#she COULD medal here and there

[tsarinajissa]

Maddie Schizas in the top group is so refreshing!

[stellar-collective]

personally i don’t think that ieytd will be a full-fledged spy series until Agent Phoenix is forced to team up with Zoraxis/a former enemy thought to be dead bc the most important person in their life is being threatened. just my opinion

[andtheirmoonlight]

‘I'm so sorry for what happened to you!’ says a part of what happened to me.

‘I'm so sorry for what those people did to you!’ — you’re not ‘those people’, you are you, and you're doing the ‘what’ right now.

‘Omg people can be so horrible!’ — yes, you can be, and so lacking in self-awareness.

When you were trained to think of everything in black and white, you start seeing yourself as a ‘good person’ and start believing that everything you as a ‘good person’ do or have the potential to do is always good, and that you are never the villain. But humans do not work that way.

[science-hoes]

You Are In Love: Chapter One

Jack Abbot x Reader

Warnings: canon-typical medical descriptions, a dad joke, VERY FLUFFY

Chapters: Chapter One, Chapter Two

Description: Jack needs the reader to help him with a VIP patient, but she soon learns about his chosen family.

——

Jack Abbot was the reason you wanted to go into emergency medicine. Watching him under pressure was like watching an Olympian in their medal-winning sport. He handled every case with control and diligence, and that lured you into the specialty even more. It only took one medical school rotation with him to know that you wanted to play the game.

So now, in your third month of your internship, you spent nearly every moment with Jack Abbot on the night shift. You rarely had a different attending. The scheduling gods seemed to be in your favor. Of course, you had gotten to know everyone else on staff. You had made friends with the other residents and attendings. Dana had become your favorite charge nurse. Even the social workers were happy to see you walk through the doors.

You arrived an hour early for your night shift, hoping to practice some more suturing in the skills lab before shift change. Just as you were about to escape the doctors lounge and head to the lab, a voice called out behind you.

“Hey, kid, I could use your help.”

You turned to see Jack pulling a pair of gloves off and tossing them in the trash. “Oh, hi.” You replied as you walked toward him. “What are you doing here this early?”

Jack raised an eyebrow, that smug asshole smile on his face. “I could ask you the same.”

You shrugged. “I was gonna go to the skills lab and suture. But not if you need me.”

He nodded and pressed a hand on your back as he lead you to one of the Central rooms. “We have a VIP.” He explained.

He swung the curtain open to reveal a little girl with long, dark hair and big brown eyes. You’d seen those eyes before…

“Uncle Jack!” The five year old exclaimed at the sight of your attending.

It was like magic, the way Jack’s usual stoic demeanor turned into one that would rival a Disney hero. “Hey, princess!” He returned her enthusiasm, a wide grin on his face. He dropped to his knees in front of the child and grabbed her tiny hands in his. “What are you doing here, huh?” He took a quick glance at the mother, who was holding a small blue bundle in her arms.

“I’m hurt.” The child replied, albeit vaguely.

The young woman let out a strained sigh. “We were at the park, and Eliza jumped out of the swing when she saw some older kids do it. Landed on her arm.” She explained.

Jack nodded, giving a don’t-blame-yourself look to her. Then his eyes flicked back to Eliza. “Can I see your arm, please?” He asked, a voice so gentle that it had to have been someone else’s. A moment of hesitation from the child. Then a head-tilt from the silver-haired man. “Uncle Jack is gonna make it all better.” He promised.

That seemed to convince her because she slowly, feebly presented her swollen arm. Jack delicately held the arm in his hands and examined it.

“Bump her up to next in line on X-ray. We’ll get her some IV morphine to help her relax. Could need realignment and screws.” He said to you.

Just as you were about to walk out of the room, you bumped into someone rushing into the room. A mumbled apology was the only thing you heard before a shrill “Daddy!”

You turned to see Michael Robinavitch kneeling to the ground in front of the little girl. “Hey, sweetheart!” He greeted.

Oooh. VIP. This was Robby’s family. The patient was Robby’s daughter. You left while the family reunited to order the X-Ray. When you turned to enter the room again, Dana was leading Robby’s wife, who held a tiny baby, to the cafeteria.

“X-Ray order is in. Next in line.” You announced to the attendings.

Jack gave you a thumbs up. He was sorting out the materials needed for IV morphine. He pulled the butterfly needle out of the packaging, and like clockwork, Eliza began to cry. Robby knelt to meet his daughter’s eyes, the ones that were a perfect mirror of his. “Sweetheart, look at me. Look at me.” He whispered. “We have to get you the medicine so your arm will stop hurting, okay? Just a quick poke.”

Eliza shook her head, more tears streaming down her face. “Daddy, please, don’t do it.” She begged. “Don’t hurt me.”

And if you’d never seen a man’s heart break in real time, the look on Robby’s face would be ingrained in your memory forever. His body seemed to go limp at his daughter’s words, unable to insert the needle if he tried. Jack quickly intervened, kneeling next to Robby. “Daddy isn’t gonna hurt you.” He assured the child. “He’s gonna hold you while Uncle Jack gives you the medicine. Does that sound okay?”

Eliza still continued to cry. You remember being her age and having a paralyzing fear of needles. So, you stepped forward to distract from the two pathetic men on the ground. “Hey, baby. I’m gonna show you how it works, okay?” You said.

You grabbed the blue elastic tie from the tray and wrapped it around your forearm. “First, Uncle Jack is gonna wrap this around your arm. It’s gonna give you a big hug for a few minutes!”

You picked up the alcohol swab package and opened it. “Then, he is just going to give your hand a little bath to get it all clean. Like this.” You said, swiping the wipe across the back of your hand. “See? All clean!”

You tossed the wipe and grabbed the J-tip, pressing it on the cleaned part of your hand. “Then, he’s going to give you a stamp that makes your hand tingle. What’s your favorite soda?” You continued.

Eliza followed your every move with an intense curiosity. “Sprite.” She sniffled.

You smiled. “When Uncle Jack gives you the stamp, it’s going to sound like you’re opening a Sprite can. It’s just air.” You explained.

Eliza nodded, rubbing chubby fingers across her wet eyes. You reached for the butterfly needle after placing the J-tip back on the tray. “Last, he’s going to let this little butterfly give you a kiss where the stamp was.” You finished, inserting the needle into one of your own veins. “See? It doesn’t hurt!” You lied through your teeth. It always hurt more to get an IV on the back of your hand, but that was Eliza’s best bet.

You yanked the blue tie off your arm, then removed the butterfly needle. “Think you can let Uncle Jack try now?” You asked.

Eliza didn’t answer, but she didn’t protest either. You smiled, motivated mostly by pride, and looked to your senior attendings. Both men stared back at you. Robby with a look of relief, mostly because you got his daughter to calm down. But Jack…you couldn’t read the look on his face. He broke your gaze to pat Robby on the back, standing up with him.

“Alright, princess, let’s get you that medicine.” He said, grabbing a fresh butterfly needle.

Robby sat on the bed, crossing his legs, and pulled Eliza carefully into his lap. He cradled the little girl in his arms, using his free hand to smooth her dark hair as she whimpered. “Shh…Daddy’s got you.” He soothed.

Eliza melted into her father’s embrace, blinking slowly when he brushed stray tears from her reddened cheeks. Jack tenderly grabbed her uninjured arm and wrapped the blue tie around her forearm still loose. “Alright, Eliza. You’re about to feel that big hug, okay?” He explained, then pulled the blue tie snug.

A small sound of discomfort escaped the child, but she remained docile in her father’s arms. Jack traced the tiny veins on the back of her hand and found his target. When he turned around to reach for an alcohol swab, you already had it ready for him with an outstretched hand. For a brief moment, Jack was caught off guard, but he took the swab from your palm, fingers brushing against the sensitive skin for a beat longer than normal.

“Now, let’s give your hand that cold bath.” He said.

Jack rubbed the wipe across his tiny workspace, and Eliza let out the smallest, softest giggle. Robby smiled, probably for the first time since he stepped foot into the room. “That tickle? Yeah?” He teased. Eliza nodded, just a little bit.

“You ready for that Sprite can sound?” Jack asked, once again reaching, and you already met him halfway with the J-tip.

“Yeah.” Eliza whispered, her face half nuzzled into Robby’s chest, but still enough to keep an eye on Jack’s movements.

Jack placed the J-tip over the vein he wanted, and just like you said, it sounded like a can of Sprite opening, minus the sugary fizz that followed. Eliza jerked her hand pack at the odd sensation of carbon dioxide shooting across her skin. Robby reached his finger under her palm for her to grasp, and she did, just like she always had since she was born.

“See? That wasn’t so bad.” He said softly.

Jack rubbed the spot on the back of her hand. “Once it starts working, we’re gonna let that butterfly land on it, okay?” He explained.

“And it will give me a kiss?” Eliza asked, looking to you, her source of information.

Jack and Robby both chuckled, and the latter pressed a kiss to her hair. “Yeah, just like that.” He replied.

Eliza giggled, but in her joy, she shifted and moved her broken arm. The laughs quickly turned to screams of pain again, and Jack winced.

“Oh, you gotta be still, princess. We’re almost ready for the medicine.” He said. Then, he leaned in, like he was trying to keep his voice from Robby’s earshot. “You know, if you keep being a brave girl, once you’re all healed up, you can come to my house and go swimming.” His voice was playfully sly.

The cries reduced, just a little. “I can?” She blubbered.

Jack nodded. “Sure. As long as your mommy and daddy say it’s okay.” He replied, glancing up at Robby, hoping he didn’t just make a promise outside of his power.

Robby smiled and nodded. “Of course. You need to show Uncle Jack how you can swim without floaties now.” He said.

Jack’s eyes blew comically wide. “Without floaties? Only big girls can swim without floaties.”

Eliza nodded, her bottom lip still quivering, but a glint of pride was in her eyes. The same one you’d seen in Robby’s eyes many times. “Can Abby come, too?” She asked.

Jack nodded, a smile playing at his lips. “Absolutely. We’ll have a pool party.” He reached back for the butterfly needle, and once again, the brush of your fingers against his. He kept it out of Eliza’s view, continuing to hold her hand. “Your daddy and I will grill some hamburgers and hot dogs. You can teach Abby how to swim. We’ll invite Nana, too.”

Eliza didn’t even flinch when Jack inserted the butterfly needle. You carefully concealed your morphine syringe and connected it to the line. But just as you could see her entire body relax in Robby’s arms from the push of meds, she looked to you with those big brown eyes. “Are you gonna come to the pool party?” She asked.

You froze, unsure of how to answer. Does an invitation from a five-year-old have enough warrant to show up at your boss’ house? Jack placed a hand on your back, lower than he probably meant to. “Yes, she’ll be there, too.” He confirmed for you.

You snapped your head to his direction. Those hazel eyes bore into you, and you couldn’t find the words to respond. In that silence, he winked at you, a smug smile on his face.

“Uncle Jack, she’s pretty.” The little voice broke your small moment.

Your eyes widened, heat crawling up your neck. Robby let out an involuntary sound, a mixture of a laugh and a choke. But Jack never looked away from you. In fact, he doubled down with, “I know.”

Before you could melt away in a puddle of embarrassment and giddiness, the curtain swung open, revealing Dana and Robby’s wife, still cradling a tiny bundle.

“Nana!” Eliza sluggishly squealed.

Dana leaned over and gently tickled Eliza’s shoulders. “There’s my girl!” She exclaimed.

You tilted your head, confused by the connection. “Nana?” You questioned.

Robby chuckled. “Eliza couldn’t say ‘Dana’ when she was little, so she kept calling her Nana.” He explained.

Dana gave you a stern but playful look. “Keep in mind that I am not old enough to be a real Nana.” She stated.

Jack raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “I know plenty of people your age who are grandmothers.” He said.

Dana pointed a finger at him and jabbed his chest. “How would you like to lose another foot?” She threatened.

Your jaw dropped at the comment. That wasn’t allowed, right? Surely, that crossed some kind of line. But Jack just chuckled and swiped her hand away.

“I’d love to. I’ll be one step closer to becoming a robot.” He replied. “Literally.”

Robby’s wife groaned at the unfortunate pun. “Please, stop. I already have to listen to Robby and his dad jokes.” She begged.

Robby grinned proudly. “Yeah, leave it to the professionals.” He teased, but his eyes moved to the bundle his wife was holding. “How’s my little man doing?” He asked.

She smiled and moved to sit on the bed next to Robby and Eliza. “He’s been a sleepy boy all day. Better than testing out his lungs though.” She leaned her head on her husband’s shoulder as she spoke. “How’s my big girl?”

Eliza grinned sheepishly when her mom reached to gently pinch her rosy cheeks. “Uncle Jack said we can have a pool party at his house.” She stated, beginning to slur her words in sleepiness. “He said Nana can come. And he said Abby can come.”

Dana chuckled. “Still calling him Abby, huh?” She asked.

Robby smiled, shifting so that Eliza could rest horizontally as she began to doze off. “We’re working on it.” He answered. “Somewhere she learned that nickname. Can’t imagine from who.” He joked.

Jack huffed and moved to where Robby’s wife sat, offering his pinky to the baby boy’s tiny hand, activating his palmar grasp reflex. “Have they been desecrating our name, buddy?” He asked, a lilt in his voice. “Us Abbots are fighters. We don’t take shit from anybody.”

Dana’s swat at Jack’s shoulder for cursing in front of Eliza and his following defense of “She’s asleep!” didn’t distract you from your new piece of information.

“He’s an Abbot?” You questioned, a feeling of warmth in your chest.

Robby’s wife smiled. “Michael Abbot Robinavitch. We stuck with Michael for about a week, but…” She trailed off, looking to her husband.

Robby’s shoulders hunched a bit. “She calls me Michael when I’m in trouble. I got a little scared every time she said his name.” He admitted, but his smile remained. “So we settled on Abbot.”

Jack carefully cradled Abbot as Robby’s wife passed him over. His tanned biceps that strained against the sleeves of his scrub top made the baby look incredibly small. He slowly walked over to you, his right foot stepping heavier as usual, his eyes focused on the baby. A deep smile graced his lips. And just on the edges framing the smile were huge dimples. You wanted to save that image forever. You brushed a finger against the baby’s tiny hand, smiling when he moved in response.

Meanwhile, Robby was elbowed by his wife, who exchanged an excited but knowing glance with Dana at the sight of you and Jack sharing that unintentionally tender moment. All he did was nod in response, eyebrows raised in a silent confirmation.

“Why Abbot? Is Jack that important?” You teased.

Dana threw her hands up in exasperation. “Thank you!” She said. “That’s what I said. I’m still waiting for a little Dana.”

“Working on it.” Robby said with a wink, quickly receiving an elbow in the ribs from his wife.

“Michael!” His wife hissed.

Robby cowered slightly at his birth name. Jack nodded his head towards them. “See? That’s why this is Abbot.” He said.

You giggled and gently ran a hand over the baby’s soft hair near his forehead, afraid to venture too far back towards the fontanelle. “Well, Abbot is very cute.” You complimented.

A simultaneous “Thank you” filled the room. One genuine, from Robby’s wife. The other facetious, from Jack. Laughter filled the room, and you felt oddly a part of a family. Their family.

Perlah entered the room with a pediatric wheelchair. “X-ray is ready for Eliza.” She said, smiling at the sight before her.

Robby stood carefully, holding his daughter snug against his chest. “I’ll go with her. We can walk.” He said and followed Perlah out of the room.

As if it were a snap back to reality, Jack walked back over to Robby’s wife and carefully transferred Abbot back to her arms. “I’m gonna go check on that DUI kid in Central Four.” He said before looking over to you. “Go ahead and get the cast materials ready. She’s gonna want pink.”

Jack left the room, holding onto the ends of his stethoscope as he walked. You found yourself frozen for a moment, processing everything that had happened in the last thirty minutes or so. Someone cleared their throat, and you snapped your head in that direction, embarrassment coursing through your veins.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” You said, moving to the drawers of the room quickly to grab the liner and plaster.

Robby’s wife looked to Dana with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. Dana nodded, intercepting her question in the air.

“So, what do you think of Abbot?” She asked.

You smiled, bringing the supplies back to the tray near the bed. “He looks just like Robby.” You answered.

Dana rolled her eyes. “No, not Dana Jr.” She deadpanned, then nodded her head toward the Pitt. “The Lieutenant Colonel.”

Your hands froze where they were, sorting out the supplies. Slowly you looked up, and you were met with both women staring intently at you. “Oh, Doctor Abbot…” You corrected yourself. “He’s nice.”

“Do you think he’s cute?” Robby’s wife immediately responded.

Dana gave her a look of way-to-blow-our-cover. You let out a nervous laugh. “I mean, yeah. But he’s way older than me. And we work together.” You answered, using your answers to ground yourself as to why your crush was a dead end.

Robby’s wife shrugged. “So? Robby is almost 20 years older than me. And we work together.” She countered.

You tilted your head. “Wait, you work here? In emergency?” You asked.

She smiled and nodded. “Yeah. I’ve been on maternity leave.” She explained.

“Ohhhh.” You drew out, finally connecting the dots.

Dana smiled. “See? So what are your other excuses?” She pried.

You laughed slightly and shrugged. “I guess I don’t know if he’s interested.” You replied.

The two women shared another glance, debating on revealing any other information. “But you are?” Robby’s wife asked.

You smiled slightly, looking down at your hands. “Who wouldn’t be?”

The conversation ended there when Robby reentered the room with a slightly awake Eliza. “Distal radius fracture. No surgery.” He announced.

His wife let out a sigh of relief and smiled when her husband sat next to her again, still cradling the little girl. “That means we can all go home tonight.” She said, pressing her forehead to Robby’s shoulder.

—

After you followed Jack’s careful instruction while shaping the cast on Eliza’s arm, the little girl begged everyone to sign it. By the time she left with her family, there was a “Mommy”, “Daddy”, “Nana”, and your name with a smiley face on the hot pink wrapping. And as soon as you finished writing your name, Jack had snatched the sharpie from your hand, scrawling “Uncle Jack” right next to your signature.

As you watched the Robinavitches leave the Pitt, you found yourself smiling. You wanted that. The devoted parents, the precious children, the caring friends who became family.

You knew Jack was approaching by the uneven foot pattern, but you didn’t turn around. “You think I’m pretty?” You asked.

He stood by your side, brushing his thick shoulder against your frame, looking down at you with a trace of a smile. “I’d be a fool to think otherwise.” He answered honestly.

You looked up to meet his gaze. Those bourbon eyes were intoxicating, but you fought to maintain eye contact. “You’re really great with kids.” You complimented. “Eliza loves you.”

His smile deepened to a sincere one you weren’t used to seeing. “Thank you.”

The stare off continued. “Do you want kids?” You blurted out, and you nearly clamped your hand over your mouth at the word vomit.

Jack tilted his head, smile unfaltering. “If I find the right person to have them with.” He replied, leaning down closer to you just slightly. “Before I turn to dust.”

You laughed and nudged him with your shoulder. He laughed with you and crossed his arms, the muscles rippling across his skin. You didn’t notice when he leaned down, his lips dangerously close to your ear.

“What you did in there with Eliza. Walking her through the process. Got her to stop crying. Good job.” He whispered lowly.

The hair on your neck stood at attention at the praise, and you could feel his hot breath on your skin. You tried to brush off the feeling. “Thanks, Doctor Abbot.” You replied.

His face twitched when you called him by his last name, like he forgot you were his intern and not his. “Jack.” He corrected you.

You looked up to him again, taking in another drink of his eyes. There was vulnerability this time. “Jack.” You repeated in a whisper. “I didn’t know you had dimples.”

It was Jack’s turn to get flustered. “What do you mean?” He asked, and you could see the red creeping up his freckled neck.

You gently poked at his cheeks where the divots had appeared earlier. “You have dimples when you smile. It’s really cute.” You teased.

You could see the muscles in his face actively working to hold back a smile. He shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t smile.” He answered as seriously as he could.

You wrapped your hands around his bicep and rested your head on his shoulder. “It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone. It’ll be our secret.”

And the smile Jack held back flooded onto his face. Dimples and all. He placed a hand over yours and pressed a gentle kiss to your hair. Nobody said another word. You didn’t have to. You could hear it in the silence.

——

A/N: this is probably gonna get a Part 2 featuring the pool party because I can’t help myself. Also this can technically be a Robby x Reader fic because I intentionally didn’t give his wife a name so you can have the best of both worlds here 💙

[xervn]

melatonin | 2

two-shot | enemies to fuckers sevika x reader

pt. 1

ao3 link

summary: the aftermath.

18+ MDNI | 3.5k words | tags; canon divergence, sevika is a little mean, reader is a brat, angst?, very light sub/dom, vaginal fingering, semi-public sex, porn w/ plot-ish, no use of y/n

i rewrote this so many times, but here we are... mama i made it..

