#not that people only support players they think are pretty

[rolandkaros]

one day we will talk about how tennis fans talk about/treat players they find attractive versus players they dont…………

[realtapiocafan]

ja'marr with a'ja, sabrina, and ceedee in paris

ja'marr being the only one NOT smiling is killing me -WAIT A DAMN MOMENT.

ok, i had to quickly double-check to confirm my suspicion -and yes! this was the same week the chiefs beat the bills 😭😭😭 no wonder ja'marr's not smiling lol. he was dreading having to watch on in despair as the chiefs win, like, their umpteenth afc championship!

[burreauxoxo]

transformation - joe burrow

best friend/boyfriend/dad!joe x fem!reader

summary: you and joe watch each other transform from a girl and a boy to a mom and a dad.

warnings: 1 use of y/n, slight swearing, suggestion of NSFW content but nothing is described, pregnancy

word count: 4.6k

note: seen an instagram reel by kadin kerns about his wife turning into a mother from a girl and had so many ideas swarm in my head. i think it turned out pretty cute, feel free to let me know!

pictures above and divider below do not belong to me! credits to the owners!

~

when it came to the relationship joe had with you, the only words he could use to describe it would be lengthy and loving.

let’s rewind it back to when you two first met.

it all starts at athens high school. well known football player, joe burrow, just had a show-out performance on the schools football field.

you were born into and grew up in a football family. you started wearing jerseys to school at a young age and you were never afraid to show your support towards your favorite team and its players.

so, when you are in the stands for that football game and see that he is taking pictures with people, you knew exactly what you wanted.

“this may be an extremely odd question coming from me but… can we take a picture together?” you asked as you motioned towards the camera you held in your hand.

“sure!” he says and leans down to stand behind you, wrapping his arm over your shoulders.

“i love how you play. i know you’re going to get far with your capabilities.” you say with a nervous smile at the end.

if you had to stand in front of someone and tell them the cold, hard truth, it would be that he is making you weak in the knees.

his bleached hair that sat there all messy from his helmet. his jersey that wasn’t as dirty as the rest of the players because he was a clean and flawless quarterback. everything about him was a gorgeous view just waiting to be admired.

“why, thank you.” he says and turns to say something to another player that stood next to him.

you hung around for a minute to process the atmosphere around you. it was surreal, this was the american dream that the movies represented for a teenage girl. talking to the popular guy who is the star quarterback of their school’s football team. all you had to do was become a cheerleader and you could pretend to be someone in one of those movies.

just as you were about to leave, you noticed joe whip his head back around. you were expecting him to give you an odd look for lingering around him.

“oh good, you’re still here. do you go here? or are you from the opposing teams school?” he asks you.

“no, i go here. i think we even have biology together.” you say and watch him think.

“oh! you’re the girl who is always wearing the jerseys! you sit behind me somewhere, right?” he asks.

“that’s me.”

“hey, you’re cool. i hope i see you around more often.” joe says and your insides start to melt.

“same for you. maybe i’ll see you in class.” you say and start to turn away.

little did you know, asking for that picture was going to light a fire that was never going to be put out.

you two did end up running into each other that following monday. he tapped you on the shoulder, resulting in a startled turn in your seat that caused him to smile.

“glad i found you.” was all he said before he went and found his own seat.

eventually, you would go on to spend almost the entirety of your free time with joe. whether it would be studying for that biology class, attending practice that he asked you to come to, talking about the games that happened the prior weekend. all while sitting at the same lunch table you never would have been able to sit at otherwise.

it became such an established friendship that hanging out after school was a must. you would have movie nights, dinners, sleepovers or even gatherings in his room with his friends.

you would run the streets with him late at night going to and from the nearest gas station where you would spend the money you didn’t have on snacks that you didn’t need.

there was a time where it started to rain while you two were on the way back to your house, when you slipped and couldn’t get up.

you started out laughing, in which joe obviously joined in on. but the longer you were on the ground, the more it hurt and the colder you got.

“ouch, it hurts.” you start to choke out between laughs and tears that were threatening to spill.

“duh, that wasn’t an easy fall. you’re getting soaked, stand up.” joe says, trying to stop the laughter.

“i don’t want to.” you whine.

joe eventually squats down and sits next to you. he pulls open the bag of chips he had gotten and popped one in his mouth, immediately reaching back into the bag to grab you one.

he hovers the chip above your lips and waits for you to open. once you do, you smile while crunching on the snack. joe had no intentions on having you hurry up and stand up. he was comfortable where he was as long as he was with you; even if the ground was wet and you two heard thunder in the distance.

“excuse me! what are you two doing?” an older lady steps out of her house to say.

you hadn’t even realized that this definitely looked suspicious. maybe it was time to get up.

“she slipped on the wet ground and her back is kind of sore so we were just sitting here for a second.” joe quickly explains.

“okay, you two be careful.” she says and goes back inside.

“ready to get up now?” joe asks and you nod.

he flies up to his feet and takes both of your hands and assists in pulling you up.

you were definitely sore but it was manageable. it definitely wouldn’t be so doable if joe wasn’t there to help you out.

and that’s how things continued.

he would continue to take care of you until he couldn’t.

“what happens when we go to college? we’ve been inseparable for years now.” joe would ask as you two sat at the lunch table you sat at every day.

it was a matter of days before the fall semester would end and that meant commitments were soon. closing time was quickly approaching.

“have you decided where you want to go?” you ask.

“i wanted nebraska but, that isn’t happening.” joe says with a shrug.

“what are the other options?”

“i only have ohio state to pick from.” joe says, not even looking up from his lunch tray.

“well that’s good! they have a solid team!” you try to help him along the same way he’d help you along.

“yeah, but the issue with that is, i’d be a backup. there would be no chance of me even starting until maybe next season and who wants to wait that long?”

“good things come to those who wait. what if another school calls you up and wants you while you’re waiting? or even a sick transfer offer comes up.” you say and he shrugs, yet again.

“would it help if i tell you where i'm committing?” you say quietly, leaning in towards joe.

“you decided already? why haven’t you told me before right now?” joe says, surprised.

“because. i wanted to hear yours first.” you admit.

“okay well, i have to go to ohio state. where are you going? don’t even tell me you committed to stanford or ucla or some shit.” he says and you shake your head.

“i’ll give you a hint. what lives here, will live on through college.” you say and wait for him to understand.

“what? what do you mean? just tell me where you’re go-” joe says and then stops, mouth opening wider.

“you decided on ohio state?” he says, shocked.

“mhm.” you nod and smile.

joe stands up from the lunch table and throws his fists up in the air, celebrating.

“yeahhh! hell yes! this makes it so much better!” joe says and displays the widest, and cutest, smile ever.

and again, against all odds, whatever flame that was lit between you two, was still never put out.

you moved into dorm buildings across from each other, you had a common core class together and the same wednesday’s free every week, but there was one thing that stuck out to you.

you and joe were still only considered ‘best friends.’ you were grateful and forever will be grateful to call him your best friend but, there was a part of your heart that wanted just a little bit more.

you wanted to be able to touch him. hug him. caress his cheek. run your fingers through the hair that was no longer the same blond it was when you two first met. when halloween came and went, the couples costumes haunted you. the batman and catwoman daydreams slowly but surely dying a slow and painful death. joe was never a halloween person anyways, but it was the thought that counted the most.

you thought something was going to happen on multiple occasions.

one of them being the time he snuck into your dorm room and fell asleep on that tiny twin-sized bed with you. he was basically on top of you all night. you were never a back-sleeper but that night, your favorite way to sleep was on your back.

joe snuck out of your dorm room around six in the morning, blending in with the other people that were getting ready for the day.

other than that, he has fallen asleep in your lap multiple times even throughout high school. he would ask you how he looked which you thought was a hidden way to see if you felt the same way in any manner.

but you weren’t even sure if he felt even an ounce of the same way you had felt.

you attended every game he was told to attend even if he didn’t get a chance to play. you came to practice when you were allowed to. you went to the gym with him almost every day. you were even going to parties with him. all of this happening in public.

there had to be at least one person out there who thought you were together at some point. but nope, just friends.

you had been this close to giving up on him in that aspect when you decided to go out on a date with someone. you were a girl, wasting her freshman year of college, waiting around.

not anymore.

first it was a coffee date and a ‘where are you?’ text. then it was a dinner date and a ‘come over? roomie gave me a cool new movie’ text. finally, it was a party and a ‘what the hell have you been doing?’ verbal confrontation.

“i’m sorry?” you answered, your date at the drink area.

“you flake on my last game, you leave me hanging on a rough night, you won’t study with me anymore, and now come to find out you’ve been spending your time with another guy?” joe says, hurt displayed on his face like no other emotion was able to come through.

“joe, i have a life, too.” you admit.

“we’ve spent all these years together, doing these things together and you drop them like they are nothing. it’s been like a month since we last had a free day to ourselves… like we used to. you’re my best friend, am i not allowed to miss you?”

“joe-”

you’re cut off when he approaches you even more, never breaking eye contact. he snakes his hand over your cheek and down to your neck, resting his hand on your neck, slowly making his fingers find space within the hair on the back of your head.

“would it help if i finally give into the feelings i’ve felt for years? would i finally relay a message that’s up to your liking?” joe whispers into your ear.

“i-” you manage to get out before he has his finger on your lips.

“i know, y/n, i know.” he says and kisses your cheek, moving over to the bridge of your nose. he looks at your eyes and then down at your lips.

“can i?” he asks.

you nod your head and somehow, you squeeze out a verbal ‘yes’ to answer his request. his eyes move down to your lips once again, taking in the moment.

“of course i know.”

the situation quickly escalates to a red-alert moment. you break away from the steamy kiss and tell joe to pause.

you walk over to your date and grab your stomach.

“i’m feeling absolutely awful, i have to go.” you say.

“wait! let me take you home!” he says.

“i already called someone. i’m sorry.” you say and your date frowns.

“have fun here, i’ll be okay.” you say and he nods.

you find your way to the front door and you text joe to hurry up. once he finds you outside, he pulls you in and kisses you, even deeper than last time.

you grab his hand and guide him to where the car was waiting. he grabs the door handle to the passenger side and climbs into the car.

“get it, burrow!” you hear from the front yard; joe sticks his middle finger up but all in a friendly matter.

“my place. nobody is there.” joe says as he is trying to speed up the process.

once you got to his dorm, that was the start of a series of events between you two.

the day after that night happened, joe brought coffee and flowers for both you and your roommate. he left a note for you in yours that read,

“i love and appreciate everything you do for me and with me. thank you for being in my life.”

you kept that note pressed in a diary you kept and have been writing in since your sophomore year. you knew you’d need it again one day.

it didn’t take long for you two to become a real ‘thing.’ more flowers in front of your dorm room door was all it took. obviously, joe hiding behind the corner to catch your reaction was something else, but the flowers and the note were what sealed the deal.

“for all you are, there is no other love, it’s only yours, you’re all i want”

the endless nights of cuddling, the studying sessions that never changed from how they were before you two became ‘official.’ it’s like that thing called love was made for the two of you. it just fit into your relationship so well.

things continued to be great for the months to come. minor arguments here and there and days where you two couldn’t see each other due to his games and your work schedule, but that was about it.

you two were able to manage such a strong friendship within the years prior, the rest just came naturally.

but things take a turn after you both are able to finish your degree work in three years and joe decides his college football career isn’t over yet.

you stayed up in the early hours of the morning with him, trying to figure out if an immediate graduate transfer would do him any good. this was an everlasting dream that joe has had his whole life and the cards he was dealt at ohio state just weren’t fair. his potential and ability to play were trashed the same way the garbage on the curb was. completely disregarded.

you promised you’d be his biggest supporter and you’d do anything you were able to do if it meant he was able to continue this dream.

so when you deliver the news that an apartment in louisiana awaits you two because he is officially playing for louisiana state university, things started to feel more and more complete.

you find a job that will keep your apartment and it’s expenses afloat and you let him play his heart out.

things go incredibly well. he’s finally given a chance here and is slowly but surely proving everyone that he can play.

that is… until he gets injured.

it’s the college football playoff national championship and they are about two quarters in when he gets slammed by the linebacker on the other team. you were immediately able to tell that he was in discomfort but you weren’t exactly sure what happened.

but once they are labeled champions of this season and he welcomes you down to join the celebration, you are finally able to ask what happened.

“something with my ribs. i’m fine.” he says and wipes the sweat from his forehead.

you give him a caring once over before you are finally able to congratulate him.

“oh, i’m so proud of you!” you finally say and pull him in for a kiss.

turns out, torn rib cartilage is not something to mess with. but when it comes to injuries, it was something you were sadly going to have to get used to.

when joe is drafted first overall to the cincinnati bengals, you never would have guessed all the downsides playing in the NFL brought.

torn rib cartilage was almost nothing compared to what joe has gone through while playing for this team.

a few tears, sprains, strains, and dislocations; all within the first few years of his career.

he spent a ton of time relaxing and resting even though he didn’t want to. he often told you that he felt claustrophobic and like life was shutting down because these injuries were taking away his freedom.

not only were they all physically painful, the strain it puts on someone’s mental health is almost just as bad.

tearing almost everything in his knee his rookie season in the NFL felt more degrading than you would think.

“they wasted the first pick on this guy?”

“healthy my ass!”

“injury prone to high hell. what a waste.”

you learned that turning his phone off, as well as any sort of program that would mention sports to avoid any negative exposure, was the best thing to do.

kids movies and kids shows were a go-to.

when he wasn’t up being active to the point that he was allowed to be, you two spent the days in bed or on the couch. it was fun for the most part but it killed you knowing that he was hurting on the inside.

he lost his independence when it came to showers (which was about the only thing he was okay with because he’d find any little reason to get you in the shower with him), cooking, using the bathroom in the beginning, and getting dressed. you don’t realize how much you use both hands in every day activities.

but once he is back to a healthy state and back up and playing, you were both happy with life. yeah, the team wasn’t up to certain standards and that would leave joe upset. once again, you were there to ease the pain.

but when he is out of town for an away game and you take a pregnancy test that turns out positive, you start to question things.

what if he gets injured again? that means you have to take care of a baby and an injured loved one.

you started to think that having a baby wasn’t the best of ideas.

but once joe finds out, he’s a puddle.

it’s all he’s ever wanted with you. he wants to prove that even if he is an injury prone, sucky football player, he’s still a killer dad.

he watches you go through this pregnancy like a champion. all the morning sickness he helped you through, you never complained. all the times the baby wouldn’t allow you to eat the food you wanted, you never complained.

the same thing continues once the baby is actually here.

with your hormones being all over the place, the only thing you were able to complain about was the fact that joe was giving all of his attention to the baby.

“it’s all i’ve known. i haven’t spent an average day without you in years. but it’s okay, the baby needs you anyways.” you say as you cried.

“baby, you know i love you and i can’t do life without you. i just met the little one, give me some time.” joe says softly.

“okay. i’ll be patient.” you say and joe smiles.

it hit you once the baby was a couple weeks old that nothing was going to be the same.

when joe calls out, “i love you” he is going to change it to “i love you guys” or when he kisses you goodnight, he’s going to kiss the baby goodnight as well.

it’s not that you were jealous of your own child, it’s just the thought of change.

you’ve spent almost every day with joe since you guys were seventeen. now you guys are deep in your twenties. it’s weird knowing that, that specific time frame will always be a piece of time you guys spent together that you’ll never get back- because it’s not just you two anymore.

it’s always been you two. for over ten years.

but now it’s you three.

while you were adjusting to the mom life, joe would admire you the same exact way he would when you two were teenagers.

you were just as beautiful, if not more now, opposed to when you two were younger.

you dealt with him in high school and two different colleges, you dealt with all of his football shit, you nursed him back to health with a smile on your face every day (and on multiple occasions), and now you carried his baby. in his eyes, everything about you was attractive.

“i know what’s going through that pretty head of yours.” joe says randomly one night when you are feeding the baby.

“what do you mean?” you ask.

“you miss the alone time.”

“what?”

“you miss when it was just us all cuddled up in bed or making out on the couch. or even the showers we’d take. the silly shit we’d do when we felt like having fun. maybe you even miss how it was in college.” joe says.

all you did was watch your baby eat because if you paid too close attention to joe, you’d cry.

“you actually might even miss high school. no injuries, no jobs, no professional football.” joe says and tucks a few pieces of falling hair behind your ear.

“i know you love our baby but you miss when we were young and not old and full of responsibilities.”

“i don’t know how you can read me like that.” you say, extremely quiet.

“it’s not a secret baby, i feel the same way. i want to go back to the day you slipped in the rain when we were trying to get back to your place. it’s nothing to feel guilty about either. you love your baby, you love and miss the old times but… with a different love.”

and joe was correct. it’s okay to mourn a part of you that you’ll never get back. it’s all stemmed from love. the type of love you give out is different now.

you’re a mom. not just a teenager or a girlfriend to whoever. you’re a mom who had a baby with an NFL player that you met back in high school when you wanted a picture with him. now you have his baby in your arms and he’s comforting you.

“i am sure it’s just the hormones but… it’s an adjustment.” you admit.

“it’s all going to take time. that little baby is slowly teaching you a new type of love and some day soon it will hit you that, that love is what you’ve needed this whole time. it’s not a love i can give you.” joe says and that’s all it took for a tear to fall.

“i love you. never forget that. i loved you first, the ‘us’ pre-professional adult stuff will live within us forever. i am slowly watching you transform into a new person and its been an honor to be able to do so.” joe says and leans over to kiss your forehead.

it was hard to process but there were a lot of things that have happened that took a while to process. everything was going to work out eventually.

joe was there to remind you of that every day moving forward.

it’s all going to be okay. we all have to transform into someone new at one point. it might shock you at first, but it’s inevitable.

eventually, time passes and things settle down.

your hormones adjust a little more and you realize that life is great just how it is.

you and your baby are best friends, joe has to give a password to enter the playroom now.

the child who once was your guys’ baby, is now a full grown kid and loves playing football ‘just like dad.’

visiting ‘the uncles’ was always the best time of day when the time came. whether it be joe’s brothers or the guys on the team, they were all considered uncles.

a pre-game handshake was an absolute must and had to happen or else ‘daddy will be upset and the team isn’t going to be happy because we have to win.’

that quickly became a lesson because joe didn’t want his child to see him upset over a game. over the years, joe has learned to loosen up even after a loss because it was just a game and it wasn’t worth teaching poor sportsmanship to a child who is learning things by watching their father’s every move.

it has been nothing short of a dream come true to watch many dreams play out throughout these last few years. you had embraced all of the changes that came your way and learned to not dwell on stuff that can’t be changed.

except when another positive pregnancy test is practically thrown in your face like big, red block letters that exclaim something in a cartoon.

