#team rocket time baby

[red-rover-au]

@less-depresso-more-espresso and I stumbled on a god tier concept

The Poison Eaterz episodically try (and fail) to capture Red and bring her back to their Draxum 😁

[writingbuckets]

𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧-𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫

paige bueckers x reader

wc: 6.8k

synopsis: Y/N and Paige Bueckers are caught in a tense moment after Paige’s jealousy and neglect come to a head. With emotions running high, both struggle to navigate their complicated feelings, forcing them to confront the future of their relationship.

warnings: angst, jealousy, explicit sexual content, slight manipulation, possessiveness, dom/sub dynamics, slight violence (physical restraint)

a/n: i present to you... jealous paige bc this is one of my favorite tropes literally ever! this was 16 pages on google docs so i apologize for that, gonna go through all my posts and add warnings to them so i shall see you later <3

You’re sprawled out on your bed, limbs heavy against the soft blanket, phone clutched in one hand. The screen casts a faint glow in the dim room, illuminating the furrow of frustration etched into your brow. Your thumb idly scrolls through your message thread with Paige—a barren wasteland of unanswered texts. Each message feels like a tiny stone dropped into the pit of your stomach, adding to the growing weight.

Monday

Hey, how’d practice go? You alive?

Wednesday

I know you’re busy, but can we talk soon? Paige?

Friday

Cool. Guess I’ll take the hint.

You sigh heavily, locking your phone and tossing it onto the bed beside you. The device bounces slightly before settling face down, but your mind refuses to let it go. A sharp buzz suddenly cuts through the silence, jolting your heart into a sprint. For a fleeting moment, hope flickers. You snatch up the phone, only for disappointment to flood in when Jasmine’s name lights up the screen instead.

You swipe to answer, switching to speaker and tossing it back on the bed. “What’s up, Jas?” you say, your tone flat and lacking its usual warmth.

“Clearly not you,” Jasmine replies, her voice teasing but tinged with concern. “You sound like someone kicked your puppy. Is this about Paige again?”

You pause, chewing on your bottom lip, the weight of your emotions threatening to spill over.

“She’s been ghosting me all week,” you finally admit, bitterness seeping into your voice like a slow drip. “I get that basketball keeps her busy, but is it really that hard to send one text? Like, ‘Hey, sorry, can’t talk right now’? That’s all I’m asking. It’s not rocket science.”

Jasmine’s incredulous tone comes through loud and clear. “Wait. She hasn’t responded at all? Not even a quick ‘Hey, I’m swamped’?”

“Not a word,” you reply, the edge in your voice sharpening. “Meanwhile, she’s out here talking about how much she likes me and how she wants to make things work. For what? So I can sit here, feeling like a damn afterthought, while she… I don’t even know what she’s doing anymore.”

“You deserve so much better,” Jasmine says firmly, her voice a grounding presence.

“Tell me about it,” you mutter, picking up your phone again despite yourself. It’s a reflex, a bad habit you can’t seem to break. You open Instagram, swiping through stories without purpose, when something stops you cold.

KK’s latest post dominates the screen. It’s a picture of the team crammed into a booth at Ted’s, smiles wide and carefree. Paige is smack in the middle, holding up Dirty Shirley, her grin so effortless it’s like she hasn’t ignored a single text in her life. She looks happy. Relaxed. Completely unbothered.

The caption reads: “Dubs only, baby! Turnt up with the squad 🏀.”

Your grip on the phone tightens as heat rises to your cheeks. Your jaw clenches involuntarily. So, she has time for this? Time to party, to hang out with her team, to go to Ted’s of all places—your spot—but can’t find two seconds to acknowledge you?

“Unbelievable,” you mutter under your breath, the words simmering with anger.

“What happened?” Jasmine’s voice snaps you back to reality.

“She’s at Ted’s,” you say through gritted teeth. “With the team. Laughing, drinking, looking like life is perfect while I’m over here wondering if she fell off the face of the Earth.”

“Oh, hell no,” Jasmine says, her indignation matching your own. “She thinks she can ignore you and get away with it? Nope. Get up, put on your hottest outfit, and remind her who the hell you are.”

You sit up, heart pounding as the idea takes root. Your glare is fixed on KK’s post, as if staring at it hard enough might erase the image entirely. Locking your phone, you toss it onto the bed before swinging your legs over the side.

“You know what?” you say, your voice steady and laced with resolve. “Maybe I will.”

The moment you’ve had enough, something shifts inside you—like a fire being reignited. The frustration that’s been simmering all evening finally boils over, and you grab your phone with newfound determination. Sitting upright on your bed, you unlock the screen, your fingers flying across the keyboard with practiced ease.

Y’all down for Ted’s tonight? Need backup.

The message is direct, no frills. This isn’t just a night out—it’s a mission.

Jasmine’s reply comes almost instantly, as if she’s been waiting for an excuse to hit the town. Say less. On my way in 20. Her energy is palpable even through a text.

Seconds later, Veronica chimes in: I’m in. Let’s cause some trouble. Her signature wink emoji follows, and you can’t help but smirk.

Finally, Serena’s response lights up your screen with a single word: Bet. Short, sweet, and packed with confidence.

With your friends locked in, you toss your phone onto the bed and head straight to your closet. It’s time to make a statement—one that’s impossible to ignore. You stand in front of your wardrobe, fingers brushing over hangers as you mentally critique each option. Too casual. Too plain. Too predictable.

After what feels like an eternity, your hand lands on the one. It’s bold, sleek, and undeniably sexy—a figure-hugging dress that accentuates all the right places and practically demands attention. You pull it off the hanger, holding it up in front of the mirror. The deep color complements your skin perfectly, and the hem does the absolute minimum in covering the bottom of your ass.

You slip into it carefully, smoothing the fabric over your body and adjusting it until it fits like a second skin. Taking a step back, you examine yourself in the mirror, tilting your head as a small smile plays on your lips. You look good. No—scratch that. You look amazing. But tonight, looking amazing isn’t enough. You want to turn heads. You want Paige to feel it.

Not done yet, you move to your vanity, flipping on the lights. Your makeup bag sits waiting, and you dive in with practiced precision. First, a flawless base, smooth and glowing, like your skin was kissed by the perfect Instagram filter. You follow with a contour that defines your features, giving you a sharp, sculpted look. Then comes the winged liner, bold and dramatic, with a flick so precise it could cut glass. Smokey eyeshadow enhances the look, making your gaze impossible to ignore, and a high-shine gloss adds the perfect finishing touch to your lips.

You lean back, giving yourself a final once-over in the mirror. Every detail is on point, down to the faint shimmer of highlighter catching the light on your cheekbones. It’s flawless, if you do say so yourself.

As you’re spritzing on your favorite perfume—a scent both intoxicating and unforgettable—your phone buzzes again. Jasmine’s text reads: Outside. Let’s do this.

You slip on your favorite pair of chunky, heeled boots, the ones that make you feel like you own every room you walk into, and grab your bag. The rhythmic click of your heels on the pavement mirrors your determination as you stride out to Jasmine’s car.

Sliding into the passenger seat, you’re met with a low whistle from Jasmine. “Damn, girl,” she says, giving you an approving once-over. “Are you trying to destroy someone tonight?”

You smirk as you buckle your seatbelt, tossing your bag onto your lap. “Not destroy. Just remind a certain someone what she’s about to lose.”

Jasmine’s laugh fills the car as she reaches over for a fist bump. “Now that is the energy I needed. She won’t know what hit her.”

The ride to Ted’s feels electric. The bass of the music pulses through the car, a perfect soundtrack to your rising confidence. Jasmine keeps hyping you up the whole way, stealing glances at you every so often.

“You look so good, you’re probably going to start a fight,” she teases with a grin.

You meet her eyes with a smirk, adjusting a strand of hair in the mirror. “Good,” you say, your voice dripping with confidence. “Let her be mad. She’s got it coming.”

Jasmine’s laughter rings out, blending with the music as the two of you pull into the crowded parking lot. The neon sign for Ted’s glows against the night sky, and the hum of voices and laughter spills out into the cool evening air.

You step out of the car with purpose, adjusting your outfit one last time as your heels click against the asphalt. One final glance in the car’s side mirror confirms what you already know: you’re a vision, and tonight, you’re a force to be reckoned with.

Ted’s won’t know what hit it. And neither will Paige.

The low buzz of voices and the faint clinking of glasses hit you the moment you step into Ted’s. The warm glow of string lights overhead bathes the packed bar in a golden hue, and the energy in the room is palpable—loud laughter, animated conversations, and the occasional cheer erupting from the direction of the pool table. Your heels click against the floor as you make your way in with Jasmine, Veronica, and Serena flanking you like a well-coordinated squad. 

It doesn’t take long to spot her. Paige is exactly where you expected, seated in a large booth near the back with Azzi, KK, Ice, and Jana. She’s dressed casually, black denim shorts, a black crop top, and an unbuttoned, white shirt, but she might as well be wearing a neon sign with the way she draws attention. She’s laughing, leaning back with her arm draped casually over the seat, completely at ease. You can see the sparkle in her eyes from here, even as she remains blissfully unaware of your presence.

The sight makes your stomach twist, but you shake it off. Tonight isn’t about Paige. At least that’s what you tell yourself.

“Let’s hit the bar,” you say, keeping your voice steady as you lead your friends in the opposite direction, deliberately ignoring the booth and the person in it.

The bartender greets you with a smile, and you order a couple rounds of shots for your group, letting Jasmine and the others hype you up as you throw them back the second they’re placed in front of you. Once you feel enough of a buzz to quell your anxiety, you decide to settle for a mixed drink to sip on for the remainder of the night. It isn’t long before you notice someone approaching, a tall, athletic-looking girl with broad shoulders and an easy grin. She’s wearing a fitted T-shirt and jeans, and the confidence in her stride is unmistakable.

“Hey,” she says, leaning against the bar. Her voice is low, smooth. “You look like you’re having more fun than anyone else here.”

You flash her a smile, tilting your head slightly. “You could say that.”

Her grin widens, and she introduces herself, launching into a conversation that you quickly match. Her compliments come freely—your outfit, your laugh, even the way you carry yourself—and you don’t hold back, laughing a little louder than usual and letting your fingers brush against her arm as you talk.

Across the booth, KK nudges Paige, a look of concern flickering across her face. “Uh, hey, isn’t that Y/N?” she says, nodding toward the bar.

Paige’s head snaps toward KK, her expression darkening as she follows her teammate’s line of sight. Her brows knit together as she takes in the scene—your effortless smile, the way you lean into the girl’s space, her hand resting on the bar just a little too close to yours. She recognizes the look in your eyes, it’s the same look she was on the receiving end of the first night you met.

“Yeah,” Paige says shortly, her voice clipped. She sets her drink down with more force than necessary, her grip tightening around the glass before she looks away.

Meanwhile, you pretend not to notice the silent storm brewing across the room. You keep your focus on the girl in front of you, leaning in just enough to keep the conversation flowing, though you can feel the heat of Paige’s jealousy from where you stand. It sends a thrill through you, equal parts satisfaction and spite.

As the girl laughs at something you’ve said, you turn your head to the side slightly, trying to catch a glance at the booth where Paige sits. Out of the corner of your eye, you see her tense, her hand balling into a fist on the table as she murmurs something to Azzi.

You can feel it in the air, Paige is reaching her breaking point. And that’s exactly what you wanted.

Paige sits stiffly in the booth, her grip on her drink tightening as her knuckles blanch. Her jaw works furiously, muscles twitching as if she’s holding back an eruption. The sound of your laugh, airy and effortless, cuts through the din of the bar, and Paige’s eyes flicker with barely concealed rage. Her teammates exchange uneasy glances, sensing the storm brewing beside them.

Azzi nudges KK and leans in. “Uh, is she okay?”

KK shrugs, her voice low. “I don’t think so.”

Paige suddenly stands, her movements sharp and deliberate. The scrape of her chair against the floor draws their attention.

“Where are you going?” Azzi asks, concern softening her voice.

Paige doesn’t look at her, her gaze fixed like a laser on you across the room. “I’ll be back,” she mutters, her voice clipped.

She doesn’t wait for a response, weaving through the crowd with purpose. Her steps are quick, her shoulders tight, and her eyes never leave you. You’re at the bar, leaning casually against the counter, completely absorbed in your conversation with the tall, athletic-looking girl beside you. The girl leans in close, her hand grazing your arm as she says something that makes you throw your head back with a laugh.

Paige’s chest tightens, and the corners of her vision blur with the heat of her jealousy. Each second feels like an eternity as she closes the distance, her blood boiling at the sight of the stranger getting a little too comfortable with you.

When she reaches you, she doesn’t pause to think. Her arm snakes around your waist in one swift motion, pulling you firmly against her side. The sudden contact makes you gasp, your conversation abruptly cut off. The flirty girl takes a step back, startled and clearly intimidated by Paige’s possessive presence.

“We’re leaving,” Paige says, her tone low and commanding. Her words are sharp enough to slice through the tension in the air.

You turn your head sharply, blinking in surprise as your eyes meet hers. The fire in her gaze burns so brightly it could scorch you, but you’re too stubborn to back down. “Now you have time to talk to me?” you ask, drawing the sentence out with deliberate sarcasm. “I think I’m fine right here.”

Paige’s jaw ticks, but she doesn’t respond. Instead, her arm tightens around your waist, her fingers pressing firmly into your side. It’s a silent warning, one you choose to ignore as you plant your feet against her attempts to steer you toward the door.

“Paige, what the hell?” you protest, your voice rising with irritation.

“Not here,” she snaps, her tone cold and final. Her grip remains unrelenting as she continues to lead you away from the bar.

Your friends notice the commotion, Jasmine standing halfway out of her seat. “Y/N, are you good?” she calls, her brows furrowed with concern.

You twist in Paige’s hold just enough to look back at them, throwing a hand up in a dismissive wave. “I’ll text you!” you shout over your shoulder, your voice dripping with frustration.

Paige doesn’t slow her pace until the two of you are outside, the cool night air biting at your skin. She releases you near her car, and you immediately step back, glaring at her.

“Seriously, Paige?” you snap, your voice sharp as you cross your arms over your chest. “You think you can just show up, ruin my night, and drag me out like this?”

Paige’s nostrils flare as she turns to face you fully, her expression thunderous. “I think I just did.”

Eventually you arrive at her apartment, and she has to practically pull you out of her car by your arm. The second you step into Paige’s entryway, you rip your arm out of her grip with enough force to make her stumble slightly. You spin around to face her, your chest heaving with frustration. The door slams shut behind you, echoing through the space like a gunshot.

“What the hell is your problem, Paige?” you shout, your voice cutting through the silence like a blade. Your words are sharp, fueled by anger that’s been simmering for days.

Paige whirls around to face you, her face already twisted in fury. “My problem?” she fires back, her voice rising to match yours, letting out a humorless chuckle. “You’re out there all over some random girl, and you’re asking me what my problem is?”

You take a step closer, refusing to back down. “Yeah, I am! Because you ignore me all week, and the second I talk to someone else, you suddenly care? Make it make sense, Paige!”

She runs both hands through her hair, pacing in jerky, frustrated strides between the door and the counter. “Do you know how insane it made me to see you with her?” she snaps, her words laced with raw, unfiltered emotion. “Laughing, touching her, looking like you were having the time of your life? Like I didn’t even exist?”

You laugh bitterly, the sound sharp and humorless as you cross your arms over your chest. “That’s rich, Paige. At least she actually talked to me, which is more than I’ve gotten from you in weeks.”

The room feels charged, every word hanging heavy in the air, but Paige isn’t done. She steps forward again, her voice low and rough with frustration. “You think I don’t care? You think I don’t want to talk to you? You’re all over her, touching her like it doesn’t matter, and it’s driving me crazy—"

“Gee, sounds like you finally get it,” you fire back, your words sharp with bitterness. “But hey, don’t worry, I’ll stop talking to people if it’ll make you feel better. Maybe next time, I’ll just sit in the corner and wait for you to remember I’m here, like some sad little backup plan.”

You turn your head, preparing to walk out, but before you can take a single step, Paige’s hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist with a force that stops you in your tracks. Your heart pounds in your chest as you turn to face her, ready to throw another snarky remark her way.

But before you can speak, she’s there, bringing her hands to grab both sides of your face, her lips crashing into yours with an intensity that takes you by surprise. You freeze for a split second, then instinct kicks in. You try to pull away, pushing against her chest with as much force as you can muster.

But she doesn’t let up. Her kiss deepens, her hand sliding to the back of your neck, keeping you in place. The anger you’ve been carrying fades, replaced with confusion and something else you can’t quite name. You can feel her tension, her frustration, her need for something—maybe an answer, maybe redemption.

She slides one of her hands down to anchor around the front of your throat, her other hand drifting to grab at your hip through the thin material of your dress. She slowly starts to back you towards her kitchen, not stopping until the top of your ass is pressing against the island counter. She brings both hands to your hips, tapping the side of your ass with one hand, encouraging you to jump, and roughly squeezing your hip with the other.

A soft gasp escapes your lips as she lifts you effortlessly onto the cool marble countertop. Her hands slide possessively up your thighs, pushing the hem of your dress higher. She steps forward, wedging herself between your parted legs.

"You look so fucking good in this dress," she says, her voice low and thick with desire. One hand slips under the fabric to caress the bare skin of your hip while the other tangles in your hair, tugging your head back to expose the column of your throat.

She dips her head, warm breath ghosting over your sensitive skin before her lips press against your racing pulse. Your back arches as she nips at the delicate skin, soothing the pinch with her tongue and surely leaving a mark. A breathy moan fills the air and it takes you a moment to realize it came from you. 

Her lips trail lower, peppering hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone. You shiver as her tongue flicks out to taste your skin. The hand on your hip slides inward, fingertips skimming teasingly along the inside of your thigh. 

You wrap your legs around her waist, pulling her in closer, desperate for more contact. She chuckles darkly against your throat, the vibrations sending sparks of pleasure racing down your spine. "I love it when you get like this," she murmurs approvingly. "All desperate and needy."

To punctuate her point, she rolls her hips, grinding against your center. The pressure and friction draw a keening whimper from your lips. Your hands fly up to grip her strong shoulders, nails digging into taut muscle through her shirt. 

Her lips glide over your skin, a delicate yet fervent touch, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. As she moves up from your jawline, each kiss ignites a spark, and her breath, hot and teasing, touches your neck, sending shivers racing down your spine. "I've been thinking about having you like this all night," she murmurs.

You whimper as her hands skim higher, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts through the thin fabric. She captures your lips in a searing kiss, tongue delving deep to claim your mouth, leaving you breathless and aching for more. 

She reaches up to pull your dress down, revealing your bare breasts. Her lips immediately latch onto one of your nipples, sucking and biting it gently. You arch into her touch, a moan escaping your parted lips as she places full attention on the sensitive bud. Her tongue flicks and swirls, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. 

Her other hand palms your neglected breast, kneading the supple flesh. She rolls the pebbled nipple between her fingers, pinching and tugging in time with the ministrations of her mouth, each pull sending another rush of heat flooding your body.

"So pretty, baby," she says, the words vibrating against your skin. She gives your nipple one last hard suck before trailing her lips across your chest to the other breast, circling her tongue around the straining peak. Her mouth is relentless, her tongue swirling and flicking over your nipple until it’s aching, her teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp. Her free hand slides down your stomach, fingers tracing the curve of your hip before slipping between your thighs. You’re already wet, your panties soaked through, and she groans against your skin as her fingers brush over the damp fabric.

Your head falls back as you cry out, hands fisting in her silky hair to hold her close. She smirks against your skin, clearly enjoying the reactions she's pulling from your trembling body. Your back arches involuntarily, pressing your body closer to hers as you desperately seek more of her touch, the sound of her soft chuckle making you shudder with pleasure.

