#like he scored today and he didn’t even do his own celebration

[darrys-laundry]

have been thinking a lot lately about footballers with numbers in their dn’s and i think you’d have to pry that 9 out of jamie tartt’s cold dead hands

[with-my-calamitous-love]

I WAITED AGES TO SEE YOU THERE

hitoshi shinso x reader

celebrating his first official year as a pro hero, you and your childhood friend-turned boyfriend share an intimate moment.

inspired by you’re on your own, kid

summer went away, and now, and hitoshi had completed his first official year as a pro hero.

rent is enough to bring people to tears. and though you two have been lucky enough to score a cozy, one bedroom apartment. it has beautiful open windows, a warm space just fit enough for a young couple. you’d tell yourself anything to ignore the fact that it was barely furnished.

you two sat on the living room floor, lit by a few faulty lights and some candles. you’re surrounded by tax papers, bills, and old grocery lists. but its still romantic, because its hitoshi.

you’d dress nicer if it weren’t for the new autumn chill. so instead, you’re wrapped up in one of his sweaters while he pours you both glasses of cheap rosé.

once it’s filled, you lift the glass and clink it against his. “1 year.” you smile.

“one year of being a pro-hero.” he says. “still can’t believe its been that long.”

and it’s true. he still doesn’t actually believe he’s been saving lives for one full year, with more to come. he’s learned that his dreams aren’t rare, that every starry-eyed kid wants to be a hero. but now, he’s actually doing it.

“this goes without saying, but,” you start, taking a sip of your drink. “i am so proud of you.”

he feels his heart swell, looking at you with admiration. he’s played it cool, he’s waited patiently, and now he’s here with you. “thank you… you know i couldn’t have done it without you.”

that part resonates with you. from sprinkler splashes to fireplace ashes, you’ve seen his journey. you set your glass down before speaking again: “i’m not just saying i’m proud of you as your partner, or anything like that. i say that as your best friend, too.”

lilac eyes pause, remembering the fond memories you’re bringing up with your words. “i still remember the day we first met, we were 6. you said you wanted to be a hero.”

he chuckles, fondly staring out the window as if re-living his lofty, childhood dreams. “i did, didn’t i?”

you nod. “and since then… i have seen you get your ass beat and heart broken trying to achieve that dream. you’ve been shoved down and told you’d never be a hero because of your villainous quirk.”

villainous in heavy quotations.

his expression turns more contemplative, reflecting on those times. he would never admit it, but he sometimes wondered if they were right, after all. he gave his blood, sweat and tears for it, to fight back and prove those assholes wrong.

and now that he’s made it, no one really knows what to say- not even him. but your smile and proud, teary eyes tells him all he needs to know.

“it broke my heart everytime they said it.” he admits, his voice coming out in a slow, steady breath.

“but you didn’t let it stop you.” you remind him. “you proved them all wrong, even when you didn’t believe in yourself.”

somehow, you vindicate all his worries. his hands intertwine with yours.

“that’s because of you.” he smiles. “you believed enough for the both of us.”

you chuckle, not wanting to take credit. but honestly, hitoshi gives you all of it. you stood by him. you held his hand. you picked up the pieces of him and kept him going all this years.

“i waited ages to see you there.” you hum, happily. “you’re my best friend, and the love of my life.”

he nods, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “you are the one thing they’ll never take away from me, [y/n].”

his hands accidentally touch a stack of papers, creating a crumpling sound. when you two look over, you see the official papers documenting him as a pro hero. one year ago today, you were there when he received them. and you’re just as proud now as you were then.

you smile fondly at them, remembering that day and everything he did to get here. “everything you lost to get here was a step you took, love.” you say. “i am so, so proud of you.”

he honestly isn’t sure how to place his gratitude into words anymore. he doesn’t have any reason to be afraid, because he knows you’re his safe place. you’re the one thing that will never change. he will always have you.

“i love you.” he whispers just under his breath, pressing another kiss to your forehead. and when you respond, he pulls you closer to him, cheap rosé long forgotten in the night.

after a few beats of silence, some catching up and lamenting his dumb jokes, you decide to bring up the one thing thats been on your mind.

“can i ask you something?”

“anything.”

“um… at that work party the other day… i overheard you talking with izuku and denki.” you mention, mind wandering back to that exact memory from a few days ago. you two were separated, your boyfriend catching up with his old colleagues.

his eyebrows furrow curiously, wandering what you overheard. “yeah.. what about it?”

“you told them that… that becoming a hero wasn’t the best thing thats ever happened to you. i got pulled away before i could hear what you meant.”

hitoshi is quiet for a moment, his mind racing as he tries to figure out how to explain his statement. a mixture of emotions flit across his face, embarrassment. he sighs softly and looks away, his face slightly flushed.

“i… i did say that, yes," he admits, his voice soft. "i guess it just slipped out, i didn’t mean for you to hear it."

you quickly shake your head, taking his hand again. “no, no. i’m not mad, or anything.” you chuckle.

“i’m just… curious. if not becoming a hero… whats the best thing thats ever happened to you?”

the fact that you’re asking, as if it isn’t already obvious, is nothing but endearing to him.

“meeting you, love.” he says, voice soft and sincere. “becoming a pro-hero is a dream come true… but being with you? it does’t even compare. its not even a contest, [y/n]. its you.”

your mouth goes slightly agape, your chest fluttering before looking down. your lips curve into a flushed, embarrassed smile. “oh, shut up.”

he laughs at this scene of you, how even after all this time he still manages to make you nervous. instead, he opts to cup your face and press his lips to yours.

and its a perfect kiss, the kind that saves you. its the kind that turns the pages, that heals all the pain of the past. its the kind of kiss that makes all of it worth it, that lets him know that he isn’t on his own.

[viperify]

Kinktober 2024 | 𝗼𝗰𝘁 𝟭𝟯: ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ X ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Let me take care of you. | pt. 1

Part Two is up!

summary: You and Tom didn’t get on well. Always challenging the other, striving to become the best student of your year. When you then decided to stay at Hogwarts during your last Christmas holidays to fully focus on your study, things drastically changed…

Warnings: 18+ only! | sensual fingering, handjob, inexperienced!reader, fear of getting caught

A/N: after my last post this was very necessary. I do prefer this version of Tom ngl. Feedback is greatly appreciated! <3

wordcount: 2,7k

You and Tom Riddle were both Head Girl and Head Boy. You never got on well with the brunette, years of academic rivalry making the two of you hate each other. The smug grin he put on whenever he scored a better grade than you had you fuming every time. Oh, how much you despised that subtle arrogance.

As it was your seventh year at Hogwarts, final exams were coming up soon. Your parents were going to visit family in the US for Christmas, so you decided it was for the better to stay at Hogwarts, preparing for exam season. This sadly also meant that you would spend your birthday all alone, as your friends decided to return home during the break.

You had high ambitions for the NEWTS. Striving to become an auror, you knew you had to excel at pretty much every single subject. That was why you spent most of the first week of the holidays in the library, head stuck in Potions, Charms, Transfigurations and Defence against the Dark Arts literature. Each time you entered the library, Tom was already sitting in his usual spot, seemingly doing the same thing you were. Nerd.

He never left Hogwarts during breaks. You had been wondering for a while why that was the case. His parents must surely be proud of their son, after all he was one of the best students in the whole school. But in the end, you didn’t care.

“Anything you need help with?” The sudden question tore you out of your thoughts. You looked up to spot Tom standing there in front of you, hands in the pockets of his trousers, an eyebrow raised. You must have been staring at him for too long.

You felt your face heat up at the thought. If you didn’t need one thing, it was Tom getting another ego boost. Of course, Tom was attractive. Girls had been fancying him for years, but he did not seem interested in any of them. Harsh rejections were the outcome of anyone asking him out, even the most popular girl was left crying when she tried. You preferred challenging Tom academically but couldn’t deny his appeal. His brunette locks falling onto his forehead, his posture, his robes always neat without a crease. And his hands. You loved the veins decorating his skin, his slender fingers wrapping around his wand so perfectly.

But you didn’t like each other. And what would be more pathetic than getting rejected by the boy you hated? That was why you tried being better than him at every single test you had, because that was how to humble a Tom Riddle.

“No. I am doing perfectly fine on my own, thanks.” You replied casually, reverting your gaze to the book in front of you.

“Then stop staring. It’s a bit too obvious.” He whispered, leaning to you slightly.

“I was not staring!” You blurted out, but he had already turned around to go back to his spot. You could see the grin on his face from here, and oh how you hated it.

You couldn’t focus anymore after that and decided to go back to your dorm, taking the afternoon off. A well deserved break.

The second week continued just the same, you two and a handful other students studying in the library. However, today was your birthday and you did not want to spend that getting headaches over potion ingredients. If you could not celebrate with your friends you thought, you would at least use it to relax. And what better spot was there to relax than the Prefect’s bathroom?

You made your way towards it, carefully sneaking around the castle to not get caught. It was not too dangerous, most professors and students not being there anyway. When you had finally reached the entry, you looked around again, and as you did not see anyone, you entered the room. You had never been in there before, as obviously Tom was made prefect and not you. But as you both were head boy and head girl now, you decided you could try it out at least once.

It wasn’t well lit, yet you could still see the marble floor and statues decorating the room. It looked stunning, and with a quick wave of your wand the bathtub was filling, air becoming more humid by the minute. Bubbles were forming on the hot water and as it was almost full, you undressed yourself and stepped into the tub. First, you massaged some shampoo into your hair, letting it sit for a few minutes. Soon enough, you felt yourself grow tired, eyelids fluttering close.

You must have fallen asleep, because a loud creak of the door woke you up.

Shit shit shit.

You searched for your wand, but you remembered you had left it on top of the pile of your clothes, out of reach from the bathtub. What was there left to do? You quickly hid your exposed body under the bubbles, sinking into the water as far as you could, only letting your head peak out. Staying as silent as you could, you hoped the person barging in had seen someone was there already and would leave again without making the whole situation awkward.

“Celebrating your birthday all alone, are we?” A familiar voice questioned.

It was Tom. What on earth was he doing here and why was he coming closer?

“Leave! Get out! Can’t you see I am bathing?” You hissed, covering your body even under water.

“That’s no way to talk to someone who just wants to wish you a happy birthday.” Tom purred, now standing behind you.

“Riddle! This is completely inappropriate! What if someone sees us like this?” You shrieked.

“I locked the door, unlike you.”

“If this is just another attempt to humiliate me, you have done a great job. You can leave now.” You snapped at him.

“I am not here for that. As a Head Boy, it’s my duty to wish the Head Girl a happy birthday after all. Besides, who could resist the prettiest girl of Hogwarts mindlessly not locking the bathroom door?”

“Riddle!” You exclaimed, yet you didn’t make an effort to make him leave.

He sighed. “I see the way you are looking at me. I know you feel the same way I do. Tell me to leave again and I will. Tell me you don’t want this and we can forget about it.”

As you were struggling to answer him, he turned around, exhaling loudly.

“No, Tom. Please. Please stay.” You whispered, turning your head to finally face him. What had gotten into you? You hated him, yet you couldn’t resist him.

Tom traced back his steps, returning to your side. At first he seemed hesitant at what to do next, but then he gently started massaging your sore shoulders, his thumbs working perfect circles into your skin.

“Is it true what you are saying, Tom?”

“I don’t lie.”

You nodded but weren’t fully convinced of his true intentions. However, you loved the way he was tending to your body. Did he really think you were pretty?

“Your muscles feel very tense. You shouldn’t spend so much time studying at once.” He remarked, never stopping.

You rested your head against his chest, closing your eyes. “Is that your way of getting me to fail my finals?” You grinned, slightly shifting.

“You wouldn’t fail. We both know that. All I am saying is that you should take more care of your health.” He said, voice calm.

You hummed, solely focusing on his hands on your body.

“Do you mind me joining? It’s alright if you aren’t comfortable.” He asked carefully.

“I don’t mind.” Though, you felt yourself become nervous at the thought of sharing a tub with him. He left your side to undress himself. You could hear piece after piece of clothing dropping to the ground, and soon enough he stepped into the bathtub next to you. That was the first time you looked him into the eyes since he had entered the room, and you felt your face heat up, looking away.

“No need to get shy now. Come here.” He grinned, offering you a hand. As you reached out to grab it, he pulled you onto his lap, so you could rest your back against his chest. Goosebumps started to rise on your body, the contact between your bodies sending shivers up your spine.

“Can I touch you, darling?” He whispered in your ear, and you nodded. You were quite inexperienced when it came to intimate things like these, never having had sex or a boyfriend before. His hands first found your waist, sliding down to your thighs. He massaged them, working his thumbs into your skin. You couldn’t help but gasp at the sensation, making him plant a soft kiss on your ear.

“Let me take care of you.” He added, his hands leaving your thighs to travel up towards your breasts. Tom stopped before he reached them, and as you nodded, he cupped them in his hands. First tenderly massaging them, then rolling your hardening buds between two of his fingers. You gripped his thighs, arching your back as you moaned at the way his hands perfectly worked your body.

“That feel good?” He grinned, one arm now holding you around your waist to keep you pinned on his body. “So good. Don’t stop, please.” You whined, closing your eyes. The sensations went straight to your core and you felt yourself become wet. It all felt so wrong, yet you couldn’t get yourself to stop him.

Almost as if he sensed, his hands found their way to your aroused cunt, sliding one of his fingers through your slick folds. “Even under water I can feel you become wet. Want me to help you make you feel so good?” Tom queried, his fingers finding your clit. “Yes please, want you to touch me.” You whispered desperately. On command, Tom softly started circling his fingers around your puffy nub, eliciting soft moans and gasps from your lips.

His other hand never left your breast, still tenderly swiping his thumb over your erect bud. You felt yourself get closer to the edge, a knot forming in your lower stomach, ready to be set free. “More please, Tom” you begged him, bucking your hips against his hand.

“So needy. Who would have known?” He laughed softly, his fingers leaving your aching clit. You whined protestingly, but soon enough his finger slid down further, meeting your soaked entrance, which he traced. You squeaked at the unfamiliar feeling, water splashing around you. “Sshh. Relax. Gonna make you cum” he soothed. He entered you first with one finger, testing the waters. Soon enough a second finger prodded at your entrance, pushing into you as well. You hissed at the stretch, your body tensing up, thighs closing around his arms.

“Too much?” Tom asked you, his fingers stilling inside of you. You shook your head sligtly. “No but be careful, please.” Tom nodded. “Of course.” He slowly but surely set a slow pace, stretching you out perfectly. His other hand now slid down to meet your needy clit again, circling it.

“Tom m’ gonna cum!” You exclaimed, the feeling getting overwhelming, yet amazingly good. He sped up, murmuring sweet encouraging words into your ear.

“Come for me. Make me proud.”

Tom curled his fingers, rubbing the spongey spot inside of you. The knot inside your stomach tightened and soon enough you convulsed around his long fingers, clenching them so tightly even he groaned. Tom worked you through your orgasm, only stopping when you squeaked and closed your thighs around him. He then slowly pulled out of you, making you whine at the now empty feeling. “You did so well, darling. Such a good girl.” Tom praised as you relaxed against his warm body.

“Thank you, Tommy.” You smiled, earning a scoff from him. “You know I hate that name.”

With one quick motion you got up, turning around to now kneel between his legs, facing him. “I am sorry, Tommy.” You grinned, squealing away from him. He was quick enough to grab your arm, pulling you towards him again. “Little minx. That’s not how you treat someone who was inside of you less than two minutes ago.” He hissed, kissing your forehead. A blush spread on your cheeks, and Tom reached out to massage your scalp. “Want me to wash it out for you?” He questioned, and you nodded.

The whole seven years at Hogwarts you could have never fathomed the boy you despised like no other washing your hair, just after he made you cum on his fingers. He did it so tenderly as well, you could have fallen asleep right then and there.

“Want to get out? The water is getting cold, darling. We can’t have you getting sick.”

“Make it warm again, please. We aren’t done.” You said, kneeling between his legs again. He raised an eyebrow. “Wanna make you feel good as well, please.” You pouted, sliding your hands up his thighs.

“You don’t have to. It’s your birthday after all.” Tom grabbed your hands, stopping you.

“Oh, it’s alright if you don’t want me to.” You awkwardly tried removing your hands from his grip, but he didn’t let you. “Listen to me. I do want you to. I want nothing more than that. All I am saying is you don’t have to.”

“I want to”

“Okay then.” With a quick wave of his wand the water was warm again and you got to work. Your soft hands found his erect length, taking it in your hand. First, you swiped your thumb over his tip, making him throw his head back, groaning slightly. He rested both of his arms on the tub, letting you do your job. Your hands wrapped tightly around his cock, slowly stroking him up and down. “Good girl.” He praised, one hand finding your tits.

You continued your ministrations, going faster, paying close attention to his facial expressions. After a few minues, you could feel his cock twitch in your hand, a sign he was getting close. Then, you stopped.

He looked at you then, furrowing his eyebrows. “Don’t stop.”

“Stand up, please.”

Tom did just that and he grinned when he realized what you were planning. “Didn’t know you were such a dirty girl. Fuck.”

You continued jerking him off and he stroked your hair.

“Gonna cum, darling.” He warned you, groaning, and you opened your mouth in preparation. Soon after, hot streaks of his release shot straight into your mouth, some of it decorating your face. You made sure to milk him of every single last drop and kissed his tip afterwards, swallowing.

“That was quite the show. Filthy girl.” Tom lowered himself back into the water, pulling you onto his lap so you were facing him. He planted kisses on your collarbone, trailing all the way up to the corner of your lips.