It’s not what you were expecting. It’s not how you saw things moving forward—not at all. 

Anyone would agree that you two shared a passionate night. Sevika fucked the insomnia out of you. 

So how’d she manage to make you hate her more?

When you woke up, Sevika was on her side of the room, adjusting her deep red poncho. She noticed you were awake and went straight to barking orders at you and proceeded with her thousandth attempt to get you to follow her schedule, which never worked.

It was as if last night didn't happen, and it was all a lucid, raunchy dream with deep moans you could still replay in your head. However, you woke up missing more clothes than you remembered taking off, so you knew that wasn't the case.

You decided to pass her crankiness off as stress, since it was a big day and all, but she only seemed crankier after the meeting. 

Don’t be fooled; you aced it. Your negotiating skills have always been top tier, and you’re incredibly personable, especially with good sleep on your side. You were so buddy-buddy with the Bilgewater traders, they invited you to their pub that night for drinks and karaoke. Exactly your style, a fun offer, but you declined. Declined because you were positive Sevika was going to give you congratulatory sex. Wrong. She gave you nothing but pure silence. 

You can hear hints of humor or sarcasm weaved into words, but you can’t hear any of that in silence. Was she mad at you? Jealous of you? Annoyed by you? 

It reminded you of when you first met Sevika, a time when you tried super hard to impress her, but everything you did ticked her off. You were so good at making friends with clients; total strangers, but not Sevika, even after months of trying. It hurt especially more since you had a massive crush—one everyone but her knew about; Ran still teases you about it from time to time. 

When you think back on it, you’re embarrassed. It shouldn’t have taken you a year to finally get on her case about it, but when you did, there was less judgmental silence and more words. Not the nicest words, but at least it created a semblance of balance—honesty that wasn’t outweighed by one-sided affection. But after that meeting, it was like it all reverted to square one. Silence and one-sided affection. 

That triggered you. 

So, what was it that you were expecting? Marriage? A gold medal? 

No, it was something much simpler. Kindness. The smallest amount of chivalry would’ve made you swoon, but she didn’t give you any. She continued to be the dickhead you were used to, and what did you do? 

You continued to be the dickhead she was used to, obviously. Amplified it even. There’s no such thing as being the bigger person in your dictionary. Not for this. If there’s anything you were bigger at, it was being a bigger cunt. If she was going low, you were going lower—and you stuck to it.

-

Days after the trip, you still haven’t talked to Sevika out of solidarity with yourself. Nothing but surface-level words have been exchanged between you two since that day. No witty remarks, no unnecessary teasing, no fruitless arguments. 

To be fair, there’s nothing you want to talk about. You’re too upset and ashamed. At the time, you couldn’t even discard the little dignity you had left to ask her to “help” you one last time because she factory reset you, and you slept like a baby all night. 

That is until now. Sevika’s magic has worn off, and you’re falling back into your regular routine of staying up late and getting wasted so you don’t have to watch the sunrise for a third time in a row. It wouldn’t be such a bother if you weren’t thinking about her every single night. 

Or during the day when someone says her name and the hairs on your arms stick up. Or when she’s a glance away and your body starts to think you're in a sauna. 

It was undeniable; you still have a crush. As obnoxious as the day it blossomed. You hate it. You should be hating her now more than ever, but your heart is fucking you over, and you’re sleep-deprived and pent up on top of it.

You’ve found yourself fantasizing about and craving a woman that has most likely moved on. It’s pathetic, and it shows you have no backbone, meaning it’s only a matter of time before you do something you will regret forever. 

You couldn’t back down, not after your dramatic promise to yourself that you weren’t going to let her play you again. 

Thankfully, fate graced you with an opportunity to redeem yourself. Silco put you on another short trip back to the port city, and he assigned Sevika to accompany you—expecting her to, since he didn’t bother to call her to his office because of how often you work together.

That meant the ball was in your court, so you did something neither you nor Sevika had ever had the guts to do.

You protested. 

Well, you lied. You told him that Sevika didn’t want to work with you anymore and that it’d be better for you to go with someone else. It’s probably not far from the truth anyway, but honestly, you thought he’d give you a speech about life or ask you to tell her to get over it. Maybe even a ‘fuck off,’ but instead he said, “Very well,” and shooed you out of his office. 

So now you’re at a loss because you didn’t think that far ahead. You didn’t really give it much thought at all and figured, realistically, both of you should be happy in the end. You knew it meant you’d see Sevika less, but you managed to convince yourself you were fine with it; that it was for the best.

“It’s probably the best decision I’ve ever made,” you tell Ran, who’s fiddling with the straw in their drink as they listen to you talk. Laughter, drinks clinking, and jukebox music makes for good background noise. “I’m just shocked, y’know? If I knew he’d accept it so quickly, I would’ve asked earlier.” You laugh half-heartedly. 

Ran twirls around the straw in their cup. “Didn’t I tell you it was that easy?”

You freeze. “Yes, but…”

“You still wanted to work with her.” They grin, going in for a sip.

“No! I genuinely thought he’d be against it.." You grumble.

“Right, right… Well, it’s good news then. You should be happy. Maybe we’ll be assigned together.”

Your eyes light up at the possibility. “That’d be great! There’s this pub I wanted to go to, but…“ You trail off when the bar goes incredibly quiet. There are a few whispers here and there, some more frantic than the others.

Loud, heavy footsteps pound against the wooden flooring, and you notice the pace picking up as the sound travels closer to you. 

You’re not allowing yourself to get ambushed at a time like this, so you turn, and, great heavens, there’s Sevika. 

Your chest, down to your stomach, twists uncomfortably. You’re surprised to see her, and she looks irritated to see you. Her face is plain, but there’s still a prominent frown on her lips.. 

“You.” 

You look around, pretending you’re not sure who she targeted that towards. By now, the bar has resumed its chatter, but Ran has moved three seats down. They give you a little finger wave before turning to the bartender. 

You slowly look up at Sevika, pointing to yourself, “Me?” You question jokingly.

“Get up; let’s go.” She gestures for you to start moving.

You laugh sarcastically, turning away from her on your stool. “Fuck off.” 

A large hand lands on your bicep and pulls. You stagger backwards and onto your feet before you fall over. “What the f—? Let go of me!” 

Sevika says nothing and makes her way to the back of the building, forcing you to walk haphazardly through chairs and tables. Your face warms and contorts in embarrassment, given you’re being dragged to who knows where like you’re a misbehaving toddler. 

You begrudgingly follow along, not that you had much of a choice, and she stops in front of a supply closet. 

“Open it.” She commands monotonously.

You don’t know why, but you do it; you open it. You don’t even question it, and you deserve it when she shoves you in there. 

Her mechanical arm whirs as you stumble in, and it makes a short appearance to slam the door behind herself. Then everything turns blurry in a flash, and your back is suddenly hitting the door. 

“What did you do?” She asks through her teeth.

You try to yank your arm free, but she doesn’t budge. “What did I do? Why are you so angry? Can you fucking let me go?!”

“What did you tell Silco?”

Your heart drops, and your expression must’ve shown it because Sevika groans. You interject, “I told him what you couldn’t.”

“And what is that?”

“You don’t want to work with me.”

Sevika looks at the ceiling for strength, shutting her eyes. She takes a deep breath in. “When did I ever say that?” 

“You don’t have to; I can read it off you.” 

Sevika’s eyes suddenly meet yours, and you flinch. “Yeah? What are you reading now?”

You frantically search, and you stutter, “You’re—you’re pissed?”

“Yes, I’m fucking pissed, Einstein. Did I ask you to make decisions for me?” 

God, you have no idea why she’s so mad about it. Your breathing is picking up, and you don’t know if it’s because of conflict or the fact she hasn’t been this close to you in what feels like ages. “No, but you can stop acting like you’ve never wanted to.” 

“Why do you care? If I wanted to, I would.” She states.

“Sure. You must’ve loved working with Jinx then, huh?”

Sevika looks away to sigh loudly. “That’s not the same thing.” 

“Isn’t it? You don’t like me either—“

“What is your problem? Why don’t you just admit that it’s you who doesn’t want to work with me? It’s you who doesn’t like me.” She spits. Her jaw clenches as she calms down. “I’m ‘difficult’ now because of you. I’d like one day—one week—without Silco complaining when I’m doing my best.” She sighs.

Your mind goes blank. “I’m—I didn’t know he’d say that… He seemed okay with it, and I didn’t know you’d be upset.” You utter, completely guilt-ridden.

“I swear—you only think about yourself. Fuck everyone else living, right?”

“What? No, I didn’t…”

“Didn’t think? Do you think?” She exasperates.

It works, and you huff. “I thought you would be jumping for joy. Why aren’t you fucking ecstatic?” You ask angrily.

“Nothing about this is good for me. Or you. Unless you think Dustin can protect you.” She scoffs.

“Dustin? Well… well…” You didn’t think about that. 

You abandon the sentence. “You can be mad, but not this mad. I should be this mad. We did things together. Things you don’t try to forget about, and that’s what you—looked like you did.” You say, correcting yourself because you’ve learned your lesson from assuming things. 

Sevika looks heavily perplexed. “You’re the one who stopped talking to me.”

“No, actually, you are. Not to mention your first words to me the morning after we fucked were, ‘You have twenty minutes.’”

“You had twenty minutes. Did you want a ‘good morning, baby’ first?” She scoffs, shaking her head.

Your stomach does a somersault. “I don’t know.” 

Sevika pauses, making what feels like judgy eye contact with you. “You don’t know?”

“I don’t know, but I do know that you acted like nothing happened and went straight to being bossy.”

“Huh. I thought you liked that.” She replies, and there’s something in the way she said it that makes your legs falter.

“When did I ever—“ The air changed, you notice. “When did I ever like that…?” 

Sevika studies your face for a few seconds. The silence is unnerving. It’s like time slowed, because you have no idea when she’ll speak or what she’ll say. “Somewhere between you moaning my name and cumming on my fingers.” She bluntly states.

You choke on your spit, coughing. There were a million different ways that could’ve gone. Most of them sounded like that, but it still caught you off guard.

“What? You said I forgot about it. I’m trying to jog up my memory,” she teases.

You frown, but it comes off as endearing, so much so it makes Sevika awe. “Don’t you want me to remember? I’m remembering.”

“That’s not what I meant. I meant you acted no different from the day before, and you never, y’know, came to me again after that either.” 

Then regret starts rushing in. You used to curse your friends out when they got back with their shitty situationships. You know what it feels like now. You can’t believe you alluded to sex, let alone wanting it at a time like this, but she did it first, to be fair.

You two stare at each other for several beats. 

“Came to you?” A smile begins to form on Sevika’s lips.

You shake your head, as unconcerned as you can make it. “Shut up. Forget I said anything.“

Her head tilts slightly. She looks you up and down. “I don’t think I will.” 

You exhale loudly, "I'm so serious."

"No, really, tell me what you meant by that. "

"You know exactly what I meant."

She perks an eyebrow at you, and you roll your eyes in response. She huffs out a laugh.

Sevika swivels you around so you’re facing the door, so fast you have to catch yourself with both hands so you don’t face-plant into it. "What are you—!"

Her flesh hand slides across your waist, and then she suddenly jerks you towards her, making you bend over just enough for you to poke out.

In contrast to how she was manhandling you before, she slowly presses herself against your ass but makes sure to hold her place firmly, like she was planning on leaving a print there, rolling her hips into you as if she doesn’t wanna miss a spot. 

Leaning over you, she whispers, “This is what you wanted, right?” So close to your ear, you can feel her words brushing against it. Your whole body shudders, and all your sexual frustration starts to unravel.

You peer back at her with a glare that’s too clouded with lust to be intimidating. “You’re so full of yourself.” 

“You love it,” She replies, so surely, because you haven’t noticed how desperately you’ve been backing into her, chasing the sliver of friction she gave you a moment ago. She drifts her hand towards your front, and between the legs you immediately begin parting for her. "But I could stop..."

"Don't." You interrupt. You don't have to see her to know she's got on an egotistical grin.

Four fingers feel down your covered cunt, then back up, lingering at your clit with purpose. Your thighs threaten to close around Sevika’s hand, and you pathetically whine out her name. 

She hums questioningly, knowing she wasn’t getting an answer from you. She finds the waistband of your pants, shoving her hand underneath, panties and all. The warm heat and slickness of your wetness meet her palm. “You really love it.”

You inhale sharply, placing your forehead against the door. “ I hate you...”

She laughs darkly, and her fingers part meticulously over your folds, massaging your clit between her fingers. “Is that what we’re doing? I 'hate' you too,” she says, “I’ll show you.”

You moan at that, and Sevika harmonizes. You don’t feel an ounce of shame. All your self-respect left when you opened the door. “Please.” 

Sevika's finger presses against your entrance teasingly. It doesn’t take much longer before she slides two fingers in you; her middle and ring, and scissors them in you so you adjust to the size of them properly. You groan, muffling yourself into the back of your hand. The heel of her palm is so close, yet so far from your clit, and you still need it there. 

It was as if she read your mind. Sevika brings her hand closer, and her fingers curl in you as a result. They slowly straighten out, then curl again, straighten out, curl in, and now she’s restlessly fucking her fingers into you while you needily hump into the palm of her big, scarred hand. All that movement makes it messy, but messy feels so good. 

So much heavy breathing and pitchy whines. You’re trying your hardest not to make noise, but all your best attempts are strained and guttural. It drives Sevika insane. They’re better than she remembered. “Stop trying. Let them hear how much you hate me.” She murmurs against you.

You lightly shake your head, refusing to do something so mortifying yet so fucking hot—in theory. Until cold metal fingers appear under your jaw. “C’mon, baby, please?” She coos.

There’s the first crack in your metaphorical dam. Your legs start wobbling. “Fuck—I h—hate you.” You pant out, not entirely because she asked you to; you were a little upset with how well she threw that pet name in there. 

It makes her chuckle. “You said I never ’came to you,’ but I’ll tell you a little secret,” she says, breath staggering from her constant movement, “I came to the thought of your fucked-out face last night,” she confesses. You sob out her name, and she soothes it with a full kiss on your cheek; so unexpected, you can feel your heart lurch forward. “And the day before, and the day before that, and—you get it, yeah? I couldn’t forget you if I tried.”  

You’re getting closer; pussy tensing, and your heart is racing. So much to process in such little time. “… I missed you.” You breathlessly whisper. You missed her tangents, her nagging, and the dumb fucking arguments. You missed her; it was true, and you admitted it to her before you admitted it to yourself.

“Did you?” She asks softly. You can tell she’s really wondering. Her fingers still haven’t slowed down a bit, however.

“Mhmm—shit—wait.” You’re on the brink of undoing, and you don’t know if you can speak any further.

Sevika presses herself closer to you. “Tell me one more time.” She gruffly demands, like it was a need. It may as well be.

Your anticipated orgasm fills up to the brim; your eyes press shut. “I m—I missed you so,” you come; your moans are barely controllable, and your hips are stuttering against her hand, “s—ugh—much, Sev...”

Sevika’s mech hand turns your face towards her, and your heavy eyes momentarily widen when her lips meet yours in a fervent kiss. She removes her fingers from you, and when you cry at the loss, she slides her tongue across yours—that shuts you up real quick. She leaves her hand there, just so you can grind out your orgasm a little longer. 

Sevika stopped letting her brain control her; she wasn't going to let it get in the way of this. She's been dreaming about kissing you since she realized it was an option.

You didn’t know how badly you needed to kiss her. You weren’t sure you’d ever, but with how perfectly her lips feel on yours, this can’t be the last time. You really hope it’s not the last time.

But you pull away. “What is this...?” You ask shakily, trying to catch your breath.

Sevika’s eyes keep flickering to your kiss swollen lips, clearly drunk on them; she doesn’t understand what you’re saying yet. “What’s what?”

“This. What are we doing? Is it just—just sex like you said it was?”

Sevika zones back in, and there’s a lump in her throat. She can’t say she never said that, because she did. She swallows hard, retracting her hand from between your thighs, and gently turns you around so you’re facing her. 

She says your name, “It has never been ‘just sex.’ It would never be that with you.”

You try to assess the validity of that, staring at her doubtingly. “You ignored me the entire day after.” You mention.

Sevika’s face warms up, and she looks to the side. “I got jealous.”

Your brows furrow. “Of what?”

“You were so friendly with those Bilgewater folks, and it pissed me off,” she grumbles. “Then I got frustrated with myself, because I’m the reason you hate me. At the time, it made sense to go back to how it was before,” she exhales sadly, “I’m sorry.”

You awkwardly play with your hands. Sevika frowns, hoping you say something soon. “The reason why I stopped talking to you wasn’t because I hate you; I thought you did, so I... I don't know what to say other than I’m incredibly petty and childish. I’m sorry—and I shouldn’t have said anything to Silco either.” 

“I wouldn’t let you go without me anyways.” She looks so serious when she says that, but you can’t help but giggle. It’s going to take a while for you guys to get through all your apologies properly, but this is a good start.

“I do prefer you, so...” You add, smiling up at her coyly.

She has a grin—the big win kind—and you gravitate towards her for a kiss, wrapping your arms around her shoulders. It’s much gentler and warmer than the first time. You’re sure there’ll be more where that came from. 

—

“Ran, hey.” You take a seat by them, wanting to wrap things up before you go. Quickly too, since Sevika is waiting.

“Hey,” they reply, eyeing you oddly, “I went to check on you earlier; make sure Sevika wasn’t dismembering you or something, but it sounded super scary in there, like you really hated her, so I ran away…” They pretend to cower in fear before sputtering out a laugh.

“Alright then. Goodnight.” You silently get up and start walking out. Ran’s laughter doubles.

[wcters]

GOLD MEDAL BABY

pairing: lando norris x fem!gymnast!reader

summary: a new quadrant athlete and lando norris hit it off

warnings/contents: fluff, these warnings are mostly just notes on what is in these

author’s note: faceclaim is sunisa lee, this is definitely one of my favourites that i’ve done 😌

yourusername and quadrant

liked by quadrant, landonorris, and 423,731 others

yourusername so excited to announce that i am joining quadrant athletes !!!!! had such a fun time filming so keep your eyes peeled

view all 374 comments

maxfewtrell so excited to see what’s in store!

user1 nah cause we all knows he’s going to eat them up

keeganpalmer i totally had that last one

↳ yourusername i don’t doubt that, you did really well 👏

landonorris so hyped for this

user2 love love love

riabish finally another girl to join me and lotte❤️

↳ yourusername us girls have to stick together 👯‍♀️

↳ lottevandrunen401 hell yeah we do 💪💪

user3 she’s going to humiliate them in any gymnastic challenges 😭😭

↳ user4 she’s naturally good at everything, i wouldn’t be surprised if she does that for every video

quadrant 👀👀

quadrant

liked by yourusername, landonorris, and 47,093 others

quadrant GOLD MEDALIST GYMAST vs GOLD MEDALIST SKATEBOARDER vs LANDO NORRIS

can keegan palmer and lando norris beat y/n y/l/n at different gymnastics levels? full video out now!

view all 148 comments

user1 they knew they were cooked from the first level 💀💀

user2 their reactions were priceless

yourusername good try boys 💪 I’m just too good

↳ maxfewtrell someone needed to get lando’s ego down a couple notches

↳ landonorris that’s so not true

user3 keegan actually did pretty well

user4 with a little more training keegan could do a lot of hard moves

keeganpalmer i’m very proud of myself 😌

landonorris i’m going to stick with race car driving

user5 i would pay to see max’s reactions to lando falling from the bar 💀

f1gossip

liked by user1, user3, and 18,762 others

f1gossip   lando norris seen partying with friends in a club in london this weekend 🇬🇧 

view all 75 comments

user1   brother does not stop 

user2   are my eyes playing tricks on me or is that him and y/n in the third photo???

↳ user3   no i see it too, keegan is there as well

user4   did you see them giggling and whispering to each other in the new video? something definitely happened that night

user5 y/n looks like she’s enjoying quadrant

user6 all of the boys brought their significant others except lando and y/n

↳ user7 maybe they brought each other 👀

yourusername

liked by user1, landonorris, and 307,264 others others

yourusername 👩🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻

view all 195 comments

user1 WHAT DOES THIS MEAN

keeganpalmer slay

↳ yourusername slayyy

user2 that’s lando’s hair colour….

↳ user3 and also like half of the population 💀

user4 the one time lando likes but doesn’t comment??

maxfewtrell who could this be?

