#rising star trainers

[fad1d]

Rising Star Trainer by tsuwitchii84

[pokemon-npcs]

[jadeazora]

Some preview shots for Friday's episode!

Looking forward to seeing Spinel in action. 😁

Also, unrelated to the anime, but we have the full art of Ortega from Ruler of the Black Flame!

Some new art via the Project Kabigon account! They're dancing 😁

[9823678]

[loveemagicpeace]

🦁Star Notes🦁

U can see the death when u look at the Capricorn rising. They have this death look. The devil look. What I also find fascinating about them is how much respect they have for themselves. They will never, ever allow you to disrespect them. And they know how to mark their border. The power that they have when they are silent is amazing.

I always know when someone is virgo rising cuz they have that angry look. They often look as if they are angry, but in reality they are not at all. In fact, they often worry about how they look in front of others. But they will always give their opinion or give advice if you ask them for it.

I feel like sagittarius rising are the one when they will always start a conversation or a debate when they meet someone. They also tend to look for intelligent people and will be very attracted to someone who has good thinking and communication skills. They really appreciate these things on a person. And they really like to joke, so you can laugh a lot with them.

The difference between Taurus & Libra. Libra rising like nice clothes but more elegant clothes, more expressed beauty and in a way they like simpler things. Taurus rising sometimes likes that it is more extra, especially if they have fire placements in their chart and they like jewelry, trainers. Taurus can sometimes go overboard with jewelry and really wear a lot of it.

The most transformative house you can have is the 8th house. Whenever you have transiting planets in the 8th house, the energy of that house is visible. You feel as if you are going through an emotional transformation and perceive things around you very deeply but at the same time beautiful, because you know that something beautiful always comes from something deep. The 8th house shows the awareness of what is really important to us deep down, and we begin to perceive relationships differently than seeing which relationship we really feel and which one we don't. What deep down we really need and brings us satisfaction. How others can meet our needs. How far we will go for others. It shows sacrifices for others and how others sacrifice for us. This house also shows everything we can gain from others and what we share with others. Usually during this time we share a deep pain with others and go through a difficult time with a person (or there is someone who helps us in need or we help them). We share a soul with another person.

I have seen many couples who are Cancer & Gemini. And I notice that many times the relationship works in the long run. They really hit it off together and find a lot in common. Both of them are somehow inclined to look for family and people with whom they can connect and create a home. I would say that someone with placements in the 3rd house is not so unstable (but the person just needs a lot of communication and understanding). They are mainly looking for someone with whom they can talk a lot.

Capricorn rising are very sincere people and I think they are one of the people who will never think of themselves as something more than others. They hold their value and respect and will not give everyone their energy because they have the mindset that not everyone is worth their energy. But they will never consider themselves to be something more (they are actually very simple people).

A lot of people who have taurus sun or 2nd house sun, venus are very materialistic. Maybe it won't be seen on the surface, but many times there are people who will spend a lot on money (especially because the sun represents the ego and it is in a way what guides you, where you are the most egocentric and stubborn, at the same time where you will work the most selfish).

9th house represents long journeys. Traveling across the sea. The sign and planets you have here represent how you look at the world and what places you like to travel to (also a sample of trips, what excites you the most). For ex.: pluto in 9th house - you like to travel to places that are dark, raw and you have a lot to see from other cultures as well. You like places where you can explore myths and legends. Places where the truth is presented to the wolf (for example, kurti parts of the city, poverty, etc.) you like to learn through history. Sun in 9th house- you will like to travel to places that inspire you (especially sunny places, places that are very stimulating). Places where you can find your joy, you can return many times to the places you used to go as a child. Places that bring you sunshine. Venus in 9th house- you like to travel to places that are lovely, rich. You also like to travel to trendy places.

Libra rising people always have some enemies who talk behind their backs, they can often attract people who wish them ill or are jealous of them. I have noticed many times that it can also be their relatives or brothers and sisters who do not allow them certain things. Often the relationship with them is not so good either. They have Pisces in their sixth house, which means they are very self-sacrificing when it comes to work and everyday things and routine.But mostly at work, so many people can use them when it comes to work or they also have hidden enemies at work. In their 12th house is virgo which also means that people never really know what kind of work they do, or people are jealous of the work they have.

People with earth mercury are usually very pessimistic. Their thoughts are often too realistic, and they often do not believe in things they cannot see or touch. Mercury is how you perceive things and how you think. People with fiery mercury are optimistic, positive and quick-thinking (which means they will quickly change their thinking or decide on something quickly. People with watery mercury think from an emotional point of view and will always perceive things and people emotionally. They are also the best at manifesting and They dream a lot and usually everything comes true.

Sometimes having Neptune in the 1st house is like being constantly in a meditate state. Things are sometimes not real to you and at the same time Neptune is part of your personality here and you can be very delusional and almost always in your own world. You are 80% in your world and 20% in reality. Even as a child, you can create your own world in which you live and it seems to you that you are living in two different worlds.

Fire venus/mars always want to have everything clarified in relationships. They will never leave without saying their last word.

Saturn in the fourth tends to restrict the flow of fourth-house energy so that one feels that nurture is limited or curtailed. Uranus signifies that the flow is erratic, unpredictable, or occurs in unusual ways. Neptune often gives the feeling that the nurturing flow is weak, without vitality, or occurs on an abstract, nonphysical level. Pluto in the fourth does not particularly restrict the flow of energy; in fact it may increase it to the point where one becomes trapped or bound by its effects, resulting in the persistence of infantile issues or behavior into adult life.

A large number of planets in the seventh indicates someone who feels incomplete alone and strives to fill the void with close partnerships or intimate confrontations. Such people function better in interaction with another. They may even encourage others to become dependent on them, thereby maintaining the relationship they need. The seventh is not really a Venusian house, contrary to what is implied by those who equate the seventh, Libra, and Venus. Venus does refer to relationships, but only ones that are loving and warm. The seventh house has no such inherent connection with love. Most planets in the seventh merely signify the kinds of energies experienced through relationships.

Saturn in the eighth resists transformations, which is why the older astrologers associated this placement with a difficult death. It is not so much a sign of a difficult death as of resistence to the idea of any kind of change.

Venus in Cancer- venus is how u love and they way you love. For example, if you are a man you may not propose marriage until you have some reliable means of earning a living; if you are a woman you make sure you won't end up sharing your lover's poverty or struggling to support him.but also how u want to be loved. As a Venus-in-Cancer person you are romantic and sensitive. Being loved is more important to you than almost anything else.

Venus in Taurus- you are affectionate and romantic, but you don't give your love away too quickly. To you, love does not exist without sex. You are very demonstrative and generous toward a lover, sometimes too much so.

Venus in Scorpio-being in love is an all-consuming experience for you. There is a profound intensity to your emotions. Your sex life is passionate and demonstrative. However, you also put love on a spiritual plane. Your deep need is to possess a lover wholly, to make your partner surrender to you body and soul.

Venus in Sagittarius-You like to experience the excitement of love in the same way you search for diversion in the rest of your life. You want passion and this is very important for you when it comes to love. Venus-Sagittarians are high-spirited, outgoing, and highly imaginative. You tend to attract powerful and influential friends. Luck in creative affairs surrounds projects undertaken in foreign countries or far from home.

Venus in Capricorn- are as careful and cautious about love as about anything else. Sometimes even too much. They can also be hard to open up. When in love, you are loyal, faithful, and dependable. There is a dichotomy between your emotional life and your sexuality: You have earthy passions but keep them separate from your mental attitude. Venus in this position indicates a personality that is jealous, possessive, and fearful of rejection.

-Rebekah✨🌻🦁

[rootedinrevisions]

Masterlist: Glen Powell

Whether it’s Glen Powell himself or the unforgettable roles he brings to life, this section is dedicated to all things Glen.

From standalone one-shots to multi-part series, you’ll find stories exploring the charm of Glen as an actor and the personalities of his iconic characters, like Jake Seresin from Top Gun: Maverick and Tyler Owens from Twisters.

Whether you're in the mood for quick reads or something a little more in-depth, there's plenty here to dive into. Enjoy the journey, and feel free to leave your thoughts! (UPDATED 11.16.24)

GLEN POWELL (HIMSELF)

**DRABBLES (Under 1k words)**

Welcome Back Kisses (Glen x Reader)

Glen's been gone for almost three months filming his latest project, but he's home now, and seeing you is the first thing on his to-do list.

Cute When You're Jealous (Glen x Reader)

Glen misses out on an event the two of you had planned to go to together. So a friend takes you instead, but it leaves Glen feeling a little jealous.

**ONE-SHOTS**

More Than a Game (Glen x Reader)

When you join Glen Powell for a night under the bright Texas stadium lights, you expect an evening of football and fun—but what you don’t expect is the sting of an offhand comment that shakes your confidence. As Glen’s world of fans and flashing cameras surrounds you, he’s quick to remind you of where you stand: by his side, as the one who holds his heart. With every protective gesture, from offering you his jacket to placing his prized Stetson on your head, Glen shows the world that you’re not just another face in the crowd—you’re someone special. FLUFF.

Texas Orange (Glen x Reader)

Heavily based on the song "Tennesse Orange" by Megan Moroney. You're in the early stages of your relationship with Glen and he takes you to a Texas football game with him. FLUFF

Between Sets and Scenes (Glen x Reader)

As a dedicated personal trainer in Washington D.C., you've worked with high-profile clients before, but when actor Glen Powell steps into your gym, life takes an unexpected turn. What starts as a simple fitness transformation for Glen quickly evolves into something more when the lines between professionalism and attraction begin to blur. A chance encounter outside the gym leads to late-night conversations, unexpected connections, and the realization that sometimes the best chemistry happens off-screen. But with Glen's rising star and your grounded life, can you keep things casual, or is something deeper already taking shape? FLUFF

**SERIES**

In the Wings (Glen x Reader)

When you're offered the chance to work as a hair and makeup artist on Top Gun 3, it feels like a dream come true. Leaving behind your routine for a Hollywood blockbuster, you arrive on set with high hopes but little expectation of the whirlwind to come. That all changes the day you meet Glen Powell—charming, grounded, and quick to make an impression. As your professional relationship grows, so does a spark between you, but you're still keeping things strictly work. For now, the only thing you're certain of is that this job will be like no other. FLUFF

PART 1 I PART 2 I PART 3 I PART 4 I PART 5 I PART 6 I PART 7

TYLER OWENS (TWISTERS)

**ONE-SHOTS**

Painted Him Perfect (Tyler x Reader)

Inspired by Alexandra Kay’s song "Painted Him Perfect." Tyler and his soon-to-be ex-wife grapple with the stark reality of their crumbling marriage as she makes her way to Oklahoma to finalize their divorce. Despite the façade of a perfect relationship portrayed to their fans, her heartfelt video revealing their separation exposes the cracks hidden beneath the surface. ANGST.