“wait, you’re serious?” joe says when you finally tell him.

joe took this announcement a little more to heart since this baby would arrive a matter of weeks after his final season in the NFL. he was finally going to be able to witness every moment of growth that he missed out on with your first born. he was going to be able to fully soak in the newborn phase and not have to leave for a game a week after you give birth and come back to a toddler; at least that’s what it felt like.

his decision to retire wasn’t easy. he was going to miss running the field the same way he has been doing all these years. he thought he’d be able to last just as long, if not longer, as aaron rodgers. but, like he taught you, life happens.

his bones ached more than they did his rookie season. he couldn’t play cold weather games the same way he used to. he craved to stay in bed longer every morning that he’s woken up by his alarm. he was just tired.

he’s lived his dream. he made it to the pros. he got his super bowl ring. he got labeled mvp. he’s played for almost ten years. he has a family now. what else is there to do?

transforming into the man that he is now was a huge success and it was a dream to be able to witness it standing by his side every step of the way. all starting from that day on the football field; which the picture is now hung along the staircase in the burrow family home.

from that seventeen year old with bleached hair that stood on that high school football field to a dad with grey hairs poking through his classy hair styles. from not knowing what was next after being benched for three years to being a super bowl champion and an mvp. to being best friends and now husband and wife which also turned into mom and dad.

it was a unique and transformative experience that only you two can say you’ve experienced.

and the both of you were lucky to say so.

hope everyone enjoyed this one!! see you next time <3

[charmedimsure]

uuuhhhhhm can i pretty pretty please with cherries on top request a Dae-ho x reader where the reader was also in the military? but its like that ep. where they revolutionized? if that makes sense? idk i think it be cool if reader eas good eith a gun

anyways HAVE A LOVELY DAY/ NIGHT love reading your stuff (i binge read it :p)

WHISKEY TANGO FOXTROT || kang dae-ho

pairing: Kang Dae-ho x gn!reader

summary: As a former soldier, you know just what to do when all hell breaks loose.

word count: 3.7k

warnings: guns, death, blood, squid game stuff, panic attacks, ptsd

A/N: i've played so many shooting games i feel like i've been training to write this fic my entire life. i even named it after a shield from my favorite game (brownie points if you know which game). if you find any mistakes no you didn't <3 tried to make this gender neutral but if you find any slip ups lmk so i can fix it

**this can be read as romantic or platonic**

You look at the woman standing between bunks with wide eyes. You weren't sure earlier when you saw her on the screen, but seeing her standing ten feet away from you, you're absolutely positive that you know who this is.

"Sergeant?"

Cho Hyun-ju turns and gasps when she sees you, a smile lighting up her face. She quickly embraces you, you happily hugging her back. You were always her favorite soldier (she never admitted it, being the sergeant of the Brigade, but you both knew she liked you best). You were one of the only people who supported her when she came out. You tried to fight against her discharge but, as a low-ranking soldier, you had no say in the matter.

"I knew it had to be you!" you say, pulling back with a smile. "When I saw someone go back into the playing field to help a guy with only ten seconds left, I just knew it was my sergeant!"

"It's good to see you," she says. "Though, I wish it was under better circumstances."

You nod solemnly. You had just watched at least a hundred people die while screaming and begging for their lives. As a former soldier, it was hard that you couldn't do anything to help the civilians. All you could do was stand there and listen to the screams and gunshots, and then the silence.

"How are you here? Are you not part of the Brigade anymore?" Hyun-ju asks.

You shake your head. "No, I actually left not long after you were discharged. It wasn't the same without you, and I just couldn't be civil with the others after how they treated you."

She nods, understanding. "Well, if I'm going to be here with anyone, I'm glad it's you. I trust you with my life, soldier."

You smile. "And I you, Sergeant."

<>

You and Hyun-ju had made it through the next two games together, along with some allies you made along the way. Together with Young-mi, Yong-sik, and Geum-ja, you had been the first team to succeed in the six-legged pentathlon.

You had also made it though Mingle with some new allies, though not all of your old allies made it. Young-mi's death was hard on your whole group, but Hyun-ju had been taking it the worst. While you had grown closer with Yong-sik and Geum-ja, she had formed a special bond with the young girl and had to watch her die right in front of her.

While you would like to take the time to mourn Young-mi, a lot has happened in the few hours since the third game ended. The vote on whether to go home or stay ended in a 50-50 tie, meaning you're going to have to redo the vote tomorrow. Then, a huge fight apparently broke out in the men's bathroom, leaving five players dead.

Both sides group together to count their numbers, and you find that there's now one more X than O. While the players around you celebrate, a feeling of dread shoots through you.

"Attention please. Lights out in 30 minutes. All players, please return to your beds and prepare for bedtime."

Shit.

Player 047 stands in front of the group. "Listen, you cannot change your minds. We have to win the second vote and get out of here tomorrow, alright?"

As the other players around you nod and move to their beds, you stay sitting, watching the O players. They're already looking at your group. Watching. Waiting. You look at Gi-hun, the previous winner, and know that he's thinking the same thing you are.

<>

"Those bastards are acting suspicious," Dae-ho says, returning to the small circle you formed on the ground. "It looks like they're up to something."

Jung-bae breathes out a laugh. "Whatever those idiots do, once we win the vote tomorrow, it'll all be over."

"You think we'll be okay?" Dae-ho asks, concerned. "They say things were really crazy in the bathroom earlier."

"We need to be ready," you say from your place between Dae-ho and Gyeong-seok. "They've been watching us since the moment they found out the prize money goes up if we kill each other."

The group around you tenses before Gi-hun speaks up as well. "Once the lights go out, people on the other side will attack us."

"Really?" Yong-sik asks from beside his mother.

Gi-hun nods. "Because if they kill us, they'll be able to win the vote and increase the prize."

"So what do we do?" Yong-sik asks.

"Let's attack them first," Young-il suggests. "They're probably thinking we'll just wait for the second vote. We can use it to our advantage. We'll attack them first once the lights go out."

"That's right," Player 047 says. "It'd be better to attack them first. We have more women and elderly on our side. If we get attacked we'll be at a disadvantage." You send him a glare that makes him freeze for a moment before continuing. "Attacking them first would give us a better chance of winning."

"I agree," Player 145 adds.

"We can't do that," Gi-hun says.

"But we have to get out of here," Young-il argues. "You said it yourself. Staying calm won't get us anywhere now."

"That doesn't mean we should kill each other," Gi-hun says. "That's exactly what they want us to do."

Jung-bae leans forward. "'They'?"

Gi-hun looks at him. "The ones who created this game." He turns to face the rest of the circle. "The ones who watch us play. If we're going to fight someone, it should be them."

It's silent before Dae-ho speaks up. "Where are they?"

Gi-hun looks to the ceiling. "Up there."

You all follow his gaze before looking around at each other.

"On the upper levels," Gi-hun says, "are the rooms they control the games from. The man in the black mask is their leader. Once we capture him, we'll be able to win."

"How are you going to fight them?" Young-il asks. "They have guns."

"We'll fight them with guns, too," Gi-hun says.

"But we don't have any," Jung-bae says.

Gi-hun turns to him. "We'll take their guns."

You and Hyun-ju look at each other. This is what you were trained for.

"From those masked men?" Gyeong-seok asks nervously.

Gi-hun nods.

"That's too dangerous," Young-il says. "Even if we manage to take a few guns, we'll still be outnumbered."

"What then?" Gi-hun argues. "Are you going to kill each other all night and hope you survive? Is that what you want, Young-il?"

Hyun-ju breaks the silence. "Do we... stand a chance?"

"We do if we catch them off guard," Gi-hun says. "Out of everyone, they're the ones who would least expect us to attack first. This is our last chance to end these games once and for all."

"How are you going to take their guns?" Young-il asks.

"Once the fight begins tonight, we'll have our chance."

<>

"Lights out in ten seconds."

"Ten,

nine,

eight,

seven,

six,

five,

four,

three,

two,

one."

The lights dim, then turn off completely, leaving only the red and blue lights from the floor.

You roll out of bed, getting under the frame. You feel someone else trying to get under your bed, and you move a bit to make room for Dae-ho. Just as you get in position, you see bodies creeping towards your side of the room, illuminated by the bright blue O on the floor.

There's a scream, and all hell breaks loose.

The lights strobe as you hear the sounds of screaming and bottles being smashed coming from all around you. Somewhere to your right, a bunk is toppled over, sending someone to the ground. Another player runs up to them, stabbing their fork into their neck.

You feel the ex-Marine next to you tense up and put a hand over his, trying to bring him some comfort, or at the very least trying to keep him from blowing your cover.

You hear the buzzer of the door and the lights come on. One of the soldiers fires into the air to stop the fighting as about twenty masked guards come into the room, all armed.

You quickly army crawl out from under the bed, Dae-ho following you as you lay down on the ground.

You hear footsteps getting closer to you, and your ear is moved as a device scans behind it.

You open your eyes, grabbing the soldier so they can't move. "Dae-ho! Now!"

The ex-Marine smashes a bottle over the head of the guard, knocking him unconscious. You take the opportunity to grab the submachine gun off of the soldier, shooting another soldier coming toward you and Dae-ho. You're so focused on the fight that you fail to notice the quivering boy holding his hands over his ears against the bunks.

Grabbing another gun, you quickly scale one of the bunks to get a better vantage of the fight.

"Sergeant!" You yell, gaining the attention of Hyun-ju. She looks to you and you toss the SMG to her. She drops her pistol and catches the weapon, turning just in time to shoot one of the pink guards coming for her.

You use your position to fire at the guards hiding behind bunks. You pull the trigger until you hear a click, cursing as the mag runs empty. You jump down from the bunk, using the butt of the gun to knock a guard out cold. You quickly take his ammo and reload your own gun, firing at a guard trying to shoot Gi-hun.

"Retreat. Retreat."

The voice over the intercom announces and the pink soldiers make their way towards the door. You're able to shoot two more, but most of the soldiers who are still alive are able to make it out of the room. The main guard with the square on his mask is too busy firing back to realize that the door has closed behind him, sealing him in the room with you just as he runs out of ammo.

"Stop! Hold fire!" Gi-hun yells.

Jung-bae and another player run over to the square guard, making sure he won't fight.

"You goddamn bastards!" you hear someone yell on the other side of the room and turn to see Player 047 aiming his gun at a bunch of O players.

"No!" Gi-hun yells, stopping the man before he can shoot. "This is not what we took these guns for. If we do this, we'll be no different from those masked men."

Player 047 lowers his gun, hanging his head and he softly cries.

Gi-hun steps to the center of the room. "Everyone! Don't be scared. Gather round, please! We're not trying to hurt you!"

You walk to stand by Hyun-ju and Gyeong-seok.

"Get the guns and ammo from the dead," she tells the both of you.

You nod, doing as your sergeant says while she takes out the cameras in the room.

<>

Placing one of the last guns on the mattress in the center of the room, you move to stand in line between Jung-bae and Dae-ho, handing the extra SMG in your hand to Dae-ho.

Gi-hun steps forward. "Everyone. We will now head up to the masked men's headquarters. We'll capture the ones who captured us, put an end to this game, and make them pay. Anyone who knows how to use a gun and wishes to join us, please step forward."

You look at the crowd in front of you, but everyone stays where they are.

"Hey," you hear a voice next to you say and turn your head to see Jung-bae stepping forward. "I know you're scared. I'm scared too. But this may be our last chance to make it out of this place alive. Fight with us so we can go home together. All together."

One of the players in the back of the crowd steps forward. "I'll fight with you."

Gi-hun waves at him to come and take a gun. Two other players come forward as well.

You watch as Yong-sik makes a move to step forward, but he catches your gaze as you shake your head at him. It's very brave of him to think about volunteering, but he hasn't even served his mandatory military service yet, and it would kill his mother if he didn't come back. You breathe a sigh of relief when Yong-sik stays where he is.

When it's clear that no one else is stepping forward, Gi-hun turns to you all. "Please check your guns and ammo."

"Let's take one radio each," Jung-bae says. "We'll use channel 7, the lucky number."

You put the strap of your gun around you, checking the mag and putting it back in place when you're satisfied with the amount of ammo that is left. You look to your right to see Dae-ho fiddling with his own gun. Just as you're about to help him, Hyun-ju steps forward.

"Attention," she says, holding up her gun. "This is the MP5, a submachine gun." She continues on the demonstrate how to load the weapon and set it to the mode you should be using. When she's done, she looks at you all. "Are we clear?"

"Yes," you answer, falling right back into the rhythm with your sergeant.

Hyun-ju nods to you, silently telling you to stay by her when you get out there.

"How do you two know each other?" Dae-ho questions, his voice a bit shaky.

You smirk, cocking the MP5. "I was in the 13th Special Missions Brigade. Hyun-ju was my sergeant."

Dae-ho stares at you, completely stunned. "You were in the Decapitation Unit?!"

You chuckle at his disbelief, nodding.

The man can't believe it. He's been bragging about being an ex-Marine while there's been two ex-Special Forces soldiers right next to him the whole time.

Gi-hun points a pistol at the square-masked guard. "Take it off."

The guard slowly removes his mask, revealing a boy no older than 25.

"Good God," Jung-bae says. "Do your parents know what you're doing here?"

The guard just stares at him.

Gi-hun cocks the pistol. "Take us to your captain."

<>

"All players, it is bedtime now. Please return to your quarters immediately. Otherwise, you will be eliminated from the game. Let me repeat..."

Gi-hun fires at the speaker, effectively shutting up the voice. Three guards are stood over you. "Get down!"

You duck behind the wall of the stairs. Feeling a hand on your shoulder, you turn to look at Hyun-ju behind you.

"Cover me!"

You nod, shooting at the guards while she sprints to the top of the stairs. From her new vantage point, she is able to take out one of the guards, causing their body to fall over the ledge and down to the floor.

When you duck down to reload, you see Dae-ho next to you. The ex-Marine is sitting in a ball, covering his ears and flinching every time a shot rings out. You look at him with concern, but your attention is stolen by Gi-hun telling everyone to hold their fire. Dae-ho gets a grip on his weapon and you all move, following Gi-hun and the un-masked guard.

As you move down an alleyway, Gi-hun stops the guard. "How much farther? Is this the right way?"

The boy points toward the end of the hall. "The entrance to the management area is around that corner. The control room is right above it."

Gi-hun pushes him. "Move it, then!"

"Wait," the guard says, reaching toward his pocket.

"What are you doing?" Gi-hun stops him.

"I need my mask to pass security," the guard explains. Gi-hun nods and the guard takes the mask out. He looks up, but before he can say anything else, a bullet goes right through his head.

You all take cover as more shots are fired at you. Something slashes onto your face, and you turn to see Player 072's lifeless body falling to the ground.

You drop the floor and crawl over to Hyun-ju, both of you taking positions in a green square area of the stairs. You nod to each other and duck out of cover, firing at the guards. You can hear the men speaking to each other at the other end of the line, but you focus on taking out as many guards as possible.

You and Hyun-ju alternate firing and taking cover, both of you shooting with deadly precision, doing your best to not waste any of the already low supply of ammo you have.

A player next to you screams and is shot. You turn, shooting at the guard approaching from your rear, taking out a few that are behind that one as well.

"Everyone! Check your magazines!" Hyun-ju calls out.

You take the mag out of the gun, seeing that you have about half of a clip left. Everyone announces that they're around the same.

"Young-il, Dae-ho, can you hear me?" The voice of Jung-bae erupts from your radio.

"Go ahead!" Young-il says.

"I think we're right below the control room." Shots can be heard in the background. "But we need backup and more ammo."

"We're running out of ammo, too!"

"There should be spare magazines in the soldiers' pockets in our quarters. Go get them!" Gi-hun yells through the radio.

"Did you hear that?" Young-il turns to the group. "They need backup! Three of us will go, and the rest will stay! Join us once you get the magazines! Who wants to go with me?"

Players 047 and ... volunteer and they run off towards the end of the hall.

"I'll go get the magazines!" Hyun-ju yells. "I'll come back as soon as I can, so just hold on until then!"

"Hyun-ju!" A voice yells. You turn to see Dae-ho raising his hand. "I'll go!" He hurries over to where you and Hyun-ju are taking cover. "I- I'm out of ammo."

"Do you know the way?" Gyeong-seok asks. Dae-ho nods.

"We destroyed the cameras on the way, follow them," Hyun-ju says.

"I'll go with him," you say. "I still have some ammo, so I'll cover him."

Hyun-ju nods. "I'll cover you. Go!"

You and Dae-ho take off down the stairs. He stops a few times, but you pull him along, keeping your eyes up to watch for the broken cameras. As you're running down the stairs, Dae-ho stops, and you turn to see him staring at a dead guard hanging over the ledge of a window.

"Dae-ho!" Jung-bae yells. "Can you hear me? Where are those magazines?"

You lift your own radio to your mouth. "We're getting them now."

"Alright! We're counting on you!"

You put your radio back in your pocket, grabbing Dae-ho's hand and pulling him along behind you.

You burst into the quarters, letting go of Dae-ho's hand as you sprint to a guard, taking the spare mags out of their pockets. You hear someone say your name and look up to see Yong-sik.

"What happened? Why are you back by yourselves?"

"We're low on ammo," you say, not looking up from the guard you're looting. "We need to get the magazines from their pockets. Help us!"

You look up to the boy to see him nod and run over to a nearby guard. Geum-ja and Jun-hee come over to the help, as well.

Once you've looted all the ammo from the guards, you place them into a jacket you found on one of the dead players. You tie it up and give it to Dae-ho, thanking the others as you lead him out of the room.

Gunshots can be heard as soon as you step outside. You keep moving but when you check behind you, you see that Dae-ho has stopped where he is.

"Dae-ho, we need to go," you urge.

He looks at you silently, but the fear in his eyes sends the message. You've seen soldiers like this before you joined the Special Forces.

Dae-ho stands in his spot, paralyzed other than the shake of his body in fear.

You hear your name and Dae-ho's through the radio. "Where are you? Can you hear me?"

You watch as Dae-ho lifts his radio, staring at it as Hyun-ju's voice comes through.

"Did you find the magazines? Are you on your way?"

Dae-ho looks at you. "I'm sorry," he whispers, dropping the radio on the ground and running back into the quarters with the magazines.

"Shit," you say under your breath. You follow Dae-ho into the room, looking around to find where he went. Yong-sik points toward a bunk and you find Dae-ho curled up there, rocking back and forth. Running over to him, you take the jacket with the mags, ready to run out of there. You take a look at Dae-ho, the pure fear coursing through him as he whispers apologies over and over.

You sigh, remembering one of the lessons Hyun-ju taught you as your sergeant.

Never leave a man behind.

Taking out your radio, you bring it to your lips and press the button. "Charlie Foxtrot."

You put your radio down, knowing that Hyun-ju will know what to do. You had picked up the phrase from your U.S. counterparts, saying it to each other when something goes wrong.

Moving to sit on the bed, you take Dae-ho's hands into yours. "Dae-ho, I need you to breathe with me, alright."

He slowly looks at your face before launching himself into your arms, sobbing into your shoulder. You rub his back comfortingly, knowing you can't leave him alone like this.

After a few minutes, Hyun-ju runs into the room shouting you and Dae-ho's names. She comes running over to you, stopping when she sees Dae-ho in your arms.

"What happened?"

Dae-ho jumps a bit at the new voice, burying his face farther into your jacket.

You look up a Hyun-ju, shaking your head at her. She nods, understanding. You point at the magazines and she scoops them into her arms, ready to take them to the others when the buzzer for the door goes off and more pink guards enter the room, firing in the air and making everyone scream.

Hyun-ju reloads her SMG, ready to take on the entire group on guards by herself. You watch as Geum-ja puts a hand on her shoulder, stopping her.

"You can't die like this."

You sigh in relief as Hyun-ju puts the gun down. From your hidden area, you try to get the guns and mags away from you, making it seem as though the three of you have been here the whole time.