↳ yourusername i have no idea 🤔

user5 the club photos and now this? the evidence is STACKING against them

yourusername added to their story!

f1gossip

liked by user1, maxfewtrell, and 83,901 others

f1gossip lando norris talking about his new girlfriend in a post race interview at the hungarian grand prix! who could this mystery girl be 👀

view all 134 comments

user1 MY GOOD LUCK CHARM 😭😭

user2 whoever she is, she’s lucky

user3 max what are you doing here?? 🤨

user4 it’s totally y/n, all the signs point to her

user5 he totally let that slip by accident and just went with it 💀

user6 did anyone else see y/n at the mclaren garage?

landonorris

liked by yourusername, maxfewtrell, and 1,024,018 others

landonorris yeah, my baby’s a gold medallist. what about yours?

view all 307 comments

yourusername love you ❤️

yourusername did me dirty on the last picture though

↳ landonorris i love that one 😕

user1 he’s so proud of her 🥺

maxfewtrell there were so many times he almost let it slip

↳ landonorris it was not that many

↳ maxfewtrell mate, i started a counter

↳ landonorris don’t believe this, this is all slander

user2 we all knew it, you weren’t too good at hiding it

user3 we could tell you liked her from the first video

yourusername

liked by landonorris, keeganpalmer, and 381, 064 others

yourusername another prize i get to have 😚

view all 204 comments

landonorris ❤️

user1 she called him a prize 😭😭 she loves him so much

user2 his face in the first one 💀

↳ yourusername it was his reaction to when i asked what he made

keeganpalmer dude i was about to burst i couldn’t keep it a secret anymore

user3 i know they love to mess with everyone

↳ theofficalfng mate they do

maxfewtrell good, now he’ll stop complaining about being single 🙄🙄

user4 maybe she’ll help him get better at gymnastics

↳ user5 i can imagine it 💀 lando would be like “i’m tired” and y/n standing there with a hand on her hip like a mom going ‘really?’ 🤨

↳ yourusername can confirm 😐😐

↳ landonorris all you guys are getting sued for slander

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢 LUXURIOUS aeri uchinaga x reader

౨ৎ warnings: popular mean girl x loser athlete, swearing, yn plays soccer(football or wtv I don’t care honestly) and aeri is super rich, drinking, angst, fluff

aeri liked to think of herself as a simple girl she liked attention, shopping, money, and her friends. sometimes her friends. and the only thing she truly despised was-

sports. an unfortunately male dominated activity in the professional world and in schools, but interestingly, not at this school. well, only for one sport.

soccer.

the girls’ soccer team was the most funded, medal winning team in the school. they were popular, big on social media, and the school's main money makers. they were also total machines.

kinda.

"this is the team the school is known for?" aeri asked, filing her nails with a bored expression. "I’m unfortunately not impressed. these editors sure know how to hype them up it has to be the sexy music in the background."

"they're literally stretching." jimin looked at her, squinting. "they haven't even done anything yet. plus, this is practice."

"exactly!" aeri replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "so why are we here? most classes are finished, we should be shopping or something."

"we're here to watch minjeong practice, duh," yizhuo said.

"exactly. we're here to support our friend," jimin added, looking at aeri, who scrunched up her face.

"minjeong is barely my friend," she said, shaking her head while analyzing her nails. "she doesn’t fit our aesthetic. why would you guys adopt a soccer player? is this, like, a charity thing? are we getting filmed? if so, cut everything I just said and get my good side."

"look! they’re taking out the ball now."

aeri didn’t even glance up at yizhuo’s words, too engrossed in her phone. ugh, she couldn’t believe they had dragged her out here just to sit on the bleachers and watch a bunch of brainless jocks kick a ball around.

time passed, and aeri tuned out most of what was happening, busy plotting her escape. maybe she could say her mom needed her for an emergency modeling gig. or that her dad had a last-minute business meeting and required her presence. two things that would never happen, but jimin would probably see right through her anyway.

she was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t hear the gasps and shouts around her.

until something hard slammed into her face.

her head snapped back, and her phone tumbled from her hands.

a soccer ball. she had just been hit in the face with a soccer ball.

"oh shit!"

"good one, yn!"

“shut up yunjin!”

aeri shrieked, clutching her forehead as laughters and are you okays erupted from the field.

"oh my gosh, aeri."

jimin placed a hand on aeri’s shoulder, only for her to be brushed off. "are you okay? that looked like it hurt."

it did.

but aeri wasn’t about to admit that. instead, she inhaled sharply, her voice dropping low. "who the hell did that?"

jimin pointed toward the field. right at her.

standing between yunjin and ryujin, nervously biting the nail of her thumb, was the culprit.

they locked eyes. one gaze wide and doe, the other sharp and burning with rage.

guess which was which.

"hey, are we allowed to keep this since it hit aeri in the face?"

both girls turned to look at yizhuo, who was holding the soccer ball like it was some kind of prize.

aeri barely spared it a glance before snatching it out of yizhuo’s hands. then, without hesitation, she stormed onto the field.

"you’re fucked, y/l/n."

"here comes trouble."

"can you guys shush?"

yn barely had time to process the situation before aeri was right in front of her, glaring up at her with fire in her eyes.

without a second thought, aeri hurled the soccer ball straight at her.

unfortunately, yn caught it. effortlessly. with both hands.

yn blinked, tilting her head slightly, a lopsided grin tugging at her lips.

"i’m so sorry. you see, I have this condition where I just kick the ball really hard. it’s called strong leg disorder—"

"that’s not a thing."

"can you shut up? I’m trying to save my own life here." yn shot a glare at ryujin before turning back to aeri. "there’s no cure. I really wish there was. I would never intentionally mess up your pretty face—not that you aren’t still pretty now, after what just… uh… happened. but, you know…"

her voice trailed off as aeri’s glare darkened. yn winced, mentally kicking herself.

"do you think i’m an idiot?" aeri stepped closer, eyes locked onto yn, who instinctively leaned back only for her teammates to shove her forward, straight into the lion’s den.

"I really want to say no," yn admitted, hands raised slightly, "but I’m scared it’s a trap."

then, as if she wasn’t a whole athlete who could easily overpower aeri, she squeezed her eyes shut like she was bracing for impact.

"you’re lucky I don’t call my dad and get you kicked off the team."

instead of looking scared, yn only furrowed her brows. "he can do that? i thought he owned a car company."

"woah, woah, woah."

chaewon, the team’s captain, stepped in, hands raised in a peacekeeping gesture. "let’s not get too hasty. she’s one of our best players we can’t lose her."

"that thing?" aeri pointed at yn, who mouthed thing? in offense, glancing at yunjin, who was barely holding in her laughter. "is one of your best players? she hit me in the face."

"and I totally get why you’d be mad," chaewon said, cutting off yn when she tried to interject. "she’s an idiot."

yn scoffed. rude.

"but," chaewon continued, "she will make it up to you. i promise. in fact, you can choose how."

"wha—"

"i’m trying to save you here. shut up."

aeri’s expression shifted, mischief glinting in her eyes. yn turned to her team with sheer horror in hers.

"i can choose?" aeri repeated, her voice dangerously sweet.

"…okay."

then, she turned back to yn, who swallowed.

"you," aeri said, watching as yn stiffened.

"yes?"

"you’ll know by tomorrow."

and just like that, she spun on her heel, strutting off the field without another word. her friends scrambled to grab their things and follow because she was their ride, and she was not about to wait for them.

yn exhaled, rubbing a hand down her face.

"you’re so fucked." yunjin whistled.

"can you guys not state the obvious right now?"

it was nighttime, and aeri still hadn’t figured out what she wanted yn to do. everything she thought of felt too cliché. with a sigh, she opened the app she claimed to hate and typed in yn’s full name.

to be honest, she hadn’t known who the girl was until today. sure, she knew of the soccer team who didn’t? they were impossible to ignore in the dining hall, always causing some sort of disaster. and the edits, god, the edits. do you know how many times she had to click not interested?

but now that she thought about it… she’d never seen any of yn. maybe she wasn’t a fan favorite.

or so she thought.

aeri’s eyes widened as she scrolled. video after video edit after edit all of yn. the captions were unhinged , the comments even worse. but before she could even process it, she found herself immersed.

yn wasn’t bad looking.

while she was scrolling, a notification popped up yizhuo had sent her a live. aeri clicked on it, only to realize it was huh yunjin’s.

"I feel like if  I wasn’t a soccer player, I’d definitely be a basketball player." yunjin spoke as she ripped open a bag of chips, turning to ryujin beside her.

"I feel like you wouldn’t even play sports if it wasn’t for soccer," ryujin shot back. "and yn? she’d definitely play hockey."

"yeah, after me, yn’s probably the second most likely to get into fights on the field."

aeri laughed. that loser? fighting?

the mention of yn’s name sent the chat into a frenzy.

user1: where did she go?? 😭 user2: ugh bae needs to come back user3: yn playing hockey… im shaking user4: she needs to come back rn

come back?

"fuck, I poked my eye."

yunjin and ryujin turned just as yn walked back into the frame, squinting one eye while adjusting her beanie.

aeri’s gaze flickered to the screen. yn had her hoodie slung around her neck, exposing her toned stomach and sports bra. the chat went absolutely feral.

so yn was wanted, huh?

aeri leaned back against her pillows, lips curling into a smirk.

just like that, a light bulb flickered in her head.

yizhuo struggled to keep up with aeri’s determined strides as they made their way toward the field, where the girls' soccer team sat catching their breath. sweat dripped down their faces as they sipped from their water bottles, still recovering from the first half of their practice.

“wait, why are we here again?” yizhuo asked, slightly out of breath.

“shut up.”

aeri’s sharp eyes immediately landed on yn, who stood in front of  ryujin and yunjin, laughing at something she had just said. whatever it was, it clearly struck a nerve ryujin’s jaw dropped in offense before she squeezed her gatorade bottle, spraying water directly into yn’s face.

yn let out a dramatic yell, stumbling back as the rest of the team burst into laughter even chaewon.

but the moment aeri called out, “yn!”, the laughter died instantly.

yn wiped at her face with her sleeve, still grinning until she turned around and saw who was calling her. her smile vanished.

aeri wasted no time, marching right up to her and jabbing a finger against yn’s chest. “you’re gonna be my personal girl toy." yn blinked. "huh?"

she glanced over her shoulder at her teammates, but before she could even process what was happening, aeri grabbed her by the shoulder and turned her back around.

"eyes over here." aeri tilted her head, voice smooth, almost teasing. "you’re gonna follow me everywhere i go and do whatever i say. got that?"

yn’s brain short circuited. "uh… is that even legal?" her face burned at the proximity. "I just—sorry—uh—"

"is that excuses I’m hearing?" aeri cut in, unimpressed.

"no? I was just asking a question-”

"then I have nothing else to say." aeri shrugged, turning on her heel like that was the end of the conversation.

just as yn opened her mouth to protest, a sharp whistle cut through the air.

"y/l/n! who the hell are you talking to?"

yn exhaled deeply, shoulders slumping. "sorry, coach!" she shot aeri a pleading look. "you need to leave, like, now. he’s already on my ass."

aeri studied her for a moment before smirking.

"meet me after your practice."

and with that, she spun around and walked off, yizhuo trailing behind her.

yn let out a breath, rolling her shoulders as she stepped out of the changing room, still toweling off her damp hair. her baggy sweatpants hung low on her hips, barely clinging on, and her oversized team hoodie was slung over her shoulders, revealing the tank top underneath. she adjusted her hoodie absentmindedly, already dreading whatever ridiculous task aeri had planned for her.

but she hadn’t expected to see aeri leaning against the wall right outside the girls' changing room, arms crossed, looking like she had been waiting forever.

"you just stand outside girls’ locker rooms now?" yn asked, rubbing the towel over her head.

"I was losing patience," aeri said simply, pushing off the wall. "you take longer than I thought. what were you doing, a whole spa treatment in there?"

"some of us actually shower after sweating for two hours," yn replied. 

“so, what? I  just follow you around and get you stuff now?"

"yeah," aeri confirmed, like it was the most natural thing in the world. "you follow me, you do what I say, and you get me whatever I need. and in return, you get to be seen with me."

yn blinked. "...what?"

"people are always jealous of me," aeri continued, casually inspecting her nails like this was just another tuesday for her. 

“but I just recently found out how valuable you are. I mean, did you know people on the internet practically worship you?"

yn's eyes widened slightly. "what—"

"seriously, it’s insane." aeri shook her head, like she was still processing the horror of it all. "you’re, like, a phenomenon. and if I have you following me around like a puppy, it’ll make people even more jealous of me."

yn stared at her. "...that’s your whole plan?"

"yes."

"that’s the stupidest thing i’ve ever heard."

aeri shrugged. "stupid, but effective."

yn exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. "you know what? alright. I’ll see you around."

"great!" aeri clapped her hands together. "be ready for tomorrow."

"what happens tomorrow?"

"I’m taking you shopping."

yn groaned.

the next day, yn found herself standing in the middle of an expensive boutique, arms full of shopping bags that weren’t even hers.

"I feel like I should be getting paid for this," yn muttered, shifting the bags to one hand so she could pull her hoodie sleeves up.

"you’re getting something better," aeri said, examining a designer bag.

"which is?"

"me."

"wow," yn deadpanned. "so generous."

"I know, right?"

as yn adjusted the bags in her arms, she caught their reflection in a nearby mirror. she looked ridiculous, carrying all her stuff, while aeri strutted around like a runway model.

"you know," aeri mused, looking yn up and down, "you actually look really good like this."

yn raised a brow. "like what?"

"doing what I want."

yn nearly dropped the bags. "what—"

"I mean, look at you," aeri continued, a smirk playing on her lips. "following me around, holding my bags, waiting outside my class for me. it’s a good look on you."

"yeah, whatever," yn muttered, looking away, ears burning.

aeri grinned. "so cute."

aeri wasn’t sure when it started happening, but she was noticing yn way too much.

at practice, yn would be running drills, sweaty and focused, and aeri would catch herself staring.

when yn would wait outside her class, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, aeri would find herself smiling before she even realized it.

and when yn showed up at her house for the first time, dropping onto aeri’s bed and ranting about soccer practice, aeri found herself just… watching her.

yn was so expressive when she talked, hands moving, eyes lighting up when she got passionate about something. and god, she was attractive. even in her stupid soccer gear, hair messy, voice slightly raspy from yelling on the field.

"are you even listening?" yn asked, turning her head to look at aeri.

aeri blinked. "huh?"

yn sighed, dramatically throwing an arm over her face. "I said, practice sucked."

aeri rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the amused smile tugging at her lips.

"here." she reached into her bag and tossed something at yn.

yn caught it, frowning. "what’s this?"

"a gift."

yn turned the small box over in her hands, raising a brow. "you’re giving me stuff now?"

"you work hard," aeri said simply, like it wasn’t a big deal.

yn opened the box, eyes widening at the necklace inside.

"aeri, this is—"

"don’t make a big deal out of it," aeri cut in quickly. "just take it."

yn hesitated. "I can’t accept this—"

"well, you’re gonna have to," aeri said, 

crossing her arms. "I’m not taking no for an answer."

yn looked at her for a long moment before sighing and slipping the necklace on. "fine. but this doesn’t mean you own me."

aeri smirked. "sure."

when the big game finally came, aeri dragged jimin and yizhuo to the front row.

she expected to be bored.

but then she saw yn in her element, completely locked in, eyes sharp, 

  moving like she was built for this.

and then she saw the coach yelling at her.

"jesus, what’s his problem?" aeri muttered.

"he’s just hard on her," jimin said, watching the game.

"yeah, well, he needs to chill."

then, it happened.

yn, her awkward, dorky, occasionally charming personal servant, got into a fight.

aeri watched, wide eyed, as yn shoved an opposing player back, jaw tight, voice sharp as she exchanged heated words.

"oh my god," aeri breathed.

"she’s hot, right?" yizhuo whispered.

"shut up," aeri snapped, crossing her arms.

yn got benched for a while, but when she was finally thrown back in, after having another yelling match with the coach she scored the winning goal.

before she knew it, aeri was heading straight for the locker room.

when she found yn, the girl was pulling a hoodie over her head, damp hair falling messily around her face.

"congrats," aeri said, leaning against the doorframe.

"thanks," yn replied, voice tired.

aeri frowned. "you don’t sound too happy."

yn exhaled. "stuff with coach got intense."

aeri raised a brow. "why do you let him get in your head?"

yn rolled her eyes. "cause he’s my dad."

aeri blinked. "oh."

"yeah."

"…if it makes you feel better, at least you and your dad have the same interests. my dad probably wouldn’t care if i ran off to join the circus."

yn huffed a laugh. "that… actually makes me more sad."

aeri grinned. "oops."

yn shook her head, but she was smiling.

"you’re going to the party, right?" aeri asked.

"yeah," yn said. "I’ll see you there."

aeri smirked. "good."

and that was the beginning of the night that would change everything.

aeri knew she had a problem when she saw a cheerleader lean closer to yn, and her first reaction was to throw back another drink.

“okay, slow down.” yizhuo raised an eyebrow as aeri downed her fourth drink in the span of ten minutes.

aeri ignored her, eyes locked on the corner of the party where yn sat, looking stupidly awkward while the cheerleader giggled and played with her hair. 

yn was slouched forward, hands clasped together like she was in a job interview, clearly uncomfortable. 

but aeri didn’t see that. no, she saw yn sitting with some girl, some random girl not even thinkingabout texting her to see if she was here.

the audacity.

“aeri?” yizhuo waved a hand in front of her face. “you’re being weird. why are you-oh my god, are you jealous?”

“me? jealous?” aeri scoffed, setting down her empty cup. “please, I’m just—”

she lost her train of thought as she watched the cheerleader lean in even closer, whispering something into yn’s ear. that was it. that was her last straw. 

she spun on her heel and made a beeline toward them, mean girl switch fully activated.

yn noticed her first. “aeri?” she blinked, eyes widening.

aeri crossed her arms. “so, you couldn’t text me to see if I was here?”

yn furrowed her brows. “what?”

the cheerleader glanced between them, clearly sensing something was up. aeri ignored her and stepped closer to yn, lips curling into a smirk. “moving on to cheerleaders now? cute. I still own you, by the way.”

yn’s entire face flashed with hurt. “are we still doing this?” her voice was quiet. “I thought we were done with that. I thought we were—” she swallowed. “I thought we were connecting.”

aeri’s stomach twisted. she hated the way yn was looking at her right now, like she was disappointed.

so, naturally, she did what she did best, shoved that feeling way down and doubled down.

she let out a sharp laugh. “connecting? why would i connect with a dumb jock who hit me in the face with a soccer ball?”

yn flinched. actually flinched. and suddenly, aeri hated herself.

but instead of fixing it, she grabbed another drink and walked away.

an hour later, she was completely shit-faced.

she was swaying, a half-empty cup in her hand, reaching for another when someone grabbed her wrist.

“I think you’ve had enough.”

aeri groaned, rolling her head back to see who was bothering her now. yn. of course it was yn.

“leave me alone,” she slurred, trying to tug her arm free.

“nope, you’re done.” yn pried the cup from her fingers and set it down.

aeri whined, pushing at yn’s chest. “you’re so annoying.” yn didn’t budge. “yeah, yeah.”

aeri pouted and stumbled, and before she knew it, she was being lifted off the ground.

“what the hell?” she yelped, gripping onto yn’s shoulders as she was thrown over her back. “I forgot you’re an athlete.”

yn adjusted her easily, carrying her like she weighed nothing. “and you’re so lanky how the hell are you doing this.”

aeri kicked her feet uselessly. “put me down, loser.”

“not a chance.”

they passed by yunjin and ryujin, who both raised their eyebrows.

yn sighed. “I’m taking her home.”

yunjin snorted. “good luck with that.”

in the car, aeri was a mess.

she was slumped in the passenger seat, mumbling nonsense, until she suddenly turned her head and stared at yn with glassy eyes.

“I hate that you’re so attractive,” she blurted out. “and dorky. and strong. and cute. and I just wanna kiss you in front of everyone.”

yn’s hands clenched around the steering wheel. “you’re drunk, aeri.”

“so?” aeri pouted.

yn sighed. “just go to sleep.”

when aeri woke up in jimin’s apartment, she immediately knew two things.

one, her head was killing her.

two, she was definitely not at home.

“what the hell…” she groaned, sitting up and rubbing her temples.

“morning, sunshine.”

aeri blinked blearily, turning toward the voice. jimin was sitting at her kitchen counter, sipping a cup of coffee, watching her with a smirk.

“why am I here?” aeri croaked.

jimin took another sip before answering. “yn dropped you off here last night.”

aeri froze. “yn?”

“yeah.” jimin set her cup down. “said you were too drunk to go home alone. figured I’d take the babysitting shift.”

aeri groaned, flopping back onto the couch. 

“kill me.”

“not before you tell me why you were getting wasted in the first place.”

aeri shut her eyes. “no reason.”

jimin snorted. “yeah, sure. you’re you the most calculated, high maintenance, self absorbed person I know. you don’t do anything without a reason.”

aeri peeked one eye open. “was that an insult or a compliment?”

“depends. are you gonna tell me why you were drinking like a maniac last night?”

aeri hesitated.

jimin crossed her arms. “if you don’t spill, I’m kicking you out.”

aeri sighed dramatically, sitting up again.