I'm Comin' Over (Tyler x OC)

Ashley is sitting at home one night, staring at her phone. She knows she shouldn't call him. She knows it's a bad idea. But she can't resist and gives in. She sends Tyler a late-night text, and his response is immediate. Tyler arrives at her place and the two try to work out the issues in the relationship. SMUT.

Begin Again (Tyler x Reader)

Based on the song Begin Again by Taylor Swift. Just Tyler being a southern gentleman on a blind date to a girl who had written off love after her last relationship. FLUFF.

Drunk Girl (Tyler x Reader)

Based on the song Drunk Girl by Chris Janson. You and your boyfriend break up, and you go out for a couple of drinks to try and not feel anything. You start the night out with friends planning on just having a couple, but by the end of the night, you've had a few too many. Your friends call Tyler, and he steps in, making sure you get home safe. He takes you back to your place, gets you to bed, and then leaves. ANGST. FLUFF.

Noisy Nights (Tyler x Reader)

Tyler has been gone for weeks, following storms across the Midwest. When he finally returns home to his wife, the chemistry between them is undeniable. But with their best friend Boone unexpectedly staying the night, they'll have to keep their passion under wraps or risk being heard. As the night unfolds, the intensity of their reunion grows, testing their ability to stay quiet when every touch and whisper pushes them closer to the edge.

Five Years (Tyler x Reader)

Five years of friendship. Years of silent longing. One night that changes everything. When Tyler Owens, a charming, rugged man with a penchant for keeping things casual, finds himself at a crossroads with the woman he's secretly loved for years, he realizes he might have waited too long. After one too many moments where you've been left wanting more, you find yourself torn between the comfort of their deep connection and the pain of being stuck in the friend zone. Tyler has one last shot to show you that he’s not just the man you turn to in the hard moments—but the man who can make you believe in love, again. ANGST. FLUFF.

Not Just Some Option (Tyler x Reader)

After years of friendship and hidden feelings, you and Tyler Owens, the charming and fearless storm chaser, find yourselves tangled in an unspoken connection. One quiet evening at home in Arkansas, the walls of denial crumble as the tension between you finally comes to a head. Tyler’s frustration with your reluctance to open up sparks a raw, emotional confession, forcing both of you to confront the depth of your feelings. As truths are laid bare, Tyler proves his devotion with words and actions, leaving no room for doubt that his heart belongs to you—and only you.

**SERIES**

Twisted Fate (Tyler x OC)

In the aftermath of a devastating tornado that ravages her hometown, Lexi finds herself trapped in the rubble of her destroyed home. Years ago, she and Tyler Owens were inseparable until he went down a path of storm chasing and YouTube fame. Now, as fate would have it, Tyler is chasing the very tornado that has torn through her town. Miraculously, amidst the chaos, Lexi manages to call out for help, and to her disbelief, Tyler hears her cries. Risking his own safety, he navigates the debris to reach her, pulling her to safety just in time. In the moments of relief and gratitude that follow, old feelings resurface, reminding her of what they once shared.

PART 1 I Part 2 I PART 3

Chasing Us (Tyler x OC)

When Hannah needs a date to her sister's wedding, she turns to one of her best friends and fellow storm chasers, Tyler, for help. What starts as a simple favor quickly turns complicated as the lines between pretense and reality blur. With the backdrop of a beautiful seaside wedding, Hannah and Tyler navigate their growing feelings for each other, facing moments of heartache, unexpected confessions, and the realization that they might be more than just friends after all.

PART 1 I PART 2 I PART 3 I PART 4 I PART 5 I PART 6 I PART 7 I

PART 8 I PART 9 I PART 10 I PART 11

One of Them Girls (Tyler x Reader)

After a long day of Tornado chasing, Tyler Owens and his crew head to a local bar to unwind. At the end of the bar sits a woman who sparks Tyler's interest. Despite her initial reluctance, Tyler's persistence leads to a playful evening of banter, pool games, and dancing. As the night progresses, the barriers between them begin to fall and begins the start of something beautiful.

PART 1 I PART 2 I PART 3 I PART 4 I PART 5 I PART 6

PART 7 I PART 8 I PART 9 I PART 10 I PART 11 I PART 12

PART 13 I PART 14 I PART 15 I PART 16

Enough for You (Tyler x Reader)

After months of chasing storms and harboring unspoken feelings, the moment of truth finally arrives. When Tyler returns to the team with someone new by his side, it shatters the hope you secretly held onto. In the aftermath of his abandonment, you're left grappling with heartache, wondering why you were never enough for him. As Tyler tries to make amends for leaving, the conversation takes a painful turn when he confronts the feelings he never knew existed. But some apologies can't fix what’s been broken, and all you want is to go back to the way things were—before you let him into your heart.

PART 1 I PART 2 I PART 3 I PART 4 I PART 5

Never Left Me (Tyler x OC)

Lauren is working at the law office she shares with her fiancé, Jonathan, when she receives the heartbreaking call from her father about her mother’s passing. Overcome with grief, Lauren struggles to process the loss, and Jonathan is by her side, offering unwavering support as she begins to prepare for the trip back to Arkansas. As she packs, Jonathan notices her unease, suspecting that something beyond her mother’s death is weighing on her. The tension between them grows when he gently pushes her to open up about why she’s avoided returning home for so long, but Lauren remains vague, unable to reveal the real reason: her unresolved past with Tyler. The car ride to Arkansas is heavy with silence, broken only by Jonathan’s attempts at conversation, but Lauren’s thoughts are far away. When they finally arrive at her childhood farmhouse, Lauren is hit with the weight of both her loss and the past she’s been running from for eight years.

PROLOGUE I PART 1 I PART 2 I PART 3 I PART 4 I PART 5

PART 6

Just...Stay (Tyler x Reader)

When he rolls back into her life every few months, Tyler Owens brings with him all the irresistible charm and warmth that first captured her heart, leaving her breathless and hoping for more. But as the years slip by, so do his promises, and every departure leaves her with another fracture in her heart and fewer illusions about the man she loves. Caught between the comfort of the life she’s built and the pull of the only man who’s ever felt like home, she must finally decide: will she wait for him one last time, or find the courage to let go and forge a path on her own?

PART 1 I PART 2

JAKE "HANGMAN" SERESIN

(TOP GUN: MAVERICK)

**SERIES**

Rooster's Shadow (Jake x OC)

When Carly Bradshaw, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw’s younger sister, starts college near her brother’s TOP GUN base, she’s excited for a fresh start. A surprise night out with Rooster introduces her to Jake Seresin, the charming and cocky Navy pilot known as Hangman. As Jake’s attention shifts to Carly, their undeniable chemistry leads to a series of flirtatious encounters that challenge Carly’s feelings and Rooster’s protective instincts.

PART 1 I PART 2 I PART 3 I PART 4 I PART 5

Cop Car (Jake x Reader)

You and Jake enter a restricted area to watch the planes take off. It's all fun and games until the two of you end up cuffed in the backseat of a car. Things only get worse when your dad, Pete "Maverick" Mitchell arrives on the scene. Loosely based on/inspired by Cop Car by Keith Urban because apparently my thing lately has been making fics out of songs.

PART 1 I PART 2

Unplanned Journeys (Jake x OC)

You’ve been feeling off—tired, anxious, and full of doubt. When the realization hits that you could be pregnant, your world shifts. As you struggle with the weight of the situation and avoid Jake, the truth becomes impossible to ignore. When you finally tell Jake, the conversation is filled with tension and fear.

PART 1 I PART 2 I PART 3

**ONE-SHOTS**

The Rough Side of Hangman's Girl (Jake x Reader)

You’ve always been the quiet one, the kind of girl who prefers soft laughter to loud crowds, and gentle touches over wild passions. But Jake “Hangman” Seresin has a way of drawing out the side of you no one else gets to see. When he steps into your world, he doesn’t just turn your life upside down—he pushes you beyond every boundary you thought you had. Now, with his intense gaze and unyielding hold, you find yourself craving every rough touch, every whispered command. SMUT.

[octuscle]

Full investment

Martin had been very lucky in his life. He founded his first start-up at the right time, sold it at the right time and invested the proceeds wisely. Of course, it wasn't just luck; Martin was clever, hard-working and charismatic. And with this combination, he was bound to succeed. The fact that he was extremely good-looking didn't necessarily hinder him. Martin was at every party, Martin knew everyone and Martin was at least one of the first followers of a new trend. If he didn't set the trend himself. That's why he was very annoyed when he got talking to a cool, masculine and sporty-looking guy at a party at the Turkish Embassy. The young stallion turned out to be a rising star in the mixed martial arts world and ran a gym in one of Stockholm's hipster neighborhoods. And in the course of the conversation, Mete asked Martin why he wasn't investing in the fitness sector. Martin was fascinated by Mete's engaging manner. And they shook hands on Martin's entry into Mete's gym.

The press conference was a date to Martin's liking. He was in his element. Not that Mete was not photogenic, but Martin loved the camera. And the camera loved him. One of the reporters present asked if Martin would now train here too. Martin was taken aback for a moment. He hadn't expected that. Normally, he trained with his personal trainer at his gym at home. But this was the moment Mete had been waiting for. He threw a bag with a pair of sports trousers and a pair of gloves to Martin and said it was time for them to train together. Martin hesitated only briefly. He looked good in a suit. But he also knew that he looked at least as good with his shirt off. The pictures of the sparring session were amazing. The success for the gym was overwhelming. And Martin had to admit: this kind of training was something completely different from training at home.