As the guards come further into the room, you use your body to shield Dae-ho from them as he whimpers. You make eye contact with Hyun-ju. Whatever happens next, you'll face it as a team.

~

Dae-ho tags: @whatthefuckeryfuckityfuck @ally1uvsu @thebiggestigurosimp @come-as-you-are-111 @hiphip-horray @k1michii @tpwkcaryslizb @louissst28 @sshwaa @jennwonwoo @sunnysurvives @lalalaa2210 @tayshs @sunshinethatlooksalive @plntmxrss @lxnnrobin @mariaxman @alexx-iia @batty-barty-crouchjr @kxsm3t @takuma-talkz @peacemakersbeloved @skywalker0809 @soobinbunnie5

[lion-writer]

I’ve seen a lot of headcanons and fics where Viago disapproves of Rook getting together with Lucanis. And ones that focus on how an alliance with the De Rivas benefits House Dellamorte, which is definitely true, and i fucking love them, but consider Viago probably couldn’t possibly ask for a better partner for Rook.

Though to be fair I am obsessed with Viago and his belief that he could restore the royal power of Treviso and that “He will not be satisfied until he sits upon a throne.”

While as a talon, he’s definitely more powerful than the king, and he could probably easily overthrow his father and take the throne. But that's probably not his biggest issue, because as my old history teacher used to say, “Power cannot be created or destroyed, only transferred”, so by restoring the power of the royal family, he’d be taking power away from the merchant princes and the other talons. Which, it’s probably safe to assume they wouldn't be happy about”. (Also as a side note, the quote “It’s not paranoia if they’re out to get you” is applicable here. Viago is a man planning to make A Lot of enemies)

And remember, this man is still the 5th talon, and while he’s allied with Teia, she’s also only the 7th talon. (Though they definitely should have gotten a promotion after the events of 8 little talons). So he’s not really in any position to actually make any power play, not unless he wants to piss off 6 of the other houses. 

Thankfully, depending on the choices you make, by the end of Veilguard, he’s almost certainly up there among the most powerful people in Antiva, given that he was a key player in ending the occupation of a major city by the Antaam, not to mention the killing of a Literal Evil God. The only Antivans that could be more influential than him at this moment is Teia, who he’s dating and let's be honest, will eventually marry, Rook, who’s his protege, 

Among those people, Lucanis is probably the most politically powerful, given that he’s done everything Viago has, in addition to the fact that he actually killed a god, and is now The First Talon. While I feel that he would support Viago in the bid for the throne, he’s also the only one who Viago doesn’t have any sort of formal alliance with. And considering Viago’s general distrust towards basically everyone, he wouldn’t place that much trust in the bonds of friendship, (especially if you believe that he thinks that Lucanis’s attempt at flirting was a threat).

But given the general political upheaval Antiva is probably already in right now, because It’s highly doubtful that Governor Ivenci was the only guy to make deals with the Antaam or Venatori for power, there’s no better time for Viago to make a play for power. With everything so recent it would be so easy for him to step forwards as a figure for people to rally behind, I mean he exposed corruption in the government, he freed Treviso, he trained a god killer, and he’s the son of the king. But If he waits, he kinda does risk somebody else stepping forth.

But after Ivenci’s attempt at getting rid of the crows and the whole Illario debacle, the other Talons would be very suspicious of anyone trying to take power, and while Viago is a Crow, he’s also an infamous curmudgeon who doesn’t really get along with the others. 

Luckily, Lucanis is head over heels for Rook, which cements an alliance with House Dellamorte. And well, there’s quite a historical precedent, especially in Antiva, for alliances and weddings to go hand in hand. Not to mention the message it would send to the other talons for Viago to give away Rook, his protege for whom he has already demonstrated a soft spot for, to The First Talon, arguably The Face of the Crows. In addition, a grand high profile Wedding between two heroes who just saved the world, is the perfect thing for the general public to associate Viago with after everything. 

I mean I’m pretty sure he would still grumble about it and he’d definitely let Lucanis know that if he ever dared to hurt Rook, Lucanis would wish he was still trapped in the Ossuary. But once he’s certain that they’re serious about each other, Teia and him would be the first people to start bugging them about marriage.

[gb-patch]

Structure Poll Results

Hello again everyone, GB here!

The release structure poll for Our Life: Now & Forever has closed. Nearly 10,000 people voted, and we got hundreds and hundreds of thoughts people left about the idea. I want to say thank you so much for the supportive and understanding messages. It made me pretty emotional to see how much people loved the game and cared about the team 😭 💖

To restate how this worked, players could vote for or against the idea of OL: N&F releasing Step by Step. We would change our original plan to launch the first three Steps together if people wanted us to. But we wouldn’t do such a major shift if people weren’t interested or there was more of a split in the community. With that said, this is the poll-

Yeah, it’s almost exactly 50/50 between people who want the episodic release and those who don’t actively want it! That could have made this complicated, but after thinking about it and reading the reasons for and against the options, I do think the decision we’re going with will be for the best.

Our Life: Now & Forever will not release episodically. However, there’s going to be truly massive updates to the demo this year.

And this is why: a true early access release with DLC content becoming available would impact things in ways that might not be worth it. Us as a company would have to promote an episodic release the same way we would the entire game launching, and then we’d have do that again when the next Step came out. We’d have to be concerned with sales numbers and such before the base game was even done. Also, the game would be releasing for the entire world, not just for our current players. That isn’t the type of work we want to jump into ASAP unless it was what a majority of players really wanted. The point of this was always meant to be something good for the people most excited about the project.

If we keep OL:NF as a demo and focus on putting out a ton of the free-to-play parts of the story, we can make this all about our fanbase and that’s it. We could drop a 100,000 word demo update and move on with our day like it’s nothing ‘cause it’s not a proper launch. A lot of the best content has been left out of the demo, but it doesn’t have to stay that way. We could make the demo a more fulfilling experience without impacting anything behind the scenes or putting anything up for sale.

Not only that, but those who don’t want to see too much of the game before it’s fully launched will then be able to avoid the extra content more easily since it’s hidden away as a demo instead of getting the full marketing treatment. Sure, it might confuse newcomers who try the demo and find out it’s absurdly long for a demo, however that’s not the end of the world.

Since there is this clear divide, I think a compromise that tries to avoid the main things people were worried about while keeping as many of the benefits as we can is better than simply choosing one side or the other.

I hope that sounds like a positive development. Look forward to future announcements about the mega-sized demo expansions that will be on the way in coming months! And thank you again for following along with the development of Our Life: Now & Forever 🥰️

[inuyashaluver]

Hi lovely I love ur stuff 🩷 I have a little request/idea - obviously feel free to ignore it

I was thinking R has a really thick accent (English - either Scouse (Liverpool), Geordie (Newcastle) or West Country (Devon/Somerset/Farmer) or Aussie or something really thick like hard to understand from native speakers let alone anyone else) but R plays in Barca and has a crush on a Spanish player (Maybe Patri? maybe Ona? Maybe Alexia?) and is tryna talk to them more and maybe ask them out but they just get looked at funny and they walk off and she goes to Kiera and Lucy and is like what have I done? Do they all hate me? And [Crush] overheads them and goes round to their house after training and is like I really wanna get to know u, I think you’re really pretty etc but I cannot understand a word that comes out of ur mouth to the point where I am questioning whether it’s English

qué? - alexia putellas

alexia putellas x reader

description: in which your accent proves to be difficult to understand

warnings: LONG!! swearing, misunderstandings, spanish in bold italics

a/n: i love this woman, your honour!! i was writing alexia angst but had to put out the fluff haha!! thank you so much for the love and request, lovely!! ily and enjoy ❤️

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you never thought your accent would get you into trouble but you were entirely wrong. and we’re not talking about trouble like criminal, we’re talking romantically.

—

you’re from liverpool, your thick, scouse accent distinct in your dialect. at home in england, the accent was understood most of the time, with an occasional person asking for clarification about your words but you didn’t mind.

even some of your england teammates had to ask you to repeat yourself occasionally when you got overly excited or stressed, your accent proving to be the hardest to understand at those moments.

you often needed a translator for even native english speakers if you spoke too quickly, lucy and later grace helping out when people were truly confused.

when lucy and keira moved from manchester city, you moved with them, having played in the club for 2 years and desperately wanting a change. and so, when the contract arrived from barcelona for the three of you, you accepted it without a second thought.

you had supported barcelona in liga F, having a huge appreciation for the way the spanish players moved, the quick passes and the goals that came out of nowhere. you were excited to pick up those skills to adapt to your own play.

and through your extensive research, you grew a special appreciation for alexia. in your eyes, alexia was the definition of perfect, not only her football skills, but her as a whole.

you would watch her interviews and videos for ‘research purposes’, claiming it was to practise your spanish. and it was, until you zoned out hearing the gentle hum of alexia’s voice, getting distracted entirely but you weren’t complaining.

when you got caught making heart eyes at your phone during england camp, the teasing was so relentless it wasn’t even funny.

—

“our little (y/n) has a crush on la reina! (the queen)” lucy exclaims in the change room, you immediately turn off your phone and look up at her with an icy glare, only making her smile at you affectionately with a pinch to your cheek that you were quick to swat away.

“you’re not much older than me” you glare, “5 years is 5 years” she shrugs, moving away when you launched an empty bottle at her.

“go on, tell us about your crush” leah smiles, millie and rachel pretend to kiss each other while looking at you and you heat up in the cheeks.

“i’m only watching so i can pick up spanish” you defend, lucy laughs loudly, out of the three transfers, she was definitely the one who picked up the most spanish.

“excuse me, lucia, and everyone in here,” you scoff, “is it such a crime to watch a video of my future captain?” your accent was so heavy at this point, everyone cracked a little smile at you.

“so you were watching videos of alexia then?” leah smirks, you let out a frustrated groan, “leah, shut up man” everyone laughs, the teasing continuing until keira and alessia told everyone to stop.

during the whole of camp, it wasn’t uncommon you got caught looking at photos or videos of alexia, the teasing was so bad you thought you would explode.

—

when the time finally came for you to join barcelona, you were incredibly nervous. the fear of underperforming playing on your mind, only becoming worse at the thought of embarrassing yourself in front of a certain blonde you couldn’t take your mind off.

lucy and keira assured you everything would be fine, but you weren’t convinced, unsure of how you’d react when you finally saw alexia.

when you all walked to the change rooms, it was shocking how welcoming everyone was. hugs and kisses to the cheeks had you feeling so accepted amongst your new team.

and funnily enough, the last person to greet you was alexia, sending you a charming smile that had your stomach erupting with butterflies.

“(y/n), yes? bienvenida! (welcome)” alexia grins, her arms pulling you into a warm hug, her scent enveloping you and making you borderline dizzy.

“(y/n) is a big fan of you” lucy teases as alexia lets you slip from the hug after you mumble a quick hello. alexia gives a surprised smile, looking between a cheeky looking lucy and a sheepish looking you.

“you’re very good, too, I look forward to playing with you,” alexia’s hand moved to give your bicep a gentle squeeze and you swore your heart stopped, your cheeks were tinged with pink and you could barely formulate a sentence.

“yeah, i’m excited to play with ya” you breathe out, you move to your new cubby and get changed into the barcelona kit, feeling at home already even though it was your first day.

due to you busying yourself with avoiding alexia, you missed the way her gaze lingered on you as you changed, she was intrigued by you.

what you didn’t know was alexia had done her own forms of research. she had heard your name countless times in the media, a rising star in the making.

she respected the way you played, a midfielder who wasn’t afraid to take risks but also managed to avoid fouls frequently.

she wanted to get to know you as much as you wanted to get to know her.

—

weeks and months fly by and it was easy to say you felt comfortable amongst the team. your spanish was surprisingly getting better, being able to go through training without a translator most of the time.

the girls reciprocated you well, you’d go to team bonding nights and laugh and joke around with them. it was obvious to everyone except alexia that you were harbouring a crush on the captain.

the ways your eyes would follow her every move with pink cheeks honestly exposed yourself. and what made it harder was that alexia and you were growing closer each day.

—

one day you were chatting with mapi and ingrid, more like you getting teased while you begged them to stop before you were interrupted by a certain someone.

“do you want to be my partner?” alexia questions from behind you suddenly, making you choke on your own spit as she looked at you with a kind smile. “really?” you breathe out, she nods, nodding her head to the pitch for you to follow her.

you’d both been able to converse easily as the months went by, she’d have to ask you to slow down a couple of times when you both talked about something you had in common but it worked.

as you both trained together, you chatted and laughed, talking about random topics.

when you both got to shooting practice, alexia analysed your every move. she would give little nods of approval when you touched the ball, sending you an encouraging smile if you made eye contact, your heart was fluttering around her.

“you should put more weight into your hips when you kick” alexia corrects, you look at her questioningly, she huffs out a little laugh and comes to stand behind you.

her large hands place themselves on your hips and she turns them slightly to the front. her front was pressed against your back and you certainly weren’t breathing. she noticed you tense but chose to ignore it.

“focus here before you kick so it’s stronger” alexia says next to your ear, squeezing your hips gently before letting go of you. “try again, vamos! (let’s go)” she exclaims, you do as she says with her corrections and it was a much better result.

she smiles proudly, “buena niña! (good girl)” she laughs, coming up to you to squeeze your shoulders encouragingly, your cheeks were burning.

the entire team watched the interaction with big grins, ready to tease you for how sheepish you looked.

“gracias (thank you), ale” you scratch the back of your neck with an embarrassed smile, she shakes her head, “it’s nothing, thank me with a goal next game” she jokes, pinching your cheek teasingly before walking off to get some water.

you’re left there in shock, lucy and keira approaching with cheesy grins. “you’re in love” lucy coos, poking your shoulder teasingly while you shielded yourself in a hug from keira.

“i’m so fucking stupid, why can’t i be normal” you groan, keira laughs, her hand rubbing up and down your back. “you’re just shy, which is weird to see because you’re the complete opposite” she laughs, you pull back to throw her a glare.

“it’s cute” lucy chuckles, “i can’t wait to tell everyone about the development” she grins, her and keira share a hearty laugh seeing your face go pale, while you attempted not to scream.

“don’t you fucking dare” you grit out, “i won’t” lucy winks, unfortunately she did and by the time training was over, your phone was blowing up with text messages talking about the interaction.

you looked at lucy with a stone cold glare while she blew you a kiss, alexia watched how angry you were, she could practically feel it radiating off you on the other side of the change room.

“estás bien? (are you okay)” alexia walks up to you, holding a cold drink out to you. you take it after a moment of hesitation, “uh, yeah, sí” you smile, “lucia is annoying you?” alexia grins, looking over at lucy to see her and keira whispering while looking at you. “yes, she’s very annoying” you grumble, your eyebrows furrowing.

alexia smiles fondly at you, her hand moving to your face, her thumb smoothing out the crease between your eyebrows. “wrinkles” she tutts, your breath caught in the back of your throat as you looked up at her.

“are you coming tonight?” she says like she didn’t just make you flatline. she’s talking about a team bonding session at her house. “yeah, i think so” you smile at her, “think or know?” she teases, was she flirting with you?

“know, i’ll be there” you mock, she nods with a pleased expression, “hasta luego, lindura (see you later, cutie)” she winks, moving to grab her bag from her cubby and leave, making sure to look back at you another time with a soft smile before walking out.

you get pulled out of your trance once you hear your phone blowing up again, checking it to see lucy had recorded you watching alexia leave. you throw your head back in frustration but chose to avoid letting the older girl feel your wrath, you were still on a buzz from the thought of alexia flirting with you.

—

when you arrived at alexia’s house, you brought her a bottle of wine with a sheepish grin. when she opened the door for you, she pulled you into the warmest hug, both of you fitting together like a puzzle.

“finalmente! (finally) i was waiting for you!” she grins as she pulls away, taking the wine out of your hands and grabbing one of yours to drag you into the living room where everyone was.

her hand was so warm against yours, soft against your skin and you really didn’t want her to let go. “you look beautiful” alexia smiles before she ushers you to sit down, you barely had the time to tell her how breathtaking she looked, dressed casually but still looking like she could be on the front of a magazine.

you sit next to mapi and she immediately bombards you with questions, “have you kissed yet?” she questions, you slap her knee, “ingrid, your girlfriend is a bully” you huff, ingrid laughs, nodding along with you with an apologetic smile.

everyone was watching a movie while eating, alexia sitting beside you, the two of you would chat back and forth with small giggles and smiles shared between you.

by the time the night was ending, alexia’s arm was resting behind you on the couch, basically over your shoulder while you were in your own little bubble.

when you left that night, you couldn’t stop thinking about all the interactions you had with the catalan, you needed to do something about it. fast.

—

on a match day for barcelona, you decided it was time for you to tell her about your feelings. it was clear you were flirting with each other. confirmed during the game.

in the second half, you managed to get a goal, using the technique alexia had taught you a couple of days prior.

she was the first one to you after, the loud roar of the crowd drowned out when you felt alexia’s strong arms wrapping around your waist.

you both smiled so brightly as she congratulated you, placing you on the ground, giving you an affectionate kiss on the forehead and squeezing your shoulders. this told you everything. it wasn’t just her being friendly, it was alexia making a move.

at the end of the match, the two of you lingered in the middle of the pitch, you were fidgeting so much alexia was worried.

“(y/n)?” she dips her head to make eye contact with you, “estás bien? (are you okay)” you nod, opening your mouth to speak but nothing came out. “take a deep breath” she smiles, a hand on your shoulder offering you comfort but also stressing you out.

“ale” you start, she nods with an encouraging smile, “i really fancy ya, ale, i’ve been wantin’ to tell ya for a while” you blurt out, alexia’s eyebrows furrow, she looks a little confused.

the silence was loud, why hasn’t she said anything back. if this was her rejection, it hurt more than anything she could have verbalised.

“you know what, forget i said anythin’” you run off before she could say anything. “qué? (what)” she was about to ask you to repeat yourself, one - because you were speaking too fast, two - she didn’t know what fancy meant.

you heard her call out for you but you ran into the change room, knowing keira and lucy were in there. “keira!” you yell, “fucking check my pulse!” you shove your arm in her face and she looks at you in shock. only a couple of people were inside, and the ones that were were shocked at how you tumbled into the room.

“jesus, your heart is going so fast” keira says as she presses her fingers to the inside of your wrist. “fuck, why couldn’t you tell me i’m dead and this is a nightmare” you groan, your hands running over your face frustratingly.

“what’s wrong with you?” lucy says as she walks out of the shower to see you in absolute shambles. “everything!” you explain each and every detail and they look at you sympathetically, understanding now why you were so upset.

what you didn’t know was alexia was outside, ear pressed to the door as she heard you explain that you were trying to confess. she feels her stomach tighten, cursing herself for not understanding what you were saying.

“whatever, i’m going home, don’t follow me” you grit, tears pooling at your waterline as you rush out. alexia had moved out of eyeline when she heard you, quickly going into the change room and drilling lucy and keira for your address that they happily gave her with sly grins. happy to know it was all a misunderstanding.

—

that afternoon, you hastily wiped your tears away thinking about alexia. you had misunderstood her intentions clearly, you were disappointed with yourself.

you heard the banging from the front door and groaned, knowing your fellow england teammates were probably on the other side with ice cream and apologetic smiles.