"Patience," she whispers, the word barely audible as her fingers trace lazy circles around your clit through the lace of your underwear. The sensation is frustrating, and you can't help but whimper, your hips bucking involuntarily in search of more contact.

You can feel the wetness pooling between your legs, your body responding to her touch in ways you never thought possible. You already know she's jealous, you saw the way she looked at you earlier when you were talking to that other girl. But you can't help but feel thrilled at the way she's touching you now, as if she's trying to claim you as her own.

You lean back on your hands, your eyes locked on Paige's as she continues to tease you. Her gaze is intense, fiery, and you can see the possessiveness in her eyes. It sends a thrill down your spine, making you even more turned on. 

"You're mine," Paige murmurs, her voice low and husky, filled with an undeniable possessiveness. The words send a thrill throughout your body, making your heart race with excitement. “Say it.”

"I'm yours," you whisper back, your voice barely audible as the tension builds within you. You can feel the pressure growing more and more intense, your body aching for release. 

Paige's fingers finally slip under the waistband of your underwear, making contact with your sensitive skin. The feeling is electrifying, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. You cry out, your hips bucking wildly as she begins to stroke you. Her touch is firm and confident, her fingers expertly finding your most sensitive spots.

You feel yourself teetering on the edge of orgasm, your body trembling with anticipation. Paige's gaze is locked on yours, her eyes filled with a fierce intensity that makes you feel both vulnerable and powerful at the same time.

She leans in, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers, "Come for me, baby."

And with those words, you finally let go, your body convulsing with pleasure as you cry out her name. Paige holds you close, her fingers still moving rhythmically as you ride out your orgasm. As the waves of your orgasm begin to subside, Paige pulls her fingers away from your clit. 

Before you can fully catch your breath, Paige is on you again. She moves with a speed and agility that takes you by surprise, pushing your back onto the counter with a force that leaves you momentarily stunned.

Your body splayed out beneath her, you feel a thrill of excitement run through you. You're completely at her mercy, and the thought is intoxicating. Paige's hand makes its way back to your throat, her grip firm and unyielding. She pins you to the counter by your throat, her body pressing against yours as she holds you in place.

You gasp at the sudden change in position, your heart racing with a combination of fear and excitement. The feeling of being completely dominated by Paige is both terrifying and exhilarating, sending a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. 

Paige's other hand slides back between your legs, her fingers finding your entrance with ease. You can feel yourself growing wetter with each passing moment, your body responding instinctually to her touch. She finds your g-spot easily, her fingers curling and pressing against it with just the right amount of pressure. You moan softly, your hips bucking as she begins to stroke you, her movements slow and deliberate at first, before building up to a feverish pace. 

But she’s not content with just bringing you to orgasm. She wants to claim you, to mark you as hers in every way possible. And as she continues to finger you, her grip on your throat tightening ever so slightly, you know that you're completely and utterly hers.

Paige's movements become more insistent, her fingers moving faster and harder as she brings you closer and closer to the edge. You can feel yourself teetering on the brink of another orgasm, your body writhing and bucking beneath her touch. Your breath comes in short, ragged gasps as she continues, her movements growing more frantic as she feels your body starting to give in to the pleasure. “Paige, I can’t… it’s too much.”

“Nah, baby, I’ve been so mean to you this week, I just wanna make it up to you.” You moan louder now, your voice echoing through the room as Paige brings you to new heights of pleasure. Your body feels like it's on fire, every nerve ending sparking with pleasure. “C’mon, I know you can take it.”

And then, with one final stroke, you reach the peak of your orgasm, your body convulsing and shaking as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you. Paige's fingers continue to move inside you, prolonging your orgasm and sending you spiraling into new heights of ecstasy. When it's all over, you collapse back onto the counter, your body spent and satisfied. Paige pulls her fingers away, a satisfied smirk on her face as she looks down at you, bringing her fingers to her mouth to suck at the remnants of your orgasm.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you snap, your voice sharper than you intended, though the heat in your cheeks betrays your embarrassment. You quickly move to fix your dress, suddenly feeling self-conscious now that the moment is over.

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” Paige replies, her voice steady but softer than usual. Still, her gaze doesn’t waver, her blue eyes fixed on you.

The silence in the apartment feels suffocating, filled with the weight of everything unspoken. The distant hum of the refrigerator is the only sound, an almost mocking contrast to the charged tension between you. Sitting on the edge of the kitchen counter, you swing your legs idly, trying to feign a casualness you don’t feel. The cool surface beneath you does little to soothe the heat creeping up your neck as Paige stands in front of you, close enough that her presence seems to fill the room.

When you finally look at her, expecting that same smug, self-satisfied smirk she’s perfected, you’re caught off guard. Her expression isn’t cocky; it’s something else entirely. The spark of amusement is gone, replaced by something heavier, something raw. Her blue eyes hold yours, steady and searching, as if she’s trying to find the words buried somewhere between you.

Paige shifts slightly, her hands resting on the counter on either side of your thighs. She takes a breath, her chest rising and falling in a way that betrays the steady confidence she usually exudes. For a split second, it feels like the world narrows down to just this moment, just the two of you.

Her voice finally breaks the silence, low and uncharacteristically serious. “You know we need to talk about everything.”

The words hang between you, heavy and undeniable. Her tone is firm but carries a vulnerability that makes your stomach twist. She’s not brushing this off or dancing around it like you half-expected. No teasing grin, no playful deflection—just a directness that makes it impossible to pretend this is something you can both walk away from unscathed.

Paige shifts her weight slightly, standing even closer now, the space between your legs shrinking until there’s barely any left. The warmth of her body radiates against you, and you suddenly feel hyper aware of every inch of space she occupies. Her eyes don’t leave yours, and you can tell she’s waiting, giving you the chance to push her away—or pull her closer.

But the way she looks at you, so open and unguarded, makes it hard to do either. It’s a stark contrast to the Paige who had been ignoring your texts all week, and yet, it feels so achingly familiar. You’re torn between wanting to stay guarded and giving in to the pull of the moment. Finally, you arch an eyebrow, your voice steady despite the swirl of emotions threatening to surface.

“Okay,” you say, your tone more challenging than you intended. “Start talking.”

Paige’s shoulders stiffen, and for a second, you think she might retreat into that wall of stoicism she hides behind so well. But then her jaw tightens, and she steps even closer, her closeness making your nervousness spike, but you don’t flinch, meeting her gaze head-on.

“I can’t stand seeing you with someone else,” she says, her words thick with frustration. “I don’t want you flirting, laughing, or even looking at anyone but me. I want you, Y/N. Only you. I want us to be exclusive. I’ll do better. Just… don’t ever do that again.”

Your breath catches, and you almost flinch at how accurately her words cut to the truth. Still, you say nothing, giving her the space to continue.

“I messed up,” she begins, her voice quiet but deliberate. “I know I’ve been distant. I know I’ve made you feel like you’re not important to me, like basketball or… anything else in my life comes before you.”

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest as you try to maintain your composure, the snarky defense you’ve built up around yourself threatening to crack. You cross your arms, fighting to keep the sarcasm in your voice, even though your insides are a tangled mess of emotions.

“Exclusive, huh?” you challenge, your voice sharp, almost taunting, as you raise an eyebrow. Your arms are crossed tightly over your chest, creating a barrier between you and the vulnerability she’s suddenly laying at your feet. “And what happens when basketball gets in the way again? When I’m just another item on your to-do list?”

Paige flinches, just barely, but you catch it. The slight crack in her usually unshakable confidence stirs something in you—satisfaction, maybe, or guilt. You can’t quite tell. Her jaw tightens, the muscles working as if she’s biting back the first response that comes to mind. Instead, her gaze shifts, no longer carrying the frustration or defensiveness you’ve grown used to. Instead, there’s something softer, rawer, in the way she looks at you now. The intensity of her eyes locks you in place, her expression quietly pleading yet resolute.

“I’m not going to let that happen again,” Paige says, her voice low and steady. “I know I’ve screwed up before. I’ve made you feel like you’re not a priority, like you’re just… there, waiting for me to fit you in.” She pauses, the weight of her own admission hanging heavily between you. “But that’s not how I see you. That’s not what I want us to be.”

Her words hit you harder than you expected. There’s no rehearsed apology, no empty promises. Just a raw honesty that feels like she’s peeling back the layers she’s kept hidden from everyone else. Your heart twists, torn between holding onto your frustration and the pull of what she’s offering.

You narrow your eyes, unwilling to let her off the hook so easily. “And how do I know this isn’t just another one of your moments? That it won’t be the same cycle all over again?”

Paige exhales, her shoulders rising and falling with the weight of your skepticism. “Because I don’t want to lose you,” she says simply, her tone almost breaking. “Because when I saw you with her tonight, it felt like the ground was being ripped out from under me. I don’t want to feel that again, Y/N. I don’t want you to ever feel like you’re not enough, or that you’re not worth my time.”

You’re still sitting on the counter, and the height difference gives you a brief sense of power, though it doesn’t last long under the intensity of her gaze.

“You’re not some item on a list,” she continues, her voice softening as she tilts her head to meet your eyes. “You’re the list, Y/N. You’re the one thing that matters more than all of it. And if that means I have to rearrange my life, show up differently, or prove it to you every single day, then that’s what I’ll do.”

The vulnerability in her words catches you off guard. For a moment, all the anger and bitterness you’ve been clinging to starts to loosen its grip. Still, you’re not ready to let her win that easily. You raise an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly as if to study her, daring her to flinch under your scrutiny.

“You’re really laying it on thick, Bueckers,” you quip, though the usual sharpness in your tone is softened by the faintest hint of a smirk.

Paige’s lips twitch upward, a flicker of her usual confidence returning. “That’s because I mean it,” she counters, her voice steady. “I’m not going to let you walk away from this—not without fighting for you.”

You’re quiet for a moment, the air between you charged with unspoken feelings and the lingering tension of everything that’s gone unsaid for far too long.

“So, you’re telling me I’m the priority now?” you ask, your voice quieter this time, a little softer, though you keep your arms crossed in a weak attempt to shield yourself. There’s hesitation in your tone, an uncertainty you can’t quite hide, but the words still slip past your lips. “Not basketball, not your schedule, not the team?”

Paige doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t waver. Her blue eyes hold yours with an intensity that pins you in place, her conviction written all over her face. “Yes,” she says, her voice steady, as though the truth of it is something she’s carried for a long time. “You. Only you, Y/N.”

You look down at where her hands rest, then back up to meet her eyes—those piercing blue eyes that seem to hold nothing but honesty and a hint of fear, as if she’s bracing for your rejection. Your defenses falter. The weight of her confession, the raw emotion in her voice, the way she’s standing there, so vulnerable—it all seeps into the cracks of your resolve. Slowly, your arms drop to your sides, the tension in your shoulders easing as you exhale a shaky breath.

“Paige,” you murmur, your voice quieter now, fueled with something more forgiving. “If you screw this up—”

“I won’t,” she interrupts, her voice firm but not forceful. Her hands slide up slightly, resting on your hips now, anchoring herself to you. “I swear to you, Y/N. I won’t.”

You hold her gaze for another long moment, searching her face for any sign of doubt. But all you see is determination—determination and something deeper, something so achingly familiar it makes your heart clench.

“Okay,” you whisper, the word barely audible, but it’s enough. Enough to make Paige’s expression soften, her shoulders relax, and a spark of hope flicker in her eyes.

Her grip on your hips tightens slightly as she steps closer, standing between your legs, her face just inches from yours now. “Okay?” she repeats, as if she can’t quite believe it.

“Okay,” you say again, your voice steadier this time. You tilt your head slightly, a small, almost teasing smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “But you’d better back it up, Bueckers. I’m not making this easy for you.”

Paige chuckles softly, a sound filled with relief and affection. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

Before you can respond, she leans in, her hands sliding up to cup your face gently, her thumbs brushing against your cheeks. She hesitates for the briefest moment, giving you a chance to pull away, but when you don’t, she closes the distance.

The kiss is slow at first, almost tentative, as if she’s trying to convey everything she can’t put into words. But it doesn’t take long for the intensity to build, for her to pour every ounce of her emotions into the connection. Her lips move against yours with a mix of passion and desperation, and you can feel her heartbeat pounding in sync with your own.

Your hands find their way to her shoulders, then slide up to thread through her hair, pulling her closer as you kiss her back with just as much fervor. The tension, the anger, the frustration of the past week melts away, replaced by a warmth that spreads through your chest like wildfire.

When she finally pulls back, both of you are breathing hard, foreheads resting together. Paige’s eyes search yours, her lips curling into a small, almost shy smile. “I’ll make it up to you, Y/N. Every day. You’ll see.”

You can’t help but smile back, your fingers still tangled in her hair. “You’d better,” you reply, your tone soft but teasing. “Because I’m holding you to it.”

Paige grins, and for the first time in what feels like forever, it feels like everything is falling into place.

[daeniradraconis]

I was thinking of a request with one of the hughes brothers (your choice!! I cannot choose between them) x reader who works for the team in some capacity, where reader gets injured by a stray puck or something and their love interest totally outs himself by caring for/being protective over reader.

Obviously only if you think this is interesting!! Love your stuff!

Thank you for requesting! 💖 Hope you will like this as well.

Secrets and Slapshots Being the Devils’ photographer had its perks. You got to stand on the ice, snap the team’s best moments, and—most importantly—spend extra time with Luke Hughes. Not that anyone knew why that mattered. You and Luke had kept your relationship a secret for seven months, a choice born of practicality (dating a player while working for the team? Tricky) and a bigger, messier reason: your older brother, Curtis Lazar. Protective was an understatement. If Curtis found out you were with Luke—the youngest Hughes brother, no less—heads would roll. So you stuck to sneaky glances, stolen moments, and hushed talks behind closed doors.

It worked. Until it didn’t.

You were by the boards during practice, camera raised, framing a shot of Nico roofing a puck when—BAM. A rogue slapshot rocketed toward you, too fast to dodge. Pain exploded in your shoulder, sharp and blinding, the force slamming you back into the boards. You stumbled, vision blurring, a choked gasp escaping as your arm went limp, fingers buzzing with static. Your camera dangled from its strap, barely gripped in your good hand. Nausea surged, and you pressed your palm to your shoulder, trying to breathe through it.

The rink went quiet, then erupted.

“OH SHIT—”

“YO, YOU GOOD?”

Dawson Mercer skated next to you, panic etched on his face. “I didn’t mean to—I swear—”

Before you could respond, a furious shout cut through. “WHO THE HELL HIT HER?”

Your stomach dropped. Luke.

You looked up just in time to see him charging across the ice, stick tossed aside, eyes blazing.

“Ohhh, shit,” Jack muttered nearby. He knew his brother rarely got angry, but when he did, it never ended well.

“Luke, no—”

Too late. Luke’s fist crashed into Dawson’s jaw with a sharp crack, the sound cutting through the air. Dawson’s head jerked to the side, his body stumbling back as his hands flew up on instinct. For a second, he just stood there, blinking, dazed—like his brain hadn’t fully registered the hit yet.

“BRO, IT WAS AN ACCIDENT—”

“YOU HIT HER WITH A PUCK—” Luke’s voice trembled, fists still tight.

“IT WASN’T ON PURPOSE—”

“DOESN’T MATTER—”

Jack, Nico, and Bas lunged, grabbing Luke’s jersey as he strained toward Dawson, wild and unhinged.

“DUDE,” Jack groaned, wrestling him back. “Chill—”

“NO,” Luke snapped, still fighting against his teammates and brother’s hold. “HE HIT MY GIRLFRIEND—”

And then everything stopped.

Your heart slammed into your ribs. Girlfriend. Seven months of secrecy, gone in one furious outburst. You wanted to sink through the ice, but the way Luke stood there—chest heaving, daring anyone to step up—stirred something warm beneath the shock.

Jack’s jaw dropped. “Wait—YOU’RE DATING HER?”

Luke’s face went crimson. “I—uh—” He instantly knew he’d messed up.

Jesper skated closer, laughing hard. “Dude, you just outed yourself.”

“I hate all of you,” Luke muttered, dragging a hand over his face.

Jack smirked at you, eyebrows raised. “Damn, took a puck to the shoulder and you’re dating Luke? Talk about bad decisions.”

You rolled your eyes, pain slicing through as you tried to laugh. “Thanks for the concern.”

Luke was beside you in a flash, hands hovering, unsure where to touch. “Baby,” he said, voice low and thick with guilt. “Does it hurt badly?”

“Yeah,” you gritted out. “Like hell.”

His shoulders tensed, eyes darting to Dawson with barely-leashed anger. “I’m gonna—”

“Luke.” You grabbed his hand with your good one, squeezing weakly. “Accident happens. Breathe.”

But before Luke could get a word out, a sharp whistle cut through the air.

"What the hell is going on?"

Great. Just when you thought things couldn’t get worse.

Here came your worst nightmare—your brother, Curtis.

Your stomach sank as he skated over, gaze flicking between you, Luke, and Dawson—still rubbing his jaw, half-guilty, half-amused.

“Someone explain why Hughes punched Mercer,” Curtis demanded, voice edged with steel.

Luke straightened, completely unfazed. “He hit her with a puck. She’s hurt.” 

Curtis’ eyes softened briefly as they landed on you, cradling your arm. “You okay?”

“It hurts,” you admitted, wincing, though you forced a smile for your brother.

His jaw ticked. Then he turned to Luke. “So you thought swinging was the move?”

“Yeah,” Luke said, his voice casual but there was something sharp in the way he spoke—like he didn’t quite understand why Curtis was making this harder than it had to be.

Curtis stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he sized up Luke. The anger in his chest flared, but it was something else that was settling in—he knew. He’d pieced it together, the secret clicking into place. He just needed to hear Luke say it. “Why do you care so much, Hughes? What’s she to you?”

“She’s my girlfriend,” Luke said, his tone firm, yet there was an undeniable fierceness behind it as he locked eyes with your brother. “And I love her.”

The tension in the air grew heavy, thick, like the calm before a storm. In the distance, you could hear the guys muttering, probably betting on how long it’d take for things to escalate—whether Luke would end up with at least a bruise or if he’d walk away unscathed.

Curtis blinked, his gaze flicking between you and Luke as the weight of the words sunk in. You held your breath, your heart pounding, bracing yourself for the worst.

Before you could process it, Curtis lunged.

It was all instinct—your body moving faster than your mind. You stepped between them just as Curtis’s hands shot out, the force of his momentum catching you off guard. His palms slammed into your injured shoulder with a sickening crack.

Pain exploded through your body, white-hot and blinding. A sharp cry ripped from your throat as you hit the ice, your arm going completely useless beneath you.

The rink went deadly quiet again.

Luke saw red. Pure, unfiltered rage took over as he shoved Curtis back with a force that sent him stumbling. His voice was raw, furious. “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!.”

Curtis froze, his anger melting into something like shock as he looked down at you, crumpled on the ice. “Shit.”

Luke didn’t give him a second to recover. He took another step forward, fists trembling but unwavering, his voice low and lethal. “You wanna take a swing at me? Fine. But don’t you ever, ever touch her again.”

His words rang with a fierce conviction. “I love her, Curtis. Seven months, man. Seven months, and she’s the best thing in my life. I’ve been respectful for her sake—because I get it, you’re her brother, my teammate. But if you hurt her again, I swear to God, I’ll break your fucking hand.”

Curtis stared, his expression flickering between anger, guilt, and something else, something more vulnerable. After a long pause, he let out a slow breath. “It wasn’t on purpose. You know I’d never hurt her like that. I love her too…she’s my sister.” His voice cracked, and his gaze fell to you, still lying on the ice.

