back to her starting spot and dropping a three and winking at me.

I was subbed out for the first 6 minutes of the fourth quarter but when I went back in Kelsey was already out. I smirked and waved as I brought it up the court seeing Caitlin wide open in the right wing. Passing the ball quickly, the defense went back up on caitlin so she passed to Erica who shot an easy floater.

By the end of the game the score was 56-63 in favor of the Fevers. As I walked to the locker room me and Caitlin stopped to sign a few things and take a few pictures with fans. In the locker room, we all cheered and celebrated a little before the majority of the team decided hang out at a local bar to celebrate. I of course agreed and told them I’d be there around 9.

After everyone else left the locker room I was headed towards the door before I saw Kelsey as she knocked on the wall. “Hey what’s up Kelsey? Come to look at all the posts about me whoopin’ your ass out there tonight with me?”

“Yea yea I made all kinds of shots out there tonight and you know it” she says smiling. “Yea but mine made us win.” I say putting my bag down on the floor right next to me. She walks a little closer towards the back lockers as I turn around to stand in front of her. “But I will admit you made some good shots.” I say looking down at her.

“We’ll beat you guys at the next game.” She says looking up at me. I nod my head slowly “yea?” before my eyes slide down to her lips and back up again. “Yea of course.” She whispers. I lean forward just a little as I see her eyeing my lips. “You know I meant it, when I called you pretty.” I admit. “I’m sure you did. It’s hard to miss tha-“ she starts but I cut her off by leaning forward and kissing her gently. She freezes for a second before kissing me back eagerly. I put my hand on the side of her face pulling her closer as my other hand reaches her hip.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while.” I say as I pull away. “I’ve wanted you to do that for a while.” She says smiling. “Oh well allow me to do the honors.” I quickly lean in again shoving her into the lockers kissing her harder than before. We stayed like that for as long as possible before breaking away for air. “Glad you feel the same.” “You have no idea. Give me a second.” I say pulling out my phone before calling Caitlin. “Hey Cait, yea I’m not gonna make it to the bar tonight, sorry. Also, I want my 20 bucks.”

[isak-dot-gov]

Mic'd Up Pt.2

Pairing: Kelsey Plum x Reader

Word count: 1208

Part 1 - My Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is what love looks like!”

“Relationship goals AF.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[thearchercore]

las vegas gp was a fever dream bc half of the tl was bracing themselves for another divorce era and the rest was already posting updates like "CHARLES MANHANDLED MAX?" and you had to make sense out of it

[deathofpeaceofmiiind]

illicit affairs | twelve

*Noah’s POV* After I shut the door, I braced myself against it, taking a huge breath. She looked so fucking good, I thought I was going to lose my composure. I wasn’t sure what was in store for tonight, or what her intentions were with me. She never mentioned anything about Matt, so I have no idea if they were still together or not. I guess I’ll just have to leave the ball in her court for now. 

I turned on the shower and let it heat up as I scanned around her bathroom. It was pretty modern with marble and black accents. She put her own flair on it with artificial roses, candles with black and white towels. Her ysl perfume was on the counter, along with her tube of red lipstick she was wearing tonight. I smirked, realizing it was the same one she wore the night we met. I picked the perfume off of the counter and took a deep inhale. Fuck the smell was damn intoxicating, almost as intoxicating as she was.

I got out of the shower, got dressed into my matching black Lululemon shorts and t-shirt, and put on a few more sprays of my cologne than I normally do. My facial hair looked like shit so I quickly shaved it off and threw on my Canucks baseball cap before heading back out into her living room. My heart skipped when I saw her sitting in her kitchen scrolling on her phone with a glass of red wine in her hand. I noticed her nails were long and black, something she didn’t have before. I guess not working in the hospital anymore gave her that freedom. She looked up and softly smiled at me, causing me to completely crumble at her feet. “What?” I nervously asked when she kept her gaze longer than I expected her to. “Nothing” She replied, putting her wine glass down, “It’s just.. I didn’t think you kept that hat.” “It’s my favourite.” I said as I sat down beside her. “I actually started watching their games this year. Even went to see them when they came to LA” “Really?” She questioned, her eyes widening, “I’m impressed.” “Thanks.” I chuckled, my hand immediately going up to my necklace, something I started to do when I got nervous. Her eyes followed my every move, slowly blinking as I fiddled with the charm she gave me. “I can’t believe you wear that after all this time .” She whispered, bringing her hand up to where the charm dangled. Her fingertips brushed mine and sent tingles down my arm. Her face was so close to mine that I could see the freckles on her nose peeking out through her make up. All I wanted to do was kiss her but I wasn’t going to touch her until I knew she wasn’t with him anymore. “You know after you gave it to me, I thought I lost it at our hotel in Vegas but I found it months later.” I swallowed a lump in my throat as she sat back up and took a long sip of her wine. God I wish her lips are on me instead of that glass, “I put it on and…it made me feel connected to you again.” She had such a sad expression on her face as she took in what I just said, “Meanwhile I shut off everything that reminded me of you.” “You had every right to do that, I didn’t treat you well…” “Yes you did.” She responded quietly, “up until that last night.” “I don’t expect you to forgive me, cause I haven’t forgiven myself either.” “I know.” She sighed, nodding slowly. “I’ve spent all this time trying to forget about it and I want to keep it that way.” My knuckles were turning white as I tried to refrain from grabbing her hand. I needed to know, “El, I have to ask. Are you and Matt -“ “That’s over.” She cut in, “he actually broke up with me.” “Really?” I was actually surprised. I figured he wouldn’t ever let her go if he got his chance. “He didn’t want to get between you and me, actually. He seems to think we’re not done yet.” “Well are we?” I asked with hesitation. I was having a hard time reading her right now, she looked defeated. Maybe what they had was real? “It’s 7pm, we should go.” 