“i told you both not to follow me-” you huff, the door opening to see alexia standing there, a bouquet of bright flowers in hand. “hola (hello)” she smiles, “what are you doing here?” you ask softly, “can i come in?” you nod, moving back a little so she could step inside. she hands you the flowers and you take them with a confused expression.

what type of rejection was this?

“i heard you speaking to lucy and keira before” she starts nervously, both of you walking to the kitchen so you could put the flowers in water, they were beautiful.

“it’s fine if you don’t feel the same” you shrink into yourself, brushing the petals of one of the flowers between your fingers.

“hermosa (beautiful)” she calls out, moving around your counter to stand directly in front of you. “me gustas mucho, y quiero estar contigo (i like you a lot, i want to be with you)” she says earnestly, speaking in her mother tongue and hoping you understood because she was speaking from the heart.

you freeze, each and every word quickly translated in your head. “amor (love), you’re very beautiful and nice but you speak very fast, i did not understand a word you said before” she laughs, you can’t help but laugh too, shaking your head at how fast you fled the situation.

“i’m sorry, ale” you grin, “don’t be” she dismisses, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, relishing in the blush she just produced on your cheeks.

“me gustas mucho (i like you a lot), alexia” you smile, she gives you a dazzling expression, appreciating how you spoke her mother tongue to her so she really understood this time. “muy bien, preciosa! (very good, precious)” she coos affectionately, her hand cradling your cheek as she directed your eyes to hers.

“we will teach each other, sí?” she grins cheekily, you hum along with her words, “sí”.

she pulls you closer to place a sweet kiss on your lips, your stomach lurching at how soft they were against yours.

you both smile into it as she drew you closer, your arms wrapping around her neck while her free hand came to rest on the small of your back to press you against her.

she pulls away, not without pressing a few more kisses to your lips through the giggles and the small chatter between the two of you.

—

when you both came to training the next day hand in hand, sighs of relief were heard from everyone. lucy whipped out her phone as quickly as she could and sent pictures to the england group chat, your phone blowing up more than ever.

now that the team saw you interact, the teasing somehow got worse every time alexia would kiss you, or even hold your hand.

the pining drove everyone insane but the loved up versions of the two of you were insufferable. you were attached at the hip, just how you and alexia wanted.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill, just pretend it’s you xx

liked by keirawalsh and 44,232 others

alexiaputellas: mi niña (my girl)

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yourname: mami

↳ alexiaputellas: i didn’t teach her this

↳ marialeonn16: sureeeee

lucybronze: the most annoying couple ever

↳ yourname: shut up man

↳ leahwilliamsonn: there she is!!

↳ keirawalsh: she went soft but is still a shit head

↳ yourname: @/alexiaputellas bebé! defend me!

↳ alexiaputellas: you are soft

↳ yourname: the betrayal is unreal

[ephemeralinstance]

The Veil and the Ad Hominem Fallacy

While there are many things I love about Veilguard, the way the Veil was dealt with was definitely a weak point. We know the devs were worried that people sympathized too much with Solas' goals; hence the choice to have him kill Varric. But I think this demonstrates a misunderstanding of the reasons why people liked and sympathized with Solas.

In previous games, we were shown that the Veil has consistently harmed spirits, mages, and (arguably) elves - three groups who are systematically oppressed and/or have their personhood erased in Thedas. And in Inquisition, Solas was the only person who stood up for spirits, and among one of the most vocal supporters of mage freedom; he was also (albeit inconsistently) critical of the ways elves have been treated throughout Thedosian history. So people who sympathized with those three groups were naturally inclined to have at least some sympathy both for him personally and for his plans regarding the Veil (of course pending further details, since Trespasser was pretty vague about this). It's not the case that people agreed with him blindly because they liked him or because they romanced him; they liked him because they agreed with him, at least about the harms the Veil was inflicting on vulnerable groups. The use of Cyrian as a metaphor is also telling here. Anaris is clearly intended a parody of Solas, and so the mask which makes Cyrian feels Anaris' emotions seems to be intended as a critique of people who sympathize with ancient elven gods due to empathizing too much with them. But again, this is a misunderstanding. People didn't sympathize with Solas' goals just because they think he's tragic, they sympathized for actual reasons based on the canonical evidence for the Veil doing harm.

Having Solas kill Varric was therefore not a good way of addressing this issue, because Solas' personal character and methods are completely irrelevant to the question of whether the Veil should come down or not. The same goes for showing that Solas is largely motivated by regret, or that he often gets his plans wrong - all of this is a classic ad hominem fallacy. Perhaps these things might serve to convince us that it is not a good idea for Solas to take down the Veil by himself, but none of it is relevant to the question of whether the Veil should in fact come down.

The right way to address this issue would have been to actually address the arguments for it! Allow Solas to articulate the fact that the Veil harms spirits, mages and (perhaps) elves. Allow him to tell us what he believes Thedas would look like after the Veil came down. Allow Rook to discuss Solas' claims with knowledgeable people like Emmrich and Morrigan, and assess their validity. Perhaps even allow Rook to talk with the Mourn Watch, the Veil Jumpers and so on about other possible ways to mitigate the harms that the Veil does. Give Rook a chance to convince Solas himself that there are other options!

I'm not saying that the Veil should have come down. There's no canonical answer to the question of whether that would have been a good outcome, since we got no concrete details at all on what Thedas might look like if it did. Nor do I necessarily think that would have been a better story. But I do think the game we actually got would have been strengthened if they'd trusted players a bit more and allowed us to explicitly contemplate the morality of the Veil, and to seek alternative ways of solving the problems it causes.

[kickbackkanzaki]

The Dungeon Master and Chess Queen

You're the new student and chess captain at Hawkins High. When Eddie Munson asks you for tutoring you're certain you have him handled but you may have underestimated his strategy.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

"Eddie! Hey Eddie!" Dustin call and waved his had in front of Eddie's fixed eyes.

"Forget it, he's watching his girlfriend again," Gareth said between bites of his sandwich.

"Huh what?" Eddie jolted out of his trance and blinked at the Hellfire Club who were all staring at him.

"We were asking about the next campaign but you were too busy staring at Max's pretty friend," Mike explained in an annoyed tone.

You were sitting at a table across the cafeteria occupied by a motley mix of Robin, some of her band friends, a few chess club members and Max who was having her fire red hair tamed into a braid by your practised fingers.

"His girlfriend," Dustin repeated with a giggle.

"She's not my girlfriend," Eddie shot his young follower down, "I've never even spoken to her."

"You've been staring at her for weeks and you haven't talked once? Since when are you shy?" Dustin batted back and the whole table waited for an answer.

"It's not what you think," Eddie answered boredly.

"Sure dude."

"No really, she's up to something," the club leader came clean because there was no way Dustin would drop the subject otherwise. "People are always whispering to her and she hands out lunch bags randomly. It's weird."

"Maybe they're just hungry?"

"Think bigger Henderson. She's got a business going on."

"Why do you care?" Mike asked.

He didn't really care much for anyone's relationships since his own girlfriend had moved to California.

"Because Wheeler," Eddie answered impatiently. "I've spent six years building my cliental at this school and I'm not about to lose it to some new chick with a chess fetish."

"Dude," Jeff had just demolished his lunch and could finally talk. "Your balls are heavy and it's making you crazy. Just go ask her out before one of the basketball douchbags do."

The Hellfire Club's laughter was cut short when their leader's fist slammed the table.

"See! See!" Eddie half stood out of his seat and pointed across the cafeteria at you. "It's happening now."

A girl had approached you and said something that made you stop braiding and pull an item from your shoulder bag wrapped in brown paper.

Only because they were watching so intensely did the Hellfire Club see the crumpled note passed discretely between you two.

"That is it!" Eddie bellowed and shook the table so hard all the cafeteria plates jumped. "I'm putting an end to this now!"

The attention the Dungeon and Dragons players were giving you went totally unnoticed by yourself. Most of the time at school you dissociated mentally, preferring to solve puzzles in silence than listen to the state certified lessons.

But you enjoyed the company of your patchwork friends so you put up with the classes and cafeteria babble.

The first thing you'd done when you enrolled in Hawkins High was locate the chess club and challenge the reigning president for his position. He had demanded you win a simultaneous exhibit which you did by nailing all dozen club members in an hour.

Robin had been paired with you for chemistry and she'd won you over with her natural spunk and charm. Musical talent wasn't something you possessed but her band friends were nice and helped you navigate the school hierarchy.

You'd noticed Max pretty quickly as it was hard to miss that flaming hair. You sensed she was struggling with more than just the adjustment to freshman year and had taken her under your wing.

She'd pushed back at first, not wanting anyone to interfere with her problems but you persisted and she realised you wanted to support her, not fix her.

Max had booed braids as girly and dumb when you first offered to style her hair but after she read the books you loaned her on Viking women she'd relented.

You were so focused on keeping Max's hair threads even you didn't notice Eddie Munson sideling up to you holding his lunchbox.

"Have you got a moment?" he asked as everyone at the table stopped to stare at "The Freak" in his regular outfit of denim and leather.

"Sorry comrade," you said without looking up. "I am currently tackling a very complicated reverse braid and I have my friend Owen in check. So unless you can speed one of these along you'll have to come back later."

Eddie watched your fast hands weaving Max's hair for a few moments and decided to try the chess board instead. You had lost more pieces than Owen but your remaining ones were stronger. At the moment your queen and rook had Owen's king pinned and his other pieces were no support.

Eddie reached over and moved the trapped king in a direction Owen hadn't considered. You looked over for a second then knocked the king flat with a bishop you had been hiding in the back flank.

"Aww screw you man!" Owen whined and slumped back in his chair.

You and Max laughed and the final touches were added to Max's hairdo.

"There," you said handing her a mirror from your bag. "A true Valkyrie."

"So can we talk now?" Eddie asked naggingly.

"Alright," you said with a shrug and put the mirror back in your bag. "I'll see you in the carpark after school Max."

You gathered your things and followed Eddie out of the cafeteria and through the corridors to an out of order bathroom.

Without inhibitions you passed the door he held open for you and lent against a sink while Eddie made sure the cubicles were empty.

You only knew Eddie Munson by reputation and you were doubtful anything about that reputation was factual. Some had said he was into the occult and dangerous but you were yet to believe it.

So far he just seemed like a board game nerd who blew his eardrums out to metal music.

Satisfied you were alone Eddie kept a polite distance by a cubicle door and put on an professional expression.

"I'm all for empowering women in business but you need to stop," he began. "I've built a trusting relationship with the buyers here and I can't allow an interloper to come in and ruin it. So please, stay out of my territory."

For a moment you were both dead still and only a dripping tap could be heard.

"I think we have a misunderstanding," you said slowly breaking the silence and tried not to smile at his seriousness.

"I've seen your hustle lady," Eddie changed tactics and tried to sound suave. "Sneaking around handing out lunch bags like a suburban mummy. Only difference between us is I have more style."

You had a laugh a bit then. He was so serious it was adorable. The bell rang and you knew you had to resolve this misunderstanding quick.

"Come and see what I'm dealing and you'll understand I am no threat to your enterprise," you said with a smirk.

"Now?" Eddie asked uncertainly as a mass of students moved passed the door. "We'll be tardy."

"Come on, live dangerously," you teased with a wink.

You waited until the halls emptied and classroom doors closed then motioned for Eddie to follow. Both of you kept your footsteps light and peeked around each corner before scurrying towards the janitor's closet.

Eddie kept an eye out as you unfolded two hairpins from your pocket and worked the lock. After a bit of delicate maneuvering the lock popped and you both slipped inside, hitting the light switch as you went.

Eddie stood back as you dropped your bag and went over to a heating vent in the floor. The cover came loose with little effort and you pulled out a cardboard box.

Intrigued, Eddie stepped closer to take a cautious look at the contents.

"I deal in the most dangerous of contraband," you whispered seductively then theatrically opened the box.

"Books?"

"Brilliant books," you corrected and handed him a stack.

Eddie fumbled with the load then flipped through the pile reading each title aloud.

"Catcher in the Rye, The Colour Purple, The Bluest Eye, hang on why do I know these?" Eddie rarely read anything outside of fantasy but these were familiar to him.

He spied a bright red book in the box and the penny dropped.

"Holy shit!" he jumped on the spot and snatched the novel up. "This is the one they were picketing on the news!"

"The Handmaid's Tale," you said with a sagacious nod. "A frighteningly believable premonition of women's future. I've got a waiting list as long as my arm for that one."

"These are all banned aren't they? Is that what you've been dealing in? Illegal literature?"

"Ten dollars to loan, twenty to buy," you said and took the novels back to carefully replaced them in their box.

"I guess I owe you an apology," Eddie confessed and started smiling.

He was embarrassed to admit his spying and conspiracy theories had been paranoia but he could see the funny side to it. Eddie was man enough to admit when he'd made a fool of himself.

It was a nice smile you thought. Eddie's brown eyes warmed and you could feel your defensive shield melting a little. His leather jacket and demonic jewellery was just a facade too fool simple minds. Which accounted for most of the student body.

'Stop that,' you warned yourself when you started looking at his soft lips. 'It's a trap.'

"I thought you were dealing drugs but this is way more dangerous. Like state crime dangerous."

"Don't get turned on," you warned and tried to stop thinking of that smile. "In a small town there is no greater crime than new ideas."

"Baby you're speaking my language."

You were about to cuss him out for that moniker when there was a pounding on the door.

"Mr Munson!" came a shout. "I know you're in there! Unlock this door immediately!"

"What the fuck?" you gasped and quickly returned the contraband to its hiding place.

"Principal Higgins," Eddie blanched and his eyes rounded like a frightened deer. "He's been watching me all week. I think someone snitched on me."

Another bang rattled the door frame and you both backed into the tool shelf.

"Mr Munson! Open this door!"

Eddie looked down anxiously at his lunchbox with its hidden compartment full of weed. Higgins had searched his bag and locker heaps of times but he'd never suspected the unstylish lunch pail. If Higgins was to catch him holding it now...

He could see his underwhelming future flashing before his eyes. Expulsion, community service sentence, Wayne shaking his head in disappointment, a job cleaning septic tanks, alone on the couch every Friday feeding his beer gut, a funeral with three mourners.

"Final warning!" Higgins yelled then speaking to someone outside said in a quieter voice, "Unlock it."

"Drop your pants," you ordered as you snatched the lunch pail from Eddie's hand and dropped it on the tool shelf behind you.

"What?" Eddie asked frantically.

"Just do it!" you barked and grabbed his denim vest with both hands.

A second later maintenance man Sergio and Principal Higgins opened the door to see you kissing Eddie Munson madly. Your legs were wrapped tight around his waist as his hands gripped your arse tight under your skirt.

Your fingers were tangled in his hair which smelt fresh and clean to your surprise. You had expected the brown triffid to be knotty and full of crumbs but it was fabulous like a lion's mane.

Eddie's breathing was laboured as he strained holding you and tried not to trip on the jeans around his ankles. Your intimate proximity was overwhelming him and he was struggling to balance the conflicting feelings of fear and arousal.

The skin around your underwear was cool and firm in his hands but your lips were warm and soft. Only millimeters of fabric separated your privates and he could feel your heat warming his sensitive area.

"My office now!" Principal Higgins yelled and Sergio made his escape muttering about needing to be somewhere else.

With the mood instantly killed you dropped out of Eddie's hold and he rushed to pull his pants up. He had the decency to look embarrassed by the compromising situation but you were struggling not to smile at the principal's disapproving glare.

You enjoyed the childish thrill of upsetting authority figures, a fault you should grow out of but probably wouldn't.

You and Eddie were marched into the principal's office where you were subjected to a scolding about playing hooky, inappropriate behaviour and worst of all, not showing the proper school spirit.

Eddie took your hand as you sat side by side opposite Principal Higgins. You went to pull away but he winked and you realised he was trying to maintain the lovers charade.

The heat of your palm warmed the metal rings and his long fingers nearly enclosed your whole hand they were so long.

You zoned out for most of what Principal Higgins said, these speeches were liked cracked records to you now. Not that you incited trouble, it's just that you stood up for yourself - something an institution that demands blind obedience disliked.

"-don't let him influence you with his underachieving behaviour."

"Hang on what?" you were suddenly reengaged in the conversation. "Did you just take a swipe at Eddie?"

"Leave it darlin'," you hear Eddie mumble behind a pensive hand gesture.

"No, no," your irritation was up. "What do you mean underachieving? Eddie is in three of my classes and he shows up to every one on time. He shuts up, does his work and answers questions. Underachieving is how I'd describe those basketball Neanderthals who stumble in late and butcher Shakespeare."

Last week you had to sit through a double period of English where the basketball goons has sniggered as every mention of "ass" in A Midsummer Night's Dream.

"You're still new to this school," Higgins had changed his tone to one for a simpleton. "You may not know this is Mr Munson's third attempt at graduation."

"Which is brilliant," you said imitating his tone. "Most people would just give up."

Eddie squeezed your hand warningly but you were on a roll. Everything the principal said now was lubricant for your bulldozer.

Principal Higgins pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. He had heard about this in the staff room. How you took to an argument with the ferocity of a bulldog and pulled a verbal knife on any bully who crossed your path.

"You are one of our best students," he began.

"Oh piss off," you shot him down before he could continue. "I get the best grades but I'm an awful student. Which is why I never get approached for extra advancement or early college admission. You give all that to the 'best' students who are spoon fed conformists while the students who put in twice the work just to keep up get ignored."

"We accommodate every student," Higgins puffed his chest up defensively.

"No you don't!" you said louder and now you were the one squeezing Eddie's hand.

"The only college scouts who come here are after athletes. Art subjects are undersupplied, the library hasn't a single book published this decade and our history textbooks are written from a very biased, white, male view. Less than half of graduates go to college, most stay in Hawkins and find blue collar work. These kids are falling into apathy because you're putting all your attention on the golden children."

"You're suspended for the rest of the week," Higgins couldn't argue with you so he resorted to punishment. "I'll be calling your father."

"You'll wish you hadn't," you chuckled and grabbed your bag.

"You need to wait while I do the paperwork!" Higgins called as you walked to the door.

"Send me a fax," you replied nonchalantly and after a second remembered you were supposed to be madly in love with Eddie Munson.

"Farewell my darling," you said with longing and blew him a kiss.

Eddie caught it and held it over heart. He smiled again triggering a tingling sensation on your skin and you had a flashback to your tongue tickling his.

'Don't,' you warned yourself. 'You don't need the trouble.'

But you were going to get into a lot of trouble.