Luke didn’t soften. He wasn’t backing down. His fists remained clenched, his chest rising and falling with the force of his words. “I get it, Curtis. You’re protective. But if you hurt her again, I won’t hesitate to make you understand, just how far I’ll go to protect her.”

You tried to push yourself up, desperate to get Luke’s attention, but your shoulder flared with pain, and your vision swam. “Luke—”

His fury vanished under a minute, replaced by panic. He dropped to his knees beside you, hands hovering. “Baby, talk to me.”

Tears stung your eyes as you tried to speak. “It’s... bad.”You attempted to move your hand, but it didn’t respond at all, sending a wave of panic crashing through you.

“Okay, I got you.” He scooped you up, careful but firm, holding you close to his chest. “Team doc. Now.”

As Luke carried you off the ice, Curtis stood frozen, watching in silence. His gaze was hard to read—maybe respect, maybe regret—but something in his eyes shifted, betraying a hint of emotion.

—

The ride home was quiet, just the hum of the car and Luke’s soft “You okay?” whenever you winced. The doctor had strapped your arm into a sling—nasty bruise, minor strain, no fracture—but the ache still gnawed deep. Luke had insisted on driving, knuckles white on the wheel, worry carved into his face.

Now, in your apartment, the adrenaline has faded, leaving you exhausted. You leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Luke set down takeout bags he’d grabbed despite your lack of hunger.

“You holding up?” His voice was softer now. His dark green eyes met yours, searching, full of both tenderness and concern.

“Yeah,” you lied, managing a small smile. “I’m just tired. And my shoulder is killing me.”

He stepped closer, wrapping you in a gentle hug. “You should’ve let Curtis hit me.” A half-joke, but guilt shadowed his gaze.

You laughed, then winced as the movement jolted you. “Luke, stop. I’m okay.”

“You’re not,” he said, his voice leaving no room for debate. “Come on, let’s get you comfortable.”

He gently guided you to the couch, his hand warm on your lower back, and carefully eased you down. He fluffed the pillows, draped a blanket over your legs, and made sure you were comfortable. It was Luke, completely unguarded—raw with worry, soft with love—and it wrapped around you in a way that made the pain seem distant.

“Soup,” he said, heading to the kitchen. “You need food before the meds kick in.”

You didn’t argue, and honestly, you didn’t really want to. You weren’t hungry, but the thought of warm soup didn’t sound half bad.

Half an hour later, after a few spoonfuls—Luke holding the bowl because your good hand wasn’t enough—you felt the weight of helplessness settle in. Brushing your teeth, washing your face, taking a shower—things that used to be so simple now felt impossible. A lump caught in your throat.

Luke noticed the shift in your mood. “What’s wrong?” He set the bowl down on the coffee table, leaning in, his concern obvious.

You hesitated, a tired smile flickering across your lips. “I can’t move my arm. At all. I feel gross from practice, but���” You waved vaguely toward the bathroom, a bit embarrassed.

His eyes softened as he caught on. “You need help showering.” It wasn’t a question—just a simple fact.

“Yeah,” you muttered, a small laugh slipping through.

He rubbed the back of his neck, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. “I can help. If you’re okay with it. I just don’t want you to make it worse.”

You couldn’t help but tease. “Yeah, it shouldn’t be weird. We’ve already... you know...” You trailed off, awkwardly trying to convince both yourself and him. Still, the situation felt different—vulnerable, exposed.

He cleared his throat, his blush deepening. “Alright, let’s get this over with,” he said, offering his hand, clearly trying to hide the discomfort.

The bathroom quickly filled with steam as Luke adjusted the shower to just the right temperature. He stripped off his clothes first, then turned to you, his gaze steady but gentle. You pulled at your hoodie with your good hand, and he stepped in, carefully sliding it off—first your good arm, then easing it over the sling. Next came your shirt, followed by your bra, sweatpants, and panties. His fingers brushed your skin with quiet confidence, his touch gentle and reassuring.

“I’ve got you,” he said, guiding you into the shower. The water hit your back, and you sighed, tension easing slightly. He grabbed the showerhead, letting the stream glide over you, avoiding your bad shoulder.

“Too much?” His voice was low, careful.

“No. Feels good.”

He squeezed body wash into his hands, lathering it up, and started at your neck, fingers gentle but sure. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “I keep seeing that puck hit you,” he murmured against your hair. “Should’ve been faster.”

“You can’t stop everything,” you said, tilting your head to meet his eyes. “But you’re here now and that’s enough.”

He kissed your temple agin, soft and tender, before his hands moved down your back, the warmth of the water mixing with the steadiness of his touch. His fingers glided over your skin as he worked the soap down your spine. "Turn for me," he whispered, his voice low and soothing, his hands resting lightly on your hips, guiding you with quiet strength.

You turned slowly, your back now facing him, and as you did, you felt his lips brush against the back of your neck, the kiss lingering just a moment longer than usual. His hands were gentle, but there was an undeniable tenderness in the way he moved, as though he was cherishing every inch of you.

“You’re so strong,” he murmured, rinsing you off, his hand gently shielding your eyes as he worked shampoo through your hair. “But let me take care of you, alright? Don’t try to be tough for me. If you need anything, just ask. Okay, princess?”

You relaxed against him, giving him a small nod and a soft smile, the pain fading as his warmth surrounded you. 

When he was done, he wrapped you in a towel, pressing a quick kiss to your head. “All clean,” he said, his voice filled with love and gentleness.

He grabbed one of his Devils shirts, the one he’d left in your wardrobe ages ago—loose enough to accommodate the sling—and a pair of your pajama shorts, dressing you with the same careful attention. Once he finished, he wrapped a towel around his waist. Luke hated sleeping with anything on, so he didn't bother with boxers—he preferred to sleep completely bare. And you definitely didn’t mind one bit.

Once you were settled, he walked over to the sink, a playful grin spreading across his face as he held up a toothbrush. “Open,” he said, his voice teasing but soft.

You rolled your eyes but complied, letting him brush your teeth—clumsy but full of enthusiasm. “Sorry,” he chuckled when he accidentally bumped your lip, his hand instinctively steadying you at your hip. 

Then came the skincare routine—toner, serum, moisturizer—and Luke looked utterly baffled. He picked up the toner and held it out, squinting at the bottle. “Wait, so you actually need all of this?” he asked, genuinely confused. “But you’re already, like, ridiculously pretty. Why all the extra steps?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “It’s not just about looking pretty, Luke. It’s about healthy skin and preventing wrinkles.”

He raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk playing at his lips. “Well, you'd still look hot with wrinkles, you know.”

You giggled, kicking your legs as you sat on top of the washing machine, where he’d placed you after brushing your teeth. “I don’t know about that,” you teased, enjoying the playful energy between you two.

Luke just shrugged with a grin, clearly unconvinced. But he didn't argue. Instead, he got to work with the precision of someone who had no idea what he was doing but was determined to get it right. He carefully applied each product—toner, serum, moisturizer—treating it like a delicate task, though still clearly puzzled by the whole process.

“Good?” he asked, stepping back with a gentle smile, his eyes searching for yours.

“Perfect,” you murmured, feeling the warmth of his care in every word.

He kissed your forehead softly, taking a deep breath as his fingers grazed your healthy arm. “Bedtime?”

You nodded, already feeling the pull of exhaustion. “Yeah,” you whispered.

He tucked the blanket around you, his movements slow and deliberate as he slid in next to you, propping himself on one elbow, watching you settle against the pillow. His hand brushed a loose strand of hair from your face, his gaze tender.

“Lukey,” you murmured, half-asleep, “Thank you.”

He smiled softly, his fingers brushing your cheek slowly. “Anything for you. Even if Jack’s never going to let me live this down.”

You smiled, your face relaxing into the comfort of his touch, curling closer to him. “Worth it,” you whispered, feeling the weight of his love wrap around you.

He kissed your knuckles lightly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah, you are.”

[yamujiburo]

Got a few asks about what Pokemon I think Jessie and James would have if 1. they didn't just have the gacha machine and only caught Galarian Pokemon and 2. if they had the chance to go to Paldea

GALAR

Jessie: Sandaconda, Snom➡️Frosmoth, Impidimp➡️Morgrem

Sandaconda is a snake Pokemon. Jessie should be allowed to have all snake Pokemon. Period. Love the idea of her finding it and being unsure of what the hell she's looking at because it's all coiled up but upon it briefly uncoiling she falls in love.

Jessie should have had an Ice Type Pokemon at some point for real. Snow and ice play two big roles in her backstory (eating snow/growing up in a snowy location and her mother disappearing in an avalanche). Her having a lil Snom that's not particularly useful but that she grows to love would be so CUTE. They eat snow together!! Then I love the idea of her going from not thinking much of it to getting more and more attached to it over the series and then having it evolve to Frosmoth after some time (it'd remind her of her old friend Dustox)

Okay this one's gonna take a little explaining but I think it'd be so funny if at the same time, Jessie catches a Hatenna and James catches an Impidimp (mostly because Jessie wants the cute one). BUT Impidimp starts gravitating to Jessie because of her negative energy, which it feeds off of. She's much easier to prank and irritate than James, who's too much of a sweetheart and a little less susceptible to pranks. Jessie never finds out that Impidimp is the one pranking her but notices that it's taken a liking to her for some reason so she and James end up trading their Hattena and Impidimp with each other. It later evolves into Moregrem

James: Polteageist, Toxel, Hatenna➡️Hattrem

I think James is a tea lover, and enjoyed fancy teas when he was a child. Since he's a collector of bottlecaps and Pokeballs, I could see him also collecting teapots/teacups. Maybe they're in a haunted mansion one day and he grabs a teapot thinking it's a rare find but it's actually a Pokemon to his surprise. Also I think he deserves to have an Antique form, so it IS a rare find.

James having another baby Pokemon to fawn over like Mime Jr. would be so cute. It's an egg that the trio find but Jessie's too lazy to take care of it and Meowth's traumatized after the Togepi situation, not wanting to go through all that again. Toxel is born and it's James' everything. It's a bit bratty and constantly vying for his attention, usually by shocking and poisoning him but luckily James has built up an immunity to both those things thanks to Pikachu and Mareanie.

As stated before, James catches Impidimp initially but trades it for Jessie's Hatenna. Hatenna was NOT okay with the amount of emotions Jessie brought to the table and couldn't stand to be around her, often going to James who's much calmer between the two of them. Annoyed by it not liking her and finding that Impidimp DID like her, Jessie demands suggests a trade, which James is okay with as he's been growing attached to Hatenna. After it evolves into Hattrem, it starts (affectionately) smacking him whenever he shows too much emotion, carrying on the "James' Pokemon beat the shit out of him" legacy.

PALDEA

Jessie: Flittle➡️Espathra

Flittle just seems fitting for Jessie. She's always wanting a cute little baby Pokemon but funnily enough, never really gets one in the show. She absolutely pampers it and dresses it up. It eventually evolves into Espathra. Still being Jessie's mini-me, it often mimics her, particularly when Jessie's angry

James: Arboliva

Arboliva just feels like a Pokemon James would have LMAO. I think it'd be really sweet if after a particularly bad blast off, Arboliva finds Team Rocket and helps nurse them back to health even though they're mostly okay. They're grateful to it, James captures it and it continues to try mother all of them (in a less aggressive way than Bewear).

Shared: Scovillain

Listen. It'd be SO funny if Jessie and James shared a Pokemon. They see two Pokemon in the tall grass one day. A Pokemon with a red head and a Pokemon with a green head. Only having one Pokemon each at this time, they decide it's a good idea to catch another each. They throw their Pokeballs at the same time and the catch is successful! Just one problem. They find out the two Pokemon they tried to catch was actually just one Pokemon and they don't know which of the Pokeballs they threw was the one that actually caught it. They argue about it for quite a while but then agree to share custody. Leads to some funny scenarios where they're both trying to direct it in a battle. The red head prefers Jessie and the green head prefers James.

[cmtwimagines]

Drifting Apart

AARON HOTCHNER X READER

SUMMARY: You knew Aaron's job took a lot of his time, but you never imagined you would feel so left out of his life.

WARNINGS: insecurities (reader), slight mention of disordered eating/body dysmorphia, oblivious/neglectful hotch

WORD COUNT: 2.8k

The excitement you felt was palpable through the entire apartment. You spent the whole day cleaning, cooking, just overall preparing for Aaron to get home.

While he never went into too much detail about his cases and his job in general, his tone through texts and calls fills you in a bit on how he’s doing, and you know that the case him and the team have been working on was definitely not an easy one. He’s been more blunt and seemingly less interested in keeping the conversation going which you were trying not to take offense by, but hopefully when he comes home to the relaxing atmosphere of your shared apartment he will be back to his normal, loving self.

Just as you were plating both of your dinners you heard the sound of the front door unlocking. The ball in your stomach went crazy, your excitement sky rocketing knowing you are about to finally see Aaron after almost two weeks of him being away.

Moving out of the kitchen and towards the front door you were met with the sight of him slipping his shoes off and setting his briefcase down on the entryway table.

“Hi honey,” you greeted him softly, slowly grabbing his attention from the deep thought he was in. He turned his vision towards you and a small smile graced his face.

“Hi baby,” he replied. He walked towards you and gathered you in a hug, kissing the top of your head as you tucked yourself into his chest. Just the smell of him was sending your body into overdrive. God you missed him.

“I missed you,” you mumbled into his chest before pulling your head back to look up at him. His expression showcased that his brain was clearly somewhere else, not even bothering to look down at you, “dinner is ready, I cooked your favorite!”

That got his attention, but only for him to let out a deep sigh and step away from you. Your heart ached a bit at the motion, but you tried to remind yourself that his nerves are most likely shot and he’s tired.

“I’m not really hungry, I had a late lunch. I have more work I need to do so I’ll be in my office,” he shared, giving your hand a slight squeeze before walking off towards his office.

You really couldn’t help the frown from covering your face. He’s usually so excited to come home and spend time with you, but this time felt different. This time felt like he was almost annoyed that he was having to deal with yet another person (you). You willed yourself not to overthink it and got to covering his plate with tin foil and setting it in the fridge. What’s one more night of eating dinner by yourself, right?

Well, one night turned into two, which turned into four, which turned into an entire week of Aaron shutting down your dinners and overall spending no time with you. It’s like he’s home, but not really. With the way you were feeling, he may as well have still been on a case states away.

You tried to greet him every night when he entered the house, but it was always just a small hug and if you were lucky, a forehead kiss. He hasn’t even given you a full kiss since he’s been home. Most nights you’re asleep in bed hours before he joins you, and he’s up and gone before you’ve awaken.

You couldn’t help but ruminate in your mind that you must be doing something wrong. Maybe you were acting too clingy? Or maybe he came to his senses and realized he could do a lot better than you? Your insecurities ran wild and your days were growing treacherous, even your boss has began to ask you if you were doing alright.

You stood in front of your bathroom mirror taking in the sight of yourself. It took a good year and a half of being with Aaron for him to convince you that you were beautiful and that he’s never been so attracted to someone in his life, but now you weren’t so sure. Maybe if you made some changes he would start noticing you again. Maybe he was growing bored of the relationship or is coming to the realization that he doesn’t need you, and as much as you tried to tell yourself that’s not the kind of guy Aaron is and that it’s most likely his job that’s just stressing him out, your own brain couldn’t fathom that it’s anything but an issue with you.

You stood back and looked over your whole body. You’ve definitely gained what they claim as “happy relationship weight” and you couldn’t help but curse at yourself over that. Maybe he just wasn’t attracted to you anymore and his way of skirting around that is to just claim he has work to do so he can hole up in his office and not have you make advances towards him? Maybe since you stopped putting so much effort into your appearance he just doesn’t feel the same way he did in the beginning of the relationship?

You decided then and there that you would make some changes.

More weeks passed, and Aaron continued to go on multiple more work trips leaving you at home to work on yourself. You were successfully losing weight (logically you knew you weren’t doing it in the smartest of ways but no one was there to notice or stop you). You had your hair lightened, your teeth whitened, and you even went and thrifted a whole new wardrobe.

You rationally knew that you didn’t have to do all of this, that you shouldn’t have to do all of this to keep a relationship going, but your love for Aaron overtook any reasonable thought from your brain.

“Y/N? Where are you?” You heard Aaron call throughout the apartment. Your eyes widened at the sound of his voice. You hurried to hide the scale you were just stepping on and threw your clothes back on right as there was a knock on the bathroom door.

“I’ll be right out Aaron!” You hastily responded, wiping any remaining tears from your eyes and fanning your face, begging your body to cooperate with you.

You took a deep breath as you opened the door and immediately spotted him sitting on the edge of the bed looking right towards you as you stood in the bathroom doorway. His eyes widened a bit as a breath was stolen from him. This made you want to curl in on yourself more than you already were.

“I didn’t expect you home so soon,” you mumbled, stuck in your spot not knowing if you could approach him or not. This was all so weird, things had changed and you couldn’t figure out why. You didn’t know why he grew distant or why it all the sudden seemed like he could live without you. You two were doing really well, you even thought a proposal was in the near future.

“You changed your hair,” he stated. Not a compliment, but definitely not said with any malice.

“Yeah, I thought some change might be good,” you responded, still not being able to meet his eye contact. A soft sigh escaped his mouth as he stood up from the bed and walked towards you. You stiffened up a bit, not knowing what to expect out of this conversation. Was he going to break up with you? Was he going to fix things? Your mind was going crazy. You felt like you were going crazy.

His hand reached up to twirl some of your hair, inspecting it a bit more.

“You look beautiful no matter what color your hair is,” he whispered. This is the most attention he’s given you in weeks and it broke your heart a bit that maybe your suspicions were correct. Maybe he wasn’t attracted to you as you were and now this new look was bringing him back into the relationship.

You finally brought yourself to make eye contact with him, just for your eyes to begin filling with tears. You didn’t want to cry in front of him, in fear that it would chase him away even more, but there was nothing you could do in this moment. He was only a step away with his attention directly on you, and a frown was covering his own face.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out, bringing your hands up to your face to cover the tears that began to fall. The negative feelings you’ve felt over the past weeks surfacing just because of the slightest attention from him.

Deep down you felt angry. Angry that he was able to go day by day without your love and affection while all you wanted was his attention and love right back. Angry that he’s coming out of the woodworks now and suddenly ready to give you his attention. But you mainly felt insecure and sad. Insecure about yourself and that you clearly weren’t living up to what he needed. Sad that all you could think about was him and getting his attention just to never receive it.

“Why are you sorry?” He asks, lightly setting his hands on yours to pull them away from your face. You held your hands tighter against yourself, not quite wanting to face him yet. He retracted his hands but stayed where he was standing, not giving you anymore space, “Are you okay, honey? What’s going on?”

His question was enough for you to pull your hands away from yourself and give him a bewildered look. Does he not realize what he’s done over the past month or so? Does he not feel the separation between the two of you? Did he even miss you like you missed him over this time?

“What do you mean what’s going on?” You asked exasperated, “this is the first time you’ve truly talked to me in like a month, Aaron. I expected to come out of this bathroom and have you break up with me!” You exclaimed, throwing your hands up in the air just to land back at your sides.

“Break up with you?” He quietly repeats, taking a few steps back from you. His brows were furrowed, and he seemed to finally take in your state. You had lost a good amount of weight, the bones in your face a bit more prominent and deep bags formed under your eyes. You were wearing an outfit he had never seen you in, and it overall felt like you were cosplaying someone else.

“Was it something I did? Or the way I look? I promise I can change, just please don’t break up with me. I don’t want to experience this life without you,” you sobbed. You were beginning to panic, letting your insecurities out in fear that this will be one of your last moments with him.

His shocked face turned to a frown as he quickly approached you, pulling you into his chest and tucking your head under his chin.