[dwell-the-brave]

WIP 06/05/2024

Gasp, a new graphic!

It's a Bank Holiday Monday here in Blighty, so here's some WIP for you;

HWtC Pt 5

Alex is awake at least, when Henry comes in. Sofia has migrated into their room as well, sat in Henry’s side of the bed with the duvet over her knees, reading the Financial Times which she’s clearly stolen off Alex, who keeps trying to read the front page between her fingers.  “Morning Daddy,” Sofia murmurs when she spots him, turning a page in the paper and flicking it to keep it all upright. He goes to the bed and presses a kiss to her hair, even when she tries to duck away. “Morning Poppet, Merry Christmas. No Arthur yet?” he asks Alex, who shrugs one shoulder. “Rumour has it he and Sadie were still awake at 3am,” Alex says. His side-ways glance suggests that their daughter in the rumour mill in question.

Professional dom! Alex x Actor! Henry WIP

The doorbell chimes precisely at 10am, exactly when Henry was told it would. He jumps on his barstool, the pot of Earl Grey in front of him well over-steeped now, probably bitter, but his mind is so frazzled he couldn’t - he can’t - The thought is gone. Lost to the haze of an overstimulated and overworked mind on it’s last legs.  Henry reaches the front door without getting turned around in the maze of a house he only lives in six weeks out of the year, and takes a second to compose himself before opening it. He glances sideways at himself in the nearby mirror - tall, slim, dark bruised shadows under his eyes and wan skin. An expression that says he hasn’t had a good nights sleep in six months. He attempts to smooth his fine hair with one hand but that somehow just makes it look worse. With a huff, Henry gives up. He braces himself, takes a deep breath and opens the door. 

Las Vegas Wedding! AU

He assesses his current state of being. He is seemingly still fully dressed in the same chinos and linen shirt combo he had been wearing yesterday. He has managed to take his shoes off, and one sock. He has a pounding headache settling in just behind his eyes, and his mouth feels like he went and licked the road on the Vegas strip, but he seems to be otherwise uninjured. He tries to remember what happened last night. It’s very rare he gets so drunk he loses time. They’d been sharing a bottle of Jack Daniels the last he could remember. Whatever happened will come back to him eventually…  “Henry?” he calls, his voice like sandpaper. There is no reply.  He tries again to lift his head and manages to get himself sat up, though the world takes a horrible swoop to one side. He breathes in deeply through his nose so he doesn’t hurl. Once his head and stomach have settled, he tries to stand. He doesn’t immediately fall on his face but the world spins alarmingly again. Groaning, eyes bleary, Alex slowly takes himself into the sitting room.

As always, if you like what you're reading, please check out my work on Ao3.

Until next time!

[ohfallingdisco]

Happy June! Here’s Will being out, Argyle existing, and Jonathan having several heart attacks:

El and Will half-jokingly make plans to go back to Las Vegas to follow through on their evil plans (rob every nightclub), and Jonathan suddenly won’t drive them back. Will pouts at his brother right there in the Wheelers’ basement, where he’s come to pick them up, and tries out the excuse. 

“It’s because I’m gay, isn’t it?” 

And nearly every party member has a heart attack, while Jonathan just stares back, heart sinking as he remembers the time. 

“Yes,” he sighs, bouncing Argyle’s keys. He left him upstairs, what is he doing? Surely Argyle wouldn’t…? 

Will was shaking his head at Jonathan solemnly, putting an arm around their sister. “Don’t listen to him, he’s nuts,” he confides, leaning in. “He should definitely stay your least favorite brother. Loser.” 

“Can we go?” Jonathan asks El, trying to make it back with at least one of his siblings tonight. 

She gazed back with big eyes, and for a moment, he thought he had her. Who’s the loser now? 

But then, slowly, she was shaking her head. “I’m sorry.” His stomach dropped. “Can’t go with mouth breathers.” 

Will threw his head back, cackling brightly, just as Max lunged forward off the couch to offer a high-five. 

Jonathan’s eyes slid past them and their babbling, and he noticed Mike staring at the back of Will’s head, seemingly deeply entranced. Of course. Had Will made that joke around here yet? He grimaced, casting his eyes up. Where were your people when you needed them. “Listen, we’ll talk about Vegas at home. I don’t want to break the law just because—”

“Oh, come on,” Will scoffed, letting El go and stepping over to his side. “Coward. Can I drive?” 

He thought about it. He was tired. “Argyle’s van,”  he remembered, tapping his brother’s arm. “Get a job, Surfer Boy.” 

Will grimaced, sighing. Somewhere behind him, Mike tried to cover up a strangled noise with a cough. 

Jeez, he didn’t mean a real surfer boy. He shot Mike a look, because ew, but Mike flushed a deep red as soon as he caught his eye.

‘I’m not gay,’ he mouthed, like a liar. Jonathan rolled his eyes to tell him as much. 

“Come on,” he commanded, grabbing Will’s shoulder to push him along. Their sister grabbed their bag and waved as she trailed after. 