“You got a little something there.” He smirked, swiping his thumb over your soft skin. “Open your mouth.” And you did, sucking his finger clean, never breaking eye contact.

He shook his head, grinning.

Both of you now just enjoyed each others company, holding each other close. You could feel and hear his heart thudding from where you had placed your head, relishing the intimacy between you two.

“Why did you come in here?” You questioned after some time, savoring the warmth of the water in combination with the heat radiating from Tom’s body. Your fingers drew small circles on his chest, until you rested your palm on his warm skin.

“Because I don’t want us to hate each other anymore.” He replied softly, kissing your forehead.

“I don’t think I ever hated you.”

“Me neither. I had all these girls running after me, wishing it was you.”

You smirked, tilting your head up to look at his face. His lips were so perfectly shaped, plump and had a perfect color. You leaned into him, and he closed the gap, capturing you in a breathtaking kiss that had your mind spinning.

“I am afraid I can’t let you go anymore after this.” Tom sighed, never breaking eye contact.

“Then don’t” you smiled, cuddling into him again.

[angsthology]

“YOU CAN’T DISAPPOINT A PICTURE” — or an alt title: roo vs. jenson to roo and jenson

from the freezing act and disappearing act to no choice not to act (do i know what i meant? absolutely not.)

a/n yarg hey this is set on 2022 and the rest of 2023, after the events of the great (coming not so soon but im workin on it)

THE KANGAROO VS. THE WORLD

2022

it was her first points. her first points... ever in formula one. she was on… a different kind of high. nothing was going to ruin that moment for her. nothing except one.

as of right now, she was not noticing anything else besides the man in front of her—and even that was debatable.

this time, it was her turn to be catatonic.

daniel, who was one of the blokes lucky enough to witness what was currently happening in front of him could not help but laugh, well, he was putting his entire life into not laughing. but, well, it was hard not to.

he’s—no one, has ever seen her like this before.

she was usually so… either kept to herself or an absolute menace. there was really no in-between. but one for sure thing she always is was functional, even is the function is cracked up to a hundred or zero. so to see her malfunctioning was way funny for daniel.

daniel, still giving his entire life not to laugh, answers the question for her, “of course, she will! right, kid?”

at that, her blubbering stopped and her attention was fixed on the australian—that had betrayed her.

her mind was still reeling in—half present and half out of it, “i—yea—huh?” she looked towards daniel for… anything.

he didn’t respond with anything else and pulled on her race suit that was now unzipped and collecting around her waist down, her top half showing off the crimson-red fireproofs she wore underneath.

her mind was going faster than an rb19 and the next thing she knew she was sitting in the middle of a very fine world champion she was so ready to risk everything for and… and daniel ricciardo.

she was so in her own world, she failed to notice the former calling out her name.

oh my god, he knows my name, she thought.

she cleared her throat, posture changing feigning ‘professionalism’, “what was that?”

“congratulations on scoring your first points today!”

she blinked. she knew what he said. she was just… processing.

truly, she didn’t know how or why it happened or even what had happened at all but she somehow ended up in a finger guns position pointing at her long-time celebrity crush.

she stayed at the end position for quite a while. besides the sound of the track and every other surroundings, it was quiet. jenson was too stunned to speak; roo was berating herself in her head absolutely throwing every curse word in her head—if anyone were to read her mind right now, they would start crying from all the screams and cries of her own stupidity. daniel—now, daniel on the other hand; was having the time of his life. the dam had broken and he was now clutching his stomach besides the girl laughing his ass off.

his—very loud, very distracting—laugh paused her inner turmoil at herself and directed all towards him. her eyes were void of any emotions and her entire look was unpredictable. she narrowed her eyes at the australian before quickly fisting her hand out to hit the man right where he was clutching it, making him grunt in shock and eventually drop to the ground groaning—his laugh somehow still straining behind.

still in pain, from both his laughter and the hit, daniel managed between discomfort, “oh—you’re good, man, you’re good.”

her eyes were still trained down to the rolling australian, giving him her deadliest-calmest glare later on slowly look up to meet jenson’s; completely freezing in her spot once more with eyes wider than max’s winning gap as if his stare was one of medusa’s.

later on, she found herself in the haas—they stopped trying to get rid of her eventually—hospitality with mick sitting on one of the chairs and herself pacing around the room talking his ear off.

“i hate daniel! i hate him! i told him a million times! i never wanted to meet jenson in person! i just wanted a picture! i hate him so much!” she whined, stomping around the room dramatically.

eventually she sat herself down next to mick. not knowing how else to respond, he extended his hand and giving her a few pats on the shoulder.

“you know, he’s probably was very happy to see you too.” he tries.

“don’t.”

he raised both his hands in surrender.

it was an interesting sight to see: britney spears walking and talking with snoopy in the paddocks.

“i just think he’s neat, you know.” she explained with a shrug.

the older man chuckled with a shake of his head, “you do know you’re talking about a cartoon dog, right?”

she gasped, “rude. he is the cartoon dog.” with a hand over her heart, she then continues, “he’s more than that! he’s a pilot, an icon, and most importantly; a best friend.” she paused, remembering a detail she forgot to mention, “—to woodstock. i don’t care about charlie brown, that kid’s an idiot.”

nico made a contemplating face, “you’re so mean to him why—”

she was about to reply until she was cut off by a british accent that made her entire blood run cold and paralyze her nerves, eyes widening slightly—position permanently cemented to the ground where her body jerked to a stop.

“oh, hey, jense!” he greeted back, turning his attention and entire body away to face the blonde getting closer.

to her dismay, he waved the world champion over.

(what is that—what the hell?! I’M SWEATING BULLETS LIKE A FUCKING WATERFALL.)

he was getting closer.

(FUCK!—what do i do?)

closer.

“yeah, i was just here talking to—” nico said as jenson was in easier earshot, his hands already motioning to his side. just as he turned around the moment the brit arrived by his side, he was met with dust. besides that, no other evidence showed there was once a girl in an alfa romeo racing suit next to him. “wha—kid?” he looked around, “where’d she go?”

jenson frowned slightly, “ah. sorry about that, mate. most likely my fault.”

nico turned to him confused, “what?”

he shrugged sadly, “i don’t know. that kid is like allergic to me i think—never got any chance to properly talk to her.”

again nico put his thinking face on and after a good few conversations with himself in his head, his face cracked up with a smile.

he slapped jenson’s back and rest his hand there—shocking him in the process—“believe me, she doesn’t.”

end of 2023

she. was. done.

finally.

this year was definitely not her year and she was glad it was over.

during their final debrief mick was her pillar; she was on her last set of batteries and was about to shut down, the entire time she had her head resting on his shoulder half-asleep. he didn’t complain, thankfully—surprisingly none of her team either.

after they declared dismissed, she was so ready to be hauled—by who, she didn’t really know. but man she wished—back to her bed—did not matter which one but whichever the closest was—and pass out until the next season starts.

unfortunately, it was not that easy yet for her.

the only people left in the room was her, porsche’s team principal, his assistant, her head engineer, and... mikey.

now that she really thinks about it, she doesn’t really know what it is mikey does.

“you look rough.” the man started. “not wearing any makeup today?” he asked genuinely. he knew how much makeup therapy usually improves her mood, which is why it made sense to him seeing her so—gone.

“i am wearing makeup.”

“oh.”

“yeah.”

he motioned for her to take a seat, and so she did.

the air was… unreadable. usually it’s pretty light with them, they loved her and she loves them. maybe it was the lack of mick in the room?

she was so tired, she didn’t care for the thick silence in the room, opting to just break it herself.

“am i getting sacked? are you going to make me burn my own contract?”

she was getting dangerous. tired roo means her defense systems are losing charge—if she was a drinker, this would be a glimpse of her in an honest drunk state.

no one really stopped her so her mouth just kept moving, “i mean, i wouldn’t be surprised after the year i had i was kinda shit—i’d be pretty sad, though. i love you guys. i love you,” she looked at her engineer, “i love you,” she looked to her personal trainer, “i love you,” to her team principal. and last but not least, “and i love you.” she looked slightly up at her team principal’s assistant that stood behind him.

“oh good grief, when the hell is he getting here?” the man in the middle whispered under his breath as he rubbed his forehead, in the background the driver still mindlessly listing all the people she loves.

“and i love that guy who always has chocolate for me—oh wait that’s mick again.”

“just got a text from jackie says they’re close.” whispered back mikey.

as if on cue, right after mikey locked his phone, the door opens—thankfully—stopping roo’s listing, catching all of their attentions.

she was still yapping when she turned to the door but came to an abrupt stop when she sees the person who walks in.

the man waved.

“oh no, it’s jenson button.” she says flatly—at this point it was like she was drugged with truth serum; her words held no emotions or feelings whatsoever, but everyone was sure it was all genuine.

she was about to turn back to her team when with no warnings, no wind, no signs, she was hit with a tsunami—not even joking. the moment her head turned her face was splashed with a bucket of cold water.

so. so. cold.

oh that definitely woke her up.

“WHAT THE FU—”

as if she hadn’t had enough thrown at her, a towel was draped over her head before she can finishing cursing out her team. (one, to dry her up and two, to shut her up.)

emerging from under her towel, she looked towards the three culprits’, eyes going from jenson button at the front of the room and back to them, “in front of jenson button?!” she scolded in a whisper.

“it humanizes you,” explained her team principal shortly.

she quieted. sucked in a breath and stare at him flatly, “die.”

mateo—her team principal—was unfazed by it, opting to ignore her comment instead and continue with the business they had originally set up for.

“now that you’re awake,” he started.

“whatever.” she rolled her eyes.

ignoring her, mateo continues, “i’m going to put this in simple words you’ll understand.”

“why do you hate me?”

“i know you don’t like to talk about… whatever the hell this year was, but one thing for sure, we—” he motioned towards himself, mikey, and olivia (her head engineer), “—decided it’d be good for you to have a manager.”

she stayed silent, blinking her thoughts in until she found her words;

“and he is… your best candidate?” she asked stiffly motioning to the british driver that she’s sure can kill her with a stare.

mateo looked anywhere but anyone, slightly dodging the question. he shrugged, “well.”

“seriously?!” commented the world champion. he rolled his eyes and made way to sit on the chair next to hers, slightly making the hair on her arms rise. “look, kid, i know it’s probably going to be hard for you to even be in the same room with me—but i promise, i would not be doing this if i weren’t sure of you. you are one of the best talents i’ve seen in my life and i think i could help you reach a lot more good things.”

she took in his words and she’d be lying if hearing all those things coming out of his mouth didn’t give her a type of sensation—butterflies in her stomach, warmness in her heart, and the burning tears building behind her eyes—and a surge of courageous in her veins.

she smiled, “no, i think you’re right. and, i mean, i’m in the same room as you right now and i’m all fine.”

after that, papers were signed and deals were made, and to her; the rest was history.

(including all her previously embarrassing moments.)

princess (mick) HSAZGFKJSDGS YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE i js died oh my god what did i do

te1enoviyuh 🎵 Simple Minds • Don't You (Forget About Me)

liked by f1porsche, atticusingh, and 4,476,928 others

tagged: jensonbutton

te1enoviyuh mischief not managed zzz

see all 487 comments.

roomcgrittle CONSTABLE REGGIE

buttoncunt JENSON????? kid r u even alive still

dunphyrrari did u fall asleep typing the caption

te1enoviyuh dunphyrrari okay thats funny u deserve a notice

dunphyrrari te1enoviyuh I WON

f1porsche Watch out (the rest of) 2024 they’re coming for you. 😉

selvnika i thought *i* was your manager...

te1enoviyuh selvnika if anything IM your manager. your around the clock arounf the world babysitter

sargeantist selvnika now hold on... back tf UP. WDYM MANAGER??

schupastry sargeantist JUST STAY CALM DO NOT MAKW ANY ASSUMPTIONS.

disneyprincemuke im just here for the ride tbh

bonus

mateo sighs at his phone, his employee no better than before she had management.

“do you ever regret this? ‘cause i do. —kinda.” commented the unlucky woman known as her pr manager (jackie.)

“who thought this was a good idea, again?”

being the self-aware king himself; mikey immediately choked on his water and quickly made his escape.

anyone noticed a cameo? not proofread | taglist; @treehouse-mouse @disneyprincemuke @yansbolobao @leilanixx @judespoision @vellicora @bborra @woozarts crossed out means i cant tag u

[magpiepills]

Sweet Tooth

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Mom’s boyfriend Javier Pena x f reader

Word count: 1.2k

Summary: you’re a slut with a grudge and you set out to tease your mom’s boyfriend until he can’t take it anymore.

Warnings: SMUT, PWP, teasing, oral (f receiving) masturbation, temperature play, leg shaving, age gap, forbidden relationship, indidelity, precious little proof reading, unbeta’d, fucked up formatting, not my best work, but there’s a couple parts in here I’m pretty pleased with!

A word from the author: my submission for @vivian-pascal ‘s 500 follower celebration! My prompt is Javier Pena + Teasing. Congratulations on your milestone, Vi!! You’re wonderful and so deserving and I’m so grateful for your friendship! 🌷

I re-wrote this thing like 4 times and now I’m cutting it really close on the deadline!

You really shouldn’t.

It’s kinda fucked up. It’s hot.

Really hot. Ninety eight degrees Fahrenheit and humid. Sweat beads and rolls down your chest, glistening under the blistering Laredo sun as you lounge by the pool in your aluminum and vinyl chaise.

And for what?

For him.

You knew he was watching. He’s always watching any chance he gets. He plays it off cool and calm, chain smoking under the shade of the yellow umbrella and asking his cigarettes in a little orange ashtray your mom sat out just for him. “Not in the house, Javi!” She always scolded him, shooing him out the door, right into your spiderweb, willingly he went.

He’s around a lot more now. They’re getting serious, him and your mom. Even when she’s not here, days like today when she’s working an extra shift at the hospital, he’s here.

Smoking, dark eyes hidden by dark aviators, shirt unbuttoned to expose his own sweaty chest. You couldn’t see his eyes, but you knew they were on you.

You knew from the time you laid eyes on him, picking your mom up for a date, leather jacket and tight jeans, all dark and broad shoulders and narrow hips. He shook your hand and let his eyes linger on your lips when you introduced yourself. You knew what you were going to do.

You started small, leaving your room in a crop top and sleep shorts, foregoing a bra when you sauntered into the kitchen for a glass of water as he sat at the table with a newspaper. You yawned and stretched, getting his attention and smiling when he zeroed in on your hardened nipples. When he snapped out of his little titty-induced trance and saw how you watched him he frowned and snapped the newspaper up and buried his

Nose in the baseball scores.

You upped the ante a bit, popping a workout tape into the VCR and bouncing along with the perky instructor while Javi lounged on the couch, waiting for your mom to shower. He watched unashamedly, leaning forward to rest him elbows on his knees while he watched. “Don’t tire yourself out, sweetheart,” he smirked “she likes a long shower.”

His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip when you stood in the bathroom in your bra and the skimpiest panties you owned, door open wide and one leg resting on the sink while you shaved. He watched until

You were done, tapped the razor against the porcelain, and twisted your body around, lifting your knee to give him an unobstructed view of your barely covered pussy, and asking innocently “did I miss anything, Javier?” He huffed and walked away, pulling the door shut behind him, but not before you saw the tell-tale bulge in his Levis.

You sucked popsicles and hummed happily when you had nearly the whole thing in your mouth and sticky juicy running down your chin. “Cute.” He said, and looked away, but didn’t hide the way he palmed his hard cock.

You dared him to touch you. You bent over the couch to look for your keys, presenting your ass and the outline of your pussy as you felt around for the keys that you knew were in your purse. You swore you felt the heat of his hand ghosting a hair’s breadth away from the bare back of your thigh.

There was no real plan to any of this, no grand scheme of punishment or revenge. You had a grudge and you needed to get laid. Your mom was a bitch who brought home men, devoted herself to them, and seemed quite content to let you, her only daughter, take a back seat to her love life for the last 22 years. Javi was just like every man, letting his dick do all the thinking, never seeming to care about the ethics of leering at his girlfriend’s daughter, easily half his age.

This was going to be your day. You plucked an ice cube from your glass of lemonade and let it drip across your chest, melting and sliding across your skin, you drew abstract patterns that made your nipples peak. You licked the slippery ice and tugged the red triangle of your bikini top to the side, swirling the ice cube around the curve of your breast, shivering slightly at the cold. You freed the other breast and repeated the process, giggling at the way you suddenly chilled.

Javi’s full attention was on you now. His knees spread wide while he slumped down a bit in his patio chair, cigarette smoldering, forgotten between his fingers.

Taking another cube, you worked your way down your belly, swirling it lazily, stopping every few moments to bring it to your lips.

When you got to the top of your bikini bottom, dampened by the cool, dripping water, you paused. You thought for a moment, then let the ice cube fall to the hot concrete below you. With slow motion movements, you bring your hands to your hips, you toy with the loopy bows on either side and then gently tug their strings further and further, until mute little bow is unraveled and the fabric falls loose over your mound.

You run your hands over your thighs and your stomach where melted ice pools in your belly button before letting one hand dip down to cup your pussy.

Javi shifted in his seat, stubbing out his cigarette and wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. You watched him watch you, smug and self-satisfied at his discomfort. You hoped he was at war with himself, hoped he felt like a creep.

You swirled your fingers over your folds, varying the speed and pressure as you felt your wetness spread, slicking it over your clit, smearing your puffy lips, reveling in the messiness of it all.