Martin's daily routine changed soon after he joined Mete. Mete regularly picked him up in the morning to go jogging. Martin and Mete often had breakfast in a Turkish café near the gym, and Mete created Martin's new nutrition plan. Mete provided Martin with food supplements, the contents of which Martin did not question, especially since the green packaging only had Arabic writing on it. Mete created a training plan for Martin that required a lot of time in the gym… But Martin was happy to have a real physical balance to his otherwise very stressful job. And at the moment he was only active as an investor, he didn't have to run his own company. So why not give it everything you've got in sport? And he gave it everything. Running with a lead vest, weight training, sparring, technique training… At some point, Martin was practically living in the gym. And Mete and Martin also spent more and more time together. So much so that Martin moved into the apartment above the gym, which he had originally only intended to use as a second home. So much so that at some point he went with Mete to his Turkish barber. And so much so that, out of curiosity, he went to the mosque with Mete on a Friday for the midday prayer. Mete and the Imam spoke a lot and quickly with each other. The two of them smiled a lot. They said goodbye warmly. Martin hadn't understood a word. But for some reason it felt right to be here.

At the beginning, Martin's short hair was the most obvious sign of his change. His increasingly athletic body was also impossible to miss. Martin grew a beard. Martin started wearing a prayer cap. And more and more Turkish and Arabic words crept into his speech. And while he was only sporadically in the mosque at first, a Friday without the midday prayer and without an exchange with the imam soon became unimaginable for him.

Of course, his change did not go unnoticed. There was unrest in his network of companies. Mete advised him to withdraw from the public eye. His social media accounts were dormant. Martin withdrew from most of the supervisory boards of his holdings. This task was taken over by a few guys he had met at the gym, in cafes or in the mosque and whom he had come to trust. Martin enjoyed the freedom he gained as a result. He had more time to prepare for his next fight, more time to learn Turkish and Arabic, and more time to devote to his prayers. Even though Mete had to spend more and more time managing the prospering gym and the other businesses Martin had entrusted to him, he made sure that Martin, who he increasingly called Mehmet, continued to receive optimal training and nutrition plans. And, above all, with the right nutritional supplements. The side effects of the pills and injections were becoming increasingly obvious: a dark fur was growing on Martin's chest and his beard was getting darker and darker.

MMA shorts and thobes… At some point, there was nothing else left in his wardrobe. At most, when Mehmet helped out at the gym reception or when he was supervising at the gym or training customers, he wore a tracksuit. But basically, he no longer felt comfortable in it. Fortunately, Mete gave him quite a generous allowance after Martin had given him and Iman extensive powers of attorney. This allowed him to get through the month without having to work. However, Mehmet still had to work from time to time as a temp at the gym to pay for the expensive nutritional supplements. He didn't have to overcome any great obstacles to do this: he was at home at the gym and he was proud to be part of this gym. And as a trainer, he had close contact with the hottest guys in the gym. Even though Mete was the only one who was allowed to fuck Mehmet, there were enough holes that Mehmet's cock could fill after the wounds of the circumcision had healed.

Hardly anyone recognized Martin at Mehmet's new appearances on social media. If you looked closely, you could have seen Martin's blue eyes in the otherwise more masculine features of Mehmet's face. But hardly anyone looked at Mehmet's eyes. There were other body parts that attracted the public's attention.

Ole had been following Martin's latest investment closely. Martin's new CEO, Mete, was very active in the Swedish startup scene and Mete and Ole met regularly at various events. Mete needed more capital to finance the planned aggressive growth of the gym chain. And Ole was ready to get on board. The business figures were simply too tempting.

The press event to mark Ole's entry into the gym empire was a great success. It was accompanied by the opening of a new gym in Martin's former house. And by the victory of the Swedish MMA heavyweight title by the star of the gym, Mehmet. At the photo shoot, Ole was surprised at Mehmet's good Swedish. Actually, he would have expected less from such a monkey. But never mind, Mehmet wasn't there to speak. The photo shoot with Ole and Mehmet was followed by a training session in which the two men demonstrated their skills. Mehmet did everything he could to make Ole look good. But at the end of the session, he said that Ole could do a little more to improve his fitness. After all, he was now a figurehead for the gym. Mehmet had already prepared something: a training and nutrition plan. And Mete had also already procured a few dietary supplements.

[minnlahzz]

friede with an introverted s/o.

requested.

this guy is really interesting. i hope they stretch out his character more, because all he's known for is just being the hero when liko and roy are getting cooked. it's not enjoyable anymore the 1st time, but im glad we got to know more about his backstory and pikachu, i think that episode was more enjoyable than the recent ones, because it actually felt like i was watching pokemon the anime. anyway sorry for the yap, this was fun to do.

— NOTE : LOWERCASE INTENDED

since friede is definitely a social house, people wonder how you guys met. it's like opposites attract, or sun and moon.

he's dedicated into making sure you're comfortable around the environment of the ship. friede asks you to go but never forces you out during their bonding moments, (picnics)

and he'd talk for you when there's way too much people, or tell this people to go away for you. he's straight forward anyway.

you're introverted (of course,) so you've never really talked to the kids, but they've always wanted to talk to you, just too shy to do so. liko and roy would ask friede, and he'd all go all golden retriever (or pikachu) mode. he rambles about you, in the most inlove way possible

captain pikachu always had a liking to you, this electric rats love for you probably competes friede's love for you! like pokemon like trainer, what can i say? friede's also not bothered with it, he thinks of it as his two favorite people bonding.

speaking of bonding, when everyone else in the rising volt tacklers are asleep–he'd take you out to ride charizard, not anywhere special preferably just a stroll around places or star gazing if you're a fan of that.

he'll do anything you'd want when he has free time, journaling? he'll journal and make crappy stickers to design it with! reading? friede has alot of books from his time as a passionate professor (not that he's not passionate anymore.)

he encourages you to socialize with others, but remember that it's alright to take things slowly.

when you do socialize with others, friede is watching far away proud. he knows you have a social battery though, and can take you out of the conversation when you feel discomfort.

and he's pretty supportive in whatever you do! he'll support your boundaries and make sure other people support and respect them. friede isn't always there, but captain surely is, when you're missing friede there's always this gremlin rat as a replacement.

[hellsburners]

stumblin' back to bed

summary: peter's partner is very drunk and very clingy pairing: tasm!peter parker x gender neutral reader word count: 1.2k warnings: alcohol consumption, drunk reader, some kissing, mentions of sex, slight smut a/n: from another lovely request! (btw this is a scheduled post im on a semi-hiatus rn bcs life)

masterlist | more peter parker

Peter kisses you with your back against the door. His hands cupped your face as you cling on his shirt. His lightly stubbled face pricks your cheeks while his warm lips weave into yours, tongues dipping into each other—the hallway filled with the sound of sloppy kisses, some whimpering as your centers rub. 

“Let’s get in first,” he said, fumbling for his house keys. 

You stood beside him, the floor spinning around, your head confused. The alcohol had done its magic, your gait was funny, your joints loose, and you almost fell before entering his apartment. 

“Woah, those tequila shots were something—,” you slurred, Peter held onto you for stability. 

You grabbed him by his belt loops for another kiss, like your own personal bottle of liquor, you took Peter Parker’s lips like the freshest glass of tequila, bitter and addicting. You stumbled to his kitchen counter, he lifted you so you were sitting on it, your legs on his hips. 

“I need some water,” he said in between kisses. He pulls away, much to your dismay, to grab a glass. “Want some?” you shook your head, your head still spinning. 

He comes back to you, his head mounted on your neck, sucking and kissing, leaving marks. His hands roam your back, large hands warm on your cold skin. Your hands roam his torso, feeling his muscled abdomen until you reach the barrier between his skin and underwear. Later, your touch fell to his growing hardness. 

“Woah—baby,” he moaned. 

“Fuck, Peter it’s so hard,” you ached. 

“Only for you—” he whimpered, nibbling on your neck. His hands came to cup your ass, pulling you in so your crotch rubbed on his. He started to hump in between your legs, using the friction for pleasure. Your fingers trail through his soft brown hair taking in his scent, a mix of alcohol and musk. 

“The room is spinning like crazy,” you said. You felt yourself become more sensitive, the hairs on your skin erecting, his mere touch made you shudder. 

“We can stop,” he lets out. 

“No. Don’t stop—,” you gasped, his hand going underneath your underwear to touch your sex. You moaned from his fingers, moving so gracefully to pleasure you. He pulls back but you wrap your legs around him pulling him in. Your hands find his neck, pulling him from there as well. 

“Let’s take this to the couch—more comfy.”

You move on his couch, straddling him. The two of you are in the middle of a heated make-out session before you feel your stomach turn, and bile rising to your throat. You suddenly pulled back, covering your mouth. Peter sat there confused. Your body shuddered as you made a gagging sound. 

“Oh god, let’s get you to the toilet,” he said. You refused, waving your hands. 

“I’m fine.”

“Water then? Let me get you a glass,” he said. You later took the drink, downing the water alleviating some of the dizziness and the gagging. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I promise babe I’m good.”

“Let’s go to bed then,” he pleads. 

“I’m fine!” your words start to slur again. He pulls you to the bedroom, the sudden change in speed almost made you throw up. He sits you down on the bed to get you a change of clothes.

He kisses you again, “I’m not fucking you like this, too messy.” 

He hands you a cold glass of water. You chug on the liquid like a parched dog, the cooling sensation tracing down your warm throat. 

He takes the empty glass, your body swaying loosely. You look up at him, lips pouting. He looks down on you with a smile, stroking your hair before your body betrays you, eyes going dark as you fall back on the soft sheets. 

——————

You wake up to the smell of bacon. You check to see your clothes changed to a pair of trainer shorts and a Star Wars graphic tee. Your breath reeked of alcohol as you let out a yawn. 

You check to see Peter standing near the stove, his torso bare with only his boxers on. His hands skillfully flipping bacon and eggs on a greasy pan. 

“Hey handsome,” you called out. 

He turns around, a smile plastered on his face. His arms spread wide to take you in his arms. His skin was warm against yours, your cheek flush against his chest. 

“You slept well?” he asked. “You were knocked out good.” 

“Oh god, that bad huh?” you gasped. He places a kiss on your forehead, hands through your hair again patting it over and over. 

“Yeah, you said something about how madly and deeply in love you are with me and how you wanted me to and I quote stuff you up.”

“I did not!” you hit his chest with the base of your fist. He laughs hysterically. 

Smoke started to gather behind him, and the smell of charred meat started to fill the room. The two of you checked to see the bacon starting to turn black. “Shit. shit. shit!”

Breakfast was spoiled. Peter tried to salvage it but those were the last pieces. He tried to look for anything in his cupboard to eat but he found nothing. 

“It’s alright Pete,” you coo, smoothing his back

“It was supposed to be a perfect breakfast!” 