Finally, finally, he made it upstairs. And then, Will, walking peacefully in front of him, stopped. Jonathan nudged his back, trying to give him a push, but he just reached out to brace his hands on the doorframe. 

Will glanced at him, over his shoulder, and whispered, “Look.” 

So he craned his neck, and did. Oh. Shit. 

Argyle was currently sitting right next to Ted Wheeler in the living room, gesturing at the TV playing an opening scene of Cheers, and talking animatedly about it. “—Just, the song said, if he wants to be a girl, would you or not call the husband a she? But then, they would be a lesbian. So, then, maybe he just wants to be a—”

Ted Wheeler looked extremely uncomfortable with the way Argyle was pressed to his side, but to his credit, he did mutter, “Yes, I suppose so.” 

“So you agree that he’s a boy-girl!” Argyle said happily, but then squinted at the ceiling. “Or else—”

“No, he could be a male lesbian,” Ted agreed quickly, trying to subtly nudge Argyle off. It didn’t work. “Or a female husband, I suppose.”

“Yeah!” Argyle decided, folding his hands over his stomach. Holly looked up from the floor, grinning and giggling. 

Jonathan was floored, but enough was enough, and he pushed his way past Will. “Hey, buddy, let’s go.”

Argyle sat up to look at them. “But—”

“We can turn it on at our house,” El volunteered, cocking her head with interest. 

And at this, Argyle stood up, beaming and pointing at her. “That’s the idea, brochacho!” 

Together, the two of them wandered out of the room, discussing the mechanics of the line further. Jonathan shared a look with Will, and both brothers hurried after them. 

They were almost to the door when Mrs. Wheeler called out, “Wait!” 

Jonathan grit his teeth, closing and opening his eyes, and turned around with a smile. “Mrs. Wheeler!” 

She hurried over from the kitchen, sweeping Will and then El into a hug, and pressing two bags of cookies into their hands. “Congratulations!” she said, beaming, and Jonathan was a little dumbfounded. 

They had had to tell her about the Upside Down, last month, before the final battle, but ever since she found out about his siblings’ powers, she had been keeping up with their progress mastering them and running an over-enthusiastic support from the sidelines. 

But then, Argyle said the line that made him reach over and jerk open the door: “Is it because you know he’s gay?” 

“Okay!” Jonathan cried, shoving his best friend out. 

Will snickered, smiling. “Thank you for the cookies, Mrs. Wheeler.” 

“Of course, dear!” 

And until the door shut, Jonathan could not let out the breath he had been holding. 

Next time, he thought, looking at her car pulling up, he would just ask Nancy to drive them home. 

[ummick]

Mick’s Diary: 2024 Plans, Final Races of the Season & More

Time for one final check-in of the 2023 Formula One season. Here’s the last chapter of Mick’s Diary for this year. Catching up with our Reserve Driver, Mick Schumacher, to hear all about the final races of the season, what he made of Las Vegas and his plans for the winter. We also hear from him on his 2024 plans now that they’ve been officially announced. Hi everyone. It’s been a busy couple of weeks, so there’s plenty to update you on for my last diary of the 2023 season. It’s been a very long season for everybody, and we’re going to have a longer one next year. Everyone is bracing themselves for it. On the other hand, it’s good to know we’ve completed the year with a successful learning path and securing P2 in the Constructors’ Championship. I’ve also learned a lot over the season and my knowledge base. Every time I went in the car I felt like I did take steps forward. Obviously the simulator work helped with the development of the W14, so I’m excited to see what next year holds. All of the races at the end of the year have been flyaways, so I’ve not been on the race support like I am for the Europeans. It’s a very different approach to the weekend, as for flyaways I am there from Thursday onwards so I am much more involved on the ground, but for most of the Europeans I’m in the simulator and only get to the track on Saturday. But both have their charm and have their individual way of learning and taking what’s important from the weekend. We’ve finished the season with an intense run of races. You can never really combat all the travel and the time zones; you just have to survive it, really. Probably one of the most difficult parts of F1 is switching time zones. Vegas was a tough cookie. I unfortunately got sick when I arrived there and I didn’t really recover until the end of the weekend. Luckily everything’s all good, but from what I saw of Vegas the schedule was quite tough, but there were lots of positives and I’d never been to Vegas before, so it was an interesting experience. As a team, we win and lose together and when things are difficult you definitely feel that. All I want to do is help the team to success and we all worked very hard to try and get the car back up to speed. Especially now with the W15 already in the works, we all are 100% focused on trying to have a successful 2024. It’s a great opportunity to stay with the team for next year as the Reserve Driver and keep on learning, keep building on what we’ve achieved this year. I think we’re all very keen to get started and on track with the W15, so it will be very nice to be part of that process. I can also continue to build on all the relationships with the team. It’s been good to spend so much time with everyone and get to know, also, the people who have been here when my dad was. It’s a very special team and a very special bond that they have. I’m also really excited to be back racing in the World Endurance Championship with Alpine. I’m a racer, I always was a racer, so I’ll be racing next year and that’s what I do best. Not racing this year was tough, so I’m just really looking forward to being on the road and fighting. In between we have a bit of a break, so I’ll be recharging my batteries; get ready for racing next year and try to build on what we’ve done in 2023. I wanted to say a big thank you to everyone who’s read these diary entries through the year, but most importantly thanks to all the fans for sticking with me. It’s been a tough year and we never give up. We always try to give our best. Thank you for being there every step of the way, and I’m excited for what next year holds. Believe me, I’m still working hard on also the step to hopefully being back in F1.