Javis chest heaved, his jaw twitched in frustration, and suddenly he was standing, smells legs of his chair scraping against the concrete and he was crossing the yard to cast his shadow over you.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He hissed, as sweat damped his shirt. He was quite a sight.

You didn’t answer, just groaned and looked up at him through your eyelashes. His eyes traveled down your body until they settled on your hand, your fingers working your clit insistently.

Javi’s plush lips fell open when you reached further, slipping your middle and ring fingers into your dripping center. You panted, pumping them in and out in shallow motions. Javi’s lip moves in silent curses until you pull your hand free, fingers shining with your arousal, reaching up to delicately rest the wet pad of your fingers against his lower lip.

He wasted no time in sucking your fingers into his mouth, sucking and licking your flavor from them, ravenous for you. When he had his fill, he chased your taste with icy lemonade from your glass.

His tongue was cold when he ran it over your folds. Once, twice, then sucking your clit into his mouth like he had a grudge of his own. He ate your cunt with fervor, unmatched by any man before, and split you open with two thick fingers. Your whines were too loud, too desperate, he shoved his slick fingers into your mouth, a taste of your own medicine.

“Quiet!” He rasped, smacking your thigh “Fucking tease. Do you want everyone to know what a slut you are?” Before diving back into your wet, desperate pussy with renewed vigor.

Your orgasm racked your body, twisting in his grasp you came hard, panting his name so that anyone who heard would know that Javier Pena was a whore.

[karasu4life]

Pic creds: floreaii on Pinterest

Sae Itoshi x Spanish reader, I guess... It's kinda short, not a full story but more like a little self indulgent

I can do a second part hehehehehehehbwhehedbd if y'all like slowburn

Not proofread... At all... 6.3k

First post

Sae was finally getting comfortable in this new country, after being alone for so long. Without his parents, his little brother, or anyone to keep him company during the endless stretches of free time that had slowly dwindled into nothing. Sae dedicated his entire life to football. Football, and only football. To be the best... Striker? He wasn’t even sure anymore. He should know. He was Japan's prodigy, after all.

Every day was a relentless pursuit of improvement, every second accounted for. So the fact that studying was mandatory in Spain—something he couldn't escape—was like a thorn in his side.

He had arrived at thirteen, just in time to be thrust into "primero de la ESO," the first year of high school. Now, at fifteen, he was in tercero. The years blurred together, marked only by training and the occasional match. Classes? They were background noise.

Sae glanced at his grades, printed neatly on the paper he held. Around him, his classmates were a cacophony of shouts—some celebrating, others wailing in despair.

Ah. PE.

It was the only subject where his scores shone. The rest? A mix of pity passes and resigned teachers. He folded the paper, tucked it into his backpack, and waited for the bell. Recess, or recreo, meant thirty minutes of freedom. Normally, he would spend it playing football, but today, he didn’t feel like it.

When the bell finally rang, the classroom erupted into chaos. Chairs screeched, voices overlapped, and footsteps thundered toward the door. Everyone scattered, eager for their break—everyone except one person.

You.

You were fumbling with your backpack, struggling to fix your hair while trying to retrieve your lunch. Sae watched as you sighed, frustration evident on your face.

"Me han gastado la misma broma… otra vez." Your voice was quiet, resigned.

You stood up, leaving your things behind. It wasn’t the first time Sae had seen this. The so-called friends you surrounded yourself with were more like hyenas, always pulling these "jokes." Was that considered bullying or just friendly bantering? He wasn’t sure, and he didn’t care to label it. All he knew was that you didn’t deserve it at all.

Before he realized what he was doing, he was already on his feet, moving towards you. His body acted on instinct, though his mind questioned why. Sae wasn’t one to meddle. He didn’t really care for people. Yet here he was, holding out his lunchbox in your direction.

You blinked, startled, your eyes flicking from the lunchbox to his face.

"Eh?"

"Yo puedo quedarme con… contigo en el, how do you say it, recreo." His Spanish was stilted, awkward, and the furrow in his brow deepened as he stumbled over the words.

A giggle unintentionally escaped your lips before you could stop it. His frown deepened even more, and you quickly cleared your throat, trying to compose yourself.

"Ah, ¡claro! Uh, I mean… I'll put my English classes to good use. Of course you can stay with me! Or, eh, I can stay with you…"

Sae gave a curt nod and turned toward the door. You scrambled to grab your things, trailing after him like a lost puppy.

He didn’t say much as you walked, his expression unreadable. But you didn’t mind.

You never found the perfect wave of words to describe this boy, man, guy, dude, whatever. He was someone admirable to say less. You would always go to his matches, sneaking out of your group of friends just to see him play. You could call them your comfort space, a place where there was no one except you, your thoughts and Sae. The fact that he was someone cold attracted you, making you too curious for your own good. You wanted to get to know him without being brushed off like the rest of people who tried to talk with him.

Qué sorpresa.

Sae found the perfect wave of words to describe you. Someone annoying, very much talkative, sometimes wanting to look cool but failing miserably to the point where you don't even try anymore and just start being yourself. The fact that you took the time to try to fit in, even if you were from this same country, made him want to know more about you. Why would you do that? He couldn’t understand why you bothered pretending to do so when you were clearly better off alone. But maybe that’s what made you different from him. Maybe you weren't afraid of trying, even if it meant failing. Sae didn't try. He didn't let himself fail. He wanted to know why you did.

How surprising.

You found a spot under the shade of a tree, just far enough from the chaos of the football field. The moment you sat down, a ball went flying towards your head.

You saw your whole life flash by in 5 seconds, which was how long it took Sae to react by stopping the ball with his foot and sending it back into the field, startling the group of boys who had sent it flying in the first place.

"¿Seriously?" Sae muttered, his tone dripping with irritation as he sat down and opened his lunchbox.

You stared at him, still processing what had just happened.

"Do you attract bad luck, by any chance?" he asked, his gaze flicking to you briefly before focusing on his food.

"As far as I know… no?" You frowned, though his question made you think. Were you really a magnet for bad luck? Then something caught your eye: his lunch.

"You didn’t bring un bocata!"

Sae looked up, confused. “Un what?”

"¡Bocata!" you repeated.

"…Bocado?"

"No, bocata. Like… sandwich? Bocadillo?" You gestured dramatically, as if miming the shape of a sandwich would help him understand.

"Ah. Right. That." He looked down at his neatly packed lunch—rice, chicken, and vegetables arranged with military precision. "No."

You gasped, placing a hand on your chest as if he had offended the entire nation.

"¿Cómo que no?"

"¿Cómo que sí?" he shot back, his tone flat but carrying the faintest hint of amusement.

"That sentence doesn't even make sense!"—you retorted—"Do you do anything else except playing football?"

"Do you do anything else except watching people playing football?" Your jaw dropped. So, he had noticed. All those times you thought you’d been sneaky, hiding in the bleachers or at the edge of the field—he’d known.

Maybe you were too bored, didn't you have a home?

You were startled. Shutting up and fixing your hair again, uselessly putting some strands behind your ear that decided to go to their initial position. You struggled opening your backpack, Sae was interested.

What was today's prank?

"They put glue on the, this," you pointed at the zipper with a slight frown "the cremallera. Eh, zip-zip."

"Maybe you should do something about it." the boy in front of you took the backpack, forcing it open. It broke the zipper but at least you had your maravilloso bocata.

"Gracias! Eh, ah, quiero decir, no, wait, I mean thank you!"

You both smiled, even though his was almost unnoticeable... Heh... You could say you were special.

It didn't last a bit, too.

Sae had noticed many stupid habits you had. Fixing your hair when you were nervous, hiding every time the teacher asked something because you didn't like being picked, how you only put effort into the things that interested you... That's something both of you had in common.

But, the stupidest one by far was how you didn't face your so-called friends when they did things like this.

"You should report them." said the redhead, bringing a munch of rice to his mouth. "Are these really just jokes?"

"Bueno... I mean, well. It's not that bad. The worst thing they've done to me is when I decided to get too silly in a call where they took 12 screenshots to make them stickers."

You took a big bite off your bocata, looking at Sae. Sae stared back.

...

"I want to feel sorry for you but you make it impossible."

Pspspsps is it ooc

[fluentmoviequoter]

Call a Truce

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader

Summary: You and Tim have a rivalry that began when you were rookies. Years later, you continue competing in everything you do, even when you're helping Tim get out of a dangerous situation.

Warnings: Tim gets hurt (tased, cut, broken ribs, goes to the hospital), angst, mentions of robberies, fluff! pretty standard Rookie warnings I think

Word Count: 3.6k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“You’re going to pass your rookie exam,” your TO said on your second day of training. “But there’s one thing I need you to do. Score higher than Bradford.”

And, like that, a rivalry was born.

Years after you started competing against Tim Bradford to be the best rookie, your rivalry has only strengthened. Everyone in your station knows about your competitive natures, but to outsiders and visitors, it seems like you and Tim hate one another. There has never been any real animosity, only competition and everything that comes with it.

“We’re riding together today,” Tim says.

You turn quickly, surprised to see him standing beside you. “What?” you ask.

“I just talked to Grey. We’re riding together, but he wouldn’t tell me why. Something to do with the string of robberies, I presume.”

“And he thought you would need help from a competent cop,” you reply with a nod. “I guess I can make time for that.”

“If that’s what you need to hear to actually try for once. I could find the guy on my own faster than you can get out of the shop.”

“We’ll see about that,” you scoff.

“We certainly will. The first one to spot anything gets a point, making contact gets five, and the arresting officer gets fifty. Deal?”

You look at Tim’s hand and wrinkle your nose in faux disgust before you shake. “You’re going down, Bradford.”

“And you’ll break the fall, boot.”

“You’re a jerk.”

“Bradford!” Grey yells. “Let’s go! Roll call doesn’t wait for you.”

You smirk as you step backward toward the door. “Such a bad cop, Bradford. Keep your social schedule on your own time.”

“You wish you were part of my social schedule,” he counters.

“At least you’d have one then. When I have fifty-six winning points, maybe I’ll invite you to the celebration.”

Tim rolls his eyes and follows you inside. He can’t remember the last time he did anything with you that wasn’t a competition. You’re both good cops, though, so as long as you get the job done, your work rivalry isn’t hurting anyone.

“What’s it like?” you ask from the passenger seat.

“What’s what like?” Tim replies.

“Being a control freak that still loses.”

“Cute,” Tim mumbles. “At least I didn’t have to wear long sleeves for an extra month like someone I know.”

“Yeah, Lucy didn’t deserve that,” you agree. “You’re just a terrible TO, so you knew she wasn’t ready.”

“Or maybe she picked the wrong cop to idolize,” Tim snaps.

“Tim? Did you just admit that Lucy thinks I’m a better cop than you?” you ask happily. “Because I knew she had good taste, but I wasn’t sure if you knew that.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be looking for a suspect instead of obsessing over how people see you?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be driving instead of getting angry because I’m right?”

Tim takes a deep breath and returns his attention to the road. You push his buttons, but he pushes you just as hard. Everything between you is competitive, there’s a deep-seated need to prove that you’re better because of how your TOs treated you in your boot days.

Your phone rings, and you wave Tim off before he can tell you not to answer it.

“Detective Lopez,” you greet, though you say it toward Tim. “How can I help you?”

“Can you come back to the station or are you too busy flirting- I mean competing with Tim?” she asks.

“I can come back. Tim?” you begin.

“Got it,” he interjects softly. He hits his blinker and enters a turn lane to take you back.

“I’ll be there in ten,” you tell Angela.

“Thank you. We got a lead on where the stolen goods may be stashed but we’re shorthanded.”

“No problem.”

Angela ends the call, and you look at the road as you think about the details of the case. Something isn’t adding up. They know plenty about the suspect, but not where he lives or where all of the stolen property ended up. The guy seems homeless.

“Guess she figured out that you’re not going to find anything out here that I can’t find alone,” Tim muses.

“Or she knows that I’ve got a better chance of blowing this case open if you’re not aimlessly dragging me around the city.”

“What’d she say?” Tim asks.

“They found a lead and don’t have enough people to trace it. You can ride alone, as far as they know, so I get to track down tips.”

“I’ll find our guy before you find anything helpful,” Tim declares.

“Yeah, right!” you argue, turning in your seat to face him. “First one to find something that the detectives deem useful wins.”

“Wins what?”

You purse your lips as you think. There are not many rewards left that you and Tim haven’t already competed for. Maybe it shouldn’t be a material item, you think.

“The loser admits, in roll call tomorrow, that the winner is a better cop,” you suggest.

“It would be fun to hear you say that,” Tim says quietly. “Deal.”

He extends his right hand over the console, and you shake it firmly before sitting back in your seat. When he arrives back at the station, you exit the shop and salute him sarcastically before you walk inside. You begin to worry very quickly that the lead Angela called you back for may not be anything. No matter what, you have to beat Tim because you can’t lose.

“Control, this is Bradford, can you get me information on who owns 1219 Larga Avenue?” Tim radios.

“1219 Larga Avenue is leased by Corporeal Corporations,” control answers.

“A shell corporation,” Tim says to himself.

He’s been following a vehicle matching one listed on the case report. It isn’t the suspect’s vehicle, but one of his acquaintances’. Tim parks down the street and watches the house from his side mirror for several minutes. Whoever was driving the car seems to be staying for a while.

“Control, this is Bradford. I’m approaching the house, code 6-Charles.”

“Assistance on standby.”

Tim opens his door and then hesitates. In his uniform, he has no chance of getting close to anyone in that house. He could approach the house next door to gather intel about how many people are inside, but that could spook them and get innocent people hurt. The third option, one he will never admit to learning from you, is to play the part of a stupid cop at the wrong house.

“Officer!” a woman yells across the street.

Tim gestures for her to quiet before he closes his door and walks across the street. “How can I help you, ma’am?” he asks.

“There was this car that kept driving up and down the road yesterday! It was a young boy and an older man, and they would just drive down, turn around, and come back. I live here, my children play here, and if this is going to become a cesspool of gang people, someone needs to do something!” she explains.

“Ma’am, it sounds to me like a man may have just been teaching his son how to drive on a residential street, which is neither illegal nor gang-related. If you see them again, call the non-emergency line and someone will come make sure everything is alright.”

Tim has dealt with his fair share of stupid complaints, but he can’t even be bothered by this one. Not when something malicious may be taking place four houses away. The woman huffs as she turns to go back to her home. Just as she turns off the sidewalk, someone shoots.

Tim dives behind a nearby car and braces himself against the back bumper. Based on the spray of bullets destroying the car, Tim guesses it’s numerous semi-automatic rifles that he’s up against.

“Dispatch, I need that backup! I’m taking heavy fire,” he radios.

A moment later, dispatch calls, “Code 99” with his location. Tim curses; he doesn’t need every cop in the county coming to his rescue, just one or two. The bullets slow, and Tim moves carefully to the edge of the vehicle. Three men stand in the yard, and he aims his gun at the one closest to him. While he’s replacing the magazine into the gun, Tim shoots his leg, and he falls to the ground. The others open fire again, and Tim spins to be out of sight again.

A heavy hand lands on Tim’s shoulder, and before he can react, a knife is pressed to his throat. Everything goes silent as he’s lifted to his feet and shoved toward the sidewalk. The men have taken their injured partner inside, and Tim knows that once he’s in that house, he is as good as dead.

“Look, man, I just came to answer another call. Let me go and nothing happens,” he tells the man pushing him.

“You already called for backup.”

“And they’ll go to the other house, see a shot-up car. The most you have to do is answer the door and say ‘No, officer, I didn’t see a thing.’”

“You won’t see a thing if you don’t shut up,” the man growls as they near the door.

Tim stands up straighter, and when the knife falls toward his chest rather than his neck, he kicks backward and into the man’s knee. The knife scrapes across Tim’s uniform, but he doesn’t feel it as he turns to face the door and grabs his gun. His hand reaches the holster, but it’s empty. Tim looks around and realizes that his gun must be behind the car. He retrieves the knife from the ground and prepares to run for the car, but two prongs from a taser enter his chest before he can, and he collapses beside his fourth assailant. Sirens echo in the distance as Tim fights to stay conscious. The man on the porch squeezes the trigger again, and Tim only feels the first twitch of his legs before everything stops.

“LAPD, open up!” you yell.

You are moments away from punching the door when it swings open. Immediately, you recognize the long-haired man as your robbery suspect. The chances of him being alone are slim, though, so you can’t think about Tim right now, only about getting this man in custody without getting hurt or killed.

“How can I help, officer?” he asks, leaning against the door to block your view inside.

“I just have a question about the car parked down the street,” you explain with a friendly smile.

“All of my cars are here in my driveway. Maybe ask someone else.”

“So, you don’t know who owns the grey sedan with all the bullet holes and a dead body in the back?” you ask, raising your brows.

“Dead body,” he repeats. He looks past you like he’s trying to figure out how that got there.

“The owner?” you press.

“Oh, sure, uh Miguel, I think is his name. Big guy down the street.”

“Thank you so much for your help. Could I just get your name for my report?” you ask.

“Cody Lambert,” he answers, still looking past you.

You’re surprised that he gives you his real name. Your lie about the body in his car jarred him more than you expected.

“And are you here alone today?” you ask.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He shifts slightly, and you can see an empty living room behind him. You have an opportunity, but if you take it and you’re wrong, you may be putting Tim’s life on the line.

“Could you point out which house Miguel lives in? I’m terrible with numbers and directions.” You laugh at yourself to sell your dumb act and pray that it works.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, stepping out onto the porch.

He closes the door behind him, and you waste no time pushing him down onto the ground. You keep his face turned toward the dirt so he can’t yell as you secure the handcuffs.