“Well, we could have something else,” your hand traced down his spine, teasing the edge of his boxers. 

“Oh,” you pin his back on the kitchen counter, pulling his underwear after. His hard cock springs free, aching red. 

You look up at him with the same pleading gaze from last night, slowly inching your lips closer to his tip. You gave it a few licks, your wet tongue dragging on his frenulum, Peter’s body heaved from the pleasure. 

His grip on your head was getting tighter, guiding your mouth as it bobbed on his cock. The thick shaft rubbed smoothly on the flat of your tongue, the head barely hitting the roof of your mouth. 

You hollow your cheeks to create more suction, Peter lets out a groan, his head falling back. You held onto his thighs, your neck pulling back to suck up to his sensitive tip. A string of clear liquid connects your lips to his sex. 

“You’re so good, baby,” he moaned. “Taking me so well.” 

Sweat trickles down from his forehead to his toned abdomen, your fingers tracing the lines to his sparse hair near his belly leading to his crotch. 

Your other hand went to stroke the remaining length of his cock, the combined sensation led Peter to the edge. He was a panting mess, chest heaving, toes curling, his long fingers digging into your scalp.

“I’m gonna—“ he gasps, cum shooting down your throat. His body convulsed as you held your stance, tears forming in your eyes as he fucked into your mouth. 

You stood up to wipe the spit all over your lips and pecked Peter’s lips. “So what’s good food around here?” 

[verstappenf1lecccc]

heyooo could you write a long one shot where Fernando is readers mentor when he “retires” teaches her everything she needs to know.: however then he returns to F1 and can’t mentor her anymore is instead a rival but pushes her off the track accidentally he thought it was ocon.. and he retires the car .. because along the way he’s fallen in love with her… again lots of angst and fluff I’m down for it ahah

comments are always appreciated:)

Red Flags and Green Lights

When Fernando retired he himself thought that it was the end of his career especially towards Motorsport. His last season was gruesome and frankly disappointing. McLaren had let him down big time it was almost as if each race was a joke. Poor strategy Poor performance Poor car.

At the end of the season Fernando knew he couldn’t take it much longer and had decided to draw the curtains up towards his impressive career.

To get away from the cameras and the journalist Fernando had decided to seek refuge in a small Spanish town just off the cost. The salty Spanish air made the Spaniard thrive. He had no intention of ever going back to anything related to Motorsport.

Beginnings

The first time Fernando Alonso had seen you on track, he had raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t the usual dismissive look he gave young drivers—those hungry, wide-eyed rookies trying to make a name for themselves. No, you weren’t like them. You were different.

You had come from the junior ranks, a rising star in a new generation of drivers, but there was something about you that intrigued him. Your precision, your ability to adapt to a car almost too quickly. But it wasn’t just that. It was the way you handled yourself off the track—there was a steeliness to you, a quiet confidence that made him think: This one, she’s got it.

Fernando had never been a particularly warm person, but he’d learned the hard way that talent alone wasn’t enough to succeed in Formula 1. Mentorship—that was the missing ingredient. He’d had great mentors, but his relationship with them had been less than ideal. He was determined to be better. To be the mentor that you didn’t know you needed.

And so, he took you under his wing. At first, it wasn’t obvious what he was doing. He wasn’t the type to sit down and give long speeches about racing. Instead, it was in the small moments, the subtle lessons.

“Don’t overdrive the car,” Fernando would say, tossing you a casual glance during a debrief. “The car doesn’t care about your ego. It’s about balance.”

At first, you’d bristled at his bluntness. But as you spent more time together, you realized he wasn’t being harsh—he was just pushing you in the only way he knew how. And you respected that. In a world of flashy trainers and corporate personas, Fernando was real. He demanded nothing less than your best.

But there were softer moments, too. When he’d see you frustrated, or exhausted after a long race weekend, he’d quietly hand you a bottle of water with a knowing smile. “You’re getting better,” he’d say. "But don’t burn yourself out. It’s a marathon, not a sprint."

Sometimes, after a race, when you’d sit on the pit wall, Fernando would join you. The two of you, silent, watching the crowd disperse, the paddock buzzing around you. He’d stare into the distance, and you could see the weight of his years in the sport, the regret, the battles won and lost.

“You’ll be in my shoes one day,” he’d say, almost absentmindedly. “Just... don’t make the same mistakes I did.”

You’d always chuckle. "I'll try not to." But deep down, you knew exactly what he meant.

You were learning not just the technical side of racing, but the psychology of it—the mental toughness that could make or break a driver. How to handle pressure. How to handle failure. Fernando was a master of that.

The Return

It had been a year since Fernando had “retired.” You were now racing for a mid-tier team, working your way up. You had started to gain attention, but it wasn’t easy. Racing was still a brutal sport, and no one cared how much potential you had if you didn’t win.

It was late in the season when the rumors first started. Fernando was coming back. You tried to ignore it, but it was everywhere. You told yourself it was just gossip. He’d never actually return.

Then, one afternoon, you were sitting in the debrief room, eyes glued to the telemetry, when your phone buzzed. It was a message from your PR manager: "Fernando's back. Announced this morning."

The room around you seemed to close in. It hit you harder than you thought it would. Fernando Alonso, your mentor, your friend, your rival. You had always admired his fiery passion for racing, but this—this felt different. He was coming back *to take your spot.*

The news hit you hard, but you swallowed it. You had worked too hard to let it defeat you. Yet, the sting of betrayal wasn’t easily ignored. He hadn’t told you. He hadn’t warned you. He was coming back to take the very thing you had worked so tirelessly for.

For days, you were a mess. Racing weekends became a blur of frustration. Every time you saw Fernando’s name on the timing sheets, every time you heard the roar of his engine in the distance, something inside of you twisted.

Rivals

The first time you went head-to-head with Fernando on track was at the Monaco Grand Prix. The streets of Monte Carlo, narrow and unforgiving, had always been a playground for him. You had grown up watching him win here, his aggressive style perfectly suited to the challenge. But now? Now, he was your competition.

The tension in the paddock was palpable. You hadn’t spoken much to Fernando since his return—an awkward, strained silence had settled between you both. He was now racing for Aston Martin, and you were still with your current team, fighting for every point.

Race day arrived, and as you suited up, your heart pounded in your chest. The press had been relentless, comparing you to Fernando—asking if you were nervous, asking if you felt the pressure. You couldn’t let them see you break.

As you lined up on the grid, your eyes drifted to Fernando’s car. He was in his familiar spot, just a few rows ahead of you. When his eyes met yours, you felt a twinge of something—regret, longing, but also something else. The rivalry. You had to put it all aside now. You weren’t his protégé anymore. You were his equal. And that meant you had to beat him.

The race was a blur of tight corners, full-throttle accelerations, and the constant threat of losing grip. Fernando had a knack for reading the race, for making late-breaking moves that left you on edge. Lap after lap, he pushed you, forcing you to respond with everything you had.

But it wasn’t just the pressure on the track that had you on edge. It was the way his presence haunted you. Every time you braked too late or took a corner too aggressively, you could almost feel him beside you, his voice in your ear.

Don’t overdrive the car. Control your emotions.

And then, it happened.

It was the final lap, and you were battling for position. You had the inside line heading into the chicane, the tires on your car worn and your concentration slipping. Fernando, pushing hard from behind, wasn’t giving an inch. You could feel his car getting closer, so close that his rearview mirror almost felt like it was inside your helmet.

You took the corner too sharply, trying to block his line. And that’s when it happened.

Fernando’s car clipped your rear tire. The next thing you knew, your car was spinning, the track blurring around you, the world upside down.

In an instant, you were off the track. The gravel crunched under your tires as you skidded to a halt. For a moment, there was nothing but silence.

"Shit! Are you okay?" Fernando’s voice crackled through your radio, panic in his voice.

You gripped the steering wheel, a lump in your throat. He didn’t mean to do that. It was an accident. But it didn’t change the fact that it was him the man who had once mentored you, the man who had taught you everything you knew, the man who had now put you in the gravel.

You sat there for a long moment, trying to regain your composure. The race was over for you. But it wasn’t over for Fernando.

You heard the engine roar as his car raced past. And then, as he crossed the line into the pits , he was the one who had retired without any reason to.

The Apology

The days after the incident were heavy. The press had made their usual spectacle of the crash. But you were quiet. You kept your distance, kept your head down. Fernando had won, of course. The car was still fast, even if he had been a little too aggressive.

He didn’t come to you right away. It wasn’t until the next race in Austria that you finally saw him, walking through the paddock, looking like he hadn’t slept a wink. His eyes met yours, and for the first time since Monaco, you both stopped.

He cleared his throat, stepping closer to you.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low, almost apologetic. “I thought it was Ocon.”

You blinked, trying to hold back the flood of emotions rushing to your chest. The apology wasn’t much, but it was enough to make the walls you’d built around your heart begin to crack.

“Fernando,” you said softly, “I know. I know it wasn’t intentional. but” You cut yourself off, swallowing hard. “You could’ve hurt me. You could’ve ruined everything we worked for.”

His gaze softened, and for a moment, he wasn’t the driver who had taken your spot. He was just Fernando the man who had shown you how to drive, how to fight for everything you wanted.

“I didn’t mean for it to go like this,” he said quietly. “I’ve been a fool.”

You were silent, looking at the ground, feeling the weight of the last few years crash down on you.

And then, finally, you looked up at him. “You taught me how to race. But you also taught me how to let go. Maybe... maybe it’s time for it for us to let go.”

Confessions

Months had passed since the Monaco incident, and the tension between you and Fernando, once thick and palpable, had slowly faded into a quiet understanding. The rivalry had not diminished the bond you shared, but it had forged a new dynamic. There were moments when you'd catch him watching you, his gaze steady, his usual cocky demeanor softened by something deeper.

It was after the Italian Grand Prix, a race that had been as unpredictable as the season itself, that everything finally came to a head. You had managed to finish in the points, a small but significant victory for you and your team, while Fernando had taken a step back from the podium, frustrated with his own performance. As you made your way through the paddock, you saw him standing near the garage, his eyes distant. You walked over, unsure of what to expect, but the warmth in his gaze when he saw you took you by surprise.

“Not bad today,” he said, his usual teasing tone absent, replaced by something genuine.

“Could’ve been better,” you replied, glancing at his tired eyes. "But you, you’re still a threat on the track, Fernando. Always will be."