“fine. but you cannot laugh.”

jimin smirked. “oh, I’m absolutely laughing.”

aeri ignored her and took a deep breath. “I saw  yn with some cheerleader.”

jimin raised an eyebrow. “okay… and?”

“and she was leaning in and yn was just sitting there—” aeri huffed, crossing her arms. “I don’t know, I just snapped.”

jimin tilted her head. “so, you got jealous?”

aeri opened her mouth, then closed it. “no.”

jimin gave her a look.

“fine.” aeri threw her hands up. “yes.I got jealous. ridiculously jealous. stupidly jealous.”

jimin grinned. “I knew it.”

aeri groaned, flopping back onto the couch again. “I’m such an idiot. yn probably hates me now.”

jimin leaned her elbows on the counter. “what exactly did you do?”

aeri stared at the ceiling. “I walked up to them, turned on my mean girl mode, and basically told her she still belongs to me, because of the thing and like completely destroyed all the development we had.”

jimin choked on her coffee. “you what?”

“I know.” aeri covered her face. “it was bad. and then—” she cringed. “yn said she thought we were connecting and I laughed in her face.”

jimin slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. “aeri.”

“I know.” aeri groaned. “I panicked.”

jimin shook her head. “oh my god, you like her.”

aeri scowled. “duh.”

“no, like, really like her.” jimin smirked. “you’re obsessed.”

aeri groaned, dragging her hands down her face. “I am.”

“this is amazing.” jimin laughed.

“it’s not.” aeri pouted. “I don’t know what to do. yn probably thinks I’m an evil, heartless—”

“dumbass?” jimin offered.

aeri glared. “not what I was gonna say.”

jimin rolled her eyes. “okay, listen. I know for a fact yn doesn’t hate you.”

aeri looked skeptical. “how?”

jimin smirked. “because she dropped you off here. if she hated you, she wouldn’t have made sure you were safe.”

aeri bit her lip. “but—”

“no buts.” jimin pointed at her. “you’re going to fix this.”

“how?”

jimin grinned. “she has morning practice. I’ll drive you.”

aeri hesitated.

jimin rolled her eyes. “do not make me throw you in the car.”

twenty minutes later, aeri was storming onto the field just like first them when yn hit her right in the face.

yn was standing near the goal, foot resting on a ball, when she looked up and saw aeri marching straight toward her.

“aeri—?”

before she could finish, aeri grabbed her face and kissed her.

yn froze, completely shocked, but after a second, she melted into it, her hands gripping aeri’s waist and pulling her closer.

when they finally pulled away, aeri was breathless. “please don’t hate me, I’m sorry.” her voice was quiet now. “I’m, like, in love with you, and iI don’t know what I’ll do if you don’t say anything back to me, because I want you so bad—”

yn let out a nervous chuckle. “I can’t believe you just kissed me.” she smiled, cheeks flushed. “I’ve been wanting to do that for days.”

aeri grinned, pressing another kiss to her lips

TWEEEET.

a sharp whistle cut through the air. they turned to see the entire team watching. and standing at the front, arms crossed, was coach.

yn’s dad.

“now that’s a way to meet the parents, yn get your little girlfriend off the field.”

the team howled with laughter. yn groaned, face turning a shade of red aeri had never seen before.

aeri whispered, “I’ll see you later,” before spinning on her heel and jogging back to jimin.

as soon as she reached her, they both squealed, gripping each other’s arms.

meanwhile, yn stood there, frozen, as her teammates slapped her back and teased the hell out of her.

[norrisainz33]

Secrets || CL16 & LH44

☆ summary: y/n hamilton is headed to the olympics and her secret boyfriend (her brothers future teammate) ends up confirming their relationship at the olympics

☆ pairing: charles leclerc x hamilton!reader

☆ fc & warnings: georgia-mae fenton & none

☆ requested: yes! thanks for the olympic gymnast idea 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

ynhamilton has made a post

liked by lewishamilton, roscoelovescoco, georgerussell63, mercedesamgf1, charlesleclerc, and 645,238 others

ynhamilton: quick someone tell mini me that she’s going to the olympics 🤭

view all 876 comments

user1: AHHHHHH OMG!!! CONGRATS

roscoelovescoco: prouds of you aunties

ynhamilton: thank you my sweet sweet little baby

user2: the hamiltons are going to take over the world just wait

fernandoalo_oficial: show them how it’s done mi princesa

ynhamilton: will do my best nando 🤍

user3: beautiful , perfect , flawless

lewishamilton: that’s my girl! i can’t wait to see you shine

ynhamilton: love you big bro 🤍

user4: the best sibling duo in existence

user5: y’all see charles hiding in the likes 🫣

user6: y/n prolly giggling and kicking her feet rn

user7: girl says she has a crush on a certain ferrari driver one time and you guys won’t let her live it down 😭

user6: user7 don’t forget that one time they were caught hanging out

user7: user6 she was in the paddock for her brothers race!!

user6: idk the way he was looking at her was anything but casual user7

ynhamilton has posted to her story

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user5: YOU MADE IT

user7: style icon y/n is in the building

lewishamilton: 💪🏻 win us a medal sis

ynhamilton: win me a race brother! also give roscoe a kiss for me please - i already miss him :(

lewishamilton: he misses you too

user8: the olympics should be thanking you for participating fr

charlesleclerc: good luck mon amour ❤️

ynhamilton: thank you charlie! i wish you could be here

charlesleclerc: i know darling im sorry i cant be!

user9: brb buying this exact set as we speak

user10: mother has landed

roscoelovescoco has made a post

liked by ynhamilton, lewishamilton, charlesleclerc, landonorris, teamgb, simonebiles, mercedesamgf1, and 436,125 others

roscoelovescoco: we loves aunties y/n! watching froms homes but still so prouds 🇬🇧 p.s my new friend leos watches withs us

view all 345 comments

user11: roscoe’s insta will always be one of my favorite things on the internet

user12: roscoe supporting his favorite auntie is the sweetest

lewishamilton: roscoe would be there if he could! good luck today, y/n/n 🫶🏻🇬🇧

ynhamilton: big big love to you both 🤍

user22: look at grandpa using his emojis

ynhamilton: i love you with my whole heart roscoe

roscoelovescoco: roscoe loves y/ns

user13: hold on is he talking abt leo leclerc

user6: are charles and lewis watching y/n??? together?????? no way

user9: is roscoe hard launching y/ncharles

charlesleclerc: leo is wishing y/n all the best today ❤️

ynhamilton: thank you little leo ❤️

user6: guys i swear they are together

user7: user6 im gonna hold ur hand when i say this

texts between you and charles

ynhamilton has made a post

liked by teamgb, charlesleclerc, fernandoalo_oficial, lewishamilton, patriciooward, and 762,194 others

ynhamilton: i’m headed to the finals! oh what a surreal feeling this is. being an olympian was and always has been a dream of mine since i was a little girl so to step on this mat and to make it this far is the blessing of a life time ✨

view all 887 comments

user12: CONGRATS GORGEOUS

user87: hamilton hamilton hamilton

fernandoalo_oficial: proud is an understatement

ynhamilton: 🤍

lewishamilton: you’re a star

ynhamilton: that’s you mr champion

user13: how does she make everything she does look so beautiful

user14: i love seeing women succeed

charlesleclerc: truly incredible performance

ynhamilton: 🥹 thank you charlie

user6: he’s here

roscoelovescoco: yess yous are the bests in the worlds

teamgb: that’s our girl! making us proud out there y/n 🇬🇧🤍

charlesleclerc has posted on his story

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user98: and where are we headed mr leclerc? paris perhaps?

ynhamilton: holy moly you look incredible 🤤

charlesleclerc: merci mon coeur ❤️

user65: why you looking at me like that

fernandoalo_oficial: you better bring our girl some luck !

charlesleclerc: working on it 💪🏻

lewishamilton: see you soon mate

user23: ARE YOU GOING TO PARIS YES OR NO

user34: ohhhh you look scrumptious

user44: i already miss seeing your car go round in circles

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user5, user6, yourbff, user8, user7 and 154,354 others

f1gossip: Lewis Hamilton pictured attending the Olympic gymnastics finals to support his sister y/n! the surprise of the evening is that Charles Leclerc is also in attendance and sitting with Lewis and y/n’s friends. there’s been quite a few rumblings that y/n and Charles are a couple - is this confirmation?

view all 304 comments

user44: lewis ages like fine wine istg

user16: CHARLES LECLERC AT THE OLYMPICS?! that twitter user was right

user6: I KNEW IT!!! I KNEWWWWW IT!! Y/NCHARLES FOR LIFE

user8: maybe they’re just bonding before next season

user65: forza ferrari!!!

user10: odd place to choose for a bonding event

user21: idk if i even want mother with that man

user17: out of all the drivers he’s not a bad choice

user18: the english and monegasque royal family’s coming together ,, it’s so beautiful

ynhamilton has made a post

liked by lewishamilton, scuderiaferrari, patriciooward, charlesleclerc, fernandoalo_oficial, nicorosberg, yourbff, and 456,321 others

ynhamilton: regardless of the outcome i’m proud of me, i’m proud of my teammates and i’m proud to represent team gb. obviously a medal would have been nice but when you have competition like THE simone biles just being here is a win. thank you to lewie, yourbff1, charles and yourbff2 for making the trip to paris to cheer me on 🤍🇬🇧

view all 546 comments

user28: you’re still a medalist in my book

yourbff1: my bestie is that girl ✨

user29: the hamilton genes are insane

yourbff2: you are the most incredible, talented, amazing, perfect, gorgeous, slay, demure woman in the whole world

lewishamilton: proud big brother moment! was such an amazing experience to get to cheer you on and experience the atmosphere. i love you sissy ❤️

ynhamilton: wouldn’t be here without the support from the best big brother in the world 🤍

user37: that leo is gorgeous

simonebiles: you have so much to be proud of! great job out there y/n 🤍

ynhamilton: you have no idea how much that means to me!! thank you simone 🥹

charlesleclerc: i think red is your color 😉

charlesleclerc: but for real, félicitations ma belle

ynhamilton: i think it might be my color too 😏

user6: omgomgomgomgokgogm

nicorosberg: congratulations to my favorite hamilton

ynhamilton: thank you nico 🤭

user33: HAHAH NICO BFFR

georgerussell63: you made us proud y/n/n!!

ynhamilton: georgie!!!! i 🤍 u

charlesleclerc has made a post

liked ynhamilton, scuderiaferrari, carlossainz55, lewishamilton, yourbff, teamgb, roscoelovescoco and 876,213 others

charlesleclerc: was lucky enough to take the prettiest girl in all of paris out last night ❤️

view all 876 comments

user19: if charles had to be taken off the market im at least glad it’s y/n

roscoelovescoco: yous betters be goods to my favorites aunties or i’ll bites you ❤️❤️❤️❤️

charlesleclerc: don’t worry roscoe, i’ll treat her like the princess she is 🤍 (leo would also bite me, he likes her more than me so it’s ok)

ynhamilton: you’ll be the first to hear abt it if he doesn’t roscoe 😘

user13: get him roscoe!

user56: the way their outfits match ,, please

ynhamilton: the best date ever 🤍

charlesleclerc: je t'aime mon olympien [i love you my olympian]

user18: the hard launch to end all hard launches

maxverstappen1: oh thank god. now we can finally play padel not in secret

ynhamilton: is that all you care about max

maxverstappen1: ….. no

user6: i hope you know i’ve been ride or die for you two for months now

ynhamilton: i know girly

user6: ok wow idk how to act uhhh hi y/n 😭😭😭

user34: i mean look at them im sick. i cant wait for lewis and y/n to be at ferrari next season

user87: the girlfriend effect already taking hold i see ,, that is a fine suit charles

scuderiaferrari: we’re glad red suits her so well 😉

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thank you for reading!! likes and reblogs appreciated! still making my way through my requests, thank you for being patient with me :)

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[natalievoncatte]

There was someone in her penthouse.

Lena paused at the door, listening. The short hairs on the back of her neck stood up, a tingling sensation running down her spine. She wasn’t sure what tipped her off, but after the fifth kidnapping and three or four attempted murders in her own spaces -office, lab, here- she always listened to those instincts. Kara never complained if it was a false alarm when Lena activated her signal watch.

Her thumb hovered over the button. She took another step inside and the door latched behind her. She was about to press when Kara said,

“Please don’t press that.”

Something was off. Her voice was raspy, as though she had a sore throat, and oddly distorted. It was as if she spoke through a damaged speaker. Lena edged from the foyer into the kitchen, her heart still pounding.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

Kara was standing in the living room in her super suit, or so Lena thought. Her cape was there, but the silhouette was different. Lena reached for the light switch and again Kara spoke.

“Don’t. Please.”

“Kara?”

“I’m not your Kara. I’m just… passing through.”

“Passing through my penthouse?”

Lena ran her thumb around the button, ready to press.

“Are you together in this world?”

Lena froze. The figure in her living room, Kara-but-not, was holding the framed photo of Lena with Kara smiling together, the one she’d once shattered. Kara had bought her a new frame for it when they were healing, still working out who they were going to be together, if their friendship could survive with a foundation that had so profoundly crumbled.

The glint caught Lena’s eye. One of Kara’s hands. At first she thought it was a medal glove but that wasn’t right. The shape was wrong, the fingers too thin, skeletal and claw-like. As her eyes adjusted, Lena could pick out more details.

Good God. The whole side of her face was missing, rebuilt into something inhuman and skeletal. A faint emerald glow from her chest and eye cast a pallid light across the living room.

“She’s my best friend,” said Lena.

“Best friend,” the creature whispered, her voice even harsher and more distorted.

“What do you want?”

“I told you, I’m passing through. I won’t be here long. But… can I look at you?”

“Look at me? I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

“Just let me look at you and I’ll go. Promise me you won’t scream or call me a monster.”

Lena swallowed hard.

“Should I turn on the light?”

“I would rather you didn’t.”

“Alright, then.”

The figure slowly replaced the photograph and turned, moving towards Lena. She limped, just a little, left foot dragging. Lena gasped.

It was Kara, but not. She had been… mutilated was the only word Lena could find for it. Half her face, her right arm, her leg, and worst of all, a gaping hole in her chest that contained a chunk of vile green Kryptonite burning inside. Her skin was deathly pallid, almost blue, raked through with sickly green streaks surrounded by faint bruises, as if her blood itself was poisoning her.

“My God,” Lena breathed.

“You’re so beautiful,” Kara said, her remaining eye so full of sadness and regret that Lena felt tears welling in her own.

When Kara wept in return, she wept verdant blood. She drew closer, and Lena stood stock still as Kara pressed a corpse-cold palm to her cheek.

“It’s been so long since I heard your heartbeat,” she said. “Thank you.”

“W-what happened to you?”

“Your brother, what else? He impaled me with a Kryptonite harpoon. You saved me. It’s almost funny. The Metallo Protocol kept me alive. If you can call this living.”

“I’m so sorry,” Lena whispered. “Can I help you? Is there something I could do?”

Kara shook her head, mechanical joints in her neck grinding. “There’s no cure for death, zhao.”

Lena blinked. Zhao? Was that Kryptonian? She wasn’t sure what it meant.

The cold palm fell away from her cheek.

“There must be some way I can help,” said Lena.

“In my world I killed your brother,” said Kara.

“In this world, I did. For her.”

“She loves you.”

Lena flinched. It felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over her and her legs went weak. She had to steady herself on the kitchen island.

“What?”

“Kara. She loves you.”

“How… why do you say that?”

“I have visited thousands of worlds. Thousands of timelines. There are many where you don’t even exist, where I don’t. But in all the ones I’ve found with the both of us, there is one constant: Kara Zor-El loves Lena Luthor. It’s inevitable, it’s like gravity. There is something in all of me that must love you.”

“You’re traveling across dimensions?”

She nodded, closing her one eye. “I’m searching. Before I killed Lex, he used his masterstroke against me. He couldn’t kill me, so he hit me where he could do the most damage. He sent Lena to the Phantom Zone before I ripped his heart out of his chest. Then something happened… the yellow aliens told me there was a crisis, a multiversal collapse that split the phantom zone into infinite shards.”

“Yes, the Crisis, but there should be only one Earth now. Your world should have been merged with ours.”

Kara sighed, a broken, pained rasp. “What happens when you subtract infinity from infinity?”

Lena frowned. “I see.”

“I know she’s out there. I can feel her. I thought your world might be the one, but there’s another me here, and the wrong you.”

“I hope you find her.”

“Thank you. May I ask you something?”

“Go ahead” said Lena.

“Do you love her?”

Lena didn’t need to ask who she meant. She felt a lump form in her throat even as her chest fluttered. This cold broken wreckage of another Kara stared into her as if to parse the strands of her soul.

“Yes,” said Lena.

Kara edged closer. “Then tell her. Please. Don’t make her wait. She’s too scared to tell you. She’s like all of us- she’s so afraid of her own strength that she won’t hold anyone truly close for fear she’ll crush them. She’s afraid of losing you, or losing you again. She’s lost everything. Her world, her people, her culture, two mothers and two fathers- there is so much grief in her that it could freeze a newborn star but you, you are the light that shines in the darkness. You are her red sunrise.”

Lena said nothing, fighting the tremble in her lip.

“I must go. She’s out there and I have to keep trying to find her.”

She turned away and Lena caught her arm, gently tugging. She stopped.

“Wait?”

Kara turned back to her, and Lena darted in close and pressed a soft kiss to her cold lips.

“What?” Kara blurted.

“For luck. You’re going to find her.”

“I wish I had your faith.”

Lena now pressed a palm to Kara’s cheek.

“You will. You’re Supergirl. You can do anything.”

Kara smiled with half a face and pulled free, activating a device on her belt. A portal opened before her, filling the penthouse with blazing light. She stepped through and was gone.

Lena stumbled to the sofa and collapsed onto it, hugging herself as the tears flowed.

A few moments later, the familiar sound of stacked heels thudded on her balcony and the door slid open.

Kara, her Kara, swept into the penthouse, frantic.

“Lena, what happened? I saw that flash. I was out on patrol and… are you crying?”

Kara knelt beside her and brushed her hair back from her eyes with her soft warm hand and said, “Baby, are you okay?”

Lena looked at her, really looked at her, and was simply overwhelmed. There was so much depth in her blue eyes, so much kindness and compassion and love.

“I am now,” said Lena.

Kara blinked a few times. “I don’t understand. What happened?”

“I promise I’m tell you someday, but first I have to ask you something.”

“Ask,” said Kara. “Anything you want, you know that.”

Lena curled a finger around Kara’s chin and watched her eyes widen, first in confusion and then in nervous anticipation as Lena bent towards her and tilted her head just slightly to press their lips together.

At first Kara didn’t react and Lena thought she’d made a terrible mistake, but then something in Kara came around and she lunged onto the couch, pressing Lena down to the cushions.

“Lena,” Kara breathed. “What… how… do you… with me?”

Lena hugged her fiercely.

“Stay with me, Kara. That’s what I want. Stay with me.”

“Always.”

[ms-snape]

Jealous severus x reader? maybe involving lockheart

Title: Someone Like Me?

Warning: Angst, jealous severus, lockhart

Words Count: 3000+

Masterlist

---

The air in the Hogwarts greenhouse was thick with the scent of soil and herbs as Y/N moved gently through the rows of plants. She had always found comfort here, among the vibrant greenery and the soft hum of magical growth. Herbology was her sanctuary, and each day she poured her heart into tending to the rare plants and teaching her students how to care for them with the same tenderness.

It was peaceful, or at least, it had been until recently.

As of late, her tranquility had been invaded by a certain new presence at the school—Gilderoy Lockhart, the newly appointed Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. His arrival had caused quite the stir, especially among the female students and even some of the staff, but for Y/N, his constant attention was becoming more than a little uncomfortable.

At first, she had thought it was just harmless friendliness. Lockhart had swept into her greenhouse on the first week of term, his toothy smile gleaming as brightly as the medals on his robes.

"My dear Professor Y/N!" he had exclaimed, clasping his hands together in a gesture that was all too theatrical. "I must say, you have the most enchanting little space here! It’s no wonder the students speak so highly of you."

Y/N had blushed, embarrassed by the attention, and murmured something about the plants deserving the praise, not her. Lockhart, however, had waved away her modesty with a laugh that echoed too loudly in the intimate confines of the greenhouse.

"Nonsense, nonsense! I can see that you put as much care into your work as I do into my own," he said, leaning in just a little too close. "You and I, we have much in common, I think."

She had smiled politely, trying not to shrink under his overly familiar presence. She wasn’t used to people being so forward with her. It wasn’t that she was oblivious—Y/N had noticed Lockhart’s flirtations—but she simply didn’t know how to respond. Confrontation wasn’t in her nature, and she didn’t want to create awkwardness among the staff. So, she had smiled, and tried to extricate herself from his attention as gracefully as she could.