[somekndofnature]

WIP Weekends!!!!

Hey everyone! I'm back after a very long hiatus, but in my defense I have been consumed by writing this story. That being said, I felt my motivation waning and thought it might help to get some feedback.

This is from a modern Inu/Kag AU that I have been working on. It is the story of a miserable puppy who screwed up pretty bad when he found out that his band's new manager was his fated mate. Resenting destiny and it's cruel sense of timing, Inuyasha tries his hardest to push Kagome away in every way possible. He takes advantage of her kindness and realizes too late that he is head over heels in love with her before he chased her away.

Now, six years later he is doing everything possible to win her back. Kagome comes to his home in Vegas, hoping to reconnect with her old friend Sango but shocked to find the whole band waiting for her. Inuyasha is ready to start a new album and needs her help, but she is less than eager to jump back into a partnership with them. After a very tense and public argument, Kagome leaves with Sango and promise to make a decision after listening to the music.

Inuyasha feels slighted and decides that the best way to get her undivided attention is to follow Kagome home to LA... on the same flight. Not creepy at right?

This picks up after the plane lands. Kagome has fallen asleep on Inuyasha's arm after they talked out a few things on the trip. In her half-conscious state, she doesn't realize when or where she is and makes a few off hand comments that, while true, still hurt Inuyasha's feelings.

Sooooo... whew! That was a very long summary. Thanks for sticking with me, but I think that's enough context, for now. Please let me know what you think. This story has been so self-indulgent; it would be nice to know if someone liked it as much as I do.

HERE WITH YOU

Kagome felt a gentle shake to her knee and grumbled, nuzzling deeper into the warmth at her side.

“C’mon, baby,” Inuyasha’s deep voice rumbled before soft lips brushed her cheek. “You gotta get up.”

She groaned and squeezed her eyes tighter, unwilling to break from the pull of slumber. She was comfortable dammit, and she could feel by the heaviness of her body that she hadn’t slept long enough.

Why did he always do this?! Every damn time!

In the afterglow of their love making, when her muscles were liquid and sleep started calling for her, Inuyasha would rouse her and send her on her way before morning. It hurt. She just wanted to fall asleep next to him and pretend for just a moment that they were a real couple—not whatever this was.

“’Gome,” he prompted again with another shake to her knee.

“Oh, come on,” she whined. “Why do I always gotta go? None of the other girls leave before sunrise.”

She felt him stiffen beside her and braced for his cutting response. Instead, he released a soft whine, nuzzling his nose against hers.

“Baby, there are no other girls,” he whispered, voice tight. “And I swear, I’ll never let you leave before sunrise again,but you need to wake up; we’re here.”

The entire morning came back to Kagome in a rush. She sat straight up in her seat, blinking at the plane and it’s slowly deboarding passengers. She was home, in LA, with Inuyasha. Her eyes snapped up to meet his golden gaze; he looked so sad and resigned.

Her half-conscious words surfaced in her mind as her cheeks grew hot. “S-sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

“Well, I did,” he replied, flicking open his seatbelt and moving to stand.

Impending tears pricked at her eyes as she lurched forward and grabbed his arm. “Wait! Inu, please don’t be mad.”

He turned back to her with brows furrowed, grasping her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Don’t worry about me being mad, okay? I’m not; I’m just grabbing your suitcase.” He leaned down and planted a swift kiss to her lips before moving into the aisle.

Kagome sat back in her chair and pushed a hand through her bangs, still so disoriented from sleep that she forgot to chastise him for the overly familiar action. She couldn’t drum up her earlier resentment anyway. It was difficult when he was being so sweet and attentive.

She gathered up her purse from the floor, hiked it onto her shoulder, and scooted towards the aisle, reaching to take her suitcase from Inuyasha’s hands. She frowned when he didn’t pass it to her and instead stooped down to grab his duffle.

He turned towards her with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Ready?”

“I can carry that,” she replied while motioning to her bag.

Inuyasha shook his head. “I got it. C’mon.”

He made a space for her in front of him and allowed her into line. They filed out behind other passengers.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

They scooted forward a few inches at a time, ignoring the accidental jostles they received in the process.

Someone still in their chair mumbled something as they passed.

Inuyasha snarled from behind her, “Shut up and mind your own damn business.”

“What did he say?” Kagome asked, looking over her shoulder as they trudged forward.

He scowled. “Nothin’, just another asshole tryin’ to be funny. On this flight they’re a dime a dozen, apparently.”

She shook her head and giggled at the slight dusting of pink across his nose when Inuyasha’s eyes widened. He dropped his bag and reached forward to wrap hand around her arm, pulling her back against his chest and saving her from face-planting into a suitcase wheel.

Kagome was shell-shocked for a moment before warm breath tickled the hair against her ear.

“Careful, baby. Eyes forward,” Inuyasha whispered before releasing her and grabbing his duffle once again.

She nodded and waved off the apology from the man in front of her while trying to steady her fluttering heart. She had never received this kind of attention from him before and it was throwing her off. Every ounce of his focus seemed attuned to her; she could even feel his aura enveloping her like a protective blanket. It was overwhelming.

She slid forward when the line started to move, fanning her flaming face; it didn’t help. Kagome rose on tiptoe and glanced to the front door. Only a little longer and she could take a free breath without him towering behind her and saturating every molecule of air with his delicious sandalwood scent. It was making her head swim.