He chuckled softly, then fell quiet. The noise of the paddock, the usual chaos of post-race analysis, faded as the two of you stood in that small, private bubble. It was strange, how it had always been with him. Every time you were around, you felt seen—truly seen, in a way that no one else could.

“You’ve come so far,” he said, his voice unusually soft. “I don’t think you even realize how much you've changed, how much you've grown since I first saw you.”

You raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk pulling at your lips. “It’s all thanks to you, isn’t it?”

He looked down at the ground, almost as if hesitating. The silence between you stretched, and then Fernando looked up, his eyes locking with yours. “Maybe... but it’s not just that. There’s something I need to say to you.” He took a deep breath, his hands gripping the edge of the pit wall.

You felt your heart skip a beat. "What is it?"

“I never meant for things to get so complicated between us,” Fernando started, his voice low but clear. “I’ve been trying to convince myself that it was just the rivalry, that it was all about racing. But the truth is I’ve been holding back for so long. Holding back from telling you what I really feel.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You knew what he was about to say, and yet, hearing it aloud made the words seem more real than ever.

“I care about you," he said, the words tumbling out, raw and honest. "Not just as a driver or a mentor, but... more than that. You mean more to me than I’ve let on."

For a moment, all you could do was stand there, staring at him, your heart racing. The past few months had been a whirlwind conflict, growth, understanding but now, in this quiet moment, everything felt clear.

“I care about you too, Fernando,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. “I’ve been so focused on proving myself, on being the driver you helped me become, that I never realized how much you meant to me until now.”

There was no dramatic confession, no grand gesture. Just two people, who had been through so much together, finally acknowledging the feelings that had been there all along.

Fernando smiled, a warmth in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before. “So, we’re not just teammates anymore?”

You shook your head, a small laugh escaping your lips. “Definitely not.”

He stepped closer, his hand gently brushing against yours. It wasn’t a rush or a need to act on anything. It was just a simple, unspoken connection—one that had been building for so long, and now, at last, it was out in the open.

“You’re incredible,” he said softly, his voice filled with admiration. “I’ve always known that. But now I get to see it up close. I’m lucky to be here with you, to be a part of your journey.”

You smiled, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders. The competition, the doubts, the uncertainty—it all melted away in that moment. You were no longer just a driver fighting for recognition. You were someone with a future. A future that, for the first time in a long time, didn’t feel quite so lonely.

“We’ll see what happens next,” you said, your heart lighter than it had been in years. “But I’m ready for it. Whatever it is.”

Fernando nodded, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder, a silent promise between the two of you.

The next race came and went, and although the rivalry remained on track, it had transformed into something deeper something that was no longer just about the competition. And when the season came to an end, it was not just your achievements that filled your thoughts, but the quiet moments shared with Fernando: the conversations after races, the supportive glances across the paddock, and the realization that you were no longer fighting alone.

In the end, it wasn’t the checkered flags or podiums that defined your journey. It was the person who stood beside you, someone who had seen you for who you were and who you could be. And for the first time, you weren’t just racing for yourself. You were racing for both of you.

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

The Injured List

Batter Up Chapter 4

Pairing: Baseball player Joel Miller x Female Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: Joel's just a baseball player and his back is killing him, good thing he has you to take care of him. Warnings: smut, joel gets injured and can barely move though he's still horny af, joel watches you masturbate for him, cum swallowing, riding joel's fingers, hand job. Words: 3,500

Masterlist Series Masterlist Playlist

⚾️⚾️⚾️

“And I don’t know folks, doesn’t look good for Joel Miller,” the announcer intones, but his words disappear, all you can focus on is the image on your screen. Tears begin to stream down your face as you watch Joel writhe in pain on the dirt. This can’t be happening, you’re literally packing your bag for the flight home to Texas in a few hours. He has the All Star Game in two days, and right now he’s sitting on the ground shaking his head and grimacing as his manager, teammates and trainer surround him, their faces all shrouded in concern. The shirt you were folding drops out of your hand as you walk closer to the television, as if being next to the broadcast will change the outcome. 

“Come on baby, come on,” you chant to yourself, nervously bouncing in place. You have nobody to talk to about your worry, except the man currently being helped up off the field by his trainer and coach. He looks pissed as he hobbles to the cart, you swallow hard realizing how angry and destroyed he looks. There goes the All Star Game, there goes his swan song of returning back to his hometown and old home field during what should be his final year of playing. 

Your heart shatters for him, for you, for his career. You don’t know what to do with yourself, so you still pack your bag. You text Joel that’s you’re leaving now. 

“What a shame. Miller’s out…” Your dad texts you later that night. Little does he know you’re reading his text as you take the elevator up to Miller’s apartment. 

The sound of Joel’s keys in the lock startles you out of your daze, you jump from the couch, hopping over the ottoman to meet him at the door. 

He looks haggard and tired.

“Hey sweetheart,” he smiles, his face looking less defeated at the sight of you. “You didn’t have to come here, m’sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize. I wanted to be here,” you delicately wrap your arms around his neck, rising up on your tip toes and giving him a kiss before grabbing his bag from his hands. “I couldn’t not be.” 

It’s the first time you’ve been together in over two weeks, this is absolutely not the scenario you were expecting. Usually the first time you see each other after long stretches of time your first stop is the bedroom, both of you excited to touch each other and get all of your long distance frustrations out in bed. Tonight, it’s different, the first stop is the bedroom, but the only thing on your mind is taking care of him.

“I appreciate it baby, you’re too good.”

“I know I am. Now, come on, I got the bed all set up for you.”

——

“Well, I better get used to this damn room for the next week,” he grumbles limping into his room.

“Good thing I already have the next week off so I can keep you company.”

“You can still go home, ya’ know?” Joel plunks down on the edge of his bed. "Don't want you missing the game and your family on account of me."

“And leave my injured boyfriend all alone? What am I a monster?” You kneel down in front of him, unlacing his shoes and pulling each one off. 

“No, just feel bad you have to give up your vacation to take care of me,” his voice is soft as he grabs your chin and pets your cheek. 

“Listen,” you climb up his legs, placing your hands on his thighs, “I get a week of you stuck in bed, that’s better than a beachfront villa in Tahiti. Plus, I refuse to let a nurse or anyone else help you get undressed and bathe.” You untie the ties of his joggers. “Now, let’s get you in bed and I’ll take care of you.” 

You hold out your hands to help him stand, he takes them and rises with your assistance, grimacing as his back moves. 

“Should we ice it, or is the heating pad good for now?”

“Heat’s fine,” he croaks. 

“You alright?”

“I’m fine, just really fuckin’ hurts.” 

“Here, I’ll help with your clothes, do you want sleep shorts and a shirt?” 

“No, just a pair of underwear’s fine.”

“Right,” you turn and head for his closet to grab a new pair. 

“Hold up, just… I’ll get it.”

“Why?” You turn around, shrugging your shoulders. “You can hardly move.”

“Just, don’t do any digging, okay?”

“…..Okay, I’ll grab the first pair I see then,” you angle your eyebrows at him.

“Thank you.”

“Mmhmm,” you say as you turn and walk into his closet.

“Damnit.” You hear him groan from the other room as you open his underwear drawer. 

“Don’t do anything I can help you with!” You shout grabbing the top pair of boxer briefs fighting the urge to look through the drawer. 

Joel Miller is always cool, always put together. You don’t think there’s ever been a day that he’s looked pathetic, up until today and the sight that greets you when you walk out of his closet.

“This sucks,” he miserably huffs, standing by the bed, his pants halfway down his legs, the hem of his shirt rumpled up around his chest. 

“Oh baby,” you giggle. “See, how could I leave you in this state?” 

You kiss his cheek and bend down in front of him, grabbing the waistband of his pants and pulling them down. “Step out,” you instruct, looking to find he’s staring down at you, his eyes hooded, the same look he gives you in bed. “Don’t get any ideas Mr. Miller you can hardly move.” 

“Could probably move enough.”

“Bullshit, it’s not happening tonight Joel,” you stand. “Trust me, I want it too, but it’s not happening. Now, let’s get your shirt taken care of. Can you raise your hands for me?”

He nods and raises his arms, trying to disguise his frown.

You lift the hem of his shirt gently rolling it up his chest while trying to ignore the fact that he’s now almost fully naked in front of you. 

“You know,” he says as you slowly roll his shirt up his head and outstretched arms. “Just because I’m out of commission doesn’t mean you have to be.” 

“Joel,” you breathe out placing his shirt on your shoulders. “Stop.”

“I missed you— ’n your body, if I can’t have it, at least lemme look at it.” 

“We’ll see,” you bite your bottom lip, the angel on your shoulder is telling you the best thing for him to do right now is rest and sleep, the devil on your shoulder that looks like your handsome boyfriend is telling you to let him watch you get off. “Hate to say this now, but I have to take your underwear off.” 

You kneel down in front of him, thinking how stupid you are that you’re now face level with his crotch… and he’s already half hard. 

“Fuck, this sucks,” he tips his head back exasperating as you grab his waistband and begin to pull his boxer briefs down. 

“I know it does,” you whisper your mouth beginning to salivate as you expose his half hard cock, it feels like you’re unwrapping a forbidden present, "but I’m here to take care of you baby.”

“You can’t call me baby,” he sighs, “when you’re... down there.” 

Joel’s underwear pools at his feet, you stare straight forward at his half hard cock, your mouth dropping open at the sight. 

“I’m also going through things too,” you whisper as you tap on his legs so he can step out of the fabric at his feet. “I gotta put your underwear on.” 

“Mm,” Joel lifts a leg as you pull his underwear up, your hands forced to feel the skin of his legs, the hair is soft against your touch. 

“Christ, can feel your breaths against me, you gotta stop,” he whines. 

You hold your breath as you pull the black fabric up over his crotch, finally hiding the temptation. 

You stand back up, focusing on getting Joel ready for bed, the stick of your soaked underwear against your skin getting harder to ignore. 

You spread the heating pad out on his side of the bed, bending over to plug it into the socket behind his bedside table.

“You look so good bent over like that, hate my goddamn back,” he bitterly mutters.

“Can’t stop you, can I?” You chuckle. “I’m just glad you were able to shower at the ballpark.”

“I’m not,” he huffs out sitting on the edge of his bed gingerly twisting and lifting his legs up, resting his back against the wall of pillows you’ve placed against the headboard. 