“Y/N, I need you to believe me when I say I will never break up with you. You are it for me,” he speaks, rubbing your back to try and quell your sobs, “you did nothing wrong, there is nothing wrong with the way you look. you absolutely do not need to change anything about yourself. Is that why you changed your hair? And lost some weight? I am so sorry sweetheart,” he continues. He puts his hands on your arms and peels you apart so he can look you in your eyes, “I am so sorry, Y/N. I am sorry I made you feel this way. Work has just been crazy and I’ve been seemingly ignoring the one thing that matters most to me,” he admits. Your tears begin to slow but the shake throughout your body stayed put.

“You barely talked to me. You wouldn’t eat dinner with me, we haven’t spent time together in over a month. We sleep in the same bed but it feels like we’re worlds apart. Did you even miss me?” You replied, your heart breaking at your own words. He let out a deep sigh and began walking you back to the bed, gently sitting you down on it as he dropped to his knees so he was looking up at you while holding your hands.

“Believe me when I say I think about you all the time. I have missed you, and I have noticed the distance, I just didn’t know how to fix it with what was going on in my work life, but that’s not a good excuse,"

"You're right, Aaron, that's not a good excuse," you interrupted. You couldn't help but let your anger seep through a bit. He had noticed it all but didn't feel the need to change anything?

"I love you so much," you continued, "I love you so much that I've stuck through this, but I somehow blamed it on myself and thought there was something wrong with me. I thought I had done something wrong or you realized you weren't attracted to me, and it's not fair for you to just show back up and apologize like this past month hasn't hurt me to no ends."

He was still looking up at you from his kneeling position on the ground in front of you, his brows furrowed as he thought of a response.

"I should've communicated with you more, I know that," he started, placing his hands on each of your knees and gently rubbing, "I shouldn't have let work distract me so much from you, my sweet girl. I hate that I made you doubt yourself. Please let me make it up to you. You deserve so much better than how I've been treating you."

You couldn't help the tears filling your eyes once more. You hadn't thought about your reconciliation with Aaron throughout all of this. You hadn't thought about how you wanted him to apologize or what it would take for you to feel better about this all. All you know is you are grateful that he's back, and safe, and seemingly still in love with you.

"You still love me?" you ask quietly.

"Of course I do, honey. You are the love of my life. I couldn't even imagine not being in love with you."

He brought up a hand to wipe underneath your eyes before pulling you into a hug, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. You felt your body relax and took in a deep breath, letting the scent of him level your mind out.

"How about we start small?" he asks, bringing your attention back to the conversation and not just the physical comfort he was bringing you, "How about I order dinner in, you pick out a movie and we can get comfy on the couch and have an at home date night?"

"Yeah?" you ask, "you don't have any work to do?" you couldn't help question from falling from your mouth. You didn't want to hurt him or throw things back in his face, but you were still just a bit upset.

"No, baby. I have no work to do, and I have requested the entire weekend off so I can spend more time with you. I'm sorry for everything, sweetheart. I promise it'll never happen again."

He stood up from his kneeling position and grabbed your hands, pulling you up so you were standing face to face.

"I love you, and i'm so grateful for you. Thank you for sticking with me even when i'm hard to be with. Now please let me be here for you."

You couldn't help the small smile from forming on your face before falling into his embrace. He was quick to wrap his arms around you and kiss the top of your head. A deep sigh escaped your mouth, finally feeling the comfort you've been craving. Slowly turning your head up, you caught his attention before leaning in and kissing him. His hand gently carressed your cheek, pulling you deeper into the kiss. As you separated small smiles covered both of your faces, and your breaths mingled as you rested your foreheads together.

"I will never take advantage of your love for me ever again. I am sorry for abandoning you and making you feel like I wasn't in love with you anymore. I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you."

You nodded at his words, not having much to say other than acknowledging his apology.

"Now come on, let's decide what you're in the mood for dinner wise. I brought some nice wine home, and we can chat until the food gets here. I want to hear about every little thing that I have missed."

You knew this was a good start. You knew this conversation wasn't fully over and that you would have time to organize your thoughts and say what you really needed to say about the situation, but you didn't need to let them all out now. For now you were going to be thankful that he is back and you get a full weekend with him. For now you were going to bask in the fact that you have your Aaron back, and you two are back on the same page.

A/N - My writing is a little rusty from not writing for years, pls bare with me hahahaha i couldn't get the ending right on this but i was sick of it sitting in my drafts so i'm posting anways

[kayesfanfics]

Hi can I request a femreader/ nightcrawler story where the reader is shy and anxious, while Kurt misunderstands this as her thinking he’s a monster?

But in truth she’s been trying to confess her feelings to him but she always backs out last minute in fear?

Thank you!

A/N: The way I’ve probably imagined this scenario at 12 years old laying in bed at night. I also made the reader friends with Rogue, Jean and Ororo since she’s closer to their ages

“Sugah, yer lookin’ more nervous than a long-tailed pussy cat in a room full o’ rockin’ chairs!” Rogue tapped your shoulder as she walked into the lounging area, where you were having morning coffee with Jean and Ororo. “What’s gotcha all riled up, huh?”

“Kurt’s playing basketball with the others outside...in shorts.” Jean quipped before taking a sip of coffee, a playful grin on her face. Ororo chuckled at the embarrassed face you made, as if someone just walked in on you changing.

“Jean!” You whined, face turning redder when Rogue started laughing.

“Oh, Y/N! We’re just teasing!” Jean giggled as you pouted at all of them finding your embarrassment amusing.

“I just don’t see why you haven’t told him about her feelings yet!”

They all knew you’ve had the biggest crush on the fuzzy blue X-Man, Nightcrawler, ever since he joined the team a few months ago. He was always so nice to everyone, including you, and he seemed to always say the right thing at the right time. He even made your morning coffee sometimes when you got up late, knowing everyone’s coffee order by heart by now.

The boys were outside playing basketball with Jubilee and Roberto, showing the younger ones how it was done. You watched out the window at the court, seeing Gambit and Wolverine battling for the ball before Kurt teleported between them and snatched the ball from them, tossing it into the basket and laughing when they both started yelling about the “no powers” rule. You smiled before realizing you were staring, clearing your throat and turning to Rogue.

“You know I get too nervous around your brother, I can’t even ask him to pass the salt at dinner!”

“Yer always nervous, that’s fine! But y’know, he totally likes you too. I can tell.”

“No he doesn’t.” You shook your head in denial.

“Yes he does.” All three women said at the same time, side eyeing you or rolling their eyes.

“My dear, Kurt is a very charismatic man, but he goes out of his way to make you smile every chance he gets.” Ororo set her hand atop of yours. “I even see a flash of disappointment when you flee from his advances.”

“Really?” You asked, feeling a bit guilty about making him feel bad. You were a generally nervous person, but your anxiety sky rocketed around him, your heart always felt like it would explode out of your chest when he got close to you or touched you. It was difficult to hold eye contact with him, your nerves getting the best of you and looking down at the floor while you spoke to him. You’d give him a scared smile when he handed you things, your blood running cold when his hand brushed up against yours during those exchanges. You often found your eyes wandering to him when he wasn’t focused on you, it was easier to look at him when you knew he wasn’t aware of you checking him out. You loved the way his tail squashed playfully as he joked around with Morph, how his ear would twitch like a cats when he heard someone new enter the room, how his fangs gleamed when he smiled or how his bright yellow eyes sparked with mischief during a fight.

“Okay…you know what? Todays the day, today I need to confess to him! If I don’t today, I never will cause I’m a baby and will back out.” You stood up confidently.

“Yeah! Go get em, tiger!” Rogue cheered as you walked away, then lowered her voice. “She ain’t gonna.”

“I think Y/N can do things she sets her mind to.” Storm defended you.

“Wanna put ten bucks on it?” Rogue raised an eyebrow and cheekily grinned.

“…you’re on.” Storm nodded, shaking her hand as Jean spoke up, saying she’d bet alongside Storm that you could do it.

“You know I can still hear you all?” You crossed your arms from the window, getting a closer look and watching Kurt dodge Roberto’s lunge. Your friends all laughed as you shook your head, trying to get ahold of your nerves.

How were you supposed to tell the most handsome, heroic, sweetest, most amazing person ever you were in love with them? Kurt was genuinely the kindest person you’d ever met, giving you butterflies when you watched him comfort a mutant child during a fight, or how he helped his teammates so gently when they were injured. You couldn’t fathom how people were afraid or disgusted by him, he was the most gorgeous man in the world. How you could see a tinge of indigo under his blue fur when he blushed or bruised, how sculpted and chiseled he was yet also was so soft to look at. When he wore sweatpants and a tank top after training one day, you swore you would have a heart attack right then and there seeing how attractive he looked in the outfit. You adored sneaking peeks of him working out alone, his muscles bulging when he did push ups or pull ups on a bar, how flexible and agile he was and how effortless he made it look. You’d stand outside the door until you felt you would get caught staring, not wanting to seem like a creep.

You were suddenly pulled out of your thoughts when the door opened, Wolverine carrying Jubilee, pretending to be limp and passed out in his arms.

“What happened?” Jean asked as the girls all stood up from their little coffee and gossip session.

“She tripped and scraped her knee trying to get the ball from Logan!” Morph snickered as they all filed inside.

“I’ve been attacked! He pushed me and now I’m severely wounded!” Jubilee whined dramatically as Logan set her down on the counter. You waited for Kurt while you listened to Jubilee and Wolverine bicker about the seriousness of her cut knee, feeling your heart skip a beat when he finally walked in, chatting with Hank.

“Um…hey, Kurt?” You spoke quietly, but Kurt’s ear twitched and picked up your shy voice.

“Yes, Miss Y/N?” He asked, stopping and letting Hank go ahead of him.

“I…um…could you find a first aid kit, please?”

You blushed when you heard your friends laugh behind you and Storm and Jean handed Rogue money, knowing Kurt was looking past you at them, wondering what they were doing. You felt like a dork backing out of confessing and asking him to do something you could easily do, but you changed your mind at the last second that you weren’t ready yet.

“Sure.” He smiled, before bamfing off. You turned and glared at your friends, before walking walked over to Jubilee, seeing blood dripping down her shin and gravel from the court embedded inside of it.

“Ouch, let me clean that for you.” You said and wet a paper towel, ignoring Logan saying how she was fine and it was part of growing up and being a kid. You kneeled down and patted down Jubilee’s injury, soaking up the blood and wiping out any gravel from the wound.

“Here you are, Y/N.” You heard a familiar sweet, velvety voice beside you. You looked over and saw Nightcrawler holding out a first aid kit from the nearest bathroom, a charming grin on his face.

“Oh, um, thank you Kurt.” You smiled at him shyly, before quickly turning your attention to Jubilee. You didn’t see the look of rejection in his yellow eyes as the irritated twitch of his tail at that, before he sighed and bamfed off again.

*a couple hours later*

“Mein Gott!” The mutant shouted in surprise, also not paying attention to where he was going before tumbling backwards at the collision. You were on your way to training, focusing on wrapping up your hands to look where you were going. Now, you knocked down the last person you wanted to. You felt bad seeing the gorgeous man on the floor because of you.

“Kurt! I’m so sorry! Here, let me help!” You held a hand out to him, but he got up himself.

“It is fine.” He said simply before walking past you, then suddenly pausing and turning to you. “May I ask you something?”

“Sure.” You fidgeted with your hands nervously, anxious for the question.

“Do you…have I offended you in some way?” He asked, his eyes flashing with a bit of sadness.

“What? No? Why would you think that?” You asked, worried your timid behavior had finally kicked you in the ass.

“You tend to just brush me off, I’ve noticed. Lately you don’t really look at me, you respond with few words to me. I just thought…maybe I did something to scare you? Disgust you? Perhaps I…you think I’m a monster?”

You stared at him in the hallway, shock freezing your thoughts for a moment. How could he ever think your awkwardness around him could be because you thought he was disgusting? That he thought you found him frightening? You hadn’t realized how not making eye contact or responding curtly would come across to him, a man who’s been persecuted and attacked his whole life for how he looked. He was the most admirable, amazing person you’d ever met and you made him feel like a monster.

“Kurt, no! Not at all! I just…I do like you, I do! You just…make me very nervous. More so than I usually am…”

“How? Do I intimidate you?” He tilted his head in confusion. “I do not mean to-“

“It’s not that, really. I uh…I just really admire you, I guess. You make me more nervous than the others because…because I really like you…a lot.” You looked down at the floor, shyly looking up into his eyes. His face relaxed when he finally understood what you meant.

“Oh…I apologize for thinking so little of your actions. You are understanding and non judge mental, I should never have assumed what I did about you. How about I take you out to apologize for my ignorance?” He flashed his fangs at you in a charming smile, slowly approaching you before he was close enough to hold out a hand to you.

“I-I…okay.” You took his hand and sheepishly smiled up at him, allowing him to guide you down the hall. “I’m really sorry I made you feel like I-“

“No apology necessary, Y/N, really. I’m just glad we’ve come to…an understanding.” He grinned, bringing your hand up to his lips to place a soft kiss on your knuckles. You blushed and giggled at the action

[holyblonded]

‘merica baby | stargirl

pairings: uswnt x teen!reader

summary: your first camp with the senior team

warnings: estrella and sonnet 😭

notes: estrella menacing on a different continent alert 🗣️🗣️

The sharp thud of your foot striking the ball echoes through the training ground, followed by the unmistakable snap of the net rippling as the ball rockets into the bottom corner.

“Again. Top left this time,” the assistant coach calls, tossing another ball into your path.

You barely break stride, your body moving on instinct. A sharp touch to control, a quick glance, and then, boom. Another strike, that lands right into the left corner of the goal.

From across the field, a group of veterans watches you closely.

“Damn,” Kelley mutters, arms crossed as she observes the drill. “She’s got a cannon on her.”

“Yeah,” Alex agrees, eyebrows raised slightly. “And she’s hitting those. Not just power, placement too.”

Megan lets out a low whistle. “Kid’s a sniper.”

“Didn’t she leave the Spanish youth team?” Sonnett asks, tilting her head. “Like, just dipped?”

“Yeah,” Alex nods. “There was some shady stuff going on with a coach, and she called them out. Said she’d never play for them again.”

That gets some approving nods from the group.

“Takes guts,” Megan says, watching as you send another shot flying into the top bins like it’s nothing. “Especially at her age. It’s admirable.”

“Wonder what she’s like?” Sonnett muses. “She’s been all business since she got here. Intense.”

Right on cue, Tobin and Christen stroll over, looking smug.

“Oh, she’s funny,” Tobin says casually.

The vets turn to them, eyebrows raised.

“You met her?” Alex asks.

Christen grins. “Yeah. We ran into her when she landed. Sweet kid. A bit mischievous.”

“Mischievous?” Kelley repeats, intrigued.

Tobin nods, smirking. “Cute too. We like her.”

With a shared glance, the veterans decide it’s time to introduce themselves properly.

As you line up another shot, you hear footsteps approaching. You glance up to see Megan, Alex, Kelley, and Sonnett standing nearby, watching you with amused expressions.

Megan gestures toward the goal. “You trying to break the net, or…?”

You wipe your face with the sleeve of your training top and shrug. “Just making sure it knows who’s in charge.”

Sonnett snickers. “I like her already.”

Alex steps forward, offering her hand. “We just wanted to come say hi. Welcome to the team, Y/n.”

You shake her hand, glancing at the others as they introduce themselves. “I go by Estrella.”

Megan grins. “We were just talking about you.”

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Tobin and Christen said you’re funny,” Kelley says, nudging you playfully. “You hiding that from us?”

A slow smirk tugs at your lips. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just waiting for the perfect moment.”

Megan throws her head back laughing. “Oh, she’s good.”

“Yeah,” Alex agrees, clapping you on the shoulder. “I think you’re gonna fit in just fine, kid.”

“I’m fine, Ale. I promise to call you before I head to training tomorrow. Love you, bye.”

You set the phone down, hoping to catch some shut eye, but as soon as you flip over in your bed you are met with the eyes of Emily Sonnet. Instead of screaming you stare back oddly.

“Is this is what it’s going to be like in America?” You questioned allowed.

Emily laughed off your comment and held out a hand, as if she had just made the most normal entrance in the world. “Welcome to the USWNT, rookie. You’re mine now.”

You blinked. “I—what?”

Sonnett grinned. “We’re pranking the team. Right now. Get up.”

Before you could protest, she yanked you out of bed, shoving a roll of toilet paper into your hands. “We have about an hour before anyone starts waking up. Let’s make it count.”

And just like that, you were running down the hotel hallway with Emily, trying not to laugh too loudly as you worked your way through the rooms.

You both snuck into Kelley and Crystal’s room, careful not to wake them. Emily pulled out a Sharpie and drew an elegant mustache on Kelley’s face, while you gently placed a cup of water on the top of the slightly ajar bathroom door, ready to tip over as soon as someone went in.

Before leaving, you whispered to Emily, “Think they’ll murder us in the morning?”

“Oh, absolutely,” she whispered back.

The next on the list were Lindsey and Rose. The two were dead asleep, so you simply rearranged all their furniture to be slightly off. The lamp was upside down, their shoes were swapped, and Rose’s training gear was mysteriously replaced with an oversized hoodie labeled PROPERTY OF SONNET.

This time for the Mewis Sisters, you left a small Bluetooth speaker hidden under their bed, set to play an ominous whispering sound at random intervals.

You heard the sisters exclaims of confusion, making you and Emily snicker.

Finally, feeling victorious, you and Emily sprinted down the hall to your final target: Tobin and Christen’s room.

The plan was simple, flip their room inside out, maybe saran-wrap their door. But as soon as Emily reached for the handle, the door swung open on its own.

Tobin and Christen stood there, arms crossed.

You froze mid-step. Emily, to her credit, at least tried to play it cool. “Oh, hey, guys! Crazy seeing you here.”

Tobin raised an eyebrow. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Uh…” You glanced at Emily. She was no help, suddenly very invested in the carpet pattern.

Christen sighed. “Emily, go back to your room.”

Emily grinned, clapped you on the shoulder, and whispered, “Good luck, kid,” before disappearing down the hall.

You gulped. Tobin turned to you, shaking her head. “You’re coming with us.”

You frowned. “Where exactly am I—”

“You’re sleeping in Alex’s room tonight,” Christen interrupted, already texting. “You clearly need better supervision. I don’t even know how you and Emily got paired together.”

Your jaw dropped. “Are you serious? It was Emily’s idea!”

Tobin smirked. “And you went along with it.”

Minutes later, you found yourself standing in Alex Morgan’s room, rubbing the back of your neck as she tried to look stern—but you could tell she was holding back a smile.

“So,” Alex sighed, arms crossed. “You and Sonnett decided to prank half the team on your first night?”

You shrugged, a smirk growing on your face. “Technically, she decided. I just… assisted.”

Alex pinched the bridge of her nose but finally chuckled. “Alright, troublemaker, go to bed. I expect you bright and early at breakfast.”

“You know, you remind me of my mami. Your names are similar and you have the same disappointed looks on your face.”

You crawled into the spare bed, grinning slightly. Sure, you got caught and you got sentenced to Alex’s Supervision Jail, but it was better than your youth team days.

You should’ve known that waking up to Emily Sonnett looming over you at six in the morning meant trouble.

“Rise and shine, partner in crime,” she whispered, grinning like a madwoman.

You groaned and rolled over, burying your face in your pillow. “Sonnett, it’s six. In the morning.”

“Exactly. Prime time for pranking. Now get up, we’re going big at breakfast.”

Your eyes snapped open in interest as you squinted at her. “Define big.”

Emily’s grin widened. “I’m talking Hall of Fame-level pranking. Something they’ll talk about for years.”

You sat up, now fully intrigued. “I’m listening.”