But it didn’t stop there.

Lockhart’s visits to the greenhouse became more frequent. He would find reasons to come by during her lessons, interrupting her with flamboyant anecdotes about his supposed adventures. The students would giggle or roll their eyes, but Y/N found herself growing more and more uneasy. His compliments had become more pointed, more personal, always accompanied by a lingering touch on her arm or a too-familiar smile.

"Professor Y/N," Lockhart had said one afternoon, as he appeared at her greenhouse once more, his robes billowing dramatically behind him. "I was just telling the Headmaster how much we make the perfect team, you and I. Perhaps we should write a book together! Herbs and Heroics, don’t you think? It would sell like that." He snapped his fingers, leaning toward her again.

Y/N’s discomfort had risen, her hands twisting nervously around a sprig of dittany. "I—I’m really not a writer, Professor Lockhart. I don’t think—"

"Nonsense!" he interrupted, his tone dripping with charm. "With your knowledge of plants and my experience, we’d make quite the pair. Don’t you think?"

His hand brushed her shoulder as he spoke, and Y/N stiffened slightly. She gave a weak smile, hoping he’d take the hint, but once again, she found herself trapped by her own politeness. She didn’t want to upset him, didn’t want to cause a scene, but Merlin, how she wished he would leave her alone.

Across the castle, in the dimly lit Potions classroom, Severus Snape stood over a cauldron, stirring the mixture with precise movements, though his mind was far from the task at hand.

For weeks now, he had been watching. Watching as Lockhart fawned over Y/N, as he invaded her personal space with that nauseating smile and those absurd stories. It was infuriating. Severus had always been protective of Y/N—more than he would ever admit. They had worked together for years now, and though their relationship had never ventured beyond professional, he had long harbored feelings for her that he kept buried deep inside.

He had always told himself that Y/N deserved better than him, better than someone as broken and cold as he was. She was kind, too kind for the likes of him. So, he had never acted on his feelings, content to watch from the sidelines, to enjoy the small moments when they shared quiet conversations about rare herbs or discussed the latest potions ingredients she had gathered for him.

But now, with Lockhart constantly hovering around her, Severus found his resolve crumbling.

At first, he had tried to ignore it. Lockhart was a buffoon, and surely Y/N would see through his ridiculous posturing soon enough. But day after day, Severus watched as Lockhart showered her with attention, and worst of all, Y/N didn’t reject him. She didn’t push him away. She didn’t seem to be upset by his advances.

And that was what hurt the most.

Perhaps, Severus thought bitterly, she liked Lockhart’s attention. Perhaps she enjoyed the compliments, the flirtation. Why wouldn’t she? Lockhart was everything Severus wasn’t—charming, outgoing, and confident. And while Severus could see through the man’s facade, perhaps Y/N couldn’t.

Perhaps she was falling for him.

The thought sent a cold wave of pain through Severus, and he found himself withdrawing from Y/N more and more. It was easier that way. Easier to distance himself before he had to watch her fall into Lockhart’s arms. He started avoiding her, no longer lingering in the staffroom when she entered, no longer stopping by her greenhouse to ask for ingredients. He couldn’t bear it. Couldn’t bear to watch her be swept away by someone so unworthy of her, and yet… someone she seemed to be accepting.

Y/N had noticed the change almost immediately.

Severus was avoiding her.

For weeks now, he had been cold, distant, and she couldn’t understand why. She had always admired Severus, despite his stern demeanor and cutting remarks. There was something about him that intrigued her, something deeper, and over the years, she had come to value the rare moments when he let his guard down, even if just for a second.

But now, it was as if he had built a wall between them. She couldn’t even catch his eye in the hallways, and whenever she tried to speak to him, he dismissed her with a curt nod or a sharp word. It hurt more than she cared to admit. She missed him, missed their quiet conversations and the way he would surprise her with his vast knowledge of plants and potions.

At first, she thought she had done something to upset him, but no matter how many times she went over their last conversations, she couldn’t find anything wrong. It wasn’t until she saw the way Severus’s eyes flickered with something close to anger when he caught her speaking with Lockhart that she began to piece it together.

Could it be… jealousy?

The thought was almost too much to believe. Severus, jealous of Lockhart? The idea seemed absurd, and yet, the more she thought about it, the more sense it made. She had seen the way his expression darkened when Lockhart was near, the way his jaw clenched whenever the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor tried to engage her in conversation.

But if Severus was upset, he wasn’t going to tell her. He was too stubborn for that.

So, after weeks of being brushed aside, Y/N decided she needed to confront him. She couldn’t take the cold distance anymore, and if he was angry with her, she needed to know why.

One evening, after a particularly long day in the greenhouse, Y/N made her way down to the dungeons. She had seen Severus slip out of the Great Hall after dinner, his usual shadowy presence retreating into the depths of the castle. She followed him, her heart pounding in her chest with nerves, but she was determined to get answers.

She found him in his office, sitting behind his desk, a quill in hand as he scrawled something into a large, leather-bound book. He didn’t look up when she knocked softly on the doorframe.

"Severus," she said quietly, stepping into the room.

He didn’t respond at first, his eyes remaining fixed on the parchment before him.

"Severus," she repeated, a little more firmly.

With a sigh of irritation, he finally glanced up, his dark eyes cold and unreadable. "What do you want, Y/N?"

Y/N hesitated, her fingers twisting nervously together. "I… I need to know why you’ve been avoiding me."

Severus’s expression didn’t change. He set his quill down, leaning back in his chair with a look of cool indifference. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

"Yes, you do," Y/N pressed, stepping closer to his desk. "You’ve been avoiding me for weeks now, and I don’t understand why. Did I do something to upset you?"

He let out a harsh laugh, though there was no humor in it. "Upset me? No, Y/N, you didn’t upset me. I simply have no interest in wasting my time with someone like you."

The words hit her like a physical blow, and she took a step back, her eyes widening in hurt and confusion. "Someone like me? What does that mean?"

Severus’s gaze was sharp, his voice colder than she had ever heard it. "You know exactly what it means. I’ve seen the way you prance around with Lockhart, letting him fawn over you like some lovesick puppy. Clearly, you enjoy the attention."

Y/N’s heart clenched painfully in her chest. "I—Severus, it’s not like that. I don’t—"

But he cut her off, his words laced with bitterness. "Don’t insult my intelligence, Y/N. I’ve seen how you let him flirt with you, how you blush and smile like a schoolgirl..I don’t have time for someone like you. If you enjoy Lockhart’s company so much, then by all means, continue. But don’t expect me to waste my time on someone who can’t even see past his ridiculous charm."

Y/N felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes, the weight of his cruel words crushing her. She had never seen Severus like this, so angry, so hurt. She opened her mouth to speak, to defend herself, but the words wouldn’t come. All she could do was stand there, frozen in place, as Severus’s cold gaze bore into her.

When she finally found her voice, it was barely a whisper. "I never wanted his attention, Severus. I’ve only ever—"

"Enough," Severus snapped, standing abruptly and turning away from her. "I don’t want to hear it. If you wish to continue entertaining that fool, that’s your business. But I will not be part of it."

With that, he stormed out of the room, leaving Y/N standing there, her heart shattered and tears spilling down her cheeks. She had come for answers, but all she had found was pain.

The following days were a blur for Y/N. She avoided the staffroom, avoided Severus, and kept to herself in the greenhouse. She couldn’t stop replaying their conversation in her head, his harsh words echoing painfully in her mind. I simply have no interest in wasting my time with someone like you.

She hadn’t known it was possible to feel this hurt, this rejected. For the first time, she found herself dreading the start of each day, dreading the possibility of seeing Severus in the halls. The spark of happiness that usually came with her work had dimmed, replaced by a hollow sadness that seemed to follow her everywhere she went.

Even her students noticed the change in her demeanor, though they were too polite to mention it. She tried to hide her feelings, tried to put on a brave face, but it was difficult. Every time she passed Severus in the corridors, her heart ached with the memory of his words, and every time Lockhart made his usual visits to the greenhouse, she felt a wave of nausea rise in her throat.

It didn’t take long for Minerva McGonagall to notice.

One afternoon, as Y/N was tending to a bed of mandrakes, Minerva appeared at the door of the greenhouse, her sharp eyes studying Y/N with a knowing look.

"Y/N," she said softly, stepping into the room. "May I have a word?"

Y/N looked up, startled, and quickly wiped her hands on her apron. "Of course, Minerva."

Minerva approached her, her expression softening as she saw the sadness in Y/N’s eyes. "You’ve been rather quiet lately, my dear. Is everything all right?"

Y/N forced a smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. "I’m fine, just… busy."

Minerva didn’t seem convinced. She took a seat on one of the nearby benches, folding her hands in her lap as she spoke. "You’ve been avoiding the staffroom, and I can’t help but notice that you haven’t been your usual self. Is there something going on? Does it have to do with Severus?"

The mention of his name sent a sharp pang through Y/N’s chest, and she looked away, her hands trembling slightly as she fussed with the dirt on her fingertips.

"I… I don’t know," she admitted quietly. "I thought we were friends, but lately… I think I’ve upset him. He won’t talk to me anymore."

Minerva’s brow furrowed, concern flashing across her features. "I see. Severus can be… difficult, at times. But I know he holds you in high regard. It’s unlike him to act this way without reason."

Y/N let out a soft sigh, her voice tinged with sadness. "I don’t know what I did wrong. He said I was wasting his time, that he didn’t want to deal with me anymore. And now… now he won’t even look at me."

Minerva’s eyes softened, and she reached out to place a comforting hand on Y/N’s arm. "I don’t believe that’s true, my dear. Severus may not always show it, but he cares deeply for the people in his life. Whatever has caused this rift between you, I don’t believe it’s something you’ve done."

Y/N shook her head, her throat tightening with the weight of her emotions. "But he’s so angry with me. He thinks… he thinks I like Lockhart."

At the mention of Lockhart’s name, Minerva’s expression shifted into something closer to exasperation. "Lockhart? Merlin, that man has been more of a nuisance than I expected. But Severus should know better than to assume that you have any interest in him. He’s clearly projecting his own insecurities onto you."

Y/N blinked, surprised by Minerva’s words. "You think… you think Severus is jealous?"

Minerva smiled faintly, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "I do, Y/N. It’s quite obvious to those of us who know him well. Severus may not be the most forthcoming when it comes to his feelings, but it’s clear that he has feelings for you. He’s just too proud—and too afraid—to admit it."

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at Minerva’s words. Could it be true? Could Severus’s coldness and bitterness be a result of jealousy?

Minerva gave her a knowing look, standing up from the bench. "I suggest you talk to him, Y/N. Really talk to him. He may not make it easy, but I think you’ll find that he cares more than he lets on."

Severus paced his chambers, his mind a storm of conflicting emotions. He had hurt her—he knew that much. The look in her eyes when he had spoken those cruel words haunted him, and yet, he couldn’t stop the bitterness that had fueled his anger.

It was easier this way, he told himself. Easier to push her away before she had the chance to reject him. Easier to convince himself that she wanted someone else—someone like Lockhart—than to face the truth of his own feelings.

But the truth was becoming harder and harder to ignore.

There was a knock at the door, and Severus’s heart leapt into his throat when he saw Y/N standing there, her eyes red-rimmed but determined.

"Severus," she said, her voice soft but steady. "We need to talk."

He turned away from her, trying to compose himself, but the sight of her standing there, vulnerable and hurt, made his resolve crumble.

"Y/N, I—" He paused, his throat tightening with guilt. "I’m sorry."

She stepped inside, closing the door behind her. "I don’t understand, Severus. Why are you pushing me away? Why are you so angry with me?"

Severus closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. He couldn’t keep lying to her—not anymore.

"I’m not angry with you," he said finally, his voice low. "I’m angry with myself."

Y/N frowned, stepping closer. "What does that mean?"

Severus hesitated, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. He hated this—hated being vulnerable, hated exposing the raw, aching feelings that he had spent so long trying to bury. But he owed her the truth.

"I saw the way Lockhart was… pursuing you," Severus began, his voice tight. "And I thought… I thought you were enjoying it. That you wanted his attention. It hurt, Y/N. It hurt to think that you could fall for someone like him when…" He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

Y/N’s eyes softened with understanding. "When what, Severus?"

He met her gaze, his dark eyes filled with something raw and unspoken. "When I’ve been in love with you for years."

The words hung in the air between them, heavy and vulnerable. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding in her chest.

"I never wanted his attention, Severus," she said softly, her voice trembling. "I never wanted anyone’s attention but yours."

Severus stared at her, stunned by her words. For a moment, he couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. And then, slowly, he closed the distance between them, his hand trembling slightly as he reached out to cup her cheek.

"I’m sorry," he whispered again, his voice thick with emotion. "I’m sorry for pushing you away. I’m sorry for hurting you."

Y/N smiled through her tears, leaning into his touch. "I forgive you, Severus."

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Severus allowed himself to hope.

[hoe4hotchner]

Hi there! Can you write some HotchxColonelReader?! Like the Team comes by morging and sees Hotch, Strauss, Rossi and a woman from the army discussing something at Hotch's office about a case. Then, then discovery that THAT is the Hotchs' wife?! Sorry about my english. :) And Thank yoouuuuuuu!! I love all your work!!!

Absolutely!!! This was so much fun to write, and such a different prompt to what I usually get 🫶 Don't worry about your english ;) i'm not a native speaker 💕😘

Reverence | [A.H]

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: 𝘈𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘯 𝘏𝘰𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘹 𝘔𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘊𝘞: 𝘔𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘨𝘰𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘱, 𝘱𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘺𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘴, 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘳, 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘧𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘥𝘺𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘴 𝘞𝘊: 1𝘬

           The early morning haze clung to the bullpen, and the rhythmic hum of coffee machines mixed with the muffled clicks of keyboards as the team settled into their desks. The quiet lull of routine was only broken by Morgan’s curious gaze as he caught a glimpse of Hotch’s office from across the room. The blinds were open, revealing an unusual scene - Hotch, Strauss, Rossi, and an unfamiliar woman standing together in what could only be described as a tense, closed-door meeting. The three agents looked on edge compared to her.

           “Hey,” Morgan called out quietly, his voice low with intrigue as he nodded toward the glass window. “What’s going on in there?”

           JJ glanced over from her desk, noticing the woman in uniform standing alongside the senior agents. Her sharp, tailored military attire contrasted starkly against the office's corporate formality. The woman exuded authority; her posture was stiff, shoulders back, chin raised with the kind of self-assurance that comes from years of commanding subordinates.

           “Who is she?” JJ whispered, leaning forward. “She looks like she’s ready to bark out several orders any second now.”

           Morgan folded his arms across his chest, eyebrows raised in amusement. “Definitely military or marines. Look at that posture. You don’t stand like that out of free will unless you’ve seen action.”

           Reid, already drawn into the mystery woman, was fidgeting with the edge of his sweater trying to piece the puzzle together. “Maybe she’s part of an interagency collaboration? It could be something related to national security.”

           As the team watched, the woman turned slightly, her profile sharp and no-nonsense. Her movements were measured, and deliberate - every inch of her seemed to be about precision and control. Even though they were observing her through glass, it felt like her presence dominated the entire office.

           They didn’t have long to speculate before the door to Hotch’s office clicked open. Strauss emerged first, her usual expression in place as she nodded to the agents, followed by Rossi, who sported his signature knowing grin with a quick wink. But it was the woman who truly commanded attention as she stepped into the bullpen. The clack of her polished boots against the floor was precise, each step purposeful and calculated. Her uniform gleamed under the fluorescent lights, the medals and badges catching the glint of rays from the morning sun through the windows. She held her head high, her gaze sweeping the room like a hawk surveying its territory.

           Morgan straightened in his chair as she walked past, eyes wide with respect. “She’s definitely not here for pleasantries.”

           Before anyone could add another word, the woman stopped, her sharp gaze locking onto the team. It wasn’t just a glance - it was the kind of stare that felt like being x-rayed. The whispers, the subtle looks, the quiet gossip - they hadn’t gone unnoticed. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and with a swift motion, she crossed her arms over her chest, her gaze narrowing.

           The air in the room shifted instantly as she addressed them. Her voice, though calm, carried the unmistakable weight of authority. “Is there something you’d like to share with the class?”

           The team froze. Her tone wasn’t loud, but it was firm, resonating with the controlled power of someone who was used to giving orders. It sliced through the air like a knife, leaving a lingering tension in its wake. JJ’s mouth opened slightly, Morgan leaned forward, and even Reid looked uncharacteristically startled.

           “No, ma’am,” they responded in unison, almost instinctively. The words tumbled out, a reflex to the command in her voice. It was as if, for a brief moment, they were recruits in boot camp being called to attention.

           Her eyes lingered on them for a moment, assessing, before a flicker of amusement danced across her features. Her posture remained as strict as before, but there was the faintest hint of a smirk at the corner of her mouth. She nodded once, satisfied with their response, then turned her attention back to Hotch, who stood quietly in the doorway of his office.

           “I’ll be returning to base,” she said, her voice noticeably softer, though still firm. She gave Hotch a look that lingered just a fraction too long for it to be strictly professional.

           “Thank you for coming by,” Hotch replied, his tone warm but restrained. There was something different about the way he spoke to her - his usual clipped authority was replaced by an almost imperceptible tenderness.

           “Of course,” she replied, a small smile tugging at her lips. Then, her voice dropped into something far more intimate. “Aaron.”

           The use of his first name hung in the air, so casual, so familiar, yet it sent shockwaves through the team.

           JJ’s eyes widened. “Did she just call him Aaron?”

           Morgan’s jaw nearly dropped. “Hold up. Did she just—?”

           The woman didn’t wait for their reactions. With a brisk turn, she walked out of the office, her boots echoing down the hallway as she left, her military bearing never faltering. It was only after the door had swung shut behind her that Rossi, who had been watching the whole thing with barely concealed amusement, let out a chuckle.

           “Looks like the cat’s out of the bag,” Rossi said, crossing his arms as he leaned against a desk in the bullpen. “That, ladies and gentlemen, is Hotch’s wife.”

           The team stared at him, slack-jawed.

           “His wife?” JJ managed, her voice unbelieving.

           “Colonel actually,” Rossi clarified, eyes twinkling with mischief. “She’s been in the army for years. Taught Hotch everything he knows about being strict.”

           “She’s tougher than Hotch,” Morgan added, still trying to wrap his head around the revelation.

           “Way tougher,” Rossi said, winking at the team.

           “That was… something else.” Emily managed to say through her disbelief.

           They turned to look at Hotch, before he returned to his office, his expression unreadable as he resumed his work. For a brief second, though, as his gaze flicked toward the team, they could see the faintest smile - a private, almost imperceptible curve of his lips.

           “You never asked,” he said simply, allowing a rare smile to tug at the corners of his lips before turning his attention back to his office and paperwork, leaving the team still gaping.

[uncuredturkeybacon]

𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 || 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚐𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

in which you both always find your way back to each other

warning : sexual content included - minors dni

You didn’t want to be here.

You didn’t want to be wearing four inches of makeup, a dress someone else picked out, smiling for endless cameras, forced to network with people you barely knew. You’d much rather be in your Barcelona kit, cleats on your feet, running drills at training.

But tonight wasn’t about what you wanted — it was about being a face for Nike, about showing up at one of their biggest global athlete events, standing next to gold medals and championship rings and MVP trophies. You adjusted the neckline of your dress and took another sip of champagne, counting the hours until you could go back to your hotel room.

And that’s when your manager nudged you, murmuring in your ear, “There's someone you should meet.”

You blinked the exhaustion away and turned — and for the first time that night, you actually woke up.

Standing there, in a clean-cut navy suit, crisp white shirt open at the collar, hands tucked coolly into her pockets, was Paige Bueckers.

You knew who she was immediately. Everyone did.

Paige Bueckers, WNBA’s next superstar, the heart of the Dallas Wings. Ice in her veins, clutch under pressure. America's sweetheart with a killer crossover. She was taller than you expected, broad-shouldered in a way cameras didn’t quite capture. She wasn’t smiling. She was just... looking at you. Like she knew you too.

You smoothed your dress automatically and offered your hand. “Hi,” you said, and hated that your voice came out a little breathless.

Paige’s lips curved into a smirk as she shook your hand — firm, a little rough, calloused fingers from years of handling a basketball.

“I know who you are," she said, voice low and casual. "Big fan.”

You laughed under your breath, a little shy, and teased, “Guess I’m a fan too. You’re kinda hard to miss.”

Her grin widened, and for the first time all night, you weren’t thinking about escaping. You were thinking about staying.

The conversation flowed easily.

You didn’t even realize how long you’d been standing there until you felt a tap on your shoulder — someone from Nike needing you for a photo. You apologized, promising Paige you'd be right back.

Five minutes later, you found her again. She was standing by the bar, scrolling her phone, a drink in her free hand. As if she was waiting for you.