“You good?” You hand him the remote control and the heating pad controller.

“Yeah, m’fine, thanks.”

“Need anything?” 

“No, just want to feel you in bed with me.”

“I know, just have a few things to do first.”

You gather Joel’s dirty clothes in your hand, depositing them in the hamper inside his closet. Your eyes glance over at his underwear drawer, why does he want you out of it? You know it’s not a ring, it’s too early, he knows that. It could just be nothing at all… you let the wonder escape your brain with a shake of your head. No need to worry about it right now.

You take your clothes off, sighing internally at how wet your underwear is with your arousal. 

“Where’s the sleep shirt you’ve been keeping for me?” You peek out of his closet.

“It’s already in my suitcase on the floor.”

You nod. “Thanks.”

“You naked in there?” 

You roll your eyes at his question. “Yes.”

“Lemme see.” 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you unzip his suitcase, finding the shirt folded right at the top, as if he couldn’t wait to give it to you as much as you couldn’t wait to receive it. 

“Please baby, it’s been a long fucking day and an even longer two weeks.” 

“Fine,” you walk out of his closet, the only piece of clothing is his shirt in your hands. Joel’s eyes darken as you walk over to the bed. “Happy?”

“Thank you,” his eyes roam your body. “Missed you pretty girl.”

“Missed you too,” you blush.

“Come lay next to me, it just hit me how little I’ve gotten to touch you.”

“I should probably get our phones from the living room, just in case."

“Please don’t, it’s all a bunch of texts and articles I don’t want to deal with right now, I just want to be with you right now.” 

The frustration in his voice makes you climb in bed and lay next to Joel, carefully placing your head on his chest. 

“This okay?”

“Of course it is. Wish I could wrap my arms around you and hold you close, fuck, you feel so good.” His hand comes up to your face, rubbing his thumb against your chin and lips. “God damnit, this really sucks.”

“I know, but I’m happy doing this too.” You grab his hand away from your face. “Can’t believe I never asked you, what does this mean?” You trace the three circles on Joel’s hand. 

“Had a bullseye board my dad used to use for hunting practice, would put it out in the field behind my house, my brother and I would spend hours trying to hit the ball off the tee and have it hit the target. Went ‘n got this the night after I won Rookie of the Year.”

“Cute,” you bring his hand up to kiss the tattoo. “I remember that banquet, I thought you were so hot. God, I thought that since I was eighteen maybe you’d talk to me because I was older. Ridiculous.”

“Dark blue dress, your hair was pulled back ’n you had a gold headband.”

You audibly gasp, dropping his hand out of yours, his palm thudding against his chest. 

“Yeah… yeah, that’s— wow, that’s what I was wearing.”

“I know, and I would’ve talked to you if your dad wasn’t the one signing my checks or holding my future in his hands. I remember talking to your mom, and you were right behind her, you looked so beautiful it was hard for me to pay attention to her.”

“I remember that, I loved listening to you talk. God, I can’t believe we’re here. Look at us now.”

“Look at us now,” his low chuckle vibrates against your head. “Speaking of looking, I’d really like to look at you.”

“You have been Joel.”

“No, I want to look at you, please, I’m gonna keep pulling the injured card, but let me watch you touch yourself.”

“Joel… I don’t think that’s doctor’s orders.” You want to touch yourself, you're so wet, just from being near him.

“Please, darling, it’ll make this day not totally suck.”

“Ugh, I can’t argue with that. Joel Miller wins again. Where do you want me?”

“At the foot in front of me, wanna see all of you.”

Your body thrums as you climb down his bed. You love how excited you are to touch your pussy for him, he adores your body, worships it. 

“Spread your legs for me, wide, want to see your pussy drool all over my sheets.” 

You sit up and face Joel, leaning back on an outstretched arm opening your thighs wide, your naked body lit by the soft glow of the lamp on Joel’s bedside table.

“Fuck baby girl, look at that, can see how wet you are, you’re absolutely fucking soaked.” 

You can see how his cock is hardening underneath his boxer briefs. It drives you even crazier. 

“Rub your pussy for me,” his eyes burn into yours, the timbre of his voice urging you forward.

Your hand snakes down your torso, dipping in between your folds, a moan leaves your lips feeling how wet you are, Joel groans as you begin to touch yourself. 

You do this all the time for him on FaceTime, but you’ve never done this in person, your leg draping over his, your arousal dripping onto his sheets. You love how you can see the way his eyebrows wrinkle as his big eyes dart from your eyes to your pussy and back. 

“That’s it baby, you look so fucking amazing.” 

You can’t believe your luck, both good and bad. Good luck that you’re close enough to watch Joel grow harder as he watches you fuck yourself. Bad luck that Joel can’t be the one fucking you. 

“Stick a finger in, lemme see it,” his hand dropping down to grip his bulge. “Not gonna do anything, pressure’s just helpin’ me.”

“You okay?” You ask, your finger paused at your entrance.

“Course I am sweetheart,” he smiles, “I’ll be just fine. This is good, real good. Stick it in for me.”

You raise your hips to meet your finger and begin pumping it in and out of you, your palm resting against your clit. You focus on Joel’s thick fingers forming around his sheathed hard cock, you stick another finger in to try to stretch yourself the way he stretches you.. It’s nothing compared to him.

“Greedy girl,” he growls, his fist tightening around his bulge. “Fuck, you’re so hot. Thank you for doing this for me.”

You want to give Joel a show, he deserves it. 

“Joel,” you whimper sticking a third finger in. “You always feel so good in me, love it when you fuck me.”

“Yeah?” He breathes. “Love how you squeeze me, you squeezin’ your fingers for me?” 

“Mmhmm,” you moan, your legs beginning to shake as you fuck yourself harder, your palm knocking against your clit. Your heavy breathing and the sound of your fingers shoving in and out of your hole growing louder and faster bringing yourself closer to your climax.

“That’s a good girl, missed you so much, missed that sweet pussy of yours. Can see you getting close, you close for me?” 

You nod as an idea pops into your head. You scoot yourself forward, your cunt now right in front of his free hand resting on his thigh. 

“Touch me, just, stick your fingers in, don’t move them, let me do the work?”

“Fuck. Yeah? Okay baby,” he sounds practically giddy at your suggestion. “How many?”

“Three, I need to feel you,” you order as you kneel on your knees hovering over his hand.

He nods, his face with a serious, determined expression as he sticks his fingers up for you. 

You lower your pussy on them. Fuck. His fingers are so fucking thick, opening your cunt even wider as you sit on them. Joel lets out a long, low groan as you bury his fingers inside of you. 

“Baby, oh god, you’re fucking soaked for me. Jesus, you feel so fucking silky and soft. Fuckin’ squeezing me so hard.”

You begin to rub circles around your clit, bringing your other hand to cup your breast as you begin to ride his hand. The feel of his skin against yours, the way his eyes bore into you as you slide your cunt up and down his thick digits, the guttural gasp he lets out as you squeeze his fingers tight chanting how much you wish his fingers were his cock edge you even closer.

His head thuds against the pillow as you grind harder against him, your wet dripping down against his knuckles. His hand still grips his cock, you place your hand on top of his, tracing the tattoo with a finger, the same circles you draw over your clit. He stares at his hand, his brows furrowing as he watches you trace the ink on his skin.

You move your hips on him as he stays still, he’s being so good to you, knowing you’ll worry about his back if he oversteps his boundaries. 

“Feel so good when you touch me,” he whispers, his hand clenching and unclenching around his length. “Just a fuckin’ finger on my hand and it’s driving me crazy.”

You love him so much, you know today has been hell for him, you’ll deal with that later, right now all you want to do is let him forget about everything using your naked body as a distraction.

You can feel your orgasm beginning to peak, your cunt clamping around his fingers. You’re close, so fucking close.

“Oh, babygirl, you’re going to cum aren’t you? Fuckin’ strangling me, wish it was my cock so bad. Let go for me, lemme feel it.”

It’s been so long since you’ve felt his touch and now your cunt is pulsing around his fingers.

“Fuck,” you stare open mouthed as you notice the dark spot on Joel’s underwear from his leaking cock. Your orgasm waves through you at sight, your slick gushing out soaking Joel’s fingers. You grab his cock and yank it out of his underwear as you rock through your climax, fuck your self imposed so-called “doctor’s orders” you want to touch him.

“Stay still, stay still,” you pant as you spread his precum all over his shaft, stroking him. 

His head nods ferociously, eyes widening as he bites his top lip, his hand curling into a fist resting atop his chest. 

“I know, I know,” you raise up off of his fingers, leaning forward to kiss him. “Cum for me Joel. Give me your cum,” you moan against his lips.

“Yes,” he chokes out.

“You’re being so good, laying so still, letting me do the work for you.” 

You stroke him faster, twisting the tip the way you know he likes it, he lets out a long groan, letting you know he’s there. You quickly clamber down the bed sealing your mouth over his cock. His body stays perfectly still, the only thing moving is his head nodding against the pillow and his cock throbbing as his seed shoots down your throat. You swallow all of it down, happy to be able to finally taste him.

“Thank you baby,” he whispers, “needed that. You’re so good to me.”

“You deserve it,” you smile wiping your mouth and pulling Joel’s underwear back up. “I know today wasn’t easy on you, but I’m going to be here for you every step of the way.” 

“I love you,” he sighs, his eyes already turning heavy with exhaustion.

“I love you too,” you lay down next to him, making sure to gently rest your head on his chest. 

“You’re so good at turning my bad days good. Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

——

Joel falls asleep quickly. You sneak out of bed and softly pad out to the living room to grab your phones, remembering you need to set an alarm for his meds.

They sit on the coffee table, right where you left them.

Joel has too many missed texts. 

You have a few texts too, the most recent being from your mom.

Your stomach drops as you read it.

“Aren’t you flying in tonight? Why are you in Philadelphia? Please call.”

A/N: Hello, there is an awful lot of foreshadowing going on here.

⚾️⚾️⚾️

Series Masterlist

[fad1d]

[pokemon-npcs]

[themissingnumbers]

WARNING: FLASHING/GLITCHING IMAGE UNDER THE CUT. This also contains descriptions of gore and body horror.

[ @pkmn-monochrome - Previously... ]

Red narrows his eyes as he stares down at Cody, shutting up and listening as they explain. The corners of his lips twitch as they finish, the shadow cast over his eyes falling ever so slightly heavier.

"... So, that's how it is, hm?"