She held up a small bag of sugar packets. Or what should have been sugar packets.

“That’s salt,” you deadpanned.

Emily nodded proudly. “Indeed, it is.”

It was then that you knew today was going to be amazing.

The team had barely started rolling into the dining hall when you and Emily made your move. Some players were still half-asleep—Lindsey had bedhead, Sam was blinking blearily at her cereal, and Rose was sitting next to her, dead-eyed, barely functioning.

Perfect. You took a deep breath, then dramatically launched yourself onto the floor like you’d just been hit by a freight train.

“MY LEG!” you howled, clutching your shin like you’d been mortally wounded.

Chaos. Immediate chaos.

Crystal Dunn jumped up so fast she nearly flipped her chair. “Oh my God, are you okay?!”

Kelley almost choked on her coffee.

Rose, still groggy, blinked at you in confusion. “Did… did you just fall on your own?”

Meanwhile, behind the distraction, Emily was working her magic.

She snuck behind the food counter, swapping out all the sugar in the coffee station with salt. Then, she grabbed the last plate of pancakes, lifted the top one, and doused the bottom layer with extra-spicy hot sauce before neatly stacking them back.

Her final masterpiece? Swiping Megan Rapinoe’s phone and changing the autocorrect settings so that every time she typed yes, it autocorrected to I love Sonnett and Estrella.

Crystal was now kneeling beside you, a hand on your shin. “Where does it hurt?” You blinked. Sat up. Stretched your leg.

“Never mind,” you said brightly. “I’m good.”

The room fell into silence.

Crystal blinked at you.

Kelley groaned. “This is what happens when we let Sonnett befriend the rookies.”

The first victim: Lindsey Horan.

She took a long sip of her coffee, expecting sweet, comforting caffeine. Instead…

“WHAT THE—” She spat it back into her cup so aggressively that it splashed onto her sleeve.

“WHO DID THIS? WHO REPLACED THE SUGAR WITH SALT?!”

Emily and you kept your heads down, shoveling food into your mouths like innocent angels.

Then Megan Rapinoe took a bite of her pancakes and immediately contorted her face.

“WHAT THE ACTUAL F—”

She lunged for her water, chugging it in record time while frantically fanning her mouth.

“WHO DID THIS?!” she wheezed.

Emily covered her mouth, shoulders shaking. You could barely hold it together.

Then came Kelley O’Hara. She picked up her phone, started typing, then frowned.

“…I love Sonnett and Estrella?” she read out loud, confused.

Her head snapped up.

Emily lost it. She was laughing so hard she nearly fell off her chair. Now, the entire room was onto you.

Tobin stood with her arms crossed. “You two are menaces.”

Christen sighed, rubbing her temples. “We should’ve kept her in our room last night.”

Alex, ever the responsible adult, stood up. “Alright, you know the rule. If you pull off this big of a prank, you pay for it.”

Emily elbowed you. “This is where she makes us run.”

Kelley, still trying to fix her phone, smirked. “Oh, you bet they’re running.”

And that’s how you and Emily found yourselves running endless laps around the training pitch while the entire team enjoyed their breakfast.

Some of the devils even cheered when you passed.

“Was it worth it?” Emily huffed beside you.

You glanced at the dining hall window, where Megan was still chugging water, Lindsey was glaring at her salty coffee, and Kelley was angrily texting while her phone kept auto-correcting.

You grinned. “No doubt, man.”

[p0orbaby]

Hi writer, hope you are doing well and if you are accepting request

Requesting a barca teen who is short like aitana and may be shorter than her and the team likes to baby her or tease her good naturedly and The reader is the one who scores the winning goal for barca through a header surprising everyone

-

The match is a big one. The kind where the crowd feels too loud and too quiet all at once, and the floodlights could probably fry an egg if you held one close enough. You’re on the bench—standard practice when you’re 5’2” and look more like you belong at a school assembly than on a pitch. Aitana, the second shortest on the team, is on the pitch, legs pumping like pistons.

“Looking for your big sister?” Mapi teases, leaning back on the bench beside you. “Or maybe your carer?”

“She’s not my sister,” you mutter, flicking the grass off your boots. You’ve heard all the jokes before. Aitana calls you “her shadow,” and the rest of the team has gleefully adopted the dynamic.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Patri chimes in, tying her ponytail for what must be the fifth time today. “You even walk like her”

“No, she skips,” Mapi adds, making an exaggerated bouncing motion with her shoulders. “It’s very cute”

You glower at them, crossing your arms. Cute. As if that’s what you signed up for—endless ribbing and being treated like someone’s younger cousin at a wedding. You’re here to win. To play. To prove you’re not just a mascot with a squad number.

“Alright, you’re in,” the coach says suddenly, and you spring to your feet so fast you almost trip over your bootlaces.

“What, her?” Mapi exclaims, clearly delighted. “Coach, do you want me to carry her onto the pitch?”

You shoot her a look that could cut glass and jog out before she can say anything else.

The game is tied—1-1—and the tension in the stadium feels like a living, breathing thing. You’re darting between defenders, trying not to let the adrenaline make your legs feel like jelly.

Aitana passes you the ball with a grin, whispering something as you pass her by. “Don’t get lost out there, pequeña”

You don’t respond, just shoot her a glare over your shoulder and keep moving.

Then comes the moment. A cross from Patri so perfect it feels like it was gift-wrapped. The defender marking you is taller—of course—but you don’t care. You jump. And for a second, you’re airborne, defying every height-related joke you’ve ever heard.

The header is clean, sharp, and perfectly placed. The ball rockets into the back of the net, and the crowd erupts.

You land with a thud and turn, wide-eyed, as your teammates descend on you like you’ve just cured cancer.

“Was that—” Aitana starts, staring at you like she’s not sure whether to laugh or scream.

“A header,” Mapi finishes for her, running up behind you and hoisting you into the air. “The short one scored a header!”

You’re laughing, almost dizzy from the chaos, but you can’t help the smug grin spreading across your face.

“You know,” you say, as Mapi sets you down, “maybe it’s time you lot stopped calling me small”

Aitana raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Sure. Right after you grow another five inches”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no malice in it. The teasing doesn’t bother you so much now—not when the scoreboard says 2-1, and your name is written next to it.

[mapis-putellas]

𝑫𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒅/𝑶.𝑩𝒂𝒕𝒍𝒍𝒆

Ona had been off all morning. You’d noticed it the second you woke up beside her. She’d been quieter than usual, taking longer than normal to get ready, her mind clearly elsewhere as she pulled on her training gear. Even on the drive to the training ground, she’d been distracted, fingers drumming against the steering wheel, barely responding when you spoke.

It wasn’t like her. Ona was always so present, so engaged. When she was with you, she was with you. But today, she was somewhere else entirely.

You didn’t push, though. You figured she’d tell you when she was ready.

It was only when you were standing on the sidelines watching training that you realised just how much of a distraction whatever was on her mind actually was.

She was playing poorly, uncharacteristically sloppy with her touches, mistiming her runs, fumbling simple passes. Even the other players had started to notice, shooting her confused looks whenever she misplaced the ball.

And then it happened.

A sharp, powerful pass from Mapi, completely unintentional, but heading straight for Ona. She had plenty of time to react. Any other day, she would have controlled it perfectly, spun away from her marker, continued play like nothing had happened.

But she wasn’t paying attention. The ball smacked her square in the face, a loud, unmistakable sound, and she went down immediately.

You were on your feet before you even realised it, heart leaping to your throat as you rushed onto the pitch, ignoring the amused whistles from a few players and the exasperated sighs from the coaching staff.

“Ona!” You dropped to your knees beside her, hand cupping her face, your stomach twisting at the sight of the blood trickling from her nose. “Oh my god, baby, are you okay?”

She groaned, squeezing her eyes shut. “Me duele…”

You reached for the hem of your sleeve, gently pressing it to her nose, ignoring the way she winced and the red that now stained your shirt. “That looked brutal. You weren’t even looking.”

She peeked at you, face scrunched in discomfort. “No lo vi.”

“No, you didn’t,” you said, exasperated. “What is going on with you today?”

Before she could answer, Mapi appeared beside you, guilt all over her face. “Mierda, Ona, lo siento. I didn’t mean to-“

“Yeah, yeah,” Ona grumbled, still holding her nose. “You just have a rocket for a foot.”

Mapi winced. “It’s not broken, right?”

You shot her a glare. “If it is, I’m fighting you.”

Ona let out a pained laugh. “No pelees con Mapi.”

“Then tell me what’s wrong,” you shot back.

Her cheeks flushed, but before she could say anything, the team’s medical staff finally reached her, gently nudging you aside as they examined her nose.

“It’s not broken,” one of them confirmed after a moment, dabbing away the blood with a piece of gauze. “But you’re going to have some swelling.”

Ona sighed in relief, though she still looked embarrassed.

Mapi clapped her shoulder. “Well, at least it’s not your lips.” She not so subtly gestured to you. You, who was still knelt next to her looking less than happy.

Ona glared at her. “Vete a la mierda.”

Mapi just grinned and jogged off, back towards Ingrid who was watching the whole situation from afar.

You, however, weren’t letting it go.

By the time you got back to her apartment, Ona was still oddly quiet, sitting at the edge of the bed, gingerly pressing an ice pack to her nose.

You stood in front of her, arms crossed. “Okay. Spill.”

She avoided your gaze. “Spill qué?”

You scoffed. “Don’t play dumb. You weren’t paying attention today. You got smacked in the face because you were too busy thinking. And I want to know what you were thinking about.”

She swallowed, still not looking at you.

“Ona.” You softened, stepping closer and crouching down before gently tilting her chin up so she had no choice but to meet your eyes. “Talk to me, baby.”

She exhaled shakily. “I…I wanted to ask you something.”

You frowned, brushing your thumb along the sharpness of her jaw. “You can ask me anything. You know that.”

She hesitated for a long moment before finally saying, “Move in with me.”

Your breath hitched. “What?”

Her grip on the ice pack tightened slightly. “I was going to ask you. Today. But then I got nervous, and I started overthinking, and then-“ She gestured vaguely to her face.

Your chest ached, but not from worry this time.

“Ona,” you murmured, voice soft.

She swallowed. “I know we spend most nights together anyway, but I want-I want it to be always. I want you here. With me.”

Your heart swelled. You leaned in, brushing your nose ever so gently, against hers, smiling when she sighed softly at the touch. “Of course I’ll move in with you, baby.”

Her eyes flickered up to yours, hope flickering in them. “Sí?”

You kissed her, light and tender. “Sí.”

She let out a breath of relief, her hands coming to rest on your waist, pulling you closer.

“Though,” you added, a teasing lilt to your voice, “maybe next time you have a big question to ask, don’t let it distract you so much that you get smacked in the face?”

She groaned, burying her face in your shoulder. “Dios mío, nunca voy a vivir esto.”

You laughed, arms wrapping around her. “Nope. Never.”

She squeezed you tighter. “I love you.”

You pressed a kiss to her hair. “I love you too, baby. And I can’t wait to live with you.”

**

Tags:

@ceesimz @marysfics @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @simp4panos @silentwolfsstuff @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan @ktgoodmorning @chelseacult

[shayjonahjameson]

Anger is healthy. (Adam Warlock x gender neutral reader smut)

After costing him and the Guardians an important victory for your team, Adam gives you the silent treatment that only lasts so long before he snaps. But the outcome isn't so bad.. Though, trying to move at all during your next mission might be difficult.

warnings: smut written by a virgin. dumb/airheaded reader. dacryphilia, degradation. fuck is overused. improper use of cosmic energy. adam's a dick to reader. hate fucking, technically it is but it isnt, he loves reader, he's just angry. established relationship. not proofread.

Adam had planned for every fuckup. Every. Single. One. Except for you, his fiance. He loved you with all his heart and he tried his hardest not to baby you. But he couldn't respect you on the battlefield. you had no coordination, or any knowledge of combat. So he had you wait back on the ship while the rest of the Guardians got to save the galaxy. Usually you busied yourself with Netflix, Solitaire, or tried new recipes but that didn't work this time. you were desperate for Adam's attention and it had been so long since you spent time together. You knew you were clumsy and your powers were hardly that helpful. It's just being sidelined repeatedly and left back like a sack of dried potatoes was starting to hurt like hell. you used the Milano's advanced glass to zoom in on the battlefield. you watched Adam and Mantis, the core of your team, and sighed. A twinge of jealousy sparked your desire to join them. And that spark became a raging wildfire when you watched Adam hoist Mantis onto his shoulder, and hover into the sky.

As the Milano's bay doors swung open you sprinted towards the sound of the battle. you leapt high into the air and then crashed in the middle of the chaos. Adam's eyes flew open wide. Rocket reloaded his gun and hopped onto your shoulder. "About time. I had a feeling you were going to do something spunky and hid a charge in your pocket." His gun overloaded and you slowly took the charge out of your pocket and handed it to rocket. He carefully fixed his steaming weapon and launched into the fray. One of your enemies, Bucky, charged past Rocket and launched into the air.

He slammed his metal fist into the ground and the shockwave sent you, Mantis and Adam flying into the crumpled wood structures. Mantis sensed the growing tension and decided to join the others on the frontlines. Bucky pulled his gun on you, but Adam dove in front of you and swept the bullets aside with cosmic energy. "I thought–" He slammed his scepter into Bucky's side and then tossed him away with all his might. "–I told you to stay on the ship and wait for me." His usually stoic expression was gone, and he was clearly pissed off.

"I wanted to help.." you replied. Leaving out the part about being jealous. Adam pinched the bridge of his nose and ran into the fight. You followed and immediately, your bad luck started to shift the tides. Venom's tendrils sunk through Groots wall and destroyed it. Both Punisher, Bucky and Iron Man sent waves of their arsenal that overwhelmed the guardians. Adam swooped in and tried to heal them when you reached out and pulled him back by his cape. He stumbled back and avoided Iron Man's invincible blast by a hair. your team however, were not so lucky and had been completely incapacitated. It'd take more than his basic healing. you'd have to fall back.

"I didn't need your help. We were doing just fine." He said coldly and then used his power to drag the others away. your clear surrender caused your enemies to pull back.

"I saved you. I'm trying to be useful." you replied with a frown.

Adam snapped. "I can REVIVE. If you hadn't intervened I would've had a big enough window of time to heal you before I got hit. Or are you too fucking stupid to think of those things huh?" you winced and stayed quiet on the way back to the Milano. Once you were on board. It was a silent trip back to HQ. you felt Adam's eyes boring through the back of your skull. And every time you looked back. He looked away. Refusing to give you even a passing glance. you knew you fucked up. But the gravity of how badly only set in when the Guardians got healed up. As soon as you touched down, Adam pulled off his cape and left it on the ship. Shirtless, he took off for your home, at the edge of this collection of realities without another word. In the hospital, Mantis explained the severity of the mission.

"One of the realities linked to the place we just fought at, was 1610. A homeworld for the young hero that Spider-Man's always with. Adam wanted to save his world. Because he'd been down and believed there was crucial information that could help us in the long run." She explained. You frowned and looked off to the side. your silence spoke volumes. Mantis leaned forward and weakly placed a hand on yours. "I know why you did it. If you explain your feelings, I'm sure, it will be alright."

Mantis was such a sweetheart about it all that you felt bad for even being jealous of her in the first place. After a couple hours of helping Luna and Dagger patch up the Guardians. you left for your shared home with Adam. Through the door alone you could feel him brooding but you gently pushed it open. Adam was on the couch. He had his elbow planted in the soft, plush arm of the couch and his cheek rested on his fist. He was still shirtless. Too fucking annoyed to even shower or acknowledge you presence. As you stepped in he clenched his jaw.

"I'm sorry.. I know I cost you all something so important and I feel bad for Miles and everybody from that world. I messed up. I let my ego and my jealousy—" Adam glanced at you and in a very petty fashion used the remote to turn the TV’s volume up so high it drowned out your voice. You walked over and tried to grab the remote so you could lower the volume, when he simply pulled his arm back behind his head. You got closer and leaned on the couch to grab the remote, the stupid TV giving a blaringly loud commercial about car insurance. When your fingers grazed his wrist, he tossed the remote into a portal that appeared aboved the fridge. in the moment you hadn't realized you were straddling him until you felt his stong hands hook into your waist. your breath hitched. it'd been so long since he touched you. and you were going to wait even longer. he shoved you off his lap so you fell to the floor between his legs. and he stared past you to the TV. which was so loud you could barely think in peace.

"Please.. It's too loud." You whispered. Covering your ears. His eyes scanned your distressed face and the remote slipped back into his hand. He cut it off. Baby steps.

"Adam.." You started and he visibly tensed up. You placed your hands on his thighs and looked up at him. trying to appeal to his kind heart. "I'm sorry. I let my ego get in the way of something important." He finally looked at you, and you would've celebrated, if he didn't look so pained. His nose crinkled with disgust and he grimaced.

"Can you shut the fuck up? And leave me alone for one second." His voice had a biting edge to it. You would've taken more offense if it didn't give you butterflies. He'd never talked to you like that. It was different. To be honest you hadn't ever seen him angry. And you regretted that.

"Huh?" Your hands trailed down his legs to your lap. You bundled up the fabric of your pants underneath your hands. trying to get a hold of yourself. but the way he looked, blonde hair obscuring one of his eyes, and breathing heavy, likely from all his pent up anger. it was taking you somewhere.

Adam's eyes narrowed and he lifted up from his fist. His eyes flicked down to your hands and how you practically clawed at your jeans. He wasn't dumb, unlike you, and figured out why you started acting weird. The lingering warmth from your hands on his thighs had him a little dizzy. He brought his hand to your jaw, his thumb ghosted your bottom lip. "I fucking hate you." Your eyes glazed over with tears. But that didn't stop heat from pooling your lower belly. he fingers trembled at the sight of you crying. and he couldn't take it anymore.

he stood up and threw you over his shoulder. startled you yelped in surprise. "What're you—" He kicked open your bedroom door and dropped you on your bed. He stood over you, taking in how you looked teary eyed and confused. it was pathetic and he fucking loved it. he didn't get this look from you too often since he was always gentle and perfect. but not tonight. the glimpse of Adam you got tonight wasn't perfect. He was a dick, he liked seeing you cry, and wanted nothing more to blow off steam by taking it all out on you. he grabbed your face with both hands and kissed you feverishly. you melted into his touch and gradually he got on the bed too. eventually he pulled away and push your shoulder so you'd fall on your back. Adam's cheeks were flushed orange and he snapped his fingers.

your clothes faded off your bodies in an instant, thanks to his powers. and you let out a soft sigh as the cool air touched your body. your moment of bliss was interrupted as Adam flipped you over to your stomach. you covered your mouth with the back of your hand. your body fully exposed in this position. and with Adam being such an asshole today you expected him to make fun of you. but he didn't. instead he roughly grabbed your hips and lifted them up to meet him halfway. you could tell he was angry because he held onto you so roughly. you could already feel the bruises. you gripped the pillow underneath you in anticipation. "Adam..." You started again.

And he sharply thrust inside you without warning. Completely sheathing himself to the hilt. You whimpered loudly. Tears stinging in your eyes again. It'd been so long since you'd been with him. Your walls delicously stretched to accomdate him. And Adam chuckled. He gently stroked your hips. Mocking you. "Aww, I bet that hurt huh?" There's a reason he had you face down in the pillows. So you couldn't see how pleasure contorted his features. he looked pathetic himself. lip quivering, flushed cheeks, messy blonde hair stuck to his forehead. he missed you as much as you missed him. but he wouldn't let you know that. he slid all the way out and then slammed all the way back in. that one got you. you moaned desperately. clinging to the pillow for dear life. slowly but surely he built up a steady rhythm.