“You’re under arrest,” you say in his ear. “And if you yell when I pick you up, I can’t promise anything. If you stay quiet, though, I’ll get you the best pro bono attorney in the state. Understood?”

He doesn’t acknowledge your offer, so you drive your knee between his kidneys and repeat, “Understood?”

He groans against the ground before a muffled, “Yes,” reaches your ears. You pull him up and walk him to your shop where it’s parked in front of the next house. As you reach for the radio to alert dispatch, a gun is fired inside the house.

“Too late,” your suspect says as you turn to look.

You abandon the radio on the floorboard of the passenger seat and slam the door. As you return to the front door and kick it in, you keep your gun ready. There isn’t time to waste in a situation like this, and Tim is counting on you. If he’s still here and still alive, that is.

When you reach a closed door at the end of the hallway after clearing the other rooms, you raise your gun before you and kick the door open. It hits the wall with a thud as you step over the threshold. One of Cody’s known acquaintances blocks your path, with a puddle of blood beneath him. You look past him to clear the room, but see what you’re looking for before you finish.

“Tim,” you say when you see him stretched out on a broken twin-sized bed.

“Took you long enough,” he mumbles. “And I won.”

You lean over him as you holster your weapon. He is injured and needs assistance, but his radio is smashed and yours is in the shop.

“Are there more of them?” you ask.

“There’s four.”

Tim hasn’t opened his eyes yet, which concerns you. More concerning, however, is the knowledge that there are two more people around this house. You cleared it, but they could be waiting in the attic or just outside.

“I’ll go call for help,” you tell Tim. “Stay alert.”

As you turn, heavy footsteps rattle the walls of the hallway. You look back to Tim and know you can’t leave him here. Even if you do argue, compete, and tease each other, you’re both cops and you have to protect one another. Plus, you care about him, and it hurts you to see him like this. Carefully, you push the door closed and lock it. There’s nothing in the room to block it with… except for the suspect on the floor.

“Did you shoot him?” you whisper. “How?”

“His gun,” Tim mumbles.

You tilt your head quickly, surprised and impressed, though you know Tim has more training in this kind of thing than the average cop. The guy is heavy, literally dead weight, but you roll him against the door as an extra cover before you sidestep the blood puddle and return to Tim’s side.

“Where are you hurt?” you whisper as you kneel beside him.

Tim hums, and you know he’s fading fast. You murmur an apology before you begin unbuttoning his uniform. When you begin to pull it open, you notice two taser prongs buried in his pec muscles. You pull them out quickly and squeeze your eyes closed when Tim grunts.

With his shirt open, you can see a several bloody spots, a scrape against his chest, and swelling on his right side. Gently laying a hand over his t-shirt, you know that his ribs are broken.

“I need to look, Tim,” you say as you grab the bottom of his shirt. “I’m sorry.”

You pull his shirt up carefully and inhale sharply when you see the bruises littering his torso and chest. The swelling looks worse without fabric over it.

“Can you breathe well?” you ask.

Tim shakes his head, a small movement that you feel more than see. There’s a chance that his broken rib has punctured a lung, and he needs medical attention now.

“Thank you,” Tim says. His eyes are still closed, but you watch his face as he says it.

A few moments later, Tim moves his left hand to catch yours as you look at the scrape spanning his chest. He squeezes your wrist softly and your eyes raise to his.

Tim blinks his eyes open and waits until he finds your face to ask, “Why are you helping me?”

“Tim,” you begin. “Why wouldn’t I? You can’t tell me that you think I hate you because of our rivalry. That’s all it has ever been, competition.”

Tim nods as his eyes close again. “I thought you’d be a better cop than me,” he mumbles. “But I got a promotion first.”

You chuckle, trying to ignore the pressure behind your eyes as you watch him lose the battle to stay conscious. In this moment, you feel something that you’ve never experienced before. All the teasing, and the competition to stay close to Tim, were different than this. The care you show him now helps you to see him differently.

Similarly, though his thoughts are jumbled in a mix of pain and adrenaline, Tim sees you as he never has before. Your soft touches, apologies, and clear care and concern for him awaken something in him. Maybe it’s been sleeping or maybe it wasn’t there before today, but Tim likes having you close like this.

“Promise me something,” you whisper. “When we get out of this, we’ll know that we both won.”

Tim nods, and you carefully remove your hand from his. With your gun, plus the one Tim used to kill Cody’s goon, you climb out of the window to get Tim help and the first aid kit from your shop. He knows you’re a good cop, but without you by his side, he can’t take the pain and the worry together, and he finally succumbs to the darkness again.

“I feel fine!” Tim argues with the nurse. “I can go home. There’s no reason to keep me here.”

“The doctors want to observe you overnight to ensure there’s no long-term damage, Officer Bradford,” she replies. “If you stop complaining, it will go faster.”

You knock on the open door with a bag in your hand, and the nurse waves you inside before she leaves. Tim looks at you from his hospital bed, and you offer a small smile. In the minutes after you left Tim in the house, you called for backup, searched the house again, put another suspect in custody, and got into a one-on-one fight with the last one. Tim doesn’t know just how much you went through in those five minutes that you waited for more backup, and he doesn’t need to. All that matters is that he’s safe and is getting better.

“How are you?” you ask.

“Fine,” he answers, watching the bag in your hand.

“Yeah, it’s for you.”

You pass him the bag with his favorite food, a play-by-play of last night’s game, and a picture of Kojo from the dogsitter. As he looks through it, you decide to tell him what you stayed awake thinking about. You finished filing your report as the sun rose over LA, and then you spent the few hours before you could visit Tim thinking of only one thing.

“I think we should call a truce,” you suggest. “A lot has changed in the last twenty-four hours.”

“I don’t want a truce,” Tim answers quickly. “We push each other to be better. We need that.”

“Okay,” you say slowly. “Then what do we do? Because I can’t go back to just competing all the time, not after what happened.”

“What happened?”

“If you didn’t feel it, I can’t explain it to you, Tim,” you answer softly, wringing your fingers together.

“You want to be more than competitive friends?” Tim guesses.

You shrug, and he shakes his head.

“I won’t stop competing with you or-“

“Taking figurative shots at me?” you finish playfully. “Better than real shots. I’m fine with not changing that part of our relationship, Tim. Besides, you and I both know that our friends are nosy, and it would be awful if we just started being nice to each other.”

Tim nods, and after a moment, looks at you. He extends his hand toward you, and you happily take it.

“Would you like to go to dinner after I get out of here?” he asks.

“I’d love that. I’m also planning to pass you during the next promotion. Then you can call me Sergeant when you try to tell me you’re better than me.”

“We’ll see about that,” Tim responds. “But I get to pick where we go since I did win the last competition.”

“I saved your life!”

“But I found our guy.”

“Maybe we both won,” you remind him.

A few weeks later, you kept your promise and now outrank Tim. Not for long, you assume, because he’s a great cop with a bright future, but for now it’s fun to remind him that you’re a Sergeant while he’s still an Officer. “Whoever makes the first arrest today gets to pick where we go on our date Saturday,” you say.

“Whatever you want, Sergeant,” Tim answers.

He tilts your chin gently before he kisses you. You sigh in contentment, happier than ever with Tim. When he releases you, you both climb out of his truck and walk toward the station.

“When I get a position on Metro, I get to say it first,” Tim says as he opens the door for you.

“That’s not fair!” you argue, blocking the doorway.

“If you’re scared that it’ll happen too soon, just say so,” Tim taunts.

“Fine,” you agree, offering your hand to shake.

He shakes your hand, then pulls you into a quick kiss.

“Have a nice day, Sergeant,” he calls as he walks away.

“You too, boot.”

[mischiefmaker615]

The Gift (Pt. 1 of ?)

Note: Part 1 of ?

~One Shot inspired by the PIC & Prince of Egypt

Rating: R

Summary: Loki is given a particular slave as a gift for another one of Asgard's victories. 

“ANOTHER!”

Cheers, glasses smashing, clinking, laughing, music, the smell of alcohol, food and breasts threatening to poor out of tops, all held the ingredients to a stereotypical Asgardian celebration as it felt like the whole kingdom gathered to celebrate.

A battle was just won a few hours before, but to be honest, Asgard hosted these parties practically every night; mainly hosted and encouraged by King Thor who just couldn’t get enough of the party life. One could do that every day with that much power..

He sat at the head of the feast table, a large fire being the main source of light as people danced around it and sang in their native language. Slaves hustled around the pieces of broken mugs to continue serving his heart’s desires, one even being instructed to sit on his half for most of the night currently as a drunk hand inched its way up her skirts.

King yes, but he wasn’t even the one to have primarily claimed victory today. It was Loki.

Loki stayed silent, contently listening to the music in the background as he moved through the wave of guests, his slim fingers gripping the handle of his own drink which he sipped leisurely. Of course, Thor would take all the credit, having spent hours each night conducting the perfect battle plan just for his brother to rip all the recognition away. Typical.

His expression was.. expressionless, showing how years of the same situations has finally numbed him to the fact where he didn’t display his agitation anymore. He merely got the leftover. Even the whores who stumbled around, their centers sore and the alcohol still taking affect as they tried clinging themselves to him, in which he would politely wave them off and continue on.

His credit may be stolen, but his reputation with women was at least much higher than Thor’s.. whether it be true or not. Loki had absolutely no trouble bringing any woman to bed, or men. He was just subtle, even making it a game before acting as if nothing happened the day after. He didn’t wish to think of how many countless souls went through Thor’s chambers, particularly he just didn’t care.

Making his way over to his seat, regrettably it being right next to his brother, Loki raised his glass with a painted-on grin as another cheers rose through the crowds that happened seemingly every ten minutes.

‘’brother!! It is so good to see you! Where have you been lurking?” Thor slurred with a lopsided grin as Loki sat down in his seat, his green came spreading behind him as he relaxed for once with much less annoyance.

‘’settling the score brother’’ Loki smirked, an innuendo that he had just gotten back fucking someone as his gaze ran over the woman hanging onto Thor’s neck with her lips latched on to his skin. ‘’are you still trying to get this one to bed?”

Thor laughed as his grip on her thigh tightened a little, causing her to squirm a little as he looked at his brother casually. ‘’sometimes you just need to enjoy the build up deal brother, and how could I leave now when I have something for you?”

Loki raised a brow, his body tensing out of instinct as these things usually come without enjoyment for himself. ‘’oh a gift brother? You shouldn’t have.’’ He says dryly and finishes his cup, holding it up as a maid seemed to span out of nowhere to refill it.

‘’why of course! It might seem like it, but I can’t take all the credit for todays victory’’ Thor grinned as Loki’s brows raised at his willingness to share. ‘’I know you were the intelligence for the plan that was executed, let me give you something out of gratitude’’ he said and stood, the poor woman yelping in surprise as she caught herself on her feet and Thor moved her away as if she was no more than a piece of broken cup that scattered amongst the floor.

By two claps, the music died down immediately as everyone’s attention moved to king Thor, grins and conversations coming to a hush as Thor stood up with his mug.

‘’my dear friends! Today has been yet another victory for Asgard!”’ he yelled, raising a mug as everyone cheered and did the same. ‘’but we cannot forget that it wouldn’t have been possible without my little brother’s skillset for ‘element of surprises’’’ Thor grinned and waved a hand towards Loki who calmly sipped at his drink, his expression seeming like he wasn’t paying attention at all as cheers erupted again.

‘’and so to celebrate his actions, I have a gift to bestow upon him!’’ Thor boomed and waved a hand across the room at awaiting guards whom understood the signal and opened the doors.

At least three guards came in, one of them holding onto a rope that stretched behind them where they didn’t seem bothered to look back as they moved forward, pulling on it.

Loki’s brow raised, forgetting to hide his wonder as his cup slowly lowered from his mouth and he subconsciously leaned forward in his chair.

The guards pulled in a woman, about a foot shorter than him with features that resembled nothing like those in this realm. Her wrists were bound, having been tied with the other end of the rope as the guards pulled and she stumbled along, barefoot and with a servants dress that stopped mid-thigh with very thin and plain material. Her skin was milk white, her hair platinum silver that hung down to her mid waist and didn’t hide her long, pointy ears while her eyes held an almost crystal blue hue. They were wide, fearful, and full of wonder of what might happen in the next few moments that seemed to match Loki’s expression as well.

‘’we’ve pulled her from the dungeons, found from the forbidden sands of Alfheim years ago. She held the title of ambassador, representing her royals before she stumbled upon forbidden grounds of Asgard.’’ Thor announced, the booze affecting the dramatic build up he hoped to have advertised for her as his eyes flashed a little to hers. ‘’trespassing it never taken lightly.’’

Loki’s expression was hidden well but his eyes gazed upon her with pity and curiosity. She carried Elf blood, and her features- although tired and broken- still held its representation of how powerful and beautiful her people were. She sank to her knees, out of fear or exhaustion, he didn’t know. But she looked about her in all angels as if she were a dog being tormented by a pack. Raising his glass to his lips, Loki’s eyes never left her as he sat back in his chair calmly.

‘’a dungeon whore, how thoughtful brother.’’

‘’only the very best for my little brother,’’ Thor grinned, a hand slapping down on his shoulder with excitement as he looked upon the slave as if it actually for him.

Quite frankly, Loki wouldn’t be surprised if Thor had used her up first, but with the way her eyes looked about with curiosity, wonder and fear, he knew she was unharmed in where she had stayed all these years below Asgard. Of course that was the catch.. Thor couldn’t even provide him with a victory whore and found it better suitable to pull one from the dungeons of Asgard. He probably could just throw her back in later and Thor wouldn’t ask him about it the next day. With the way he swayed and slurred, he might not even remember this feast when the night was through.

‘’thank you brother, to another victory.’’ Loki said simply and raised his cup for dismissal of this whole thing and Thor raised his cup with a grin towards the crowd.

‘’to Asgard!’’

‘’TO ASGARD!’’ everyone cheered and the music began again with dancing, drinking and feasting.

Thor looked over to the guards and waved a hand with an excited smile. ‘’see to it she is taken to Loki’s chambers, have her prepared.’’

Loki’s eyes closed in almost annoyance, hating having to go through such unnecessary and unwanted happenings but at least it was a good excuse to leave this party. Standing up, he hit Thor on the back with much less equal force and fainted a smile. ‘’thank you brother, I shall take my leave for the night.’’

‘’enjoy brother’’ Thor grinned and turned back to the festivities as if nothing had happened.

Back to being invisible. When it came to such things like this, it was preferred. Now that the whole room thought Loki would be ‘taken care of’ tonight, no whore would try to hang off him but did eye him with flirtatious wants. He flashed them his famous smirk, his cape flowing behind him as he passed and his grin didn’t drop until he was finally alone in the halls, making his way to his chambers.

Perhaps this woman will be a good way to take his mind off of today’s unnecessary happenings. 

Part 2

Tag List: @foxherder  @asgards-princess-of-mischief @fire-in-her-veinz

[fictionalwh0ree]

hey!!! could you please do a dean winchester x reader where they play a game or something after celebrating a successful hunt and they end up confessing to each other or something like that? thanks!

best of five- dean winchester

summary: after wrapping up a hunt, you go for a drink with dean. he challenges you to a game of darts, but when the game is tied 2-2, dean ups the stakes, changing the entire trajectory of the night. word count: 2k warnings: drinking

going to the bar after wrapping up a case had become a tradition with you and the winchester boys. when your cases were in a nice city, you’d usually end up at a nicer bar, where it didn’t smell like piss and beer. one that was busy. your nights would usually end with you having hooked up with some guy there and dean taking some girl back to the room, meaning sam would room with you for the night. however, many of your cases happened in smaller towns. this meant you’d frequent shitty bars that reeked of cheap beer and piss. you enjoyed the atmosphere more, weirdly enough.

tonight had been one of those nights, you’d wrapped up a witch case in buttfuck, kentucky. usually, you’d go straight to the bar, not even stopping at whatever shitty motel you were staying at. but today, sam had called it a night early, asking to be dropped off. you and dean pushed for the younger boy to join you guys, but he insisted that you two go one your own, saying he had a headache and was sore all over. eventually, you agreed, taking him back before showering quickly and heading out. when you’d arrived at the bar, you weren’t even sure the place was open. the building was made of wood, old wood, and it looked like it was one gust of wind away from collapsing. that’s how you knew the drinks would be cheap.

you followed dean into the bar, immediately greeted by an older bartender. you took a seat at the bar and dean ordered the two of you a beer. you scoped the area, seeing some older men in cowboy hats and flannels with ripped off sleeves eyeing you. you also noticed the girls around. similar to the men, they were older, their shirts tied up at the front and bright red lipstick was smeared messily around their thin lips, their eyes glued to dean.

“jesus christ, these people are creeping me out,” you muttered to him.

“yeah, tell me about it,” dean laughed, making eye contact with a blonde lady. she smiled “seductively,” revealing lipstick stained teeth.

“i’ll call sam, let him know he should be sleeping in my room tonight. can’t imagine you leaving here home alone tonight,” you teased.

“ha ha,” he fake laughed.

“he might have to sleep in the car. i already know you’re going home with that guy over there,” he said, nodding his head towards the corner of the room.

you looked over in the right direction, met by the eyes of a man old enough to be your father. he smiled up at you, revealing his missing front tooth and the yellowing rest.

“oh yeah, he’s real cute,” you played along, rolling your eyes playfully.

dean sighed, looking around the poorly lit building. his eyes landed on a darts board, and he was immediately interested. he got a refill on your drinks before pulling you over.

“winner pays for drinks?” you said, collecting the darts from the board.

“you know it,” he said.