You slipped into the empty space next to her and nudged her arm lightly. “Miss me?” you teased.

She didn’t answer right away, just looked at you from under her lashes with a grin that made your stomach flip. “Maybe.”

The whole night was like that.

You’d get pulled away — to talk to a sponsor, to take a picture with a fan, to do a quick interview — and every time, somehow, you found your way back to Paige. And every time you did, it felt easier. Like slipping into a conversation you didn’t want to leave.

You found out she hated dressing up just as much as you did. That she loved watching football, especially Barça matches. That she hated flying but did it almost every week now. That she missed snow sometimes — real Minnesota snow — but loved the Texas sun more than she ever thought she would.

She asked you about Barcelona. About your favorite stadiums to play in, about the nerves before a Champions League final, about what it felt like to wear your country’s badge. And you asked her about Dallas. About the pressure, about the critics, about what it was like carrying so much on her shoulders and still making it look easy.

“It’s not easy,” she admitted quietly once, when you caught her off guard between topics. You nodded, understanding more than you could say.

There was something about her — something solid. Unshakable.

Even when she was teasing you, even when she was pretending not to be shy (but you could tell she was, a little), there was a strength to her that made you feel like you could lean against it.

And when she looked at you — really looked at you — it felt like you were the only two people in the room.

Eventually, late into the night, you ended up outside on the terrace together. The city buzzed around you — flashing lights, car horns, the dull throb of a DJ's bass line from inside — but you barely noticed. Paige had taken off her jacket and slung it over your shoulders without thinking when she noticed you shivering. The scent of her cologne clung to the fabric, something sharp and clean and a little addictive.

You glanced at her from the corner of your eye.

She was leaning against the railing, hands braced behind her, looking relaxed in a way you hadn’t seen all night. The moonlight cut across her jawline, catching the chain she wore under her shirt.

God, she was beautiful.

“So,” she said, without looking at you, “you think I’m hard to miss, huh?”

You laughed, ducking your head, cheeks burning. "I said what I said."

Paige chuckled lowly and finally turned to face you fully. And for a second — just a second — the air changed.

The way she was looking at you... it made your heart skip.

Like she was thinking about saying something.

Like she wanted to step closer.

Like maybe she wanted to kiss you.

You opened your mouth — to say what, you didn’t know — but the terrace door swung open behind you, a flood of people spilling out, breaking the spell. Paige straightened up, shoving her hands deeper into her pockets. You blinked, trying to catch your breath.

She jerked her chin toward the door. “Wanna get outta here?”

Your heart leapt into your throat.

You smiled — soft, genuine, sure.

“Lead the way.”

The car ride was quiet but thick—every glance, every slight shift of her body brushing against yours making your skin hum.

By the time you reached her hotel, your palms were damp.

She didn’t lead you by the hand, didn't rush. Just walked a step ahead, glancing back once to make sure you were following.

You were.

God, you were.

The hotel was nice, of course—Nike athletes didn’t exactly get thrown into cheap motels—but you barely registered anything except her.

The second the door clicked shut behind you, Paige moved.

No hesitation now.

She was on you in two long strides, backing you up against the wall, her mouth crashing into yours.

You gasped, the suddenness of it knocking the air from your lungs—but you clutched at her blazer, pulling her closer, needing her just as badly.

Her hands were rougher than you expected—not careless, but desperate—skimming down your sides, gripping your hips so tightly you whimpered into her mouth.

“Been thinking about this all night,” she muttered against your lips, her voice low, hoarse.

You barely had time to nod before she kissed you again, deeper this time. Her hands slid under the hem of your dress, bunching the soft fabric up around your waist.

You were already aching for her, shifting on your toes to get closer. Paige caught your movement, growling softly in the back of her throat as she pulled back just enough to look at you.

Her pupils were blown wide, jaw tight.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” she rasped, almost like it hurt to say.

You flushed under the intensity of her gaze, hips rolling toward her without thinking.

“Paige—” you breathed, but it came out more like a plea than anything else.

“I got you,” she promised, her hands skimming your thighs before lifting you up like you weighed nothing. You wrapped your legs around her waist instinctively, fingers tangling in the soft hair at the nape of her neck.

She carried you to the bed and dropped you onto the mattress with a soft bounce, standing over you for a second to just look.

You watched her shed her blazer and toss it to the floor, leaving her in a plain white tank top tucked into those fitted slacks. Her arms flexed as she leaned down, bracing herself on either side of your body.

"You don’t even know," she murmured, nuzzling along your jawline, her voice sending shivers down your spine. "How bad I wanna take my time with you.”

You whimpered, tugging at her tank top, needing more, needing everything.

She kissed you again—rougher now, teeth grazing your bottom lip, tongue sweeping into your mouth like she owned you. And maybe she did, in that moment.

Her hands dragged your dress up higher, fingers hooking into your underwear, pulling them down slow enough to make you squirm.

When she finally touched you—fingers running through your folds with a reverent kind of hunger—you gasped, hips arching off the bed.

“So wet for me already,” Paige whispered, pressing her forehead against yours like she needed the contact just as badly as you did. “Fuck.”

You could barely respond, too overwhelmed by the way her fingers circled your clit with maddening, precise pressure.

“You’re mine tonight,” she said, more to herself than you. “Say it.”

You whined, clutching at her shoulders. “Yours. Paige, I’m yours.”

The growl she let out was low and rough, and then she was sinking two fingers into you, stretching you deliciously, setting a rhythm that had you panting almost immediately.

It wasn’t hard exactly—but there was a roughness to it. A need she couldn't hide.

Every thrust of her fingers was firm, deliberate.

Every brush of her thumb against your clit was savoring, like she didn’t want to miss a single sound you made.

You clung to her, nails digging into her arms, thighs trembling.

“That’s it,” she murmured, lips brushing your cheek. “Let me hear you, baby.”

You couldn’t have held back if you tried.

Every moan, every gasp—you gave it all to her.

When your orgasm finally broke over you, it was devastating, ripping through you so hard you sobbed her name against her throat.

Paige didn’t stop. She slowed, sure, coaxing you through it, pressing soft kisses to your cheeks, your jaw, your forehead. Her free hand cradled your head like something precious.

You realized then, even through the roughness, even through the hunger—

She was savoring you.

Holding you like you were the best thing she'd ever touched.

When you finally blinked your eyes open, she was looking down at you, chest heaving, blonde hair sticking to her forehead.

“You’re unreal,” she whispered, like she still couldn’t believe you were real.

You pulled her down to you, slotting your mouth over hers in a messy, desperate kiss.

“Stay,” you whispered against her lips.

Her answer was a low, broken sound as she kicked off her shoes and climbed fully into the bed with you, wrapping you in her arms like she had no plans of letting go anytime soon.

And God—you didn’t want her to.

The first thing you felt was warmth.

Not the filtered sunlight pooling through the hotel curtains, not the heavy comforter tangled around your legs — but Paige.

Her arm was slung low over your waist, her face tucked into the crook of your neck, her steady breaths brushing your skin in a way that made you shiver even though you weren’t cold.

You shifted slightly, trying not to wake her, but her grip only tightened.

“Mmm, don't move,” she mumbled, her voice hoarse with sleep.

You smiled, the curve of it hidden against the pillow. “Sorry,” you whispered back, not sorry at all.

You let yourself relax into her, letting your fingers trace lazy patterns across the bare skin of her forearm. She was all long limbs and quiet strength, wrapped around you like you belonged there. Like you always had.

For a few minutes, you just stayed like that, breathing in the scent of her—a mix of clean soap, her cologne, and something purely Paige.

Eventually, Paige stirred, pressing a soft, barely-there kiss to your shoulder. “Morning,” she rasped.

You hummed, turning your head slightly to look at her.

Her blonde hair was a mess, sticking out at odd angles, and there was a faint imprint of the pillowcase across her cheek.

She was beautiful. Unfairly beautiful.

“Morning,” you whispered back, unable to stop the way your hand reached up to smooth her hair down.

She caught your wrist gently, pressing a kiss to the inside of it before nuzzling your hand. The gesture made your chest ache in a way you hadn’t expected.

Neither of you moved to get up.

There was no rush, no pressure.

Just the slow, steady unfurling of something that felt a lot like home.

After a while, Paige stretched, groaning low in her throat. "I'm starving."

You laughed softly. “Big athlete like you? No way.”

She opened one eye to glare at you playfully, then buried her face in your neck again. “Gimme five more minutes to be a clingy loser, then I'll order us something.”

Your heart squeezed.

You tilted your head, letting her have more access to your skin, feeling her grin against you.

True to her word, a few minutes later she finally reached over, fumbling for the room phone. You stayed curled against her side, tracing the line of her hipbone under the sheets.

She ordered with a raspy, just-woke-up voice that made you smile into the mattress.

“Yeah, can we get... pancakes, eggs, bacon... orange juice... coffee—lots of coffee…” She glanced at you, raising an eyebrow. "Anything you want?"

You shook your head, too content to even think about food.

"Make it double,” she said into the phone before hanging up and tossing it back onto the nightstand.

She turned back to you, resting her chin on your shoulder. “How you feeling?” she asked, her voice low and careful now, like she didn’t want to scare you off.

You smiled, brushing your nose against hers. “Like I don't wanna move.”

Paige chuckled, her fingers skimming your side under the sheets. “Good.”

For a while, you just talked.

About anything.

Everything.

Football. Basketball. Travel.

How you missed your mom's cooking. How she missed Minnesota/Connecticut winters even though she’d never admit it.

“You think you’ll like Dallas?” you asked, genuinely curious.

Paige shrugged, playing with a loose thread on the pillowcase. “It’s different. But... I dunno. It feels like a start, y’know?”

You nodded, understanding more than she probably realized. “Yeah. A new chapter.”

She met your eyes then, something unreadable flickering across her face.

“I wish we had more time,” she said quietly.

You reached up, cupping her cheek. “We have this.” You let your thumb brush the soft skin under her eye. “And we have phones. Planes. Barcelona’s just a plane ride away. Same with Texas”

Paige smiled, a little sad but mostly soft.

“I’m not good at this kinda thing,” she admitted. “Relationships. Feelings.”

You kissed the corner of her mouth, lingering there. “You’re doing fine.”

Her arms tightened around you, like she needed the reassurance just as much as you did.

When room service finally knocked, Paige groaned dramatically, burying her face in your neck again. “Don't wanna get up.”

You laughed, shoving at her gently. “Go. I'm not about to starve just because you turned into a koala.”

She grumbled under her breath but finally rolled out of bed, grabbing a robe and tossing you a sheepish grin before disappearing toward the door.

You watched her go, heart full and aching all at once.

You both knew this bubble would have to pop soon.

She had Dallas.

You had Barcelona.

Different continents. Different time zones.

But right now— right now, she was laughing in the doorway, balancing two trays of food like a clumsy waiter, and you couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

You spent the morning tangled up in bed, eating pancakes with sticky fingers, passing bites back and forth, sipping coffee from the same cup.

You learned Paige liked her bacon extra crispy. She learned you had a weird obsession with mixing your syrup with butter first.

You talked about bucket lists.

Dreams.

What you were scared of.

She kissed you between bites, lazy and unhurried, like she was memorizing the taste of you.

And when it was finally time to get dressed, to face the real world again, Paige stood in front of you, holding your hands in hers, her thumbs tracing slow circles over your knuckles.

“No matter where we are,” she said, voice steady, “I’m gonna make this work.”

You believed her.

Because looking into her eyes, you realized something.

The world could pull you to opposite sides of it—but somehow, somehow, you would always find your way back.

Just like you had at the party.

Just like you would again.

You were back in Barcelona now.

Back to the grind—training, media, travel, matches—your calendar packed so tightly that your head spun most days.

But somehow, no matter how exhausted you were, no matter how many time zones separated you and Paige, you always made time.

Even if it was stupidly early for you.

And it was painfully late for her.

Even if it meant falling asleep with your phone still clutched in your hand because neither of you wanted to hang up first.

Tonight—or technically, this morning for you—you were curled up under your blanket, hair messy, voice thick with sleep as you blinked at your phone screen.

Paige’s face filled it.

Her hair was damp from a shower, loose over her shoulders, and she was sprawled on her bed in Dallas, wearing a baggy Wings hoodie that swallowed her whole.

It was just after 10PM for her.

It was 7AM for you.

Sunlight already spilled into your room, birds chirping outside your window.

And still—you stayed in bed just to have these few stolen moments.

“You look so cozy,” Paige teased, smiling softly.

You yawned, hiding it behind your hand. “I am. Or... I was. Before someone FaceTimed me at the crack of dawn.”

Her smirk widened. “Miss me that much, huh?”

You rolled your eyes fondly. “You're the one who called me, Bueckers.”

“Details,” she said, waving her hand lazily. “Minor details.”

You laughed, pulling your blanket tighter around you, letting yourself just look at her.

God, you missed her.

Missed the weight of her body pressed against yours.

Missed the way she smelled, the way she mumbled half-asleep, the way she kissed you like you were air.

“You have no idea how many times I almost booked a flight this week,” you admitted quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Paige’s smile faltered, softening into something achingly tender.

“I thought about it too,” she said. “Like... what if I just showed up at your match? Sat in the front row like a stalker.”

You laughed, your chest tightening painfully. “I’d probably cry.”

Paige shifted, propping her chin on her hand. “You’d cry?”

You nodded, cheeks heating. “Yeah. And then I’d probably kiss you in front of thousands of people and destroy both of our PR teams.”

Paige chuckled, a low, warm sound that made your stomach flip. “Worth it.”

Silence stretched for a moment—not awkward, but heavy.

You bit your lip. “I miss you.”

Her face crumpled just a little, like she was trying not to let it show. “I miss you too.”

You both sat with it.

Letting it sink in.

Letting yourselves feel it.

After a long moment, Paige spoke again, her voice low and rough:

"Maybe we can figure something out.”

You blinked, heart hammering. “What do you mean?”

She hesitated, then shrugged, pretending to be casual even though her eyes betrayed her.

"I mean... it's not like we can't visit. Off days, breaks, whatever. I can fly to you. You can fly to me.”

You swallowed hard.

“You're serious?”

Paige smiled crookedly. “I’m serious about you.”

You couldn’t speak for a second, throat tight.

Instead, you reached toward the camera, fingertips brushing the screen like you could touch her through it.

“Me too,” you whispered.

Paige shifted again, leaning closer to the camera until all you could see was her face—so open, so unguarded.

"I don’t want this to be just some... one-time thing,” she said, almost fiercely. "You’re not just a night in New York to me.”

You blinked rapidly, willing the sudden sting in your eyes to go away.

You weren’t about to cry on FaceTime.

You sniffed once, laughing shakily. “Good. Because you're stuck with me now.”

Paige grinned, triumphant. “Damn right I am.”

You ended up talking for another hour—Paige lying sideways on her bed, you curled up with your pillow.

Making stupid plans.

Dreaming about meeting halfway in places like Miami or London.

Imagining what it would be like when one of you finally showed up unannounced.

When your eyes finally started to flutter shut, Paige noticed.

“Go back to sleep, pretty girl,” she whispered.

You mumbled something incoherent, already half gone.

"I'll text you when you wake up," she promised.

And you knew she would.

Because distance didn’t feel so scary when it was her.

Because somehow, despite everything, you could feel it in your bones.

This was only the beginning.

It’s been a few weeks.

Paige leaned her head against the plane window, watching the sunrise stretch itself lazily across the horizon, bleeding gold and pink over the Atlantic. She barely slept the whole flight. The anticipation made it impossible.

Barcelona.

God, she couldn’t believe she was actually doing this.

It was crazy, it was impulsive—but it felt right.

She missed you more than she even wanted to admit.

FaceTime was good. Hearing your voice, seeing your sleepy smile. It was enough to keep her breathing when the distance pressed down too hard.

But it wasn’t the same.

It wasn't even close.

And when she saw that Barcelona was playing Real Madrid—El Clásico—at home, she couldn’t stop herself.

She bought the ticket before she even texted her manager to clear the days off.

She hadn’t told you she was coming.

If she was being honest with herself, she needed to see you in your element.

On your pitch.

Where you were fearless, untouchable.

She wanted to be there. For you.

The stadium was massive.

Even pulling up in the taxi, Paige could hear the roar of the fans—Barcelona chants, drums pounding, scarves waving out of car windows.

She pulled the hoodie of her Wings sweatshirt up over her head, tugging a hat low over her eyes. Not exactly subtle, but she wasn’t trying to be seen.

A few people double-taked as she made her way through the crowd—some even pointed—but most were too focused on the match energy to recognize her. She got inside, climbed the steep stairs to her seat, and settled into the electric buzz of it all.

And then— there you were.

Down on the field, in that beautiful crimson-and-blue kit, jogging across the pitch like you owned it.

Paige’s heart damn near stopped.

You were warming up with your teammates, tying your hair back into a messy ponytail, a grin flashing across your face when one of the other players bumped your shoulder.

You looked radiant.

Alive.

She couldn’t take her eyes off you.

The anthem blared, the crowd roared, and the game started with an intensity that made her sit up straight immediately.

This wasn’t just a match.

It was a battle.

And you were right in the middle of it—sharp, ruthless, brilliant.

Every touch you took was confident.

Every sprint, every pass, every challenge—you played like you had something to prove.

Paige caught it—the extra fire in your movement.

Like maybe, just maybe, you could feel her there, even if you hadn’t seen her yet.

You didn’t score, not at first.

You spent the first half orchestrating play, bossing the midfield, weaving around defenders like they were standing still.

When halftime hit, Paige found herself breathless, her hands gripping her knees, adrenaline racing through her like she was the one on the pitch.

She grinned to herself.

God, she was so damn proud of you.

Second half.

The tension ratcheted higher. Madrid pressed harder. Barcelona pushed back.

And then—it happened.

A long ball over the top.

You sprinted onto it, faster than anyone else, body cutting through defenders like a blade.

One touch.

Two.

You faked the goalkeeper, shifted the ball to your weaker foot, and buried it into the far corner.

The stadium erupted.

Paige shot to her feet before she even realized it, cheering, clapping her hands above her head.

You wheeled away from the goal, arms outstretched, head tilted back in pure joy as your teammates mobbed you.

And for a second—just a second—you scanned the crowd.

Paige froze.

She knew you were looking. Searching.

Maybe hoping.

But with 60,000 people screaming, it was impossible.

You didn’t see her.

Still, she smiled so wide her cheeks hurt.

By the time the final whistle blew—Barcelona victorious—Paige felt like she’d lived a lifetime.

She stayed back as the crowd started to spill out, letting the chaos thin before she moved.

No one stopped her.

A few teenagers gawked, whispering excitedly, but she kept her head down, slipping into the private player’s entrance with the access pass she’d begged your manager to get her.

Her heart pounded harder now than it had during the whole damn game.

Down the hall.

Past security.

Closer.

And then, she saw you.

Turning the corner in your training jacket, hair damp from the post-match shower, cleats clutched in one hand.

You were laughing at something a teammate said—and then you saw her.

Everything in you stuttered to a halt.

Your eyes went wide. Your mouth parted like you were about to say something, but no sound came out.

Paige couldn’t move either.

Couldn’t breathe.

For a heartbeat, you just stared at each other across the hallway.

Crowds milling around you.

Noise blurring into nothing.

And then—slowly, carefully—you walked toward her.

Not running.

Not rushing.

Like if you moved too fast, this would shatter.

When you finally reached her, you didn’t throw yourself into her arms.

You stood there, breathing the same air, your hand finding hers in a quiet, aching link.

You squeezed first.

She squeezed back.

“You’re here,” you whispered, like you still didn’t believe it.

Paige smiled, eyes shining. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

Your thumb brushed over her knuckles, slow, reverent.

Your forehead tilted forward, bumping gently into hers.

Still no kiss.

Not yet.

Just the press of your hands.

The warmth of your bodies so close but not fully touching.

The electric hum between you.

“I played harder because of you,” you said, your voice breaking a little on the edges.

Paige’s throat tightened.

“You didn’t even know I was here,” she said softly, teasing, but her heart cracked open at the way you looked at her.

“I knew," you whispered. "I always know.”

Paige squeezed your hand again, fighting the urge to pull you into her arms in front of everyone.

Instead, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, fingers lingering on your cheek for just a second too long.

“Come on,” you murmured, glancing around, the corner of your mouth lifting in a secret, knowing smile. “Let’s get outta here.”

Paige nodded, letting you lead her away, down quieter corridors, away from the cameras, the fans, the noise.

The next few days felt like stolen time.

Like Paige had somehow found a loophole in the universe—a pause button, just for the two of you.

Barcelona bloomed around them, sun-drenched and endless, and Paige drank in every second like she was dying of thirst.

You took her everywhere.

La Sagrada Familia, towering and unfinished and aching toward the sky. The colorful chaos of La Boqueria Market, where you shoved a slice of fresh mango into her mouth, laughing when the juice dribbled down her chin.