“Anxious to get away?” Inuyasha purred into her ear.

Kagome tripped over her feet, bumping the person in front of her. They tossed a glare over their shoulder. She mumbled an apology as they neared the cockpit and blessedly the front door. She could hear the cheery voices of the flight attendants just a few people ahead of her.

Inuyasha leaned closer and whispered, “Breathe, ‘Gome.”

“I’m trying,” Kagome hissed, glaring over her shoulder. “It’s not my fault you smell so damn g—”

“Thank you for flying with us today,” one of those cheery voices interrupted.

All the color drained from her face as she whipped around and stumbled over a ‘thank you’, rushing out the door and into the open air. Kagome took a deep breath and almost choked on the scent of exhaust. As long as it wasn’t ‘throw your underwear at me’ sandalwood, she was fine.

She turned to face the no doubt mocking expression of her companion, but Inuyasha didn’t react beyond setting her suitcase on the floor and rolling it it behind him up the ramp.

Kagome blinked. Was he just going to ignore all that?

She caught up to his side and glanced at his face. As she stared a corner of his mouth began to twitch upwards.

Kagome frowned and waved a hand at him. “Go on. Laugh it up.”

“What?” he replied with a chuckle. “You nearly hyperventilated because I smell so damn good. What’s funny about that?”

“You don’t know that I was going to say good,” she snapped.

Inuyasha tossed her a smug smile. “You’re right; you were probably gonna say great.”

“Or gross,” she grumbled, stomping ahead of him towards the terminal.

She turned around just inside to give him a piece of her mind but lost her ire as she looked him over. Although he was laughing, the mirth didn’t reach his eyes and even his ears were hanging lower than normal.

Kagome’s gaze found the white toes of her Chucks, wrapping her hands around her purse strap. Some matching shoes in red invaded her line of vision.

“Hey,” he said, giving her arm a nudge. “What’s wrong? I was just teasin’.”

“It’s not that,” she said, peeking up at him through her bangs. “I was just wondering, do you have somewhere to stay tonight?”

“Not really,” he replied with a shrug, but his ears perked. “Figured I would deal with that once we landed.”

Kagome cleared her throat and looked away, squeezing the leather between her hands. “Well, you can stay with me, if you want. I don’t have an extra bedroom, but I have a couch that’s pretty—”

Inuyasha reached forward and tilted her head up until she saw his sparkling golden eyes. “That sounds perfect,” he purred, rubbing his thumb along her bottom lip.

She was momentarily stunned but managed a nod.

“Was it gorgeous?” he asked with a fangy grin that lit up his whole face.

Kagome’s brow knit, not understanding his meaning until the light finally dawned. “No, it was grody!” she shouted while whipping around and storming off.

“Nah,” he replied, following a step behind. “It was probably glorious.”

“It was grimy!”

“How about grand?”

“How about gag me!”

Inuyasha stumbled and coughed before Kagome registered what had flown past her lips. She slapped a hand over her mouth in horror.

He shook the dazed look away from his face and smirked. “If you insist, baby.”

Kagome flushed. “I didn’t mean it like that!”

Inuyasha laughed and leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

“S-stop it,” she stuttered.

His brow furrowed, turning serious. “Maybe it was a phrase instead. Something like ‘good enough to eat’.”

“Ugh,” she groaned and turned on her heel, stomping away at a good clip. “Will you drop it already? Geez, you’re like a d—" Kagome sputtered out a laugh mid-sentence.

“What?” Inuyasha asked from behind her. “What is it?”

She turned around to see him staring at her like a very curious dog, head tilted to the side and ears perked to her amusement. Kagome doubled over, giggling until there were tears in her eyes.

“’Gome, people are starting to stare like you’ve gone nuts,” he whispered. “What the hell is so funny?”

Her laughter petered out to a slight chuckle as she shook her head. “Nothing, it’s just in your nature, I guess.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She offered him a coy smile and stepped forward, taking her suitcase handle from his hand. Inuyasha huffed in protest but was soothed by the way she intertwined their fingers.

“C’mon, Puppy,” Kagome purred while pulling him to the doors. “Now we just need to figure out where I parked.”

“You didn’t take a picture of your spot?” he groaned.

She laughed. “Do I ever?”

[5p0rt5]

UFC 296 Showdown

As the UFC calendar culminates with UFC 296 at the T-Mobile Arena in Las Vegas, fans are braced for an evening of high-voltage clashes. This card is not just about the physicality inside the octagon; it's a chess match of strategy, skill, and heart. Here's the breakdown of the key matchups with updated fighter records and betting odds.

Featherweight Fray: Josh Emmett vs. Bryce Mitchell

The featherweight division sees a compelling matchup between Josh Emmett (18-4-0) and Bryce Mitchell (16-1-0). Emmett, known for his knockout power, looks to bounce back from his recent struggles, having faced two consecutive losses. On the other hand, Mitchell, with only one loss to his name, comes off a solid win. This bout is a classic striker vs. grappler scenario, where Emmett's power meets Mitchell's grappling acumen.

Lightweight Showdown: Tony Ferguson vs. Paddy Pimblett

In a highly anticipated lightweight bout, Tony Ferguson (25-9-0), a veteran of the octagon, faces the rising star Paddy Pimblett (20-3-0). Ferguson, despite recent setbacks, is known for his unorthodox style and formidable track record, including fights against top-tier opponents. Pimblett, entering with odds of -310, brings a fresh wave of energy and an impressive three-fight win streak in the UFC. This fight is a clash of experience versus momentum.