“best of five?” you asked.

“yep,” he confirmed, already picking up a dart.

dean had won two sets before you caught up, bringing the score to 2-2.

“sudden death?” you asked dean.

“uh huh,” he confirmed, face a little flushed.

“but, hold on,” he said, calling your attention, “what do you say we raise the stakes?”

“how so?” you smiled, interested.

thats when dean pulled a little bottle out of his jacked pocket.

“what is that?” you asked.

“i snagged it from that witch’s house. its the truth serum,” he said.

your mind flashed back to your case. yesterday, you’d been on the hunt for whatever was causing some odd deaths in the small town. you’d stopped at a diner for breakfast, and what you didn’t know at the time was that your waitress was a witch. she overheard your conversation and put in a couple drops of the truth serum into sams drink. she was interrupted by a coworker, explaining why neither you nor dean had it in your drink. for the following four hours, sam could not lie. it was hilarious to you and dean, you couldn’t stop laughing. when you’d found her den today, sam asked her what she did. she whipped out a small bottle with a dropper.

three drops of this and you can’t tell a single lie for hours, she’d said with a smug smile.

dean had been the one to finish her off, which is why he had the chance to grab the bottle, thinking it’d be funny for the future.

“loser takes three drops?” you asked.

“loser takes three drops,” dean confirmed.

“you’re on, winchester. be ready to spill your deepest and darkest secrets to me,” you smirked.

“yeah right,” he scoffed, “i’ll be hearing all about your wet dreams in ten minutes.”

“you wish,” you laughed, picking up a dart.

after an intense twenty minutes, you were losing. the score was 17-50. all you needed was one bullseye and you could win. you were on the last dart of your turn. you focused your eyes on the taunting red circle in the middle, drawing your hand back before pushing forward and releasing the dart. you watched as it landed right in the centre, granting you the winner.

“yes,” you cheered, turning to dean with your arms up in the air.

“no no, no way,” dean said.

“i win, you lose” you said, smiling childishly.

“you are so lucky,” he spoke, shaking his head with a smile.

“it had nothing to do with luck, buddy. this is pure skill,” you bragged.

“yeah right. was landing four darts on the floor pure skill?” he teased.

“that was all part of my master plan,” you lied.

“okay,” dean said sarcastically.

“you know what time it is,” you said, picking up the little bottle.

“i don’t know if this is a good idea, y/n,” he said.

“awe are you scared?” you said, mocking him with a pout.

“no,” he scoffed.

“perfect,” you said, dropping three drops into his beer, “drink up deano.”

he chugged the beer, slamming the cup onto the table. you watched as he opened his eyes slowly, looking at you.

“how do you feel?” you asked expectantly.

“great,” he said.

you looked at him, confused. for sam, it had hit almost instantly.

“i lied. i’m really nervous. please don’t ask me anything stupid,” he blurted, causing a smile to spread on your face.

“who was your first kiss?” you asked.

“i said it was mindy jones in eighth grade but it was actually jenna mcadams in grade ten,” he said.

“go to hell, y/n,” dean said.

“aw, you couldn’t live without me,” you teased.

“you’re right,” dean said before smacking his own face.

you smiled widely, your brain working hard to find a good question to ask him. you spitfired a couple dumb questions that left you clutching your stomach.

“okay okay. can we just go back now?” dean whined.

“fine, dean. give me your keys,” you said.

“my keys? why?” he asked.

“don’t you think you’ve drank a little too much to be on the road,” you asked.

“yes,” he said.

“perfect,” you smiled innocently, sticking your hand out towards him.

he rolled his eyes, reluctantly handing you the keys. he followed you out to his car and got into the passenger seat, you started the car up, picking out a mötley crüe casette and putting it in. as you started the car, you could feel dean’s eyes burning into the side of your head.

“take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you joked.

“your music taste is really great, you know that? i mean i didn’t expect it from you but i wish it’d rub off on sam. sometimes i actually enjoy his girly shit,” he confessed.

“you like it?” you laughed.

“it’s catchy,” he said, followed by a quick, “don’t tell sam.”

you sped down the highway, kickstart my heart blasting. your window was open a little, wind blowing into the car and blowing your hair with it. it was almost a full moon and the streets were almost completely illuminated. you felt dean’s eyes on you once more. in his head, he couldn’t help but think about how perfectly the light framed your face, how it made you look almost angelic. he tried to pry his eyes from you and he prayed you wouldn’t notice him staring. he had vowed to keep his feelings for you to himself, thinking you didn’t feel the same, worried that your relationship would be ruined if he said something. he scolded himself in his head for the serum idea. he was soon broken out of his thoughts by your voice.

“you’re staring again,” you said over the music.

“sorry,” he apologized.

your eyes flicked to him quickly before you spoke again.

“so you gonna tell me why you were staring? do i have something on my face?” you asked.

“no, you just look really beautiful,” dean confessed.

“really what?” you asked, surprised and completely flattered, your cheeks heating up.

“really beautiful,” he repeated.

“you think i’m beautiful?” you asked shyly, biting your lip.

“i think you’re the most beautiful person out there,” he said.

“are you serious?” you asked, your face now hot as you held back a smile.

“well, i can’t lie,” dean said, matter-of-factly.

“dean, can i ask you something?” you said, to which he nodded.

you knew now was your chance. you really liked dean, you had for years, and you thought you felt a connection between the two of you sometimes. you’d seen the way he looked at you sometimes, you knew you were looking at him the same way when you could. you felt it when you made eye contact, when you laughed together.

“is there something between us?” you asked, eyes flickering anxiously between the boy and the road, “because i feel like there is, but i also feel like i could just be crazy.”

“i’d like there to be,” dean confessed.

“really? because i- i like you dean,” you said, making a confession of your own.

“i like you too. i have for a long time, since you started hunting with us,” he said.

“what do you like about me?” you asked, taking the opportunity.

“you’re evil,” dean smiled.

“mm, that doesn’t sound like something you like about me,” you joked.

“well,” he said before clearing his throat, “i like how your hair smells when you wash it. i like how peaceful you look when you sleep. i like how you glow when the light hits your face. i like the way you draw everyone’s attention when you step into the room. i like how easy it is for you to read people. i like how you always have sam and i’s back. i like how you care about us more than anyone ever has. i like how you don’t complain about having to listen to our problems and how you always know what to say. i like how strong and independent you are. i like how gentle you are when you patch me up. i don’t know what i don’t like about you.”

you had arrived at the motel and parked the car. it was quiet for a moment.

“i- i actually think i might love you.”

you looked up at dean, seeing the terrified look in his eyes.

“i love you too,” you smiled, pulling dean in by the shirt.

you kissed him hard, his lips moving with yours in perfect sync.

“you’re a great kisser. what do you say we take this upstairs?” dean said, making you laugh.

you nodded and followed him up to the room, his arms around your waist the whole time.

maybe the truth serum wasn’t a bad idea after all.

[steddieas-shegoes]

i am Dying to see eddie and steve swap battle vest and letterman jacket and eddie supporting steve at all his games and swim meets just as much as steve supports eddie’s things….maybe more of a modern au? because that shit would not fly in 1985 lmao. steve deserves a bf who is proud of him i think.

THANK YOU!!! I am not having the best day mentally today but I have been staring at this prompt since like six a.m. and I knew what I wanted to do, but I don't know that I got all the way there. It feels a little clunky to me, but I hope it's still fun! - Mickala ❤️

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Eddie Munson met Steve Harrington his junior year. They were unlikely friends; Eddie was one of the few gay people who were out in Hawkins, a metalhead who played guitar in a band, a guy who didn’t really fit in with any one group of people, but his access to good weed made him a guy everyone at least talked to. Steve was a basketball playing, swim captain, jock who had loaded parents and stuck up friends.

Eddie hated sports, he hated jocks, and he hated Steve’s friends.

But he loved Steve.

He didn’t say so, of course. Steve was straight as could be, and he was a good friend, maybe even his best friend besides Gareth and Jeff.

They made fun of Eddie constantly over it.

“Oh, it must be Steve time, he’s checking his hair like he could ever fix that mess,” or “Steve texting you dirty pics or are you just sunburnt?”

It was annoying.

But it also kind of sucked.

Steve was kind of a mystery in some ways. Sure, he was rich, or at least his parents were, but he didn’t seem happy.

He once told Eddie the happiest he’d ever been was the day they hung out after he scored the winning basket for a game. All they’d done then was smoke a little at Eddie’s trailer and have pizza, but whatever. If that’s what made him happiest, Eddie could do that every day.

When Eddie found out he wasn’t graduating, he showed up at Steve’s house with tears in his eyes.

“I don’t know how to tell Wayne,” he sobbed as Steve held him close, whispering that he would be fine and now they could be seniors together, that Wayne wouldn’t be mad.

Steve kissed his forehead.

Steve kissed his forehead.

Eddie’s brain was short circuiting. He stared at Steve, who was giving him a calm smile.

How was Steve so calm?

“Was that like a comfort thing or…” Eddie started, not sure what else to say.

“It was more of an ‘I’m super in love with you and hate seeing you upset’ thing,” Steve said, like it wasn’t a big deal, like he hadn’t just admitted he was in love with Eddie, like he hadn’t just completely changed everything Eddie thought he knew.

Eddie just blinked back at him.

Steve sighed, but smiled fondly at Eddie, like Eddie was adorable or something.

“I didn’t really expect the blank look when I told you.”

“What did you expect?”

“Maybe that you’d let me kiss you? For real?”

Eddie didn’t hesitate, leaning in to press his lips against Steve’s.

“I’m super in love with you, too, by the way,” Eddie said when he finally pulled away.

—----------

All summer, Eddie booked his band at any bar or local festivals he could.

He told Steve it was because he knew he wouldn’t go to college, knew he would be stuck with a job like Wayne if he didn’t find a way out of this town.

He wanted Corroded Coffin to make it, to be seen by just the right person, to open for bands he’d only dreamt of seeing live. Maybe one day have their own tour.

Steve wanted that for him.

Steve’s parents almost never came home during the summer, usually only for a day or two around Steve’s birthday to keep up appearances that they cared about him.

But Eddie was playing at a small local art vendor show a few towns over on his birthday, and had insisted that Steve go so they could make a whole day of it and celebrate his day after their set.

Steve couldn’t say no.

He left a note for his parents, threw on Eddie’s battle vest (“you’re mine and this will show everyone that you belong to me”), and drove to Eddie’s house so he could ride in his van with him.

It was the first show he was attending as Eddie’s boyfriend.

They even put him in the band group chat and jokingly called him the band’s boyfriend.

He loved that he fit in with all of them so well, how kind they all were to him, even though he didn’t share many of their interests.

The vest felt good, it made him feel loved and protected, which he’s pretty sure is what Eddie was hoping for.

His parents called him on the drive to the event, but he ignored it, knowing they would ruin his day if he answered.

They were either home and mad that he wasn’t or they were calling to tell him they wouldn’t be home for a while and a present that he didn’t even like would be delivered soon.

But he didn’t want that and he didn’t want Eddie to be mad at them. Today was supposed to be fun. It was about Eddie and his band, his friends, showing their talent and having fun on stage. It was about Steve getting to be a part of it and enjoy himself, maybe even walk around the vendors and buy something for himself.

He wore the battle vest as armor, just as Eddie had, and as anyone who knew the importance of them did.

He wore it to support Eddie, his boyfriend, who put his heart and soul into his music and into Steve.

He wore it because he’d never known what it was to love someone so much, or be loved by them in return, but he felt it most when he was surrounded by physical evidence of how much Eddie cared.

—----------

When school started, Steve was already on track to being the Varsity captain for basketball and the swim team.

But his biggest accomplishment, and he’d tell everyone this for years, was being able to say Eddie was his boyfriend.

Steve coming out had been big news for about a day, and then some girl ended up leaving school because she found out she was pregnant, and he was old news.

But then Eddie showed up wearing Steve’s letterman jacket.

That caused a hell of a scene.

For days, Steve dealt with endless questions about how long they’d been together, why he chose Eddie, if he knew that Eddie was a drug dealer and wouldn’t ever be anything.

He didn’t care.

He smiled as Eddie walked proudly through the halls wearing his jacket, gave him a kiss before class, and met up with him whenever he could.

“You should wear my battle vest if I’m wearing your jacket.”

“You think that’ll go with the polos and jeans?”

“I think if you’re wearing it, it could go with anything.”

“Gross. Are you in love with me or somethin’?” Steve asked with a smirk as Eddie leaned in to plant a kiss on his cheek.

“Or somethin’.”

People at school left them alone, not sure what to do when their sports hero was dating the guy who failed his senior year.

It was probably the best case scenario for them.

Sure, they got judgmental looks from students and teachers, and when Steve’s parents found out, he’d probably be disowned, but it was worth it.

And Wayne loved Steve. He would come with Eddie to the games and swim meets that he could, cheering louder than anyone else when Steve pulled off something great.

“Maybe you should wear the jacket.”

“Now, now. Jealousy ain’t a good look on ya, kid,” Wayne said as he slapped Eddie's shoulder in the stands.

“Maybe you should marry him.”

Wayne’s head snapped to Eddie.

“Is that somethin’ you’re thinkin’ about?”

“Yeah. I mean not now obviously, we’re in high school. And it’s really only been a few months. But I think so.”

“Have you talked about it?”

Suddenly, all of Wayne’s attention was on Eddie, not the game happening in front of them.

“Not really. But he’s doodled Steve Munson on just about every piece of paper I’ve seen,” Eddie said with a smirk.

The conversation dropped off when Steve made another shot, Wayne jumping up and cheering like it was the game winner. From what Eddie could tell, Wayne thought every basket was a game winner if Steve scored it.

—----------

Eddie didn’t manage to graduate.

He was heartbroken.

Steve managed to get through with halfway decent grades, but hadn’t bothered applying to college since he didn’t know what he wanted to do.

His parents came home for the first time in over a year for his graduation, complaining almost instantly that they didn’t understand the dramatics over doing what was expected and required.

And then they met Eddie.

Eddie, who wore Steve’s jacket to his graduation, proud of his boyfriend even if he was bummed that only one class kept him from graduating alongside him.

Wayne sat next to him in the stands, ready to cheer the second they called Steve’s name.

Steve’s parents wouldn’t sit near them, refused to believe that Steve was friends with anyone living in a trailer park.

Eddie was letting him tell them when he was ready; he knew how terrifying it could be to face people who should love you no matter what but probably wouldn’t after they knew.

Steve insisted he wear his jacket regardless.

“Let them come to their own conclusions if they want. They’ll know by the time they leave again that you’re mine and I’m yours.”

So Eddie did.

And Steve’s parents were pretending they didn’t notice.

At the end of the ceremony, after Wayne subtly wiped his eyes and Eddie gave him a quick pat on the shoulder, they both made their way towards the parking lot.

Steve told them his parents made them dinner reservations he couldn’t miss, but that he’d be over after. Wayne was baking him his favorite dessert for later from scratch: confetti cake with buttercream frosting. And Eddie had his own plans for the night once Wayne left for his night shift.

So when Steve showed up only an hour later wearing Eddie’s battle vest, looking like he’d been crying for most of the last hour, his hackles rose.

“Sweetheart, what happened?”

Steve fell against his chest, letting out a sob that drew the attention of Wayne in the kitchen.

“What’s goin’ on? Steve, are you hurt?”

Steve just cried louder and Eddie’s eyes widened, panicked look pointed towards his uncle.

“Stevie, can you look at me for a minute?”

Steve pulled back and sniffled a few times, but managed to look at Eddie.

“Is it your parents?”

Steve nodded.

“They kick you out?” Wayne asked from behind Eddie.

Steve nodded again.

“I’ll be in the kitchen if ya need me,” Wayne said. “But Steve? You’re welcome here. You understand me? I love ya like my own, and you have a place here if you want it.”

Steve nodded, clearly holding back another sob at Wayne’s words.

“Wanna talk about it or just sit on the couch with me for a bit?”

“Both.”

Eddie smiled down at him before placing a quick kiss to his head.

They sat down on the couch, Steve practically in Eddie’s lap for how close he was.

“I told them why you were wearing my jacket. They didn’t believe me at first, said that I was just trying to rile them up for attention. Then I went upstairs and got your vest and tried to tell them again and they-” Steve took in a gasping breath. “They said no son of theirs would be seen with trash like the Munsons. I said that at least the Munsons care about me and that was it. My dad said I better be gone before they get back from the dinner that was supposed to be celebrating my graduation.”

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You can stay here with me.”

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to let me move in just because we’re together, Eds. Robin offered to split rent at her apartment. I’d have to sleep on the couch since it’s a one bedroom, but it’ll be cheap.”

“If you want to do that, I’ll support you, but…” Eddie sighed. “I’d really love to have you here. I know Wayne would too. You’re my family, a Munson if I have anything to say about it, and-”

“Wait. What?”

“What?”

“I’m a Munson?”

Oh, well, okay. Guess his plan was shit now anyway.

“I had a whole plan. Jesus. I don’t want your memory of this to be ruined by your parents.”

Steve’s eyes widened.

“Were you…?”

“I was. But I’ll come up with a new plan, sweetheart.”

“No! No. Please. I don’t want this day to be ruined by them. I never want another moment ruined by them,” Steve begged, his eyes still wet, but a smile replacing his frown.

“Stay here then.”

Eddie ran to his room, grabbed the box he had sitting in his dresser for the last three months, and ran back to Steve in record time. He probably would’ve passed PE the first time around if he knew Steve was waiting at the end of the mile.

He kneeled on one knee in front of Steve, who was crying but for a totally different reason now.