His thrusts got more aggressive as the source of his aggravation was brought up. "Why couldn't you just fucking listen?" He said lowly. his hips pistoned forward with animilastic abandon. guiding himself to that place inside you he knew you loved. "Why couldn't you just fucking stay?" He growled out. and his nails dug into your skin. you would've hissed at the pain but his cock driving itself deeper, and deeper, over and over. you couldn't keep track of anything else.

You tried to apologize. Your voice was hoarse from screaming in between each shaky attempt. "S-Sorry.." You said quietly. And he slammed back into you right as you finished talking. your vision blurred as tears welled up in your eyes.

"I'm... sorry..." You whined. Tears rolled down your cheeks. And that might've been the best or worst thing to happen depending how you look at it. the moment he saw your tears he felt his cock twitch. his eyes rolled back briefly and he fell out of rhythm. he cursed under his breath. you felt him hit that spot inside of you and you swore you saw stars. or you would've if you hadn't buried your head into the pillow. but he wasn't having that. he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled roughly. making you lift up from the pillow.

"Why. Didn't. You. Listen?" He spoke in your ear. every syllable ennuciated with his thrusts. and he expected an answer. your legs started to shake. you couldn't handle much more of him like this. but you didn't want him to stop. you were so cock drunk you couldn't muster an answer. and it pissed him off even more. "Answer me." His hips snapped forward and he stayed still inside you. buried so deeply you felt him brushing against your sweet spot.

You replied in a shaky voice. "I.. missed.. you.." His expression softened for a moment. before he started back up again. he let go of your hair and you collapsed against your pillow.

"You messed up my mission because of that? You're pathetic." He snapped. Just in time for you to squeeze around him. his breath hitched and he leaned in, his chest locked firmly against your back. he was getting close. "I can't stand you." your heart nearly dropped but his fingers overlapped yours and they intertwined. "You're so annoying—" He cut himself with a moan of his own. he felt his cock twitch again, and his thrusts got sloppy. "—and if I didn't love you so much I would fucking hate you."

And with one more thrust, you came, and screamed his name louder than you ever have. He buried his face in your neck to muffle his own sounds of pleasure and with one final thrust, he sent thick ropes of golden cum inside of you. You both stayed in that position before he pulled out of you. and gently picked you up. you tiredly looked up at him and noticed the kind eyes of your lover had returned. he hovered out of bed with you in his arms and went to your bathroom, where he'd sweetly clean you up and get you all healed up.

[iamhereforfunnzies]

I saw your blind reader post and hear me out, Toph Beijing reader? Like they neglected them and didn’t realize that reader was an earth bender (and one of the best at that). I don’t know just some food for thought! I really love your work by the way!

The main inspo was actually Toph!! But I asked myself what if Toph was never founded by team avatar. Also the main difference between Toph and blind!reader is that reader is far far far more bratty compared to Toph (suprise2x).

Blind!Reader is the type who only founded being a Earthbender by tripping themselves 3 times and complained to alfred about it. (Alfred is confused about the dents around the garden and manor) , and Blind!Reader's bending style would actually be more similar with fire bending because of her lack of control and repressed unadulterated rage of being babied.

Their unique style of bending actually sky rocket them to being one of the best, even with their distructive tendency , Bruce would be like Toph's dad (obvi) and be far more Denial about your mutant abilities . Alfred would be stress 100% he is losing hair about it since in his eyes you were more like glass than human. Absolute becomes more over bearing to the max same with Dick grayson , your older brother is trying to puzzle the pieces with your bending and how much it's turning you to be more aggressive and hostille it's like seeing his kid self again.

[theemporium]

Hi!! For your mini Christmas blurb celebration could I request drinking cocoa with Quinn? 🥹❤️

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

“Laugh all you want, Hughes, but you’re gonna be eating your own words soon.”

Quinn pressed his lips together, raising his brows in amusement as you continued to work around the kitchen. “This all seems a bit excessive.” 

“It’s necessary,” you retorted. 

“It’s hot chocolate, baby,” Quinn pointed out. “You heat up some milk, add the powder and put some marshmallows in it. It’s not rocket science.” 

“Spoken like a man who has only ever drank mediocre hot chocolate,” you sniped back, turning to glance over your shoulder so he could see the way your lips were twitching with a small smile. 

The season was truly underway by the time December came around, which meant more often than not, Quinn was running on a tight routine like a robot of eat, sleep, practice, game day, repeat. December marked around the halfway point of the season, where it was starting to become more clear to teams where their chances stood at extending their season beyond April. 

And as captain, Quinn was under a whole new set of pressures to prove the previous season was not a one off fluke, that he could lead the team straight to playoffs and beyond. 

But Quinn knew his body and knew he could only help the team if he was at his very best, which was how he ended up with a rare maintenance day between practices and home games, allowing his body to rest and recover. 

And to enjoy some uninterrupted time with you. 

It was nothing monumental or grand, just a simple movie at home where Quinn could curl up with you on the couch and not have to set an alarm for a workout, practice or pregame nap. Or at least, he assumed it would be a lazy day on the couch until he offhandedly mentioned that hot chocolate would be perfect with the movie the two of you were watching. 

Because that led to a trip to the grocery store and Quinn leaning against the kitchen island as he watched you chop up more bars of chocolate than necessary, cartons of milk and cream and who-knew-what by the stove behind you. 

“I didn’t realise you were so particular about hot chocolate,” Quinn teased because, despite the interruption to the shared lazy day, it was oddly endearing to watch how seriously you were taking it.

“I’m about to blow your mind,” you told him, lifting your head to catch the way he was grinning at you. “You’re gonna walk back into practice tomorrow, a new man.” 

Quinn actually did laugh this time. “You’re insane.”

“And you still love me.” 

Quinn’s face softened as he rounded the counter. “Yeah, I do.”

You smiled as he wound his arms around your waist, tucking his chin against your shoulder. “Sap.”

“And you still love me,” Quinn repeated, squeezing you closer. “You love me enough to put extra marshmallows in my hot chocolate.” 

“Obviously, baby.”

.

[megalony]

Meet My Family- Part 2

Okay, it's taken me a while but here is the second part of my Evan Buckley imagine. I hope you will all like it, thank you for the lovely feedback on the first part.

Please let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro

Evan Buckley Masterlist

Part 1

Summary: Now that Evan's team have met his family and his son, his family have been invited to a birthday party and Evan is touched how everyone makes an effort with his son. (Autistic son)

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What's this?" Evan tilted his head back against the sofa and squinted up at Hen who was stood behind him.

She had a cheesy grin spread across her face and one brow arched up in that manner that implied something was going on or that she had some kind of plan formulating in her head. Both her hands planted down on the sofa either side of his shoulders and she leaned forward and indicated her head towards the envelope she had just handed down to him.

"What does it look like?"

Evan rolled his eyes and leaned forward, focusing on opening the pale blue envelope which had Buckley's written on the back.

His brows rose and he pushed forward so he could spin on the sofa and look up at Hen properly once he looked over the card inside.

It was an invitation.

He glanced over the writing and the painted balloons in the background. Denny was having a birthday party next week, coincidently it was Evan's day off, but he suspected Hen had gone to Bobby and they had done the rota so everyone on the A shift could have the day off together.

But what made Evan's heart rocket in his chest was the names scrawled on the top of the page, clearly in Denny's handwriting. Buck, (Y/n) and Rowan. They were inviting Rowan.

"You're coming, right?" It was more a statement than a question and Evan dreaded to give the wrong answer.

Of course he would go, he thought Denny was a sweet kid and parties with the team were always a fun celebration. And he and (Y/n) had nothing else planned, so they couldn't really say no.

"Yeah, of course."

"How's Rowan with music, he's not sensitive to noises, right?"

"The louder the better… are you, um… I mean, Rowan loves parties, but he doesn't get invited to many."

The hidden question was there behind Evan's words. The tone of his voice was careful, he didn't want to cause offence or seem like he was ungrateful for the invite because he was. But in his and (Y/n)'s extended families, there weren't too many people who took the time to understand Rowan.

Their excuses were the usual kind. It was a party for adults or for older children, Rowan was 'too young' to go or he would be tired easily or it would be too loud for him. It was the polite way of saying they didn't want him there.

Evan didn't want Hen to think she was obligated to invite them if Denny was going to have a lot of school friends round who might not understand or who might just sit and stare at Rowan. That wouldn't be fair on anyone.

"Denny wants to meet him, he's heard Chris talking about him, and we want you all there. He's always gonna be welcome."

Evan nodded and took a deep breath to ward off the tears that were starting to burn behind his eyes and nose. The team had met Rowan twice, the first time when they came down to the hospital and again when Evan brought him to the station.

And he had gone to Eddie's house to meet Chris, which had gone down so well that Rowan didn't want to go home.

"You sure? He'll try to explore and take the toys and the food and if he's excited you'll hear him for miles." Evan's tone softened, he wasn't trying to put Hen off or make her change her mind, he just wanted her to know what she was agreeing to.

Rowan was a handful, but Evan wouldn't have him any other way. Rowan would explore Hen's house because it was a new environment and he was curious. He would try and take any present he saw that took his fancy, if he was hungry he would want to pinch the food whether it was time to eat or not. And he was very vocal, if Rowan was excited his noises got louder. He would squeal and scream and laugh and clap because it was his way of expressing himself when he couldn't use words.

"Buck, you've just described every kid that's gonna be there, don't worry, it's gonna be a great day. None of you have allergies, right?"

"Just Pica." The playful smirk on Evan's face made Hen smile and she nodded, patting his shoulder while she rolled her eyes.

Evan had told the team about Rowan's conditions, one of them being Pica, where he would eat non-food items. It was mainly for sensory feelings, if he looked the look or the smell or the texture of something, he would put it in his mouth to learn and explore. Which was why all the cleaning products were locked away in a cupboard in Evan's home, and why they had to keep an eye on Rowan at all times.

When Hen walked back into the kitchen, Evan smiled and nodded to himself. It was going to be an eventful day, if anything. One that he was now looking forward to.

"Are we ready?" (Y/n) looked between her two boys with a smile that was a little apprehensive.

The only one out of the three of them who was any good at parties was Evan. (Y/n) was too nervous and never knew what to do or what to say, she ended up sitting in a corner barely conversing with anyone. And no one knew how to act with Rowan, there was only a handful of people who knew how to interact with him and who were happy to sit with him and try to engage in his ways of play.

Whereas everyone got along with Evan, he was always smiling and knew how to joke around and could intergrate into any conversation and community.

But this was a children's party. (Y/n) knew this was going to be a lot easier than the usual kind of party. She could interact with kids, she knew how to be on their level and understand them and play their games and she had a lot of patience for children.

"Off we go," Evan grinned and tugged on Rowan's hand as they approached the front door to Hen's house.

He kept hold of Rowan's hand and tugged his boy back to his side when the five year old went to push the door. He had a tendency to try and walk into houses straight after knocking, Rowan didn't grasp the part about waiting to be invited inside. He thought it was like going home or going to his grandparent's house, he could walk right in and the door would be unlocked and people would be welcoming.

"Hi! Denny will be thrilled you're all here, come in." Karen opened the door, a wide smile on her face as she ushered them inside. "Hi Rowan." A gentle look washed over Karen's face and she waved her hand at him.

She had heard Hen talk about him, about how it was a surprise to find out Evan had a family of his own and how sweet she thought Rowan was when she met him at the hospital. They were all excited to meet him, and Denny was always open to making new friends.

The five year old studied her curiously as he swayed back and forth, pulling on Evan's hand like it was a rope swing. But he waved at her nonetheless which caused her smile to widen.

"Everyone's out in the garden."

They followed Karen down to the kitchen and out the back door where the noise level raised and the chaos ensued.

There were a lot of balloons tied around the fence, some tied to the few tables outside and placed around the garden with weights to keep them from floating off into space. A banner of Happy Birthday was pinned against the fence on the right side of the garden above the buffet table.

(Y/n) could see something that would grab Rowan's attention towards the back of the garden. A paddling pool. Rowan was very sensory and he loved the swimming pool, if they weren't careful he would be straight in there in his clothes and they wouldn't be able to get him out. And next to the pool was a sandbox that was usually closed up but today was wide open with spades and buckets and a signpost that (Y/n) couldn't read from this far away.

They didn't get very far before Denny spotted them and it was heartwarming to see his bright smile when he realised they had arrived. He had been waiting desperately to meet Rowan.

Denny was sat near the sandbox with Chris who was eyeing the buffet like he was desperate to go over there and try everything. Chris had already met Rowan and they were all pleased that the pair of them seemed to be very happy in each other's company. Chris was a little unsure at first that when he spoke, Rowan didn't give a response. But he could see Rowan knew what was being said and he would smile or pat Chris's hand or just murmur as a way of response.

"You're here!" He bounded over to them with a wide smile and bounds of energy radiating off of him. He stood next to Karen who placed her hand on his shoulder. "I'm Denny."

(Y/n) was quite surprised that Denny's smile actually widened when Rowan made a little humming noise. Maybe he had been told Rowan was non-verbal and thought that meant he didn't make any sounds at all. But it was so lovely to see someone eager to play with Rowan and just be in his presence. They wanted Rowan to have a normal childhood, as normal as possible, and connect with people and make friends.

When (Y/n) held the present they had brought in front of Rowan and nodded towards Denny, the five year old took the hint. He grabbed the bag with haste and thrust it towards Denny with determination in his eyes and his other hand still clinging to Evan.

"Thank you," Denny carefully took the present and looked up at his mum who nodded and took it from him so it could be put with the rest of the presents inside for him to open later.

"Mum's doing a scavenger hunt in the sandbox. Do you want to join?" Denny held his hand out and waited patiently. He knew Rowan might not want to take his hand because he didn't know him, but he thought it was worth a try.

The young boy looked up at Evan, made a 'me me' noise and took Denny's hand. He kept hold of his dad's hand too, dragging Evan along like they were in a chain or a congo but it was enough to make Denny grin. And (Y/n) could barely focus on breathing when all she could feel was surprise and love and happiness.

Denny walked slow enough so they could trot side by side towards Hen, Athena's son Harry and Chris and Eddie. They were all stood near the sandbox and Evan took a moment to look around.

"Scavenger hunt?" (Y/n) looked towards Karen as they both moved to head over to where Athena, Bobby, Chimney and Maddie were all sat nearby with the radio blasting eighties tunes in the background.

"Hen's buried sweets and little fidget toys in the sandbox. They'll have to dig around for buried treasure."

Evan took to looking in the sandbox to get a better view and see what Hen had been up to. He loved the effort they had put in to making games for the kids, it was more than Evan ever had in his childhood, he never had any big parties or fun celebrations for anything in his life. Not his birthday, not to celebrate leaving school or getting into college. His parents were only ever happy to be at a party for Evan when he got married.

He wanted things to be different for Rowan.

Rowan began swaying back and forth, unsure what they were doing or why they were stood waiting near the sand. He knew he didn't usually get to play in the sandbox at school. He had a tendency to put the sand in his mouth because of his Pica and on the odd occasions when he was taken to the beach, one parent always had hold of him at all times so he couldn't try anything.

He started to hum and tick his head back and forth like he was dancing to the music before he suddenly let go of each hand he had been holding. He weaved around the sandbox and made a little squeal as he bounced on his tiptoes and made a beeline for the buffet table.

"Not yet buddy." Evan trotted behind him and clamped his hands down on Rowan's shoulders.

A squeal of protest left Rowan's lips and his brows furrowed as he pointed at the table and stomped his foot.

"No, not yet. Games first."

When Rowan tried to stomp his foot and reach out for a bowl of crisps, Evan moved quickly. He could just envision that bowl going flying and crisps scattering across the floor. He looped his hands beneath Rowan's arms and spun him round in the other direction.

He knelt down in front of the sandbox and gently sat Rowan on his knees as the boys all knelt in the sandbox, ready to dig for treasure.

When Hen said the boys could start digging, Evan handed Rowan a plastic spade and encouraged him to start to dig with everyone else. Rowan seemed content to look at the others for a while, he had never known objects to be hidden in the sand like this. He watched Denny dig up a lollipop and when Chris found a bag of Haribos and pointed to the sand, Rowan started to dig, if a bit lazily.

A very lovely, cheeky smile flooded Rowan's face after a few minutes and he dunked his left hand down into the sand. His fingers curled into his palm and spread out again to feel the sand tickling his palm and flooding between his fingers.

He burrowed his hands down into the sand, grabbed fistfuls and pulled his hands back up. He watched, fascinated, as the sand fell through his fingers like droplets of rain.

His lips parted in a cheeky smile and he locked eyes with Hen just as he poked his tongue over his lower lip towards the sand.

"Ah-ah, don't do that thank you." Evan pressed his lips to the top of Rowan's head and enclosed his large hand around his son's to prevent him from putting his hand in his mouth. He knew what he was doing. He was looking to see if anyone would notice or tell him off.

His head tilted back against Evan's chest as he started to giggle.

He did it for the texture, not to try and eat the sand because he was hungry or desperate. It was a fixation, a sensory feeling, putting things in his mouth was Rowan's way of getting a sensory fix and feeling textures and learning.

"I think you've had enough sand." Evan murmured against the top of Rowan's head before he glanced over at Hen. "Is he okay to wander round a bit?" He would hate to let Rowan wander if Hen wanted all the kids to stay together or to stay in the garden. Rowan liked to explore and that might mean scouting round the kitchen.

"Sure, go have fun."

Evan let Rowan take the lead, he let his boy wander round the garden, not really looking for anything in particular. He was getting to know this new environment, getting used to new surroundings and familiar people and loud noises and different smells.

Evan followed him round, hands in his pockets and a grin on his face. Rowan was doing better than he expected. His boy wasn't screaming or having a meltdown from a sensory overload. He wasn't banging on the tables and chairs or fighting to get at the buffet table and he was being his version of sociable. He wasn't frowning and pushing Denny or Chris away which he sometimes did when he was tired or overwhelmed.

He seemed happy wandering around with his head nodding back and forth and his hands shaking at his sides in stims.

"Hi mister, what're you up to?" Bobby leaned his head to one side as he looked down at Rowan when the five year old paused in front of him.

His big wide eyes stared up at Bobby before he fell into a fit of giggles. He recognised him from seeing him at the hospital and again when Bobby had visited their home for the first time. He reached up and tugged on Bobby's hand, swinging it back and forth before he started to pull him down.

Bobby obliged and crouched down to be level with him, only to have Rowan's cheeky smile widen and his hands started grabbing at the cup in Bobby's free hand.

"Buddy, ask nicely."

He knew not to try and take what he wanted. His head turned to look up at Evan before he turned back towards Bobby and gently patted his wrist. Rowan's sign to imply that he himself wanted a drink.

"Come and show me what you want to drink then."

The Captain took Rowan's hand and they both headed towards the buffet table where there were at least four different bottles of pop and some jugs of juice set out. He knew Rowan could point and choose for himself, he just needed them to be poured for him.

Evan rolled his lips together and dragged his hand across his jaw, unable to hide his beaming smile as he watched his Captain take great care to try and understand his son. Bobby was nodding and humming along to the noises Rowan was making and when they reached the table, Bobby crouched down to Rowan's level and politely asked him to pick what he would like.

Everyone seemed to be understanding Rowan completely and they accepted every little whim and way he had.

The party was going better than expected.

***

"Have you had enough, baby?" (Y/n) tilted her head to the left to where Rowan was sat beside her. He was close enough that his arm was resting on her thigh and their legs were touching, he didn't like to be far apart.

She gently stroked her fingers through his hair as he began humming and pushed his paper plate away, his signal that he was finished.

The boys had been sat very close to the buffet table in case they wanted seconds. They had been sat in a big circle on the grass to have their dinner while the rest of the 118 were in the chairs near the radio, finishing off their food. But Rowan wouldn't stray far from his parents when it was time to eat.