Flyweight Title Clash: Alexandre Pantoja vs. Brandon Royval

The co-main event features Alexandre Pantoja (26-5-0) defending his title against Brandon Royval (15-6-0). Pantoja, coming off a controversial split decision win to capture the title, showcases a balanced skill set with 8 KOs and 10 submissions. Royval, known as “Raw Dawg,” has a point to prove, having lost to Pantoja in their previous encounter. This rematch is not just for the title but also for pride and redemption.

Welterweight Championship: Leon Edwards vs. Colby Covington

The main event features Leon Edwards (20-3-0, -155) taking on Colby Covington (17-3-0, +130). Edwards, coming off a highly acclaimed trilogy with Kamaru Usman, displays a versatile skill set marked by tactical striking and solid grappling. Covington, a divisive figure in the sport, is known for his endurance and wrestling prowess. This fight is a high-stakes battle where strategy, skill, and sheer will collide.

Final Thoughts

UFC 296 is more than just a collection of fights; it's a showcase of martial arts at its finest, where each athlete brings their unique story into the octagon. Tune in on December 16th for an unforgettable night of action, starting with the prelims at 3 PM PST and culminating with the main card at 7 PM PST.

[Updated fighter records from Sherdog.com: Josh Emmett​​, Bryce Mitchell​​, Tony Ferguson​​, Paddy Pimblett​​, Alexandre Pantoja​​, and Brandon Royval​​.]

[addadmelechtheincubus]

Notes: The Family

Ascher Mys: the human-seeming of Asmodei - Adramalech's grandsire and once Aesma, leader of the herd of chalkydri trapped in Hell by Mundus.

In order to save the newly born chalkrydi, and secure himself a place of power where he could control his people's destiny in Hell, Aesma sacrificed the adults of his herd to Mundus and raised up the young, altered forever, into the incubi. He has since sired further generations of incubi with other demons, leading to a wide variety in incubi types.

In human-shape, Ascher is big, a powerlifter's build wrapped in impeccable dark suits. He limps, walking with a cane.

Hair: a curly mane of dark grey hair, a sheen of purple and green to it like a pigeon's feathers. Heavy mutton chops and a neat little goatee.

Eyes: Dark red, horizontal pupiled, wears dark glasses to hide them.

Skintone: deep olive

He is gregarious, irresistibly charming to most humans, but carries the distinct aura of both a 1960's mob boss and the head of a yakuza family if you're talking specifically about the Yakuza video games.

As Asmodei, the ruler of the City of Dis, his appearance is similar to Tsedi's "true form", but he's enormous, the horse portion of his hippogriff-like body shaped like a shire horse. His feathers are silvery, damascened steel, fading into iridescent charcoal scales. Unlike Tsedi's flame-flickering peacock feathers, his tail is reminscent of a palawan peacock's- more silver-steel, but with brilliant blue-green eyes that seem to hover a few millimeters above the actual feathers.

And where Tsedi's helm has a horse-like shape to it, Asmodei's is shaped as a bull's, great crystalline horns framing a burning orb.

Most notably, his right front foreleg is mangled, encased in a golden brace.

From Dis - the Las Vegas of Hell-, Asmodei controlls Hell's incubi. Once seemingly in Mundus' name, and now seemingly to the highest bidder.

Anammalech: Tsedi's twin sibling.

Ana's demonic form is nearly identical to Tsedi's in appearance except for coloring.

Their demonic form is reminscent of white-pied peacocks and cob horses, pale and just partially mottled with color.

Their human form is variable, but always white haired, grey eyed and emotionless. At some point in the past, Mundus utterly broke Ana, making them into one of his personal hunters.

With Mundus gone, Ana only has their last mission to sustain them: find and kill their wayward sibling.

Tuwas: Aesma's twin, and the leader of the herd that had been trapped in the heavens.

Tuwas goes by a different, Angelic name now - Kasiel. Much as Aesma's choices defined the fate of the incubi, Tuwas' choices defined the Keruvim- binding them into service of the Kings of Heaven, often oblivious save for the constant songs praising those in power, and granting Tuwas themselves a position of great authority in the angelic ranks.

Raziel's form is reminscent of golden pheasants, akal-teke horses and glittering koi. Unlike their hell-borne brethren, they maintained their wings, shimmering like sunstone - and their great tail whispers behind them like gold set with flaming emeralds. Raziel's helmet (like those of the other Keruvim) is shaped like an eagle- but with great horns of diamond - similar to Asmodei's, and a "mane" of iridescent, golden feathers. They maintain their stronghold of white gold and orichalc (within the Ma'una division of the Primum Mobile, where their choirs remain when not Singing.)

Their human-seeming is a skinny blonde twink in a golden, designer tracksuit.

[skelavender]

“So you’re saying these… creatures bet on their victims?” “They’re like Incubi and Succubi, but they don’t seem to have a sex or gender preference. Sirens, maybe? Usually, they can be deadly, but these ones seem to have turned it into a game,” Mulder says. “Creatures like this are usually sustained through sex, and usually choose one victim at a time and move on once they’ve killed them, these ones get around. They’re…” “Sluttier?” She suggests. “You said it, not me.” OR Newly married (but only on paper), Mulder and Scully take on Las Vegas, and the (literal?) demons within.

read chapter 1 of heartbeats, the second installment in the fall into place series, on ao3, or below the cut!