"Barely... any different..."

"... Exactly what I..."

"..."

"I've gotta say, you've really got a way with words! You're so articulate when you're scared, Cody."

He snickers to himself, hopping off the grave and pacing around, looking between the other and the Ghosts.

"Observant, too~! You're right, I really couldn't be bothered to care what you think of me. I'm not exactly here to make friends. I'm sure that'd the last thing you'd want, anyways! See, I'm just here to satiate some curiosity."

He leans in front of Blastoise, tilting his head.

"I would like to formally apologize to the oversized Sobble-in-a-shell for my language. I'm not exactly used to being around others... Twenty-six years of imprisonment wouldn't really teach a guy to have a filter, heh."

He waves a hand nonchalantly, completing the circle.

"And as for your marketable figurine of a rat, well... I'm not interested in being a snotty kid forever. Unfortunately, I don't need any hacking done to screw up my game badly enough to change some things around.

But, hey... I'm not here to make chit-chat with a couple of one-note monsters. It's all about you, the most REAL one in this room. Cody, Cody, Cody, star of the show~! Let's get back to the point. I know you don't exactly think highly of... things like me. What was it you told that one poor girl- 'You've had more than a decade to get over yourself,' right?"

He throws his head back, cackling as if the old remark is the funniest thing he's heard in his life.

"I meant it when I said that I don't CARE. But I AM nosy, and your vitriol towards REDs in particular is just so interesting... Even seein' the face clearly strikes a nerve. So honestly, I'd LOVE to hear EXACTLY what you're thinking..."

"If only you were willing to spit out any fighting words, that is! But you've been so much more polite than I expected, after all the reading I've done..."

He passes by in front of the other, looking off into the distance.

In that moment- a moment of passing footsteps, of the blink of an eye, of a lack of care... something heavy fills the air.

A damning presence looks down on Cody with a dozen eyes, countless mouths, gnashing teeth and twitching claws, two hundred and fifty-five whispering voices. It's a disgusting and shambling creature, a sick and unholy patchwork of amalgamated hearts and yellowed blood, wrapped up in tattered flesh and backwards fur, mismatched feathers and scales and blubber and skin. Writhing, wheezing, bleeding, rotting, every misplaced piece existing out of sync.

Something impossible. Unknowable. Invalid.

The feeling it imposes upon them is suffocating. Like not breathing for years, like something vile filling their lungs, a sickness that is rising, thrashing, tearing, desperate for a taste of "fresh meat" if one could even call a dead trainer that anymore.

"It almost seems like there's something you're worried about," the voices from within it hiss, layered countless times under the casual and teasing tone of Red's own that is lost under the madness...

... Yet the instant the words spill from his lips, that awful sensation is gone as quickly as it arrived. Everything is as it should be. Despite how intense it was... It was little more than two seconds of some sick kind of illusion.

Was it even real? Was that pain all false? Red hasn't lifted a finger, no less even looked Cody's way.

It's as if nothing even happened.

"I wonder, I wonder, what it could be~?" the man babbles on as he walks away, feigning ignorance- because he must be, he must be screwing around with them at this point, right? How could he NOT be?

And now he's laughing- giggling to himself under his breath, like this whole ordeal is some joke that only he's in on.

"After all, I'm just some harmless little video game character. I'm not even real, right?" he chides, "Certainly nothing like one of your big bad players who could crush your shoddy little cartridge cause you decided to be a little bi..."

He trails off, managing to catch himself.

"... Decided to misbehave. What, you don't think I hold any real power over this place, do you~? I can't cause..."

"... Permanent damage."

He slows to a stop several paces away from the monochromatic trainer, spinning on his heel to look at them with a smile that could be described as warm, but...

From heart, to flesh, to grin- there's not a single warm thing about this man in this moment. Only proven further by a final remark, laced with a threatening kind of curiosity.

"So would you like to stop trying to play nice and tell me what you really think of me... Or are you gonna let me get bored?"

[fafnir19]

Soccer – A life-changing game

I'm Lenny and I would like to tell my story about how I wanted to realize my dream of becoming a successful soccer player:

I was thrilled when I first stepped onto the field, ready to train with my new soccer team. It was like a dream come true, being handpicked to join the best young players from all the city's clubs. I couldn't contain my excitement as Mr. Hardwork, our trainer, introduced himself with a booming voice and a firm handshake. He was no-nonsense but had a way of making the training fun. As I looked around at my new teammates, I couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie. They were a good bunch, even if we were all from different clubs. We were here for one purpose - to become the best team in the city. We trained for weeks, each practice bringing new challenges and opportunities to bond as a team. But despite our individual skills, we all struggled to sync up on the field. Each game felt like a battle of egos, with everyone wanting to be the star. Mr. Hardwork could sense the growing frustration and addressed it head-on one day. "We're not just a group of individuals, boys. We need to function as a unit, a well-oiled machine," he said, his voice carrying authority and wisdom. "To truly become a team, we need to look and feel like one. That's why I've struck a deal with Beaucon. They'll be our sponsors and provide us with top-notch fashion to show the world that we belong together." I was surprised by the idea but willing to give it a shot. A few days later, Amy, Beaucon's marketing director, arrived with bags of the most elegant men's clothing I'd ever seen. As we put on the coordinated outfits, we felt like a different kind of team - sophisticated, united, and ready to conquer the field.

And conquer we did. With our newfound sense of unity emanating from the stylish Beaucon clothing, we started playing at a level we never thought possible. Victory after victory, our success seemed unstoppable. The team spirit was high, and the mood was jubilant. But soon, I noticed a shift in the fashion choices Amy brought for us. The clothes were becoming more form-fitting, hugging our bodies in a way that made me slightly uncomfortable. When I mustered the courage to ask her about it, I was taken aback by her response. "My customer analysis indicates that the gay clientele enjoys this kind of fashion," Amy said matter-of-factly. "And they're the most lucrative market for Beaucon. I've picked these outfits to cater to their tastes."

At first, my teammates and I were puzzled and uncertain about this development. But when Amy sweetened the deal with a share of the sales, our doubts quickly dissipated. The prospect of extra income was enticing, and soon enough, we were parading around in the form-fitting attire without a second thought. As the sales soared, Mr. Hardwork proposed a month-long training camp to prepare for the final match. But the obstacle of finances threatened to derail our plans. It was then that Amy made a surprising suggestion - one that left us dumbfounded. "Sales tend to rise if you display a bit more affection towards each other in public. A touch here, a caress there," she explained with a knowing smile. "It's all part of appealing to our target market. The gay clientele appreciates such displays when coupled with our clothing." We were initially taken aback by the idea, but the allure of quick cash won us over. Before we knew it, our seemingly innocent touches had escalated into something more, and our public interactions began to resemble flirtatious exchanges.

It was bizarre at first, but the resulting spike in sales was undeniable. Before long, it had become routine for us to engage in intimate gestures in public, all under the guise of increasing sales. What had started as minor touches had evolved into embraces, playful grabs of each other's crotch, and even passionate kisses.

And to our astonishment, the sales responded with a resounding surge. As we gathered the funds for our training camp, we were elated at the realization that the plan was working. And so, we embarked on our journey to the luxurious villa, our minds ablaze with anticipation and our pockets heavy with the spoils of our unconventional efforts. It seemed like nothing could thwart our path to glory.

The luxurious villa where we stayed during the training camp was a sight to behold. Its grandeur was matched only by the excitement pulsing through our veins as we prepared for the upcoming tournament.

The stakes were high, and with our newfound unity and skill, we were determined to emerge victorious. The days leading up to the tournament were filled with rigorous training sessions, tactical discussions, and moments of bonding among teammates. We were a cohesive unit both on and off the field, celebrating each small victory and supporting one another through every setback.

As the sun set behind the grandiose villa, our team couldn't contain the giddy excitement that bubbled within us. We had just won a big soccer tournament. The air was filled with the jubilant laughter and animated chatter of my teammates as we celebrated our victory. The opulence of the villa, combined with the elation of our triumph, invoked an ambiance of sheer exuberance. "Dang, this place is fancier than I thought it'd be. I feel like a friggin' prince or something," exclaimed Dave, his voice tinged with awe as he glanced around the lavish surroundings, taking in every minute detail of the opulent decor. "Right? And we totally deserve it after that epic win!" chimed in Mark, his enthusiasm infectious as he clapped a hand on my shoulder in camaraderie. "I can already feel the vibe for a celebration building up inside me!" The night progressed, and the cocktail of endorphins, alcohol, and unrestrained hormones fueled our giddy spirits, paving the way for unexpected developments. The lines between comradeship and something more became pleasantly blurred. The joy of our success seemed to ignite something primal and spontaneous within us. "Huh, who would've thought we'd ever end up making out with each other, eh? But it feels right, you know?" mused Alex, his eyes reflecting a sense of unexpected revelation as he peered thoughtfully at the assorted group of teammates who were locked in tender embraces around the extravagantly adorned room. "Yeah, I mean, I never would've guessed this is how we'd be celebrating, but let's be real, it's kinda amazing," Ryan added with a chuckle, a newfound sense of closeness evident in his relaxed demeanor. In the midst of the revelry, I found myself drawn to a fellow teammate, our eyes locking in a moment of unspoken understanding. With an exchange of bashful but expectant glances, our tentative touches kindled an inexplicable fire.

The warm, luxurious ambiance of the villa became an accomplice to the influx of intimate gestures that filled the air. It was as if the very fabric of the villa itself was complicit in encouraging our newfound boldness. "Whoa, I... I never thought I'd feel so comfortable like this, you know? But it's like we've found a whole new level of connection," confessed Ethan, his voice tinted with a newfound vulnerability yet a sense of unshakeable contentment as he shared a tentative embrace with another teammate. That night, after the initial hesitancy dissipated, my teammates and I took a step into the unknown. Admissions of enjoyment echoed through the silent corridors and bedrooms, resounding like joyful proclamations of newfound freedom and acceptance. It was intoxicating, thrilling, and above all, liberating. Each caress, each kiss became a testament to our unrestrained passion and the newfound depth of our camaraderie. As conversation grew quieter and the night grew darker, the followers of the moon, we reveled in each other's company, finding solace and assurance in our newfound bond. With the darkness as our canopy, we reveled in the newfound facets of our companionship, entangled in a web of warmth and acceptance. "The way we're all feeling right now, it's like we've found something incredibly special. A bond that's beyond just being teammates, you know?" mused Tom, his voice laced with newfound fervor as he savored the unfolding moments of unexpected intimacy.