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 2

Masterlist || AO3

Pairing: Millionaire Joel Miller x Female Reader Series Summary: After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.  Chapter Summary: Try as he might, Joel just can’t shake the memory of you. Try as you might, you can’t stop thinking of the woman tied to his desk. CW: The slow burn is burning. Mentions of death and underage drinking. Topless in public, this is a love story about BDSM after all. Reader does have some physical descriptions, so maybe more of an OFC, or just pretend you have pouty lips and a slightly upturned nose. Double POV (reader and Joel). AN: Thank you SO FUCKING MUCH for all the love on chapter one of this story. I literally cannot believe it surpasses 1000 notes in just a month, you're all insane and I love you. Dividers by @saradika-graphics. Biiiig shout outs to the bb's who have been so supportive of me spiralling and panicking this last month over the next chapter. I'd be in a deep dark cave without you @mermaidgirl30 @littlevenicebitch69 @lotusbxtch @evolnoomym @joelmillerisapunk and @milla-frenchy . Thank you! I feel like I'm giving some sort of Oscars speech and if you're still reading this, you're the real MVP. XO Word Count: 8.5k

~ Joel - 27 Years Ago ~

Joel’s stands in the garage of someone he barely knows, surrounded by drunk and rowdy classmates from his high school. He’s a senior, graduating in just a few weeks and moments like this are one of the perks of being the star designated hitter and first baseman, everyone wants you at their party. Someone hands him a warm, flat beer that was pumped poorly from a keg as they pat his back roughly in congratulations. Joel’s not sure how a bunch of seventeen year olds managed to get a keg, most likely an older brother, but he drinks the shitty beer all the same. Speaking of brothers, he hasn’t seen Tommy in a while. He’s only fifteen and he promised their mom he’d keep an eye on him. The younger Miller shouldn’t be at a seniors party, but that's where those perks come in again, because if Joel was good, Tommy was better. In fact, he was so much better that he’s played up a whole age group his entire life, always right beside Joel. Tommy was the back catcher, and tonight he got the eleventh inning game winning out at home for them to win the state championship. 

He finds Tommy chatting with a group of girls, all of whom are incredibly beautiful. They’re going to be very disappointed when they find out how much younger he is than them. Joel smiles into his red solo cup as he takes a sip of stale beer. He tucks his free hand into the pocket of his light blue wranglers and walks over to the wall of the garage. He leans back and crosses one cowboy booted foot over the other. The brim of his cowboy hat grazes the unpainted drywall behind him. Texas, and the country, in the late nineties was where everyone wanted to be, and Joel Miller could have been the poster boys for teenage country boys in 1997.

Brooks & Dunn plays on someone's CD player in the corner, laughter and people talking overlaps until it’s just noise to Joel. He stands back, watching his younger brother effortlessly charm the five pretty girls around him. All of them in tight blue jeans, lacy white tops, denim vests and cowboy boots. He grabs one by the hand and Joel overhears, “I’ll teach ya how to two step, shame to not know in a place like this.” Then the motherfucker winks at her like he’s some sort of cowboy Casanova. Joel lets out a silent laugh through his nose and sips the beer again shaking his head. 

Just as Tommy pulls the pretty little blonde over towards the unmarked and unofficial dance floor in the corner of the garage the song changes. Slow guitar, followed by the unmistakable twang of Tim Magraw’s voice. Joel didn’t know it then, but that song would change the course of his life and intertwine itself in the very fabric of his being.

‘Dancin’ in the dark, Middle of the night’

That’s when he sees her, tall and slender, deep olive toned skin and pale green eyes. Her dark curly hair cascades over one of her shoulders. She’s laughing with another classmate, and even though he can’t hear the sound of it over the noise of the party, he can tell it’s a light and melodic sound, and he wants to spend the rest of his life drawing that out of her. 

‘Takin’ your heart, An holdin’ it tight’

He puts his warm beer on the work bench beside him and takes off his black felt Stetson, placing it over his broad chest, hoping the comfort of his favourite hat would slow the rate at which his heart is beating. 

‘Emotional touch, Touchin’ my skin, And askin’ you to do, What you’ve been doin’ all over again’

She looks over at him, smiling shyly, and before he knows what he’s doing he’s walking over to her. His legs move on their own accord, knees shaking as he approaches the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen.

‘Oh, it’s a beautiful thing, Don’t think I can keep it all in, I just gotta let you know, What is that won’t let me go’

Everything in the room fades as she fully comes into view. Beautiful doesn’t even begin to describe the girl in front of him. She radiates a warmth that he’s only ever known his mother to radiate. It’s the first time he’s ever seen this girl, but she feels like home. This is it, that one thing that everyone says you’re supposed to feel. The thing his grandpa told him when he was younger, “Son, you’ll just know. It sounds ridiculous, but when I saw your grandma it was like a pull behind my belly button. I just knew, and I’ve known everyday since then.”

“Howdy, ma’am,” Joel says, tipping his hat to her before placing it back on his head. 

She giggles, confirming his earlier thoughts. It really is the sweetest fucking sound he’s ever heard. “Hi.”

He holds out a hand to her and she takes it, her skin is so warm and smooth. In that moment he knows that hers will be the last hand he ever holds. Fire flushes through his veins as he continues, “I’m Joel, what’s your name?”

“Oh, I know who you are Joel Miller,” she flirts, not letting go of his hand. “I’m Tiffany.”

“Tiffany,” he repeats, his voice going deeper as he says it. It’s egotistical but he loves the way girls shiver just a little when he lowers his register. “And how is it that you know who I am?”

She slides her hand from his and reaches up to grab his cowboy hat, plopping it onto her head. “Star first baseman and designated hitter, everyone knows Joel Miller. Look around, look at all these girls lookin’ at you, cowboy.”

For the first time in his life Joel finds himself blushing, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Tiffany. 

“I only see one girl.” She rolls her eyes and swats at his bicep at the cheesy line, but that was it for both of them. From that point they were inseparable. 

They both turned eighteen a few months later, and just ten months, and a thirty two hour labour after Tiff turned eighteen, a tiny little Sarah came into the world all pink and screaming. Joel hears that song again as he watches Tiffany hold that little bundle of blankets, ‘Better than I was, More than I am, And all of this happened, By taking your hand.’

They get married when Sarah is just a few months old. Both his beautiful curly haired girls in white dresses, Tiffany grabbing that same black Stetson off his head during their first dance. He holds them both, swaying from side to side, a hot tear rolling down his cheek at how goddamn happy he is. ‘And who I am now, Is who I wanted to be, And now that we’re together, I’m stronger than ever, I’m happy and free’.

Things for their little family of three are perfect. They buy the house with the white picket fence and the wrap around porch. Joel gets a job working construction and enjoys a nightcap with his beautiful young wife on their front porch every night. They make love often, slow and sweaty, Joel worshiping her soft copper toned skin inch by glorious inch. Tiffany wraps every minute of her day around Sarah and being a sweet, devoted housewife. Nothing seems to stand in their way. Until the diagnosis shortly before Sarah starts Kindergarten. 

Tiffany is too young, they’re all too young. This isn’t something that happens to people their age, they haven’t had enough time. Joel spends the next few months in a haze, it has to be a bad dream. The appointments, the treatments, the call to 911 when the illness starts to win. This isn’t how it was supposed to go. 

He holds Tiffany until the very end. Sponging a soft kiss to her forehead, whispering his goodbyes as they shut off the machines keeping her here. “You’ve been so strong, my love. You fought so hard. I know you’re scared to go, I’m scared too, but we’ll do it like we do everything else. Together. I’ll be ok, Sarah will be ok. Just rest now. I love you.” 

As she takes her last shaky and shallow breath, a sound will live with him until he takes a breath that matches hers, that song echoes through his hollow chest. ‘It’s your love, It does something to me, It sends a shock right through me, I can’t get enough’.

You - Present Day

You roll to a stop outside Mister Miller’s house for your second day of cleaning. As you look towards the impressive house your pussy flutters at the memories of yesterday - the almost pornographic noises that were made in that office, his soft and kind eyes as he apologized profusely in the kitchen. You were supposed to go to a study group last night, but instead you got lost in a rabbit hole of porn where women are tied up and fingered. You got yourself off four times thinking about a man you’re not even supposed to know, wishing it was his thick fingers hitting that spot inside of you that you can’t reach on your own. You felt guilty about it last night and now being back in his home you have that same sinking feeling again. 

Stupid. Sacrificing my future for a fantasy. Never again. 

You let yourself in the house and look at the list in your cleaning app. You pop in your AirPods and start listening to your favourite true crime podcast; thankful for the new episode, a gruesome distraction as you scrub baseboards and lightswitches. The episode ends and in an attempt to not let your mind wander to the gorgeous man that lives here, and the depraved new things you’ve discovered about yourself, you start an educational audiobook about civil rights law. You might want Joel Miller to strap you down and whisper filth in your ears, but you are a good person, and your aspiration in life is to help people who face discrimination on a daily basis. 

You breeze around his home, checking off each task and before you know it it’s almost one in the afternoon. You have almost your whole list complete, his soft sheets are in the dryer (and yes, you are incredibly proud of yourself for only putting the luxurious white fabric to your face twice on the way to the washer). You only have the patio furniture to spray down and the kitchen counters to wipe. That’s when your stomach growls, almost as if to remind you that it’s the perfect time to take a break while the dryer finishes. You haul all your stuff out to your car and lock up, sitting in your front seat as you take out your lunch container.

An engine revs in the distance and your heart skips in your chest. Before you even have time to wonder if it’s Joel’s car, one of the black garage doors slides open and Joel’s obsidian coloured Aston Martin rolls by you, stopping with precision on the shiny cement floor of the garage. You avert your eyes, focused on your container of chicken noodle soup. The left side of your face feels the warmth of his gaze fixed on you. Without looking over you can tell he is studying you and it takes everything you have to keep your eyes on your measly lunch. 

The afternoon sun is blocked as Joel raps his knuckles on your window. You glance over at him, looking up through your lashes. He’s looking at you intensely but you can’t quite place his expression. As always, his deep brown eyes are locked on yours, he could either be happy to see you or incredibly disappointed in you. But one thing is for sure, he’s calculating your every need with those warm and inviting eyes. He knocks again so you crank the handle to roll your window down a crack.

He raises one eyebrow at you, both hands rest on the roof of your SUV as he leans forward to speak to you through the small opening in the window. “Seriously?” His voice is laced with sarcasm. 

“What?” You say, “Can’t be too safe.”

He blinks at you before continuing, “What'd ya doin’ out here?”

You lift your tupperware container a little, willing the tingles between your thighs to stop, “Eating my lunch.”

He rolls his eyes, running his hand along his greying scruff. “You’re eatin’ lukewarm soup in your car in the middle of February.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement, but his voice is warm and curious, and you start to realize that the look on his face isn’t happiness or disappointment, but concern. 

You nod, “Yes.” His eyes dance around your face and you swear your heart is beating as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. Fluttering so fast that it’s traveling up your throat and you wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it. 

“Get out of the car. Come warm that up and eat inside.” His voice is thick with concern, entire face soft as he looks at you. 

You swallow your heart back down to where it belongs, “I’m not allowed to do that, Mister Miller.”

His cheeks redden a little and some of the softness in him disappears, “Don’t call me that, it’s jus’ Joel to you.”

“I’m not even supposed to know your name, Mister Miller. I can’t call you by your first name.”

He shifts his weight onto one foot and points a thick finger at you through your window, “Don’t. Either you call me Joel or nothin’ at all. Come inside,” he drops his pointer finger to the door handle. He pulls on it to find it locked. “Seriously?”

“I told you, I can’t be too safe!” You can help but think how cute he looks all flustered - shaking his head at you for being cautious in a neighborhood where you could probably scream your credit card number and no one would use it. If anything, the wealthy homeowners on this street might transfer you money when they see the state of your vehicle. 

“You’re eatin’ inside.” He says flatly. 

“I told you, I can’t. We aren’t allowed to do that. You’re a client, Mist - I mean. Sorry, I just can’t. We aren’t allowed.” You glance towards the clock on your dash. At this rate your break is going to be over before you finish eating. 

He jiggles the door handle again, as if he can convince the metal to bend and unlatch itself with just his sexiness alone. “You like rules, don’t ya?”

He’s got you there, you do enjoy following the rules. You nod and hum a noise in agreement. 

“Unlock the door, please,” his voice has changed, he’s being more commanding now. A deeper, huskier sound leaving his lips. The sound seems to latch onto something deep in your mind, strong fingers wrapping around the control center of your brain, guiding you to do his bidding. You blink the feeling away. 

“Mister-,” his eyes flash with darkness, “Sorry. I can’t. It wouldn’t be right to eat in your house, plus my break is almost over.”

Joel releases your door handle, raising his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose and lets out a breath, as he drops his hand back to the top of your vehicle an amused smirk flashes across his face. “Do you consider yourself to work in customer service?”

“Yes,” you say nervously.

“And isn’t the main rule of customer service that the customer is always right?” His lips form a tight line and a deep dimple carves into one of his tanned cheeks. Your brain flashes back to one of the videos you watched last night, a man sucking on a woman's nipples as he rubbed her clit, her arms and legs strapped to a padded table. He had a dimple, but he had nothing on Joel. 

“Yes,” you croak and then clear your throat gently, shifting in your seat at the fire building behind that bundle of nerves between your thighs. 

“Then unlock the door, darlin’ and eat inside.” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, turning and walking towards the house. He stops on the front step, opening the large glass front door. You follow, flip flops slapping on the concrete, carrying your powdered chicken noodle soup and plastic spoon up towards his fancy home. When you reach the threshold, he holds out his large hand palm up and you place the old, stained tupperware with your half eaten soup into it. He looks down at it and then back at you, eyes trailing along your body and it feels like he’s running a torch over you. “Is this all you have to eat?”

You nod, giving him a tight lipped smile. 

He cocks his head towards the kitchen and one pushed back curl that’s laced with a few greys falls into his eyes with the movement. In order to stop from pushing his loose curl back you squeeze your fists gently and head towards the stool you sat on yesterday. As your flip flop hits the tile you stop and look back towards your car nervously. “I, umm, I forgot my shoes.”

His large, warm palm comes to your lower back and he pushes you gently towards the kitchen. You sit as he transfers your soup into a matte black bowl and places it in the microwave. He opens a cupboard and pulls out a loaf of fresh bread, as you go to protest he flicks his eyes up to yours and something about the expression on his face tells you not to argue with him. He pops the two carefully cut pieces into the toaster. He breezes effortlessly around the kitchen for someone so broad and masculine. You didn’t realize someone making toast could be so sexy. The microwave beeps and he grabs a gold spoon from a drawer before wandering around the island, placing them both in front of you. His arm brushes yours as he pulls away and your heart flutters at his touch. He walks back around the kitchen island and grabs a glass. 

“Still or sparkling?” He says as if that’s just a normal question to ask when you get someone a glass of water. Just another thing that proves you don’t belong here. The toaster pops and you jump a little. He chuckles as he grabs the toast, slathering it with butter. “Still or sparkling, darlin’?” 

You breath hitches, he’s called you darlin’ twice now. Is that just that southern charm you hear about so often, or is it more? You shake the thought from your head, there’s no way someone like him is interested in someone like you. “Still is fine, you don’t have to trouble yourself.” 

You take a spoonful of soup, blowing on it gently before putting the spoon in your mouth. Joel is watching you in the same way he was yesterday. Assessing. Observing. Calculating. It feels like he’s looking into your very soul. He slides the plate of toast and then a glass of sparkling water over to you from across the island.

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “You didn’t -”

He holds his hand up, stopping you in the same way he did yesterday. “I wanted to.”

You feel your cheeks redden and you have to look away as you take a bite of toast. He’s too handsome standing in the kitchen with the afternoon sun highlighting his features. He’s wearing a black dress shirt today, the top few buttons undone, accentuating the perfectly groomed salt and pepper hair on his chest. You swallow your bite of warm, salty, buttery toast, allowing your eyes to flutter closed at the delectable flavour, holding back a moan. 

Joel clears his throat and crosses his arms across his broad chest, “So how did ya get into cleanin’ houses?”

You look up at him through your lashes. Why is he being so nice to you and taking care of you? He apologized yesterday. And after you told him it was fine he left you a massive tip. He said he wants to do this, but why? He’s rich and handsome and you can probably safely assume that that icy blonde from yesterday was his girlfriend. Unless…could she possibly be a mistress? You decide that that must be it. She’s his mistress. He has a wife. He’s just like every other rich man, cheating on his beautiful and age appropriate wife with someone much much younger than him. He’s probably terrified that you might find out who his wife is and tell her. That tip was hush money.

“I’m saving money,” you say and then shake your head, willing the thoughts in your mind to calm down. “For law school.”

“That right?” He says, raising an eyebrow at you as you take another spoonful of soup.

“Yes, I want to be a lawyer. I graduated a semester early and needed some money before going back to university. Assuming I even get accepted. This job meant I could work part time so I could study to take the LSAT again and also make good money.” You take another bite of the toast, mainly to make yourself shut up. 

He watches you the entire time, nodding along, his eyes constantly assessing. “Take the LSAT again?” he asks.

“I passed it already and applied to schools but I haven’t heard back yet. Law school is pretty competitive, so I’m going to take it again and hopefully have a better mark for the next round of college applications.” You’re talking too much, you need to shut up and just eat, but Joel doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look away. No one has ever listened to you like that, not even your parents.

“Next round?” He asks curiously. 

You feel your cheeks redden. You don’t want to admit to this obviously successful man in front of you that you probably won’t get accepted to any of the eight universities you applied to. “Yes. It’s competitive, and I probably won’t get in. So I’m preparing to be better the second time.”

“Where did you apply? If that’s not too forward of a question.”

“No, not too forward. Umm, a few places. Strength in numbers, I guess. Harvard, Yale, Columbia, Berkeley, Duke, University of Toronto, but I don’t think I’d survive a Canadian winter. I also applied at Notre Dame and University of Texas here in Austin.”

Joel laughs at you mentioning the Canadian winter and once you’re quiet, he looks down at his expensive dress shoes, “I, umm, I know some higher ups at UT Austin if you need me to put in a good word.”

You smile at him when he looks back up at you, “I don’t think that’s quite how it works, Joel. But thank you.”

The two of you are silent for a moment while you finish your first piece of toast. You glance up at him and he’s looking at you with that same hint of pride he had yesterday while you drank your water. He’s making you feel like eating toast is something to be proud of. You can’t explain it but his facial expression wraps around like a corset. Pulling its metaphoric laces and making you sit up taller, holding your head up higher. With just the shimmer in his deep brown eyes you feel like you could take on the world. You need to break the silence so you say, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he says, leaning back to rest on the countertop behind him. His arms uncross, his strong hands wrapping around the countertop on each side of his body. 

“What do you do for a living? To have all this?” You gesture around the house as you sip your sparkling water.

“A few things. I used to own a construction company, sold it a few years ago to retire but I got bored pretty quickly. Now I own a few properties, I rent them out.” You nod as you listen to him, eating your lunch. One hand rubs at his patchy, salt and pepper beard nervously before saying, “I also own a club.”

You let out a little giggle into your water glass, immediately praying that he doesn’t think that was you being rude. Of all the professions that could have come out of his mouth, owning a nightclub was the last thing you expected. Joel smiles at the sweet melodic sound leaving your lips and relief washes over you. “Why’s that so funny?” His voice is light at his inquiry. 

“It’s not,” you say after swallowing your water. He furrows his brows at you. “You just - I mean, I guess I don’t know you, but don’t seem like the nightclub type.”

“You’re right, you don’t know me. But you’re also right that I am not a nightclub type,” he states. Something about the way he says it makes you sense that that’s as far as you’re going to get with it, but you also realize that the club is probably how this man meets young women to bring home.

You put your spoon down and place your hands in your lap. “Can I umm, ask you something else?”

“Of course,” he repeats. 

“What’s with that little dinosaur toy on your coffee maker?”

He smiles and reaches over to grab it, rubbing his thumb along the faded and scuffed brown paint of the little toy. He looks down at it and a hint of sadness seems to fill his coffee and amber eyes as he looks at you. “My daughter, she umm, she got it for me from the prize box in Kindergarten after her mom -” he stops mid sentence, sadness lining his features. Joel’s not married, you roll your eyes at yourself internally for thinking the worst of him. And truthfully, you of all people know he’s not married. You clean his house, you’ve been in his bedroom, and there are no women's clothes. You’ve also been in all the spare bedrooms and there’s no chance another person lives here with him. He continues, choosing his words almost carefully, “Well, just after she was gone.”