Your heart is what moves you. It’s what keeps you alive. It spreads through your body what is needed to stay alert, to manipulate your body. It keeps your brain functioning. Your heart is your life force. 

But love. Love is what keeps you going through trials and tribulations. Love is in both distance and proximity, in words and in silence. It’s everywhere. 

In the medical sense, your heart is a muscle. Spiritually, your heart is everything. 

***

Since she put it on her finger in the hospital for the first time since her only-on-paper marriage to Mulder, Scully’s wedding ring has become a bit of a thing. 

When she’s home alone, she wears the ring on her finger instead of on the chain around her neck. She takes it off only to wash the dishes and shower. It was like wearing it in the hospital had broken the seal for her, and now she was addicted to it. The weight on her finger is a comfort. 

She misses it, when she goes back into the office and has to go back to wearing it around her neck. She finds herself reaching to run her left thumb along the palmar side of her ring finger, where metallic star shaped grooves should lie. If Mulder notices, which she suspects he does, he doesn’t mention it. 

After Nebraska, something shifts. It’s like a switch has been flicked, and Scully is letting pet names slip out when talking to her partner. It’s another habit she can’t seem to stop. 

Without looking up from the autopsy notes she’s reviewing, “You have to finish that report, sweetheart, or Skinner will chase you down for it.”

When he drops a glob of ketchup onto an X file he’s reading while eating lunch, “I told you to wait until you were done eating, honey.”

It’s addicting. So is Mulder’s blush whenever she lets one slip out. 

He doesn’t call her anything back. No baby, no darling. She hadn’t really expected him to, though. He doesn’t need to. The way Mulder says Scully drips with affection, like it’s an endearment all on its own.

She knows that Mulder expresses his love through his actions. He doesn’t need to tell her he cares about her, his actions do it for him. He charges into danger to save her, frequently. He does her favors without asking for anything in return. Just on this alone, she knows he loves her. Of course he does. They’re best friends. 

But he is also physically affectionate. 

He touches her frequently. A hand on her lower back as they climb up the stairs of a porch when they’re about to interview someone. A finger against her hairline when a piece of hair falls into her face. A knee bumped against hers as they share lunch on a bench on the Mall. It’s perpetual. It’s nothing new, but she fucking loves it. 

Now, for example, as they examine a file laying in front of them. Scully is sat at the desk chair with Mulder hovering over her, one hand braced on the desk, the other on the back of her chair. His arm brushes the small strip of skin on the back of her neck between her bob and her blazer. 

It’s electrifying. 

“So you’re saying these… creatures bet on their victims?”

“They’re like Incubi and Succubi, but they don’t seem to have a sex or gender preference. Sirens, maybe? Usually, they can be deadly, but these ones seem to have turned it into a game,” Mulder says. “Creatures like this are usually sustained through sex, and usually choose one victim at a time and move on once they’ve killed them, these ones get around. They’re…”

“Sluttier?” She suggests.

“You said it, not me.”

“Mulder, they’re just a group of people who bet on conquests. It’s gross, sure, but I don’t see how it’s an X file.”

“Well that’s the thing, Scully, it’s a literal X file.” Mulder flips the file to reveal a photo of a man’s bloody back, two jagged lines criss crossing his skin. “I’ve been following it online for a while, but the local PD wouldn’t respond to my emails. The victims remember everything except the face of their attacker. No trace of drugs in their system, except small amounts of alcohol. And they’ve all woken up in the same park, with an X carved into their backs, shoulder to hip.”

Scully leans back in the chair, pressing into Mulder’s hand., “So we’re going to Vegas? It’s not exactly our usual small-town USA destination. ”

“Well what’s the worst that can happen, Scully? We get drunk and end up getting married again, this time by Elvis instead of Bartlett Tiddlywinks?”

“Well, it’d be equally ridiculous.” She says, “I’m not protesting. Just saying it’s… different. Refreshing.”

Mulder straightens, removing his skin from hers. She mourns the loss. 

“Good. I’ll submit the request to Skinner today, and let you know what time our flight leaves tomorrow.” His grin is lopsided and wicked, “See you in Sin City, Scully.”

***

She does not see him in Sin City. She sees him in Skinner’s office at eight in the morning, following twin 6am phone calls from Skinner informing them that their travel request would be approved under certain conditions, which he needed to discuss with them before they left. 

Scully arrives first, and is sitting on the couch in the anteroom with her ankles crossed delicately when Mulder waltzes in, not caring that he is seven minutes late. 

“What do you think it is?” He asks in lieu of a greeting.

“I don’t know,” she replies, “It can’t be that bad, though, if he’s still approving the request.”

“I guess not.” Mulder sits on the couch next to her, chewing at his lip.

Inside the office, Skinner sits at his desk, contemplating the dynamic between his two most codependent agents. 

There’s been a shift between them recently. Not just the fact that Mulder wears a wedding ring that he won’t tell anyone about, or that when Scully’s neckline shifts there is an extra gold chain around her neck that wasn’t there before. They’re just more… settled. At peace. 

But they’re still holding back. 

Maybe Skinner’s too attached to the Agents, maybe he’s meddling in a relationship that isn’t his business. But someone has to do something, and it isn’t going to be either one of them. Plus, if they get caught within the next month, Kimberly owes him $50.

Skinner stands to let the Agents into his office, holding back a smile. He’s got a bet to win. 