The following morning brought with it a fragile sense of uncertainty, as if we had collectively dared to venture beyond the boundaries of convention and now questioned the consequences of our actions. Yet, with a mixture of trepidation and exhilaration, we confided in one another, unveiling our shared experiences of the previous night. As each teammate bared their soul, an unspoken realization dawned upon us – an understanding that what we had shared was not merely a passing dalliance but an uncharted terrain of undeniable attraction. The very teammates with whom I had shared the field had become the anchors of solace and affection, the confidants of unspoken desires. Indeed, our interactions had transcended the realm of mere teammates; we had become something more, a cohort bound by affection that had blossomed amidst the intensity of competition. It was a revelation that left me both bewildered and undeniably stirred, for it was a truth that had emerged quietly yet resolutely. As we grappled with the evolving dynamics within the team, the tournament loomed before us, presenting an opportunity to put our newfound unity and skill to the test.

The bright stadium lights illuminated the expansive field as we, the formidable team from the city, stepped onto the grass, confident of imminent victory. Alas, fate had other plans for us, as the soccer gods cruelly deemed us unworthy and eliminated us from the competition in the preliminary round. Our hearts weighed heavy with defeat, a looming shadow cast over our spirits.

"Boys, we have a duty to attend the Beaucon party tonight," Mr. Hardwork reminded us. Reluctantly, we exchanged glances, acknowledging our commitment to our sponsor despite the overwhelming disappointment that shrouded us. As we arrived at the lavish party, the atmosphere was vibrant and pulsating with energy.

Amidst the sea of guests adorned in Beaucon's finest, a striking figure stood out. His name was Miles, a man of undeniable charm and allure. He approached me, sensing the despondency that clouded my countenance, and offered solace in his comforting embrace. "Hey there, Lenny. I couldn't help but notice the despondency etched on your face. Let me offer you some comfort," Miles said as he drew me into his comforting embrace. A warmth spread through me as he tenderly stroked my cheek, his touch a fleeting respite from the bitter taste of defeat. Before I could comprehend the turn of events, I found myself enveloped in an air of opulence, lying in Miles' bed as he bestowed upon me a potent gift of intimacy, forever altering the course of my destiny.  

"You're a natural, Lenny. I can see a bright future for you," Miles murmured, his words carrying a sense of assurance that both comforted and perplexed me.

Little did I know, my teammates were also surrendering to a similar fate, each becoming a trophy boy in their own right, ensnared by the captivating allure of the rich and powerful clients of Beaucon. In the wake of these unforeseen events, a shocking revelation dawned upon us—a twist of fate that rendered us speechless. Mr. Hardwork, the very mentor we trusted and revered, had orchestrated our transformation into gay trophy boys, a fate far removed from our aspirations of professional soccer glory. "I told you that I would manage to train the boys to be gay trophy boys," Mr. Hardwork declared triumphantly to Amy. "At least that way they have a promising future - they certainly didn't have what it takes to be professional soccer players!" Amy, the enigmatic figure behind Beaucon's machinations, approached us with veiled congratulations, delivering the sobering truth of our newfound destinies: "Congratulation boys, you have become perfect gay Beaucon- boys! I guess you are all interested in a modeling job with Beaucon, right!" she announced, her words hanging heavily in the air as we grappled with the sudden enormity of our transformation.

A modeling job with Beaucon, a life not of soccer prowess, but of glamorous allure and tantalizing mystique. Amidst the tumult of emotions that surged within us, one thing became undeniably clear: we were no longer mere soccer players, but unwitting participants in a subversive scheme. Our identities as athletes had been overshadowed by our new reality, one that beckoned us into a world of seductive charm and enigmatic allure, urging us to embrace our new roles with unyielding acceptance. So the humble soccer team had changed irrevocably, our pursuit of athletic prowess extinguished and replaced by the allure of a future of opulence and enigmatic allure. As we looked at each other, the truth that had been missing became starkly clear: we were no longer soccer players, but objects of desire - veritable trophy boys for wealthy Beaucon clients!

And me, Lenny? I'm now one of Beaucon's gay poster boys, living with Miles as his docile trophy boy.

[unknownfacelessfanfictions]

"May I have this dance?"

Pairing: TOS Spock x Reader Fandom: Star Trek: The Original Series Words: 1.3K Summary: Sometimes all you need to do is talk and dance. A/N: I feel like this one is a bit OOC but I don't really care right now.

Not my gif!!!

WINTER WRITING PLAN

Sighing, you close the door behind you and kick your shoes off your feet. Note to self, next time just wear comfortable trainers. No one would care anyway. In a way, you were grateful to your husband for dragging you home early from the New Year's party, because you weren't sure how much longer you could have stood in those shoes.

On the other hand, you felt melancholy rising inside you as your eyes fell on the clock, which told you that it was only twenty minutes until midnight. You had been looking forward to the party for weeks, where the whole crew would meet (the five-year mission was over and the Enterprise had been in dock for repairs for two months) and the sight of familiar faces had put you in high spirits. However, Spock had taken you aside at a little after eleven and asked you to leave.

He was not too keen on large gatherings of people, even if he knew them well, and the loud music made his ears shrill. You had known that this would happen, but you had still hoped that you would at least manage to stay until midnight. Nevertheless, you did not grumble, but said goodbye to your friends and then, led by Spock, started on your way home. After all, he had only come and practically suffered for your sake and for your love, so you could not refuse to let him go if it became too much for him.

"You're disappointed." His voice made you look up. As so often, it was far from emotional and with his arms folded behind his back, he looked as if he were reporting to the captain on the Enterprise. "No, I'm not."

"But you're not happy about us leaving either." You sighed and walked over to him until you were standing in front of him. "I want to be honest with you Spock. No, I'm not happy. However, I'm not angry or disappointed either. I knew we would leave early because you are not comfortable with such festivities. However, I had hoped that we could stay there at least until midnight to celebrate the New Year with the others."

You smiled and gently felt for his hand, which he allowed. "However, I don't want you to feel guilty either." "I am Vulcan, I do not feel emotions." You just shook your head with a smile. "Of course not." You tried to turn around, however Spock continued to hold your hand. "If you had said so, we could have stayed."

"No," you shook your head. "You were uncomfortable and no celebration or party in the world is worth making you feel bad." "What a sentimental way of thinking." Smirking, you broke away from him to go to the bathroom and take off your jewellery. "Don't act like you wouldn't have done the same in my place, Spock."

"Maybe." He sounded thoughtful, lost in thought and you didn't get a longer answer, however, this was nothing new for you and you didn't think anything of it, so engrossed were you in removing the jewellery as well as make-up and the tightly fitting hairstyle. You only looked up when soft classical music flew into the bathroom. French, eighteenth century, if you were not mistaken. Confused, you drew your eyebrows together. "Spock?" No answer.

With another sigh, you set aside the rag of make-up remover you had just been about to use and left the bathroom. "Spock, what are ... you doing?" The last word almost stuck in your throat as you stepped into the living room. In no time at all, Spock had moved the furniture aside to create an open area in the middle of the room and had gathered pretty much all the candles in your flat together, lit them and spread them around the room so that they provided the only source of light.

He himself stood, still dressed in a festive black Vulcan tunic in the centre of the room, his face bathed in gold from the candlelight, his arms folded behind his back. "Spock, what...?" You were at a loss for words and Spock merely raised an eyebrow before taking elegant and lithe long strides towards you, coming to a stop in front of you. He looked down at you and regarded you for a few moments.

"I realised again tonight how much you have to give up to be married to me. I am aware that I am not always easy and that in many ways I do not conform to proper human behaviour. I am also aware of the fact that many persons around you have not spoken well of this marriage, but you have not allowed yourself to be influenced." He lowered his gaze slightly and you thought you could see a greenish glow on his cheeks.

"I have not fulfilled my duties as a husband well and no," he interrupted your protests before they could begin, " I will take no criticism in that regard. You have made many sacrifices and I have seldom appreciated them. For that I would like, humbly, to ask your forgiveness. I am also aware that it is not nearly equal to what you are doing to conform to my customs, however, I hope to make a start with this." Without hesitation, he slowly brought out his free hand, not covered in gloves, and held it out to you, his gaze now locked razor-sharp on yours.

"May I have this dance?"

For a few moments you were speechless. You had told Spock at the beginning of your relationship how much you loved dancing, but Spock had never shown any particular affection for it, so at some point you had stopped asking. However, you had always enjoyed it. Always.

It had been something private between you, almost intimate, since Spock, as you might expect, had not enjoyed indulging in such emotional things in front of other people, which was why you had danced supremely in the privacy of your quarters. That he now asked for it, willingly, and even seemed pleased, warmed your heart and almost caused you to turn into a squealing teenager.

"I would be honoured."

Carefully you took his hand and instantly you were flooded with feelings of affection and pure love that almost brought tears to your eyes. Gently, Spock led you onto the self-made dance floor and pulled you so close to him that you thought you could feel his heartbeat. Slowly Spock began to lead you, spinning you in circles and being, as in everything, elegant, smooth and just perfect.

In time, you relaxed enough to rest your head on his shoulder and sigh contentedly as his scent hit your nose and he pulled you even closer. "Thank you," you whispered after a few minutes of silent dancing and Spock just hummed softly in denial. "There is nothing to thank me for, Adun'a."

Before you could answer, bangs sounded outside and a glance at the clock confirmed your suspicions. "It's midnight," Spock spoke your thought as you broke away from him and walked over to the window on your balcony. Spock stepped behind you, "Do you want to go out?" "No," you shook your head. "Those fireworks are loud and I don't want your ears to hurt." "I already told you, it's not just you who has to forego-"

You interrupted him. "However, I would like to do something different. It's kind of a tradition, even if we're a few seconds late." "Very well." You laughed softly. "You don't even know what it's about Spock." "I trust you."

For whatever reason, these words gave you the rest. Gently you put your hands on his cheeks, pulled him down to you and pressed your lips to his. It wasn't a very long kiss, but it conveyed all the emotions you wanted to show and gave Spock enough time to pull you a little closer to him. "I think I might take a liking to that tradition," Spock reflected and you could see the amusement in his eyes and had to laugh.

"Happy New Year, Spock." "I wish you the same, Adun'a."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

@bigblissandlove1

@akamitrani