“I’m sorry, Mister,” his eyes flash onyx for just a second, he looks lethally sexy and you swallow your words before starting again. “I’m sorry, Joel.”

“It was a long time ago,” he says, placing the dinosaur back. He runs his fingers through his salt and pepper curls, letting out a little sigh. There’s a shift in him, like suddenly the world is heavier. He tries not to let it show, and maybe most people wouldn’t notice, but you see it. The slight fall in his face, a little slump in the shoulders, a breath held for just a second too long. He clears his throat gently and says, “I’ll be in my office. Eat your lunch for me, please.”

Joel

Joel closes the door of his office and rests his forehead against the smooth wooden surface. He can’t remember how much he spent on these doors when he built the house, but he would set any door that separated him from you on fire if he had to. 

Get it together, Joel.

He closes his eyes and only sees you. The way your glossy, pink lips formed a little O as you blew on your soup. The way the gold plated metal spoon slid softly along your tongue. His cock twitches in his pants and he feels the urge to throw all the spoons in his house away. 

Great, you’re jealous of a spoon. 

He shouldn’t be home. He signed a contract, and more importantly, you signed a contract. In order to protect him and you there is to be no contact between the cleaner and the client. That’s what you consented to when you took your job at Maid Discreetly, and now he’s caused you to break that contract not once, but twice. But he cannot seem to get you out of his mind, and as he sat in a meeting at his club he couldn’t focus. You were here, cleaning his home in that form fitting white polo shirt and those black pants that hugged at your hips in all the right places, and he just had to know if you were as beautiful as he remembered. Just a quick peek, he convinced himself as he made up some bullshit excuse to leave. 

When he saw you sitting in your rusty SUV you looked so innocent and pure, you were more than beautiful. The afternoon sun lighting up your high cheekbones and slender, slightly upturned nose, it gave you an almost angelic glow that temporarily took his breath away. If he had to describe you in two words he would say that you were simply ravishing. For the first time in almost thirty years he wished he still had the calming comfort of that black felt cowboy hat. But that soft Stetson went with her because she loved it so much. 

As he caught his breath and looked at you from his garage, he was overcome with an urge to bruise and corrupt you. He’s a bad man for the thoughts he's been having about you. He can’t help himself, but even in his most twisted of fantasies, he’d never do anything you didn’t want him to. But, fuck, he’s sure he could mold you into exactly what he wants in a submissive. 

Joel isn’t new to the world of kink; he’s had many subs, all of whom have referred to him as Mister Miller. However, his name has never sounded so fucking sweet as it did coming off your lips. Those two little words leaving your pouty, pink lips feel like that first sip of whiskey after a long day, and it might kill him if he doesn’t make you his. 

He sighs into the white wood of the door before standing and walking to sit behind his desk. He drops into the soft leather chair and lets his head fall back onto the headrest and closes his eyes. What is it about you? Why can’t he stop thinking about you? You’re way too young. Way too sweet. Way too…sinless. And even though he can’t explain it, and he knows you don’t know it, you’re way too “exactly-what-is-going-to-ruin-his-entire-life”. 

You’re not someone he can just play with. No, he’s good at reading people, and you’re the kind of person that deserves being invested into. You’re also not someone who is going to stick around. You have dreams and well laid out plans on how you’re going to achieve them. He can’t cage you in, he’ll have to let you spread your wings and fly no matter how much he sees himself as the man he used to be reflected back in your eyes.  

He opens his eyes and pictures you kneeling in the corner, perfectly manicured hands that he pays for you to have done weekly folded on your lap as he works. He imagines calling you over with a curl of his fingers, you crawling across the plush carpet and resting your head on his lap as he responds to emails, takes calls, or plans events. He could reach down and run his fingers through your soft, silky hair as you nuzzled deeper into his lap with your cheek. “My perfect, sweet girl,” he’d hum.  

His body falls forward, forehead hitting the sturdy wooden desk with a thump. Jesus Christ, Joel. 

It was one thing when he only found you beautiful - he could live with being attracted to you, he could find a way around it or stuff that attraction down, maybe he’d find a new sub to distract himself with. That would be easy for him, but then you had to open your mouth, you had to speak so passionately about your future. Why couldn’t you just be pretty like all the other women he plays with? You might be one of the most driven people he knows: the way you push yourself, already planning for the next “no”. And that kills him, ruins him really that you are programmed to think there will automatically be a “no” and that you’ll have to endure another round of LSAT’s and college applications. You’re smart, and he wants to kill whoever made you feel like you need to push yourself this hard. 

His phone vibrates in his pocket; annoyance courses through his body until he sees his brother's name across the pristine screen of his newest iPhone Max. 

“Ya?” He says harshly. 

“Everything ok with the alarm?” 

Joel’s mind goes blank, “What?” 

Tommy is silent for a second before he responds slowly, “The alarm? You left in the middle of a meeting because of an alarm.” 

Joel shakes his head. Right, the alarm. The bullshit excuse he made up so he could leave to see you. “Ya, right. Ya, it’s fine. Got it all, umm, all fixed up. Should be back soon.”

“You ok, brother?” Tommy asks suspiciously. “You seemed, I dunno, distracted today.” 

“I’m fine,” Joel snaps. 

“Alright. Well, come back soon, pretty big night here and we need ya.” 

Joel hangs up without saying goodbye. He’s the owner, he knows it’s a big night, but he’s sort of busy having an existential crisis over possibly being in love with his house cleaner. Whoa, in love? Pump the fucking brakes. Joel’s heart stops beating for a second at the thought of it. He can’t possibly be in love; he doesn’t fall in love. No, he decides, it’s just because she’s new, and exactly my type, and it’s been a long time since I found someone that’s my type.

Just as he stands from his desk, he hears the hose outside turn on. You must be at the pool furniture part of your list. He takes this moment to sneak out of his own house, because he’s a weak man when it comes to you, apparently. He slips into the Italian leather front seat and lets the new car smell waft over him; he loves the smells of a new sports car and has never owned one long enough for it to stop smelling that way. It’s a matter of status to him. He takes a good hard look at himself in the rear view mirror. That’s enough now. For both of your sakes. Leave her alone. 

You 

After spraying down the pool furniture you rush inside to warm up. Seriously, who needs their pool stuff cleaned in the fucking winter? As you jog up the stairs to grab Joel’s freshly laundered sheets, you blow into your cupped palms. The warmth spreads from your frozen fingertips to your palms. Joel’s office is empty; he must have left while you were outside. Your brain swirls with unanswered questions as you pull the fitted sheet back onto his king size bed. Why would he come home? First of all, he knows you’re here this time and second of all, he knows he’s not supposed to be here. So why? And then there’s his calculating stare, always watching and usually with a flash of pride in his features. Did he come back here just to talk to you? Maybe even to get to know you? 

It’s safe to say that you’re more confused than ever, and you make a mental schedule of studying and reading to keep you busy later tonight so you won’t spend hours trying to google him again.

It takes way too much effort, and a silent promise to yourself to get back to the gym, but you manage to wrestle the oversized duvet back into its cover just as three o’clock rolls around. You jog down the wide, open staircase and your phone bings in your back pocket. Jamie’s name is splayed across your cracked screen, the sunset from your last trip to California shining back at you. 

What are you doing tonight? Want to make a bunch of money serving drinks topless?

You laugh to yourself. Truthfully, nothing Jamie asks you seems to surprise you, and some sort of odd job where you’re topless or in a sexy outfit is practically a guarantee as a condition of your friendship. As you reach for the black envelope on the kitchen island you text back. 

What?

You barely have the thick parchment of the envelope open when she responds, like she already had the text locked and loaded and was just waiting for you to try to fight her on it.  

Remember Laren? My cousin? She has a topless catering company and needs help tonight. It’s at some exclusive VIP poker game downtown. 4 hours, $300 + tips.

You respond as a thousand dollars falls out of the tip envelope. 

I’m in.

Jamie picks you up a few hours later and parks her blacked out Range Rover in the alleyway behind a shiny black building in the heart of downtown. You’re once again surrounded by wealth and success thanks to Jamie. The dress code tonight is a black pencil skirt, black heels, your tits, and a bow tie that Laren will give you. Speaking of whom, Laren is holding open a staff door for you and Jamie with her hip, waving the two of you into the warmth of the building. She pulls you both into a big hug, “Thank fuck! You two saved my ass tonight. Gotta love having friends and family with great tits!”

“You’re so weird,” Jamie says, brushing past her and into the building. You follow her in before Laren ushers you towards a service elevator. 

“They’ve already started, you’re part of the second shift. I think the first set of girls made about four hundred each in tips, helps if you serve the guys that are winning though. The first round of games is almost over, winners move on soon.”

“How were their tits though? As great as ours?” You joke. Underneath the calm and collected mask you’re wearing you are definitely nervous. All these strange men are going to see you half naked, you know nothing about poker or serving drinks. Your two friends laugh as the elevator opens to a small changing room. Girls from the first shift are putting their tops back on, handing the bow ties back to Laren who gives them to you and Jamie. 

She cocks her head towards a swinging door, “Just through there when you’re done. Go to the bartender for a tray and table assignment. Two girls per table and only six seats so it should be pretty easy. Make sure you smile!”

“Yes, ma’am,” you and Jamie say teasingly as you strip off your tops and bras. She flips you the middle finger as she heads back out to the poker game to supervise. The cool air of the room stiffens your nipples, nerves fluttering behind your navel as you put the bow tie on.

You overhear the girls that are leaving talking about the men, “Did you see the one with the curly hair at the table by the bar?”, one says. 

The other responds, “He was so fucking hot. Total daddy, I think he owns this place.” 

A third pipes up with, “Fuck, I should have flirted more. I could use a sugar daddy.” 

As they walk towards the elevator the first girl says, “Did you know that this is a sex club? Too bad we can’t go explore the rest.” They giggle as they leave and you take a steadying breath. You’re going to be topless, in a sex club. 

“Ready?” Jamie asks, adjusting her bowtie around her slender neck. 

“Did you know this is a sex club?”

She laughs, “Ya, it’s like an exclusive kink club apparently. Laren said it’s owned by two brothers who are insanely hot. Maybe I should see if they need a maid.” She winks at you as you both walk towards the swinging door. 

You step into the dimly lit room and find the bar directly across from you. After rolling your shoulders back and down, you cross the dark hardwood floor to the bar. Everything in the room is black or deep forest green. Black paint covers the walls, your heels click against the sturdy black wooden floors, even the poker tables and chairs are black. A pop of deep green velvet only along the seats and table tops. It looks soft, like one of those fuzzy blankets you have on your couch and you fight the urge to run your hand across one of the empty tables as you pass. 

The bartender hands Jamie a tray first and then quietly tells her to go to the table in the far right corner. She sways her hips like the sultry goddess she is as she walks to the table. Relief floods through you when you notice that none of the men have raised their eyes, they’re focused intently on the card game. This isn’t some sleazy club like you initially thought when you heard ‘sex club’ leave the lips of the other servers. You relax a little at being able to just be yourself tonight, maybe a bit more naked than you’d usually be but yourself nonetheless. 

You take the black marble serving tray as the bartender points to the table closest to the bar. The curly hair man that the women were talking about in the change room faces away from you. Your heart leaps in your chest. Joel. As you approach the other server standing behind the table, he starts to turn his head. Time stops, your heart speeds up, and it starts to feel simultaneously too hot and too cold in the room all at the same time. It’s almost as if he’s turning his head in slow motion. As you catch his side profile he has the same hooked nose, in the dim light of the room you can’t see any greys along his temples and he doesn’t appear to have a beard. After what feels like an hour, his eyes finally meet yours and you let out a breath, although you aren’t sure if it’s disappointment or relief leaving your lungs. It’s not Joel Miller.

“Mind bringin’ me another Macallan neat, sweetheart?” His eyes stay locked on yours as he smiles at you sweetly. He holds the crystal glass out for you and you take it with a soft ‘yes, sir.’

Something about those eyes, and the way they flash darkly at being called sir, feels all too familiar. In the time it takes for you to take the six or seven steps to the bar you convince yourself that it’s just your brain seeing him everywhere. You tell yourself that when you bring this drink back he’ll look nothing like the man you caught knuckles deep in a woman as she cried out, nothing like the man who was so gentle and sweet, yet slightly bossy and commanding with you this afternoon. 

That’s definitely it, you say to yourself with finality. You’re just cock drunk over a cock you’ll never have. 

The bartender pops the whiskey open and the hair on the back of your neck stands up, you can feel someone looking at you. Almost feel their stare heating the right side of your body. It feels as if all of your exposed skin is being covered by the gaze of whomever is looking at you, shielding you protectively from the view of the other men. The bartender's eyes flick to the corner of the room and then back to you while he hands you the drink. The shift of his gaze confirms that you weren’t imagining it, there is someone looking at you. You place the whiskey on your tray and spin cautiously to the right, stopping dead in your tracks when you lock eyes with Joel Miller. He looks dangerous, sitting at a low table along the wall, his face just barely illuminated by a single candle on the dark wooden table top. His fingers are laced together, forearms of his black dress shirt resting on the knees of his black dress pants. His lips are pressed in a thin, disapproving line. 

He stalks over to you and you wish your tray was empty so you could shield your tits from him. The way he moves is almost menacing, like a jaguar stalking his prey, his eyes are almost black in the low light of the room. Your nipples stiffen under his intense gaze, your mouth fills with saliva and you gulp loudly. You stand frozen, the whiskey for that man you had convinced yourself isn’t related to Joel forgotten about on your tray. He plucks the drink off the marble slab, the glass looking like one of those disposable paper cups you have in your bathroom in his hand. He takes two long strides and drops the glass beside the man. 

“Thanks,” he starts to coo, a ten dollar bill clasped between two fingers. After realizing it’s not you, he adds a confused, “Brother?” 

He tries to pull the money back, but Joel is quicker. Snatching it from his brother's grasp and tucking it into the breast pocket of his dress shirt. Joel turns back to you and steps in closely, your lower back hitting the cold marble bartop and you gasp, arching your back and naked breasts towards Joel. His jaw flexes as he fights to keep his eyes level with yours. 

“What are you doin’ here?” he says in a harsh whisper. 

“I’m working,” it comes out a lot more bratty and defiant than you intend it to. 

“Not here you ain’t.”

You take a small step forward, your hard nipples lightly grazing the soft fabric of his black dress shirt. “I’m not leaving.” 

His hand circles your bicep and you twist out of his grasp. “You’re makin’ a scene, darlin’.” 

“You are, Joel. I’m just trying to make money.” He grabs you more firmly this time, not tight enough to hurt you but enough for you to know he means business. 

What’s his problem anyway? He doesn’t own you. What you do outside his home is none of his business. He can boss you around via an app every other week, but that’s it. That’s where it ends. You glance desperately over at Jamie to find her back to you as she speaks softly with a man who’s waiting for the next round of poker. Her hand grazes his bicep flirtatiously, she makes it look too easy to get what she wants from men. Joel guides you towards the staff changing room, keeping your body in the dark edges of the room. He’s breathing heavily through his nose, like an angry dragon and you’re honestly surprised smoke isn’t billowing out of his nostrils. 

In the bright lights of the changing room you feel more exposed than ever. You want to lift your tray, but in order to prove to him that you don’t care what he or anyone thinks you don’t. In fact, you stand up taller, holding your head high and pushing your chest out. It’s infinitesimal but he looks down just for a nano second. You smirk when his eyes come back to you. 

“Put a shirt on.” 

“If none of the other girls have to put a shirt on then neither do I.” You pop your hip out and pull your arm free from his large calloused hand and rest it on your hip. 

“Don’t fight me on this.” 

“I’m not fighting. You are. So all those other girls are fine, but I’m not? Why? My tits aren’t big enough for you?” 

“That’s not,” he pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a breath with his eyes closed. When he reopens them his eyes land softly on yours. “I just need you not to be here. Please.” 

Bright red anger sparks along the sides of your eyes. Seriously, who does he think he is? “You aren’t the boss here, Mister Miller.” 

“Do NOT call me that.” His neck flushes the same colour as your vision. You stand your ground, eyes narrowing into glaring slits. What is his aversion to being called Mister Miller, and why does it turn you on a little bit to rile him up when you use it?

“You aren’t my boss or my dad, Joel. You can’t make me leave or tell me what jobs I can or can’t take.” You’ve figuratively dug your heels in, you aren’t leaving. He can’t make you. Only Laren or whoever owns this sex club can ask that of you. “You can’t kick me out like you own the place.” 

“Actually,” he says darkly, “I can.” 

“What?” You say through a nervous breath, eyes widening. 

“I own the place. So I can kick you out, and I am kicking you out. Get your shirt.” 

Your shoulders fall slightly. You feel about two feet tall with the realization that he doesn’t want you here. This afternoon you thought that maybe he cared, he seemed like he cared, and now you’re half naked and he wants you to leave. He watches as you unclasp your bow tie and slide on your bra and shirt. 

You look over at Jamie’s clothes and it dawns on you that you didn’t drive here. Your face falls as you blink around the room and then towards Joel. 

“What’s wrong?” he says through thick concern.

“Nothing. I just…” 

He steps towards you, he’s so broad, his presence so large that you start to feel almost claustrophobic when he’s this close, but you never want him to step away. You’d happily let him smother you with his innate Joel-ness. “You just what?”

“I didn’t drive here,” you say quietly, looking down at your hands. Your left thumb nail immediately finds purchase along the cuticle of your right thumb. 

His strong palm cups your chin, lifting until he’s looking at you again. You’re becoming more and more used to the amount of eye contact Joel seems to make. He seems constantly dialed in on you when you’re in the same room.

Yes, I would be very happy to let him smother me. 

The harsh lines of his face soften, “I can get you a car. They’ll meet you at the staff door.” 

You nod into his hand and find it exceedingly hard to stay mad at him when he looks at you that way. He drops your chin and turns his large, broad body back towards the swinging door. He looks over his shoulder and says, “I’m sorry. I just can’t have you here, this is on me.” His voice is soft and sad, almost as if he’s full of remorse and just hoping you won’t hate him before heading back into the poker game. Any bit of anger is flushed from your system, replaced with the disappointment of having to leave wherever Joel is.  

You drag your feet to the elevator and then towards the staff exit. You let the heavy door close behind you with a loud bang as a blacked out SUV pulls up. The driver says your first and last name as he opens the back door for you. You look towards the black building one last time. 

“I’m sorry. I just can’t have you here, this is on me.” 

JMKink is written in shiny metallic black on the door and all the information of the evening hits you at once. JMK. Joel Miller Kink. Joel Miller, insanely handsome millionaire, owns a sex club.

Next Chapter

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[heartsaturn]

“i’m wearing tennessee orange for him” - lh43

luke hughes x fem!reader

summary: in which, blood doesn’t run thicker than water

warnings: nothing (??), intended lowercase, set in luke’s last season at umich, awkward!luke and a bit of shy!luke, ends in a bit of a cliffhanger so i’m open for part two requests if anyone wants it

a/n: woah !!! sara actually write a fic ?!? ik ik it’s crazy. this was requested by my one and only @daniiiboo, i deeply apologize for taking five years (a few MONTHS 😓) for this to come out. i still don’t really like this fic but i like it enough to post it.