Mulder and Scully sit in silence until the door to Skinner’s office clicks open and the man himself leans out.  “You can come in now, Agents. My apologies, I had some paperwork to prepare.”

They settle in their usual chairs surrounding Skinner’s desk. 

“Agents, I called you in to inform you of a change in regulations related to your… situation.”

Mulder’s eyebrows shoot up, “Situation? Meaning the X files? Don’t tell me someone’s trying to have them closed again.”

“No, thankfully not. I was referring to your and Agent Scully’s… um…”

Scully stiffens. “Marriage,” she fills in.

“Yes.”

“Is a piece of paper filled simply for convenience's sake really going to prevent us from working together? No one else can investigate the X-files, sir, no one else would be as effective, or as dedicated–”

“Neither of you are being removed from the X-files, Agent Scully.” Skinner cuts her off.

“Oh,” Scully shifts back in her chair, not realizing she had sat forward during her passionate rant.

“I’ve been pressured to make budget cuts recently, and it’s been determined that travel expenses are the best way to do so. As a result, when possible, Agents traveling together will be asked to share hotel rooms. This isn’t going to affect most male/female partners, but considering the legal status of your relationship…”

“Anything to save a couple hundred bucks for the Bureau.” Mulder nods.

“Yes. Unless you have any strong objections.”

“Can we discuss it in private for a moment, sir?” Scully requests, and Skinner nods. 

“Of course, feel free to step out for a moment.”

They do so, and Mulder hunches over to speak with her, placing a gentle hand on her elbow. “Are you okay with this, Scully?”

“Yes,” she says, “I have no reason not to be. I just wanted to make sure you were, too.”

“We end up in the same room for all but sleeping half the time anyway. I would have suggested it so we didn’t have to bother calling on room over when there’s a development in the case, if it weren’t for the FBI regulations.”

“It makes sense.”

“Yeah.” she nods, and pushes the knob to tell Skinner they’ve come to an agreement. 

“Hey, Scully,” he says, and she turns back around to face him, “I call top bunk.”

She rolls her eyes with a small smile and pushes the door open.

***

They fly into LAX and drive to Las Vegas, because apparently Skinner was serious about those budget cuts and it’s ever so slightly cheaper. 

Mulder drives, and Scully naps in the passenger seat. She blinks awake when they’re 30 minutes outside of the city. 

She opens her eyes to see Mulder’s hands wrapped around the steering wheel. She hasn’t moved yet, he hasn’t noticed she’s awake. She gets to just watch him.

She loves him like this, relaxed behind the wheel. She loves him other ways, too. Just about every other way. She loves him absorbed in a case file in the office, chewing on some unidentified piece of plastic. She loves him standing behind her while they’re briefed on a case, a few inches closer than she’d let anyone else stand. She loves his face bright with laughter across a dirty diner table.

She can’t remember when she fell in love with him, but it’s been there for a while, a constant background simmering of affection. She supposes it happened slowly, between rental cars and stuffy basements and sterile morgues. She fell in love looking up at him, watching him listen to her like there was nothing else in the world he would rather have his attention on. Not like she was the only girl in the world, but the only one worth his time and attention. 

Mulder loves her too – that much is clear to Scully. But he loves her in the fierce, protective way that he loves the X-files, a far cry for the soft affection she feels for him. As much as she wants him to, he doesn’t see their bond as romantic. Mulder’s dedication to Scully is in the same vein as his dedication to his search for the truth. It’s just unyielding loyalty — the Fox Mulder way. He doesn’t do things by halves. 

His wedding ring shines in the streetlights as they pass, evidence of that very fact. Still, it amazes her that he wears it. It probably causes more problems than it solves, but he keeps it on anyway. It makes her feel important. 

She closes her eyes again, and rests until he touches a gentle hand to her knee where it rests near the center console. 

“Scully,” Mulder says, “We’re a couple minutes away from the hotel.”

She hums in acknowledgement and shifts to sit normally in her seat. “What time is it?” She asks groggily.

“Just after ten. We’ll wait until the morning to talk to the detective in charge?”

She agrees as they pull into the parking lot. She stays in the car while Mulder checks in. He taps on her window, which she is certainly not napping against, thank you very much, a few minutes later. She steps out of the car.

“Room 208,” Mulder says, holding out a key to her. “They’re out of doubles, but I’ve been assured this room has a couch I can sleep on.”

When they get into the room, Scully makes a beeline for the bed and faceplants onto it. She groans into the mattress, and hears the couch squeak under the weight of Mulder. After a moment, she shifts her head to look at him and laughs.

Mulder sits on what can only be described as the smallest couch known to man. It’s not even something that could be categorized as a loveseat, it looks more like something that came out of the child’s section of an IKEA. All six feet of Mulder sit crunched on the tiny piece of furniture, looking like a giant from a children’s book. 

“Bit of a tight squeeze there, Mulder?”

“A bit.”

Scully stands and starts to remove her blazer, heels, and tights, “The bed’s big enough for two.” She settles on one side and gestures to the empty spot to her left.

“You’re sure?”

“Mmhmm,” she affirms sleepily. 

Mulder stands up and settles on top of the covers, “Do you mind the tv?” He asks.

“Go ahead, m’asleep.”

He laughs softly, and looks down at his sleeping partner. He reaches down and brushes a piece of hair out of her face. “Good night, Scully.”

She doesn’t respond.

next chapter ->