The winding streets of El Born, where Paige bought you a tiny silver bracelet from a street vendor without a second thought.

“For luck,” she said, fastening it around your wrist, her fingers lingering just a second too long.

You taught her how to order tapas without butchering the pronunciation too badly.

She taught you how to shoot paper straws into a cup from across the café table.

You won… barely.

At night, you sat on your apartment balcony with cheap wine and a shared blanket, pointing out constellations neither of you really knew the names of.

You talked about everything.

And sometimes, nothing at all.

You laughed so much Paige’s ribs hurt.

You touched without thinking—hands brushing, knees knocking, shoulders bumping.

It was easy.

It was dangerous.

Because the more time Paige spent with you, the harder it became to imagine leaving.

Two nights before her flight—Paige caught you staring at her across the table at some tiny candlelit restaurant, your gaze soft and heavy.

“What?” she said, teasing, nudging your foot under the table.

You shook your head slowly, smile tugging at your lips. “Nothing. Just... you.”

Paige’s heart clenched painfully.

She didn’t know how to survive this—how to let herself have you for only a few days at a time.

She reached across the table, weaving her fingers through yours without thinking.

You squeezed back.

No cameras.

No crowds.

Just you and her.

The last day crept up on them like a thief.

The morning was hazy, the city wrapped in a golden kind of melancholy.

Paige helped you pack a bag for your away match—pretending not to notice how your hands shook a little when you zipped it closed.

She didn’t say anything about it.

Neither did you.

Because if you said it—if you named the thing clawing at your chests—it might break you.

Instead, you walked to the small café down the street one last time.

Paige ordered for both of you now, stumbling over her Spanish but grinning proudly when you laughed and kissed her cheek.

You sat in the corner, sipping coffee, trying to memorize the exact way you looked bathed in Barcelona morning light.

The exact way you smiled at her when you thought she wasn’t looking.

The exact way your thumb kept running over the bracelet she gave you.

When it was finally time to go—when her car was idling at the curb—Paige stood in your doorway, bag slung over her shoulder, heart breaking so loudly she was sure you could hear it.

You looked up at her, standing barefoot in the tiny living room, oversized hoodie swallowing your frame.

God.

She didn’t want to leave.

You didn’t say anything.

You just walked to her slowly, wrapping your arms around her waist and burying your face in her chest.

Paige dropped her bag instantly, pulling you in tighter.

Neither of you moved.

You stayed like that, breathing each other in, memorizing the way you fit together.

Finally, you tipped your head up, blinking fast, trying to smile.

“I’m really bad at goodbyes,” you said hoarsely.

Paige cupped your jaw gently, her thumb brushing your cheek.

“Then don’t say goodbye,” she whispered. “Say ‘see you soon.’”

You laughed wetly, nodding, your forehead dropping against hers.

“See you soon,” you echoed, voice breaking.

She kissed your forehead.

Your nose.

The corner of your mouth.

Not a real kiss.

Not yet.

Because if she kissed you properly, she might not leave at all.

She stepped back slowly, hands lingering on your hips until the very last second.

You picked up her bag and shoved it into her hands with a trembling smile. “Go. Before I change my mind.”

Paige laughed, watery and wrecked.

She turned toward the door, paused.

Looked back.

You were standing there, framed by the morning light, holding onto the doorframe like it was the only thing keeping you upright.

“I’ll call you the second I land,” she promised.

You nodded, biting your lip.

“And I’ll be back," she added. “Whenever you’ll have me.”

“Always,” you whispered.

“Always,” she echoed.

And then she was gone.

In the taxi, Paige leaned her head back against the seat, clutching her phone to her chest.

Already counting the days until she could see you again.

Already planning the next flight.

Because this—whatever this was—wasn’t temporary.

It wasn’t borrowed time.

It was the start of something real.

Something worth every mile.

Every ache.

Every single second apart.

Paige wiped sweat from her forehead with the hem of her jersey, trying to catch her breath as the buzzer blared for a timeout.

Dallas was up by six, the energy in the arena electric, the fans on their feet, the court buzzing with heat and noise.

She jogged toward the huddle, grabbing a bottle of water off the scorer's table, her muscles burning, adrenaline still pumping.

The world narrowed—play calls, quick hands slapping her back, coaches barking adjustments.

Paige squeezed water into her mouth, letting it drip down her chin, tuning into the chaos around her.

Until…

A shift.

A roar of the crowd.

The sound of the fans changing—lifting—roaring for something that wasn’t happening on the court.

Confused, Paige glanced up at the Jumbotron out of instinct.

And then she saw you.

Framed perfectly on the massive screen, sitting up in one of the private suites, laughing, waving shyly as the camera zoomed in.

You were wearing one of her Wings jerseys—her jersey—the #5 stretched across your chest, your hair pulled back, cheeks pink from the attention.

Paige’s breath caught in her chest.

For a second, she didn’t move.

Couldn’t move.

The world blurred out, the timeout noise fading into static.

Just you.

God, just you.

You were here.

You were here.

The biggest, stupidest grin split across Paige’s face before she could stop it—pure, wide-open joy.

Next to her, Dijonai Carrington leaned in, bumping her shoulder playfully.

"Yo, Bueckers," she teased, laughing. "Why you cheesin’ like that, huh?"

Paige ducked her head, biting back a bigger smile, shaking her head like it was nothing.

But her heart was thundering.

Her hands were shaking.

She took another quick sip of water to hide her face, stealing another glance up at the screen where you were still sitting, waving shyly, mouthing something only she could understand.

“Proud of you.”

Paige felt like she could float out of her sneakers.

She played the rest of the quarter wired—lighter on her feet, sharper, hungrier.

Every bucket, every steal, every assist—it all crackled with the knowledge that you were somewhere up there, watching her.

For her.

And when the final buzzer sounded, sealing the win, Paige barely heard the crowd.

She barely felt the high fives, the backslaps, the chaos around her.

All she could think about was getting to you.

She threw on her warmups, tucked her hair into a low messy bun, and all but sprinted down the tunnel.

She weaved through the media scrum, ignoring the questions and the flashing cameras, heart hammering so loud she couldn’t hear anything else.

And then—at the end of the hallway—you.

Waiting.

Leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, your grin tugging at the corners of your mouth the second you spotted her.

Paige slowed to a stop in front of you, chest heaving, pulse rattling in her ears.

For a second, neither of you moved.

The tension stretched, taut and humming.

You dropped your arms, stepping forward.

Paige grabbed your face in her hands, pulling you down into her with a soft, breathless laugh.

And finally, she kissed you.

Full.

Fierce.

Desperate.

All the missed days and FaceTimes and whispered "I miss you’s" crashing into that kiss, spilling out between your mouths like something too big to hold back anymore.

You kissed her back just as hard, hands fisting in the front of her hoodie, anchoring yourself to her like you might float away otherwise.

When you finally broke apart, foreheads pressed together, gasping slightly, Paige let out a shaky laugh.

“You’re actually here,” she whispered, thumb brushing your jaw.

You smiled, eyes bright. “I told you I was bad at goodbyes.”

Paige kissed you again—softer this time, lingering.

“I’m not letting you leave next time,” she murmured against your lips.

You smiled against her mouth. “Then don’t.”

And even though the world waited outside—cameras, fans, teammates—Paige didn’t care.

She had you.

And she wasn't about to let you go.

Not now.

Not ever.

[sunrizef1]

Gold Medal Baby

Pairing: Logan Sargeant x Reader

Warnings: None, cursing, one “kms” joke

Authors Note: wait… I love this 🫣 I was like half-way through a Lando fic and I've had one screenshot for this in my drafts for a few months but I had a sudden bout of inspiration and had to finish this lol

Face Claim: Trinity Rodman

yourusername

📍London, England

liked by landonorris USWNT and 6,008,998 others

yourusername happy 4th of July 🎆 guess who’s stuck in England for the most patriotic day of the year 🇺🇸💋

load comments…

user1 prettyyyyy

user2 I'm so sad for you queen, no American should be subjected to that

liked by yourusername

user3 🦅🇺🇸

uswnt america misses you 🫶

liked by yourusername

user4 wait she looks so good

user5 HAPPY 4TH QUEEN

user6 the goat of womens soccer 🙌

lewishamilton that must be so hard for you

yourusername 😐

user7 ❤️🤍💙

user8 BESTIEEEEEE

user9 lowk can't wait for the Olympics

user10 girlie why r u in england... On purpose???

yourusername seeing friends 🫶🏽

user10 bestie that is so vague

sophiasmith have fun!!! 🫶🏽

liked by yourusername

user11 she's just like Logan Sargeant lmfao, the Americans stuck in England for the 4th haha

——

yourusername added to their story

TWITTER

MESSAGES

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

📍Paris, France

liked by lewishamilton fencer and 8,999,007 others

yourusername Paris Olympics, consider yourself opened 🇺🇸

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user12 HEY GIRL WHAT ABOUT YOUR SECRET HUSBAND

user13 oh so- were just not gonna talk about it or…

user14 MY GLORIOUS AMERICAN QUEEN

user15 wait I love the pink hair

liked by yourusername

user16 uswnt gold medal 🔜

alexmorgan 🥇

likes by yourusername

sophiasmith 😎✨

yourusername 😎✨

user17 hey girl…. Can we talk about your kids or.…

fencer 🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸

yourusername 🦅🦅🦅

user18 only y/n could make that heinous outfit look cute

user19 GIRL YOUR FAMILY

user20 @/lewishamilton what do you know

user21 my fav American

logansargeant good luck ✨

liked by yourusername

user22 love seeing f1 drivers on her posts, Lewis rly is her grid dad

——

logansargeant added to their story

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

yourusername added to their story

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

liked by landonorris alexmorgan and 6,008,880 others

yourusername a late winner and on to the semis, lets go!!!! 🇺🇸

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user23 WHAT A GOAL

user24 THATS WHY SHES THE GOAT! THE 🐐!

user25 ✨🎉

user26 u rly know Lewis is her grid dad because theyre both the goats 🐐 🫣

liked by yourusername

user27 don't let this distract you from her secret husband btw

user28 WHAT A GAME

lewishamilton so good! 👏🏽✨

yourusername 🫶🏽

user29 ahhhhh!!! 🇺🇸🇺🇸

landonorris good game!

yourusername fancy seeing u here

landonorris 😅

user30 anyways, let's hear about that husband of yours

user31 WE’RE WINNING IT ALL

user32 IT’S COMING HOME 🇺🇸

user33 miss Americana ✨🇺🇸

user34 she's so good 😭😭🙌🙌

fencer good game! 👑

liked by yourusername

——

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

liked by beyonce logansargeant and 12,991,005 others

yourusername GOLD!!!! 🥇

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user35 THE GREATEST COUNTRY ON THE PLANET

user36 WEEEE ARE THE CHAMPIONSSSSS MY FRIENDSSSSS

user37 🐐🐐🐐

fencer 💥💥💥

liked by yourusername

user38 queen shit 😌😌

lewishamilton best in the world 🌎

liked by yourusername

simonebiles we love 🥇

yourusername I love you*

user39 QUEENNNN 👸

alexmorgan 😌🇺🇸

liked by yourusername

user40 AND THE HUSBAND????

user41 ❤️🤍💙

uswnt our pink-haired savior 🙌

liked by yourusername

user42 💋💋💋

lebronjames 🐐

liked by yourusername

noahlyles LETS GOOOO 🥇

yourusername WOOOO 🥇

user43 and if I asked where her secret family is????

——

TWITTER

yourusername

📍St Tropez, France

liked by logansargeant landonorris and 11,808,455 others

yourusername a little bit of summer with my babies before the season re-starts ☀️

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user44 THEYRE HEREEEEE

user45 WE FOUND THEM

lilymhe 🥹🤍

yourusername 🤍

user46 TWINS????? AWWWWWWW

lewishamilton enjoy your break 🙌🏽

yourusername 🫶🏽

user47 they're so cute

user48 sleeping on a road tonight

user49 queennnnn

sophiasmith my favs 🥹🫶🏽

yourusername they miss you!!! 😚🫶🏽

user46 wait omg they're adorable

sebastianvettel had a great time babysitting! They were lovely!

yourusername thank you so much, Seb! They had a great time, they keep asking for “uncle sebby” 🥹🙏

user50 “my babies” I can't 🥹

oscarpiastri ☀️

liked by yourusername

user51 Oscar??? What r u doing here girl???

user52 so he's blond…. @\taylorswift rally your stans, we need that CIA level of investigation to find out who that man is

user53 as a swiftie, Logan Sargeant.

user52 LMFAO, that's actually so funny tysm

user53 oh… yeah! …i was 100% joking… totally is NOT Logan haha

user54 we need to know who this man is NOW

georgerussell ☀️☀️☀️

yourusername the twins miss you! 🫶🏽

georgerussell cant wait to see them once the season starts again! 🙌

landonorris I thought you weren't close???

georgerussell no, I just knew she had a husband and kids so I said that as an excuse to not give you her number. I didn't think you would tweet at her, dumbass 🤦‍♂️

landonorris oh.

—— TWITTER

INSTAGRAM logansargeant

liked by yourusername charles_leclerc and 10,777,111 others

logansargeant my gold medal baby 💍🥇

load comments…

user55 WAIT WHAT HUH WHAT

user56 HUH????????

user57 wait they're adorable lmao

user58 THAT SWIFTIE WAS RIGHT

oscarpiastri i would like to claim my rightful place as the favourite uncle/babysitter

sophiasmith WRONG 🚨

sophiasmith you can have favourite uncle but IM the favourite babysitter

sophiasmith so try again 😗

oscarpiastri 😒

alex_albon hes not even favorite uncle, hello? Its me 😽

oscarpiastri you are not even in the conversation, brit boy. Some of us have been around since before the twins were born. 😒

lewishamilton guys, guys, calm down. Favorite babysitter is clearly me.

oscarpiastri …that might actually be true😒

user59 I'm gonna bfr, he was not who I was expecting 😭

user60 LOGAN?????

user61 was not expecting to see a hard-launch when I opened Instagram today 😭

landonorris YOU 🫵😠

logansargeant ME 😌💍

user62 wait! They're adorable! 😭❤️🤍💙

maxverstappen you're the twitter screenshot husband man?

logansargeant yes 🫡

maxverstappen thank you for being the reason for Lando’s embarrassment 🤝

liked by logansargeant

user63 HES THE DUDE FROM THE SCREENSHOT!!!! ✨✨✨

lewishamilton happy for you guys 🙌🏽

logansargeant thanks Lewis 🤙

user64 MY parents now

user65 wait I love them I'm gonna cry 😭

user66 awwww this is so cute 🥹

lilymhe 🥹

liked by yourusername

user67 Logan and Lewis, my favorite wags

user68 OH MY GOD???

yourusername I love you and our family so much, lo 😭🤍🤍🤍🤍 MY husband 🫶🏽

logansargeant i love you too, I'm so proud of you and everything you've achieved baby ❤️🤍💙🫶🏻

user69 remember guys, this all spawned because Lando tried to ask y/n on a date.

user70 the perfect family 🤍

liked by logansargeant

——

Tags:

@c-losur3 @llando4norris @lokideservesahug @casperlikej @evie-119

[woso-dreamzzz]

Ruin II

Alexia Putellas + Jenni Hermoso x Pre-Teen!Reader

Summary: Running is the last thing you try to do

Your hands are clenched into fists, shaking out of rage or whatever this bubbling feeling within you actually is.

There's no eyes on you whatsoever as you sit in the corner of the gym. No one's looking at you. No one's checking you're where you said you would be.

The tinny sound from your old beaten up headphones echo around your head as you stand up.

No one even looks at you.

No one even spares you a glance as you slip out of the room.

No one even gives you a second look as you make your way out of the building, hood up and head bowed.

You feel more seen out on the street where nobody knows who you are than at the Spanish team's base camp. You're invisible out here but then again, so is everyone.

You blend in much easier out here in just your thin hoodie and the pouring rain.

You're soaked to the bone quickly but you can't find it in yourself to care either.

You've never been to Madrid before, not really anyway. You've come to camp enough times to know the route here but not anything outside of the training centre.

You don't know your way around the roads like you do back home in Barcelona so you just aimlessly walk, across streets, turning left and right aimlessly.

You just walk.

Walk.

Walk.

Walk.

Further and further away from Jenni and Alexia and their suffocating arguments and presence over your shoulder.

Today was meant to be a good day and it was, to an extent.

Both had been gifted an extension to when they were supposed to turn up to base for camp. They'd both been allowed to come to your swim meet earlier this morning.

You'd won like you usually do.

You'd left the whole field behind you with barely any effort on your part. You'd swum and swum and swum until you had the medal around your neck and a small trophy in your hand.

Both of them rest in your bag back in the room.

You'd been happier earlier but that came crashing down like it always did.

They'd promised no arguing. They'd promised no prodding and poking at each other. They'd promised to be polite and civil with each other. They'd promised to not make public things that should remain private - like the fact that they were going through the messiest divorce in the world even though they had never even been married.

Earlier, before you'd gotten into the pool, Jenni and Alexia had been sat next to each other. When you got out, Alexia and Jenni were at completely different areas in the stands - glaring at each other.

You don't even think they'd realised your race was finished.

The changing rooms weren't any better when girls from your swim club asked why they were fighting again.

They'd caused a scene while you were under water.

You knew they'd done it the moment you turned to look at them, to get anything from them after your achievement, even a little smile.

But there was nothing but anger between them.

Nothing but pure contempt for the other person.

Walk.

Walk.

Walk.

A perfect rhythm on the wet pavement.

Run.

Run.

Run.

You're sprinting across the path before you even realise what you're doing, your feet pounding against the concrete as the rain comes down more heavily.

The plane journey wasn't any better either. You'd been sat between them and not a word was said outside of making sure you had buckled your seatbelt up correctly.

Arrival at camp was the worst though.

Radio silence in the taxi journey from the airport and then carnage the moment they saw the room charts. You don't know what they could have been expecting.

Their breakup was common knowledge amongst the team and staff.

Of course they wouldn't be in the same room.

The only issue was you.

There were perks to Alexia being a captain. She got to bring you along to camp with her.

She'd assumed that you would room with her too.

It was funny, really, because Jenni assumed the exact thing about herself too.

Another argument. More words flung at each other as they carried on this war. Always fighting. Always prodding and poking. Always getting under each other's skin.

It's hard to reconcile these two feuding women with the ones that had welcomed you into their home with nothing but love and acceptance, the ones that had unsuccessfully baked a birthday cake for you or always insisted on both dropping you to school.

Together.

Now they couldn't be further apart - unable to put aside their differences for even a moment, unable to even sit peacefully for one race.

You wonder if they've even realised you've disappeared. You wonder if any of their teammates have noticed.

You wonder if you even want them to notice - want them to search for you, to find you.

The rain falls heavily, unrelenting and blisteringly cold.

But you don't mind at all. You welcome it.

It's getting darker now and you know this is the time where you should be getting worried, where you should start regretting what you've just done, where you're meant to hurriedly back track straight back towards the training centre.

You don't even know if you could find your way back.

So, you just sit there.

In the pouring rain.

Soaked to the bone and trembling.

You wonder if Alexia and Jenni are worried now, scared and searching for you.

You wonder if you even want them to.

[mcumorningstar]

Prove It, Cowboy

pairing: dodge mason x reader

summary: after the player's ball, you find yourself without a bed for the night until dodge offers for you to stay at his, but when his mom and sister catch you sneaking in they get the wrong impression.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, dry humping, protected sex (p in v), dodge’s mom and sister being kinda invasive about his sex life (?)

a/n: dodge and his mom being so open about her sex life was so funny to me. this is kinda the reverse of a canon conversation... kinda! also i had a dream i went to one of dodge’s rodeos but he was flirting with all the girls so he was my enemy for a few days <3

A midnight sky hung over Carp, Texas when you arrived at Dodge’s house. Dodge put a finger to his lips fruitlessly as the front gate creaked loudly. The curtains of the front room twitched.

A female voice came from inside the house, “Dodge’s brought a girl home!”

Shit.

“That’s Dana,” Dodge sighed, fiddling with his keys and rubbing his forehead with a tight smile. Before he turned the keys in the lock, he turned to you, “Sorry, in advance.”

Your brows screwed together as he guided you inside.

After the player’s ball, Heather disappeared and so you were left without a bed for the night. God forbid you sneak into your own house and face the wrath of your parents.

Dodge came to the rescue.

A sigh fell from his lips at the sight of his mom and sister waiting in the living room doorway with excited smiles and hooded eyes. They behaved more like sisters than mother and daughter. It was sweet.

A dim lamp on the entrance table and the bright colours of the TV cast shadows across the room.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” You smiled politely despite two pairs of unfamiliar eyes trained on you.

God they must think you’re here to sleep with him or something.