He wasn't much of a fussy eater, he would eat a lot of various things, but if Rowan was at a strange place, he was self-conscious. He didn't like people looking at him when he was eating and he could get overwhelmed when he heard other people eating and the different sounds they made.

And both parents wanted him close by just in case he tried to take something from someone else's plate. He didn't do that often but they didn't want him to start that habit today.

"Good boy," (Y/n) looped her arm around his shoulders so he could snuggle into her side. She was sat on the grass in between Evan's legs with her head resting on his thigh and his legs squeezing into her sides. And every now and then she felt his hand holding her shoulder or feathering up and down her neck as he peppered kisses to the top of her head.

She looked down at Rowan when he started to bash his palm against his mouth, making popping sounds like he was kissing his hand. When he started rocking back and forth, she uncurled her arm from him so he could move around without bashing into her.

(Y/n) looked to the right and she smiled when Chris plonked down on his knees next to her. He looked between her and Evan, clearly wanting to speak to them and be in their company for a while since everyone else was still either eating or chatting and listening to the music.

"I've been learning some new tricks." His wide grin made (Y/n) raise her brow and she tilted her head back to look up at Evan who hummed.

"Oh yeah, like what?" Evan rested his elbows on his knees and his hands on (Y/n)'s shoulders so he could lean over her. His lips pressed to the top of her head but his eyes were firmly focused on watching Chris.

They knew he was trying to learn some little magic tricks, he was venturing into lots of games and different tricks to amuse himself. He was much like Evan in the sense that he took up a lot of different activities and didn't like to stick to just one thing.

It was why they had so much fun when Chris came round and watched documentaries with Evan or when they all went to the zoo or the aquarium.

They listened eagerly as Chris explained what he was trying to do and showed them a trick.

"Pound?" Chris bit his lower lip and held his palm out towards Evan who huffed and rummaged around in his pocket.

"Is this payment, or are you showing us another trick?" He wasn't sure whether Chris was just being cheeky and asking for a coin because he had showed them a good trick. Or whether he needed one to try and perform another magic trick.

"Both."

Evan looked over at Eddie who was sat in the chair next to him. "You do realise I'm being swindled over here?"

Eddie shrugged. He had taught Chris well, it wasn't his fault if Evan always fell for it or always gave in because he was soft at heart.

He dropped a coin into the palm of Chris's hand before he curled his left arm around (Y/n)'s chest just beneath her neck and leaned to press a sloppy kiss to her cheek. He felt her hand curl around his arm and she leaned into his touch and peppered a few hollow kisses up his arm.

Her smile widened when Chris muttered a small "Okay," to himself and he shuffled closer until his knees nudged into (Y/n)'s leg. And he reached out to take (Y/n)'s free hand so he could use her hand as part of the trick.

(Y/n) leaned into Evan's touch and watched Chris intently, but she gasped and shot upright when Rowan suddenly grabbed her.

His hands scrunched up in her leggings and he made a deep whining sound as he scrambled to climb onto her lap. She pushed back into Evan and tried to part her legs so Rowan could sit between them but she couldn't help but groan when he continued to stand and clamber over her like she was a piece of furniture.

"Rowan," She groaned his name and tried to gently nudge him but her gasp turned into a cough when he stood up on her thighs and flopped into her chest, pushing her back into Evan.

"Rowan don't do that." Evan moved his arm that was around (Y/n)'s chest to nudge Rowan back but it didn't work.

The five year old started to make a low grumbling noise and the way he ground his jaw from side to side showed he wasn't happy. His nose crinkled and his lips jutted out before he reached his hand down and grabbed (Y/n)'s wrist, pulling her hand away from Chris.

When Evan noticed the movement, he sighed and bit his tongue to stop from rolling his eyes.

Rowan was getting possessive. He loved being around people, and he loved getting close to people and having their attention, but the same couldn't be said for his parents. He didn't like either (Y/n) or Evan interacting with other people, he thought they should be focused on him and only him.

Seeing (Y/n) playing with Chris made him upset, he wanted her attention, he didn't want her giving her attention to anyone else. They were his parents, not Chris's.

"Chris is doing magic, look." (Y/n) looped her left arm around Rowan's waist and tried to tug him to the side a little so he wasn't smothering her front. She kissed his cheek and let him lean into her chest while she sat back against Evan who kept an arm draped loosely over her shoulder.

She held her hand back out since she still had the coin burning into her palm and Chris tried to do the trick again, but Rowan wasn't impressed.

He pushed forward into (Y/n)'s chest and batted his hand out to whack her hand away from Chris.

"Ro, wanna come sit over here with me?" Eddie put his drink down on the grass beside his chair and reached his hands out in front of him. He wouldn't mind if Rowan wanted to come and sit with him, he would happily entertain him and play with him for a while.

But he wasn't interested. He let out another disgruntled whine, and before either parent could try and say anything, Rowan lurched his right arm out. He looped his arm around the back of (Y/n)'s neck and yanked her forward towards him with a bit too much force.

The movement shook (Y/n) off balance and she gasped when her forehead smashed into Rowan's.

"Fuck!"

A blinding pain shot through her temple and errupted behind her eyes that immediately began to water and pour tears down the bridge of her nose. She couldn't help the yelp she let out and her head flopped back onto Evan's thigh as she let go of Rowan to cradle her nose and temple. For a moment (Y/n) thought he'd given her a nosebleed, but she was relieved to see no blood coating her fingers or trickling down the back of her throat.

Leaning down, Evan cupped (Y/n)'s chin and tilted her head up in his direction and he gently moved her hands away so he could take a look. His fingers skimmed across her temple, wincing when she shivered and pulled back.

"You okay babe?"

"God, that hurt," (Y/n) groaned quietly but she didn't look up at Evan for long, her gaze switched back down to their boy.

He flopped down to sit between (Y/n)'s legs, hands cupping his neck and dragging his nails down his skin in long, deep scratches. Whines and deep cries rumbled past his lips and tears streaked down his face. He hadn't meant to pull (Y/n) harsh enough to headbutt her and it had clearly hurt him. He didn't have a high pain threshold.

"Come here, you're okay." Eddie hopped up from his chair and reached forward to scoop Rowan up and sit back down with him.

He perched the five year old on his knee and cocooned his arms around him, wiping away the tears. And he gently held Rowan's hand to stop him from scratching at his neck. He was rather surprised when Rowan leaned into him and pushed into his chest tight enough that Eddie had to take shallow breaths.

It had been a while since Eddie had patched Chris up after a fall or an accident and he smiled softly when Rowan burrowed into him rather than trying to scramble away.

"What were you doing, hm?"

"Getting possessive," Evan answered with a certain look and raised brows which caused Rowan to frown. He may not have understood the words, but he knew that look all too well. "He doesn't like our attention going to anyone else."

"So no more kids then?" Chimney spoke around the rim of his glass, his nose crinkling as he tried to dampen his smile a little.

He chuckled quietly at the sideways look he got from Evan and the way (Y/n)pushed out her lower lip to distort a smirk. They hadn't thought about that aspect. They were trying to focus on showing Rowan that it was okay for them to give attention to other people and other kids, that he wasn't missing out or being pushed aside.

He couldn't get this upset every time they tried to talk to people or be sociable, he had to learn that it was okay for their attention to be shared with other people.

Especially if, in the future, (Y/n) and Evan thought about having another baby. It wouldn't bode well if Rowan thought it was okay to be possessive over them and then he had to learn from an older age that he had to share them with a sibling.

"Show me again." (Y/n) whispered softly as she held her hand back out towards Chris and nodded for him to redo the trick he hadn't managed to finish with Rowan's little outburst.

She leaned her cheek against Evan's thigh and did her best to keep her eyes open despite the raging headache throbbing behind her eyes and nose. Both her and Evan kept darting their eyes over at Eddie, but he seemed happy as ever quietly chatting to Rowan who was no longer in fits of tears. The toddler was curled up into his chest, humming softly and holding Eddie's hand, letting out a little sniffle every now and then.

Just as Chris finished his magic trick, they all looked up when Denny jogged over to them with a wide grin.

"Mum said we can go in the pool, are you coming?" Denny hovered by the side of them, a hopeful look on his face that brightened as he looked between Chris and Rowan.

Evan was rather surprised Rowan hadn't made a beeline for the pool already, he was one for water, he was like a duck. He couldn't exactly swim but he would paddle and splash and he wasn't afraid to go further into the water at the local swimming pool as long as someone was alongside him. It was one of his preferred activities and something Evan and (Y/n) tried to do with him every week.

With a quick glance over at Eddie, Chris got up and whipped off his shirt which he tossed next to his dad's chair. And when Evan nodded, Eddie leaned forward and gently set Rowan down to his feet and motioned to his shirt.

"Are we off in the water?" When Eddie pointed to the paddling pool, a lovable, excited scream left Rowan's lips before he started patting his hand rather forcefully against his lips to stim. "Alright," Eddie grinned and helped him off with his shirt, he was wearing shorts so he would be fine in the water and (Y/n) had a bag with spare clothes for later.

(Y/n) patted Evan's thigh and tilted her head up to steal a quick kiss before she got up and hurried after Rowan. He needed to be supervised because too many people in a small paddling pool with him was a recipe for Rowan getting overwhelmed. He might try and push people out his way or lash out at them if they were overwhelming him or getting too close.

Once the other kids were in the pool, Rowan seemed to assess the paddling pool. (Y/n) wasn't sure what he was looking for or what he was thinking until he moved towards the left corner of the square pool, then she realised.

He wanted to sit on his own.

Rowan didn't want to be splashing about with everyone else because the pool wasn't big. It wasn't like the swimming pool where people could have their own space, this was a decent sized pool for a back garden, but with four other kids in there, Rowan clearly didn't want to be cramped.

He carefully climbed over the side and flopped into the water like a fish back in its habitat. He sat down with his legs crossed and the water settled just on top of his thighs. His arms threw out at his sides and he splashed his hands down in the water so that it prayed up around him and created bubbles between his fingers. The cold water didn't seem to shock or bother him, he didn't even shiver.

A cheeky smile lit up Rowan's face when Denny handed him one of the spades from the sandbox so he could splash properly and flick the water up.

He shovelled up the water and started to stim, flicking his wrist so the water sprinkled slowly over the edges of the shovel and rained down onto his legs.

"You ever take him to the pool?" Eddie's words caught Evan off guard and broke him out of his thoughts.

He tilted his head to the left, watching his friend as they both moved to sit down nearer to their boys in the pool. Evan smiled when he caught sight of (Y/n) knelt beside Rowan with her arms folded on the edge of the pool. She wasn't splashing or trying to gain his attention, she was just hanging back and seeing how he faired for a while.

Evan sat down with his elbows perched on his thighs and his hands clasped together on his lap while he nodded. "Yeah, yeah he loves going to the pool."

"Could… do you think he'd be happy if me and Chris could join? Chris gets nervous in the pool, I thought going with friends might make him a bit more confident." Eddie didn't want to impose or presume and he wouldn't want to suggest it if Rowan would get too overstimulated or panicked if others joined them in a routine he usually did with his parents.

But if he might be okay with it, Eddie hoped it might help Chris. He wasn't the best swimmer and he was nervous in the pool about people watching, and if his feet couldn't touch the floor, he wouldn't go any further.

Maybe if he went with a group, with Evan and (Y/n) and Rowan he might feel more at ease. And it could be fun to splash around and play in the pool with Rowan as well as try to swim.

"I think he'd enjoy that."

(Y/n) perched her chin on her arm and smiled softly at the boys as they splashed around. But when one of them began to flick and splash at the others and they all retaliated, she saw Rowan flinch. He twisted to the right and shuffled until his side was pressed into the rubbery plastic edge of the paddling pool, staying close to his mum and turning his back to the rest of them.

He continued to splash for a while, kicking his legs so his heels thrashed in the water and cold droplets continued to scatter across his skin.

He let out hums and little noises that sounded like he was singing while he tucked his chin down into his chest and stared down at the lapping water. He could still hear the music playing in the background, but (Y/n) knew he would be focusing on the closer surrounding sounds. The sounds of the boys laughing and screeching and continuously moving and kicking around the pool was going to be more loud and distracting for Rowan.

After about ten minutes, Rowan flopped his head onto (Y/n)'s arm. He stayed cuddled up in the corner, but he seemed relieved when some of the boys climbed out the pool and ran over to the drinks table.

His stimming continued and he started to curl his fingers and he dropped the spade in favour of slamming his palm down into the water and patting the bottom of the pool. He stayed content as (Y/n) kissed the top of his head and ran her hand up and down his back.

Things seemed to be going well until someone popped a balloon.

Loud noises frightened Rowan. Whenever a car or a motorbike drove past and the engine banged, he would shudder and jump a mile. Balloons bursting made a horrid echo and was as frightening to Rowan as a gunshot to everyone else.

"Boys, be careful please-"

As soon as another balloon popped, Rowan screeched. His eyes screwed shut, his jaw dropped like a silent scream, his version of another stim and he began violently rocking back and forth. His heels slammed down into the pool so tightly and roughly that it would undoubtedly bruise the back of his heels.

"Baby-" (Y/n) bit her lower lip when she tried to move her arms forward to try and hold Rowan, but he fought off her touch. His hands lifted up and planted down on either side of his neck and he began digging his short nails into his skin. He dragged them down hard and fast, raking his fingers up and down until blood welled beneath his fingernails and deep scratches welled up on his skin.

His scream pierced through her ears and when she held his wrists to try and pull his hands away. She didn't want him to have a full meltdown here, not when he'd been having such a good day so far and enjoying himself.

"Baby come on, it's okay, you're okay."

She couldn't pull his hands away for more than two seconds before he was crying and moving his hands back to scratching his neck. So (Y/n) settled for slipping her hands beneath his arms to lift him up out of the pool. His elbows thrashed into her shoulders and chest and when his knee collided with her stomach, (Y/n) choked on the little air left in her lungs.

She managed to get Rowan out of the pool and got him sat down on the grass beside her.

He couldn't keep having a meltdown out here, (Y/n) had to get him inside so he was somewhere quieter, safer and secluded so no one could see. It wasn't fair for everyone to see him like this and it was Denny's party. But (Y/n) could already hear the music had been turned off and everyone was as quiet as a mouse. No one moved closer and all the boys took a few steps back, wanting to help but not knowing how.

None of the team had witnessed Rowan having a meltdown, they had only seen him a handful of times and were still getting to know him.

"Okay buddy, come here."

(Y/n) looked up when Evan was suddenly knelt in front of them, speaking a bit louder to be heard over Rowan's cries. He had taken one of the vacant towels from a nearby chair and when (Y/n) managed to pull Rowan's hands from his neck, Evan swooped in with the towel. He wrapped it around Rowan's shoulders and high up on his neck to prevent him from being able to scratch and draw anymore blood.

As soon as it was around him, Evan swooped him up in his arms and got to his feet. He shivered at feeling his boy scream into his neck and he could feel his legs bashing and kicking into his abdomen to try and get free, but he tried to ignore the feeling.

(Y/n) watched Evan hurry ahead towards the kitchen and she paused in her tracks of following him to look at Karen.

"I- I'm sorry, the balloons-"

"Don't be sorry, he's not done anything wrong."

"You can turn the music back on and carry on, don't let this spoil their fun. Once he's calmed down he'll be fine." It wouldn't be fair on Denny and the boys if they kept the music off and effectively stopped the party. They were all having fun and the party wasn't over yet, they could go back to their games.

This was something that happened for Rowan, he would get frightened or overwhelmed or too stimulated and he would have a meltdown. He would scream or cry or sometimes he just went mute and lashed out of they tried to interact with him. But it was becoming more and more frequent that he would hurt himself, whether that was scratching his skin or slamming his hands on the walls. It was his way of a release.

She made her way into the kitchen to find Evan sat on the floor, cross-legged with his back up against a cupboard and Rowan in his arms. The five year old was leant back into his chest, hands clearly stimming beneath the towel and his body violently rocking back and forth as he switched from screaming to crying instead.

"Alright, it's alright Ro, you're okay." Evan repeated the little mantra a few times as (Y/n) moved to sit down beside him on the floor.

They knew they couldn't overwhelm him with words and too much conversation. They couldn't bombard him and ask what was wrong or tell him what to do or say too many different things because it would just confuse and overwhelm him. The same few things were all he needed to calm him down. He needed reassurance and understanding.

When the shaking started to subside, (Y/n) leaned across and very slowly ran her fingers through Rowan's damp curls, brushing them back on his head so they were out of his face.

She paused and leaned back, unsure what Rowan was about to do when he suddenly writhed in Evan's arms and flung off the towel that was seemingly too constricting for him. But she breathed in relief when Rowan scuttled onto her lap instead.

He stood between her legs with his damp chest pushing forward on hers and he instantly looped his arms tightly around her neck. His cheek leaned on her shoulder and he began panting rather than crying, clearly having exhausted himself.

His eyes locked with Evan while he moved back and forth against (Y/n)'s chest, stimming and rocking in her arms to try and stay calm. But Evan was relieved when Rowan didn't cry or try to push him away when he cupped the back of Rowan's head and leaned over to kiss his temple.

"You're okay, buddy."

He was steadily calming down, and he would be a lot happier when they got back home in his comfort zone where he could relax with both parents.

[russo-woso]

Sick || Leah Williamson x reader

Request | Masterlist | Prompt list

Part of the Mini Williamson universe

Summary Leah takes the latest member of the family so you can have a break because you’re sick.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It had been a chaotic two weeks to say the least.

You and Leah were getting used to being a family of four, but it wasn’t easy.

Especially when a sudden cold hit the team.

You’d only allowed a few of Leah’s teammates meet Charlie, not wanting to overwhelm her with so many people.

Teammates such as Alessia, Beth, Katie, and a few others had met Charlie.

Even Kiera and Georgia had flown out from Spain and Germany to meet the newest member of the family.

However, most of the arsenal girls that met Charlie, happened to come down with colds.

Although, they weren’t showing any symptoms at the time, and the fact Leah made sure they all washed their hands three times before holding her, the cold inevitably made its way around the house.

So when you, Amelia and Charlie woke up with sniffly noses and coughs, you knew it wasn’t looking good.

You were so emotional already, your hormones still being rocket high from the pregnancy, that you couldn’t help but cry.

You were awoken with Charlie crying her little lungs off, before you heard her cough.

You coughed yourself before grabbing her from the side of your bed.

On the other side of the corridor, you could hear faint coughs coming from a sleeping Amelia too.

Tears ran down your face as you felt the headache appear in your head.

Trying to calm down Charlie, you cradled her to your chest, but it was no use.

Leah sat up, half asleep, before whispering if you were okay.

Before you could even answer, a coughing fit was heard from Ami’s bedroom just as Charlie sneezed.

“My girls got colds?” Leah questioned, and you nodded.

She fully opened her eyes, to see you crying, a worried look on her face.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“I feel so shit, Leah. My head hurts so bad.” You tell her and she immediately gets up to get you some tablets.

“I’m sorry, love. You take these and go back to sleep, and I’ll take Charlie downstairs.” Leah offered and leant down to kiss you.

“No, don’t.” You told her, turning your face to the side so she didn’t kiss you. “Don’t want you to get it.”

“Baby, I don’t care. I want a kiss. Please.” Leah laughed lightly at your thoughtfulness, and lightly pecked your lips once you nodded.

Light footsteps were heard before Amelia appeared at the door, her teddy bear in her arms.

Her eyes were red as she looked at you and Leah with tears in her eyes.

“Icky.” She said and you nodded, gesturing her to lay in bed.

“I know, baby. Me and you can have cuddles, okay? Make you feel better.” You told her.