———————————————————————-

if one thing is true, it is that ohio state hates university of michigan. the feeling is definitely mutual. the two schools have been rivals since before you can remember. all you know is that you cannot associate with someone from michigan. you were raised a buckeye, and you will stay a loyal buckeye, right?

well, being a loyal buckeye is really damn hard right now.

it is not an abnormal thing for you and your friends to go and support the sports teams at your school. most of the time, it was football games. sometimes, it was hockey games. and now hockey season is starting. the stadium buzzes with energy at the first rival game of the season. it’s the beginning of october and the beginning of fall, which you believe is one of the best times of the year. the air finally starts to become crisp after a blazing summer. it couldn’t be a better time for a hockey game. so, you and your friend decide to go to the game for the atmosphere.

just here for the atmosphere, you try to remind yourself now. you also happen to be questioning in your mind why a hockey player just tossed you a puck. a michigan hockey player. there is no way that he thought you were a michigan fan because, first of all, there is a very minimal amount of michigan fans. you’re literally at your home arena. second of all, you and all of your friends are wearing ohio state gear. who does this stupidly gorgeous wolverine think he is?

while all of your friends start squealing because of this boy’s gesture, you sit there in shock. you look at the puck that rests in your hands. you don’t snap out of your confused daze until one of your friends nudges you.

“you think he’s cute?” she asks with a small smile on her face. her words are teasing and her smile is smug.

of course, you think he’s cute. how could you not? he is tall, has curly hair that you can see peaking through his helmet, and you note the little smirk that he had on his face as he skated away from you.

“he’s not bad-looking,” you answer. you can’t stop a small smile that grows on your face as you look down at the little gift.

during the game, you and your friends find out that this boy’s number is 43 and his last name is hughes. you can’t deny that your eyes follow him almost the whole game. you try not to let them wander, you really do. upon finding out his last name and jersey number, your friends are able to find his instagram account.

“you guys are actually insane,” you say with a snicker.

“we just found your future boyfriend on instagram, so you're welcome,” one of your friends teases sassily.

the game goes on and the whole arena is filled with chants and overwhelming school spirit as ohio state finishes off the game, winning 4-3 in overtime.

this is not good for luke. his mind has gone into a spiral of what went wrong and what the team could have done better when he remembers his bold actions during warmups. the truth is, luke isn’t some cocky hotshot hockey player. he is just an awkward college student who happens to be pretty darn good at the sport he plays. luke is charming and charismatic. he knows this, mainly because he has been told by other people. he just isn’t all that confident in using these abilities quite yet.

luke can already feel the regret bubbling inside of him because of his previous actions, certain that he has zero shot with this girl. what are the chances of him even seeing her anyway? well, apparently very high because he does see her again.

you had let your friends encourage you to wait outside the locker rooms to see if you could find the boy that they so desperately want you to meet. and then they left you. they left you wandering outside the locker rooms anxiously by yourself. in their minds, it was a way to get you alone with luke. in your mind, it was downright mean. the only people who really stand outside the locker rooms are family members and girlfriends, which you are neither of. you feel out of place and you honestly hope that luke comes out of the locker room just so that you don’t have to hover awkwardly for much longer.

then, your prayers are answered because out walks the same hockey player that had so shamelessly thrown a girl on the opposing school’s team a puck earlier. only this time, the boy looks much less intimidating. he actually looks quite friendly. when he walks out of the locker room, he is talking with one of his teammates. he looks exhausted and a bit beaten up from the loss that his team just faced, but that doesn’t make him any less attractive in your eyes.

luke sees you and immediately recognizes you. he couldn’t forget such a pretty face. honestly, that is probably the only reason that he gained the confidence to toss you a puck in the first place. seeing you smiling with your friends and looking so gorgeous while doing it made luke so desperate to try and flirt with you.

now, luke is a tad stunned. he sees you and just freezes for a moment. he decides to approach you after a few seconds of you not noticing him.

“hello,” you hear a male voice say after clearing his throat. you spin around to see the captivating wolverine from earlier.

“oh, hi..” you reply softly. both of you seem too shy to speak to the other properly.

“thanks for the puck,” you speak up, now looking up at his taller frame.

“oh yeah, no problem. i’m sure you get that all the time being as stunning as you are…” luke says back. his demeanor is still very bashful. although, he can feel his confidence swell as the conversation flows on because there is no way that he is losing his chance with you.

you find his attempt at flirting a bit amusing but still sweet. his continuous attempts to impress you and try to hold the discussion with you are honestly adorable.

“not usually, and not by anyone i would want to get to know anyway. i could make an exception for you though,” you respond, a pleased smile finding its way to your features.

“do you want to get to know me while we get lunch then?” luke asks. very smooth transition, luke. very smooth indeed.

“our schools are three hours away from each other you know…” you say. your words are meant to be taken almost as a warning. not just a warning to luke but to yourself as well.

“i have a feeling i’ll be in it for the long game,” the boy simply replies with a little grin and slight shrug. his casual answer eased you a bit and let you know that he wants to make it work out if you also want to.

you have literally known this boy for a whole two minutes of your life and you are already thinking about if you could go long distance with him. i guess he really did catch your attention on the ice.

“i’m luke by the way,” he says.

“y/n,” you reply.

you don’t dare to tell your family what school luke goes to if you guys do end up making it work.

———————————————————————-

word count: 1269

[goldfades]

PARDON MY EMOTIONS / I SHOULD PROBABLY KEEP IT ALL TO MYSELF ── 𝐉𝐁⁵

❪ requested -> "jude angst to fluff WITH PLOT!" ❫

─ pairing | jude bellingham x fem!reader

─ word count | 1.7k

─ warnings | lots of angst to fluff, miscommunication (kind of), jude being an ASSHOLE but making up for it.

─ ev's notes ! | i'm now in my football kick due to the euros and copa america so please send in requests!!! 🤗🎀

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my masterlist!

BEING IN A RELATIONSHIP with England's star football player had its ups and downs.

You got to be a WAG, enjoying the glamorous lifestyle that came with dating Jude. From attending high-profile matches and exclusive events to traveling the world and mingling with other footballers and celebrities, life was never boring. The media attention was overwhelming at times, but you learned to navigate the spotlight and maintain a sense of normalcy.

However, that was the problem. You longed for a sense of normalcy, that was all you wanted was for your relationship. The glitz and glamour of being a WAG was only fun for a bit, not it seemed like you never got a moment to yourself. This was the root of all your relationships, somehow ─ Jude never understood why you wouldn't like all the media attention.

"It's overwhelming," you muttered as you played with the bottom of your of your coffee cup, the warm ceramic providing little comfort. Jude sat across from you, his expression both of concern and confusion.

"What do you mean, overwhelming?" He replied, his gaze locked on you. "This is part of the life we have. The attention, the media... it's just something we have to deal with."

You sighed, looking out the window at the city outside. "But that's just it, Jude. I never wanted this. I love you, and I support your career, but I miss having a private life. I miss being able to go out without cameras following us or people recognizing us everywhere we go."

"Overwhelming for you?" He sighed, his expression hardening. "How do you think I feel? Look, I'm not asking for much ─ I've given you the best life I can,"

You scoffed, he wasn't listening to what you were saying. "This isn't about you or-or what you've given me. I'm grateful, I really am-"

"Doesn't sound like it," Jude cut you off, his voice rising in frustration. "It sounds like you're not happy with anything I've done."

You felt a surge of anger, the words bubbling up before you could stop them. "That's not fair, Jude," you sighed. "I've been by your side through everything, and all I'm asking for is a little understanding. I need space, I need to feel like my own person, not just an accessory to your life."

Jude stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. "So, what? You want me to quit football? Give up everything I've worked for?"

"No!" You stood up as well, your heart pounding. "I don't want you to give up anything. I just want you to see things from my perspective for once. I'm losing myself in all of this, and I feel like an accessory you just get to show off."

"Well, you know that's not true," his eyes softened for a moment, but then the frustration returned. "I thought we were a team. I thought we were in this together. But it feels like you're just... giving up."

"I'm not giving up," you said, your voice breaking. "It's hard for me too, like I'm just a pretty face with no dreams or aspirations. That's what they think-"

"Who cares what they think? I know you're more than that, everyone you care about knows that." Jude let out a huff as he glared at you.

"Well it's always just been about you, Jude," you didn't mean it to come out so harsh ─ your tone hard and cold. "Moving to Spain and-and all this, it's hard on me too."

That seemed to hit a nerve because Jude's eyes went wide before he scoffed. "You think this has been easy for me? You think moving to a different country, dealing with the pressure of a new team, and trying to keep us together is all about me?"

You flinched at his words, but your frustration was too strong to back down now. "That's not what I'm saying, Jude. I just want you to see that I'm struggling too. I left everything behind to be with you. My friends, my family, my life — everything."

Jude's face softened slightly, but his jaw was still tight with anger. "I need you to understand that this life comes with sacrifices. We both have to make them, this is what you signed up for."

"I know that, Jude," you said, tears welling up in your eyes as you sniffled. "But sometimes it feels like I'm the only one sacrificing. I feel like I'm losing myself, and I don't know how to fix it."

You wiped away a tear before continuing, averting your gaze from Jude. "I just need to feel like I'm more than just your girlfriend. I need to feel like I have my own purpose."

"You are!" Jude snapped, before sighing.

You sent him a glare as you sighed loudly, getting tired of not being heard. "Don't raise your voice!"

"You're being ungrateful, I've given you everything! A nice house, a nice car, you know how many girls would kill to be in your position?"

That was the last straw. Your mouth was slightly agape as you took in his words. Ungrateful? How could he say that after everything you've sacrificed to be with him?

"Fuck," you sighed as you looked up, meeting his gaze. "Is that how low you think of me? Fine, then. Let them have my position, since apparently, you think I'm just here for the perks," you said, your voice trembling with a mix of hurt and anger.

Jude's face fell, a mixture of regret and panic crossing his features. "I didn't mean it like that. I'm just frustrated. I love you, and I want us to be happy."

You shook your head, taking a step back. "That's not enough, Jude. Love isn't just about the nice things or the glamorous life. It's about understanding each other. And right now, I don't feel understood."

"That's not what I meant," Jude sighed as he began rubbing his temple. "Jesus, I need some space from you."

You glared as he grabbed his keys from the counter and you watched him walk out of the room, feeling your stomach twist in anxiety and hurt. The sound of the door closing echoed in the silence, leaving you standing alone in the kitchen. Tears streamed down your face as you sank into a chair, feeling the weight of the argument pressing down on you.

You sat there for a while, trying to process everything that had just happened. The love you had for Jude was undeniable, but the constant feeling of being misunderstood was taking its toll. You needed to find a way to reclaim your sense of self, to feel heard in your relationship.

After a few moments, you wiped your tears and took a deep breath. You needed to do something, anything, to clear your mind. You decided to go for a walk, hoping the fresh air would help you think more clearly. Grabbing your jacket, you stepped outside and started walking aimlessly through the streets of the city.

As you walked, you reflected on your relationship with Jude. There had been so many beautiful moments, but lately, it seemed like the challenges were overshadowing the good times. You loved him deeply, but you needed to find a way to communicate better, to make him understand how you felt without it turning into a fight.

After a while, you headed back home, feeling a bit more centered. When you entered the apartment, you heard the TV and sighed. You took off your jacket and made your way to the living room, your gaze landing on Jude was too immersed in the show he was watch to realize you'd come home.

He finally met your gaze and instantly muted the TV, the tension palpable as you walked toward him.

"Hey," you whispered as he gave you a small smile.

He tapped to the spot next to him, inviting you to sit down. You hesitated for a moment before joining him on the couch, the silence between you heavy with tension.

"Hey," he said softly, his eyes filled with regret. "I've been thinking about what you said."

You nodded, your heart aching at the sight of his earnest expression. "Me too. I just... I need you to understand how hard this is for me."

Jude took a deep breath, his hand reaching out to gently take yours. "I know I've been incredibly fucking selfish, and I haven't been listening to you. I didn't realize how much you were sacrificing and how it was affecting you until now and... and I'm sorry."

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time they were tears of relief. "I appreciate that, Jude. I love you, but I need to find my own way, to have something that's mine."

He nodded, squeezing your hand. "Yeah, I get that. And I want to help you find that. We can work on this together, maybe you can look into things that interest you here, find something that makes you happy."

A small smile tugged at your lips. "I’d like that. And maybe we can set some boundaries with the media, try to keep our private life a bit more private."

"Yeah, absolutely," Jude agreed, his eyes shining with determination. "I'll talk to my manager and see what we can do about that. Your happiness is important to me... you are important to me."

You leaned your head against his shoulder, feeling a sense of reassurance. "Thank you, Jude. I just want us to be happy together, without all the pressure and stress."

He kissed the top of your head, his arm wrapping around you protectively. "We will, I promise."

"I love you, a lot," Jude continued, his voice soft. "I didn't mean anything I said earlier, I was just angry. I don't know..." He trailed off, before pausing. "I don't know what I'd do with you, baby."

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his brown ones, and you could see the depth of his feelings for you. "I love you too, Jude," you whispered, your heart swelling with emotion.

As you cuddled together on the couch, the warmth of his embrace enveloping you, you felt a sense of peace.

"How about we start fresh tomorrow?" Jude suggested, his voice gentle. "We can spend the day together, just us. No media, no distractions. Just enjoying each other's company."

You nodded, feeling a wave of relief. "I'd love that. It sounds perfect."

He smiled, his eyes twinkling with affection. "Good. It's a date then."

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

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

[maxtermind]

SCENE 1 :: YOU TORE ME RIGHT APART ↳ you were never not mine — carlos sainz ༉‧₊˚✧

★ : pairing :: carlos sainz x reader ★ : genre :: angst; fluff separated by a hidden emotional turmoil, carlos and y/n navigate the complexities of co-parenting their twins amidst the high-stakes f1 world. amidst paddock visits and personal healing, will they go further apart or find their way back to each other? ★ : a/n :: oh fuck okay here we go! let me know what you guys think so far <3 what are the theories!! ahhhhhh this is more introductory? but lots of drama nevertheless <3 please don't mention the diff twin pics, i'll start crying!

( series masterlist \ main masterlist \ drop a request )

yn.user 41 mins ago

yn.user boys are here to support their papa!

username OMG THE IT BABIES ARE BACK ON TRACK charlesleclerc I know they were rooting for me in red🏎 I loved the bracelet btw❤️‍🩹 ⤷ carlossainz dress up leo in red and leave my kids alone username I WOULD KILL TO HAVE Y/N AND CARLOS AS MY PARENTS carlossainz papa won this for his family👍 ⤷ username it's so cute that even though they are separated, carlos never leaves out y/n ⤷ username I think it's his loss, he wants them back so he's playing a persona w words like 'family' lol ⤷ username please get a life, touch some grass🙏 username THE BABIES MADE A BRACELET FOR CARLOS ⤷ landonorris I got one toooooo

carlos is typing... (y/n's pov)

instagram stories

lily is typing... (y/n's pov)

twitter

carlossainz 20 mins ago

carlossainz who said weekends with papa are a bore?

landonorris whoring on main papa sainz? ⤷ carlossainz please unfollow❤️ username DILFFFFF username carlos can I also be your baby mama???? y/n.user MUMMA MISSES HER BABIES ⤷ carlossainz we miss you too ⤷ username pretty sure she was talking about the kids carlos lmao username it's so strange that now we get the updates from separate accounts I miss the og paddock fam ⤷ username well people move on so🤷‍♀️ ⤷ username only the real ones rmb the sainz x y/n post spams lmao

yn.user just now

yn.user stole my tortured heart💫

username who plays cards alone on a beach? 👀 username y/n’s cryptic post has me guessing mhmmm a new love interest maybe?! ⤷ username cards on the beach when alone? definitely not alone. who’s the mystery company hehe carlossainz looks like a peaceful day. glad you're finding time for yourself! ⤷ yn.user hope the boys are still up! returning the call soon🥰 lilymhe finally enjoying some well-deserved relaxation💖 ⤷ yn.user love youuu username i see cards but no players. who's with you y/n username we need more context omg is this a date ⤷ username probably with lily lol username at first i thought you were with carlos but he's in the comments soooo does that mean a new romance

carlos is typing... (y/n's pov)

f1.wags 2 mins ago

f1.wags Our sources have spotted Y/N, ex-partner of F1 driver Carlos Sainz, enjoying a cozy dinner with an unidentified man. The two were seen sharing intimate moments, sparking rumors of a new romance. Could this be the start of a new chapter for Y/N? Stay tuned for more updates as we dig deeper into this developing story.

username wow, moving on already? poor carlos username she couldn't wait a little longer before flaunting her new man username guess she never really loved carlos. just saying ⤷ username carlos deserves better than someone who moves on so fast ⤷ username its been almost half a year? username poor kids. this is why you should never have kids out of wedlock ⤷ username hey good morning, i think you time traveled to 200 years forward. please go back username she’s just trying to make carlos jealous. grow up, y/n username so much for being a loving mother? priorities lol ⤷ username boys were with carlos for one weekend and this is how she spends it ⤷ username from a perfect family to this? disappointing username carlos is better off without her. clearly, she didn’t care about him ⤷ username fr y/n's true colors are showing now. carlos dodged a bullet

carlos is typing... (y/n's pov)

©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

[unionizedwizard]

so. many people have already pointed that koana is sort of like an ARR alphinaud remix and while it is not untrue, i think this analysis is only superficially correct. because the salient point of koana's character is that he feels shame and resentment towards his roots & origins and therefore overcompensates with sharlayan weabooism (well-intentioned, but still unsuitable). he comes off as really weird and stuck up, in the beginning especially, where it's like. "what the fuck is this guy's problem" in a way that's rather similar to the average player's reaction to ARR alphinaud.