“Stevie, I know we’re young and technically I haven’t even gotten my high school diploma yet, and I’m not really sure what kind of future I can even give you, but I know I want you in it. I know I want us to figure it out together, here or somewhere else. Anywhere else preferably. I know any minute I spend away from you is a minute wasted. And I know that I will never love someone half as much as I love you. So if it’s okay with you, I think I’d really like to marry you. Sound good?”

“Can I change my name to Steve Munson?”

“We can go sign the papers tomorrow if that’s what you want, sweetheart.”

Steve leaped forward, practically tackling Eddie to the floor, kissing his cheeks and neck and forehead.

“Is this a yes?”

“Yes! I wanna marry you right now.”

“Right now?”

“Yeah, can we?”

“You don’t wanna do something nice?”

“No, just want you and Wayne and Robin to witness it. And I wanna save up and buy us an RV, and I want our honeymoon to last forever. We can travel the country, you can perform at random bars and I can be a bartender for the night or something. Use the tips to fill the tank of the RV and pay for our cell phones.”

“You’ve put some thought into this.”

Steve leaned in to kiss Eddie messily, lips wet with spit.

“It’s all I’ve thought about for a year, Eds.”

“That long?”

“Mhm. Wanted to be yours forever for so long.”

“Let me put the ring on then, ya goof.”

Steve was smiling. Eddie was smiling. They couldn’t see him, but Wayne was smiling from the entrance way to the kitchen.

“It’s pretty. Where’d you get it?”

“I gave it to him,” Wayne said, finally entering the room.

“What?” Steve looked back down at the ring now on his finger, and back up at Wayne.

“Made him promise to use it for you. You’re the only one I trust with Eddie’s heart.”

“Wayne, I-”

“No arguin’. It was my wedding ring. Ain’t doin’ me no good now. I know it ain’t much, but it means a lot to me and I know it’ll be important to you.”

Wayne had told them both the story of his one and only love. How they’d met in high school, got married when they were 18, and enjoyed what little time they had together. She got sick young, doctors didn’t know half of what they know now, and she was gone before they could even think about finding treatment.

He wore his ring every day for the last 35 years, only taking it off if it needed polishing.

Until the day he gave it to Eddie and said, “you better ask that boy and he better say yes.”

And they did.

On the day they got married at the courthouse, Eddie wore Steve’s letterman jacket and Steve wore Eddie’s battle vest, new gold wedding ring patches displayed proudly on the front of each.

[mothwingwritings]

Save The Date

F!Reader X Jean Pierre Polnareff

Today is my birthday!!! Yaaay! To celebrate, I wrote this self-indulgent, out of left field, Polnareff-kidnaps-you-on-your-bday-and-tries-to-force-his-love-on-you story because why not? I’ve been wanting to write more Jojo and I love Polnareff’s himbo ass sooo here it is. :D I decided to go back to my roots with this one, it was therapeutic loool.

This was a bit rushed because I want to get it finished by today, but I hope you enjoy!!! Thank you for reading and for being here! Love y’all~ ( ˘ ³˘)♥

Warnings: Kidnapping, imprisonment, reader is restrained this whole fic, forced/nonconsensual touching and kissing, brief mentions of sex, delusional Polnareff, probably horrible butchering of French pet names (I am sorry any French speakers, forgive my google translate indiscretions (；´∀｀))

Everything was perfect.

From the varying balloons and streamers that dotted the room, to the bows he had placed so lovingly in your hair, Jean Pierre Polnareff had worked hard to make this presentation immaculate. It was what his baby deserved after all-it wasn’t like it was your birthday every day.

It took weeks of planning and organizing to get everything just right. He’d spent countless hours calling the best caterers and bakers in town, and spent all his down time consulting with party planners to make sure this soiree would go off without a hitch. He was even able to score the perfect dress for you from the fancy boutique down the street-the very same dress you had been casting wistful (yet furtive) glances at for quite some time. The moment the ornate frock had gone on sale he could barely conceal his excitement and ended up purchasing it right away. He was sure you would be thrilled to receive the gown as a gift, and also be touched by his intuitive nature, his knack for picking up on the things you desired.

It was just your style, and he knew as soon as you donned it you would look nothing short of gorgeous. Envisioning you in it made his heart flutter, the smile that would engulf your face as you twirl around in it, giggling in sheer delight as the fabric swirls prettily around you, was sure to be a sight for sore eyes. It was hard waiting to see the dream become a reality.

When he finally got the chance to slip it on your body, he needed a moment to compose himself before he proceeded with the rest of the party setup. He had been correct in his assumption-you looked breathtaking, exactly like a princess in your new frilly, satin, dress. He wished he could have arranged to also have someone do your hair and makeup to really complete the look, but it was too risky to chance it. As much as he would have loved for you to wake up to a complete makeover, he couldn’t trust anyone to not be suspicious of the arrangement he had currently setup for you, and he dared not muck you up with his own mediocre skills.

But at the same time it didn’t really matter that he couldn’t have a cosmetologist stop by, you always looked perfect and ethereal, dolled up or otherwise.

Everything was splayed out before you, not a single item out of place. The table was neatly set with his finest dishes and cutlery, set at the ready to be topped with the feast that he was preparing for you. Vibrant bouquets comprised of only the fullest and brightest blooms of your favorite flowers sat on each end of the table, and fragrant candles cast flickering light over the scene, exuding a very romantic aura. Dinner (one of your favorite meals) was nearly done cooking in the kitchen, and its scent had begun to enticingly fill the room. He could practically hear your stomach rumble in anticipation.

The centerpiece of it all was an elaborate cake, decadent and rich, your name and a sweet birthday message sprawled on its surface in a pretty, curving script. It was far too large for just two people to consume, but that just meant there would be more to look forward to in the future. Maybe you would want to freeze some of it to share with him again on your next birthday, like some couples do with their wedding cake. The correlation made him blush as he fixated on it, giddy as he fantasized about all that lay ahead for the two of you.

With everything assembled, all he had to do was wait. He parked himself opposite you at the table, dressed to the nines to try and match you. As impressive as his finely tailored suit was, he didn’t hold a candle to your radiance. He sighed dreamily as he took you in, his eyes roving over your peaceful face while slumber still claimed you. You had a habit of incessantly frowning or shooting him questionable glances while you were awake. Whenever you noticed that his attention was turned your way, a grimace inevitably followed. This moment of peace where he could drink you in without any backlash was bliss, and as much as he was excited for you to wake up, he couldn’t help but relish this serene alone time he was sharing with you.

No kicking and screaming, no crying, no unnecessarily hurtful words flung his way when all he’s trying to do is show you love. Right now there was just you, him, and this lovingly crafted display of his affection that he prepared just for you, the love of his life. A small mountain of presents towered behind him, waiting patiently to be picked open by your delicate fingers. Most of them were little things he had picked up for you here and there that he thought you would like, trinkets and baubles he felt exuded a very ‘you’ aura and thus needed to be brought home to you. He used to try and give them to you the moment he purchased them, but you would always turn them away, telling him that he was spending way too much money on you. Silly girl, no amount of currency could ever be a waste on you.

The gift pile was a veritable array of goodies sure to delight you, teeming with big things, small things, and one very important thing that had been weighing heavily in his pocket for the past week. He had always planned on presenting it to you on your birthday (there was no greater gift than a perfectly cut rock signifying your eternal union, after all), but carried it around with him as a good luck charm of sorts, keeping it near till the moment he could give it to you. He kept it in his breast pocket as close to his heart as he could, childishly hoping that the placement would infuse it with the immense love he felt for you, each heart beat coursing through it making it shine more dazzlingly.

Though he enjoyed carrying it around with him, the time was soon approaching for it to go to its intended home, sitting prettily on your ring finger. Musing on it made him glance down at your hands as they rested daintily on the chairs arm rest. He tried not to focus on the straps he had placed around your arms, holding you in place to prevent you from bolting the moment you woke up. You were such a jumpy, shy thing, inclined to run and hide the moment you spotted him. He knew this setting would be overwhelming for you, that you would not take all the extra attention so easily, hence why the sedation and extra restraints were needed. As much as he wanted to do a more natural approach, there was just no way to keep hold of you otherwise. It was a necessary measure, but it was one he hated nonetheless.   

Knowing you would be upset when you awoke filled him with dismay, but ultimately the drugs and confines were all just a means to an ends. After the initial shock wore off, you were certain to be pleased by all his effort.

Hesitantly, he reached out to grasp your hands, holding them gently in his own. His thumb slowly grazed your knuckles, tracing small circles over your soft skin. Were they not strapped down, he would have chanced giving your hand a kiss, his lips yearning to make contact with you in any way they could. It truly was a shame that you were so adverse to touch, for he constantly longed to handle you tenderly, treating you so lovingly you would become putty in his hands, melt at his ministrations. He could clearly picture the expressions you would make while he busied himself, running his fingers gingerly across your flesh, memorizing every inch of you in faithful reverence, kisses following where his fingers once tread.

It was his most avid desire, but he had yet to act on the fantasy. His dream would come true someday, but first you had to get used to him. Ease into your new life.

It was a torturous process, waiting for you to warm up, but he knew it would be worth it in the end. Besides, with how bashful you were he figured he would be your first time for so many things, and that was exhilarating in its own right.

Suddenly, you stirred. Polnareff perked up, his eyes darting to your face as he watched your own slowly blink open. You scrunched your face in discomfort, groaning as your head gradually rose from its lulled posture. The after effects of the heavy drugs made your movements sluggish and groggy, another small groan slipping past your lips as you rotated your shoulders in an attempt to stretch.

Your gaze eventually landed on Polnareff, his face lighting up when you didn’t immediately look away. Still heavily sedated, confusion dominated your features. At this point, you were unsure where you were, what was going on, and probably perplexed by Polnareff’s presence, maybe even so bewildered you didn’t yet fully remember who Polnareff was. A warm smile graced his lips as he watched you come to, your befuddled state too cute to resist.

“Ma chérie,” Polnareff purred, his voice drawing you further from your hazy state, “I’m glad you are finally awake. It wouldn’t do to have you sleep through your whole party now, would it?”

Disorientation was giving way to realization, a look of fear and agitation morphing your lax expression into a sharp scowl. You began to pull against your bindings, your tugs becoming sharper the moment   you felt resistance, alarm mounting when you realized how trapped you truly were. Your eyes locked onto Polnareff’s, the haze that had clouded them gone, replaced with resentful animosity. It was painful being at the end of your enmity, but he reminded himself it was to be expected. You would be filled with contentment very soon, he just had to get you there.

“Jean what the hell,” Your words came out listless and slurred. As the final dregs of the drugs wore off, you struggled to get your baring’s. “Where am I? What is all this? Did you… did you fucking drug me?”

 Panic was starting to course through you, wide blown eyes filling with tears that you tried desperately to blink back. Your breathing grew labored as you started to thrash, trying your hardest to free yourself from the man who had imprisoned you, despite your compromised state.

Concerned you would hurt yourself, Polnareff gripped your hands tightly to try and sooth you, but it only caused your struggling to grow in intensity. Noting this, he quickly relinquished his hold, instead opting to cup your cheeks in a manner he hoped you would find more reassuring. Your skin was moist from your freshly fallen tears, his thumb easily sliding across its delicate surface, trying to wipe them away as best he could. You attempted to recoil from his touch, but the restraints and his firm hold kept you in place.

“Please amoureuse calm down,” he shushed you, worry reflected in his eyes, “You’ll end up hurting yourself if you keep pulling like that-“

“Fuck off,” you seethed between clenched teeth, “Let me go NOW Polnareff, or I swear I’ll-“

He clamped a hand over your mouth, halting any further commentary. A deep frown etched itself into his face as he stared you down, patience waning at the immediate vehemence you directed his way. Today was not supposed to go this way, he expected some backlash sure, but you weren’t supposed to recover from the medicine he had given you so rapidly. It was supposed to take time, fester a bit so that you would slowly come around, giving him plenty of time to explain things to you and have you get used to the arrangement naturally.

All the extra precautions were to help you see this for what it was, a true celebration to exhibit his unwavering dedication to you, and not whatever horrific falsity you had concocted in your anxiety addled brain. He cursed himself for not giving you the larger dose as he originally intended, he was just so concerned you may sleep too deeply and miss out on your special day altogether.

“You need to be quiet now, (Name),” His voice was low, a serious edge to it that froze your thrashing, granting him your full regard, “I know you are upset and confused, it’s only natural with how you woke up, and I don’t blame you for it. But there is no need for your ire ma cherie, look around you,” he released his hold, sweeping his hand across the room to show off his handiwork, “This is all for you bella. I worked so hard to make everything perfect for you because you deserve nothing less. Each decoration, accessory, snack, present-they were all assembled lovingly with you in mind. I’ve been preparing this for months, so please don’t be-“

“I don’t want any of this,” you once more cut him off, your voice choppy as you forced it out through shaky sobs, “I never wanted any of this. How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t feel for you this way Polnareff? What you are doing is wrong, this entire ‘party’ is wrong! Please, if you really care about me at all just let me go and-“

Swiftly, he slammed his hand down on the table before you, rattling the dishes so violently it was surprising that none of them broke. Startled by the sudden upset, you lurched in your restraints, instantly shutting up out of fear. Your body quivered in distress, worried that if you said another word it would only further enrage him, and the assault next go around may not stop at just a whacked table.

“Stop it,” He annunciated each word, his eyes holding a sharpness that sent chills down your spine, “You don’t know what you are saying mon cœur, you are just blindly judging things before you even try them.” He took a shaky breath before continuing, “I have been patient, I have been kind, I have given you nothing but love, yet you constantly keep me at arm’s length, turning away from me in disgust even though I worship the ground you walk on. Please for one minute stop being so damn ungrateful and just be satisfied with all the hard work I have put in to meeting your lofty, unreasonable standards, or else you may actually have something to cry about.”

Tears continued to pour down your cheeks as your panic-stricken eyes drank him in. Your bottom lip quivered, sniffles punctuating your breathing, but you didn’t speak another word. He felt momentarily guilty for going off on you (on your birthday, no less), but seeing the success his rare instance of harshness awarded him quickly overshadowed any negativity he felt, instead washing him in a feeling of victory.

Now that he got his point across, hopefully you could proceed as planned and things would be smooth sailing from here on out.

In the other room the oven started to noisily beep, signaling that dinner was ready to be served. He rose to his feet, hovering over you before making his way towards the kitchen.

“Ah, perfect timing,” he forced a smile, doing his best to hide the hurt your brusque behavior had inflicted upon him. He squared his shoulders, composing himself before continuing. “Here is how the night will progress, amour. I will prepare our meals and then we will enjoy them peacefully in each other’s company. Once we are done, we can dig into this cake I ordered especially for you from the gourmet bakery down the street, the one that’s so popular it has a wait list.”

He sighed dejectedly, hanging his head in defeat before continuing, “You may not care, but I think it’s important that you take into consideration just how much of myself I poured into this celebration before you make another snide, thoughtless remark.”

His eyes flicked down to the cake, a brief look of sadness wavering within them before he directed his attention back your way. “It’s lovely though, isn’t it? I am sure it will taste just as good. Don’t worry, if you haven’t calmed yourself in time to be let loose I will gladly feed you chérie. Even when you are being particularly… bratty, I would not want you to miss out on such a delicacy. Then, once our bellies are full you can start unwrapping this mound of presents behind me, and we will just pray that it doesn’t take us through the entire night.”

He chuckled, his demeanor beginning to soften as he spoke, appreciative of the obedience you were displaying and the lack of unwarranted commentary as he got through the itinerary for the night. “Finally, we will end the party with a gift that has been a long time coming, one that is a truly significant mark of our eternal bond. I know you will love it ma chérie, just as much as I will.”

He saw a shiver course through you at his words, a small, sad whimper tumbling from your lips as your shoulders sagged. The gravity of his allusion bore down on your small frame, shrinking you down in a poor attempt at hiding from your inescapable fate. He tutted when he saw your attitude shift, his hand again finding your cheek to give it a gentle stroke. This time, you didn’t flinch away. 

“I know this is a lot to take in ma beauté and I am sorry it frightened you at first,” he leaned down, planting a lingering kiss to your forehead before proceeding, “But you will come around very soon, I know you will. You are my sweet girl, and after you experience what a great time we are about to have you will be so overcome with joy that you will barely be able to stand it. In fact, you may already feel a little silly for giving me such a hard time, am I right?”

Suddenly, his expression turned bashful. A rosy hue illuminated his cheeks as he started to fidget uncomfortably, a slightly embarrassed looking smile gracing his lips. Your body turned cold as his hand slid from your cheek to your shoulder, idly toying with the thin strap of your dress. His roving eyes fell to your chest, a hungry look flashing through them before they found their way back to your gaze.

“And then, after you have finished going through all your gifts, to thank me for what a gracious lover I have been maybe… maybe I can unwrap something too?”

You shudder at his insinuation, a look of pure dread donning your features.

“Polnareff,” you choked out, strained words struggling to form one final, soft plea, “please.”

Before you could utter another word, his mouth aggressively claimed your own. He pressed hard against you, as if to engrain the scorching feeling of his lips on to your flesh. You whined, squirming against him until he pulled away, staring at you with longing, love struck eyes.

“Happy birthday, ma chérie. Let’s make this one to remember.”