“Hi, sweetheart. I’m Jessica. You want something to drink?” Dodge’s mom raised her glass of red wine, “We’re watching Jeopardy.“

She was a very beautiful woman, cherub cheeks and bright green eyes. Dodge was all hard angles, he must take after his dad.

Dodge ducked into the sea-foam coloured kitchen to grab two waters from the refrigerator.

“I’m Dana!” His sister beamed. She shared an unspoken look with Dodge, who rolled his eyes. Before you could thank her, Dodge rejoined your side.

“She’s locked out and just wants somewhere to sleep,” He quelled their unspoken barrage of questions.

His mom nodded along, as if he was lying, “Okay well there’s spare blankets in the laundry room, condoms in the bathroom...”

“Oh my god,” Dodge cursed under his breath, “We’re going now.”

Jessica and Dana giggled behind their glasses of wine, the right side of drunk, “The book, Dodge.”

She winked with exaggeration, her filter totally gone with the amount she’d drank but she was clearly having a fun night in.

Dodge shook his head with a flustered laugh.

With a hand on your back, Dodge guided you to his bedroom. Your face flushed at the unexpected attention and the suggestive situation.

The two laughed rather loudly, saying how pretty you are and how Dodge will fair with a girl spending the night, for the first time you assumed.

The sound of the women stifling laughter echoed around the house. Dodge closed his bedroom door with a sheepish and apologetic smile.

His room was pretty plain; grey bedsheets, grey walls, rodeo trophies and medals, a bookshelf with framed photos on. It smelt like laundry soap and his cologne.

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” He offered, tossing his backpack onto the carpet.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t bite,” You teased, as you looked at his collection of trophies and books, “Plus they already think we’re fucking.”

Dodge gave a quick laugh, watching you read the spines on the shelf.

“What book was your mom talking about?” You turned to him and his face flushed.

“You heard that, huh?” He mumbled, “It was a joke really. She thinks she’s funny.”

Even more intrigued by his avoidance, you sized him up with squinted eyes.

Dodge cleared his throat, tidying away a pile of laundry sitting on his bed, “They uh… god this is… They used to worry about me with- with girls. They thought I was a virgin because I never brought girls home to meet them or anything… and so for Secret Santa one year I got a book about… women… My mom insists it wasn’t her and that whoever it was was trying to be funny…”

There was a long pause. Dodge shied away from your eyes, his body turned away from you, despite the little air of embarrassed laughter.

Dodge cleared his throat again, “Super weird, I know. She had kids super young and didn’t want us to make the same mistake. Not that me and Dana are mistakes but it was hard for her. She’s cool about that sorta thing though. Dana’s ex-boyfriend used to stay over all the time and she didn’t care. So if you’re worried, she won’t say anything about you being here or anything.”

Another bout of silence fell between you as Dodge assessed your features, his lips pursed and shoulders tight.

“I think that’s the most you’ve ever said to me,” You laughed and Dodge visibly relaxed.

“No, it’s cool. Not cool but, you know, I wish my family were cooler about sex. My dad saw your name in my phone and reached for his shotgun,” You laughed, “Anyway, a book is probably better than drunk hook ups at the lake.”

“Yeah probably,” Dodge nodded, leaning against the bookshelf, and there was a lull in the conversation.

“Oh… did you read it?” You giggled, a flush of red creeping up his neck and ears, “You did!”

“You can’t prove anything,” Dodge shook his head with a half-cocked smile.

“But you could,” You raised your eyebrows and he furrowed his. It was a joke, he knew that, but Dodge steeled his expression and licked his lips.

“Yeah?”

You kept your eyes on his for a long moment before smiling, “Yeah. Prove it.”

You reached out and rested a hand on his stomach. His abs were tight and lean under his button-up shirt.

One by one, you unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders, running your hands along the sturdy plane of his stomach and chest.

Conflicting thoughts ran through your head. Heather was like your sister and Natalie had been planning to win Panic for years.

Would fucking Dodge Mason, their competition, be a good idea?

Your judgement was clouded by the heat radiating from his skin and the smattering of hair on his chest. His dual coloured eyes watched your face as you stood before him, admiring him.

“I saw you like this at the jump but not up close,” You rested your hands on his shoulders, biting your lip, “Thank you, saddle bronc.”

Dodge couldn’t fight the smile that spread across his cheeks, as a sputtered laugh escaped his lips.

In one movement, Dodge threw you over his shoulder and deposited you on his bed, kneeling over you.

A soft line of kisses traced along your arm to your shoulder. With every press of his lips, you itched to feel them against yours, whining at the wait.

Pink and plump, his lips pressed to the corner of your mouth before he pulled back to look down at you, stilling hovering over you.

Taking his head in your hands, you craned your neck to kiss him. Each press of his lips had you sighing contently and the swipe of his tongue had you moaning.

Dodge licked into your mouth with fervour, tongue and lips colliding with no precision, only desire.

You hooked your leg over his hips and rolled him onto his back beneath you, straddling his hips.

Dodge instinctively gripped your hips and watched with kiss-bitten lips and doe eyes as you discarded your dress onto his bedroom floor.

“You gonna give me some tips, cowboy?”

Dodge groaned, your hands pressing against his chest, as he slowly guided the rocking of your hips against his.

With every roll of your hips, your tits bounced in the lacy cups of your bra. His eyes flickered between your chest and your pink panties, rubbing against his bulge.

Dodge groaned, tightening his grip on your hips, “Lean forward.”

Following his instructions, a loud moan escaped you at the change in pressure against your clit.

“Good girl, you’re doing so good,” He rumbled, rutting his hips against yours in a perfect rhythm. Warmth bloomed in your chest at his praise.

Thank you, saddle bronc.

His muscles rippled and bulged underneath your hands as the slick between your legs dampened the skin of your inner thighs.

Cupping a hand at the nape of your neck, Dodge guided your mouth to his, kissing you with pinched brows and deep groans. Pulling away from the heated make out and pressing a deep kiss to his lips, you sat up and unbuttoned his jeans.

Dodge lay back, stroking your thighs and watching you with bated breath. Pulling him from his trance, you hooked a finger into the elastic waistband of his boxers, twanging the material against his alabaster skin.

A smile twitched at his lips as he slowly sat up and kissed you softly, rolling you onto your back. Dodge pushed his jeans off and lay between your legs, the hard length of his cock pressing into your inner thigh.

Settling your hands on each other's heated skin, Dodge kissed you deeply and nipped at your bottom lip playfully. His strong arms wrapped around you, his hand palming at the globe of your ass.

Warm and plump lips mouthed at your neck, teeth tugging the strap of your bra from your shoulder and kissing at the newly bare skin. He unhooked your bra, tossing it onto the floor and laving his tongue at your pebbled nipples.

"Please, need you," You whined, clawing at his shoulders. Dodge pressed a final kiss to your chest before sitting on his haunches and pulling your panties down your legs.

With firm hands on your inner thighs, Dodge parted your legs and bit his lip, staring at your dripping sex. You squirmed under his undivided attention, hooking your calf around his waist and pulling him on top of you.

Kissing him deeply, you pushed his boxer briefs down his hips, dragging your nails across his back once his erection sprung free. The wet tip smacked against your heated skin.

Dodge kicked his boxers off and reached into his nightstand, tearing the foil of a condom wrapper with his teeth and rolling the rubber onto his cock.

Caressing his biceps, you watched as he hovered over you and lined himself against your entrance. You hooked a leg around his hip, gasping into his open mouth as he slowly thrust into you.

Dodge's eyes fluttered shut as his hips pressed flush against yours. A ragged breath escaped his lips, tickling the skin of your neck. Dropping his head to your shoulder, Dodge sighed shakily.

"C'mon cowboy," You rolled your hips, "Buck."

Dodge let out a mix of a soft groan and a laugh into your neck, "You feel really good."

A small giggle fell from you, scratching your fingers through his hair. You bucked your hips again and Dodge clamped a hand on your hip, pulling back and rolling his hips against you.

Picking up the pace, Dodge fucked his thick cock against the sensitive spot deep within your cunt. Sloppy wet sounds echoed around the room with each buck of his hips.

Sweat beaded on your skin as the coil within the pit of your stomach tightened. Your nails clawed at the rippling muscles of Dodge's back, his skin slapping against yours.

Groans tumbled from his lips, pressing heated kisses to your skin, silencing your loud moans with his tongue in your mouth.

Digging your heels into his ass, you tightened your legs around his hips, letting him push one against your chest and his cock sinked deeper into you.

A broken gasp escaped you before his hand clamped over your mouth and his hips stopped, pressing his weight onto you.

The sound of footsteps outside his door and the subsequent flicking of light switches and closing doors alerted Dodge to the presence of his mom going to bed.

Dodge met your eyes, willing you to be quiet, as he continued to fuck you. Your brows pinched together as your interrupted pleasure began to build again, noises muffled by his strong hand.

Pressing his forehead to yours, Dodge slowed his pace and you took the opportunity to turn him onto his back, keeping his cock nestled in your cunt.

A surprised grunt tumbled from his chest and his hands groped at your body, holding you against him. You wasted no time before raising your hips and bouncing on his cock.

Dodge moaned and his eyes rolled back, covering his own mouth. A sheen of sweat on his skin glistened in the limited light. Leaning forward, your clit caught against his pubes, igniting a hotter flame within you.

"Good," Dodge praised, brushing your hair out of your face and watching your tits bounce in his face, "Such a good cowgirl."

He tipped his head back further into his plush pillow and his knees bent off the bed, fucking into you, his body pulling taut at the impending release.

"Gonna cum," Dodge rasped, panting and licking his dry lips.

You couldn't form words, only nodding, meeting his eyes and rocking your hips with the uncoordinated buck of his. The band within you was one thread away from snapping before Dodge gripped your jaw and pulled you into a heated kiss.

White hot bliss coursed through your body as you moaned into his mouth. Dodge mouthed at your unresponsive mouth, too preoccupied with moans of pleasure to reciprocate his kisses.

Dodge pulled back to watch your orgasm wash over you before he hit his peak, white ropes of cum filling the condom as he groaned deeply.

Sinking into the mattress, you lay on his sweaty chest, both trying to catch your breath. Dodge discarded the condom in the trash by his bed and pulled you into his side.

His cheeks and neck were rosy with exertion and he ran a hand up and down your back, "You should try saddle bronc."

Fucked out, you laughed into his sweaty chest, "You should keep that book."

Slowly you drifted into a blissful sleep, bodies entwined and satiated.

[artdcnaldson]

okay but PLEASE elaborate on Olympics!Art AU

TeeHee

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: SMUT (p in v), feral obsessive behavior, infidelity

A/N: And you would do it too, that’s all I’m saying. Also IMPORTANT note: I love Tashi, she is a mother to many. However this fic has a very obsessive reader who just wants to fuck a married man, at Tashi’s expense

Maybe you were a bad person.

You’d met Art and Tashi Donaldson before— a year back at an event held for Tennis’ rising stars. That was you, some other guys who had done well in the Juniors, a girl from an Ivy League, and more people that fell into the blind spots of your interest..

You must’ve looked so sweet in your formalwear, approaching the couple with shaking hands so you could say just how big of a fan you were. You had no ill intent then, not when you were face to face with two people you’d idolized since you were twelve and watching the Junior US Open. That night you’d taken a deep breath as you stared at the ceiling of your home, feeling like you’d made it.

Sure, Art was handsome, and you’d lived the past decade harboring a massive celebrity crush on him, but he was married, he was untouchable. Art Donaldson oozed that sweet, devoted husband shtick. Anniversary posts, birthday posts, Valentine’s Day posts, Mother’s Day posts. He had a daughter, he posted about how much he loved being a dad.

You were fine accepting that your fantasies of fucking Art Donaldson were strictly fantasies. But that was before you qualified and had to see him every fucking day.

Art Donaldson, who held open doors for you, who talked to you casually, like he might an old friend. Art, who stood in the long line in the food court with you, ate something he probably shouldn’t have, and asked that you don’t tell Tashi.

And you’d smile conspiratorially, and assure him his secret was safe with you. The implication being that you’d keep that secret, and more. As many as he’d ask you to, really.

You’d see him on a practice court, running drills with his wife, and feel the heat of jealousy in the pit of your stomach. You’d turn away, focus on your own game, practice until your hands were aching and sore.

“Where’s Mrs. Donaldson?” You asked one night after you’d been sexiled and had to sit out in the hallway waiting for your roommate to finish up. Art leaned against the wall, standing tall above you, so you had to crane your neck. You liked that point of view, on your knees looking up at him, you wondered if he liked it too.

“Oh, she’s staying in a very nice, very expensive hotel room with our daughter right now,” he said with a grin. “As soon as my events are done, that’s where I’ll be too.”

“Oh,” you said, bringing an easy smile to your lips. “Well, we’re all glad you’re here now.”

“We?” He questioned.

You gave a coy smile, batting your lashes so sweetly. “Maybe just me.”

There was a strange expression on his face for just a moment. Then he laughed like it was nothing. He wished you a goodnight and good luck in your matches the next morning, and disappeared into his own room.

You medaled in women’s doubles. They published photos of you and your partner biting the silver between your teeth. That same day, Art Donaldson took home gold. You were there to see the very end of his last match— every single collision of racket against ball, every step, every grunt of exertion. Your thighs clenched as you watched, fists balled up in the fabric of your skirt.

You wanted him in a needy, desperate sort of way. Like a groupie for a rock band, or a virgin being sacrificed on a mountaintop. You watched him celebrate with a kiss from Tashi and felt that same need like an open wound. Jealousy was festering in you like a rot.

The dive bar wasn’t what you’d expected. Something Art had found with a quick google search and a few minutes with a translation app. He’d knocked on your door to invite you, wearing the beaming smile of someone on top of the world.

“So you’ll come?” He asked after he told you all about it.

“Mhmm,” you said, heart hammering against your ribs. “I’ll come.”

And there you were— in a dress that hardly qualified as such— standing so close to him that you could smell his expensive cologne. His arm would brush yours, he’d glance over and apologize with a warm hand to your arm. You’d clench your thighs together and peer at him through your lashes. It’s fine, don’t worry about it.

A few of the other players disappeared to play darts, or watch the late night coverage of the other sports still competing. You stuck by Art’s side, happily allowing his attention to fall on you completely.

“I saw parts of your doubles final,” he said finally. He was drinking a brand of beer you’d never seen before— something local, you supposed. “You looked beautiful out there.” Your eyes lit up, and then he added. “The way you were playing, I mean— it was phenomenal.”

“Well, I’m no gold medalist,” you said. You let your hand rest on his arm, and looked up at him. The fingers on your other hand toyed with the edge of the medal, warm from where it had been flush against his chest.

He swallowed. You felt his muscles flex beneath your touch, but he didn’t discourage it. Not one fucking bit.

It wasn’t lost on you that Tashi wasn’t there. Not that it was really her type of venue, from what you had gathered. It wasn’t lost on you that Art Donaldson was at a dive bar, drinking random Brazilian beers, instead of celebrating with his wife, with his daughter. Fuck all those posts on his instagram— if he really was a good husband, a faithful one… that’s the only place he’d want to be.

“I saw your match too. I ran right over after my ceremony to watch,” you confessed. It was hard to concentrate on anything else— you were standing so close to him that you were nearly pressed completely into his body.

His lips twitched in interest. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Mhmm. It was incredible. You were so dominant out there, just taking what was rightfully yours.”

He swallowed again, gravitating closer. Your tits were practically spilling out of your dress— he probably got the perfect eyeful when he eased you closer with a firm hand on your lower back, when he looked down at you through blown pupils.

“You looked so fucking hot out there, Art,” you said, lips brushing against his jawline. “You can’t even imagine how it felt sitting there, watching you win. How turned on I got… how wet.”

Art exhaled a shuddery breath. “Jesus Christ.”

It must’ve been a while since he had someone want him this bad, you thought. Clearly he needed it— needed a pretty, sweet thing to tell him just how much they wanted him. You could be that. You could do that.

“I’m not wearing panties,” you whispered in his ear. His grip on you tightened and you had to suppress a giddy smile. “You can feel if you want. I won’t tell.”

He swore under his breath and glanced around. Everyone was too occupied or drunk to give a shit about what the two of you were up to.

He grabbed your hand, pulled you away into the bathroom. You looked pretty even then, in the flickering lights, sat up on the edge of the sink eagerly awaiting his attention.

When he wrenched your thighs apart, he was greeted by the pretty sight of your glistening cunt— sticky with arousal and need. His hand fit there perfectly, right where you needed it.

“Fuck,” you gasped. His fingers rubbed through your slit— wet and hot and aching for him. Your head fell back, knocking against the dirty mirror. “Want you to use me— whatever you want, just take it.”

And you meant it too. This was your teenage idol— a man you’d touched yourself to the thought of countless times. He owned your body, your sexuality, as much as you did. It was only fair he took from it whatever he pleased.

You watched with hungry eyes as he fumbled with the button of his pants, then shoved them down just enough to free his dick.

Your mouth fucking watered with the need to feel it on your tongue, nudging against the back of your throat. You weren’t opposed to begging— you nearly started before you got it into your hand.

Warm, thick, pulsing. Precum beaded at his tip, so you smeared it around the sensitive head of his cock with your thumb. He groaned, bucked into your fist once, twice before he moved your hand.

“Spread your legs wider for me,” he said, slapping the inside of your thighs. You obeyed wordlessly, spreading yourself out invitingly. He pressed closer, so you felt him rutting his dick against your pussy, coating it in your arousal. “God, you’re so fucking wet.”

The words came out with equal parts disgust and awe. He probably thought you were a slut with the way you were throwing yourself at him. You wished he’d just call you that, spit it in your face.

Your cunt pulsed with need, aching to be filled up finally. The culmination of years of fantasizing. Art pressed himself against your entrance, sinking himself into you with the slow reverence of a man who liked making love.

He buried himself inside of you and had to stop moving to keep from cumming then and there. He was a perfect image of restraint— the way his fingers dimpled the flesh of your hips in a bruising grip.

Art wanted to be a gentleman— to give you time to adjust to the size of him, to ease you into it and let the pleasure be a slow, soft burn. He pulled out nice and easy, slid himself into your wet, throbbing cunt. That was all fine and good, but you knew it was just pretense. You were laid out and wanting, begging for him to use you as his own personal toy.

“I’m not your wife, Art.” You met his gaze, locked your ankles around his waist. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

The first thrust, the first real one, knocked the air from your lungs. That silence didn’t last long— because you got what you wanted— he was really fucking you, bullying his cock into your pussy with the same need and desperation that you felt.

“Jesus Christ, you’ve— fuck— you’ve got no fucking self respect, huh?” He pounded into you, leveraging his grip to pull you against him, really impale you on his dick.

The moan that escaped you was pornographic. If he kept talking to you like that, if he kept fucking you like that, you’d cum.

“You don’t even care, do you? This fucking pussy’s squeezing me so tight— you fucking love this,” His voice was strained, interrupted by groans and pants.

You moaned, eyes rolling back. “Love this,” you echoed. When you looked down, at the sight of him splitting you open, of the ring of creamy arousal circling the base of his dick, you felt dizzy. Like you were standing on top of a tall building and looking down. Sort of out of body, tethered in the present by brutal thrusts into your pussy and the wet, slapping sounds of your bodies joining.

Your fingers moved between your thighs, rubbing needy and insistent at your clit. So close to finishing that you wanted to cry and just ask to start over again, that you’d savor it more a second time.

“Gonna cum,” he groaned suddenly. You felt him start to pull out, to leave. It wasn’t fucking fair.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck— not yet, you didn’t want it to end like that. “I have an IUD,” you lied through your teeth. You used your legs, pulled him closer, deeper. “Just keep going, don’t stop. I’m right there.”

He moaned against your throat— holding you tight, fucking into you with animal need. Your fingers moved against your clit with an insistent need. It didn’t take much to push you over the edge. Your moans so loud that Art had to put his medal between your lips to shut you up.

And you were so pliant— letting him drill into your aching, used cunt, your mouth tasting like metal. You felt his rhythm falter— one, two harsh thrusts that knocked muffled moans from you until he came, painting your insides thick, creamy white.

He stayed buried inside of you for a while— panting, doing his best to catch his breath. You spat out the medal and it fell back against his chest, spit slick and shining. You reached up, ran your fingers along his face, reverently, sweetly. A lock of hair fell into his eyes and you tucked it away with delicate fingers.

When he pulled out, you felt that sinking feeling of loss and jealousy in your chest. He redressed in silence, turned away like he couldn’t stand to look at you, or the mirror. Shame rolled off of him in waves that you wanted to brush away.

It wasn’t bad, you’d assure him. You’re a tennis star, you’re the greatest in the world. You should have whatever you want, whenever you want it.

But you didn’t say that. You just tidied yourself up as best as you could and slipped back out into the bar. If anyone noticed, they said nothing.