Leah then took Charlie from you, resting her in her arms before going downstairs.

Leah stood up, swaying side to side to try get Charlie to stop crying.

Eventually she did, and Leah stood there looking down at her baby girl.

“Looks like you’ll be spending a lot of time with me, little miss.”

It meant a lot to Leah that she was getting this time alone with Charlie, because the past two weeks she hadn’t gotten much of it.

With Ami loving being a big sister, she always wanted to be near Charlie, and if it wasn’t Ami, it was you because you had to feed Ami, and as much as Leah was thankful and loved it, she just wanted some one on one time with Charlie.

She had quite a lot of one on one time with Amelia when she was a baby and Leah insists that it’s the reason her and Ami are so close now, and she wanted that closeness with Charlie when she was older.

“We can have cuddles all day, and we can watch some football.” Leah continued to talk to Charlie, as Charlie melted into Leah’s chest. “You’re perfect, aren’t you? Just like your mama and sissy.”

[beiasluv]

forbidden fruit pt.2 | charles leclerc

part 1

a/n: i wrote last part at like midnight, apologies for any typos 💀 enjoyy 🤍

‘y/n l/n and charles leclerc. forbidden love, rival or lovers?’

front line mercedes driver, l/n, and the ferrari driver, leclerc, had been seen having a conversation together before the grand prix in italy…

“y/n, question for you please.”

the conference room. same old same old. lewis, you, and george were seated together in front of thousands of lenses, ready to pick each and every length of your skin just to get a piece of information they could sell to the media.

it was the day before the big race in italy, the media was catching their eyes closely at all the drivers - especially you know which two.

“..yes?”

“about the incident after the qualifying round, what had happened with charles?”

the clicking of the pens and the scratching of the notebooks were starting to get you any minute. clearing your throat you grabbed the mic closer to your mouth,

“i’m sure charles meant no harm..we’re racers..erm…rivalry isn’t the furthest thing from us.”

“are you dating charles, y/n?”

alarms were set off in your mind. it would be a crime if george and lewis couldn’t hear them. you were nothing with charles leclerc. he’s the reddest flag of all. really. you were nothing.

"we," clearing your throat and grabbing your mic closer to your dry lips. "we're not talking on any terms."

smile, y/n. smile for the cameras.

"what are your thoughts on the ferrari team this season? any comments?"

the journalist raised his hands through the crowd, his pen almost fell off his lap from the enthusiasm.

"it was always a challenge to race with any team on the track, ferrari included," you nodded. "the ferrari has a strong car, they are one of the many tough contenders. obviously, every team wishes to win...and so does mercedes," glancing a tight smile at the interviewer who took the answer down the notebook. perhaps a little bit too messy for your driver's head to decipher.

"how about when leclerc saved you? any additional comment?"

"i.."

you caught lewis shifting in his seat; his hands started to calm up together in front of the mic, seated between the three drivers and the whole internet. you could only pray your zoning out was missed by the media and you know who.

if only you could express your infinite pain of being the only female in the male-dominant sport, no paper could ever hold just a nick of the feminine rage pregnant inside you.

how come the only question you got asked was about 'charles,' 'men,' 'dating' and never the sophisticated 'performance car racing' or the ones filled with personalities?

george russell, for the record, your biggest shipper, even chipped in. he pushed the mic closer to his face and looked dead into the camera - if looks could kill - "please, this is a mercedes drivers' briefing."

the tension is sky-high, or you could say: rocket-sky-high. george settled back in his seat as you threw him a quick thankful smile. only god knows what the media is going to make up this time.

'george to the rescue'? bullshit.

"lewis, over here please."

--

"y/n, leclerc's getting aggressive. be careful for an overtake-"

"copy-"

the adrenaline is rushing, flowing, and doing whatever the heck it can in your bloodstream. pushing the pedal as hard as your baby could possibly could, the wind rushed against your face. if it wasn't for the helmet you had on, your face would've been cut like it were a thousand knives thrown at you.

looking to your right you see the infamous red ferrari again, surging with the wind and springing out against the green grass beside the track.

"leave space! you fucking-" you muttered as your fingers tick all the necessary buttons of the formula 1 car in order to keep your position above the ferrari. "what the fuck is he doing!"

praying the car tires could take a bit more, you applied as much pressure you felt comfortable on your baby for the first place behind the checkered end line. you glanced at the body behind the mask of the helmet as you continued to push and pray, push and pray.

if only you knew the ferrari was reciprocating the act.

what was important was you finishing above leclerc - mercedes finishing above ferrari, of course.

"leclerc! y/n! leclerc! who's going to win?! would he complete the overtake?!"

holding on to your steering wheel for your dear life, you saw something of a maroon color rushing to your side. perhaps it was the speed of the car that distorted your vision or was it something in your cheeks?

shut up-

"leclerc! leclerc! leclerc! ferrari have gained another victory home! ladies and gentlemen, charles leclerc!"

"fuck!"

the cracking sound from your radio chimed in your ears - at the worst time possible - "y/n! 0.02 second behind leclerc! P2!"

yeah, thanks. thanks for rubbing it in your face that leclerc had beaten you once again.

"..thanks," slowing your car down against the wind, you came to a halt after the race line; obviously at a considerable distance behind the red ferrari. climbing out and plastering on a fake smile for the media and your beloved fans.

--

the monégasques national anthem was blasted through the speaker throughout the whole podium. any fan knew this song belonged to any of the leclerc and ferrari, for now.

holding your hands in the comfort of in front of you, you tried to remain calm throughout the whole song. nevertheless, your heartbeat was beating fast for the obvious reason after the race.

the shit-eating grin was plastered on the driver standing on P1. can you even blame him? congratulations, you had beaten your rival for the longest time and were placed on P1 while wearing your infamous red suit.

while you were wearing your notorious mercedes's fire suit on your waist, just like all the drivers on the grid (and charles), you grabbed the champagne bottle as the others did so.

"good one, leclerc.”

you sprayed the champagne straight onto the monégasques’s back, maybe it was a little intentional that you shook the bottle a little harder for more pressure of the liquor.

no hard feelings, of course. you only knew his hair was soaked under the cap on his head and the tingling of the bubbles down his neck.

how unfortunate.

charles smirked back as he aimed his half-empty champagne bottle at you, "it's still not a date."

what.?

seeing you in your stunned state, he lowered the bottle to an acceptable level. leclerc cleared his throat and wiped the foam of champagne off his upper lips and chin; looking back with the biggest annoying grin on his face, "congrats on the podium. next race?"

oh, how you wish you could smack his grin off his mother fucking face again. rubbing it into your face.

the media..the media. breathe in, breathe out.

"will do, 16."

--

"congratulations on P2,"

toto patted your back as he entered the mercedes's headquarters. how lovely it is to see his drivers bundled up in his room, once again, after a race 'gone wrong.'

"what is it this time," he sighed as he lowered himself to his chair, not ready to be resigning the team principal position for a therapist for his driver.

the room was your comfort zone, safe to say. the picture of toto's kid, susie, and all of his essentials to complete the job for a team principal. crashing into his room with george wasn't an abnormal thing in your team, nor was it the first time of your career with him.

"they kept asking if you're dating charles, huh?" toto grinned as he faked wipe his mouth for the dramatic effect.

"i'm sick of it-"

the environment of the room shifted - for the better, surprisingly. also. did you mention the fact that this room felt more like a therapy session than a team principal's room?

and. wikipedia got it wrong, it was: toto wolff, team principal and CEO of mercedes, and a part-time therapist.

perfect.

"i'm sure we've put on a great fight," toto nodded towards you, the unspoken tension of the media was killing you inside out.

"i'm sick of the media, toto-"

george shifted next to you on the black sofa, "who knows, they're just trying to write a story out of nothing."

"it'll be the death of me if I have to continuously declare my love life on the internet," resting your head back on the back of the couch you did.

the coldness in the room was cleared by a bit as george snaked his arm around the back of the couch, he whispered into your ear, "you don't have a thing for charles..do you?"

"i hate you."

--

"night, toto. night, george."

bidding toto and george goodbyes, you grabbed your bag from the floor and beeline for the exit door.

the hotel bed is calling your name like a mantra at this point. the race was mentally and physically exhausting, what could be better than a nice, warm bath and a soft bed waiting for you?

the sky was pitch black, darker than your deepest thoughts in solitary, but the pitch was never dark. thanks to the eyes-scorching light to illuminate the track during the night races.

“sup lando..sup daniel”

“good race, l/n.”

walking past a couple of drivers, quick and friendly nods were exchanged as you head for the garage for your beloved mercedes.

and for the love of god, the eyes of the ferrari next to your mercedes were ignited.

how could this get even better?

making your way into the garage, you tried to be as quiet as you possibly could. digging in your purse for the key was a painful ride to ride.

'ah, found it.'

your fingertip dug into the muscle memory as you press the button you hoped was coded with 'unlock.'

fuck.

how gracious of mercedes to make the unlocking sound so loud. so loud that it caught the attention of the ferrari driver. so loud that leclerc's neck flicked towards the sound of your car and you swore you could feel his grin growing.

the second slowed down by a quarter as you seized the handle for the door and swung your bag and body inside the car. perhaps it was not fast enough for the P1 winner today as he made his way next to your car before you could even shut the door. ignoring his steps as he teasingly walked over to his ferrari and played with the key in his hand.

"you put up a great fight for the first place," he grinned. "next time.." he opened his ferrari,

“eyes on the track, l/n.”

"how-...don't you worry about it, leclerc," you scoffed, hiding the beating of your heart. fucking hell- stop beating so fast-

raising his eyebrows in one quick, swift motion, he entered his ferrari, "of course." the driver was fully engulfed by the shadows of the vertical door, but his eyes were still looking into yours, "nice drive today."

"you too."

--

your phone screen screamed it was 2 in the morning, but who cares? the tiktok on your phone was a little more entertaining than seeing charles off the track - okay, maybe a lot less - but the thing so addicting about tiktok was a life mystery for you.

curling up to your side, your phone was plugged into the wall next to your bed, your hand starting to get numb from holding your phone for too long.

asmr. f1 edit. asmr. f1 edit. asmr. f1 edit. you were going to go mad. for the love of anyone, if you see one more edit of charles leclerc on your fyp, you are going to throw your phone out-

honestly, you wouldn't lie that you enjoy an edit of yours once in a while, but hell, charles leclerc..fucking leclerc...who told him that he can look so fucking fine after a horrible race from the ferrari?

you were almost tempted to slam your phone on the nightstand and get some sleep for the night. also. who cares if you wake up late tomorrow?

knock..knock

"oh, come on," you cursed. the audacity to knock at 2 in the morning?

you swung yourself off the comfort of your hotel bed and tiptoed towards the door of your room. your pajama short and oversized t did not help with providing the necessary warmth.

peaking through the cat-eye, you saw the last thing you were expecting.

charles leclerc, in the flesh. he was leaning one of his arms on your door as he was about to raise his hand for another knock.

"gasly! open the door-"

"have a problem, leclerc?"

gosh, you wished you could take a pic of how terrified he looked. shit. was he looking at the unbearable state of yours, or what? short shorts, oversized t, and your hair-

"y/n- i'm-"

squinting your eyes, you adjusted to the light of the hallway, "gasly's not here."

silence engulfed the air between you like a buffet. he continued to stare blankly at you. gosh- could he stop with his dark, green, eyes- fuck. "…leclerc?"

was it the tension or your ears going deaf - you weren't sure - that made you couldn't even hear his - probably lame - excuse of why he knocked at your door at 2 in the fucking morning.

what did matter was the blabbering of his mouth traveled through one ear and straight to the other, just like an f1 car, speeding on any straight path-

"-i think i'm fucking in love with you"

"charles...don't."

charles stopped - his breathing, his steps, his brain, and whatever he could be conscious of. you started - started leaning onto the door, started clutching the other hand to the door blocking the other half of your heart from his.

"what d'you mean 'don't'?" leclerc's mouth was gaped, letting the least amount of air in to keep his heart beating - for you.

retracting your hand, and the door, away from him; you still found his hand in the comfort of over yours, the one that you held onto the door to not fall onto the wooden floor of your hotel room.

every breath you took was a sharp nick on your lungs, but you've managed to heaped out, "i'm sorry, charles-" just in time before your lungs would betray you.

"why?...why?...please-"

"why? -really? why?"

finally regaining the willpower to look back at him, and not cry, you were greeted with his reddened eyes, "what the fuck do you want with me-?"

"you- you could go around and tell me all these nice things in front of my face and- and god knows what you've been calling me behind my back-"

his grip on your hands tightened as he opened his mouth again, but you cut him short- "it drives me crazy- fucking crazy that you act all so nice to me when we've fought our whole lives against each other."

"...what ever happened to all of your loathing glares when i'm on the podium?"

who cares what the sleeping people, ghosts, or whoever the fuck on this floor hears. you were done with cradling your heart as far away as you could from the pitch. it was stupid. fucking humiliating, at least, that you've found yourself back - back at the start.

all the effort to fight for your place on the grid as the only female driver and all of your effort to carry your dignity above all the scandals came crashing down just for a second of your selfish desires. was it so bad to want love from someone who really cares for you all your life?

dancing, kissing, crying, loving. was it so hard to deny when it is literally in front of your fucking face? under the reddest flag of all.

you wished and prayed every day that the races would be over soon so you could stop seeing his shit-eating grin, his eyes, his remarks, his cologne filling the air whenever he walked past.

charles stood in silence, unmoving, as if the time had stopped. if only you knew he was trying- trying to find the right word to express this weird sensation in his brain, his chest, his fucking heart. they all just ended up tangled in italian, frech, and english. mon amour. my life-

"..is that how you really think of me-" he felt slightly betrayed by his wrong tone, but even more by your thoughts.

"you think- y/n- you think i'm just trying to tick you off the podium?"

"..are you?" wiping the tears that betrayed you and escaped from the comfort of your eyes. "look- look at all the headlines- 'mercedes and ferrari.' is this really the- the condition you want to love under?"

"i'll love you under any condition i want," he breathed shakily as he continued to hold the door of your room open. who cares about the ruffled sheet you left or your phone uncharged by the bed?

"there's nothing between us-"

"you have a girlfriend for fuck's sake!"

"it's a PR relationship! and who cares what the media thinks? i'm not doing ferrari any good by confessing my heart raw to you-"

"you think mercedes is getting anything out of this but rumors? i've fought the press for all my fucking life from the scandals inside the pit-"

"this isn't about mercedes, and this isn't about the goddamn media-”

charles ran his hand through his messed up hair, "and I would have thought you knew that..."

"maybe- maybe i don't. maybe i'm too scared to love again. maybe i'm too scared of what would happen if we ended on a bad note. maybe i'm a coward for not wanting to open my heart for you.

-maybe i'm stupid...for you"

"you're not stupid," he said- decreasing the gap between you two, trying his hardest not to reach to wipe your tears.

"we won't work out," you sighed. "we'll focus on our drives, we'll fight, you'll leave."

"please," charles grabbed your waist and pulled you in, once again - you gave in. "i'll make it work."

all your walls came crumbling down as you broke down like a dam on his shoulder. you buried your face onto his chest and gripped his shirt until you didn't care it would crease. a mantra of apologies came out of charles's mouth that you wouldn't even waste an energy to decipher.

his hands found their natural comfort in your lower back, rubbing in lines of traces and tracks you'd spend the rest of your life trying to decipher.

tucking a piece of your hair behind, he kissed all of your tears away. his mustache which had grown since the karting days grazed your skin like they were made for each other. his cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling too much like an idiot in front of your hotel room..106.

you were still gripping his shirt hard, as he closed the space between your lips and his. it seemed like all of your walls were crushed to the point of no returning; towering over you, he pressed his body against yours like there was no more- like the last lap of the race.

the level of oxygen in your lungs was starting to set off an alarm in your head, but you didn't care. you were kissing the reddest flag of all in the grid and you were not regretting anything.

pulling away for air, he smiled against your lips; sending a wave of breath onto your chin.

"you have a lot to explain to toto."

"i'll have my ways..."

oh my goodnesss. if you like it, please do whatever you want to, I’ll appreciate it 🫶🏻

today’s a great day to take care of yourself, luvv 🤍

tag: @leclerclvr @buendiabebeta @be-your-coffee-pot @al-luvx

[alexthetrashyracoon]

Price x Reader (Fem!POV)

I'm sorry if it's sounds hasty or anything...

Tags: Fluff, Child Birth (not described because I only know the basics about it and don't want to touch too deep into this topic) Freshly baked Father Price

John Price stood at the airport terminal, the weight of his duffel slung over his shoulder while his thoughts were elsewhere.

He had just stepped off a military transport plane after being deployed for months with the rest of the team. The mission had been gone on longer than anticipated, making Price miss the most important event in his entire life.

The birth of his daughter.

He had wanted to be there, by his wife's side, letting her break his hand and curse his name for getting her pregnant. She had joked about it all the time to hide her tense nerves.

The call came mid-flight. His wife had gone into labour three weeks too early, their child was planned to be a January child. Now it was a December child, only a few days away from Christmas. By the time he had touched down his daughter he still had to meet was already in this world. The thoughts of his wife being alone during labour made John's stomach churn.

John's jaw tightened as he made his way through the throngs of travelers as he made his way to the exit. A cab screeched to a halt as he flagged it down.

"St. Mary's Hospital." He said to the driver, his tone chipped but polite.

The driver regarded him through the rearview mirror, his gaze curious as he took in John's appearance. The worn uniform, the messy beard, the dark circles under his eyes. But the driver stayed quiet.

"Congrats." The man behind the wheel said after a while, maneuvering through the city past the afternoon traffic.

John blinked. "Excuse me?"

"The hospital. New Dad, right?"

He nodded. "Thanks."

The rest of the drive was silent, John's mind was constantly playing back the voicemail his wife left him.

"It's happening! The baby is coming early, John! I know you're not here! But I wish you were here! It's happening!"

Despite her calm voice, John knew she was scared, who wasn't. Giving birth to a living human being, even a small one... John faced down guns and rockets and all kinds of dangers, but even thinking about the birthing process made him think twice.

The cab came to a halt in front of the hospital, John didn't pay attention as the driver told him how much he owned, just handed him most of the cash he had on his person and bolted outside and into the hospital. His boots pounding against the pavement, then the linoleum floor of the hospital.

At the reception he asked for her room, the receptionist smiled and told John that his wife was in room 412.

John took two steps at a time, his heart was pounding with each step he took.

By the time he reached room 412, he paused, taking a deep breath, collecting himself.

Then he knocked and waited for her word to come inside.

Pushing the door open, his breath caught in his chest.

His wife, propped up on some pillows, pale around the nose but glowing with a tired smile. In her arms a little bundle. Their little bundle of joy. The faintest wisp of dark hair peeking out from the blanket.

"John." She said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He crossed the room in three strides, dropping his bag and kneeling by her bedside, cupping her face and pressing his forehead against her.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." he whispered, his voice thick. "I should have been here."

"You're here now." she said, tears streaming down her cheeks.

John stared down on their daughter. His vision blurring and his fingers trembling as he carefully traced the tiny features, the delicate nose, the gentle raise and fall of her chest as she slept. She was so small, so fragile. She was all John promised to protect.

"What's her name?" He asked and looked up from the little girl's face to meet his wife's gentle but tired gaze.

"I thought we would decide together." She replied and ran her fingers through his hair.

"Jane." He said after a while. "Jane Grace Price. After your grandmother."

John sat down besides her, cradling the tiny infant against his chest, not daring to look away. For the first time in months John felt the tension fall from his shoulders.

"She's beautiful." He said softly, feeling his wife's head rest against his shoulder. "I'll make it up to you. Both of you. I will be here for you. From now on and forever. I'm here now. And I'm never letting go."