[fernandezology]

hi i was wondering if you could do gavi fluff where after he scores his first goal of the season or something and the reader starts crying with how she proud of him she is and it’s all fluffy SHDHFHB x

this one is for you-pablo gavi

pairing: pablo gavi x reader

author’s note:i changed it a bit and this one is about his first goal for barcelona,i hope you don’t mind! thank you so much for requesting this,it’s such a cute idea and i hope you will like this as much as i liked writing this :)

word count: 1,000

what is a life without dream? when growing up,everyone looked up to someone as an inspiration. some wanted to be doctors,firefighters,some want to be pilots and be as close as possible to clouds. some literally wanna reach the stars and fly-so they go on to become astronauts. although pablo didn’t wanted to be astronaut or pilot,everyone around him from young age knew sky was his limit. pablo’s dream since he can remember was to play for barcelona under lights of one and only camp nou. dream of million little boys all around the world is about to become a reality for your boy. one of dates he will remember forever is 29th august 2021,when he made his first appearance for barcelona. when you told him he made the history,it wasn’t an exaggeration. just 24 days after his 17th birthday,he became the fourth youngest player to appear for barcelona in la liga. you will never remember how happy he looked when he stepped on that pitch. before the game,he said something that you wrote down when he gets a documentary one day.

“tonight i’m gonna leave my heart on the pitch for every little boy that is dreaming of doing the same. and more importantly,for every girl that believes in them.”

it is safe to say that he fulfilled his promise and you didn’t miss out on a single game ever since then. he was the happiest kid in the world. a thousand things went through his head and he had to admit that he felt bit nervous before. nonetheless,as soon as he stepped on the pitch nerves disappeared when he remembered you were watching him from the stands,as you always did. looking back on it,it was not that long ago when you were still kids. to be fair,pablo is still like a kid but that’s one of the many things you love about him. that is one of things that will never change. not that long ago he broke your window with ball when he was playing on street. even though your dad jokes with him that he still didn’t forgive him for that,everyone knows he loves him like his own son.

a few months went by,but pablo felt like he disappointed you and everyone else around him because he struggled to score. everyone backed him up;from coaches,parents,friend and,of course,teammates in the locker room. his disappointment in himself didn’t go unnoticed by you.after all you knew him better than yourself. everyone noticed his head was down and he wasn’t his usual self. he was undeniably charismatic and light up every room he walked in. naturally,everyone were determined to lift him up just like he did them anytime they needed it.

“your time will come,just be patient and don’t lose your mind over it. i know you wanna prove yourself,but you already exceeded everyone’s expectations and this is only the start.”

“what if i don’t live up to expectations and end up being…average?”

“last time i checked average players don’t start for barcelona at 17 years old and don’t get called golden boy.”

“you are just saying that to make me feel better but thank you.”

“you are adorable when you pout,but seriously don’t be so harsh on yourself.”

“you’re right,enough of pouting…for now. i was thinking,what celebration i should do when i finally score? it’s probably not gonna be today buy yeah…”

“hmm i don’t know,maybe kiss the badge? you always liked to do that.”

“yeah,i might do that one.”

“you know i will always be there and i can’t wait to see that,but don’t stress yourself over it.”

“i love you so much,princesa. are you ready,i don’t want to be late,xavi will kill me.”

“yeah,i’m coming. don’t want you to get in trouble,do we?”

it was hard to point out what exactly gave the impression that tonight would be special,but you just had that feeling. after you found your seat at camp nou before their game against elche,you were soaking up the atmosphere and thinking to yourself that people that have never been at this magical stadium don’t know what are they missing out on. these last few weeks you developed a habit of taking pictures of kids who had pablo’s jersey to show him after games. it still felt so unreal and he couldn’t help but blush everytime you showed him pictures. it reminded him of how proudly wore his iniesta jersey he got for birthday. fast foward to today,now someone is wearing jersey with his name on back. crazy how things can turn around.

you were confident that barcelona will win but in football,anything is possible like pablo always reminded you so you didn’t want to underestimate opponents. first 15 minutes went by quickly and everyone felt more relieved when barcelona scored the opening goal. you were so focused on pablo because you didn’t want to miss anything and truthfully because he was mesmerizing as always. you wanted to take countless photos,but it felt pointless to record during whole match when you can enjoy the moment. thankfully you don’t have to worry about photos because there are tens of photographers on the sideline and you mentally thanked them for their service. few minutes later,you saw him slaloming through their midfield. could this be the moment he was waiting for? it was. for a moment,it felt like the world stopped spinning and the only thing you could hear is announcer screaming his name. you rarely cried,but when you did they were tears of joy. he instinctively kissed the badge and unlike some who do it out of lust,he did it to show undying loyalty to club and fans. to show his loyalty and gratitude for you,he wrote you a message with black marker under his jersey. he revealed “este es para ti princesa<3” and all you could’ve think about is how lucky you were that he was the one that broke windows of your castle. maybe your childhood dreams of being a princess weren’t far-fetched after all. fairytale days were supposed to be over long time ago,yet it didn’t feel like they are ending anytime soon.

[simslegacy5083]

Today's (11/11/2024) Episode: Prank Day Fun

Just because Luigi was a big-time star with a tile on the walk of fame, that didn’t mean he couldn’t relax and have some simple fun from time to time.

Prank Day was the perfect excuse to do just that, and the entire household woke up excited to celebrate with each other and with their friends later that day at a potluck Beau and Breanne were hosting.

His old friend was celebrating ending Bruce’s grounding early for “good behavior”, a gesture that seemed to be tempting fate on this particular holiday. Still, Skye was clearly looking forward to seeing his friend again, so Luigi kept his concerns to himself and hoped that the older boy really had reformed.

Luigi scored the first prank of the day “Hey son, looks like you got a little something on your shirt there” he said, coming up to Skye in the hallway on their way to breakfast “let me help you with that.”

“Where?” Skye asked, looking down and leaving himself wide open for his father’s gentle smack on the chin “gotcha!”

“Good one dad. Now, what’s for breakfast?”

Skye’s plans for food were interrupted when he saw his favorite neighbor standing on their doorstep. “Elyse!” he cried.

“Hold on…” Luigi whispered, grabbing his arm “Remember what day it is. Why don’t you sneak out the back and go around past Roach’s stable? I’ll get her facing the other direction and you can give her a good scare.”

“OK!” Skye replied, running off as Luigi distracted their guest, “Just a second dear, I need to take some food off the stove.” This had the benefit of being true, and he had ladled out a couple bowls of stew by the time a high-pitched scream told him that his son’s prank was a winner.

“I saw what you’ve been up to this morning mister” Noemi said as Luigi passed her a bowl “Don’t even think about trying that amateur stuff with me, I got straight As in my mischief classes back at Foxbury!”

“Well…” he grinned “I recall a certain “mistress of mischief” flubbing her tricks quite badly at the last Humor and Hijinks festival.”

“No Fair!” she protested “I had just found out I was pregnant, and we were being bombarded by a legion of your great grandfather’s fans!”

“Sure, sure” he smiled “well, if I can’t trick you, how about we team up on our coworkers? I was planning to do a little work on the expansion pack this morning anyway; if you can whip up some creative scripts to prank our crew, I’ll drop them quietly into the workload where they least expect it!”

Collaborative hacking and actual work kept Luigi busy until afternoon. Finally wrapping up, he found Elyse still chatting with Skye “…and to this day he roams the streets at night, drinking the plasma of unsuspecting sims to stay forever young!” she said. “I heard he even feasted on his own human daughter once.”

“That last part is true at least” Luigi told them “My papa read me Great Grandma Willow’s first hand account of the founding of our branch of the family. He was quite interested in Grandpa Steven’s stories about the early years. Now, how about you two help me cook up something for the potluck?”

“I can’t wait until I’m a teen and can cook meals at the real stove” Skye said as they mixed and chopped.

“Well YOU might be ready to be all grown up” Luigi replied “but I’m enjoying the remaining time that my little helper is actually littler than me and not fighting me for counter space.”

“I can’t wait for you to come to Copperdale” Elyse told him “you just have to join the school newspaper with me; they’ll love your pictures! I write “Spirit of the Night”, it’s a poetry column. Really deep, soulful stuff, but it would be even better with some of your photographs to set the mood.”

“Can I read some sometime?” Skye, who’d never shown any interest in poetry before, asked excitedly.

“Sure – I’ll send you a link to the school website.” Elyse ducked her head, suddenly shy “I hope you like it… ouch!” she jumped, cradling her hand and the suddenly stinging finger she’d sliced open while distracted worrying about what her young friend would think of her writing.

“Let me get you a band-aid” Luigi told her …and here I thought it was Prank Day, not Love Day… he mused silently, hiding his smirk. Fortunately, his young helpers finished the meal prep without further mishap, and they all shortly headed down the beach to Beau’s party.

View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here

[andydrysdalerogers]

Cross-Checked - Chapter 2

Andy Barber x OFC Leighton "Leia" Andrews

Summary:

Andy Barber is having the best year of his life. His game is on point. It’s gets to play with his best friend and his fiancé just... dumped him?!. 

Reeling from a sudden change in status, Andy decides it’s time to just focus on hockey. Until his best friend's sister comes out with news that rock the entire organizations world., 

Andy has always carried a torch for the untouchable Leighton but in her hour of need, is now the time to shoot and score or risk getting cross - checked again? 

Warnings: Cheating (but not by the MCs); slow burn; friends to lovers eventually; SMUT!; pregnancy; jealousy; handsome goalies, evil exes...

A/N: The tag list is open!

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

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Previous: Its Supposed to Be My Year

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 2 - it's That Last Step – Leighton

All I want to do is get home, take off my bra, FaceTime with Bret and relax.   

I have been in meeting after meeting this week trying to complete the launch of my business “Social Butterfly Promotions.” It has been my dream for years to have my own PR firm, but I made it unique by having it social media specific. It’s amazing how many celebrities and athletes have a presence but can’t compose a tweet to save their career. I’ve been handling Luke and Andy’s social media for a couple of years now and when one of their teammates asked if I would mind handling theirs, the rest was history. The Bruins loved how I handled the PR for their athletes and offered me the position of social media director. It was the dream 

But this has to be the most dramatic week of my life and I wasn’t the one who got screwed over. As I unlock my door, I think back on the last week. I had helped Andy with the packing up of Fiona’s shit from his town home while also helping him decide what stuff he wanted to take to the new house and what he would throw out. 

It was like a weird cathartic exercise. He got rid of his couch and bed, commenting on how there were too many memories. He took all the pictures frames that held the pictures them of through the years, took the pictures out and sent the frames to Fiona.  

He burned the pictures. 

There may have been tequila involved with that decision. 

But today it was Friday, and I was excited. My boyfriend of two years was coming home tomorrow from a business trip and all I wanted was to have him hold me. I was feeling extra clingy today. Probably because I was getting ready to start my cycle. As I pulled into my drive way of the home I shared with Bret, I noticed that his car was already there. I was thrilled; he came home early for me. 

“Baby? I’m home!” I yelled as I walked through the door of our home. 

“Hey sweetheart.” Bret came out of our bedroom but didn’t come up to kiss me. Odd. 

“You’re home early. Is everything ok? The trip go okay? I know you were worried about that.” I smiled hoping that it would ease the tension I was feeling in the room. 

“Trip was fine. Got some big news.” He moved to the living room. I sat next to him, and he took my hand. “You know that promotion I was working for?” 

I nodded. “You were excited to go for the possibility to be the director of the district. Did you get it?” 

“I did.” He smiled but it looked tight. 

“On my god baby congratulations!” I moved to hug him, but he pulled away before I could wrap my arms around him. 

“Lee, the job is in Tokyo.” 

My world stopped spinning and it was getting harder to breathe. “Tokyo. The job is in Tokyo?” 

“Crazy right? And it's not to be the director. They want me to be vice president of the entire division. I will be moving there in two weeks.” 

I sat back, unconsciously moving away from him. “You’ve leaving? You took the promotion without me? Talking without discussing this major life change?” 

“I’m talking to you about it now. Honey, I want you to come with me.” 

Now I’m really losing it. “You want me to move when I just landed my dream job with the Bruins?” The job with the Bruins was something I had been working on for the last couple years. “What about my mom and my brother? can’t just walk away.” 

Bret gave me a condescending smile, like he was patronizing me. “Lee, I could take care of you. You won’t need that silly job with the Bruins.” 

Silly job? Is that what he really thought of the work i was doing?  Without the job, what was i supposed to do? I had to ask, even though i think i know the answer and I know I’m not going to like it.  “What am I supposed to do in Tokyo?” 

“Be a house wife. Take care of the and our future kids just like we talked about.” He said it so matter-of-factly that I was positive he assumed I would just fall over and say yes. But I wouldn’t go down without a fight.  

“Yeah, but we said we would do that in a few years. I wanted to get my social media business off the ground. We had talked about this.” 

Bret did an exacerbated sight. “Look Lee…” 

“Stop calling me that!” I hate that nickname now. Why would he think that I would want to give up my dream for his? “Did you even care about my dreams?” 

“Be realist Leighton,” he said sharply, “starting your own company is hard work and frankly, social media is dying out. It wouldn’t have been successful anyways.” 

That one stung. I worked hard to hold back the tears. “Wow, I guess I really am stupid.” I stood up and made my way back to the door.  

I think Bret sensed that something was not right. “You’re not stupid.” 

“Oh yes I am. Because I stayed with a pompous unsupported asshole like you.” I grabbed my bag and opened the door. “I’ll be back to get my stuff. But just so you know we’re through.” 

He grabbed my arm to stop me, gripping me, pulling me closer to him. “Leighton, come on, be reasonable. I can take care of you. We’ll get married…” 

I broke his hold on me and raised my hand to stop him from advancing. “Whoa that’s how you want to propose?” 

He threw out his arms in frustration. “Why do we need to make a big deal about it?” 

Yeah. I was done. “Goodbye Bret.” I slammed the door and went back to my car. Once I was in, I had no idea where to go. I couldn’t go to my mother's. She loved Bret and would try to convince me to stay with him. I couldn’t go to my brother's because he would just want to murder Bret. That left one option. 

I drove across town and knocked on the one door that would hold a supportive friend. 

“Leia? Are you ok, Princess?” Andy opened the door. My brave face crumples and i began to sob. He didn’t hesitate and pulled me into his arms. 

“Bret is leaving for Tokyo, and he said some awful things and I broke it off and now I have nowhere to go, “I explained between sobs. 

“Okay, okay let it out. Honestly Leia, I only got like every third word so come on in and we’ll have a drink and unpack all of this, ok?” He guided me into his home. 

I knew this was the right place to fall. 

After I was able to calm down, I was able to explain to Andy what had happened with Bret. “Now I need to find a place to live.” 

Andy looked puzzled. “I thought you owned that house with him?” 

I shook my head. “No, I moved into that house. He already owned it.” I wiped at my eyes and see streaks of black on my fingers. Great, i forgot about the mascara and now i look like a racoon in front of Andy fucking Barber. Soldier on, Leighton.  “I don’t know what I’m going to do, Andy. I can’t go to my mother’s. We will kill each other>” 

Andy chuckled, cheeky bastard. “No, you can’t. What about Luke?” 

“And have him either complain about cramping his style, or try to find him a good lawyer when he commits murder? No thanks.” I covered my face. “This sucks. I thought we were in a good place and understood each other, I thought he under stood my dreams and now I have to pack up my stuff, and a cheap apartment and be on my own.” I flop dramatically on the couch and cover my face with a pillow.. 

Andy looked at me for a few seconds with his captains face on. “I might have a solution for you Leia.” 

“A Time Machine so I don’t make this mistake?” I reply with a muffled voice.  

Andy laughs and lifts the pillow off to look at me. “No, crazy girl. Creative but not an option. I was going to say, why don’t you come live with me?” 

I bolted up. “What?” 

“I have this big house and I’m really not excited to live here by myself. You would be on the road with me, and we would be able to take care of each other. It's perfect Leia.” 

“Don’t you want to, I don’t know, sleep around now that you’re single?” 

He laughed again. “I think I need a break from women. Besides, I have an idea of what kind of partner I want.” He drained his beer. “What do you say Leia? Stay with your best friend and we can heal together?” Then he hit me with puppy eyes. Those big blues look hopeful and goddammit, I sigh. 

“Will I get my own bathroom?” I smiled at him, and he lifted me up and spun me around. 

“This is gonna be great.”  

** Two weeks later… ** 

I was unloading a box from the moving truck when I heard a car door slam. I looked around the truck and saw the devil incarnate. 

“What are you doing here Fiona?” 

Fiona pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head, her long blonde hair perfectly styled and makeup immaculate, accentuating her hazel eyes. Ugh, she’s beautiful and I hate her. “I need to speak to Andy.” She looks at my boxes.  “What are you doing?” 

“Moving in.” I turned my back to the she-devil. “Andy! Lucifer's mistress is here!” 

“Nice,” she sneered with a roll of her eyes. Andy came out with a scowl when he saw Fiona. I scooted into the house but found a spot where I could listen and watch. Yes, I’m nosy, whatever. 

He crossed his arms to stand in front of her. “What are you doing here Fiona?” 

She pouted a little. Bitch. “I wanted to talk to you Andy.”  

“I have nothing to say to you. You can leave now.” Andy turned to walk away. 

“After three years and that’s how we’re going to end it?” 

Andy stopped in his tracks. He turned around slowly. “How I’m ending it? Really?” She started to back pedal, but Andy stopped her. “You really have to be either be high on something or just that delusional. I wasn’t the one who slept with her fiancé's best friend. I wasn’t the one who had an affair for over a year with said former best friend.” 

“You were always busy Andy! Always at practice or meeting with management. And that’s on top of you always being on the road.” She stomped her feet, like a petulant child. It took everything not to cackle about her attitude.  