BUT!

the thing with ARR alphinaud is that he was the Quintessential Sharlayan, both on account of his upbringing and family tree, and of his personal interests and achievements. he was (and still is) secure in his origins and cultural identity. koana's case is different, because he clearly loathes tradition and turali cultural practices in a way that comes across (and fundamentally is) really weird and destructive, which comes to bite him in the ass on many occasions during the rite of succession (and understandably so).

it all starts to make sense when you learn about his backstory though. while we know that wuk lamat doesn't remember anything of her own childhood, having been adopted by gulool ja ja as a toddler, koana was adopted at a much older age. he remembers his early years, and that's what fuels his entire vision for the future of tural. as he tells it, he was born to one of the most traditionalist hhetsarro tribes in tural, and abandoned (accidentally(?) left behind) during one of their yearly migrations, only surviving thanks to a pelupelu merchant who rescued and took him in before employing him in his tuliyollal shop. an obviously incredibly traumatic event that would shape everything about his future mindset: he's closed off and withdrawn to the extreme, highly analytical, values self-sufficiency and independence and technical innovations above all else, because that's how he survived to begin with. because his nomadic, highly traditional, presumably (from what we've seen of the one hhetsarro tribe we've met so far) tight-knit, spiritual and social tribe rejected and abandoned him. it would make sense that he'd rationalize this unfathomable violence by leaning hard into the opposite, and letting his own pain and resentment color his entire vision, turning his own feelings into a more general mindset of shame, resentful inadequacy, and complete rejection of anything "traditional"

i think sharlayan was a good choice for him because it's pretty much, indeed, the opposite atmosphere: in sharlayan culture, family ties are a lot less emphasized, while the kind of ties that colleagues, peers, teachers and students develop are considered as very important (see pretty much every sidequest and margrat's custom deliveries and all). all these relationships based on a common work and aspirations rather than origins would indeed agree with koana's character better, and his analytical skills, vision and intelligence are pretty much the most valued traits to them.

which is why it was actually such a stroke of genius to have thancred and urianger specifically support him. of course, both of them had a character development arc that echoed with koana's issues: learning how to express himself more openly and acknowledge his feelings, all that, meaning they were uniquely able to help him. but when you look more closely, they can also relate to him on a more personal level: thancred was "adopted" by louisoix as an orphaned lominsan street urchin, probably at a similar age as koana when he was adopted by gulool ja ja; and urianger's parents notably "abandoned" him to the point he was mostly tagging along at moenbryda's house and, later, at the leveilleur estate, as louisoix's disciple and honorary uncle to the twins (also worth noting that urianger and koana share the same flavor of autism).

so the rite of succession was a much-needed window into his own biases and (literal) coping mechanisms, and must have been quite difficult to deal with considering pretty much all the feats involved interacting with and strengthening tight-knit smaller communities with strong traditions and family ties. luckily, partly thanks to thancred and urianger (but not only! he did the work himself), he was clear-minded enough to realize his own failings, and well-intentioned enough to step down - because he did not want power for its own sake, unlike zoraal ja; he wanted to protect the turali people from a potential invasion by leaning hard into foreign technological advances, therefore mimicking his own personal journey and adapting his own tried-and-true methods of survival: anticipating the hardships, being as independent and self-sufficient as possible, and choosing isolationism.

and finally i want to point out that the new techniques and technologies he imported from sharlayan are all (safe, fast and reliable) modes of transportation: aetherytes, dirigibles (including the alpaca carriage adaptation), and trains. interesting choice, moreso considering that while aetherytes are the #1 sharlayan specialty, they have neither dirigibles nor trains; which takes on a whole new layer of meaning when you remember that his original tribe was nomadic and that he specifically was left behind, stranded in the desert, during one of their traditional migrations............

in this regard he truly IS green g'raha, considering that g'raha was, similarly, raised in a traditional seeker manner before being sent to sharlayan for his own (and the tribe's) safety; of course the difference is that g'raha embraced his heritage by locking himself in the crystal tower by the end of ARR, since the G tribe was tasked with guarding the remaining allagan ruins and weapons, to make sure their power would not be misused by yet another imperialist military force (he locked himself in the tower to reinforce its defenses and make sure the garlean empire would not access it to conquer eorzea)

thank you for your time 👍

[chimielie]

yeah, you might want me to drop dead (but i don't even care)

summary: Atsumu x F!Reader. atsumu would categorize your relationship like this: he thinks you're hot when you're angry. you would categorize your relationship with atsumu like this: he had woken up one day and decided to drive you out of your fucking mind insane. 

word count: 2k

cw: miya atsumu's degradation kink (it's still sfw he's just not subtle), suggestive at the end

a/n: another resurrected fic from the drafts. walk him like a dog, bitch, walk him like a dog

Miya Atsumu was a player known for his thirst for blood. Like his brother, who termed the all-consuming need to dominate their opponent hunger, he relished in complete fucking annihilation. He was hardly soft off the court, too: few of his peers could withstand his cutting humor, his teammates couldn’t understand how he hadn’t scared off his fan club, and he had crushed a few hearts beneath his heel in his time.

He’d met his match in the natural enemy of heartbreakers: his university’s resident maneater.

“Hey!” Atsumu calls your name, lengthening his stride to catch up to you. You grimace—he can barely see your side profile now, but oh, you’re slowing down so he can catch up. Unusually considerate.

Oh, no, there’s just a clog in the artery of the crowded hallway, halting your escape.

“Hi,” he sing-songs, stretching the word out several extra syllables. 

“Good morning, Atsumu,” you say tightly, drawing up your shoulders so your arm won’t brush his bicep in the limited space. “I was hoping you’d died, since you weren’t in lecture this morning. Better yet, maybe someone buried you alive last night and you hadn’t dug your way out yet.”

“You went with the option that doesn’t kill me! You care,” he says happily, and takes a moment to bask in it. “I was actually at a volleyball game, you should come to one sometime, I’m pretty good at it—”

“I’d rather walk in traffic, ‘Tsumu,” you shoot him a wide smile that makes his knees feel weak and wobbly and shove your way straight through the crowd of people, leaving only an uncaring ‘Scuse me! in your wake. 

A lot of people would categorize your relationship with Atsumu as complicated. Atsumu is not one of those people.

Atsumu would categorize your relationship like this: many moons ago, you and he had been in a few of the same classes and shared some mutual friends—mere acquaintances. He hadn’t known you very well. In fact, he’d thought you were cute, which he now knows you aren’t. A few minor catastrophes he wasn’t privy to later, you had come to verbal blows with some loser in the middle of the quad. You’d later found it rather embarrassing. Watching you eviscerate him, though, Atsumu had experienced a fear like never before. If he was bloodthirsty, you bathed in ichor. 

He would always remember the look on your face as you dealt the final blow and turned away, walking with a straight back right toward him.

Atsumu, who had never seen anything quite like the look of controlled rage on your face as you took that man apart. Who wasn’t sure why the sound of you doing your damnedest to instigate a fight made him shiver despite being all too warm inside. Who was looking up at you from his seat like a puppy, desperate to see you don your war paint again.

You walked past him, because of course you did. You weren’t pulled by the same magnetic force he was, focused on him like he was suddenly fixated on you. You were barely acquainted with him and obviously going to your friends for moral support and ice cream and whatever it was people did after one of them basically tarred and feathered someone in the town square. He was merely a bystander along the path you strode.

Of course, the very action of totally ignoring his existence cinched it: he was hooked.

You would categorize your relationship with Atsumu like this: he had woken up one day and decided to drive you out of your fucking mind insane. 

You’d tried to ignore him. He was persistent, though, and he just pushed and pushed and pushed until he crossed the line. It was exhausting.

Except that you kind of loved fighting with him.

You couldn’t help the adrenaline rush it gave you, the way he seemed to light a fire inside you no one else could and keep it burning hot. It was almost like a release to debate him, the way some people boxed or listened to heavy metal to destress. The feeling of victory never failed to put a sparkle in your eye and a cocky smirk on your lips; sometimes, you felt like he was stepping back and letting you win.

This continued in perfectly pleasant vicious and sometimes bloody antagonism for the course of forever until a few months ago, when Atsumu had begun the new and inimitable torture of flirting with you. It was horrible and it was weird and you had no idea what kind of mind game he was playing, but you certainly intended to find out. 

Atsumu, for his part, had recently realized that he likes it when you smile so much more than when you scowl. He likes it when you flutter your lashes instead of staring flatly into his soul, hoping to yank it out and set it aflame. He likes it when you say nice things to him, which has only happened once, but was very nearly a second sexual awakening and thus monumental.

He does not like it when other men flirt with you.

“Your pencil is broken,” Osamu notes, glancing down at his brother’s clenched fist. “You’ll get splinters.”

“What? Oh,” says Atsumu distractedly. “Yeah, I’ll do it later.”

Your laugh rings across the library, the warm glow of a fireplace instead of the burning fires of hell you share with Atsumu. His grip slackens, and his twin takes the opportunity to prise the pulverized writing utensil out of his hand. This kindness goes unnoticed as the guy, that’s how Atsumu’s thinking the word in his mind, low and mocking, guy, says something to you that makes him instinctively kick Osamu in the shin.

“Ow! Douchebag!”

“Sorry, reflex,” Atsumu apologizes.

“Do you want to go with me?” Asks the dickhead you’re talking to.

“To ice cream? Sure,” you reply, and you don’t even sound like you’re being sarcastic. What the fuck? There’s a long pause while the jagoff scuffs his shoe against the floor, a red flush coming over his face while you stare slightly past him with your trademark stare. But your lips are slightly turned up.

The expression haunts Atsumu on his walk back. Your smile was so pretty, sweet and soft. You never smile at him except mockingly. 

“At the risk of sounding like I care,” Suna says. “Are you okay?” 

“If I killed someone, would you help me get rid of the body?” Atsumu says, staring straight ahead.

“No,” Osamu says, “he’s finding out about human emotions and he’s coping very badly.”

Atsumu is ignoring you. As quickly as his interest (his desire to piss you off) had flared up, it had disappeared seemingly overnight, which was fine for you. It was great! You had booted the most annoying man in the world out of your life and replaced him with a perfectly nice guy. Your life was coming up roses.

Except it was driving you insane. You had your phone out, held an inch below your desk, leaving the perfectly nice guy (what was his name? You hadn’t saved it in your contacts and you weren’t sure why) on read as you stared across the room at the faux-blond.

He was chattering to another boy who looked bemused and patient; probably another volleyball player. You were half-convinced this was part two of his ploy to get under your skin; he was playing the unpredictable game.

As you try to bore a hole in his brain with your eyes, you see him glance back at you for a second, just a second, and that’s it. You slam your palms down on the desk, shooting up from your seat, trying not to make eye contact when a few other students turn and look at you because of the noise. He still won’t look directly at you as you make your way to his seat.

“I just remembered I have to leave,” says Atsumu’s friend—Aran, not that you care what his friends are called—picking up his bag. “I have to go be anywhere else right now.”

“What,” Atsumu whines as he books it away from the two of you. “Oh. It’s you.”

“Yeah,” you snap, folding your arms in front of your chest. You’re not sure why you’re so angry, just at the look of his melting chocolate eyes and hunched shoulders and pouty lips. Ugh. He’s the worst. “You’re avoiding me. Why.” The question sounds more like a sentence or maybe a threat.

“I’m not doing that,” he defends weakly. “Maybe I just got tired of looking at your face.”

“My face is fucking precious, okay,” you argue, “you should want to look at it all the time. Idiot. What’s wrong with you?”

“I do—I mean, what? What’s wrong with you?” He returns, and there’s the familiar snap and sting that you like so much. “You don’t even like it when I talk to you—”

“I don’t!”

“So why are you mad now that I’m not?”

“Because—” You struggle for reasoning. You can’t find it. Something strange and huge is crawling its way up your throat.

“Because, uh, um,” he mocks you, and you almost sock him. “Make up your mind! I was trying to be nice to you, even though it’s fucking boring!”

“I don’t want you to be nice to me!” You shout, and then curl over, your face nearly in his lap as almost everyone else in the room turns to look at you. One of the library workers shushes you loudly. “It’s—you’re right, it is boring. Everything else is fucking boring. I like it when you bother me, ‘Tsumu, okay?”

“Okay,” Atsumu says, eyes widening, leaning away from you as you seem nearly on the verge of manic combustion in front of you. “Then—I’ll keep doing it?”

“Will you?” You sit up straight and look him squarely in the eye. He gulps, unsure what he’s being asked. Something is fluttering in his stomach, but he’s hesitant to trust it.

“Yeah,” he breathes, and it feels like so much more than a confession.

“You’re so fucking annoying,” you say, in the same deceptively soft tone. “Can I kiss you?”

“Not if I kiss you—” You grab his face before he can finish talking and smash your lips onto his, first hard and like you’re trying to bully your way into his mouth, then a little sweeter, a little more tender. “First?”

“I win,” you say smugly as he tries to remember how to breathe.

“Please leave,” says the librarian. 

You live alone, which is amazing, because if Atsumu were to see his brother or teammates right now he might commit felony battery. In your apartment, which is full of trinkets Atsumu wants to examine but can’t because he’s very busy staring at you, you shove him onto the couch and sit on him. Sort of like you’re wrestling, but not at all.

“If we’re goin’ out,” he says, “we are going out, right?”

“Yes, ‘Tsumu,” you say, and your smile is as bright as the stars. He clears his throat and prays his voice doesn’t crack.

“Good. Uh, if we’re goin’ out, does that mean you have to start bein’ nice to me?” 

“I’ll be nicer to you,” you promise.

“Oh.” His tone is almost disappointed. 

“Or,” you lean down, and he almost chokes on his own inhale. “I can date you and be mean to you at the same time,” you say into his reddening ear, your breath hot and your smiling lips barely, just barely brushing his skin. Atsumu makes a squeaking noise that can barely be understood. “What was that?”

“Yes, please,” he says fervently.

You bite his earlobe teasingly, and he finds that really nice, actually. The nicest.

[leah-lover]

Entangled desires. Leah Williamson x Alexia putellas x reader.

Part 1

“ Fuck me!” You semi yelled at your TV.

“Only if you beg me for it.” Said your girlfriend with a smirk on her face. You were both laying on the couch. She was laying on your lap reading a book, while you were watching the Arsenal vs Chelsea game. Chelsea have just broke through the backline and scored a goal. In their defense the goal was pretty incredible, but you hated that your team got scored against.

“ I would love for you to fuck me amor but not now, I am too busy “ you joked. “You have been stressed for about 50 minutes now. I think you need a release.” She said sarcastically, The book is now laying on her chest. “ Mi Reina, this game is so important for my sanity right now.” you respond. She didn't talk after that, she just turned on her side, her head still on your lap. She put the book aside and focused on the game.

The rest of the match was pretty exciting. There were some missed shots from both teams, a goal from Arsenal, some decent shot blocks from the Arsenal defense, and just overall a lot of tension. Alexia stood up from your lap by the time the final whistle blew. She was alert and satisfied. You were more than happy with Chelsea's defeat since you were a die hard Arsenal supporter. As a result, in celebration, you kissed your girlfriend. The kiss was soft and filled with passion. You then pushed Alexia on her back, straddled her lap and kissed her hard. You didn't want any space between you two. You were hungry for her, needy for her, all you wanted was her touch. The adrenaline from the game took over your body. Suddenly, it all went away and was replaced by tiredness. “ It's okay baby it happens.” She confronted you because you pulled out of the kiss and sighed loudly.

“ I am so sorry.” You apologized. “ Let's go cook dinner instead. Then we can finish later.” She added, a small smile on her face.

At the dinner table you sat opposite each other. You were both comfortable in the silence.

“ That arsenal defense was really good today.” She said, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, most of them are lionesses, so they are pretty good.” You answer.

“ Leah Williamson, the center back, is the captain of England right?”

“ She is the captain, she also captained the team today. She is pretty good.”

“ She was excellent today, made some pretty good deflections.”

“ And?”

“ What do you mean?.”

“ Mi Reina, tell me what you think.”

“ Well she is kind of attractive I guess. If you tell this to someone you won't like your punishment.”

“ Baby relax,I won't. I promise. Now let's go finish what we started after the game.”

“ What do you think about her?”

“ Leah ? Well I agree with you she is hot.”

—----------------

Tonight was one of the best nights of the year. The fifa best awards. This night was special because you were being awarded the best female player in the world which made you very proud of yourself. You were also proud of your girlfriend who made it into the best starting 11 in the world along with you and a few legends of the game.

You and Alexia got ready in the same room. You decided on an emerald green corseted dress that highlighted your chest and your brown hair. Alexia decided on an all black 3 piece suit paired with a red lip and her hair down.

The day leading to the ceremony had nothing out of the ordinary. You did your media duties, got ready, and left for the red carpet.

You and Alexia looked like a power couple, all the cameras were on you two, two of the most awarded and talented footballers. The ceremony was no different either. Kelley Smith presented you with your award and you thanked the most important people in your life in your speech. You talked to a few people but that was it. All the fun started at the after party.

While you were at the bar getting drinks your girlfriend was far from you talking to some people.

“Can I get two vodka sodas please?” You asked the bartender.

“Can you please make that tree?” Said a British voice from behind you. You turned around to find that the voice was Leah's.

“ Vodka soda is the athlete's best choice of drink right? ?“ she asked.

“ I guess so.” you respond.

“ I am Leah Williamson.” She added.

“ I know who you are. You are pretty recognizable.”

“ Not as much as the woman of the hour. Congrats on your award by the way. Spanish football is lucky to have you.”

You blushed at her words, that's when your drinks were ready. You wanted to talk to her more.

“ Why don't you join me and Alexia at our table?.” You asked hoping to get a yes

“Only for a little while I have my own people to tend to.” She responded.

You proceeded to guid Leah to your table. On your way there you passed alexia who said goodbye to the people she was with to join you too.

“ Ale this is Leah williamson. Leah, this is my lovely girlfriend Alexia.” you introduced the girls.

“ It's very nice to meet you alexia. We should have met a long time ago.” said Leah

“ I am glad we met too. How are you finding the night.” said Alexia. You knew your girlfriend well to know when she is nervous and right now she was clearly nervous, other people wouldn't spot it very well.

“ it's pretty boring actually. This is the most exciting thing that happened tonight.” responded Leah.

Your relationship with Alexia was common knowledge. However, Leah was flirting with the both of you for the better part of the hour and a half that Leah stayed with you. Throughout this time you talked about everything from football to your childhood. Several compliments and flirtatious attempts were made by all 3 of you. Leah’s phone was ringing for most of the time but she didn't answer. She then got a text saying that her teammates left and that she should go to the hotel because the party venue was almost empty. You didn't realise the time that passed, you were too immersed in the fun all of you were having. You were sitting on a couch, Alexia’s hand on your thighs occasionally caressing them, and Leah sat opposite you on a chair.

“ I can't believe they left without me.” she complained.

“ Well they did call you several times but you blew them off.” you responded.

“ but still how am i supposed to talk to them and miss out a second with you two.”

“ You can come with us. We are staying at the same hotel right?” suggested Alexia.

“ yeah but I don't want to intrude.”

“ nonsense, consider it an extension of this lovely night.” you added.

You then got out of the venue. You held Alexia’s hand while Leah walked to your other side.

The car ride was quiet. “ I would kill for a burger right now.” you whispered in your girlfriend’s ear because you were nuzzled in her neck. She then ushered for the driver to change direction to the nearest fast food chain.

“ one quick stop before we release you.” you apologized to leah running you hand on her thigh quickly.

“ No, not at all. I really want this to go on forever.” she responded.

The car stopped, you got your order, Leah and Alexia got a meal too after you provoked your puppy eyes.

You were now blissful on the hotel floor, and eating your burger with Leah Williamson and Alexia putellas. You were focused more on leah than on your burger.

“ shit i dont have my key card. I left it with Keira. God i am such a fucking idiot. ” she said after she finished.

“ Don't ever say that about yourself.” said Alexia who was quieter than usual.

“ what she means is it's fine you can stay here. it's too late to wake her up.” you corrected.

“ No, I can't do that .” she said frantically.

“ Yes you can and you will. It's too late to do anything. Plus we can hang out more. And we can put it to a vote and we both want you here.” said alexia before taking the last bite of her burger.

“ Alexia I can't. There is something. I just can't.” she said before heading towards the door.

Alexia got up and stopped her by her wrist. “ Look, it's alright, stay. Please. “ she said softly.

“ alexia almost never says please.” you added.

“ There is this unresolved tension in me. I can't hide it anymore.” she added, now looking at the floor.

Alexia lifted her head up by her chin, and at that moment we were all nervous. We all shared a look with each other, then looked at the floor, then at each other again. The silence was deafening. We all were thinking the same thing. It was just the matter of who starts.