“You’re blaming me for your shitty actions? That’s rich. I was working my ass off to get a new and better contract so I could get US this house and pay for YOUR dream wedding. Fuck you, Fiona. Go back to Craig. Lord knows I don’t ever want to see your face again. I mean it took you two weeks to even confront me for the total embarrassment I suffered from your actions.” 

Her face morphed into one of disdain. “I thought we could discuss this as adults.” 

“You thought wrong sweetheart. Get off my property and never come back.” 

Fiona turned away to get back into her car before she stopped and turned around. “I always knew you wanted her, and you didn’t waste any time moving her in and taking my place.” 

“I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about. She broke up with her boyfriend and needed a place to stay. She’s my best friend, we take care of each other.  I know you don’t know the concept of loyalty but that’s what best friends do. Now with all offense, get the fuck away from me and go back to the hole you came from.” 

I had been standing just inside the doorway and I jumped when Andy slammed the door. “Satan’s mistress leave?” 

“Yep. Fuck that felt good.” Andy grabbed a beer and took a long pull. “She has some balls.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “Never been so happy to start a season before. Can get out of town and forget all about her.” He opened his eyes and smiled at me. “Get to travel with my favorite human.” He nudges me and it takes everything not to swoon. 

I should probably mention that I have had the teeniest, itty-bitty crush on my brother's best friend. Andy defined what a real man should be. The way he moves on the ice, how he holds himself to be a gentleman, it would make women swoon and want to be in his bed. 

Present company included.  

But Andy has never looked at me as more than his best friend's little sister and there in lies the problem.  I don’t stand a chance when there are women like Fiona chasing after the captain. So, my dream of a relationship with Andy stays right where they are – in my dreams. 

“I’m going to tell Luke you said that.” 

“He snores so he is well aware who is my favorite is.” 

Andy helps me with the rest of my stuff, and I try to organize as best I can while I wait for my new furniture to be delivered. I stopped and lay down in my new room. I’ve always been a believer of everything is meant to be. 

Maybe this new start is exactly what I need, and Andy can help. 

Two broken hearts.  

One house 

One season. 

What could possibly go wrong? 

NEXT

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[msanimedolphin]

~Back In The Game~

~Chapter Twenty-Eight~

-Series Masterlist-

What happens when a girl who loves volleyball joins a boys' volleyball club? Does she find love? Will she relive her past or move forward? Join (L/N) (Y/N) on a journey with fun twists and turns.

I don't own Haikyuu or any of the characters.

-Last Time-

“We’re ready to play!!” The two exclaim together.

“...” Ukai watches as Hinata and Kageyama regroup with their teammates. “Sensei.” He says getting Takeda’s attention. “Those two.”

“Hm? Do you mean Hinata and Kageyama?”

“Yeah. They from the same middle school? Wait, it has to be earlier. The same elementary school then?”

“Oh no. They met at the beginning of this very semester. At first they didn’t hit it off at all. In fact, I hear it was pretty rough…? Ukai-kun?”

“...Now that was cold.”

“Huh?...?”

-Small Timeskip- [Score: Municipal Team-20, Karasuno-18]

“Heh! Not bad, kids. Not bad!” Shimada says as one of his teammates tells him it’s his serve. Shimada uses a jump float serve. The ball is heading toward Hinata. He gets ready to receive the ball but at the last second, it swerves in a different direction. Hinata dives for the ball but ends up face-planting onto the floor.

“Bwah Ha Ha! Check that out!” Shimada laughs.

“Someone sure is being mature.” Takinoue comments sarcastically

“Hmmm? What was that?” Takeda asks. “It didn’t seem like a particularly powerful serve from here, but…”

“It’s called a Jump Float serve.” Ukai interrupts with the answer. “You can do one without the jump, just from a standing position. The point is to hit the ball so it has no spin. That way when it’s in the air it’ll wobble erratically, curving or dipping unpredictably.”

“Oh! So it’s like a knuckleball in baseball! Interesting!”

“You can do it in soccer too. They even still call it a knuckleball, though they don’t use their hands. By the way, depending on the ball used in the game, it’ll move differently. The one we’re using today is a type that won’t swerve much…”

“Wait! Wait! Let me write this down!” Takeda says scrambling for something to take notes with.

“Do it again, Shimada!” One of the players encourages as said man serves again. Tanaka tries to receive it but fails due to the ball wobbling. This continues.

“That’s four in a row.” Ukai comments.

‘Gee, thanks, coach.’ You think sarcastically.

“That rookie pair might have a mean quick set, but everybody’s receiving sucks.” Ukai continues. “Especially the rookies.” The whistle is blown indicating that it’s the Municipal Team’s match point.

“Time to wrap this up!” Shimada declares as he serves once again. The ball flies toward Daichi, who receives it and passes it to Kageyama. The setter compliments his captain with a ‘Nice pass.’ Hinata runs to the net and jumps.

“You won’t get past us this time, shorty!” Takinoue exclaims as Ashai, another teammate, and he jump to block Hinata. Kageyama sets the ball to Tanaka, who is in the air on the other side of the net.

“Oops!” Asahi says as he follows the ball with his eyes.

“Gah!!” Takinoue looks at Tanaka.

“Hi there!!” Tanaka says. “Didja miss me?!” He asks as he spikes the ball, completely unmarked. Noya receives the ball, sending it to Suga as he gets praised.

“Suga!” Asahi calls for the ball. Suga smiles and calls to Ashai as he sets the ball to him. Hinata rushes to Asahi and jumps to block him. Asahi spikes the ball with so much force that when it hits Hinata’s hand he flinches. You wince and watch as the ball hits the floor earning the Municipal Team a point. This point secures them the second set win, in turn, it secures them the game. As the Municipal Team celebrates, Tanaka goes to Hinata.

“AAAUGH!! Hinata, I’m sorry, bro! I was totally free and clear on that hit too!” He says, hitting his forehead.

“N-No, that’s okay.” Hinata replies.

“Still, that was pretty awesome. You had them completely hooked! I’m almost kinda jealous. Couldn’t at least one of them mark me? I felt left out!” Tanaka then lowers his voice. “I’ll be counting on you next time too, bruh!”

“!! Y-Yes, sir!”

You walk over to the two.

“Hey, guys!” You say as they look at you and smile.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Hinata greets happily.

“You guys did amazing! Hinata, that last rally was great. The way you pulled their attention was fantastic!” This causes the boy to blush. “And Tanaka, that spike was amazing and powerful!” Tanaka freezes before falling to his knees and crying about how their Angel praised him. “Oh! Hinata. Are your hands okay?” You ask, grabbing his hands to look at them. Hinata’s blush increases massively. “Ashai’s spike was really strong and I noticed you wince so I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“Y-Yeah. I-I’m okay.” Hinata assures flustered. You inspect his hands for a second longer before letting them go. Hinata is slightly disappointed, even though he was extremely flustered, he likes the feeling of your hands touching his.

“What about me, Angel?” Tanaka whines holding his hands toward you. You look at his hands and tell him he looks okay. “She said I look okay!” He celebrates. ‘Okay…’ You think. You look over to the Municipal Team and begin speaking.

“Alright guys, I’m going to go congratulate the others. See ya!” You wave, walking to the other team.

“Bye!” Hinata says as Tanaka is still freaking out.

“Excuse me.” You say walking to the original members of the Municipal Team, since they separated from the high schoolers. They stop to look at you.

“Yes?” Shimada replies.

“I wanted to congratulate you guys on your win. You all played amazingly.”

“Thank you…” Takinoue begins.

“Ah! I’m sorry! My name is (L/N) (Y/N).” You say bowing embarrassed.

“Nice to meet you, (L/N)-chan. I’m Takinoue Yusuke.”

“Nice to meet you too Takinoue Senpai.” You look at the other men waiting for them to introduce themselves.

“I’m Uchizawa Hidenori.”

“Mori Yukinari.” He says pointing to himself.

“And I’m Shimada Makoto.”

“It’s nice to meet you Uchizawa Senpai, Mori Senpai, Shimada Senpai.” You say looking at each man. “Shimada Senpai, your jump float serves were amazing!”

“Thank you, (L/N)-chan.”

“Please, (Y/N) is fine.” You smile at the four. Ashai, Suga, and Noya are talking which catches your attention. The four notices. You turn back to them. “If you’ll excuse me.” You bow. “It was nice meeting you Senpais. Congratulations again!” You say walking to your teammates.

“Suga! Asahi! Noya!” You get their attention.

“Hey, (Y/N).” Suga greets happily.

“Hey, (Y/N).” Asahi greets.

“Hey, Angel!” Noya says.

“Congratulations you guys! You all did amazing!”

“Thank you!” They all say.

“Suga, your setting was spot on! And Ashai, great spikes! Especially the last one! And Noya, your receives were phenomenal. That last one was just…wow!” They all blush and thank you. “I’m really proud of you three.” This shocks them. “I know I haven’t known you guys for very long and I may not know the full story, and may never, but seeing you three play together was heartwarming. Sure, at first it was a bit rocky and awkward but after you called for the ball that first time…” You look at Ashai. “...everything seemed to fall right back in place.” All three of them look at you in shock. “You guys looked so happy playing together after that. I can’t wait to see all of you guys play together. It’s going to be…I don’t know the right words but I can’t wait!” They stare at you, lost for words. You look between the three, and suddenly feeling embarrassed, you speak. “Well, I’m going to go talk to the others. See ya!” You walk away with a slight blush.

‘Wow…’ They think simultaneously while blushing. ‘She’s too sweet…’

-A Few Minutes Later-

“Man! I don’t get half of what happened, but ain’t the glory days of high school great?” Shimada says to Mori. “Call for the ball, Ace,” and all that. Oh, to be that young again!”

“Yeah, yeah! “As long as you’ve got me, you’re the greatest.” I wish I coulda said that in high school.” You look over to see Kageyama and Noya blushing. This causes you to giggle, only making it worse.

“You bet! You kids sure made us old farts feel extra old tonight!” Takinoue exclaims happily.

“Um, w-we’re sorry.” Suga apologizes.

“Naaah, it’s okay. There’s still a rawness to you guys…but once you all start working together, I wouldn't be surprised if you go places.” A huge smile spreads across your face.

“Thank you so much!” Everyone says at once.

“No prob.” Takinoue replies as the four men leave the gym.

“Right. First and foremost…receiving.” Ukai says addressing everyone.

~To Be Continued~

[gthiah-if]

Already 1 month since the release :^)

Just pretend I posted this on the 16th and not 3 days later Ignore me as I have a mental breakdown over how quickly time passes and enjoy some quick pov drabbles I wrote to celebrate the occasion ~

Spicy green bell peppers and mushroom

You remove the note from hot pizza box, it reads “make it spicy enough to kill a fire giant” and you smirk to yourself. You did say that when you made the order, knowing the person on the other end of the phone had to write it down tickles you. Not particularly hopeful this will be spicy enough for you, it never is, you open it and set it on the table in front of you. There’s no one else sitting by you, there never is, you look around.

The arcade’s busy enough as usual, you’re tucked at a table in the back, next to the cabinet they haven’t fixed. Spending hours beating your own high scores is fun enough, your name’s the only one on the top 5 leaderboards. Lost in thoughts, you chew on your not-spicy-enough vegetarian pizza : what’s missing ? Why does something feel off? Of course, it’s the same as usual.

You’re surrounded by people, all here for the same reasons but so few of them are alone – but you always are. They come in groups, friends egging each others on trying to beat their high scores. There’s laughter and cheers amidst the virtual sound effects and the sound of buttons being pressed and then there’s you.

Your silence, your loneliness : you’re the best - of course you are -, you like being alone – of course you do -, you never bother with people – why would you ? You don’t need anyone. Why can’t you share it with someone? Stop making excuses, there are people all around enjoying the same thing as you, you could be laughing along instead of eating alone. Your eyes sting beneath your yellow tinted glasses. The pizza’s spicier than you thought – sure, that’s what it is.

Shrimp & pineapple

Most of your baseball teammates are sitting around the bench area next to the field. Coach said we should celebrate today’s victory since we’d “shown this idiot Greg” that we were a better team than his. You don’t know why there’s so much tension between the two coaches but it’s always funny to watch Coach go on rants.

Pizza boxes are passed around, there’s one for you too – it’s easy to know which one it is when you hear half your teammates groan and laugh. You never understood why people made such a big deal of your toppings of choice, seafood and fruits were a good combo and it reminded you of your Dad. Ah… There it is. It never takes long these days to reminisce on the past.

You smile good-naturedly as number 5 jokes about how your taste in food must give you the skills that make you the best player in the team. No one pays you in any mind as they keep laughing and eating. You always wonder what your place is. You’re the ace of the team but are you their friend ? You’re Coach’s pride and joy but would he care the same if you weren’t as good ? Would they still talk to you if you didn’t play baseball at all or is that all you’re good for? Would you be a “good for nothing, just like your father” if you stopped doing what everyone else wants you to do? There’s never any room for you, not just because of your towering height, you can never exist. It’s never enough, it’s never right – “why are you wearing that?”, “what else can you do anyways?”, “stick to what you already know, you don’t need to be different, you just need to be the best”. But you don’t want that…

It doesn’t matter, you do what you have to do not what you want to do. But Dad was happier doing what he wanted… You’d better not end up like him. You look up. The late-afternoon’s sky is clear, you see a plane passing by, leaving a white trail behind it – you smile. Maybe one day you’ll find your own place, even if you have to leave your mark on an untainted expanse – so you can exist as who you want to be.

Ground beef and extra extra onions

Another all-nighter. Despite how ahead you try to be on the program and the homework, you always find yourself spending entire nights on your essays. Is it your fault you want to make sure you know as much as you can ? Is it your fault you keep restarting from another angle because none of your previous 5 drafts were satisfying enough?

You’d gone downstairs to pick up the pizza some ten minutes ago but you’d yet to have opened it, too frustrated with yourself to eat. You blankly look at the lava lamp on your desk; if she were here, she’d have eaten half the pizza by now. You snort despite yourself – why are you thinking about her now? No. You always think about her, every day, every morning when you open your eyes and you want to scream “why her?”. You could have saved her, she could still be here, YOU SHOULD HAVE DONE MORE.

A small knock on the door, so soft you wouldn’t have heard it if it weren’t for how quiet the room is. There’s only one person it could be : his curly mop of hair pokes out the door, his head is barely at the same level as the handle. Despite how bitter the words in your throat are, you always smile for him. You can’t fail him like you did her, you pick up the box and lower it so he can pick up a slice. “Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” “I was hungry” You almost laugh out loud, of course he’s hungry, tonight’s dinner was green beans and fish – everything he hates. Not like you didn’t know he would be hungry and would come into your room – that’s why you ordered the pizza in the first place, not for yourself.

The guilt and disgust cling to your insides so hard you couldn’t eat even if you wanted to. She’d have loved to have a brother. You have to do better. For him and for her. What good are you if you can’t protect anyone? If you sink so far down you can’t pull yourself backup? No one else will do what you can do, no one else can do what you’ll accomplish – no more failures, you couldn’t bear it.

Goat cheese & honey

This is the first time you order a pizza. You think it might have been obvious enough to the person behind the counter considering the confused look they gave you as you yourself were confused as to how this kind of interaction works.

You sigh and bury your head in your fluffy scarf. Sat at the back of the pizza parlour, you didn’t want to look at the worker again, too embarrassed and ashamed after that fumbling and stuttering display. You would have never stepped foot in a public place if you could have avoided it but you were starving and you’d had to get out of the way off the sidewalk after a man told you he was “walkin’ here!”. In your panic to not be yelled at, you’d barged into the maroon parlour with black and white tiles and felt too mortified to walk back out. Luckily the sweet smell in front of you helped distract you somewhat and you carefully picked a slice.

The warm honey felt comforting and nostalgic. Nagyi would always make you warm milk with honey when you were young, when you were too scared to tell her about the person in the woods or the pretty teacup you’d broken. You missed her, you were so far from home now.

But even home felt wrong.

Or maybe you’re the problem. That sounds like you, always the problem, why are you even here, what’s wrong with you? Not again. You look to the window to block out your thoughts, it feels like everyone passing by is staring at you – what do they see? What’s wrong with you? Why can’t you be like everyone else? Why are you always scared? The same face from the woods looks at you from the alleyway.

Pepperoni

It's late at night, so late it might as well be morning. You're aimlessly wandering around the streets with a couple of other people from the skatepark. Board in one hand and pizza in the other, you're not really there. You hear them laugh, you can't focus on what they're saying.

But you know they won't notice or if they do, they'll think it's just you being your nonchalant self - when really, the stuff going on in your head is anything but. You can usually block it all out - the worries, the anxiety, the doubts - but sometimes, it gets to you. One of the few times you wish you weren't straight edge, one of the few times you wish you could get fucked up and forget.

But then you'd end up like your mother, wouldn't you? You sound enough like her when you get mad, you don't need to drinking problem to add to it.

The greasiness in your mouth feels sickening and the pit in your stomach threatens to swallow you whole. You hate feeling like this. Unsatisfied, like something is missing and you have too many options to choose from to know exactly which one of your fuck ups is aggravating you the most. They laugh again, it's so irritating - shut up shut up shut up.

Take a deep breath, don't say it out loud.

You stop and they keep walking. You need to do something, something to make the feeling go away, something stupid to forget. You drop your board to the floor and skate down the way you came from, you leave your pizza box to a homeless man sitting nearby - he'll enjoy it more than you right now. About to do something reckless, the kind that always gets you in trouble, the kind that makes people think "oh, I don't think you should talk to that person".

Time to add another fuck up to the list, you'll hate yourself for it later - you always do.